– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Setting Moon, Day 63 –

  The cursed avatars of a false god had ceased existing.

  The eradication of the funghouls would not be far behind. Their sheer endless numbers meant nothing in the face of all the combined powerhouses granting them their undivided attention.

  Mia and Yorgos each cleaved the monsters apart hundreds at a time.

  Even the lowest among the fighters fought with a renewed vigor after sensing the clear change in atmosphere. They were winning. They were so close.

  The cult within the Sun had gathered the funghoul hordes of the entire Deadlands and now the creatures were decimated at an unprecedented rate.

  Never before had anyone seen such numbers of the cursed creatures.

  Never before had anyone ever harbored hopes of exterminating them completely.

  Until now.

  All as one. They fought.

  They didn’t have Terry’s finger runes anymore to order them. They weren’t necessary.

  They fought as one.

  Everyone against the funghouls.

  Everyone fought the curse haunting their realm.

  A curse that continued springing forth in spores for every hit upon the cursed creatures.

  At the edge of the battlefield, lightning rushed down from the heavens. It met the metallic-green spearhead calling it before blasting outwards and viciously tearing into a pair of funghoul giants.

  Terry’s attacks weren’t as effective as the spatial blades of the dimensional mages. They weren’t as impressive as William’s master-level spells that took time to prepare but then created self-sustaining spell fields that unleashed continuous carnage over large areas while he prepared the next such spell.

  Terry didn’t care about comparing himself against his allies. His attacks might not be as effective, but they were just as unending.

  Terry never paused his stride. He darted from enemy to enemy, leaving nothing but spore-reeking bodies in his path.

  His attacks were also incredibly noticeable. The ear-shattering cracks of heaven’s fury. The golden light of divine hammers. While spatial blades killed silently, Terry’s carnage caught attention.

  When Terry unexpectedly paused to close his eyes, people noticed. Even when Terry quickly returned to fighting. While his mind was racing, people were doing the same to catch up with him.

  “Everything okay?” Tiana jogged over and left her lightning clones to continue tearing into the funghouls. “Did you notice any problems? I’d be surprised if the Moon tried anything at this point, but if you sense something off, send the signal. We can confirm with Patricia and Khaled.”

  Terry pulled back his arms after squeezing a funghoul between two divine hammers. “It’s not that, no.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you be surprised?”

  I sure wouldn’t. I’d expect the little monsters to itch for some backstabbing.

  “Because anyone giving the order would have to be an utter fool,” said Tiana while her eyes observed the battlefield. “No matter how much they might want to turn on us, how would that work? Throughout this entire battle, you’ve practically trained every soldier to listen to your ranged finger runes. A feat no one present can replicate.”

  Terry furrowed his brow and waited for Tiana to elaborate.

  “What? Look at it from their perspective,” said Tiana. “You’re a two-faced commander wanting to give an order that might piss off the one person whom everyone is trained to listen to. A person who can spread orders far more quickly than anything you have available. With a battlefield as wide as this, you and your collaborators would be isolated in an instant.”

  “I’d have to take out the person first,” said Terry and double-checked he wasn’t missing anything in his mana touch or shadow link with Oz.

  Tiana snorted. “You don’t really seem to understand the reputation you have among the Moon. They might be monsters but they’re not delusional enough to believe they could take you out quickly. Definitely not faster than you can shape finger runes.”

  “Huh,” uttered Terry while absentmindedly retrieving a monster core.

  “What’s that for?” asked Tiana with creased brows. “With the situation under control, I didn’t think you’d want to waste cores on sublimation blasts. Anything to do with why you stopped before?”

  “Yes,” said Terry and he bit his lip. “I’m sensing a shift in the surrounding mana. I can’t be certain yet just from my mana perception, but if I’m right…” He took a deep breath and allowed himself a smile. “Then the curse is getting less active. The number of spores expelled from the funghouls remains the same but they seem slower. More sluggish. Let’s hope the Ungodly Angel really added a condition for the curse to end.”

  “If she did, then she was quite the person,” said Tiana. “Both in skill and in character. It’s one thing to have the skill to pull it off, but it’s another to spend your last moments planning for the time you’re not there anymore. To think about saving others while making plans in case of your death.”

  Terry nodded. He didn’t know if he would be capable of such a thing. If he had been in Thuzar’s place, what would he have done?

  To see the shroomans, allies of the Veilbinder, hunted.

  To see the realm infested by the cultists of curse mages.

  To possibly see himself betrayed and dying.

  Would he be able to look past their crimes against the helpless shroomans?

  Would he be able to look past the mortals and only focus on the false god as the target of his wrath?

  Would he put in the effort to ensure their future would include mercy even after his own death?

  Don’t know.

  Don’t know for sure if Thuzar did yet, either.

  Terry threw the monster core lightly up and caught it again. “Only one way to prove if I’m right. Only one way to verify if a threshold has been reached.” He injected his mana and hurled the core into the distance. The core lit up and a shining dropbear appeared in its stead.

  The shining dropbear screeched and dropped onto the unsuspecting funghoul’s head.

  “I wouldn’t call it a ‘waste’ of a core,” mumbled Terry pensively.

  The mana-corrupted creature wasn’t strong enough to last long in the battlefield, but it was enough.

  Enough to kill a funghoul.

  Enough to draw some attention.

  Enough to be a target for the wrathful spores.

  “We’ll, see…” Terry returned his own attention to the monsters waiting to be slain, but he continued paying close attention.

  To the ambient mana in general.

  To the cursed spores.

  To the test dropbear in particular.

  Terry knew the curse could infect beasts as well as folks. Even in the folded space, the funghoul army had included a variety of quadrupedal beasts.

  Terry was equally certain the mana was changing. He just couldn’t be sure what it meant. Even if his guesses were on the mark, he didn’t know when the critical threshold for the curse’s deactivation would be reached.

  Before the day was over, however, all doubts had been vanquished together with the final funghouls walking the realm.

  The last funghoul had fallen, and no more rose from the dead.

  No more living turned and fell to the curse. The infected felt the stranglehold on their mana ease until it vanished entirely. No trace of the fungal infestations remained on their skin or mana signatures.

  The curse was lifted.

  The realm was free.

  ***

  “Sir.” The sun elf scout bowed deep and did not dare lift his head out of respect for the mage that had brought liberation to their realm. Out of respect and with a touch of fear. Fear that his armor might remind the mage about which faction had invited all this trouble.

  The mage and other outsiders had acted as arbiters while the local factions negotiated about what would happen with their reclaimed realm. A part of the scout still couldn’t believe that the Sun would be allowed to exist.

  The mage he had to report to was perhaps the biggest reason why. If the scout didn’t know any better, he would suspect that, by some unbelievable mercy of fate, the mage held resentment for the Moon and giants to rival those for the realm-traitor cult that had been hidden within the Sun’s leadership.

  The scout couldn’t help but think it was lucky the shroomans lacked the conversational skills to be put in charge and that the beetlefolk acting as their main interpreter had announced a desire to leave the realm and look for trees. Otherwise, the local elves and giants might all have to submit to a new faction led by the only folks the mage appeared to actually trust.

  It was hardly a surprise. From the way the realm recovered under the strange rituals and care of the shroomans, it was clear as day that the little mushroom folks had strengthened the realm against both curse and otherrealm corruption alike. Never in his wildest dreams, would the scout have believed he would see his realm recover within his lifetime, much less within the span of a few weeks.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The shroomans were now declared sacred beings in this realm. Hidden protectors whom every faction honored. It hadn’t been part of the mage’s negotiation. Not strictly. The negotiation had simply demanded for them to be left in peace.

  Once the first signs of the realm’s recovery became undeniable, no further negotiation on the shroomans’ behalf had been necessary.

  To see the first youngling born without showing the signs of the curse.

  To see the infected cured.

  To see the dying die in peace without the need to kill their cursed specter to allow them final reprieve.

  These sights were a blessing. No matter if it was the Moon that worshipped death or the Sun that worshipped life. These sights inspired everyone with the deepest gratitude and reverence.

  Their historians and priests had pestered the outsiders to learn more about the strange folk that had so long lived in their forests. To learn about their relation to those Faithless Saints the outsiders had spoken of.

  Learn the real story of the Creator of Wrath, of the Ungodly Angel Thuzar.

  Learn about the Veilbinder, the hero of the outsiders who had led their fight against those so-called False Gods of whom one had evidently been eying their realm for conquest.

  The scout had noticed how mentioning this Veilbinder never failed to catch the attention of the mage.

  The mage.

  The Cleanser of Wrath.

  The Conqueror of the Cursed Deadlands.

  The scout still didn’t dare lift his eyes.

  Terry groaned quietly. “Layla, what’s this?” He looked at the sun elf mage that had been nominated by the Sun as his main contact with their faction. “Can you please tell your people to stop doing that? Please? All this bowing makes my skin crawl.” He looked at the scout in front of him. “Please stop that. What’s your name?”

  The scout hurriedly straightened his posture, but his face betrayed uncertainty. He knew the words from heaven had been written by this mage. The words and orders had always been extremely firm in their intent. He hadn’t expected their author to say ‘please’ so often nor to ask so politely.

  “Quentin is one of our most distinguished scouts,” explained Layla.

  “Oh please.” Penelope, in her most glamorous official robes, sneered from the side. “As if the Sun had any scouts worth anything.”

  Quentin glowered but held his tongue. He had learned to keep his thoughts to himself, and he wouldn’t lose his temper with one of the Moon elders. Not while the Sun was weakened to the current extent. Especially not with the Cleanser of Wrath right in front of him.

  “Shut up, please,” groaned Terry. “I thought you were called Penelope. I was clearly talking to Layla and her scout, wasn’t I? If I want your input, I’ll ask Penelope. You recognize that name, don’t you?”

  Seriously.

  Penelope glared at the mage treating her as if she was a stupid misbehaving child, but she held her tongue. She was not stupid enough to pick a fight with the mage before he had turned into the savior of their realm. She certainly wasn’t stupid enough to do so now.

  Silence. Finally!

  Terry hated the fact the elven factions still deemed it necessary to constantly surround him with their diplomats or whatever. Still, at least the Sun representative Layla appeared like a genuine person, and not like the little monster and politician hiding behind the mask of the Moon representative Penelope.

  Terry noted that the sun elf scout was giving him a strange look and cleared his throat. “My name is Terry. Nice to meet you, Quentin. Are you the one they sent to lead the search for our entrance into the realm? What do you have to report?”

  Quentin still needed a moment to get over the combination of ‘shut up’ and ‘please’, especially when addressing one of the most notoriously prideful elders of the Moon. He barely contained an amused snort and hid it behind a cough to clear his throat. “Sir, I believe we might have found the location you described.” He gleefully noted the sour look on Penelope’s face. “In fact, I’m almost certain, but you’ll have to confirm for yourself.”

  The scout felt not just pride, but also a feeling of warmth. He felt like this was a small part to pay the Cleanser of Wrath back for what he had done.

  Penelope, on the other hand, clicked her tongue and made a mental note to cuss out the incompetent scouts of her own faction. Here was a chance for the Moon to ingratiate themselves with the Cleanser of Wrath and these imbeciles lost to the stragglers remaining of the Sun.

  Terry didn’t care for their squabbles. He put away his notebooks and stood up from his cross-legged sitting position. “I’ll have you mark the location on our maps.” He would rather check it out with a team he fully trusted. He still remembered the incident with the Hound in the Freedom Cooperative.

  Before Terry led the way, he turned to the scout once more. “If you could, perhaps you can talk to Verecund over there afterwards.” He pointed. “There’s something else I’m looking for.”

  ***

  Terry skimmed another chapter to prepare his notes. He could feel the mana signatures coming over but wanted to finish this before the spar between Rafael and Deekin was over.

  ‘The Warlord: Inquiries Into the Nature of Power’? Patricia raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would be completely immersed into the local books on magic and mana-crafting theory by now.”

  Tiana crossed her arms and tilted her head in thought. She had read the book after Terry had recommended it. She had also followed his recommendation to take everything with a grain of salt. Even if Thanatos was right a lot, the Warlord was not the kind of person either of them aspired to be.

  The essays were an outline to become a great person, but becoming a great person while also remaining a good person was simply not something to be found in Thanatos’s writings.

  Tiana knew Terry was looking to the Veilbinder for that. She often wondered whom she should look to for her own inspiration. She would never become a mage, nor did she feel the desperate desire to identify as such like Terry did.

  Tiana never thought of herself as a lone wanderer blazing the trail for others. She had always pictured herself working together with others, which was what had made her early experiences as a Guardian so unbelievably painful and frustrating. She would never forget what Siling and Terry had done for her when they accepted her in their team. When they had helped her overcome her own shortcomings to turn into something closer to the person she wanted to be.

  Growing up, Tiana had always seen herself becoming like her big brother Chadwick, except as a Guardian instead of a soldier. A leader of a team. An expert shifting around locations to lend a hand wherever it was needed.

  Tiana looked at Terry and couldn’t help but think of a few dwarves she knew. After everything that had happened in this cursed realm, she had started to think of Isille, Bjorln, and Sigille whenever the question about role models entered her head.

  It was one thing to be an expert and lead a team.

  It was an entirely different level to become a person that inspired people to be their best selves.

  Tiana deeply regretted that she never had the opportunity to meet the famous Divine Hammer. She had seen her as a statue in Matteo’s office as the Elemental Tower Master. Matteo had shaped it personally after the battle in which they had crushed Anand. A statue to the Divine Hammer – Guardian, Instructor, and the best mother a demon could ever ask for.

  Tiana wished she had gotten a chance to talk to Sigille at least once. She had only heard the stories from Terry, Matteo, Isille, and Palmer. The Demonpalm in particular had constantly talked about her, even more so than Isille. Whenever they had watched some of Terry’s sparring matches, Palmer had inevitably shared a story of the Divine Hammer.

  “Trying to refresh your memories?” Tiana asked, even though she doubted that was the reason for Terry’s note-taking.

  “This isn’t for me,” said Terry. He finished his last sentence and pointed the pen at Deekin who was sparring with Rafael.

  “Rafael is really enjoying this, isn’t he?” asked Patricia with creased brows. “I hadn’t pegged him as the type that enjoys teaching.”

  “Are you kidding?” Terry snorted. “A captive audience to lord over? To pummel them while they have to show respect? A chance for grandstanding and showering them with ‘insights’? I suspect every martialist is just looking for an excuse to ‘teach’.” He rolled his eyes. “Although Rafael is showing a surprising amount of sense. Compared to what I saw from others in the Martial Tower, Rafael is outright sane.”

  “I suspect this isn’t for Rafael,” said Tiana. “So, it’s for your giant disciple then?”

  “Don’t you mean our disciple.” Terry wore a teasing smile. “I heard Deekin call you his ‘scary master’ not too long ago.”

  “Calling Tiana ‘scary’, huh?” Patricia chuckled. “Shows that this giant has enough brain cells to stay alive. Good judgement.”

  “Ha ha,” said Tiana unamusedly. She rolled her eyes. “You want to teach Deekin something from the Warlord?”

  Terry shrugged. “I figure it would be more likely to sink in than anything from the Path of a Mage. I’m also pretty sure he’s going to need it with Razkiel and others around who are sure to try to exploit him in some way. I don’t want to eventually hear about a realm in which the giant tribes have used Deekin to conquer the realm or some shit. I’m going to make sure Deekin understands enough to not be used by others.”

  “So it’s better for you to hear that your disciple has conquered the realm on his own?” quipped Patricia. “You already gave him mana cultivation beyond any other giant in this realm’s history. Now you want to teach him the art of alliances and war? You can see where this might go, can’t you?”

  Terry puffed his cheeks before shrugging. “I admit it’s not a perfect plan.”

  Better Deekin than Razkiel. At least Deekin has absorbed some of the things about respecting others that I tried to drill into him.

  “While we’re on the topic of your plan’s imperfections…” Tiana furrowed her brow. “Deekin can’t read our writings, can he? Can he even read at all?”

  Terry tried to force his honest face into a deadpan expression. He didn’t know yet how to ask his question, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t the best way.

  Tiana narrowed her eyes. “Why even write the stuff down at all. I can guess that you want to filter the content to the parts that are less likely to create a rational monster, but you could do that without writing it down. Unless…?”

  Tiana still had her arms crossed, but now the gesture seemed much scarier to Terry.

  Don’t think too much about it. Don’t think too much about it. Don’t—

  “Unless you don’t expect to be around Deekin, which doesn’t make any sense…” Tiana’s eyes searched Terry’s face. “I know for a fact you’re not joining Vess and Jorg to return to our realm through the unsealed gate. Jorg kept grumbling about having to explain his antennae to your parents on his own.”

  Terry grimaced. They had discovered the entrance through which they had entered the cursed realm. It turned out the realm-crossing gate was not sealed at all anymore. If it had been this way from the moment they had entered or if it only unsealed after the curse had receded and the realm started to recover, no one knew for certain.

  Terry suspected it was the latter, though.

  They had established contact with those on the side of their native realm and gotten fresh supplies. With a supply line in place, the next step would be to send back those injured and those that required a more thorough examination.

  Jorg with his wounded eyes, and Vess with her previous infection were among the first to be sent back.

  Bugsby would follow his tree finder and be the first true visitor. The first of those they had met in this cursed realm to visit their native realm.

  “So you’re not returning to our realm, but you’re also not staying around Deekin, which can only mean…?” Tiana glowered at Terry. Her arms strangely seemed even more crossed than before. Still crossed, but more intently so.

  Why does she have to be so smart?

  Terry exhaled sharply. “Alright, I don’t know when. I don’t even know if, but well…” He held his nape with his right hand. “I mean the Veilbinder didn’t go back, did he? There must be another gate somewhere.”

  “Which is why you recruited more scouts into Verecund’s group,” said Tiana. “You’re looking for dungeon activity in the hope it will lead you to the next gate.”

  “Kind of,” admitted Terry. “I figured that if there ever was a dungeon here, then it might have turned dormant after losing to the funghouls and cultists.” He frowned. “At least I’d hope the dungeon core escaped. Verecund assured me it was possible and that a mature dungeon core would be able to escape anything we’ve seen in this realm so far.”

  Emphasis on ‘mature’ dungeon core. Who knows if the core was mature? Or if there even was a core at all?

  “Why did you send the shroomans with them?” interjected Patricia.

  “Because they were the only ones that knew about the Veilbinder here,” said Terry. “I don’t think any of them was alive back then, but perhaps they can recognize a trace of the Veilbinder we wouldn’t be able to.”

  “So who is supposed to teach this to Deekin?” Tiana pointed at Terry’s notes about the Warlord.

  “Well…” Terry grinned sheepishly. “My next step would have been to discuss my notes with the ‘scary master’.”

  “Putting aside if I would be willing to teach that to Deekin.” Tiana placed her fists on her hips. “What makes you think I would stay if you go?”

  “Good question.” Patricia pointed with her index finger at Tiana. “Wait, I’m sure the martialist wants to be here for this question, too. Hey Rafael!”

  Tiana nodded. “Wait, let me get Jorg and Vess…”

  Terry puffed his cheeks.

  Yup. I knew this was coming…

  ***