Black Magus

A single grunt echoing throughout my personal dimension of darkness signaled Grandpa Lich's entry into my umbral pocket dimension. I turned to see him drifting through the space with a proud grin, born from his eyes dancing around the granite and gold, the provisions and water, the scrap metal and wood; nodding to each aggregation as he passed until he stopped at the shadow rabbit, emerging from a ‘burrow’ of solid shade to turn its crimson eyes up at him.

“You have a good start.” He grunted again, continuing onward- downward through my umbral dimension as if he'd never seen a thing. Or so I thought. “Make sure you bring out that beast of yours when we return,” he said in a noticeably disgruntled manner.

I simply nodded and followed him further down into my Pocket until the masses of materials were like stars in the sky above us. Shining like gray pixels in the infinite expanse around us. I knew not how far we were traveling, nor how fast. We simply kept descending, falling until the ‘air’ began to take on the same foul, sinister qualities as the necrotic energies within myself. The umbral atmosphere took on an unmistakable blue-green tint while haunting, sorrowful sounds echoed sourcelessly. Though it was distant due to my affinity, the energy invoked the weight one experiences when faced with mortal danger; a primal terror that could reduce the most resilient specimen into a wild, panicking liability.

It was a bit beyond that sickeningly beautiful feeling when we slowed at a massive set of gates. If they could even be called such. It was more like the same waving branches of my mark and family crest. Only the branches were tendrils of necrotic energy that writhed and twisted over one another like a sentient thicket of mangrove roots. “Welcome to the Under.” Grandpa Lich declared as we passed through the unfurling gates.“Or rather, welcome to your domain of the Underworld.”

He paused to gesture for me to continue my descent. And though I did, I came to a halt above a vast, nearly barren plain of gray just moments later. No matter where my eyes fell, there was only the dense smoke-like substance that constituted the ‘ground’ in this space, broken apart by a single structure standing far, far below. A structure Grandpa Lich began drifting towards. “This is where our undead resides. In our shadows.” Grandpa stated as he slowed to orbit a necrotic throne similar in shape and appearance to my mark, family crest, and the gate we just passed through.

Breaking my concentration, Grandpa Lich suddenly peered to his feet as if to look through the floor. And pointed. “Our domains are situated above the true Underworld. Look.” Following his eyes, I saw a field of what appeared to be… ghosts. Legions upon legions of them, all crying, shouting, and fighting ceaselessly as far as the eye could see. “The souls you see are trapped in two loops.” He held up his fingers. “One physical, one mental; and their experiences overlap.

“In their physical, ethereal forms.” He continued before I could ask. “The souls fight ceaselessly, as you see down there. They feel the pain of their engagements. Yet their minds are elsewhere. They experience variations of their death, time and time again. If someone is stabbed to death, for example; they’ll find themselves impaled by many things during their stay in the Under: they’ll be speared through by the tusks of a mammoth before finding themselves falling onto a jagged rock in the next moment. And they’ll in turn be met by their friends blade after they pass again. Over and over again. All the while experiencing the pain their ‘physical’ selves endure during the battles down there.” He punctuated his words with a final gesture to the Under proper. “Phantom pain on top of physical and emotional pain, Amun. Coupled with mental torture by the devils of the under.”

“Sounds brutal.” I chuckled dryly.

“Very.” He grimly chuckled in turn. Then gestured to the plains around us. “Our domains are akin to cloud cities on the Mortal Plane. Or stars.” He immediately corrected. But it was too late.

"Cloud cities?" I asked, wondering. 'Like the Venusian ones?'

“When we sit on the necro throne.” Grandpa continued as if I said nothing. “Our domains shine brighter, casting their metaphorical light on the Under. We can then summon souls from the Under to commune with them if we know their names or possess something of significance to them. It still takes a bit of work, though. However.” He devilishly grinned. “Summoning those who share our blood is a much easier endeavor. We have a direct connection to the six ancestors to precede our birth. Past that.” He sighed, looking down again to the plane of warring souls. “You have to find them yourself.”

“Ah.” I slowly nodded. “So, this is how I’ll be able to meet my Grandfather, Azrael Cole.”

I noticed a soft, labored smile appear in the corner of his lips; if only just for a second, before he responded. “Aye. As well as my father, grandfather, and great-grandmother. Though.” He sighed heavily. “That will be done on your own time; in privacy.” He added with a pointed finger. “Always remember, Amun. This is your most sacred of spaces. Your temple.”

“I understand.” I nodded. Then followed the hulking figure of my Great-Grandfather, ascending back towards the gate.

“I’ve been wondering. What’s the significance of this?” I gestured to both the passing gate and my stomach. “I mean, it’s obvious that it's our family crest. But, do you have it as well? Does everyone with a magical affinity have a form of… mark?”

Grandpa Lich only raised a single brow as he turned to me intently. Then let out a labored sigh as he turned back to look ahead. “There are some things that you can only learn at the magical academy, Amun. Including the name of the magical academy.” He wryly chuckled, shaking his head. “That also includes the nature behind these marks. I will tell you, however, that everyone with an affinity core does indeed have a magical mark. Due to the common location of the mark on an Initiates body, however, it’s commonly considered rude to ask about them. Ours has been with us since the beginning, I’m told. Though it’s a fact that your mark is undeniable proof that you are of the Cole bloodline.”

‘Hmm.’ I halted to ponder and beckon the shadow rabbit from its hole to guide it towards the exit. “It seems like the academy has a monopoly on knowledge.”

Grandpa Lich responded not. Yet he somehow conveyed that we shared the same sentiments nonetheless. “Now then," he burned to me upon our return to the Mortal Plane. "How did you learn that spell, Amun?”

“Experimentation.” I quickly smirked.

“Hmm.” He grunted, eliciting a small twitch out of his eye. "Does this… shadow rabbit have a name?” He threw his pointer at the thing cradled in my arms.

“Roger,” I said, almost without thinking.

“And what can Roger do?” He phlegmatically asked. “What did you name the spell?”

“His ability is duplication.” I calmly blinked, fighting back the absurdly strong impulse to not pet the bunny. “And, I plan to capture at least one other creature before I name the spell. Sadly.” I sighed. “There are little to no animals here at the Tower.”

“Then it seems you will have to wait.” He chuckled in the pettiest manner I’d seen thus far. Then activated the Wraith Form to take off toward the castle, yelling over his shoulder. “Come. It’s time for your lessons.”

He led me to one of the many modules within his expansive office and laid across the sole, polished stone slab occupying the otherwise barren subspace in the far corner. “Use recovery magic to heal me.” He bluntly stated.

Despite the questions and curses flowing through my mind, I stayed silent and studied the many wounds riddled across his body. While they were no longer ‘bleeding’ death energy, they still appeared as fresh as when they were first inflicted. Raw meat and oxidized bone stared back at me as I scanned my forefather's massive figure, waiting for him to begin. “As the name suggests, Recovery Magic aids in recovering non-threatening wounds. It is mending broken but set bones, forming scars, and any other healing process that would naturally occur in the body. Accelerated under the influence of mana.”

“I see.” I nodded, approaching his side to hold out a tentative hand. “How do I do it?”

“First, get a feel for my mana well. Then manipulate the mana around my body by pulling on it. Pull and push, Amun. Ebb and flow until the mana in my well is drawn towards my wounds.”

“Okay.” I focused my eyes until I saw the volatile blue energy that persisted everywhere around me, tinting the world in a shimmering blue veil as if the air took on a drastic increase in density. Focusing further on Grandpa Lich, however, yielded a humanoid-shaped mass of crystalline energy. Nearly straining my eyes, I saw the familiar ashen-black growth nestled deep within the diamond-density mana; along with another one of similar color.

‘I imagine this what an evolved body is like.’ I pondered. ‘It’s almost like… his mana well has spread across his entire body. Like… it exploded. Or quite possibly, imploded. Yet it's still there.’ Noticing my grandfather’s impatient gaze, I did as instructed and subtly took hold of the mana above an ambiguous scar before gently pulling on it. Then pushed and repeated in a smooth, repetitive motion. A constant rhythm like that of a heartbeat. Repeated until the dense mana within his body began to flow towards the many scars and wounds on its own.

“Keep going until the recovery is complete.” He sighed in relief; almost making me want to stop instead. “And keep in mind that the size and density of the victim’s mana well are what determines how much healing can be done. If too much mana is pulled from the well, they’ll suffer the effects of mana exhaustion on top of whatever pain they were already experiencing.”

“Understood.” I sighed in relief, pulling away from his healed body. “But, I thought only elves can manipulate mana. And, why is your well so large?”

“Only elves can cast with mana.” Grandpa Lich corrected. "Other creatures can still manipulate mana. And we can even use it in a few ways as well; though to a far lesser extent than you or your mother. As for my well.” He simply shrugged. “It’s because I am a Magus.”

“Right.” I sarcastically nodded, rolling my eyes.

“Since it’s training day zero, we’ll end our lessons early.” He grunted as he swung his feet to the floor, then rested his hand atop my shoulder. “Get some rest, Amun.”

“Yes, Sir.” I quickly bowed in response to the music that just played in my ears. “But first, I wish to run something by you.”

He slowly turned on his heels, groaning loudly. “What is it?”

“I wish to train the students while I’m here.” I quickly stated. “I plan to have Toril make the announcement after classes later today. They’ll be primarily trained in my Elemental Theories and Fusion. And whatever else they decide.”

“Do as you wish.” He quickly spat with a dismissive wave. “So long as you don’t interfere with their classes, I care not.”

“Understood.” I gave another dismissive bow before assuming the Wraith Form and descended through the floors to actually sleep the night away for the first time in a few years.

---

By sunrise, the school was veritably abuzz; loud enough to permeate the walls of whatever floor I found myself wandering until classes began. Though as expected, the buzz died down whenever I happened to come around. So, I jumped into the shadows and poked an ear through the shade of people, trees, and other things to sample the tea. To no surprise, they were talking about me. Specifically as to how amazing my vassals were and about how they couldn’t believe that I trained them myself. A few of them even mentioned that they wished I train them too. Prompting me to heavily debate pushing the announcement forward. If Toril finalized the training schedule.

With that in mind, I returned to Urda’s lecture hall when classes began at nine and spent the next few hours meddling with ideas about how to take elemental manipulation to new heights while the lesson was passively absorbed in my Eternal Eye. After, I returned to my ‘room’ to practice mana manipulation for a bit before I set out to find Toril at lunchtime.

It took me a while, but I eventually found him in the school’s lobby; of all places. On the opposite side of the great set of doors that permitted entry to the place. Poised on a bench overlooking the vast Corvus Lake to the east. A melancholy gaze stained his face, strangely enough. He'd always been the phlegmatic type. Thus I stepped from the shadows with a different approach. “What’s on your mind, Toril?” I asked.

“When I first came to the Tower,” he said after a long moment. “I used to sit here and think about my family. I’m sure you’re aware, Your Grace.” He turned over his shoulder to meet my eyes. “Marquis Raiga Fulgum is my uncle; my father’s brother. I bear my mother’s surname.” He turned back to the lake. “Irene O’Connell-Fulgum is a Countess with a water affinity. She and my father sent me here when I was four years old. I assumed it was because of my unruly use of magic around her, that she sent me here. But after growing older. After hearing of the admission process from His Imperial Grace and serving you, I’ve found myself thinking otherwise.”

“It’s probable that your admittance was decided shortly after your birth.” I nodded along. Then gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder. “If you ever wish to visit them, just give the word.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. But, I’m fine.” He bowed in his seat, took a deep breath, and turned to me with eyes that radiated conviction. “How may I serve Your Grace?”

“There are a few things I need you to do. First, I need you to finalize a training schedule and make the announcement at the end of today's classes. Gather them on the 53rd floor and have them decide on what days they wish to train. Let Jaimess know if you need any materials.”

I handed him a rolled-up scroll before dismissing myself with another pat on the shoulder. Then leaped back into the Shadowfell to find the other two. Which luckily didn’t take long. As they were both on the guest floor, sharing a meal.

I pulled up a chair and clasped my arms over the table at once. “Toril will be making an announcement about training the students at the end of the day's classes.”

“Are we to attend?” Jonet promptly asked.

“Yes.” I nodded. “If you both will train the students or not depends on how they wish to proceed. But we’ll worry about that later.” I waved a hand to the side. “How do you both feel about the changes to your schedule?”

“I was a bit apprehensive about taking art classes.” Jaimess immediately beamed. “I was surprised to learn that the arts are nothing like I thought. Before, I assumed that art required talent. And that drawing or painting without that talent was a fruitless endeavor. But after just a bit of practice, I realized that like many other things, drawing or painting was a skill that could be improved upon.”

“That is indeed the case with virtually everything in life.” I grinned. “My intention is that you can bring your origami art to a new level. And you, Jonet?” I turned to her.

“Being taught by the Necro King is… daunting.” She shuddered, causing a similar gesture to arise from Jaimess. “But, my theater class is particularly exciting. The idea of stepping into the shoes of another and living the fantastical tales found in stories fascinates me.”

“Is that your dream?” I asked. “To be a performer?”

“I’m unsure.” She squinted curiously at me. “There’s certainly a passion for it.” She slowly nodded. “But; like you, I want to travel and experience the world for myself.”

“You have my word that you will do just that,” I assured her before shifting my gaze back to Jaimess. “That goes for you as well. I’ll put my all into helping you achieve or fulfill whatever ambitions, dreams, passions, or hobbies you have or will develop in the future. Just say the word.”

“I’m humbled by your benevolence, Your Grace.” Jaimess bowed in his seat. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” I quickly waved it aside. “It’s only fair since you all are helping me achieve my ambitions.”

“That is our job.” Jonet cheerfully chuckled.

“Regardless.” I shrugged. “I want to know more about your past. After a bit of self-reflecting, I’ve realized we’ve spent all this time together, yet I still know almost nothing about the three of you as individuals.

“My background.” Jaimess leaned back in his seat with a sigh and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “I come from a family of commoners. My parents were bankers, so we lived better than most. They were already old when I was born though, yet they still spent nearly all of their time working. As such I never really had the time to get to know them. Then I got sent here.” He shrugged.

“So, you’re not close to them?” I confirmed.

“Not really, no.” Jaimess shrugged again.

“Well.” Jonet broke in by leaning over the table. “I was intended to be a servant like my aunt Ebbet and mother. I would’ve stayed in that role for the rest of my life if it weren’t for you changing my job, Your Grace. For that, I’m eternally thankful.” She bowed to me in her seat. “You have my undying loyalty, Your Grace.”

‘Undying, huh?’ I quickly wondered before acknowledging Jonet’s pledge with a smiling nod. “Thank you, Jonet. But then, that begs the question.” I paused, highlighting the distinct change in the atmosphere. “I am; by birthright, a necromancer. So, if in the event of your deaths; would you want me to abstain from turning you undead, or not?”

As expected, their faces grimly darkened while their heads morbidly hung from their shoulders.

“It’s a tough question to ask.” I sighed, rising from the table. “But it’s a question that needs asking all the same. That said, I don’t expect you to answer right away. I only want you to think about it. We won’t be dying anytime soon. That's what all this training is for.”

“Y- Yes, Your Grace.” Jaimess bowed.

With a wave, I stepped off toward the shade elevators to make my last scheduled stop of the evening. The 52nd floor to check on the progress of my candidates.

While many of them were elsewhere to be found, the ones present in the designated workshop seemed to be evenly split between the three projects I gave them. Scattered across the vacant workspaces were prototypes in various stages of development. Some had completed or half-drawn blueprints unfurled over the desks while others had a few pieces of materials neatly arranged and organized to be worked on at a later time. A few of them, however, were busy toiling away on nearly completed models. Including Edward, whose head snapped up from his desk the moment he saw me and eagerly bounded up to greet me, cradling something bound tightly in cloth.

“I’m glad to see Your Grace.” He beamed.

“Edward.” I nodded before gesturing to the crude object in his hands. “What’s this?”

“A model- uh, prototype.” He hurriedly bowed before correcting himself.

“It’s been a day, and you already have a prototype?” I chuckled in disbelief. “Have you even slept?”

“W- well.” He chuckled timidly. “It’s not as if I have all the time in the world, Your Grace. Besides.” He stammered. “I find it difficult to sleep”

‘An insomniac, huh?’ I internally nodded in understanding. Then gave him the reassuring gesture of an open palm. “You have around four years, so take your time. And don’t overwork yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He quickly bowed. Then looked up at me with eyes full of relief. “W- would you like to try it?”

“That’s a design for Toril, not me.” I chuckled. “You can have him try it if you wish. I last saw him in the lobby on the 22nd floor.”

Without delay, he dismissively bowed before excitedly skipping off towards the shade elevators to find Toril. And I couldn't help but look on in admiration. ‘He’s definitely a strange one.’ I chuckled to myself. ‘Let’s hope the quality of his work is just as good as his drive.’