Iris Cole.

The Heart of Vruria, Southern Bodhi Peninsula.

16 Septara, 1492.

05:47.

[Sorcerous Warlock, Augmented Technecromancer: Step 2 - Dark Domains.]

[The path to reaching the potential of your being requires you to build up your armies within your Under and your Shadow Domains by augmenting them with your power, fueled by those sorcerous energies you were reborn into.]

***

Entering the Shadow Realm for the first time was so… strange- different, when compared to my first ascent to Eotrom. Throughout my seven years in heaven, I felt privileged in calling the divine realm my home. I was honored to have built my ring around the center of such a place, despite it being the natural progression of things. I was proud of the work I'd put in up there and remained proud when I witnessed the results from the Mortal Plane. But it never truly felt like home. Not like the realm of shadows had.

Stepping into that dark mirror of the Mortal Plane felt like returning to a home I'd never been to, sending my optics into overdrive as they scanned everything in sight; just as the realm was doing to me. Creatures, large and small, emerged from the darkness to watch and take note of us, but they observed few as much as they did me. Then we went into my dad's shadow. Amun's pit. A starkly empty void when compared to the dreadfully homely expanse of the shadow realm - a sky to his Underworld, contained by those woven roots of death and darkness.

Stepping into that expanse, inverted beneath the Mortal Plane, felt like entering a realm in which I knew I belonged, opening my spirit wholly to allow the unfettered touch of death to flow into my being, ejecting bits of my spirit to make room and fill the realm with my essence. If only to give me something in return.

I had taken my first step down my sorcerous warlock path when I emerged from Zimysta Falls. I emerged victorious from the battle against high matron Hun'ana and felt as if something had activated, almost like an engine, as dictated by the perk's name, but far colder. Dormant until, like my father's ki, I approached death. Only then would the Necrotic Drive activate. Similarly, my augmented flesh seemed to shift with the evolution, albeit post-recovery. My systems grew quieter. Colder. Cold enough to be put into overdrive without the fear of overheating, for my systems were now thermally regulated by Umbra Dynamics. And with the Soul Digitization perk, my means of communicating with and transferring souls into technology was virtually unmatched. And now, upon emerging from those realms of death and darkness and waking from a recovery cycle, I'd taken the next step in merging my augmented body and inherited sorcery. I felt the shadows embracing me, even while sitting under the morning sun, giving me the sense of a druid's cowl resting atop my shoulders, feathered and adorned with black bones befitting a Shadow Shamaness.

I could still feel it- them, rather, the children of the shadow realm - watching from the newly formed pit in my shadow. Waiting for a druid's call to pull their roots into the plane of mortals. Just like I could feel from that chandelier within that temple in the center of that domain of death; though, not through my father's shadow but through mine. A necrotic bubble of digital souls attached to his, befitting the Duchess of Death. And yet, I knew there was more. More, as dictated by the arcane words inscribing themselves before my eyes, and yet something that couldn't yet be verified and wouldn't be verified for some time. But I had faith. Faith that the paths showed to me were true. Faith that the perks I now reconciled with allowed me to touch the void, for my hardware was now cured by it.

In analyzing my next task, I realized it was the perfect means to make full use of my divine military domain. And with the looming Rharian War, I had the perfect opportunity to fill my ranks. Additionally, unlike Amun, I had no need to dedicate so many undead toward developing the skills to make technology. And yet my gratitude for such a sacrifice was immeasurable. And so my day began with a prayer of gratitude. Not just to Amun, streamed to his mind as a packet of data, but to the family he brought me into. Yet my first task came as a digitized hummingbird floating amidst my closed eyelids, its metallic-feathery form beckoning me across the peninsula to the land of aristocratic witches poised next to the sea.

I let my consciousness follow that pull without delay, feeling my mind awake in the Principality of Chaulort a moment later, looking through the augmented eyes of my avian child to gaze upon a putrid lake. Its green waters steamed with the heat of a life form that did not belong in such a place, given the calcified scabs floating immobile atop the water, held in place by a thick film and yet undulating from the ripples of something caught inside.

Tagging the location on the net, I gave the order to collect a sample and reeled my mind in, dragging it across the Rharian border until the bits and bytes of Duke's drones trickled into my stream of consciousness.

I first noticed the tempestuous border formed by the 1st legion before skipping through the smear campaign dancing across the net, spurred forth by the Crown of Eotrom. Though they needn't much influence to look at Rharians in a poor light after Amun spoke to the rulers, the campaign had the effect of those rulers looking at the developing conflict more fearfully. In a way, that still was of benefit. The surging panic only saw more and more people seek new lives in the skies above or the Darkworld below, hoping to escape the ensuing fallout; thereby liberating the surface to become the playground of power my father envisioned.

Rhar would become the biggest playground to date. Fitting, for it was vast. At 8.3 million square kilometers and a population of 11.2 million, it was the third largest country in terms of both area and populous, beating Kasia in terms of area and Vruria in terms of population. Being its own region, the Great Melbenzar Forest began on the western coast of Rhar, near the Great Ligin Bay, stretching southeast for nearly 2,000 kilometers until it came upon the mountain range splitting the peninsula in two. It was a heavily forested peninsula that peered out into the world sea, although not as deeply forested as here in the heart of Vruria. However, akin to this place, it would be where Amun would learn about elven technology; and perhaps mark the start of our second eternal war.

The relatively thin branch of land stretching between those mountains and the Rharian 'bay' marked the border of Edreth Shire; reported to be the land of Youteran customs and the non-elves who abided them. Because of that, I was certain that it would be the birthplace of the Rharian ire we would soon endure; or destroy. Further south was V'eldluiyran County. The home of non-elven ranger conclaves and the widely popular Purple Snake Tavern; a major figure within the joke that was the Rharian economy, also shoehorned into the region. Even further south was the remarkably unremarkable Kelryn County, which only seemed to serve as a buffer for Hagheridiel Territory, sitting beyond its southern borders. The territory hugged the Chaulortian borders, stretching from the western coast to the heart of this half of the peninsula. Left virtually wild and literally lawless, it was the only place those non-elves could subsist on their trade; as things were too regulated in the north and more dangerous in the heart, further east.

The first and largest of those counties was the object of the Bloodmoon's focus - Rauven Land, stretching from the eastern borders of Edreth, V'eldluiyran County, and Hagheridiel and ran down the valley to Kasia's borders, using the mountains as a bulwark against the Kasian pressure coming from the south to make a funnel that connected their lands to Redagh, forming a small border county called Selheidata Land. While the latter was only populated by their denizens, the former was populated with the non-elves the Rharians preferred to leave out of sight and out of mind. At least until the 7th Legion made them remember their presence through their absence. Having begun some time ago, their work was nearing completion, putting the Grandmaster closer to stepping further down the Eternal Path.

While all the intel gathered was appreciated and rewarded, it was not what concerned me, the generals, and our game. Rhar's last region was the apple of my eye. Nagwenshar was the name of Rhar's section of the mountainous region on which the Tri-Point rested, some 2,000 kilometers in diameter. A craggy, unforgiving land of hills, dotted with geysers and geothermal vents that only the heartiest of adventurers could traverse; thus the Isik'iertu Hot Springs at its summit was considered the ultimate triumph of the Bodhi Tree's students. Twice now, it had been saved from catastrophe. First, from Archibald's detonation of his witch hut and second, from the catastrophic arcane territory that formed after Grandmaster's ascension. The first had been reclaimed by nature, forming a lake that Blude claimed before our ascent; the second had been tamed and was now maintained by the Keepers; yet the land was still unforgiving. And so, even more than before, the land was considered completely uninhabitable in all three countries. The sole exception was the spring at its summit, placed just 83 kilometers east of the Rharian border, 119 kilometers north of Chaulort, and between 40 and 49 kilometers away from Kasia, with its borders wrapping around the east to the north.

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While it had no cities, it was filled with the three country's warring factions, with numbers reported to be around 91,000 members of various parties, with varying allegiances to their larger nations.

And so, they and their lands became my target.

Rising from my patch of grass, I summoned Gamp Daedalus to my hand and unfurled its bladed canopy, then raised it high as the rotational bearings within engaged, spinning the blades with increasing speed until a powerful gust lifted my feet from the ground.

Having ascended above the canopy, the bearings ratcheted to a halt as if to transfer their energy into the blades, transforming it into blue radiance on the undersides that off-gassed like dry ice, hissing as it enveloped me in camouflaging mist. Upon sitting in the hook of my giant parasol-spear, my body repeated my summoning act by drawing Apollo's Rein from my head, transforming it from its tiara state to the compound bow it was made to be along the way. My mind, however, seeped into my internal systems to unlock their limiters, birthing a stellar surge of heat from within as my Overclock Mode activated.

While my arcane well poured into my arcane organs, supercharging them beyond their limits, the endless night in the skies above and the deep shadows below cascaded into my frame of their own volition, bathing me with waves of cooling relief and the hyper-focus birthed by an unnatural silence. Setting my sights to the south, I gripped the bowstring of my legendary weapon and felt its touch unleash the cores within my spirit. Molecular magic and Technomancy flowed through my body, merging with the intent in my mind before it poured into the bowstring with my pull, manifesting a notched thruster meant to carry my payload to Rhar - the first stage of this war spell, when combined with the Vehsipane it would burn, manufactured from my arcana and sealed within a shaft, axially feathered with control surfaces to steer it to target.

The soft click of my compound bow locking into place sent another stream of data from my mind - a prayer to the ArcaTech, who transformed it into a divine spell. A key, of sorts, for my druidic powers to open a connection to my Iris above with the arrow point forming before me, filling it with legions of weavers both arachnid and avian; jumping spiders and birds of the microscopic scale, arranged into a degenerate lattice cemented in place by the necrotic aura of my bow.

Distance: 6,814 km. Time to impact: 114 minutes.

***

Amun Za'Darmondiel-Nox.

***

While Iris was above and the Troupe was elsewhere, doing whatever they fancied, the Conditor emerged from the sunken castle with a noticeable pep in their step, eager to begin the day's lessons, and in more ways than one. It was almost as if an unseen light was shining on them; one born from darkness, making the shadows lunge from their unmoving places to hug their feet as they scattered across the clearing, eyes shining with reverence as they locked on to the Necro King's doppelganger, his arms spread as wide as his shit-eating grin.

"The name of today's game is magic circles." He began by pacing across the clearing. "The appropriate circles for each of your summons must be memorized, and you must be able to cast them at a moment's notice, even in the heat of battle. Normally, this would only be needed when summoning a true golem from the other realms. But you are the Legions of the Nox." He grinned wider. "Your unique connections to your scattered powers should broaden your summoning repertoire tremendously. The golems you created yesterday, at least. At most," he shrugged, "perhaps, you can summon your subordinates. Refer to your grimoires for clues."

Oh, I could definitely see that. That, and much more. Perhaps even openings to the Shadow Realm and Underworld like I'd just learned to do. If not, then the creatures, energies, and technologies of their woven worlds. Yet my thoughts were cut short by my great-grandfather's challenging words. "meet my standards in this, and this course could be officially completed by nightfall." That got me grinning. Yet it was tame in comparison to the intrigue gained by his next words.

"The caveat is that you all must carve the appropriate circles and sigils like a Magus. Observe!" Rearing back his fist, Ev condensed the ambient arcana before his knuckles with practiced ease, weaving it into a condensed sigil that sat atop his knuckles like a full-fisted ring. Or a mass of paint-soaked twine, ready and waiting to be thwacked onto a canvas to paint a muralist's picture through the force of his punch.

It surged into the ground like a burst of dragon fire pellets, burning the smooth curves of the sigil and the geometrical figures within in an instant. Though, the only thing it seemed to have summoned was his expectant gaze, facing the Conditor in particular.

While I too practiced, I also catered to his orders in directing the Conditor in experimentation, learning my earlier conjectures weren't so accurate after all. They could summon their golems and subordinates, of course; as could I. But aside from that, they could only summon power. The energy of their woven worlds, summoned and spread to be dispensed into the realms themselves to mutate plants, animals, and materials; grant buffs and auras to people and areas; or even give them a temporary source of limitless energy, similar to when I used the Dead Door Stop.

It was a few hours past noon when the clearing had been burned and reset and singed and reset enough to appease Ev's standards enough to gather everyone around for a final test, as he would call it. Though, it wound up being one more round of experimentation with an ear-catching name.

"True summoning!" He beamed. "Only glyphs! No sigils! See what you get! Wahahaha! As warlocks, you should all get something. Except, perhaps, you." Ev chortled at me.

While I had an idea of who my true summoning would apply to, I held off on trying in favor of watching those most familiar with the process step up to the mantle, hardly surprising anyone with the same creatures they've been summoning or living alongside for months now. Toril's tempest griffon, Thor; Jaimess' Tengu, and Lucia's Pegasus, besides Elijah's mount and Karu, for Opal. While intriguing for Ev, the rest summoned creatures we were all privy to already, and yet familiars that complimented their abilities nicely, like Ed's augmented tungsten ant queen being a veritable Grim Gearhead in her own right or Roheisa's Vulcan Dragonimp falling into the stealthy niche she lacked. Others, like Hogaz's Luna Wolf or Duke's Giant Sky Seal served as the only beings among their forces who could keep pace with them while Peter's Elemental Monkey or Zakira's Blood Angel Moth acted as their proper mirrors, allowing them to continue their wide-reaching tactics while engaging in more focused endeavors.

As Ev promised, such a demonstration concluded the summoning course. Officially. Unofficially, however, the Noctis legions had one final lesson from the Necro King's Clone. Nox Necromancy. Though, in typical Ev fashion, such things were less involved with them learning about necromancy and more involved with an introduction to me granting permission for others to use our wickedness; like learning the alphabet and then being told to write an essay, from the Conditor's perspective; similar to answering a prayer, from mine. No matter if they wished to imbue a corpse with necromancy, commune, or cast a wizard's spell, they were required to make the usual signs and sigils, albeit containing our tree in the center and woven freely in the air from mana. The ensuing word of power yielded a sort of… tug from my shadow that I had to consciously will open, allowing the dark yogurt-covered balls of necrotic fruit to outpour from their magic circles and take heed of their commands.

It was highly inefficient.

Or, it would have been, were they not my warlocks.

***

Varmil Lichenwind.

[Master Paladin, Oath of the White Horn - Step 20.]

[Master Ranger, Arcane Sniper - Step 20.]

***

There were too many unknowns. Too many questions. Questions regarding Telin's Punishment, his so-called Legions, and the Rharian future. Yet, regarding some things, I had answers.

I knew our tasks to teach him, for I bore witness to Telin's intervention. I knew what he had done in Shujen and Zimysta, and the likelihood of what would happen to Rhar. I knew my father's hate for his being and, by Caelarin's grace, understood our God's disdain for his blood. I understood young Zaos' mistake; I knew Ranren, my friend's fate. More importantly, I knew I could not bear the sight of him, for I could not stay my blade against him without breaking my oath. And so I was here, in Rhar's forsaken lands. Patrolling. Watching.

Waiting.

Like every ranger to have come to these lands in the past, I stayed our borders from the red horde and the green tides of Kasia dutifully. I remained wary of the witch's deceit and stoic in the face of dwarven steel, as I'd done over the centuries. And so, when that… thing descended from the skies, I knew it was born of Him.

I sensed it long before it fell. A whistling screech in the wind that told of something foul plummeting with great speed. An arrow, cascading a wake of blue light that rippled into the lands just beyond our border, its descent substantial enough to unearth boulders that crashed on our side.

From the clearing that emerged, I saw strange bugs and birds formed around the impact site, dipping and swerving as they emitted particulate streams of blue lights from their beaks and antennae. Growing, it seemed, black blocks and setting them into neat tiles. It took more time than I was comfortable with to realize it was the Fabrication perk of an artificer being collectively used by these creatures, as it was hours later when the high, buttressed walls of a cathedral had emerged from the crater; though for what purpose I could not discern, and so I patrolled.

And so I waited.

And so I watched a few hours more and, by Caelarin's grace, was rewarded with the arrival of bottom feeders, waddling into the cathedral with arms filled with broken swords and the like and leaving with nothing but metal skulls hanging from their necks, their irises glowing with the same blue radiance that brought such madness to the lip of our border.

And so it began.

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