Chapter 8: I meet my skeletal roommate
Lightning: “You and I are going to have some fun”
The abrupt departure left Rafael feeling a sudden drain in his energy. As if the very essence of his being had been temporarily borrowed. His eyelids grew heavy, knees wobbled, and standing became an insurmountable task. A descent into unconsciousness followed, and the last images before the void consumed him were the stern countenance of an old man who had become something of a guardian.
Gorion: “We've got to do something about you collapsing over and over again. Rest well, for now, little one.”
Awakening in sheer darkness, Rafael was momentarily disoriented. His surroundings seemed devoid of any familiar comfort, lacking the soft embrace of a mattress or the reassuring warmth of a blanket. Instead, he found himself immersed in an icy chill, staring into a vast void that stirred an unsettling sense of insignificance. In this disconcerting space, a sinister laugh echoed.
Rafael: “Who’s there?”
The answer manifested immediately—an 'X' structure with a hooded figure suspended from it. The 'X,' though simple, towered at least ten feet, shackling the hooded man whose skeletal hands and feet hinted at a grotesque, otherworldly nature. The chains, originating from a colossal Christian cross at his chest, seemed to burn his skeletal form. Rafael felt a twinge of pity, but the sinister laugh and an aura of malevolence shattered any sympathy.
Rafael: “Who… who are you?”
Despite attempting a brave front, Rafael's voice betrayed the tremor of fear.
Hood: “Who am I? I am the spawn of your evil, of your ignorance. I am the bane of all existence”
Rafael: “What do you want from me?”
Hood: “Your life, of course. But first, I am here to warn you. Surrender yourself willingly, and I promise I will minimize your suffering. Fight me, and your pain shall be legendary.”
Backing away, Rafael encountered an invisible barrier, trapping him in proximity to this malevolent apparition.
Hood: “You think you have the power to dominate me? I will crush your spirit, kill your friends, reap your soul, and then reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”
The figure strained against chains glowing red-hot until subsiding. Maniacal laughter reverberated, and Rafael found himself plummeting through the darkness.
Hood: “Soon, I will be free”
Cold sweat clung to Rafael as he awoke, clutching his blanket. The shadow world held an unsettling barrage of nightmares, each encounter leaving him questioning the true nature of magic. Sleep's embrace seemed laden with ominous foreboding. Despite the weariness from his elemental endeavors, the prospect of returning to the realm of dreams filled him with reluctance.
Opting for an exploration of Gorion's abode—a mansion with secrets concealed within its vast expanse—Rafael marveled at the artifacts safeguarded by the enigmatic protector. The magical community's trust in Gorion resonated through the grandeur of the mansion.
Approaching the wall bearing the narrative of his destiny, Rafael anticipated further revelations. The wall, an arcane storyteller, promptly illustrated a battle of grand proportions.
The image unfolded—Rafael, aged and empowered, standing atop a chariot pulled by dragons. His attire exuded a blend of authority and mystique. A skeletal hand replaced one of his own, wielding a formidable scythe. Opposite him, a colossal centaur, King Ponytus, loomed. The scene hinted at a destined clash; a confrontation etched in the fabric of Rafael's fate.
Rafael: "Interesting. Not my first weapon of choice"
Rafael mused, studying the reins connected to six dragons. One of them, a dragon he had encountered during the salamander hunt, stirred a deep connection within him.
The adversary, King Ponytus, epitomized brute strength, a towering figure with a menacing lance and an air of recognition in his eyes. Rafael sensed a familiarity, as if this confrontation had been scripted in the folds of his past or foretold in his dreams.
Gorion: “So, we are back here? It’s tempting to discover the most important quest of your life now, isn’t it?”
Rafael: “Gorion, the wall is right about me. I am looking at a battle with my arch-enemy. I know it. I can feel it. I have seen him in my dreams. I know who he is.”
Gorion: “Oh, and who might that be then?”
Rafael: "King Ponytus, the king of the kingdom of white bricks.”
Gorion's expression wavered between wanting to say something and choosing silence.
Gorion: “Destiny is a tricky thing, young one. Come, let us begin the next phase of your training.”
As Rafael followed Gorion into the training room, he couldn't shake the weight of impending revelations and the clash awaiting him. The mystique surrounding his destiny deepened, and the familiarity with King Ponytus invoked an inexplicable mix of fear and determination.
Seated in the center of the room, Rafael awaited Gorion's guidance into the final phase of his training, marked by a profound initiation into the art of battle.
Rafael: “Last phase? Didn’t you say my training was going to take two years? Hardly a couple of months must have passed?”
Gorion: “Yes, two years is the average time, but people do get over early.”
Rafael: “Oh, that’s cool. What is the last phase?”
Gorion: “The last phase is the longest and the toughest of them all.”
Rafael: “Obviously.”
Gorion: “Battle training.”
Rafael: “Battle? Is this about the wall of quests or whatever its name was?”
The echo of destiny resonated within Rafael as Gorion began to unravel the complexities of the final phase—battle training. The anticipation of conflict, coupled with the enigmatic wall of quests, added layers of intricacy to Rafael's journey, a journey that seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the threads of fate.
Gorion: “No, young one, you must learn how to fight, to defend Alexandria if the need ever needed be, but more so to protect yourself from attacks. You will be targeted for your powers, and you must learn how to be able to defend yourself if you ever wish to return to the mortal world.”
The weight of Gorion's words settled on Rafael like an unspoken truth, unveiling a dimension of his newfound existence he had not fully considered. Gorion, the sagacious mentor, had earlier elucidated that possessing a functional aura center was akin to carrying a nuclear reactor within one's chest—a beacon attracting power-hungry individuals and creatures from across realms. Rafael, though initially unnerved, nodded, urging Gorion to continue his tutelage.
Gorion: “Do as I do.”
Gorion extended his right hand, joining his index and middle fingers while forming a fist with the others. Rafael mirrored the gesture.
A dense, concentrated energy emanated from Gorion's fingers, coalescing into a sharp point resembling a spearhead. Rafael, despite some initial struggle, managed to replicate the creation of a similar pink-hued spear shaft.
Gorion: “This is your creating tool and also the most basic of your weapons. This is called Aura Crusher.”
Rafael absorbed the lesson, nodding as Gorion continued his demonstration.
Gorion: “When facing an enemy, just pierce their aura center with this and inject them with your energy. Easy to use, always around, and 100% fatal.”
The gravity of the information sunk in as Rafael absorbed the implications of wielding such a potent weapon.
Gorion: “Now, hold out your left hand.”
As both practitioners extended their left hands, columns of energy surged upward. Gorion's expertise guided Rafael in freezing the energy flow, creating a frozen column. The next lesson unfolded as Gorion instructed Rafael to mold a sword from the frozen column.
Gorion: “Now, Rafael, your crusher is meant to negate energy. Use it like a surgeon’s scalpel and cut away the extra energy. Use the tool to carve out a sword from the column you just created.”
Rafael delved into the task, sculpting a simple blade that, while slightly off-balance, exuded a sense of accomplishment.
Gorion: “Now grab the handle of your sword and turn it to the right, and cut off the energy supply immediately.”
Following Gorion's instructions, Rafael dissipated the aura crusher and twisted the sword's handle to sever the energy connection. The blade pulsated before settling into a faint glow. Examining his creation, Rafael noticed a peculiar symbol inscribed at the bottom of the handle—a unique mark known as the rune of binding, his personal signature.
Gorion: “That symbol is your seal, the rune of binding. It is different for everyone. It is your signature. Now you don’t have to focus to keep your weapon from disintegrating. Any distraction in a fight can be the difference between victory and defeat, life and death. We mages don’t buy our weapons generally. Most of the time, we create them, and every weapon that you will forge will have your seal.”
Questions fueled Rafael’s curiosity, prompting Gorion to delve into the significance of sealed weapons.
Gorion: “Of course, there are those mages, that prefer not to mark their weapons with their seal, those weapons are then utilized for assassinations or murders, and then there are those people who find the process of crafting their own weapons quite tedious and bothersome, or some who simply lack the skill or creativity to create your weapons and they then seek the help of our blacksmiths”
Rafael: “But what about unsealed weapons? Don’t they have any disadvantage”
Gorion: “Of course, they do, unsealed weapons are always at a risk of disintegrating amidst fight, an unsealed weapon is used in combat only in two conditions, when the difference between the two combatants is so vast, that the stronger one do not bother to seal his weapon, and second, when his control over his magic is so phenomenal that he doesn’t fear its disintegration during the fight. Sealed weapons will never disintegrate, they can be destroyed or broken of course like any other weapon, but they won’t disintegrate. Sealed weapons will also come to you when you call, even after you drop it and will disintegrate only when you will it”
Rafael: “That’s cool”
Gorion: “Yes, now stand up”
Rafael rose, brandishing his newly formed sword while Gorion wielded his mace.
Gorion: “You can either keep it in the form of a weapon made of magical energy or convert it into a metallic weapon—that’s up to you. It will not change the fact that the weapon you’re holding would be a magical weapon, and it will not change its strength.”
Rafael: “I think I prefer it this way.”
Gorion: “Alright then, fight.”
The sudden transition from instruction to combat caught Rafael off guard. Gorion, moving with a speed defying his age, launched a relentless assault. Rafael, forced into a defensive stance, narrowly evaded the mace's deadly swings.
Rafael: “Are you out of your mind, you crazy old man?”
Gorion paid no heed to Rafael's protests, intensifying the onslaught with an unwavering purpose.
Gorion: “Fight! Fight as if I am going to kill you. Every fight that you are going to have, make sure you aim for the kill. In this world, every fight is fought like a life and death match, even in training or a friendly fight. So, always fight to protect your life, and always attack to take your opponent’s. This is the only mantra for magical battles.”
Rafael, initially stumbling through defensive maneuvers, gradually evolved. Dodging transformed into parrying, and soon, he initiated counterattacks. The rhythmic dance of combat unfolded as Gorion continued to push him, emphasizing the gravity of every move.
The abrupt conclusion came when Gorion deftly hooked the mace into the hilt of Rafael’s sword, sending it soaring. A swift blow to Rafael’s chest brought him to the ground.
Gorion: “I am leaving for now, but I am leaving 10 automatons for you to practice. They will activate themselves in 3 days. In a month, if you couldn’t destroy them all, they will kill you. Fight well.”
Rafael: “Hey, wait a minute….”
As Gorion departed, leaving Rafael on the training floor, questions lingered. The reality of imminent challenges and the ominous threat of automatons awaiting activation hung in the air.
