Edge of Eons: A Cultivation Novel (The Adept Archives: Book 1)

by Darren Hultberg Jr

  Edge of Eons

  The Adept Archives: Volume 1

  By Darren Hultberg Jr

  Copyright 2019 Darren Hultberg Jr

  All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are completely fictitious.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or redistributed without proper permission from the author, Darren Hultberg Jr.

  Prologue

  Guild Hall of the Steel Brotherhood, The realm of Eon

  Varyon Risen, apprentice guardian of the steel brotherhood guild stood alone against the approaching shadows. At his back were the guild’s last remaining survivors... a smith, a tailor, an aspiring runecrafter and an alchemist weary with age. Each of them were guild members by trade, though none were fit for combat... well, none except him, and he was but a lowly apprentice.

  Their odds were not good.

  Varyon steadied himself in the doorway of the storage hall where they’d hidden, fists raised in a fighting pose. He silently cursed himself, wishing he’d foregone hand to hand combat and begun his weapon training earlier. Now all of the weaponmasters were dead and he only had his own martial skill to rely on, to fend off the approaching assassins in black.

  “Young Varyon, please... leave us to our fate,” the old alchemist said, his voice soft and frail. “There is no reason for you to throw your life away.”

  “Enough of that talk,” Varyon snapped back, his long black hair flying into his face with the turn of his head. “I will not leave you to die. You are all that remains of the steel brotherhood. I will not abandon-“

  Suddenly, Varyon’s words were cut short by a pair of footsteps outside the door. Everyone in the room collectively held their breath, praying to Bahamut that the intruders would move on, that they would ignore the simple wooden door at the end of the storage hall. If they perished, then there would be no one left to account for the massacre of their guild.

  Silence lingered in the air like an ominous force, as if it were a prelude to the danger that awaited behind the door. It took Varyon a moment to realize that he hadn’t resumed breathing, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

  Suddenly, a blast of dark energy tore through the door, leaving splinters scattered of wood about Varyon’s feet. The others screamed and clutched at one another, but the apprentice guardian stood firm, fighting off the wave of fear that had begun to creep into his soul.

  In the doorway emerged two figures clad entirely in black, splatters of blood strewn across their tunics and thin silver blades held tightly in their hands. The intruders carefully entered the room, torchlight gleaming off their weapons.

  “Leave them alone,” Varyon pleaded, his body shaking inside his thin suit of mail. “They’re innocent!”

  “Ah, but your guild elders were not...” one of the men replied, his voice cryptic.

  “Must the entire guild pay for their mistakes?” Varyon replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. He thought it ridiculous that so many should have to pay for the mistakes of the few, mistakes that he wasn’t even fully aware of.

  One of the assassins chuckled. “After you take your last breath... there will be no guild.”

  Without hesitation, the man in black lunged forward, thrusting his blade at Varyon’s heart. Varyon’s instincts kicked in and he sidestepped the blow before lunging in himself, latching his hands onto his attacker’s wrist before launching a headbutt into the man’s face. As the man recoiled, Varyon ripped the blade out of his attacker’s hand and held it high, falling into a defensive posture.

  The other assassin let out a laugh. “Well done, little one... well done. Finally, someone in this guild is showing a little heart. Pity that it’s too little, too late.”

  Black energy began to envelop the assassin as he spoke, covering him in a thin, translucent cloak of darkness... his spirit aura. He looked less like a human now and more like a beast born of shadow.

  Suddenly, the second assassin began his assault, striking out with his blade at an angle. Varyon stepped forth to parry, but the man’s enhanced strike proved far too powerful to defend. Blades clashed and the assassin’s weapon forced itself past Varyon’s defenses before piercing his armor and plunging directly into his chest.

  “N-no,” Varyon choked out as blood began to pool in the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t die... not like this. His final breath would not only be his own but that of the guilds... a brotherhood that had existed for centuries!

  “I’m afraid so, little one,” the assassin replied, quietly watching Varyon writhe on the end of his blade. His spirit aura began to fade, barely visible as tiny tendrils of shadow danced across his arms.

  Feeling a sudden surge of rage, Varyon forced himself farther onto the sword and jabbed his stolen blade forward, piercing his killer’s eye with its tip. He knew it was a hopeless effort, but if he was going to die then dammit, he’d die fighting!

  The assassin roared in pain before withdrawing his weapon and slashing Varyon across the face, snuffing out the last bit of life that remained in the young apprentice. Nursing his injury, the man spat in the young guardian’s direction, content with letting the fool bleed out on the floor. Varyon writhed and convulsed on the floor, but death came for him rather quickly… perhaps an act of mercy from the gods. For in his cold dead eyes reflected a sight that would’ve broken him... the sight of his comrades cowering as the assassin raised his blade and unleashed his wrath.

  ****

  Moments later, the pair of assassins stood at the center of the old storage hall, the air thick with the stench of death. Bodies and blood lay strewn about the floor, the final victims of the once mighty steel brotherhood... a guild that was no more.

  As the assassins gathered their tools and wiped them clean, a third figure entered the room. He moved silently as he made his way to the assassins, his boots gliding above the blood and carnage that lay littered about. This newcomer towered over the others with a commanding presence, his very aura permeating the air with fear. Dressed in robes darker than night, he surveyed the carnage behind the guise of his hood with eyes that swirled like living shadow.

  “It is done then?” the man said, his voice commanding and deep.

  Both assassins quickly dropped to a knee as one of them uttered, “Yes, my lord.

  “Though not without a cost, it seems,” the man continued. A pale hand emerged from the hood and caressed the assassin’s heavily damaged eye.

  “It is... nothing,” the assassin replied, dipping his head shamefully. However, the hooded man appeared quite interested.

  “Who did this to you?”

  With remorse, the assassin pointed to the corpse of Varyon Risen. “That one, my lord. He proved to have a bit more... fight in him than the others.”

  Slowly and methodically the hooded man approached Varyon’s corpse, his shadowy eyes inspecting the body with morbid curiosity. A flicker of dark energy emerged from the man’s hand as leaned down, placing a hand on Varyon’s chest. After several seconds of deliberation, he finally uttered “Take this one,” a vile grin forming beneath the guise of his hood. “And ensure his body isn’t harmed any further.”

  One of the assassins grew brave enough to give him a curious look. “Shall we see this corpse to the necromancer, my lord?”

  “No,” he calmly replied. “Take his body to my chambers... I believe he will serve as a perfect candidate… for the undying wraith.”

  Chapter 1

  Last Patrol

  5:27 A.M. Home, Earth Realm

  Roy’s fists slammed into the vinyl
punching bag, leaving shallow impressions as each shot landed with impeccable precision. The bag swayed with each successive strike, casting a shadow that moved around the dimly lit room as it absorbed blow after mighty blow. Much of the world still laid asleep at this early hour, but for Roy Skyworth, his fighter’s soul had already ignited.

  Sweat began to build on his brow as he unleashed his fury upon the hanging bag, striking his target with a pair of vicious hooks before sending the bag spinning with a powerful high kick.

  Though Roy spent most of his day in the streets, these early pre-dawn hours were his. Each morning he rose, accompanied only by darkness as he made his way down the old wooden stairs to his unfinished basement. It was in that alcove that he’d spent countless hours straining his muscles, performing masterful strikes that had now become second nature. He needed this time, not just to hone his body, but to calm his soul. He needed to soothe the anger inside of him, to quell the dark thoughts that threatened to eat him alive. He just had to be strong enough….

  For his body was a weapon, like a finely-crafted blade… and all blades needed sharpening.

  6:35 A.M.

  A short time later, Roy stood in the doorway of his daughter Karina’s room as the first rays of sunlight began to creep in through the window. She was still in her bed, fast asleep and not likely to wake until long after her father had departed for work. In his eyes, she was the embodiment of perfection, the source of his motivation and one of the main reasons he’d chosen to wear the badge… to protect and serve.

  The young officer let his gaze linger on the little girl for a moment longer before carefully and quietly exiting the room. Roy made his way down the white, paint-chipped hall and headed towards the front door, but paused as something caught his eye on the way out. Lying there on the old sofa was his wife Jen, fast asleep and with a blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders.

  Roy sighed. The two had once been deeply in love but had grown distant in recent months, something that he mostly blamed on himself. Times when she needed comfort he was distant, and times she needed patience he had none. It was as if the evil and depravity he’d witnessed as an officer had left his nerves permanently frayed. He was just... he was just so damn angry all the time!

  Roy knew that she wanted to leave him, he could see the signs. And who could blame her? He was broken... but he wasn’t ready to give up. If he gave it everything he had, then maybe he could rebuild their relationship, could prove he was still the man she had married. Maybe he’d start tonight with flowers after work, a simple gesture to show her that he still cared. Jen has always loved daisies...

  Roy gave his wife a final glance of admiration before finally sneaking out the door. Perhaps he wasn’t too broken to fix this.

  7:59 A.M. The Station

  Roy stood in front of a long row of painted metal lockers as he fastened a missed button on his navy police uniform. Some of the other officers made small talk as they donned vests, laced boots, and holstered weapons, a few of them making remarks at Roy. He smiled and nodded back in agreement, feigning enough interest to keep them from bothering him any further.

  It wasn’t that Roy disliked his colleagues…. In fact, he typically dished out whatever they gave him tenfold. But after his early morning introspection, he needed some time to think, to center himself before dark thoughts led him back to a place of anger. He needed silence.

  The officer paused in front of one of the room’s steel mirrors as he put the finishing touches on his uniform, triple-checking to make certain all of his equipment was secured. He was a tall man with a lean muscular frame, angular features, and a square jaw. The black hair atop his head was neatly cropped, though his chin always showed signs of stubble. Most notable were Roy’s piercing green eyes, which he often hid behind a pair of aviator sunglasses.

  Satisfied with his appearance, the officer took a deep breath, set his jaw and pressed his fingers to his temple. A familiar, translucent interface appeared in the officer’s vision, feeding him data about his surroundings as his gaze shifted about the room. He narrowed his eyes at one of the men leaving the locker room and a small window of information appeared in his vision.

  //////////

  Officer Kai Blaine

  Threat level: N/A

  Physical capabilities: (data locked)

  //////////

  As an officer of the Phoenix City Police Force, Roy had been fitted with a standard issue neuro-implant. This device connected directly to his optical nerves, enhancing his vision with an interface that provided information on possible threats, nearby resources and locations of interest. With the implant, Roy could scan a man and gain a readout of his identity, an assessment of his strength, a list of past offenses and even alerts for any weapons that a potential suspect may possess.

  It was a revolutionary piece of technology, an item that had given law enforcement an edge on streets that had grown increasingly dangerous. Developed by the Axion corporation, the implant had been named the {Sentry Scan}, or Sentry for short.

  Roy removed his fingers from his temple and slipped them into one of his pockets. Now that the Sentry was active, it would remain up until he chose to deactivate its abilities.

  “Trying to sneak a scan on me, asshole?” Kai said, noticing the odd look Roy had given him. “You don’t honestly think you can take me, do you?”

  Roy shook his head. “I don’t need this thing to tell me I can whoop your ass,” he replied in all seriousness, drawing a curt smile onto Kai’s face.

  “Next time it’s you and me, Skyworth,” Kai reiterated as he exited the room. The two of them had sparred dozens of times in the gym before. Kai was a rather skilled boxer, and Roy had a decorated martial arts background going all the way back to his childhood, which led to a few interesting exchanges between the men.

  Roy turned, taking a final look in the mirror near his locker before nearly stumbling backward over the nearby bench.

  “The hell?” he wiped his eyes, peering into his reflection with disbelief. For a second, Roy was certain he saw something… a pair of eyes staring back at him. Watching him. He kept his eyes on the mirror for several seconds, waiting to see if the vision returned.

  Finally, he let out an exhaustive sigh and slammed the locker shut. It was too damn early in the morning to be seeing things. Shaking off the bizarre feeling, he straightened his vest, adjusted the holster of his gun, and headed out towards briefing.

  1:17 P.M. The Streets of Phoenix City

  “We need all available units to the corner of Blair Street and 65th, warehouse district! Officer down! I repeat, officer down!” Roy’s muscles tensed as his scanner crackled to life, causing him to slam on the gas of their police cruiser. He’d been on the force long enough to witness some pretty messed up sights, but the frantic voice coming over his scanner still managed to get his heart pounding.

  Roy felt that feeling of nervous anticipation creeping into his chest as he sped through a red light and barreled down a near-empty street. Officer down… these were the type of calls you never wanted to hear. Someone had attacked one of his own, had put the lives of one of his brothers in jeopardy… and they were going to pay.

  Roy’s knuckles went white as he steered his cruiser through the district’s back streets, hand tightly gripping the wheel as he spun it clockwise, forcing the car into a hard right. He was nearly there.

  A moment later the cruiser screeched to a halt as Roy pulled into the lot of a seemingly abandoned warehouse, its windows shattered and the cracked cement surrounding the building littered with old bullet casings.

  The sun glistened off the officer’s badge as he leaped out of the car. He was tall and lean, his body hardened and eyes alert. With haste, he fell into a crouch as he made his way towards the building’s entrance. Protocol stated that he should wait for backup before engaging with the perp likely hiding in the warehouse, but he just couldn’t do that. One of his fellow officers had been put down and even a moment’s hesitation could pro
ve the difference between life and death.

  “R-Roy...” a labored voice managed to force out as the officer passed through the entrance of the warehouse, drawing his attention to the far side of the room. There, leaning against a pile of debris was the injured officer, his hands gripping his stomach as blood began to pool in his lap.

  “Kai!” Roy shouted, rushing over to apply pressure to the man’s apparent knife wound. It pained him to see Kai in a position like this. Normally, the thin, long-haired officer walked around with an air of quiet confidence about him. Now, he sat powerless as the color slowly drained from his cheeks. “What the hell happened?” Roy demanded, mustering his resolve.

  “I got a call… Saw someone inside the warehouse... th-thought it was just some kids,” Kai stammered. “Th-the guy jumped me. I barely even saw anything before-”

  “Alright, just breath, dammit,” Roy spat as he helped apply pressure to the wound. “Help’s on the way… and when you get patched up you owe me a beer, maybe two. You know better than going into shitholes like this alone.”

  Roy crouched there next to Kai as the man took over applying pressure to his wound. He’d taken a solid hit, but from what Roy could tell he wasn’t in any mortal danger.

  Kai began to prattle on about his wound through clenched teeth, but the words went in and out of Roy’s ears as he gazed about the room, using his Sentry interface to search for any signs of the attacker. He spied empty beer bottles, broken glass, an overturned table, but nothing that gave him a clue to the attacker’s whereabouts…

  Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention. He turned and gazed upwards, immediately noticing a man dashing across one of the intersecting metal bridges above. Roy looked to Kai, who gave him a nod of approval and he dashed off after the assailant.