Evil

Rather Anticlimactic

A/N: Minor adjustment of Nagoya to Arakan. It'll be explained why Arakan is more fitting than Nagoya, which means famous house.

———

I looked down at the world below. Upon this snowy mountain, the city at the base seemed so tiny, so insignificant.

This magnificent sight was beauty to behold. No matter how much I stared down from this balcony where I stood, as soon as I espied the awe-inspiring violet skies and the warm lights below, just barely visible in the algid snowfall, a sense of tranquil and otherworldliness would fill my soul.

I remembered when my parents first took me to see the cherry blossoms. In bloom full bloom, their beautiful, peaceful sways in the breeze brought to mind many a haiku. Yet, unlike cherry blossoms, this place I now stood—It resembled plum blossoms more.

Cherry blossoms were fleeting, leaving as quickly as they came, ephemeral. Like the brightest of fires, they extinguished the fastest. Plum blossoms bloomed far longer, like a dimmer candle that sustained. The world was one that seemed to be trapped in time, untouched by the corruption of the industrial revolutions of our world.

I gulped softly, a tremor appearing in my heart. I had met an Archbishop of Valek, the Primordial God of Fate. He had shown me a vision. A terrifying one.

A shadowy figure standing atop a blood-soaked mountain, peering down at the lifeless world below, mountains of bones piled up and burnt to ashes, the land scarred by fire, now devoid of its green radiance. With the single shout, the person had sundered the skies and with a single strike, the earth had split open, letting out the monstrosities sealed deep within out.

The world was soon overtaken by bestial monsters, having nothing but bloodlust on their minds, ruled by that tyrannical shadowy figure. The remaining races would fall within weeks of the monsters' uprising.

This would signal Quarvantcoatl (A/N: Pronounced Ka-Vun-Ta-Kohl), a word from the language of the Gods meaning World's Doom.

"Great hero, why the melancholy?" A soft voice sounded behind me.

I turned my head, meeting her gaze. Yue Ai, Princess of the Darleen Kingdom. Her name was ancient elvish, Yue meaning moon and Ai meaning love. She had been the one to accompany me through the past few days, allowing me to get accustomed to the world.

"I told you to call me Arakan, Princess Ai."

"Then you must call me Yue."

"This...Fine. Princess—"

"No princess. Just Yue."

"But—"

"It's just us here, Grea—Ar...Arakan."

I was silent for a moment before answering,"Yue, I fear failure."

"Failure?"

"I'm weak. Hell, I barely survived in that jungle. Had it not been for you summoning me, I'd have been dead meat by now," I let out a tremulous breath,"This evil...I fear I cannot face it. I fear that I cannot meet your expectations."

Her gentle gaze and warm smile made it seem that living up till this point had been worth it,"Failure can be terrifying. It can crippling. But Arakan, you must remember, you have virtue on your side. With just righteousness, many will join your cause. You will not be facing this evil alone. Know this: the Righteous Faction will bend the knee once you can convince them of your power and virtue. Whether you meet my expectations or not, I will whole-heartedly support you."

These words were words I needed to hear. A boost of my self-esteem. I hadn't been the brightest or the strongest growing up but I had prided myself in being more mature than others. While I had a cowardly side, if it meant protecting those I treasured, I wouldn't hesitate to throw my life away.

This world was beautiful. To have been blessed with meeting new friends, I truly was grateful.

———

A pile of strange stones sat before me. A total of fifty-three.

These were mana stones, quintessential for mortals to ascend to become magisters. Each stone commanded a price of a thousand gold. Of course, no one was idiotic enough to sell them for mere mortal currency. To purchase anything related to magic, mana stones were the most basic of currency.

I was very interested in magic. Though it seemed to pale in comparison to raw strength, I saw it as a supplement or support rather than my main means of offence.

Healing, flight, incapacitating, flying—All these were possible through the use of magic.

I had spent the past two weeks studying at the public library on magister ascension. Having spent hours pouring over dusty tomes, I had come to a consensus: As long as one had enough money, becoming a magister was not an issue. The issue was talent. The more talent one had, the fewer the mana stones required. Talents were split from rank 1-10. The ranking system was simple to understand and clear, unlike the rather confusing and befuddling levels of many cultivation novels I had read on earth as a teenager.

A talent of 1-4 meant magic was probably not meant for you but if you want to, go for it.

A talent of 5-6 was the average in mortals.

7-9 were considered elites by the world and people who would definitely become renowned magisters.

As for rank 10 talent, as clichéd as it sounded, they only existed in history books. A natural born rank 10 talent hadn't shown itself in millenniums. While there were ways to raise talent, the side effects were all too severe to warrant it.

Enough of the exposition dump—Back to the mana stones.

To become a magister was simple. Simply hold a mana stone in one's hands until they disintegrated. Every five stones you could hold would correspond to a rank. So five stones would mean rank one, ten stones rank two and so on. As such, even the worst of the worst bottom of the barrel talents required 5,000 gold to foster, let alone a rank 8 or 9.

Holding a stone, it slowly melded into my body.

Shrugging, I took another from the pile. Then another. Then another.

Around an hour later, on the thirty-fifth stone, I couldn't absorb anymore. A rank seven talent. Above average. Good enough for me.

"Strange." I sniffed from the cold. The room was silent, as if nothing had really happened.

Wasn't becoming a magister...Too anticlimactic?