The air in the archives was stale and thick, like a miasma. Tharos was accustomed to the smell and the sensation of it passing through his lungs, but his new companion was not. The only breaks in the deafening silence of the archives were the slowly rising rumbling sound coming from beneath their feet and around them as the walls of the archives started to quake and shake, or the occasional coughs coming from Cenric as centuries of dust passed through his lungs. As they ran down the vast network of winding corridors, hallways, and stairs, passing through various rooms or chambers, Tharos heard Cenric speak up.
(“How long are we going to be down here? I feel like i am gonna to cough up my lungs.”)
(“Not long, we are almost at the room housing the old arcane reactor. Just keep going a little longer.”)
(“Ok, but what is an Arcane Reactor?”) Tharos turned his head to face Cenric, his expression reflecting a shadow of bewilderment in response to the question that Cenric just asked. Back in his day, such a thing was common knowledge. Tharos had to wonder how much has changed in his absence. Has humanity declined so much that such a simple magical device is all but forgotten?
(“I am not going to assume your background, but are you really going to tell me that you don’t know what an Arcane Reactor is?”)
(“No, I have never heard of such a thing. What is it and what does it do?”)
(“Well to put it into simple terms Cenric. An arcane reactor takes in the energy of the world around us and converts it into mana. Much like a mage dose.”)
(“Your going to use this Reactor to cause some sort of explosion.”)
(“You catch on quickly, But yes, I will be using this reactor to cause an explosion.”)
(“So how are we going survive this explosion exactly?”)
(“Don’t worry, it will take some time for it to build up the necessary energy to go critical. By the time it’s done, we should be out of the blast zone as long as we keep moving.”)
(“Great more running, you don’t sound So confident about that we going to get away in time.”)
(“Well as you soon will learn Cenric not all plans survive first contact with the enemy.”)
(“You speak from experience.”) Cenric asked with a youthful tone, his voice filled with childlike curiosity. Tharos’s face darkened at the question, the torchlight exaggerating the lines of his face as shadows began to cling to his features. With a sigh, he responded in a voice that carried a tiredness betraying his youthful looks.
(“Yes, Cenric, I do speak from experience. It is my failure that has brought us to this point, and it is my failure that has kept me bound to this world far beyond my natural time.”) Tharos turned his head towards Cenric and noticed him tilting his head slightly to the side, resembling a dog’s curious gesture. Tharos could sense the confusion.
Perhaps I should tone it down and keep it simple, Tharos thought to himself.
(“What do you mean by beyond your natural time?”)
(“Let’s just say I am much older than I look, Cenric, and let’s leave it at that for now.”)
(“Are you like an elf or something Tharos.”)
(“Yes, that is a good way to put it, Cenric. Like an elf.”)
To be honest, Tharos had no idea what he was in his current state. But he didn’t want to alarm his new companion with uncertainty. He wasn’t undead; Tharos was sure about that. He had a pulse, was warm to the touch, and still drew breath. However, he never got sick, never tired, nor did he feel hunger or thirst. Sure, he could eat and drink, and it was still quite pleasurable to do so, filling, refreshing even. However, he didn’t do it because he needed to; he did it because he wanted to. But that was what worried him. Something was fuelling him, keeping him alive, but he didn’t know what it was. Was it his will that was keeping him alive, or was it something else?
As they continued running, descending into the depths of the archives, the miasma of dust thickened, and the walls and floors shook more violently with each step. Tharos found it increasingly difficult to breathe, struggling to hold back coughs as the dust filled his lungs and throat. His eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings for the right passageways and stairs leading to the basement where the old Arcane Reactor was stored. The prototype technology was developed during the apocalypse war, similar to what the elves used to power their cities and magical defences. Although decommissioned, the reactor still had the potential to gather magical energy if activated. The damage to the city’s ley lines may have inadvertently created the perfect conditions for it. However, Tharos knew the risks involved, as the reactors were sensitive to energy flow and any miscalculation could lead to a meltdown. Despite the difficulties, he remained cautiously optimistic, knowing that adapting to the circumstances was the best course of action. As they continued running, they reached the end of a corridor. There, they encountered a massive stone door with sturdy wooden archways reinforced by a faint blue strip of metal. The metal was intricately woven into the archways in a spiral pattern. The stone door was adorned with numerous intricate carvings and symbols. In the Center of the stone door was a stone circle. Unlike the rest of the stone, which was a dark gray colour, this stone circle was pure black with a red outline of a handprint on it. Before standing in front of the door, Tharos turned his head towards Cenric.
(“You are to wait out here. I’m afraid you can’t enter this room, as it, and many others down here in the lowest levels of the Archives, are protected by several magical wards and traps designed to repel intruders. Unless you have been granted proper access, you cannot enter. I will only be gone for a few moments. Take this time to catch your breath and rest, for once I do what I am about to do, we will not stop moving until we are safely outside the city limits. Do you understand, Cenric?“)
(“Yes, I understand.”) Cenric said as he slumped next to the wall to catch his breath, coughing every now and then as he tried to get the miasma of dust out of his lungs.
(“Good, now keep an eye out. I do not want to get ambushed and overwhelmed at this critical juncture.”) Tharos said as he turned his back on Cenric and walked closer to the stone door.
(“Don’t worry, I will keep my eyes peeled, Tharos,“) Cenric said in response as he directed the torchlight down the corridor. Keeping his eyes focused on the end of the corridor.
As Tharos approached the door, he placed his hand on the stone surface, moving his fingers gently over it. He wanted to remember this sensation, as it would be the last time he would see this place, walk its halls, and breathe its now bitter air. The door could only be opened in one of two ways: by touching the correct combination of symbols along with a passphrase, or by being a member of the Zarbarian royal family, those who had the blood of Mithra the Great coursing through their veins. Since he had long forgotten the combination and passphrase, he had to resort to a different method. Tharos drew a dagger from his belt and swiftly stabbed it into his off hand, letting the blood drip down the blade. He clenched his teeth for a moment as he pulled the dagger out, the wound quickly healing over. With a flick of his wrist, droplets of blood hit the centre of the stone door. As the blood hit the stone door and slowly dripped down to the floor, the symbols on the door and the metal interlaced in the archway started to glow a faint blue hue. The red handprint mark in the centre of the door began to sink and fade into the stone, disappearing from view. A faint hissing noise accompanied by a rush of air could be heard as the stone door started to part ways, allowing the trapped air in the room to escape.
Tharos stepped past the threshold of the stone door and walked towards the arcane reactor. The room was massive, and the arcane reactor even more so. It was a massive metal cube of shining gold and silver with a circular tower-like structure with many lines and arcane symbols carved into it at the centre. In the circular tower, there was a massive mana crystal that was pure blue in colour. In front of the cube, there was an interconnected pedestal with many levers, knobs, and buttons. Tharos walked up to it, his face reflecting a great sense of regret, with a stray tear dripping from his eyes. Regret was a feeling that came naturally to him.
“Forgive me for what I must do,” he uttered aloud, sadly, with no one but himself and maybe the small boy behind him to hear his words. Tharos quickly made the makeshift repairs he needed and reconnected all the systems that had been disconnected. Once that was done, he pressed a series of buttons in rapid succession, pulled a few levers, and twisted one of the main knobs. As he did so, the machine started to spark to life. However, without a way to transfer or displace the magical energy that was starting to gather, it would quickly reach a critical point, and the reactor would begin to melt down. Tharos even removed the safety guards to speed up this process. He could sense the energy building up, knowing they had roughly an hour to reach the city limits before the reactor would blow. Wiping a single tear from his face, he turned around and ran out the door. There was no need for words as Cenric wasted no time, quickly getting up and following behind Tharos with all the strength his skinny legs could muster. They ran as fast as they could. The room behind them started to glow brighter with a blue light, with the snap and crackle of arcane energy sparking on the floor. They hastily left the archives, passed the throne room, and headed down the palace stairs. However, what greeted them as they reached the bottom of the stairs was a terrifying sight. Far in the distance on the main road was a mass of twisted creatures and several more faceless metallic figures rushing quickly to their location. There were too many of them for him to take on, even with the handicap of protecting Cenric. Plus, he couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
Cenric, with a tied and panicked look on his face, looked up at Tharos hoping for some reassurance. However, he found none as Tharos quickly ran in the opposite direction, with Cenric following closely behind. As they sprinted towards the north gate, Tharos felt a sharp pain in his head. Once he regained his focus, he noticed the ground violently moving and quaking. Turning his head, he saw several buildings in the distance behind him and Cenric starting to collapse into the sandy ground below, as if being sucked into a sinkhole. Out of these sinkholes emerged massive, long appendages that appeared to be a blend of flesh and liquid metal. The appendages then started to have massive whip-like tendrils spawn out of them, wrapping themselves around whatever building or structure they could in order to gain hold. Something was digging its way out from underneath the city. However, some of the tendrils started snaking their way towards him and Cenric.
(“Tharos!“) Cedric’s voice was filled with panic. Tharos could feel fear welling up inside himself and Cedric. However, Tharos didn’t reply; he only prepared to draw his sword as the tendrils rushed quickly towards him and Cedric, shifting through the sand and stonework as if they were swimming through water. They moved at a speed that even Tharos couldn’t keep up with. The ground before him was a blur of sand and loose stones, coming at him with blinding speed. As he and Cedric kept running, Tharos angled himself with his shield raised to maintain a good pace while also being prepared for the next attack. His heart raced as fast as a thousand horses, and his head stung as if it were being struck by thousands of arrows, making it hard for him to focus on what he was seeing. He couldn’t truly believe his eyes. The tendrils closing in on him and Cedric were a perfect blend of flesh and metal. The flesh was bright red, resembling fresh blood, pulsing and producing a thumping sound like a heartbeat. The metal was a greyish metallic blue, appearing solid yet taking on a property similar to water.
Is this what my ancestors had to deal with? No wonder so many peoples where wiped out. Tharos thought to himself.
As he finished that thought, a tendril struck at him from beneath the ground. It sharpened itself into a whip-like appendage with thin, sharp needle-like spikes running down its side. Lashing out at him, the tendril tried to hit Tharos square in the chest. Tharos twisted to the left and angled his shield, managing to deflect the blow. The remaining paint on the shield was scraped off in the process. Tharos then retaliated by quickly slashing at the tendril, sparks flying as they clashed. More tendrils closed in on Tharos, striking at him from all angles. With a flurry of quick dodges, well-timed blocks with his shield, and parrying with his sword, Tharos managed to keep the tendrils at bay while also protecting Cedric’s back as they continued to withdraw to the outskirts of the city.
Blow after blow, thrust after thrust, the tendrils wouldn’t relent in their assault for what seemed like hours, but in reality, it was only several tense minutes. Tharos couldn’t keep this up forever, and neither could Cedric. Tharos could tell, even without looking at him, that Cedric couldn’t keep running indefinitely; whatever vigour had kept him going was fading. Tharos was also feeling the exhaustion start to overwhelm him. His arms and legs felt heavy as lead, and moving them was tiring. It was like moving through thick mud. His body was starting to give way, bending and buckling under the relentless assaults.
His mind was deteriorating; his mind was bombarded by a convergent stream of information. The rapidly swirling sand, stone, and metallic flashes around him blurred his vision, making him react with only milliseconds to spare. Even with his modest sword skills, he found it challenging to cope. The increasing levels of magical energy in the area were causing him headaches. The intensity was so strong that one could taste it in the air, accompanied by a growing sense of an indescribable presence emanating from beneath the ground, drawing closer with each passing moment. This presence was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a chilling cold that penetrated to the core of his being. As Tharos prepared to defend against another wave of attacks, the tendrils suddenly retracted without warning. Tharos looked confused as the tendrils seemed to be retreating out of reach, and even the legion of creatures following behind had vanished from sight. Cenric remarked that it was a miracle that Tharos was able to maintain the connection despite the intense stress.
“Are they still behind us, Tharos?” Cenric asked, his voice heavy with weariness. Tharos knew it wouldn’t be long before Cenric would collapse from exhaustion; he could sense it.
“No, they have stopped for now.”
“Why would they stop?” Cenric replied
“I don’t know, but we are almost at the city limits, and the reactor is about to go off.”
However, this was just the calm before the storm. Within a few minutes, the northern gate came into view. The ground, which was still shaking, stopped for a split second and then started to shake even more violently than before. Tharos and Cenric both turned around to see that the long appendages that were previously obscured in the ground below were now bent outwards, with what looked like a massive shape rising out of the sinkhole that had formed near the palace district. It was difficult to discern its true appearance as it was obscured by a large amount of rubble; however, it was massive. The long appendages that formed its legs were as long as fully grown redwood trees, and the body to which these legs were attached was possibly two or even three times larger and longer than that. Tharos and Cenric stood there, staring at the thing. Cenric’s eyes were wide, and his legs started to wobble. Tharos didn’t show much emotion, except for a slight dilation in his pupils and a twitch of his lips. Tharos then heard a loud thud right next to him, which broke his concentration. Cenric had collapsed on the ground beside him.
All tucked out. You did well. He couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pride at least for Cenric sake.
As Tharos was about to pick up Cenric and sling him over his shoulder, he heard a loud noise resembling that of a horn. The noise was so deafening that it reverberated through his entire body. Accompanying this sound were massive blue lights scanning through the city. One of the lights landed on him, almost blinding him, and then started turning red. The giant mass, which was long and V-shaped, began to slowly head in their direction, causing the ground to rumble as it moved its massive legs. Tharos ran, carrying Cenric over his shoulder, feeling the scorching heat on his skin as he dashed forward. A massive arc of energy flew past him, narrowly missing him by a few feet and disintegrating a building to his side in a flash of green light. Loose bits of stone, glass, and tile bounced harmlessly off his breastplate. Tharos knew he had no time to waste; he had only a few minutes left until the reactor would go off, and even less time to reach the city limits.
He had to keep moving. As he moved, more arcs of energy flew towards him in rapid succession, sparking through the air like bolts of lightning. While most of them missed him by several feet one of the arcs managed to hit his shield arm. The shield blew up into several massive splinters, some of which hit him in the face, leaving massive holes on the left side of his face, with his left cheek almost completely gone, exposing the left side of his jaw. Tharos gritted his teeth as the wound quickly began to heal. However, that was the least of his issues. He felt his left arm was on fire as the green energy moved up his arm, spreading quickly and almost reaching past his elbow. With a quick movement, he angled his arm in a way that allowed him to still hold onto Cedric’s collapsed body. Tharos used a dagger tied to his belt to quickly stab and cut into his left arm, causing the energy to arc onto the dagger before he dropped it on the ground. His left arm was now mostly a burnt-out stump, but the wound wasn’t healing as quickly as it normally would.
That is rather concerning. Tharos thought to himself as he looked at the burned-out stump that used to be his left arm.
As he continued running, the northern gate was only a few hundred meters away and quickly coming into view. However, as he looked down, he noticed his shadow was growing larger. Turning his head around, he saw the palace starting to light up like a bonfire, with arcane energy bursting its way through the stone that composed its structure. The monster then began to turn, with the blue and red lights emanating from it now focusing on the palace. The creature’s full form was no longer hidden beneath the tons of sand rubble it had tunnelled its way up from and was now on full display. It was a mass of liquid metal and pulsating flesh that was long, almost insect-like. It resembled a chrysalis from a butterfly or moth. but with three massive legs and what looked like stained glass windows and ports for cannons in the front. However, he couldn’t stay idle to admire this horrifying spectacle before him. Tharos could feel it – the reactor was about to blow. The place began to erupt like a volcano, a stream of magical energy gushed forth with the sound of thunderous crashes that reverberated throughout the city. The area surrounding the palace started to crumble as the entire area, including the monster, was quickly consumed by a blinding light that arced out. Tharos couldn’t react fast enough as his vision was replaced by nothing but a bright white light that stung his eyes. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears as he and the comatose Cenric were then flung forward at blinding speed. Tharos tried to maintain his bearings and keep a hold of Cenric, but he couldn’t. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness until everything went dark, with nothing but pure silence.
