by Ivan Kal
The crowd erupted, but Morgan couldn’t even comprehend it. His world had narrowed, the sound was muffled. They had been chosen—they were going to the Tower of Power!
He turned and looked at Borodar, and saw his bewildered face turn to joy and Morgan’s followed. He slapped Morgan on the shoulder and started laughing.
“I guess we’re not going to be rid of each other any time soon,” Morgan said with a wide smile. The rest of their team members were celebrating as well.
“To all the participants in this tournament, I wish you good luck in your future endeavors,” Ragnor said. “The winners I invite to join us in our private lounge for a conversation. To the people of Al’Valor, thank you for being a part of our tournament!” With that, Ragnor and the others walked off the platform and through a small gate in the arena’s wall.
Morgan and the others gathered and followed, the Fjordstar team following as well. Morgan glanced at them and saw them studying him and the others. He gave them a small smile and, surprisingly, they returned the gesture. They should probably introduce themselves, but for now Morgan thought it more prudent not to make their hosts wait. A few guards met them at the doors and led them up to the lounge.
Inside was a much relaxed atmosphere than what Morgan had imagined. There were couches and chairs, tables with food and pitchers with water, and the five people he had been seeing on the platform.
Ragnor faced them and spoke.
“Once again, allow me to congratulate you. Each one of you have shown something that we value and feel that we can foster and help develop. As you may know, our raid team will be attempting to conquer the Tower. Many have tried in the past, but none have returned from beyond the fourth floor. We intend to be the first. In service of that goal, we will prepare all of you, get you to the levels where we believe you will be valuable members of the team. As such, we will require time to train you all, to level you up and for you to get to know the others and for them to get to know you. In service of that, we ask you to set your near future in our hands—this is not something that can be taken care of in a single day, nor a month, and perhaps not even a year. Once you come to us, you will stay with us until we are ready to go to the Tower, and then until we reach the end…or die. If you cannot commit to that, you may leave. No one will stop you.”
He paused, and when no one said anything, he nodded. “Our preparations for the Tower begin in five months. Until that time, you may take care of your affairs and get ready.” He gestured at Kalrak, and the man walked over to them, giving each team leader a small coin. Morgan recognized it as a teleportation authorizer.
“With these,” Ragnor said, “you will be able to teleport directly to our Guild Hold in Amon’Tor. We will be expecting you five months from today. Of course, should you think about selling, giving away, or using those coins for any purpose but to come yourself, the punishment will be severe.”
His eyes bore into everyone in the room, and it felt like the temperature dropped to freezing. And then it was gone and he spoke again.
“Now, enjoy yourselves. Eat, drink—you have earned it.”
Morgan looked at Borodar, then at the food, and headed straight for it.
* * *
About half an hour later he was standing alone in one corner watching the others interact. He had met the members of Fjordstar, and found they seemed like a cool bunch. He had spoken with them a bit, and then retreated. He hadn’t realized just how tired he actually was.
Then someone stepped next to him and Morgan turned, only to see Ta’elara standing next to him. For a moment he was flabbergasted, and then he realized that he had been staring at her for a few moments. He coughed uncomfortably and spoke. “Grand Mage, what can I do for you?”
“Your name is Morgan, yes?”
“That is correct,” he answered.
She nodded and then glanced at his arm. “I am very much interested in your arm. May I inquire as to how you obtained it?”
Morgan blinked; he hadn’t expected that question, but he didn’t see any reason not to answer. “I actually created it.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really, that is your own creation? Fascinating, I have never seen anything like it before. May I see it?”
Morgan thought about it and then extended his hand. She took it in hers gently and looked it over. He could feel her using some ability or skill on him but it didn’t feel bad.
“Fascinating indeed, it feels just like regular skin, but it is not… You have sensation?”
“Yes,” Morgan said.
“Hmm… It is not a parasite, as you would not have such sensations, nor control for that matter. Very interesting. It replaces your entire arm, aside from the bones. From your fight I know that you have a nature alignment, as well as metal. You did this by experimenting with plants?”
Morgan paused. He wasn’t sure if answering that was prudent. After all, ascended had to have their secrets. “I apologize, but it is a secret.”
Morgan expected her to get angry, but instead she chuckled. “Ah, not simply smart, but brilliant, then. No matter—still, if you ever change your mind, come find me at my school. I would give you enough treasure for you to research whatever you wish for a hundred years, all in exchange for the knowledge of how you did it and a chance to study it more in depth. Who knows, I might even give you a teaching position if I am impressed enough.”
Morgan was taken aback by the offer, but as he thought about it he nodded. “I might even take you up on that.”
She smiled and then walked away.
As soon as she was far enough away, Borodar walked over.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“She wanted to learn more about my arm,” Morgan answered.
“Really? The Grand Mage is interested in it?”
“She is.”
“Huh,” he said.
They lapsed into a silence, but then a few moments later Morgan spoke.
“So what do you plan on doing until we are needed in Amon’Tor?”
Borodar shrugged. “Probably go back to Irus, do some hunting and dungeons.”
“Why don’t you come with us, to our hold?” Morgan said.
Borodar looked at him and titled his head. “To your home?”
“Yes, there aren’t many dungeons around, and no hunts, but we could train together, and I have someone who I think could teach us all a lot. That is if I manage to convince him.”
Borodar thought about it for a long minute. “You know what, I think that’s a great idea.”
Morgan smiled and slapped his shoulder. He wondered how he would feel if Morgan managed to convince Azil to take them all as his students. Probably curse me, and himself for accepting.
Morgan’s eyes wandered over the room, falling on his teammates. They were all smiling, they were all happy, as they should be. All of them had made a great step in the direction of their ultimate goal. It was a time to be joyous, because soon they would go to the Tower of Power, and Morgan was certain that there they would long for these simple moments of joy.
EPILOGUE
Deep beneath the surface of the World, in a small chamber filled with unnatural light, sat a man—or a god, according to some. He was looking at a holographic display that showed many different things: windows in the happenings of the World.
But his eyes were drawn to only one.
On it, a young man stood in a luxurious room with a smile on his face, among friends.
“Have I ever been so content? Without a care in the world?” Oxylus asked.
“Once, when I was born inside of your head, and we began our journey,” the woman next to him answered. She had fire for hair, and she floated only a hand’s breadth above the floor.
“He is doing well, which is bad. How is he too learn if he doesn’t face adversity?” Oxylus asked.
“I remember you stomping through your opponents, too, in the beginning,” the Guiding Force answered him.
“And I paid the pr
ice for my arrogance. Better that he fail now when the stakes are small, than to lose what I have lost.”
“You agreed it was his life to live. You made me promise,” the Guiding Force said.
“I know, I know,” he replied. “Perhaps I should’ve just brought him with me, given him to Ban or Vin to train.”
“It is better that he grows stronger on his own,” the Guiding Force told him.
“You are right, as always.” Oxylus sighed, then turned to look at her. “Speaking of, how are they faring?”
The holographic display changed and showed a sea of stars with a platform in the middle. On it were eight people, seven of whom stood against the one. Oxylus watched them attack the man opposite them in a coordinated assault, but they were met with the four blades that rose from his back. The seven were trying to get by him, but were unsuccessful. “He is up to four?”
“Yes,” Guiding Force responded simply.
“They are getting stronger,” Oxylus commented. “How long have they been fighting him?”
“Almost two years. Being exposed to the real thing for so long is having an effect on them, as you have anticipated,” she said.
“That is good.”
He watched the seven struggle against Vin for a while longer, and then turned off the display. He stood up and walked over to a clear window which looked into a vast cavern—the heart of this world.
Inside of it was a massive beast. Black, chitin-like hide covered it for as far as eye can see, and that was far, even for him. She was massive, hundreds of kilometers long, and all along that length of her body, tubes connected into her flesh, leading up to the complex above them. It pained him to see her like this. He could see her with his senses, sleeping there, alive; but inside of his head was a hole that nothing could ever fill: the place where once her mind had resided, a vast cavern that could fill entire worlds. It was a feeling he could never get used to—not when he had known the glory of what it was like with her there.
“How is she doing?” Oxylus asked.
“Recovering, as before,” the Guiding Force answered.
He sighed. It was the same answer he always got, the answer he had been getting for thousands of years. But he still asked it, because a day would come when the answer would be different. And then she would wake, and they would travel the stars together again, and would rend to pieces the arrogant ants that had dared to betray them. They would tear their worlds apart, and they would hunt them all down. They would remind them who Moirai and the Heart of the Mountain were.
And then, after the ants were gone, they would turn to Chaos and Order, and have their revenge—at long last.
Thank you for reading!
Hello!
I have a short message for you all. Many of you already know this, but this is for the people who are not aware. All of my books take place inside a shared multiverse, and some characters crossover from series to series. But it is not required for you to read all the series in order to understand what is happening, each series has its own set of characters and storyline which is contained inside of that series. The multiverse stuff is mostly background and side stories, and I will always explain everything that is relevant in every series, so you will never feel like you are missing out. Reading the other series might give you some insight into the characters that appear across different series, but it will not give you all the answers as every series takes place at a different point in time, with thousands of years and sometimes more in between the events. Every series is also a different genre, and while the overall rules of the multiverse are the same, each series has its own feel, and you should not feel the need to read something in a genre that you don’t enjoy! Don’t worry, everything will always be explained where necessary and you will not miss out on anything!
In case that you do want to check the other books out, here is a rough timeline of the multiverse:
Rise of the Empire (space opera, sci fi with fantasy elements in the second half of the series)
Chaos and Order trilogy (coming soon! This trilogy will have the multiverse stuff as the main storyline and will set the stage for the background conflict)
Universe on Fire (sci fi-fantasy)
Eternal Path (mix of eastern and western fantasy)
Tower of Power (LitRPG, fantasy)
You are of course not required to read them in chronological order to understand things. The multiverse threads are mostly background in every series so far, but the characters that are crossing over do originate in a few of these series, and you might learn more about their origins. That’s it! Thanks for reading!
If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Honest reviews of my books help greatly by bringing them to the attention of new readers. I would be grateful if you could spend a few minutes writing a short review (a few words is fine) on Amazon.
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Turn the page for a look at my fantasy series:
Eternal Path Book 1 – Eternal Soul
ETERNAL PATH BOOK ONE – ETERNAL SOUL
CHAPTER TWO
VIN
Kai Zhao Vin woke in darkness on cold stone with shackles on his wrists and ankles. Thick chains kept him tied to a wall, allowing him only a few steps in any direction. He did not know for how long he’d slept, nor did he even know for how long he had been imprisoned. He had lost count of the days, with no sunlight to tell him the passage of time. Once again he cursed his captors for making his soul suffer through this abomination, for trying to break him and refusing to let his soul pass to the realm of the gods.
A rattle turned his attention to the doors of his cell; Vin heard voices and realized that he had been woken up by these visitors. He closed his eyes to shield them from being blinded by the orb of light that his jailers would certainly have, and waited. A few moments later he heard the door open and the sound footsteps growing closer. Suddenly, large hands grabbed him and removed the shackles from his wrists and ankles, and then the visitors picked him up and half carried, half dragged him outside.
The legs of this body were weak compared to the one he had been born with. The original owner of this body had been a weak spirit artist, his body not even reaching the first step of the path. So, even though he hated being carried, he swallowed his pride and conserved his strength.
He opened his eyes just a bit, letting them slowly adjust to the light. He hated that he was constrained by this frail body, hated that this body’s core was so weak that he could barely push ki through its channels, hated that he couldn’t seek justice for what had been done to him and to his people, and to Orb—his world.
He managed to turn his head enough to see the two that were carrying him. Beasts with dark red scales and black horns, over two meters tall and wide as oxen, with leathery wings folded on their backs. Brutes, they served as heavy infantry for the enemy, slow but powerful. Vin guessed that now, when there was no one else to fight, they had been delegated to other lesser tasks, such as retrieving prisoners.
They carried him out of the dungeon and into what had once been a city of his people, the last that was standing before Vin was captured. The soaring towers of Heavenly Orders no longer pierced the blue sky; now, only craters remained where they had once stood, and the once azure sky had turned crimson as blood. What previously had been the brown-and-gray shape of the Father Storm was now tinted in that same red, and the storms that danced across his surface now seemed angry as he rose above the horizon, filling half of the sky.
Buildings once filled with crafters and practitioners of the spirit arts were now tainted by the invaders. Vin did not know exactly for how long he had been a prisoner; he knew only that he had spent at least a year as a prisoner in his original body, enduring invasions of his mind. The enemy wanted him on their side, but Vin’s will was greater. He would never bow and accept their offer. He had tried to escape, of course—his honor as a spirit-artist demanded the atte
mpt—as these were not artists from another clan, but honorless invaders. He had prepared for months, compressing and purifying his ki in order to gain a burst of power great enough to overcome the strange aura that the enemy used to keep him imprisoned.
He had almost succeeded; he escaped the prison and then ran right into one of the enemy commanders. Had he been at his peak before the imprisonment had weakened him, or if had he still possessed even one of his blessed arms, he could have won, he knew. Instead, he had found himself back in the cold, dark cell. The enemy had then used their cursed artifact and strange powers to extract Vin’s soul from its earthly vessel and put it into another, weaker one, ensuring that he would not have enough strength to escape again. And in fairness this body was not truly weak, Vin admitted: whoever had inhabited it before simply hadn’t even attempted to make the first step on the path. By the shape of the body’s muscles, Vin knew that the body’s previous owner had taken care of it, had trained it to the best of his meager ability.
A strong man for sure for his level of power, but nothing compared to power that Vin had wielded in his original body. The strength that the body possessed now was no match for even the lowest of the enemy’s soldiers. Despite that, Vin cultivated the body’s—or rather now his—ki, pushing and pulling it through the body’s channels. He was familiarizing himself with his new body, hoping that someday he would have enough power to escape.
The brutes led him through the streets toward the main square. Pain shot through his heart at the sights around him, for they gave truth to what his captors had been telling him. His people were gone.