The Magebane

Extra long chappy today.

***

7 extra chappies on P@treon. Volume III has officially begun.

***

"Goone?"

"No, Bone."

"Boone...?"

"Close. Try again."

"Bone!" Gromm said happily, brandishing a wolf skull, while the Demi-Human whelps cheered in the background.

Forthus ran his hand through his lengthening hair as he watched the powerful, deadly Chief prance around like a child, before rushing off to the whelps and mighty variants to teach them the brand-new word they had learned.

'Well, I suppose they are kids,' he mused, as Earnan walked up to him with Pavel by his side.

"Up for a spar, Demi-Human whisperer?" Pavel nudged him, while Earnan gave Pavel a dirty look.

"They are not beneath us, Pavel," he said sternly.

"I am aware, Commander," Pavel's eyes widened. "I was jesting."

Earnan continued staring until Pavel bowed and apologized.

"Get moving. We're packing up," Earnan said, now looking at Forthus, who gave him a salute.

"Yes, sir!"

Earnan's eyes softened as he glanced at the Demi-Humans, then back to Forthus.

"You're doing well. Keep it up," his commander said, before turning and marching off to Gromm, who was getting the Demi-Humans in order.

Forthus watched his commander, his eyes lingering on the flowing golden lines burned into Earnan's dark skin and instantly, a familiar pang of longing and jealousy crept up in his heart; had he not trained at every waking moment until his muscles tore? Until his bones broke? It was bad enough that if it were not for [Heal], he would have been long crippled. But now, he'd hit a ceiling with his strength and skill that he couldn't break.

Meanwhile, the Demi-Humans held enough power to swat his efforts away like they were nothing. Even Earnan had received the blessing of their Lord.

Why not him? Why?

"Coming, vice-commander?" Pavel's voice brought him back to reality.

"Ah...yes. Lead the way."

***

Forthus was finishing up stocking the carts when he heard the thunderous sounds of hooves and feet.

He involuntarily gripped his spear before whirling around to witness the arrival of his Lord.

"To Glory and Eternal Dominion!"

Forthus joined the salute as Godrick, flanked by Gilika and Gromm, rode up to the head of the neatly ordered troops. His eyes contained the secrets of the Frenzied Flame that none other than he understood.

His Lord appeared nothing short of majestic—a description that barely did him justice.

Seated atop a Funeral Steed and draped in a black cloak, Godrick's gargantuan, muscular form radiated an aura of power that was second to none. His iconic blue Greatspear rested effortlessly across his broad back, while his golden locks flowed freely in the wind, striking an unusual balance between grace and untamed ferocity.

Yet, all that did was amplify the nagging feeling of inadequacy festering within Forthus' heart. As his Lord grew stronger and stronger, the more he felt like a burden—

"Forthus!" A booming voice broke into his thoughts.

He blinked to find the very aurous eyes he'd admired looming over him. They seemed to see through the layers of armour, leather, flesh, and bone—gleaning everything from his very soul.

"My Lord!" Forthus hurriedly saluted and knelt before Godrick's towering form, which made his respectable figure look like a child.

"I have watched thy toils and sensed thy steadfast loyalty," his Lord spoke from above. "Thy acceptance and tutelage of the Demi-Humans deserveth praise, and thy endurance our admiration."

Forthus' heart beat like a drum as a spark of hope was born beside the festering inferiority complex. Is this it?

A large hand fell upon his shoulder, its strength akin to a mountain weighing him down.

"By mine Divine hand, I doth bestow upon thee the might and endurance of Gold. Rise, as kindred of strength, and bear the mark of Godrick the Golden, Conqueror of the Frenzied Flame, unbroken by the world's tempestuous fury."

The following words were honey to Forthus' ears as gold burned into his skin.

***

[Godrick's Glory]

(2/10 -> 3/10)

It was nice seeing another one of his soldiers hitting the peak of human strength and being anointed a Knight, but the sheer glee in Forthus' eyes surprised him a tad. So did the lines on his new Knight's shoulder.

It was still formless and patternless, but it looked a bit different. It wasn't an isolated incident as even Earnan's and Gilika's marks were changing.

He pushed that to the back of his mind as his troops roared with pride while Forthus shakily picked up his spear and got to his feet, the shackles upon his soul lightly loosening.

The cheers grew even louder when Godrick bequeathed the golden tailoring tools and needle that Miriel so generously gave him to Gromm as thanks for his Runebear cloak.

The poor Demi-Human Chief looked close to fainting as they received the Demigod-level kit, promptly forgetting every word they'd been taught, and devolving into a smattering of excited primal noises.

"To Glory and Eternal Dominion!"

"To Glory and Eternal Dominion!"

***

Another month of mindless travel ensued, making their way south to Stormveil. Nothing of note occurred, besides Forthus throwing himself into training even harder than he had before, almost passing out in shock when Godrick offered to help him.

Meanwhile, the terrain continued to grow increasingly jagged and fierce, the rocky protrusions and formations growing sharper and sharper. It got to the point where Godrick had to use [Lansseax's Glaive] to cut down formations that did not allow the wooden carts to pass through.

It was good practice, but some stones refused to back down, even after numerous [Lansseax's Glaive]s. Sure, his [Lansseax's Glaive] was not at full power given that it never formed fully owing to his lacking Focus, but said rock formations were also hundreds of feet tall and thick, dwarfing nearly everything in their vicinity.

The incomplete version of [Lansseax's Glaive]  bombarded the area with Ancient Dragon Lightning, unlike the precise deadliness it was supposed to boast. Thus, it merely shaved off the rock layer by layer. Given a few days, he could bring it down, but that would cause more destruction than he was prepared to handle.

Speaking of practice, his progress nearly stalled, with his Greatspear mastery showing no improvement, while his Mind stat increased at a snail's pace.

(Mind: 25.4->26)

But that opinion was just that, an opinion, for if the sorcerers of Raya Lucaria were to know of Godrick describing his progress as 'snail's pace,' they'd vomit blood and slit their throats in shame.

Eventually, after a gruelling journey, they came across the biggest rock protrusion they had ever seen. Thousands of feet tall and wide, tipped over into another landmass, forming a crude bridge of sorts.

But it wasn't the rock that caught them off guard. No, it was what they saw after.

A small shack built from creaky wood stood just past the rock bridge, a few kilometres before the gigantic Carian Study Hall that led to the Divine Tower they had spied months back. That would've been odd enough—a lone building in the wilderness—but the Leyndell Dragon Knight armour along with a finely crafted longsword leaning against the wooden wall was what truly shocked them.

"Ah! You're here, my Lord," a deep voice sounded from within the hut before a large, jovial-looking man in commoner garb exited through a creaky door. Bald as a coot, with paint on his fingers, he smiled at them, showing off his pearly whites.

[Observe]

(Character Sheet

Morrin Magebane

Age: Three hundred and three years and one month old

HP: 200

FP: 340

Strength: 20

Dexterity: 20

Endurance: 20

Vigor: 20

Mind: 34

Intelligence: 7

Faith: 21

Skills:

[Spear Mastery (Passive) Level 5: Adequeatly proficient with wielding the spear.]

[Shield Mastery (Passive) Level 4: Midly proficient with wielding the shield.]

[Blessing of the Ancient Dragon Lansseax (Passive): Ancient Dragons recognise you and shall commune with you as equals while drakes shall attack you on sight. Increased damage negation to all kinds of Lightning (+10% resistance). Ability to increase physical stats beyond the limit of the human race via training (Peak 20). +1 Strength. +3 Endurance. +3 Vigor.]

Incantations:

[Lightning Spear]

[Horned Bolt: Summons a bolt of lightning to strike foes from above. Godwyn the Golden brought the Ancient Dragons into the folds of the Golden Order, and even their mighty Lightning, once red-gold was transmuted into pure gold in his hands.]

[Electrify Armament: Enchants armament held in the right hand with lightning-affinity attacks. Godwyn the Golden brought the Ancient Dragons into the folds of the Golden Order, and even their mighty Lightning, once red-gold was transmuted into pure gold in his hands.])

"Godrick the Golden, eh? You do have some nice eyes there," Morrin somehow smiled wider, while Earnan and his men frowned at the casual manner of speech.

"Who art thou?" Godrick said as he palmed his Greatspear, knowing full well who the man was. While he didn't expect the lone Leyndell Knight to also be in the artist's shack, it wasn't as surprising as the man's name.

Morrin Magebane? Though it sounded akin to the name of a champion, he'd never heard of him in the game.

"Just a retired old Knight, my Lord. Old Morrin at your service," Morrin, the middle-aged-looking man said, giving a short bow. "I have been entrusted with a task by the priestess herself should I meet you. It is an honour like no other."

Godrick wanted to scoff. He didn't believe it one bit. No Dragon Knight retired. Not when their bodies were in a perpetual peak condition.

If that wasn't suspicious enough, he even noticed the slight falter in Morrin's smile when his gaze passed over his Crystal Greatspear and the few Glintstone staffs tucked into the carts - even the nearly unnoticeable twitch of his fingers.

Moreover, he did not mention his unusual title of Magebane.

Even then, Godrick did not wish to poke his nose into something that didn't interest him. What did interest him was the news that Lansseax had given Morrin a task.

"What is it?"

Morrin reached inside his loose clothes and pulled out a fairly thick golden book with a picture of an Ancient Dragon made of dark gold lines.

[Observe]

[Dragon Cult Prayerbook: Prayerbook of the capital's ancient dragon cult. A text of the knights' faith that arose after the War of the Ancient Dragons. Contains the teachings of Godwyn the Golden on wielding Lightning fused with gold.]

Godrick took the book from Morrin's hands, admiring the craftsmanship. He had planned to get this book by trying to recruit the lone Leyndell Knight into his ranks, but this was better.

He looked at Morrin, who continued to sport that unnerving grin and immediately made a decision.

He was never recruiting this man.

"She also had a message or two for you, my Lord," Morrin piped up as Godrick slipped the book into his cloak.

"Speak," Godrick raised a brow.

"Take not the easy path, lest thou wish to fall to the Dread's kin," he said solemnly.

"Care to explain?"

"I am merely a messenger," Morrin shrugged helplessly even though no one was buying his amicable old-man act.

The Dread's Kin? That was easy enough to understand, but the 'easy way out' was too vague to make sense of. He could almost hear Lansseax giggling in the background at his confusion.

"Ah, there is one other," Morrin brought Godrick out of his contemplation before scratching the back of his head, looking a bit gauche. "I fear that it is... errr..."

"What? Must it be spoken in confidence?"

"No, well..." Morrin thought for a few seconds longer before shrugging and saying it. "She also said that she couldn't wait to taste you again, though I know not what that means."

The air seemed to freeze as Madhadh, Pavel, Forthus, Earnan, and every other soldier slowly turned to Godrick's massive form seated on Elrus. The Demi-Humans merely looked confused, but his soldiers stared at him as though he were a god.

"Marika's tits, he did it!" Madhadh blurted before being kneed in the back by Forthus and glared at by Earnan. Pavel turned beet red and whispered a few prayers under his breath as though he had heard pure heresy, while Gilika hid a grin by bowing her head.

"She referred to my blood," Godrick sighed, tucking away a few stray golden hairs, but it didn't seem to help, faint whispers of '...truly our Lord...' and '...master of the Greatspear...' reaching his ears.

"Thank thee for thy aid, Morrin," Godrick said, disregarding his men. "Is there aught I might do for thee?"

Morrin's eyes instinctively flicked to the Glintstone staff on the cart before he looked back.

"No. Carrying out the Priestess' will is reward enough. Though I must warn you, the village ahead has been infested with Those Who Live In Death. I've even spotted a Mariner among their number. I would steer clear of that place if I were you."

"Understood," Godrick nodded and led his men beyond the shack and to the dirt road ahead, taking note of Morrin's odd behaviour.

Just how had he earned the title of Magebane?

***

POWERSTONES! Else Lansseax will want a piece of your mea-wait nonono, tha-

***