Phantom Knight

My vassals returned to the Tower shortly after our show and tell session. Leaving me in the peaceful silence of the dead zone for the remainder of the night.

I relocated to a denser pocket of the forest the moment their silhouettes passed over the hill and immediately stripped. Felt the cold bite of the hard snow under my bare feet for the first time in this life as I changed into my new clothes.

Distant as it was.

Like the formal suit I'd been wearing up till now, the pants resized to a snug fit around my waist and ankles the moment I slipped them on. And so too did my boots. Sealing my lower body in a warm, silky embrace that blissfully brushed against my skin with the gentle breeze.

With two wraps of the sash around my waist, I paused. Hesitated before I tied the knot to stare down and inspect the magical mark sprawling across my torso.

As it was years ago, it was a replica of the royal symbol I'd seen all throughout the Empire. It was almost as if the void energy within myself had swelled and erupted like a fault line. Leaving dark and abyssal scars on my skin that began at either side of my hips and rose in an arc. Tracing my ribcage to meet at a point around my diaphragm. And from my navel, an abyssal trunk rose to the base of my sternum and sprouted. Spread into the weaving, waving willow branches that reached as high as my collarbones and stretched as wide as my shoulders.

Far larger and more noticeable than the majority of other marks out there, I assumed.

Putting such thoughts aside. I tied off the sash, tucked my daggers into the fabric, and began training in earnest. Immediately, I noticed a fine weight to the weapons as I deftly swung them at my doppelganger. Executing a short combo before I stepped into the Shadowfell and took a swing at the air above a rotted tree.

With the passing of the blade came a ripple that shook the umbral air. And not much of anything else. Once I returned to the physical plane, however, I saw a deep gash splitting the face of the otherwise healthy tree that mirrored the one in the Fell.

With the completion of my little test, I continued with little pause for a few hours before switching weapons and continuing on for a few more before moving on to practice my mana skin until mental exhaustion began to set in. At which time I retired to the Tower.

***

After a day's good sleep, I emerged a few hours before sundown and descended through the floors to give some updates to the tinkerers.

In short, I felt bad. With Toril's new gear, one of their bills was practically obsolete.

On top of that, I was aware that the competition was flawed from the very start and that dire changes needed to be made. Though that wasn't to say that the situation couldn't be salvaged.

We were only a week in, after all.

I went with the easiest method and went straight to their assigned workshop to write the changes on the blackboard for all to see whenever they decided to continue working.

The first and simplest change was that they were now to build a single gauntlet for Toril's right arm.

And the other changes consisted of more bills, deadlines, rounds, and eliminations.

I needed people capable of making a wide variety of things for me. Everything from grandfather clocks to jewelry. Anything between weapons and bridges. Dress clothes to armor. Thus, I deemed it necessary that they be tested on multiple things throughout the four years we were here.

The deadline for Toril's gauntlets would be the first day of the new year. At which time they'd be assessed and a quarter of the tinkerers would be eliminated from the competition. Next year, they'd receive new bills in each of the same categories; albeit in different styles. Hopefully expanding and refining their techniques with the passing of each year, until there were only six or so paragons to choose from.

With that, came the matter of deciding on future bills as I drifted through the floors. I had ideas for what I'd use for next year and a bit for the year after. Beyond that, however, it was fair game.

Though I had more than enough time to decide.

For now, my priority was learning what I could about this horrid armor my Grandfather forced upon me. So I appeared before his desk a few hours before our scheduled time.

"I see you've taken a liking to your new wear." Grandpa Lich heavily sighed. His eyes still locked onto whatever he was reading.

"Most of it." I shrugged. "I'm not too sold on the armor if I'm being honest."

"It is necessary, Boy." His eyes snapped to me as he coldly spat. "A demon will rip you apart without it, regardless of your magical prowess. Besides." He grunted. Rose from his seat and stepped around his wide desk to place a bear paw of a hand on my shoulder. "This is the key to unlocking the full potential of your Leech Hand. I'm sure you've come to understand, Amun." He leaned close. Nearly touching his massive eye to mine. "The true nature behind the spell?"

"I do." I backed away a bit and nodded. "Constantly being broken and healed will strengthen my bones a bit, but not enough to allow me to use more strength than my body can hold without breaking. That's an inevitability. Our training is meant to get me used to the pain that comes with using False Strength. And this is supposed to negate that, I assume?" I grasped the helmet from my shadow and held it up to chest height.

It resembled a skull made of my own death mana. Waving pillars like the raging Flames of Moil rose from the brow like a crown. Complete with a crest of half-hourglass-shaped horns extending from the sides like ears. "Will I even be able to move in this?" I turned back to him.

"It is." He grimly nodded and made a 'gimme' motion towards my shadow. "And you will."

I pulled out the rest of the suit before looking at him expectantly.

He in turn, admirably eyed it for a good long moment before looking back to me and declaring. "This Abyssal Armor is imbued with more enchantments than all your other weapons and clothes combined. Leech Hand. Shadow Step. Wraith Form and its counterpart. The same three enchantments found within your mask, and more. Above them all, are three essential enchantments.

"First and most importantly." Grandpa raised a sole finger. "This armor is powered by a Soul Drive. Without at least one soul in the core, you'll have to support the entirety of its weight. Though even you will still be able to carry it without one." He condescendingly chuckled. "It's made of a material called Mithral. A non-ferrous metal mined from deep underground. It's as durable as adamantine and far lighter than steel, on top of being magically resistant. With the proper soul." He grinned. "Carrying it will be effortless. With ten average souls, the armor will be on par with your average athlete in terms of strength. With twenty, you'll enter the peak of human potential. At forty, you will reach that potential and begin stepping into the superhuman realm."

"So in other words, this is the painless route." I openly conjectured. "I can achieve the same result in my physical body. Only I'd break myself with every punch thrown."

"Precisely." Grandpa Lich nodded. "The seconds you spend healing could mean the difference between life and death. And it's much too early for you to become a living lich."

"A what?" I blinked.

"I digress." He gestured back to the armor. "Imprint it with your mana."

After scrutinizingly squinting at him for a long moment, I did as told and placed my free hand on the upper portion of the set before bleeding mana through my arm.

The moment the darkness touched the metal, my mana began flowing into the recesses of the suit. Filling it with the solid umbral substance and ripping the curved plates from my hands. Leaving them suspended in midair before me.

Followed in tune by the legs, helmet, and spurred boots. Stacking atop one another with loud clicks and clanks until an armored doppelganger was left standing in my face.

"This is the second essential enchantment, Phantom Knight. A second doppelganger, essentially. Capable of physical attacks." Grandpa Lich paused to grip the helm from the phantom's shoulders, leaving a pit of darkness atop the neck that slowly leaked shade into the surrounding environment. "Try it on."

I took the helmet from my Grandfather's hand without a word and began to pull it over my head. Only for it to dissolve into thin air and reform around my head naught a second later. And so too did the first half of the set. Dragging my arms and torso down just before greaves formed around my legs, forcing a bend in the knee.

In the end. I felt… like a tank. Nigh-invulnerable and dreadfully slow. Even once powered by a soul or ten, I was unsure of how agile and flexible I'd remain while wearing this thing.

And then there was the matter of how it looked.

Thankfully, however, taking it off was a similar endeavor as donning it. The entire thing just… disappeared in a mist of shadow at will. Leaving me with a small sense of relief, at least.

"Ghost Shroud." Grandpa declared as he handed me the seax that completed the set. "The set is never truly taken off. It is merely transferred to the Shadowfell, where it covers your body at all times. Protecting you from cross-dimensional attacks and allowing the armor to be summoned in an instant."

"And this?" I held up the blade. Only for it to disappear into thin air as well.

"Death's Key." He proudly declared. Forcing a subtle groan from the depths of my bowels. "Capable of one extremely important thing." He held up a finger, completely ignoring my displeasure. "As its name implies, this blade can open a door to the Under. A portal. Used for finding the souls of corpses you find."

"I see." I slowly nodded. Paused for a few moments to let it all soak in, as there was a lot. Daggers, spears, coats, armor, and dozens upon dozens of enchantments. So many in fact, that hardly knew if I'd be able to use them all. I definitely saw myself using my robes as common wear from now on, complete with the daggers. The Reaper could and would be used when appropriate. But even then, I was first and foremost, a sorcerer. Magic was my forte. Martial combat was only a contingency for me. Something to keep in the back pocket at all times.

Something to be used in the rare event of my magic failing me.

This armor would be too, I decided. Something used sparingly. To prevent a life-threatening injury, at best.

"I'm fascinated by the enchantments and everything." I eventually sighed. "But, I'm still not sold on the armor. I can't see myself using it in battle. And I'm neither a Death nor Void Knight."

Any sense of amusement or friendliness left his face in that instant and was replaced with a lip-curling sneer aimed directly at me. "You seem to be misunderstanding this, Amun." He growled. "Your garb is used for battles. For combat. But this." He jabbed his meaty finger into my ribs. "This. Is for war. For conquest. You will not survive without it.

"Here!" He suddenly took hold of my wrist and pulled. Ringing his office with resounding cracks as he pivoted on his heels and flung me towards the window with a bloodcurdling roar. Disappearing him, the office and Tower itself into the tumbling distance.

His voice trailed back to me as I flew. "Let me show you what war is!"