Chapter 28

When the sun stood high overhead, a man emerged from between the trees of the mountain.

Black hair in disarray, gray eyes, and only one arm. A sword rested across his back.

It was Dumaine.

He stopped, gazing down the slope. In the distance, a small village appeared in his sight.

“After killing the traitors, what then? Heh-heh.”

Dumaine muttered as he walked, his steps measured and steady.

[Destruction.]

The voice whispered in his mind.

Dumaine halted suddenly, lowering himself to sit among the grass. The green blades rose up to his ankles, and here and there, purple flowers peeked out timidly between them.

Whoosh.

A cool breeze swept across the land, stirring the grass and tugging at his black hair. But Dumaine ignored it, speaking aloud in a voice that made the air itself tremble.

“Ha-ha-ha! Destruction?”

The vibration faded quickly.

Then, a small insect caught his eye. He pinched it lightly between his fingers.

[Yes. The destruction of the continent.]

As he focused the ruinous aura into his fingertip, the tiny bug swelled grotesquely, its body filling with black energy. In moments, it burst, splattering sticky fluid across his fingers.

Dumaine lifted his hand, gazing at the mess with a grin.

“Feels good. Heh-heh.”

Whoosh.

The wind returned, stronger than before, cool enough to make his hair whip violently around his face.

[How does it feel?]

The voice echoed once again in his mind, heard by Dumaine alone. And of course, he answered—because it was what he wanted as well.

“Heh. Look around you. Isn’t it too quiet?”

He muttered while glancing about. And indeed, the world was silent. Not merely quiet—still.

As he rose to his feet, his lips curled, as though suppressing laughter.

“And you know… heh-heh. Isn’t it too peaceful? Heh-heh-heh!”

Above him, white clouds and blue sky blended into a flawless canvas, birds wheeling gracefully across it. Just as he said—it was peaceful.

Silent, peaceful, beautiful.

Dumaine began walking again, step by step toward the village. Neither fast nor slow, but steady.

“So quiet, so peaceful. Heh-heh-heh. Perfect for destruction, isn’t it? Heh-heh-heh!”

[Yes. From now on, you are the Destroyer.]

Dumaine froze mid-step, then burst into wild laughter.

“Destroyer? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes. Good.”

The village that had seemed so far away now lay only five minutes ahead. The sun dipped low in the sky.

Grinning at the sight, Dumaine reached back, gripped the sword with his left hand, and let his arm fall slack. The blade’s tip dragged along the earth as he walked.

Screech.

The sound of steel scraping against the ground carried on the breeze, a shrill promise of what was to come.

Screech.

“I, Dumaine… will become the Destroyer.”

His final laugh rose like a blade piercing the sky.

Behind him, three tracks scarred the earth—two from his feet, and one where the sword dragged against the ground.

Screech.

That unpleasant grinding sound echoed in every direction. Before long, the villagers would hear it too.

To become an Absolute Being, I first need power. Power strong enough to reign over everything that exists. And I need knowledge. If I rule without knowing anything, I’ll only suffer. There may be other requirements, but these two matter most: power and knowledge.¹

I already have some power, and I can continue to build it.

But knowledge?

I have that too.

The practical knowledge I once received from a man named Jang Dubaek is useful—something I can apply to daily life. The other knowledge I gained from the mage Rizard, however, is different. And here lies the problem.

What I learned from Jang Dubaek is valuable, endlessly practical.

But what I learned from Rizard?

All of it is ancient lore.

What I need now is knowledge of the present.

I thought about where I could gain both current and historical knowledge, and the answer came quickly:

The Academy.

If I attend the Academy, I can acquire the knowledge I need while sharpening my power. And if I’m fortunate, I might even find insights beyond anything I’ve imagined.

At the Academy, I’ll learn useful things; as a mercenary, I’ll gather experience. That’s the plan. Both of them.

Creak.

I opened the door, stepped inside, and sat cross-legged beside the lone bed, lost in thought. I thought further. I haven’t yet taken action, but I’ll need subordinates—hands and feet to move with me.

The end of fate is unknowable. I can only reach it by doing something, and I’d rather not wait too long to see where it leads.

If I become the Absolute One and reign over this continent, that alone will be the summit of achievement for a human.

And perhaps that will bring me closer to the end of fate. If not, then I still must act, no matter what.

I’ll need followers. Strong ones. If I make subordinates, I’ll train them until they’re strong enough to at least protect themselves, no matter who the enemy is. Before I go to the Academy, I must gather those subordinates. First them, then the Academy. I already have the Death Knights, but that won’t be enough.

And in time, I’ll have to place every race of the Arkanis Continent beneath my feet.
Even dragons. Not yet, but someday…

The outline of my path is starting to take shape. The details I’ll decide once I wake again.

Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes.

It was time to walk a new road.

When I opened my eyes, I didn’t know how many days had passed.

Through meditation, I had reflected on myself, straightened my scattered heart.

The destiny of the Force Lead—that was what they had said would guide me.

Even if I acted on my own will, I would still walk that path.

No matter what I did, it would all flow toward that fate. Whether swiftly or in circles—that was the only difference.

What lay at the end of fate?

To find the answer, I sought the Sage once more.

“What lies at the end of fate?”

“There is conquest.”

“Has there been a Force Lead who achieved conquest?”

“Yes. Long ago. A very long time ago…”

“That’s enough for me.”

“So, you’ve accepted your fate?”

“Even if I don’t accept it, it’s still my fate. What difference does it make? It’s simply the difference between what I know and what I don’t.”

Across the table, the Sage’s beard twitched as though alive.

“What will you do now?”

“I’ll see the end of fate. To do that, I’ll climb to the very peak of what a single person can achieve.”

The Sage nodded as if he had expected my answer all along. Was he unsurprised because he had foreseen this decision? How long had I even been here?

My thoughts were broken by his voice.

“So you mean to reign.”

“That’s right.”

“If you need me, come find me anytime.”

It sounded almost as though he knew I would return. So what if he did?

“Thank you—for everything.”

I offered gratitude one last time.

“I only did what was mine to do. Now, don’t you have something of your own to accomplish?”

As he rose from his seat, his voice lingered in the chamber. Was it time to leave? However long I had stayed here, it felt like an eternity.

I stood as well and walked toward the door I had first entered. I remembered how much trouble I had opening it before. Thinking back on it now, I could only laugh at myself.

I pushed the door open and stepped out.

Clunk.

The door closed behind, and with it, Kark’s figure vanished completely.

The one who was watching him was Sage Zydrint. He moved toward another door, opening it as his thoughts stirred.

“It’s done. The most important task is finished. Good.”

The door opened with a soft creak, revealing a space filled wall to wall with books. The Sage walked toward the curtained section, then stopped. He turned instead toward the shelves and pulled free a thin volume.

Flipping through a few pages, he plucked out a sheet hidden within. It was yellowed, frayed with age, clearly ancient. Yet the writing upon it was sharp and vivid, as though freshly inked.

“Force Lead…”

He mouthed the words, eyes trailing across the lines. This was a page passed down only to Sages, preserved for thousands of years.

Halfway through, he returned the thin book to its place and stepped toward the wall where a candle burned.

“He must be the last. Without a doubt.”

So he believed. If his prophecy was true, no more Force Leads would ever be born.

Fwoosh.

He touched the page to the flame. Instantly, fire spread.

In a moment—it was over. The fire leapt to the page at once.

But something was strange. Anything that burns leaves a trace. Paper turns black. Flesh leaves ash.

This page left nothing.

Oblivion.

That was the only word for it. Where the fire passed, there was no mark, no smoke, no smell.

The Sage loosened his grip, letting the page fall.

He pulled aside the curtain and stepped inside, intent once more on reading.

Rustle.

The page, burning slowly yet leaving no trace, drifted downward, swaying weakly before disappearing.

It burned silently. And then it was gone.

End of Part 1.