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Fathers of Power Chapter 4(P1): Paths of Ogal Hands

by AdjiFlex

Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for violence.

Fathers of Power Chapter 4: Paths of Ogal Hands (Part I)

“You…” The despise in Hilda’s voice was real, and it could not hide itself. “I thought I knew you, Viknor… You took everything from me, from Cath—”

“Refrain from uttering that name before me!” Viknor snapped, “You are filled with ignorance!”

“Ignorance?!” Hilda flared, her mana rising up about her, “The only time I was ignorant is when I thought I knew who you were! Now I will deliver the judgement that Catherina was too weak a woman to exact! Embrace death, Viknor, son of Aredes!” Zedra found herself moving back quickly as the purple burst of mana was too hot and bright for her to endure.

This woman! Azar thought, now fearing that she could have been even stronger than Viknor. Still, the Magmalian traitor took refuge somewhat in the feeling of his electric powers returning. Maybe he would not be so useless in this fight after all. The earth trembled and even the air seemed jittery as Hilda’s body of mana seemed to thicken and become enraged itself. Suddenly she lifted one hand to the air, sending a deadly glare still at Viknor.

Azar’s brows crawled together and the gears in his head turned rapidly. Something was strangely familiar about this witch that just appeared. There was a fuzzy memory at the edge of his mind that was like an annoying itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Great Summoning! Dragon Nest!” the witch ordered. Viknor clenched his teeth and his eyes widened.

So she somehow recovered her sorcery, and is using techniques of this level… Viknor thought. Azar and Zedra looked to the dark sky, or whatever it was that rested above them. They could see, even within the darkness, a heavier, denser blackness forge itself. Viknor knew exactly what it was, a portal made for summoning creatures from a much darker realm. Descending out of the darkness were tens of massive, grim-coloured beasts. Each of these things had a pair of wings and bodies far larger and heavier than those of men, thick grey and brown scales covering them. Their teeth and claws looked by far more deadly than swords. They swooped down at Azar and Viknor with killing speeds, roaring with Hilda’s rage.

“Summoning! Snake Nest!” Viknor countered quickly, lowering himself and striking the ground with his palms. Azar looked about quickly as the ground quaked and broke up all around them. The young wizard, who, by the minute, was seeing how much of a novice he had always been, looked about in fright. He saw that within the earth below was a rising darkness, like a dark portal was being forced up from below. He nearly uttered what would be a scream as he saw massive black snakes shoot out of the darkly glowing floor, extending quickly all around them to meet the beastly enemies above.

The snakes were giant, nothing at all like the snakes found in earthly jungles. Azar knew he couldn’t stand around in awe all day though. He powered up his hands brightly and sent bolts of blue current up at two of the dragons accurately. The bolts grabbed the beasts, making a bright burst of light and a loud crash, but that was about all the effect the lightning had. The dragons practically ignored the streaks of lightning and headed down for dinner. The huge snakes were giving the things a heavy fight though. The lengthy beasts wrapped themselves around the flying fiends, crushing them mightily, and missiled themselves into others, plunging them hard into the ground with unfriendly force, ravaging through them.

Some of the snakes even shot off toward the witches. Quickly, about five of the snakes were already upon them. “Niamer!” Zedra shouted, flashing mana at them, and in a red puff of mana, the snakes were made motionless. At that moment, two large purple swords appeared in Hilda’s hands. She jumped up and landed on one the snakes, running speedily down the length of the frozen beast, the swords stretched out at her sides. As one of the dragons were about to crash down into Azar, and Viknor was about to be bothered to save him, a yellowish cloud of mana appeared, and Azar disappeared! The Magmalian – by birth at least – appeared a little distance out of the heavy chaos of the beastly brawl, panting in exhaustion, but quickly recovering, a thin smoke spreading from about him. He stood still in wonder for a moment, wondering if this was Viknor’s spell, but then he fully noticed that the mana was far from the stage of being purple.

Your mana will take some time to regenerate… Oga’s words came back forcefully. He suddenly started in a mad laughter, realizing that his mana, though at the weakest of levels, was indeed being revived. Viknor realized what at happened, somewhat at least, but hadn’t the time to put much focus on that. Hilda jumped down at him from the snake nimbly. He forged swords of his own and clashed with the witch, creating a pulse of mana strong enough to fling off and even damage some of the summoned beasts.

“Listen to me, Hilda!” Viknor strained to say over the noise.


Decades ago, on a fateful, bloody day, Viknor and Catherina clashed with levels of power that was, a day before, far beyond them. The powerful witch, as soon as she got that much leeway, shifted Hilda, Quincy and Lydia far away from the Ogal mount. Quincy and Hilda were alive, but Lydia could not be saved. The more she thought of the irreversibility of her sister’s death, the more enraged she became, the more her soul tightened in anger, the more power, the more magic flowed through her being, the more she wanted to kill Viknor. With great spells, with elemental techniques and great summonings, the two clashed each other with wills to kill, wills to avenge. For hours, what were the two most powerful sorcerers alive battled to exhaustion, neither gaining enough upper hand to deliver a killing attack.

Viknor stood a few meters from Catherina, panting heavily, grabbing on to his damaged left shoulder tightly, not having enough mana left to waste on a healing spell. Catherina collapsed to her knees, then struggled to a weary stand, her purple sword helping her up. *TSSSS!* The blade of purple power turned to mist and disappeared. Dammit… Catherina hissed. The roaring mana quieted and finally vanished from about her. Viknor too lost all his magical energy.

Dammit, father… As Aredes’ presence somewhat weakened within him, his true consciousness retuned somewhat. Catherina saw, for a moment, a change in his eyes. She saw sadness in them, but that was meaningless now. No amount of that could bring her little sister back. *POOF!* Viknor vanished in a purple cloud.

“No… Come back… Viknor!!” Catherina bellowed with redly dark emotions, then fell to her face.

Viknor looked about. He didn’t even know where he was. He had shifted to some random wilderness it seemed. He collapsed to the floor, and a weighty exhaustion was forcing a sleep upon him that he couldn’t shake off. He wished real hard he would wake in his bed, and all that had happened with Catherina and his father, all this dismalness, this fighting and killing and bitter sadness, was only the most terrible nightmare he could ever dream up.

He woke in the same damp, itchy grass he fell asleep in. He cried and cursed and blew up trees and scared away the birds until it was noon. Finally, as his mind settled just a little, he collapsed again, weeping bitterly. He fixed himself in his meditative stance with a strong resolve. I’m coming for you, father… He said with the seriousness of an oath.


Bloody hell! Viknor shifted out of another of Hilda’s quick and vicious swings, appearing a few meters back, only barely having the leeway to shift back again. Her close combat skills have vastly improved. Mine has decreased if anything, Viknor realized. Hilda released her swords and they disappeared.

“Enough shifting about, you coward!” she blasted, then slammed her hands together, forming a sign made familiar to him through decades of study.


“Oga art! Shift Aversion! Black Mist!” Hilda summoned. Suddenly, a black fog spread itself throughout the whole dimension. Viknor’s eyes were still wide, his mind rattling about more and more questions.

This technique – only arcane sorcerers are able to shift through it, Viknor thought, so she has restricted even herself from shifting. It appears she plans to use her close combat prowess to her advantage fully. But this is an Ogal spell! Shouldn’t it cost her her sorcery?!

“Here I come!” Hilda said, stretching out her hands again and calling forth her massive swords, Also, mana flooded her feet and arms to boost her strength and speed. Her swords trailed behind her, the manic light from them struggling to keep up with her speed. Rocks jumped up and the earth broke beneath her as she jetted toward Viknor with a determined resolve in her eyes. Viknor’s eyes widened.


Many years ago, after what was a full day of meditation, Viknor had found himself in the realm within his soul. He looked about at the blankness. There was only a white floor there. “Father! Show yourself!” the wizard demanded. Viknor’s eyes narrowed as he saw appearing in the distance before him a sudden black cloud, which forged itself into the figure of a man he quickly recognized.

“My son,” the man greeted. Viknor stared out at the man wordlessly. He gulped. This was the only magician he never saw himself having a chance at defeating. Aredes slowly walked up to him. “I sense you have come to fight me,” he said calmly, smiling slightly, like he was proud of his son’s decision. “By the way, I did conspire to kill all of you,” Aredes made clear. Viknor’s eyes widened and his muscles became weak.


“I haven’t enough spiritual essence to possess you fully and live again,” he admitted, “but with this small manifestation of my will, I will destroy the remains of the dreaded council. The king shall see that this is my work, and even in death, I will be recognized as the one who changed Notherland and rescued it from Ogal bondage, even from beyond the grave.” Viknor could say nothing. “Oga and his children oppressed and ruled the world with their power. Once the council remains, Oga, even in death, will be a god to us. What good is it to have a god we cannot see or speak to? I am the one who will take Oga’s place!” Aredes blasted frenziedly.

“What are you saying?” the confused Viknor asked, now wondering just how ‘dead’ his father was, and just how existent, how much alive and potent Aredes’ will was.

“In the last five hundred years, the council of Oga has come under attack over a hundred times by high-level mages, a few times even arcanines. You’ve read of those occurrences, right? It wasn’t long ago I discovered why all these attacks were launched, what the true aim of these sorcerers were… I was vexed with myself for not have found this light all along.” Aredes snickered a bit.

“I found some treasure a few years ago – scrolls as ancient as earthly magic. It took me hundreds of days and nights to decrypt their messages. These scrolls, my son, were written by Oga himself, the god and father of magic. They tell of the secrets of his power, and of the very limits of seventh grade sorcery. I then learnt how weak I am when I learnt how strong Oga was. Based on what I read, I couldn’t even stand up to his youngest child. Even his grand children’s sixth-grade sorcery would be on par with my black magic. I was discouraged, but I went further deep in my research, and I ended up finding a scroll, scribed by an ancient man who studied Oga deeply.

“I saw these words, ‘The power of the magic god will never fade or whither. He who gathers the portions of his spirit will become him, and gain rights to his power’.” Aredes saw the look on Viknor’s face and knew that his son already understood. “That’s right, Viknor. Remember the ceremony that you went through before you could be called an Ogal councillor? You now bear his name, and a fraction of his spirit, and hence, one of the keys to his power.”

“So you decided to kill us all and become a god,” Viknor surmised.

“Heh. You were never a stupid child, Viknor. Oga himself is not a god, but the immortal power he was granted. The council was set up so that no one man would have that much power. The thing is, based on my understanding of these ancient writings, Oga is not dead.” Viknor’s eyes jerked wide. “He is merely in a state of sleep, and is fated to resurface any day now. I will kill all you councillors before that time, as if I wait until Oga wakes, not even I will be able to defeat him… I, my son, will become God!”

Viknor shivered as Aredes roused his power. “I had planned to kill all of you, and then, with my godlike power, bring you back to life, and we would make this world our footstool! I will be greater than Oga ever was!”

“But Catherina stopped you in your tracks.”

“That’s right. Anticipating the possibility of this, I sealed inside you this fraction of my spirit, my will to become God. After I complete my mission, I will truly live again, and as God. My will will easily be strong enough to possess you fully. I will live in your body, and you shall forever be trapped in this dimension. This is your purpose, Viknor! You will be a part of the most powerful god history will see!”

“You are mad, father! I will not allow you to use me to kill anyone else! You’ve done more than enough damage!”

“Viknor, I really want to keep you alive. If I kill you now, neither of us will exist, as my will is not yet enough to be a life source. Do not fight me, my son.” Viknor roused his power with clenched teeth.

“You are the one who will be killed!”

“I will seal this dimension away from you for now, as you insist on being troublesome,” Aredes said, and not as if he hadn’t planned on doing that all along.

Remembering vividly the look in Catherina’s eyes when Lydia was slaughtered, Viknor could no longer resist the paining urge to run off toward his father, bright swords in hand. “Save your strength, Viknor,” Aredes said calmly, and held his hand out toward his son. Suddenly, there was a nasty blackness everywhere, and Viknor had the sensation of a fast and perilous fall. He opened his eyes suddenly, panting heavily. His mana was completely recovered. *POOF!* As a shift was forced upon him by Aredes’ will, he vanished in a smoke of purple mana.

Viknor looked around quickly, his brows knit, his mind challenged. He looked up at the seven statues mounted on the holy hill a little distance away. Indeed, he was at mount Oga, where he had slaughtered Lydia. The place looked a bit different than it was before, and there was no evidence that a massive battle had arisen there just hours ago. There was no blood, and no half-dead sorcerers or corpses littered the grassy grounds. Viknor’s eyes twitched as he wondered what was going on. He noticed that the grass had grown a few inches and was much thicker.

He shivered as he felt a familiar presence. Even through the heat of an appearing mana, he felt the air turn frigid at once. He gasped. “So it is you indeed,” he heard Catherina’s voice come forth. Somehow, Viknor’s body felt immovable. He dreaded looking into her eyes probably. “Come to finish the job now, have you?” A purple cloak of mana surrounded the wizard and his eyes flashed darkly. Then, his body no longer too heavy, he turned and faced the woman. Catherina’s eyes were cold and sunken. Viknors’ were menacing.

“I’ve waited five years to kill you… This time you will not survive,” Catherina said calmly. Lydia’s face came back to her forcefully, not the nightmarish face that Viknor had painted on her, not that face that had tormented her for years and forced upon her a maddening insomnia. Instead, Catherina remembered the girlish laughter of her little sister. In her was no longer a flaming anger, but a cold, hardened fixation, a resolve. Since Lydia’s death, Catherina had not smiled even once. This feeling of finally being before the man she needed to kill was the closest she had been to happiness since then.

Five years? The wizard became puzzled at this. Because of how inept he was at the technique he used to enter his soul realm, the little time he spent in there amounted to five years in the outside world. Catherina would not allow him the chance to stand and figure things out though.

“This time your death is sure,” she said. “Elemental summoning! Ice sword! Lightning rod!” the witch commanded. At that, in bursts of purple mana, a sword the exact colour of the moon appeared in her right hand. It breathed an icy mist that resembled the chilliness in her eyes, in her soul. A rod of a meter’s length appeared in her left hand, made of a metal far heavier and far stronger than steel, a unique metal rare as zarium that made nothing else. White-blue sparks swarmed the rod as she held it in its middle. Before Catherina, only arcane sorcerers were able to perform elemental summonings, and not very many of these seventh-grade sorcerers either. Two swords of mana appeared in Viknor’s hands, but were they powerful enough to clash Catherina’s weapons?

So she has learned new techniques… Well of course… five years did pass after all… Still, I sense a gap between our mana pools. I will certainly outlast her, Viknor told himself.

Catherina knew she could not idle. She wasn’t an elementalist naturally, so wielding these elemental weapons would eat her mana like hungry fire on dry hay, even without her using high level techniques with them. Without hesitation, Catherina pointed the rod at Viknor. There was a sharp clashing sound, then the sound of a million tweeting birds as lightning shot off toward the wizard. *POOF!* In a cloud of purple, Viknor shifted out of the streak’s path, and it savaged through a piece of grassy, mounted ground viciously and loudly. Viknor appeared a little behind Catherina, stooping a little to jet off toward her with his swords of mana. Without turning around, Catherina jammed the ice sword into the ground. Almost as fast as the lightning had moved, ice slithered along the ground and grabbed Viknor’s feet. *POOF!* He managed to disappear before he was frozen solid. He released his swords as he reappeared, making them dematerialize.

“Anam Resal!” He commanded, holding both hands out toward the witch. There was a bright purple beam. It shot off toward Catherina at a pace close to mana’s top speed. Viknor squinted at the blinding explosion. What?! He looked up quickly. Coming down at him was an army of lightning bolts, stretching down from Catherina’s rod. He held a hand up. “Anam Garadan!” Viknor activated, and a purple shield ensphered him. *CRAZZ!* There was a deafening bang and blinding explosion as the lightning struck the shield of high-grade mana. If bystanders were there, then there would have been a mass electrocution. As the shield tried its best to repel the cords of lightning, streaks of current flashed off in every direction from the purple sphere. Catherina’s head felt a little light. Her mana was already being dented after only a few seconds of using these weapons. Suddenly, Viknor’s shield crashed like glass and he uttered a cry of pain as lightning grabbed and shook him. The attack ended that second though, as Catherina could not press on.

She looked down at the wizard who struggled to stand, sharp blue lights buzzing about him. Catherina could see her victory quite vividly. Faint purple wings gently dithered on her back. She looked like a goddess. Viknor slammed both hands on the ground and hissed. “Summoning! Snake Nest!” Viknor commanded, and from a black portal that sat on the ground around him, massive black snakes sprouted up at the witch in the air.

“Pathetic!” Catherina mocked, sending strings of lightning down toward the approaching snakes. Unable to dodge the swift bright strings, the snakes were consumed by electricity which descended on Viknor quickly. *POOF!* The lightning dug up the earth as Viknor barely escaped in a shift. Viknor raised a hand up at Catherina. He got no chance to attack, though. A beam of glistening ice energy came down at him. He jumped back. The ice energy hit the earth gracefully and began to cover the ground. Viknor took a few more backward leaps, but the ice was spreading out faster than he could move back. He made another backward leap, trying to avoid shifting around too much. He looked up again as he heard a violent rustle approaching. More lightning was coming down at him. As he landed, his palms slammed the ground.

“Metal Art! Argron Defense!” Viknor commanded. The earth shook a little as a dome of iron rose out of the ground around him and covered him. The lightning banged against it, destroying the thin surface of ice that tried to cover it.

“You’re finished!” Catherina declared. She released the elemental weapons and they disappeared. She held her right hand down to Viknor, bracing on the back of it with her left palm. “Anam Resal Repus!” She shouted, and a flurry of intense, blinding mana beamed down to consume Viknor. As it struck and consumed the shield of pure iron, there was a beautiful pulse of mana and the earth trembled. Waves of purple force cleared the ice and grass off the entire mountainside.

Catherina lowered her hand, a solemn look on her face. She panted lightly as the chaotic brightness cleared. “Wh—What?” she stuttered to herself, seeing a rich darkness revealing itself as the light dispersed and thinned. Viknor’s eyes were completely black. Black mana, the power of arcane sorcerers, revolved about him as he was a few feet off the ground. He looked up emotionlessly at Catherina. “This… This is impossible…” Catherina marvelled.

Viknor… the wizard heard a slithering voice in his head. Refrain from fighting against my will. Your stubbornness is weakening us. I am wasting precious mana in trying to subdue your consciousness

It seems the least I can do for now is to suppress you… Viknor answered in thought. He felt a panging pain in his head as his father, or the little of his existence within Viknor, became irate.

Boy! He heard his father’s voice in his head, the shout triggering another waving headache. Viknor felt his consciousness slip even further from him.

Catherina’s eyes widened as she saw two massive hands of black mana swiftly extend themselves from the sphere of darkness like hungry snakes, each finger long as a sword. Because of how much mana the elemental weapons stole from her, she knew she didn’t have many shifts left in her. She made a swift burst of flight, avoiding one of the hands that grabbed at her. She flew upwards, evading the other, a finger nearly scraping one of her wings. Several more of the giant shadowy hands extended themselves from the sphere of black mana. With desperate spaceshifting and attacks that were meaningless to manifestations of black magic, Catherina felt her mana reaching dangerous levels. *SLAM!!* One of the hands bashed her with a nasty force. Another connected into her before she could feel the pain of the first. The ground tore apart as she sunk into the hard soil, barely conscious enough to groan. *POOF!* The massive hands turned to black mist, and Viknor vanished in a cloud of black mana, reappearing just before the floored witch. “Are you ready to die, little girl?” Catherina heard the man ask. The darkness in his eyes disappeared though, and there was no black mana surrounded him. He heard Catherina titter lowly, even in her state of pain and perceptible defeat. She couldn’t even move. Viknor’s eyes looked curious now. He looked down at her. Catherina spat the drooling blood from her mouth, and it looked like she was trying to stand.

She slowly moved her right arm. After seconds, she grabbed her left wrist tightly. “If you are not strong enough… to maintain seventh grade magic…” Catherina struggled to say, a cunning look on her face, “then you cannot win against us… I wanted to defeat you by myself… but I won’t let my foolish pride give you an escape…”

Viknor wondered. He saw Catherina grip her wrist. “Councillors… Assemble!” She commanded.

“What?!”There was the sound of spaceshifting and multiple clouds of redness appeared in a wide circle about the witch and wizard. Viknor spun and scanned. He was surrounded by six sorcerers, each of them clothed in red mana. They were all young, but that didn’t matter – they were fifth grade sorcerers, and were trained by Catherina, the woman who was now the leader of the Ogal council. Present there were Quincy, Oromaru, Claybourne, Jadena, Elissa, and Hawthorne, a prodigy of a teenager Catherina had discovered only months before.


Hilda would not give Viknor a listening ear. With mighty swords and the skills of swordsmen, the two battled each other, each clash of their magical swords creating a pulse of mana that flung itself across the air. Zedra held out her hand and a red shield covered her as Azar sent, from one of the buzzing swords he was wielding, a streak of electricity. The bolt pushed Zedra and her shield back a few meters. Alright, this tactic should at least hold her off until my mana becomes more useful; I can feel it climbing through the second grade already. Azar was somewhat satisfied. He found that using his swords to channel and control his electric powers was far easier, and it somehow conserved his energy quite efficiently. Fortunately, the handles of his swords were made of some kind of metal, making the conduction pretty effortless. He didn’t give Zedra enough time to cast her spells. He rushed up to her continually and engaged in sword fighting, in which he was far superior to her, and by the time she managed to get some distance between, Azar’s lightning power would be recovered and ready to strike. The impossibility of spaceshifting was certainly in Azar’s favour.

Viknor jumped back again, Hilda’s swords slicing across his chest. His wound healed even before he landed and skated back, but of course, this constant healing of his wounds was costing him quite a bit of mana. He couldn’t believe how fast Hilda was already upon him. Dammit! Seems I will need that sword, Viknor realized. “Hilda, won’t you listen to me for a second?!” the man pled. But the witch only rushed at him more fiercely, swinging to clean his head off. The man ducked, saving his head. As soon as the blade of mana swung over his head, burning his hair, he took a forceful backward jump. Viknor hissed at the thought of going for that blade. No, he told himself.

“Adamic Attack! Stone Fury!” Viknor commanded. The earth around him tore apart as massive boulders rose about him and shot off toward the witch. Charging toward him, Hilda sliced and diced the incoming boulders easily, dodging the rest. They didn’t even slow her down it seemed. She assaulted quickly as she reached. Viknor held his own with his own swords, and managed even to land a hefty kick on his enemy, the mana about his foot enhancing his power. Hilda flew back and landed almost gracefully. She released her swords, looking frustrated. “Anam Resal!” she attacked, sending a massive beam of deadly purple mana at Viknor. Dodging wasn’t an option, as Azar might have been in the beam’s path somewhere behind him. “Emas!” Viknor shouted, replicating the woman’s attack. A similar beam rushed out from his hands. The place shook with a blinding light as the two forces of magic clashed.


Viknor’s eyes met Quincy’s quickly. Viknor… The no longer boyish sorcerer, as he saw Viknor, remembered that horrid day. He saw Viknor slice through his sister’s neck more clearly than his memory had ever shown him. He clenched the flaming red sword that had just appeared in his right hand. “Murderer… You dare show your face on this holy mount again…” Quincy said. Viknor said nothing. Quincy’s face was fixed, his will to kill Viknor as strong as Catherina’s, maybe even stronger. He was useless in the last fight against this wizard, and that would push him even more to do all he could to kill this horrible warlock who took his little sis’ life.

Indeed five years have passed… So this is the new council. Viknor hissed. I probably shouldn’t have wasted so much mana on this witch…

“This man, my council,” Catherina said, “is Viknor, son of Aredes…” There were gasps, and their bodies of mana were roused as Catherina said this. Besides Quincy, none of Catherina’s underlings had seen Viknor before. They had heard much of him though.

So this man is Viknor… Hawthorne thought with a frozen face and a fluttering heart. This man… defeated even Lady Catherina… He defeated the entire council by himself… The more she recalled what she learned of Viknor from her classes and from Catherina, the more nervous she became, the weaker she realized herself to be before such a man.

Still coughing up blood, Catherina brought herself up to stand. *POOF!* In a shift, her brother appeared at her side, glaring at Viknor. “Go get some rest, sister,” Quincy said, “I will lead the attack here and ensure that our sister, Lord Thimius and Lady Hilda are rightly avenged.” Catherina wanted to rebut, but she knew well enough that she had no energy left.

“Hands of Oga!” Catherina said. Viknor’s arms were folded as he stood smugly. “Make a barrier and prevent his escape! I will return in a moment. Fight defensively until I return!”

“Understood!” the councillors answered promptly, summoning their weapons.

“Quincy, protect them and yourself till I return. I will use my potions to force my mana to recover so I won’t be long.” Before Quincy could nod his sister off, she disappeared with the last of her mana.

“Shall we begin then?” Viknor asked coolly. Quincy shifted back into his barrier position; now the councilors were equally spaced in surrounding the enemy. “Ogal Barrier!” the council uttered, holding their arms out at their sides. Suddenly, curving cords of red mana were extended from their hands, forming a circle that connected the six of them. The circle evolved into a half sphere of red light. Viknor stood observing as the councillors channeled their energies into the barrier until it took on a purple tint. Finally, it had become a black, translucent spherical wall. Together, these six had performed an arcane technique. Viknor was impressed.

The sphere then expanded beyond them and then morphed itself into a massive cube that spanned a cubic half mile. The councilors lowered their hands and summoned their weapons again, all but Quincy panting in tiredness. “Finally,” Viknor said to himself, “I will assemble the keys to the power of Oga.” Viknor snickered. The councilors had erected a barrier that restricted shifting to its outside. Once they did not get the chance to pull the barrier down, none of them could make an escape. Alright. I will finish these six before Catherina reappears.

“Attack!” Quincy ordered, rushing toward Viknor.

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1272 Reviews

Points: 89625
Reviews: 1272

Sun Jul 27, 2014 10:01 pm
Rosendorn wrote a review...

Hello again.

Haven't read previous parts between the opening scene and this. Going off what I'm reading here.

Firstly, your adverb use. It's liberal and almost overbearing, with your descriptions full to the brim of -ly words that could be replaced with stronger descriptions. While the odd adverb is necessary, prose gets purple in a hurry when you rely on them. I haven't actually found many descriptions that lack adverbs, but those that do (such as the mana rising) are much stronger.

Also, avoid "suddenly." If you have to say it's sudden, you have lost all impact of the action being sudden.

Magic infodumps about the new portal in the middle of a fight scene are a fast way to kill pace. When there is a fight scene, people are interested in reading a fight scene, not a detailed description of what sort of monsters could potentially make their way through it depending on power levels. Why should we care about what could appear? I want to know what's happening right now and what monsters will show up right now.

You could frame this information differently, with his mind racing about how they could be facing this creature, or that creature. This is different from what you have now because it would be filtering it through the character and getting his emotions for it. Right now, you have what is akin to a textbook description and those are not interesting to read.

My previous comments about the dialogue being overly formal because that's what fantasy settings do is still valid. If that's your style, that's your style, but I would seriously question the social structure behind such formal wording.

Hope this helps. Let me know if you have any questions or comments.


AdjiFlex says...

Thanks for yet another review. As for the formality, well most of the characters here are higher-ups/nobles so they don't have very down-to-earth speech habits.

Fair enough! Anything can work so long as there's a reason for it.

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200 Reviews

Points: 240
Reviews: 200

Wed Jul 09, 2014 7:04 am
EmeraldEyes wrote a review...


So I am still reading this REALLY LONG and REALLY HEAVY work. Hee hee. Because it's been written so well you make me want to keep reading. This is a prime example of what I mean, I think:

Remembering vividly the look in Catherina’s eyes when Lydia was slaughtered, Viknor could no longer resist the paining urge to run off toward his father, bright swords in hand.
You've mixed the characters and their relationships and the events altogether as ONE, BIG, plot ball. XD *giggles* It's very seamless the way it all flows, you could actually believe it exists.

Let's just say I can see why you got published:

Hilda would not give Viknor a listening ear. With mighty swords and the skills of swordsmen, the two battled each other, each clash of their magical swords creating a pulse of mana that flung itself across the air.
Mister Fancy Language. Throughout all these words you manage to maintain a voice that is entirely your own and stays true to the predicament of the characters.
Well done.

Keep writing!

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
— T.S. Eliot