"He's a powerful mage." Danica said after the hermit disappeared inside the portal. "He conjured a portal as if it was something trivial and cast a powerful healing spell on all of us. You felt that right?"
"Y-yeah. It was a powerful form of healing spell, probably tier 4 or even higher." Dalinah confirmed, "The masters never mentioned anything about a healing spell that acted so quickly and healed so thoroughly."
She ran her fingers down her body, where her scars and wounds should've been. There was nothing, just bandages over recovering skin.
"There's more to the hermit than meets the eye." Tov said as he downed another jug. The helpers were more than happy to oblige him with his alcoholism. "And they make some fine beer."
"He tore through the goblins with his bare hands. I saw that with my own eyes." Gred clenched his fists, "He's strong. And that spell..."
A chill went down their spines as they remembered the hermit's final attack before they went out cold.
"What? What happened?" Dalinah asked. She was the first to fall unconscious and the only one unaware.
"He burned them, Dali. He burned the entire cave with a single spell."
The party of adventurers fell silent, retreating back into the comfort of their beds. Gred remained standing.
He took a look around the cottage, making sure to give the helpers tending to them some space. They were the strongest golems he had ever seen. And the most determined. Golems fought. These golems worked.
But as he peered through one of the windows, he saw the tall Sentinel looking at him. There was still blood on its armor. The blood of goblins.
He gulped, fearing he had overstepped. But the imposing golem simply nodded and looked away, facing area outside.
They were surrounded by trees. There were no paths leading out. But something felt off about the place. The trees didn't sway like they should, aside from those closest.
An illusion?
Gred was in no rush to offend their savior. But he couldn't help but feel a bit of unease. He knew there were wards in the cottage, making them feel safe and relaxed.
He shook his head and retreated from the window, returning to his bed.
They needed to get back to the village, return their dead, and hopefully get rewarded for dealing with the goblins. If they showed that they cleared a goblin infestation this large, then that would mean they would advance in their ranks.
But that would mean taking credit from the hermit.
What would the guild say? Would they believe them? Or will the hermit take offense?
He sighed and laid down, thinking about what to do next.
Then a thought crossed his mind.
"What if we invite him to join us?"
---
The central spire was the tallest structure in my city. It stood in the exact middle, at Central Square, towering over everything with its imposing height. Though its purpose was mainly weather control, influencing the clouds, the winds, and such, it also served a different, more important role.
It was a shield ward. The largest in existence. I think. It projected an invisible dome of protection over the entire city, covering even the edges of the mountains. It's meant to protect the city from any attack by land or air, magic or not. From all the stress tests I've done, it should be able to handle tier 6 attack spells and below. Maybe even 7.
But that was pushing it.
I hovered just a few feet from the tip of the spire. A blue weather crystal flashed inside. Dark clouds loomed over my head. There was a slight drizzle, a prelude to the rains that would soon come thundering down. The winds were rough at this altitude, furiously fluttering my coat as I observed the weather gem at work.
It was like a beating heart, flashing and dimming between two second intervals as a column of thin magic energy shot out from its body and into the sky.
I could see that the storm was still brewing, even though it already loomed over the land. Judging by the direction of the wind, the darkness of the clouds, and the lack of lightning, this wasn't a regular storm.
"A cyclone." I whispered against the wind. It was that time of the year, I guess. How powerful was this cyclone going to be? Typically these storm systems came from the east where the Dead Ocean was.
A terrible place where nothing lived. No fish. No corals. Just an empty expanse. The home of the cyclones.
It wasn't always like that.
I turned my attention eastward where the wind blew opposite. The eastern mountains beyond had disappeared, shrouded by a heavy downpour. It was only a matter of time before the edge of the storm would overcome the misty heights and begin its assault on my city.
The weather crystal is going to need some more power.
I conjured another crystal on my palm. It was brighter, bigger, and hopefully enough. I drew close to the spire, opening the tip and exchanging the crystals within. The new crystal immediately pulsed and a new column of magic shot out into the sky.
My eyes then gazed downward, settling on a familiar face made of barley.
"Barleyon!" I said surprised, "Why are you still up here?"
The little helper peeked his head through one of the many holes of the spire and waved at me. I was certain he'd be on his way back to the adventurers after the little errand I made him do.
Little was a bit of an understatement I admit.
"You're gonna get wet, Barleyon," I said. The little golem didn't seem to care about the drizzle, however.
Barleyon stubbornly squeezed himself out of the hole before climbing up the tip of the spire. He looked at me with his beady eyes before looking at the new crystal I placed.
Seemingly satisfied with his inspection, the little golem climbed back down into the hole.
"Want me to help you down?" I asked. Barleyon shook his head before waving goodbye, squeezing himself back inside the spire. He disappeared into the tower and did not come out again. Hopefully he went down this time.
I smiled. The helpers were always a curious bunch.
Golems were fearless, literally lacking any fear. They do not possess the capacity to feel anything other than the 'joy' of obeying their masters and the 'disappointment' of failing them. But that was conventional golemancy.
I did not spend centuries perfecting the craft just to make my golems blank and boring. No. I tried my best to make them feel real, at least in a way.
I was never able to give them wisdom. That required a proper soul. No matter how hard I tried, a proper soul was something only the gods could create and bind.
And I was no god, just the man who killed them.
My gaze began to wander over the city below. From my room it looked so grand.. and empty. From afar? It looked tiny. A speck compared to the world at large. There was no life to give it meaning. No children playing in the parks, no merchants selling their wares in the markets, no people calling it their home.
An empty city of marble, built on foundations of sand.
This was why I hated flying this far up. I'm reminded of how pathetic I am. And I needed it. All of this grandeur, what was it for?
I am not better than a rock. Even the storm above me had more purpose than I. Storms grow and follow the wind, raining themselves down on the seas and land. They quench the thirst of a parched land, giving life to barren soils. That was their purpose, their mission, the reason they were created.
Then what was I? I had a purpose, a goal, a dream. I had ambitions that I thought were good. All of it was taken away from me.
I am nothing.
My sentinels? My helpers? What was their purpose other than to be my servants?
This city? What was its purpose other than to be a reminder to my sins?
This power coursing through my veins? What was its purpose other than to fail? To disappoint at the time when it was needed the most?
I failed. There was no redemption for me.
Then why? Why must I continue to live on? Why do I need to bear this burden?
Distractions. Everything was just that, a distraction. An escape from the pain that never went away.
My heart ached. My eyes grew tired.
My palms began to glow as streams of magic spiraled from my body and into my hands. The world around me began to turn white as my body lit up like a white star. My vision blurred as memories flooded my mind.
I wanted to go away. I wanted everything to go away.
And with one final spell, I could wipe everything away.
I readied myself, pulling up the enormous ball of pure magical energy I had conjured. It continued to grow and grow, feeding off my own magic and the surrounding lands. My lands were ripe and pure, magic basically overflowed from this place.
It was perfect.
I screamed from the top of my lungs as the ball of energy began to grow unstable. Streaks of lightning shot out from its center, thundering over the quietness of my home. The winds grew stronger, gushing around me like a tornado as the ball grew larger and larger.
And there I was, shining with the brightness of the sun, about to lay waste to the world that betrayed me and mankind.
But... was it still the same world? I asked myself the same questions I always had.
Would it be worth it?
And the answer was always...
My vision suddenly cleared, revealing Barleyon desperately clinging to the tip of the spire as strong winds blew around him. His beady eyes were steady, but I could sense something else behind that blank, barley stare.
He was scared.
I made him scared.
A single tear rolled down my cheek.
"I'm sorry."
I let go of the swirling ball of unstable magic, allowing it to whirl around me. Normally it would have collapsed into an apocalyptic cataclysm which would have plunged this world in darkness. But I absorbed its energy, letting my body handle everything. The whiteness of the world withdrew as my body dimmed.
After a few moments, the world returned to normal.
"Are you okay?" I asked Barleyon as I floated towards him, reaching out with my hands. He looked at me from head to toe and nodded.
"Let's go down." I took the little helper into my arms and descended. As we did, the storm began pouring down in earnest. The weather crystal should weaken it somewhat, but the city would still bear the brunt of the storm.
My feet landed on a marble street a bit of a distance away from the central spire. Barleyon jumped down from my arms and greeted the ground with a loud plop.
"You're drenched." I said as I pulled him up. I cast a spell on the helper, drawing out the moisture from his body. After a few seconds, Barleyon was as dry as he could be. I wrapped him around a physical protection spell which should keep him dry for an hour.
"Thank you, Barleyon," I said.
I meant it. My children were different, and it showed.
"You can go now, don't worry about me."
But before I could teleport away, the little helper tugged at my leg.
"Hm?" I knelt down to see what was wrong.
To my surprise, I was greeted by a warm, fuzzy embrace.
As tears fell down my eyes, I knew the little helper meant it too.