The following is a diary entry.
...aside from that, what else can I note today?
I suppose there is one thing that has been on my mind a lot lately. Teuflisch is proving to be a sharp and competent partner in my studies. I can rely on him to operate secondary equipment and even assist with some tasks during the operations, which keeps surprising me. A lot of the magical manipulations required are pretty advanced, not to mention he had less than two months to learn. It is always easier to tread a path rather than pave it, but still the rate at which he was absorbing what I freely shared was quite extraordinary, it was hard not to resort to terms like 'genius', in hindsight.
While his knowledge certainly wasn't up to par with mine just yet, the latest improvements to the overall methodology he suggested worked well. Not that it led to any success yet, but it helped to smooth out the testing procedures.
It's miraculous how much more can be done with a partner who is in tune with you when you work or brainstorm. Thoughts you would've arrived at after weeks of failures can be found in minutes.
In all my years upon this world, I've never once felt lonely. Demons are incapable of such a thing.
However, the mind still demands stimulation, and having someone around to discuss your ideas with proved beneficial and... even somewhat enjoyable at times.
It's disturbing. Not Teuflisch's company, and not even the situation, but that discovery, that I, as a Demon, share this trait with humans. The capability of enjoying someone's company, even if there is a requirement of it having to simplify tasks and work, the feeling itself was similar, if weaker.
I suppose it's not too surprising, as something like that was shown in the original story, too. But in all my years in this world, even finding people I could tolerate being around was rare. There was Berg, I suppose, but with him it was different. His company was simply not bothersome; with Teuflisch, I found myself enjoying my work more. There was also S, but S felt more like a distant university professor, a peer who checked my work, rather than a true partner in either company, conversation, or even my pursuits.
It's strange, over a century as a demon, and I still discover such base things about myself. I suppose that's what an obsession does to a man.
To clarify, I don't mind being blind to the nuances of demon psychology. Learning things that would satisfy a demon is a waste of time; me being in this form is a transitional period, even if it will have to last a while.
Another matter troubles me.
Teuflisch is getting restless; it's subtle, but something is weighing down on him. I don't pry; I know better than to trample on the man's dignity in such a way, but it is starting to prove annoying. As a Demon, reading his body language is something I do despite myself. I know he is not fully there sometimes, and it bothers me.
Still, patience is a virtue, and I have all the time in the world. Besides, there are more interesting things to occupy my time.
Case in point, we discovered another nest of...
***
***
It was evening. We were sitting on a small terrace outside the Behemoth that I ended up building purely for the sake of the human neighbor nearby.
"...I honestly don't know what else we can improve at the moment," Teuflisch admitted, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands. His tone, however, was more musing than stating a fact; he was simply voicing his thoughts out loud.
He wasn't truly cold, courtesy of a folk-spell I knew that helped provide a 'perfect temperature' for everyone in a small, sat area. I usually cast it each time we occupied the terrace. I was glad that I knew this spell; without it, I might have had to build an actual extra room.
"We already did all that comes naturally to minimize the initial rejection. We captured two monsters, both of the same species, extracted a piece of the core from one, and exchanged it for an equivalent piece of another. As far as we could tell, the pieces were pretty much equivalent, and not even essential to its life..."
I didn't say anything, just studied him silently, as I, too, considered his words.
The issue with his statements was the certainty behind them. Same species of monsters, true. Extracted pieces of the cores; also true. But how equivalent were they, truly? Only as equivalent as we can observe and carve. How non-essential were they for the monster's life? Only as non-essential as my previous testing and cataloguing of the monsters went, because, as far as I assumed, the fragment was responsible for giving the monster a functional set of wings. It did that, but I didn't know if it was responsible for something else besides. I was relatively sure it wasn't, but it was impossible to know with any certainty; losing any piece of the core tended to lead to 'mana bleeding' and eventual collapse of the whole structure. In other words, all of those were avenues to hone diagnostic magic and test separately to identify issues.
"...the operation seemed to have worked. Ten minutes have passed with no observable anomalies during which the subject seemed... stable?"
He looked at me questioningly, not due to the last thing he said, I knew. It was him snapping out of his thoughts and realizing how much he had said, without waiting for my input.
Teuflisch was a good mage, but it was strange to realize how young he was. Not in any obvious way, he was a man grown, but in nuances. In things that required life experience. The man lacked confidence when it came to conversations; he always assumed he overstepped, offended, or spoke beyond his station. As if he were a student in a lecture, and not my peer.
He never did ovesterp either.
"The stability we seemed to have observed is in question," I agreed with the words he didn't say, "I very much doubt that the nine minutes and thirty-three seconds we observed the monster for, nothing happened inside the core at all, until it started to deteriorate out of nowhere. It's clearly an imperfection of the observational equipment." I pressed my lips tighter for a moment, "If I were to make a blind guess, I would assume processes were happening inside the core we couldn't see. Perhaps they were too tiny for us to observe, perhaps too subtle. We could see the mana flow, and it was normal, but the pathways through which the mana flows inside the core could've been slowly and steadily damaged."
Teuflisch took a sip of the beverage he enjoyed so much as he listened to me, his eyes distant, as he seemed to consider it.
"Accumulated damage makes sense. That's your leading theory?"
I shook my head.
"Not a theory, just a guess for now. It's also possible that it's a type of internal rejection. Like," I paused, trying to think if the locals had this peculiar piece of knowledge, "Are you familiar with blood transfusions?"
To my surprise, Teuflisch's eyes ignited a bit at that.
"Ah, I think I've read about that," He nodded, "Some people have a compatible blood that they can exchange with no issues, but in most cases, if you attempt such a thing, the body of the one receiving the blood may start rejecting it. This is what you are referring to?"
I nodded after a moment of hesitation. To be completely fair, I didn't know too much about blood types, aside from the fact that they existed, and that the exchange of blood with the wrong blood type will likely be lethal due to the immune response. I may have something on the topic if I dig in with Resonant Soul, maybe later.
"Indeed," I simply said, "I assume it's for the same reason necromancers such as yourself can graft limbs to your constructs, but not the living people."
Teuflisch did a helpless shrug at that.
"It's partially that, partially mana-incompatibility, partially the fact that most of our spells that focus on shaping flesh can mostly work with tissue that belongs to a dead creature." He looked at me quite seriously, "It's a core template issue."
Core template - referring to a template inside a spell, or a group of spells, around which everything else is built. It made sense that necromancy's core template, or more likely, core templates, worked specifically with the remains of the dead.
I am yet to find any magic that provided any degree of healing or flesh-shaping capabilities, that wasn't a Goddess' Magic.
I had no doubt spells like that must have existed, I, however, also am quite certain that they are exceedingly rare. Rare templates meant only one thing - they aren't that useful in the first place.
Either because they are too complex, too unwieldy, or their effect is not one that most mages would need. In essence, magic only died down and was forgotten when it became obsolete, for one reason or another.
"We are getting off topic," I admitted finally, "For a while now."
My eyes met the necromancer's.
"The fact of the matter is that it's pointless to dwell on what must be happening inside the core. We tried our best to minimize the risk without changing the sets of tools we had, and clearly, we reached the mechanical limit of our equipment and spells. What we need now is to refine observation tools and observe exactly what fails inside the core." I explained simply, "Once we do that, we can create a hypothesis and test it. Once that is done, we can start searching for a solution."
It's a very simple testing methodology, but it never really failed either. There was always a trail to pursue.
Teuflisch nodded, finishing the contents of his cup. Once again, the man got distracted with his own thoughts, I reckon.
"I concur, that's what we should do."
Normally, Teuflisch would leave after the vivisection and a small meeting afterwards. He had his own research to attend to, mostly tinkering with his undead, as well as the coordination of his minions to search for more monster lairs and, I can only assume, the dungeon he spoke of.
Yet, today, he didn't leave; if anything, he seemed retrospective and rather tense. I refilled his cup of tea and refilled mine, after which I proceeded to dig into today's journal to make sure we didn't miss anything subtle. I played back the visual feed of exactly what happened during the operation using subtle application of Resonant Soul on myself, trying to fish for details I might have missed. Some details with the benefit of hindsight I noted down.
However, after some time of quiet work, Teuflisch spoke up.
"...I believe I may need your help, Albert."
This took me aback enough to dispel the memory that was playing before my eyes, as I glanced at the necromancer measuredly.
As of late, he was getting restless; he had circles under his eyes. I wasn't impolite enough to dwell on it before, even if I advised him to rest more, but that being said, it was clear the man had some sort of troubled thoughts.
"I am listening." I offered simply to the man sitting opposite me.
"I hate to trouble you," He said simply, his head bowed. It wasn't an actual bow; he merely didn't find the strength to look me in the eyes. It was as if he was allowing the accumulated exhaustion to reign supreme and unchallenged for a moment. "I didn't want to approach you with this, I truly did not. But by this point, it becomes clear I don't have anyone else to ask, and if I won't ask now, I may not have a chance again."
What he was referring to was obvious. I made no secret that I was planning to start traveling the moment winter is over, and when the monster population around us drops enough. As of late, the monster population has dropped to the point where we have to search for them. Winter was also approaching its end.
I didn't interrupt or comment, even as he finished his piece and was silent. I could tell he was simply thinking about what to say next.
"I told you I was searching for a dungeon on Klippenrand Peninsula. This wasn't a lie." He said simply, awkwardly scratching his cheek, "But that certainly didn't provide enough context. So please, allow me to expand on it a bit before I can... properly ask for help."
I simply nodded to him.
"The truth of the matter is that I was born on Klippenrand Peninsula," He admitted in a small voice, his eyes grew distant, as if he was drowning in memory, "Not anywhere close to here, I lived much further to the South, in a small fishing village. The thing I remember most vividly about it... is how grey the sky always was..."
***
That day, the sky was grey too.
I don't remember the name of our village, if it even had one; we lived a very isolated life. Sometimes we had a merchant pass by, usually once, sometimes twice a year, but other than that, we only kept contact with a few other communities nearby, I think?
Honestly, I don't remember that well. My mother died when I was young. She grew sick and weak and passed when I was around two years of age. My father was a fisherman, most men in the village were, but he too had passed when I was seven.
I knew how to fish a little bit, but the boat we had was lost, and I also had no other relatives, I think. I remembered I begged sometimes, sometimes people shared some food, and sometimes I could fish from the shore, but it was hard getting by.
The thing about villages like that is that people there live poorly, Albert. On the mainland, a family can usually afford to take care of one extra brat, but where I grew up, that was simply impossible.
I was a kid, but even as a kid, I knew I probably wouldn't make it. It wasn't really much of a mystery, especially when I could see bones showing in my own tummy.
Then, one day, a mage passed through our village. He wasn't even planning to stay a night.
I remember running up to him and asking him to teach me. Ha-ha, yeah, just like that, pretty silly, right? Most kids I've met on the road had more sense than that...
The thing is, I was pretty desperate. I remember thinking, 'if I don't get to become his apprentice, I will die. I don't want to die'. So I asked, and kept asking, and tried to make… well, as good an impression as I could, considering the circumstances.
He offered me coin, but what use is coin in a village where most people didn't know how well they could eat tomorrow? You certainly can't buy food with it. He tried to brush me off and even left the village, but I just followed him.
Eventually though...
"If nothing else, you are a persistent one," The man sighed. He was in his late years already, his hair grey, his face a bit wrinkled. He sounded more annoyed than impressed, "Tell me, boy, what use do I have for one more burden on my journey?"
He gestured at the body of a boy who was leaning against the tree and breathing heavily. The boy was looking at him, his expression pleading.
"I... I won't be a burden!" He promised quietly, his voice raspy, "I can cook... carry your things... I can learn! I will do just about anything, just please, take me with you!"
The man studied the child, his expression mostly dark. He hummed to himself.
"Let's see your commitment, shall we?"
The boy saw the mage gesture with his fingers, but nothing else. For a few seconds, he waited, with bated breath, for the effects of the spell that was surely cast on him.
There was nothing.
Until, eventually, he heard footsteps.
The boy turned around, and what he saw horrified him.
Dead, shambling bodies. Flesh decayed, eyes cloudy and half-rotten, yet they all shambled with purpose towards him.
I didn't scream at the time. I think I didn't have the energy to? In any case, I remember vividly the sheer fear, the dread. I was thinking about all the fairy tales I was told when I was young, about the horror stories other kids told me about, and about the tales some fishermen shared.
I backpedaled away, too numb from fear to do anything besides, until I fell on my ass and crawled backwards...
I only came back to my senses a bit once my back was firmly pressed against the legs of my soon-to-be master.
I vividly remember looking up, seeing his face, so calm and understanding, a small, amused smile on his lips, and the backdrop of the grey sky above. I thought I'd die in some horrible way for sure.
However...
"Still have some wits about you, huh?" The necromancer said, his hand absent-mindedly stroked his short, unkempt beard, "So tell me, boy, do you still want to go with me? Or would you perhaps take your chances back home?"
The boy looked terrified out of his mind, his whole body shaking, but he shook his head in denial.
"Thought so," The necromancer said, shooing him away, "Now go, and don't bother telling your elders to send anyone after me, I am too far away for them to catch up now."
The man said dismissively, waiting for the boy to get on his feet.
The boy, however, only shook his head harder.
"N-no," His voice was still weak, still raspy, but despite it all, it wasn't unsure.
The necromancer almost theatrically raised an eyebrow.
"I... I still want to go with you, master mage!" He said, his voice growing sure, "I... if I go back, I'll die."
The necromancer chuckled. It wasn't a malicious sound, nor a particularly kind one; rather, he sounded mostly nostalgic.
"You will likely die if you go with me, too. I remember telling you that the journey will be treacherous."
The boy didn't look deterred.
"I don't know what... what will happen if I go with you," He admitted, "But I know if I stay, I will die. So I will go."
The necromancer tilted his head, but he did offer a hand.
"Well, you have the mindset if nothing else, and I can feel some magical talent in you," He said simply, "I am Versagen, a necromancer. Depending on how well you perform, I may just become your master... as briefly as it may last."
It's quite an indescribable feeling, you know? A mage is not unlike any other craftsman; they usually take their own children as apprentices, that's how they are known throughout the continent. But for me, in my backwater village? A mage, a proper mage, not just someone who knew a few folk spells, this was something big. Ha-ha, I felt like I was being knighted, you know?
"T-Teuflisch... I am Teuflisch," The boy said quietly, accepting the hand, and getting on his own two feet, "T-thank you so much! I-I won't disappoint you!"
Versagen chuckled; it sounded ominous as he turned around and gestured for the boy to follow.
"Oh, don't be so quick on the promises. Words are meant to mean something, not be thrown in the wind carelessly." Once the boy caught up, the necromancer glanced down at him, "I am heading to Aureole. It is said that this is a place where the souls of the dead linger."
***
Albert,
"Aureole?" I asked, allowing my voice to carry part of the incredulity I've felt, "The one that's located in Ende? The so-called Heaven?"
Teuflisch smiled, nodding slightly.
"Yeah..."
My curiosity wasn't just piqued; my thoughts were racing a bit. Aureole was a place I was always curious about ever since I ended up here.
"Have you been there?"
Teuflisch smiled a bit sadly.
"No." He paused for a long moment, simply looking in front of himself, "Master said he would leave me in the Empire if I didn't become a competent enough necromancer by the time we reached it. I don't think it was a test I was meant to pass. He always said I was talented, but by the time we came to the capital, I was still only an apprentice. I couldn't realistically go to the war-torn regions that awaited him on the journey to Ende." He was talking about the Far North.
The current Empire was a fragment of the Ancient Empire that claimed successor rights and was mostly ignored in contempt by most other kingdoms on the continent. It wasn't yet a powerhouse; it would come to be known as after Hero Himmel's death, for now, it was simply a relatively rich state in the North. Past it, in the deep North, you had small kingdoms in constant conflict.
"I don't know what precisely happened there, but my master did come back." The necromancer looked in front of himself, his expression distant.
He shook his head.
"None of that really matters. What does is that he explained to me exactly what he was doing on Klippenrand Peninsula..."
***
Exhausted, that's how my master seemed those days.
I remember it clearly, strangely enough. The study was warmly lit by candlelight. Completely normal ones, master preferred them over magical lights. Mahogany bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes littered the walls, and a polished walnut writing desk stood at one of the corners of the room. Heavy burgundy curtains framed tall windows, and an intricate rug covered the floor.
"...I told you this before, that our magic isn't one to be shared freely," An old man sat behind a writing table, dressed as he was in plain clothes, his face was wrinkled, and his eyesight wasn't so good anymore.
Next to him stood an apprentice of his, a young man, still in his teens.
Versagen continued.
"I believe you remember well why." He paused suggestively.
Teuflisch nodded a bit timidly, but his expression was serious despite his childish face.
"It's because necromancy can be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Lead people to do evil things in pursuit of power. That's why we can only share its secret from master to apprentice, and why it's important to choose the right apprentice." He said, looking up at his master curiously.
"Indeed. Most mages aren't like us; they can't really trace their line too far, nor do they particularly take pride in it." He chuckled good-naturedly, "Why would they? A lot of mages started as just people who taught themselves, and for the most part, they aren't any worse off for it. There is no real reason to try to remember who was a teacher of your teacher to them. But for us... Well, we are a bit different in that respect."
The old necromancer grew quiet for a few long moments as he studied the mundane candle on his table. He looked as if he was seeing something in the flame, unable to tear his eyes away.
"I told you before, our line takes root from Barmherzig himself. Many of his works are either the core of our art or were built on top of his legacy. As someone who went through his tomes, I am sure you are aware," The older necromancer said, patting the boy's head absent-mindedly. "What you don't know is that the city of Irem he mentiones so often... is real."
Teuflisch blinked; his eyes, focused on his master before, grew much more focused.
"Our craft comes from Irem, a city from the Mythical Era. What we have are scarce tomes and grimoires, re-written and copied countless times, and it is said that most necromancy originated there," The man explained simply, his expression a bit wishful. "Even to the Imperial scholars, that place is an obscure legend. No one knows what happened to it, if it even existed." The man paused slightly, his voice growing distant. "We do."
Versagen looked at his apprentice; his face, touched by age, turned serious, as a dim flame burned in his eyes.
"We... we know what happened to it?" A young man asked, his tone a bit shy despite the genuine interest and excitement he could barely hide.
"In a general sense," Versagen nodded slightly, "Remember the section of the library I said you can only touch if I were to never return from Ende? Some of the tomes there are fragmented journals and tomes, believed to be written by the survivors of Irem," He whispered conspiringly, some amusement clearly visible on his face, as he seemed to grow younger seeing the child's excitement. "However, the exact cause is unknown. Doubtless because the language of Irem is only partially known to us, some of that knowledge got lost throughout the ages," The man said regretfully, "What was known is that there was a calamity of some sort that happened in Irem. It was also written that the city contained it."
The man chuckled to himself humorlessly.
"Until recently, my teacher, and the teacher of my teacher, and a few before them, spent their lives deciphering where the lost city was. All because in one of the journals it is written," The old man looked at the boy, "That Irem holds a secret to life eternal."
The boy blinked in shock. His face, however, immediately grew distant as he started to think.
"It... it makes little sense. A city that unlocked a secret to eternal life just... died? Unless that secret has something to do with the cause of the Irem's fall..."
The old man chuckled good-naturedly, clapping just twice briefly.
"...ha-ha, good, good, you still have that smart head on your shoulders." The old man nodded in satisfaction and pride, even as his smile was a bit sad, "You aren't the first one to arrive at that conclusion. That being said, a secret to cheat death... it is truly an appealing one. Even if the method used in Irem was imperfect, surely, it can be perfected by us?" He asked rhetorically, his expression melancholic, "In truth, countless generations of our line spent their lives chasing that ghost. Digging up ancient maps and archives, traveling the land as they tried to guess a location, and search for it themselves, only for the age to catch up to them before anyone ever got close."
The man once again looked at the flame, a bitter smile on his lips.
"I stood on the legacy of countless generations when I made my search. And I found Irem."
It was at that point that a slight disappointment in Teuflisch's eyes turned into shock.
"Y-you did?"
The old man looked at the boy, his expression softening as he nodded.
"Indeed. But fate can be cruel, Lisch." He said affectionately, his voice gentle, "I found the city, and I found a barrier around it. A barrier so powerful I had no hope to break it at all!"
The man laughed, his shoulders shaking, as tears started to stream down his face.
"I was so close I could taste it! Decades of digging around in the middle of nowhere, finding only some Goddess' forsaken dungeons, but getting closer and closer! Finding entire tombs with symbols mentioned in our journals, I knew I was in the right area! I was so sure I would be the last necromancer of our line who had to raise an apprentice just so our art won't die out!" Versagen shook his head, "And then I find the city... and the failing barrier around it. A barrier I can't hope to make my way through, but a barrier that, in just fifteen more years, would've been possible to crack."
The frantic energy with which the man told his story seemed to have been leaking out of him as he neared its conclusion, and now, his shoulders sagged, and he looked simply tired.
"I am sorry to hear it, master," Teuflisch said honestly, gently touching the old man's shoulder, "I..." The young man hesitated, unsure what else he could honestly say.
After all, he could read between the lines. He only became an apprentice because his master failed.
"You are a wonderful boy, Lisch," The old man said, placing his wrinkled hand on top of the hand of his apprentice and squeezing it. The grip was weak; the boy barely felt it. "Despite it all, I am happy that I had the honor of teaching you, of seeing you grow into a fine young man. You always were intelligent and wise beyond your years. Life might have been cruel to you, but your own heart never grew callous; you are a kind boy." The old man assured, smiling at his apprentice, whose eyes grew a bit teary. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about."
"Master..." Teuflisch said, wiping his face quickly, only to see his teacher chuckle to himself.
"It is not what happened that I lament on," He continued, quieter, "It is the choices I made along the way that I regret." He gestured around, "I could've chosen to live my life in full, being an Imperial Mage. I had the status and the opportunities, and I did so in my youth. But instead of getting married, I decided to pursue ghosts," He chuckled to himself. "Even after finding Irem, I never stopped. Instead of staying by your side and seeing you grow... I left for the place where the dead dwell. Only after reaching it, and somehow coming back alive, did I actually wake up from that obsession."
He looked into Teuflisch's eyes.
"Death... I don't need to lecture you on it. You know how terrifying it is, and just how all-encompassing that fear can be. For young men like you... The fear of death forces you into action; it may even feel exciting, stimulating. Old fools like me... some of us grow so terrified of death, of its inevitability, that we forget how to live."
The man turned away from his apprentice, glancing into the flame.
"I will not live to see Irem. You will. You will go, you will see what the lost city holds, and then free our line from this curse. Either as an immortal, or a mortal man... you will have no excuse to hide behind instead of just living your life like you are supposed to." Versagen chewed on his dry lips a little, "I will add it to my will, I suppose."
"Master," The young man said warningly, "You promised not to."
Dwell on that topic, that is. It wasn't a rare conversation; Versagen liked to sometimes talk about what his student should do with his body once he was gone. Proposed the modification for the undead's body made out of him, and even drafted a project. To this day, it was the only topic Teuflisch asked him to stop bringing up.
"Alright, alright," The old necromancer chuckled, "But Lisch," He glanced at the boy, "There is another thing you don't know. It's not just knowledge that we pass apprentice to apprentice. It's our masterworks too."
The boy froze, blinking slowly.
"You mean the constructs... made by our predecessors?"
Versagen nodded, his expression grim.
"Indeed. Some are lost, naturally, either in some battles or otherwise," He explained simply, "But most are preserved and are improved on by later generations. The single greatest project of your life, you will be expected to contribute to that legacy. You will be expected to pass it to your apprentice, with all the others. We call those constructs Vigil."
Versagen hesitated briefly.
"The issue, however, is that while in search of Irem, I came across a powerful, old basilisk. It was in one of the dungeons I came across, I was arrogant and careless and..." The old man sighed, "Vigil, all of them, ended up as stone statues. I had to run, abandoning them all there."
He looked his apprentice in the eyes.
"That's another reason why you would have to head to Irem once you are ready, Lisch. The dungeon I am talking about isn't far... It's on the same Peninsula you once called home. Your failure of a master has lost half the legacy you deserve to inherit by right. Originally, you asked me why you had to learn the Goddess Magic, remember? This is why..." He explained regretfully.
"To remove the curse from the constructs..." The boy mused, as a puzzle he had struggled with for years suddenly clicked together.
After all, the basilisk petrification curse was a known one. It was known to be dispellable with a specific spell among the Goddess's Magic.
"I am sorry, Lisch. All I am leaving you with... are my regrets and failures," The old, tired man said, shifting in his seat, "You deserve better."
A pair of hands wrapped around the old man before he could process what was happening, as a boy's face pressed into his chest.
It was amidst the tears and pleading assurances that he, Versagen, was the perfect master and did nothing wrong at all, that a small, warm smile appeared on his face, as he patted the head of his apprentice.
***
Albert,
Once Teuflisch was done with his story, he took a long pause, drinking his tea.
I heard him out patiently, never interrupting, even if his story did fascinate me in absolutely every way.
"While I appreciate that you decided to tell me this," I finally spoke up, studying his face, "I have to ask: why?"
This was the part I had trouble understanding. I could read most emotions on Teuflisch's face as he told me the story; maybe I couldn't feel compassion, but intellectually I understood what he felt.
The legacy this supposed mythical city held seemed to genuinely be important to him.
"The supposed Secret of eternal life that Irem may hold... You do realize that knowledge of such a thing is much more dangerous than any spells your line of necromancers may have passed?"
Teuflisch nodded seriously to my words.
"I do," He was quiet, but his voice was firm, "I understand completely."
I considered him for a long moment, analyzing everything I saw so far...
"You already attempted to beat the Basilisk," I said quietly, as the realization settled. "And you realized you can't do it alone."
It was in his skeletons. I saw him tinker and improve them so much in so little time during the last two months that I always wondered why he didn't do so before.
Now I saw it. He did do this before, that's why he was so quick to make improvements! He likely already had the schematics for each project! It's just that whatever army he had... he had lost.
"It is as you guessed," He confirmed quietly, his shoulders sagging, "That monster... I can't possibly beat alone. Not anymore."
I knew that much. Teuflisch's army of constructs was decent, as far as meat-shields went. But the necromancer himself was terrible with combat magic. Overall, his combat strength just wasn't enough to beat stronger monsters; he didn't have the tools to.
"You could have just asked for help with the dungeon," I said, tilting my head and showing him some of my honest confusion. I couldn't comprehend his logic. "I would've likely agreed. There is no reason for you to risk telling me about Irem. You don't know what I may do knowing about it."
I might not have been as good at understanding what people felt as I was back when I was a human, but I still knew what I came off as. I refused to lie with my facial expressions or tones, not unless I had little other choice. I likely came off as uncaring and an emotionless man, likely somewhat disturbing in my attitude and behavior.
Why would he trust information people would kill for to someone like me?
"I don't know what you will do," Teuflisch agreed simply, "But I also know that I can't ask you to risk your life for my own selfish desires... without even telling you why."
That... took me aback for a moment. His choice was emotional, not logical. It also fell outside of the rather linear structures of the moral I adhered to, the issue was clearly morally important to him... but I am not sure it would've been for me, were I in his place.
To me, morals were a binary logic after all.
He looked up into my eyes, his expression completely serious.
"Albert, the truth of the matter is, the last stretch on the way to Irem is truly and utterly monster-infested. Unless I free the Vigil, I won't reach it. And freeing Vigil on my own is impossible." The man chuckled nervously, "I spent many sleepless nights thinking over this. Should I tell you, do I have a right to tell you... At the end of the day, no one else but you can help. If so, it's only fair that we go to Irem together, once the Vigil is freed, as equals."
I could tell he was genuine. Either that, or the best liar I've met amongst humans yet.
It was in the small, fragile smile, in a nervous, yet genuine tone, it's in how his shoulders were tensed - not the tension of a predator about to lash out, but a tension of prey that was terrified that someone will snap at him. No… simply a tension of a man making a leap of faith.
"You... could've simply hired adventurers to slay the basilisk for you, no?" I asked him simply, still trying to understand the logic.
"I certainly had the funds. But such a request will bring a lot of questions, and once it's discovered that it's done to free my undead creations, the reactions could be anything," He explained grimly, before shaking his head, "No, even not counting how much of a waste of time that would've been, you are simply a safer option."
I nodded slowly at that.
"I see." And I think I did. "I believe I am up for a fight with a basilisk," I said finally, making a decision. I likely would've even if he didn't tell me about Irem. "I would also like to accompany you to this lost city."
A city from a Mythical Era preserved from outsider scavengers by a barrier? The knowledge it may hold...
No, even my own research may acquire inspiration there. Even if the 'secret of eternal life' is a lie, which I suspect it is, it should still contain vast swaths of new and unknown spells I can get inspiration from.
"Thank you!" Teuflisch said, breathing out with such relief that if I knew him any worse, I would've thought he was trying to be dramatic, "I promise you won't regret it!"
He stood up, tense with unsaid emotions. I think he was stopping himself from either trying to shake my hand or hug me.
Luckily, I was seated in an armchair; both maneuvers would've been difficult. He also knew I disliked physical contact.
"If you want me to kill this monster for you, I need you to describe exactly what you know of it." I offered him simply.
The man chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.
"Well, about that..."
***
Albert,
Five days later,
To say that I was merely annoyed would've been a powerful understatement. Truthfully, I was quite enraged.
It was the type of rage that was more familiar than I wanted it to be.
"Teuflisch, this is the height of folly," I told the man, as we stood at the entrance of a cave.
According to the necromancer, inside the cave, there was a small necropolis. A burial ground for some, presumably, noble house of Irem... or a noble house of a settlement that lived in Irem's sphere of cultural influence, judging by the language used in inscriptions.
Places like that often became homes for powerful monsters looking for lairs. In the mythical era, for some God forsaken reason, people tended to construct burial complexes almost designed to accommodate any monster that would be willing to make it their home.
I can only assume it was to guard against graverobbers.
It wasn't just burial grounds, however. Remains of ancient cities, laboratories of some mages, many of them contained a maze-like structure, perfectly accommodating monsters, and even scattered enchanted chests that could preserve long-living items.
One may question if they were trying to ward off grave robbers or if their goal was merely to allow the most skilled of them to succeed in looting their grave.
"Just direct your undead to accompany me," I said to the necromancer honestly, "They will serve as a distraction, and that is enough. You barely know any combat magic. Against a foe like this, I can't afford to get distracted trying to protect you."
I allowed some frustration to color my tone, as I pleaded with the stubborn, foolish man. I was also completely truthful. Even if the man did ask me to share some of the defensive magics I knew, and he picked up on them, his level was nowhere near enough to cast them in combat. It would take him years to be able to cast those spells with sufficient speed reliably.
The basilisk he talked about seemed to be an ancient beast. It could send waves of magical energy from its eyes that turned matter to stone in seconds on contact, and it was also enormous in size, judging by his description.
It sounded more dangerous than Schattenbrand. Schattenbrand was a juvenile, and for that reason, stupid. This basilisk, on the contrary, seemed to be an old monster.
Old monsters tended to be all sorts of annoying, because just like beasts, they grew smarter with age and experience. Yet if they were the kind to attack humans, their malice did not lessen with the growth of their wit.
"I am prepared for that risk, Albert," The necromancer told me, his voice even, as his eyes met mine. "I won't be able to repair my constructs from a distance, and I am not letting you fight this battle alone. Last time... last time the Basilisk didn't pay much attention to me, this is the only reason I am alive now. It won't now either. Even if it will..." He winced, glancing aside, "Don't consider my safety your responsibility."
Emotions are dull in demons. Yet, right now, I was livid enough to almost feel human.
It was impressive, in a sense.
I considered what else I could say. I came up short on ideas. I considered maybe using my curse and restraining this fool before dealing with the monster myself.
But I can't do that either. Teuflisch wasn't just foolish; he seemed to understand that the risk of death was a serious possibility. I could smell it on him, see it in his body language, even now, he was afraid.
Yet, he was ready to risk his life. For some emotional reason that I couldn't understand.
That made me livid.
But it did not give me the right to stop him. It was his life to risk, even if I couldn't comprehend the cause.
I stood aside, offering him to enter the cave first.
Teuflisch smiled at me, his expression of understanding, honest gratitude, and a touch of shame.
He passed by me, entering the cave first, hesitating only for a second at the entrance.
I watched his back for a second.
With an effort of will, I pushed my feelings aside for now and followed.
From here on out, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
The entrance was a rough opening in the rock face, wide enough for three men to walk abreast. I stood by the necromancer's side and cast a simple illumination spell.
We advanced.
The cave walls were natural at first, water-worn limestone, I think, that gradually gave way to worked stone. The transition was subtle; the ancient builders seemed to have incorporated the natural cave system into their design.
There was an entrance, and above it a stone tablet with a script. A script I knew, because Teuflisch shared his dictionary with me while we prepared for the expedition.
'Turn back, intruder, or you shall join the dead.'
So it read. Below the tablet, there were the heavy stone doors that seemed to have been smashed a while ago. Likely by the basilisk, and whatever other monsters made this place their home before the latest occupant.
As we agreed, Teuflisch didn't say a word, simply following me. The less we talked here, where we didn't know how well the monster could hear us, the better. Basilisks were said to be exceptional at sensing noises and vibrations through structures.
The first proper chamber we encountered held the expected pressure plate traps. A basic resonance clairvoyance spell revealed the mechanisms: stone blocks suspended above, ready to fall when triggered. I marked each plate with a small glowing sigil, and we continued. Though I was relatively sure Teuflisch already knew of them.
The architecture improved as we descended. Rough-hewn passages became corridors with smooth walls, then halls with carved pillars. The script Teuflisch had mentioned appeared on the walls. Most of it was standard for tombs as far as I understood it: dedications to the deceased, lists of their accomplishments, warnings to would-be thieves about curses that probably never existed, and, of course, praises to some pagan gods.
It was still fascinating to see prayers to deities that predated the Goddess of Creation in this world.
We spent several hours navigating the structure. It was built in a spiral pattern, each level connected by sloping passages rather than stairs. The builders had included various defensive measures: corridors that would seal if crossed too quickly, the almost stereotypical dart traps, and, of course, the fake floors that led to pits filled with spikes.
Most of those traps were already triggered and disarmed, I assume either by the man by my side or his master. They certainly had enough bodies to throw in harm's way to just calmly walk through afterwards.
Stone gargoyles occupied one of the larger chambers. I destroyed them before they could fully animate, shattering their forms with a barrage of Kraftstoß. It produced a lot of sound, but there was nothing to be done. Gargoyles were the cockroaches of dungeons, just like mimics. Somehow, they always found a way in, even if the place was recently cleared.
I've certainly had enough adventurers complain about them.
The construction grew more complex as we progressed deeper. Pillared halls stretched for dozens of meters, their ceilings rising into darkness. Murals depicted scenes from the era when this place was built: processions of nobles, battles against some sort of unfamiliar monsters, and ceremonies whose purpose was no longer clear. The preservation was remarkable, maintained by the same enhancements that made these places such an attractive lair to monsters.
Around the seventh level, the signs of recent passage were becoming glaringly obvious. It wasn't just the triggered traps anymore. Scorch marks on walls that were clearly recent. A skeleton that Teuflisch proceeded to reanimate silently... I presume one of the few he brought here on his first attempt.
A colony of cave fishers, another famous dungeon-infesting species, had nested in what appeared to be a ceremonial bath chamber. Their sticky filaments created a web across the space that I burned through with controlled flame while the constructs engaged them directly. The creatures were large, about the size of horses, but not particularly dangerous.
Still, we proceeded.
The inscriptions on the walls became more elaborate in the lower sections. Still words of dedications and worship mixed with invocations for divine protection, requests that the dead be left undisturbed.
Finally, the lower chambers.
In a hall lined with sarcophagi, there was nothing of note, bar the open sarcophagi themselves.
I assume it was the work of Teuflisch's master, judging by the thick layer of dust around them, and a relatively fresh trail leading into the next chamber.
By how tense the necromancer has become, as we exchanged looks, I knew we were close.
"Albert," He whispered to me barely audibly, breaking the silence, "To clarify, my constructs are just moving obstacles, correct?"
I considered him for a moment.
"Almost. If they have an opportunity to strike it in the eyes, they will do the majority of the work."
The man's brows furrowed at that.
"Can't you just do this with your spells?"
I looked at him, wondering why he would ask this, we've both been reading the bestiary on the beast together just yesterday.
"Its eyes have anti-magical properties similar to those of the scales on most dragons," I explained without much enthusiasm.
"Don't you have spells that strike with something physical, instead of pure mana?"
Ah, so that's what he was wondering about. Unfortunately...
"Wouldn't help. It's the same with dragons," I explained unenthusiastically, "The issue is that it fundamentally resists attacks that were made with magic. A beam of piercing mana will do nothing at all, a stone dart may actually do a little bit before it breaks, but in the end of the day it still won't be enough to cause real damage." At least not unless the monster was restricted in place and unable to dodge as I overcasted a spell with much more mana.
I don't need to remind him, but basilisk eyes are its main weapons. Somehow, as a big middle finger to biology, they are durable.
Mostly in silence, we took a five minute break to rest a little bit before final descent. We still very much tried to speak as little as possible and make even less noise. Basilisks were notorious for their abilities to sense vibrations and, well, hear, so while we could do nothing about footsteps, speaking when we didn't have to was excessive as far as risks went.
Finally it was time.
The temperature dropped noticeably as we descended.
The lowest level had a different architecture entirely. The stone here was older, a type that seemed to absorb light. The inscriptions were still done in the same language, at least.
Finally, the final descending corridor ended.
On the other side, the passage opened into vastness.
The chamber was a natural cavern, massive enough that our light spells couldn't reach the far walls. Stalagmites rose from the floor like teeth, some thin as needles, others thick as tree trunks. An underground stream cut through the center of the space, its water running clear and cold over smooth rocks. The sound of it echoed off the distant walls.
Stone statues were scattered throughout the cavern. Undead constructs, frozen mid-combat. Some had weapons raised, others were caught in defensive stances. A few had been shattered, their pieces lying where they fell. The statues weren't clustered together but spread across the cavern floor; they were remnants of two separate battles... that I could almost imagine.
Most of the space remained clear. The cavern floor was relatively smooth limestone, worn by ages of water flow before the stream had found its current channel. Patches of moss grew where moisture collected, a moss that was giving off a faint luminescence that added to our magical light.
The air was cool and damp, carrying the mineral scent of the cave mixed with something else. The musk I'd detected earlier was stronger here, reptilian and old. Somewhere in this vast space, among the shadows cast by the stalagmites and the areas our light couldn't reach, the basilisk waited.
Teuflisch and I entered last, letting the constructs pour in first. Obviously, Teuflisch instructed me on the architecture of the necropolis, and even if we mostly kept quiet, we exchanged a few whispers of warnings or reminders as we advanced.
For a moment, all was silent.
It made sense. Basilisks were very much ambush predators. With my horns cut, I also could not rely on my magical senses to detect it.
With a gesture, I requested Teuflisch to follow. For him to do anything in the fight, he needed to be in the middle of his constructs, and unfortunately, I was the only one here capable of conjuring shields that could block Basilisk's gaze.
The reason we tried to make so little noise as we went down was that it was more advantageous for us to engage the beast in the lowest chamber, where we had the most space.
The silence stretched until my ears rang with it; the only things breaking the silence were the sound of footsteps as we advanced in a formation.
Then the water rippled.
The basilisk emerged from behind a cluster of thick stalagmites with a fluidity that contradicted its size. A serpent the length of three wagons end to end, its body thick enough that I couldn't have wrapped my arms around it. The scales weren't normal snake scales. Each one was semi-crystalline, catching our light and breaking it into fractured rainbows. Its head was broader than serpent proportions suggested, nearly triangular, with a ridge of bone above eyes that stayed closed.
It knew we were here. It was choosing its moment for intimidation, to show its full size.
That meant it wasn't assured of its victory.
The tongue flicked out, sampling the air. Then its eyes opened.
Not vertical slits but perfect circles of white, like polished pearls embedded in its skull. Magic gathered in them immediately, the air distorting around the building power. Even with my magical senses reduced to merely a human mage level, I felt the energy condensing.
"Behind me," I said, and my staff appeared from storage as the beam swept across the front rank of undead. A transparent blue square of pure mana formed between us and the attack.
The barrier began solidifying to marble on contact, the transformation spreading outward from the impact point in crystalline veins.
It must have looked beautiful, were I able to appreciate it, I noted absent-mindedly.
I knew it would hold for at least seconds. Defensive spells carried inherent properties in their templates - concepts such as 'resistance', 'durability', or 'barrier'. Even esoteric attacks like the petrification curse couldn't punch through instantly, at least not when it was applied through a mana-rich beam. Unless a spell is specifically designed to counter those exact defenses, they will absorb the attack to some extent. This property of defensive magic would plague even that insane human mage of the coming era.
As my first shield transformed to stone, I raised another behind it while forming dozens of light spheres around my position.
"Kraftstoß," I stated, and as the beam weakened, the barrage struck.
Not enough force to penetrate those scales, but sufficient cover for Teuflisch's forces to advance.
I began channeling mana into a proper piercing spell immediately once the petrification beam sizzled out, electricity arcing between my palms as I shaped the Sonnenspeer.
The beast moved despite its bulk. Explosions peppered its length, but it twisted away from the worst impacts, crashing through advancing skeletons and veering from their attempted shield wall, as its head turned to me.
Another beam.
I abandoned the half-formed Sonnenspeer, redirecting everything to defense. First barrier, then another, then a third. The force pushed hard enough that my boots scraped stone despite my stance.
Each barrier lasted seconds. I had to conjure them progressively closer until the beam finally exhausted itself.
The basilisk hissed, turning to the skeletons clawing at its underside. One tail sweep scattered nine constructs.
The distraction gave me time. Moisture crystallized from the air, forming six translucent spears around my shoulders.
Kristallspeer.
They launched with a whistling crack, crossing the distance like ballista bolts.
Behind me, magic rolled through the cave - Teuflisch's will commanding his scattered undead to reassemble, bones sliding back toward their bodies from across the chamber.
The basilisk's evasion was mostly successful, as it saw my attack coming. The spears that connected struck along its body, nowhere near the head or center mass, where I knew, from the bestiaries, its core resided.
They penetrated deep, drawing dark blood and earning a pained screech. The giant snake thrashed through more skeletons as the ice spears embedded in its flesh began cracking from internal pressure.
The look it gave me was probably hateful. Hard to read monster body language compared to humans.
Its eyes ignited again.
I placed a shield between us, but it was for naught.
This time the beam swept horizontally across the undead forces.
Teuflisch had done what he could to make his constructs resistant, but that was the core problem. We faced a curse, magic beyond humanity. The only way to deal with such things was the simplest of solutions. My defensive spells lasted because they carried substantial mana - it physically took time to petrify them. Teuflisch's skeletons carried far less mana and transformed almost instantly for that reason alone.
One sweep as the snake coiled, and most of the necromancer's force became marble statues.
"Albert, I will dispel it now!" Teuflisch said behind me, voice tight with tension.
He'd explained this earlier, when he explained why he originally tried to face the basilisk alone. The anti-petrification spell had been decoded from the Goddess of Creation's magic grimoires - that locals called scripture - ages ago. It acted in a significant radius. Teuflisch had thought that if he cast it here, where the Vigil was sealed, he'd have an army capable of matching the basilisk. Last time, the monster dealt with his constructs before he could complete the relatively complex spell. He'd barely escaped.
Now, with most of his forces petrified, this was the most he could do, as he was hopeless in combat magic.
"Understood."
I cut loose.
I had almost a century of practice with Steingriff. I learned many other earth-based spells since, many sharing templates. I had even developed several folk spells for construction work, mostly for excavating basements... to build up my laboratories or holding facilities.
For the first time, I fought underground with stone everywhere, right there for me to use.
I gestured with my staff. The cave floor cracked, entire sections rising sharply between us and the basilisk.
The beast fired again, but the stone intercepted the beam. The barriers began transforming to marble, then crumbling.
No matter. I raised more vertical slabs, one after another, forcing the basilisk to waste energy breaking through or maneuvering around them.
Yet, I didn't wait to see what it did; I didn't care about spending a fair share of mana here for one simple reason: if it physically reached us, I had no spells that could hold back its physical bulk. It would interrupt Teuflisch's casting and scatter our formation.
Meaning, the cost didn't matter. It mustn't reach us.
The stalagmites and stalactites around us fell to the floor or rose even sharper, creating walls of limestone where, before, there was nothing.
I could still roughly see the beam sweeping across and upwards towards the tall ceiling, and even through the thundering sound of cracking and rising stone, the monster's hiss-like screech of rage.
Yet I continued my...
"Albert, above!"
I looked up, snapping into attention, and seeing the stalactites that were above us, start falling as marble shrapnel.
Teuflisch was defenseless. Some of those pieces can cave his skull in.
Gritting my teeth, I paused the snake's entombment and instead directed my attention for a split second to conjure three different transparent magical barriers to catch the debris falling right on top of us.
This was enough of a distraction.
I could physically feel the tremor, the impact, and I felt the time slow down as I turned around and saw the beast charging through the unfinished barrier, the dust and stone fragments shooting out like shrapnel.
Clever girl.
I already knew there was no time.
There was magic building up in its eyes as it kept charging towards me.
There were no thoughts in my head. It was a moment when associations and ideas connected in my head almost instantly without ever forming words.
It planned this. The beam up - not an accident. It's smart, won't pursue me, will try to kill Teuflisch, he built up a lot of mana. Can't run. Can't stop this.
If I evade, the boy dies.
There was no hesitation as I jumped backwards, to be closer to the boy, five mana shields, one after another, formed in front of me like a multi-colored petal of some beautiful alien flower.
I felt when the beam impacted the first shield.
Half a second delay, and then the force that crashed was the body of the monster itself.
The shields shattered like stained glass windows.
Pure mana barriers excelled at dispersing energy attacks, but against several tons of crystalline serpent moving at full charge, they folded. The first three exploded on impact, fragments of solidified mana scattering like colored shards. The fourth held for half a heartbeat before spider-webbing. The fifth barely slowed it.
And then I saw a gigantic serpent's mouth eclipsing the whole world.
The beast twisted sharply, and instead of swallowing me, it ran me through.
The fang punched through my left shoulder.
I'd anticipated the physical breach - stone was already rising behind me as a platform when I was forming mana barriers, a desperate attempt to angle its trajectory, like a ramp. The basilisk's momentum carried us both, but the angle was enough. We passed Teuflisch by two meters instead of trampling him.
"Albert!" He might have shouted something, but he was a bit too slow to react to a fight between two monsters.
The fang pierced right through me. I could feel it grinding against my scapula, the tooth longer than my arm and thick as my fist. Blood ran hot down my back, but at that moment, despite the pain, I didn't notice it.
I grabbed the basilisk's upper jaw with my barely functional left hand despite the agony in that shoulder. My right hand's nails extended into proper claws, and I drove them into the base of the fang piercing me.
The impact jarred up my arm. The fang was harder than I expected; my claws barely scored the enamel. I struck again, with a fist this time, trying to crack it, but the tooth held.
The beast wasn't idle; magic was building in its eyes again. The telltale distortion, that gathering of energy I recognized even through the pain.
No time for another strike at the fang.
I drove my clawed hand into its right eye instead; it was the only one in which field of vision I was caught.
The organ didn't burst; it cracked like a genuine stone, intraocular fluid mixing with blood. My fingers found purchase in the socket, digging deeper.
The basilisk thrashed, its whole body convulsing. The violent motion wrenched its head sideways and up. I heard the crack before I felt it - the fang snapping inside my shoulder, leaving half its length embedded in my flesh.
The beast's remaining eye discharged wildly, the petrification beam sweeping in an uncontrolled arc.
It caught my left arm and shoulder as my body was flung above the serpent's head for just a moment.
The transformation was instant. My flesh became stone from fingertip to clavicle, the petrification racing along my already ruined shoulder. The weight shift was immediate and wrong, marble where muscle should be, my left arm now nothing more than dead stone hanging from my torso.
I traced an arc through the air, and fell to the ground, somehow, by some miracle, sliding towards Teuflisch's position.
The pain was almost blinding, but almost was the key word. A demon could easily function through something like that.
With great difficulty, I stood up, sensing a sudden sense of vertigo and weakness; it felt like liquid magma flowed through my veins.
Venom. Of course.
I glanced down towards the bite mark, but the hole in which the majority of the fang was still stuck was also made of white marble. That entire part of me was petrified, including the snake's fang.
The basilisk was still thrashing, dark blood streaming from its ruined eye, the broken stump of its fang jutting from its upper jaw. It screamed - not a hiss but something higher, more desperate.
I glanced at Teuflisch, the necromancer, who was looking at me like a deer in the headlights, his eyes shocked and tearful.
I am about to die, aren't I?
I can sense it, something happening to my core. My mana was growing sluggish... dissipating?
I see.
I wonder if I will meet Him this time. I want to see grandad again.
"Don't worry about me," I told the necromancer, allowing myself to smile, to lie, just this once. If the boy fails the spell and won't remove the curse from that army of his, he is guaranteed to die.
That wouldn't be right... would it?
I shook my head briefly, a reflexive action trying to clear out the fog in my thoughts.
"From here on out... It's up to you." I stood up straight, swooning in place, and called up to the rest of my remaining mana.
It was devoured by the venom, somehow, I think. But I should be able to do this much. If I stop hiding mana and focus on it alone.
I'll probably die. Maybe I won't. At this point, it doesn't matter; none of it depends on me. I should just do what I can before I run out of time to act.
The basilisk didn't notice immediately that I was preparing an attack. When it did, it roared and tried to rush me before I could finish the spell.
Idiot noodle.
I raised a single hand, inside of which pure mana was condensed to the extreme, pointing it into its face.
"Druckwelle."
A wave of force crashed against the body of the rushing monster's head... it struggled for a moment before being thrown back, across the room.
In its flight, it reminded me of a pretty prismatic ribbon in the wind.
The instant loss of all that mana made the world darken and spin. I think I fell into something. Like a bottomless, dark lake.
Someone screamed my name, I believe.
I felt so weak.
---
Author notes: And here you go, the Human Bean has ended, thanks for coming everyone.
On a serious note, I put A LOT in this chapter. Please tell me what'cha think.
On a related note, there is an advanced chapter on Patreon for anyone who can't be bothered to wait one or two weeks, and/or wants to support me financially. It's patreon (.) com / wiererid