With her host reduce to a pile of ashes, Night emitted an ear-piercing wail and then Warped away, unable to stand anymore the shame of having her crystal form exposed. The black crystal known as the Black Night reached Baba Yaga’s hut, seeking her family’s comfort.
Unlike Dawn, despite being centuries old, Night still took defeat with the same grace of a spoiled brat.
Balkor was still in Othre, incapable of averting his eyes from the aftermath of Chaos Eater. He could have sworn that Manohar had smiled at him one last time before Night’s scream shattered the god of healing’s decrepit body.
Age had made it so frail that even a gust of wind would have killed Manohar and Night’s temper tantrum had the fury of a storm.
“Your insanity was only matched by your bravery, Manohar. I may be the last man standing, but this victory belongs to you. Thank you.” Balkor gave the puddle of bones and skin a deep bow with his eyes closed.
He didn’t pray for Manohar’s soul because he knew there were no gods listening. Otherwise, they wouldn’t allow people like Night to exist nor things like what happened to his village to take place.
“No, thank you. I haven’t learned so much since my first day of academy. This was a highly instructive experience.” An annoying, familiar voice said.
Manohar came out of his hiding place, behind Night’s heavily enchanted throne.
“When did you…” Balkor was flabbergasted, staring at him with eyes wide open.
“After she hit me in the head, I realized that without a fancy armor I was cannon fodder. So, I had a construct filled with mana and life force take my place while you two were so busy showing off your mad skills. Thanks for the tip about that Life Vision-thingy, by the way.” Manohar cut him short.
“Man, I swear that this time I’ll remember to send a gift basket to Lith. Without his anatomy lessons and his spell, I would never be able to make life-like constructs like that.”
It wasn’t the first time the Mad Professor expressed good resolutions toward Lith, but he would usually forget about them the moment he had a brilliant idea, which happened quite often.
“You dirty son of a… Who’s Lith and since when you can add colors to your light projections?” Balkor asked.
“Lith Verhen, a nice guy. You should have heard about him, he’s got a lot of titles for someone his age, but not so many as us. The magical beasts call him Scourge while the nobles you hate so much call him the harbinger of ruin.
“After surviving his encounter with the Bright Day, the undead refer to him as the blackest knight, whatever that means. As for the colors, since forever. I just never bother adding them because it’s useless.” Manohar said.
“I don’t care about that crap. If you were alive and well, why that body aging trick? I thought you were dead!” Balkor stated his question so that Manohar couldn’t avoid it with more ramblings.
“Well, that was the whole point.” Manohar shrugged. “You thought I was dead and so did Night. If she decided to stay and fight, I wouldn’t have lasted long. I’m only human, whereas she’s immortal and you are kind of Awakened.
“Dying for a mission would’ve been stupid and I don’t deal in stupid. By the way, we better bail before someone comes. I’ve got two more branches of the Undead Courts to take down and you need to rest, old man.” Manohar said while pointing at the hole in the ceiling Supernovas had opened.
The flash had probably been visible for kilometers.
“You used me, putting my life at risk while you pretended to fight by my side. The next time we meet, I will make sure to return the favor.” Balkor laughed at himself.
‘To follow a madman means to be crazier than he is’. The god of death thought.
The Mad Professor used light magic to carve “Manohar was here” on all the walls of the throne room to take credit for the kill while Balkor took one of Salaark’s plumes out of his dimensional item and used its power to go back home.
***
Free country of Lamarth. Beyond the eastern borders of the Gorgon Empire, in the Headquarters of the Master.
Bytra and Xenagrosh were working together in the Forge, crafting a fine piece of equipment as a gift for the Master.
Xenagrosh had purified the Adamant to its utmost limits. The enhanced metal was now physically and magically ten times stronger than its just smelted counterpart. They would have liked to use Davross, but the mightiest metal on Mogar was also the hardest to find.
Xenagrosh took care of the magic circle. Her role was to feed the mystical Forge with massive amounts of world energy and keep it stable for all the duration of the process.
That way, Bytra could focus solely on her personal Forgemastering technique, Spirit Anvil, that had earned her the title of Ruler of the Flames. She would perform the Binding of the mana crystals, the Runesmithing, and the Forgemastering at the same time.
It allowed her to freely manipulate all the single parts of the enchantments, from the pseudo cores’ shape and size to the mana circulatory system’s pattern. Unlike normal Forgemasters, she would bend the metal to her will, so that the materials she used would fit her spells and not the other way around.
It guaranteed her creations to always be perfect and to reach their full potential as she had devised them.
It was a technique that even Master Menadion admired and that Bytra had brought to the next level after she had stolen Menadion’s Fury, the legendary Forgemastering hammer.
Once they were done, Bytra was holding a full suit of armor as thin as silk and yet capable of withstanding the hit of a Guardian.
“Do you think the Master will like it?” Bytra said while the armor shapeshifted into a suit comprised of a white shirt, night blue pants, and jacket.
“Should be mad not to.” Xenagrosh shook her head. “Damn, I want one, too. My armor is crap compared to this one.”
“When we get our hands on enough Adamant and ingredients, sure.” Bytra sighed. The purification process enhanced the metal’s properties, but it also consumed a lot of raw material.
Xenagrosh could use Origin Flames to recycle the Adamant of her current equipment, but she would still need nine times more to have enough to craft another piece like that.
“Why did you make the Master an armor? It’s us who work in the field and take all risks.” Xenagrosh asked.
“How can you say that? The Master took us into their home as daughters and risk their life every day to follow the whims of those stupid Royals. The Master even neglects their research to travel through the Great Countries and make sure the Organization has everything it needs.” Bytra said.
“Yeah, right. A true hero.” Xenagrosh grumbled, looking at the Dominator armor in envy. She liked the Master as well, but a Dragon’s greed was an always-hungry beast.
“If we’re done here, we got work to do. The Master has assigned us a mission, remember?”
“Are you sure you want me to come?” Bytra said. “It would be the first time I go out in the field since I escaped from Laroxya’s mines.
