Lugdunum: The Iceborn Encounter

AUTHOR POV.

As the four of them looked back at the city of Lugdunum, each lost in their own thoughts, a shared sense of unease bound them. The city had been a miserable place, reeking of filth and desperation.

Everywhere they turned, the poor huddled on the streets, begging for a handful of bronze coins, their faces hollow, their eyes lifeless. Only a few areas of the city seemed remotely cared for, heavily guarded by soldiers, but even those districts felt soulless.

Lugdunum was not alive—it was a city on the brink of collapse, yearning for change yet paralyzed by its own corruption.

Cedro's words lingered in their minds, like an echo they couldn't escape.

"So, that man caught the Akkadian attention…"

The thought gnawed at them. Why had the headquarters sent them on this long, winding road with no clear mission, no explanation? The journey had been arduous, and the lack of direction weighed heavily on them. But the presence of the jinn's dead body, sealed within the sphere-shaped pocket they carried, hinted at something far more dangerous.

Was this their mission, they wondered? The first task laid before them—unknown, unspoken, but all the more real for it?

And who was this man, Cedro? Why had he caught the kingdom's eye? They had only been given a description and a rough sketch of his face, a face they now knew well. An internationally wanted criminal, perhaps. A man who laughed at the idea yet seemed haunted by the role he'd played.

They left behind the troubled waters of the White Sea, entering the vast, eerie expanse of the Still Ocean. The sea's name rang true—no waves disturbed its surface, and no wind stirred the sails. But their ship, driven not by the mercy of nature but by the brute force of mechanical slaves below deck, continued forward.

Two large rotary wings churned slowly, moving the vessel forward, but the stillness weighed heavy upon them all.

Days passed in the quiet and then came the disturbance—a small boat nearing them, its banners marking it as part of the Royal Marines of Albion.

The four remained calm, not even flinching as the boat approached. Twenty golden coins, more money than most children would ever carry, served as their bribe. The captain of their ship, his unease palpable, took the coins but did not dare question who these children truly were.

The air around them was thick with danger, enough to keep him locked in his cabin as the marines made their way aboard. Something was wrong, and he knew it. Never before had they been stopped by Albion's marines. Never before had they been questioned.

The commander of the marine vessel and two soldiers climbed aboard, their boots heavy on the deck's planks. They glanced around, confused by the stillness of the ship.

Even at night, there should have been life—a crew awake, perhaps sharing drinks or manning their posts. But now, nothing stirred. The eerie silence swallowed the soldiers whole, and before they could even process the strangeness, a loud crack split the air. 

The two soldiers flanking their commander crumpled to the deck, lifeless, their bodies hitting the wood with dull thuds. The commander's head twisted unnaturally, rotating a full hundred and eighty degrees, his neck snapping with brutal precision.

Ursang stood over him, the look in his eyes devoid of mercy, his hand still lingering on the man's shattered neck.

Meanwhile, Speira and Yacha moved like shadows, slipping silently into the water. They approached the small marine boat unnoticed, cutting down everyone aboard with ruthless efficiency.

The ocean was their ally, and as they sank the vessel, they made sure to collect the bodies. One by one, the corpses disappeared into the black crystal sphere—an artifact designed for the dead, able to store up to twenty bodies at once. A tool is only given to those sent on missions of death.

Back on their ship, they waited, the quiet once again settling around them as the Still Ocean swallowed the scene of carnage. Days passed, and finally, they reached Goidi.

The moment they arrived, Eline turned her attention to the greedy captain who had betrayed them. Her magic was swift, merciless.

Water swirled around his head, forming tight bubbles that cut off his breath. He clawed at the invisible force suffocating him, eyes wide in panic, but the gods were waiting for him, and soon he crumpled to the ground, dead.

Eline retrieved their gold, her expression cold and unforgiving.

"That man had no shame, selling the albions out," Speira muttered, kicking the lifeless body with disgust.

Without a word, she evaporated the water, using her advanced technique, the air sizzling with the release of her magic.

The heat lingered, heavy with anger.

"Humans…" Yacha's voice was distant as if his thoughts had taken him elsewhere.

His eyes were cold, locked on the captain's corpse. "Greed is one of our worst enemies."

The dead man's twisted form seemed to stir something in Yacha, a tension that had been building inside him. His face contorted briefly as if he were battling something within.

The unease was clear—this was not just another mission to him. Ursang, standing at a distance, noticed the change. He said nothing, but the observation did not go unnoticed. He knew Yacha too well.

For the first time, we donned the special suits—sleek, full-body uniforms in dark blue, lined with strips of pure black. Each suit was crafted uniquely for us, with armor plates strategically placed to protect our hands, forearms, and chest. Smaller, more flexible plates covered our backs, all bearing the Orionis symbol at the center of the chest and on our gloves.

The suits were designed for stealth, with masks that concealed everything but our eyes, and gloves that left only the tips of our fingers exposed. We looked like shadows in motion as we moved, silent and deadly.

Without a word, we leaped into the cold water, swimming toward a cliff far from the shore—an extra precaution in case Albion's army was waiting for us at the coastline.

The water was freezing, but the suits protected us, their fabric a perfect barrier against the chill. 

Reaching the base of the cliff, we began our climb. The stone was rough and jagged, but we scaled it with ease.

Once at the top, I pulled out the map from the bracelet pocket—what looked like a mere scrap of paper but was an artifact. With a touch, I zoomed in, locating our position and the distance to Skara Brae village. We huddled together for a brief moment, planning our next steps, then moved swiftly toward the forest, seeking its shelter to avoid any Albion soldiers who might be patrolling the area.

We were on the run now, fugitives in a foreign land.

Hours passed as we trekked deeper into the woods. The trees grew taller and denser, their shadows twisting and shifting with every step. From time to time, we encountered strange creatures—animals and monsters we had only read about in books.

They posed little threat, easily avoided or dispatched, but they served as a reminder that this land was as dangerous as it was unknown.

Suddenly, the air thickened, turning cold, and a wave of freezing mist swept through the trees. Something was wrong. Ice spears, sharp and deadly, shot toward us from the shadows. We scattered, dodging them just in time.

Then, silence fell. A deep, unsettling quiet, the kind that warned of something far worse to come.

The magic beast emerged from the dense trees, towering over them with its hulking, snow-white body. Its claws were like polished iron, gleaming menacingly in the pale light. At the center of its forehead, a massive blue horn stood out, shimmering like a frozen lake, radiating an icy aura. Its breath was visible in the frigid air, each exhale chilling the ground beneath it. The red glow in its eyes promised violence, and it wasted no time in charging toward the four, its speed frightening for its size.

AUTHOR POV.

Yacha reacted first, lunging forward with his spear crackling in fire and thunder.

He swung with full force, aiming for the creature's horn, hoping to sever it and weaken its magical abilities. But the spear only grazed the horn, sending a flurry of icy shards into the air. The beast roared, swinging its massive claws at him.

Yacha barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side just in time as the claws crashed into the earth, sending a spray of snow and dirt in every direction.

"Too strong!" Yacha shouted, leaping back to regroup with the others.

Ursang stepped in next, his thick double-edged sword glowing faintly with earth magic. With a guttural cry, he swung at the creature's leg, aiming to cripple it. The blade met the beast's hide, but instead of cutting through, it barely left a scratch.

The beast swiped at Ursang, catching him with a glancing blow that sent him flying back, crashing into the snow.

Eline quickly raised her sword, water magic swirling around her. She conjured sharp tendrils of water, aiming to immobilize the creature. The water coiled around its legs, freezing solid, but the beast's icy aura shattered the ice effortlessly, breaking free with a mighty shake of its body.

Eline staggered backward, her hands trembling as she struggled to maintain control of her magic against the creature's overwhelming ice attribute.

"Speira!" she called out, desperation in her voice.

Speira dashed forward, her twin short swords flashing in her hands. Wind magic surged around her, boosting her speed to a blur. She darted in and out, slicing at the creature's sides with lightning-quick strikes, but each blow barely pierced its thick fur.

She circled it, hoping to find a weak spot, but the beast's hide was like armor, impervious to their attacks.

The creature let out another roar, and the temperature dropped even further. Spears of ice formed in the air around it, shooting toward them in a deadly barrage.

Yacha deflected one with his spear, the impact numbing his arms, while Ursang smashed another with his sword, the sheer force staggering him.

"We can't keep this up!" Eline shouted, her voice strained as she deflected more ice spears with water shields. "We're not hurting it!"

"Then we'll have to try something else," Ursang grunted, struggling to stand, his legs wobbling from the earlier hit.

The four of them quickly regrouped, standing shoulder to shoulder, each battered and breathing heavily. Yacha looked at Ursang, then at the girls. "We hit it together. All at once."