SCROLL FRAGMENT FIVE “The original texts placed the event somewhere around late summer or early fall, nearly 1,000 years ago. The armies met in a final battle at the Ridernan plains. Demon vs Human. The texts claimed that the Demon army was led by the Demon Lord Lilith. Her army marched from the South-east, crossing the Longsil river through the Heron bridge. While the Human army was led by the Purgers, Sir Rodevak de Grook, and Sir Windsor of Riderna, under the command of the Kings. The true number of the Demon army is unknown, but the number of their dead counted after the war was 49,000, and that was not counting the dead that the Demons themselves dragged off the field. The Human army numbered 150,000 soldiers, of which only 200 were Purger Knights, with the common militia making up the bulk of the army. The battle lasted for three months, and the general consensus from all the accounts of that war was the fact that the Humans of the nameless continent were on the very

Gilgal spotted the Knights at the same time they spotted him, but the wide smile that split his face only appeared with the presence of Wrenz de Otolan. Nur noticed this and a pang of something wicked echoed in her heart. As for the Master, his back was still turned to them, but she could feel his happiness. It was in the shaking of his shoulders. The mildness of the wind. That always surprised her: the fact that Gilgal had a good – if not great – relationship with all the Masters in the Castle, despite his notable flaw.Gilgal hopped off Harvey’s back and jogged the last few meters to the waiting arms of the old gatekeeper. Wrenz held him at arm’s length as though to get a better look at him, and Nur felt the temperature rise again.“Neat and tidy!” Wrenz praised proudly. Gilgal’s chuckle rang out, followed by his familiar reply, “For the old man at the gate, how else can I appear?”Wrenz chuckled. But his mirth suddenly vanished and he said seriously, “You’ve changed.”Nur’s

SCROLL FRAGMENT EIGHT “Many years have passed since the sundering. I walk this world now, and can hardly remember it. I can feel that the chaos energy we tried to harness is now a barrier separating our world into three parts. Attempting to forcefully cross them nearly destroyed me. You now exist in a section of this new world that I do not presently have access to, imposing these long centuries of exile upon me. We should have paid heed to the ancient writings, it seems. But how can this have happened, though? There is no precedent for this! But no matter. What’s done is done, as Father often said. I’ve begun a study of this new world, and I believe I’ll make it a mission of mine to know everything I can about it. There is an opportunity here despite the sundering, or rather because of it. After a few centuries, I can feel the Humans already adapting to this new reality as though the past never happened. Some of them have even come up with a completely false explanation for w

As students went, Gilgal was confident in saying that his best set had been the group before Nur’s batch. What he had to work with now couldn’t be compared with them at all. It was just a pity that no single member of that batch was still alive. That made him ponder some times, what exactly was the reason why he was still alive? Why were there even older Purgers still alive? Because skill alone couldn’t be the reason, and if it was, then none of his students should have ever died. Luck had to have a part to play in it also, and it wouldn’t be a small part, either. But luck wasn’t quantifiable, nor was it reliable, so he still stuck to skill and experience when teaching. And those aspects couldn’t be ignored either when considering the reasons for his continued survival. Skill and experience had saved him after all, 300 years ago in Poles.Now, he stood still with watchful eyes overlooking the young Squits in their drills. Very early that morning he’d reported to the task hall

Yvaine paused in her journaling with a frown. The groan had come again. The sound had accompanied her for three days now, and it was getting to the point where she could no longer stand it. Smudging the sharpened tip of her pencil on the page, she spun around in her stool to regard the men stirring awake on her bed. Calling it a bed was an overstatement. It was just a wooden platform padded full with heavy mattress. The room was a shabby little cube with a door and two windows to allow egress and ventilation. Those windows and doors had mostly stayed shut since she paid for the room three days ago. The room had only the table, stool and the bed as the only furniture available, and she’d promptly transformed the table and whatever space was left on the floors to a disheveled library. The matron of the inn looked at her with a decidedly unfriendly expression on her face whenever she came in and saw the state of the room.Yvaine still couldn’t understand which part was more of an