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Black Magus

What kind of realm would you choose to live in after digitizing your mind? For Amun, that was a magical world where he could be free to learn until his end of days. What he got was to become the living god of a vast realm in an odd universe. A being who'd be born with the world. And later stripped of it all. A being of juxtaposition and contradictions. A sinner and a saint. A wise sage and a genius scientist. A loving creator and a baleful explorer. An elf and a devil, living in a world of might and magic. But all is not what it seems. Peace is fleeting. Figures loom in the light. Forms strafe through the trees. And one Amun is woefully ignorant to the ways of a realm so ripe for change. Yet he is one who cannot help but change it. So he devotes himself to forming the greatest guild the Mortal Plane has ever seen, intending to change his world and others for the better. And yet, somewhere along the line of his undying march, Amun evolved into the being all denizens of the Mortal Plane either revered; or feared. The Black Magus. *** This novel’s lore, story, and characters are entirely fictitious. Certain long-standing countries, institutions, organizations, agencies, public offices, etc. are/may be mentioned, but their histories and the characters involved are wholly imaginary. *** This novel’s lore, story, and characters are entirely fictitious. Certain long-standing countries, institutions, organizations, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but their histories and the characters involved are wholly imaginary. Look for the story on RR. https://www.royalroad.com/profile/202907/fictions

Liden_Snake · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
419 Chs

Vampyre! Vampyr! Vampire!

It was a surprise to see the many Master Classes the students- my subordinates, were aiming for. Some of them were tied to their backgrounds, be they race or heritage. And a surprising number of others sought to obtain a new Class as a result of their pledges.

Unsurprisingly, most of them were aiming to be Fighters. The three Amazonian Warriors and Zarzok were among those that I fully expected to be Fighters. As were Kaolinite, Samson, and Slate; aiming to be a Duelist, Battle Master, and Champion respectively.

Also among them, however, was Winston Epeth. Aiming to be a Battle Mage like Doyle.

As per his introduction, Zarzok was all but certain of becoming an Executioner. Regardless if he would or not, his name was scribbled on the Fight Club's roster and he was sent with the others to train and duel without end.

Amethyst and the Path of the Totem. Corundum, on the Path of a different kind of Champion. Darekhil Mountainpike, Brawler. Elurial, Bruiser. Thordrohilda Diamondblade, Stone Warden. And of course, Roheisa Deapou. They were the Barbarians. All with ordinary classes, save the last of them, who had been walking towards the same Prestige Class her father had.

The Barbarians were one of the few groups to be sent outside of the grounds. Deep in the wilderness, just outside of the Cove, they were sent there to live rough and learn the ways of bushcraft before they began a nomadic journey to live like Goliaths. Forever on the hunt for the coveted Berserker's Shroom.

The first of the other groups sent elsewhere were the Druids. Composed only of Scarlett, who expected to have the same Prestige Class found throughout her family. And Mary, who hoped to receive a Master Class associated with Moonlight.

They were sent to barren lands and grassy fields that housed little life and instructed to build an ecosystem that would keep flourishing long after they left. Though it went without saying that those landscapes would become their future groves.

Naturally, the Rangers were the second group transported into the deep woods. Like the Barbarians, they too learned the art of Bushcraft. But their focus was more focused on surviving within their favored environments and spending enough time to gain a neutral, if not positive standing with the local fauna.

Still, their prospective Classes made for some interesting situations for the Rangers. Jaimess was all but obsessing over his encounter, rightfully so, and both Curious Twig and Toni wished for the same as Mary. A Class associated with Twilight and Moonlight. Only Zeke Smeal aimed for a Class recorded enough over time to be known as common. A Warden.

Duke and Rebecca, however, aimed for the striking titles of Thunder Strider and Plasma Wielder. But unfortunately, I had little idea what those were.

As for the Paladins, they were sent to the stables with the horses that we didn't have. Though that wasn't to say I had an undead or two on the prowl for some. Regardless, Carbury was there. If only because he wished to be. He had little to no knowledge of human endeavors, nor did he wish to learn. Especially about the training needed to become a Paladin.

As a result of their oaths, they were the most esoteric of all Classes. More so even than Warlocks. For a Paladin's power was the result of keeping one's word with the universe itself. Or to a god.

The simple fact of their power resulting from a conviction made each Paladin the holder of a Master Class. Even if they took the same oath.

As for the Legion's Paladins, none knew what oath they'd take just yet. Which made it all the more interesting to find out when the time came.

Such was a different story for the Rogues, Bards, and Artificers, however. Rommy, Rhody, and Edgar Lope were the three traversing the Dungeon as best they could while Ritrix Mildbluff and Willard Rowe were in the lounge. Toying with the instruments that were steadily pouring out from the industrial yard below, where Ed and the other two dwarves were researching and creating with Matthew Reid, the prospective Demolitionist.

Phelia and, surprisingly, Scarlett's Doppelganger were taken to the morgue. Alone, as the only two Witches, they were tasked with performing autopsy after autopsy on the shadow undead, held back from reconstituting for a set time.

With the vampires on the observation deck, that left Peter, Rua, and Veil of Shadows in the Temple. My next destinations, in that order. But first came the oddballs. The Warlocks, and Ash.

For Bazz, it was easy. There was nothing that would appease him and the God of War more than the recipes for nitroglycerin and dynamite, RDX, TNT, and finally Compositions B and C-4. While there were more powerful explosives out there, I was confident the information was enough to keep him occupied for at least a few decades and sent him off in the woods to go break some things with his own power in the meantime.

As for Urshure, he had flown away before I Bamfed everyone to their locales. I was confident that his brooding would pave the way for him. Though Cononthoth's words to him still piqued my interest.

Her awakening would be both interesting and informative. But that was months away. For now, my immediate focus was on Ash, the Fire Genasi. And Hogaz, the wannabe Warlock.

I told the latter to think really hard and be truly certain before he decided to make a pact, then made a promise to talk to him later. Until then, I gave him the suggestion to hang out with the undead.

As for Ash, I told him what he already knew. That only he could increase the power of his Sorcery. Still, however, I invited him to train with Caleb for now. Though he was human in life, he was a pyromancer all the same. That had to count for something.

With the administrative work complete, seconds though it took, I hurriedly Bamfed to the observation deck and Bamfed again to the dais at the center, poised atop the ceiling.

As I somewhat expected, Elijah was there. Standing in the shade of a pillar as he looked out upon the sun on its slow descent below the mortal plane.

"Only a couple of hours until dusk." He chuckled softly, seemingly to himself. "It brings joy that the nights are just as long as the days now." He turned to me, bearing a fanged smile that radiated the same warmth of the sun. "Just as bright too."

The church doors swung open at that moment. Massive and overbearing they were, yet they were pulled aside as easily as a feather being lifted from the ground. Strutting out ever so regally came Opal and Zakira, and strange sight for the latter.

"We need to tell you something." They both said. Both stepped and stomped against the wall, then lunged to turn themselves perpendicular from the ground before inverting themselves finally.

"I told you I was disowned from my family," Zakira paused to halt at my right side. "But." She paused. "I didn't tell you why."

"I figured you'd tell me whenever you were ready." I nodded. Put on my best smile.

And she smiled back. "Yes. I'm ready."

"But first," Opal stepped forward, stopping at my left. "I have to explain the different types of vampires."

"Okay." I withdrew my coveted chair from my shadow, lit a smoke, then invited the two to sit atop the armrests. "I'm listening."

"It starts eons ago, with the first of our kind. The Vampyre. With a Y and an E." Opal clarified with a sharpness in her eyes that faded suddenly. "Sange, of the Blood, was her name. A regal woman who was said to have the powers of all the Clans. In addition to darkness."

She paused. For a long moment, she paused and stared at me as if she hoped for something to be confirmed. Both then and after she continued.

"She was even immune to our weaknesses. But above all." She gestured to her and Zakira. "She is the Matron Mother of the Vampyr Clans. With a Y and no E." She clarified again. "I'm sure you've felt it? Given how… close you and Zed are."

"I have." I phlegmatically nodded. "An occasional thump in the chest. Happens no more than once a minute or so. Like a heartbeat. Slow and soft, like it struggles to live.

"Just like yours!" Zakira beamed.

"Really?" I looked down at my chest. I knew my skin was cold and I knew I only blinked consciously, but. "I never noticed."

"We are Vampyr," Opal said. "Unlike other any other undead, in the sense that we are born with beating hearts. Unlike many other creatures across the realms, in the sense that we go through a sort of, innate evolution. One started by the act of our birth and completed through a ritual. Maturing, you will. But for the undead.

"If I'm not mistaken." She gestured to her side, pointing to nowhere in particular. "Your shadows are the same."

"Somewhat." I shrugged.

"Well, either way. From birth until the age of ten, our bodies evolve and evolve further as we feed. We obtain our blood magic and lose our aversion to sunlight at the age of three, unlike lesser vampires. Though the light makes us no different than he is now." She gestured to Elijah. "Spider Climb and our Mist Form are awakened at the age of five. By eight, we are resistant to non-magical attacks. And on and on, until we reach the age of ten. When we're expected to perform the final ritual to ascend to a Vampyr Lady or Lord.

"The ritual required us to traumatize an innocent with death and destruction before draining their blood. That blood, pure and potent with hormones was to be poured into a bath of our ichor. Mixed. Then returned to our bodies."

She paused as if it would have affected the not-so-dramatic revelation. But I only blinked at the sudden intensity of the tale. "Okay." I nodded.

"I went through the process willingly. But Zakira." She gestured to her.

"I declined." She said with unerring optimism. "My parents forced me to do it anyway. But." She quickly stepped forward, her voice rising into a pitch that was… concerning to my ears. "I would've died if I didn't! So… I just felt bad it had to be that way. He was so nice. His name was Damien.

"My family kicked me out of the Clan because I wouldn't kill my first friend." She sobbed a moment later. "I had no choice but to go through the portal to Nonus. I traveled for years before I met you." She sobbed again. Tried to before I pulled her in for a hug.

"That was something I was curious about." I looked up to Opal. "Olga told us that the humans of Nonus have no idea where the portal to Vagua is. Yet you and others traveled through it."

"There's an unspoken rule there," Opal said. "Only fiends, devils, and undead should know. You're two out of three. So…"

"It's in the Darkworld," Zakira whispered into my chest. "Each of the Vaguan portals is in a different Hell. They travel between them all the time."

"Of course they are." I chuckled wryly. And of course, the portals would be at similar elevations. And more, few humans were willing to traverse the Darkworld looking for a portal that led to Hell. "Thank you for telling me."

"I went through the portal after her," Opal said. "Months after. But still, it took three years to find her. I followed her to the surface. Used the powers from our ritual to make a thrall. A vampire. With an I." She gestured to Elijah. "Though he's stronger and faster than he was while alive. He has none of our powers and is weakened in sunlight. Still, though, he is undead. We wouldn't have survived were it not for his help.

"But it was hard." She sighed heavily, and with warmth. "Eventually, though, we heard about this place. And we found you, the Sovereign of Death. A God to both the living and dead."

Zakira lifted her head at that time to center her bulbous red eyes on mine and hold her gaze for a long moment. I almost began to think she was expecting something romantic.

Until she screamed.

"I need a coffin!"

"Huh?"

"A resting place," Opal calmly said. "The only place we can sleep. Though its true purpose is for when we are… incapacitated."

"Uh-huh." I slowly nodded. "That's another thing that still remains unclear. I know there are specific conditions to killing a vampire?"

"Yes." She nodded. "A stake through the heart will paralyze us. Running water is like acid to us. Sunlight alone makes us lose our powers. We are subject to lethal damage if exposed to either.

"Magical weapons harm us too." She added. "Like anyone else, enough damage will incapacitate us. But the only way to permanently end us would be to decapitate us while we're down and burn the remains to ashes, then dump the ashes into a river."

"Jesus." I snorted. "That's a lot."

"Yes." Opal phlegmatically nodded. "Or being doused with holy water would do the trick. Although." She paused to glance at the back of her hand. "I'm not so sure if even that would work now."

Only then did she chuckle. Soft and distantly, before a significant pause spread in the time it took for her eyes to return to me. Then she startled back as if she knew not where she was.

"Anyway," Opal said. " We will remain paralyzed until the stake is removed and the sun sets. If we go down in a river, we'll remain as a skeleton until we are recovered. In either case, our mist form will be unconsciously assumed the moment it is able. Our bodies will then migrate to our coffins. Where we'll remain until we are healed enough to reawaken.

"It can be any place we chose." She glanced at her church through her peripherals. "But… we have yet to make ours."

"Very well." I nodded slowly. At first. Then faster as the cogs began to turn and the orders got sent out to my clone. "I'll make three of the best coffins you've ever seen. But." I turned to Elijah. "These two are Clerics. What will you be?"

"Well." He shrugged. "I was Knighted before I died. I can become a Paladin. The Oath of Twilight has a nice ring to it."

"Aw, man!" Zakira stomped. "Now I need a Paladin!"

"A Paladin." I puffed on my smoke a final time. Then tossed it aside. "A Vampiric Paladin. An undead."

"Uh-" Elijah chuckled nervously, unsure of the meaning behind my words. "Yes?"

"Who works for a Sovereign of Death," I muttered. But again, he needlessly affirmed my rhetoric.

"Yes?"

Though I had yet to learn how, Grandpa Lich heavily implied that I- we could teach others ritual necromancy. Yes, he wanted me to kill false necromancers. Those who stumbled upon the art, rather than they who sought the approval of a death god. Nergal, Grimm, or the Raven Queen. All presumed children of the Nox.

All gods that I had to find and 'kill' if I wanted to gain their knowledge.

Kill in the exact same meaning as when I killed Grandpa Lich before our lessons, so too would I have to fight them for their knowledge.

Corvus too.

Thus was what it meant to be a Sovereign of Death.

But with that came a privilege. With that came the knowledge of the Death Arts. Arts that extended far beyond mere Wizardry. It extended to all the classes, I was sure. And for the Fighter variant that was the Knight, there was a Subclasses that even I knew of in my past life.

"Yes. That's it," I said, turning my grinning eyes to him. Then to the others, standing at my sides.

"Your first priority is to establish a Clergy." I snorted at my misstep. Then began fishing in my pocket. "Or rather." I held up their amulets with a wide grin. "First comes your Holy Symbols. Second, comes building our theologies. Your Clergy comes third.

"As I am god. So too am I a Devil. For you, Elijah." I turned back to him. "I offer you the opportunity to remain as a Knight and serve as the bastion of my undead Legion. Not as a Death Knight, for you are already dead.

"No. That would be a waste." I held out my hand and smiled. "If you so choose. If I am able, I want to make you my first Blackguard

"A Vampiric Blackguard."

Dun dun dun! It only made sense, right? If the Legions had a living and dead side, and Amun had a holy and unholy side. He needed an antipaladin to work with his paladin. But then... does that mean he'll need... anti-priests?

This just opened up a rabbit hole. More chapters coming soon.

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