The Storm King

A ninth-tier mage was powerful—nearly untouchable in a conventional sense. However, as lightning surged through Leon’s body, he only had to turn his body slightly for his opponent’s strike to miss. With his magic senses, not as constrained when out of the polluted air outside the tunnels, he could sense exactly how much the bald man was packing into the beams of light he was ‘punching’ at Leon, where they were going, and how he needed to move to avoid them.

The bald man, however, was undeterred, and continued charging forward, punching the air fifty times in a second and sending two hundred and fifty beams of light lancing toward Leon.

Despite the volume of incoming beams, Leon had no trouble continuing to dodge, though he didn’t retaliate. A look of grim determination set in across his features as he prepared to do what he felt he had to. He didn’t want to kill this man, which only made his job all the harder.

Finally, his opponent drew to within ten feet of Leon, and Leon sensed a massive buildup of power within him. He felt like the beams of light, despite each one being powerful enough to pierce through the door behind Leon—the sheer number sent his way eviscerating the door and filling the room with dust in the process—were only meant to suppress him long enough for this man to get in close for something more powerful.

Leon didn’t wait around to see what this buildup of power was meant to serve; he finally went on the attack and darted forward with all the speed his chosen primary element was famous for. In the blink of an eye, Leon appeared in front of his opponent, thunder resounding in his wake so loudly that the chamber was further shaken, and slammed his gauntleted fist into the unarmored chest of the bald man.

The man went flying backward, coughing up blood as his magic went haywire. Light poured from his eyes and mouth as he slammed into the wall behind him, sending cracks spiderwebbing through many of the phrases carved into it.

Leon leaped forward, intending to seize this moment, but the man rose just in time to roar in fury and conjure a shield of light to protect himself. Leon’s lightning-enhanced blow shattered the shield in one hit, but none of the force reached the man behind it. At nearly the same time, the man punched forward, sending a wave of what looked like white fire crashing into Leon’s chest.

Leon’s armor did its job, preventing him from feeling even the slightest bit toasty—assuming that strange fire was even supposed to be hot—and wasn’t even so much as scratched. However, Leon was thrown several dozen feet back, and the orange-skinned man sped after him, his killing intent soaring.

[You’re going to have to kill this fucker!] Xaphan called out as Leon dodged blow after blow, looking for another window to attack his foe without doing severe damage.

[No,] Leon calmly responded as the man swiped at his neck, his fingers elongated into massive talon-like appendages made of white light. Leon ducked beneath the strike, tensed his legs just long enough for a couple bolts of silver-blue lightning to arc between his hips and ankles, and then launched himself at his opponent.

He slammed into the man’s midsection and wrapped his arms around him. He and the man went tumbling, the man conjuring motes of light in the air to strike Leon in the back the entire time. Leon’s armor continued absorbing the blows, though Leon was feeling these hits more, each one fiercely rattling his ribs.

But he was able to hang on with relative ease and continued grappling with the other man on the ground.

With his armor and superior strength, Leon had the advantage, but the man was able to move a little more freely with his lack of armor. He was able to slip one hand out of Leon’s grasp, conjure a dagger made of light, and try to slam it into Leon’s bare head, but Leon summoned his power in turn and paralyzed the man’s hand with a few bolts of lightning that erupted out of his neck.

The man screamed in pain, anger, and frustration as Leon regained control of his free hand and held him down. Then, with him largely controlled, Leon sent waves of lightning surging into his opponent’s body. The man resisted admirably, his light magic doing better than Leon expected in fending off his power and keeping any damage to a minimum. Even the motes of light ceased to fall upon Leon as the man lost control of his body and power from the pressure Leon put him under.

Eventually, though, the man’s muscles seized, and Leon had the small window of time he needed. So, with the bald man beneath him and under his power, he conjured the Rumble Stone again, still ‘charged’ with his language. He then pressed the blue gem to the man’s forehead and focused his power through it and into the struggling man.

The bald man’s mental defenses were strong; superior to Leon’s in technique, though thanks to the Thunderbird’s lightning, Leon still considered his stronger on the whole. Eventually, though, Leon was able to pierce the bubble of power surrounding the man’s mind and force an understanding of his language into the man’s mind. Leon didn’t want to do this, to cause this man so much pain and discomfort, but he felt he had to; he believed their conflict could be resolved if only they could speak with each other.

The man screamed in pain for a moment, then went slack. Breathing hard from the brief physical and magical exertion, as well as the effort it took to overcome his instinct to not force this on the other man, Leon slowly released the man from his grasp. He pulled his magic back little by little as he assessed the man’s condition, ensuring it wasn’t some kind of trick.

Eventually, Leon leaned back entirely and then stood up, fully releasing the other man from his physical control. He took a moment to evaluate the damage done in their brief clash—the ground was torn to pieces, with lightning burns, small craters, and long furrows from the man’s light beams everywhere. The large relief with hundreds of seemingly haphazard carvings had been severely damaged, while the door Leon had entered through had been almost completely blasted into dust, which filled the air and was only now starting to settle.

Fortunately, aside from the reliefs, the chamber they were in was empty, so unless the man placed great importance on stone and dust, then it didn’t seem anything of value was lost.

‘Then again,’ Leon thought, ‘if this place is religious or cultural in nature, he could be pretty damn angry it’s been so cut up.’

The man groaned as Leon finished his quick inspection.

[If that’s what you were going for, you were a bit rough,] Xaphan observed. [I think you can count yourself lucky if you didn’t do permanent mental damage.]

[He’s fine,] Leon shot back with more confidence than he felt. [A mage that strong against someone as weak with darkness magic as me? No way I did too much damage, even with the Rumble Stone.]

[At least you admit your shortcomings, human. And that is the first step toward overcoming them. Do see to that post haste, would you? The host for a demon of my standing ought not to be so deficient in so many ways…]

Leon bit back his acidic response as the man opened his eyes and glared at Leon in anger tinged with shock.

“I mean you no harm,” Leon said as calmly as he was able. “See to your injuries, and then why don’t we try talking again? You can understand me now, can’t you?”

The man didn’t verbally respond, but he spat out a few mouthfuls of blood, and then his aura surged with magic. Leon almost sprang back into action, but he refrained when he noticed that the man’s magic was directed inward. He stretched a moment, then rose with the air of a man mostly, if not completely, healed.

“W… W-hat d-did you…” he sputtered, his mouth clearly unused to making the sounds of Leon’s language. To be fair to him, his language had sounded quite alien to Leon’s ear, with more than a few sounds in it that weren’t in Leon’s language.

“You don’t have to muddle through my language if you don’t want to,” Leon said. “Just tell me: can you understand my words right now?”

The man hesitated a moment, his face scrunched in thought, then said, “Y-Yes…”

“Fantastic,” Leon exclaimed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about this stone I just used—”

The man’s face distorted with disgust and anger as he launched into a borderline violent tirade, the gist of which Leon thought he understood: the man was furious either because Leon used the stone on him, or with the existence of the stone itself.

“Hold on,” Leon commanded as he let his aura run wild for a moment, causing the chamber to shake again and the man’s face to pale. “Slow down. This is a tool of understanding; of communication and connection, nothing more. Now, if you are willing to make peace with me—or even if you’re just willing to hear me out—I’d like to tell you how to use it so that I can learn your language as well. Then we won’t have to struggle through misunderstandings.”

The man’s glare sharpened and long trenches formed on his brow as he considered the problem. Fortunately, he made what Leon considered the wisest choice.

“H-Han-d ovvver.” The man held out his hand, and Leon tossed him the Rumble Stone. He kept his behavior fairly nonchalant, but he watched the stone and the man’s aura like a hawk. He only had the one stone, and if the man did anything to destroy or otherwise damage it, then their little scuffle would get a lot more personal for him.

But it seemed the man wasn’t going to do that, as far as Leon could tell, and after a moment’s study, he sputtered through asking Leon for instructions, which Leon happily gave, though he only walked the man through ‘charging’ the stone with his language; he wasn’t going to let him apply it.

Once the man was done, he tossed Leon the gem back, and once it was back in hand, Leon swiftly assessed that it hadn’t been damaged or sabotaged, and so pressed it to his forehead to absorb the new knowledge contained within.

He felt a familiar sharp pain as the knowledge was imprinted into his head. He’d absorbed knowledge in this manner several times in his life, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

The language that Leon suddenly learned was extraordinarily complex, with a considerable number of rules for dealing with people above or below you in social station. The common language of Aeterna—and, by extension, the common language of the Nexus—was far simpler in comparison, with few distinctions made for whom one is speaking to.

“Can you hear now, Dark One?” the bald man asked in his language, now perfectly understandable to Leon, though the mere thought of trying to form those words had his tongue already twisting. However, he noted that the bald man was now using specific words and tones that directly expressed his belief that Leon was his social inferior.

“I can,” Leon said, speaking his own language. He grinned at the man, though there wasn’t much warmth in his expression. “Take care with your language, though, stranger. You don’t yet know if I’m prideful enough to take offense for perceived slights.”

The bald man made a quick gesture, crossing his hand across his chest—it seemed rather dismissive to Leon, reinforced by his words, still using high-handed language.

“As Mandious, Lord of All in Heaven, commands, I will allow you to make your defense. All are bestowed such chances by those of righteous belief, even if they do not deserve such courtesies.” He paused and gave Leon a scornful look. “Even if they use devilish magic, and commune with monsters from the Deep Black.”

Xaphan cackled in amusement, but Leon merely frowned.

“I’m unfamiliar with those terms, but I assure you, I use no such ‘devilish’ magic.”

The bald man made the dismissive gesture again. “You add to my home’s woes! Begone with you!” He spoke like he was sending away an unruly servant, and Leon clenched his jaw to not immediately bite the man’s head off in response. Using the silver twig to return to Aeterna and leave the people of Arkhnavi to their destruction was sounding more and more attractive as an option, but Leon wasn’t going to doom any potential survivors on this plane to death simply for the rudeness and arrogance of one man.

In as measured a tone as he could manage, Leon explained, “I am a scout, a messenger from another plane in the Divine Graveyard—what my people call this planar cluster. Were we still outside and could see the night sky, I could point my home out to you. Circumstances have dictated that I come here to assess the situation and report back to the rest of the Grave Wardens who monitor these planes. If the Primal Devils imprisoned here escape, assuming they’re even still alive, then all of existence will be in danger. But the Grave Warden here has been missing for a long time, and the proper response must be decided upon.”

He wasn’t sure how much the bald man would understand since he was skipping over so much explanation, but he hoped the man would at least be intrigued enough to stand down and hear out a longer explanation.

“The Devil’s ways twist the ear and befuddle the mind,” the bald man said as if quoting something. He made an arcane gesture and said, “May Wise Farangeun shield my mind from wicked lies.”

“I speak no lies, wicked or otherwise,” Leon said. “I’m not here to harm anyone. I’m only here to assess the situation on Arkhnavi.” He paused and softened his tone as much as he could, though it wasn’t that much. “I’d like to have your help, if possible. Can you at least tell me your name? My parents graced me with the name ‘Leon’.”

Leon was tempted to back off a bit in a show of peace, but given the bald man’s language’s heavy emphasis on social standing, he didn’t want to discredit himself by appearing too servile.

The bald man glared at him for a long moment, clearly pondering his question, before simply saying, “You may call me ‘Tiraeses.”

‘Tiraeses’. In his convoluted language, it could mean ‘empty’, ‘void’, or ‘no one’, depending on context. Whatever the case, Leon knew it wasn’t his real name, but he didn’t care overmuch.

“‘Tiraeses’ it is,” he responded. “Will you allow me to advocate for my position? As your… god? As ‘Mandious’ commands?”

“‘Mandious, Lord of All in Heaven’,” Tiraeses said exasperatedly. “You have already broken this holy place, do not further insult Those Above by forgoing their blessed titles.”

Leon glanced around at the trashed chamber. He wanted to push back against the notion of his destroying it, but he supposed it was technically true, even if he figured more damage was done by Tiraeses’ light than his lightning. For some reason, he doubted Tiraeses would be all that appreciative of his pointing that out…

“Speak for yourself, then,” Tiraeses commanded. “Tell me who you are, where you come from, and where you’re going.”

Leon smiled. “That’s a long story, but if you’re willing to listen, then I’ll begin…”

He stood there in the dust and broken stones of the chamber, calmly telling Tiraeses about where he came from, of Aeterna and the people there, and some of the major events of his life. He emphasized a few things when explaining his personal history: the moon stone that Nestor was studying below the Forest of Black and White, which poisoned him and ‘killed’ his physical body; he gave a brief accounting of the campaign on the Serpentine Isles, focusing on Jormun and the brief appearance of Krith’is; and Leon explained who Ambrose was and the purpose of Aeterna, Arkhnavi, and the rest of the Divine Graveyard. Finally, he gave Tiraeses a more complete explanation of his purpose in coming to Arkhnavi, how he’d arrived, and finished by telling the man about the other ten mages who’d been sent before him.

As Leon spoke, Tiraeses slowly relaxed, and when Leon finished, they were both sitting upon roughly hewn stone stools that Tiraeses conjured from his soul realm. The man’s aura was much more restrained than before Leon began his explanation, and his killing intent was all but gone.

“Such a story,” Tiraeses whispered after a long silent moment that fell after Leon finished his explanation. “Primal Gods and Devils… They sound… much like the devils of the Underworld, Those of Many Names…”

“Tiraeses,” Leon said, drawing the man out of whatever swampy thoughts he was about to submerge himself in, “will you tell me about this plane? Will you tell me about yourself? Information is my purpose in being here, and I’d wager you have a lot of it…”

Tiraeses gave him a long, suspicious look, but then said, “A virtuous man has nothing to fear from speaking the truth… Very well, ‘Leon’, I shall tell you of the ruin of my fair land…”

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