〚 Story by: AyyyZelos 〛

Prologue [01] :

The oppressive sound of his heart thumping in his own chest, desperately trying to tear open its cage and gallop away was all he could hear. Boom... Boom... BOOM!

The deafening thunder interrupting his thoughts offered no respite as the lightning it brought illuminated the surroundings, showing the path to a cave in the side of Mount Eklon.

He trotted over to the cave while pacing himself and couldn't help but think how he got here. He was unlucky enough to have the enchantment on his ice-sickle start to wear off in the midst of a battle, but as if fate laughed directly in his face he came across not 1, not 2 but 3 pyro charged monsters.

The Golaires Mountain Range, known to all as an icy tundra and the home of snow academy's frost wyvern breeding grounds was housing creatures of the pyro element.

If anyone had heard this they would look at him as if he'd grown 2 talking heads on his chest.

Ludicrous.

Absolutely bizarre. The beasts in question weren't even harmed by his ice-sickle even though it was of an opposing element and instead started munching on it as if it was some sort of sweet delight.

That may have been due to the fact that he was not a mancer yet. But how could he be? After all, he'd only been in possession of the cryo artifact for a measly 2 days. Even the greatest of genius' needed at least thrice that long to undergo sensus.

If he had already awakened he would be as strong as 10 men all by his lonesome!

The power of a mancer...

A dream many hope to attain, for if you aren't of noble birth it's up to your luck to find an artifact and awaken mancy.

Becoming a mancer would turn his life on its head. People would look up to him. He'd be able to move out of his small town and into the big city to make some real money. Other mancers wouldn't look upon him as if he was a pile of sh*t they stepped in.

For mancers are higher life forms. They are stronger, faster, live longer, and can manipulate the elements to do their bidding.

Gods that walk upon the very same earth he did.

Snapping out of his reverie he brought his attention to the glowing, icy blue weapon before him. The flickering of its iridescent sheen revealing the instability of its enchantment before it settled down.

A smile adorned his face. His luck hadn't run out yet; if he was doubting it after all the inopportune circumstances he had stumbled across on his way home from the Rekhairel Dungeon he now was thankful that he at least still had his artifact.

That was right.

It finally settled in.

It was his... HIS!

He would become a mancer! A mighty entity capable of destroying mountains and causing storms with a swipe of his hands!

A low giggle escaped his lips before gradually increasing into a partially mad cacophony that reverberated throughout the cave. Rebounding off of the rocky walls of the cavern, amplifying the eruption of fervent joy that he experienced.

However, in the contemplation of his future conquests, he failed to notice what was approaching him.

A dull sound of a pair of feet shuffling towards him from the deeper ends of the cavern.

As the blade was sheathed away; hidden by a dirty rag to stop its glow from exposing his position to any monsters.

Shrouded in darkness, melding with the midnight gloom he was cloaked in the shadows. No one could see him. The thought granting him relief and a sense of safety.

Overlooking the fact that his little outburst may have just cost him his life.

As he was lost in his thoughts he noticed a faint smell of iron emanating from the vicinity.

He disregarded it, deducing it was coming from his weapon...

He was wrong.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch.

The sound of feet upon the gravel that lined the floor of the cave entrance came to his attention.

'Footsteps' he thought, realising a bipedal creature was near him, not a monster.

But that didn't alleviate his distress, beings such as humans and elves may not be mindless monsters who attack all in their sight but they were plagued with a much more threatening risk, greed.

The greed of man would cause them to betray each other for small gains, and when such a valuable treasure such as an artifact was at stake no one but himself was trustworthy.

He had to exercise the utmost caution.

"Who's there!" his wavering voice showing his nervousness.

Brr.

The sound of gurgling was all that could be heard...

"I'm warning you, step back!" he warned, his voice now much firmer than before.

He unsheathed his curved blade, the glow emanating from it illuminating the surrounding area within a metres radius.

Brr.

Again it came, only serving to set him on edge. His calm visage abandoned as he was visibly shaking in his boots.

Who was he kidding? He was a mere bandit, not a warrior. All his marks so far had willingly given up their coin from the mere sight of a weapon. His delusions of grandeur were merely a dream.

What was he to do now? Turn tail and run? No that won't do, this person had already seen his artifact and had to die.

Yes. They had to die so that he could live. Live to become a mancer. To become a king. To become a god.

Suddenly a figure appeared in his peripheral vision just at the edge of his radius of light.

An injured human?

The injured being may have been covered by a black cloak but he was limping towards the man, he was also clearly covered in blood, most of it it's own.

The man took the time to observe the being in front of him and was shocked.

No one should be moving with those injuries, pieces of flesh torn out form his left shoulder and right forearm. Exposed ribs on his left side. Slit open cheeks in the likeness of a large grin reaching from ear to ear, presenting an unimpeded glimpse of all of its teeth.

Last but not least, an injury that should instantly kill any living being monster or not. A slit throat. Dripping in blood with little bubbles emerging every now and then from the laceration brought by the gurgling sounds the being made.

Brr.

Yet, the horrifying being trodded onwards. Slowly growing closer and closer to the man, its eyes still veiled by its hood.

Whoosh.

A mighty gust of wind entered through the cave's mouth, tossing around the gravel from the floor and creating a screen of dust obscuring the man's vision and pushing back the horrific being's hood.

2 glowing red eyes with black sclera glimmered in the dust screen, they shined with such intensity, such hunger...

A zombie.

The man now knew how the monster was still walking with those injuries, it was an undead.

The eyes were a telltale sign of a fallen cadaver animated by necromancy, these beings aren't hindered by mortal wounds as their body is controlled by mana to act like a puppet.

The man, in his terror, only hoped that it was a natural undead and not a raised minion of some necromancer. If that was the case he would have no chance of living to see another day.

Everyone knows how fearsome mancers can be if you get on their bad sides.

As the zombie got closer to him he turned around and bolted. Now that it wasn't an actual person he didn't have to worry about having his treasured possession stolen.

But as if his bad luck came back to haunt him, or maybe in a bout of clumsiness, he tripped onto the floor spraining his ankle in the process.

'Oh my days!' this couldn't get any worse. Facing a zombie with impaired movement abilities.

Zombies generally weren't seen as a threat by mancers and as such were left to rot, but to regular people they were deadly. Of course, not if you could run away... In that case, their monstrous physical strength would be of no use.

However, movement impaired and down on his luck, the man prepared himself for combat against the vile fiend.

He got up to his feet and waved about is arms dispersing the dust and giving him a clear vision of the zombie.

It had 3 holes in its forehead and protruding veins around its evil eyes, as well as a bunch of short stubbly facial hair. A round black piercing in one of its ears and a chain necklace as accessories. One of its most distinctive features is a black tattoo of a long eastern dragon on the left side of its chest.

He raised his ice-sickle above his head, with a clear lack of experience in handling the weapon, and brought it down upon the zombie. Not fully committing to the blow to always have a plan of retreat.

He struck the zombie on its face, cutting downwards and leaving a vertical wound on its left eye. However, due to the lack of force behind the strike the damage done wasn't much, leaving only a shallow cut.

Backing off he cursed himself for not committing to an attack as he could have ended the battle there and then.

The zombie lunged at him, flailing its arms and baring its teeth with its jaw stretched unnaturally wide.

Keeping himself calm the man sidestepped the zombies' mad charge and stuck the sickle in the side of its head. Grabbing the handle with more strength he twisted and turned it around trying to destroy the brain.

But to no avail, the sickle was cemented into the zombies head and dragged out of his grasp by the still charging zombie.

As it turned around its mad crimson eyes burned with unholy fury, striking terror into the man's heart paralysing him in fear. Tears streaming down from his eyes as he fell to the ground backed up against a wall.

'I don't want to die. I still have so much to live fo-' the man's thoughts were cut short by a guttural gurgle from the zombie.

It once more bared its unnaturally wide maw and clamped down around the man's head, fitting it entirely into its mouth, biting his throat and ripping his head clean off of his shoulders...