If there was something that had unsettled Korelia since she arrived in this world, it was nothing less than slavery. It was bad enough to see the tyranny of royal power executing its will with majesty and sumptuousness, but to see free men treated as things... Korelia's mind couldn't help but feel an instinctive rejection.
Slaves swarmed across the continent, especially in a region as prosperous as Maeve, the region her father governed.
There, the great city of Alessandro served as an agricultural and viticultural hub, functioning as an ancestrally important region for both the continent and the Hegemony. For that reason, the rebellion of Tara was not so well accepted by her...
"Mistress, here are the books you asked for," said a young adolescent girl with a servile appearance, dressed neatly in a floral design. She had light pink hair and an innocent look.
She was her personal slave and servant, Wednesday.
"Thank you, Wednesday," Korelia said with an innocent smile as she grabbed the book offered to her with great interest.
"What is it, Mistress? Why do you have an interest in books now?" asked Wednesday curiously, despite being a slave.
But Korelia didn't get annoyed; she had strived for a long time so that Wednesday would finally open up and act naturally around her. Obviously, she wasn't going to get angry over a question like that.
"It's a book that talks about the history of the Hegemony up to its founding, written by Pechenega Jazar," she replied as she quickly opened the book on her bed and began to read it.
At the same time, Wednesday herself sat beside her and looked curiously at the book's content.
"First there was only chaos, and from it emerged the Primordials..."
As she continued reading, Korelia couldn't help but feel that everything seemed too mythical, like the absurd tales or legends of peasants who had no access to knowledge.
But this was different. The Primordials were a group of entities that ruled the southern continent long ago and were the precursors of the current Hegemony. Their true names had been lost, leaving only titles and vague representations. They had lived at least more than a hundred thousand years ago, according to the sources in front of her. Probably more.
"This seems like a dream," Korelia murmured to herself as she considered the names of the most important Primordials of the ancient pantheon: Ogohzu, lord of chaos and the void; Pigna, sovereign of the earth and nature; and their two children: the incarnation of the frosted moonlight, Rus, and the incarnation of the night's darkness, Kiev.
And the more she read, the more names and stories unfolded before them. Suddenly, she had a certain epiphany: in the book, the word Gnosis had not been mentioned even once.
As if it were taboo, an unknown mystery that could not be revealed.
Like the mysterious disappearance of one of the Primordials, Sakalibas, the Emperor of Assassination.
The destruction of the first city of the Primordials, Parthenon, built by the Lady of Light, Kimek, and subsequently the Daughter of Day, Karluk...
Dozens of similar episodes were repeated in the sources, and Korelia fell asleep reading those words, each vaguer than the last; the achievements of the ancestors aggrandized and the defeats and tragedies hidden in miserable paragraphs or phrases.
But she knew, she could see the truth behind the lies, she could see the falsehood of the deception, because she was... And while that idea remained in her mind like a definitive sentence, sleep overtook her.
She was an adolescent; slowly her fatigued body fell into the realm of dreams, as she was gently covered by a blanket and tucked into her bed by Wednesday, who caressed Korelia's hair with an affectionate look before leaving the room.
Meanwhile, Korelia could only dream.
...
She was a butterfly... Her arms and legs had been replaced by pincer-like limbs, while on her back was a pair of ample wings that, using the force of the wind, propelled her through the air. She was no longer Korelia, or perhaps she had always been the butterfly.
"Dreams are freedom," murmured her own voice in her ear.
She saw herself in the reflection of the waters. But it was no longer her, it was something else. She could be whatever she wanted, she was free, truly free.
She was an agile bird, she was a fierce man, she was a venomous snake, but she didn't necessarily have to limit herself to that; she could be the sea breeze, the imposing rock, the furious fire, the blinding ray of light, or a spring drizzle. There were no limits; in this realm of dreams, she had transformed into something more than a mortal, she was...
"You are ephemeral and eternal, an instant and infinity, permanence and impermanence. That is our gift, Korelia, although now you no longer have a name. But soon you will have it again; no form is eternal, we must remember that," her reflection in the sea told her.
"Who are you?" Korelia murmured, confused.
"I am you, while also being your future. Just as you are my present, I will be your past. I am the dream within a dream of yourself, I am the voice within your soul, the memory of happiness and sadness. I am that and much more, and who are you among all of them?"
"I..." she murmured confused. She realized she was no longer a butterfly, nor a bird, nor a breeze; she returned to being herself and replied: "I am myself. I am the supreme will that will dominate the laws. I am a future teacher, a future woman, as well as a future better me."
The smile on her reflection's face widened. Her scarlet hair, bright as flames, looked at her with a fierce tone. "Now you must only seek your will and transform it. This is the first step to greatness. Remember your words: the laws are your domain, now apply it and teach the others. There are many more like you."
"Remember: Gnosis and death will surround your path, but death is not enough to limit you and your will. But there are fates worse than death in this realm, and soon you will know them."
With a smile on her face, she added: "As I was your guide, you guide them. As the Hierophant guides the mage, become the Priestess or the Empress. There lies your decision, as long as you desire it."
"The world will be yours."
...
Blood had a strong and intoxicating aroma, almost aphrodisiac; it was different from the smell of human blood, full of a metallic and coppery scent, and very different from the smell of oils and balms of her home, which she had secretly abandoned.
Fey blood was much more beautiful, but the hearts of its owners were just as dark as those of most humans.
A puddle of a violet liquid, almost of a deep blue hue, covered most of the ground. The mutilated corpses of men were all around her; she even distinguished women among the dead rebels.
Because yes, these men, women, and children were deserters, traitors to the Hegemony and their lord. Unfortunately, times were changing; it was a time of chaos. Great hegemons and monarchs rose in the four continents like weeds, but it wouldn't be too long before a true king rose among them.
They were innocent, and they had died at the hands of beasts and monsters; some in human form and others, monsters in the literal sense of the word. The surrounding audience screamed with excitement, shouting prayers to the ancient gods even if they couldn't hear them.
"Blood, blood, blood! Spill blood to slake the thirst of the dead gods!" roared several of the scene's spectators.
After all, Korelia wasn't just anywhere; she was in nothing less than a combat arena. She was in the Circus of Frenzy, one of the few combat arenas that allowed gladiatorial combat in the entire region of Maeve. And which, curiously, was relatively close to her home; after all, the former lord of these lands, her father's grandfather, was quite adept at this bloody spectacle.
A smile emerged on Korelia's face as she felt the dried blood partially hardening her face.
It was a beautiful face in the greatest sense, a pale and seductive face like that of a she-devil from the dream stories of ancient humanity's demons; scarlet eyes thin as crescent moons that highlighted her seductive charm. She was dressed in a long black coat that covered from her shoulders to her waist as if it were a cape, while a hood hung on her back. Partially covered by her moderately long scarlet hair, she was hidden behind her hood, denoting that she had been incognito in this place.
Her appearance was much more mature than she really was; that was one of the two talents she had discovered she possessed.
She had called it "Form Liberation," although Wednesday preferred to call it "polymorphism," like the one the legendary dead gods in her legends possessed. Although currently, that ability was limited purely to changing appearance.
Thinking unconsciously of Wednesday, she couldn't help but smile as she reflected: I hope I'm faking it well. After all, I have few hours left before my mother can discover the deception.
Changing her expression again as she frowned, suddenly Korelia's hood covered her face naturally, as if it had a life of its own, obscuring her own form and blurring it beyond what ordinary senses could detect.
"Interesting. Who would have thought a witch would survive in this bloodthirsty place? I hope you manage to entertain us a bit, girl. After all, now you are alone," growled a deep voice in the distance.
From the corners of the arena, which was built in a labyrinthine way for its participants, with walls, crossroads, and traps (only the spectators in the distance were able to see the show through an image projected in the air), the walls around Korelia moved revealing new figures covered in blood and with a baleful aura around them. They were covered in lead-gray plate armor that had a sinister arrangement, tending toward a rounded and pointed shape, while they were equipped with conical spears, bows, and giant horns...
Iron Monks.
The group's leader didn't look different from the other members on the surface, which wasn't rare; after all, it was hard to find a bearer of the martial mark among his kind.
"He doesn't look like a slave, but rather a warrior. Are you looking to loot our booty, you piss-stained brat?" growled one of the group members with an obvious southern accent, while trying to forcefully speak the common tongue.
Although Korelia was native to the eastern continent, where the badly named common tongue (or known by foreigners as the Faerie tongue or eastern tongue) was normally spoken, the native language of the Hegemony, which had permeated the eastern continent since its conquest, remained quite well known, although probably most ordinary natives wouldn't even deign to learn to speak it, much less write it.
But her privileged education gave her the opportunity to learn more than one language of the mortal realm. Korelia hadn't come to this place with a normal identity; she had come as a prisoner. After all, to be a gladiator she had to enter the temple of war and become a monk.
"Do you plan to sell the flesh and bones of the dead? Do you have nothing else, barbarians?" Korelia growled in the native tongue of the Ferreos.
A grunt of surprise came from the crowd of the monk group, which at this point had surrounded the passageway, exceeding a dozen people. "A woman," one of them growled with a somewhat excited and thirsty tone.
But the leader of the warriors moved his weapon, which was a giant halberd ending in a sharp blade, striking the ground and silencing his subordinates. Laughing, the group leader took off his helmet revealing his face, slightly surprising Korelia as she saw for the first time the typical features of a member of the Iron race.
Skin of a pale black hue, strangely sickly, but that didn't detract vitality from the man in front of her. His hair was yellowish-white, tied in multiple braids, while marks and tattoos of different shapes reminiscent of pictograms covered his skin. And on his forehead, surprisingly, stood out a symbol simulating the figure of a burning flame, which curiously shone with a yellowish hue bordering on red, while his pale eyes shone with supernatural light.
"By the blood of the dead and the living, may the daemons guide my hand!" he growled in a sharp war chant.
Completely ignoring the obvious difference in strength and dexterity, he ran toward her with the obvious intention of killing her; he didn't even think of humiliating or capturing her. The unnatural bloodlust of the Iron Monks permeated their culture and lineage.
A martial mark, Korelia thought curiously. She had never thought that on this outing she would encounter such a particular specimen.
The Iron Monks, or Ferreos rather, were a race with gifts different from the Feys and their branches. They functioned as mercenaries of the Hegemony and moved in small groups led by decurions, but the main reason they were called "Iron Monks" was none other than their strong gladiatorial tradition.
As warrior monks, they viewed gladiatorial combat with strong ritual elements; according to what she had heard, they considered death matches within these buildings nothing less than enormous sacrificial rituals where, instead of offering prisoners or animals, they offered their lives or those of their enemies.
Hierarchy for the Ferreos was important and natural talent was more so; in their blood flowed the remnants of the blood of the ancient races of bronze and silver, for which they were known as the elite among the mounted warriors of the Hegemony.
Although their time had ended. Their obsolete weapons and their natural talent had been weakened and dwarfed before the new forms of war arising in the world.
The martial mark of the Ferreos allowed them to manifest supernatural powers depending on the type of mark it was. The flame-shaped mark on the man's face was an obvious sign of his ability to manipulate fire.
The reason he had taken off his helmet had been, aside from a sign of arrogance, also to purposefully show weakness to his opponent; a subtle insult, so to speak. There were four common abilities that marks could manipulate: fire, air, earth, and water.
The halberd seemed to ignite the air it passed through when, suddenly, the weapon's metal simply began to burn. If she could see the chemical reaction, Korelia could probably see how, as if it were a catalyst, the spear entered instant combustion concentrating and burning all the air several meters around it while gathering it around its blade.
The pyromaniac obviously wasn't aware of the process he was performing; he simply manifested the flames as if it were the flexing of a muscle, his power. The halberd reached a couple of meters away from Korelia's figure, when suddenly her body, as if it were a bubble, exploded into a cloud of humidity and steam.
The monk's face changed in an instant, but by the time he could react, it was too late. In an instant, a drop of water the size of a fingertip pierced his eye, exploding his eyeball as a third of his brain matter leaked out through the hole.
Stupefied, the Iron Monks failed to react in any way to the unexpected situation they were facing. Before they could even say a word, Korelia's translucent figure emerged from above one of them, hanging over the neck and shoulders of one, as his head slid toward the ground dripping black blood onto the wet earth.
But it wasn't over: as if emerging from the sky, dozens of water needles and blades the size of a scalpel fell with the intention of piercing and killing the Iron Monks at once.
Unfortunately, Korelia herself underestimated the reality of the situation. The speed of the water drop was surprisingly high, exceeding the speed of sound; in simple terms, it was three times faster than the speed of sound. But despite that, it didn't pierce the unknown metal armor of the Iron Monks, completely resisting the cutting force with ease and dispersing most of the impact force despite the small surface area. Therefore, she had no choice but to go for option B.
"Careful, she's a damn Dísir," growled one of them as he tried to direct his sword, as long as half a door, toward the blurry shadow that was Korelia.
Curiously, what these Iron Monks lacked in dexterity they made up for in experience and instinct. The sword struck directly against her body, pushing her backward as a feeling of dull pain flooded her shoulder.
Her body was covered in a soft layer of water vapor that had accumulated in instants, becoming armor of pressurized water vapor that served as a counter-blow to the sword. But despite everything, she received the impact.
Blood didn't bloom in the air like a yellowish-green flower, but rather, unlike her fanciful expectations, a feeling of fatigue and discomfort flooded her body. Curiously, her body was already at its limits; unlike many simulated confrontations she had had, she had never used all her spiritual energy reserves, and the feeling of how her reserves suddenly emptied was like the loss of oxygen in her blood, to the point that she suspected that, in an equivalent situation, her blood would already be yellowish instead of bright red due to the loss of iron and oxygen.
There are fourteen more, four wounded with mild contusions and the rest somewhat scared and confused, Korelia analyzed quickly while trying to regain momentum.
She needed to end this fast; every second was essential and at this point, she wouldn't play anymore. That would be, after all, counterproductive. At that moment she decided to use the maximum potential of her second talent: Law Dominion.
On the surface, she could only manipulate water and liquids, but it was simply a screen; any law was under her dominion, but this dominion could only extend to things she could touch or that were within an area of two meters from her.
Suddenly, the warriors tried to aim their weapons against her, but at this point, it was too late. "Die, damn whore," one of them growled.
Before finishing the sentence, suddenly dozens of solidified blood spears emerged from the ground, piercing directly through the lower body, impaling him directly through the groin with the metal spike protruding through his shattered jaw. The blood of her victims, which at this point had coagulated, was full of heavy metals, which gathered and solidified under Korelia's manipulation of the vital fluid itself.
"Avoid the blood!" one managed to shout as he broke one of the blood spears with his war axe.
But before he could think of a new strategy, the corpse of one of his companions exploded into a huge multitude of spears that broke his armor, pushing him backward before he completely lost his life after agonizingly bleeding out on the ground for a few moments.
Six remained; most were disarmed and with several fractured bones caused by Korelia's heavier attacks. One of them, who still possessed a war hammer, roared fiercely as he broke several blood spears with a single swing of his blunt weapon.
"Die by iron!" he roared as he ran in her direction at a speed superior to any trained human, despite being much taller than anyone.
"Time to end this," Korelia whispered as she concentrated the circulation of spiritual energy through her spiritual organ.
In an instant, the moisture particles around her agglomerated in her hand, specifically from the blood of the multiple Ferreos which had a density of titanium in their blood, which was more useful than the small amounts of copper and gold in the blood of the Feysir and Feynir, which gave that characteristic hue to the blood of these species.
The titanium spear materialized in Korelia's hand with supernatural grace, while her opponent raised his guard to prepare for a hard fight. Unfortunately, it would be quite disappointing.
Suddenly, it began to twist and, as if it were a drill, began to rotate; before he could react, it pierced the man's chest as if it were butter, falling to the ground stunned as he watched his life being completely obliterated. The rest of the survivors tried to flee, but were incapacitated and subsequently killed by Korelia.
Korelia observed in silence each of the corpses around her as if trying to understand something, or feel something rather... Despite everything, I don't feel too much, she thought to herself. Killing was something natural; feeling guilt for killing without purpose is natural in intelligent beings, but living beings were born to kill each other, it made no sense beyond that.
"Although it is a pity," she concluded to herself as she thought about leaving the place.
When suddenly the air around her began to distort while the earth twisted. She felt through her exhausted spiritual organ that, desperately, the spiritual energy of the environment she was absorbing was gathering around her, but this phenomenon had no relation to her.
As she thought about that, she suddenly opened her eyes stupefied when from the multitude of dead bodies a beautiful butterfly suddenly emerged. It emerged from the flesh of one of the corpses and, to her surprise, rested on a small drop of blood that, to her surprise, she realized at this point was hers.
The butterfly, like a mirage, came closer and closer to her, flying while flapping its large and beautiful wings. No matter how strange or terrifying the situation, Korelia ignored it as she extended the tip of her finger, settling on it as if it were a familiar and pleasant touch.
And in that moment she crushed it.