The Council

The stranger who had attacked John finally reached his destination: the kingdom he served. His dark cloak billowed behind him as he descended from the sky, the wind tugging at his clothes before he landed on the familiar cobblestones of the place he called home. This kingdom was vast, stretching as far as the eye could see, with its medieval-style houses lining the streets and its population numbering in the billions. Despite its immense size, the kingdom radiated a warmth, a sense of belonging, this was where everyone he loved lived.

As he walked through the bustling streets, he was greeted with smiles and cheerful "welcome backs" from those who recognized him. It was clear he was well-known and respected here. Children ran by, waving enthusiastically, while shopkeepers nodded in acknowledgment. The stranger offered polite smiles in return, though his mind was elsewhere.

The weight of the day pressed on him, but the sight of familiar faces, friends, family, and those who cared about him, eased some of his tension. Still, as he neared the massive castle that loomed at the heart of the city, a knot of nervousness tightened in his chest. He had never stood before the council, and the thought of doing so now left him uneasy.

He slowed his steps as he approached the towering entrance of the castle. Guards in polished armour lined the pathway, their eyes sharp and unyielding. As he reached the grand doorway, one of the guards stepped forward, blocking his path. The guard was dressed similarly to him, though his uniform was strikingly red, a mark of his rank.

"State your name and business," the guard said, his tone firm and authoritative. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, eyes watchful.

The stranger straightened, trying to quell the nervous energy swirling inside him. He knew this was just the beginning, before long, he would face the council, and with them, the weight of his actions.

"My name is Valion, and I'm here to report to the council," he said, his voice steady, though a hint of tension lingered beneath the formality.

The guard, a stoic figure clad in polished armor, gave him a curt nod before turning to lead the way. Their footsteps echoed through the grand hallway, the air heavy with silence. Valion's unease grew with each step, his thoughts a swirl of doubt and anticipation. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his mind racing. What if I stumble over my words? What if I fail to meet their expectations?

The walk felt interminable, each second stretching into an eternity. Then, finally, they stopped. The sight before him made Valion's breath catch in his throat.

The door was colossal, towering above him like a sentinel of the cosmos. Intricate carvings of constellations and celestial beings shimmered faintly, as if imbued with a magic older than time itself. The air around it seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. For a moment, Valion could only stare, awestruck.

The guard stepped aside, his expression impassive, and gave Valion a brief nod. The silent gesture was clear: It's your time.

Summoning his courage, Valion stepped forward and placed both hands against the door. He pushed, but it wouldn't budge. Not even an inch. A faint chuckle of disbelief escaped his lips. "Heavier than I thought," he murmured under his breath, stepping back to collect himself.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The weight of the task ahead loomed over him, but he pushed the doubt aside. With renewed focus, Valion pressed his hands against the door again. This time, the ancient wood seemed to respond, groaning as it swung open with surprising ease.

As the massive doors parted, a wave of light spilled into the hallway, revealing the grandeur of the council chamber within. A large, circular table dominated the room, its surface gleaming like polished obsidian. Ten chairs encircled it, each occupied by a figure cloaked in authority. The council members.

Their gazes turned toward him, piercing and unreadable. Valion stepped inside, his heartbeat a drumbeat in his chest, and the doors whispered shut behind him.

"Tell us, did you face John in battle?" one of them asked, his voice firm and commanding, carrying the weight of both curiosity and authority.

Valion swallowed hard before speaking, his tone steady but tinged with respect. "Yes, I did."

"So, how did the battle go? I assume you lost," a voice interjected, carrying a mix of disappointment and mockery.

"Of course he lost," another chimed in, this one a towering man clad in heavy armor that gleamed dully in the chamber's light. "He'd need the strength of the Eternal Beings themselves to defeat John."

"Do not compare that monster to the Eternal Beings, Thragmor," a sharp voice cut through the room. It belonged to Zyrenith , the council's most powerful magic user. She stood with a commanding presence, her cosmic-patterned robes shimmering faintly, as though woven from the very fabric of the stars.

"Zyrenith is right," another voice added, calm and measured. The speaker's armor gleamed with an otherworldly radiance, evoking the majesty of a divine knight. "Monsters should not be likened to gods."

Thragmor turned toward the knight, his heavy steps reverberating through the room. His hand moved to grip the hilt of the enormous sword strapped to his back. "And what are you going to do about it, Valebane?" he growled, his voice low and threatening.

"You know you can't keep up with me in a fight," Valebane said, his voice steady but calm, a quiet confidence behind the words. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, fingers brushing the well-worn leather grip.

Thragmor opened his mouth, a sharp retort already forming on his tongue, but before he could speak, another voice cut in.

"Actually," Valion said, raising a hand like a student admitting guilt, "I killed him."

The words hung awkwardly in the air.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Every pair of eyes turned toward Valion, disbelief etched into their faces as they tried to process the words that had just left his mouth. For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

Then, a single sound broke the tension.

A deep, booming laugh erupted from Thragmor, shaking the room like rolling thunder. "This kid has jokes," he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. One by one, the others joined in, their laughter filling the chamber until it bounced off the stone walls, a cascade of mockery.

"He sure does," Valebane chuckled, his hand easing off the hilt of his sword. A wry grin spread across his weathered face.

Valion stood frozen in place, his hands clenching at his sides as the laughter rippled around him. His voice, barely audible, slipped out. "I'm telling the truth."

The laughter eventually subsided, leaving only scattered chuckles and the occasional smirk. Zyrenith leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Valion. "Kid," she said, her tone not entirely cruel but firm enough to drive the point home, "if we can't beat him, then you don't stand a chance. You wouldn't even lay a finger on him."

Thragmor pushed off the wall and strolled back to his seat, shaking his head. "Let me guess," he said, settling into his chair and fixing Valion with a knowing look. "You fired a blast at him, and then, poof, he disappeared. Am I right?"

Valion's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes," he stammered, his voice laced with confusion. "But… how did you know?"

Valebane grin widened, a mix of pity and grim satisfaction spreading across his face. "Because," he said, leaning forward, his voice heavy with unspoken stories, "you're not the first poor soul this kingdom has sent after him."

A weighted pause filled the room, his words sinking in before he added, almost as an afterthought, "So, he's still alive."

In a secluded town, hidden from the outside world by an ethereal veil, John stood at the edge of a clearing, overseeing a group of eager children. The sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light on their excited faces as they waited for his instructions.

"Alright, kids," John began, holding up a small, smooth rock. "Your next task is to smash a hundred rocks with these." He handed each child a small stone, their faces a mix of curiosity and determination. "Now, go!"

The children scattered, quickly finding their targets. The sound of rocks clinking against larger stones filled the air as they got to work. John, satisfied, turned his attention to a boy lingering nearby.

Arcos stood apart from the group, watching the other kids chip away at their tasks. His brows knit together in confusion. He shifted his weight, hesitant, before finally stepping closer.

"Uh, John?" Arcos asked, his voice small but clear. "What am I supposed to do?"

John looked down at him with a thoughtful expression. "First, we need to figure out what magical type you have."

"Magical type?" Arcos repeated, his head tilting slightly as the words puzzled him.

"Yes," John said with a patient nod. "Magic comes from one main energy source, Aetherium. It's the essence of everything. Without it, nothing could exist." He crouched to Arcos's eye level, his voice steady as he explained. "But within Aetherium, there are different branches, or types, of magic. Some of the most common are Runic, Heka, Awen, Siddhis, Kido, Juju, and Theourgia. And each of those has even more specialized subclasses."

Arcos blinked, trying to process everything. His lips moved soundlessly as he repeated the unfamiliar words to himself.

John continued, gesturing with his hands to illustrate. "There are also types of magic tied to specific beings. Druids use Druidic magic, for example, drawing power from nature. Some orcs can bring anything they imagine into existence. Dragons have their own unique magical forms, and celestial beings pull their power from the cosmos."

Arcos's head was spinning, but he swallowed hard and nodded, determined to keep up. "So… everyone has their own kind of magic?" he asked, his voice hesitant but curious.

"Exactly," John said with a smile. "Now, let's see which type you have." 

Arcos's eyes sparkled with anticipation, his excitement barely contained as he leaned forward. "Okay, so how do I find out what kind of magic I have?" he asked, his words rushing out in a single breath.

John smirked at the younger man's impatience, shaking his head slightly. "Just stand still," he instructed, stepping closer.

Arcos straightened, trying to tamp down his eagerness. John placed a hand firmly on Arcos's chest, his touch steady and deliberate. Closing his eyes, John's expression grew serious as he focused. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence stretching into an eternity.

Finally, John's eyes fluttered open. A faint, almost mischievous smile played on his lips as he took a step back, studying Arcos with a new intensity. "Interesting," he murmured, his tone low and thoughtful.

Arcos blinked, the suspense driving him to the edge. "What? What is it? What magic can I use?" His voice brimmed with curiosity, tinged with just a hint of impatience.

John's smile widened slightly. "It seems you can use Aetherium," he said, his voice steady but laced with intrigue.