Elwen the Conquered

Out of the corner of his eye, Varian spotted a faint red glowing. It came from across the armory, on the opposite wall from where he came from. There was another door there, one that he hadn’t bothered going through yet.

Suddenly, the door burst open, a cloud of dark smoke pouring through. He quickly drew his sword, wary of whatever the new threat was. He didn’t have enough experience using the whip for it to be practical for him to use it, so he could only rely on his trusty sword.

“Who dares challenge me, warrior?” A raspy voice called out to him. It seemed to come from…

“The cloud?” He muttered. It was a talking cloud? And it didn’t seem hostile, at least yet.

He watched as the cloud floated towards him, flowing through the racks of weapons. It condensed as it got closer to him, and finally, a man stepped out of it as it passed through the last layer. No, the cloud became the man?

“A ghost?”

“Ra! I’m not a ghost! I am the Great Spirit Rasska, Herald of War, Guardian of Malkar, and Commander of the Dark King!” The man replied.

“I… See?” He had no idea who that was. Although, ‘Guardian of Malkar’… He glanced down at his newest weapon, which bore the same name. “So you are the guardian of this artifact?”

“Of course I am! Did they not teach you of the rites of succession? It appears that the Lorekeepers have fallen in the centuries I have been trapped here.” The spirit practically growled. Now that he was closer, Varian could see that the spirit wore the same set of armor as was behind him, although without the damage. The left side of his face, however, was covered in a massive burn scar. It seems that the suit suffered that damage after the man had died, or whatever transformed him into a spirit reversed the damage that occurred during his death. Or perhaps the spirit had some control of his form, and the scar was so inherent to his identity that he kept it.

“Lorekeepers? I’ve never heard of them. Who are they?” Varian questioned.

“Hah! They truly did fall, those old cretins!” The spirit laughed boisterously, “That would explain why no one has come to claim Malkar. Although, if they are gone, what of the Demon Kings?” The spirit asked as his tone turned more serious.

“I have heard of them, but only in stories,” Varian responded. The Demon Kings were part of the lore of this world, rulers of massive empires. However, as far as he knew, none actually existed, at least anymore. The only lasting imprint they had was the creation of the distinction between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ races, which he thought was just a game element, a way to create two big factions that players could join and fight against the other.

“I see. And what happened to the Blood Empire?” The spirit continued his interrogation, a gloomy expression appearing on his face.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Varian answered. He guessed that the Blood Empire was the empire that this spirit was originally from. There were said to be numerous empires that the Demon Kings established, but the names were all lost, just like their empires.

“I see…” The spirit responded, and a silence fell between them as the spirit was engrossed in his thoughts. It did not take long for the spirit to finish dwelling before he returned his attention to Varian with a determined glint in his eye. “Then you will have to carry on our legacy, inheritor.”

“What do you mean?” Varian had been waiting for the spirit to start attacking him or something, seeing as it was the supposed guardian of the artifact, but it appeared that something changed.

“I see you have it. It is not as pure as a dark one’s, but it will do.” The spirit’s leg turned back into a cloud, and he began to float in a circle around him.

“Have what?” Varian raised his guard once again, cautious of the spirit’s new behavior.

“You know what I speak of. All of our kind have it, though some more than others. It courses through our veins, baked into our very being. Is it not why you came? Did it not call you here? Those whispers in your ear, urging you on. Can you not feel it? The drive to win. The drive to rule. To dominate.” The spirit’s face distorted more and more as he continued to speak, forming an inhuman grin.

“I—yes…I do desire that.”

“Then I shall show you how. I will give you the power you need.” The ghost stopped in front of him, returning to a more human form. “Follow.”

The ghost turned and started to walk to the door it came from. Varian sheathed his sword and followed, although he was still wary of the spirit. But, it seemed like he didn’t want to kill him, and rather wanted to help him, so he decided to trust it a little.

They went through the door and down a short and narrow hallway, before arriving at another staircase. The spirit floated up, and Varian reluctantly followed, wary of the stair falling on him. They went up around two flights of stairs, before arriving at a small chamber at the top of the tower. There, he saw a metal stand, fallen to the side. By the cup at the top, lying on the ground beside it, was a large gem, around the size of his fist. It was dull in color, mostly black but with a tiny bit of red within.

“Take it.” The spirit commanded, pointing at the gem. “It is the key to unlocking the power held within the fang, and your destiny.”

Varian did so, picking up the gem. He used [Appraise] as he did so, wondering what it was. It told him that the gem was a [Fragment of Dark Power]. He connected it to the [Dark Core] that was a requirement to unlock the [Dark Crusader] class. Were they related?

“It is a vessel of the power of the Dark Kings of old. It has greatly diminished over the centuries of neglect, but it is still enough. Nurture it, and it will serve you well.”

Varian took the gem and placed it in his bag. Right now, there seemed to be nothing he could do with it, besides ‘nurture’ it. “How do I do that? How do I restore the power of the gem?”

The spirit did not respond, instead returning to his half-human form. “I will grant you the final part of the inheritance. Use it well.”

There was a great surge of energy around the spirit, and the room darkened. Varian looked out of a small window in the wall, seeing that the sky was darkening, and yet the sun was still high. Three wisps of fog grew out of the spirit, spiraling towards him in a helical pattern. They focused into a point a drilled right into his heart. Varian felt the power behind them and was staggered back. Still, he did not feel weakened or hurt by them, instead, he was filled with power. He saw images flash through his mind. Images of burning cities, of armies marching. He saw giant monsters rise out of the sea, and dragons flying high in the sky. He saw a great fire engulf the land, and a river of blood flowing down a tall mountain.

When it was finally over, he opened his eyes, not realizing that he had even closed them. The spirit was gone, and it seemed that the world had returned to normal. He could barely make sense of anything that he saw, it was too fast, but he instinctively knew what it was: The knowledge and memories of the previous owners of his whip, his inheritance. It was a mumbled mess, barely comprehensible, but he felt that it held secrets that he had to know. Hopefully, with time, it will become clearer.

Still, he felt that he had gained a greater understanding of exactly how his new weapon worked. He stood the metal stand up, pulled his whip from his belt, and gave it a test swing, willing it to strike the pole. As it swung, the whip began to faintly glow red and grow in length. When it struck the pole, the glow disappeared and the pole broke in two. The whip returned to his side, seemingly waiting for his further orders. When he went to inspect it, it snaked into a coil and shrunk back to its original size.

It was certainly a good first try, especially as he had no idea how to use it before now. He would still need practice, but it seemed like he could wield at least a fraction of the whip’s power.

He returned the whip to his belt, content to keep it on him, at least until he returned to the city. He decided that it would be good to practice away from prying eyes on his way back. He descended the stairs of the tower and found his way back out of the ruins, grabbing anything he thought he could sell on his way and stuffing it into his bag. When he got back to the courtyard, he untied the stupid goat and tied the bag to it. With the enchantment on it, it only weighed a few dozen pounds, but he was glad that his trusty donkey would be carrying it for him.

Just as he was about to start descending the mountain, he remembered the other great boon the weapon granted him. He was so absorbed with the spirit that he had almost forgotten about it. He pulled out his whip again.

“What did the notification say?” Unfortunately, there wasn’t a log, and it seemed that the window had closed itself, so he couldn’t remember exactly what he was supposed to do. He took a moment to jog his memory, focusing on the window.

“Ah, that was it. Initialize [Slavemaster] system!” He commanded the system. A window popped up in front of him. Although it wasn’t a level-up notification, he was just as happy to see it.

‘[Slavemaster] system initialization started’

‘Working. Please stand by.’

For some reason, he was expecting something more… impactful.

‘Working. Please stand by.’

‘Phase One complete.’

Phase one? Why are there phases?

‘Please create master crest.’

Varian was swallowed by darkness, not unlike what happened when he died. But there wasn’t a respawn in front of him now, instead there was a large system window.

‘Please create master crest.’ Another window popped up in front of him. He dismissed it, instead turning his attention to the large system window. It was blank. He poked it, hoping to refresh or activate the window, but a dot appeared right where he poked it instead.

And then he realized what this window was. It was drawing window.

“You could have given better instructions,” He complained to the system. At least it wasn’t hard to figure out. He shrunk the window into a more manageable size. After a little bit of trying, he managed to get the window to spit out the pallet, and he selected the eraser tool and erased his little dot. Then, he began drawing his crest. He had already decided long ago what he wanted it to be, although he still wasn’t too attached to it. If he could think of something better, he wouldn’t mind changing it.

He started by drawing a vertical European sword, from the late medieval period, with the handle pointed up. A classic knight’s sword. Admittedly, his art skills were not the best, but it seemed that the system had some sort of program running to improve it, as he got a perfect sword out of it on the first try, despite barely being able to draw it. Next, he drew two dragon wings surrounding the sword, with the end pointing down, like the pommel of the sword was the head of the dragon, creating an elliptical shape. Finally, he drew two massive fangs coming from behind the wings.¹

Once he was finished, he pressed a ‘confirm’ button that appeared, and he returned to the normal world.

‘Phase Two complete.’

‘Working. Please Stand by.’

‘Applying crest.’

Varian felt a sharp heat on his chest as the crest seared itself into his flesh. He collapsed to his knees, before falling and tumbling down the side of the mountain. He could only feel vague impacts against him as he was filled with immense pain.

He passed out before he reached the bottom of the mountain.

When he opened his eyes, who knows how long after, he was greeted by the goat, munching on his hair.

“Get away!” He swatted at it. The goat quickly decided to run away. Unfortunately, its path crossed over his head, and he was quickly kicked in the side of the head.

“Fuck!” Varian cried, but not about the goat’s kick. “What the fuck was that?!” He knew that he would get the crest after he made it, but he didn’t realize it would be burned into him. It was fucking painful!

He let out a sigh, sitting up. He had to get back to town eventually, and he might as well get started sooner rather than later.

‘[Slavemaster] system initialization complete. Access new menus through [Status].’

A new menu popped up, blocking his view. “At least it’s over.” He mumbled, before dismissing it and standing up. He would sort through the new menu as he walked back. He sighed again, before grabbing the lead on the goat. He was kind enough to bring down all of Varian’s loot with him, so he would make sure to give him a few treats when they got back. He saved him half a day or so of walking, so it was the least he could do.