Interlude 1: Family Man
Being one of the most renowned warriors in all of the Solovian Empire comes with many benefits and opens many doors. These benefits however, all come at the cost of having enemies in each and every corner of the empire and even beyond.
Roran Skyguard, grand elder and founder of the skyguard sect, the most powerful sect in the empire, sat upon his throne.
Seated atop the marble steps of the grand dining hall he smiled, admiring his desendents.
Every year all members of the skyguard family gather at Roran's estate to celebrate Stellatego, a holiday that takes place on the same day as the summer solstice and commemorates the sun goddess Stella slaying Lahab, the fire titan, and putting an end to his path of tyranny.
A young boy huffed and puffed as he climbed up the marble steps and yelled between deep breaths.
"Grandpa! Grandpa! Tell Naomi to stop being an idiot!"
The boy was followed behind closely by his just as out of breath twin sister whom also shouted shouted as she climbed, nearing the top.
"Don't listen to him grandpa he's just mad that he's a big and ugly Titan!"
They both made it to the top as the boy retorted.
"No, I'm Stella! You're the ugly titan! Now get ready to face my divine bow! Muhahaha"
The girl flicked her hair and crossed her arms. "I'm a girl and you're a boy so that means I'm the pretty goddess and you're the fat ugly titan."
Roran let out a hearty laugh. "Now now you two, settle down."
Naomi pointed at Neil. "First, tell this fat ugly titan he's wrong grandpa!"
Roran stood and scooped them up before descending the steps leading to the center of the dining hall.
"Are you accusing one of my decendents of being an evil titan?" He said with a raised raised eyebrow as he lowered them to the floor.
Naomi pouted and looked away. "No."
Roran let out a hearty laugh. "Good. Now go play with the others you two and don't go causing trouble for your parents."
"Okay fine. Bye grandpa!" They both said in unison before running toward the huge group of kids.
Roran smiled as he heared them still bickering under their breath.
He turned to the absurdly long dining table, that seemed to grow exponentially longer every year, and gazed upon the dozens of grown men and women talking and laughing amongst eachother.
At the edge of the table sat his grandson and acting head of the Skyguard sect Lyrian Skyguard.
Lyrian was talking to one his cousins and paused when he spotted Roran. The rest of the table noticed this and turned to the grand elder with a mixture of smiles and shock before bowing. "We greet the grand elder!" They said in unison.
Roran laughed. "No need for the theatrics we're family after all. Now sit and let us begin this feast together."
He walked to the head of the table and sat. The sound of seats sliding on the floor sang in harmony as everyone else followed suit.
Roran looked to the end of table. "Seems we have another year of new faces joining us at the table. I hope your awakenings all went well?" He asked.
"Yes grand elder!" They newly awakened said in unison.
"Grand elder? And just last year you runts were all calling me grandpa, too good for that now are we?" He said as he smiled.
Lyrian chuckled at his grandfathers antics. "Grandfather they are just trying to impress they're grand elder is all. You know little Hector here awakened a temporal core just as you yourself once did."
Roran paused in shock for a slight moment. A temporal core gave one the ability to very slightly alter and distort time, bending it to their will. As a newly awakened it is nearly impossible to do anything beyond slightly slowing time for just a moment. As one gets stronger however these techniques can become ultimate trump cards on the battlefield. Roran's strength and renown being a testament to this fact.
Temporal cores however are nearly nonexistent and up until Roran. We're hitherto unheard of. There have been whispers through the ages and legends, but nothing proven as fully legitimate.
A big smile blossomed on Roran's face. "This is great news!" He looked to Hector. "You don't even realize how lucky you are young man. I had to dig within me and fight for every inch of discovery I ever made. The branching routes of failure are long and intertwined with the path of success, and I intended to guide you down that path that I have paved with my own bare hands. Let me take you under my wing. Let me mold you Hector, my own flesh and blood, into an even mightier warrior than I and help you lead our family into its next chapter of glory."
There were smiles all around the table at this special moment, and futility trying to hide the biggest smile of them all was Hector.
He looked to Roran with shining eyes and opened his mouth to speak.
But before he could utter a sound, the towering doors of the dining hall were obliterated by a massive, firey, and deafening explosion that vaporized the two guards and some of the children that were standing near the door.
The table of adults stared wide-eyed at the entrance, being pelted by degree as they processed what just happened.
The first two to react were Roran and Lyrian as they stood and shouted at the others. "Prepare for an attack." "Protect the children."
As everyone scrambled out of their seats, some ran to the children, as they all drew their weapons and wands preparing for an attack.
Roran pulled a large white greatsword from his spatial ring and with a heart full of rage he menacingly walked toward the entrance, his anger growing with each step as the sight of his decandants dying replayed in his mind over and over.
Before reached the door however, dozens of black spheres flew overhead. His senses flared as he sensed one coming toward him. He slowed time for a moment and lashed his blade out at the sphere slicing it cleanly in half causing it to release a large amount of purple gas that engulfed him.
Roran's constitution was strong and made him nearly immune to most poisons so he ignored the gas and pushed forward, eager to kill these infiltrators.
After a moment however, his face paled.
He felt the gas invading his body and sucking his mana well dry with no sign of slowing down. He knew of only one plant that could drain mana from someone endlessly until their death. The dreadnought.
He looked around the grand dining hall somehow filled with this toxic gas and saw his descendants scrambling as some began to collapse from it. The only ones safe from this being the children as they had no mana for the gas to drain.
'By the gods how is this even possible.'
There were many reasons that nobody feared dreadnought and that most didn't even know of it.
The first reason was that the dreadnought was a ridiculously rare herb that could exist in any biome and could only be found by pure luck.
The second reason would the plants nature. Dreadnought is almost impossible to get near, let alone harvest, without resulting in it draining your mana and killing you.
This however, can be simply be solved by having an unawakened pluck the herb as it won't cause them any harm. They can then put the dreadnought into a specially crafted contraption and hand it to their benefactor.
The really tricky part is removing and the plant from the contraption and using it, as most unawakened don't have the mental nor physical experience in crafting and alchemy to make use of the plants qualities.
Dreadnought is heavily regulated by almost every ruling power across the globe and destroyed whenever possible.
So to be able to find this much dreadnought, to be able to craft it into some sort of gas, and all while remaining undetected is unheard of and impossible. Roran himself who's has lived for centuries has only ever heard of this plant and would never believe what was happening now were it not happening in front of his very eyes.
He ran to Lyrian guiding the adults and children to the corner of the dining hall away from the gas. For most of the adults it was futile as the dreadnought was already flowing through their mama circuits.
Roran reached his grandson and put a hand on his shoulder. "Lyrian, you have to go."
Lyrian's face was full of anger. "I know what this is grandfather. We are already doomed and I want those responsible to taste my blade before I succum to death."
"This is not about what you 'want' Lyrian, you are the head of the family and these children stil have a future. There is a secret exit within the wall behind the throne. I need you to take everyone there and escape, I'll remain here and rid the earth of the scum who dared attack my family."
Lyrian tried to reign in his anger and put the families needs before his. "I'll stay with you, we are both doomed and I'd like to make sure they can't go after the rest of our family."
Roran grabbed Lyrian shoulders and looked him in his eyes. "Lyrian I'm sorry by you cannot be here, you will only be getting in my way."
Lyrian was about to retort but then remembered his grandfather's abilities and nodded in understanding.
Roran embraced his grandson. "Get them as far away from here as possible and be prepared for any enemies waiting outside. "Our families future rest in your hands Lyrian."
Lyrian wiped a tear from his cheek as they separated and turned around. "Everyone gather around and follow me!"
Lyrian burst the wall open and they made their way through the secret exit with the bodies of their unconscious kin over their shoulders.
Roran turned toward the main entrance. He could sense many people waiting just outside the dining hall but he knew the only thing greater than revenge was to guard the exit and make sure his family had a future.
Reigning in his raging fury he walked up the marble steps and sat on the throne.
The gas dissipated after several minutes, clearing the room of any visual obstruction. Just moments ago he was in this very spot admiring the greatest achievement his life with warmth in his heart.
Now he sat on his throne looking upon the ruined dining hall with the dreadnought still eating away at his mana well. The warmth in his heart replaced by an immeasurable sadness and rage.
He covered his mouth as he fell into a fit of coughing. He was in the center of the gas and breathed much of it in.
Roran felt his core and his body growing extremely weak as his breathes become more and more labored.
Finally the sound of steps echoed through the hall as the enemy forces waiting outside made their way in.
Atleast fifty men covered in black combat suits from head to toe made their way towards the steps.
"Well well well, if it isn't the time saint himself, Roran Skyguard. I have to say I, and even my grandfather, grew up on legends of your might and valor. Grand tales of the extraordinary that many such as myself were enthralled with."
The man walked to the front of the steps. He pulled a black trident from his spatial ring and casually leaned against it.
"But now that I'm getting a good look at you I have to say I'm not so impressed. I guess there is some truth to the phrase 'never meet your hero's' as they tend to be more man than myth. Or maybe that's just the poison taking it's toll." The man said as he let out a laugh.
"Pretty genius isn't it? You know, when I got the contract for your head I initially turned it down. My benefactor raised the reward, but me, not being one to act foolishly, turned it down again. They however kept raising the reward and adding some quite astonishing incentives. Eventually, as we both know, I accepted. Now there I was, already given half the reward wondering how to pull this off, and if I even could pull it off. Many weeks went by as one idea after the other was thrown into the trash. Until finally one of my men-"
Roran stood, his thin strand of patience properly severed. "Enough!" He shouted.
"You dare enter my home and ramble on as if you are a guest! You are no guest of mine, you are an enemy of me and family and you will die as such!"
The man in the mask gripped his trident and replied just as angrily. "I… don't… like… being… interrupted." He said through his grinding teeth.
At almost imperceptible speed he launched the trident toward Roran who, were it not for his poor state, could've dodged and retaliated with ease. As he was now however, he could only rely on his dwindling mana.
Roran only knew one eighth circle spell, his strongest spell 'bloodline temporal lock'. This spell gave him the ability to establish a spherical domain in his vicinity, and as long as he was the only one of his bloodline within this domain he could pause time completely with only its inhabitants perception left untouched. Unfortunately this also included Roran himself.
The spell took some time to prepare as most high-tier circle spells do, and during his wait in the dining hall he had plenty of time to put everything he needed into place. The preparations required an excessive amount of mana which along with the dreadnought was the main cause of his currently poor state.
Before the trident could reach Roran he activated the circle.
Time stood still as a white translucent sphere encompassed the entire dining hall freezing everyone within.
Roran and the masked man stood staring into eachothers eyes with the trident stuck floating between them.
The duration of the spell depended on how much mana was put into the preparation, and Roran, knowing this spell would be his last, poured in all the mana he could muster from his near boundless core.
Time began to pass.
First a day, then a week, then a month.
Roran was an ancient man, yet time passing during life and time passing while still were two entirely different experiences.
He knew that nothing was waiting for him beyond this moment besides death. But even then this stillness tore at his mind. The only thing keeping him from ending the spell was knowing that his enemies yearned for the life beyond this moment and were suffering far more than him. And hope that his family was able to seek refuge somewhere the uneffected and unakwakened could grow.
The only change came from his peripherals as he saw that outside his domain the dust grew thick, and the mosaic window brightened and darkened, indicating a seemingly almost endless amount of days and nights passing by.
After what felt like many years he sensed a new presence making its way through his secluded estate.
What felt like four people eventually began making their way to the dining hall. As they got to the entrance the readied their weapons and took a defensive formation.
Roran could see their lips moving but couldn't hear them as the sound couldn't penetrate the sphere.
Eventually the group relaxed as they realized Roran and the fifty killers were not a threat.
They began to marvel at the scene before them and circled the white sphere.
One of them, a human archer, became curious and stuck his hand in the circle.
His eyes seemed to widen in horror as tried tugging his hand back to no avail.
His friends surrounded him and tried pulling on his body until it seemed like he screamed in pain and told them to stop.
There was much deliberation and experimentation between them until eventually the team seemed to come to a sombering agreement.
The brute orc of the group hefted his axe and brought it down in a powerful swing, severing the archers arm clean at the wrist freeing him from the sphere.
The archer seemed to scream in pain as an elven looking girl began casting a healing spell on him.
They gathered around him and sat down to take a break and eat as the archer tried to recover from the shock.
After a while, they stood to leave and the archer spared a final glance to his floating hand as he exited the dining hall following his comrades.