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I'll rewrite the next chapter and then publish the 14th one. I'll also try to release more chapters now that I have more free time. Sorry for the absence.
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The cold wind passed through Oberon's face, his hair flowing with it. "What a cool view," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the whisper of the wind.
Oberon stood atop a rugged mountain, his gaze sweeping across the serene valley below. Summer sunbathed the landscape in golden light, its warmth contrasting sharply with the chilly air at this altitude. The scenery was picturesque, almost otherworldly, but his mind was far from at ease.
This was the place. The vision granted by the Ashes of Nostradamus had led him here. The relic stopped working, leaving behind an image etched into his mind: this mountain, this view. But beyond the familiarity, there was no sign of what he sought. No Lysander. No cult members. Just an uneasy silence.
He drew a deep breath, centering on himself.
"If destiny's threads led me here, then I'm not leaving empty-handed."
Closing his eyes, he activated his Innate Technique, Chronicle of Arcane Destiny, trying to find some clue.
Magic Energy surged through him, sharp and vibrant. His eyes shining like stars were inside of them as he attuned himself to the currents of fate.
The air around him seemed to shimmer, and the world grew muted. Visions flickered in the darkness behind his eyelids.
Then, for a brief moment-not even a second, he saw something.
A small village, so small and so hidden, not even the government knew about it. It was in the middle of Ban Nevis, in Scotland.
There strange things were happening. He couldn't see exactly what, but it involved him in one way or another.
Oberon tried sensing that village and apparated there.
He could sense more than one magical aura in this village.
Just as he arrived, multiple people started apparating around him, all of them pointing their big wood staffs at him.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" One man asked.
Oberon slowly raised his hands.
"My name is Oberon Grindelwald-Pendragon. I was searching for someone and sensed something was wrong here."
"Nothing is wrong here!"
A tall woman, with red curly hair and a muscular physique emerged from the crowd.
"You can go back from where you come from!"
Oberon looked at her and decided to take a gamble.
"Do you know anything about Lysander?" Oberon asked.
In that instant all the guards surrounding him stuck their staffs in the ground with force, making a wave of energy sweep through the air.
Vines and roots emerged from the ground tying Oberon tightly.
"How do you know that name? Tell the truth, who are you!?"
Oberon summoned a sword of light to free himself from the bindings and looked to the woman.
"I already told you. I am Oberon Grindelwald-Pendragon, son of Gellert Grindelwald and heir of Arthur Pendragon."
One of the guards raised his staff to attack Oberon.
"Blasphemy! How dare you stain the name of Lord Pendragon!"
"WAIT!"
"But Matriarch…" the guard said looking to the tall woman.
"Can't you see the sword in his hand? That is the Innate Technique from the Lord, bestowed upon him by the land of Avalon."
Oberon looked to the woman with intrigue.
"Do you know something about the Innate Technique?"
"Of course we know. My people were the ones who helped King Arthur obtain it."
Oberon was confused. He didn't know who they were.
"We are druids."
The word hung in the air like a spell. Druids. Oberon's grip tightened on his sword. History books claimed they'd vanished centuries ago—yet here they stood, their staffs thrumming with the purest energy nature could offer.
"Impossible," he breathed.
The Druids were presumed dead. They were one of the first lineages to awaken magical power through their connection with nature.
Legends say that they helped King Arthur to defend this land from the Cursed Spirits and to find Avalon, the holy land of magic for the british.
All of the druids present kneeled.
"I, the 13th Matriarch of the Druids, Ganevére, show my respects to the rightful king of Britain, Lord Oberon Grindelwald-Pendragon!"
"All hail the great Lord!"
"All hail the blood of Pendragon!"
"Ganevére, I need to talk with you" Oberon said, unfaced by all the attention. The Acolytes numbered in the thousands; he was more than accustomed to facing things like these.
"Of course, my lord! Come with us to our village."
Oberon was guided in the depths of the forest until they reached a village hidden by the tall trees.
The houses of the druids were hanging from the trees, probably reinforced by magic.
From what Oberon could see, they numbered in the hundreds. Hundreds of druids, one of the most ancient magical groups on the Earth was a very promising force.
"My Lord, what's the matter?" Ganevére asked.
"I need you to tell me about my Innate Technique, King Artur and Lysander." Oberon stated.
"Of course." She replied.
Oberon followed Ganevére into the Village Hall, her residence.
Ganevére's fingers traced the crumbling edge of a mural. "Tell me, my Lord - what do you know of Merlin's greatest failure?"
Oberon stepped closer, the ancient pigments shimmering faintly under his gaze.
"He attended Hogwarts. Mastered magic no wizard since has matched."
A dry chuckle escaped her lips. "And yet he came to us on his knees. Here."
Her nail tapped against a depiction of a hooded figure bowing before a druid circle.
"The greatest sorcerer, begging my ancestor for help."
"For what?" Oberon asked.
"The one thing he couldn't find alone." Her voice dropped. "Avalon, the only place where a clue to defeating the hordes of Cursed Spirits tormenting this land could be found."
Her staff glowed faintly as she pointed to intersecting lines on the mural.
"Merlin didn't know where to find Avalon, so we gave him directions. We helped him find it. But after finding it…he couldn't access Avalon's land.."
"Why not?"
"Avalon judges the soul." Her eyes darkened. "Merlin sought knowledge. My ancestor sought power. The Cursed Spirits nearly tore this land apart before they found someone... more worthy. Someone whose only motivation and concern were his people."
"King Arthur." Oberon said.
"A boy with a only a sword to his name and no agenda." Ganevére paused. "So, as Lord Arthur's mentor and teacher, Sir Merlin entrusted him with a mission: to enter Avalon and find a way to defeat the Cursed Spirits."
"And what happened?" Oberon asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Lord Arthur succeeded. He earned Lady Viviane's approval, and in turn, was bestowed with the sword Excalibur, forged by the fairies of Avalon and Lady Viviane herself, along with Avalon's Blessing."
"Wait. Are you telling me that…" Oberon said, still confused.
"Yes," Ganevére replied. "Lord Arthur did not possess an Innate Technique at birth. His Innate Technique, and now yours as well, was granted to him by Lady Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, and the land of Avalon itself, to defend humanity from the Cursed Spirits. It became a part of Lord Arthur's bloodline."
"But that doesn't explain why Lysander is coming after me nor why your people and you hate him so much." Oberon asked again, his voice laced with anxiety.
"My Lord, what do you know about Morgan le Fay?" The Druid Matriarch inquired in return.
"She is the half-sister of King Arthur. A dark and powerful witch, and one of the greatest geniuses to have ever appeared in this land," Oberon replied.
Ganevére's hand froze over a mural of a veiled woman. "Morgan le Fay could unravel spells with a glance and weave shadows into armies. Yet she craved one thing above all."
"Her brother's position?"
"Recognition." The druid's voice turned sharp. "She challenged Arthur six times. Poisoned Merlin twice. And each failure only sharpened her hunger. She was planning to end Arthur for good."
Oberon's gaze dropped to his own hands. "Until Arthur got Excalibur."
"Until Lady Viviane gave him the ability to stand against her darkness." Ganevére's staff suddenly flared, casting their shadows tall against the wall - one crowned with white, one crowned with dark.
"Why dark? What was Morgan le Fay's Innate Technique?" Oberon asked, aware that he was also a direct descendant of her.
"Not much is known about it. She always made sure that anyone who witnessed it lived long enough to speak of it. It's said she could harness the power of shadows and darkness. Where there was light, she could make it disappear. At least, that was until Lord Arthur, wielding Excalibur and Avalon's Blessing, defeated her. After being subjugated, she was never seen again."
"Why you speak of her with the same respect as you speak of Arthur? Wasn't her his enemy" Oberon asked, confused.
"Although we pledged our allegiance to Lord Arthur, we also deeply respect Lady Morgan. She helped us on more than one occasion. She was not evil. She was simply part of the balance of the world, for where there is light, there must also be darkness."
"So, if I were to wield her powers, there wouldn't be any problem, right?" Oberon asked cautiously.
"No, there wouldn't be any. However, it is not something that can be done. One cannot handle more than one Innate Technique, especially when they are of such contradictory nature as those of Lord Arthur and Lady Morgan," Ganevére answered, without giving it much thought.
"Well, and what do this have to do with Lysander?" Oberon asked thinking they were beating around the bush.
"Lysander Nightsade was an ancient dark wizard, who lived during the same time as Sir Merlin, though he was never as powerful. When rumors of Lady Morgan's strength began to spread, Lysander attempted to abduct her for a dark ritual. His goal was to steal her immense magical talent and the vast reservoir of power she possessed, hoping to claim it for himself. What he didn't realize was that Lady Morgan's reputation was not to be taken lightly.
She easily subdued him but spared his life, respecting his power. Lysander became mesmerized by her strength and beauty.
Moreover, their Innate Techniques were remarkably similar. He eventually founded a cult to worship Lady Morgan and the Dark Arts."
Ganevére looked at Oberon.
"As Lysander aligned himself with the Cursed Spirits, he sought to overthrow Lord Arthur, as he was the enemy of Lady Morgan at that time. But Morgan disappeared and, naturally, with such a malign purpose, Lord Arthur couldn't allow them to live and thrive within his land. People said that Lysander and his cult, The Veil of Nyx, were never seen again."
"But Lysander is still alive, or at least trying to be." Oberon stated.
"Maybe he is, My Lord. Lysander swore to end the Pendragon bloodline, and no one knows what happened to him after his defeat by Lord Arthur."
"Well, anyway, Ganevére, I have something to tell you," Oberon said, pausing before continuing.
"What is it, My Lord?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"You see, I have more than one Innate Technique…"
"What!?" Ganevére exclaimed in shock.
"That can't be, My Lord. It goes against the natural order. We, mortals, can't possess more than one Innate Technique." Ganevére took a breath, her shock momentarily overwhelming her. "My Lord, please tell me it isn't the Innate Technique of Lady Morgan."
"No, it isn't," Oberon replied, and Ganevére exhaled in relief.
"Well, at least not yet."
"What do you mean by 'not yet,' My Lord?" Ganevére's voice wavered, her composure faltering in the face of the shocking revelation.
"King Arthur's Innate technique is not the one I obtained from birth. I inherited it after being recognized as his successor. I don't know if it's possible to also inherit Morgan's Innate Technique."
Ganevére was left speechless for a few seconds until she recovered from the shock.
"My Lord, I would advise you to refrain from it. Our Innate Techniques are birthed from the interaction of our blood with our soul. All of us have an inherent Domain, even muggles, because our souls are born with it. But when our body is formed and the blood from our parent's flow through us, our Innate Domain is modified. Thus, the reason why every Domain Expansion is unique, but also suited for the Innate Technique of a family."
"And why should I abstain, I don't understand what that has to do with it?"
"It is already unnatural in itself that your soul can harbor both your father's and Lord Arthur's Innate Technique. But if you also try to get Lady Morgan's Innate Technique, you will not only be forcing one more, but you will also be introducing an Innate Technique of a nature opposed to Lord Arthur's one. There will be two opposing forces fighting again each other in your soul, and even though is true that souls get stronger each time you advance in Grade, it doesn't mean that your soul will be strong enough to resist such force."
She pressed a hand to his chest. "Feel that? The pulse of your Technique isn't just in your blood—it's your soul's mold, the shape your body grows into."
Ganevére took her hand away. "If you forced your soul to take another Innate Technique—Lady Morgan's, no less—one with tremendous power and an equally strong opposing force, your body could shatter, unable to contain it."
Oberon was left silent, his thoughts pondering the gamble it would be to try that.
After a long pause, Ganevére slowly stepped closer, her voice softer now.
"My Lord… I understand your burden, and I do not speak these warnings to frighten you. I speak them because we druids have seen what happens when the balance of soul and power is undone. You must know that our lineage—mine—comes from one of the old gods. One of the Wizard Gods who once walked the land, before even the founding of Camelot."
Oberon raised an eyebrow. "You mean like Lady Viviane?"
Ganevére nodded. "Yes, though not as known nor powerful as the Lady of the Lake. His name was Cernunnos, the Horned One. God of the Wild Hunt, Lord of Beasts, and Guardian of the Forest's Threshold. He was one of the few among the lower Wizard Gods who chose to remain tethered to this realm after the Age of Gods passed. Unlike the others, he had no kingdom, only the woods."
Oberon listened intently as she went on.
"My oldest ancestor, the first Matriarch was chosen by Cernunnos himself. He bestowed upon us an Innate Technique called Embrace of the Eternal Grove, the same way Lady Vivianne bestowed upon Lord Arthur his Innate Technique."
Oberon was utterly shocked.
'Gods?! Since when did gods exist in Harry Potter or Jujutsu Kaisen?' Oberon thought. 'Maybe father knows something about it.'
"What happened to the gods?" Oberon asked.
"Lord Arthur led against the Cursed Army, the Second Great Ancient War. The war in which the last Magic Gods walking on this land disappeared and humans and wizards established their dominion over the Cursed Spirits. Sadly, after that the level of Mana went considerably down and 1/3 of the magic population died." Ganevére explained.
"Wait, why haven't I never heard of this? How could something so important not be recorded or taught in schools. Also, what do you mean by Second Great Ancient War? Was there a first one?" Oberon was having more and more questions each time Ganevére spoke.
"My Lord, only a select few, the most powerful ones, and ancient clans such us ourselves know of this because it was for the best for it to be forgotten.
Countless lives were lost, the ground was soaked in blood and contaminated by the Cursed Energy of the Cursed Army. The losses were far too great for the people to accept. And yes my Lord, there was a First Great Ancient War, but I don't know much about it; if the second is already almost forgotten, the First is no more than a legend that few know about."
After digesting everything and calming for a bit, Oberon asked Ganevére about his original goal, Lysander.
"Ganevére, I've come to your village because when I was searching for Lysander, these mountains appeared in a vision. Have something strange happened?"
"Yes." She replied. "Some of our children have disappeared. We think they have been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?"
"Druidic blood is a priceless treasure, and a catalyst needed to unseal something that was sealed by our ancestors in this land thousands of years ago."
Ganevére pressed her staff.
. "You know how Cursed Spirits are born, yes? The more humans fear something, the stronger the manifestation?"
"Of course, its basic magical theory. A village's fear of wolves might spawn a Grade 3. A city's dread of plague, a Grade 1."
"Then consider this." Her staff struck the ground. "What happens when all of humanity fears the same thing? Not just a place or people—but the very concepts that haunt our species?"
As Ganevére spoke, new grotesque figures were illuminated in the murals.
"Most Cursed Spirits are shadows cast by fleeting fears," Ganevére continued. "But the Cursed Generals? They were the embodiment of humanity's nightmares given flesh. And above them, the very incarnation of the fears every intelligent species have even before they are able to think.
The strongest—the Cursed Gods—embodied primal forces: Oblivion. The Void. Death. But their Generals..."
She tapped lesser horrors surrounding it.
"These were their lieutenants. Famine. Pestilence. Betrayal. Each a concentrated manifestation of shared human terror."
Oberon finally reached a conclusion. "Someone is trying to unseal one of the Generals?"
The Matriarch's voice turned to iron. "Not anyone, Lysander is the one."
"You must know my Lord that when a Cursed Spirit is killed it will simply reincarnate again. You can kill the Curse but no the fear it originates from. Not anyone was capable of killing the Generals, only a few could. To stop the war we needed to stop them from appearing again and again."
"So you sealed them away." Oberon said. "And you sealed one in this mountains."
"Yes my Lord. To protect this lands is our duty." Ganevére replied.
"So you're saying Lysander's trying to rebirth a General," Oberon realized.
Ganevére's eyes burned with fury. "Yes, he and his followers are using my kin's blood and souls to break the seal."
Ganevére's staff flared as she dragged its tip across the mural, igniting hidden sigils. The paint bled into a new scene—a screaming face formed from jagged peaks.
"Vorthax the Unheard, the General born when humanity first huddled in caves, whispering of what lurked beyond the firelight. The embodiment of the fear of being isolated—the terror of being forgotten."
"By now Lysander and his cursed cult have captured and sacrificed five of our youngest." Ganevére explained. "Mixing the blood of our clan with their twisted rituals and prayers they will try to unseal and revive the General of Isolation."
"We must find them as soon as we can then!" Oberon shouted. He knew for sure his actual strength wasn't enough to rival a being of that level.
If Lysander revived a General, even Dumbledore, the Wizard recognized as the Strongest Special Grade might not be able to face it.
"You can remain calm." Ganevére said. "I can sense the Ley Lines fueling the seal and although they are damaged, they will hol-"
CRUMBLE!!!
Oberon and Ganevére exited the Village Hall only to face a disaster. The mountain peaks hiding the village were collapsing and breaking apart.
"Oh no! It can't be…!" Ganevére exclaimed.
"What is happening?" Oberon asked.
"The seal…it is broken…"
One of the Cursed Army's Generals have been unsealed.