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Chapter 61 Consolidation arc VI
🕑 Added 2025-10-10 06:57:32 +0000 UTCPdf and Epub versions below.
Horned Earth Serpents. Beasts that do not fall under the Calamity category only because they are not unique. This does not make them less of a threat, even if their well-documented weaknesses allow for more reliable extermination.
Think of a worm. A worm so large it could swallow horses whole, then imagine it is horned like a bull. Imagine it glides through rock and stone using instinctive earth magic, and simultaneously has a hide capable of resisting magical attack.
A hide thick enough crossbow bolts accomplish nothing. Enough strength to tear down castle walls. Direct spells accomplish nearly nothing, though indirect magic performs as expected. They are dangerous, they are known, and you will face them in battle.
Good luck, Archmage. Don’t embarrass us by dying.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Vistus slapped Bilal’s thieving hand away, pouring himself another cup of wine as Felid pouted. Vistus didn’t feel even a drop of pity, particularly since the demon had already drunk four bottles.
Pina, at least, was behaving herself. His apprentice was going over her footwork with Brogus, the Brute simultaneously patient and strict, while Clarissa was trying to shape her fire-made hands into the claws of a bird.
Peace. Vistus liked peace. It gave him time to indulge in hobbies, which these days was mostly painting, and there was a marked decrease in screaming. He had long gotten used to the sound, of course, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
So there he sat, drinking wine and ignoring Bilal’s suggestions for his work. The long-abandoned windmill should have corpses hanging from the rafters, apparently, and no painting was complete without a lake of blood.
Demons, honestly.
Brogus paused from where he was instructing Pina, and Vistus looked away. Slapped Bilal’s hand again as his wine was targeted by sticky fingers, not bothering to scowl at his friend.
No, there was work to do now. Marcus was back from his detour, riding Xathar with more ease than most—Venim warhorses were not known for their cooperation—, and with two women at his side. His wife was, as usual, dressed for war. Armed, armored and suspicious, though at least her hand wasn’t on her sword this time.
On the other side was Vess, and Vistus had to admire her skill. From a relative no one to an Archmage's closest advisor, and all that with one of the least restrictive contracts he’d seen in a long while.
The trio made a striking image. A little young, which subtracted slightly from their intimidation factor, but even so. Not bad. A visibly unarmed man dressed casually, riding a demon and accompanied by another, alongside a woman who all but screamed ‘danger’.
Anyone with basic intelligence could infer the unarmed man was the most dangerous of the trio, and anyone who couldn't wasn’t even remotely a threat to begin with. Very nice indeed.
Hells, it even worked on his own people. Well, mostly on Pina. The poor thing was still convinced Marcus was going to cut her head off because of their fight during the war.
…Vistus was at least ninety percent sure he wouldn't. Not because Marcus was just that nice, the man could be brutally efficient at times, but more because he knew Marcus assumed Pina was protected. Sheltered under the aegis of another Archmage.
Which she was against all but, well, another Archmage. Because humanity couldn't afford one, or even both, of them dying. Games within games within games, and it reminded him why he’d never sought more official power within the Empire.
“Archmage,” Marcus greeted, slowing his mount and petting it after dismounting. A fondness for animals, Vistus had noticed that before, which was good. It helped with mental stability. “I assume it was you that warned the Academy of Ethereal Arts I was coming?”
Vistus shrugged. “It seemed only right to forewarn them. Did you get what you were looking for?”
“I did not, but I appreciate it all the same. I might have insulted the Headmaster.”
Elly rolled her eyes. “He’s a fool if he holds your length of stay against you. Act decisively, act confidently, and half the world will bow to your will. The other half tends to fall in line once you beat them over the head with a sword.”
“Quite,” Vistus agreed, having to suppress a slight straining of his tone. That was certainly one way to look at power, but he didn’t know if he wanted a spatial Archmage getting any ideas. Catching Marcus once he’d gotten a full grasp on his power would be… challenging. “Now, I suggest we continue. Your army is up ahead, and quite frankly, I have other places to be. Introducing you to the dungeon is important, but so is actually fighting against it.”
Marcus hummed. “Of course. Does anyone object to teleportation? I hear some can find it disorientating.”
None of his people protested, so Vistus shrugged. Felt a small surge of power come from the young Archmage, a relatively simple spatial matrix weaving together before his eyes, and then… And then.
How to describe it? Vistus supposed this is what others saw when he disintegrated matter. When he turned one object into another, playing with the building blocks of creation as easily as breathing.
The spatial matrix started out simple, a fifth tier spell clearly designed for efficiency above all else, and then it deepened. Twisted as Marcus’ will seeped into it, growing almost impossible to follow even for someone like himself.
Power was fed into the matrix, held steady for a long few seconds as his people scrambled for their equipment, and then they were somewhere else. Nine hundred feet away, by Vistus’ estimation, and perhaps a hundred in elevation.
Then it happened again, and again, and the landscape started blurring in front of his eyes. The Mirranian army was some hours away, but Vistus estimated it wouldn't take them more than a quarter of that. An estimate that shrunk substantially once their party got a scenic—and brief—view from atop a hill, skipping nearly five thousand feet at once.
Vistus suppressed a mild feeling of nausea, a small grin taking over his face. This. This was why he wanted another Archmage. Even if this was the limit of Marcus’ ability, which Vistus doubted, they had a rapid response team now. Someone who could arrive at any inevitable disaster in moments, bringing men and material with him before leaving again.
Forty one minutes. The decay of his own body gave him time down to the second, and it took just over forty one minutes to make a journey of four hours.
And those forty one minutes included the ten minute break for Marcus to catch his breath.
It was an unpleasant mode of travel, the several miserable guards and mages were a testament to that, but oh yes. Yes. This is what the Empire needed. What it couldn't buy, make or grow. Rapid transport. Quick movement. Mobility.
The world was full of dangers, and half the problem was that no one actually wanted to fight them. The sea was full of monsters? Let it. The Dungeon was so vast and hard to traverse any invasion became impossible? Skip it.
With Marcus, the people that were needed for a crisis could be there in hours instead of weeks. Legions could move across the continent, food could be shipped where it needed to go without spoilage, and isolated communities could be properly protected.
It was the future. It was a chance, and all because-
Someone was looking at him. Marcus had stepped to his side, and Vistus was glad he’d long mastered a calm demeanor even when he was anything but calm. Especially when he was anything but calm. “I had a question.”
“I’d be happy to answer.”
Marcus snorted, for some reason. Eh. Probably not important. “Why doesn’t the Empire use demons to rapidly move information across the continent? Have one mage station to the north, the other south, create a schedule and poof. Near instant communication, or at least daily.”
“Because they’re demons.” Vistus shrugged at his raised eyebrow. “You’ve been lucky. Xathar and Vess seem like good souls to befriend, though I can speak more certainly about the former than the latter. Demons, as a rule, aren’t. We can’t give them paper to take with them, can’t trust them not to lie, so that leaves… nothing.”
“Use elementals, then.”
Vistus hummed. “Whatever solution you’ve thought about has already been tried. And it is used, but not frequently. Not across the whole Empire. Because you’d need a being happy to spend all their time memorizing information, be good at it, then trust it not to act against the Empire's interests. That removes the vast, vast majority of them. What few remain we do employ, but without being able to scale it up its effectiveness is limited.”
“Not even one for every Legion? There are a lot of creatures across the planes.”
“Say we do that. One summon per Legion, acting on direct orders of the Empire’s High Command. A central authority. One, we’d be handing our entire military over to anyone curious enough to go looking for the beings we use. Two, High Command has only a second-hand view of what is happening, and can’t decide quickly. Three… Well, those are the main points. It's enough to make it undesirable at best and stupid at worst.”
“So you’d rather have slower communication but no vulnerability. No offense, but that doesn’t make much sense. The Empire is, by far, the strongest entity around. Maybe the strongest in the world, now that Parna has fallen to the undead. I will confess some ignorance on the other two continents.”
Vistus snorted. “I’d be very surprised if you knew about those. To grossly summarize, there are four. Us and Parna you know about. Both human dominated, though Parna was long considered the more stable. Terra is where the Dwarfs live. Lived. No one is quite sure, and what few expeditions we sent there vanished. All we really have is a scrap of paper with the word ‘cursed’.”
“They retreated underground?”
“That’s our best guess,” Vistus agreed. “If they’re alive at all, that is. The last is Trakka. Home of the dragons, we think. It's shrouded in thick fog, thick fog with winged shapes seen moving throughout. It used to be where the Elves came from, but no one we sent has ever gotten too close. If there are dragons, they don’t ever leave. In short, should the Dungeon overwhelm us, there is nowhere to run.”
A note of interest entered Marcus’ tone. “Are there still Elves there today?”
“Good to know that that’s what you’re focusing on, but yes, as far as we know. None cross the sea. But back to your point; yes. We might be the strongest unified power left on our planet. But we are only that because of the Dungeon, and the key word here is our planet. Demon Kings have both the power and numbers to invade, should they wish to. Other societies of beings we scarcely know about could too. The main danger to the Empire, ignoring the Dungeon for a moment, doesn’t come from this plane of existence. It comes from all the others.”
“I haven’t heard of a demonic invasion.”
Vistus tilted his head. “There have been three. None managed to spread. The demon's greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. If one King invades, bargaining with his rivals is child's play. There is always, always, another demon that wants them dead, and most care very little about our slice of existence.”
“And where do we rank against a Demon King?”
Marcus sounded curious. Faintly worried, but mostly just interested. Vistus hummed. “I could remove them from existence without too much issue. The Empress can hijack their senses, make them fight imaginary opponents. Your spatial arcs would do some damage, but then you’re young. Soon enough you’ll figure out something that no one else is able to do, and then you’ll find yourself ranking very highly indeed.”
Nothing. No expression, no tell, just a nod. Hiding something, then. Probably something to do with his powers. Vistus wasn’t going to pry. He was pretty sure the man would just seal off Mirrania if pushed too far, and with the Dungeon break imminent it wasn’t like they could punish that.
Give him a year, maybe two, and it would be… inefficient to conquer the place. To make an example of another Archmage, which luckily they’d only needed to do once or twice before. Showing them the Dungeon usually worked.
Ah, but it was time for that, wasn’t it? He was needed for his own projects, places the Sect of Wisdrog predicted the most dangerous Calamities would appear. Vistus didn’t like to brag, but he was one of the most dangerous people on the continent.
Marcus had his teleportation, the Empress had her illusions, even Horzo was doing impressive things with his cloth. But him? He was annihilation. The removal of matter, no matter the source. Some exceptions applied, but overall?
If he wanted it gone, it would be gone.
He also wanted to test Marcus’ endurance. How long could he teleport small groups for? How quickly did he regain strength, and how willing was he to push his limits?
It was a good distance to the Dungeon, but from here the land would be flat. Clear of trees and large obstructions. The Legions would be out in force, and their own actions combined with frequent and destructive fighting meant most of the land closest to the Dungeon was barren.
The Mirranian army would be securing part of the north-eastern border, one that was actually startlingly close to their own Kingdom. There was a massive mountain range in the way, which enveloped their nation almost entirely, but if one could fly, it would only take a day to enter their territory.
Vistus waited as the Queen relayed orders for her people, apparently coming with them, and inspected their guards to pass the time. A good combination of raw power and mobility, from what his senses were telling him. Mages and Life Enhanced soldiers, the latter of which being far above what the Empire could produce.
Life Enhancement was somewhat looked down upon, unfortunately. A societal flaw he was more than happy to correct, but then it wasn’t public knowledge that the Great Houses opposed it. Most simply never thought about the possibility of power existing outside of magic, and considered their own influence more important than some ‘minor’ benefit.
Foolishness, which was a word he didn’t use lightly. Thankfully he was interrupted before he could sink too deeply into his schemes, which was for the best. Those tended to be treasonous or wildly idealistic, either of which usually got him in trouble.
Vistus braced as spatial magic was weaved, and weathered the nausea better this time. Which is to say there was none, leaving him open to inspect the technique. Best to find ways to oppose it here and now, should the worse come to pass.
He could do much, but being teleported many hundreds of feet into the air would stretch even his ability to survive.
The land blurred past. Hastily evacuated farms, at first, before becoming no man’s land. Some old military structures the Legions had built, some recent and some crumbling, along more than a few swarms of Hounds.
None did more than screech in their direction, Marcus’ specialty ensuring they were past any danger long before it could reach them. More land, craters from past battles, and even a number of fresh corpses, human and monster both.
Never that many, though. Marcus paused his teleportation as they arrived fairly close to an Imperial advance scouting company, some seventy men surrounded by a hundred times that in placid undead. A horde of them, though not one of their bigger ones.
The Dungeon saw fit to supply them with a nearly limitless number of corpses, after all. Some were harvested, used for weapons and armor and more, but most? Especially Hounds? Not worth the effort. So necromancers collected them in vast hordes, which were useful for all manner of things.
Vistus glanced back at the others, and noted how stiff their Queen was. How some of the older Life Enhanced soldiers had their hands on their weapons, even if the mages seemed relatively relaxed.
Marcus had one hand on the Queen’s shoulder, whispering what Vistus guessed were soothing platitudes in her ear. He declined to listen in, silently waiting for them to get their bearings.
The undead would be rather startling for her, he’d known that. But those were far from the undead of her homeland, which even the most power hungry nobles hadn't suggested they try to bring over.
A self-growing, magically resistant horde of undead would be very useful in their war against the Dungeon. It would also be essentially impossible to contain, which had been thoroughly demonstrated when they wiped out the entirety of Parna.
The Queen relaxed after some minutes, though moving more stiffly than before. Fair enough. Vistus was far from the kind of person to tell her to ‘get over it’, and she seemed willing to accept their presence. Not happy about it, but willing.
Vistus hummed lightly, the necromancers and their horde moving further away, and disintegrated a trio of Burrowers some thirty feet down. Marcus glanced his way at the use of magic, Vistus offering a shrug, and the Archmage went back to mentally supporting his wife without investigating further.
He had a feeling those two would go far.
Teleportation resumed, Vistus caught snippets between the pair about Mirrania finally switching to the Imperial Ducat and all the implications therein, and he himself spent the time going over ways to stall the Empress.
When Izzolma read her Vizier’s report on Marcus’ teleportation abilities, she was going to want to bind him closer to the Imperial throne. And one of the most successful ways the Empire had done that in the past was through marriage, a strategy that Vistus felt was going to backfire rather spectacularly.
Mostly because the Queen seemed quite attached to her Archmage, and would likely violently stab anyone trying to steal him away. Which was perfectly understandable for political reasons, her people needing at least a few generations to not be considered outsiders and her removal from power greatly complicating their future, but she also just seemed to like the man.
Vistus suppressed a smile, all but feeling his black heart grow fonder. He was old, dammit, and it was perfectly understandable for old people to feel wishful at the sight of young love.
Complicated love, by all reports, but he had a nose for this kind of thing. And those two were going to stumble their way into happiness, the lucky bastards.
He turned back towards their destination, the Dungeon rapidly growing closer as they skipped forwards thousands and thousands of feet every jump, and rolled his shoulder.
Those ‘lucky bastards’ were going to need a world to inherit, and it was his duty as an old man to ensure they had one.
Time to properly introduce the Last Archmage to the Dungeon.
Comments
LordVis
It was a brief contender, but yeah, Archmage anywhere near a title is pretty generic. Which isn't necessarily bad, but then warcrowned sprung at me, and I liked that one way more.
JoBer
Last Archmage would have been a nice titel too, though more generic But Warcrowned is definitely better
