Two Calamities walk the surface. The Emperor has declared a general state of emergency, and all Great Houses are mandated to raise their armies. Archmage REDACTED and REDACTED have been tasked to slay the beast making its way south, whilst me and REDACTED will hunt the one going east.
I have been ordered to prevent its crossing into Mirranian lands, though why it wishes to go to that backwater I have no idea. Nevertheless, for the first time since I have joined the ranks of the Archmages, we are not fighting the Calamities as a united group.
The Gods are silent, but I pray to them now. Let me see my unborn child.
Excerpt from The Beasts of the Dungeon.
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Phantom bats. He'd delegated much of his summoning needs to others, these days, with the exception of his personal contracts. Which amounted to just two, something he was more than happy with.
Mastering every discipline under the sun would come with time, no doubt, but spatial magic was his main focus.
Nevertheless, Phantom bats were phenomenal creatures. Technically demonic but not malicious, capable of turning invisible and extraordinarily hard to kill. They did about as much damage as regular bats in return, which is to say not much, but their purpose wasn't to kill.
No, their purpose was to spy. And while against an intelligent enemy their usefulness was limited, they were proving quite excellent at scouting for Calamities. Well, mostly because of Barry. His most talented summoner, unsurprisingly, spoke their language, and while Phantom Bats understood every tongue, it made understanding their reports much easier.
He supposed that's why the Empire didn't have a few hundred thousand of those things tracking every Calamity that stuck its head out of the Dungeon. Not only would the summons have to make it there and back again, they'd need a large number of mages capable of understanding them, and then need to actually organize the vast amount of information they delivered.
Easier to use retrieval teams, other summons and more limited but vastly cheaper methods to keep track of them.
The Empire, contrary to popular belief, did not have an infinite amount of resources to draw upon. Nor would they waste any if they had, because if the Dungeon had taught humanity one thing, it's that attrition decided the outcome of every war.
Marcus grunted, waving his hand. Barry and the four mages he'd recruited for the task bowed and left, the morning update complete. Both Calamities had been sighted over the last few days, but calculating their path was proving harder.
Both were… different. He would have preferred two more of the ones he was familiar with, honestly, because now that he knew its weakness, killing it wasn't that hard. But no, Tomson had been right.
One of them was a Calamity in Champion skin, an Elven woman. She wasn't leading an army, thankfully, but she had been seen performing magic. And speaking to Hounds, for some reason. He really hoped she was just crazy, because otherwise she might be able to direct them.
The second was, as Elly had promptly dubbed it, a danger-chicken. Nothing had quite prepared him for that report, not even the School of Life. A flightless avian the size of a carriage, seemingly not as intelligent as the Elf but far from stupid. And it breathed fire hot enough to melt stone, because nothing could ever be normal anymore.
He waved his hand again, a shimmering portal appearing from thin air. Vess stepped through dressed in what he was going to charitably call a dress, though with such little fabric he wasn't entirely sure. Marcus raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"Yes, dear summoner?" she asked, seeming distracted. Vess blinked, shaking herself. Her clothing melted into a new arrangement, the strips of cloth changing into an elegant evening gown. She coughed lightly. "Apologies. I was entertaining some old friends, friends that don't care if I dress more comfortably."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "I won't believe either of those two outfits are in any way comfortable, and don't try to spin this around on me. What, I'm a poor friend because I'm uncomfortable having you prance around wearing basically nothing?"
"Not what I meant," Vess soothed. "And trust me, it was an honest mistake. If only for survival's sake."
"What does that mean?"
Vess smiled lightly. "Nothing at all. And just in case you were worried, the party was not being held on my property, and you therefore did not steal its host."
"Ah, right. You don't have a house."
"Tactfully put," she murmured, rolling her eyes. "But accurate. Now, was I summoned just to be judged for my outfit, or are we here for a reason?"
Marcus hummed, pouring both of them a cup of wine. "This is our usual time, Vess. Are you alright?"
"It is?" she asked, surprised. Her surprise turned to annoyance. "It is. Between strengthening my social network, finding a new home and building a continent spanning intelligence operations, I'm quite busy. Too busy, perhaps."
He inclined his head. "Limits are meant to be pushed, but push too hard, and consequences are guaranteed. I think that was one of your lectures, wasn't it?"
"Just because I said something doesn't mean it's true," she countered, sniffing delicately. "Now for my report, which is one hundred percent accurate and won't have to be verified. Ignore the contradiction."
Marcus snorted, summoning Xathar as he did. The horse took one look at what was happening and curled up in the corner, a small stream of complaints being uttered while doing so. Marcus tuned them out, but it was important for the demon to be here.
More accurately, it was important for him to be here. To be ready. The Empire was worried about Calamities, and his own experience with them did nothing to allay their fear. Just because his first had been an obvious threat didn't mean he was going to assume the others would be.
Elly was still hunting that Champion general, too. It wasn't a great time for them to be apart, but whoever was in charge of that army, they needed to die.
Which was kind of ironic, because they'd left. Packed up and moved on after he'd destroyed their catapults, which didn't bode well in the slightest. It was why Elly was hunting them, taking advantage of the slight thinning of Hounds.
Tribal Champions the Empire could deal with, but nations? Orcs and Elves and more armed with proper steel instead of scavenged metal? He had a feeling that such an army would have been hunted down and slaughtered to the last, but they'd gotten lucky.
Neither he nor the Empire could afford to take their focus away from the Calamities, not on any real scale.
Vess cleared her throat, a small pile of notes in her hand. "I have news."
"So you're just going to pretend nothing happened, then?" Marcus asked. She looked at him with a flat stare, making him shrug. "Just checking. Please, continue."
"Thank you. This month's budget report is roughly twenty five thousand gold pieces, an increase of thirty two percent over the month before. This additional cost comes mostly from operation Wild Hunt, specifically because of the mercenaries hired to achieve the objective. Overall, recruitment is up by fifteen percent, information dominance has been achieved within Mirranian borders, and feelers sent into deep Imperial lands have achieved initial success."
He hummed. "I hesitate to ask, but why was it named operation Wild Hunt?"
"Because we hunted them through the forest," she replied, smiling lightly. "I found it funny, myself, though some of the mercenaries were apparently disturbed. Such is the downside of hiring outside talent."
"Riiight. Remind me who you were hunting again, or why you needed mercenaries in the first place?"
Vess tilted her head. "I told you this when the project began."
"That was almost five months ago," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Was it the Silent Gods movement?"
She smiled in approval. "It was the Silent Gods movement. Well done. Now, the chapter I found wasn't being monitored by the Empire, so it's taken care of. Several high-value prisoners have been captured, the rank-and-file soldiers killed, the usual. I'm getting closer to something, or someone, important. I can feel it."
"That's nice," he replied, shrugging at her raised eyebrow. "Look, it's important, yes, and I'm still pissed they tried to poison me, but the literal end of the world has arrived. Keep working on it, and assuming we live afterwards, we'll take care of them then."
It was Xathar that answered, his rumbling voice coming from the spot he'd claimed. "You are an Archmage of teleportation, bush mage. If this empire-creature dies, leave. The Hells can be very agreeable to one of your power."
"He's not wrong," Vess agreed. "If we do lose, take who you care about and run. You don't actually owe any of these people anything."
Marcus snorted. "I'm not abandoning my people, but neither will I martyr myself for them. Now let's get down to business, shall we? What else have your spies, assassins and informants learned?"
Vess smiled and shifted on her seat, a different set of notes appearing in hand. She had, apparently, learned a lot.
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The Mirror Dimension. Marcus exhaled slowly and ignored the sound of the closing door, Xathar shifting quietly in the corner. The meeting had gone on for almost three hours, but now he actually had some time.
And while Elly wasn't here, he was getting better and better at reaching the Mirror Dimension on his own. Something that was harder without her to guide his… soul? To guide him, basically. Her own meditation was steady and practiced, and his wasn't. Not even close.
Half the time he just kind of sat there, waiting for something to happen. Which, as Elly had patiently explained, was not in fact what meditation was about. He got the feeling she got that question a lot.
No, focus. Or not focus, but focus on the not focusing.
Marcus inhaled slowly, holding it for a few long seconds, and exhaled as gently as he could. He kept repeating that until his heart rate slowed, his mind drifted, and then waited. Or, perhaps more accurately, he existed.
No thoughts, no expectations, no skill. Just a calm, pleasant existence that lessened the tension in his stomach, the discipline worth his time for that alone.
Minutes—or hours, or even days, but probably not that—later, he felt a shift. A change, reality taking a break and letting the other side in to play. Marcus grinned, opened his eyes, and condensed a body from smoke while conjured a comfortable chair to sit in.
His first unassisted, purposeful visit to the Mirror Dimension, and he hadn't even been eaten by a horror beyond mortal comprehension. It was a rare moment of uncomplicated success, and he savored it.
But only for a minute. After that he set his chair to move though not-space, reclining and summoning a cup of wine. Will, here more than anywhere, mattered most. And as a bonus, this wine quite literally couldn't be poisoned.
…unless he thought about the poisoned wine he'd drunk, in which case it might.
Marcus dismissed the cup, focusing on his surroundings. There were almost imperceptible flashes of light, flashes he felt more than saw, and it wasn't like he had a guide with him. So he moved towards one, picking at random.
He arrived at… something. A soul, that much was clear, but a young one. A really young one. It seemed to be dreaming, and passive perception told him it was about as sturdy as an egg.
"Careful," a voice called. Marcus twisted, chair vanishing in the process. Another him floated there, feet not touching the ground. Or, no. He had no feet. Or legs. They felt like a conjuration, much like his chair had been. The other Marcus hummed. "At least you're not a psychopath. You won't believe the lack of compassion some of us have, even for the very young."
Marcus cleared his throat. "Hello."
"Hi," the man replied, tilting his head. "You're new at this, aren't you? Well, perhaps I am the first to welcome you to the Realm of Astrava. I'm sure you have your own name for it."
He nodded slowly. "The Mirror Dimension. What are these?"
"Not bad," the legless man judged lightly. "And these, brother, are us. The unborn or very young, dreaming of a place between space. They won't remember being here, nor how to return, but a mind without expectation is particularly well suited to this place."
"What happens if their soul is destroyed? Or altered, or whatever."
The other him snorted. "They die, of course. Hundreds do every day. Much like a mundane population, our numbers grow and dwindle, often for arbitrary reasons. I like them, personally. Some don't. Some few really don't."
"Is that something I'm going to have to be worried about?" Marcus asked, peering at distant flashes of light. "Evil me's?"
"Probably not. Most of us wish to keep this place peaceful. A space to connect and grow. If one of us causes too much trouble, others stop him. Not to sound too arrogant, but we are generally nice enough people."
Marcus hummed, opening his mouth to ask another question. This place really was fascinating, and this other him had apparently found a way to hover. Maybe it was true flight, maybe not, but either way it would be invaluable to speak more-
He jerked awake, Elly's face the first thing he saw. Marcus swallowed a string of complaints when he saw the look in her eye, rising to his feet.
Elly was already busy strapping a sword to her hip, tone suspiciously calm. "The Calamities have been sighted less than five klicks from here. The Eastfort is evacuating."
"Fuck," Marcus replied, his full defensive suite snapping into place out of sheer instinct. "What's the plan?"
"I'm thinking we don't get clever. I kill the chicken, you fight the mage."
Well, that was a little rude. She kills it and he just fights, huh? Marcus let it slide, his enchanted scale-armor floating over from the other room. It strapped itself into place with telekinesis, taking perhaps fifteen seconds in all.
Elly shot him a look, still securing her boots. Marcus smiled, making sure it included a touch of condescension. Served her right. Just because she was a warrior-queen with unknown and possibly unlimited potential didn't mean he couldn't kill some mage creature.
Still, the thought of fighting a Calamity by himself wiped the smile off his face. Elly noticed. "We'll be fine. We don't need to kill either of them. Just buy the army as much time as you can."
Marcus nodded, teleporting both them and Xathar outside when she finished armoring herself. From the keep's roof he could see the entire castle, the Mirranian Royal Army surging like a kicked ants nest.
Thousands of soldiers were marching up the walls, more yet vanishing down the escape tunnel. The latter had the more dangerous job, he knew. The tunnel and its exit had to remain clear, and he doubted the Hounds would be accommodating for either task.
But speaking of the Hounds, there were surprisingly few. Well, there must have been fifty thousand of them at least, but they didn't cover the land like a blanket of snow. In fact, the creatures seemed almost nervous.
That didn't stop them from attacking, of course. So far he'd found nothing that made those ravenous, frenzied beasts stop craving flesh. But it was insight, and to a mage, insight was more precious than gold.
Xathar literally scooped him up, pushing his head under Marcus' legs and throwing him on his back. He only just about managed to keep his balance, glaring at the demon, but Xathar spoke before he could.
"Rejoice, bush mage," the demon thundered, glee in his tone. "You have not properly challenged yourself for many moons. It is the curse of the strong to see their strength wane, but the Dungeon provides! The Calamity will fall to our hooves, and I shall feast on its flesh!"
Elly shook her head. "Well, I guess it's better than cowardice. Go look for them. I doubt the Calamities are working together, but if they are, retreat. I'll keep watch over the Eastfort while you hunt."
"Good luck," Marcus replied after a moment, nodding. "Don't die to a chicken."
"I don't intend to. Go."
Marcus teleported both himself and Xathar outside of the castle, the small clearing they landed in being blessedly free of Hounds. Guards would only get in the way, and even the best of Elly's Life Enhanced pupils wouldn't do much against an opponent like this.
So it was just him, Xathar, and magic. Marcus inhaled, wondering why that filled him with anticipation.
Maybe because there was no one to get in the way. No one he would have to save, or guard, or otherwise ensure the health of. No responsibility but to kill the enemy, the worst outcome being his own death.
It was a simpler, more guilt-free way to fight, and he realized he'd missed it.
Marcus summoned a small flock of Phantom Bats, scattering them liberally and moving on. They would know where he was, but more than that, they would find the Calamity for him. Until then, he would evade the Hounds. Maybe see if he could find some spell to distinguish a Calamity from a regular Champion.
When he found her, he didn't need one. Nor did he end up needing the Phantom Bats, because she was almost frightfully easy to find.
The Hounds feared her, and going where they refused to was easy enough.
That, more than anything, made him shiver. She was just an Elf, full-blooded but normal enough, and there wasn't anything necessarily wrong with her. No second skull, no deformed body, no scarring or wounds. Neither was she particularly pretty, or ugly, or tall.
She just… was. He would have walked straight past her in any market, and the only reason she would stand out was because full-blood Elves hadn't existed on Ablios for centuries.
Then she looked up, straight at him, and smiled. Just smiled. Not in a friendly way, but neither was it malicious. The Hound she had trapped whimpered and ran when she let it go, the Elf fully turning his way.
"Hello, Archmage," the Calamity said, waving mildly. Her voice echoed, and he could recognize a voice-enhancing spell from miles away. "Shall we talk, or would you prefer to start fighting? We don't hear much from the surface during our climb, but we know we don't get a friendly reception. Personally, I blame the Hounds."
Marcus blinked, briefly unsure. Xathar exhaled a great plume of steam. "It lies. Speaking to them is foolish."
It probably was, and it probably would be. Hells, he would probably be betrayed. But what use was power, especially the ability to teleport, if he couldn't take risks? What use was any of this if he refused all attempts to make a better future?
He breathed out a slow breath, nudging Xathar forward.
If it wanted to talk, they would talk.