Monument to Glory
Trapped in the rock, your consciousness remained as dormant as your body. From time to time you would stir briefly, hearing Rin’s soft voice in a dream. She told you of the things she did, of the people lost, of the changes in the land. What she did, in particular, was so amazingly rash that you were thankful it was all but dreams. These were dreams that were frequent at the start, but became rarer with each instance, until finally it stopped. It was only later, when you began to regain real awareness, as your mind became the first to shed the stone, that you realized that what you had heard was mostly true.
That Aria had never been found ever since the teleport mishap.
That while blaming you, Arlin had left the village in search of her, in an acrimonious parting.
That Methuss had become wary of Grahferde and stepped up patrols and its military presence in the region.
That Petze had been killed by Methussian soldiers while leading her scouts.
That Rin had then taken revenge for the dead goblins, causing a chain reaction of events that culminated in her conquering a vast swath of Methuss all the way up to Ontoglia in a matter of mere months, thanks to the nigh endless swarm of golems powered by a mysterious source of energy that had been uncovered in the ancient ruins far below the village.
That Dijeh had recognized Zayan’s handiwork with the golems, and launched an invasion of their own to retake their most precious treasure.
In short, things were a mess.
Up in the highest room of what you recognize as the gray prison – its architecture is distinctive enough – under an open ceiling, you stand upon a circular pedestal carved from marble. The room is circular, with a large desk hewn from a strange, dull material placed immediately in front of you. Behind the desk are the skeletal remains of a man in a moth-eaten leather chair, whose identity is a mystery to you. Equally dull and gray slabs seem to have sprouted from the desk, attached to it by fragile-looking necks. You are not sure, but somehow you have the impression that the tower’s presence in Grahferde has something to do with those slabs. Perhaps it was another dream.
Even though you are awake, your consciousness is still unstable. You spend countless long months unable to move, your thoughts fading in and out of existence. Dust collects throughout the room, and besides the birds who come and perch and make a nuisance of themselves all over your hands, you see no other living thing.
When that changes, however, it changes rather dramatically.
The entire tower shudders with the deafening bang of an explosion. There are shouts in the distance. Roars of battle, screams of death. There is a fight going on. Have the humans finally breached the tower? What was Rin doing? Was she so incompetent as to allow her fortress to fall? You check your line of thought and recall what it is that she was doing when you first met her, and decide that the answer is yes.
There is a growing unease in your chest, a feeling of discomfort. Where is she? You are certain now that she had been talking… no, reporting to you all through your rocky slumber, but she had not appeared since. You are unsure whether it was due to a busy schedule, or if something had actually happened to her.
The doors to the chamber burst open. A goblin staggers in. You recognize the bulky shoulders, the white-tinged fur and the aged but commanding glare. Boss. Leader of the goblins. He is dressed in full armour, a suit of custom-made chainmail dangling to his thighs. The mail is broken in places, and arrows have pierced his back. Leaking a trail of blood, he marches proudly into the room, gazing raptly at you.
He wheezes something in his goblin tongue, something you cannot comprehend at the moment.
Three people follow Boss into the room. A man, and two women. From the triumphant look on their young faces, and the shiny nature of their clearly magical armour and arms, you get the feeling that they are heroes. The particular sort of hero that you could never become. So those, too, existed in this world. They point their weapons at Boss, shouting out a challenge.
Whirling around, he snarls and protectively places himself between the heroes and you, wielding his battle-axe.
Your strength is still gathering. Soon you will be able to move, but not now. So you are only able to watch as the short fight ends brutally, and Boss staggers backwards with a mortal wound in his chest. But he refuses to fall, backing himself up against your pedestal, axe firmly held in a death-grip, even as he breathes his last.
It takes a while before the heroes get over their wariness and begin to approach Boss’s corpse.
And it is then that your strength chooses to fully return, then that the spell fully fades. As the stone cracks and crumbles and flakes away, and you are finally set free, you are beset by the thought that having your freedom return at such a dramatic moment seemed to be firmly in the tastes of certain goddesses you had the displeasure of being acquainted with. Could the touch of the Fates extend even to another world?
The thought puts you in an even rougher mood.
You step down from the pedestal, your wings flexing powerfully to allow you to float your way to the floor. Landing in between the heroes and Boss’s corpse, you glance at them. Raising an arm, you wag a finger at the intruders.
“Look, I’m in a bad mood, so if you would kindly leave and clean up after yourselves, I’ll let you off with just monetary compensation,” you say.
They flinch, appearing to take it as a threat. The man is fearfully babbling at you with sword raised. Magic is gathering in the blade. Of course, since you have not activated Universal Translation, they can’t be expected to understand your language. Just as well. You can’t say you didn’t warn them.
Shouting, the man stretches back and unleashes a powerful slash, dense with energy. At his flanks, the two women aim their staves at you and chant in harmony. A glowing glyph expands around you, creating a powerful field of magic that roots you to the spot and would leave you vulnerable to his attack. You can tell that they are all strong warriors; not on par with you and your adventuring companions, of course, but still strong enough to have taken down a Demon General or two.
What a good opportunity to test out your new spell. Those months of idleness had concentrated your mind wonderfully, and though it is an experience you would never like to repeat again, it has served you well.
***
A. You unleash Terradyne, a earth-variant of your trusty Gigadyne, and smash the entire chamber with a gigantic pillar of rock. Although your best affinity will always be with lightning, you are now able to perform other elemental variations of the spell, granting it even more versatility in combat.
B. You use Soulscythe, summoning an enormous, ethereal scythe that can reap an entire battlefield of enemies in the blink of an eye. It is a magic that can turn its victims into your skeletal minions, but for now it is enough to merely slice apart the glyph and the incoming energy wave.
C. You cast Black Dispel, generating a powerful gravitational field that will draw in the restraining glyph, the energy slice, and probably everything else in the tower if you don’t control the spell well enough.
D. You sweep your hand outwards and use Reality Tear. True enough to its name, it will slash a tear in the fabric of reality. It is a spell that will cut through anything regardless of its physical or magical resistance, including mundane spells and attacks.
***
As for the people who so rudely attacked you, you decide to:
A. Kill them all. You are in no mood for their antics.
B. You have no use for the man, but you will spare the women.
C. Spare them all. It will be easier to get them to cooperate if you lure them with hope.
as everyone else when this sort of thing happens. I'm sure we'll get that pet sphere any day, now.
I see you took a page of Dragon Quest V. Too bad Erd lacks friends/comrades that would go that far (except Rin, maybe).
