Demon Rifts, an unknown phenomenon plaguing the Ten Races of Man since the dawn of time. They appeared once a century, during the winter solstice’s witching hour. Manlings guessed these fissures in the ground developed in the Beast-lands too, but few had the leisure to explore distant dangers when death and destruction neared their doorsteps.
Rifts appeared in random locations, their sizes no less random. Some ruptures were merely large enough for a man to crawl through, others opened kilometers wide. Sometimes Demons spewed from them, sometimes Demonic Beasts, sometimes nothing happened and troops stationed next to the abyss spent a boring year, guarding a big hole, feeling lucky.
Demons bore the guise of manllings. They were capable of making palisades, temporary housing, usually in the form of teepees, and otherwise acted rationally and showed intelligence. However, when they encountered manlings or Monster Beasts, Demons lost their reason and started a carnage, inciting the same madness in their opponents.
What made rifts horrifying for Mages was that each of them emanated the aura of the Demon World, neutralizing magic in its immediate surroundings.
“None of you are allowed near the Rifts. We have lost countless True-Namers to curiosity. So, no matter how interested you are in the world on the other side, you must stay away. Even the weakest Demons are Third Order Sword-Sages, while you are common people without magic.” Headmaster Smith warned, before turning to Wolf. “You are an exception, Lord of Death. You’re a high Order Sword-Sage and you can take care of yourself. However, remain vigilant.”
Headmaster Smith cleared his throat again. “Even though I’ve written it, I will repeat myself. Rifts are up to luck. Records exist that the Empire of Dwarf was unlucky thirteen hundred years ago. A high Order bird cloaked in lightning emerged from a giant rift. It killed seven True-Namer grade Runesmiths and exterminated a civilian city before flying off towards the Beast-lands to wreak havoc. We estimate that thunderbird annihilated over a hundred million dwarves.”
Headmaster Smith once again looked at Wolf. “Speaking of historical records, Lonely Eagle supposedly jumped into a rift in his youth ‘to see what’s inside’. He fought his way back, returning half-dead and half-insane. So, please, don’t do anything stupid.”
Wolf felt embarrassed. Why did you say that in front of so many people? Do I look stupid?
Master, you thought of entering the rift twice since this meeting started. Silver cleared Wolf’s doubt.
“Remember, if you see suspicious activity, if you think you can’t handle a situation, send a Commune. Ask for help. During a Demon Incursion, staying alive is the most important—” Headmaster Smith choked mid-sentence. “Preserving Thonburi’s prosperity is our top priority. Your lives are second, and everything else is below that. Your families are already at the Mage Academy or ducal palace. They are safe. I guarantee their safety, unless Demons destroy Silver City. Even then, I will do my best to protect them.”
***
Wolf wasn’t happy with his assignment. Headmaster Smith stationed him in Treasure’s Keep, the capital of Thonburi Marquessate. Given the circumstances, the decision made sense. However, Wolf wanted to visit his own capital city and chat with Edmund and his company who trained his soldiers. He owned a palace which he never set foot into, and he felt no less homeless than he did when he wandered the Beast-lands with Archibald.
He spent two weeks sitting in a mansion, getting all-is-well reports and reading books on crafting. But even with his Mage Order, Wolf failed to learn a thing. He could transcribe recipes, feed them into the Cube of Fusing and get a finished item, but he himself remained unable to hammer in a nail.
This is supernatural. Wolf’s second Mental Aspect, which sat on the throne, said after yet another nail bent while his body tapped it with a hammer. He paid full attention and controlled the exact amount of force he exerted. However, if Wolf struck gently, the nail wouldn’t go in. If he hit just a tad harder, the nail either deformed, or didn’t enter the wood the way it was supposed to.
Did my talent for crafting disappear? Did something suck it away? It’s impossible I can’t hammer in a nail, nor make a loincloth. That’s just cutting a bunch of rags and tying them up together. A child can do it.
Since he had nothing better to do, Wolf experimented in seclusion, making sure nobody could see his eccentric behavior. He didn’t want any new crazy rumors spreading about him and reaching Sky.
Wolf missed his daughter. He Communed with Mandy daily to check what was happening with Sky. Were there any new developments and had she started learning the sword or magic?
Despite his subtle scrying, deep down, Wolf worried. He was afraid some ancient monster reincarnated in his daughter’s body and that it would attempt to devour her, like Lonely Eagle tried to consume him.
Did Maiden of Slaughter devour Matilda, or was she Matilda from the start? Richard’s report stated historians assumed an incarnation of Maiden of Slaughter is alive at all times. She seems oblivious to her past lives, but she’s the main proof reincarnation exists. However, there are too few facts known about her. Richard mentioned people feared running experiments, but Wolf had another thought.
The world is censuring thoughts about her. Whenever I try to think about her without sitting on the throne, something requires my attention.
As Wolf’s Mental Aspect contemplated mysteries of the world, he received an unexpected Commune.
Lord of Death, your village of Greenhelm failed to report. Lord of Shredding will reach it in nine hours. We will keep you posted.
Wolf sighed. That was the twenty-eighth village destroyed, the second one in his domain. So far, none of the incidents happened in Thonburi Marquessate. Considering that old kook’s speculation, nothing will happen in Thonburi holds, and I will sit on my ass, hammering at nails for a year.
It seemed unfair. Wolf believed he should be in the most dangerous location, next to Northshield or Beast-lands. However, Headmaster Smith disagreed. The strongest person should guard the most important site.
This is Hazelwood, all-is-well.
This is Troutbrook, all-is-well.
…
Wolf received hundreds of all-is-well reports. His gaze shifted up as he double-checked his protectorates. All is well. Wolf confirmed everyone from his list of subordinates called in, then went back to hammering a nail into a block of wood, trying to notice Soul Force fluctuations interfering with his work.
Nothing. The second Mental Aspect confirmed again. But that’s impossible. Somebody must be hindering me somehow. No one can suck this bad. Without the Cube of Fusing, I would remain unable to fashion anything for myself. But this arrangement isn’t horrible. I don’t have to waste time crafting, I’m free to perform other tasks and move around without fearing interruptions. While I don’t know the specifics, I know artisans can’t pause their work. If someone interrupts them, their effort and materials often go to waste.
Hmmm… What’s the difference between crafting and scribing? They have a lot of similarities…
While Wolf considered the fine differences between arts and crafts, Demons slaughtered villagers in his domain.
Fields outside Greenhelm reeked of blood.
Men and women wearing leather armors, swung swords, daggers and axes, hardly any different from those soldiers of Silverhound duchy used. Blood of the elderly flowed on village paths, mixing with the blood of the young.
Like Demons, villagers and garrisoned soldiers had bloodshot eyes, mindlessly clashing with their enemies. Even Tobias, a Sixth Order Mage in charge of this unimportant site, was reduced to a lunatic, charging the enemy with a candlestick.
He swung the silver trinket towards a woman a head taller than him, but before the candelabra struck her breast, a heavy ax smashed into his head, cleaving his neck and collarbone.
“Waaaaa!” Celia roared after weakling’s gore splashed her face. She didn’t bat an eye and continued rampaging through the civilians and armed forces, shredding them like paper.
She had completed Qi Gathering years ago, but lacked resources to further her cultivation. When Treasure Rifts opened, Celia bribed her matriarch to let her lead a group of warriors into the Treasure World to gather wealth. She had to work hard, look for riches, and avoid the legendary Greater Fiends.
Greater Fiends terrified Celia. Folktales claimed they could fly, and shoot fire or lightning from their hands, wiping out entire war-parties on their own. She continued clearing out surrounding Minor Fiends, her frenzy weakening as their numbers dwindled.
Finally, after a quarter of an hour passed, the last ruined corpse hit the ground.
Celia looked around. Her party numbered one hundred, but now there were only ninety-eight. She pursed lips and cursed two incompetent louts who got themselves killed.
“Hurry and pick this place clean. We must leave before a Greater Fiend arrives.” The leader of every party was free to choose whether they would continue attacking, or retreat. Celia spotted a differently dressed corpse and headed straight for it.
She took a Ring of Holding from Tobias’s dead hand and smiled. It was full of provisions and weapons. Just the thing Celia needed to change her fortune.
She was blissfully unaware that the bloody mess beneath her feet could fly and shoot lightning bolts less than an hour ago.
Demon Rifts, an unknown phenomenon plaguing the Ten Races of Man since the dawn of time. They appeared once a century, during the winter solstice’s witching hour. Manlings guessed these fissures in the ground developed in the Beast-lands too, but few had the leisure to explore distant dangers when death and destruction neared their doorsteps.
Rifts appeared in random locations, their sizes no less random. Some ruptures were merely large enough for a man to crawl through, others opened kilometers wide. Sometimes Demons spewed from them, sometimes Demonic Beasts, sometimes nothing happened and troops stationed next to the abyss spent a boring year, guarding a big hole, feeling lucky.
Demons bore the guise of manllings. They were capable of making palisades, temporary housing, usually in the form of teepees, and otherwise acted rationally and showed intelligence. However, when they encountered manlings or Monster Beasts, Demons lost their reason and started a carnage, inciting the same madness in their opponents.
What made rifts horrifying for Mages was that each of them emanated the aura of the Demon World, neutralizing magic in its immediate surroundings.
“None of you are allowed near the Rifts. We have lost countless True-Namers to curiosity. So, no matter how interested you are in the world on the other side, you must stay away. Even the weakest Demons are Third Order Sword-Sages, while you are common people without magic.” Headmaster Smith warned, before turning to Wolf. “You are an exception, Lord of Death. You’re a high Order Sword-Sage and you can take care of yourself. However, remain vigilant.”
Headmaster Smith cleared his throat again. “Even though I’ve written it, I will repeat myself. Rifts are up to luck. Records exist that the Empire of Dwarf was unlucky thirteen hundred years ago. A high Order bird cloaked in lightning emerged from a giant rift. It killed seven True-Namer grade Runesmiths and exterminated a civilian city before flying off towards the Beast-lands to wreak havoc. We estimate that thunderbird annihilated over a hundred million dwarves.”
Headmaster Smith once again looked at Wolf. “Speaking of historical records, Lonely Eagle supposedly jumped into a rift in his youth ‘to see what’s inside’. He fought his way back, returning half-dead and half-insane. So, please, don’t do anything stupid.”
Wolf felt embarrassed. Why did you say that in front of so many people? Do I look stupid?
Master, you thought of entering the rift twice since this meeting started. Silver cleared Wolf’s doubt.
“Remember, if you see suspicious activity, if you think you can’t handle a situation, send a Commune. Ask for help. During a Demon Incursion, staying alive is the most important—” Headmaster Smith choked mid-sentence. “Preserving Thonburi’s prosperity is our top priority. Your lives are second, and everything else is below that. Your families are already at the Mage Academy or ducal palace. They are safe. I guarantee their safety, unless Demons destroy Silver City. Even then, I will do my best to protect them.”
***
Wolf wasn’t happy with his assignment. Headmaster Smith stationed him in Treasure’s Keep, the capital of Thonburi Marquessate. Given the circumstances, the decision made sense. However, Wolf wanted to visit his own capital city and chat with Edmund and his company who trained his soldiers. He owned a palace which he never set foot into, and he felt no less homeless than he did when he wandered the Beast-lands with Archibald.
He spent two weeks sitting in a mansion, getting all-is-well reports and reading books on crafting. But even with his Mage Order, Wolf failed to learn a thing. He could transcribe recipes, feed them into the Cube of Fusing and get a finished item, but he himself remained unable to hammer in a nail.
This is supernatural. Wolf’s second Mental Aspect, which sat on the throne, said after yet another nail bent while his body tapped it with a hammer. He paid full attention and controlled the exact amount of force he exerted. However, if Wolf struck gently, the nail wouldn’t go in. If he hit just a tad harder, the nail either deformed, or didn’t enter the wood the way it was supposed to.
Did my talent for crafting disappear? Did something suck it away? It’s impossible I can’t hammer in a nail, nor make a loincloth. That’s just cutting a bunch of rags and tying them up together. A child can do it.
Since he had nothing better to do, Wolf experimented in seclusion, making sure nobody could see his eccentric behavior. He didn’t want any new crazy rumors spreading about him and reaching Sky.
Wolf missed his daughter. He Communed with Mandy daily to check what was happening with Sky. Were there any new developments and had she started learning the sword or magic?
Despite his subtle scrying, deep down, Wolf worried. He was afraid some ancient monster reincarnated in his daughter’s body and that it would attempt to devour her, like Lonely Eagle tried to consume him.
Did Maiden of Slaughter devour Matilda, or was she Matilda from the start? Richard’s report stated historians assumed an incarnation of Maiden of Slaughter is alive at all times. She seems oblivious to her past lives, but she’s the main proof reincarnation exists. However, there are too few facts known about her. Richard mentioned people feared running experiments, but Wolf had another thought.
The world is censuring thoughts about her. Whenever I try to think about her without sitting on the throne, something requires my attention.
As Wolf’s Mental Aspect contemplated mysteries of the world, he received an unexpected Commune.
Lord of Death, your village of Greenhelm failed to report. Lord of Shredding will reach it in nine hours. We will keep you posted.
Wolf sighed. That was the twenty-eighth village destroyed, the second one in his domain. So far, none of the incidents happened in Thonburi Marquessate. Considering that old kook’s speculation, nothing will happen in Thonburi holds, and I will sit on my ass, hammering at nails for a year.
It seemed unfair. Wolf believed he should be in the most dangerous location, next to Northshield or Beast-lands. However, Headmaster Smith disagreed. The strongest person should guard the most important site.
This is Hazelwood, all-is-well.
This is Troutbrook, all-is-well.
…
Wolf received hundreds of all-is-well reports. His gaze shifted up as he double-checked his protectorates. All is well. Wolf confirmed everyone from his list of subordinates called in, then went back to hammering a nail into a block of wood, trying to notice Soul Force fluctuations interfering with his work.
Nothing. The second Mental Aspect confirmed again. But that’s impossible. Somebody must be hindering me somehow. No one can suck this bad. Without the Cube of Fusing, I would remain unable to fashion anything for myself. But this arrangement isn’t horrible. I don’t have to waste time crafting, I’m free to perform other tasks and move around without fearing interruptions. While I don’t know the specifics, I know artisans can’t pause their work. If someone interrupts them, their effort and materials often go to waste.
Hmmm… What’s the difference between crafting and scribing? They have a lot of similarities…
While Wolf considered the fine differences between arts and crafts, Demons slaughtered villagers in his domain.
Fields outside Greenhelm reeked of blood.
Men and women wearing leather armors, swung swords, daggers and axes, hardly any different from those soldiers of Silverhound duchy used. Blood of the elderly flowed on village paths, mixing with the blood of the young.
Like Demons, villagers and garrisoned soldiers had bloodshot eyes, mindlessly clashing with their enemies. Even Tobias, a Sixth Order Mage in charge of this unimportant site, was reduced to a lunatic, charging the enemy with a candlestick.
He swung the silver trinket towards a woman a head taller than him, but before the candelabra struck her breast, a heavy ax smashed into his head, cleaving his neck and collarbone.
“Waaaaa!” Celia roared after weakling’s gore splashed her face. She didn’t bat an eye and continued rampaging through the civilians and armed forces, shredding them like paper.
She had completed Qi Gathering years ago, but lacked resources to further her cultivation. When Treasure Rifts opened, Celia bribed her matriarch to let her lead a group of warriors into the Treasure World to gather wealth. She had to work hard, look for riches, and avoid the legendary Greater Fiends.
Greater Fiends terrified Celia. Folktales claimed they could fly, and shoot fire or lightning from their hands, wiping out entire war-parties on their own. She continued clearing out surrounding Minor Fiends, her frenzy weakening as their numbers dwindled.
Finally, after a quarter of an hour passed, the last ruined corpse hit the ground.
Celia looked around. Her party numbered one hundred, but now there were only ninety-eight. She pursed lips and cursed two incompetent louts who got themselves killed.
“Hurry and pick this place clean. We must leave before a Greater Fiend arrives.” The leader of every party was free to choose whether they would continue attacking, or retreat. Celia spotted a differently dressed corpse and headed straight for it.
She took a Ring of Holding from Tobias’s dead hand and smiled. It was full of provisions and weapons. Just the thing Celia needed to change her fortune.
She was blissfully unaware that the bloody mess beneath her feet could fly and shoot lightning bolts less than an hour ago.
