by Aaron Oster
He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost in a hand-to-hand fight where he’d been evenly matched with his opponent. And he’d never lost a fight to someone weaker than him after gaining his ability. This was a first for him, and defeat was an extremely bitter pill to swallow, especially with so much on the line. He’d lost, and it wouldn’t be long before Katherine and the rulers of the other Kingdoms heard about it.
Le’vine would want to brag, as all rulers would, about her champion defeating a supermage. It would bolster her strength in the eyes of the others and rally them to her cause should she call on their aid. The North would be left to fend for itself, and while the other kingdoms might survive, their casualties would be heavy.
The worst part of it all was that it was entirely his fault. Had he taken the fight seriously from the get-go, he could have pulled out a victory. Instead, he’d been cocky, so sure he couldn’t lose, that he’d ended up doing just that. Morgan had never thought of himself as a prideful person, but this loss hit him like a ton of bricks.
Shame, as he’d finally identified the feeling, poured off him in waves. It sank into his body, down to his very soul, and corrupted his mind and rational thoughts. The smart thing to do would have been to contact Katherine and asked her what to do next. Instead, he’d fled, leaving his pack and all his belongings – including the communication amulet – behind.
In his mind, they would be better off without him anyway. Someone who’d failed as badly as he did would only be a detriment to their Kingdom anyway. Morgan was sure Katherine and everyone else would be better off without him. And as for Sarah, she hated him for not wanting to leave, and without him around, she’d be able to do just that.
Those thoughts consumed him, bringing him ever lower, even as he flew for all he was worth, fighting to flee the mocking laughter and shame. It followed him, chasing him through the night and the day after that. Every time he slowed, it would catch up to him, forcing him ever onward, running from his shame. The longer he flew, the more he was convinced of his decision to run away. All of this had started because of him anyway.
The war, the rise of the Pinnacle King, the deaths of thousands, and the current chaotic state of the world. It was all because of him. Maybe it would have been better for the world had he never awoken from his slumber.
The fourth day found Morgan approaching the border of the West Kingdom. He hadn’t meant to fly here but had inexplicably ended up going this way. He was flying back to the origin of his creation, the place where he’d been born. The Ruined City.
Morgan finally came back to himself, breaking out of the stupor of shame and self-loathing as an alarm blazed in his ears. Looking around in surprise, Morgan found himself passing above the wall and saw more than a dozen figures below looking up at him. It seemed he’d been careless when crossing the border and had inexplicably caused the alarm to go off. And, seeing as how there was only one person in the West known to have flight, their ruler would soon know Morgan was in their Kingdom.
He briefly debated turning back, but almost immediately dismissed that idea, as he had nowhere to go back to. By now, he was well and truly committed. The Ruined City was where he’d been born, and it was where he’d go to spend what little time this world had left. The beasts there, no matter how strong, wouldn’t pose a threat to him.
Or maybe they would? You didn’t think Hilda could beat you, yet she made it look easy. Perhaps you’re not as strong as you think you are.
Morgan faltered mid-air as the doubts crashed back into him. What was he even doing here? What could he be searching for in the Ruined City?
He figured since he’d already come this far, he may as well keep going. He was too tired to stop anyway, and the moment he did, he knew he’d be out cold. Four days with no sleep and continuous flight was exhausting. If not physically, then mentally. Sure, at his rank his body technically didn’t need much, perhaps an hour or two a night, but his mind was still catching up.
Katherine, the only person he had left to consult on these matters, had told him that there was a bit of an adjustment period, and that even she wasn’t all the way there yet. The acclimation to one’s power was something that was generally the work of years, not weeks or months. This was why people who’d had their powers for longer generally tended to be stronger than those of the exact same rank.
Morgan flew on, his head filled with the images of his failure. He could only imagine the disappointment on Katherine’s face, and the look of smug satisfaction on Sarah’s. He could hear Katherine asking why he’d let them down, hear Sarah saying she’d told him so, and above all that, the mocking laughter of Le’vine as he fled in shame. For all his strength, he was nothing.
Nighttime found Morgan approaching the forbidden zone, the area blocked off by the West where guards patrolled to keep people away from the Ruined City. The area had been the hub of experimentation of other worlds, and their meddling had resulted in the complete destruction of their city. It had also triggered mutations in all the beasts there, corrupting them and strengthening them to a degree that normal people couldn’t handle.
The last time Morgan had been here, he’d come with Sarah, and together they’d faced the Divine Golden-Bristle Wolf. It was a beast that had grown so powerful, it was on the brink of reaching the Pinnacle. Had they not defeated it back then, Morgan had a feeling he’d be facing this Pinnacle Beast upon entering the city. Instead, all he’d be facing were the regular corrupted beasts.
The city walls loomed before him, towering high into the sky. Now that he was paying attention, he could see all the lines tracing the landscape, thick with alarms and enchantments designed to block access to cores so no one could sneak in. He could see the dots of red and blue as guards moved about, circling the area in patrols of five.
Last time, Morgan couldn’t fly high enough to clear the city’s hundred-plus-foot walls. This time, he cleared them easily, rocketing over the towering walls and entering the odd silence the city seemed to hold. The usual howls of the city’s denizens were oddly absent as well, though he figured that they’d be coming out soon enough. For now, he needed to find somewhere safe to get a few hours of sleep.
His eyes combed over the ruined buildings, patches of half-formed glass and oddly twisted spires flowing into the sky. It was fairly hot out now, and the residual heat of the day still clung to the city, giving off a slight heat-shimmer. It didn’t take him long to find a spot, and just as he was landing atop the ruins of a tall building, the first howls broke the night air.
Though he’d advanced quite a bit since he was last here, Morgan still couldn’t track their energy with his Aura Sense. The only way he could see them was with visual contact, only then could he see their abbreviated status. For now, though, he was too worn out to care.
He had no pack, no food, no water, not even a change of clothes. He wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, and in his current state, he doubted he’d be able to muster up the will to eat anyway. He lay down on the hard ground, so very different than the soft beds he’d grown used to, and closed his eyes.
The sounds of the beasts’ howls echoed in the background as he drifted off, thinking of what he’d be doing now, had he not failed to miserably.
He awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the walls and filtering over his face. Instead of getting up as he normally would, Morgan simply turned over and tried to go back to sleep. There, at least, he could escape the crushing guilt and shame of his failures, if only for a short while. That was not to be, though, as his mind refused to allow him even that small comfort.
The images that had haunted him began anew, rekindling the feelings of guilt, shame, and anger. Anger at himself mostly. Anger at his inability to succeed at even the most basic of tasks, such as winning a fight against someone weaker than him.
“Damn it all!” he growled, slamming a closed fist into the ground.
The resulting boom shook the entire structure, threateni
ng to topple it as cracks radiated out from the force of the impact. For a moment, Morgan was afraid he’d actually need to leave his little hiding spot as the building began to tremble. But thankfully, it subsided just a few moments later, leaving it stable, albeit, probably not as good as before.
Sitting up, Morgan rubbed at his eyes to clear the grit and then looked around. Small chunks of mortar and twisted bits of steel bars littered the floor around him. The roof was mostly intact, though there was a missing corner where he’d flown in. Whatever windows had once been there were long gone, leaving the frames wide open to the city below.
Of all the buildings here, this one seemed to be the best off in terms of damage. In fact, there wasn’t a single patch of melted glass and the sand surrounding the building was just that, sand. It was strange really, that a building could survive a blast like that with so little damage. It wasn’t like the building was on the outskirts of the city either, where the damage wasn’t as serious. Even those buildings were more damaged than this one.
Normally, such trivial details wouldn’t stand out to him at all, however, with the need to keep his mind occupied, Morgan decided to investigate. He wanted to do anything but sit and stew over the price of his failure and what it was going to cost the North.
Rising from his sitting position, Morgan began to walk around, looking to see if this place had any identifying features that might give away what type of building this might have been. He couldn’t find any remains of furniture, beds, dressers, or otherwise, so this wasn’t a place people lived. However, as he walked, he noted that there was literally nothing here.
All he saw, room after room, was dust, sand, and broken pieces of mortar. The odd twisted metal bar poked from the walls as well, but other than that, there was nothing at all. Now really curious, Morgan began hunting for a staircase. Instead, what he found was a closed set of doors that stood out against the dull tan of the walls to either side.
The doors, unlike the walls, were made completely of a metal that he’d never seen before. The strange part wasn’t that they were made of metal either, but that they were completely free of rust. There was also a small panel on the wall where a single button stood with an arrow pointing down embossed in its center. It took him a moment to recognize what it was. Morgan had heard of these before, and thought he’d never see one. Of all places to bump into one, he wouldn’t have for a minute have thought it would be here.
He doubted it would still function after being abandoned for so many years, but after hunting around for a staircase and not finding one, he had little choice but to try. Reaching out, Morgan pushed the button, depressing the mechanism with just a little effort. He was honestly surprised the button moved at all, as over time, debris and other detritus should have clogged it up.
Even more surprising was the rumbling, screeching sound that came from behind the closed doors. At first, Morgan was afraid that his earlier blow to the building may have upset the balance just a little too much, and that it would really come crashing down, but as the rumbling and screeching grew louder, he realized that it was coming from inside the shaft.
That didn’t exactly ease his conscience about the building, but now that he knew its source, it was a bit less alarming. The rumbling, shrieking sounds grew ever louder, followed by a loud clanging. Only when the noise reached a near-deafening level, did it stop. Morgan stood in the silence, waiting for something to happen, though he wasn’t exactly sure what.
Then, with a loud hiss, the double-doors slid apart, disappearing into a recess cut into the walls. He had no idea how mechanisms like this were even designed to work, though he’d never been much of an expert in how enchanters did what they did.
Morgan wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when the doors open. He’d thought that there might be a box or platform, something he could ride down. And when the doors opened, he saw just that, an enclosed box lit by four glowing stones set into the ceiling. What he hadn’t expected to see, though, was the man standing with his back against the wall and looking for all the world like someone who was on a vacation of some sort.
“Ah, you must be Morgan,” the man said, stepping out of the lift and onto solid ground. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
22
I really need to stop bumping into strangers in abandoned cities, was the first thought that popped into Morgan’s mind. This was followed shortly by how does he know my name? and who the hell is he?
Morgan had run into a lot of strange people in his life, but this man took the cake. He was about average height, perhaps five-foot-nine, with short-cropped brown hair, blue eyes, and a trimmed orange beard. His shoulders were slouched, as though holding himself upright was a chore, and it was clear from his protruding stomach that he wasn’t exactly the fittest man on the planet.
His attire was beyond strange as well. He was wearing a plain shirt with short sleeves and no collar that seemed to be made of some kind of cotton, and a pair of gray pants that were extremely baggy. His feet were covered by the strangest pair of shoes he’d ever seen as well.
What’s the point of wearing them if they’re full of holes? Morgan thought as he finished examining the man.
All in all, he had to admit that the man was unimpressive at best, and a complete slob at worst. He’d have dismissed him from his mind had it not been for two things. The first was the mere fact that he was here and knew his name, and the second was the writing on the man’s shirt. It was the exact same text that had been on the Solarspire. If there was ever a time where he needed Sarah to translate something, it would be now.
“I can see you have questions,” the man said.
At least he’s observant, Morgan thought.
“Too bad I’m not going to answer.”
Well, shit.
“Why are you here? And how do you know my name?” Morgan tried.
“My name isn’t important, and as for why I’m here, well, I thought it’d be obvious. I’m here for you.”
Morgan’s first thought was that this was some sort of god, perhaps someone Samuel or Dabu had failed to mention. He couldn’t get a read on his aura, so that had to be the case. However, the way he looked and acted said otherwise. All of the gods, no matter which he’d met, were all very well put together, fit, and quite good-looking. This man, on the other hand, was anything but that.
“Why are you here for me, though?” Morgan decided to ask, knowing that if he was a god, he wouldn’t answer anything he didn’t want to.
“Because you’re here,” the man replied.
Morgan had to force down the urge to grind his teeth together. This was getting him nowhere.
“Yes. I’m here,” he said, forcing the words out as calmly as he could manage. “And you’re clearly here because I am. But why?”
The man gave him an odd look.
“Oh, dear. I knew you mortals were dense, but I had no idea how bad you really were. Okay, I’ll repeat myself. I’m here because you’re here.”
“Gaahhh!” Morgan screamed, whirling in place and stalking towards the next room over.
“Where are you going?” the man called after him.
“Away from you, whoever the hell you are!”
“But I came all this way to see you,” the man said, popping up right before him and blocking his path.
Yup, Morgan thought resignedly. Definitely a god. Only they could be so annoying.
“Spit it out, then. What is it you want from me?” Morgan asked, knowing he couldn’t get past him even if he tried.
He’d left his god-killers, the silvery gauntlets that had helped him against Samuel, back in the North Kingdom. He had little choice but to hear this tubby man out. Best to get it over with quickly so he could go on with his day. And by that, it probably meant exploring the building and commiserating over his failure.
“Well, to put it simply, you shouldn’t be here,” the man said.
“No shit!” Morgan said. “I should be downstairs, examining this o
ddly intact building, but you decided to waltz on in and ruin my peace and quiet.”
“No,” the man said, completely unfazed by his outburst. “You shouldn’t be here, in this city. After you won Le’vine’s respect and got her to join Katherine, you were supposed to head south immediately. So, right now, you’re supposed to be in the South Kingdom, convincing Beatrice to join you. So, why aren’t you there?”
The man seemed genuinely confused, so much so that Morgan actually calmed down.
“I don’t know where you get your information from, pal, but I lost to Le’vine’s champion, Hilda, in a fight. The East won’t be joining the North, and after everyone else hears, neither will they. I’m here because I can’t seem to be able to face all those I’ve disappointed. In fact, they’d probably be better off without me…”
Morgan trailed off, realizing that he’d just openly admitted his deepest feelings and failures to a complete stranger. The most disturbing part about it was that he hadn’t meant to say it at all.
The man’s brows furrowed when he heard this, and he began pacing back and forth, muttering to himself under his breath. Though Morgan’s hearing was amazing, he was still only able to catch a bit of what the man was saying. It wasn’t because the man was speaking inaudibly, but because he spoke in a mix of languages, one of which he couldn’t understand.
“…messing with me that… Not supposed to… Timelines… already on the move… Can’t be… messengers…”
Morgan watched as the man walked back and forth, pausing every now and then to pull seemingly random objects from the air. They were all brightly-colored, with the same strange writing as his shirt. Each time he pulled an object from the air, he tossed it back to wherever it had come from.