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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 · ファンタジー
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466 Chs

The Dark In The Light

Two tendays passed after my arrival at the cave below Crag Lake. In that time, I melted my way ever-deeper below ground and sealed the way behind me, leaving only the smallest passages to lead me to and from the entry chamber above.

It was a cozy place. Plush with a sizable bed, plush carpets, dressers, and a toilet bathed in soft lantern light. And it was all mine, tucked away inside the burning bowels of the plane.

I almost regretted having to leave, but I had a job to do. So, with my under-suit lining my body and Jone hiding in my shadow, I pushed my ice wall aside and ascended ever so slowly to the surface of Crag Lake.

As the dark mirror of the waters loomed into view, a memory of my coming played through my mind, making me pause. I remembered the endless chorus of life. The birds and bugs and rodents scouring about. So loud they were when compared to the dead tundra of Odissi or the dank chasms of my home.

Without spells, it was overwhelming. But with them, I was shown another world entirely.

Like sonar, the waves of sound bouncing all around created a mental map of the surrounding lake as I broke the surface. Turning to the island, I heard halting footsteps, a heart beating anxiously, and a shortened breath.

"Off you go." Came a soft whisper across the lake.

Someone- many people, lived there. In a church of some kind. And she, whoever the source of that voice was, sensed my presence.

With the knowledge that magic was temporarily out of my arsenal, I returned to my little hole to reform my plans.

After much debate, two months were spent melting out a maze of tunnels to connect the cities of Colis, Droria, and Oretta to my burning cave.

It wasn't the act of digging that required such time. With thermal magic, all digging required of me was to heat my body past the melting point of rock and step forward and freeze the magma into solid floors and archways as I walked past.

Nay, snaking the caverns, looping them back, above, and over each other is what demanded so much time. Establishing caches, listening posts, dugouts, or escape routes to the surface throughout required even more time. But eventually, it was done. And after an extensive period of rest and relaxation, I emerged from the depths of the world near a vibrant forest hugging the base of the mountains.

Colis was my first destination, a small place, fifty kilometers to the south of my cave. A quarry to the west comprised the largest part of the village. Only a large inn or tavern and several ranches or warehouses were scattered randomly within a wide copse of ancient trees and rough stone. And looking down upon it gingerly were rows of comparatively larger estates and the large stone castle under construction.

It was upon that plateau that I saw someone that made me turn back almost immediately. It was a human, dressed in the silks and jewels that denoted them as a noble. And beside them was a hulking figure dressed in armor and brandishing a sword.

They were protected. Most likely by the crown. Though still, just below them stood a sight that kept my legs from moving.

Men and women, the elderly, and even children were under constant motion. Some were pounding away the stone at a faster tempo than my racing heart. Others were groaning and spitting at the armed men and women as they pulled carts in and out of warehouses or hauled bricks up to the castle.

I could hear their pleas. I could hear their chains. I could hear the condescending remarks of the noble and his guard. I wanted to silence all of it.

But they were backed by the crown.

I didn't need Jone to tell me it was more trouble than it was worth, as horrible as that was to think. But the fact remained, I couldn't save them all. And the ones that would be saved would remain in mortal danger for years to come.

So with a sour taste in my mouth, I retreated to my tunnel to embark on the eighty-kilometer trek to Oretta, making sure to collapse the tunnel leading to Colis behind me.

Small world, huh?

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