Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story, Kirill Klevanski [great reads .TXT] 📗

followed after he had devoured Hu-Chin’s heart. If not for the staff... Well, thank the Gods and the Spirits that there was only one reptilian standing here now. “Then everything fell into place. At first, I thought that I should keep the staff from you, so I ran. I ran for eight years, hiding in every nook and corner of this planet... But then I realized.”

“What?”

More than anything, Ash wanted to turn around and look at the Stumps in the eye. But he couldn’t. He was terrified that he’d see contempt and fear on their faces. Fear even more than contempt.

“There’s a price for everything,” Ash whispered mournfully. He stood still for a while, looking into the depths of his own soul, and when he looked out, it was as if he was transformed. His face became stern, his back straightened, and his features seemed sharper. “You cursed the castle, confused Ser Arlun, blackmailed Anna’Bre, and all this for the sake of correcting your own mistake.”

“Missstake?” He laughed. “You usssed to be different, general. Once upon a time, people ran upon hearing the sssound of the war drummsss. And now?”

Racker outstretched his right hand and cast a spell. The staff vibrated, flew into the air, and landed on his scaly palm. Lightning flashed and thunder shook the walls. But, surprisingly, everything inside the citadel was calm. As soon as the wood touched the scales, Racker began to change. He became a foot shorter, and his shoulders narrowed to their original width. The emerald scales retracted into his skin, and his pupils began to widen.

Soon, an ordinary-looking man of about thirty stood on the pedestal. The scars remained, stretching from the right temple of his bald head, and disappearing right near the edge of his black beard and mustache. The scarlet armor had shrunk enough to fit snugly around the new figure, but the frightening glow of the amber eyes remained.

Racker breathed a sigh of relief and ran his fingers over his right cheek.

“Finally,” he whispered, voice once again normal. “Finally! You damned demon! I’ve missed the warmth of my own body... And other bodies...”

Amber eyes slid over Ash’s shoulder. The mage was sure that Racker was looking and Alice and Mary. Lari’s teeth gritted faintly, but even he was unable to break free from the magic chains that held him pinned down.

“And now—”

There was a yelp of pain and a clatter. Racker had let go of the staff and was looking at the black burn on his palm. The red-hot staff rolled on the floor, and flew to Ash. It froze in front of him as if apologizing for the momentary betrayal. The mage smiled warmly and called for it in his mind. The staff showered him with scarlet sparks and took its place in his hand.

“Demon!” Racker exclaimed, and then spoke a Word. The burn mark on his hand dissolved in a whirl of black flakes. Mages who carried the name of fire in their hearts could always be distinguished from the rest by the fact that they could control any of its forms — even wounds.

“Take out your weapon,” Ash said.

Racker straightened up and held out his hand. His old staff, topped with a spike tempered in the blood of his victims, flew out of the wall, smashing through granite and metal. The two mages faced each other.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment,” Racker said with a grin. “Do you feel it, my friend? Do you feel how the blood boils? How the heart beats faster? How the mind is clouded with rage?” I know you do.”

Ash said nothing and lowered his eyes.

“Whatever you say or do,” Racker continued. “No matter how hard you try to atone for your sins, I know who you are. You’re the general of the Seventh Legion! A murder, a traitor, a desecrator of temples and graves! The man who has killed hundreds and tortured even more! You’re the one who burned down Zadastra and gave me the power I wield today.”

“No,” Ash said, and lifted his head, pulling off the black scarf with his free hand. Ashen hair fell like a waterfall over his shoulders, followed by something small and blue. “I am the Master of a Thousand Words, the twelfth Master of the Order. A guest of the feast in the Crystal Forest, slayer of Hu-Chin! I’m the one who walked this continent from one end to another, who saw wonderful things, and met amazing people, who fought with the Titans and defeated the Giants. The one who listened to the fae, and the one who gambled for his life with the Demon Master.”

As he spoke, his voice grew stronger and louder. The walls shook, and the enchanted metal crumbled. Swirls of power gathered around the young mage, made of energy so wild that it became visible to the naked eye in its fury. A turquoise tornado of magic enveloped his figure.

It struck the distant vault and pierced it like an arrow, shooting up into the gloomy sky. Touching the black clouds, it twisted them like dough. Lightning flashed and thunder struck.

“I’m Ash!” His voice seemed to come from everywhere. From the stones, the statues, from the torches, and even the air itself. Loud and resonant, it penetrated every cell of the body and rang like an alarm bell. “The greatest mage of the Drunken Monk era!”

“The greatest?” Racker chuckled, gathering a similar tornado around himself. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

Both storms disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Ash waved his staff, and the adventurers were dragged away into the furthest corner of the hall. Alice woke up and immediately covered her friends with a golden dome, under which the glow of the Dragon’s Wing could be seen once again. No one dared to interfere — the pressure of the magic alone prevented them from breathing normally,