The water sounded placid, almost soporific. But there it was—a small sea creature driven by the current of a water spring, right where I was. It was poor food, but the water was fresh. Moreover, it was all I could reach before the draining of my magic began.
I had not changed my clothes. My armor looked imposing, but without the magical properties of the runes on my body, this armor weighed horribly—not to mention my weapons. The worst part was that I had been about to reach him—so close that even now, if I pricked up my ears, I could hear the shouts and movements of the army gathered in those barracks.
I knew he was not dead—at least, I was fully convinced of that. It was not that I really had proof, but the draconians—for lack of a better name—kept coming. It took me almost three days to get here, then two days preparing enchantments and even some concentrated ice and fire spheres, enclosed in one-centimeter capsules, with such intense climate variations that they would eliminate at least one of them. Just as I was about to attack, sure I would die in battle—lacking power for large-scale enchantments and only seeking to create an escape route for my apprentice—his magic began. I felt as if my body was being emptied. All the time, I had managed to give him as much magic as I could, hoping he would not kill me in the process. But at that moment, I felt as if he was determined to leave me dry. Haltingly, I turned my silent run into a conscientious stagger—one kilometer south of their camp, there was a small mountain. From there, one of the streams feeding the lake gave a hole about three meters deep. When I got there, it was dark—completely blind, without magic to maintain my eyes or heightened senses. As best I could, I gathered several branches and attached them to my cloak. With that, I sealed the entrance. I was prepared for events like this. I had in my possession several vials of the serum from the elven forest mushrooms. With them, I prepared the first brew—enough to recover half my current power. But as soon as I began drinking them, as soon as the effect began, I felt my life slipping away—I barely recovered anything and lost it again.
I slept a lot, but it only served to sharpen my fatigue. Light had not yet returned to my gaze. I drank copiously from that spring—it was fresh and very nutritious, but I would not gain power that way. I approached the first spring, which had generated a small pond of about ten liters. There, I felt a little life—perhaps minuscule fish. My stomach reminded me that I still lacked food, but I was not going to use up my food reserves like that. I apologized to them for what I was about to do, but I had no choice. After much searching in the folds of my cloak, I found the marked leather bag. There, I had some mushroom spores. I had decided not to use them, as their nature changes beings, gives them magical abilities as they grow. Unfortunately, some are not cooperative. But I needed nutrients, magic. I had only two vials left of the solution that restored Lilian so many years ago. Her power would be very useful here, but I could not take her out of the Dark Forest—not with all the problems she faced daily. So I gave life to the spores. They began to develop. They would not be as effective as those that receive sunlight. I hoped at least they would keep me alive.
Two weeks had passed. The mushrooms had fulfilled their function—at least they provided ways to replenish part of my magic. The innocent creatures living there began to evolve, and some of them were like crustaceans—at least they crunched. Every day, their shells grew harder. I feared one of them would have to be fought in combat—at least he was not so fast that it would happen soon. My magic vials were almost gone. I knew I used them as an emergency measure. But if he needed magic so much as to consume more than usual, it meant I could not refuse. I had only one dose left. But now, drinking this water, I satisfied part of my needs and his. I relieved myself at the bottom of the cave, buried it with dust, and washed near the stream's exit. There were no moments of guilt or regret—this was what I had to do. At least I knew his magic worked, and it was defensive magic, so from what I understood, he was not weakened to the point where his life was truly in danger. So for now, I had the rest I did not deserve. I better use it thinking of new strategies. I would not be able to face the enemy if I went out foolishly.
The month had ended today. I woke with tears. In my mind, the day I tried to enter the Chaos Marks was still alive:
Lilith and Chapatrueno opposed it; the others did too, but those two were the ones I respected most. Back then, I had no real dealings with the Red or White mages, but I was prepared. My armor was reinforced by Chapatrueno. He said the person who created this piece was incredible. I did not tell him who, but it opened many suspicions about why I was the only dwarf on that isle. Lilith taught me magic she had learned from her Whitecap friend. His enchantments were very complicated—nothing compared to what the elves taught me. They had terrible but ineffective magics, with overwhelming power consumption. The ones I learned were more controlled but did not resemble enchantments that eliminated risks without killing the attacker. But they would not be so useful where I was going—there, everyone had to die.
The entrance to the Chaos Marks was in the Crystal Plains—a place I helped create. There, there were nothing but enemies. The production of corrupt creatures was impressive—endless, the elf spies told me. But I had the firm intention of reaching the House of Forbidden Leaves, where the portal remained open. I went alone, thinking I could leave the world defended in case something happened.
Things happened. The smallest beasts were nothing. I did not use magic on them. My sword spun from one end to the other—bodies flew, dozens, hundreds, thousands of small animals. The only magical protection was on my legs; there, an aura of heat eliminated all creatures that tried to surprise me from underground.
*A kilometer from the entrance came those that were no longer so simple—muscle tanks, hiding sharp-clawed enemies in their folds. Here began those that were protected—nothing serious yet, just a little more force in my sword. But the thin ones were agile, so I activated a cold field two meters in diameter. There, everyone who entered found themselves at 0 degrees; no matter how fast, the cold affected them, and it did not consume magic in large quantities.*
At five hundred meters, it became dangerous—small things the size of my hand, all teeth, claws, and poison. They could not penetrate my armor, but if many tried, it would eventually give way. There, the cold field changed to a cutting wind—gusts at the edge of my field that cut anyone who approached. They were not very penetrating for enemies with scales as hard as iron, but that was what the sword was for. It had runes carved along the blade, activated by centrifugal force—they exploded. Huge chunks of flesh flew. I knew there were still thousands surrounding me, that the path I left was closed by enemies that kept appearing. I had considered it.
Heat magic affected many areas but was designed to affect armies. When I used it, I began to see their expressions. Outside of me, everyone had a dehydration level at forty degrees—not advisable to raise the temperature further. Let the magic make the cold concentrate on me, heating the rest of the field—it consumed magic, but more heat would make me use magic to retain that cold, counterproductive. I was a hundred meters away; I could see the entrance to the temple dedicated to the elves' ego—there, everything seemed fine.
The attacks came from hundreds of places, mounted on three-meter-high creatures. Some rather small mages began launching magical attacks. I resisted as much as I could under the circumstances. They missed a lot and hit my enemies, but they were far from my reach. Magic could not be wasted, so I did not attack them from where I was. I let the heat wear them down. Yet how many mages could Morgana produce? Thousands. The dead passed millions, and more kept coming. When, with considerable effort, I reached where many of the mages lay dying from the heat, I saw the reality. The last meters had corrupt human mages and from their kingdom—all were passing magic to at least a hundred of them. I knew the enchantment; I had used it, and it looked at least as powerful as the one I used back then. Flee? I could not—not with all those enemies. Yes, they would block part of the first Explosion, but what about the second? The third? There, my magic would help me survive the fifth. My armor would withstand another two. Then only oblivion. My teleportation enchantment was fast but not fast enough—I needed at least a minute, and they were already ready.
The first thing I heard was the stone—it whistled. It weighed at least a ton. It fell before them, killing a great many enemies. Then the laughter—laughter of death, hatred, and madness. Behind them came a power that many had learned to fear: the Queen of the Succubi. Her magic coiled around everyone's bodies, binding them, frightening them, and annihilating the weakest. The moment I saw her, I knew where the stone came from, but no—it was not my friend the Deathbringer. It was a bearded mage. He looked young but had a very good level. His worn gray cloak placed him as one of Lilith's friends. By the time they reached where I was, my magic took us out of there. I never tried again. I saw the expression of exhaustion—theirs, mine. They had suffered much to reach me. I still did not have the necessary strength.
After that, I spent many days, months even, looking for a solution. It was evident that those mages were there because they were the strongest. Entering through that portal was out of the question. But then came the crisis of the Black Dragon, and there I saw the opportunity—the same one I had been slowly forging at the cost of absolute exhaustion, but I knew it would come.
I opened my eyes. I did not know what day it was, but I could see again. Without more, my power was there—small as the speck that compares to sunlight, but I was no longer defenseless. I saw again and could feel. Something was there that had not been before. If I had to describe it, it would be a mesh—points surrounding the lake, generating a single line falling on my little apprentice. It seemed the swamp villagers had done what I hoped—they were creating a path of bones, a field that protected them but also one that fed magic to the young Black Dragon. Without realizing it, by not needing so much magic from me, he began to leave a little for me to survive and fight.
I tore out the mushrooms that had grown quite a bit—they would be difficult to chew. In the pond, a couple of amphibious animals watched me. They were small, the size of frogs, but faint lines of color identified them as magical creatures. I resisted eliminating them. I hoped they could find life in this place. With all due respect, I left them in peace and removed the bush protections. They were so poorly made that I did not know how they had not found me. But when I went outside, I saw it... an army.
An enormous concentration of camps—thousands of these draconians, all waiting for the attack order. I projected myself inside and could see him. Apparently, he had captured all the mages who were attacking him—that was why no one attacked. They had not given the order. He looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw him asking for forgiveness. I supposed he knew what would happen. I could only comfort him—he had to be strong, and I needed him. If I ever sought to end Morgana, he would be the only one who could help me. He made a grimace, almost a smile. The battle was about to begin. I bit one of the mushrooms—tough as bark, it filled my stomach. I felt ready for battle. I would test the modifications of my weapons, my strength, my determination. The moment the palisade exploded, I charged against them. Let us see what they are capable of!