Chapter V The Ancient Land of Brythonia and the Enchanting City of Londinium

Londinium, now that's a magical place where folks from Avalon head to become Magicians at the renowned Londinium's Institute of Magic. It's not just the capital of Brythonia; it also holds the ancient history of being Gefjun's kingdom capital. Legend has it that the city was conjured into existence by legendary Wizards who had an unwavering belief in the power of magic. And just to clear things up, the Viceroyalty of Brythonia is the official governing body that looks after the territories falling under Londinium's umbrella. In simple terms, it's the government that oversees both the city and the lands around it, making it a package deal within the Empire of Avalon. This whole shebang is overseen by the Grand Master of the Wizard Academy, currently Viceroy Johannes Geist XIII. Still finding it a bit baffling? Don't worry, it'll click eventually. Trust me, it's a bit of a puzzle, but you'll get the hang of it sooner or later. Haha! Londinium hasn't seen much of a change in its geography over the past few centuries. The Londinium's Institute of Magic is still standing, although with a new head in charge of shaping the students' learning path. The Magic Festival, however, has been off the calendar for quite a while, and nobody really knows why they decided to put the brakes on that tradition. Anyhow, after a solid month of lazing around and soaking in the drinks at my tavern, the Valkyrie Nike made her entrance in my dreams again. You know the drill, same setting—Valhalla hall, her floating presence, and the whole deal. Oh, wait, I almost forgot the crucial part. She dropped a bombshell: "Head to the realm of ancient magic and take down the demon riding with the Nuckelavees, the bloodsucker who's draining life energy from folks, the orc hero gearing up for a man-war, and the other orc trying to dabble in necromancy and start an undead invasion of Londinium." Yep, that's exactly how she laid it out. And I gotta be honest, I hadn't exactly penciled this grand quest into my schedule. Who would've thought that carrying out divine missions could be this darn tricky, huh?

Now, let's talk Londinium's specialties. They've got this epic Blacksmiths' guild that's all about crafting elemental weapons. These guys are basically rock stars in the eyes of everyone on the continent. I swung by there not too long ago and spruced up my Jagdkommando dagger and Artemis bow with some enchantments. The blacksmiths there are a friendly bunch, and they don't gouge you for a ton of coin like some of the ones in Aigleterre and Coreandale tend to do. Oh, and don't forget the Londinium's Institute of Magic—it's right smack in the middle of the city, while the Magician Guild sets up shop on the outskirts. Talk about the perfect spot to stock up on all kinds of magical gear and goodies.

So, the Magician Guild is where the real magic happens, quite literally. These guys are all about training up those promising Neophytes, getting them to grasp the art of wielding magic like pros. And let me tell you, their knack for dishing out those elemental attacks makes them super popular in the market. Whenever folks need some magical mojo, they're the ones they dial.

Now, once these fledgling mages graduate from the academy, they tend to follow one of two paths—the Brythonia School of Wizardry or the Sage Academy, also known as Weisheit Magisch Academy. It's like choosing between chocolate and vanilla, but for magic schools.

Let's get into the meat of it. Magicians, also known as Mages, have got this amazing knack for channeling elemental magic. These folks have spent ages digging into the mysteries of elemental magic and how to bend it to their will. The dedication to this field is so real that they even throw a big shindig every two years called the Magic Festival, right in Londinium, to push the boundaries of magical study.

Now, if you're looking for the heavy hitters, the Brythonia School of Wizardry is where it's at. These folks are like the masterminds of offensive magic. They've got a whole playbook of intense spells that can zap enemies into oblivion. Wizards are basically the artillery unit of the magical world. They're all about laying down the hurt with some risky magic shots and Area of Effect spells that'll make your jaw drop.

But wait, there's more. The icing on the cake is the Sorcerer. These folks have taken mystical and elemental magic to a whole new level. They're like the grandmasters of spellcasting, ready to whip up a storm of power that'll leave you breathless. So yeah, the Magician and the Wizard might be the stepping stones, but the real fireworks are in the spells the Sorcerer masters.

Only someone with a death wish would even think about squaring off against the all-encompassing might of a Sorcerer. Seriously, it's like going up against a magical tornado with a toothpick. And let me tell you, plenty of guild members have taken their talents and graduated to the next level—becoming Warlocks. Now, these Warlocks are a whole different breed compared to Wizards. They've got their eyes set on causing some serious chaos, but not in the straightforward magical kaboom way.

See, Warlocks aren't really into just blasting their enemies with magical fireworks. Nope, they're more about playing mind games and messing with their foes' heads. Imagine throwing a wrench into the gears of your enemy's plans—yeah, that's the Warlock's jam. These folks have mastered a newfangled way of casting magic. They can actually read magical spell books, summon spells into storage, and then whip them out later for an instant spellcasting extravaganza, without all that annoying casting delay. It's like they've got a magical library tucked away in their brains.

But here's where it gets wild. The origins of the Warlocks are a story of adventure and discovery. Picture Wizards heading off to the Neueweltz, to a fairy-like land called Zuttibur, to dive headfirst into some serious magical research. You see, these Zuttibur fairies had a completely unique and different kind of magic system from humans. It's like comparing apples to teleporting oranges.

So, these Wizards, curious as cats, decided to figure out how to incorporate the Zuttibur's spellbinding magic into their own repertoire. They hit the books and did some hardcore magic R&D, and eventually cracked the code. They managed to merge the Zuttibur's style of magic—think wordless, spell-less trickery that throws enemies off their game—into their own magical arsenal. Now, they're all about messing up enemies' plans, causing confusion, and leaving foes scratching their heads in disbelief. Quite the magical evolution, right? So, picture this: Human Wizards, already pretty good with their attack spells, decided to level up their magical game by infusing some of that fairy magic mojo. They were like, "Hey, let's make our magic even more boss against those baddies." And off they went to study fairy magic, thinking they're onto something huge.

But hold up, there was a twist in the tale. You see, when they started dabbling in this fancy fairy magic, they realized there was a bit of a glitch. Turns out, the Human body isn't exactly built for sustaining all that powerful magic for long stretches. It's like trying to run a marathon with fireworks shooting out of your shoes—awesome but painful.

So, they put on their thinking caps and came up with a workaround. Instead of going all-out with a single spell that packs a punch but also knocks you for a loop, they started juggling multiple spells at once. Imagine spinning plates on sticks, except these plates are bursts of magical energy. It's like they traded one massive explosion for a symphony of smaller fireworks.

But guess what? Their little experiment led to something even more epic than they anticipated. As they tinkered with multiple spells, they accidentally stumbled upon a whole new level of magic. It was like hitting the magical jackpot. They called it Maelstrom Oracion—fancy name, right? Basically, it's like a swirling storm of magic that can wipe out foes with finesse.

These Wizards were over the moon about their new magical discovery, and they even gave a special name to those who mastered the art of handling multiple magical circles at once—Infinite-Kreis. Yeah, it sounds grand, but it's just a fancy way of saying "Multi-Circlers." These folks became the backbone of what we now call Warlocks, the crème de la crème of magical practitioners. They've got the skills, the flair, and the know-how to make even the most stubborn magical problems disappear in a puff of awesomeness.

Imagine strolling through Londinium, and guess what? The city's lights are practically glued on, night and day. Why? Well, because this place is like a magical science lab on steroids. There are folks left and right researching and inventing new magic like it's a national pastime.

Now, let's do a quick tour of the neighborhood. Head down south, and you'll hit the Orcadia Territorium and Gobelin Foret, all part of the historical Geistheim. Keep swinging southwest, and you'll run into the Loupbosquet Forest where the Faoladhs, those nature-loving folks, call home. They're under the wing of the March of Loupbosquet, which is in the cool House MaCayenne. And don't even get me started on the Duchy of Bretagne in the same direction—it's ruled by a Warlock, a real magical maven named Ais Olrac.

Now, turn your compass east and southeast, and you'll find yourself in the midst of some fancy Duchies. There's Ballaniga from House Glenford, Southglass repping House Aidensen, Mistville rocking House Slowcaster, and Caknives, where House McKennington holds the reins. These places have some snazzy history, believe me.

Speaking of history, there's this Geistheim Castle that some folks say used to be the playground for gods. But let's not be gullible, shall we? That's just folks getting creative with their storytelling when they're bored out of their minds. But hey, it does sound pretty cool, and it works wonders for tourism. So if you're a savvy traveler looking for a tale to spin, just ask someone about the "ancient gods" hanging out at Geistheim Castle. You might get an eye roll, but at least you'll leave with a snazzy story to share. Ah, memories, you know? Once upon a time, I ran into this old buddy of mine, Xanderson Oalstein. Yeah, you heard me right—Xanderson. I mean, were his parents just lacking a bit of imagination or what? Anyway, I bumped into him right here in this very city. Helped him jog his memory for the lyrics of that tune "At Once, I Fell in Love." Yep, I've got a soft spot for music, even if it veers into the weirdest corners of the playlist. But hey, let's keep that confession between us, alright?

So, there I was, strolling down the main street of Londinium, heading towards the center fountain. And bam, guess who's there? Xanderson, warbling his heart out, all dramatic and poetic.

"When our hearts cannot stand to be alone... Rainstorms and Typhoons, Armageddon that befell the world, Baby, it's still you and me... Remember me, when you're alone... when you're feeling sad...and not used to being alone... Remember me...I can't ever forget you... Yesterday, Now and Forever....I will wait for you...."

Well, I thought it was quite a performance until he realized I was playing the audience. He spots me, a total snooper, lounging by the fountain munching on an apple. Classic me, right?

"Hey there! Decided to join in the audience for my impromptu concert? Don't worry, I've got more than one trick up my musical sleeve," he says, all smooth and friendly.

As for me, I'm just sitting there, crossing my legs, and enjoying my apple. Figured I'd give this show a whirl, considering the magical vibes this fountain emits. Seriously, it's like sipping on a potion of calmness and whimsy. You know, like it's infused with a touch of fairy dust and a sprinkle of magical ecstasy. Trust me, it's way cooler than it sounds. Haha! Oh, right, I was saying how I practically live by that fountain. I mean, I know every face that swings by there. It's practically my second home, you know?

"Hey, I'm just a wandering poet, following the breeze wherever it goes. But you can call me Oalstein, the Rhymester with a yen to entertain. And if you're willing, I'd be honored to regale you with my tales. So, how about it? Ready for a tune that'll sweep away your worries?" he says, all smooth and poetic, as he whips out his trusty ukulele.

I figure, why not? A free song could be a good way to liven things up a bit. "Yeah, play something, Oalstein," I reply. Hey, it's like a mini-concert right by the magical fountain. Can't say no to that.

Turns out, he's pretty thrilled that someone's appreciating his skills. "Finally, someone with taste! You're in for a treat. So, what's your fancy? Name your jam, and I'll play it," he grins.

I throw out the request for something upbeat. And oh boy, did he deliver! He sang all these peppy tunes that just made the whole atmosphere around the fountain feel even more enchanting. Honestly, hanging out with a Rhymester is the ticket when you're up for some chill vibes. These folks are musicians who roll with a hint of magic woven into their songs. They're known to team up with Terpsichoreans to cook up some potent spells. So there he was, strumming and singing, and the whole place just started oozing relaxation.

But then, he takes this dramatic turn. "(Sigh...) Where's the 8th love hiding...? Have you met Gundolp? Nah, you probably haven't yet. (Sigh) I lost the spark, man. The spark that ignited my songs. That one line from 'At Once, I Fell in Love'? It slipped from my mind, and now I'm just...empty. Inspiration's hit the road, my spirit's checked out. If only I could get Gundolp to jog my memory about that 8th love in the song. I mean, I can't even remember the lyrics..." Yeah, a tad melodramatic, right?

I'm over there, having a grand old time with my magical ecstasy, and the guy forgets his own lyrics. Classic. "Hey, wait up. You mean Gundolf the Jester? I actually know that dude! And yeah, I've heard that song. He used to croon it with a Minstrel named Kelmyr Kittens," I chime in, trying to recall. And then it hits me—Kelmyr Kittens once handed me a copy of that very song, penned on parchment and sealed in black. Yep, it had their band's name, the Black Blot, all over it. Those were the days back in Las Cuevas, when we were all regulars at the tavern. I whip out the parchment and show it to him. The surprise on his face is like, "Whoa, you got one too?" Haha, small world, huh?

"Oh! Hmmm? Is that the Black Blot seal? Well, well. Kelmyr Kittens handed me one just like this, but it vanished into thin air somewhere in the Ziggurat desert. Been a fan of their music since way back. Hmm, let me see. Yep, this is the one! Fantastic! This is absolutely incredible! Oh, right, right. Ah! Here it is. I want to show my appreciation. But, what's the right gesture for an adventurer like you? Oh~! I've got just the thing. Okay, get comfy, and let me treat you to another one of my tunes. This one's about a Terpsichorean named Paraluman," he declares as I lean back, ready to soak in another round of magical ecstasy, with a side of musical bliss.

"You remind me of Paraluman, back when I was a kid... She was a real pro on the dance floor, could boogie and even toss in a bit of cha-cha. But her signature move was the EL-Bimboooo. Man, it was hypnotic, thrilling, and heck, my hair was practically standing on end. After my training, I'd swing by to visit her. Whole afternoons spent dancing, and she'd teach me how to shake my body even though I had two left feet... The gramophone starts its sweet melody, and I'd get all stiff and awkward. But with your moves syncing with the beat, and those mesmerizing gazes you'd throw in, oh boy. Yet the best part, oh man, the way you'd dance the EL-Bimbooooo. I just wish I'd had the guts to tell you what I felt, right back then. Not that it was the coolest thing to admit, but hey, that's the truth... After many years, you vanished from my sight. Heard whispers that you became a mom, though no husband in sight. Learned you were scrubbing dishes in Damascus et Cordova. And then the worst of it, the news of your hit-and-run, left for dead on Camelot's streets. All my dreams and hopes just crumbled. That dream of dancing with you again turned into a haunting nightmare. Still, I kept hoping I'd at least touch your hand on that dance floor. I recall how you taught me to love...all over again." I listen, feeling soothed by his melodies, my thoughts clearing up. Man, that's one melancholic tune. Damn.

"So, how are you feeling now? I hope my song managed to lift your spirits. I know it might not be enough to repay you, but for me, this is the best way to show my gratitude." With a slight bow of his head, he stepped away from the fountain. A Rhymester's musical prowess truly is their magical gift. And hey, if they become Jesters and Minstrels, things only get more enchanting. Now, let me delve into some details about them. Jesters are Rhymesters who've taken it up a notch with the blessings of the Valkyries. No matter how dire the situation, the melodies of a Jester will rally you towards a miraculous victory. It might sound like a joke, given their name, but Jesters are no laughing matter on the battlefield. Their ability to boost morale aside, their remarkable archery skills are no joke either. Taught personally by the gods, Jesters are the real deal.

Then we have the Minstrels, those masterful Rhymesters with years of musical journey behind them. Over time, several tales have surfaced about the origins of Minstrels, but none have been truly confirmed as gospel truth. The most widely accepted tale goes something like this: In days of yore, a certain Rhymester composed a plethora of songs during his travels. His enchanting tunes touched the hearts of nearly everyone in the world, and these tunes earned a reputation as the Platinum Album Songs. Other Rhymesters were equally moved, and these Platinum Album Songs quickly gained popularity among their ranks. Those who performed these tunes were dubbed Minstrels, and they traversed the world, dedicating their voices to the Platinum Album Songs. The songs captivated listeners, their mystique growing, especially since the true composer's identity remained shrouded in mystery. Recently, a figure known as "Mr. Minstrel" has appeared, imparting his songs to Rhymesters and Jesters. Who knows, there might be a smidgen of truth to this charming legend. Anyway, after indulging in the nostalgic vibes of this magical city, I headed out after a hearty lunch at the Mugs and Cauldrons Tavern.

Alright, let's dive into today's quest: exploring the subterranean ruins of Gefjun. Now, let me give you a little background on Gefjun. It's this legendary elven kingdom that's been lost in the annals of time, tucked away and guarded by the enigmatic Emerald of Titania. You won't believe how its capital used to be Londinium, but hold onto your curiosity, because I'll spill the beans on that juicy story later in this book. Haha, the suspense is killing me too!

Now, in some other dusty texts and the scattered records of history, this realm was sometimes known as Alfheim or Thralgard. But, seriously, let's be real here – it's all just a bunch of educated guesses without any solid evidence backing it up. Back in ancient days, when humans were just figuring out which end of a stick was safe to hold, those ageless elves were like the kindergarten teachers of survival and language for our species. Now, the problem was that Gefjun's elves had it so good, they didn't see our pesky ambitions coming from a mile away. And what happens next? Men and dwarves team up for a good ol' invasion of Gefjun.

It wasn't pretty – the elven survivors were basically kicked to the curb, scattered all over Midgard, and the kingdom of Gefjun got slammed with the "no entry" sign. The elves are hanging on by a thread now, teetering on the edge of extinction. Since that fateful day, adventurers from every nook and cranny of the world have been on this wild goose chase to track down this mystical place.

Alright, let's journey back to the Age of Gods for a spell. You won't believe who made a rediscovery of Gefjun – none other than Lindsey, a Gangster. I mean, imagine that, a Gangster being the Indiana Jones of elven ruins. But here's the kicker – the entrance to this treasure trove was like some kind of VIP secret, guarded with the intensity of a dragon protecting its hoard. Guess who had the golden ticket to that party? Yep, yours truly. I mean, I cracked that code ages ago, slipped right in under their noses.

So, I did my homework, or in this case, scroll work. I got my hands on some ancient parchment that spilled the beans on Gefjun – everything from A to Z. Call me a treasure hunter if you will, but I had this hunch that Gefjun was sitting on a gold mine of untapped resources and glittering treasures, just waiting to be unearthed. Now, the details on Gefjun are as scarce as hen's teeth, but legend has it that this place had just one ruler to rule 'em all.

And then, cue the entrance of Valkyrie Nike, swooping in with a task fit for a champion. My mission? To take down not one, but two demons riding amongst a herd of Nuckelavees, and another blood-sucking fiend that could give a vampire a run for their money. All signs pointing to a certain someone – the Faceless Wanderer. Picture this: a spirit, once a Baronet, who laid down his life protecting Gefjun, that ancient elven city, from relentless attacks by Geistheim and Orcadia Territorium. But oh boy, this guy's story is like a book with half the pages missing. Why would he betray his own kind? Maybe a sappy romance with a stunning elf maiden – I mean, who knows? It's a mystery that's yet to unravel. Alright, let's dive into the heart of the mystery. Brace yourself, 'cause here's what we've got on this soul-searching adventure. Our pal, the Baronet, his ghostly essence now takes up residence in the underground labyrinth of Torre de Salamanca. I mean, talk about prime real estate for a restless spirit, right? But let's rewind a bit. The poor guy bit the dust when he crossed paths with none other than Butchok, the Orc Warlock. And oh boy, did things get messy. We're talking a face-off that was more gruesome than a bard's tall tale. The Warlock went all in, ripping that Baronet's face right off and then giving him a beating to remember. The end result? Our wandering ghost buddy, faceless and with a big fat grudge.

But here's where it gets even spookier. This spectral wanderer has got a neat trick up its non-existent sleeve – it can take on the appearance of its enemies. Yeah, like a supernatural chameleon. Blame it on the orcish sorcery that's got a tight grip on this whole curse business. And get this, the ghost's got some tag-along companions – Nuckelavees, the stuff of nightmares. And rumor has it, every time you toss and turn in your sleep, you're unknowingly giving birth to one of these Nuckelavees. So, yeah, sweet dreams, right? Alright, hold onto your enchanted hats, because we're about to dive into the tale of the other demon in this spectral show – none other than Vlad Tepes Dracula, the infamous undead wizard with a knack for drama. But don't let that fancy name fool you, he's also got a street moniker – Vladimir Chiroptera. This guy was no ordinary sorcerer; he was a supernatural showstopper, capable of pulling off a laundry list of mystical stunts. Think turning into mist, playing the invisibility card, and generally being a real nightmare to his enemies. And let's not forget his claim to fame as the "impaling mage." Back in the day, he had a thing for sticking orc bodies onto massive stakes, transforming the fields around Londinium into a gruesome gallery of horror. I mean, if you're trying to scare off an invasion, that's certainly one way to do it.

But back to the main event. Vladimir Chiroptera, once the big shot Viceroy of Brythonia, was the mastermind behind summoning the Faceless Wanderer into the realm. This undead wizard had a knack for tapping into the magical mojo of the Torre de Salamanca, creating a direct line to the underground city of Gefjun. His goal? Using the unearthly might of the Faceless Wanderer to fend off the pesky orc invaders during the Man-Orcish Wars. Now, this Faceless Wanderer wasn't just a run-of-the-mill demon. This bad boy absorbed power like it was going out of style, eventually unleashing its pent-up fury on the unsuspecting residents of the city. Talk about a full-blown supernatural bloodbath.

But here's where the plot twist comes in. The wizards and professors of Londinium's Institute of Magic had had enough of this demon's destructive party. So, they got together and decided to slam the door shut on its spectral shenanigans. With a combo of magical might and a touch of strategic sealing, they banished that beast deep underground in Gefjun, locking it away forever. And that, my friend, is how you put a lid on a demonic disaster. Okay, buckle up, because we're about to dive into the juiciest twist in this supernatural saga. Vladimir Chiroptera, the guy who orchestrated the whole demon-summoning extravaganza, got a taste of his own dark medicine. The Evil Lord Czernobog wasn't exactly thrilled with his magical escapades, especially the part where he tapped into some seriously shady and twisted energy. So, Czernobog, not one to let things slide, slapped a curse on Vladimir, turning him into a full-fledged demon. Talk about poetic justice.

Now, Vladimir was no pushover, and regular wizards couldn't just zap him out of existence. Nope, they had to get creative. They sealed him away in the depths of Gefjun, hoping that would be the end of his supernatural spree. But oh, how the tables have turned. Now it's my turn to step onto the stage. With my trusty adventurer hat firmly in place, I ventured into the heart of the Torre de Salamanca, the imposing tower that screams "magic central." It's the hub of the Londinium's Institute of Magic, where you can find more spell books than you can shake a wand at.

After what felt like hours of inspecting every nook and cranny, I stumbled upon an intriguing inscription. No, it didn't ask for a password like a cheeky secret club entrance. Instead, it pointed the way down – like, way down – to a hidden passage. So, I made my way to the basement, specifically level three, and wouldn't you know it, I found myself in a good old-fashioned maze. It's like the universe decided to turn my quest into a real-life puzzle adventure. How's that for a twist in the magical tale? I felt like I had just stepped into one of those ancient adventure tales. You know, the ones where the brave hero faces a labyrinth that's just itching to play tricks on them. So there I was, walking cautiously, trying to remember Lindsey's account of this maze. Slow and steady, I told myself. You never know what kind of surprises these ancient places hold. Booby traps, pitfalls, and who knows what else might be lurking.

Finally, I made it through the twists and turns, and just as I was about to celebrate my victory over the maze, that feeling crept over me. You know the one – like you're being watched by something that's not quite human. I couldn't shake off the eerie sensation, so I got my shield of naga ready and unsheathed my sword, Gramr. And wouldn't you know it, something brushed past me, making my skin crawl and my hair stand on end. Spinning around, I was met with... nothing. Just the feeling of being in a ghost story.

My instincts kicked in, and I channeled my ghost magic, boosting my defenses. And then, out of nowhere, I got a surprise push – like a supernatural nudge. I stumbled but managed to catch my balance, and just in time too. Because right there, in front of me, was the man of the hour – or should I say, the demon of the moment – Vladimir Chiroptera. He flashed me that grin, the kind that makes your blood run cold, and before I could even process what was happening, he shot toward me with the grace of a twisted ballet dancer, claws ready to shred. This was it – my showdown with the undead wizard was about to get real. Well, let me tell you, that moment was like something out of a duel in the grandest of sagas. I raised my shield just in time, blocking his first strike. It was like a clash of titans, but instead of roaring waves, it was the clash of steel on steel. I decided to go on the offensive, striking with Gramr three times in quick succession. But this guy – Vladimir Chiroptera – he wasn't your run-of-the-mill foe. He parried each blow with those deadly claws of his, all while floating gracefully away from my strikes.

Realizing I needed a change of tactics, I thought I'd use my sneaky side to my advantage. I went into hiding mode, ready to sneak up on him for a backstab. But just my luck, he summoned a horde of familiars that swarmed around me, disrupting my invisibility. So much for a surprise attack. I had to think on my feet. I grabbed whatever I could – a handful of stones – and hurled them at him with all my might. But even that didn't faze him. He blocked each stone with those unnaturally sharp claws.

No more messing around. I charged straight at him, sword thrusting forward like a lance. I managed to land a glancing blow on his face, leaving a scar in his pale skin. He retaliated with a claw swipe, but I managed to phase right through it thanks to my ghost property magic. I retreated into a defensive stance, catching my breath and sizing up the situation.

And then, just when I thought things couldn't get any crazier, he unleashed an infernal chaos spell. Fire and shadows twisted and twirled in the air, coming right at me. But I wasn't about to stand there like a sitting duck. I phased through the walls, evading the chaotic onslaught. My mana was running low – this ghost property magic wasn't a walk in the park.

I knew I had to end this. I pulled out my Artemis bow, strafing to the side as I let loose two silver arrows. And wouldn't you know it, the holy property of those arrows did the trick. They landed true, damaging his claws. I took my chance and fired again, this time aiming for his head. He reacted quickly, grabbing the arrow just before it could hit his noggin. But here's the thing – it was all a distraction.

He didn't see me coming. I moved with a speed that even surprised myself. Gramr swept through the air, slicing cleanly through his neck. The head rolled off, but not before he clutched the arrow in his hand, a look of surprise etched onto his face. He crumbled to his knees, headless but still gripping that arrow.

I couldn't help but let out a triumphant laugh. Sure, it was eerie – a head rolling around like it had a mind of its own. But you know, in these situations, you take your victories where you can. And so, the battle was won, and I stood there among the scattered familiars, breathing heavily and marveling at the wild ride that was my life as an adventurer. As I ventured deeper into the maze, the layout brought back memories of the Geistkonigstadt Castle. Now there's a place with some history! The castle belonged to Tsarbatusain Von Borjigin, the former Emperor of Avalon. Picture it – four wings, each with its own story to tell. The second floor was where the emperor held court, making all those royal decrees and whatnot. One wing was all about books, a treasure trove of knowledge. And you'd find two wings designed for some shut-eye, I reckon – bedchambers, if you want to fancy it up.

But don't think it was all glitz and glamour. Down below, you had the dungeons – the real dungeon crawler's dream. A twisty, turny labyrinth of cells and secrets. And let's not forget the Geistheim Kingdom, which broke off from Avalon and set up shop in the ruins of what was once the capital. Those Geistheim warriors, they were like the superheroes of their time, so powerful that folks thought of them as super entities. But here's the twist – what's left of those once-proud citizens is now a bunch of ferocious monsters. They feast on wanderers like us, making their mark on the history of the place in the most terrifying way possible.

And just when you thought the story couldn't get any juicier, there's this strange twist. Adventurers have been reporting explosions ringing out from within the ruins. No one's quite sure what's causing the commotion, but you can bet it's something that would raise a few eyebrows.

Now, the real kicker – all these tales and tidbits are neatly tucked away in the Murder of Crows' treasure trove of knowledge. Imagine a whole library's worth of history and adventure, collected and compiled for the curious like you and me to dive into. That's where I found this gem of a story, right there in the pages of a textbook. It's like the secrets of the past are just waiting to be uncovered, and I'm here for every last thrilling chapter. So there I was, navigating the twists and turns of the maze with caution, when I stumbled upon a creature that seemed like something out of a storybook. You know, the kind you read about in those ancient tomes. This angelic-looking being had quite the reputation – a fallen angel known as the 'Fake Cherubim.' But don't let its innocent facade fool you, my friend. This tricky little cherub has a knack for pretending to bless adventurers, only to stab them in the back when they least expect it. Classic bait and switch, right?

Now, you might be tempted to trust those innocent eyes and those fluttering wings, but heed my warning – this ain't your average cherub. This creature used to be a cupid angel, spreading love among us humans on Midgard. But then a demon came along and corrupted the poor thing. Whispers of wickedness, and suddenly our once-loving cupid was off the rails. Banished from its heavenly abode, this fake cherub was cursed to wander the earth for eternity, never to return.

But let's be real – I don't think this fake cherub cares one bit. Corruption has a way of messing with one's priorities, I suppose. It's like its moral compass got tossed out the window. And yet, despite the corruption, it still holds onto that angelic appearance, luring in unsuspecting folks who think they're in the presence of a divine being. Little do they know, it's all a sham. The fake cherubim swoops in for the attack, taking advantage of their trust.

Well, you see, this time the tables turned. I had my trusty bow and arrow at the ready. A shot to the head, and down it went, tumbling to the ground. And if that weren't enough, a swift kick to the face delivered a message loud and clear – who's the unsuspecting victim now? Oh, how the tables have turned indeed, my friend. Haha!

Picture this: I finally emerged from that last mind-bending maze level, and what greeted my eyes was nothing short of astonishing. It was like stepping into a whole other world – a subterranean forest bathed in an eerie artificial sunlight. Yeah, you heard that right – magic at work, no doubt about it. I took each step with care, adopting my stealthiest Chasewalking mode to avoid any nasty surprises. And let me tell you, the place was teeming with creatures that could give anyone the chills.

First up, these little mischief-makers called demonitos – not exactly the kind you'd invite for tea, let's just say that. Then there were lamias slithering about, along with those cunning fake cherubims, and let's not forget the ghostly entourage with specters and wraiths making their grand appearance. Oh boy, this mission had suddenly escalated from mildly tricky to full-blown challenge mode. But you know me, I never back down from a good challenge.

As I continued my careful traverse through this eerie forest, something caught my eye – a herd of creatures that sent a shiver down my spine. They were Nuckelavees, these ghostly horses that seemed to spring forth from the darkest corners of nightmares. You've probably guessed it by now – they're the trusty steeds of none other than the Faceless Wanderer himself. So, when I spotted this herd, I knew I was getting close to the big player in this eerie tale.

As I moved in for a closer look, little did I know that my stealthy approach hadn't gone unnoticed. A nosy spectator – a pesky ghost – and a whole crew of those deceitful fake cherubims spotted my footprints. Talk about being caught red-handed in a spooky situation. Just when I thought things were getting intriguing, it seems my presence wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. Time to put my skills to the test! And then, as if emerging from the very heart of the shadows, a colossal demonic knight entered the stage. And let me tell you, this wasn't the guy I had been hunting down. I mean, seriously, this couldn't be the Faceless Wanderer, right? I had seen illustrations of this formidable foe in one of those dusty old books back at the Torre de Salamanca. His name? The Blood-Stained Cavalier – ominous much?

At that moment, I felt my hiding spell unravel as if the guy had a sixth sense for pesky adventurers sneaking around. My cover was blown, so I did what any self-respecting warrior would do – I unveiled myself, ready to face whatever unholy mess he was bringing to the party. And trust me, he wasn't alone. The Blood-Stained Cavalier was all about summoning demons like it was some kind of twisted magic show. Demonitos, lamias, fake cherubims – you name it, he summoned it. And just to add to the chaos, the ones that were already lurking around decided to join the fiendish fun. Great, just what I needed – a demon bonanza.

In the midst of this infernal circus, I drew Gramr, that trusty sword of mine that had a bit of a makeover thanks to the blood of Faunus Ubelziege. Now it had this sword-ax combo going on, meaning if I swung it at one unlucky demon, the poor souls within a three-meter radius of the strike would also be in for a not-so-pleasant surprise. And guess what? It was time to let loose. In my head, Kelmyr Kittens' infectious rock music was blaring – hey, I've got a case of last song syndrome, alright?

With a swiftness that'd give even the wind a run for its money, I charged into the fray. Demonitos, lamias, fake cherubims – they all fell like dominoes. My agility, courtesy of that Valkyrian manteau, coupled with the added twist of ghost property magic care of Spukblob, meant these demons were practically playing catch-up to my moves. They couldn't land a scratch on me even if they tried their darnedest.

And as for our big bad Blood-Stained Cavalier? Well, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost – oh wait, he probably had. But in the chaos, he lost sight of me faster than a rabbit in a magic hat. In the blink of an eye, his body was missing a head and his noggin had decided to go on a solo roll across the floor. Yeah, talk about a grand exit. Haha, you can't beat a ghostbuster with a sense of humor, can you? Just as I was about to catch my breath, I was hit by a lightning-fast attack that practically sent me sliding back like a cartoon character. And guess who decided to join the party? The Faceless Wanderer himself, giving me a not-so-warm welcome with his blade. Oh, come on, don't give me that look – I can be cocky sometimes, alright? Haha, who said ghost hunting couldn't have a hint of swagger?

So there I was, locking blades with this relentless demon, his sword striking at me at a pace that made my head spin. Three blows per second? Yeah, like it's just a casual afternoon workout. But hey, I wasn't going down without a fight. I mustered all the parrying skills Gramr and I had learned and gave it my all. With my trusty ghost property magic, I aimed to bolster my defense – you know, just to add an extra layer of 'you can't touch this' to the mix. But let's be real here, even with my best efforts, this dude was giving me a run for my money. He forced me to backslide not just once, not twice, but a whopping five times. And just to spice things up, he decided to call in his pals – a bunch of Nuckelavees. Naturally, I made quick work of them, slicing through those ghostly horse apparitions like a true pro.

Amidst all the chaos, the Faceless Wanderer managed to land a hit on me, or at least he thought so. But what he didn't realize was that I had a little trick up my sleeve – or well, sword, to be precise. The last thing he remembers is, you already know it, his headless body in bended knees while his ghostly head rolled on the ground. With a flick of my wrist and a whispered chant, I enacted the same enchantment ritual that I'd used on Gramr before with Faunus Ubelziege's blood. It absorbed the demon's speed, infusing my blade with that uncanny swiftness. It's like I became the Flash with a sword – now that's a visual, isn't it?

But I wasn't about to stay and savor my victory, oh no. I was hungry – fish soup kind of hungry. With a quick crunch of a moth dustball, I found myself back in the city. Time to take a break, recharge, and mentally prepare for the next round of demon hunting. Two down, two to go. I crunched another moth dustball, this time with thoughts of the Torre de Salamanca swirling in my mind.

By the time I stumbled back to the Mugs and Cauldrons Tavern, the moon was already hanging high in the sky. I decided to treat myself to a hearty bowl of fish soup – you know, to replenish the energy I'd burnt kicking demon butt. As tempting as it was to join the raucous crowd inside and share tales of my heroic escapades, my body was having none of that. I opted to rent a room instead, figuring a soft bed was far more appealing than ale-fueled storytelling.

With a thump, I dropped my belongings on the table next to the bed. It was like a mini treasure trove, an eclectic collection of my gear and memories from the day's adventure. All I wanted to do was flop down on that bed and melt into it. Today had been one heck of a roller coaster ride, and I wasn't sure I had it in me to do it all over again anytime soon.

I collapsed onto the bed, letting out a sigh that was a mix of relief and exhaustion. My body felt like it had been put through a magical blender. With my eyes heavy and my mind slowly unwinding, I gave in to the pull of slumber that was tugging at my eyelids. I mean, let's face it – if there was ever a time to be dead to the world, this was it. As my eyelids fluttered closed, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep...