Viktor didn't need notebooks or hours of preparation to cast spells in the mausoleum. Theodria drew the power of death from this place, and Viktor could do the same. But there was no question as to what the strongest will was there.
Viktor could still feel the evil presence of the Tomb Raider that lingered on the periphery of being aware of him. There was no time to lose. Viktor had to act fast while Theodria was still stunned from the impact of his initial assault.
Viktor, the dark magician, cast a spell using as fuel the negative energy that he had absorbed along with his own inner mana, combining both energies to use black magic, to use Necromancy.
"[Reanimate the dead]"
Hot, sticky blood gushed out of Viktor's nose as the dark power gathering behind his eyes shot out with a second spell. The bitter taste of black bile filled her mouth and she doubled over at the waist in excruciating searing pain
Father Wilkud leaned back in his chair while he rubbed his temples with callused hands, as if that might somehow help clear the fog of uncertainty and malevolent skepticism from his mind.Only then did he realize that he had become so caught up in the story of Brother Mateo that he had leaned forward to listen more closely.Wilkud felt a sudden chill run through him, spasming his frozen muscles and causing his entire body to cower in fear. His feet were numb with cold and the skin on his face felt as if it were taut and clinging to his bones. He had been so engrossed in confession for so long that he hadn't even realized that the fire in the fireplace had gone out.What time was it? Wilkud wondered absently. How long had the tale of the dying priest lasted? The brother must have been talking for many hours. In addition to being chilled to the bone, Wilkud had a raging hunger. Or was it the all-consuming doubt that he now
The bedroom door creaked open and Father Wilkud entered the room where the dying men were to die. The air in the room was stale and heavy with the stench of death. The flame of the single candle sizzled in the sudden draft of air, casting monstrous ghostly shadows that fluttered across the walls. At first Father Wilkud barely made out that someone was huddled under the covers of the small bed. It looked as if one of the brothers had removed his habit and carelessly tossed it on the bed. It wasn't until the seemingly empty garment moved and the wrinkled cloth fell from a head that was little more than skin stretched over a skull, that the priest was certain that someone was there. The figure was frail and looked old, very, very old… His head was completely bald and dotted with freckles, and the only visible hair was thick gray eyebrows. His bony hands had been deformed by some cruel degenerati
The first time I saw a corpse, I was five years old.Well, I guess that's not entirely true. He had seen Old Jack, Black Jack, the town drunk, before that. But it was the first time I had seen the corpse of someone close to me. Now it seems strange to think that he has never been close to someone, but in other times, I must admit, that someone was my mother. She had died of a fever.Did her death affect me deeply? Looking back now, I think it must have been.My sister Karen was only three at the time, and she could barely remember our mother. Our dear mother. But to me, her smiling face is as warm and bright as she was when she was alive; even now, after so many, so many years.It was she who raised us, who took care of us. She was the one who fed us when we were hungry, she comforted us when we were sick or unsafe, she encouraged us when we were sad. She was the one who loved us.<
Viktor sat in his window seat, gaping at the wonders of Genbofen. The vehicle followed the main road into the city and rattled on the cobblestones that paved the streets.In the eighteen years of his life, Viktor had visited cities before, of course. Once or twice a year he had accompanied his father to the main market in Vengenholt to collect alms from the Church of Mortis and to purchase supplies for the Chipped Chapel. But Genbofen was something very different, five times the size of Vengenholt and with a population six times the size. For the young magic student it was a wonderful thing to behold.The houses rose to heights of three, four, and even five stories above the street, and many of the upper floors jutted out beyond the main wall of the buildings. That was not important in the case of the main avenues of the city, but in the secondary streets the floors stood out so much that they transformed the roads into dark tunnels in which
"What did you think of the class?" He heard Viktor ask a great voice next to him. The accent was that of the city of Genbofen itself.Looking back, Viktor saw another student trotting forward to catch up with him as he left the classroom. He appeared to be the same age as Viktor, with a neat head of blond hair and a fuzz of beard on his chin, trimmed in the style of what Viktor believed was the fashion of the imperial capital. He also weighed between five and ten kilos more than Viktor himself. The student clutched to his chest a half-open backpack with scrolls and a quill sticking out."Fascinating. Better than he had expected. "Better than you had hoped for? What do you mean by that? "“Uh… It doesn't matter. It has truly been everything he had hoped it would be. ""Professor Theodria is certainly an excellent speaker, right?""It is obvious t
At the moment, I find it hard to believe that I was ever so impressed by old Professor Theodria. His mind was as closed to new thoughts as an Adamantite strongbox reinforced by enchantments. There was no way that he believed that there could be another way, another way of knowledge far greater and more powerful than his own. Because deep down he was a coward who was afraid of those who dared to question the primitive and antiquated understanding of the world that he considered an irrefutable truth, a way of thinking that he clung with all his might like a dog to a bone. .The school principal was a cowardly and dogmatic fool whose position of power and influence was based on a weak-minded attachment to the knowledge and practices received from others.But looking back, as much as I may despise my memories of Professor Theodria, that is nothing compared to the hatred and contempt I feel, even now, towards that shitty Inquisitor, sow sonic, rotten sewer rat
During weeks of diligent study, Viktor also regularly received letters from his sister Karen about him. They always arrived when a carriage made a postal delivery from Vegenholt, the closest town to Chipped on the main routes through the Empire. Letters that had previously been brought there by some willing farmer who transported his goods to the town to sell.And amid all this hustle and bustle of Viktor's new life, whenever he received a letter from his devoted and loyal sister, it evoked the life he had left behind. Karen's letters kept him up to date on everything that was happening at Chipped and let him know that his sister was toiling there without him, taking care of his father and taking care of her needs. They were a comforting reminder of home. There was never a letter from his father.At first, Viktor dutifully responded to each of Karen's missives, as he had resolved to do, and sent the letters through the city mail company. But
The heavy oak door of the library slammed open, breaking the quiet, musty silence of the place. The room was usually almost sacredly quiet, as if it were a shrine, but this had now been broken by the arrival of the Inquisitor.He had the attitude of a man used to having to get what he wanted by force and being satisfied with it. And, of course, no weak apprentice magician was going to stand in his way.The man was over six feet tall, wore leather riding boots, and although he appeared to have reached middle age, this made him look even stronger rather than detract from his vigor. Viktor saw thick, rope-like muscles taut on the man's neck as he laid eyes on him.Felix's profile was of noble lineage, with a prominent and distinguished jaw, short gray hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were piercing sharp points of sapphire blue, and his teeth were bare as his lips parted in a fierce canine grin. He had the unmistak