Fanfic [The Children of Ladeca]

• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-07 04:16
  The Children of Ladeca
  By Mentosftw
  
  Prologue
  [spoiler]“I cannot remember what time we are from anymore. Everything has changed. All I know is that the great deeds of the Milletians are long past and now regarded as legend; their existence banished as mere fairytales.
  
  In its place, there resides new era yet old in many ways. This is still a time where hatred and violence exists, a time where love and happiness still exists, a time where Humans, Elves and Giants are still at conflict with the eternal Fomor race. However, there is but one difference in this era that will forever change all of Erinn… And it is something its inhabitants all know too well … This is an era of untold suffering. This is an era where there is only one moon, and that is Ladeca.”
  
  Prologue
  
  After the destruction of Eweca, naturally occurring Mana soon disappeared from the air and this caused a disruption in all life in Erinn. Before this, everything was taking Mana for granted; every living being, including non sentiment beings such as plants naturally evolved to absorb Mana into their bodies. The Mana absorbed could be used to facilitate intense evolutionary growth in any organism. While a body does naturally generate Mana, it is often generated much slower than it is used. Over several millennia of Mana absorption, it was impossible to live without Mana in the body.
  
  This is because Mana is divided into two pools in the body, a large pool called Expendable Mana, which is excess Mana that allows the organism to perform normal motor functions and use magic, and a much smaller and concentrated pool called Essential Mana, Mana that is used to run the processes of the body. Expendable Mana and Essential Mana are both used at the same time at different rates. Usually Essential Mana is used much slower and at a constant rate while it can be replenished by Expendable Mana when necessary. When the body runs out of Expendable Mana, the individual begins to suffer the symptoms of Post Mana Syndrome. Post Mana Syndrome is a natural process which occurs when the body has no more Expendable Mana (often occurs in combat). Essential Mana is then converted into Expendable Mana as a failsafe so that the organism has time to rest in a safe place while recovering Mana. However, after Eweca was lost, when an organism falls in Post Mana Syndrome, their Mana pools cannot recover and thus, the body is forced to stop converting Essential Mana into Expendable Mana. The result is a permanent state of vegetation and an untimely death. This means that Mana is the utter life-force of any being in Erinn…
  
  However, that didn’t mean that Mana did not exist at all; after all, there was still a moon in the sky: Ladeca. Even though Ladeca didn’t directly produce Mana, it did its part to supply the inhabitants with Erg, which was quite literally, health. If Ladeca did not exist, then the situation may have been even worse. While Erg is mostly known to generate health, it also performed a small role by indirectly producing a portion of Mana. When a living being absorbs Erg, it starts to replenish the health of that individual. Health that is made from Erg also has a chance to change into Mana but cannot change back. That is how technically, living beings are naturally producing a small portion of Mana by themselves. This is how living beings regenerate Mana in the daytime. Unfortunately, this amount of Mana made in the day is only a small fraction of the Mana that an individual can absorb at night with Eweca.
  
  At first, the people of Erinn, overlooked this problem and reasoned that the solution to avoiding Post Mana Syndrome would be to just stop magic altogether but this proved to be a fatal error in ignorance. Mana, when left in the body for too long, becomes useless stagnates like deoxygenated blood and poisons the body. Normally, Mana is regularly expended through the use of magic which is then mostly refilled by Eweca at night. No one would have known before that not using Mana would be so deadly. Mana potions were a temporary and short lived solution that fell short because they were created from Mana Herbs which were the of species of herbs which were the hardest hit by the lack of Eweca. Of course, some populations of people were more horribly damaged than others, notably the magicians. Wands after Eweca were now a black market item for anyone touching one would need to have the wand permanently affixed to the wielder’s hand to prevent the Mana evaporation due to letting it go. Consequently it was also illegal to teach people advanced magic for those magics consumed far too much Mana at once. However, basic magic such as bolt magic was still taught to prevent Mana stagnation. Mediation is also stressed because this decreases the amount of time a person takes to regenerate Mana but it is largely impractical because people like farmers, soldiers and hunters cannot meditate all time.
  
  The loss of Eweca brought thousands of species of animals to extinction as there was no way for them to replace the Mana that used to be everywhere around them. Hundreds upon thousands of people suffered under the same fate… After much study, a short term solution was discovered; it was noticed that out of all the beings in Erinn, only Fomors were unaffected by Post Mana Syndrome. This lead to the discovery that Fomors have long since not needed to rely on Eweca for Mana regeneration; they had cores that could naturally produce enough Mana for their own personal use. The answer on how to harvest the Mana from Fomors came from the alchemists of the technologically advanced capitals of Uladh: Taillteann and Tara. The cores of dead Fomors would be transmuted into crystals and then be made as the cores of Mist Crystals, a variation of Rain Crystals. When sprayed into the air, the mist would artificially recreate the conditions of nightfall back when Eweca existed. However… only the most powerful Fomors were enough to create the highest quality cores; the over hunting of powerful Fomors has lead to a dwindling amount of them. This has led the civilization of humans and their relationship with Fomors to take an extremely complicated turn of events. Many small groups of humans were wiped out because of the high costs of crystals and their inability to hunt strong Fomors to create them. Alchemists soon spread across the land to capitalize on this opportunity which only led to greater suffering. The widespread use of Fomor Mist Crystals has also seemed to present another problem as well…
  
  End of Prologue
  [/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 1
  [spoiler][Ciar Dungeon: 2nd Floor. 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  Retaria: “Comon, we’ve got to pick up the pace, they’re relying on us! We can’t just give up!”
  
  Semont: “It’s no use… we can barely harvest enough cores for ourselves; our village is using up more Mana than we can possibly regain!”
  
  Semont, in frustration, struck his longsword into the ground and spat.
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “It was true. Our village is so poor that we can no longer to afford to pay the alchemists to make crystals for us. The ones we make only last us for a day or so… We can’t rest at all.. When will this end?”
  
  Retaria hesitated.
  
  Retaria: “We can’t give up… look, we’re nearing the end of the dungeon so there’s bound to be a strong Fomor coming up ahead.”
  
  Semont: “…yeah.”
  
  Semont had already lost hope; the only reason he was continuing was because there was nothing else he could do. Hunting Fomors was the only thing that could occupy his troubled thoughts right now.
  
  As the two progressed, an air of hopelessness surrounded them. Even though none of them spoke, they both sensed that optimistic words would not change anything and so, they continued silently, focusing on killing any Fomor that was barely worth collecting cores from. It was autumn and the rising humidity of the season flooded the dungeon with the rank smell of rotting corpses and it made it unbearably hot. It was more like fighting in a sewer more than anything. The rats that littered the floor everywhere ironically cleaned the Ciar of its of bodies but in turn laid their waste everywhere. The two prior to entering the dungeon took the precaution of wearing thick cloths over their faces to filter out some of the fumes in the building miasma.
  
  It hardly helped.
  
  Just two weeks ago, the two found bodies of missing villagers who ventured too deep in the dungeon who lay heaped in a corner; staving off the advancing Fomors no doubt.. the miasma had burned off their flesh and clothing leaving heaps of metal and bones with bits of tendon on them. It wasn’t uncommon that during the autumn season that Ciar Dungeon was at its worst; a natural deterrent for the average adventurer. But after the destruction of Eweca, no one in the village was given a choice and even more people died from the harsh conditions of the dungeon. It was made even worse that the Manaless air contributed to the piles of carcasses.
  
  Retaria: “It looks like the Fomors here are getting tougher.. Won’t be that much longer till we see some real action.”
  
  Semont: “Uh huh.”
  
  There it was: The largest chamber appeared in front of them as they cleared the winding corridor. On the entrance, a gate and four activation orbs were put in place to seal the Fomor within. A sign scrawled with withering letters was hung in front of the gate. It read, “Arachab; the Impaler.” Semont activated the nearest door orb and a click confirmed that it was the right one. The chains on the sealing gate slithered from its locks and a hidden pulley system within the walls slowly lifted the gate. A rush of hot air could be felt as the air temperatures fell into equilibrium.
  
  Semont: “Lucky..”
  
  Retaria: “Keep on your toes. I have a feeling this is gonna be one hell of a fight.”
  
  Finally, the gate rose to the top and the two entered the chamber. As if signaled by the arrival of the intruders, thousands of spiders attempted to crawl out of the room before the heavy gate dropped down again. They were all varying in size but identical in appearance: Offspring of Arachab perhaps. In the center of the room, unrecognizable bones were strewn across the floor with pieces of armor and weapons, all crushed into oblivion. A large, semi-circular patch of darkness smothered one corner of the room. The torch there was probably put out over there.
  
  The darkness quivered. There WAS no torch.
  
  Emerging from the shadows, eight identical legs simultaneously slid into position as if the great beast was awakening from its slumber. Each leg was plated with thick slats of dark metal and hairs of each leg sprang straight from its armour where there were gaps or ends. The ends of each leg were covered with a sharpened piece of metal, as if the behemoth was wielding eight lances. Without any adequate lighting, the legs would be so dark that it would be impossible to distinguish the joints and to where they disappeared into the abdomen. As disgusting as its appearance, each leg moved in perfect coordination with the grace of a ballet dancer. The front legs seemed to lead the back ones on: Partners in a twisted dance. As the giant spider dragged itself forward, its horrid features could now be observed. The closest thing that could be compared to it would be a knight in his armour; it was a being fully engulfed in iron. It seemed that nothing could pierce this secondary exoskeleton that it had. Nicks and dents were all over its armour indicating foolish adventurers who attempted to venture into its lair and slay it. On closer inspection, arrows and blades could be seen on the floor next to the beast. The only indication that there was a something living underneath the encasement was the eight round holes on its head revealing its beady eyes. Like its legs, frayed black hairs escaped from the imperfections of its armour as if they were the branches a great tree screaming for exposure to the sun. This Fomor, Arachab, had an intimidating appearance that was more than enough to make most adventurers drop their weapons and pray for a merciful death. For Retaria and Semont, they only gripped their weapons harder, they weren’t any greedy challengers seeking gold and treasures; they were loyal villagers with the aim of saving their people.
  
  Finally feeling that this Fomor was worthy of any effort, Semont thought of a plan to dispatch it.
  
  Semont: “Let’s get this done and over with. Retaria, while I distract it with my lightning, you run around to its side and try to make a hole through its armour with your fire.”
  
  Retaria: “Alright, got it- But wait, you’ve already used a lot of Mana today!”
  
  Semont: “..Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “Why is he getting so confident all of a sudden? Is he trying to show off?”
  
  Semont: “Don’t just stand there! It’s moving towards us, get into position!”
  
  At first, Semont shot off weak sparks straight into Arachab eyes to gain its attention, it worked. The great spider dazedly approached Semont to inspect him while Retaria ran off to its side; it was all going according to plan.
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Alright, just like they taught us in classes.”
  
  Concentrating, he channeled a large amount Mana into his right hand to draw massive amounts of atoms from the atmosphere. The electrons from these atoms are then torn from their bonds and then gathered to form pure electricity. A coating of Mana surrounded his hand that worked as an insulator and blocked the electricity from entering his body. If it did, not only would the electricity be lost, his heath could be at risk. This electricity was temporary as it was unstable and it appeared around Semont’s hand in the form of lightning streams; the containment step had to immediately follow this. More Mana was then used to force the electricity into a semi-stable ball form which will last fifteen seconds before the electrons give up their form and dissipate into the atmosphere back to their respective atoms. It didn’t matter, fifteen seconds was more than enough time needed to fire the bolt. This ball, itself a cage of lightning, housed a great amount of power which could be shot into a general direction all at once. Many people died in the past in order to figure out how to get this dangerous spell to properly work; the lightning would either kill the caster by entering the body or by dispersing all at once during the containment stage. Additionally, the constant need to reform the lightning bolt added to the danger but at the moment, it didn’t matter; Semont only had enough Mana for one charge. Finished with his creation, Semont aimed his hand towards the advancing spider, he smiled a bit. Aiming was kept at a minimum with lightning bolt; since lightning tries to enter the ground with the shortest route possible, as long as the caster shot it at a general direction towards the target, it would always home on to the target if it was the closest thing in front of the caster. Especially if the target was covered in metal.
  
  He fired. The smell of ozone was immediately recognizable.
  
  The chamber was illuminated for mere moments. The raw bolt of lightning instantaneously met its target as soon as he forced Mana into his hand to fire the bolt. Arachab then lurched back, a spray of green flew in all directions and then just as quickly as it staggered, its course was resumed. It was mad now: several of its eyes were completely destroyed and a thick, viscous fluid could be seen streaming down its head. Retaria gagged over the intense smell. Now the faint smell of ozone was completely overridden by the intoxicating smell of burning matter. Arachab immediately stopped and then shuddered.. Semont immediately recognized what it was doing.
  
  Semont: “Watch out! It’s channeling Mana!”
  
  Retaria: “Got it!”
  Both of them ran back a bit in order to anticipate what would happen next. Retairia could be seen applying her own Mana around herself to form a shield.
  
  Powerful Fomors, with the ability to regenerate Mana at alarming rates, had no problem with holding back unlike the two humans here; its channeling ability was only restricted to how large it’s Mana pool was. As Arachab focused its Mana, its previously frayed hairs suddenly straightened out and transformed into the shape of spears. All of these hairs were capable of shooting out many meters and then retracting back into place. The closest thing in comparison would be a legion of Roman soldiers armed with spears and shields in turtle formation. Now, all the spear-like hairs shone a light from their tips which indicated where they would strike. Most of the lights ended up on the ceiling or on the floor. As Semont was directly in front of Aracab, only a few were around where he stood, but Retaria was on its side and thousands of dots appeared where she was; dozens of them appeared on her body.
  
  Semont ran towards her as an act of desperation to save her.
  
  End of Chapter 1.[/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 2
  [spoiler]Chapter 2
  
  [Ciar Dungeon: Boss Room. 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  It was too late.
  
  Semont’s attempt to save Retaria was completely futile and was nothing but an act to show that he truly cared. The hairs that were shot out were fired only three seconds after the appearance of the lights.
  
  Holes. Hundreds of them. All red. All dripping. All painful.
  
  Nothing to fill them up.
  
  Semont: “….No….no….no..no no no no NO!!!”
  Through his tears, he dropped his sword, raised both of his hands and prepared to channel his Mana one last time. This time it was going to be different. This time it was going to FEEL different. All his Expendable Mana had run out from the previous use of lightning bolt. Now he would be drawing from his Essential Mana to charge his lightning bolt; there was no time to consider other options.
  
  “Essential Mana compared to Expendable Mana is on a completely different level because Essential Mana is an extremely concentrated form of Expendable Mana. Additionally, Essential Mana can be channeled much quicker than Expendable Mana and therefore it is much more efficient in use. If Mana had volume, one drop of Essential Mana would be as much as one gallon of Expendable Mana. That being said, normal beings would only have a couple drops of Essential Mana. Back in the days of the Fomor Wars, professional Magicians were able access their Essential Mana freely and would use a dangerous method increase their Essential Mana pool by draining their Essential Mana to life threatening levels. Mana would then be forced into their Essential Mana pool by absorbing large amounts of Expendable Mana. This practice was largely abandoned after the Fomor Wars due to hundreds of magicians dying to this. Ironically, a handful of modern high level magicians who still practiced this ancient art were able to outlive many people due to their Expendable Mana being backed up by a huge Essential Mana pool.
  
  If charging a normal lightning bolt with Expendable Mana takes about two and half seconds, then charging an extremely high powered lightning bolt with just Essential Mana would take only fractions of a second. This is because as explained above, the same amount of Expendable Mana compared to Essential Mana has vastly different values. However, the use of Essential Mana must be strictly controlled; there was usually so little of it, that many people learning to control this Mana often overestimated how much they had and this often led to many unfortunate accidents. This is because spells do not differentiate between the two Manas; they take the same amounts of Mana regardless of the value of it. Luckily, both Expendable and Essential Mana can be used in the same spell and the amount of which that goes into the spell can be adjusted.
  
  An experienced magician would experiment and learn how to manipulate both pools of Mana effectively so that the right balance for speed and power could be met without compromising safety. In the case of chain cast, one must use a small amount Essential Mana to speed up casting time while Expendable Mana would be used supply the rest of Mana for charges. This is how Mores the Druid and some high level Fomors were able to attain the ability to naturally chain cast magic; they used a combination of both Expendable and Essential Mana to cast five bolts the same time it took to cast one bolt. Newer innovations in wands allow them upgraded so that they can be catalysts that eliminate the need to manage Mana. By connecting itself to the host’s Mana, the use of Essential Mana and Expendable Mana for chain cast is automatically balanced out but at the cost of Mana evaporation.” [1]
  
  It took Semont just as long to fire his lightning bolt it did to charge it. A lightning bolt molded from the life-giving hands of Essential Mana could be described to appear as a constant stream of energy: A raw twitching laser. Semont not only shot a lightning bolt; he shot his rage, his hatred, his vengeance, and finally his life at Arachab. This time, the room that held Arachab became pure white for several seconds from the intense light. Anyone who didn’t shield their eyes with Mana would have been blinded instantly; as for Arachab, it didn’t matter whether it had anything in front of it.
  
  The smell of ozone was especially strong, but Semont would only have mere moments to smell it.
  
  When the light escaped the room and the lighting resumed to its normal levels, the result of the damage was clear. The head and a large portion of Arachab completely disintegrated. Their shadows were scorched onto the ground. The armour surrounding the missing body parts were completely molten and were already working on burning the rest of the body. Whatever remained of the destroyed parts of gigantic spider was nothing but a putrid puddle: soupy in viscosity. The smell was beyond anything that Semont ever experienced before; not even the cesspit of decay that was the second floor of Ciar could compare. At least it was over; nothing could survive an attack like that. What remained of the great spider was now nothing but a disfigured mound flesh covered by wrecked metal.
  
  Something was wrong… It wasn’t over.
  It kept moving.
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Dammit… why… why?! It should be dead!”
  
  Then Mana exhaustion set in; he lost control of his body and impacted the floor with a thud. Semont’s eyes started getting heavier; he would lapse into a coma soon.
  
  The abomination rolled over so that its side would face Semont. Its hairs stood on end: They transformed into spearheads.
  
  Dots. Thousands of them. Messengers of death.
  
  Then suddenly, Semont felt a great rush of heat and the abdomen that was Arachab was suddenly engulfed in flames and was thrown meters into the air. Semont would have been surprised but he attributed the turn of events as delusions his mind set up from the lack of Mana in his body.
  
  All the hairs missed when they fired; but it didn’t matter anyway. Semont closed his eyes…
  
  [minutes ago]
  
  “While a lightning bolt can be held in a semi-stable form for fifteen seconds, a fire bolt, which consists of a stable chemical reaction, can last upwards of hours in optimum conditions.” [2]
  
  Semont: “Don’t just stand there! It’s moving towards us, get into position!”
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “Ordering people around now? Sheesh..”
  
  Retaria ran as quietly as she could. Even though Semont was going to distract Arachab, she wanted to be as cautious as possible; spiders tend to change targets unpredictably and the appearance of being hostile could be just enough to set the spider off. Then, being in place, she began to channel her Mana. Upon reaching her hands, the Mana was quickly put to work by extracting the heat energy from the surrounding area and at the same time, it was used to insulate her hand. Creating a fire bolt was slow as the areas where one would be in would normally be hospitable and temperate unlike the Elves of Filla who were the masters of fire magic. The slow heat collection is the reason why Semont needed to distract Arachab in the first place. As Retaria collected heat, her arm started frosting over; it was only natural that removing heat from the area and drawing it elsewhere would make the original area colder. After enough heat is accumulated, an object must be then offered to be combusted. It is only obvious that fire cannot form out of nothing for it requires three things: oxygen, heat and a flammable object. With her left hand, Retaria pulled out a pseudo wand from her pocket. While real wands make Mana channeling more efficient and act as a temporary medium for the fire, pseudo wands only provide the latter benefit to avoid Mana evaporation. Retaria was especially skilled in fire so she was able to charge her fire as quickly as Semont could charge his lightning bolt. No matter how skilled one is at fire magic, the rate of heat a high level fire caster can gather is no faster than a newbie’s but there are tricks to speed up the process. Lightning streams (see chapter 1) albeit weak, can be charged quickly and can provide a surprising amount of heat. Once the heat reaches a certain level, a lightning stream can be applied to the object to ignite a fire.
  
  The end of the pseudo wand lit on fire and Retaria waited to direct it on Arachab after Semont finished his part. After a brilliant light and the familiar smell of ozone, a strangely unfamiliar smell wafted onto the air: Burning spider matter.
  
  Retaria gagged.
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “This veil is so useless!”
  
  Arachab quickly took notice of Retaria and then started to shake rather violently. Its hairs started to straighten out.
  
  Semont: “Watch out! It’s channeling Mana!”
  
  Retaria: “Got it!”
  
  Retaria took several quick steps backwards and Semont did the same; something was going to happen and the distance would provide time to react. As Arachab channeled Mana, its hairs suddenly became like the blades of a two-handed sword.
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “So that’s why it’s ‘the Impaler’… I should activate my Mana shield.”
  
  Without warning, Retaria, along with everything behind her, became smothered in dots of light. The pain came shortly after and then intensified as the hairs retracted. The feeling of having one’s own innards wrenched out was too much for anyone to bear let alone a skilled Mana shield user. Retaria coughed up massive quantities of blood and quickly crumpled to the cold floor.
  
  Semont: “….No….no….no..no no no no NO!!!”
  
  The sound of a sword dropping on the floor could be heard.
  
  Retaria: *in thought* “Don’t do it.. you idiot..”
  
  Moments later, the whole room was so bright that vision became impossible until the lighting returned to normal. She knew that even an attack like that at close range wouldn’t kill Arachab despite the intensity of it. Retaria wouldn’t have wanted it to either; she had a bone to pick with Arachab. Before the ozone reached to where Retaria was, with the last of her strength, she channeled all of her Mana…
  
  It didn’t matter. Her motive was clear from the state her body was in.
  It wasn’t to save the village
  It wasn’t to save that idiot.
  It wasn’t for anything or anyone at any time.
  She did it for herself, she wanted revenge.
  
  Nothing else mattered.
  
  “The key to fire bolt is that the strength and Mana usage is entirely dependant on the size of the flammable object. A larger object results in greater Mana usage but this obviously allows the caster to enable the use of a larger quantity of fire although in most cases, the tip of a pseudo wand is more than enough to kill the average Fomor.” [3]
  
  Retaria’s body was a blazing inferno. She immolated herself.
  
  Knowing Expendable Mana would be too slow; Retaria tapped into her Essential Mana for one final push. Ignoring the pain, she gathered what was left of any Mana and forced the flames into a swirling vortex of hellfire; the fire was hot enough to melt boulders. As the tornado of fire spun, branches of flames spewed forth and rushed towards the body of Arachab, encasing it in its fiery embrace. The rushing air resulting from the intense flames was more than enough to lift Arachab into the air. Just as that happened, the remaining hairs of Arachab shot out and completely missed whatever they were aimed at. It smelled worse than before, but this time Retaria didn’t feel like reacting to it; she was too tired now… too tired to fight, too tired to believe in hope, too tired for anything. With her vengeful heart fulfilled, she could now rest her weary body.
  
  She closed her eyes and slept, never to awaken again.
  
  The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard ringing in the second floor of Ciar Dungeon; an unfamiliar stranger was rushing over to observe the situation.
  
  ???: “Is it… over already!?”
  
  She took off her hood, looked in Arachab’s chamber and glimpsed a smoldering body in the center of the room; it was riddled with holes and was trapped in the boxer’s position.
  
  ???: “What the hell happened? Damnit… I was too late.. Huh? *in thought* Looks like I can still save this one; he’s not hurt but he’s about to enter a coma if I don’t do anything.”
  She reached into her robe and grabbed a bottle filled with blue liquid. It was a Mana potion; a rare commodity that showed the wealth of its owner. Gingerly holding the bottle over Semont’s lips, she carefully poured the azure drink into his mouth; in this day and age, even one drop couldn’t be wasted. Then, as she was done, something else in the chamber seemed to pique her interest.
  
  ???: *in thought* “…Well at least I’m not going back empty handed.”
  
  The mysterious figure calmly walked over to the burning remains of Arachab. Under the thick sleeve of her robe, a contraption with a gleaming rim revealed her profession. She operated it as if she trained to use the instrument all her life. Pointing the device towards the body, water seemed to miraculously erupt from vessel underneath her arm and the fire was immediately put out. Shortly thereafter, she bent over to pick up a jagged object. This was part of the reason why she came here.
  
  A Fomor Mana Core: a thing of curious potential.
  
  She studied it with utmost attention; her face showed signs of intense thought.
  
  Wrinkling her eyebrows together as if enlightened in a moment of discovery, she announced her revelation.
  
  ???: “… It stinks in here.”
  
  1. Daracy and Vedrella, An Enquiry into Magic, 5th ed. (Dunbarton: Spiral Hill Publications, 586), 141-142.
  2. Ibid. 50
  3. Ibid. 57
  
  End of Chapter 2.[/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 3
  [spoiler]Chapter 3
  
  [The Town of Tir Chonaill: 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  As he slept, Semont dreamt of a white-haired maiden. The image of her was blurry, but he could make out that she was very slender as she wore a tight fitting black dress. Even though he had never seen or heard her voice before, her mere figure conjured up a sense of nostalgia from him. Could this be an angel of death? With her sweet voice, he couldn’t be sure. In his strange dream, even though Semont could hear and listen to the woman, he wasn’t able to reply back to her. At first, she spoke of comforting words, as if she was an age-long friend bringing up old memories and talking to Semont as if he was she knew him all her life. That was short lived however, because afterwards, her voice showed concern and then a phrase was spoken that deely troubled him; the words she spoke mentioned someone that he had only heard of in children’s tales.
  
  White-Haired Maiden: “Please.. find the Milletian. The Milletian is the embodiment of hope for all beings of Erinn.. Reawaken the old hero and let this one bring peace to our time of chaos. Let this one be the light in our time of need…”
  
  Then his dream as well as the heaviness of his eyelids started to fade…
  
  Semont groaned as he fought through the grogginess from waking up. It was strange.. Semont felt as if there was a pile of rocks pressing down on his body. How long was he asleep for? Aside from that fleeting thought, he noticed that he was covered in layer familiar white sheets on a familiar small bed in a familiar cramped room. Now it made sense; this was the orphanage that took him in when he was a baby. This was the same messy room on the second floor that he lived in for as long as he could remember. Semont thought he would never return here; after all, he had many regretful thoughts of betraying Tir village by the end of the day. His most recent clash with Ciar dungeon was supposed to conclude with him escaping with the Fomor Mana Core so that he could make the money to travel to the capital of Uladh where he could work as an Alchemist’s apprentice and one day become one himself. That was his dream; one day, he would return back to Tir and provide Mana services and help his people for free: just as long as they first forgive him of course. Semont’s thoughts were disturbed by an unfamiliar voice behind him.
  
  ???: “So I see you’re awake! You were in a coma for two weeks y’know. It’s not very gentleman-like to keep a girl waiting; there isn’t much to see around this run down place. I even took the liberty of taking care of you while you were out cold.”
  
  At the sound of the intruder’s voice, Semont sharply turned around only to lose control of his body and fall flat face first on his bed post.
  
  ???: “Ah, be careful there, you’re probably still suffering from hibernation sickness. You know, out of all the people that fell into comas from Post Mana Syndrome and recovered, you’re the fastest one I’ve ever seen to wake up.”
  
  Finally regaining some strength, Semont weakly raised his head and wiped the blood off his nose so that he could see just who was talking to him.
  
  Semont: “Who are yo-“
  
  He was stunned by her sudden appearance. The girl was unquestionably beautiful; her face showing signs of eastern descent, possibly a half-elf (her hair covered her ears so he couldn’t tell), and she wore a style of clothing Semont had never seen before; especially in the backward society of Tir where everyone wore boring robes that covered everything. Her clothes were unbelievably fashionable in design: a neatly-preened jacket that had a bluish-white tinge to it that was complimented by a plaid scarf and a short skirt that was dyed indigo. Her white knee-socks had a plaid design at the top and her high heel boots were indigo as well to fit the rest of her outfit. And finally, to top it off (literally), a large white cap with a goggle decoration, also indigo, was placed on her white hair. Her long white hair appeared to be silken smooth and it looked like it would break up at the slightest breeze. Her image was intricate in nature, yet simplistic in concept. It was like she was born to have those clothes worn on her; even her eyes were indigo... All in all, her sophisticated set of clothes gave off an air of sophistication that was only matched by the look of confidence on her face. A rich spoiled lady born in a wealthy family in Dunbarton, no doubt…
  
  That air of sophistication disappeared from her once she saw Semont gawking at her. She replied in tone of voice matched that those of an alleyway thug.
  
  ???: “What are YOU looking at huh?”
  
  She rolled the sound of her vowels as if to sound more intimidating.
  
  Semont was annoyed: his suspicions were true. Not only was she spoiled but the girl was a brat as well. He sighed; nothing is perfect even if it’s from the city. Then his annoyance turned to surprise once again as she suddenly crossed her arms and smiled warmly.
  
  ???: “Well, that’s enough of formalities. What’s your name?”
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Formalities? Aside from that, aren’t you supposed to introduce yourself first?”
  
  The girl looked confused as if waiting for an answer out of him.
  
  Semont: “Ugh… my name is Se-“
  
  For the third time, Semont was stunned again. Strapped to her arm was an unmistakable item: the universal symbol for an Alchemist. Oddly enough, what she had on was no mere standardized fare: the entire thing was nothing short of a masterpiece fit enough to be put on display. Dozens of craftsmen must have intensely labored day and night for its creation. Its value in silver would have been worth a small fortune. Among it’s long list of additional features; a custom-designed water-cooled barrel etched and engraved with artistic yet practical exhaust vents, a spring loaded crystal insertion chamber instead of a manual chamber to cut ejection times for spent crystals, and real leather adjustable straps unlike the fixed and uncomfortable wooden ones normal Alchemists had. Semont was genuinely impressed; for someone her age, she must be of incredible high ranking to have attained such a highly tuned instrument: stuff like this was reserved only for the best of the best.
  
  She caught him looking at her again, but this time instead of displaying disgust, she haughtily puffed up her chest and proudly posed to show off the gleaming beauty on her arm as if she were a professional bird trainer.
  
  ???: “Ah this? It’s a cylinder, haven’t you ever seen one before?”
  
  Her teasing voice would have normally irritated Semont but this time, his amazement got the better of him. His dull yellow eyes instantly brightened up just at the sight of the weapon; it was what he wanted to have one day.
  
  Semont: “Of course I have! Even we get Alchemists who occasionally travel here to check up on us. I’m just surprised someone like you would have one, and such a beautifully crafted one too!”
  
  ???: “’Someone like you’? What do you mean by that?! I worked my butt off to get this far as an Alchemist you know!”
  
  Clearly angered by Semont’s poor choice of words, the short-tempered Alchemist loaded a bright red crystal into the chamber her cylinder and rashly pointed it point blank range straight at Semont’s face. The round barrel suddenly flared red as if warning any nearby threat to back off.
  
  Red… hole…
  
  And so, for the forth time, the newly woken Semont was in shock once again. Although this time it was one of sadness and confusion. His earlier enthusiasm was instantly replaced with a sense of guilt and regret.
  
  Semont: “…Re- Retaria! What happened to her?! I have to know!”
  
  The Alchemist was taken back at his sudden outburst. Then she eased up and casually shook him off.
  
  ???: ”Oh the girl? Poor thing really, she died a pretty horrible death; all burned up and punched full of holes. Really had it coming with the way she used fire magic like that. Her funeral was just a week ago. Why?”
  
  This time Semont couldn’t contain the anger that welled inside him. Scenes of Retaria’s last moments flashed across Semont’s eyes. Alchemist or not, he was not going to let some brat talk trash about Retaria’s death like that.
  
  Semont: “You…. You take that back!!”
  
  Semont completely control. He leapt from his bed in a frenzy and attempted to pin her on the floor in an effort to get her to apologize.
  
  ???: “H- hey! You’re not supposed to be moving in that condition!”
  
  The startled Alchemist also lost control too: but not of her temper and instead her cylinder. Comparatively, Semont’s anger and her cylinder’s crystal did have quite a lot in common in the fact that they were both burning red and out of control. Also very similar to those two things were the once white sheets on Semont’s now unfamiliar bed which were now reduced to gray ashes on burning timbers due to the quick spreading flames. Ironically, the red hot fires, which went on to work by effectively converting the cramped room into a more spacious room by removing several articles, did a fairly good job in quenching Semont’s anger and flooded both him and the young Alchemist with a nice sense of panic which was seen as the two stared at each other in horror. The duo didn’t stay too long to witness the renovation however and they both promptly got the bright idea to evacuate the building. Then, with much protest from Semont, the Alchemist grabbed a suit of luggage right before the two bolted out of the building just in time to avoid being a part of the new floor plan. Both of them had never run that fast before because it is a proven fact that danger is very motivational as it makes people run just a tad bit faster than normal.
  
  As it turned out, Semont’s original plan to never return to his room in the orphanage did come into fruition as now it was physically impossible to go back up to the second floor.
  
  Semont: “You… you burned down my home…”
  
  Both of them were well out of breath. Semont was in complete disbelief over what happened to the orphanage he used to live in.
  
  ???: “Hah… Well.. you weren’t gonna come back for a while anyway.. that’s cuz I’m taking you as my apprentice!”
  
  Semont: “Wai- what?! Just who are you anyway?!”
  
  The girl stood up and smiled at the question as if the answer was the most important statement in her life.
  
  ???: “Me? Well you should have asked earlier! My name’s Kenero! I’m a Royal Alchemist!”
  
  There was a brief pause.
  
  Semont: “oh…. My name is Se- WHA?! A Royal Alchemist?!”
  Any more and Semont would have died from surprise.
  
  End of Chapter 3.[/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 4
  [spoiler]Chapter 4
  
  The graveyard. A place of eternal rest for the dead.
  
  Even though the graveyard wasn’t very far off from the town itself, the whole place reeked with an air of solemnity. The trees were barren with their leaves covering the ground, cobwebs were scattered all over the place, and several tombstones were pillaged by past adventurers; all of this added more to the already existing dreariness in the atmosphere. As the two walked through it, none of them spoke a single word; even the arrogant Alchemist knew how to keep her mouth shut. If anything, she had to pay her respects.
  
  Kenero cautiously looked around the unfamiliar area; even though she had been to all the places she wanted to see in Tir, she had skipped the graveyard as would anyone else. Nothing in this place had any appeal to it; the chilling air that reeked with the stench of death, the smell of decaying plant matter, and the headstones which were crudely planted without order all over the place. Several large yet shy spiders could be seen hiding behind some of the headstones as if they were acting out as spies. Especially to a sheltered girl, this haunted place triggered nothing but a sense of disgust from her. This was Kenero’s first time in a place like this as the dead in Tara were either shipped off to a faraway cemetery in the outskirts of the city or cremated by request. However, as much as she wanted to leave, she knew this had to be done; Semont had promised her his apprenticeship after he had paid his respects to that girl.
  
  There wasn’t much on Semont’s mind at all; just the memories of the encounter two weeks ago. They stirred feelings of regret within him. For the first time in a long time, Semont felt bothered being in the graveyard. Before, in his younger years, he would often come down here with Retaria and play games of hide and seek. Retaria was always the better one at hiding and she was better at finding him as well.
  
  Semont slowly counted in the back of his head.
  
  “10…. 9…. 8…. 7….”
  
  They were several feet past the old oak tree at the center of the graveyard. If anything, it was the only thing that looked alive during the warmer seasons.
  
  “6…. 5…. 4….”
  
  Amidst the old and worn tombstones, a distinctly neater and newer one could be seen farther along the end of the graveyard.
  
  “3…. 2….”
  
  A visible epitaph could be seen on it now. Not much was on it.
  
  “1…. Ready or not..”
  
  Both of them were now standing directly in front of the waist-high stone.
  
  “I found you.”
  
  Semont stared blankly at the pitiful rock. This was the only thing that remained to remind people of her existence. Kenero looked at the grave at first and then after a while she glanced at Semont as if she expected him to say something.
  
  Minutes passed: It was starting to get awkward.
  
  From an onlooker’s perspective, it would have looked like a moment of silence; in actuality, Semont had meant to say something but just didn’t know what to. The both of them just stood there looking like fools.
  
  More time passed: Now the silence was getting unbearable.
  
  Then of all people, Kenero spoke up.
  
  Kenero: *in thought* “… Dammit. We’ll be stuck here for a while if I don’t say anything.”
  
  “Retaria, I-I apologize for what I said earlier about you. You probably knew what you were getting into when you used your magic like that. I guess it was commendable… How-However! I’ll be taking care your friend now! He’s in good hands!”
  
  Semont looked at Kenero in amazement. It was obvious she was really pushing herself to say those words. Then he faintly smiled and looked back at the grave.
  
  Semont: “Thanks for being there for me all these years. When I get back, I’ll make sure to tell you all about my travels.”
  
  As if saying goodbye, he knelt down at the tombstone and gently touched the face of it with his fingers. Then as he got up, Semont turned towards Kenero with a more optimistic look on his face.
  
  Semont: “Well? Let’s go, it’s not my style to be so depressed all the time.. After all, I can’t wait to get out of this village anyway!”
  
  As if caught off guard by the sudden change of mood, Kenero stuttered.
  
  Kenero: “Y-Yeah!”
  
  Before he took his final steps from the graveyard, Semont stopped and slowly turned back to take another look at the great oak tree behind him. Even though most of its leaves had already fallen off, what remained decorated it with blind of brilliant beige. At that moment, a gust of wind blew past him and a light shower of leaves encircled him. As if he found meaning behind this seemingly random event, Semont turned around and smiled; it helped to lift a bit of weight off his chest.
  
  [Half an hour later]
  
  Kenero: Are you sure you’re ok with this?
  
  Semont: “Yeah.. this is what I always wanted to do anyway.”
  
  Kenero: “Is that so…”
  
  The two were back at the inn where Kenero was staying in town, with the orphanage burned down, both of them had no choice but to finish their preparations in the poorly accommodated room.
  
  Kenero: “So how does it feel? Does it fit well?”
  
  Semont: “Ahh…It’s tight and it hurts a bit, but I think I’ll be ok.”
  
  Kenero: “Hmph, it wasn’t my fault anyway, how would I have known it was your first time anyway? Just bear with it ok? Just try and move around with it now.”
  
  Semont: “Ack!”
  
  Kenero: “Eh? Is there something wrong? Try moving slower, you’re just not used to it I guess..” *in thought* “Damn.. I thought I was prepared enough too..”
  
  Not a word was spoken between the two of them; Semont sensed why Kenero suddenly quieted down.
  
  Semont: “Uh.. Kenero? Could this be.. your first time as well?”
  
  Kenero: “Huh?! What? How did you- I’ll have you know that you should be honored! You’re the first person I’ve done this for! If you don’t want to, we could stop right now…”
  
  Semont: “No, no.. I’m not making fun of you or anything; in fact I’m glad you even did this for me. But.. to be honest.. is this… is this what Alchemist apprentices really wear?”
  
  The door to Kenero’s room swung open and revealed an oddly dressed Semont. What Kenero explained earlier as an apprentice’s uniform was more like a fancy outfit. It was a rather tight fitting and oddly designed black and white uniform that would make anyone stand out in a crowd; at least in Tir anyway. The outfit was a strange combination of what Semont could only describe as the top half of a short-sleeved tunic combined with the bottom half of a dress at knee length which had an opened front. There were pants but they were more like tight fitting shorts. Most of the suit was white with gray decals although there were exceptions of a couple areas dyed black; an over exaggerated collar, two thick belts that shared one buckle, and a short skirt-like piece that went under the dress. Complimenting the uniform were a pair of metal gauntlets and boots which were black and made up the full set. Semont rated himself a four out of ten.
  
  Kenero: “Of course this is what they wear! Well.. I did change the original up a bit. But this suits you more!”
  
  Semont ran his fingers through the fabric; it was made of high quality material. Even though this was Kenero’s customization, the changes were rather well made up to the point where one would have to take the suit apart to find out which areas were altered. Even though it was incredibly impressive, it only made Semont more annoyed to his realization that Kenero’s bragging was just not for show.
  
  Semont: “D-do I really have to wear this from now on? I mean, I don’t see how anyone would want to be seen in public wearing clothes entirely in black and white.”
  
  Kenero: “What!? Do you think it looks funny? You don’t KNOW how long I spent making it!! If you don’t like it, just give it back to me!”
  
  Semont: “N-no it’s not that.. I think it looks good.. but…”
  
  Kenero: “But what!?
  
  Semont: “It’s kinda flashy..”
  
  As if his response was the right answer, Kenero held a childish grin and took that remark as a compliment. It seemed impossible for Semont to actually know at any point what to say to Kenero that put her on her good side save for blind praise.
  
  Kenero: “Hehe.. So you noticed? That way, everyone will know you’re my underling!”
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Underling…” *sigh*
  
  Seeing as a chance to put the wardrobe issue aside, Semont decided to quickly change the topic.
  
  Semont: “So why did you choose me considering how remote this place is? There’s plenty of people in Tara to pick from.”
  
  Kenero: “Well that’s simple, the moment I laid eyes on you, I just knew that you were the one; you’ve got something in you that no one else Tara had… I knew if I had you by my side, I would never feel like I would ever be in danger!”
  
  Kenero’s words rang with the voice of an angel as she was reliving her ‘meeting’ with Semont several weeks ago. Semont felt flattered at how he met and even surpassed her strict criteria.
  
  Kenero: “I realized that you’d be willing to sacrifice yourself even if you were hopelessly outmatched by your opponent!”
  
  Semont: “…What?”
  
  Kenero: “Yes! You had a complete disregard for your own safety! It was beautiful! I’ve never seen anyone who felt like their lives were worth as much as the ground they were standing on! When I saw you, knew I had found my perfect human shield!”
  
  Semont: “…”
  
  The haughty Alchemist brushed her long hair playfully with her hands and wore an arrogant grin.
  
  Kenero: “..which is what I would have said if I wanted to cover up my real reason..”
  
  Semont: *in thought* “But you still said it!”
  
  “Wait, ’real reason?” then why did you really choose me?”
  
  Suddenly, Kenero’s face went blank. In place of her cheerful smile was a bleak and consuming grimace…
  
  Kenero: “…The real reason..? So you saw through me…”
  
  Semont: “Wha-what!?”
  
  Her face went back to a carefree smile.
  
  Kenero: “There wasn’t one. I’ve been to most of the towns already and no one seemed interesting so I gave up and just chose you! Sheesh, you’re so easy to fool there’s almost no fun in doing it.
  Besides, you were out of over two weeks so that gave me enough time to tailor that suit.”
  Semont groaned and made a soft thud as he slumped onto the inn bed. He could feel a bit of discomfort on his back as the awkward clothes he was wearing created some unnatural folds. Kenero smiled in amusement knowing how easy it was to get on his nerves.
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Looks like if I go along and become Kenero’s apprentice, I’m gonna have to put up with her abuse every day… But at least when my training is done, I’ll be able to return back to Tir and put the alchemy to good use.”
  
  “Wait. Kenero. What about my village, Tir? With me and Retaria gone, there won’t be anyone left to protect it.”
  
  Kenero: “I knew you would say that; don’t worry, I’ve already sent some soldiers from Tara to come and relocate the people where they’ll be properly treated. You can go and visit them again once we get to Tara. For now, you can settle for a quick goodbye.”
  
  Semont: “That’s alright.. I was never really close to them since I was an outsider as an orphan.. But even so, I feel a sense of responsibility towards them because they raised me and took care of me.”
  
  For once, Semont could tell the smile on Kenero’s face was sincere.
  
  Kenero: “Well that should be everything right? We better get a move on, I got a message earlier from the Royal Court and they want me to head over to the Dunbarton slums for Mana treatments… I guess they realized I’ve been slacking off so they’re sending me to do a job any rookie could handle…”
  
  Semont got off the bed and was just about to leave then all of a sudden, Kenero pointed at a couple suits of luggage and smiled.
  
  Kenero: “Surely you don’t expect me carry those all by myself..”
  
  She gracefully slid off her chair and walked into the halls leaving Semont to deal with the heavy suitcases. She stopped midway in the hallway, like a forgetful child who just remembered something important to say.
  
  Kenero: “Oh by the way, there’s an extra cylinder in there: You can have it. I also snuck your sword in there too.”
  
  Some of the weight seemed to disappear from the questionable suitcases as Semont carried them. He suddenly thought of a question.
  
  Semont: “Wait, before we leave, can you tell me something? You said they were punishing you for slacking off. Were you looking for something?”
  
  Kenero: “’looking for?’ Hmm… I guess you could say that.”
  
  She tilted her head as she gave some consideration as to telling him or not.
  
  Their eyes met.
  
  “Have you ever heard of the Caliburn by any chance?”
  
  End of chapter 4[/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 5 Part 1
  [spoiler]
  Chapter 5 Part 1
  
  [Dugald Isle: 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  
  The History of the Milletians Part 1
  
  It seemed that they disappeared without a trace. The Milletians that is: The beings whose limits of mortality knew no bounds. Their reason for appearing was mysterious; why they vanished one by one was even more so. Why they appeared and disapeared was unknown as well as why they did so at that time. To this day, only a handful of people know the reason for their disappearances. As one of these people, it is my duty to archive the history of the Milletian and safely preserve the memories of the ones who protected us.
  
  At first, they appeared in droves of thousands, their souls were not bound to anything and that included their bodies. The Milletians appeared in all shapes and sizes; humans, giants, elves, and even animals. We, the native people of Erinn, Tuatha de Danann, have carefully studied and documented the arrival of these beings but research ended as quickly as it began as many Milletians disappeared just as fast as they arrived. Even though the common name for these beings was known as “Milletian”, it is now assumed that these souls did not all come from the same world and that is perhaps why so many disappeared from the start; it is possible that some individuals had a greater attachment to their original world rather than Erinn and simply became spirited back to eternal rest. This theory was proven to hold some ground as many of the souls of Milletians would suddenly vanish from their bodies leaving behind a hollow shell. However, the ones that had weak attachments to their own world called Erinn a permanent home. These Milletians often fought for the sake of Erinn and the people even if they did not know the reason behind it or the effects that it would bring. This small group of Milletians would be the ones responsible for changing the meaning of Milletian from a generalized name of their people to one of guardian status. Even though these Milletians wanted to reside in this world, they too would eventually be drawn back their own world all the same.
  
  As more and more time passed, the numbers of the Milletians dwindled smaller and smaller until the population became only three Milletians: one human, one giant, and one elf. Eventually, only the human would remain. This individual was incredibly devoted to Erinn and the deeds it performed for this world would earn it the name of “The Eternal Milletian” and eventually just “The Milletian.” Over time, its accomplishments would raise its name beyond legendary status; becoming the light of hope, the power of darkness, and even the will of the gods themselves. Later, it was assumed that The Milletian was originally of this world and thus explained why The Milletian was considerably so much more powerful and stayed longer than previous Milletians. However, this proposal was shattered when The Milletian chose to go against the Goddess of War, Morrighan thus contradicting its love towards Erinn. In this clash involving the smaller of the two moons, Eweca, The Milletian was labeled as a traitor of the people and shortly thereafter, it vanished from Erinn itself. To this day, the ultimate fate of The Milletian is still something that continues to elude the knowledge of almost all scholars.
  
  [The paper looks intentionally torn as none of paragraphs are cut off]
  
  
  Semont blankly stared at the torn page. His eyes momentarily fluttered from the top of the page scanning the script in a linear fashion and then eventually diverged from the straight path and ventured off onto different routes. Random parts were read, re-read and read again in an attempt to force the information in his head. With a sigh, Semont finally disengaged his fixation to the page and turned his attention to the girl who took the page from a moldy wooden chest from Ciar and had delivered it to him.
  
  Semont: “Is this all?”
  
  The girl was previously watching, with great interest, Semont’s studious expression as he read. Having sat on a cleaned stone, she propped up the right side of her head with her palms; showing her furthered attempt at reading his face. His face was examined, re-examined and examined again in an attempt to seal in that image of Semont in her head. Her own gaze was curiously chilling, especially against the warm light that radiated from the campfire which washed onto her face. The darkness of the night and redness of the light painted an eerie portrait on her fair face which helped to cover an amused smile as she creased her lips. The hue of her skin and clothing rapidly changed due to the chaotic formations of the flickering flames; quite the spectacle to behold.
  
  On this dark night the two were situated atop of Spiral Hill; nature’s monument and symbol that beckoned for adventurers near and far. In the past, only by besting the many weak Fomors on the bottom could one challenge the summit and face the more powerful Fomors who dominated their lower subordinates. However, that was before the destruction of Eweca and the large scale slaughters of Fomors that took place soon after. Now, the Hill is nothing but a pitiful mound of dirt; even a child could safely climb it alone. In these nights, the stars were never visible as the skies were occupied by a thick smog; byproducts of the Fomor Mist Crystals that the Alchemists created. Some days if the pollutants reached too close to the ground, unexpected consequences could occur. Often times, people who got caught in the smog suffered plague-like symptoms and live a shortened lifespan. However, considering the alternative, a large majority of people would rather risk living with this new occupant. Yet even with the smog, only one celestial object could be seen in these turbulent skies; the one whose beauty is second only to Palala, the last remaining moon, Ladeca.
  
  Kenero: “Yeah is it.. but what’s so interesting about that piece of paper anyway? You looked like you were going to memorize the entire thing.”
  
  Semont paused, unsure whether to tell her or not.
  
  Semont: “Promise me that you won’t laugh..”
  
  The Royal Alchemist smiled in a soft and understanding manner.
  
  Kenero: “Oh comon, I already told you what I’m looking for; it’s only fair that way.”
  
  Semont: “.. Alright then; in my dreams… there was a woman who told me-“
  
  It didn’t take very long for Kenero to crack. The moment Semont had hinted that at something embarrassing, Kenero had already anticipated something to laugh about.
  
  Semont: “Hey! What the hell?! I thought you wouldn’t laugh!”
  
  They were both red in the face; the first one from howling like a hyena and the other one from experiencing sheer embarrassment.
  
  Kenero: “’A woman!’ bwahahahaha! ‘in my dreams!’ And lemme guess, next you’re going to go on an quest to save her or something! hwaaa…”
  
  Semont: “It’s nothing like that! I was just told to find someone called the Milletian or something.. It’s just.. I didn’t expect to come across something like this so soon!”
  
  It took a while for Kenero to realize that Semont was completely serious about the matter; she took a short moment to calm herself down.
  
  Kenero: “Hmm, so you really think it’s not just a coincidence?”
  Semont: “I don’t think so.. What the woman told me matched the description of this person as a hero..”
  
  Kenero: “You know who she is? Are you sure it’s not just someone you’ve met before?”
  
  Semont: “No.. that can’t be.. I’ve never met anyone who was so young but had white hair like that…”
  
  Kenero: “White haired eh..? Was there anything else that she told you?”
  
  Semont: “Not much… Only that I had to find this person and… save the world I guess.”
  
  Semont winced in anticipation of Kenero’s laughter but surprisingly, that didn’t happen. Instead, Kenero looked at him with an air of confidence in her eyes as if she wanted to urge him on with his search for the Milletian.
  
  Semont: “Phew.. For a moment there, I thought you were going to laugh again..”
  
  Kenero: “Why would I? After all, it sounds like what you want to do is pretty much what I want to do as well… and that’s to save this damned world.”
  
  *Several hours earlier*
  
  Semont: “Wait up! Weren’t you going to tell me what this ‘Caliburn’ is?”
  
  After Semont bluntly replied no to her question, Kenero just started off to Dugald Isle without any notice whatsoever leaving Semont to carry all the heavy luggage by himself.
  
  Kenero: “You didn’t know what it was so obviously you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you.”
  
  As Kenero made the effort to turn and continue on the roads of Dugald Isle, she immediately paused as if reconsidering her words; reluctantly, no sooner had her back turned to Semont did her face meet his again. Semont, jerked backwards as to prevent himself into walking straight into her.
  
  Kenero: “You know what? I think I’ll humor myself and tell you, I suppose that if you’re coming with me, you deserve to know what my goals are.”
  
  Semont smiled; he had learned to stop questioning the strange behavior and instead had grown to accept with gratitude any breaks she gave him.
  
  Kenero: “From what I know the Caliburn is a sacred spiritual artifact.. In the thousands of years of its existence, it has assumed dozens of different forms and names. Occasionally, the Caliburn would take the form of obscure items and artifacts such as pendants and jewels, but most of the time, it would become in the shape of swords and similar weapons. It’s known to move on to new forms while its old form just becomes an ordinary item. Its names were numerous as well and they changed depending on time periods, forms and different interpretations of what it was exactly. But right now, it’s recognized as The Sword of the Gods, Brionac.”
  
  Semont: “Brionac…”
  
  Semont rolled the word with his tongue; slowly as if tasting the name. The sound of the word almost sounded nostalgic to him but he couldn’t put a finger on why.
  
  Semont: “So what do you plan to do after you’ve found it? Are you going to use its power in any way?”
  
  These words set a soft smile on Kenero’s lips; her prideful eyes showing her readiness to reveal her motive.
  
  Kenero: “Yes, I will use it’s power: Once I sacrifice and destroy the Caliburn spirit through alchemy, the purified crystal produced from it will be more than enough to free Erinn from chaos and return Eweca back into our air.”
  
  Semont: “What? How do you know that’ll even work? Or how it’ll even work that way?”
  
  Kenero: “I’m sure you’ve heard of the mana producing crystals made from Fomor cores… This works the exact same way since the Caliburn’s powers are directly drawn from its spirit within the artifact. I’m sure we can extract its spirit and crystallize it into a pure form. From that, alchemy’s greatest dream will surely be realized; the creation of a new moon.”
  
  Semont: “What?.. You can’t be serious!”
  
  End of Chapter 5 Part 1
  [/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 5 part 2
  [spoiler]
  Chapter 5 Part 2
  
  “Even after I recovered, this pain still lingers… The scars and alterations disfigure both my body and my soul. I am one of the discarded, the shunned; a bitter living example of the sin and salvation that the horrors of fomor practice has brought upon my people.”
  
  [Abb Neagh: 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  Hidden under a crimson stained robe, a figure stood among several inanimate bodies. A blank face partially covered in dirty bandages looked upon the mess that was recently created; his usual placid stare on the field of corpses was his usual way of signaling a finished job.
  
  As the killer walked to escape his deed, he felt a soft tug on the edge of his robe; it was the bloody hand of a survivor, “You.. who.. are you…?” As the dying man continued to reach and grope, his sleeve pulled back to reveal a shining weapon attached to his forearm.
  
  A cylinder, it was a sure indication of an alchemist.
  
  Reaching and reaching, crawling like the defeating man he was, the alchemist tried to pull himself up to grab the figure’s arm only to find horror in his attempt to find out the man’s identity; there was no arm. His voice shaking like a loose leaf in the wind, “Y…y-you’re the afflicted! H- how could you even-” The hooded figure, annoyed that his work wasn’t properly finished, drove his sword into the man’s back without a second thought. Even after hearing the man’s pained cries; the hooded figure felt no sympathy towards the alchemist for he was an agent of the Erinn capital. Neither did this act bring him any satisfaction nor pleasure as his ultimate goal was to rid those who were ailing and causing grief to the poor. Along with many others, his affliction and suffering was a plague knowingly caused by the alchemists who denied all accusations of malpractice and continued to present an image that they were helping people.
  
  Even then, even so, if he finished his work, would he truly ever be happy?
  
  Breathing a sigh of relief, the man quickly cleansed his robe caked with already drying blood in the lake. However, even if he in a town, the people wouldn’t notice the bloodstains; the diluted blood was the very same shade of gaudy pink from which it was dyed from. Finishing his work, the man apologized to his ancestors for soiling their family robe which was passed down generation to generation; soiling it with human blood instead of fomor.. He recalled his father telling him of the valiant tales of the first owner of the robe, whose name was now lost, fighting fomors side by side with a legendary hero known as the Milletian. Together, they adventured the frontiers of the two great continents and took on many dangerous challenges. That was a time when one could freely use mana without any worry.
  
  To be free.. To be able to use mana.. This was his dream. His family was a clan of mages who have passed down for thousands of years their ancient art to the next successor but in just three short generations, without the means to teach, already much of the advanced techniques used in the past were lost… If it weren’t for the events that took place 125 years ago, he would have proper education in magic; this was a futile dream unrealized.
  
  Without uttering a word, the man headed towards Dunbarton…
  
  End of Chapter 5 Part 2
  [/spoiler]
  
  Chapter 6
  [spoiler]
  
  Chapter 6
  
  [Dunbarton: 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  It was a long week but they finally made it. As the two cleared a path thicketed with dew-glossed groves, they could see the city of travelers; Dunbarton. As Semont, who was farther ahead, called out to Kenero, a tiny smile appeared on her face as it reminded her own days as an apprentice, traveling to Dunbarton with her father so that she could see the world with her own eyes. At the same time, she reminisced about the close relationship she had with her father. However, things were different now that-
  
  “Kenero! Hurry up!”
  
  That snapped Kenero out her nostalgia. She was annoyed at his rush to go explore the city, but she knew how it was with newbies so she ignored his cockiness and she ran off to catch up to him. Before she set out to find an apprentice of her own, it had been at least 5 years since she had visited the bustling city; it seemed livelier than she had remembered. That much should be obvious; this was common knowledge prior to the proven effectiveness of the fomor mist treatments. However, it didn’t help that it contributed to the growing problem of the slums.
  
  Dunbarton prior to the disappearance of Eweca was once the most widely visited and most populated city in all of Erinn; even more so than the capital, Tara. This was due to the fact that Dunbarton was an intermediate city; all of its four exits eventually connected to another city and therefore it used to be filled with travelers from the far reaches of the continent. Once the irreversible incident occurred and Erinn’s inhabitants lost access to atmospheric mana, the number of travelers greatly diminished. People were now faced with the issues of having smaller amounts of Expendable Mana which was now harder to gain and at the same time, a minimum portion of it had to be kept in order to prevent mana stagnation. During the aftermath of the incident, it wasn’t surprising to have poorer travelers stranded in cities far away from their families. Citizens were now turning towards isolationism and a more closed life; at the same time, this has caused minor xenophobia towards other cities as well. The only people who could afford to travel were rich merchants who could hire freelance alchemists to provide a daily supply of mist. The opposite of a freelance alchemist would be a government alchemist. Government alchemists were employed to a government contractor who provided them with jobs at various towns whereas freelancers had to find their own jobs and advertise themselves. The simplest task for government alchemists was to prepare a supply of mist for select regions of cities that would last around a month. However, this was usually left for the new alchemists to do and if not, it was most likely a form of humiliation for dissident alchemists who shirk off work…
  
  “So that’s why we’re here!” Semont could hardly keep his face straight after hearing the reason behind their work. As if trying to dodge Semont’s teasing voice, Kenero looked off in the other direction while hiding an embarrassed look on her reddened face. It turns out that while she was looking up information on the Caliburn, Kenero had been ignoring work orders from the contractors; this was already her third offence and another one would have had suspended her status as a government alchemist.
  
  It didn’t take them long to reach the slums; they were just right on the outskirts of Dunbarton. The slums were the poorest sections of the city; the usual residents included the sick, uneducated, and the poor. Often times what would usually happen was that citizens afflicted with the smog would be banished to the slums due to the disease being reportedly infectious. At the same time, their families would be treated as outcasts and be forced to live in the slums as well. The terrible conditions and sanitation of the slums often became a barrier for outsiders and made them think twice before entering the area. This caused more misunderstandings, rumours and confusion about how the people of the slums were really like. Without anyone to help out the residents, the government routinely sends agents to generate mana mists to look after them.
  
  “…”
  
  Semont immediately noticed something was wrong after he saw Kenero fumble around her bags, “What’s the matter? I thought this wouldn’t take very long.”
  
  Without any pause, Kenero fluidly turned her head towards Semont replied in monotone, “Say, going to the dungeons around here would be pretty good training for you wouldn’t it.” Semont looked back at her expressionless face and grunted, “Huh?”
  
  Northeast of Dunbarton lies a secluded dungeon where no one wanders near. The vicinity of Math dungeon has always been a quiet place simply because it was situated in an area where people would rarely pass by. Over the years, plant wildlife has reclaimed the area around here which created a natural barrier. Additionally, Math was rarely spoken of so even long-time residents of Dunbarton wouldn’t even know there was even a second dungeon by their city. The reason being was simple; aside from the Lylimark priests who would go to clean the goddess statue for tradition’s sake, Math’s potential for adventuring in the past was so low that people eventually forgot about the place. After the Eweca incident, Math was eventually forgotten and no one visited it anymore. This has caused Math dungeon to be a haven for many Fomors to flourish even after the large scale hunts that took place.
  
  Recently, a rumor has surfaced from the northeast territory of Dunbarton. While on the darkest nights, a three-headed hound will stray from the evening mist and wander into the city. Being one with the shadows, its form will make no sound or leave any trace leaving it free to carry out its bloodthirsty act. Then, on the eve of the next morning on the dew-settled streets, there will lay a disfigured body missing its head and arms; presumably ripped and brought back to hellish depths where they join a pile of the same. Other versions of the tale also speak of its master, who always is depicted as a goat-horned Fomor, being the one who orders the grisly deed.
  
  As the two neared Math dungeon, Semont called after Kenero again, “Wait, you still didn’t tell me why we came here! You had a job to do back there right?” Right now, all he wanted was to hear her voice so he would know where she was; it was difficult to navigate through the thicket and the baggage that he had to carry was really weighing him down. As usual, Kenero remained unresponsive. It was incredibly tough, but Semont somehow managed to exit the miniature forest and enter a clearing where he could catch his breath; there he saw Kenero.
  
  She remained silent as her eyes were fixed on the tattered ruins ahead of her which was covered in a wide assortment of vegetation. Semont couldn’t help but notice that the once beautiful outfit that Kenero was wearing now had some gashes left and right, seams were broken and worst of all, there were uncomplimentary grass stains and smudges of dirt all over her white and blue boots, kneesocks and skirt. Kenero didn’t seem to mind at all but Semont sighed at the waste of beautiful clothing. It didn’t help that the same thing happened to his own clothes which were a gift from the unpredictable alchemist herself. “At least we match… kind of.”
  
  After he regained his breath, it finally dawned on Semont why they came to the dungeon, “Hey Kenero, you didn’t have a fomor crystal on you did you?”
  
  That got her attention. It looked like she was going to start yelling but then she slumped over a bit as if admitting defeat, “… Yeah, there’s no use hiding it, that’s why we’re really here.. Well, let’s look for a way in; we’ll have to reopen the place since it’s so overgrown.” Her straightforward reply somewhat surprised Semont, “I guess even someone like Kenero can’t keep up her act forever.” Semont dropped their equipment and the two quickly scrambled to the ruins to find a likely entrance.
  
  Even though the walls were riddled with vines, Semont could still see the faded runes covering the walls. He didn’t know why but it felt like he was here before, it didn’t make any sense to him since he lived his whole life in Tir but he felt absolutely sure that it was true. Before he had time to question his gut feeling, Kenero broke his train of thought, “Hey Semont! I think I found it!”
  
  The area was completely filled with vines but it was definitely an entrance because there wasn’t a wall behind it. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Kenero smiled and pointed to the sword Semont was wearing on his belt triggering a rather negative response on his face.
  
  The repetitive sound of the metal against the green foliage seemed to please Kenero as she sat on a nearby rock. After a couple minutes, she decided to it was enough and she told Semont to stop. Pretending to be disappointed while inspecting his work, Kenero scolded Semont for his lack of effort. He immediately saw through her and wiped his sword on the grass while muttering a few profanities. Swords nowadays are harder to come by and especially so for Semont’s sword since it was of a somewhat finer quality.
  
  “Alright, step back a bit.” Kenero loaded her cylinder with a fire crystal and unleashed a torrent of flame straight at the chasm of vines. The cylinder’s automatic workings kicked in and they ejected the spent crystal. It really looked like it would take time for the fire to burn through all the vines since it was so thick.
  
  “Well I guess we wait now,” Kenero sighed as she prepared a water crystal in the cylinder’s loading chamber “It’ll probably take at least an hour for all of that to burn up.” Semont took the time to ask Kenero a couple questions. Occasionally, there would be a break in their conversation because Kenero had to make sure the flames didn’t spread very far but otherwise, it was a peaceful conversation; perhaps the first one they’ve had since they’ve met. It turns out that Kenero wasn’t originally from Tara but was from Taillteann instead. Before she became an alchemist in Tara, she was living with her mother who was sickly and frail. Kenero’s father was a government alchemist as well and had already passed away shortly before she was born. Her father’s best friend, a top researcher in Tara had promised to take care of the both of them in case anything had happened to him. Kenero’s father was a very skilled combat alchemist who led many fomor hunts despite the pleas of his wife; he was a strong believer of the fomor mist crystals and deeply cared for the welfare of the citizens. Since Kenero was born after her mother had remarried with her father’s best friend, she considers him her real father instead but at the same time keeps a lot of respect for her biological father because of how he spent his life looking out for those who needed help. Kenero was pretty open with her past, up to the point where Semont almost found it a little strange although he didn’t want to question it out of respect. It almost seemed like staring at the hypnotic movements of the flames soothed her spirit and allowed her to speak her mind.
  
  After some time, as the smoke progressively waned, the flames changed to a dark red hue until finally, Kenero decided that it was enough and she doused the flames with a burst of water. Semont was just getting ready to pick up the luggage when Kenero motioned him to stay put and said, “Wait, the smoke in there will be really thick.” Kenero loaded a wind crystal into her cylinder and aimed it at the entrance. “Looks like she’s more capable than she appears to be,” Semont thought. Smoke came rushing out of the dungeon lobby and then suddenly, a jet of air knocked Semont off his feet. Kenero looked at Semont with half a smile on her face and said, “What’re you staring at me for? Come on, let’s go.” Hiding his reddened face, Semont quickly got up and followed her into the dungeon.
  
  End of Chapter 6
  [/spoiler]
  
  Woo! As well as being easier to read, here's a progress update!
  
  May 6:
  -added PROLOGUE
  
  May 8:
  -added CHAPTER 1
  
  May 10:
  -added CHAPTER 2 and an extra paragraph to the PROLOGUE
  -added spoiler tags for conveinence and deleted the earlier chapter 1 post
  
  May 12:
  -added CHAPTER 3
  
  June 5:
  -added CHAPTER 4 (sorry for the wait xD)
  
  September 15:
  -added CHAPTER 5 PART 1 (woo neglect =.=")
  
  December 15:
  -well this was long overdue; added CHAPTER 5 PART 2 (sorry but it's an introduction chapter :P)
  
  April 11:
  -damn, it's been 4 months since the last update.
  -don't worry I still want to finish this eventually xD here's CHAPTER 6
• Xemnas wrote on 2011-05-07 04:37
  off topic but is ladaca a typo for ladeca?
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-07 04:39
  Oh yeah xD
  
  Whoops.
  
  Thanks for the correction. (This is my first time writing something like this, sorry for the huge backstory ^.^")
• Schezo wrote on 2011-05-07 05:15
  Oh damn. I'm intrigued by this storyline.
  
  You better have Chapter 1 in the works!
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-07 06:15
  Ugh, reading it over now, I wish I proofread it.. There's too many run-on sentences.
  
  Well chapter one will be out soon and I'll be sure to put more effort into it.
• Iyasenu wrote on 2011-05-07 06:16
  Do want Chapter 1.
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-07 06:21
  :P I hope you guys will like it. It's actually got a lot more to do with magic than anything else xD
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-08 16:03
  Chapter 1
  
  [Ciar Dungeon: 2nd Floor. 125 Years after the age of Milletians.]
  
  Retaria: “Comon, we’ve got to pick up the pace, they’re relying on us! We can’t just give up!”
  Semont: “It’s no use… we can barely harvest enough cores for ourselves; our village is using up more Mana than we can possibly regain!”
  Semont, in frustration, struck his longsword into the ground and spat.
  Retaria: *in thought* “It was true. Our village is so poor that we can no longer to afford to pay the alchemists to make crystals for us. The ones we make only last us for a day or so… We can’t rest at all.. When will this end?”
  Retaria hesitated.
  Retaria: “We can’t give up… look, we’re nearing the end of the dungeon so there’s bound to be a strong Fomor coming up ahead.”
  Semont: “…yeah.”
  Semont had already lost hope; the only reason he was continuing was because there was nothing else he could do. Hunting Fomors was the only thing that could occupy his troubled thoughts right now.
  
  As the two progressed, an air of hopelessness surrounded them. Even though none of them spoke, they both sensed that optimistic words would not change anything and so, they continued silently, focusing on killing any Fomor that was barely worth collecting cores from. It was autumn and the rising humidity of the season flooded the dungeon with the rank smell of rotting corpses and it made it unbearably hot. It was more like fighting in a sewer more than anything. The rats that littered the floor everywhere ironically cleaned the Ciar of its of bodies but in turn laid their waste everywhere. The two prior to entering the dungeon took the precaution of wearing thick cloths over their faces to filter out some of the fumes in the building miasma.
  
  It hardly helped.
  
  Just two weeks ago, the two found bodies of missing villagers who ventured too deep in the dungeon who lay heaped in a corner; staving off the advancing Fomors no doubt.. the miasma had burned off their flesh and clothing leaving heaps of metal and bones with bits of tendon on them. It wasn’t uncommon that during the autumn season that Ciar Dungeon was at its worst; a natural deterrent for the average adventurer. But after the destruction of Eweca, no one in the village was given a choice and even more people died from the harsh conditions of the dungeon. It was made even worse that the Manaless air contributed to the piles of carcasses.
  
  Retaria: “It looks like the Fomors here are getting tougher.. Won’t be that much longer till we see some real action.”
  Semont: “Uh huh.”
  There it was: The largest chamber appeared in front of them as they cleared the winding corridor. On the entrance, a gate and four activation orbs were put in place to seal the Fomor within. A sign scrawled with withering letters was hung in front of the gate. It read, “Arachab; the Impaler.” Semont activated the nearest door orb and a click confirmed that it was the right one. The chains on the sealing gate slithered from its locks and a hidden pulley system within the walls slowly lifted the gate. A rush of hot air could be felt as the air temperatures fell into equilibrium.
  Semont: “Lucky..”
  Retaria: “Keep on your toes. I have a feeling this is gonna be one hell of a fight.”
  
  Finally, the gate rose to the top and the two entered the chamber. As if signaled by the arrival of the intruders, thousands of spiders attempted to crawl out of the room before the heavy gate dropped down again. They were all varying in size but identical in appearance: Offspring of Arachab perhaps. In the center of the room, unrecognizable bones were strewn across the floor with pieces of armor and weapons, all crushed into oblivion. A large, semi-circular patch of darkness smothered one corner of the room. The torch there was probably put out over there.
  
  The darkness quivered. There WAS no torch.
  
  Emerging from the shadows, eight identical legs simultaneously slid into position as if the great beast was awakening from its slumber. Each leg was plated with thick slats of dark metal and hairs of each leg sprang straight from its armour where there were gaps or ends. The ends of each leg were covered with a sharpened piece of metal, as if the behemoth was wielding eight lances. Without any adequate lighting, the legs would be so dark that it would be impossible to distinguish the joints and to where they disappeared into the abdomen. As disgusting as its appearance, each leg moved in perfect coordination with the grace of a ballet dancer. The front legs seemed to lead the back ones on: Partners in a twisted dance. As the giant spider dragged itself forward, its horrid features could now be observed. The closest thing that could be compared to it would be a knight in his armour; it was a being fully engulfed in iron. It seemed that nothing could pierce this secondary exoskeleton that it had. Wear marks were all over its armour indicating foolish adventurers who attempted to venture into its lair and slay it. On closer inspection, arrows and blades could be seen on the floor next to the beast. The only indication that there was a something living underneath the encasement was the eight round holes on its head revealing its beady eyes. Like its legs, frayed black hairs escaped from the imperfections of its armour as if they were the branches a great tree screaming for exposure to the sun. This Fomor, Arachab, had an intimidating appearance that was more than enough to make most adventurers drop their weapons and pray for a merciful death. For Retaria and Semont, they only gripped their weapons harder, they weren’t any greedy challengers seeking gold and treasures; they were loyal villagers with the aim of saving their people.
  
  Finally feeling that this Fomor was worthy of any effort, Semont thought of a plan to dispatch it.
  Semont: “Let’s get this done and over with. Retaria, while I distract it with my lightning, you run around to its side and try to make a hole through its armour with your fire.”
  Retaria: “Alright, got it- But wait, you’ve already used a lot of Mana today!”
  Semont: “..Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
  Retaria: *in thought* “Why is he getting so confident all of a sudden? Is he trying to show off?”
  Semont: “Don’t just stand there! It’s moving towards us, get into position!”
  
  At first, Semont shot off weak sparks straight into Arachab eyes to gain its attention, it worked. The great spider dazedly approached Semont to inspect him while Retaria ran off to its side; it was all going according to plan.
  
  Semont: *in thought* “Alright, just like they taught us in classes.”
  
  Concentrating, he channeled a large amount Mana into his right hand to draw massive amounts of atoms from the atmosphere. The electrons from these atoms are then torn from their bonds and then gathered to form pure electricity. A coating of Mana surrounded his hand that worked as an insulator and blocked the electricity from entering his body. If it did, not only would the electricity be lost, his heath could be at risk. This electricity was temporary as it was unstable and it appeared around Semont’s hand in the form of lightning streams; the containment step had to immediately follow this. More Mana was then used to force the electricity into a semi-stable ball form which will last fifteen seconds before the electrons give up their form and dissipate into the atmosphere back to their respective atoms. It didn’t matter, fifteen seconds was more than enough time needed to fire the bolt. This ball, itself a cage of lightning, housed a great amount of power which could be shot into a general direction all at once. Many people died in the past in order to figure out how to get this dangerous spell to properly work; the lightning would either kill the caster by entering the body or by dispersing all at once during the containment stage. Additionally, the constant need to reform the lightning bolt added to the danger but at the moment, it didn’t matter; Semont only had enough Mana for one charge. Finished with his creation, Semont aimed his hand towards the advancing spider, he smiled a bit. Aiming was kept at a minimum with lightning bolt; since lightning tries to enter the ground with the shortest route possible, as long as the caster shot it at a general direction towards the target, it would always home on to the target if it was the closest thing in front of the caster. Especially if the target was covered in metal.
  
  He fired. The smell of ozone was immediately recognizable.
  
  The chamber was illuminated for mere moments. The raw bolt of lightning instantaneously met its target as soon as he forced Mana into his hand to fire the bolt. Arachab then lurched back, a spray of green flew in all directions and then just as quickly as it staggered, its course was resumed. It was mad now: several of its eyes were completely destroyed and a thick, viscous fluid could be seen streaming down its head. Retaria gagged over the intense smell. Now the faint smell of ozone was completely overridden by the intoxicating smell of burning matter. Arachab immediately stopped and then shuddered.. Semont immediately recognized what it was doing.
  
  Semont: “Watch out! It’s channeling Mana!”
  Retaria: “Got it!”
  Both of them ran back a bit in order to anticipate what would happen next. Retairia could be seen applying her own Mana around herself to form a shield.
  
  Powerful Fomors, with the ability to regenerate Mana at alarming rates, had no problem with holding back unlike the two humans here; its channeling ability was only restricted to how large it’s Mana pool was. As Arachab focused its Mana, its previously frayed hairs suddenly straightened out and transformed into the shape of spears. All of these hairs were capable of shooting out many meters and then retracting back into place. The closest thing in comparison would be a legion of Roman soldiers armed with spears and shields in turtle formation. Now, all the spear-like hairs shone a light from their tips which indicated where they would strike. Most of the lights ended up on the ceiling or on the floor. As Semont was directly in front of Aracab, only a few were around where he stood, but Retaria was on its side and thousands of dots appeared where she was; dozens of them appeared on her body.
  
  Semont ran towards her as an act of desperation to save her.
  
  End of Chapter 1.
  
  Chapter 2 will be out soon.
• Schezo wrote on 2011-05-08 16:51
  Suspense...building...
  
  Why so cliffhanger! D:
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-09 02:57
  Lol, my releases might slow down a bit, I'm starting school again tommerow.
• Iyasenu wrote on 2011-05-09 04:03
  Use mana shie... ohwait.
  
  Use natural shie... darnit.
  
  
  EVASION.
  
  Also charge.
  
  pick up all the equipment and sell it to learn alchemy D<
• Fabian wrote on 2011-05-11 00:38

  Quote from Iyasenu;439153:

  Use mana shie... ohwait.
  
  Use natural shie... darnit.
  
  
  EVASION.
  
  Also charge.
  
  pick up all the equipment and sell it to learn alchemy D<

  
  
  They aren't heroes or professional warriors by the looks of it, so I doubt those villagers went all the way to Cor to learn charge or to Tara to learn evasion...
  
  Anyways, awesome story! :D
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-11 03:53
  Updated with chapter 2!
• Schezo wrote on 2011-05-11 04:11
  Ooh. Who could be that mysterious benefactor :o
• Mentosftw wrote on 2011-05-11 04:34
  Well, you'll see!
  
  Chapter 3 will probaly be out in a couple days since I havn't really planned it yet xD Only 1 paragraph is done haha.