Occult Awakening: From Commoner to Archmage

The Duke's Villa

A tall blonde man with greying hair sat cross-legged in a lavish room filled with silk-covered chairs and elaborate glass tea tables at the side of every chair.

The light crystal fixtures above spread a steady glow across polished floors, and faint music from a harp played by a servant girl in the corner kept the atmosphere gentle.

There were a slew of guests sitting on the chairs or simply standing, talking to each others whilst sipping tea and speaking in restrained voices.

They were nobles of Carinthia, families who had clawed their way into power or inherited it centuries ago, and each carried themselves with an air of self-importance that Duke Venton had grown accustomed to.

Their clothing reflected wealth and vanity.

Tall collars embroidered with silver thread, heavy rings with gemstones large enough to catch the light from across the room, veils of lace and beautiful dresses for the women, and polished boots for the men. All of it clean, spotless, and perfectly arranged to suggest dignity.

Charles himself wore what appeared to be a black and golden military uniform.The chest was decorated with pins and medals, tokens of both his victories and sacrifices. Resting across his lap was a dark, golden-embroidered hat, its rim stiff.

A pair of thin glasses rested at the bridge of his nose, allowing his cold blue eyes to study the room with calculated patience. A beard of medium length, streaked faintly with grey, covered the lower half of his face, and together with his posture it gave him a stern air.

Duke Charles Venton was a man with little humor for the world, and yet people always gathered near him. Partly for his influence, partly for his magnetic charisma. He did not speak often, but when he did, others listened.

As he raised his cup to his lips, his gaze moved across the nobles.

He silently marked each one.

Very few of them were capable of threatening him or what he had built.

Most were too small-minded, content to play ballroom politics with their estates and cling to their titles while he studied the bigger picture; the true Tabula board which was the shifting game of power across the whole continent.

Still, his hand rested comfortably on the ceremonial sword at his side. A habit, though there was no danger here. At least, not in the conventional sense.

SHRIEEEEK!

The sudden cry pierced the walls of the villa. A tremor passed through the light crystals, dimming them for the briefest second. Conversations stopped. Chairs scraped against the polished floor as nobles stood or half-stood, eyes darting around like cornered animals.

The flock of noble sheep around him shook with fear.

"What was that?" one demanded.

"Are we under attack?" another said, voice rising.

"Where did it come from?"

Charles did not move. He already knew.

'It somehow managed to wake up?'

His frown deepened. He began to rise, hand pressing harder against the hilt of his blade... until the doors swung open.

THUMP.

Alfred entered, his steps urgent.Charles' expression softened faintly; Alfred had served him longer than most men in the room had drawn breath.

"My lord. There's a problem at the menagerie. It's the Tyrant," Alfred said in a low whisper, making sure no one else could overhear.

Charles inclined his head in approval. Discretion was essential. While it wasn't a complete secret that he had managed to acquire a Sky Tyrant—and a fully grown one at that—he preferred his guests to remain ignorant of its current… temperament.

"I'm aware," he said evenly. "I heard the noise. Do you have any information?"

Alfred shook his head. "Nothing beyond the initial report. The knights stationed there said the beast awakened with no warning. We've had no word since."

That silence was telling. Charles knew the Sky Tyrant, even weakened and bound, was not something ordinary Bronze Knights could endure. Perhaps they had survived. But communication? Most likely destroyed instantly.

"What are your instructions, sire?"

Charles' hand tightened again on his blade. His body ached for combat. There was a gnawing itch under his skin. Alfred saw it immediately.

"Anything but that," the butler said quickly. "You are in no condition to do such. Furthermore, you still have guests waiting on you."

'He's right.'

Charles' chest tightened faintly. He had not recovered, and he never would.

The Sky Tyrant was a Rank Five esoteric beat at its peak. Even now, after years of sedation and restraints, it would still hold power equal to Rank Three.

Charles let out a long sigh, masking it with a casual wave of his hand.

"Send in the Gold Knights. They should be enough to handle it. Petition the Church as well. Ill reward them handsomely should they heed my request."

Alfred nodded. "Understood. Anything else, my lord?"

Charles paused, then allowed a rare smile to touch his face. "Yes. Tell Erina to come down. We have guests."

Alfred bowed, then disappeared as swiftly as he had come.

Charles turned back toward the nobles. They whispered and their eyes darted toward the windows as if expecting the walls themselves to crumble. He held onto the smile.

"Do not worry," he said, his voice steady. "Just a minor interruption. Let us continue our discussions."

And slowly but surely, the nobles obeyed.

****

The Forest

Luca finally felt he had run far enough when the pressure of the beast's struggle no longer shook the trees around him. The roar of snapping branches faded. The ground beneath his boots stopped trembling.

He collapsed onto his back, chest rising and falling in harsh gasps.

His body ached. Even with his strengthened physique, he felt every muscle screaming. His legs throbbed and his ears still rang faintly from the earlier shriek.

He laughed wryly.

"Bloody hell that Erina. Why'd she have to make me do this...Though I suppose she's doing this for me anyways,"

He turned his head, clutching the bag strapped tight against his chest. Inside, pristine white and blue feathers rustled faintly.

He thought back to the clearing. The sound of its shrieks tearing through the air.

It would have reached Carinthia. Perhaps every man, woman, and child in the city had heard it.

And then there was the matter of evidence. He left too quickly to cover his tracks.

His dagger—he remembered seeing it fall with the body of the knight into one of the newly-formed chasms. That was luck, but luck didn't erase every trace.

He replayed it in his head. Step by step

He came to a few conclusions, that barely eased the knot in his stomch. Finally, he exhaled and pushed the thoughts aside. What was done was done.

Yet the Sky Tyrant's lingered in his mind. Even now, with distance between them, he could almost feel its golden eyes bearing down on him, reminding him of how small he was.

And yet… that power. It was something he wanted.

"That's far out of my reach for now. So I'll keep working toward it."