Chapter 413: The Coming Storm

The Hunters led their commander through the mounting snow, slipping between bare branches and frost-slicked trunks. In the distance, a line of eyes flashed yellow. A pack of wolves stalked through the cold, guarding a kill that stained the white red.

They eyed the Hunters warily, sniffing the air as they passed. Growls rumbled from deep within their chests as their hackles rose when the camouflaged petrifier strode by. They huddled closer together, tails and ears down and haunches low as its scent carried on the wind, sending fear through the nervous pack.

Amusement filled the titanic spawn leader.

These fierce beasts had turned cowardly at its presence, yet they had nothing to fear. They should be grateful, not fearful: were it not for Ravener-spawn, mortals would have long tamed more of the wild places in these lands.

Perhaps, eliminating woodlands where usurpers could hide would better suit—

“We are here,” the lead Hunter suddenly spoke, halting in a snowy clearing. “This is the last place we sensed the usurper.”

The petrifier growled.

There was nothing there. Nothing but impressions in the snow that led to an empty point in space. Had they vanished by mortal magic? Were they spirited away by something else?

Its eye-stalks examined the tracks closely.

Three pairs of mortal footprints…and four cloven hoofprints were all that was to be found.

What to do—

“Leader!” A Hunter called from the distance.

The petrifier’s eye-stalks rose, scanning the trees.

Two Hunters were loping from the south. “We have found the other two usurpers!”

A riot of excitement seized the other Hunters: they bounded through the snow with teeth bared, pouncing and snapping at each other, unfurling razor-sharp claws, slashing at tree trunks as their packmates came near.

“Where are they?” The petrifier growled as the two scouts pressed themselves low before it.

“In a stronghold to the south, leader,” one reported. “It is far, but there is a chance to kill both because they are together, and leave together. We can attack…but…”

“But?” the petrifier’s eye-stalks twitched. It would not do to have another failure so soon.

The other Hunter craned its neck, looking up at their leader. “A source of powerful mana also appears in that place. The usurpers might be protected by its power.”

“And!” The first Hunter crouched on its hands and knees. “They appear and disappear strangely. Sometimes they are in the stronghold, then suddenly vanish. It is confusing.”

“Vanish…” the petrifier looked down at prints that had also disappeared. “The usurper here also vanished.”

Perhaps they were using the same magic.

“We have only ever felt two there, leader,” the second Hunter said. “The third does not seem to go there. But those two rarely move from that position, so an attack should kill them and their allies.”

“Allies? Tell me more.”

By the time the two scouts had given a full report, the petrifier had gone quiet. Its ancient mind churning through the details: a group of powerful mana users. Powerful defences. Watchful sentries. This group did not sound like other mortals from this kingdom: mana-users were rare here.

The Ravener’s task could prove challenging.

An attack on so many spellcasters could turn against them, and a stealth attack could be difficult with that large a number of magic-wielders in one place. Still, there might be more than one way to take these mortals by surprise.

“Prepare to move,” the petrifier commanded. “We will go by the lower ways and strike them where they would least expect an attack.”

The Ravener-spawn moved to the south, ready to deal death to the usurpers and their allies.

“There’s a storm coming,” Theresa said, watching the northern sky as she stepped onto the battlement. “Looks like a rough one too.”

“Yeah.” Alex peered through the falling snow, wiping wet flakes from his beard. “Might be a white-out.”

The morning air was cold in Greymoor, made chillier by a biting wind that cut to the bone. The chill was the sort of wet freeze that clung to the body, seeping into the muscles, making them burn and numbing them at the same time. Across the moors, all was white: a sea of frozen, rolling hills in the distance, only broken by grey towers.

Small beasts had long gone to hibernate, while most birds had flown south to warmer climates. But a long winter’s sleep and warm climates were not for the Generasian Expedition; they had work to do, and now they had a proper place to do it in.

No one could call their base a ‘research camp’ anymore. Camps involved tents and bedrolls, and there wasn't a single sign of cloth tents among the grey stone buildings which had risen in their place.

The research castle was now completed.

Towers and battlements soaring above the snowy hill overlooked miles of landscape. An outer wall—with dozens of guards patrolling parapets between the guard towers—encircled the hill. The main courtyard at Alex’s back was loaded with equipment and other supplies, which even now, was being transported to their permanent homes within the castle’s inner buildings.

The central keep towered above everything, and was the highest watchtower, the last defensive bastion, and the main administration building. Inside, there were enough sleeping quarters to accommodate the entire research team, but nearby, there was also a barracks building offering extra sleeping space for visitors, or ready for use as the research team expanded with time.

The castle’s construction had been a marvel to Alex: if he hadn’t seen how fast the work progressed with his own eyes, he would have believed the compound had been there for centuries. He’d pinched himself the first time he’d seen the castle to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but it was real: a new permanent home in Thameland where extensive research and exploring deep into the mysteries of dungeon cores could take place.

The construction phase wasn’t completely over, yet.

Throughout distant hills, grey stone towers stretched high above the landscape: outposts and watchtowers for keen-eyed sentries and battle mages to keep watch over Greymoor and defend the lands around their fortress. Some of the structures had been completed, but for others, major work was still being done below ground. When the castle was nearing completion, the university had brought in teams of dwarven–stone-engineers, earth mages, and fire witches to construct underground towers and fortresses interlinked by roads buried deep beneath the earth. When the roads were finished, Greymoor would be connected by a network well below ground, allowing researchers to travel to testing grounds and bunkers regardless of the weather, and also making it possible for defenders to quickly get to watchtowers, no matter the conditions outside.

If a tower was compromised, each road leading to it was set—by a series of magical measures—to collapse in a ball of flame through a combination of flame and earth magic. Fire and earth mages had combined their talents, working together on road construction, melting frozen earth, and warping earth and stone. With dwarfcraft and wizardry coming together, the finished roads would be built to stand for a thousand years.

Or, collapse with a command.

They were passageways similar to those within a vast dungeon to serve as pathways for Generasian forces and expedition members, but death-traps for their enemies.

When the network was finally done, reaching testing sites without having to worry about fickle winter weather would be welcomed.

Alex would soon be off to a testing site.

“You have any idea when Professor Jules’ll be calling you?” Theresa asked, drawing her cloak tighter and hugging herself.

She, Claygon, Brutus and Alex stood on the castle’s inner wall high above the hill. Najyah soared through the falling snow, her broad-wings silhouetted against the grey sky. The eagle’s form was magnificent as it cut through the frigid air and despite the cold, she looked content and regal, a testament to how effective Khalik’s warming spell was. Their other companions were at breakfast, fuelling themselves for the day’s work ahead. Today, Prince Khalik, Theresa, Svenia, Hogarth, Grimloch and Thundar would be heading underground to help with the tunnels, while Isolde was in the research building testing a dungeon-core copper-alloy.

As for Alex?

“They’ll be calling me and Carey anytime now.” Alex put his arm around his partner. “She should’ve finished up her last exam and be on her way through the portal soon.”

“Jeez, it’s crazy to think you guys are all done with finals.” The huntress snuggled against his shoulder. “This semester’s flown by. Doesn’t it feel like your first semester was twice as long?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “This one went by in a blink. Between the you-know-what and my sleeping magic, it felt like school was almost easy.”

“I don’t think that’s something to complain about.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth.”

Toward the end of the semester, Alex’s routine was; class, work, spell practise, dancing and reading to Claygon, and prepping things at Shale’s for the next financial step in Operation Grand Summoning Ascension. Most of his studying and reviewing for summoning, blood magic and magical theory, was done at night after a refreshing two hour sleep.

He’d learned the final spell for blood magic—corpse puppet—fairly easily since he'd been through it so intensively while he was working on his body strengthening technique. When Professor Hak had finished grading his final report for the semester, she handed it back with an excellent mark on top of the page, glowing comments scrawled in the margins, and a hard nudge for him to Challenge the Exam for credit and bypass the second semester of first year blood magic so he could move on to a second year course.

He’d eagerly agreed since second semester courses for first years were mostly theory, with a heavy focus on deepening a wizard’s understanding of life energy and its manipulation, information that would basically be a review for him since he’d literally invented a new blood magic technique. Professor Hak had then piled a small mountain of textbooks to study from in his arms, then scheduled the test for shortly after Sigmus; which would be right before he challenged the Exam for Credit for Summoning. After Professor Mangal had seen how well he’d mastered extraplanar language and third-tier summoning spells, she’d also suggested he challenge the exam for credit in her course.

“You have a natural talent for summoning, Alex.” she’d said one day. “And not simply for casting spells: you’ve also excelled in your understanding of otherworldly languages—vocabulary, grammar, accents, musicality, tone and audio-prestidigitation—and you have a real knack for relationship building and negotiation. It’s been a pleasure having you in the class.”

Guilt had hit him when she'd praised his skills since he knew there was nothing natural about his talent for summoning.

His skills were enhanced by the strange power within him, his gift for languages and negotiation were amplified by the Mark. He wasn’t someone who’d completely discount or devalue his own gifts: he’d always been friendly and knew how to make a good impression on people, but that had never extended to having any special natural ability with languages—mortal or otherwise—before now.

But, his life had changed, the Mark and this power were a part of him now—natural or not—so he’d let the guilt go.

“Thanks,” he’d said. “It’s really exciting stuff.”

“It is,” Professor Mangal had agreed. “And it’s rare for me to encourage skipping ahead by challenging an exam—too many students think if they learn a few advanced summoning spells they can jump ahead without mastering the theory—but your understanding is quite comprehensive, and quite advanced. And, holding you back wouldn't serve you well since I’ve always believed that an under-stimulated mind is truly a wasted one.”

She’d then shoved a thick stack of books in his hands.

"Review these and have the information they contain well-in hand before you Challenge the Exam for credit," she'd said, flipping open a calendar on her table. "We'll want you to have completed the exam before the second semester begins so you have time to sign up for an advanced second year summoning course. How about..." Mangal had scanned different dates on the calendar. "The third day after Sigmus."

"Uh," he'd said. "I'm challenging the exam for credit for Professor Hak's blood magic class then."

"Ah, well then you can do it the next day," she'd said. "Are you free?"

"Uh, yeah, but isn't that a little close?"

"Oh come now, I'm sure you can handle it. A young man of your talents should not be afraid of a couple of exams, Alex."

He'd grudgingly agreed, and that was how his 'exam season' was extended.

'I really shouldn't complain, though,' he thought. 'My exams went well, and it's not like they were super hard.'

Things were a far cry from last year and his struggles with Professor Ram's force magic class. He hadn’t taken force magic for a while, but he used to have nightmares where the angry, bearded, professor was glaring at him as he towered above the foot of his bed with a midterm in his hand and force missiles pointed straight at him.

Thankfully, Ram’s classes weren’t on his schedule this year and hopefully, they never would be again…unless some sort of petty revenge was involved.

His final reports for the expedition—and his second year alchemy and the Art of the Wizard in combat credits—were back. Thankfully, he'd aced both papers.

All in all, it had been a really good semester, but coursework and exams seemed insignificant compared with other things going on in his life. He was doing what he’d wanted to do for most of his life—learn magic, but dungeon cores, ancient monsters and divine conspiracies weighed a lot heavier on his mind than school did.

There was also the trip to the hells with Baelin to think about.

In preparation, he'd already mastered three new summoning spells: summon flicker dog, summon formiac ant, and summon hell-boar, and all three were a good start for being on the road to mastering third-tier summoning spells.

'What I really need is greater force armour, though,' he thought. 'Having some full body protection's going to be key for fighting monsters as tough as Zonon-In was. Who knows what other demons might be lurking about. But, maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll have some peace for a while.'

Within the earth, the petrifier stopped. "Where are these usurpers?" it asked its Hunters.

"Right above us," the lead Hunter said, peering through pitch-blackness to the stone ceiling overhead. "There was only one, now the second has joined them."

"Good," the petrifier reached deep into its jaws and drew out the pair of dungeon cores the Ravener had handed it.

"Then we begin."