Do you know how many Archmages there were before the Empire? How long we select few have been awakening? I don't. What did they do, I wonder, before the Dungeon took our full attention? What marvels did they create?
Note added by REDACTED:
They killed each other, is what they did. Same as mortals have been doing since the dawn of time.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
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Marcus resisted the urge to sigh, since this was weird enough already. Four healers were with them in the tent, a small army of Royal Guards stationed outside to ensure their privacy, and both himself and Elly got two mages each.
And despite being basically injected with venom acid stuff, he was feeling great. That might have something to do with the potion Vess gave him, but still. This was nice.
Elly, on the other hand, didn't seem to be enjoying herself nearly as much. "No, don't— And you did it anyway. Both of you, go help the King. He can deal with this afterwards."
The two healers flinched away from her, bowing deeply and moving over. Marcus sighed, waving his hand in what felt like a significant pattern.
"Don't be mean to the healers. Not everyone knows how to coax Life energy into triple-coagulated patterns while simultaneously reducing inflammation between the chakra points."
"Fucking Hells you're high," Elly replied, sighing. "Most of that meant nothing. And chakra doesn't exist, or if it does, it just means Life. Now stop talking before I have to slap everyone here with a gag order."
Marcus hummed, not seeing any real reason to object. So he weaved his hand and wondered about the nature of black holes, and mentally sketched a potential tenth-tier spell on how to make one. Localized, of course, and properly contained, but if he added—
"Did he just say 'make a black hole'?" Elly asked. The four healers said absolutely nothing, which seemed to just annoy her more. "Make him sober before he kills us all."
He frowned, because how did she even know he was talking about—
"I know because you're speaking out loud, you idiot."
Marcus jolted, the pleasant haze melting away like snow in summer. He groaned and tried not to move, pain returning with a vengeance, and shot her a glare. "Vess gave me that for a reason, you inkpot."
"Don't start muttering about black holes, then."
He grunted, waving the healers away. "I'll deal with the rest. Thank you."
The small group bowed, fleeing the tent so quickly he briefly wondered if they'd figured out how to teleport. He turned to Elly properly, spinning up his fourth-tier cleansing spell while he did.
Elly huffed. "What?"
"Don't be mean to the healers. They're doing their best."
"They're shit, is what they are. Eight matrices between them and they can't figure out that I need energy, not spells? We have just over three hundred Life Enhanced soldiers, for fuck sake."
"And most of those are mere beginners," Marcus replied, tone as soothing as he could make it. "The nobles didn't bring enough healers, so we're stretched thin. But you know all of that, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that we don't get the best of the best. Especially not while the army is actively fighting."
Elly crossed her arms, tone carved from iron. "Irrelevant. You got poisoned, and the best they could do was stitch up your wound? Hells, you're doing most of their work for them right this very second."
"Sit," he offered, swinging himself upwards on the bed. She joined him after a long moment, and he bumped her shoulder with his own. "I'm alive. We're alive, and we might very well have just saved the continent. The army has successfully created a perimeter, we saw that much coming in, and soon enough general Pator will come to tell us everything is in hand."
She sniffed, the sound more dramatic than before. "He'd better be. I know we're supposed to be titans amongst mankind, or whatever, but thirty five thousand soldiers should be able to do more than we can. Why even bring them, otherwise?"
"I feel you," he agreed. "Now, I have some magic to spare, and the venom is definitely gone now. What first?"
"Ribs. A shard broke off and is trying to pierce my heart, or at least it feels that way. Guess I have to be careful about rapid turns while going all out."
Marcus snapped around to look at her, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed. He shook his head, using one hand to grip her own and running the other through his hair.
Maybe those healers were shit.
He wasn't even halfway done when one of the Royal Guards knocked on the tent flap, or more accurately on the tent pole right next to it. Elly called them inside while he very carefully nudged her healing factor into realigning the piece of bone, which was way more stressful than he thought it would be.
It wasn't the guard that entered, though. Instead Baron-commander Zotor walked inside, bowing his head before speaking. "My Queen, your Grace. I have heard of your victory against the Calamity. Praise to you both."
The man glanced at the scalp still sitting on Elly's bedside table, clearing his throat. Elly rolled her eyes. "Continue."
"Ma'am. General Pator has sent me in his stead, and wishes me to inform you that Estin has been fully sealed off. The critters have shown a mild weakness to fire, and our earth mages are raising a secondary wall to ensure none escape. He anticipates that it will take a week to fully burn Estin, if the King's earlier order still stands."
"It does," she replied, shifting when Marcus poked her ribs. No other splinters, good. "How are the auxiliaries performing?"
"Admirably, ma'am. Duke Helios is leading their more inexperienced members to contain the south of the city, and is ensuring as many are blooded as possible. Duke Hargraf and Duchess Soema have each taken three thousand men and are supporting the army as needed."
"No containment failures?"
"Not yet, ma'am." The Baron cleared his throat. "Pardon, ma'am, but is burning the entire city necessary? We haven't even scouted for survivors. A week, and I can lead—"
Marcus cut the man off. "No, commander. Just no. I commend your value of life, but these are offspring of a Horde Calamity. Worse, they appear to be intelligent and able to work together. Even with their mother dead, they can still breed. We have one good chance to wipe them out, and we're taking it. Even if someone is alive in that city, and that's a very big if, their lives aren't worth the uncountable souls that would die should we fail."
The man didn't look happy about that, but tough luck. Marcus wasn't going to send his men to die looking for survivors that didn't exist, and they didn't have the mages to ensure the cockroaches didn't dig tunnels. Estin had to burn, and it had to burn now.
"Was that all, commander?" Elly asked. Zotor nodded stiffly. "Then you are dismissed. Send for Mitzi on your way out."
The man saluted, turning sharply on his heels. Marcus sighed when he was gone. "Too harsh?"
"Discipline has to be maintained." She shrugged. "And you are King. He'll swallow his objections, and Vess will make sure it doesn't turn into anything more. Well, her or one of her sisters. I heard she's been expanding the ranks."
Marcus hummed. "I don't really keep up with it, to be honest. Between figuring out portals, hunting Calamities and training my apprentices, I don't have time to micromanage her. Which I wouldn't want to do even if I had."
"Fair enough. Get dressed. We'll swear in Mitzi as heir, then get your gear repaired. You talked with Helios, right?"
"I did, and he's on board. So is Soema, for that matter, which is a little suspicious. Either way, the kingdom will have an heir."
Elly grinned. "I know I was somewhat hesitant at the start, but I'm really liking this plan. Seeing her squirm will be great."
"You've got somewhat of a mean streak, you know that?" Marcus shrugged at her scowl, glancing at the scalp sitting on her table. "Just saying."
She sniffed imperiously. "Not like I'm ambushing her with it, but she still thinks it just has to be some sort of joke. Lucky her that it'll be a small ceremony. Had this been peacetime, half the Kingdom would have shown up."
"Lucky us, too. It'll be much easier to reverse if most people only hear about it second hand."
"Yeah. You dressed yet?"
Marcus snorted, clasping the last buckle into place. With his usual armor he'd be able to use telekinesis, but that was a learned set of movements. "I saw you look."
"Perhaps. You have abs now, though. I like abs."
He stood, stretching his arms up and feeling the skin on his stomach pull taut. There was still some soreness for healing, but no more necrotic patches. Progress. "I know. You weren't subtle back when you were designing my exercise routine."
"Yes, well." She cleared her throat. "It sounds kinda bad when you put it like that."
Another knock echoed mildly through the tent, making him stand. The voice called out a moment later. "Your Grace. Lady Rose is here."
Lady Rose? Was Mitzi a lady? She was the adopted daughter of Hargraf, so he supposed so, but he'd never thought of her as a lady. Oh well.
"We're coming out."
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Marcus spun up his cleansing spell and watched the small gaggle of nobles leave, a very stone-faced Mitzi with them. Six Royal Guards silently shadowed her, which seemed to displease her father, but Hargraf could get bent.
The man just received a massive political boon despite being a scheming bastard, so Marcus would do as he pleased. And if Mitzi was the heir, that meant she got Royal Guards. Guards that would be making sure Hargraf didn't try anything too overly machiavellian.
Right, that was done with. It hadn't taken long, and they really only had to wait for Soema's nobles, but it wasn't even evening yet. Boring oaths, politically important small talk, and now people would be shutting up about him having children.
So help him, they would be shutting up. One way or another.
Marcus turned when Elly failed to join him, apparently having something better to do than hanging out. Which he would be remembering, but it was fine. Totally cool. Not like he'd wanted to double-check the healing he had done on her, or anything.
He shook off that train of thought, moving towards the enchanters. Most had returned to Mirrania, but with their increased distance from home, he'd asked some to stay. Only five of them, though for some reason there had been triple that in volunteers.
Going with those having previous combat experience, or having performed particularly well in their combat classes, had been an easy way to sort them. Now he just needed his armor repaired, which wasn't looking great.
But it had done its job, so there was that. From what he could feel the shielding rune was mostly intact, and while he would normally have messed around with it for a few hours, he had other things to do.
The whole point about building an Academy was so that he could delegate, so not taking advantage would be silly.
Dropping off the armor, or more accurately speaking with the weirdly excited enchanters and having a Royal Guard fetch the armor from his tent, only took half an hour. They promised to get it done, and that was good enough for him.
Right, what was next? Ah, Mirror Dimension. It had been a little while since his last visit, and he was hoping to get some insight into his portal problem.
It wouldn't do to let it become a crutch, but at the same time it was stupid not to take advantage. The only problem was the so-called evil Marcus', which he hadn't met yet. Would they fight? Was combat the same there as it was here? If they fought, would they be more skilled?
Could he run? Should he run? It was a whole separate frontier, and he was pressed enough for time as it was. Maybe if this had been a hundred years ago he would have had time to grow. Fight against the Dungeon every few years alongside the other Archmages, and spent the rest of his time exploring new and interesting places.
But no, he was born just in time for the world to end. Or their continent, at least, but frankly, he didn't see most Calamities staying put. The Hounds would eat all the food soon enough, and then they'd move on.
Marcus shook his head. It was Mirror Dimension time, not depression time. If he was lucky, he might even find the solution to all his problems, stabilize the Empire, defeat the Dungeon and have an eternally grateful Empress give him whatever he needed for the rest of time.
That didn't feel like too much to ask, honestly.
He snorted and pushed aside the flap to his tent, finding it empty. Marcus shrugged, ordered his Royal Guards to seal it off, and got comfortable on the floor.
That wasn't necessary to reach the Mirror Dimension, but it felt appropriate. Thematic. So he crossed his legs and calmed his breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow, slow, slowwww—
Marcus opened his eyes, finding the not-space of the dimension spreading around him. He grinned, stretching briefly and envisioning a chair. The same one Vistus had made for them on that mountain top, which was just all kinds of comfortable.
He wasn't sure how long it had taken to get here, since keeping track of time defeated the purpose of not-thinking, but he did know there hadn't been any false starts. Which meant that he had, officially, reached the Mirror Dimension on purpose and without assistance.
His celebration was cut short when a pulse of power flashed in the distance, and then another. The baby Marcuses, right. Or their souls, at least. He willed his chair onward, happy enough to investigate. He needed to explore to find another him, anyway.
Finding another him turned out to be easy enough. It was also one who looked more like him than anyone he'd met, robe and all, to the point Marcus actually hesitated to make contact. The man hadn't noticed him yet, staring at one of the souls.
Then the man grasped it, weaving a spell Marcus didn't recognize, and the soul strained. He was about to say something when it shattered, and a small surge of power flashed before vanishing.
That… That had been him. One of him. And another of him had just killed them. Marcus straightened, his chair vanishing, and with a flex of will his defensive suite snapped into place.
The other him finally turned at that, seeming briefly surprised. Then the surprise went away, and he just looked apathetic. "Oh. Hello. I don't suppose you're an open minded one, are you?"
"You just killed him," Marcus replied, tone rapidly hardening. "A child. A babe. And you snuffed out his soul like breaking a cup."
Not-Marcus sighed. "I'll take that as a no. Look, you seem young. New. I'm sure one of us told you some story about the pricelessness of souls, or whatever, but this place is infinite. That means there are an infinite of us, and that means that we can't die out. Ever, no matter how many I kill. So fuck off, leave me to my research, and do so before you get hurt."
"You propose that the value of something is tied to its quantity?" Marcus hummed, thinking that over. "No. Intent matters more than action, and a lack of consequence doesn't devalue integrity."
The man sighed again. "Hells, we sound pretentious. Alright, come on then. I won't kill you, but—"
Marcus slashed forward with a spatial arc, teleporting next to not-Marcus and materializing his mace. It smashed against a shield and was rebuffed, but he was already crafting a disruption matrix. The spell washed over his enemy's defenses while he twisted to the side, dodging a spear of… something.
His mace came down again, and a large crack appeared in his enemy's shield. Not-Marcus scrambled back, the damaged portion slowly rotating away, but Marcus had already finished another disruption spell.
The shield flickered, and his mace came down again. He redirected it at the last moment, impacting the man's shoulder instead of his skull, and not-Marcus went down with a scream. Marcus stepped aside when a spatial arc came for his head, oddly disappointed.
Not-Marcus tried to run, so he broke the man's knee. Then he pressed his will against this odd reality, and a cage of silvery iron wrapped around his prisoner. Runes of suppression blazed within, powered more by intent than magic.
The man tried to break through, but with a shattered knee and a splintered shoulder, the willpower just wasn't there. Or maybe it wasn't there at all, and the pain had nothing to do with it.
"You think he's a disappointment, don't you?"
Marcus twisted to the side, mentally cursing. Keeping the evil-Marcus suppressed while dealing with whoever this was would be tricky, but—
"Peace," the newcomer soothed, showing both hands. Marcus let his mace dissipate. "I don't seek to fight. Not that I would want to, having watched that. Let me guess, you're from a world with a Dungeon, and you're probably married to Elly, too."
He nodded after a long moment, making the newcomer snort. "Figures. You lot tend to be dangerous. That one, on the other hand, is probably a researcher. Someone who barely fights, and relies on his natural power when he does. They don't develop a particularly robust will, and as you seem to have already figured out, will matters more here than almost anything else. What are you going to do with him?"
"He killed a babe," Marcus replied, tone even. "I'd hang any man or woman for that crime, and I won't make an exception just because they're me. He can die, right?"
The newcomer shrugged. "Fair enough. I will be a witness in your defense, should it ever come to that, but it probably won't. And yes, he can die. No immortality for us, not like summons usually get."
Marcus watched the man, who continued to do nothing, and finally turned back to the child killer. The evil-Marcus was watching him with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe what was going on. This. This was why his Academy had rules, and why progress without ethics made even demons flinch.
The evil-Marcus died with a twist of will, what defenses he managed to raise proving to be both weak and inefficient. And after that, well. The soul was just as fragile as the body.
He turned back to the newcomer, taking the man in. There wasn't anything to make him stand out, not really, but one of his eyes was vaguely red. As if he hadn't slept all night, then kept pushing through the day anyway.
Marcus broke the silence when it became clear the other him wasn't going to. "I don't suppose you've created stable, self-sustaining portals, have you? I could use the help."
"No such luck, I'm afraid," the red-eyed Marcus replied. "I could probably teach you how to interweave space within paint, but I don't get the sense you're a painter."
"No. No I am not. Then, if you don't mind, I think I'll be going. Whatever was wrong with that me, it has thoroughly spoiled my mood."
The red-eyed Marcus shrugged, and Marcus created some distance before leaving the dimension. He stayed seated on the floor afterwards, taking long, slow breaths. That had certainly been something.
It was a few minutes later when he heard a commotion outside, rising with a grunt and taking a look. He found Gretched trying to argue with silent Royal Guards—an exercise in futility if there ever was one—and her focus turned to him when he stepped fully outside.
Gretched pointed at him with a crooked finger. "You. The army is deploying mages to burn Estin, and I've been ordered to assist."
"Your point?"
She hesitated slightly at his tone, lowering her hand. "I can burn it down with fifty mages, and it won't take me even close to a week. This is the kind thing that rituals were made for, and I'm the best ritual expert in the entire damn army. Let me burn it."
Marcus didn't reply immediately, nodding to his guards. They stepped aside, and he turned to re-enter his tent. Gretched followed after a moment, and he poured them both a drink from the side table.
He sat, put down the drink, and raised an eyebrow at her silence. "Elaborate. Please."