-"The Flame"-
This human is a fool.
They didn't even think of the repercussions of a soul rejoining its body without guidance. He just went and did it, and even better, I bet he wasn't even listening to me.
"Name Holders give me patience and serenity," I say, my irritation at this human growing every second I look at him.
The man is laying on the ground, pure white magic anchoring his soul back into his body. This would've been completely fine if the human had conferred with me first, if he had done that, then I wouldn't have had to deal with the magic trying to annihilate his body.
Magic is usually docile when it comes into contact with things nonmagical in nature. However, the magic which is currently trying to destroy Senex Ignem is something that was not intended for this world. Human actions created this magic, and it is because of this magic that us four flames exist.
"Why did we have to make them so stubborn?" I ask the cavern around me.
I wait for a moment, somewhat hoping that my link with them is still connected.
Nothing.
"I don't know what I was expecting, it has been almost five hundred years," I say quietly, guiding the destructive magic away from the human.
Like a dam bursting, the pure destructive magic races up the cavern and through the crevice from which Senex Ignem fell. It tears through the stone as it ascends, eating away at the structure of the cavern.
I float there, exasperated.
"When did the simple issue of a human falling down into my hole escalate into the magic that killed one of the eight gods being set loose onto the world?" I ask, completely bewildered.
"Wait, what?!" a voice says from below me.
"Oh good, you're awake," I say, floating down to be face to face with the man, "You've caused a big problem Senex Ignem, and you're going to help me fix it."
"Wha- why?!" he asks, a mixture of terror and confusion written all over his face.
"Because, if you didn't fall down here and force your way into your body, none of this would have happened," I say, my voice filled with finality.
"Now that just isn't fair. How was I supposed to know that there was Erado Magic here?" Senex asks, his voice tinged with guilt.
"You would have known if you had let me finish my explanation! In fact, if you had listened to me at all you would've been able to join your body without the permanent repercussions!" I yell, my body flaring with each word.
"What do you mean 'repercussions'?! Am I going to die or something?!" the human is yelling now, the guilt previously heard in their voice gone, now replaced with anger.
The conversation went on like that for another minute or two before we both simmer down and refocuse on the issues.
"Let's start over. Explain these repercussions, please," Senex says, calming himself down.
"When a soul rejoins a body without guidance, it becomes…misplaced," I say, trying to make it easy to understand.
"What do you mean by 'misplaced'?" Senex asks, the growing worry audible in his voice.
"Wait, no that's not the right word," I say, the human tongue becoming difficult to remember, 'Is the word…skewed? It's something like that.'
"What I meant to say was that your soul had been skewed by your unguided rejoining to your body," I say, the different word sounding more appropriate for the situation.
"So what does my soul being 'skewed' do to me?" Senex asks, his voice absent of the worry that was once there.
"It means you no longer have the potential to be chosen, not because you aren't worthy, just that you wouldn't survive," I say, hoping that I'm speaking the appropriate words.
"I see…" Senex mumbles as he begins to rub his pointy beard.
Senex didn't speak for a while, for he was deep in thought. So, while he is thinking, I watch the magic I had steered upward. It still has a ways to go before it reaches the surface, but due to the massive amount of it, it is displacing the normal magical energy and pushing it upward as well. This development could be bad, but it could also be good. My senses climb further upward, the destructive magic falling behind me as I breach the surface. It hasn't really changed much since… never mind. From my vantage point high in the sky the only difference between now and then that I can notice is the dozens of bodies littering the ground and the large crack in the earth from which I came.
'How convenient for an earthquake to make such a large fissure,' I silently muse.
As I look down at the crack in the earth, I scan the battlefield. From what I can tell, the soldiers under Senex Ignem's command are split by the fissure. One side has the majority of his men, which are currently battling a dwindling enemy force; on the other hand, the other side is not looking so good. There are less than ten living people on this side, most of which are on General Senex's side but some are on the opposition's. It appears that some recently died, which is apparent due to the colorless magic escaping their cores, the colors of the soul missing. It also appears that the ones alive are only hanging on by a thread.
What could've caused this? These look like capable warriors, how in the world did they receive such grievous injuries? With General Senex and some of the stronger soldiers, this should've been the most straightforward battle they could've faced. Why was General Senex so hurried to rejoin his body and return to the surface? To find any sort of answer to this question I search the battlefield. My search didn't last long as I stumble across a battle that answers all of my questions.
-Senex Ignem-
'Why is being worthy so important to them?' I think to myself, watching the golden fireball floating there, unresponsive, 'Did they use the word misplaced on purpose, or are they not proficient in the common tongue?'
These questions rattle within my mind, the true circumstances of my soul unknown. Thankfully, just before I could delve any further, the fireball returns from their stupor.
"Took you long enough," I say, "did you have a nice nap?"
"Now is not the time for such a brazen attitude Senex Ignem," the fireball says, floating to the top of their pedestal, "take hold of the base of my torch."
"Torch?" I ask as, amazingly, the stone pedestal underneath the ball of fire shifts and changes, becoming thin enough for hands to grasp it.
Trying not to focus on the strange movements of the stone, I walk forward. As I walk forward, the small slope that lead to the torch shifts into a vague shape of stairs. Each step on this morphing stone felt as if I were walking through mud. I can't tell if this is the flame trying to be funny or if it's trying to be helpful, but it's failing at both. But eventually, I make it to the flame.
"Quickly now, we don't have much time to spare," the flame says, their voice trembling with rage.
Hesitantly, I reach my hand out to grab the base of the pedestal-turned torch.
Without warning, the stone of the torch wraps around my hand and the torch begins to float upward, with me in tow. I float up six meters before I suddenly stop. The stone around my hand then flows further down my arm, encompassing it up to my elbow. Now that they, I'm assuming the fireball, approve their grasp on me we begin to float up once more, except it is a lot faster.
We race upward, and the force of the air slamming into my face, dazes me, and for a split second, I question if any of this is real. What if I'm just laying on the cavern floor, my mind making a little area of make-believe holding on to the remnants of my soul? By the gods, I hope that isn't the true reality, I'd like to be somewhat useful to King Undra.
"Hold on," the flame holding me says, pulling me away from the troubling thoughts, as we slow down, "we've caught up with the magic you released."
"Am I supposed to feel it?" I ask, my senses unable to glean anything from the area around me, "Or is it more of a visual thing?"
"It's surprisingly still in its passive state," the flame says, "but it's only a matter of time before it finds something active enough to influence it."
"What would happen if there is something was active enough?" I ask.
"It would explode into bright light, and you would be able to see it with your eyes," the flame says, "it would also hurt like he-"
The flame is interrupted by a loud BOOM, and without warning the crevice is engulfed in a bright white light. I immediately feel the skin under my armor burn as the pure power of Erado Magic is forced upon me.
"DO NOT SCREAM," I hear the flame yell, audible strain in their voice, "AND DO NOT USE THE MAGIC IN YOUR CORE."
Using every ounce of strength and willpower I have, I endure. The pain is unrelenting, and the burning light is shining through my eyelids, offering no escape of any kind.
"Just hang on a little longer," the flame says, their voice distant and strained.
And I'm doing just that, I'm hanging on, keeping my magic on lockdown. But my strength is starting to fade. Why have I relied so heavily on my innate ability? By the gods, this hurts. Am I going to die? I think my life is flashing before my eyes. My vision is starting to go black. But before my consciousness could fade, I feel a strong jolt in my chest.
"You aren't dying that easily," the fireball says, their voice firm in tone.
"What is this?" I ask as I look around at the strange bubble holding us up.
"It's a thing I had to come up with on the spot," the flame says dismissively, "it will only hold long enough for us to go around the 'Erado Magic' as you call it."
I look at the flame, and it is noticeably dimmer than before. What was once extremely bright, is now on par with a normal torch.
'The bubble must've taken a lot out of them,' I note to myself.
With no other words shared, we begin to ascend once more. As we start to speed up, I notice once again that the flame dims. Before I can comment on the shift, we begin to pass the Erado Magic. This magic is a horror to witness up close. If I were to describe it, I would have to say that it looks like hundreds of vaguely handlike streams of light that claw at everything. I stare at this horrible painting of despair as we ascend further upward.
We don't beat the Erado Magic to the surface but we aren't far behind, and when we finally reach it I can feel the pure hatred coming off of the fireball. Even if this fireball had power unreachable by me, my hatred outweighed theirs. The vampire is going to pay. I must restore my honor as General Senex Ignem, leader of the 8th Division of the Acetarian Army. I won't cower and lose hope again, this I swear. My anger flares fully as we touch down on the solid ground and I see the vampire in full, bathed in the moonlight from which it gains its strength.
"Senguis Ferrum, daughter of the Undead, you will drop your weapon at once." the flame says, commanding in tone.
The vampire knight turns around, and their face turns from arrogant to perplexed. It looks from the flame atop my torch, to the torch itself, and then to me. The vampire's eyes glimmer with curiosity as it begins to stroke the sword it never drew during our battle.
"How are you alive? I was certain that a fall that long would have killed a worm such as yourself," the monster says, every word from their curse-riddled mouth angering more and more.
"I'm a lot tougher than I look," I growl, my fury growing.
A cheeky grin spread beneath the monster's helmet as if it thought that this was all a game. This only angers me further as I look behind the vampire. My eyes widen and my magic flares as I see Hydrus, limp on the ground, her own broken sword stabbed into her core. The magical energy that keeps all creatures alive drifts out, sapping away any life she still has. Before I can do anything I realize that the golden flame had been speaking.
"-not repeat myself, Senguis Ferrum, daughter of the Undead," the flame's voice was unflinching as if they were daring the monster to try something.
"Where's your friend hiding, worm? Are they too scared to face me head-on? Do they need to hide in magical shadows to escape my sight?" the vampire says, slowly spinning in place.
"I never understood why Libers always wanted to be diplomatic with the undead," the flame says, their words nonchalant, and its words seem to stop the monster's playfulness.
'Who's Libers?' I think to myself as I watch the flame float up and off the torch.
"You will not yield, how fortunate, I have always hated the undead," the flame spoke, their voice filled with disgusted amusement.
Quicker than what my unenhanced eyes can see, the flame shoots past the knight and straight towards Hydrus. Immediately as they do this I feel an impossible weight bear down on my right arm. The stone torch slams into the ground as a bright golden light shines from where the flame flew. And as I look up to see what the golden light is, an armored body comes flying toward me. The sheer terror of falling back into the crevice taking control, I activate my innate ability, heave the torch, and roll out of the way.
The knight skids past me and stops just on the edge of the crevice, teetering to and fro. I blink and a Warrior wreathed in green and pink flames appears. The vampire jolts awake and tries to get up only for the flaming Warrior to firmly step on its chest. The vampire's armor bends under the sheer weight of the opposition's foot, the metal creaking as more and more force is applied.
"Perish," I hear the Warrior command, their voice a mixture of male and female.
In response to the command, the vampire grabs the Warrior's leg and tries to lift it off of itself. It barely manages to do so before the Warrior comes crashing down with a fist and then another and another, all the while their right arm hangs holding the remnants of a sword. The Warrior rains down dozens of blows each one packed with enough power to crack the steel helm of the vampire. Eventually, the vampire's helmet is ripped off, broken, and flung into the darkness of the crevice, and as it does so, the Warrior's foot comes crashing back down onto the abdomen getting an audible wheeze from the knight. I kneel there in amazement as I examine the monster's revealed face; its eyes are the same blood-red as before, and its face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the blood and large bruises covering it.
'That helmet must've been magical in some compacity because I would've expected the vampire's face to be completely disfigured in some way.'
Every vampire is undead, that much is certain, but every vampire that I've seen and heard of also has had grey and rotting skin. This one though seems as alive as any normal person, the only thing giving away that they are truly a vampire is their eyes. Their blood red eyes striking fear into any who sees them.
But before I can think more about the circumstances of its face being more vibrant, the Warrior steps off of the vampire and lifts it with its inky black hair. The vampire cries out in pain and desperately grabs at the Warrior's plated arm, hoping to find a way out of the crisis it's in.
As the vampire struggles, the pink and green flames of the Warrior dance down their limp and hanging arm, slowly enveloping the broken sword in their hand. The flames completely cover the hilt of the broken blade, and the blade becomes a dull red as it begins to heat up.
"You are nothing!" the vampire screams, giving up on freeing itself, and begins desperately punching the Warrior's helmet-covered face.
The Warrior didn't even flinch.
This barrage of fast and powerful blows continues as the Warrior's blade shifts to a light cherry, and then to a dull orange.
"I'll kill you!" the vampire screams, its voice filled with fear and despair as it continues to land a barrage of quick and powerful blows against the armored face.
I just kneel there watching this unfold as the last remnants of magic I was able to absorb dissipates, leaving me unable to move.
I watch as the Warrior's limp arm twitches, and the flames surrounding it flare up, growing in size and intensity. The vampire flails with even more vigor as the Warrior begins to raise the broken blade, the metal searing with white-hot light.
I feel the waves of magical energy as the blade rises, the pure power of it makes me want to puke. This is true strength. Strength so palpable that nothing dare defy it. Whatever this Warrior may do next will determine the future of this world. And as I come to that conclusion, the Warrior speaks, everything going silent.
"Die," they say, as the blade comes down.
The world is silent as the blade descends, as if it were too fearful of what might happen if it were to make a sound.
The vampire's eye's widens in fright, but it's to late.
Death has come for it.
And as the blade makes contact with the vampire's head, everything goes white.