The Return

Amun.

6th of Quartutus, 1492.

Cuttleship. En route to Shujen.

Mortal Time: 01:24.

[The Path of Zefroth, Step 5: The Horsemen.]

[The Eternal Path, Step 3: Mission.]

[Grandmaster Artificer, Step 15: Grandmaster Armorer.]

[Monastic Way of Death's Door, Step 11: 2nd Opening.]

[Rogue Devil, Step 5: The Network.]

***

"Alright, alright already." I scattered everyone away from my horns by spawning a digital map between us. We have much to do and less than a year to do it."

Waiting for everyone to take their seats, I sent the incomplete itinerary across the network to the Troupe, plus Doyle and Olga back in Eotrom. "The first order of business is our return to Nydorden Halls to finish my monastic path. After our tenure down under, we'll be going to the Bodhi Tree for the mid-year ceremony. We'll see the fights and I'm to introduce myself as Guildmaster to the Millennial Class alongside the Optimus Regni. Once that's done, I must go to Redagh to see Indra."

"Oh! I- Indra?" Reina awkwardly piped in. "Why… must you go see her?"

"She's to teach me how to enter Faewoods."

"I… would not recommend going there!" She awkwardly and abruptly stated. "That place is... weird."

"But she feels it must be done, apparently." I sighed. "She's been given the task from Telin. And I'm quite curious about the place if I'm being honest. But you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I'll… think about it."

"Alright then." I nodded. "Well, after that, I'm off to Rhar to learn of elven technology from Corym."

"Do you know anything about that?" Iris asked, flying up to Etan.

"I know of it," he said. "Not necessarily the kind surface elves use. It is…" he looked around, finding the words. "A bit like the Umas. Arcane creatures are created for practical purposes. A bright bug as a light. A creature with a hot shell on which to cook food. That sort of thing."

I gave a maddened cackle at the thought and cared not how they saw my excitable smile. But that soon died away upon remembering my earlier experiences. "As amazing as that sounds, though, I imagine we'll do much fighting there. Corym, someone with Corym, his God, or most likely all of them despise me for killing Carbury. I won't be surprised if they declare war on me. They sent a party after me before I arrived in Bakewia."

"Yes." Zaraxus sighed heavily. "I wanted to end them."

"Same." Lana sighed.

"Yeah." I sighed in turn. "I don't let you guys fight enough. I'll try to change that going forward. That aside, the last item on the itinerary is to learn ritual magic from some high elves. I'm told they'll contact me so we can do whatever until then. Any suggestions?"

{"High elves, huh?"} Doyle chimed in, chortling loudly over the comms. {"I have a feeling you'll get along with them just fine."}

"I haven't met many. Only a few in Bakewia. What are they like?" I asked.

"High." Wilson dryly said. "My good friend, Marsha, is one. He is a baker from Bakewia. He spoke to the Owl before I did, in fact. Knowing his whereabouts would be good."

"Oh, yeah." I snorted. "He and his family moved into the Cuttleship to, in his words, bake more. His bread is Sam's sole competitor, I imagine."

As if to prove my point, Sam's voice came trailing through the channel. {"Son of a…"}

"Case in point." I snickered.

"I've got a list of places I'd like to go to," Blude began by highlighting several points on the map. Mostly places we've already been. Winwell's Coast. Shujen Bay. Chor River. The lake we made in Kasia and Chaulort as well. I intend to build in these places. And maybe in more for the Ninth."

"Very well," I said, adding it to the list. "I'd like to spend some time with them as well so that works. We can maybe even take part in some naval combat."

"I want to return to the place of my birth and make the rift my territory. But I must return alone," Leary told us. And I couldn't have been more excited to witness it from afar.

"We all lost most of our hardware after evolving. Replacing them will take some time." Iris all but pouted while motioning to her augmented empire. Then bounced back with a cold snicker as she continued. "Then, I wanna go back to Winwell to see Father Horas and Mother Lois. And the other orphans. I can't wait to see how they react to me growing seven years in a few days. Hehehe!"

"Oh, I'm sure they won't be the only ones shocked." I snorted in turn.

"I would like to return to Shujen. Roam the lands. See how it's changed. Perhaps I'll do that while you train below ground."

"Why?" Geri turned to her brother with a frown, to which Freki shrugged and said. "Why not? Maybe I'll bring on the summer sun while I'm at it."

"Not before spring." She muttered in turn, looked away for a bit, and then gave him a crude smirk when distant howling began trickling into our ears.

"Anyone else?" I asked, looking around to settle my eyes on Reina.

"Nothing that wouldn't come naturally." She said with a somewhat unsettling smile that remained for several seconds, lasting until she leaned forward to say, "Flesh. I need flesh. And I can find that anywhere!"

"Now that I know mostly everyone who knew me is here or in another Legion, I'd like to go back to Chor. If Buke's Bazaar hasn't been claimed, I'd like to turn it into a mortuary."

"Done. Also on the menu," I began after updating the list, "we have to schedule a rendezvous at the hot springs before the end of the year. A party for the Legionaries as a reward for all their hard work. So here's the plan. We'll return to Shujen for my training and settle our business in the Darkworld, then visit Bakewia and Shujen to do a little bit of R and R before we return to the Bodhi Tree. After that, we can stop by Chor before we move on to Redagh. Or you can do your thing while we explore the Faewoods."

"Don't matter to me." Rickley shrugged.

"Alright. My business with the elves comes after that. Then we can all watch Leary do his thing, and with all that done, we can spend as much time as we want at sea or doing whatever else we please. Before most of that, however, we have a trial." I smiled, gesturing to Etan.

"My brother, Eban Za'Darmondiel, the other members of my family, and the countless drow entangled in their Goddesses webs. I wish to change them as I have changed. I wish to free them as I have been freed. They and as many other drow as I can. I ask none of you to fight, however," Etan firmly said. "I ask only for your support.

"When Amun finishes his monastic training, my mother will bring him to Zimysta Falls. She will teach him the ways of our people, our history, our magic, and our culture; hoping to get Amun to join hands with their Goddess. That, and she will be unhappy with my changes. She will seek to learn what happened in my absence; she will do so using the only means she knows."

"You all know my policy when it comes to such things." I flatly said to them. To which they all nodded resolutely. "This time, however, there's a catch. We're not only dealing with drow. We're dealing with a Goddess and her clergy. They, on the other hand, are dealing with me and my clergy.

"So." I clapped my hands, grinning as I leaned forward. "Here's the plan."

***

Abbot Eiriol.

***

Never have I seen more drow gathered in one place. Much less the mid-levels of my monastery.

They trickled in over the last hour. Ever since the first scout came barging into my halls with news of Amun returning with Etan and many more, drow from every house swarmed from the depths below.

Nobles were above commoners and commoners were above the most esteemed slaves, standing in endless rows along the cavern walls and stalactites; all for the sole purpose of bearing witness to the return of Elg-Horr after the chaos that recently unfolded.

Minutes passed, yet he entered not. Webs of intrigue were then spun. More scouts were sent out to return with news of the eccentric changes and his eclectic Troupe, bringing yet more of our kind from the bottomless pit to observe and scheme. And yet, more minutes passed, unto half an hour. The audacity birthed scorn in the matriarchs, thus their clerics were sent to confirm the whispers and rumors. Only to return and induce panic upon seeing traces of the divine in all of them. But that panic died down once the Matrons reminded everyone of what Amun was.

Correction, they reminded everyone who Amun was, the Eternal Champion. Then, Amun entered to show everyone what he was. Nox.

As only a necromancer could, he revived that panic with a single uttered word.

<<Look. >> With his arms out wide, he brought every pair of eyes to his frame. An eye-catching masterpiece for both female and male drow alike. And for entirely different reasons.

For the females, it was his appearance. His eyes were like that of a dragon's, as they were before, but now radiant with divine light of differing colors. Blue was the sclera of his right eye, centered by a silver iris while black was the sclera of his left eye, boasting a gilded iris. Strange, angular veins of deep blue mana ran up his forearms, snaking up his shoulders to end at the temples like arcane tattoos.

Even without such features, he'd be lusted after. But then, of course, there was the tempest of mana dancing around him that made him instantly noticeable to any elf. That made him a true catch for the Matriarchs, hence the presence of them and their daughters. What they didn't count on, however, was the divine energy pouring off of him, giving every male drow present the one thing the Matriarchs abhorred in them.

Hope.

But still, there were more changes. Fiendish attributes like that unnerving tongue and the rows of jagged teeth within his smirking maw. His fingers had blacker-than-black skin with white nails, pointed just like the horns extending high above his brow, set before a divine crown of sigils that billowed blue-green arcana.

He displayed his greatness for all to see. Yet he was gesturing not to himself. Nor was he gazing upon me. His eyes were trained upon the Prime Matriarch of House Za'Darmondiel while the crowd erupted in awe; a whisper to the echoes of his words. <<My name is Amun Nox; Destroyer of Creators, Creator Destroyers. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair.>>

My eyes and perhaps hers fell on the same face with those words. Etan Za'Darmondiel. My great-grandson. One of many. One of the sharpest. Among the strongest to have ever been.

Now, there was a tempest of arcana surrounding him too. Purple, with many specks of radiance that shone from within like stars. His skin was a shade more violet. His hair held traces of black. His eyes, wider and rounder than before, were gilded, not red. His body was taller. His arms were lankier. His hair was more voluminous.

His True Self was divine.

I chanced a look at Matron Etyl at that moment, finding her gazing upon her son with clear disgust masked beneath a veil of intrigue at the greater party. Not that she had to try. His troupe was formed in less than a month, and the group was as aloof and eclectic as the Champion himself, ranging from an oddly tall and well-groomed goblin to an elven woman who seemed to have no idea where she was. Even those from before were present and much older than they'd been mere days ago; and not only did they all possess arcana, they held more divine energy than any cleric I had ever seen.

Amun's demeanor flipped when his gaze fell upon me. He clasped his hands before him in respect and lowed his head to subdue the runic crown, the divine eyes, the veins, the devil's horns, and the fiendish claws; compressing them into a sphere that he then swallowed wholly to reduce himself to what he was when he first appeared to these halls - a brown-skinned drow with the eyes of a dragon. Only now, his hair was white.

Recovering from my stupor, I returned the gesture and spread my arms out wide upon erecting. <<We welcome your return to Nydorden Halls, Destroyer.>> I said in our mother tongue. <<As before, you must work to catch up your peers. This time, are march the gates of Darkworld. Unlike other monks, enter.>>

His eyes slowly rose to the stalactite holding the matriarchs. Then they drifted around the endless ranks before falling once again to me, wherein I continued. <<Your walk will see you fight unceasingly against foul beasts, stronger than the creatures above and more feral drow below.>>

A line of silk detached from the ceiling with enough grace to nearly make me miss it latching onto my brow. While I noticed it, however, I could not keep it from forcing my eyes to my great-grandson, probing me to motion him forward from the drips of poison it contained.<<Tell me of his progress. Of your journey.>> I added after another drip.

He stood before me as Amun did, bowing respectfully before softly saying. <<Amun recruited those you see before you, Abbot. The Elven Devil's Troupe. An intense mana zone was found along the way, attuned to earth mana. With it, Amun has been ambient ki and learned create focus chambers of his own. He beads. Thus he is ready form circuit reach twelfth step.>>

<<Excellent! >> I nodded. <<I have since come to learn of your… transformation. I do hope see it in person. However, you must remember the restrictions put place for you. Fortunately you, however, there is less catching up do. You need only fight your way end this hall. Naturally, Troupe may conduct marches their own. But they not contribute <em>your descent.>>

<<First. >> A hiss sounded from above, summoning a minotaur to enter from the side chamber. <<A test of strength against a minotaur.>>

Amun cared not about Matron Etyl's interjection. He simply turned to face the minotaur while we distanced ourselves.

Upon the beast's release, Amun clasped his arms before him and uttered strange words in an even stranger language, causing the beast's body to glow with golden light and dim before it charged.

Amun met the charging minotaur head-on, snapping out his foot into a front kick that shook the airs of the cavern.

While he was forced back, it was only because the stone gave way beneath his foot. With the other foot pinning the beast's head, Amun lunged, arms crossed to take hold of the horns and twist violently.

An echoing cracking silenced the beast's movements. Permitting Amun to carelessly drop the horns and deliver a merciless axe kick to the throat for good measure.

With his use of magic, divine or not, he should have been punished mercilessly. He would have been punished, were it not for the perks of his monastic tradition stopping everyone in their tracks. If only for a second. In the next second, the minotaur began convulsing and soon kicked itself up to its feet to wrestle its head back into the right position and bow before Amun.

<<Ah! >> I smiled. <<So too have I heard of this. The dead rise from your ki. Mindless. But with a higher martial proficiency. What was the skill called again?>>

<<Consume the Living.>>