Fathers of Power Chapter 5: Mana and Swords
“You have burdened me with
destroying you, father,” Azar said, as he realized that he was in the presence
of King Aragan.
“What is this?!” the king panicked
as Viknor and Azar appeared. “Guards! Kill them at once!” There were about a
dozen guards there in the small room with the king, some of the army’s best of
course, but their skill was irrelevant before men like Azar and Viknor. Azar
stretched his hands out toward the approaching guards. Viknor had barely enough
mana left for a first-grade spell. He was still breathing heavily and suffering
from an immense loss of energy. In seconds, as the ruthless sound of lightning
sounded within the tower, bolts had killed the guards there. Each of the
whitish streaks came forth from a finger of Azar, and was potent enough to
steal a life. Aragan grabbed up the sword of one of his guards nervously,
staring into the resolute eyes of Azar. “Aaaah!” In one flash of a step, Azar
reached up to the king, grabbing and breaking his right wrist that the sword
would be forcibly released.
“You will live for another moment,”
Azar said, his mana rousing, feeling like it was already fazing into the fifth
grade.
“Go with your father,” Viknor said,
holding his head and taking a sit beside one of the burnt corpses. “I will come
along in a moment.” Azar nodded and teleported in a cloud of dark-blue mana.
Azar appeared in the Herculean
Tower with his father, who nearly lost his life instantly to Giovanni’s sword.
“Magmalian fool!” the general spat, “You will now command your men to stand
down, or your head will be rolling down sixty feet!” Aragan looked down at the
straight blade that was pointed at his neck as Azar held tightly to him.
*POOF!* Ki and the others glanced quickly as Viknor appeared.
“Alright,” the man said, not
looking quite as beat as he did just a moment before. “I have recovered enough
mana for one useful summoning – after that, I’ll need a few hours before I can
be functional again,” Viknor said.
“Summoning?” Ki asked, as curious
as Azar. The wizard held his hand out, looking outside. Swords were still
smashing against each other below.
“Dragonite of Lukia!” the man
called, and a black portal appeared. A small winged creature flew from the
vortex in the air. It was dirt-brown, and certainly resembled a baby dragon.
Without delay, soldiers on the ground became suddenly distracted by this
appearance, many of them paying for a short glance with their lives. Viknor
grabbed on to Azar and shifted off with him. Giovanni grabbed on to the
Magmalian king. Viknor, Azar, the Herculean supreme general and the Magmalian
king appeared on the dragon that bobbed in the air, its wings creating small
breezes. Azar drew his sword and held it at his father’s throat to make the
hostage situation clear. The king breathed heavily and shook nervously, looking
down at the war far below him.
“Descend!” Viknor commanded, and
the dragon lowered itself.
“Order them to stop fighting!
Command your men!” Azar told his father.
“M—Magmalian soldiers! Halt your
attack!” the king stuttered as loudly as he could. Viknor used a silent spell
to carry his voice over the entire battlefield. The war stopped suddenly.
“Herculeans! We have captured the
Magmalian king!” Giovanni announced proudly, sounding like that had won them
the war. There was a sudden silence as both armies stopped their attacks and
looked up at the spectacle.
“This is Magmalian supreme general
Hax!” Aragan’s highest ranking officer on the field announced. About him was
his special squad of elite soldiers – none of which had been scraped since the
chaotic war. “The king has been captured, and is no longer capable of
commanding us sensibly! Let us process with our attack, lest we be volleyed and
slaughtered in a foolish retreat!” Hax was about Aragan’s age, and even
resembled him a little.
“What?! You imbecile! I will have
your head, Hax!” the king blasted down in a shaking rage.
“You will let your king be killed
here?!” Viknor asked, “All of you, live to fight another war!”
“Men of Magma Town, let us finish
our mission and resurrect our great nation! Today Hercule shall be slain, even
if it means at the cost of the king! If we lay our weapons down, we shall
surely perish! Attack! Take down the dragon! Archers!” Hax commanded, and in a
sudden roar, the assault continued with even more fire than before.
“Unbelievable!” Azar blasted. The
king stared down at his men with wide eyes. He was in obvious disbelief.
“Treason! I will kill you all!” the
king blasted.
“This dragon’s existence here in
this realm is constantly sapping the last of my mana,” Viknor said, “so it will
disappear soon.”
“Shift us down into the war!”
Giovanni said, “Take the king to the tower and have him secured! We’ll find use
for him later!”
“Alright!” Viknor said.
“Father, I will deal with you
later!” Azar said, “Come, general!” He grabbed on to Giovanni. There was an
explosion of blue-purple mana, clearing to remove the spectacle that was just
there in the sky. Azar and Giovanni landed in the midst of Magmalians, entering
the war without hesitance, swords already drawn. Vile currents buzzed about
Azar’s swords.
Viknor appeared inside the tower
with the king. “Lad, go down and fight with Azar,” he told Kyle, “He and
Giovanni are at the foot of the tower! Hurry!” Ki glared at the Magmalian,
whose face was almost pitiful.
“Get this fool out of my sight,
Viknor!” Ki spat, “Lock him down in the deepest cell you find! When time is
there, he will be dealt with!” Viknor disappeared with the shamed king.
***
Back at the Zakatian shrine,
Blade’s limits were put to the test – the battle there was becoming less than
trivial for him. He fended off another of the nastily strong attacks, jumping
back in defence. The enemy numbers were cut down by maybe a half, but Blade was
exhausted. He gripped his blade tightly, breathing hard. He hissed as he dodged
another swing, moving his head to avoid incoming arrows. The soldiers, their
swords, even the arrows that were shot at him were encased in that troublesome
pink glow that added accuracy, strength and speed. That damn witch. Azar had killed Zedra, but her spell was still in
effect, and it was looking to overwhelm Blade. The Zakatian looked about him.
He was still thickly surrounded. I can’t
die. Not yet. Though his dilemma was dismal, Blade’s enemies hadn’t managed
to land more than a few scrapes on him. I
am Blade… Losing to dogs like these… He hissed again, tapping into the last
of his strength, his teeth clenched tightly inside his firmly shut mouth.
***
Each minute Hercule faced carried
with it litres of blood and waves of shouts. Azar and Kyle stood back to back,
facing about ten Magmalians. Giovanni was somewhere else cutting through his
enemies like straws of grass. “You still breathing, boy?” Azar asked.
“I think so,” Kyle’s reply came. “Let’s
finish this front quickly so we can help Blade.”
“That’s the spirit.” With that,
Azar released two bolts of lightning, killing two men quickly. As soldiers
rushed on toward Kyle, in a burst of mana, Azar used a suspension spell.
“Niamer!” There was a cloud of blue mana and the soldiers were frozen in their
steps. In a few merciless slashes, Kyle wiped through the statues, moving on to
more animate enemies, who didn’t prove to be much more of a challenge for him.
He was almost confused with how easily he was fighting off even three, four
soldiers at a time, killing quickly and evading all attacks. He made a proud
laugh he just couldn’t hold in coolly. Azar glanced over at the boy, sending
bolts though a few others. A smirk almost reached his face, but then he thought
of how meeting with father later on would play out – or even if he was already
killed by the Herculeans. “Abingush!” Azar blew up about three more men, the
blast sending a few more flying off. Soon, there was a wide circle around Kyle
and Azar, a circle of nervous, shaking, fearful soldiers. As the men were
distracted by their fear of these two fighter, a team of Herculeans reached
upon them, finishing them off quickly. Kyle took notice of one of the
Herculeans in particular, a youngsters looking to be in his late teens or so.
His white uniform seemed more reddened than his comrades’. He carried two
swords that seemed even long as Blade’s. He wore a cold smirk on his face, and
his long brown locks flashed with a kind of style each time he turned his head
to make another kill.
“Is he not the Magmalian Prince?”
one of the high ranking Herculeans pointed out, moving toward him with the
readiness to attack.
“Stand down, soldier. He’s with
us,” Giovanni’s voice came from behind Azar.
“Supreme general,” the soldier
greeted, bowing slightly.
“You two will have to strip some
Herculean corpses to avoid confusion,” Giovanni told them. “Let’s make haste –
this area is clear but there are three others fields with high enemy densities.
Azar, how is your magic doing?”
“A few shifts should be left in
it.” *POOF!* There was a burst of extravagant purple mana – it could only be
one wizard. “You’ve recovered already?!” Azar asked.
“Viknor!” Giovanni greeted.
“Not fully. I have about a tenth of
my power now, so I will finish the war here.”
“What?!” Giovanni nearly stuttered,
wondering if this old man was joking.
“He is more than capable,” Azar
said. “Supreme general, let us who are here tend to the solders at the Village
of the Sword. Viknor will make sure the battle here at Hercule is won.”
Kyle sighed heavily. Finally.
Viknor nodded. “Very well,”
Giovanni said, “Go save my men, Viknor!” Viknor shifted off. “Laika, you and
your men come with us,” Giovanni said to the boy with dreads. Kyle’s eyes
widened.
HIS
men?
“You must be the Herculean wonder
child nicknamed the Speed Demon,” Azar recognized, “your combat skills and
tactical insight is supposed to be on the level of high generals.” Kyle hissed
on hearing this.
“And you are the confused brat who
betrays his father to fight as a Herculean,” Laika greeted back, a look of
contempt on his face. “I will kill you two when the war is over.”
“You little-- ?!” Kyle became
exceedingly confused as in what was an unreadably fast move, Laika reached up
to him and Azar, swords centimetres from their throats, that killer grin on his
face.
“Enough, Laika!” Giovanni blasted.
The boy laughed, stepping back from them.
Surely
his speed is notable, Azar realized, I
couldn’t even react with shifting. Kyle was still too stunned to move a
muscle. His performance in the Black War
was vital in keeping Hercule on the map, Azar thought, and the kid wasn’t even a soldier back then.
“Feel like trying that again,
hotshot?!” Kyle dared, just regaining his ability to speak. Laika laughed.
“You two shouldn’t underestimate
each other,” Azar said.
“Enough of this – let’s move!”
Giovanni came in.
***
Blade made another backward leap,
fending off four attacks before reaching ground. “Ah!” He shifted himself, but
not quickly enough to avoid a nasty slice that landed somewhere amongst his
left ribs. He staggered to the right as blood spewed from his side. He ducked
and sent his sword through another enemy, but couldn’t react quickly enough to
avoid an incoming arrow completely. He clenched his teeth harshly as he roughly
pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. I
know I’m tired, but I should be able to dodge these… His eyes widened. This magical aura they’re giving off… He
found his vision becoming blurry. He struggled to focus. Also, he was hearing
sounds in strange proportions. He was certainly hearing birds tweeting loudly
while missing more important sounds like the clashing of his sword with
another. Blade realized that Zedra’s magic didn’t only make his enemies
stronger, but was affecting his senses, and more gravely as he spent more time
breathing in the poisonous mana in.
This
isn’t good! He made another swift dodge. He was sure he avoided the strike,
but his robes split apart and so did his flesh. *THUD!* A heavy kick reached
him and he staggered back, losing grip on his sword. *SLASH!* A fully fledged
strike reached him and relieved him of much more of his blood. His eyesight
blackened as he glimpsed death. He puked blood the next second as a blade was
ran straight through his back. He looked down at the bloody sword that forced
through his chest. “I failed… Lord First…” As the sword was pulled from him, he
fell limply to his knees. *POOF!* As Blade’s head descended to hit the dirt, he
saw a sudden appearance of redness, a flurry of familiar mana. Still, he could
do nothing but hit the dirt. Blood pooled under him quickly. Electricity,
raging fire and quick slashes soon cleared the immediate area of the Magmalians
possessed by sorcerous strength. Encircling Blade were men in bloody white, men
who bore the mighty Herculean crest on their chests – the emblem was quite
unique, and itself told the story of Hercule. It was an eagle holding a twig in
its mouth, rising quickly from the raging flames beneath it, that in an effort
to destroy it, forged from itself a fiery hand that is ever trying to grab the
bird.
“Save my people,” Blade muttered.
Kyle looked down at his master, then rushed down to him in panic.
“So this must be the great Blade
from the Land of the Sword,” Laika said, looking down at the dead-looking man
with a face of disdain, “defeated by a mere few hundred soldiers.” In a fast
move, Kyle reached up to Laika, making a reckless swing at him.
What?!
But Laika had anticipated his attack, and in a flash of a move, was already
behind Kyle, his two long swords breathing against both sides of the boy’s
neck, his back turned to Kyle’s.
“Laika! Kyle!” Giovanna and Azar
snapped almost in unison.
“They’re coming!” one of the
Herculeans alerted as the Magmalians swarmed down on them. Laika made a swift
movement, and already had his swords running through the glowing Magmalians. Huh?! He turned to block an unexpectedly
quick attack. He skated back as his sword touched the soldier’s. What the— He could barely keep up with
the three soldiers that had him surrounded. He was frightened by their speed
and strength, and suddenly wondered just how Blade could have killed so many of
them singlehandedly. Two more men rushed up to him from behind. His locks
flashed as he turned just a little too slowly to save himself. *ZAZZ!* Azar’s
lightning pushed the attackers off quickly. Azar noticed that already half of
the few Herculeans that appeared with him were killed. He quickly saw and
sensed the level of the magic that had powered up these men.
“Be careful, everyone! These men
are strengthened by magic!”
“Azar, leave them to us! Heal
Blade!” Kyle gave out. Azar looked down at Blade – he was sure that no amount
of magic could save him. He sighed heavily, then kneeled and shifted with him,
appearing atop the Zakatian shrine with Blade, which was clear of enemies.
He turned Blade to lie on his back
quickly, assessing the nasty wounds he suffered. “Azar,” Blade muttered,
somehow clinging to life, “don’t waste your magic healing me. Make sure Kyle
lives. Kill these bastards and protect the shine.”
“Trying to throw your own chores on
me now?” Azar knelt over Blade and put his hands in position, summoning up vast
amounts of red mana. The entire shrine became enveloped in the redness as he
tried to fight off Blade’s persisting death. His veins bulged and his eyes
flared as his mana was being drained at an unimaginable rate. Blade uttered a
stifled cry through his teeth as bones were mended and his flesh was
regenerated.
“Alright, enough!” Blade said as he
saw that Azar was nearly collapsing. He stretched and touched Azar’s chest.
“Save whatever you have left. I can fight now.” Blade stood slowly, still in
obvious pain. The healing was far from complete, but at least his death was
postponed. “My blade,” the swordsman said urgently. With a silent spell, Azar
summoned the man’s sword and gave it to him. “I am forever in your debt,
Herculean general,” Blade said, smiling a little.
“Heh! My magic is down for the
count, but I have more than enough power to kill these houseflies!” Fire flared
about Azar’s hands and swords. Blade glanced over at him, realizing that Azar’s
powers were fully restored.
Blade looked down at the battling
Kyle, Laika and Giovanni. The other Herculeans that came were long dead. The
three were fighting impressively well against the spelled soldiers. Kyle and
Giovanni were cutting men down almost as fast as the speed demon. “Come now,
swords only,” Blade said to Azar, “Let me see if you’ll let these kids and that
old man outdo you.” Azar laughed a little, pulling his swords out, Fire and
black lightning swarmed them.
“A little fanciness isn’t quite
cheating,” he said. Blade looked pleased. In a jiffy, both men jumped down into
the brawl, killing together a dozen men before their feet hit the ground.
The grave battle soon became a
rigorous competition of laughs and slaughter and kill-counts and stylish
throat-cutting as some of the continent’s strongest swordsmen fought valiantly,
each wanting more than victory to showcase their skill. Kyle and Laika
occasionally glanced over at each other. Kyle had too much on the line to be
easily outdone. Two of his teachers were watching, plus he couldn’t afford for
Laika to see him as a weakling. There could be no harm in impressing the
Herculean supreme general either.
***
Oga appeared in the presence of the
god of elements. Kizer was in a massive room of books, scrolls and charts he
had gathered himself. “Have you found the tablets I sent you for?” Kizer asked,
not looking away from the book he was flipping the pages of quickly, eating up
all the knowledge that was stored in it. In the past year, he had leant more
history than all the world’s scholars combined, somehow finding material hidden
away from the eyes of many desperate searchers. He knew of what had become of
all his races, and almost every important event that occurred since his ‘death’
was now stored in his head. He had many different tables set up with different
lines of information and research. There were tables with potions and rare
substances and equations he generated to create things no scientist before him
had the wisdom to fathom.
“They were destroyed, but I managed
to recover what was written on them.”
“Good.” Oga glanced over to one of
the more interesting tables, already understanding everything there.
“Hm. I worked on such a thing
centuries before the first war,” Oga said, impressed that Kizer was now
undertaking such a project.
“You mean the life equation?” Kizer
asked, throwing up the book he just had to land neatly in a small space on a
shelf above him.
“Yes. I suppose you’re thinking it
would be better to cleanse this world of its present dwellers and create your
own people, waging another battle with me to get me out of the picture, then
erase all history and reign as creator and God,” Oga figured. Kizer snickered a
little. He was too used to Oga to be very impressed though.
“But you figured after years of
study that it is impossible to create life,” Kizer said.
“Correct. Life can be regenerated,
restored, prolonged, but no amount of magic or elemental power can create human
life.”
“Do you know how mankind began?”
Kizer asked. Oga paused for a moment. There were few things Oga didn’t know the
answer to, and this was obviously one of them. “Exactly,” Kizer said, “then you
have no right to say that creating human life is impossible… I have created
forests, and in them, even after I slept, new life was sprung up. I have
created volcanoes that lived as much as trees live. All of life is made of one
essence, one fabric. If that prime element is found, then various degrees and
forms of life can be created at will. My elemental powers are ends that all
lead back to one beginning. I have found that these natural elements are not
responsible for creating life, but are themselves life forms created by some
other power, which I must find.”
“Your prowess in battle might be a
slight notch above mine, Kizer, but my wisdom and knowledge, even you should
admit, are levels above yours. Everything you are learning now is what I have
studied to their ends.”
“Tell me then, is resurrection
possible? Can even your level of magic bring back the dead?”
“I am surprised you are just now
asking me this. . . If that was something that could be accomplished, then my
children would not need live in my memories.”
“You’re lying, Oga.”
“Hm?”
“You have the ability to raise the
dead, but if you resurrect you own children, I will compel you to raise mine,
and the gap between our mights will further expand.”
Oga hissed. “Remember how narrowly
you edged me in our battles, Kizer.”
“More importantly, do you remember
that seal you put on my children many years ago?” Oga’s eyes widened. He was
certainly frightened by Kizer’s knowledge of this.
Long
ago
The
Zagans were just defeated, and the world was in ruins. The destroyers of the
dark spirits were together in one place. The hill they were on trembled
slightly under the pressure of the power of those who stood atop it. Kizer’s
six children who survived the war stood behind him. They would be the fathers
of the six great elemental races. “I don’t trust them, father,” Argros said,
“let us finish them off right here.”
“Easy,
brother,” Yuki said, seeing Argros was already coated with the silvery armour,
fists and feet glowing with an enormous power. He didn’t even try to make his
idea discreet.
“Yes,
father, let us kill them here,” Aragan agreed, ready to burst into his white
flames.
“Silence,”
Kizer said. Oga faced Kizer, his two remaining children by his side, Witch and
Wizard. They were gathered there to make a treaty between the two families.
Just before any kind of agreement could be made, Oga made a move that was
critical to his sinister plan. Oga, with the little mana he had left, wielded a
spell that made him act outside of the bounds of time for a moment. He quickly
made his way toward Kizer and slammed his hand against his chest, muttering
some words from magic’s original language. Golden writings appeared all about
Kizer’s body and then vanished. Oga swiftly did this to all of Kizer’s children
and then to his own, then, as the spell was about to give way, went back to his
original position, and time resumed.
“How could you… how could you
know of that?” Oga asked, now at least slightly nervous.
“I watched you seal all of us. A time suspension spell of
that level could never have been enough to affect me.”
“…”
“I later analyzed the seal you put on me to figure your plan
out. I saw that it was linked to the kind of magic that regenerates life, the
highest degree of healing magic. . . I wanted to figure everything out without
making you aware of my knowledge of this, but it seems that isn’t possible. I
know that you are capable of using those seals, along with your eighth grade
magic to resurrect our children.”
Oga sighed.
“Since you know so much, I might as well not try to hide anything.”
“Yet you still will, but speak nonetheless.”
“Very well.” Oga hated the feeling of being figured out. “I
had planned to discover or create a spell that could resurrect. I figured that
it would be an immense advantage to have the leeway to bring you all back at
will, should it be necessary.”
“But you had to master two things
first,” Kizer said, “Perfect hypnosis, that you could control us after
resurrecting us, and that spell to give us life energy.”
“Correct,” Oga said, “I realized
that even with my degree of magic, I could not control you, who have graduated
the seventh grade yourself.”
“And as for the resurrection
spell?”
“Well…” Oga was hesitant, wondering
if he should lie. “There is a way for
me to bring them back.” Kizer’s face changed slightly. “Theoretically anyway…
but based on my calculations, I would have to unlock a ninth grade of magic –
which is impossible – to perform such a spell and keep my sorcery.”
“Ah, so that technique would
destroy your sorcery, then, based on the amount of mana it requires?”
“Yes,” Oga said, “It would be like
a sixth grade sorcerer somehow using an Ogal spell. The odds of it working are
one in a thousand, and if it does work, the spell would be so straining that it
would cost that sorcerer’s mana.”
“So you would live through such a
spell, but would no longer a magician.”
“That’s right. Seeing a way to kill
two birds with one stone now, are you?” Oga said, slightly rousing his white
mana.
“Don’t
worry, Oga. As weak as you are, I still need you. I wouldn’t trade you for my
children with the plans I now have to fulfil.” Oga stood a little easier.
“What if I could find you an item
that contains as much mana as your spirit?” Kizer asked with a slight smirk.
Oga looked quite interested.
“Such an item cannot exist,” Oga
said, “My mana is as a thousand arcanines’.”
“A few scrolls I have read hints at
the existence of such an item… Let us solve this puzzle together, Oga. Maybe it
is impossible to create life, but if
restoring the life of our children is possible, what we can accomplish becomes
even more unlimited. We will now find every bit of knowledge there is about
this item. We will bring forth the children of gods, and set up our kingdom
with our children to rule beneath us… By the way, hand me that darkness you
collected from the prince – there is a theory I must test.”
***
In time, the five victors stood
still in a rubble of bodies and a pond of blood. Kizer, in all his business,
kept an eye on them from his study. Though knowing of their unusual skill, he
was still a bit impressed with their survival. Laika snickered. Kyle kept his
face straight, though he knew he must have shown his new rival that his
strength too was significant. “Well, Blade, we’ll leave you to clean this mess
up,” Azar said, “we should get back to Hercule where Viknor and the others are
fighting.”
“In debt, I will follow you and see
what help I can offer,” Blade replied. Giovanni glanced over at Azar with a
heavy leer, seeing how much he was already speaking like a Herculean commander.
In a
moment, the five appeared where the midst of the Herculean battle should have
been. Giovanni and Kyle looked around in shock. All about, Herculean men were
cheering in loud shouts. “The battle is won!” Giovanni realized. The casualty
count on Hercule’s side was far less than Giovanni and Ki had anticipated. Azar
snickered. He noticed a purplish mist rising from the bodies of most of the
enemies, rising to create a thin fog.
“That Viknor,” he muttered.
“The war isn’t over yet,” Giovanni
said, like he was just remembering. “The Magmalians are all over Libson by now,
launching a number of attacks.”
“Let your men rest and celebrate,
and mourn their losses,” Azar said, “I and my team will defeat the few thousand
Magmalians scattered about.”
“Your team?!” Laika asked in a corrective
tone.
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