《World of Agatha》


 1 Shock

    In a damp, dark and deep dungeon, somewhere in this World of Agatha, a portal with a purple glow appeared, spitting something out before closing completely.


    The figure was human and although pale and unhealthy looking like a corpse, It was still very much alive.


    Morgana slowly rose to her feet surveilling the surroundings.


    It was strange. As debilitated and wounded as she was, there still should be enough power left to fuel her dark vision spell. After all, It barely consumed any mana.


    Speaking of mana, there was certainly something seriously wrong with her reserves.


    "How is this possible? Even for this exhausted state it is just too little."


    But after the initial shock, she concluded - "No. This is still within the acceptable margin of error. After all I just used a very powerful magical artifact to break the barrier between worlds. It wouldn''t be surprising even if all of my remaining energy was consumed."


    Morgana calmly fumbled around until finally finding a suitable rock to sit on. Afterward, she immediately began reminiscing her previous battle, the final standoff, her Guild of Avalon against a vast coalition of enemies.


    She wasn''t, however, at all concerned with the possibility of the enemy following her here. Travel between worlds was a feat few people in history could achieve. The dark wizard herself only accomplished this by employing a relic of old, an item which had been completely destroyed in the process.


    Besides, even if the enemy had the means and the will to pursue her into this strange and hostile world, what could she do?


    Nothing, unfortunately.


    As much as she hated to admit, Morgana was at this moment completely powerless, having spent all of her trump cards.


    Like her old mentor said once - "A problem without a solution is solved from the beginning. It is better to use your energy in more productive ways, my dear."


    Morgana inspected her wounds, although from sheer instinct and battle experience she already had a rough idea of the situation.


    "Hmm. This is not too bad. Luckily I managed to stop the bleeding in my right flank before going through the portal. In this state, although I lost some blood, my health is relatively stable. There is only one problem."


    And as soon Morgana thought this, her stomach started growling.


    That''s right. She had almost no magic and yet needed to secure a source of food and water to survive until she recovered.


    Meanwhile, amidst her reflections, Morgana never stopped paying attention to her surroundings. This place was made of solid rock and filled with dirt. There were some small shining crystals spread sparingly through the whole place. But the light was very dim. She soon realized this dungeon had a decent population of bat-like creatures and took her time judging their fighting prowess.


    Nests were built on the ceiling and these two feet long animals seemed to eat all sorts of fungi growing on the walls.


    Apparently they were not a treat.


    Morgana was confident she would be able to catch two or three by using basic fire spells, witch consumed very little energy.


    So she hid stealthily in an appropriately large crevice. Just like an experienced wolf, she waited for the sheep to leave the herd. After all, Morgana was nothing if not cautious. There was no way of knowing how the swarm of bats would react when you attacked one of their own. Since they were a new race she never encountered before, there was no such thing as too many preparations.


    In other words, she would take no chances. These flying creatures were a necessary source of calories and liquid she could not afford to lose in this dire situation.


    But nothing could have prepared her for what was about to happen. When she launched the spell "firebolt" It was not a spell at all, but only a formless cloud of energy.


    "What?!" - Morgana cried out loud after the energy mass hit the bat without harming it in the slightest. Baffled by this whole situation

 2 Through The Looking Glass

    Having failed in her hunt, Morgana was determined to find a new source of food and water. There would be a time to worry about the sorry state of her magic, but it was definitely not now.


    For the moment, it was better just to consider her magic skills as temporarily useless and focusing on finding sustenance.


    It took her two hours of search through the halls and passages of this great dungeon but she eventually found an underground waterfall whose surroundings were filled with plump brown mushrooms.


    She was hungry and eager. Those succulent snacks were precisely what she needed at the moment. The previous struggle in Mozna Castle had greatly exhausted her. Those mushrooms were a welcome refreshment to soothe both her body and soul.


    However, Morgana was no fool. Unlike poisonous bats, whose venom glans could be removed before being turned into a meal, if the mushrooms turned out to be poisonous, for starters, it would be more difficult to discover. Besides you couldn''t simply remove the dangerous parts and eat the rest.


    So Morgana devised an ingenious plan. First she would watch for a while and see if the bats considered this fungus as a source of food, then she would rub small fragments of the mushrooms in her skin. After all, maybe bats could eat it but it was still poisonous to humans. And at last, If the skin showed no allergic reactions, she would chew a piece and spit it out in order to wait for negative effects.


    Only after all of this process was executed, Morgana finally felt confident enough to eat the mushrooms and drink the water that frequently splashed over them.


    Risks weren''t completely eliminated, but at the very least, the margin greatly decreased.


    Morgana sat down to eat and drink near the waterfall, feeling very vexed.


    Things weren''t going well at all for her in these past few days. Her fortress near the great lake had been surrounded by an army, catching her by surprise. After all, a war wasn''t expected anytime soon.


    Despite a desperate standoff, the barriers were pierced through and the enemy poured in. By this time, she knew it was all over for the guild she had led for the past sixty years and decided to run away.


    Of course, to stay and fight meant that all the bards in the land would shower her great courage with praise.


    But that is the thing about the dead. They are not capable of listening to the praise of the living.


    After all, what was there to fear? The invaders had gained the castle and all of its riches. Letting the enemy commander runway should have worked in their favor. There was no reason to pursue a powerful foe when you already had all of the desired loot.


    But she was wrong.


    Morgana was surrounded by five very powerful casters in black lustrous robes


    The battle was long and flashy, the earth quaked and the stars wept, but after six hours it was finally coming to an end.


    One of the black-robed enemies was dead and two more were severely injured. Those hunters had underestimated their prey and paid the price for this lack of caution.


    But, with the help of reinforcements, this last two had managed to push the exhausted Morgana out of her limits.


    Sigh. Morgana breathed in dismay as she took a mirror out of her Bag of Holding. It was truly beautiful in its simplicity. Polished volcanic glass in a frame of bronze.


    Seeing this strange course of action, her enemies decided to strike immediately. When It comes to Magic, innocent-looking items like mirrors were the most feared of all.


    Simply put, one can understand more or less how a magic spear or sword could be used, but for seemingly common ones It was much more difficult, making even the most experienced warrior uneasy.


    But it was, unfortunately for them, already too late for a direct attack to yield any results.


    The mirror glowed purple, brimming with arcane might and, at the next moment, there wasn''t any Morgana to be seen.


    The guild master they went to great lengths in order to kill had scaped.


    ...


    In an instant the mirror shattered in her hands. Quickly reducing itself to dust.


    The world around was now full of color, rapidly changing in a kaleidoscopic manner. There was a powerful wind blowing in her face and body. The bag, still in her hand wasn''t been grasped firmly enough and fell into oblivion somewhere along the way. Her once beautiful black and purple robe ornamented in gold became tattered and damaged beyond repair. All of the magical jewelry she had painstakingly accumulated over the years was also lost.


    But curiously she wasn''t wounded in the slightest. It was as If the torment was intentionally protecting her body from the backlash.


    When Morgana once more became aware she was already at the mysterious dungeon.

 3 A Grim Conclusion

    Now.


    Close to the waterfall, sat a female figure in a truly sorry state.


    Even in her normal condition, Morgana could never truly be called beautiful. Her hair was always too messy, her nose, a little too large, and she had deep shadows beneath the eyes from hours and hours of sleepless study. Besides her pale skin gave an unhealthy glean even before she was wounded.


    Now, without the ornaments that usually granted her a certain air of nobility, using tattered clothes, and having lost a lot of blood, she now looked like the ghost of a poor eighteen-year-old woman, destined to haunt this place forever.


    That''s right, even though this was a five-hundred-year-old dark wizard, she still looked like an eighteen-year-old. At least this much she could brag about.


    ....


    Morgana started to think about the future, making plans. She knew that, at very least from short to medium term, returning to her homeworld was not an option. The mirror, after all, was a one-way ticket.


    According to the writings on the archeological site where she uncovered the relic, this was a disposable item for those who made it.


    It was common knowledge in the Northumbrian Continent that more advanced civilizations existed in the past, but for some reason they all vanished.


    The mirror itself belongs to this immemorial past. As far as Morgana could tell the organization known as the Ianomami-Tupi Sect used these artifacts as a material to test its disciples. When a student was deemed ready for his or her initiation, a rite of passage was performed.


    They were left alone in one random world somewhere in the multiverse to survive with their own power. If they managed to return, they would be accepted as full-fledged members. If not, they would be excommunicated from the sect. There was no time limit for completion, but after a certain period, it was just assumed the person wouldn''t come back.


    The inscription ended as follows - "Hardship is the mother of success. Return safely for a hero''s welcome. To the winner, the potatoes."


    This last part, especially, gave her a very good impression. It seemed this sect put merit above everything else, having a doctrine of cold-hearted pragmatism.


    Morgana could truly appreciate this.


    ...


    So, how would she survive in this strange environment? No. She was a powerful wizard. She ought to do more than merely survive.


    In her prime Morgana had the power of a queen, lording over an entire organization with many powerful underlings and precious resources at her disposal.


    Now, although her position had been irreparably damaged, to the point where she wouldn''t be able to enjoy these benefits for the next several decades, even if everything went well, at the very least, this woman still craved for more.


    However, it was still too soon for establishing any concrete goal in mind, since she knew very little about this world. But still, just surviving was not enough.


    Thinking about this, Morgana checked her mana reserves, the power contained in her very soul. And as she did so, her mood went gloom once more.


    To her surprise, the energy had only recovered to the same level as It was before she tried to cast the firebolt spell.


    No matter how much time passed she couldn''t accumulate any more than this.


    "Why is that?" She asked herself while munching down some more mushrooms


    Then she remembered the huge fiasco, when the fire spell wasn''t working at all and a terrifying hypothesis flashed in her mind.


    "No. It can''t be." - She said. And her shock roared even louder than the waterfall.


    But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense and a drop of cold sweat ran down her spine.


    This was an entirely new world. What if magic was different here? What if her knowledge didn''t apply in this strange land?


    After all, the way wizards cultivated was by learning. The more they knew about the laws of magic, the more power they would be able to keep in their souls.


    By this logic, the fact that Morgana could only retain a small portion of mana meant that only the most fundamental principles of magic were also applicable here, in the World of Agatha.


    In other words, since her knowledge was minimum, so was her cultivation stage.


    Morgana had several setbacks in these last few days, but, without a doubt, this was the harshest of then all.


    ....


    Two days later. In the same cave system


    A small bat couldn''t keep up with the rest of the group''s speed. He was only a few meters behind.


    But, for a dedicated predator, this was good enough. The bat was hit by an object moving at great speed and fell to the ground.


    A shadow dashed forward, finishing off the wounded prey and moving to its layer.


    ...


    Morgana was quite content with this result. This was her fifth catch.


    She had been searching for the exit this past two days, unable to find It. But it was good to know that, at least for the time being, she wouldn''t starve to death even as she distanced herself from where the mushrooms grew.


    This was the result of her arduous training.


    She had used a certain spell to kill the bats, a basic enchantment called Lesser Acceleration.


    Its use was very simple, yet effective. The caster could target an already moving object, doubling its original speed. It''s was enough to turn even a thrown rock into a reasonable weapon.


    In fact, this was quite an achievement for Morgana. A normal acolyte would usually study for two whole months before being able to use a spell-like this.


    But she was able to master it in only two days. This was due to both, her natural talent and the knowledge she had from the previous world.


    "The laws of magic may be different here, but there are still a lot of similarities. I should be able to accelerate the learning process by quite a lot using the knowledge I already have."


    Finally things were starting to look up for Morgana, but unfortunately there were even more challenges waiting ahead.

 4 Bat King

    The bats were disgusting. Their raw meat would still probably have tasted bad even if they were cooked, but Morgana didn''t have the necessary materials to make a bonfire at the moment. The only reason why she even had light were the shining stones that were spread around.


    As she suspected, these animals were poisonous, but, since she successfully extracted the glans, there was no problem. A long experience dissecting all sorts of creatures made her a fairly skilled surgeon, so there was no chance of any poison seeping through the meat.


    Morgana ate and ate. For the first time after arriving in Agatha her stomach was actually full. This small pleasure filled her with great joy.


    Perhaps this explains why she didn''t see It coming...


    ...


    Four great talents sprang forth grazing the skin of her left arm. Morgana growled in pain while retreating and tried to steal a look at her opponent.


    What she saw was a faul beast, child of this place''s darkness.


    Two pairs os leathery wings extended themselves from the back of a three meters long bat-like monsters. The creature had long claws and fangs, somewhat resembling a much larger version of the other dungeon dwellers.


    "This must be their king." - Thought Morgana - "I was too careless, letting my guard down like this."


    The wizard had chosen a small hidden chamber with only one entrance for her lair, believing this would keep her presence a secret from the monsters. After all, not even their echolocation should be able to penetrate walls and especially the long and twisted corridor that gave access to this place.


    She had put her eggs in a basket called stealth. Yet the basket had been ruthlessly stroke down.


    ....


    But, as It seemed, lady Luck still wasn''t showing off her beautiful smile, so Morgana was once more pitched against terrible odds.


    By using the terrain in her favor, the wizard managed to evade the first few attacks, dodging between stone pillars. She had grown up fighting stronger foes very frequently for training, so speed was a trait she greatly valued. It had been particularly useful in her childhood when competing against her brothers.


    However, even after learning powerful defensive spells during the course of her long career, Morgana never gave up on exercising her body and keeping the senses sharp. After all, maybe her mana had run out or the magic in a certain place was just somehow limited or less effective.


    Besides, it was never a bad thing to have an extra ace in the hole. Too many melee fighters had underestimated her physical skills over the years just to be utterly surprised when she managed to evade their strikes.


    Common sense dictated that wizards had weak bodies and many smart foes would act on that notion.


    But this is the great strength of unorthodox methods. By breaking common sense, even something inefficient can be used to great effect.


    Of course, this beast wasn''t intelligent and as such was not limited by any stereotypes.


    Morgana had attempted do use her Nimbleness to maneuver herself. The idea was to lure the monsters away from the door only for this cunning fox to make a sharp turn and scape. She was confident that the creature with its massive body wouldn''t be able to follow her through certain passages, and as such, once outside the chamber, a chase would not be viable.


    It was a crude yet sound enough plan.


    But the bat king proved too fast. These corridors were too small and cramped for a monster of such size to be able to fly freely. So what exactly were those wings good for?


    Well the obstacles in such an environment were plentiful. Any large body would have a hard time evading. This creature should have utterly failed as a predator in this place, except for one detail.


    The two pairs of wings flung lightly at every sharp turn and jump, making It easier for the main body to move and obstacles that should have been challenging became mere stepping stones on his path.


    Those wings weren''t made for "flight" in the strict sense of the word. Like a chicken, the Bat King lightly lifted itself whenever It was convenient, making hunting much easier.


    Morgana saw this and quickly adapted her plans. She took a stone shard from her clothes. If one were to look closely they would see that It had been carefully polished by grinding, a poorly improvised weapon, only useful for those with no access to metal of any kind.


    She breathed deeply and, against all logic, charged against the monster. Even the creature itself was surprised, just barely having the time to raise its claws and charge ahead as well.


    The two were in a collision route against each other and certainly the bigger would crush the smaller ones. Such is the nature of physical momentum and, at that moment, the outcome seemed set in stone.


    But then Morgana threw the shard at the monster''s face. The bat king was surprised and bewildered, but besides that, seemed to take no damage, once more turning to look at its prey. However she was nowhere to be seen.


    What was the meaning of this?


    Lesser Acceleration is a very useful spell, but the fact that it could not affect living creatures made many people believe it could only be used aggressively. However this was far from the truth. Magic was stronger when deployed by a creative mind.


    At that moment when the bat king was distracted, Morgana lowered her center of gravity, kicking the ground and rushing towards the corridor with all her might. But, at that decisive juncture, she wasn''t the only thing moving. So were her shoes. She enchanted the latter and pushed herself forward indirectly.


    This was the reason why she chose to learn Lesser Acceleration first, before other techniques. There were many attack spells that were actually much stronger. Fire, in particular had great destructive power.


    But this one had great flexibility. A trump card that could be used at critical moments to save her life.


    Before the monster even understood what happened, she vanished into the darkness.

 5 Never Corner a Mouse

    Morgana first made sure to distance herself as much as possible from the former lair. Preserving mana was important, of course, but right now she had other priorities.


    By taking only the narrower routes, she was pretty confident that the terrible monster would not be able to follow her.


    After running for one whole kilometer underground, she finally stopped. Hiding at a small rocky crevice hidden behind a thick pilar of dirt.


    Morgana was very concerned about one point in particular.


    Those large claws that grazed her skin. Were they actually poisonous?


    The wizard was starting to feel a sense of numbness spreading through her left arm. A fact that deeply preoccupied her.


    Back in her native world, Morgana had spent many years increasing the poison resistance of her body by ingesting small doses every single day.


    But she was very unsure if this would work in case the poison turned out to be deadly. After all, this was a strange animal she had never encountered before, a complete alien.


    Thinking about this, Morgana resolved herself - "I need to quickly become stronger and come back to kill that damned bat. Developing an antidote is essential in case the artificial resistance isn''t enough to save my life."


    While thinking about all of this, Morgana withdrew a black tissue from her robes. This was a material acquired through the smaller bats.


    By wrapping It around her arm, the bleeding was stopped.


    She had long realized the uses their leather-like skin could have, in the absence of common cloth.


    Besides their innards were resilient yet flexible. Morgana kept some, planning to craft some rope in the future.


    .....


    In an isolated chamber, somewhere in the dungeon stood a frustrating creature.


    The bat king was a monarch in the truest sense of the word. In the whole of this dungeon there was no one who dared to challenge its supremacy.


    On the previous day, however, during it''s the hunt, this ruler had encountered a very good spot, the perfect nest to be. It was large yet isolated. Everything a lair required.


    Nevertheless, it was already occupied by a estrange creature. A bizarre biped without wings.


    This creature had even dared to challenge the true king, by clashing with it before running away. It was truly preposterous. As the apex predator, the Bat King just wasn''t used to it.


    Even after a day had passed, it was still very mad, venting anger as it devoured the lesser members of its own kin.


    ...


    Suddenly the monster lifted it''s head as if sensing something and gave three hasty steps back.


    It was just in time because as soon as the bat king withdrew, a stone shard pierced the place in witch It had previously stood.


    Morgana was at the entrance with a sadistic smile on her face.


    A rat when cornered will fight until the very end. This wizard was a coward at heart, putting self-preservation as a first priority. She would have had no problem just ignoring the Bat King, even after he wounded and chased her away.


    But the creature made a terrible mistake by poisoning her. It gave Morgana a reason to fight since there was a good chance she might die without the antidote made from the Bat King''s venom.


    Morgana thought - "You cannot blame me now. This path was of your choosing, stupid animal. Never corner a strong foe. This is a lesson for which the price will be your very life."


    As the creature sprang forth, Morgana immediately withdrew along the pathway and the Bat King gave chase just as she predicted.


    It had made another grave mistake in the art of war, facing the enemy on its own terms.


    It''s opponent clearly had chosen the battlefield and was about to take full advantage of this.


    Somewhere along the corridor trap and prey met each other, engaging immediately, like a living couple.


    A circle on the ground, made of arcane symbols, glowed purple and commanded by Morgana a mighty spell took effect of the target.


    However, the target was not the bat, but the terrain itself. Such was the nature of the magic chosen for this battle, Transmute Rock.


    Soon the ground, the walls and even the roof were converted into mud trapping the bat king inside.


    But it wasn''t dead yet. Besides its light body compared to its size and two pairs of wings which facilitated movement, there was still a chance for the creature to escape.


    But Morgana gave it no chance, launching several enchanted stone shards on her opponent.


    Her mana reserves had been greatly enhanced in these past few days, proportionally to the new knowledge she acquired through endless practice. After all, when she wasn''t hunting or sleeping, she had nothing to do except for studying the laws of magic in this new world.


    As the five shards pierced it, the Bat King finally stopped struggling. Its last thoughts were marked by regret. Regret that it ever met the strange bipedal creature. A few minutes later, It had died from blood loss.

 6 Light and Discovery

    Along the narrow pathways and rocky entrances, a shadowy figure walked, just like a ghost in the land of death. This figure was Morgana, of course.


    Five days had passed since her duel with the Bat King. Since then, she had searched endlessly for the exit of this dreaded place. Unfortunately, success evaded her, just like a healthy man would do with the flu. But this was no news. Since childhood, her luck had always been quite poor.


    The little time she had to spare was committed to magic practice. Small tricks weren''t difficult to grasp. When attempting to master lesser spells, frequently, all she had to do was to make minor adjustments in the original formula and everything would fall into place.


    There were also some easy to spot differences in magical law, witch facilitated her work. Otherwise, her only alternative was trial and error. For instance, one of the key points to keep in mind was that, in this land, elemental particles seemed to be thicker and more unstable.


    The result was that when deploying transmute rock in her previous battle, Morgana had to craft much more robust runes. Had she not done so, the whole formation would simply collapse and implode.


    Food was also not an issue. With the ample supply of bats and the occasional mushroom, her nutritional needs were properly met. She was also capable of sustaining a bonfire now, which helped both with the taste of food and health in general since cooking killed many types of bacteria.


    By this point, however, Morgana had reached a bottleneck on her cultivation process. After all there was only so much she could learn with practice alone. Academic studies played a major role in the power of a wizard. That''s the reason why the most powerful arcane masters Morgana had ever known were men and women with great diligence and devotion to reading, reflecting and experimenting in seclusion.


    A strong wizard was both someone who uncovered the mysteries of magic, as much as someone who tempered his or herself in the heat of battle.


    One of the possibilities Morgana had considered was to settle a base of operations as soon as she arrived on the surface. Time was needed in order to do experiments and increase her own understanding through methodical observation in a controlled environment.


    However, one might be enticed to consider - "Why couldn''t she do that inside the dungeon? Why lose time searching for a path to the surface that might not even exist?"


    Well. Morgana had several reasons for the choice she made. For starters the resources underground seemed to be very poor. There were no magical ores besides the glowing rocks and biodiversity was extremely low. Without considering the infestation of bat-like creatures, even the types of fungus appeared to be very few.


    This was a terrible work environment for Morgana. After all, even the most talented researcher required proper raw materials to make progress.


    The other reason that pushed her towards this calculated gamble could be summarised in one word - "books".


    If there were intelligent creatures on this land Morgana would be a fool if she did not make full use of their already pre-existing knowledge. As long as she could get her hands on their written manuscripts, years or even decades of work could be saved.


    "At least I have time. If my body''s poison resistance proved useless against the bat king, I would be very pressed to develop an antidote right now. Fortunately the poison seems to have left my system already." - Morgana thought happily as at least one of her problems had been solved without effort.


    ....


    The light was the first sign of discovery.


    An entire week had gone by since Morgana''s arrival at this place. The search had been long and difficult, but finally an exit to the surface was in sight.


    A few minutes before, this hidden path had almost gone unnoticed. Only a very slight difference in the gloom caused Morgana to be suspicious.


    Most people wouldn''t have noticed or, even if they did, there was the chance of simply dismissing it as the effect of a greater number of glowing stones cramped together.


    But fortunately this wasn''t the case.


    The way out was very steep, looking more like a whole on the ground rather than a cave.


    However this was not a problem for Morgana. She climbed very quickly, propelling herself up successively with great ease. Her movements looked graceful and very light. It was very difficult to imagine how those jumps could produce such strength, capable of lifting the human body to those hights.


    After so much time spent underground, the light hurt Morgana''s eyes in its first contact so she hurriedly covered it with her hands. However, the pain did not spoil her mood, witch was elated.


    Her gamble paid off. Not only this world had a surface but she was also able to reach it safely. Many new possibilities were now open and the future looked bright.


    However, she couldn''t rest just yet. There was much work to do.

 7 Loyal Servan

    The ground was filled with foliage.


    As Morgana arrived on the surface she was met with a sea of tall trees growing very close to each other. They towered over her as if trying to reach for the skies.


    She had only just sprouted off from an enormous crater on the ground but was already bothered by a great number of mosquitos, some of the witches enjoyed sucking blood while others were simply irritating.


    Morgana walked around, looking for the tallest tree, which was more than sixty meters in height and climbed it immediately. When she reached the top, her surprise was in no way small.


    A green mantle covered the earth as far as the eye could see. From horizon to horizon, vegetation was rich and plentiful. On the most elevated peak, as well as in the deepest valley, space was filled to the brim with life.


    Morgana did not know it yet, but this was Azov, the greatest forest in the entire continent.


    ....


    In a dark room, a giant jaguar was held in chains. A four meters tall creature witch was considered a great predator on its natural environment was now looking miserable and powerless.


    At its side stood the culprit behind its captivity, a dark hooded figure surrounded by shadow.


    Morgana had finished inscribing symbols on the ground and now had adopted a very solemn continence. This was the moment that would decide if her efforts would pay off or not.


    Morgana started chanting in a strange language but the meaning roughly translated to this:


    "As one perishes, another rises. Such is the circle of life. Guide the energy, built the strength. From the earth, I craft a loyal servant. Be forever bound to my will from your shining heart."


    The routines on the ground started glowing white, so Morgana understood time was ripe.


    She took out a dagger made of crude iron and in an instant the weapon was surrounded with a purple arcane aura. Morgana made one swift motion and, moving like thunder, pierced the jaguar''s heart.


    It didn''t even make a noise, almost as if it was already dead on the inside even before the beginning. Blood flowed like a waterfall, soiling Morgana and spreading all over the stone floor.


    As the arcane characters on the formation were tinged in red, their glow changed as well. Almost as if it was being corrupted by the blood.


    One the ground there were two half circles connected by a line. These were formed entirely by mysterious words written in a magical language. Inside one of these circles was the dead jaguar. While, on the other, there was a very large glowing yellow gem positioned on a pedestal, around which there were several basins filled with mud and surrounded by loose rocks.


    Morgana started chanting fervently and the red glow intensified by tenfold. Immense pressure-filled the room as an invisible aura was being extracted from the corpse.


    With several hand gestures, purple strings began to lodge themselves on the target making the whole process much easier.


    Once it was over, the time had come for the next step to begin. The energy was channeled through the formation and was safely stored inside the yellow stone.


    Morgana felt glad. So far the process had gone by without any problems. She thought - "It''s time for the finishing touch."


    With round hand motions she agitated the elemental particles taking control over the mud. Like the formation before, the gem also glowed much brighter and appeared to actively help Morgana as she sculped the mud around it, giving it shape. Fingers snapped and the loose stones sprang into action attaching themselves on the mud made core.


    In the beginning, it was only a formless mass but, as Morgana grasped the air, it''s shape was manipulated. As a skilled artisan slowly molding pottery, the wizard was little by little perfecting her work.


    From the original chaotic mass, a humanoid shape was created.


    A smile rose from Morgana''s lips. After so much effort, she had succeeded at last.


    ....


    Morgana had gone through a rocky start, having been trapped in a gloomy dungeon for her first week in this new world. She also had trouble adjusting. Especially when it came to magic. Since everything was new and looked very alien.


    But now she was out, having escaped from that dark prison.


    After six months of hard work, alone in the wilderness, results were very impressive.


    Morgana spent great effort and transformed the dungeon entrance into her own personal headquarters. By using earth magic and transmutation she could alter the environment to better fulfill her needs and keep unwelcome guests, like the monstrous bats, away.


    Elemental magic had never been her specialty, but earth in particular was vital for her activities here. After all, this world, as far as she could tell, was a very wild place and devoid of any intelligent creatures. So the ability to alter her surroundings and build quickly was very useful.


    As such she had taken the time to painstakingly polish this skill into true mastery. Morgana was confident that as long as she could prepare the terrain, victory could be achieved even against much stronger foes.


    Transmutation was very important as well, allowing her to easily craft simple items from raw materials, which saved a great deal of time. Even the knife she used on the previous ritual and her clothes were made through this method.

 8 Progress

    While walking through her lair, Morgana suddenly entered a very large room with ample amounts of materials neatly stockpiled. This was her alchemy lab. Many herbs and other organic substances had their proprieties systematically compiled.


    New recipes were created here every day for the most varied uses. There was a little bit of everything. Medicine, poison and even general utility.


    The wizard took out a notebook and, with an indifferent attitude, started writing down results while observing new substances. After a few minutes she stored it once more inside her crude robes and walked away. But before exiting the room, she stole a quick glance at the creature standing at the corner.


    It was a massive two and a half meters tall earth golem. Right now it was using a large wooden spoon to steer the liquid inside a giant cauldron. A very menial task compared to its capabilities on the battlefield.


    Golems like this played a vital role in order to keep the research facility working properly. Without them, she wouldn''t be able to accomplish even one-tenth of what she did in the past few months.


    Since Morgana didn''t have easily available labor like in the old days in her guild she was forced to improvise. After all, there were only so many actions an individual could take simultaneously.


    However, things hadn''t always looked so bright. At first Morgana had failed repeatedly on her rituals to create these servants. Even after several attempts she had no idea of what was going wrong.


    Usually after a succession of trial and error, Morgana''s five hundred-year-old''s worth of experience would supply her with insights and ideas for adjusting the formulas and making things work as they should.


    But the solution to this problem eluded her for a long time.


    In her homeworld, creating a golem was a relatively straight forward process. It was expansive, however, since you needed a magical gem, and took time as well as a decent knowledge of both elemental and life magic t? produce. Through an array the wizard would convert mana into life essence while molding the body and linking it to the gem, which would become the golem''s heart.


    Perhaps Morgana would still be seeking a solution if she was not so well versed in the dark arts. The idea appeared while she was walking through the forest one day and saw a mushroom sprouting from the old corpse of a deer.


    Life was a circle and it was possible to reuse vital energy from the dead. So why was she losing her time trying to convert mana into life when she could take a more direct approach?


    It worked like a charm and Morgana had, since then, greatly increased the number of hands at her disposal.


    ....


    She entered another door at the end of the same corridor which gave access to the aforementioned alchemy lab.


    This room was divided into two halves, one had many kinds of plants, while the other was filled with animals in cages.


    Morgana once more started to take notes, being particularly interested in a plant whose exterior was calcified, becoming very hard. The other vegetals didn''t seem to catch her attention and as such she turned towards the animals.


    There was a wolf whose entire face was covered in bulges. It seemed very frail, at the brink of death. The situation was such that not even its eyes were visible anymore. Truly a being worthy of pity. But not Morgana''s pitty of course. She looked at it coldly and said.


    "So this method also doesn''t work. It just leads to cancerous growth. However it''s not a complete loss either. Very interesting. Maybe there is a way this can be used as a weapon. I remember that about two hundred years ago there was a great priest on the Kingdom of Frankia who used defective healing as a means of fighting. What was his name again?"


    As she searched her memories, Morgana surveyed the other subjects until finding something else that picked her attention. This time it was a small rodent. On the place an incision was made, only a scar was left.


    "Hmm. This is good. However, the speed of healing is a bit lacking. Using it in battle wouldn''t be practical, but it will do nicely when treating injuries during rest or in case of an accident."


    Content with her results, Morgana left the room. As one could deduce, here were conducted both, experiments concerning healing and transmutation of organic matter.


    ...


    At the end of the hall stood a golem guarding a door.


    As Morgana gave her command, the giant stepped aside, allowing her to enter. She didn''t position it here so it would keep safe the contents of this room, but to prevent the content itself from scaping.


    Inside, just like in the other room, there were several animals, but with three key differences. First, they were all chimpanzees. Second, the contact between them wasn''t prevented by cages. And third, almost all of them were dead.


    Morgana shook her head in dissatisfaction.


    "They died too quickly. There was no chance for an effective spread."


    When people think about dark magic the image that often comes to mind are the flashy spells like "life drain" or even scary necromancers and demonologists.


    But what could be just as deadly or even more was the ability to create and spread diseases.


    The reason why people often forgot about this was because storytellers found the topic not to be a very glamorous one. A bard wouldn''t lose his or her time singing about some plague when there were literally armies of the dead walking around.


    This was even more of a reason for Morgana to focus her resources on the subject. Since there was a bigger chance any potential enemy would know less about this method, making use of it was even more worthwhile.


    She wasn''t quite sure if there were other intelligent creatures populating this land, but if this was the case, it would behoove her greatly having biological weapons in her arsenal.


    There was only one problem. The lethality of the virus had killed it''s hosts far too quickly, preventing it to spread further. That''s why even now there were healthy survivors.


    "Alright. I will correct this in the next round of experiments."


    As mentioned before, the golem on the door was to prevent any subject from scaping. If the virus were to leak before she made the decision to release it, all sorts of problems might emerge.


    However, Morgana herself didn''t need to worry about this particular malitie. It was a disease that already existed in her previous world, although with slight alterations. So naturally she had been thoroughly immunized.

 9 Whirlwhind Rider

    On this night, Morgana was disturbed by horrible nightmares. It was enough to move even her usually calm and unperturbed heart.


    She was a young girl once more, living on Merrywater Village and disputing with her elder brothers in friendly sword fights. They were stronger, of course, but speed made her an equal contender for the win.


    Both of them stopped, short of breath. The result was a draw.


    "That''s enough, little rabbit. Take a breather. Your groom to be will arrive at any moment now. You should go home and ready yourself. Since you aren''t pretty, looking tidy it''s the very least you can do." - Said Edmond, the brother watching from the sidelines, joking maliciously.


    Morgana felt offended. Edmond wouldn''t talk to Jonah, her other brother, like this if his girlfriend was coming, and he wasn''t good looking either. Was it because she was a woman?


    However, there was no way she would show those emotions on her face. Edmond could be very sadistic at times. She absolutely did not intend to give him any satisfaction.


    Just as Jonah was about to say something, a terrible noise filled the air, followed by fire and confusion.


    "What''s happening? I don''t understand!" - Screamed Morgana as the world fell apart around her.


    The earth cracked pulling her into the abyss and a terrible wind blew on her face from bellow.


    There was something very wrong.


    Morgana calmed down, regaining control over herself.


    "No. This is not how it happened!" - Morgana thought very confidently as her eyes suddenly snapped open.


    ...


    It rained very heavily.


    Still on her bed but failing, all the same, Morgana acted quickly, conjuring words of power.


    "Break Momentum."


    As the spell took effect, her falling speed started to decrease rapidly.


    But she had already been falling for hundreds of meters before taking action, having accumulated great speed. So the fall continued, although at a much slower pace.


    The bed took the brunt of the impact breaking immediately, while Morgana ended up with only a twisted ankle.


    She currently stood on a clearing, somewhere within the forest as a maniacal laugh echoed through the woods.


    ....


    "Hahahahaha. Very good, very good."


    A red-cloaked figure said as it clapped its hands and approached the wounded Morgana.


    This was not a physical voice. Rather, it was directly transmitted to her mind.


    Myriad different thoughts suddenly flashed in her mind, but her first reaction was to take a vial containing a red liquid from her robes. With a quick motion, she gulped It down and the pain on her ankle lessened.


    If a battle was to take place, she needed to be in a condition to move freely.


    Perhaps seeing her concern, the creature attempted to calm her down.


    "There is no need to worry, little rabbit. After all, I have no intention of fighting against you. This was just a prank. We had fun together, joking around. No?"


    Said him with a malicious smile. The same smile her brother had made on the dream.


    For the first time Morgana had the opportunity to take a more detailed look at her opponent. He was definitely a humanoid but not a human. Beneath his red clothes she could see a pitch-black skin.


    Morgana had once traveled through the Austrasian Continent in her homeworld, a land with a very hot climate where humans had much darker skin. But that color was just a very profound brown, not truly black like this person in front of her.


    The irises were red, but besides this, his eyes looked normal. His most distinguishing characteristic, however, was a very large and impressive barefoot appearing on the lower part of the robe. No doubt supported by an equally massive leg.


    Not a pair. Only one.


    ....


    Even after his guarantee, the statement that he did not wish to fight wasn''t enough to put her at ease.


    In the short amount of time, since they met, this man had proven to be just too powerful.


    Putting aside the fact he managed to transport her outside of her base and then literally lifted her through hundreds and hundreds of meters in the air, just the fact he infiltrated her mind and kept her under his control during sleep for such a long period of time, spoke volumes of his great might.


    Unlike with her other capabilities, transmigrating here didn''t degrade much of her mental barriers. After all she still had a very old and resilient soul, refined through a lot of hardships and challenges. Which meant that this man would have probably been able to do the same thing with her original self, the one in possession of all her powers.


    But the most shocking thing of all is that he seemed to have done all of this as a practical joke. Which meant his true powers were much greater than this.


    "In his eyes, I am nothing but a funny puppy."


    Morgana hadn''t felt this powerless in a long time. After centuries of hard work and clever planning, she achieved an incredibly high position on the power hierarchy of Northumbria. Even the mightiest forces, such as the Shadow Proclamation, wouldn''t dare to face her directly, choosing to employ underhanded methods.


    "This guy. As long as I don''t act rashly, he will probably let me live. The higher his narcissism, the better are my chances of getting out of this situation unscathed. Who knows? Maybe I can even get some useful information."


    ....


    They stood for a few seconds on a stalemate as the one-footed man seemed to take great pleasure from observing her helplessness. Then he finally spoke.


    "You are a quiet one. Aren''t you? As for myself, I am just the opposite. Once I start talking, there is no end to it. Hahahahaha."


    After a brief pause, he continued.


    "By the way, I have a gift for you."


    "A gift?"


    Morgana asked with a confused face.


    "Yes. A gift. This is just my way of saying ''thanks''. Because of you a very tedious morning just turned for the better. Truly commendable. Keep up the good work."


    Saying this, he gently placed a scroll case on the muddy ground and turned to leave.


    "Wait!"


    As Morgana called, the man stopped on his tracks.


    "Who are you?"


    He turned his head and gave a slight smile, looking very amused.


    "Well. Let''s see... I have many names. One for every mouth and another for every pair of ears willing to listen. But you can call me Saci, The Whirlwind Rider."


    Finishing his sentence, his hands moved as if to grasp the air, causing an immediate response from the environment. It was as if the atmosphere itself was gleefully welcoming a long lost master.


    A hurricane was formed with great might and energy, yet the surroundings remained untouched. As Saci entered it''s domain and vanished. Soon after, the power of the disaster began to fade away. Crumbling on itself, a titan was both born and killed in an instant.


    All of Morgana''s instincts told her she had made the right choice by not provoking this monster.

 10 Departure

    At the sunrise, three days after her meeting with Saci, Morgana stood at her base''s entrance. By her side there was a massive improvised chariot being driven by two golems. There were four more serving as guards on the back.


    Today was the day of her departure and she did not intend to ever return.


    This place had given her so much. Here she got back a portion of her old power and hid from the forest''s unknown dangers behind those walls. Even the golems were built with magic gems she found by exploring deeper within the dungeon.


    And now she was walking away from all of it. Bringing only what she could carry without much trouble.


    The reason?


    Because it was all a lie. An illusion created by outdated notions of reality. Morgana had grown arrogant. After five hundred years of reasonable success, she believed herself untouchable as long as she was careful enough. In her previous world this had also cost her everything.


    Staying at the same castle for fifty years? Creating a guild? Drawing attention? She might as well just have painted a target on her back. This risky immobility was bound to come back and hunt her in the long run. She should have known better this.


    Morgana, however, had believed very strongly that as long as the benefits of attacking her were outweighed by risks and costs, no great power would ever dare to make this choice.


    She went to great lengths to make sure no one would ever consider her to be an appealing target.


    The Guild of Avalon, for instance, had it''s sphere of influence restricted only to the lake region, near Mozna Castle.


    By right, someone with her power would be able to dispute much more wealth, territory and influence than just this, if she really wished to do so. Yet she adopted a conservative posture, vying for stability.


    She also built a network of alliances, becoming an important mediator among the dark factions. All in order to defend herself in case of enemy aggression.


    And the reason behind all of this was her long term plan, a dark ritual that would have made her powerful like a goddess. In order for her to succeded, however, many years were spent gathering both resources and knowledge.


    But the consequence was self-inflicted blindness. The world kept moving as she was unaware.


    Somehow, her enemies learned about this ritual and, suddenly, the cost-benefit balance could no longer protect her. The enemy stroke fast and decisively, achieving victory even before her allies could act.


    This time around, however, her mistake was even worst. Not only did she felt confident enough to settle down and ignore the world around her, but she did so in a completely strange environment where her powers were severely limited.


    What if all intelligent creatures in this world were just as strong or maybe even stronger than that strange man?


    Well, that would mean that all of the countermeasures she thought about so far would be utterly useless.


    Those people would just take a look at her base, her discoveries and even her golems just to laugh in disdain.


    That''s the ultimate reason why Morgana immediately chose to leave.


    By leaving, she might face hostile creatures and die in the process. But she also could learn something and have the chance to survive and prosper.


    However, if she stayed, death was certain.


    Not by age, since she did not grow older.


    However, just like it happened in Northumbria. She may choose to ignore the world, but who can guarantee the world will choose the same? Eventually the unknown would come knocking on the door and bring her impending doom.


    Morgana whistled and an exquisite red bird with a long tail landed on her shoulders. This was her familiar, a fey creature that took the form of an animal.


    "You know what to do, Mordred. I understand your strength is not what it used to be, but I believe it''s enough to do some easy scouting. Now go ahead."


    Master and familiar had a very close relationship. When this contract was forged, there was no way to break it. The servant would live and die by the side of the wizard who summoned it.


    But that was not all. The stronger the master''s magic, the stronger the familiar would become. Even it''s intelligence would change with time, growing to match or even surpass the average human.


    However, there was also a downside. Since Morgana was much weaker now, Mordred had been heavily impacted. In fact, for a very long time after transmigrating, she wasn''t even capable of summoning it anymore.


    ....


    As soon as the bird left, Morgana and her golems started making their way through the forest, following a route defined by Mordred, where the dangers were less in number and the forest, more open.


    After Morgana had traveled for a mile, she suddenly commanded the carriage to stop and looked back one last time.


    With a hand gesture a signal was transmitted somewhere else and an explosion from far away echoed through the forest.


    It was a habit of the wise to keep his or her secrets close to the chest. After all, information is currency and Morgana was no fool who would give it away for free.


    Not only did she destroyed all of the materials she wasn''t willing to carry before leaving, but now, with this explosion, even the structure itself was gone.


    As such, Morgana honestly believed that even someone as powerful as Saci wouldn''t be able to gain anything of value by searching those ruins.


    So, with a satisfied smile, the dark wizard turned towards an open scroll on her lap and gave the order for the golems to resume their movement.


    ....


    The scroll was Saci''s gift, a crude map which depicted several of the region''s landmarks. There was almost no writing, only symbols whose meaning Morgana could vaguely deduce.


    "If this is true, that is even more information than I would have dared to ask that guy for. However..."


    Could she trust him?


    Of course not.


    But could she refuse him?


    The answer is, most likely, no.


    There were two Xs, one marking the position of her base and another somewhere on the margins of what appeared to be a mighty river.


    Apparently, Saci intended for her to visit this location.


    "If I don''t go, this will be taken as an offense, leading a narcissist like him to retaliate without question. This is not an enemy I can afford to make. On the other hand, if I play along and massage his ego, maybe I can even get rewarded. Anyway, at this point, doing nothing means certain death."


    During her youth, Morgana passed through many hardships and ascended to great prominence from a very humble background.


    Of course, someone like this was necessarily good at currying favor with those who had more power than her. In the business of power and politics, not knowing how to "play ball" greatly lowers chances of success.


    Thinking about this, Morgana turned towards the only written inscription on this entire map. It was not in any language she knew fluently, yet the wizard immediately understood it''s meaning.


    After all, she had seen it before.


    "To the winner, the potatoes."

 11 Elder Pererê

    The Forest of Red Leaves had been in possession of the Ianomami-Tupi since time immemorial. It exuded a very special aura of mature vitality, just like an old turtle whose shell was still in perfect state.


    At its center, stood a great city made purely of gold, the mighty Caraguatatuba, the current capital of the sect''s vast domain, which stretched across many different worlds.


    On the most luxurious district, there was a large manor, which had five spacious floors. Compared to its neighbors, it looked neither big nor small, but its owner was a very influential figure.


    Elder Perer¨º sat on a very comfortable looking chair in his study room, smoking a pipe. As he read some reports, a lot of smoke was pulled into his lungs. However, when he exhaled, it''s wasn''t air that came out, but three yellow butterflies.


    Perer¨º was the name of his race, which was also known colloquially as the one-legged tribe. But since he was the only member of his race to achieve the rank of elder, people just called him Elder Perer¨º.


    As for his real name...


    Well. He had several.


    "This is fascinating. I wonder who is being naughty with my mirrors."


    Recently it had been discovered that, around six months ago, a ceremonial mirror was activated without permission and so an investigation was launched to solve the matter.


    What they found was very intriguing. The item wasn''t used inside the sect''s territory but on an abandoned outpost named Griseo Petram, a little and backwater world of importance to no one who mattered.


    "Griseo Petram? Isn''t that the place with those evolved monkeys?"


    Technically, there was no crime being committed, because according to the sect''s laws, since this was a long lost item, the finder had the right to do as he or she pleased with it. And so the investigation was disbanded.


    But, since Elder Perer¨º was responsible for the Department of Transportation, this particular case ended up on his desk and called his attention.


    Usually, old entities such as him would grow detached from worldly affairs, focusing almost exclusively to hone their craft in seclusion. Only getting involved in conflicts when it directly benefited them.


    However, Perer¨º was different. Since a young age, he enjoyed adventuring, doing new things and especially toying with others. The whole reason why he decided to pursue power in the first place was so he could act freely and never be held accountable.


    In other words, he was very whimsical. Always acting unpredictably. Once something caught his attention, he would pursue, only to throw it away when he grew tired of it.


    So, just like that, he decided to search for the mirror finder.


    ....


    The wind guided him. Moving much faster than it''s physical nature should have allowed. Even sound itself lagged far behind.


    Saci flew over the Sacred Land of Pindorama, witch was the sect''s, very heart.


    Much of it was a forest but there were also many stretches of wetlands, plains and other such biomes, all of them hiding secret wealth and might.


    At the extreme south, the Silvery River was born, only a little bit away from the Eastern Sea, which it would never actually touch, as it flowed towards the opposite direction. The same was true about the Golden River, which was born on the extreme north.


    Both met with each other on the west forming a great lake named Xarai¨¦s. And all between the rivers and the ocean, this entire massive "island" of Pindorama, belonged to the Ianomami-Tupi Sect. The very core of its power base.


    ....


    Saci approached the great lake, which channeled power coming from both mighty rivers. Like Yin and Yang, two very different kinds of energy constantly collided here against each other. This permanent wear and tear irreparably damaged the barrier between worlds that existed on this precise point, making it a great spot for otherworldly travel.


    Of course, as a great user of space magic and the creator of the ceremonial mirrors, Perer¨º didn''t require this place to make his journey.


    However, he decided to use it anyway for a few reasons. The first and most relevant one was the dangers waiting for him on the nothingness between the planes, which he could avoid using this method.


    Besides, he just enjoyed feeling the water on his skin. After all, this lake was magical and the energy particles gave an invigorating sensation.


    Stepping inside without taking his clothes off, Saci just drifted away, completely letting himself go. He sank and sank, until getting at the very bottom.


    Or this would be the case, if there was a bottom to be found. The waters from bellow connected with the waters from above the firmament. Not the firmament of his own world, however, but of Agatha''s.


    As the floodgates were opened, It rained, forming a mighty storm. And with the water came Elder Perer¨º, making his grand entrance at this new land.


    ....


    Perer¨º was a master in space magic, so locating the position to which the mirror had lead was an easy task. Soon he arrived at Azov Forest.


    "Uau, this is a mess! What is she building? A rabbit hole?"


    Saci used his True Sight and gazed upon Morgana''s modified dungeon, passing through the physical barriers like an x-ray. It wasn''t pretty at all. Since it had grown little by little according to her necessities. Seen from far away, it looked more like a maze rather than a research facility.


    For the Elder, her actions were really puzzling. Had she traveled to a different world with a one-use item only to build some ugly monument in the woods? Was she crazy?


    Well, her species was really primitive, so he couldn''t rule it out.


    ....


    Without difficulty, he bypassed the strongholds defences and no alarm was raised.


    "Hmm. Those golems are cute. Made with dirt, huh? I suppose that''s one way to go about it if you are really, really poor."


    Saci thought with a mocking smile on his face.


    But his joking attitude was soon to take a sudden halt.


    "What the heck?!"


    Examining the construct, the elder soon realized something was off and a few seconds later he uncovered the truth.


    "The life of an animal? I can still see the residues at the core."


    He turned towards the room in witch Morgana was currently sleeping and asked with a shaky voice.


    "Girl... You know this can be done with regular mana, right? You should know at least this much, no? Please, tell me you''re just playing a prank here."


    Saci bent over his own belly and laughed madly for a while, just like a child after hearing a joke for the first time.


    Luckily he managed to cast Silent before all of this, guaranteeing his position wouldn''t be given away by noise.


    In his concept, this woman appeared to be a very strange existence. An exotic creature whose mysteries he wanted to uncover.


    Saci learned from his earlier challenge and now made himself completely hidden from every eye and ear willing to pry. And so he went towards Morgana''s room.


    .....


    While jumping around with his massive leg, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.


    "Ah! I get it now. I understand the meaning behind this madness."


    Primitive civilizations often developed very unique solutions for their problems. There was no need to create something that worked everywhere if the conditions of your own homeworld are the only thing you know.


    For this reason, country bumpkins like this woman would be utterly lost the first time they traveled through the void. The magic they knew was defective, only working on a very strict set of conditions.


    Now Saci saw Morgana in a very different light.


    "Hmm. When you consider this, she is actually quite talented. I don''t think my disciples on the sect would have been crafty like this if they were in the same situation. Those solutions may be crude but at least they work and she will eventually restore herself to her original power level."


    As he thought about this and observed the sleeping Morgana an amusing idea crossed his mind, making an evil smile blossom on his face.


    "What an interesting little rabbit I found..."

 12 A Long March

    Through the treetops ran a terrified wolf. He and what remained of the pack were nimbly jumping across massive distances. And while the branches at this hight were really thin, it mattered not for the creature''s movements were light and graceful, even at this terrifying juncture.


    His most recent hunt turned out to be disastrous.


    From a very young age this individual had distinguished himself by his great speed, endurance and even cunning. The females on the pack competed to mate with him and, when the hunt was over, this alpha was always the second to eat. Only being preceded by the pack leader himself.


    But now, even this great predator was running for his life, alongside the rest o the disarrayed group, while the said leader was long dead.


    This wasn''t battle, it was a massacre.


    "Earthly brown monster. Bad prey. Bad idea." Thought the wolf.


    Crack!


    A large hand grasped at one of the wolves lagging behind, crushing it relentlessly. With a "splat" the poor creature was dead without even being able to growl.


    .....


    The rainforest was majestic and beautiful to watch. It was hard to understand just how exactly so many different organisms could call this place home. Throughout her journey, Morgana witnessed many wonders. Big spiders, small frogs, tree inhabiting wolves and even flying monkeys.


    It surprised her, however, the uneventfulness of this travel.


    After fighting with Saci, Morgana believed this world would be full of similar challenges.


    Of course, she didn''t spend three days only to pack her belongings before leaving the base.


    No. Just as important was the planning. Many countermeasures were crafted so she could survive confrontations against even the strongest adversaries.


    But, as vast and rich as this forest seemed, so far Morgana had not found a single opponent worth taking seriously.


    In fact, her personal intervention was only required once. And even then, she only did it to make sure her property wouldn''t be damaged. Most of the time, however, the golems could handle all obstacles by themselves.


    The unique environment also got old very quickly and Morgana would find herself bored looking at it.


    Fortunately, there were many things to occupy her mind. Even though the laboratory was destroyed, all data had been fully preserved in a series of books that Morgana wrote herself.


    This was a good opportunity to analyze them and see how the evidence interacted with her hypothesis, all the while creating new ones through observation.


    Another activity was the study of actual spells. Morgana had, at this point, a very good understanding of how. formulas worked in Agatha.


    What people call "spells" are nothing more than magical formations and constructs manifested through the mind or the physical world. The more complex and elegant the formation, the more powerful the end result tended to be.


    Energy was important of course, but even a complete idiot with lots of money in Griseo could buy crystals or hire someone to loan him mana. But only masters with equivalent prowess could build and keep such structures on their minds.


    Morgana had deciphered a lot of this world''s magical laws, but could she wield this newfound power in the heat of battle? Maybe not. After all, it''s not always that you have the chance to inscribe the spells beforehand.


    "If only I could create magical scrolls, things would be much easier."


    When a spell formation was crafted on mundane items, it would degrade very rapidly, becoming useless. It was only practical to do so when the battle would happen very soon after, just how Morgana did it against the Bat King long ago.


    However, it was a different story, if you had the right materials. Scrolls were a popular choice, but you needed both magical parchment and ink to make them.


    There were many options.


    For instance, while light wizards liked to use materials like treant''s bark, unicorn hair and sacred ambrosia on their works, practitioners of the dark arts usually favored the use of skin and blood, which suited more the cruelty and taboo their spells embodied. The more powerful the creature from which it originated, the better would the end result be.


    But, since all of this was out of the reach for Morgana and it was never good to depend too much on single-use items, she had decided to practice using this modified magical language on her mind.


    It took her a while, but after some initial problems, she managed to become proficient in those mental exercises. She wasn''t as good, as she had been in Griseo, but It would certainly do just fine for now.


    .....


    Three weeks had passed and on the carriage sat a strange wolf with deadpan eyes and staring at him was Morgana.


    Her dark eyes gleamed purple with ancient wisdom and the creature in from of her quickly submitted, laying down helplessly.


    But the wizard wasn''t satisfied.


    "Huh. This isn''t good at all. I forced the formation, even going as far as pouring twice the normal amount of mana into the spell, yet this canine just barely yielded to my will."


    Morgana thought in annoyance.


    "Should I device a new charm from scrap?"


    If magic was different in Agatha, it was only reasonable to believe creatures here might not have the same thought process. So maybe creating a completely different kind of charm spell would be the most effective way to act.


    But just as she was considering what to do next, Mordred sent her a telepathic message.


    "Hmm. This ought to be interesting. Let''s check it out, but carefully."

 13 For The Ladys Hand

    A party of four gnomes riding strange green wolves quickly made their way through the forest. But instead of using the ground, this group moved through the treetops.


    This animal was called leafrider and in the gnome village of Willowtown, it was a very popular mount. First, because it was fairly strong, being able to defend itself. Second, was due to its way of movement. After all, they were capable of traveling on the treetops.


    Every gnome knew from a very young age that this Azov Forest was full of dangers, so this discreet way to make a journey was greatly appreciated.


    At the front of the group stood Nimble, making an unpleasant face.


    He wore a skirt and pants made of reeds and, like the rest of his kin, he had no use for shoes.


    "This ain''t right, Ted. How could they do this to me? Shouldn''t I, Nimble, of the first generation, have a preference on this matter over some brat?"


    "Nimble, we are not talking about some random person. This is the chief''s eldest son. Just let it go. In fact, when we return, you should immediately go to Lord Douwe and present him with some rare herbs. This is a conflict you cannot win. Now take the lead to make peace and this dangerous strife will be behind us in no time."


    The one who spoke was Theodore. He appeared to be of the same age as Nimble and at his waist hanged two wooden swords with strange symbols marked on them, while his clothes were made of some resilient looking leather.


    "It doesn''t matter if it''s Douwe''s son. Or at least it shouldn''t. I was already healing diseases and killing treants even before he stopped milking his mommy''s tities. The merit I accumulated is enough. No? So, Ella should be mine."


    Ted sighed and massaged the temples, feeling a slight headache, and then answered.


    "Como on, Nimble. Get your priorities straight. It''s not too late. There is still time to mend this relationship. Think about it. You can get the position as an elder."


    This whole quarrel was about a woman, Ella, some beautiful damsel of the younger generation.


    Nimble had fully committed, since his youth, to the study of druidcraft. The result was that, even with mediocre talent, he managed to make something of himself. Now he was one of the foremost candidates for the position of village elder, which recently became available.


    But now that he was older and became satisfied with the status he had achieved, what Nimble yarned the most was the possibility of settling down and to start a family.


    Unfortunately the woman he desired was infatuated with another and even though he was younger and had yet to prove himself, his father was the village chief, giving the youngster a chance to compete against Nimble for her hand in marriage.


    At the back of the group there were two other figures. One was Adan, the sorcerer, who was now in a deep slumber. It was really impressive in a way how this person could sleep in the middle of a heated argument while riding a wolf at thirty meters above the ground.


    The other one was Roselyn. For a gnome, she was extremely tall, reaching almost a meter and a half in height. But the most eye-catching thing was this savage aura surrounding her, which was very unique. Leaving the group aside, even on the entirety of Willowtown, there was no one who could emanate this seeping blood lust.


    This was the result of her travels. When she was young, Roselyn got lost from the rest of the tribe, during the great migration of the year 29 a.t.a, and wandered off by herself. Eventually, after going through many hardships, she arrived at the Great Steppes, far south of the Anawasi River.


    Roselyn lived with the orc tribes for several decades earning their trust. As such, she was the first of her kind to learn how to channel the power of rage, becoming what they call a "berserker".


    Those experiences changed her forever and, even after she returned to Azov Forest and found her people once more, Rosalyn was never the same. She could no longer live the kind of peaceful existence most gnomes pursued, having cravings that only the battlefield could soothe.


    Even now she was depressed. This journey had promised many dangers and challenges. That''s why she volunteered for it in the first place.


    Yet, so far, this trip was very uneventful, which worsened her mood.


    As for whatever nonsense the two on the front were arguing about, she couldn''t bring herself to care.


    However, things were about to change.


    The druid was the first to notice because of his deep bond with the natural world, but soon Roselyn realized as well, becoming very excited.


    She held in her hand a massive hammer dirtied in old coagulated blood and licked her lips in anticipation.


    "It''s time." She softly said.

 14 Cry On The Woods

    A deep moan of sorrow was heard through the woods.


    "We need to end this quickly. The enemy is asking for help."


    Warned the druid.


    Neither side was surprised. They both felt each other while still being somewhat distant.


    From the west came a band of mounted gnomes, while a great tree stood at the east, shaking slowly as if to show it''s annoyance.


    But the massive treant wasn''t the only one feeling miserable. The gnomes, except for Roselyn, weren''t happy with this as well. They hopped for a peaceful journey, which would have allowed them to briefly investigate the mysterious explosion and return home as soon as possible.


    Now, however, the battle was an absolute necessity.


    Why?


    Because such was the current state of relations between gnomes and the fey folk at the moment.


    Times of peace among those peoples were long gone, dead and buried. Now they both vied for supremacy over the Azov Forest, locked in a permanent state of war for the last several decades.


    As such, their policy was "kill on sight" when they met.


    From the moment these two groups saw each other, there was no other choice but for them to engage in combat.


    ...


    While the other three stood behind casting their spells, Roselyn marched forth with her leafrider in a deadly charge.


    Her muscles bulged, increasing greatly in size and her pupils became bloodshot red. As she rode, her stone hammer gained an eerie glow and the dry blood on its surface turned liquid once more, flowing down like a small creak.


    The treant attempted to intercept her attack slamming down its thickest branches on the ground. But the wolf evaded all of them effortlessly.


    From the four mounts of this group, this one was the oldest and the fastest.


    Orcs were great riders, taking great pride in being unbeatable on the open field and Roselyn spent a great deal of time learning their techniques.


    Now she presented them to their fullest potential. Because this leafrider was to the forest what the warforged horse was to the steppes, a supreme mount.


    However, when she was about to clash against some os the treant''s roots, Roselyn was thrown off balance by a vicious strike, barely maintaining her position on the saddle.


    The treant managed to shake her off at the last moment. But the attack fulfilled its goal.


    Now her companions had already finished their preparations.


    ...


    Theodore made a small cut on his hand, spilling blood, and with a gesture, slightly bending two of his fingers, a red light flew towards the tree, enveloping It completely before vanishing without a trace.


    The markings on his two swords shone bright yellow, causing Ted to smile. His spell had succeeded, so, unsheathing the weapons, he rode forth to help Rosalyn in battle.


    This mount was not as fast as Rosalyn''s but, since the treant now needed to divide his attention between several opponents, Ted managed to approach the enemy without many problems.


    Rosalyn and Theodore stood at opposite sides taking full advantage of their numerical superiority. The enemy was on the middle being pressed through flanking as these two allies prepared to coordinate an attack.


    On the backlines, Adan, the sorcerer, snapped his fingers and a white aura enveloped the treant, restraining it. And as such the pair of melee combatants stroke simultaneously


    With great anger, Rosalyn hammered down several important branches of the top, cripplig this enemy, reducing its ability to fight.


    Meanwhile, Ted used his twin swords as a surgeon wielding a scalpel. A huge mark appeared on the tree''s body and his sword glowed even brighter. This was the spell he used before, taking effect. It was almost as if the marks, both on the sword and the tree were guiding him towards his target.


    So, as expected, this strike was very precise, landing on a key spot. From the slashes, a lot of sap was leaked. The treant now seemed much more fragile. After all, this was a great loss in vitality.


    ...


    Suddenly, a lot of vines sprang forth, trying to grasp both Rosalyn and Ted. She escaped duo to her wolf''s great speed and maneuverability.


    But Theodore wasn''t so lucky. Even as his mount evaded this predicament, he did not, being trapped by the enemy.


    "I don''t understand."


    Said the sorcerer with great worry as he looked nervous to their party leader.


    "The one who is counterattacking is not the treant. Look."


    As the druid pointed out, Adan remembered. Treants, frequently develop a symbiotic relationship with other creatures. Mostly animals that would live on their bodies and in return rise up to defend their homes when necessary.


    But it also wasn''t unheard of that they would use other types of moving plants that grew on top of them. Those vines wore just that. And since they were not technically a part of the treant, Adan''s paralytic effect didn''t apply to them.


    As the group started to worry, the druid finally sprang into action and the golden seal he had conjured at the beginning of the fight broke apart. Soon after, the white aura of paralysis was greatly strengthened. Not only ending what was left of the tree''s resistance, but also enveloping the vines and making them useless.


    Theodore took this opportunity to free himself.


    Now, he looked very angry. To think that he would be caught off guard like this by an ordinary treant was very upsetting. With one swift motion his blades pierced the tree''s body once more and slashed downwards.


    After one last cry the enemy fell down defeated. The victory was apparently their''s.


    ....


    Nimble sighed deeply and then spoke.


    "We need to leave, now. Have you all heard those cries for help? The screams of treants can travel through great distances. Enemy reinforcements are most likely on their way."


    Without saying a single word, the other members of the team acknowledged their leader''s command and rode away. Since the opponent was down, there was no reasonable motive to stay put any longer.


    They pushed their mounts, trying to distance themselves from the fallen foe as much as possible in a short period of time.


    But it was to no avail.


    ...


    After running for less than one kilometer, the group found a pair of treants standing on their way with no intention to budge.


    This was no longer a chance encounter with an isolated enemy. The treants obviously came to answer the call for help. To the party, it was a terrible scenario. It meant they were stuck in enemy territory with no chances of receiving reinforcements.


    With each passing minute, things would get progressively worst for them, since the number of adversaries would continue to increase, while their own power would not.


    As such, Nimble gave the order for the group to change their course. Since the leafrider''s speed was much greater than the treant''s, with their heavy and enormous bodies, speed was still an advantage they could boast.


    Those two foes were still very much within the groups battle capabilities, but now time was of the essence. If this region was, like Nimble suspected, treant infested, they couldn''t afford to stop moving.


    ...


    Not one. Not two. But three more times the party attempted to change routes only to be stopped on their tracks by angry groups of treants. So, finally, Nimble made the choice to stay and fight.


    This was one of the smaller stacks, only two with a medium size.


    The gnomes had a simple strategy. Since they were surrounded and could no longer avoid fighting, the group''s plan was to divide and conquer. By preventing this numerically superior force to bend together, they hoped to defeat, in quick succession, the smaller stacks.


    It was a strategy that played to their strengths, taking full advantage of the fact that their forces were united and coordinated, while the enemy was not.


    ...


    Nimble acted first, giving a sign for his companions that he would take the lead. After accessing the situation, the gnome resolved himself to fight without reservations. With a low tone encantation, white energy enveloped his fingers.


    Three quick strokes of the hand followed and, from the air, a mist was formed taking shape according to the druid''s movements. As it condensed, the end result made itself clear. Floating around its master there was a small unassuming cloud.


    At principle, it''s color was pure white but, as it grew, the form was tainted by shades of gray and the originally non-threatening cloud began to brim with static energy.


    The treants felt something was off and sprinted towards the enemy, attempting to stop the druid''s machinations.


    A swarm of flying monkeys that lived on those trees and were trying to defend their homes even took the initiative to act as a vanguard.


    However, just as they were about to engage the target, Nimble''s mighty cloud triggered.


    In one single instant, all of the electricity the gnome had gathered was liberated in a magnificent chain of lighting.


    One after the other, all of the enemies within line of vision were hit. It was almost as if the current was using each and everyone as a stepping stone to reach the next.


    The monkeys were burned to a crisp, while the trees were severely damaged, twitching and shaking, desperately in order to stop what remained of their bodies from burning completely.


    "Damn it."


    Nimble painted heavily. He wasn''t accustomed to spending this much mana in such a short period of time. What he used just now was his strongest spell. Even at peak condition, he could only use it a few times before becoming completely exhausted. But this wasn''t the main reason behind his course."


    His friend Theodore also looked very concerned and launched several sharp looks towards all directions around them.


    With a grave tone he said.


    "Yes. They are here."

 15 Treants Vs Gnome Riders I

    Dozens of treants converged on the gnomes'' position, bringing their bannerman, wildlife of all kinds, to join the fight.


    There was a little bit of everything, from flying monkeys to giant spiders, rodents, snakes, birds and even some wild leafriders.


    From the south, came a massive form, whose arrival caused great concern. This treant towered over the others, reaching around nighty meters in hight. So far none of their opponents even came close to this size.


    Earlier engagements were merely the prologue. Now would begin the real battle, since the fey folk host had been assembled.


    Strictly speaking, Nimble''s plan had failed, since only three enemies were killed before the army had a chance to unite, but all wasn''t lost yet. This was still a band of veteran warriors. By working together maybe they could pierce the enemy blockade or even defeat the treants in a proper fight.


    This second choice, however, would be saved for plan B. Unfortunately, with the band of ambushers being so numerous, chances were that one or even more of the gnomes would die in the process, if they chose direct combat, even in case they managed to achieve victory.


    Regaining his breath, Nimble instructed his subordinates.


    "Gain time. As much as possible."


    Then, with a quick round gesture, a simple blessing was cast, filling their spirits with strength.


    .....


    Meanwhile, Ted grasped his wooden swords with even more strength and the writings glowed once more. But instead of yellow, the blades shone green and lively vines sprouted from the weapons, developing Theodore''s arms.


    Charging south with his wolf, the plan was to stop the massive treant from rampaging freely and reaching the magic casters. Unfortunately he was intercepted by a band of rival leafriders.


    Being a well-trained mount, however, his wolf was faster and stronger than it''s wild relatives. When they clashed, Ted''s wolf barely got scratched, while managing to land some solid blows, witch ripped off eyes and deeply wounded the flesh.


    But Theodore himself was still the biggest aggressor. His blows easily tore apart limbs and, sometimes, even hit more than one wolf at a time.


    This was the result of the sword''s vines, which infused Ted''s limbs with natural vitality, greatly boosting his raw strength.


    While many wolves were killed, about half of them survived, choosing to engage different targets, which left Ted with an open path towards the massive treant at the back.


    ...


    Adan took a deep breath, refining his concentration and attempting to reach a higher level of clarity. For back row combatants like him, it was very important to distance his mind, just a little bit, from the front line chaos, especially considering that magic was his field.


    With a fervent chant, a single point of red energy began to float above his head, but as the spell formed, Adan introduced a click of his tongue, breaking the magical formula in two.


    Then, pushing towards east and west, he extended both arms, almost as if an invisible weight was slowly being moved away.


    With a loud "bang", the red point split in two and massive walls of fire were created on the directions sorcerer had previously pointed to.


    While no treants were immediately put out of combat by this, many were wounded and, most importantly, Adan had managed to restrict half of the access routes the enemy could take to reach them, forcing those creatures to attack through much narrower spaces.


    On the other hand, the wild leafriders and many other beasts were completely consumed by the flames.


    The forest also started to burn, an important detail, which would be much more detrimental to the treants, since they occupied more space and were largely made of wood, a very inflammable material.


    ....


    Great bliss was apparent in Rosalyn''s face.


    During her time on Willowtown, she questioned her decision to leave the Crescent Moon Tribe, a group from the steppes, to which she belonged for a really long time.


    What was wrong with her? Leaving that fun band of lovely troublemakers for a bunch of boring villagers and mushroom growers looked like a horrible mistake.


    But, for this battle, it was all worth it. This was the most fun she had in a long, long time.


    "Leat''s go, Meatgrinder and Green Thunder. You both haven''t been fed in a while. A good meal is long overdue."


    Green Thunder was her wolf, while Meatgrinder, was her faithful hammer, none of which required nutrients at the moment. The hunger she referred to was of a different nature.


    In this world, there were two kinds of magical weapons. One was crafted by the finest artisans and magic casters. The idea was to use rare materials with great innate potential, which could resist being inscribed with different types of magical formulas. The better the material, the stronger would be the magic they could contain.


    Theodore''s swords belonged to this type, consisting of powerful runes inscribed on a base of wood extracted from a dead dryad.


    However, there was a second case witch people often forgot to consider.


    When Rosalyn first received Meatgrinder as a gift from some long-dead orc chief, it was merely a regular stone hammer, whose only distinguishing characteristic was the kind of stone used, a rare vulcanic type, which resulted in great resilience. It was practically impossible to destroy by normal means.


    However, she wielded uninterruptedly for almost two hundred years.


    In other words, for two centuries, the weapon drank the blood, lives, hatred and sorrows of countless victims, slowly coming to embody a very vicious nature.


    So a generous person would address this hammer as "magical", while others would prefer the term "cursed".


    Rosalyn once more infused her muscles with the power of rage and charged towards the North, where a group of several treants had bent together.


    But now it was different from the last fight.


    Great excitement fueled her soul. This was an enemy witch could take the full brunt of her might.


    In this frenzy, Rosalyn completely let herself go, being consumed by her own madness as well as Meatgrinder''s.


    Riding fast as thunder, the berserker stroke at one of the tree trunks before anyone had the chance to stop her.


    The mighty hammer crushed the bark reaching even the deepest veins of nutrients. Rosalyn roared like a wild beast and Meatgrinder began to drink madly from the tree. It''s sap being quickly drained.


    With a sharp scream, the treant fell to the ground, looking terribly dry and died soon after.


    "Hahahahahahahaha.


    Good, very good! Who''s next? Come together or in waves. I am happy either way.


    Hahahaha."


    And just as she asked, they came. No doubt moved by her great politeness.


    A great swarm of tree rats climbed towards the branch in witch Rosalyn and her leafrider currently stood.


    With a smile, she started crushing them by the dozens as the rodents piled up together trying climb and when some managed to get on the wolf and even on her body, it was as if they fell on a horrible death trap.


    Some got crushed by the hammer, while others were killed by the arms pressing against her body. There was even an unfortunate bastard who tried to go for her eyes and had its head chewed off.


    A large group of flying monkeys and their home treant took this moment of distraction and attempted to pincer attack, Rosalyn.


    But Green Thunder wasn''t having any of it. With a few short but elegant acrobatic movements, the enemy forces were stacked against each other.


    As the treant extends its branches to slam her, the monkeys collided pathetically against the trunk, which knocked the treant off balance, making it fall on the ground.


    Rosalyn took this opportunity and a few well-placed hits both, the monkeys and the fallen treant, were killed by Meatgrinder, who devoured their life essence.


    The berserker''s blood lust kept increasing steadily during the battle, never seeming to reach an absolute peak.


    So terrifying was her aura that, even now, on the heat of battle, the fey folk host hesitated before launching a new wave of attacks, resulting in a temporary opening.


    ....


    Nimble was impressed.


    "This woman is dangerous. Her fighting prowess is even better than mine."


    He was one the village''s most powerful druids, a candidate to the title of elder, yet he was not at all confident in winning a duel against this woman.


    Of course, as a druid, his value to Willowtown also included his healing ability and other applications his magic had to daily life. However, this world was a wild place and the fact that Rosalyn had elder like powers made her an important asset.


    "I need to get her under my wing, before coming back. It would be a shame if the chief or someone got her before me."


    Rosalyn had only recently returned after a two hundred year period of absence. Even those who knew her intimately on the old days, barely remembered her and she came back.


    As such, it wasn''t strange that her real power had yet to be noticed by the others.


    Besides, it also meant she wasn''t involved in any of the political struggles or factions.


    Nimble needed to use this rare opportunity and act first to take this rare treasure.


    But now was not the time to think about this.


    After a split second distraction, Nimble once more began to cast his spell. Rosalyn had presented him with a good distraction by making the enemy hesitate. Now was the time to pierce the blockade, so their party could run away.


    It was the same technique he had used before with great effect, but only this time the cloud was actually much darker and thicker.


    Nimble was putting more mana on the magical formula. This was a very important moment in the battle, so he wished to maximize the results.


    But before he could finish casting...


    ....


    As he bypassed the obstacle represented by the wolves, Theodore rushed towards a giant treant that came from the south.


    "This isn''t normal. The largest treant I ever saw before had half of the size of this one."


    Ted had a bad feeling growing on his gut. Something he learned to trust during his many years as a hunter.


    However, now he had no choice.


    Nimble, the leader, ordered for them to gain time and that was precisely what he intended to do.


    When warriors start disobeying direct orders and falling into chaos, is when the battle is really over, because coordination is completely lost.


    With his loyal mount he advanced.


    Against this, however, the treant mobilized a great number of vines attempting to grasp Ted, locking him in place.


    To this course of action, the hunter sneered inside.


    "The same trick won''t work a second time. Besides, your kinsman back then at least had the wisdom of trying to hide it in order to catch me off guard."


    But just as he was approaching, a large branch started to move against him.


    "It doesn''t matter. I will change trajectory and you won''t be able to hit. Then I will strike vigorously against the trunk."


    But his thoughts were wrong. The real punch came from the right, instead of left, catching him by surprise.


    The mount was injured on the flank, but fortunately, he managed to keep himself on the saddle. Albeit by very little


    "What?! There was no branch in that direction. An I going blind or something?"


    Ted''s senses were exceptional. Even if he couldn''t dodge in time. At the very least, he should have sensed it, before they hit. Something looked very fishy.


    Was it luck?


    Maybe. He would have to observe the situation a while longer in order to have a definitive answer.


    "I need to hold this front no matter what. Theodore, of the first generation, won''t be the weakest link, which will cause the party to collapse."


    The hunter resolved himself before charging once more.


    This time, however, he was being extra careful, making sure to keep track of the treants every move, it''s branches and vines.


    "I am going to make it this time." Thought Ted happily.


    But, before realizing it, his wolf was captured by the vines.


    Theodore just barely escaped the same fate by throwing himself on the ground, which caused his right arm to break.


    The mount got quickly ripped apart by the treant before it''s rider could rescue it.


    But Ted gave a bitter smile.


    "It was hard and painful, but I succeded."


    Nimble was casting his spell, which would give the rest of the group an opportunity to scape.


    Even if Theodore himself would probably die without his mount, he, at least, felt glad that he managed to gain enough time for the others to survive.


    However, his hopes were utterly crushed, because a hand made of smaller branches came from the tree trunk and, covered by magic energy, interfered with Nimble''s spell.


    With a mighty blow, the charged cloud backfired, hitting its own master as well as Adan, who was close.


    Ted was left with a bad taste on his mouth.


    "I understand now. This isn''t a treant at all. It''s a dryad."


    Whispered the hunter sadly as the cruel realization dawned upon him.

 16 Treants Vs Gnome Riders II

    A sharp pain spread across the bodies of both Nimble and Adan, who were close to the blast.


    Even as they fell to the ground, the electric charges of the failed spell still caused their limbs to convulse uncontrollably.


    The druid could feel a metallic taste of blood on his mouth as he tried to understand with happened.


    "Someone tempered with my spell. But whom?"


    Struggling to get up, he gave a meaningful look to a strange figure that just appeared on the place where the giant treant should have been.


    ...


    Theodore watched in astonishment as the giant tree began to shrink, retracting towards its center.


    A humanoid figure took its place. This was a very handsome young man, with a delicate face and around a meter and eighty centimeters in hight. His ears were long, like those of elves and gnomes and his green hair was long, reaching his back. The skin, however, had a very woodish tone of brown.


    Unlike humans, dwarves, gnomes and other monolithic races, the fairies were a much more varied kind. Treants and other unintelligent creatures like lesser natural spirits occupied the bottom of the hierarchy.


    But dryads were different, possessing great wisdom. One could even say they were "proper fey", while treants, their less evolved relatives, were nothing more than useful servants, just like an ordinary drone whose existence was fully devoted to the queen of its hive.


    Most importantly for the gnomes, dryads were much fiercer opponents. Not only their bodies were stronger, but some could even use magic, which as particularly powerful when they were in humanoid form.


    However, there was a silver lighting. Since this was a sentient creature, maybe it could be reasoned with.


    Thinking so, Ted tried to use diplomacy. His side was clearly loosing, so a peaceful solution was in his best interest.


    "Oh, mighty guardian. We apologize for intruding on your domain. There is no reason for this carnage to continue. Why not end the fight here and now? You are winning. That''s certain. But as you saw, my friends and I are capable fighters. Victory will not be achieved without a lot of treant lives being lost. We should just shake hands and walk away. Let this be a sign of goodwill between our peoples, showing all that there is still room for peace in this nasty war."


    Hope is the last one to die. This hunter had a reputation for being a reasonable man, having friends in both political factions in his home village. If there was someone on this group who could talk the dryad out of killing all of them, he was the one.


    However...


    "Your words are reasonable, but your actions apeek for themselves."


    Saying so, the young man pointed towards the wooden. He had taken notice of them as Theodore gave his speech.


    "Those weapons in your hands were made with wood taken from one of my dead sisters."


    At this point, his face distorted with disgust.


    "Don''t blame yourself for this. I always believed gnomes to be a savage bunch, a true plague on this forest. Your little corpse desecration is only the most recent proof."


    With a sadistic gleam in his eyes, the dryad continued:


    "I could kill you myself very easily now that I have shown my true colors. But why deny my sister such righteous revenge?"


    A green flame extended from the man''s hands towards the swords, appearing to awaken something deeply buried within them.


    "Ahhh!!"


    The vines around Ted''s arms, which used to give him strength, started to grow uncontrollably enveloping his whole body.


    Things were not supposed to end like this.


    The group had set off from Willowtown with a simple mission. To investigate a strange explosion that happened somewhere far away from where they lived.


    But this was only on the surface. Normally the village wouldn''t care enough about some oddity from another corner of the forest to send a party of veteran warriors as scouts.


    No. It would have been more natural just to let it go. Besides, animals talk amongst themselves and since gnomes could communicate with beasts, gathering decent information without sending away precious fighting power would be the best course of action.


    Then why hadn''t the leader and the council done so?


    Well, the reason had a name, Nimble.


    This respected druid was competing with Alston, the chief''s son, for the love of Ella, a coveted maiden.


    As such, Lord Douwe concocted a plan. To send the druid in a long mission with the council''s approval, while his son would have the opportunity to consummate his marriage and end this petty squabble.


    However, it wasn''t as simple as this.


    Nimble was an important figure, someone from the first generation vying for the title of elder. Treating him too poorly would have damaged the chief''s political capital, making him look like some tirant.


    Thus he tended this matter with great care, arranging powerful bodyguards, so Nimble wouldn''t die on his journey, which would have been very problematic.


    He also approached Theodore, Nimble''s best friend, to broker a deal. As long as he could convince the druid to take the initiative and extend the olive branch, Lord Douwe would have been more than happy just to give him the position of elder.


    This would serve to show all members of their community that he was a reasonable and benevolent leader, capable of resolving conflict in ways that would benefit everyone involved.


    But now this supposedly easy mission with good benefits turned out to be disastrous for Ted.


    He died with regret in his eyes as the swords slowly transformed him into a tree.

 17 Treants Vs Gnome Riders III

    "Healing Aura."


    Nimble hastily created a cloud of green energy, surrounding both him and Adan. There was no time to lose. As soon as the spell took effect, erasing their wounds, the druid looked at the enemy with daggers in his eyes.


    He was furious.


    Theodore was his best friend and now the dryad killed him just as he tried to end the fight peacefully. At this moment, Nimble felt as if the world had completely turned against him.


    Not only did he lost a fight over the woman he desired, but he had also been sent into a dangerous mission as punishment. Besides, the group had also accidentally wandered into fey held territory with disastrous effects.


    Nimble felt really cheated, as paranoia started fueling his heart. Could all of this be a ploy of Lord Douwe and that Alston brat?


    "This isn''t good. I need to go back now more than ever. To think my precious Ella could end up being married off to such a despicable person. It''s really important for me to go save her as quickly as possible."


    Thinking so, Nimble decided to use this anger. In order for him to go back and save his beloved, first, he needed to kill this dryad and its many minions.


    "Victory is not impossible. If we fight desperately enough, there is still a chance."


    The druid stepped forth, increasing his speed gradually as he advanced towards the dryad. Somewhere along the way, his body began to undergo severe changes. First, his size, which increased fivefold. Than brown hair sprouted all over, leaving no skin visible.


    In the end, Nimble''s form gave place to a giant bear.


    "ROOOAAAAARRRR!!!!!"


    This was no ordinary beast. While beginner level druids could only transform themselves into common animals, as they progressed on their craft, this form would also be improved little by little.


    Nimble hadn''t turned himself into a bear. He turned himself into a personalized version of this beast, which carried great might.


    But the dryad was now shielded because several treants took this opportunity to detour around the walls of fire, attacking through the south.


    So, before he could strike against the main nemesis, first it was necessary to deal with those minions.


    With a red glow, his sharp claws grew tremendously and one of the unattentive treants was slashed.


    However, the damage wasn''t too bad and the creature wasn''t put out off combat.


    But, as Nimble left to fight the others, many parasitic mooshrums sprouted from the wound.


    In front of everyone''s eyes, this enemy just withered away.


    This was the effect of a particularly nasty spell, which was infused in Nimble''s animal form, "spore claws".


    One, two and three more enemies we''re taken out of the fight.


    It was now much easier to reach for the treants themselves, because at this point most animals had ran away. After all, the fire was spreading, making it very difficult for them to keep breathing.


    ....


    There are three kinds of spells, which can be divided according to the relation they had with their conjurer.


    First are the ones which are dependent on the caster''s concentration. In other words, it''s necessary to refresh it frequently with mana, new formulas, or both. Those tended to be more powerful than other spells with equally complex formulas.


    The reason is simple. If they were not powerful or useful enough, it would be much simpler just to find a replacement, instead of going through this hassle. Especially if the spell was combat-related.


    Second, are soul dependent spells. Those will be automatically undone when its caster dies because they were built upon a will imprint.


    An example of this are the golems Morgana made. If the will to which they were bound disappeared, the result would be their destruction.


    And the third and most common type are instantaneous. Those act immediately in the world. Its effects are permanent and no matter what happens to the caster, they won''t vanish until something or someone actively tries to destroy it.


    As such, the walls of fire Adan created, being concentration-dependent, required the sorcerer''s attention to be maintained. Not that the fire would be extinguished in case he could no longer keep focus.


    Quite the opposite, actually. Fire, especially in such a dangerous environment, was a very serious thing. Adan was trying his very best to keep this "safety pocket" he had made for himself and his companions inside this blazing inferno.


    Not only he had to keep the fire itself away, but it was also necessary to maintain a stable influx of oxygen inside.


    "Fortunately Nimble has now taken up the front. I wouldn''t be able to keep this going if I also had to fight."


    In fact, leaving aside the possible necessity to fight, the pain alone caused by Nimble''s failed spell almost proved to be an unbearable challenge.


    "But it''s all worth it. The animals are all gone and now even the treants themselves are starting to burn. That dryad made a mistake. We are going to win."


    Adan reassured himself, trying to rebuild the lost confidence.


    .....


    "Bash."


    After smashing another treant, Rosalyn looked calmly at a pile of defeated enemies.


    "I think things are over on this front. Adan, let the flames consume this area when I leave. Nimble needs help."


    Since a strong wind came from the south, it was guaranteed that as soon as Adan stopped trying to protect it, the whole area would be swallowed.


    The berserker strode south as fire engulfed the terrain between her and the few treants which remained at the north.


    As she approached the enemy, Rosalyn lightly patted her dearest weapon.


    "I think today is the day, Meatgrinder. Is this the enemy against which I can truly show my true potential?"


    An evil smile blossomed on her lips as her shadow flickered. For a moment this dark reflex on the ground showed a terrible premonition of things to come.

 18 Treants Vs Gnome Riders IV

    "Those damn parasites! Causing problems until the very end."


    Sylvan was very frustrated. The gnomes we''re damaging his forest more than expected.


    Nevertheless, the dryad understood the necessity to keep fighting.


    "By eliminating these veteran warriors, even if I have to sacrifice dozens of treants and several acres worth of forest, it will still be worth it."


    After all, with his magic, plants would grow faster and even new treants could be cultivated. But to produce powerful individuals like those again, the gnomes would need luck, hundreds of years and ample resources.


    Catching this group alone in the woods was a great opportunity he couldn''t afford to lose.


    As such, even though his heart ached, even though he shared the pain of his fellow kinsman, from the humble treants to the most elevated fey, this was still a price worth paying.


    Why?


    Because there was no alternative.


    Two hundred and Nineteen years ago the first intelligent creatures, also known as the First Generation awoke on this place. Be it gnomes, humans, elves, orcs or even the fey folk. For all of those races, this moment in time was their birth.


    It was also the beginning of the common calendar because time was measured since "The Awakening". For instance, this was the year 219 a.t.a., which means 219 after the awakening.


    Different races awoke in different places. For instance, the orcs awoke on the Great Steppes and dragons we''re born on high mountain peaks.


    Those locations were no coincidence. Wherever a race was created, this was the biome in which they had better chances of thriving.


    At those times, two races were born in the same place, gnomes, and the fey folk.


    On the beginning, those two kinds discovered the world together, experiencing Agatha''s wonders after first opening their eyes in bewilderment and curiosity.


    A beautiful forest awaited for them, full of life and color. Azov was their childhood home.


    But those golden days of peace did not last.


    When those peoples discovered themselves, they uncovered a powerful and mysterious skill. That is the ability to reproduce.


    From the first generation, came a second and a third. Soon the wise leaders of both sides realized the forest would eventually become too small for both of them.


    Attempts were made to establish agreements and guarantee peaceful coexistence and exploration of the territory.


    But it was all for naught.


    No one knows who fired the first shoot. But one thing is for certain. It wasn''t the last.


    The two races never knew peace again.


    Both, the fey queen and the gnome king from the first generation eventually died, leaving behind several successors, none of which could claim complete dominance over their respective races.


    The only thing they could agree amongst themselves was the necessity to crush the rival race.


    Willowtown, this group''s home, was one of those independent villages which arose to prominence after King Alfred, ruler of all gnomes, passed away.


    Sylvan''s colony was another such autonomous group.


    But even in this state, even without united leadership, they kept fighting. Maybe because there was no one in a position to make peace, maybe because they still truly believed in the cause or maybe because the fight had become a reason of its own.


    After two hundred years of war, hatred and resentment gained life and sprouted mighty wings. If they stopped now, would all the deaths be for nothing?


    Sylvan couldn''t even bare to entertain this thought. It was just too painful.


    .....


    After bypassing all obstacles, Nimble finally arrived at Sylvan''s position.


    " Slam!"


    The strength of this bear was even greater than its wild counterpart, because of the druid''s enhancement spells.


    However, against all expectations, Sylvan met this strike head-on. Making an "X" with his arms the bear''s onslaught was halted.


    With a slight twist of his body, the dryad turned to the side making the enemy fall towards the front since all of this weight was messing up his gravity center.


    As Nimble fell, new branches extended from Sylvan''s arms enveloping the bear from its left flank.


    The skin and flesh started to give in and blood spurted out of from the wounds, tinging the branches crimson.


    The dryad gave an evil smirk.


    "Let''s see just how much you like this fire now."


    With all his might, Sylvan threw the wounded Nimble against one of the massive walls of flames.


    The bear vanished, but not its terrible cries of pain.


    ...


    A strong wind came from the north and then.


    "Crash."


    "Damn it. I was too careless."


    On the place were Sylvan''s left arm should be, there was only a waterfall of jade green sap, which oozed out of him.


    "Ahhhhhh."


    "Hahahaha. Getting cocky just because you burned some bear? To be perfectly honest, I expected more than this.


    With a twisted face of blood lust, Rosalyn salivated and greedily licked her lips.


    "I hope you won''t disappoint me, pretty boy."


    A single drop of cold sweat ran down Sylvan''s spine.


    He was never afraid in any of his previous battles in this extremely long war. But now... he was terrified.


    For one second, the dryad thought this was not a creature of this world, but something much deadlier, a true embodiment of evil.


    .....


    Cloaked by invisibility, even Morgana herself was astonished, while watching from afar.


    "So they exist here as well..."


    The black wizard felt some regret.


    On the journey so far she only fought against weaklings and after seeing the pitiful battle prowess of these combatants, her confidence, which was damaged after the encounter with the Whirlwhind Rider, had started to recover once more.


    But.


    "I was right to be so cautious. If the demons of this world are anything like the Pitfiends I knew, they might be a great challenge to me. One that I should avoid even after regaining full power."


    Looking with intensity to the fight once more, Morgana was committed. She sought to judge the woman called Rosalyn and take a measure of her true powers.

 19 Blazing Hell

    "Bam, bam, bam."


    Rosalyn swang her hammer relentlessly against the opponent.


    Branches extended themselves from the dryad blocking the gnome''s strikes but also breaking in the process.


    "Come on. Hahahaha. Keep going. I am not nearly satisfied yet."


    "Monster."


    Sylvan was at a loss. He had faced powerful warriors in the past, but not even the mightiest of them all was this terrifying.


    What scared him weren''t her skills. In fact, even though Rosalyn''s strength and resilience were great, her technique was actually a little sloppy.


    But the pleasure, this great happiness, which was transparent in her face deeply disturbed him. This was much more than just adrenaline intoxication.


    With a sunken face he asked.


    "How?! How can you enjoy fighting this much? Are you mad? People are dying here. Is this a joke to you?!"


    Rosalyn smiled and simply said.


    "You fear too much, little man. If you just stopped worrying, this would become a much more pleasant experience."


    She spoke this without any anger. In fact, her voice seemed to be filled with a certain degree of empathy and delight.


    Evil sweetness filled the air, making Sylvan want to puke from pure nausea.


    Green Thunder took this opportunity and slashed with its claws against the enemy''s exposed legs.


    "Ahh."


    With a grunt of pain, the treant hastily retreated.


    "Evil creature. To think you almost defeated me."


    Sylvan smiled at her with confidence.


    He was wounded and exhausted but at last his grand scheme was ready.


    "Activate."


    With a simple hand gesture, his great formation was filled with mana.


    ....


    Adan was overwhelmed.


    Those "fire walls" had racked havoc through the woods, producing new flames much more rapidly than expected.


    Forget the laughable notion of helping directly with the fight. Just the task of keeping the group safe from the blazing inferno was proving to be herculean.


    Just a little more pressure and he just might crack.


    Then...


    There wasn''t even time to scream. The flames expanded quickly and the whole area became a massive pillar of fire reaching for the skies.


    Both Adan and Rosalyn got swallowed immediately with no chance of fighting back.


    ....


    Sylvan was happy.


    His strategy of turning the enemies'' magic against them had succeeded.


    First, he hid in plain sight, pretending to be a monstrous sized treant only to make the druid''s spell fail at the most vital moment.


    But the most important point was his idea on how to deal with the fire walls Adan had created.


    He noticed how the gnomes blinded themselves, believing the spell to be an absolute barrier.


    After all, wouldn''t the treants and animals just be committing suicide if they tried to brave through those defenses?


    But this also meant that they had no idea of what was happening on the other side.


    Sylvan took this opportunity and commanded his servants to sculpt a spell formation around it.


    Meanwhile, his minions and even himself acted as distractions to gain time.


    It was a plan meant to catch all of the enemies at once, not allowing any to escape.


    "Restauration."


    The dryads lost arm began to regenerate and in less than thirty seconds it had fully grown.


    As Sylvan looked at the devastation he had wrought, his reaction was bittersweet.


    On one hand, some of Willowtown''s most important assets had been eliminated, but, on the other, the price paid by his group was also very steep.


    Dozens of treants, thousands of animals and a large portion of vegetation died today.


    Even worst, Sylvan had willingly sacrificed them to achieve victory.


    Was there something wrong with him?


    The fey were supposed to protect the forest and not destroy it.


    Thinking about this guilt blossomed in his heart.


    "No. I had to do this. It was for the sake of vanquishing our hated enemy. For the sake of the Feywild, Azov''s corruption must be treated. No gnome must be allowed to live."


    After strengthening his resolve, Sylvan was about to put the flames down with whatever portion, which remained of his mighty host.


    But than...


    "That was kind of nice. I want to see if you can do it again. Hahaha. Cough! Cough!"


    A burned and deformed figure emerged from the blazing hell and walked towards Sylvan.


    Rosalyn had breathed a lot of smoke and as such was coughing non-stop.


    Sylvan was shocked.


    "How... How can you still be alive?"


    With a smile, Rosalyn lifted her hammer with both hands.


    From the weapon came out a sea of blood, which started to cover the earth like a flood.


    "How can I die... When we''re having so much fun?"


    Now Rosalyn''s face changed to match her darken soul, a truly demonic spawn of the night.

 20 From Wood To Stone

    Sylvan grasped deep within his body, trying to catch something.


    "Thorn whip."


    In his hand, the dryad held a long cordon full of spikes.


    This was one of his kind''s most important trump cards. As dryads grow older, parts of their bodies adapt granting than special benefits.


    Some developed very resilient scales to protect the most critical portions of their bodies, while others even had natural wands or staves, which greatly increased their magical capabilities.


    But sylvan''s adaptation was this terrifying whip.


    ....


    Green Thunder was dead, yet Rosalyn moved even faster than her former mount.


    "Tap", " tap", "tap".


    Her movements were light, propelling the body with the tips of her feet. It wasn''t the walk of a warrior, but the gracious striding of a natural-born predator.


    For one moment, Sylvan even though there was a massive wolf phantom behind the berserker, mimicking her every movement, almost as if it was her true ethereal form.


    He tried to wield the whip and fend off her attack, but her great speed caught him off guard.


    With a few malicious strikes, Sylvan''s footing was thrown off balance, making him take three steps back.


    And than.


    "BAM"


    The dryad could fell Rosalyn''s powers increasing little by little.


    This last strike was so mighty that even though he fully blocked with the whip and several reinforced branches, Meatgrinder still connected with his body making a tiny scratch on his abs.


    But from this scratch, the hammer found a new source to quench its growing hunger.


    "She wants to suck me dry!"


    Sylvan retreated once more with a terrible realization.


    "If this was a larger wound, that woman could have extracted all of my sap."


    But then.


    "Crash."


    Sylvan slipped on something and fell flat on the muddy ground.


    But it wasn''t mud.


    "I forgot about the blood. Could that hammer have made me fall on purpose?"


    He had heard about intelligent magic items on the past by they were supposed to be very rare. Could this be one such item?


    "I caught you now!"


    Rosalyn stroke with precision, trying to finish off the fallen enemy.


    ....


    Back when Theodore, the hunter, was fighting against the dryad, he thought that his senses had failed him.


    But this was only partially true.


    Sylvan''s magic wasn''t flashy. He didn''t favor direct attacks like the druid''s Thunderous Cloud, but instead firmly relied on more underhanded methods.


    Counterspells were particularly useful, destroying the enemy''s plans when least expected.


    But there was another powerful weapon. One which was even more subtle. The infamous illusion type magic.


    Ted saw nothing because there was nothing to be seen.


    Sylvan shrouded his real attacking branches, while the enemy''s attention was grabbed by the decoy.


    Now the technique was used at an even larger scale.


    Rosalyn was stupefied when the fallen enemy''s disappeared into nothingness.


    "Huh?"


    Than.


    Thorns ripped the flesh, enveloping her whole body.


    From an unexpected corner a furious Sylvan revealed himself.


    "I went too far for backing down now, monster. Today, this victory belongs to the Feywild!!!"


    The dryad swang his whip madly, filling Rosalyn''s body with a thousand cuts. Besides, poison seeped through the wounds, provoking gruesome blisters.


    "It''s done! She is as good as dead!"


    Sylvan was happy, yet there was some part of him that was still filled with doubt.


    Unfortunately, this bad premonition proved correct as the berserker made use of her bare hands, grasping the whip and breaking herself free.


    Rosalyn was burned, cut and poisoned. Her form was destroyed beyond any recognition. Yet, deep in her eyes burned a flame imperishable, an indomitable will with no signs of breaking.


    It was terrifying, yet hauntingly beautiful to behold.


    ...


    "GROAN!"


    Sylvan was desperately calling for every surviving treant under his control in order for them to join this battle.


    "This monster cannot be allowed to live. As long as she breathes, her very existence is a treat to fey folk everywhere. I need to do this!"


    Both sides had long reached a point of no return.


    Now, there could be no survival without victory.


    Rosalyn easily dispatched the first batch of treants, cutting through them like a hot knife against butter.


    But Sylvan never intended for these minions to cause any real damage on his enemy. Their role was to gather information.


    "Is it only my impression or are her powers increasing as her wounds grow more severe? No. This is crazy!"


    But if this wasn''t the case, so why was Rosalyn, wounded as she was delivering blows mightier than anything she could have mustered before?


    Using the distraction provided by his servants, the dryad poured a lot of mana into the whip. Now, instead of only one end, there three.


    When they enveloped three berserker, its spikes grew massive, cutting her until the bones, exposing them.


    Yet the bloodied and corpse-looking monster would not yield.


    She resisted for quite a while until the spell''s duration ended and the extremity became only one once more.


    Making a difficult choice she jumped backward in a gruesome maneuver.


    Gruesome because the thorns which held her ripped massive chunks of flesh.


    Sylvan smiled.


    He could tell. For the first time since the battle began she was finally getting weaker.


    Victory was within his grasp, if only for a short moment.


    .....


    "Dark Healing."


    Sylvan felt strange.


    Through him spread a tingling sensation, as the skin began to twist and bulge unnaturally.


    "Dispel."


    Sylvan ended the terrifying effect which was quickly destroying his body.


    But he was to slow to react against this next move.


    A shadow advanced decisively.


    "Crash."


    Morgana smashed a vial of gray liquid against the dryad''s body with instantaneous results.


    And just like the plant in her lab, the dryad turned into stone.


    "Success!"


    She exclaimed in ecstasy.


    .....


    "Good... Very good... You seem like... A fine opponent... Let''s fight!!!"


    Rosalyn''s vocal cords had been damaged by the whip, making it difficult for her to speak properly.


    But even at this sorry state. Even though at this point her body was more exposed bones than anything else, she still felt an insatiable blood lust.


    For Rosalyn Morgana was just another enemy to face. Consumed by savagery, she would just keep fighting until the ultimate destruction, hers or everyone else''s.


    Such is the nature of demons.


    But Morgana only looked at her with cold on the eyes and said.


    "No."


    Rosalyn blinked for a few moments, not knowing how to react.


    "What?!"


    "You heard me, Rosalyn. I won''t fight you."


    Fury began to burn in the berserker''s heart as she looked angrily at the dark wizard.


    "It''s not like... you have a choice... That was my prey... Since you... stole it from me... you"ll just have to... take his place..."


    However, Morgana was still unfazed. With great calm, she said.


    "Just drop the hammer and move on."


    And after a brief pause, she continued.


    "We both know that you are no longer a part of this world."


    Rosalyn was full of doubt.


    "But... I want to keep fighting... Why do I have... to move on?"


    "The path you chose is a journey with no return. If you want to keep fighting, you can. Just not now. You understand what I mean, right?"


    The gnome sighed softly and answered.


    "Thank you."


    Saying so, Rosalyn dropped the hammer. And blood spurted profusely from the many many wounds she carried.


    In a short amount of time, her body became dry and pale.


    The knees gave up and she collapsed on the ground.


    Rosalyn died with a smile on her face.


    Even Morgana couldn''t help but give the corpse a meaningful look.

 21 Demonic Soul

    What is a demon?


    The simplest answer is that they were beings of indomitable will.


    Some people develop very deep obsessions. Be it for power, pleasure or maybe even love.


    But when this desire is distorted beyond any recognition, when it becomes the person''s raison d''¨ºtre, surpassing any rationality, when it becomes an evil and perverted never-ending lust, this person''s soul becomes "demonic".


    They are no longer fully themselves, but something much more sinister.


    For centuries Rosalyn was consumed by her violent appetites. And even though she was not yet a full-fledged demon, as Morgana initially thought, her soul was definitely demonic already.


    This gave Rosalyn many useful powers.


    Yet it bore a terrible cost. Because demonic souls can never follow through the path of an ordinary afterlife.


    When they depart from this world, their fate is a completely unique one.


    ....


    Morgana grabbed Meatgrinder from the ground.


    But as soon as she held the cursed weapon, the hammer''s lust assailed her.


    The small creak of blood sprouted once again and Morgana''s eyes were tinged with deep red.


    But soon the wrath was subdued.


    Her eyes regained their original colors and the blood tide dried out, becoming coagulated on the surface.


    The dark wizard took a deep breath and, with a quick motion, put away the weapon, making the hammer vanish on her robe''s deep sleeves.


    "Get out now! There is no use hiding because I can feel your presence."


    "No?"


    After receiving no answer, Morgana moved like a thunderbolt.


    "Grasp."


    With great accuracy, she grabbed deep beneath the earth. And, like a hunter dragging a small prey out of hiding, Morgana extracted a terrified gnome from the ground.


    ....


    After being thrown against the fire by Sylvan, Nimble hid on the earth where he had the opportunity to heal his many wounds.


    The plan was simple. Make use of both Adan and Rosslyn as distractions in order to strike down the dryad at the appropriate moment.


    But two things prevented him from intervening again. First was the giant fire spell Sylvan used, taking advantage of the fire walls to fuel his formation.


    The second was Rosalyn. Her true self, which was shown on the struggle against the fey, not only made the dryad scared but Nimble as well.


    He honestly had no idea if this monstrosity would still consider him an ally or just rampage out of control.


    But after Morgana arrived he certainly felt glad that he made this choice.


    With only two movements she managed to eliminate the mighty foe which had whipped out his group.


    Not only that but she even manipulated the half-mad Rosalyn into submission, avoiding unnecessary struggle.


    However, Morgana''s cold warning sent a chill down his spine.


    Was it a bluff?


    Possibly. After all, how could she have more accurate senses than a druid or the fey, both of which held a deep connection with the natural world?


    But his hopes were crushed when Morgana moved against him.


    Now, Nimble could only pray that she was not too annoyed by his futile attempt at avoiding capture.


    But before he could say anything. Before he could beg for his life, Morgana took another glass bottle from her robes.


    This was a much larger vial. The base was round and the extremity, narrow. Its liquid was pitch black and when Morgana took out the stopper, a putrid decadent odor filled the air.


    "Drink this, if you want to live."


    What should Nimble do?


    The enemy held him at her mercy. Even if drinking this wasn''t wise, could he really refuse her?


    Somewhat hesitant at first, the gnome began to swallow the substance.


    Its taste was horrible, resembling a mix between rot and manure.


    But as he kept drinking, the taste changed, improving constantly.


    In the end, Nimble could feel thick and sweet honey as well as the smell of Spring, which he loved deeply.


    A sense of numbness assailed him as the world around became blurred.


    ....


    Through the woods walked a gnome with a face deep in concentration.


    With great skill, he manipulated the leaves and dirt in order to eliminate any trace of his presence. Even the smell was gone, erased by a neutralizing wind.


    Back when Nimble traveled with his group, speed was of the essence and he couldn''t be bothered to use this method.


    Of course, it had been a terrible mistake and now that he was alone, it was more important than ever to journey incognito.


    Even now Nimble''s heart was troubled by fear and grief.


    He might not have known Rosalyn and Adan very well, but they were still his companions. Besides, Theodore was his best friend. Someone who stood by his side since the days of old when they fought together in King Alfred''s army.


    Those were the good days. When the war had just begone, it was believed by all the conflict would be resolved shortly. A few well delt victories and the fey would be scared into submission. Exiled from Azov forever.


    Of course, things were not so simple. They couldn''t be. That was the naivety of children.


    And now, centuries later many had died. The king and most of Nimble''s friends. Azov''s grounds were drenched with the blood of the firstborns from both races.


    "And now, because of that tyrant, Theodore is dead too."


    The druid was consumed by anger as he firmly believed that Lord Douwe was involved in foul play.


    As for his choice to engage the treants combat. Was it really a choice?


    Nimble was one of the "Traditionalists", a faction within the village which defended a more aggressive posture against the fey, as they believed the forest rightfully belonged to them.


    By using the fervor of his beliefs, Nimble managed to shield himself of any guilt, blaming his enemy for all the misfortunes that had befallen him on this journey.


    Also, thinking about his beloved and that Alston brat being together deeply infuriated him.


    "If you think this is over, it''s really not. I am coming for you all!"

 22 Daygleam Valley

    After drinking Morgana''s potion, Nimble soon drifted off to sleep.


    The dark wizard carried an indifferent expression as she turned towards the petrified dryad.


    "It really paid off. Investing so much time on the study of alchemy was the right decision after all. It isn''t surprising, however, because it''s a vast field with many applications."


    Reflecting on this, Morgana took out another flask. But this one was really small, having only a finger''s worth of liquid.


    The content was yellow-colored, yet transparent at the same time.


    Approaching the defeated enemy, she smeared Sylvan''s temples with the gel-like substance and then pressed two of her fingers on both sides.


    "I have only done this on animals before in this world, but the knowledge should also be applicable here. Besides, I am very familiar with the biology of fey in general, so it will be fine."


    Her hands glowed golden as Morgana chanted the incantation.


    "From my fingers, I feel your mind, your past and your soul. Show me all that is worth knowing. Memory Search."


    Flashes of many different things appeared before Morgana''s eyes as she learned a lot from this prey.


    "This..."


    She was left speechless for a while.


    After arriving in Agatha, her luck had been quite bad. But now... Now she found a real treasure trove.


    Barely managing to suppress her excitement, Morgana turned towards the sleeping gnome.


    "I hope you will also be able to present me with an equally enticing prize, little one."


    ....


    When Titania died, the fairies, just like the gnomes fell into discord.


    No longer any single individual could claim the crown, as the blessing from Agatha was Titania''s and Titania''s alone.


    Thus division was set between the fey, which were now only united by their hatred of gnomes. However, among the fairies, a distinct layer of segregation was set.


    Different kinds of fey decided to appoint different leaders and, as such, the distinctiveness of these factions were determined not by bonds of friendship forged with time, like the gnomes, but by their subraces.


    Moonbeam''s Gift was the ruler chosen by the Dryads, their Archfey, Exalted Guardian of Daygleam Valley.


    Under him, lived more than a hundred dryads, tens of thousands of treants as well as countless animals, half of which were concentrated in this colony, Daygleam Valley, a region teeming with life.


    Just like any other land held by powerful fey, these grounds were infused with great vitality, provided by their nature-based magic. Plants here grew stronger and the beasts, healthier.


    ....


    A sturdy man in green robes stood at the gates of Daygleam Valley. He gave off a heroic impression through his serious countenance and distinct construction.


    This was the entry of the Dryad Faction''s main colony and Nebula was its keeper.


    Unlike what is to be expected of a fey folk sentry, the man wasn''t concerned with hiding his presence.


    The reason for his attitude was simple. That wasn''t his task.


    The perimeter, several kilometers around the valley, was filled to the brim with secret methods of gathering information. From a complex network of beast spies, lead by especial fey animal spirits, to the very ground, which was infused with their ruler''s will. Everything was designed to make sure no attack against their center of power would ever go unnoticed.


    So, Nebula''s assignment was a different one. He and the treants under his command were to form the first line of defense in case of conflict, taking full advantage of this narrow pathway, which was the valley''s only entrance, excluding the possibility of a painful and arduous climb through the surrounding mountains.


    But today he was tasked with a different job. To welcome back an important member of their community who just returned to the valley after a long term mission.


    From the west came a handsome young man with green hair and an intelligent-looking red bird on his right shoulder.


    After seeing the man that just arrived, Nebula bowed his head and respectfully said.


    "Protector Sylvan, it is so good to have you back with us. We are all thankful for your service. I was sent here by the Guardian himself, who wishes to hear your mission report in person as soon as possible."


    With a somber attitude, Sylvan answered.


    "Yes of course. The situation is dire after all."


    Caressing his new bird casually, the protector looked ominously towards the west as he appeared to lose himself in deep thought.


    Nebula, the gatekeeper, was concerned. Everything about this felt wrong to him. From the protector''s sudden return to the somber aura that he carried at the moment.


    After some hesitation, the guard asked.


    "Sir, can I ask you some questions about what happened?"


    To this, Sylvan answered with a serious face.


    "You may not."


    Nebula only sighed and nodded his head, before guiding Sylvan to meet with their leader. As a protector, this man held a much higher position on the hierarchy than him. So the simple act of asking was already daring enough. If the protector only wished to discuss this matter with Moonbeam''s Gift, there was really nothing he could do, even if he felt troubled by the whole situation.


    .....


    On a cave deep beneath the earth, Morgana worked at breakneck speed. There was so much to do and yet so little time. But she refused to let this precious chance go by unused. As the saying goes. "Opportunities multiply when they are seized."


    With great skill, Morgana commanded the golems and quickly set up an improvised lab. Before the great plan could come to fruition, there were certain preparations that needed to be made.


    This was a risky enterprise and usually, Morgana would avoid taking such reckless actions. In fact, she only dared to do so in light of the new information that was acquired through Nimble and Sylvan.


    Agatha was a young world. So young in fact that Morgana herself was more than twice as old as its most ancient inhabitant. The knowledge she held would be considered revolutionary by even the greatest of the few wizards which existed on this land.


    And most important of all was the status of the Great Forest. This whole region was very isolated from the rest of the world. Other races considered Azov or the Feywild (names given by the gnomes and fey respectively) to be a very inhospitable place.


    Humans preferred to live on the fertile plains to the west, while orcs wouldn''t be able to access vast amounts of grass away from the steppes where they were born, which was a necessary requirement to feed the great mounts that they were very proud of.


    For those peoples, the forest was a bug-infested hell with nothing worth exploring.


    Besides, the two races that lived here had been constantly trying to destroy each other over the course of these last centuries. The result was a slow and steady decline of both parties involved.


    However, in the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. Morgana could take advantage of this to gather the resources and knowledge she desperately needed. All the while remaining unnoticed. A dark foe protected by the shroud of ignorance. For, as both sides grew weaker, she would grow stronger.


    The great question, however, was "could she afford to do this if this world had other extremely powerful existences such as Saci?"


    No. It wouldn''t be wise.


    But after living here for months and having absorbed the memories of two veteran warriors, Morgana was progressively convinced that this was not the case.


    First, his magic was different from anything she had seen before, both in Griseo and in Agatha.


    But what made her get to this conclusion was the scroll he had given her.


    "To the winner, the potatoes."


    Those were the words left behind by the organization known as Ianomami-Tupi Sect, a legendary group of Antiquity, which had mysteriously disappeared from her homeworld. However, they also appeared in Saci''s gift, which meant that the Whirlwind Rider was probably involved with the Sect.


    It was simply too much of a coincidence to not be true.


    As such, Morgana deduced that the mysterious man came neither from Griseo nor from Agatha but from somewhere else, a place where the sects inheritors still lived. This meant that Saci was drawn to her location after sensing Morgana''s use of the mirror.


    Breaking the barriers between worlds was a feat worthy of legends, but when it came to this mysterious organization, it was certainly an easy matter. After all, to them that mirror was an ordinary item, which was stored by the Sect in great quantities.


    After the crude installations were finished, the dark wizard opened a very large wooden box, covered by many circular-shaped arcane drawings.


    "I didn''t think there would be an opportunity to use this for quite a while, but its a good thing I prepared for it, just in case."


    Inside the box, there was a female figure sound asleep. She wore black robes, had messy hair and deep shadows beneath the eyes. In every detail, she was identical to the original Morgana, a perfect duplicate.

 23 Surgery

    Leaving the box open, Morgana laid down in an improvised bed and closed her eyes.


    "Mind Transfer."


    With a simple incantation, the dark wizard''s soul manifested on the sleeping duplicate.


    It was a weird feeling, waking up like this on a body that wasn''t hers. Even in Griseo the times she did something like this could be counted in one hand.


    After checking the state of this new form, everything seemed to be in order.


    Morgana smiled and said.


    "Let us begin."


    The duplicate was an imperfect homunculus, a fruit of the dark wizard''s great alchemical prowess.


    Essentially, it was a meat golem produced to share a common essence with Morgana.


    However, there were two key differences. This body had no conscience of its own, nor could it produce magical power, being nothing more than an empty vessel through which Morgana could manifest her mind.


    In other words, it was a living tool.


    The dark wizard had already arranged all the materials which would be used in this procedure.


    "There will be no need for any anesthetics. Since my soul is not on the body, there is no pain to be felt."


    Morgana used a surgical knife and made an incision on the right flank of her body.


    With a few skilled cuts, the kidney was removed and placed on a nearby patter.


    "So far, so good."


    She took another kidney that had been previously prepared and inserted in the place of the old one.


    "Cure wounds."


    Spells were produced by a combination of knowledge, energy and materials, but the homunculus had only two of those things. So how a being without its own mana reserves could accomplish this?


    Well, that is because it shared Morgana''s essence, which meant that the dark wizard could still use the energy of her original body to cast spells for as long as the clone was touching it directly.


    The healing spell allowed the wounds to mend quickly and the veins and arteries to reconnect. Soon, it was as if the wound had never existed.


    "Alright, time for the next step."


    Lungs, splint, heart, and teeth. One by one, many parts of Morgana''s body were painstakingly replaced by someone else''s.


    As soon as the surgical part ended, Morgana started to chant fervently and the body on the table was slowly transformed.


    The sickly-looking young woman became a green-haired and handsome gentleman with brown skin.


    ....


    At Licabeto Clearing, Sylvan was taken to the archfey''s presence.


    As Titania had said long ago.


    "Let other races build in wood and stone, for we are the most blessed of all peoples. The trees are our walls and the sky itself serves as our ceiling. Why lose time with cheap heretic imitations when the ultimate palace was already given to us, built by the goddess herself?"


    This clearing acted as a hall for meetings and assemblies involving the fey who lived on the colony.


    After his job was done, Nebula gave the archfey a deep bow and left. Now only two people stayed behind.


    Moonbeam''s gift had the appearance of a wise old man. Both his hair and beard were long and grey. The skin shared the same tone as Sylvan''s but it was very wrinkled. And just like gnomes and fey usually did, his robes were made with vines, weaved together in a strange cloth.


    However, he actually had the same age as protector Sylvan. A fairly''s appearance did not directly reflect its age. For instance, a child from this kind could be much older than one who had the body of an old person.


    But this by no means made so that their bodies'' strength or vitality were impaired by the forms they took. For the fey were creatures of spirit more than matter. As such, they did not share the frailties of mortal men.


    After seeing this protector, the Guardian gave a warm smile.


    "Brother Sylvan, it is so good to see you. I hope you are feeling well on this blessed day, despite the troubles found on this recent journey."


    His aura was gentle and approachable. In fact, an unaware human observer might even think this was someone''s favorite grandfather.


    But not Morgana. She took a measure of him and realized the old man was quite formidable.


    "When you deal with fey, nothing is as it looks. Making rushed judgment in these situations is an excellent way to get yourself killed."


    But she only answered.


    "How much do you already know?"


    As far as Morgana could deduce through his memories, Sylvan did not enjoy pleasantries very much. Which was a good thing, because she could deal with the archfey quickly while maintaining her act.


    As she expected, the old man did not take Sylvan''s actions the wrong way, as he already knew this was merely the protector''s personality.


    "Just the gossip some family of birds told me. ''A lot of fire and death on the west''. This is how they described it. Am I correct to assume the gnomes are involved? How bad were our losses?"


    Sylvan took out a bag tainted with blood and threw its content on the ground. Three heads rolled towards the feet of Moonbeam''s Gift.


    With an expressionless face he said.


    "We faced a band of four mounted veterans, probably all being from the gnome''s First Generation. I killed three but one managed to escape. Unfortunately, nearly all treants and animals under my control fell in the process."


    The Guardian was visibly shocked and then his face showed hints of anger, but, just as he was about to reprehend this subordinate, Sylvan took out another item from inside his pouch, a simple wand made with a very noble-looking wood. Its carvings were delicate, yet not very complex.


    "They also carried one of these. I believe you know what it means."


    Silence befell the clearing as the archfey was contemplating what to do next.


    After a while, he answered with a rough and solemn voice.


    "Sylvan, it''s no secret that I consider your methods, at times, to be extreme. Your hatred for those little monsters, while inspiring, can cloud your judgment and cause mistakes. But today the price you paid just might have saved us a whole lot of pain. So, as for the losses you suffered during the mission, there will be no punishment.


    Don''t consider this, however, as a sign of approval on my part. Take some time off, calm your temperament and ponder over your actions. Understood?"


    Sylvan promptly and said.


    "Understood.


    Can I do this while protecting the Wisdom Tree?"


    Moonbeam''s Gift thought for a moment and then said.


    "Yes. I feel it is wise to do so.


    You can go now. Soon there will be a formal meeting to discuss this matter with more detail."


    With a bow, Sylvan departed, leaving the archfey alone to contemplate

 24 Wisdom Tree

    What is the most important thing for a wizard?


    Resources?


    Many spoiled children from noble families back in Griseo believed that they could become great by just taking advantage of the extremely high-grade materials that were provided to them from a very young age.


    But the truth is that, without a minimum of talent and dedication, they would only achieve mild success, being inferior to their most distinguished relatives.


    So, was it battle experience?


    While it is true that challenging situations could allow individuals to break through bottlenecks and become progressively more powerful, it was not a necessary condition.


    There were many arcane scholars who closed themselves in order to study, choosing not to use their powers in a violent manner. Although they would certainly be defeated by a caster capable of using equally complex spells but was actually tempered in combat.


    No. The correct answer to this question is "knowledge".


    Knowledge, when accumulated in the soul, especially of the magical kind, would strengthen it and provoke quantitative as well as qualitative changes on the most fundamental substance that makes a person''s very being.


    A wizard who did not seek knowledge was not a wizard at all.


    ....


    It was night and Morgana stood at the front of a very majestic tree. When compared to its surroundings, it was neither big nor small, yet no passer-by would ever be able to ignore it.


    The leaves had a very unique shade of blue and in the moonless night, a glow was emitted from it, lighting up this portion of the forest.


    This was the wisdom tree, the main reason why Morgana had chosen to take so many risks.


    Moonbeam''s Gift had first planted this especial creation around fifty years ago when the dryads decided to set their homes upon this valley.


    His foresight was great and, predicting that many new dryads would be born in the future, while the old ones would only dwindle in number, he deduced that much of what they knew would be lost with time. As such, preserving all the information they posted was of the utmost importance.


    The Wisdom Tree was like a living library. As long as you had the key, it was possible to access most of the knowledge possessed by the dryads.


    It was the archfey''s hope that in the future this would become an ancestral inheritance. Not only of the dryads but the entire Feywild.


    That''s why, to Morgana, Sylvan was a living treasure.


    He held the position of Protector, which was the highest beneath archfey, granting him access to this tree. Yet, he was both socially and politically isolated. The type of person people respected due to his capabilities, yet preferred to be alone, frequently taking missions away from the valley. The petty disputes between factions also did not spark his interest, as Sylvan preferred to remain aloof.


    In other words, as long as Morgana did not go overboard with her act, nobody would even notice the difference.


    If she had replaced someone like Moonbeam''s Gift, assuming that he could be captured, it would still be much more difficult to pull it off due to his profile being too high and his character so much more sociable.


    All of this made Sylvan the perfect person to replace.


    Morgana also took the opportunity to seed even more conflict between fey and gnomes, falsely accusing the later of trying to access a tree whose existence they probably didn''t even know about.


    The key she showed to the archfey was a perfect copy, something Morgana produced on her improvised lab in order to give a base for her accusations.


    Besides, it gave the dark wizard a good excuse to spend a great deal of time studying through the tree. After all, if it was under threat, the service of someone powerful, like a protector, would be necessary for safekeeping.


    By using one single plan, Morgana was advancing her agenda in many different ways.


    With a light wave, she used the wand and its carvings shone yellow.


    A single leave fell from the treetop towards Morgana as it transformed into a beautiful butterfly.


    When it landed on her left hand, the wizard communed with nature, coming into contact with many of the dryad''s secrets.


    She knew at once with full understanding.


    "When I finish decoding all of this, my powers will be comparable with those I held in Griseo."


    Unfortunately, this would not happen too soon, as it was a lot for a single mind to process in a short period of time.


    Morgana would have her hands full for months if not for years with this task. However, it was very important for her to commit to this. After all, she was Spriggan''s heiress.


    Many centuries ago, Morgans found the legacy of the strongest among all evil fairies. The teachings of this mentor became the foundation of much of what she had accomplished during her long career.


    As such, learning how fey magic worked in Agatha would allow Morgana to adapt many of her old powers, making them useful once again.


    "How fortunate."


    .....


    It was a sad day in Willowtown.


    The tree leaves on the central square were magically tinged in black to symbolize public mourning.


    This was a small village that coexisted in harmony with the ecosystem, as the gnomes knew from experience that their very prosperity depended on this.


    Little houses were built on the tree''s hollow interiors or directly above them, using the thickest branches as pillars to keep the structures stable.


    The whole population was only a little more than six hundred individuals. As far as gnome villages in Azov were concerned, this was one of the smallest that still held political independence.


    Yet, today a great number of them gathered in the square.


    Of course, they had come to pay their respects.


    Lord Douwe sat on the place of honor, surrounded by his wife, son, and new daughter-in-law, as well as other close friends.


    "We all gather here to say goodbye to these noble heroes, Firstborn and children of Agatha, the great goddess.


    And, although death is always a tragedy, we can take solace knowing that they died fighting the good fight. To their last breath, those three gave their very best. They tried to make the forest cleaner, by eliminating that foul plague that threatens to destroy us all."


    The one who spoke was Elder Balosar, the village''s most powerful druid. He served as a warrior when necessary, but also as a healer and spiritual leader.


    "But we should take this as a lesson, my brothers. For those deaths could have been prevented. Think about this in the future so that this kind of unnecessary tragedy will not repeat itself."


    Balosar enunciated this last part while stealing glances at Lord Dowe as if to send a message.


    The chief frowned displeased, but there was nothing he could do. Since that disaster, the rift between Traditionalists and Moderates had become more evident, as Nimble''s faction blamed Douwe for supposedly having sent the party into a suicide mission.


    But how was he supposed to now that the dryads were secretly establishing a new foothold in the neutral territory?


    Even though he had tried to be reasonable and make a deal with that druid through his friend, no one would believe him now.


    To most people, even some members of his own faction, it seemed as if Lord Douwe had acted tyrannically and orchestrated the whole incident purely out of selfish interest.


    Just thinking about all of these problems gave the chief a bad headache and so he closed his eyes and started massaging his temples.


    But as he opened them again, his gaze was locked with those of a familiar figure on the crowd. The cause of all of these problems.


    Nimble looked towards the chief and his son with daggers in his eyes as the sorrow for his friend''s death had long been replaced by hatred and a desire for vengeance.

 25 Corruption

    In Morgana''s new lair, the dark wizard sat on a crude table, drinking tea and playing with the most beautiful white gem.


    As the diamond in the rough ran through her fingers, she gave an amused smile.


    "I am so glad for taking the right decision back then."


    Morgana lived for months on a dungeon on the other side of the forest and as she searched the underground for useful things, she came upon this treasure.


    It was nothing like the golems'' hearts.


    No. This was much more precious.


    The natural world was infused with magical energy. Some places more and others less.


    So, found in particularly rich areas, there were ores, stones and other such substances of great value. Objects that fed on pure natural magic.


    Druids particularly loved these materials as they evoked the purest and most untainted forms of power, something that was particularly dear to their hearts.


    However, this also made so that, for someone like Morgana, it was the most difficult kind of material to use.


    As soon as the core felt the advances of Morgana''s corrupted soul, it would actively resist until it was destroyed, which was very troublesome.


    The dark wizard originally wanted to use the stone to create a better defensive system for her dungeon. After all, this would not require the gem to be changed on a deeper level.


    However, this would be a terrible waste and so she resolved herself to wait for the discovery of a new method. Something which eluded her...


    At least until the Wisdom Tree shared its enlightenment.


    ....


    A unicorn was held by chains made of the purest silver in a poorly lit room.


    On the pillars supporting the chains, Morgana set many restriction spells.


    When it came to such spirit guardians, it was always better being excessively careful than the opposite.


    Its fur was magnificent, having a shade of shining and stainless white. But the unicorn''s most distinguishing characteristic was a great horn which adorned its head like a kingly crown.


    Even now the creature stood there proudly, looking at Morgana with disdain.


    The dark wizard knew this look all too well, as many defeated heroes had shown it to her in the past.


    It was the manifestation of a unique kind of overconfidence. One which was born from a deep and annoying sense of self-righteousness.


    "Disdain me as much as you want. No spirit is unbreakable and no hero is incorruptible. None."


    The dark wizard thought to herself in amusement.


    A bowl of delicious-looking meats and a basin filled with water were placed in front of the creature.


    "Feast."


    Morgana commanded.


    At first, the unicorn attempted to resist her word of command, but its determination proved futile.


    With practice and new knowledge, Morgana''s charms had become much stronger. The creature could only resist her will for a short time before submitting.


    This continued for twenty-eight days and twenty-eight nights during which the guardian spirit ate fell meats and drank cursed water.


    At each day, the unicorn appeared just a little bit weaker and more submissive, making Morgana''s job much easier.


    On the last night of the full moon, Morgana pulled a lever and many doors on the ceiling opened, allowing the light rays to shine upon the creature.


    However, those rays were tempered with by glass obstacles and, as they came down, the glow changed its color to red.


    Under the moonlight, the unicorn started to change. It''s hair, once white, became jet black, having an eerie luster to it. The horn turned crooked and horrible to behold.


    But the eyes were the worst of it all. This creature''s gaze was piercing and showed great malice. Ugly red jewels from hell.


    This was a black unicorn. A creature fruit of Morgana''s corruption.


    "Pat", "pat".


    The wizard lightly caressed its mane.


    "See? The darkness is so much more pleasant. And just like that, there is no more temptation."


    Morgana said with a sneer.


    Now the fallen beast looked at her with reverence and unwavering devotion.


    It was her property now. From today until the end of time.


    "Release."


    Morgana ended her spell. Not the bindings which restrained this new servant but the transformation itself.


    And so the unicorn was no more. Reduced to its original condition. That of a precious gem.


    Now, however, the stone was pitch black, as the once white diamond had changed to resemble a perfectly polished onyx.


    ...


    Through the forest flew a beautiful red bird, far above the tree line in order to avoid the plentiful dangers that lurked beneath.


    It was Mordred, Morgana''s familiar and he was sent out with a very special mission.


    This fey spirit had always been the dark wizard''s most trusted servant since it was the only one who couldn''t possibly betray her, as their souls were eternally entangled together by the most binding of contracts.


    Mordred landed on a place marked by death and the forest had been greatly scared by a great fire.


    As the bird landed, his body started to twist and transform. And so the small creature quickly changed shape, becoming a dashing young man dressed in a dark hunting outfit.


    His black hair was neither too long nor too short. But what drew the most attention were his eyes, which were always calm, like a bottomless pit waiting to swallow the world.


    In fact, they were much like Morgana''s in that sense. Although she lacked the nobility of his form in everything else.


    After the dark wizard had entered in contact with those gnomes, fairies and especially the Wisdom Tree, her powers started to grow at an accelerated pace, which resulted in Mordred recovering much of his old capabilities.


    Among his most distinguished skills, was the power to change forms. Some were fair and beautiful, while others were dark and terrible to behold.


    Surveilling the surroundings Mordred found no threats and so decided to proceed with the task at hand.


    And so, he took something from his pocket.


    It was a magnificent dark gem.


    "Alright. Let us begin."


    The familiar infused his mana on the stone, activating it.


    Around him, many ghosts from the past appeared only to be sucked in by the gem. They were not true souls, however, as those individuals had long departed this world.


    Death leaves a permanent mark on the land. Violent deaths most of all.


    In other words, this place in which fairies and gnomes gave in to their hatred and slaughtered each other was consecrated by the massacre, becoming unholy.


    Right now, Mordred, as instructed by his mistress was channeling this power through the stone and storing it for later.


    As the last ghost was captured by the gem, the man took a deep breath.


    "One finished. Many more to go."


    Morgana had secured several locations of old and bloody battlefields and, as such, commanded Mordred to visit them all in order to feed the gem.

 26 Sacrificial Grounds

    Considering the great benefits Morgana was about to obtain, one might ask. Why didn''t someone already made use of the many sacrificial grounds spread across the vast forest?


    The answer lies with the type of magic practiced by its denizens. Because almost all of the mages that lived here were either druids or sorcerers.


    This first kind used natural magic. By attuning with the land and its inhabitants as well as studying them a druid would gain many great powers.


    Unlike wizards, however, their craft did not draw magic exclusively from knowledge. And, also had nothing to do with the arcane.


    On the other hand, a sorcerer''s powers were innate.


    For them, magic was something to be cultivated purely through practice and instinct. As such knowledge and scholarly studies played no part in defining just how skilled they were.


    Some sorcerers drew their power from destiny, being blessed by chaos at the precise moment of their conception. There were also those who carried this magic in their blood. As such, they were the heirs of ancient and powerful beings, whose power they could somehow mimic.


    Other kinds of innate magic existed as well, but these two were the most common by far.


    As far as Morgana could tell, true wizards were extremely rare in Agatha.


    The only examples of this profession she could find were those of Rumpelstiltskin and his followers.


    In a time when the world was even younger than it was now, they were cast out by the other gnomes, many of whom considered their magic to be heretic.


    Another point of discord, and the final trigger which resulted in their expulsion, was Rumpelstiltskin''s express desire to make peace with the Feywild.


    After this Great Schism, the wizards moved out of the Great Forest, building their own settlement in the south.


    Some day Morgana intended to pay them a visit.


    So, unlike wizards, druids and sorcerers had other pillars supporting their power. Pillars that often caused the practice of dark magic to become unviable.


    Druids, for instance, sought to coexist in harmony with the lands in which they lived. Ao, giving in to darkness would actually make them weaker instead of stronger.


    While a sorcerers magic would remain within the boundaries of the "gifts" that were bestowed upon them on the occasion of their births.


    Of course, there were sorcerers who received their powers from an evil ancestor and those could only practice dark magic.


    While some druids, who dwelled in decadent places, would worship corruption and evil, principles which were manifested by these dark and fallen domains.


    But, fortunately, neither of those two cases existed in the Great Forest.


    ...


    After visiting five of the locations that Morgana had marked on the map, Mordred was beginning to think that the rest of his journey would be just as uneventful.


    But then, just as he was passing above a particularly large tree...


    A giant flying monkey flew towards him, taking advantage of the fact that the familiar had come too close to the place where it dwelled.


    The jump carried great strength as the very foundations of this tree were shook.


    It was unlike the other members of its kind that partook on the battle against the gnomes, having a size twice as big as those individuals.


    Truly massive.


    Mordred made use of his smaller form and nimbly evaded the first charge.


    The flying monkey was disappointed, considering if it should retreat. After all, in order to capture birds, his species always relied on the element of surprise, since their speed was quite lacking.


    But Mordred was having none of this.


    His eyes brimmed with malice.


    Circling the enemy with great skill, he found an opportunity and stroke decisively.


    From bellow his body, a long arm with four claws sprang forth and slashed the monkey.


    The creature tried to counter-attack, but it was futile.


    Mordred evaded him again and, after dispelling the arm he just created, flew away, towards the next sacrificial ground.


    Taking a measure of his wounds, the flying monkey was still sad about losing its prey, but at least the wound was not too severe.


    Of course, if only it knew...


    After all, it couldn''t benefit from Morgana''s immunities against the Bat King''s deadly venom.


    .....


    "Rise."


    In a runic circle drawn on the stone floor, laid the corpse of a wild beast. Some sort of giant snake that had red scales with several brown spots.


    As if reacting to Morgana''s spell, the serpent shook violently for a few minutes, before becoming still once more.


    "Another failure. How vexing!"


    She was displeased with the progress of her necromancy mastery in this world. So far, no attempt at reanimating a corpse was successful.


    After injecting new vitality one the target, it would experience a sudden burst of energy, which lasted for a little while.


    However, she could no longer call back souls from the other side, neither could she sustain the reanimation for a long period of time.


    It was like the reflexes of a dead cockroach. A true show of vitality, of course, but only as a lingering effect, which could not be maintained.


    "That''s enough."


    A good researcher should now when to halt the investigation on a particular project. It was just better to focus on easier fields to grasp, leaving aside this one until the situation changed and necromantic studies became once more viable for her.


    After all, this was the unholy grail of dark magic, the greatest taboo, manipulating the boundaries between life and death.


    Morgana would most likely do better strengthening her foundations by eating all the low hanging fruit first. The big juicy apple on the treetop would just have to wait.

 27 Anawasi

    Morgana''s form changed frequently, flickering deep beneath the earth.


    It was a very uncomfortable sensation. As if millions of sand grains were rubbing through her veins.But without pain, only a deep discomfort."


    "I don''t understand. Does he suffer like this every time?"


    Since arriving in Agatha, Morgana''s focus was to restore her old powers little by little.


    However, this technique, Earth Steps Mystical Travel, was something she couldn''t possibly accomplish back in Griseo Petram.


    Even now, it was still not perfect. But she managed to get this far combining what she learned from the Wisdom Tree, as well as what she could grasp from her meeting with Saci.


    The Whirlwind Rider, as he called himself, used a very peculiar combination of space and elemental magic to move at great speeds.


    However, Morgana neither possessed his great mastery with wind nor with space magic.


    As such she had to adapt.


    This spell was a very inferior version of Saci''s whirlwind, but it made use of her exceptional affinity with earth instead, as well as a minimum degree of space manipulation.


    That being said it was still extremely useful.


    Morgana was using this improved homunculus to explore other regions without having to leave her studies with the Wisdom tree.


    After three days of interrupt travel, she arrived at a swampland. It was clear that the Great Forest had given place to a different biome.


    This marsh grew by the margin of a mighty river.


    The water stream was so large that Morgana couldn''t even see the other side, as the waters ended on the horizon first.


    This was the Anawasi River, a true cradle of civilization.


    ...


    Year 204 a.t.a.


    It was the beginning of the spring and the rich fauna by the margins of the Anawasi river was a quite sight for those who beheld it. Especially for someone like Nvok.


    Having grown at the steppes, he was very bewildered.


    Where was the grass? Where was the vast space between the trees?


    However, the environment didn''t seem to share his concerns, as the densely packed vegetation of this wetlands appeared to be in perfect harmony with the crocodiles, birds, the never-ending swarm of flies and other such satisfied dwellers.


    Perhaps having realized his commander''s absent-mindedness, Davros spoke:


    "It shouldn''t take long now. We are almost there."


    "That''s right" - thought Nvok - " We have work to do. Now it''s not the time to lose myself in daydreaming"


    But he only answered Davros with a nod.


    They had been friends for a long time, playing together in the grassland since early childhood.


    Both had bled alongside each other in many battles. Sharing great camaraderie. Nvok even took the initiative to arrange a marriage between his friend and one of his sisters.


    Davros perceived Nvok''s silence as a sign to keep speaking.


    "But those gnomes sure are a cowardly bunch. We were able to advance this much without ever getting attacked.


    No. This is more than cowardice.


    Are they stupid or something?"


    "What were you expecting, Davros? So far they only survived by hiding behind walls. They wouldn''t dare to face us orcs on the open field." - answered Nvok and both of than laughed while the other riders of the group showed their amused smiles.


    That''s right.


    This was a company of orcs highly trained in mounted combat, a detached party entrusted with the task of scouting enemy territory.A task that had been going extremely well.


    So well, in fact, that Nvok was afraid in his first days that somehow they were being tricked by the gnomes.


    But all of this was part of the past.


    As they advanced, caution was replaced by conceit. All of them were now sure that the reason behind their enemy''s lack of action was pure and simple fear.


    Although they believed this to be true, their thoughts went towards an imposing figure. One who was most definitely a gnome, but that no person would dare to call a coward. Rosalyn, an honorary elder from his Crescent Moon Tribe.


    ...


    He breathed a sigh of relief.


    This victory was more than welcome. After all Nvok was a prince, descendent of great chiefs.


    And as such, following good orc tradition, he was destined to be entangled in a brutal succession war with his brothers and half-brothers after his father died.


    There was only one exception, one situation where this procedure was to be ignored. That was, of course, when one of the siblings was noticeably more famous than the others, having accumulated more glory on the battlefield. In such a case, the prince would be allowed to ascend unchallenged.


    If he could secure success in this campaign, Nvok, the eldest of his brethren, would have accumulated enough merit to prevent a future civil war for the leadership in the tribe.


    But contrary to most of his kin, this prince was much more sensitive and compassionate. Not only did he desire to secure his own position but also wanted very deeply to spare his family of this terrible fate.


    While some hardline conservatives viewed him as too weak, his supporters appreciated this high degree of empathy, as well as his wisdom, well above average.


    "What a great ruler this will be" They thought.


    Unfortunately, it was not to be.


    "Uhh"


    His friend, Davros was the first to notice. The horses'' speed had slowed down for no apparent reason. Their, usually graceful canter, was now sluggish, lacking any sign of this breed of war forged mount''s characteristic nobility.


    Soon, the entire group, of around 20 elite troops, were experiencing the same effects.


    "Sir, there''s is something extremely wrong here!"


    "I agree. Hey guys! Hurry! Get out of the road, NOW!!!"


    The band seemed unwilling. Especially since some still believed this anomaly to be caused by the terrain. Besides, running away without even seeing the enemy was a serious blow to their pride.


    Nevertheless, they obeyed. Even the most brutish of this group was a seasoned veteran. They understood very clearly the consequences of failing to follow orders on the battlefield. After all, even a bad plan, when executed by everyone, was better than a good plan when the army had no sense of unity.


    This is no joke. Many green-faced youngsters died every year foolishly believing to know better than their commanders.


    But getting out of the road did nothing to improve the situation. In fact, the effects were becoming increasingly severe, no matter to which direction they went.


    Eventually, it even began to affect their own bodies. It was as if the very air itself had become havier. It was absolutely not natural.


    "What kind of evil sorcery is this???" Someone screamed in shock.


    Eventually even the air in their lungs started to become heavier as well and their very minds were now extremely razy.


    When Nvok finally looked down, his horse was gone. Instead, he was standing on the ground.


    No. Not the ground. And certainly not "standing".


    Sudden realization stroke, fast like a thunderbolt.


    "This is not air! This is water!!!"


    But it was too late. Nvok lost conscience soon after and at the end the whole party laid dead, on the bottom of the Anawasi River.

 28 Did... Did He Just Wink At Me?

    In the forest, a young boy hid among the tree branches.


    His age should be around twelve and the way he cloaked himself showed that there was still a long way before his hunting skills could reach the level of true professional.


    First, the chosen spot was not suited at all, as the coverage still left many openings through which he could be seen.


    Second, the posture was off, giving a chance for trouble to brew. When he attacked, even the slightest excessive movement, would end up causing a fall.


    However, his eyes showed a great spark, letting seep out this boy''s great excitement.


    The reason for this was the prey that just appeared, a clumsy-looking baboon.


    "Wind Blade."


    Swoosh.


    The strike landed on a less than ideal area.


    There were so many places where a skilled hunter could hit in order to cause a quick death. But the boy was just too inexperienced and his spell provoked a massive bleeding.


    This prey would most certainly die, but this death was less than clean.


    "Ohhh!!!"


    The wind blade made him lose balance for a moment, but, fortunately, further problems were averted as he firmly grasped a thick branch.


    "Uff! That was close."


    Immediately after this almost disaster, he climbed down the tree and packed the carcass.


    Gillian, this young human sorcerer needed to return home before his parents found out where he was.


    ....


    It would be too generous to call this place a village as it had little more than fifty inhabitants.


    On the center of the hamlet, a crude building made of wood towered over the others. And today, all were gathered there to pray.


    This was a church of Marduk, humanity''s patron and god. They offered tributes, on this occasion for a prosperous harvest.


    "We all reap what is sowed. This is the truth uncovered by our ancestors when they started practicing agriculture.


    The same applies to the gods. When goodwill and devotion are plowed in our relationship with the divine, great blessings will befall us all."


    The one who spoke was Owen and he was both the chief and priest of this hamlet.


    He was a bald man wearing a simple white robe with no decorations. It was a simple appearance yet filled with dignity.


    He stood behind an altar and above an elevated platform. While most of the public remained standing as well since the few available chairs were reserved for the elderly.


    "Today we offer the first reap of wheat as well as our finest bull. May Marduk be pleased with our humble gifts."


    On his right hand, there was an iron knife and, with a precise movement, the bull''s throat was cut open.


    As the creature emitted its final painful noises and tried to break free, the priest kept it under control with abnormal strength ultil the creature perished. And all the blood flowed towards a richly decorated basin.


    Lifting this container, the priest turned to face a wooden statue behind him.


    "Oh, Great Benefactor! Take this as a sign of loyalty."


    The statute was covered by yellow light and started to transform. In its place appeared a transcendent door. This was about as far as mortals would get to Marduk''s Divine Kingdom.


    The bull stood up once more. Yet now his eyes burned yellow with a fire that did not consume its host.


    "Good."


    A thunderous voice echoed.


    "Extract the seeds from this sacrificial reap. Plow the fields with them and water it with the basin''s blessed blood."


    The majestic animal walked towards the door and entered it, never to return. It was Marduk''s now.


    The crowd was amazed by this development. To have the voice of a god to manifest during the ritual was a rare occurrence.


    Chief Owen was so elated that he started crying uncontrollably.


    During this commotion, no one noticed when the small Gillian entered this hall.


    ....


    A gigantic turtle stood by the rocks, mesmerized by Morgana''s gaze. If even a unicorn could not resist her charms now, what hope would an ordinary beast have?


    The dark wizard pointed towards the Horizon and the turtle instinctively understood her meaning, getting closer so Morgana could easily climb its shell.


    "Invisibility."


    As soon as she got up on the creatures back, the wizard shrouded herself as well as this new mount with a magical cover. The river still bore many secrets, despite her painstaking research before dispatching the homunculus for this mission.


    There was no reason to travel in the open when she did not yet understand all of the potential challenges lying ahead.


    Morgana thought about her goal this time and felt ambivalent. On one hand, she was curious as to what Saci''s map referred to, something which deeply enticed her greed.


    But on the other, that strange man always made her feel coerced and powerless. Almost as if she was permanently moving on his web and acting according to his design at every step of the way.


    If there was one thing Morgana hated was not having control of her own destiny.


    The thing about relying on someone else''s ambitions and desires is that your footing will disappear the moment your interests no longer align, causing a great fall.


    "I need weapons of my own, yet the magic from Griseo is a child''s play as far as he is concerned.


    No. My hopes lays in Agatha. This world is filled with mysteries. Perhaps there is something of value here. Something that even the Whirlwind Rider knows nothing about."


    Thinking about this Morgana resolved herself once more in order to regain control over her life.


    As she was lost in contemplation, Morgana noticed a pink dolphin looking at her with interest.


    "This...


    Can he see me or am I just paranoid?"


    The dolphin answered on her mind as if responding to her secret thoughts.


    "Yes. I see you, beautiful lady."


    After this brief exchange, the creature once more sank beneath the waters, vanishing from sight, leaving Morgana very confused.


    "Did... Did he just wink at me?"


    There was nothing normal about this whole situation.

 29 Kingdom of Aachen

    The great and first wizard of this World of Agatha, Rumpelstiltskin, was a man of admirable foresight.


    Of all places, he chose to build his settlement on this island, after being kicked out of Azov.


    Aachen stood at the intersection between east and west of the Nirvana Continent.


    On the south, the Azure Horn, a medium-sized sea filled with small islands watered is shores.


    While on the north, there was Azov, a great forest, majestic and dangerous in equal doses.


    In other words, unless someone would be willing to go through great hassles, this island in the middle of the Anawasi was the gate which controlled the route connecting the entire continent.


    The gnome wizards made use of their considerable powers and magical knowledge. As such, Aachen became extremely prosperous and safe from pillagers.


    As time progressed, members of other races heard of the gnome''s fabulous wealth and decided to live here as well, under their overlordship.


    Halflings, some orcs, but mostly humans poured into the island, causing the population to boom.


    The result was a caste society, where all other races lived under the tutelage of a gnomic nobility that detained a great mastery of arcane magic.


    Aachen became the first and biggest full-fledged city in this world, an exotic specimen that flourished by the river''s margin.


    Eventually, Rumpelstiltskin decided to step back from political life to focus exclusively on honing his craft and William, his eldest son, was appointed as the new leader.


    However, even though he was a capable wizard and an astute man, his position as the lord wasn''t secure for quite a while.


    That''s because, just like their relatives who still lived in Azov, the gnomes of Aachen also believed in the superiority of the Firstborns. After all, they were not only older and more experienced but also were personally created by the goddess Agatha.


    The second and third generations were born in a much weaker and fragile state known as "childhood". Only after many years, they would become full-fledged members of society. This was a strange flaw which sparked the Firstborns'' disdain.


    But William proved them all wrong by demonstrating his great strategic mind.


    And he did this by defeating Aachen''s most bitter rivals, the orc tribes from the Eastern Steppes.


    A great supply of livestock sustained by the massive amounts of grass was the Steppes''s gift for the orcs.


    Some even said that an orc child would first learn how to ride, even before being able to walk.


    It was probably not true. Yet no one would ever deny that horses were an indispensable foundation for the orcs'' nomadic lifestyle.


    But, as the settlements by the river''s thrived, those tribes began to covet what its inhabitants possessed.


    Be it by looting or forced tribute, the tribes established their supremacy on the eastern Anawasi. From the source until the Chokehold, between the forest and the sea, no power could challenge them.


    Eventually, they decided to expand west, but unfortunately, there was one major hindrance on their way.


    Lord William took this opportunity to broker a deal. The tribes would be allowed free passage to the other side of the Nirvana Continent. However, there were two conditions for this.


    First, no settlement under Aachen''s rule should be touched by their rampage.


    Second, the city''s market would have an absolute preference for buying all the products obtained through the tribes'' campaigns, especially slaves.


    For more than ten years this deal was kept and, while other settlements dwindled and declined, Aachen grew ever more wealthy and powerful.


    The orcs also found this to be a profitable relationship, as the pillagers gained a new place to sell their goods.


    They also managed to avoid having to assault a fortified island city. That was a target which they would be poorly equipped to deal with.


    But in the year 203 a.t.a., this agreement was broken, as Lord William denied them the right of passage.


    The reason for this was simple. The orcs had outlived their usefulness.


    Aachen had everything to become an absolute powerhouse, but one thing stood in its way.


    That was the short number of gnomes when compared with their subjects from other races.


    As such, they couldn''t afford to fight long and demanding wars as the wizard nobility was too precious of a resource to waste carelessly.


    For years, William made use of the orcs to fight this war for him.


    As the tribes looted the riverside villages, they grew ever weaker and ripe for conquest. Many even took the initiative to pay Aachen tribute in order to avoid the terror represented by the mounted hordes. While others had to be made submissive by "force".


    Although, at this point, little resistance could be offered.


    By denying access to orcs, Lord William was effectively saying.


    "This side of the river and all of its inhabitants belong to Aachen. The orc hordes have no place here what so ever. Handle your business on your own land and we will handle ours."


    On the war to come, everyone expected that the numerically superior orcs would focus on pillaging the smaller settlements since they couldn''t challenge the fortress city directly, while the gnomes would attempt to wear down the aggressors with guerrilla tactics, taking advantage of the defensive positions at their disposal.


    Victory would be achieved by the side that could withstand this taxing war effort for the longest amount of time.


    Each had its trump cards. The orcs had both quantity and quality on their side. But the gnomes had the benefit of being the defenders.


    But there was one thing that the orcs had not accounted for. The wizards had just developed a new type of illusion magic and intended to use it with great effect.


    Typically illusions were more useful when targeting a single strong foe. That''s because one illusionist could only keep under his or her spell one enemy at a time.


    So far, this serious limitation had caused this field of magic to be mostly useless on large scale battles.


    However, an especial formation was crafted, allowing the illusionist to "water down" the spell''s resilience in order to affect a great number of individuals.


    But, as the quality lowered, many countermeasures that would have been useless against the original technique became effective when dealing with the formation.


    For instance, the simplest blessing, a spell known by even the most low ranking priest, was enough to neutralize this weapon entirely.


    As such the gnomes needed to be really mindful of when to use this trick up their sleeves. For, as soon as the orcs learned about it, there wouldn''t be much time before this weakness was exposed.


    The hordes were a highly mobile force armed with very competent scouting parties, making the possibility of an enemy surprise attack a failure from the beginning.


    But it was precisely on this arrogance that the gnomes intended to prey.


    The scouts were the first to fall, being caught off guard by the formations. And them, Williams forces turned to face the main enemy host.


    During the night they stroke, while the enemy firmed believed that the gnomes were hidden behind Aachen''s thick walls.


    Targeting the mounts first was extremely important in order to cripple the infamous orc cavalry.


    The attacker''s army was a numerically inferior, less experienced and contained soldiers of many different races and backgrounds, some of which held no goodwill towards their gnomic overlords.


    Yet, despite all of this, under Lord William''s command, they knocked the orcs'' teeth out of their mouths, pushing them back.


    The cost was great, but Aachen''s Victory was still very clear.


    On the first day of the year 205 a.t.a., on the anniversary of the Awakening, their ruler was crowned King William I, of Aachen, as the former city-state was lifted to the position of full-fledged kingdom.


    It was the first time since 37 a.t.a., when King Alfred I fell in battle and Azov imploded in many independent factions, that the race of gnomes had a true kingdom, even if most of its subjects were not actually gnomes at all.


    With the prestige gained from this fabulous victory, the new monarch cemented his position. And, even though he was not a Firstborn, no longer would anyone dare to question his authority.


    ...


    Arda was the first princess from the Kingdom of Aachen and tonight she looked very gleeful.


    From the balcony where she stood, it was possible to see the riverbank and several small vessels, some of which were in movement, while most of them were anchored, having finished their businesses during the day.


    She had recently bought a map of the inheritance of an ancestral dragon that a strange man in red robes had sold on the market.


    Normally she would not give any credits to such allegations. Especially coming from members of other races.


    But the evidence just was too strong for her to doubt. Starting by the magic contained in the scroll, which was too sophisticated for a simple human to grasp.


    Even if it wasn''t a dragon''s hoard, judging by the map quality alone, the prize should still be more than enough to cover the expenses.


    She had sent forth a group with her finest subordinates to investigate, as well as to settle some other business nearby.


    Two birds would be put down with one stone.


    Now was the time to show everyone that she also bore the greatness of the royal family.


    Why should William, Rumpelstiltskin''s golden boy, have all the glories?


    "Wait for me brother. As royal myself, I can''t possibly stay behind."


    Her eyes glowed with fervent determination.

 30 Zealots

    "What were you thinking???"


    Margaret was truly furious with her son.


    Even now she could only speak between the sounds of grinded teeth and the bulging veins on her neck.


    "But I just wanted to see the forest..."


    However, the boy''s intervention only added to his mother''s wrath.


    "By yourself? Are you insane???"


    Margaret turned towards her husband.


    "Please, talk some sense into our son. I can''t do this by myself..."


    She let go a deep sigh that showed her tiredness with this whole situation. Just how long would Gillian continue to ignore her warnings? If this were to go on, the sheer recklessness might get him killed.


    But her husband had an apprehensive look on his face.


    "Darling..."


    Just this single word was enough and she could feel they were not on the same boat. He probably felt she was going too far in her scolding.


    "... I know he was careless by going alone but this is just a child''s curiosity. Don''t worry he will learn."


    Saying so, the father took off his shirt, exposing a large scar on the right side of his chest.


    "This was given to me by a pack of wolves soon after a became a proper hunter."


    Then his tone turned somber.


    "Never forget, son. The forest is a harsh mistress. Treat her poorly and you will have your throat cut open in the middle of the night."


    Gillian looked apprehensive as if the sheer size of the scar had left a deep impression.


    Marcos was pleased and patted his son''s head.


    "Don''t worry, soon we will both be hunting together. You are twelve now. Almost a man."


    Margaret gave a sight feeling that her son would get the wrong impression and be encouraged to do other stupid things in the future.


    "Now, if you''re going to be a hunter like your old man, first you have to learn about the fey. They are very treacherous and savage. Never..."


    But just as Marcos had begun his explanation, a thunderous noise of a horn went off, lasting fora whole seven seconds.


    This had only one meaning. The village was under attack.


    The hunter took his bow and before leaving, gave his wife a meaningful look.


    "Do you know what to do?"


    And only after she confirmed, Marcos left to fight.


    ...


    Above the church, there was an extremely tall tower.


    This hamlet was too small and had been established just too recently to have a complete set of wooden fences with watchtowers.


    So instead they built a single observation post above their highest building in order to have at least a good alarm system.


    Eagle Eyes Johnny was the one currently standing guard.


    Although his abilities as a warrior were subpar, it was due to his great observation skills that he was stationed on this important post as a lookout.


    But unfortunately.


    "Swoosh."


    An arrow came from very far away. Even further than Eagle Eyes'' field of vision...


    Piercing him, precisely on the throat.


    "Success!"


    The sniper was elated with this development.


    However...


    A horn sound echoed through the landscape.


    "Ouch!"


    The attackers had underestimated the village''s defensive system.


    Being a lookout was a dangerous position. If the enemy could launch attacks from beyond the guard''s field of vision, however unlikely this could seem, the result would be certain death.


    So chief Owen created a special alarm. If the lookout died, an enchanted horn would immediately go out, letting everyone know of the impending threat.


    From the east came a unity of four, two that looked like mages and two fighters in complete sets of heavy armor.


    "Fireball."


    "Fireball."


    The gnome wizards started to craft this improvised human nest into a proper burning hell with their destructive spells.


    The wooden dwellings were fragile, being consumed immediately.


    Even if the surprise was not complete, as the alarm ultimately went off anyway, they still managed to cause some solid damage before the defensive force could assemble.


    "Ahhhhh!!!"


    From the houses came terrible screams.


    With this initial clash, several men, women, and even children were now in danger because of the fire.


    "Death to the rebels! Long live the king!!!"


    The leader''s shout was echoed by his subordinates.


    "Long live King William!"


    ....


    Chief Owen had gathered as many soldiers as he could muster in order to fend off the enemy.


    "Men, today we fight for our freedom. Marduk is the god of humans. It would be a disgrace if any of our kind were to bow down towards those filthy gnomes!"


    "Yeahh!!"


    They shouted in response to the priests calling.


    With a dozen followers, the chief rushed east to stop their advances.


    This was no ordinary village.


    When the gnomes established control over most humans settlements on this part of the river, Marduk''s clergy found disgraceful to even consider the possibility of submitting.


    The gnomes were an immortal race, while humans would whiter and die within a century or less due to their lifespan. Besides, they held the mastery of several arcane mysteries.


    Aachen''s whole power structure depended on other races worshiping gnomic superiority.


    As such, the kingdom also could never acknowledge, within its territory, the cult of a human god.


    This is the reason why no one was surprised when the priests lead the resistance movement against the gnomes.


    After all, the two groups were irreconcilable enemies.


    When the kingdom was born, Marduk''s most fervent believers left along with their families and established new settlements away from Aachen''s sphere of influence.


    This hamlet was one such place and all of its inhabitants were true zealots, ready to die in the name of God.


    As both sides eyed each other across the scorched landscape, Chief Owen understood their intent very well.


    This was not a force for conquest or to apprehend slaves. It was a true extermination group.


    Wizards were a precious asset as they were the base of the kingdom''s war machine. Yet here there were two. Besides, their escorts were not common hunters or berserkers, but true fighters.


    This was a type of melee combat that made use of sophisticated maneuvers and mastery of different weapons. In other words, training them required a great deal of time and resources.


    The weapons and armor used by them were completely made of steel, a rare product created from iron that could only be made in a certain faraway place.


    It was a formidable group yet far too small. They could never subdue all of the hamlet''s inhabitants.


    This meant that their goal was nothing short of total annihilation.