Manor of Baron Camara, City of Rivana, Kingdom of Astralia
"Where is he?!" Baron Francesco Camara was sitting in the dining room of his half-finished mansion as he impatiently munched on a chicken leg. In front of him kneeled his most trusted servant, and head of his personal guard, Arturo.
"We are unsure, your grace. Our contacts confirmed that he left the town of Araria four days ago. We were expecting him to arrive early this morning at the latest."
"It's almost dark. Hmm…" The Baron grumbled while using an oversized napkin to clean grease from his puffy lips. "There is nothing that could've happened to the brat, right? The road is safe?"
"Your grace…" The bald, middle-aged, soldier was visibly uncomfortable.
"Spit it out, Arturo!" Spittle and unchewed pieces of chicken were flying through the room as Camara shouted at his guard.
"We have seen an… substantial increase in bandit activity lately. Their activities have grown closer to the city in the last few months."
"What?! How?! Why was I not informed about this?" Camara was raging.
"Y-Your grace, we did inform you during our weekly meetings and provided you with further details in our written reports." Arturo was shaking, he was well aware of how easily the baron could get into a dangerously ill mood.
"Did you now?!" the Baron pondered that information briefly. "Pah, you can't expect me to listen to your drabble every week and you know that I never read the written reports, they are only for the archives after all."
"As you say, your grace." Arturo quickly tried to move on. "What are your orders in regards to the young merchant's son, should we organise a search party?"
"Hmm.. not yet. It will be dark soon, send men if he hasn't turned up by tomorrow afternoon."
"As you wish, Baron Camara." Arturo saluted and hurried out of the dining hall, relieved that he escaped most of the Baron's wrath.
As the guardsman was leaving the room, Lady Lucia Camara stepped out from behind the thick curtains of the dining hall's windows. She sighed unhappily as she strolled through the richly decorated dining hall and over to her husband. As she was standing behind him, she started to gently massage the fat man's shoulders.
"This is a problem, darling. You have to find Egon Silver's son," she said.
"Pah, woman. That kid is going to be fine, you'll see. He probably just took the scenic route and will turn up any minute now." Franceso dismissed his wife's concerns as he continued to stuff himself with more chicken.
"Let's hope that you are right. For our sake. The 'kid' might be the only thing that stands between us and the royal gallows."
The baron gulped as his unhappy wife's fingers painfully dug into his skin.
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Ancient Ruins, near the City of Rivana, Kingdom of Astralia
Arcanus Aquila, the fabled 'God Eater' and former Grand Magus of the Everlasting Empire stood naked in the centre of the chamber in the heart of the ancient ruins. He felt as his mana slowly spread throughout his new body and he finally gained full control. He looked down at the remains of the object that held him, and for the first time in an eternity, a feeling of freedom overcame him. His senses alerted him of the three other people with him in the chamber, but immediately he dismissed their weak auras as insignificant. He knelt down and gently picked up one of many shards of his former prison. Arcanus hesitated only for a moment before he stood up and took a look at his new self.
What awaited him was the pale face of a handsome young man. It was youthful in a way that was not just the result of age alone but hinted at a life without struggle. A sharp chin was complemented by a well-proportioned, straight nose. Hair, slightly longer than it should have been, was falling over thick eyebrows and into striking grey eyes, eyes that within them now contained both a newfound sharpness and the ruby-red particles that were once contained in the obelisk.
He adjusted the shard as his gaze roamed lower. His well-proportioned chest was healthy and smooth, devoid of any scars or blemishes, confirming that the original owner of this body couldn't have gone through many hardships in his life. The slight signs of fading muscle definition suggested to Arcanus that the body had undergone some rudimentary training in the past, but that it had been neglected for a while now. Then, as his gaze moved below his waistline, he smiled broadly, feeling pure satisfaction for the first time in his new life.
"M-Master Silver, are you alright?"
Arcanus was snapped out of his thoughts as one of the guardsmen had recovered from his initial shock and had approached him from behind. As he put a hand on Arcanus's shoulders, the magus's instinctive reaction was violent. In an instant he channelled magic into his right arm, engulfing it with potent dark energy. The arm swung back and, with a sickening crunch, struck the guardsman in the chest. The soldier went flying and violently crashed headfirst into the wall, spraying sharp splinters of debris, bones, and brain everywhere.
Arcanus blinked, momentarily surprised by the impact of his attack. He'd used only a very small amount of magic and had not expected a soldier to be overwhelmed so easily. He pushed that thought aside as the chamber was filled with the sour odour of urine and a pitiful whimper.
In an almost animalistic fashion, the magus cocked his head and fixed his gaze on the last guard. He felt the weak aura of the soldier, as it pulsed with unsuppressed terror and the urge to flee. He couldn't sense any hostile intent, but still, the soldier had a choice.
Unfortunately, the guardsman chose the wrong path. After a moment of indecision, the soldier spun around and, with a shriek, began to sprint towards the exit of the chamber. The man in Aiden Silver's body sighed in regret and raised his right arm.
A dark tendril immediately shot out and ensnared the guard's feet in an iron grip, making the guard trip over and fall on his face in the process. The tendril immediately started to retract back into Arcanu's body, forcefully pulling the sobbing guardsman back toward the centre of the chamber.
Arcanus frowned at the ugly screeching sound that emanated from the still-living soldier, as his armour was dragged along the chamber floor. He picked up the sword that the already deceased soldier had lost when he was flung through the camber. The magus quickly dismissed his spell and stepped above the guard who looked at his former master with horror in his eyes.
"P-please don't k-kill me. I have a fami–"
The sword cut off the guard's plea as it violently plunged into his neck. Two seconds worth of unpleasant gurgling noises came from the dying man as he choked on his own blood, then the chamber went silent again.
"You shouldn't have tried to run, my friend. The consequence of cowardice is, and will always be, fatal," Arcanus whispered as he looked down at the fresh corpse.
He felt a pang of remorse. This was not how he had envisioned to start his new life, but there was no going back. He sighed again and turned to the final person in the room. He found that the old man hadn't moved at all during the altercation with the guards, nor did he show any of the obvious signs of fear. Arcanus tilted his head and reached out with his aura to probe the older man more thoroughly.
He was intrigued by what he sensed. First, he didn't expect to find a sense of awe and satisfaction emanating from his target, but more interestingly, unlike the two soldiers, the man also showed traces of magic capability in his aura. It was nothing impressive, not by the standards of Arcanus's old life anyway, but it did tell him that the old man had used mana regularly throughout his life.
He studied the man in front of him with a new and growing curiosity. The older man was small and thin. His clothes, once clearly of fine quality, now bore the marks of the day's hardships. A pudgy nose and beady, intense eyes with a fanatical glimmer dominated a dirty face that was framed by shoddy, unkempt grey hair.
The old man, noticing Arcanus's gaze on himself, threw himself to the ground, prostrating himself in front of the magus.
"Master Arcanus, you have finally returned. What a truly glorious day!" the old man said with reverence in his voice.
"You know who I am. Interesting," Arcanus said, arching an eyebrow.
"Of course, I do, great Master. It was I who freed you from that dreadful prison after all these years!"
Arcanus felt a wave of disgust at the man's fervour, but he also needed information and, if the man spoke the truth, he could give it to him.
"Who are you, old man? You claim that you have freed me?"
The resurrected magus started to walk around the chamber, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The room that he found himself in was remarkably unremarkable. Plain walls made of a darkened grey stone were framing the almost featureless circular chamber. Only the large dome ceiling, whose shape he could only barely make out in the flickering blue light of the mana torches, and the shards that covered the centre of the room stood out to the magus.
"Benett Orval, at your service, great Master," Bennett eagerly replied, bowing deeply in the process. "Your return has been my family's most sacred mission. My great ancestor declared it so immediately after the other, treacherous, disciples betrayed you,"
"Your ancestor?" Arcanus was surprised. The old man knew more than anyone outside of his five former disciples could possibly know.
"Oh yes, Master! My ancestor Dracus Sanguis, your most devoted disciple and servant," Bennett said with a worshipful glint in his beady eyes.
Once again Arcanus found himself surprised. He had many thoughts about Dracus during his previous life, most of them unpleasant. The man had joined the rank of his disciples last and was already multiple decades older than Arcanus himself when they met. He was a repulsive human being, indulging in unholy acts of forbidden pleasure and magic that made even the most powerful magus of the empire shudder. If it wasn't for the intervention of the late emperor himself, Arcanus would have never accepted Dracus as his disciple.
Still, if what the old man said was true, then maybe he had misjudged his hated disciple all these years ago. There was one problem, however.
"Your ancestor was among those who betrayed me," he said coldly.
"He was coerced!" the old man cried out, paling beyond his already unhealthy complexion. "The other traitors forced him, but he made sure that there was a way to destroy that cursed Soul Prison."
"Soul Prison?" Arcanus murmured.
He knelt down and carefully picked up one of the many strewn-around shards. He hadn't noticed anything special about the crystal when he had held one of the shards earlier, but now that he knew what he was looking for, he sensed very faint traces of soul magic as he probed the piece of crystal with his aura. The signature of the magic was familiar, more than familiar even, as he realised that the creator of the object had used a fragment of their own soul to stabilise it. A sense of nostalgic longing overcame him before it was replaced by the stale feeling of betrayal
"It was made by Alyssa?" he asked rhetorically, bitterness tinging his voice.
Alyssa Fabri had been the first of his disciples. She was, in many ways, the opposite of Dracus. Arcanus rescued her from slavery when they were both still young. They had quickly become lovers and, as he rose in the ranks of the empire, he took her on as his first disciple. Their passion for each other wasn't the only thing they had shared, whereas his other disciples eventually focused on their own fields of expertise, like Dracus's infatuation with blood magic, Alyssa shared Arcanus's passion for the arcane art of soul magic. It was ironic, in a way, that the combination of their shared work and their passion for each other ultimately gave her the opportunity to betray him.
"Yes, Master. That cursed witch had planned everything. Forced my ancestor to go along with it," the old man spat out with venom. "But my ancestor, oh he was so much more clever than that harlot! He tricked her into thinking that the prison needed her blood to seal it. To make it only respond to her magic, he told her."
Bennett burst into mad laughter as small parts of the ceiling suddenly started to crumble off the structure. "She didn't know! Didn't realise that once she was rotting in the dirt, everyone in her bloodline would be able to use the prison. So my clever ancestor began to scheme and wait, always observing the traitor's spawn. For generations, we waited until the prison was frail enough that the touch of the traitor's blood alone would cause it to break. And now it has finally come to pass, you are free, Master!"
"But that means that this body…" Arcanus began to say as he realised that this new body he inherited had the blood of his former lover and betrayer flowing through it, but then another thought struck him. "Alyssa is dead!"
Bennett looked at him in bewilderment. "But of course, it's been almost 700 years." After a brief moment, the old man's wrinkled face lit up in understanding. "Ah. You couldn't know. You were imprisoned for all this time. Almost all of your former disciples perished shortly before the old empire collapsed." The old man's words were punctuated by more debris falling from the chamber's ceiling.
"So the Everlasting Empire is no more…" Arcanus said pensively, a lot of what he had experienced so far made sense all of a sudden. The weakening monolith, the pathetic soldiers, and the overall lack of magical ability that everyone he encountered so far had shown. None of it would've made sense in his old life in the empire.
"Tell me what you know, I need to–" He was cut off, as a giant piece of the roof missed Bennett by a hair's width.
"Ahh! " the old man shrieked. "The history lessons will have to wait, Master. The residual magic of the obelisk must have held this place together, now that is gone it will deteriorate quickly. We must leave!"
Bennett started to hobble towards the chamber's exit but stopped at one of the fallen guards and pulled the man's cloak free. "Here take this!" he said and gave it to Arcanus, who, with amusement, realised that he was still naked.