In the next moment, Ner found himself in the middle of a street filled with a crowd of people. Panic engulfed the city like flames. The wave of destruction that claimed countless lives affected only a third of the city. A flood of twisted beings that were once human crushed everything they could get their hands on. They were driven by rage. The survivors were obsessed with fear. They abandoned everything that was dear to them, saving themselves and their families.
A fierce battle did not bring results. The detachment made a mistake with the source and the price for this turned out to be prohibitive. When the first building collapsed, no one could have imagined that the miasma escaping to freedom would create such a calamity. For several more days, they tried to contain it’s spread, but in vain.
Ner stood on the box and pointed the way to the crowd, waiting for the creatures to come to delay them.
It was then that he heard the fatal words. The most terrible thing he had ever seen in all the years of his new life.
- “We have no choice! If they are not stopped, then we will lose not only this city! I call it…”
" HUNGER " - a single word explode.
Ner tried to scream, but he couldn't utter a word. The body refused to move. All he could do was watch the black liquid flowing through the streets. It’s touched the creatures that had run from the alley. Human shapes emerged from the liquid, their dark hands reaching for the flesh, grasping it. The first creature squealed heart-rendingly as it was broken with a thud. It fell on its back, slowly sinking into the abyss. They couldn't resist the cursed power. Helplessly floundering, trying to escape, following the instinct of self-preservation.
Another scream was heard. The woman stumbled and fell to the pavement. Only a drop of liquid fell on her skin, but that was the end. The silhouettes grabbed her, black teeth closing around her neck, silencing her forever.
The wave moved faster than humans, faster than monsters. And in a matter of minutes, the city was empty. Not a trace of blood, not a single hair was left on the ground.
Only empty buildings. And the endless crackle of raging fires.
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Ner jerked from the chair, smashing it into small pieces, which frightened the young magician. The boy fell on his ass and covered his face with his hands.
- “Sorry…” – Ner said and held out his hand to the guy.
- “M…M… Mister hero, the teleportation circle is ready” – the mage stuttered. For a few seconds he hesitated whether to accept help, but in the end he overcame his fear and grabbed his muscular hand - "Please, follow me, sir."
As his guide led him through the intricate corridors of the tower, which were a complex labyrinth that could be defended for many months, Ner thought about dreams.
“Disgusting. Damn, another nightmare. Again and again. How long have I not slept peacefully? The potions don't help, the herbs collected by Zwei don't help either. I need to find a way or I'll go fucking crazy. If there was one dream, I would still have survived, but they always go in pairs. Damn it all…”
They walked up the portal tower. The true treasure of this world. A lot of reagents collected from all over the world, insanely rare, dangerous, mysterious - everything was collected here. The art of creating portals is a thing of the distant past. Safely transferring something alive was next to impossible. The mighty minds of past eras spent many years of their lives to stabilize the spell, and with countless catalysts, they succeeded. There were ten such places in the world. After all, the main requirement for creating such a miracle was far from funds and money. It was the ability to protect the tower and magicians from any enemy. The city was supposed to be an impregnable fortress, the safest place on earth.
This made the journey of the heroes more difficult, because the closer you are to the border of the safe world, the less teleports are available there. Ner ran for several days, at a speed not even horses could reach. No breaks, no rest, no sleep.
The last one he missed the least. It's been ten years since he started having nightmares at night. The hardy body could go without sleep for many years, but his mind was closer to a man than to an omnipotent creature. Once every few days, he had to go to bed. He usually looked for a secluded place where there was no risk of hurting someone when he woke up. Only Zwei remained with him at such moments, imperceptibly following behind a tired friend.
They entered a huge hall. In the middle of a perfectly flat floor, a circle was drawn. None of the lines were interrupted, being covered with many small protective barriers. The marble floor was laid out so skillfully that the naked eye could not see even the widest joint of the plates. Not far from the entrance stood an old man, leaning on a gnarled stick. He loudly issued commands to a group of old men who seemed not so ancient.
- “Palos! You've been here for forty years and still can't fix the focus crystal? Kolgar, thunder upon you, if you drop the koruz dust, I will send you to change the chamber pots! Sept, you yourself will go to the chamber pot! Help me Gordrynael, you are all more useless than my grandmother, and she has been dead for three hundred years, but the urn with ashes still props up the doors! Idlers, crooked-armed idiots!” - He turned around, cracking his joints and noticed the hero - "Everything is ready! Get in the center of the circle. And you, move faster! I will die before we finish this ritual!”
San Borem, led this tower for one hundred and twenty-two years, promising to die every day for fifty. Had he left this place, death would have taken his worn-out body, but the energy of this place, connected with his soul, made it possible to delay the inevitable death, so awaited by an endless line of potential receivers.
The magicians lined up in a circle and began to cast a spell. The old man's hand slipped from the wide sleeve of his robe, flashing a row of rings encrusted with tidal stones. Light broke from the rings, rushing towards the circle, reviving the old drawing. The catalytic converters began to emit a sound that was beautiful on its own, but merged into an eerie cacophony. The mages' voices could hardly break through the noise. A pillar of light enveloped Ner, his body lost weight and began to slowly rise up until the rays converged on him. A moment later, he was gone. The wave of released magic raised a cloud of dust.
San Borem cleared his throat and screamed.
- "What the heck? Who was supposed to clean up here this week? I will personally whip you for that damn cloud.”
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Ner crashed to the floor, being in another part of the world.
“Fucking magicians, if I have the ability to regenerate, it doesn’t mean that I can be thrown from such a height.” He got up and moved towards the magician, who was ready to make a welcoming speech, as was always the case, use him or other heroes to use the services this damn company.
He was stormy for several minutes, dizziness after teleportation was one of the top ten most common side effects, according to the Mages Guild Weekly. In other words, it was far from the worst manifestation, because the eleventh number, underestimated and hidden, was an uncontrollable diarrhea.
The capital of Heim welcomed him with open arms. The largest city of this world, it was teeming with people and other creatures who were looking for a better life here, flocking from all continents. Here you could meet anyone, find anything. Become rich one day, lose everything the next.
High society, and the most fallen souls in the world. Everything gathered here, mixed up, distorted and formed the heart of the state.
Ner hated this city. Too noisy, too fast.
But he was here on business and had no intention of staying, even for an extra minute.
He descended a long staircase, immediately caught in the maelstrom of the crowd, and headed for the most vile district, where the scum lived.
