Pu! The few giant, icy-blue Seated Lupin Wolves moved like small boats across the Golden Desert's endless dunes, their paws sinking slightly into the sand as they plodded onward, their breaths puffing in the cooling air. The sky darkened, the desert's heat fading into a biting chill that seeped through cloaks and armor.
The wolves' fur, once blue under the sun, shifted back to a deep black, radiating a faint warmth as if storing the day's heat, their bodies a bulwark against the night's cold.
The sand stretched endlessly, a golden sea under the emerging stars, the silence broken only by the soft crunch of paws and the occasional gust rattling loose grains.
"Today, I shall stand guard during the night!" one of the Magi declared, as Leylin's servants erected tents for everyone in a tight circle, their canvas snapping in the breeze.
The camp was a small island of order in the desert's vastness, the tents' black silhouettes stark against the fading light. There were six Magi in the group: Leylin, Lancey, the old geezer leader, the large bloke still reeling from the Brownstone Singer incident, and two grey-robed Magi who rarely spoke.
The speaker was one of these two, his voice breaking the silence he usually kept, his grey robe blending into the dusk.
"We'll count on you!" Lancey replied, her voice heavy with exhaustion, her face pale as she ducked into her tent, her shoulders slumped. She'd spent the day scanning the surroundings with her spiritual force, a draining task, and now craved meditation to restore herself, her eyes shadowed with fatigue.
Leylin, aided by the A.I. Chip, felt no such strain, his mind sharp despite the day's travel. Still, he mimicked weariness, his face drawn as he moved through the camp, aware of the eyes on him.
Anna and his Grand Knights—Greem, Dexter, Fraser, Faisal, Fred, and Mandal were visibly drained, their movements sluggish, their armor clanking softly as they worked.
"Are you not going to rest awhile?" Leylin asked the night-guard Magus, his voice casual, almost indifferent, as he stopped before him.
His back to his servants, he clenched his fist behind him, a subtle signal.
Greem's eyes widened for a split second, catching the gesture, but he regained his neutral mask instantly. He tilted his head toward Dexter, a silent acknowledgment, both understanding the unspoken order.
"I need not rest. I have these. Come out, my little babies!" the night-guard Magus said, his voice brimming with a deep, proud chuckle, his arms tracing a strange gesture in the air.
Bang! Bang! Bang! A surge of Earth element particles radiated from him, the sand around him rising in a shimmering curtain. The grains parted, revealing a dozen yellow slates, each etched with a human face—some young, some old, all eerily lifelike. Thin arms and legs sprouted from the slates, giving them the look of gingerbread men carved from stone.
"Father! We await your commands!" the slate creatures said in unison, their voices a hollow chorus as they knelt on one knee before the Magus, the sand crunching beneath them.
"Very well, you shall guard the night for me," the Magus said, his voice firm with authority, a hint of satisfaction as he issued orders, pointing to the camp's perimeter. "Patrol there, alert for any threat."
"These are pretty little babies you got. Sentinel Slates, right?" Leylin said, his voice smooth, a small smile playing on his lips, calculated to flatter.
"Yes, it's a Rank 1 Sentinel Slate, but they've undergone my modifications!" the Magus declared, his voice swelling with pride, his chest puffing slightly under his grey robe.
After becoming an official Magus, many sought to tweak Rank 1 or even Rank 0 spells, creating unique trump cards or tradable assets. Success could mean power or wealth, and his tone carried the confidence of one who'd achieved it.
"It's really quite a remarkable spell!" Leylin said, his voice laced with just enough admiration to seem genuine, his expression carefully measured.
The Magus's gaze softened, his pride stroked, a faint nod acknowledging Leylin's words.
"Let's go!" the Magus said, his voice eager, almost boastful. "The Sentinel Slates were made for warnings, but my modifications extend their detection to a dozen miles." He gestured to the slates, which scurried to the camp's edge, burrowing into the sand, their forms vanishing as the grains trickled over them. Their energy waves faded, becoming untraceable, a spell woven with precision.
Any Magus had their trump card, Leylin knew, and underestimating one could be fatal. The desert's silence settled over the camp, the wolves' low growls a distant hum, their warmth a faint comfort against the creeping cold.
Deep in the night, an ear-piercing scream shattered the quiet. Leylin's eyes snapped open, vertical slits glowing like a snake's in the dark of his tent, his body instantly alert.
"Hurry, get up! We have trouble!" the night-guard Magus shouted, his voice thick with exasperation as he burst into tents, his grey robe flapping. The camp stirred, the air heavy with urgency.
"What happened?" Lancey demanded, stumbling out, her voice sharp but strained, her robes disheveled, revealing flashes of skin. Her face was haggard, her eyes bleary from interrupted rest, but no one spared her a glance, their focus on the threat.
"A Golden Giant is moving toward us!" the night-guard Magus said, his voice urgent, edged with panic. "The Sentinel Slates meant to alert us were eaten by it!"
"Fuck!" The curses of nearby Magi erupted, their voices a mix of shock and dread as the words "Golden Giant" sank in.
The Golden Giant was an elemental species, its power rivaling a fully converted elemental Magus, bolstered by unique racial talents. Only a Rank 2 Magus could hope to kill or banish it, a fact that hung heavy in the air.
"Weren't the Golden Giants extinct in the Golden Desert?" the old geezer leader snarled, his voice raw with fury, his eyes glowing green with barely contained rage.
"And it just happens to block our path?"
"Can we avoid it for now?" Lancey asked, her voice trembling with hope, though her face betrayed despair. "The desert's huge, it might not find us."
"No chance," Leylin said, his voice sounding nervous, cutting through her plea. "Golden Giants track high-energy sources. Our bodies are beacons to it, like lamps in the dark. Moving only draws it faster."
"What do we do, then?" Lancey's voice cracked, desperation etching her features.
"Unless we've got a Rank 2 Magus, we're done for…"
The five Magi, excluding Leylin, were barely above Rank 1, strong but outmatched even by a semi-converted elemental Magus.
A fully converted Golden Giant was a death sentence.
Semi-converted elemental magus are Magi with 50% or higher elemental essence conversion, gained significant power boosts, giving them an edge over budding magi like them, whose conversion was present but limited against the qualitative leap in strength a semi-converted weilds.
"We could scatter, run in different directions…" the large bloke suggested, his voice hesitant, tinged with fear as he glanced around.
Silence fell, the Magi's eyes flickering with calculation, weighing survival against betrayal.
"Are you mad?" the old geezer snapped, his voice a furious growl. "Scatter, and can you guarantee you'll outrun a Golden Giant? And what about the Kary Vultures' territory after that?"
His questions silenced the group, the reality of their slim odds sinking in. Scattering might lead them back to the Broken Axe Pub or toward their destination, but it was a desperate gamble, one no Magus would accept lightly.
"Quick! Three more of my babies are dead!" the night-guard Magus said, his voice heavy, his breath ragged with rising panic.
In the silence, Leylin spoke, his voice shaking, "How about we use the Sentinel Slates with an energy-dissipating rune to distract the Giant. While it's chasing them, we suppress our energy emissions and slip away. If it fails, we scatter."
"Although this plan is unreliable, but we've got nothing better…" the old geezer said, his voice thick with resignation, a weary sigh escaping him. He glanced at Leylin. "We'll do it. I've got materials for more Sentinel Slates."
He handed vials of grey powder to the night-guard Magus, his movements slow, heavy with doubt. The five Magi huddled, their voices a low hum of urgency as they worked, crafting disguises and runes for the slates, their hands trembling with the stakes.
[Beep! Connecting with deployed lifeform detection runes! Connection established! Target movement acquired! Move to 68° West for maximized perimeter scan.] The A.I. Chip's voice hummed in Leylin's mind, its precision guiding him.
He shifted, moving to the coordinates, signaling his Grand Knights to take defensive positions, his gesture sharp and silent.
The other Magi noticed his odd movement, their voices muttering, "What's he doing?" but dismissed it as panic, their focus on the looming threat, their faces taut with fear.
[Beep! Danger! Danger! Target approaching fast. Estimated collision time with target's current speed is 3 minutes and 34 seconds. The host is recommended to leave immediately!] The Chip's warning blared, and Leylin's hand shot up.
His Grand Knights leapt back, each pulling a blue potion tube with a needle tip, their movements swift and practiced. Dexter and Greem stepped forward, weapons drawn, their faces grim with resolve.
"Latent Fireball!" Leylin's voice rang out, not aimed at the unseen Golden Giant but at the five Magi.
A colossal wave of flame erupted, its roar deafening, engulfing the group in a searing inferno. Amplified by his 35% elemental conversion, the attack was devastating, the air shimmering with heat, the sand beneath glowing red.
Leylin's face remained blank, his mind calculating, knowing the Magi weren't dead yet.
The five Magi—Lancey, the old geezer leader, the large bloke, and the two silent grey-robed Magi leapt from the roaring flames of Leylin's Latent Fireball, their bodies charred and bloodied, their trump cards barely saving them.
Fury and hatred burned in their eyes, their gazes locked on Leylin, their assailant, as they struggled to stand, their breaths ragged with pain and betrayal.
A golden glow flared in the west, the ominous approach of the Golden Giant, its energy a distant rumble.
Greem and Dexter wasted no time, lunging at the two silent Magi, their voices a low growl of resolve.
"Now!" Greem shouted, hurling an attack potion that burst in a cloud of corrosive mist. Dexter followed, his sword flashing as he engaged, his face set with grim focus.
The Magi sneered at first, their voices dripping with contempt, "Knights? Pathetic!"
But a single clash shattered their arrogance—Greem and Dexter's Saint Knight runes flared, exploding with magical power, their strikes swift and brutal, forcing the Magi to scramble in defense, their voices choking with shock,
"What are they?!" The five Magi were rattled. Lancey fared worst, her robes scorched, her skin blistered from Leylin's attack, her voice a weak gasp, "How…?"
The old geezer, the strongest, stood firmest, his voice a furious snarl, "Traitor!" though blood seeped from his lips.
The silent Magi and the large bloke, battered but defiant, fought to hold their ground, their voices hoarse with effort.
Leylin raised his hand toward the large bloke, his fingers tracing a strange, deliberate gesture, his voice cold and commanding, "Restrict!"
Sssii! Countless black tentacle-like shadows erupted from his own, writhing like serpents as they bound the bloke tightly, his massive frame thrashing uselessly.
"Damn it, I'll kill you!" the bloke roared, his voice thick with rage, his eyes wild with desperation as the shadows held him fast, neutralizing him for the moment.
The old geezer, seizing the window, cast a Flight spell, his voice a bloodthirsty growl, "What are you doing?"
He soared upward, wind swirling around him, his eyes glinting with the advantage of aerial combat.
"Have you gone insane!?" he snarled, glancing at the Golden Giant's glow, now closer, its footsteps shaking the sand.
Leylin leapt toward him, his movements fluid. The old geezer's face lit with euphoria, his voice a mocking laugh, "Fool! Challenging a wind Magus in the air?"
But his scorn died as Leylin summoned the Black Horrall Snake, its massive spectral form materializing beneath him, its scales gleaming like obsidian.
Using its head as a platform, Leylin rode the snake's leap, appearing before the old geezer in an instant, a ghost in the night.
Activating his innate spell, Kemoyin Scales, his arm shimmered with dark, serpentine armor. He drove his fist into the old geezer's face, a sickening crunch echoing as half his face collapsed, blood spraying.
The old geezer's scream was cut short, his body blasting backward with an explosion, crashing into the sand, his voice a broken wheeze, "No…!"
The black Horrall Snake coiled in the chaos, its eyes glowing with malice as it faced the two Magi battling Greem and Dexter.
The Magi's spells flared earth spikes and wind blades, injuring their opponents but Greem and Dexter held firm, their Saint Knight runes pulsing despite their gaping wounds, their voices fierce, "Keep them pinned!"
The snake's horn, sharp and gleaming, crackled with energy, a low hum building in the air.
With a flick of its head, it unleashed a thunder spell, its voice a guttural hiss as bolts of lightning arced from the horn, splitting the night with blinding light.
The bolts struck the two Magi fighting Dexter and Greem as well as the restricted one, their screams piercing, their voices choking, "Argh! Fuck you!" as electricity seared their flesh, their defenses crumbling under the assault.
Greem and Dexter stepped back, their breaths heavy, their eyes sharp, watching the Magi collapse, twitching in the sand, their voices fading to pained gasps.
Meanwhile, Faisal, Freed, Fraser, and Mandal moved with precision, their faces grim as they approached the Seated Lupin Wolves tethered near the Magi's tents.
Each knight gripped a blue needle-tube potion, its contents shimmering faintly. The wolves growled, their red-crowned heads snapping up, their voices a low rumble of warning.
Faisal's voice was steady, "Easy, now," as he plunged the needle into one wolf's flank. The beast's growl faltered, its eyes glazing over, a dull sheen replacing their ferocity.
Freed, Fraser, and Mandal followed suit, their voices a quiet murmur, "Hold still," as they injected the others, the wolves' massive forms slumping slightly, their breaths slowing, subdued by the potion's power.
Leylin landed on the ground, his boots sinking into the sand, his gaze sweeping the battlefield. The exchange had lasted mere moments, the air thick with the stench of charred flesh and blood.
Three Magi—the two silent ones and the large bloke were badly injured, their voices weak curses as they struggled to rise. The old geezer lay profusely bleeding, half his face a ruined mess, his breath a shallow rasp, his voice barely a whisper, "Please…"
Lancey stood alone, her innate defense spell flickering, her body trembling from the Latent Fireball's toll, her voice a faint, "I can't… hold on…"
Dexter and Greem backed off, as the black Horrall Snake activated Shadow Stealth, its form blurring into darkness, a silent predator.
It struck the three injured Magi, its tail lashing, its fangs snapping, their screams rising, "You bastard, Leylin!" as they fought to fend it off, their spells faltering, their voices breaking with exhaustion.
Leylin approached Lancey, his yellow, vertical-slit eyes locking onto hers, his intent to finish the weakest of the group and, just as he was about to unleash Eyes Of Petrification Lancey, to his surprise, Lancy didn't attack, defend or plead.
Instead, she hurled a spell at the old geezer, a weak burst of energy that struck his crumpled form, her voice a strained, "Take him!"
She bowed her head to Leylin, her eyes dim with submission. Leylin's brow twitched, his voice a low murmur, "Interesting girl."
He didn't dwell, his mind already shifting. Leylin drew half a dozen red potions from his pouch, their vials glinting with a malevolent glow, crafted from Ivy's faint bloodline. He faced the three Magi—the two silent ones and the large bloke still reeling from the snake's assault, their voices hoarse, "You'll pay…"
He began an incantation, his voice steady, almost bored, "Ignis Mortis!"
The potions flew from his hand, arcing toward the trio. As they shattered, a crimson mist erupted, igniting into a massive explosion that engulfed them.
The blast shook the ground, flames roaring, their screams piercing, "No! Stop!" as the fire consumed their defenses, their bodies collapsing in the inferno, the sand around them scorched black, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burnt flesh.
Leylin appeared before the old geezer, his Kemoyin Scales still active, their dark sheen catching the starlight.
The old man's remaining eye widened in terror, his voice a desperate, quivering plea, "Spare me! I'll serve you, I swear!"
His bloodied hand reached out, trembling, his breath hitching with fear, his face twisted in a pathetic mask of dread. Leylin's expression didn't shift, his voice flat, "Useless."
He drove his scaled fist down, crushing the old man's skull with a wet crunch, blood and bone splattering the sand, his body going limp, his final whimper silenced.
Leylin stood over the old geezer's corpse, his eyes glowing with a faint, predatory light. He raised his hand, activating Soulbound Devourer.
'Devour!'
A dark vortex invisible to everyone except Leylin formed above the body, tendrils of shadow coiling around the Magus's fading essence. The air grew heavy, a chill spreading as the soul was torn free, a shimmering wisp drawn into Leylin's palm.
The soul was writhing as the tendirls consumed them, a faint screams echoing in the void.
The power surged through Leylin, a cold rush that sharpened his senses, his body thrumming with stolen vitality, the desert's silence unbroken save for the distant brewing storm.
Leylin closed his eyes, the A.I. Chip's voice humming in his mind.
[Beep! Soul absorption complete. Host stats updated: Strength increased by 0.3, Agility increased by 0.4, Vitality increased by 0.1, Spiritual Force increased by 0.7, Wind Elemental Conversion increased by 6%.] He opened his eyes, his vertical slits narrowing, registering the gains with clinical satisfaction, his mind already calculating their impact.
[Beep! Leylin Farlier: Grand Knight. Rank 1 Warlock. Bloodline: Giant Kemoyin Serpent. Summon—Black Horrall Snake, Black Steed. Strength: 11.7, Agility: 9.7, Vitality: 12.2, Spiritual Force: 35.1, Magical Power: 35. Elemental essence conversion: Darkness: 37%. Wind : 6%. Status: Healthy.]
"Only 2 minutes left, let's finish the rest of them."