March of The Dead (MotD)

Mana swirled around the center of the room like a hurricane. It ripped at Alaster's clothing and even made him feel the strain to stay where he was. Each mote of Mana changed color as it flew, creating a kaleidoscope of color against the walls.

So much Mana was present in such a small location, reality itself seemed to be bending and warping.

Alaster could feel the Ritual drawing in Mana from miles around, making easy for him to channel it into the Runes where it was immediately sucked away to join the vortex.

His only thought was the careful application of Mana. He had closed off his mind to all else in order to ensure the Ritual worked, or at the very least did not reduce the proud city of Onigas to a crater.

The maelstrom continued to grow stronger, so powerful now Alaster could hear the iron bars of the cell bending and feel the bricks around him shifting.

But it was finally beginning to work.

In the Eye of the Storm, Alaster saw a faint outline of a body, slowly becoming bolder.

He could not see through the hurricane to see any details, as any ability he could use required Mana, but he did not need to.

He would recognize that visage anywhere.

Alaster wanted to make a joke to Belgroth about seeing more of him than he had ever wanted to, but the Demon's Soul had already been absorbed into the Runes.

If Alaster stopped the Ritual now, or damaged any of the Runes, it was quite possible that the once mighty Argalon who had survived an untold number of years trapped in a Dungeon, would cease to be.

The swirling Mana, slowly began to chance from a dense fog into a liquid. An ethereally clear liquid with a shine to it that reflected the rainbow. Many Magic Researchers had theorized that the colors Liquid Mana reflected were actually the Colors of Creation, but none knew for sure.

Many would not care, but none of the few who had seen Liquid Mana could deny its beauty. A beauty that was capable of ripping apart anything it touched on the molecular level. Many would say that such destructive capability only added to its beauty.

Yet now, instead of destroying, it created.

The Liquid slowly began to seep into body, entering it through any pore it touched, creating its internals while changing them on a fundamental level. Making them stronger, more resilient, more sustaining, more attuned to Magic itself.

Alaster took a step forward, entranced by the scene before him as Magic itself seemed to give birth and provide life to one being.

For any Mage, such a scene would bring tears to their eyes. But for Alaster, for someone already so attuned to the Magic of Death, it was…indescribable.

Many Mages who studied Death would consider it taboo, but that only came from a shallow understanding of one of Nature's Laws.

Alaster watched with rapt attention as the scene drifted closer.

It felt as if his consciousness was gently pulled from his body.

He saw the world far below, not as the cartographers saw it, not as historians saw it, but as Magic saw it.

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Alaster saw the world as the Universe saw it.

He saw the sky above bristle with stars, and in his heart, he knew, each one was its own world, with its own people, with their own struggles, with their own lives.

Against all that, his own world felt so small. So insignificant.

So worthless.

What use was a penny to a billionaire?

Yet that is what made it so important. So vital.

What was a billionaire if not a collection of many pennies?

And it all started from one. One penny, that gradually grew into the fortune that it was now.

The more Alaster stared into the void, the more he felt it staring back at him, stripping him of all his power, all the titles others had given him, all his thoughts, all the lies he hid behind.

It melted away all the layers until it found…him.

Just him.

The Origin saw him.

And as its multitude of eyes pierced through him, it began to change him.

He felt his understanding of Magic grow. Not as an asset to funnel Nature's Laws through. Not as Fire Magic, Earth Magic, or Death Magic.

Just as it was.

The essence of the Universe.

It was in everything.

It powered everything.

It was everything.

He felt its touch, felt it strengthen him, felt it remove that which it believed to be weaknesses.

Until it sought to remove his strength.

Alaster repelled from it.

Tore it out of him.

In an instant, Alaster found himself back in his body, on his knees, gasping for breath, his body and mind forever changed.

But he did not care about any of that. He did not care about the Ritual. He did not care about the Liquid Mana that drenched him, soaking into him and breaking down his body only to rebuild it stronger.

He cared only for one thing.

Desperation turned to relief. Finding the memories of his parents untouched.

"You misunderstand my friend." A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.

Alaster looked up, finding the vortex of Liquid Mana gone, and seeing only an Argalon standing before him. An Argalon he knew. At least, one he thought he knew.

Everything about the body was as Alaster remembered from his childhood, but there was something different about him, something crucial.

It pure white robes, so bright it seemed to give off its own light.

"What are you?" Alaster asked, standing up with caution.

"You tore away from Creation's Embrace." Belgroth said without accusation, only gentle understanding.

"It tried to take something from me."

"What did it try to take?"

"Me. It tried to steal away the one thing that made me…me."

Belgroth softly shook his head, "You misunderstand my friend. It did not seek to take away your memories, only the pain."

Alaster shook as he replied, "My pain made me what I am. I am my pain!"

Belgroth stared at him with eyes that contained the universe, "Emotions are like a raging river. If carefully maintained, it can nourish and give life. If left uncontrolled, it will tear through whatever stands before it with wild abandon. But if held too tightly, it will flood over and consume everything else.

You are not your pain Alaster. You have merely held onto it so tightly, for so long, that you don't know how to function without it.

You are afraid.

But to grow, you must let go. You must release your pain before you can know true peace."

"How? How can I when the man who caused it still lives? How can I be at peace when the people I loved can't be until he is sent to Hell?"

"By turning your head. Stop looking at the past, and start looking towards your future.

It is not easy. But I will help you. The Ritual required that I do the same before I could claim this new body."

Alaster took a deep breath, pushing aside the emotions that swelled up inside, "Later. Right now, there is a war going on."

"Later," Belgroth agreed, "Once the Siege is put to an end."

Alaster led the way up and out of the castle. Without Magic, they were forced to walk. Even without the Vortex of Mana sucking away all the Mana in the area, Mana would slowly begin to return, but it would take some time.

Belgroth looked at everything as they walked. Now with a body, he was seeing everything with his own eyes instead of Alaster's.

"How is it to be alive again?" Alaster asked, gently waving down a patrol of guards who had tensed upon seeing an Argalon within the castle.

"Different." Belgroth said bluntly.

"I imagine Argalon eyes are different from a Human's."

"They are, but this is different still. It is as if I am seeing everything as it could be, as well as what it is."

"Sounds confusing."

"Immensely."

Finally, they reached the front doors. Alaster placed his hand on them, "Are you ready to see the world?"

Belgroth's eyes became wet, as emotion threatened to overwhelm him, "Yes."

Alaster pushed the doors open and stepped aside for his friend.