Everything was a blurry blotch—the miserable people walking in the endless fields of cultivation—poor, sunk in absolute desperation, perhaps aware of their fate, but still unable to escape. I felt their injuries. Despite trying with all my might, my field had to be contracted, stuck to my body. I needed every gram of strength; I had to conserve it. My power was not yet so great. Yet these damned had come to take refuge here, and if they thought that would save them from my wrath, they had better commend their souls! I had come. I was the incarnation of power, of death. I was the son of the great black dragon. They would hear my roar!
I recovered a little sanity. The black shadow that had clouded my eyes was gone. I looked around and realized: I was inside a citadel—more like a palisade, since everything was built with crude masonry bases and the rest with stacked logs. From here, I saw the bodies of my enemies—there were few, barely twenty of them. I thought I remembered quite a few—at least a thousand fleeing. What was happening?
*Careful... *
Who said that?
You were attacked... your mind is not well.
But I felt no impact. Who was addressing me like this?
*Son of the Black King... I cannot keep the conversation going... React! *
Master? Where was everyone? Why was I here?
I will send you power as long as I can... find out what is happening to you. The enemy is surrounding you. You cannot die like this.
Master? I understand. He had no more strength to transmit his thoughts. Well, I thought I was in a fine mess. Something must have happened for me to be here. Twenty enemies were few; perhaps more enemies were coming, but I could not stay here contemplating death. Whether by my hands or not, these beings fell; now it was up to me not to accompany them in their fate.
First, satisfy curiosity. I quickly searched most of the huts—mats and a few weapons were all that lay here. Some walls had carvings—a kind of linear writing. I tried to make sense of the marks when I understood I was looking at grooves that fingers and nails had left in the adobe walls covering these huts. Damn it! I did not even want to think what they spent their time on. I went outside and could see that the sky had darkened... no! What was happening was that dozens of lianas had been stretched, blocking the exit by air. How long had I been inside the huts? In reality, I was under some kind of powerful enchantment.
I searched for weapons, protections—something. All I found was a bowl of dirty water and some rice. I could not afford to despair; it was obvious I was hungry and thirsty. Perhaps this curse was responsible for my lack of appetite, trying to starve me before the enemy forces entered to finish me. I could not allow that—not only for my honor. In my master's words, "honor is a poor armor with a huge hole right in arrogance." So I took the cleanest piece of cloth, filtered the water with it. I used a little magic—not much, I did not want to exhaust myself—but I had to purify the liquid. Indeed, of its nearly four liters, half corresponded to a nauseating slime. I did not know who would drink this. It was not toxic in itself, but it harbored a tremendous amount of disease.
The rice seemed fine—a small fortune. So I left that poor morsel cooking. I knew it would not be enough. But suddenly, I realized—was this not a barracks? Yes, my master told me about these training sites where no one lived except those who prepared. There were no weapons, and the food was terrible—all with the purpose of forging exceptional warriors. So I imagined many vermin would be present, for the purpose of tempering mind and body.
Several rats, a couple of parasites, and something I could not identify but looked a lot like a leech were found. These I roasted over a small wood fire—there was no wood, but a door in pieces would serve. I toasted them while eating my rice. The taste was unpleasant, but nothing I had not tried before. The food had to be consumed with eyes closed, teeth clenched. It tasted worse than it smelled, but I felt its proteins, especially from the leeches. They were green, but that must be from the dragons' blood. I tried eating one raw, but upon biting it, it burst like a wineskin, spilling its liquid. When I lowered my gaze to the green blood and the flames produced a reflection... now I understood. Without more, I went out. Calmly, I searched the remains of the dragons—on their bodies, many runes were written in ink. These were bodies I did not kill—these were the bodies killing me.
I expanded my field—I knew that would exhaust my master, but there was no time. My mind traveled, covering the environment—above and below. There were those enemies—watching me, waiting for me to tire. Below, I found those I sought—right at the entrance gate, a group of ten draconians were projecting their magic, feeding the remains in the center of the palisade—those I had mistaken for victims of my wrath. Without them noticing anything, while I continued eating horrendous meats, I began launching some of the magics Lilith taught me.
Mind Control—only trapped three. Marionette—two more. Mirage—affected them all. So they kept seeing me as an idiot locked in a hut. On the other hand, there were not even five hundred enemies waiting for me outside. I feared it was time to remove the enchantments. None of them would notice. My second field—one I learned from humans—generated an exclusive effect where I was, allowing me to find the magics that held me. There they were. The most basic was Bloodlust—as instructions, not a big deal, limited to driving the territorial center of all beasts, making them incapable of reasoning and throwing them into attack. The second, maintained by eight mages, was called Corrupted Mind. I did not even need to know what it did together. It felt disgusting—something slimy and toxic trying to re-enter my mind. The last was Taunt—written on the bones of the fallen bodies, that magic was fed by their remains, making all those under its effect only able to return again and again to the site, without feeling, thinking, or having access to primary sensations—like hunger or fatigue.
Yet even though for now they did not see me or know I was conscious, there was little I could do. My power could defend me from mental magics, but I had not eaten since who knows when. What I consumed barely served. Yet Taunt could work.
I returned to the remains. Now that I could see them, the enchantment runes were only painted. This made the magic fragile, and—the reflection of some mocking dragon—penetrated the effects and was seen by someone in a leech's bloodstain. So I used my nail to mark them. In the process, I could see that my body had suffered quite a bit of damage—red or purplish areas where stones and probably some spear had been used against me, even now seen thrown where the beings believed I was. I marked the bones with magic absorption runes—not for me, but for the bones, which seemed to serve perfectly as gems. Their storage would activate several of the runes I had prepared.
After all the preparations, I wondered why they were not coming against me yet—large-scale magical attacks, burning the place—I did not know, something more harmful than arrows and stones... of course, it was obvious! Using magic in one of my eyes—I remained determined to economize magic where possible—I checked. It was true; the construction remained the same. But at the back, in what seemed only the rear fence area, there was a better-appearing construction inside—stored food and, to one side, the armory. Well! So they locked me in where they had their provisions? I wondered how many more days they could continue. While I recovered and prepared some surprises for my guests, I wanted some of the strong ones to resist. Would they survive without arms or legs? I certainly wanted to repay the favors they had done me.