1 Chapter 1: Ascendence of the Hollow Tower

Chapter 1: Ascendence of the Hollow Tower

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The Hollow Tower on the Eastern side of the Magic Knight Academy rose, undaunted and unconquered, out of the ruins of the Ritualist's College. The sole Testament of their folly and pride. In the skyline, the Tower was one of the only fixtures remaining. Within the tower was found the Hollow, named for the impossible world contained within. A world of monsters and ancient forgotten magic.

A world unreachable…

The wind swept dirt and leaves across the courtyard, swirling over and over again as it spread across a countryside devoid of life. Devoid except for the crows with a third eye in the center of their heads called "Gloomers". They had become the guardians of this plane, watching over the ruined world. Their piercing cry was a weakness to the winged demons who roamed the world freely since the tower's Ascendence.

The Ascendence of the Hollow Tower had left much of the old world destroyed. Mansions that held great families and ancient lines lay destroyed. Their ancestral homes half fallen in, the foundations teetering on a bed of neglect and rot with roofs that angled oddly unsupported by fallen beams and posts. The sounds of doors that opening and closing on dry creaking hinges echoing far and wide as Fallen beings born on the wings of the wind scattered across the countryside.

On the Western front of the Academy grounds in the remnants of an old borough that had been reserved for Magic Knights of distinction who died in service to the Empire, were the survivors. As a sacred monument, the borough had been heavily enchanted and had been changed into a fortress the survivors called Bastion. Like a light in the dark, it provided a beacon of hope for the Remnants of Humanity. The only place safe in all the world. Protected by the ancient magic that watched over the honored dead. A magic that was athame for ghouls, skeletons, and the other undead that roamed the lifeless streets of cities and villages. The magic a shield for the remaining against the hordes of monsters that plagued the world.

Near Bastian on a slightly raised hill were the shattered remains of the great hall of the Magic Knight Academy. The Remnants had hoped that in time, the order would flourish again, and that the Cadets of the Academy would learn enough to lead the fight to reclaim the cleanse the Academy grounds, seal off the Tower, and slowly regain the world. A single controlled bridge had been raised over Shield that let the surviving Cadets and Masters test their mettle.

It had been over ten years since every changed. When battle broke out on the grounds of the Magic Knight Academy and spilled out into the rest of the world when the Master's of the Ritualist College had accidently summoned the Hollow from whichever Otherworld it hailed from. Amidst the charred embers of the Ritualist's College, monstrous beings came forth, skeletons, imps, and ghouls rushing out into the courtyard, slaying many of the unwary and unprepared while many of the Masters were away and the majority of the Magic Knights deployed.

The nearby town of Homestead fell quickly before their assigned garrison could be summoned back from the field. Limbs and life were torn and taken as monstrous beasts spread misery in all directions without mercy. Death roamed the countryside and the people had nothing with which to fight, the Cadets of the Academy were forced to take shelter in the enchanted Burrough. They were unable to render aid or warning, while the main branches of the Magic Knight Corps were caught unaware of what was coming.

A plague of undeath spread like wildfire. Exhausted half-dead scouts for neighboring communities warned the armies of the Emperor and his Magic Knights, but those who could be mustered in short order were quickly overwhelmed. Their dead bodies rising to join the horde. King Matthias was cast down from his throne, his neck torn out by a demon commander as he fought alongside his Kingsguard while his only heir, Marcus, was secreted away on Arcane paths back to the Academy. With the exception of Marcus, the entire Royal Family was wiped out. An almost extinguished bloodline.

Many times, the Remnant attempted to go forth from Bastian, seeking answers, and supplies. Old masters and soldiers, survivors all. They brought forth every manner of magic they could wield, summoning soldiers of iron and stone, impervious to the curse of undead. All the elements were brought to battle as the war waged. All for naught so long as the Hollow Tower stood, an anchor for monsters to enter the world.

Tristan Valdanes was a young Cadet when the Hollow Ascended. Like many of the young nobles sent to the Academy, he learned about the intricacies of of magic, mastering the elements and working to master the various school associated with it. From the onset, it was obvious that he would wield powerful Magic Knight, a veritable prodigy who lacked the discipline to make the most of it. Tristan had an uncommon gift, the conjuration of weapons, their power directly linked to the power of his magic.

On the day the Hollow Ascended, Tristan had been an upperclassman in his 7th and last year. He held the Cadet rank of Lieutenant. Just like the other Cadets, he had watched in horror as friends and people he had known all of his life were attacked, unaware of the monsters that emerged from the Hollow. Just as he watched when the Magic Knights finally arrived many days later to try and lay siege to the Academy grounds and raze the tower. The days slipped into nights, and a full six days later, the sounds of battle had stopped entirely. When the dust settled, none of the Magic Knights nor the soldiers underneath them, remained alive. The courtyard was awash in blood and gore as the ranks of the undead swelled. It was difficult for the survivors in Bastion to see the former Magic Knights walking the earth with no memories of their former lives, only the desire to consume the living.

As for the cadets, they turned away from the horror and hardened themselves with purpose as they fortified their spells and their positions, using magic to scry for survivors and teleport those who they could. It would be weeks before another battle was attempted as pockets of humanity were discovered by monsters and consumed. The single holdout was Bastian, and so long as the enchantment held, the monsters gave them a wide berth. Protected as they were by the watching Gloomers, the shield, and the ancient spirits of long dead Knights.

On one of the bloodiest days of battle that followed, when the Cadets fought their way towards the Arcane Vault of the Academy, the tide seemed to turn with the use of a legendary artifact called "The Fist of Turning". The armies of the undead disappeared from the courtyard and dispersed into the country. They were gone completely and in their absence, people begin to emerge from their hiding places, and in that moment, Marcus as the heir apparent of the Emperor gave the order and a beacon was lit, a beacon that attracted all the survivors for miles.

Master Jacobs was one of those survivors, he along with a few of his peers whom had sought refuge in the collapse of the local Inn, making good use of the salted meats and mead stock. The last of the Magic Knights. They had found the Great Hall destroyed. Much of the building had been torn to bits as if claw and nail had dug out rock and stone piece by piece. The small parts of the building that were still standing seemed like they would fall at any time. Though Masters Jacobs and his group were injured and bruised, the pain they felt was nothing compared to the pain of learning their home had destroyed and many of those they had been charged with protecting were dead.

At the sight of the carnage, Master Jacobs fell to the earth and bitterly wept.

"The survivors have built a fortress in the old borough called Bastion." One of the dark winged crows cawed from the top of the crooked ramparts. Master Jacobs sped off at the news, heading towards the beacon with his companions. When they got closer, Master Jacobs saw a thin almost impossible to see film had come over the area surrounding the borough. He climbed up and over a stone pillar to get a better look when attempting to scry inside failed, from his viewpoint he saw survivors moving around in what had become a palisade as translucent spirts of long dead Magic Knights kept watch over the effects.

"Tristan Valdanes," Master Jacobs called immediately seeing the upper-class Cadet.

"Tristan Valdanes, thank gods you're alive" he called again, despair showing on his face as he tried to get the Cadet's attention, but more than despair was a seed of hope as a plan began to form in his mind.

"Over here Master Jacobs." Tristan answered as he reached out a hand, pulling the older man through the shield and beckoning him forward toward relative safety. With a nod, the others went ahead as Master Jacobs embraced Tristan in a hug, happy the boy and a few of the others were alive. Happier still that the Legacy of the Magic Knights had kept them safe. Master Jacobs whispered a few words in the old language, words that Tristan had never heard before and a white sigil appeared on the back of his hand. The meaning of it wasn't immediately known, all that Master Jacobs would say about it was "For your protection."

In the days that followed, they all contemplated the future, their limits and how to overcome them. They strugged knowing they had been unable to defend their homes, their kingdom, or even their families, and the Grey Tower on the other side of the Academy grounds stood, and though the undead had dispersed, no one forgot from whence the monsters had originally come.

Following the ruinion, Master Jacobs spoke very infrequently, choosing to stay locked in his own world. His mind turned towards grand plans for survival. Most nights he could be hearing frantically pacing on the wall, while on other days his curses and bitter laments interrupted their newfound routine.

Time flew by, and of the monsters, little could be found. A few brave parties vented out of Bastion, but none of those who went, ever returned, save for one excursion into the Hollow itself where Master Jacobs was able to save a lone survivor who had gone mad, raving about worlds within worlds. In time, Marcus assumed his role as King while the surviving Masters did their best to assist. But the burrow was no kingdom, and all of them knew one day the monsters would return.

One morning, as he sat in a small enclosed space in medication, Master Jacobs sent for young Tristan. His eyes watching the door, waiting patiently in a meditative stance for the young man to enter.

In his mid-twenties, Tristan cut an impressive figure, having come into his own power. Already ahead and a half above the others, he had been granted the nickname Firebrand for his head of red hair and the Fire sword technique he had mastered. Tristan's jawline would become even more pronounced with time. His skin was a tan brown. His long legs spoke of a growth spurt yet to come and the carriage of the man spoke of the future already foretold. He would bear the weight of the people on his lanky shoulders and walk a mile but not even the master could tell how much he would have to carry.

The thought had kept the master up for many nights, the contemplation of the heavy burden he was going to place on those young shoulders. But time was quickly running out, and the sigil he had placed upon the boy would soon bloom. Master Jacobs knew what the others did not. The horde was gathering like a cloud of darkness, eager to swallow the sun and allow death to reign over the world and the race of men. Neither the magic of the Fist of Turning or the enchantment over the borough could be sustained indefinitely.

"You summoned me, master," Tristan asked respectfully

"Sit." Master Jacobs commanded, pointing towards the aged pillow in front of him.

Tristan sat, taking the same stance as the master and waited on his words.

"This is not the world you should have grown up in. Even this world will soon come to an end. I have seen the omens. You've seen many things over the years, some first hand, others second, terrible unavoidable things." Master Jacobs said turning his eyes away in guilt.

Tristan nodded, his mind drawn back to the scene of carnage which he remembered. He had watched the battle unfold, but like many had no idea for where or why the hordes had gone, or to wear they had gone.

"What is it master? Is it the horde? You know they haven't been seen in years. So long as we stay here, we're safe" Tristan said.

"They will be back, some sighting have already been made, the other masters and I, along with Marcus, simply didn't want to spread panic, though the signs are out there for anyone who can read them. The protection magics are almost exhausted. This is why I have called you to me. You must be ready. The sigil I put upon will soon be called on, the mark of Valor. Remember, it will be your proof."

Tristan was surprised. He stared at the master with a confused expression clear on his face.

"I don't understand what you mean Master Jacobs." Tristan responded, not sure how to proceed.

"Amongst the Remnants we have mages, we have summoners, and we have swordsmen. Everyone does a particular thing. But you are the only one that has multiple powers blended within you. You are the only one that has the three powers blended into you. None of us can begin to guess the full extent of your abilities. It is your destiny to be a light in the dark, just as Bastion has been. The only one who can stop what has happened is you. You have the power to wield the Illium, the two-handed sword of Legend, and the secret of this borough, but more so, only with you can I use the magic I have prepared."

With more questions than answers, Tristan was dismissed by Master Jacobs to go prepare. It was not long after that the dark curtain Master Jacobs had warned about appeared on the horizon. A horde vast enough to blot out the sun. From the grey tower, the door opened, and out walked three almost human beings to watch the carnage unfold but did not join in. For the Remnant, they knew this time, there would be no escape.

A thought proven true as the first of the demons smashed into the enchantment shield that kept the borough safe and then another, and another after that. A fault line appeared at the impact site as a giant demon ran forward in charge. The shield shattered and the horde descended. Tristan as an assigned guard to Marcus was at the back of the battlefield, watching in horror as Bastion and the Remnants within fell. The last stand was both bloody and short. Tristan was the last to fall. As his life ebbed away in pools of blood, he recalled some of his master's words as the white sigil blazed.

"Only you can prevent this."