Chapter 90 - 89: To Devour the Arcane

Chapter 90: Chapter 89: To Devour the Arcane The sky had begun to darken by the time Lumberling returned to the Duskspire base. He walked the familiar stone halls slowly, the murmur of soldiers training in the courtyard echoing in the distance. Yet his steps felt ungrounded, like the weight of the road still clung to his boots. His thoughts churned. ’Are there others like me? Earthlings? How many? When did they come? How... did they get here?’ He turned a corner without looking, barely nodding to the guards stationed near the inner chambers. ’If one came before, then more might have.’ The image of the printing press flashed again in his mind, mechanical, clean, precise. Out of place. Out of time. His jaw tightened. ’And if they came from Earth like me... do they have powers too? Cheats? Skills? Knowledge that could shift the tides?’ He clenched a fist, then forced it open again. ’What if they’re in this Empire? What if they’re on the other side of this war?’ "Is there something wrong, my Lord?" The voice cut clean through the fog of his thoughts. Lumberling blinked and turned. Rogar stood beside him, tall and armored, spear slung across his back. His brow was furrowed in concern. Lumberling exhaled. "No. Just... thinking about something I learned in the city." Rogar didn’t pry, just nodded once, respectfully. "Where are the others?" Lumberling asked, letting his tone settle. "Most are still in the training yard. A few are meditating. Skitz and Aren haven’t returned yet from their rounds." "Alright. Call for me in my quarters when they get back. I need to speak with them." "As you command." Rogar bowed slightly and turned, boots echoing down the corridor as he walked away. Lumberling lingered in the hallway. He watched the torches flicker against the stone. Watched the dust stir in the beams of fading daylight that slipped through the narrow windows. And slowly, the whirlwind in his chest began to quiet. ’No... it doesn’t change anything.’ His gaze shifted inward, past the memories of cities and cars, textbooks and neon signs. ’That life... it’s gone. And I’ve already chosen this one.’ ’If there are others like me, so be it. If I meet them, I’ll decide what to do then. I won’t chase ghosts while I still have people to protect, and a war to fight.’ He took a slow breath, then moved down the hall, back toward his chambers. ’But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.’ A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. ’If fate wills it... we’ll meet.’ And with that thought, he shut the door behind him, leaving the noise of the barracks behind. For now, there was no room for distraction. Not when the tides of war had begun to shift, and the battlefield had started to whisper of magic, machines, and ghosts from another world. ..... The long wooden table creaked under the weight of steel bowls, roast meat, half-torn bread, and clay mugs still warm with broth. The room was dim but comfortable, stone walls flickering with torchlight, the soft hum of night filtering through the shuttered windows. Lumberling sat at the head, eating slowly, his thoughts elsewhere. Skitz leaned back with his feet up, lazily finishing a skewer of spiced boar. Aren sat across from him, quiet as always but alert. Rogar and Gorrak were trading stories between bites, while Trask, as usual, said little, just ate, focused and efficient. It wasn’t a feast. But it was warm. Familiar. Until Lumberling spoke. "Any word about the mages?" he asked suddenly. "Or the Empire of the Aetherborn?" The table quieted at once. Aren was the first to answer. "Just whispers," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Seems they don’t show themselves much. Even among the troops. Almost no one’s seen one directly, but there are signs. Ruins where battles happened... and no siege weapons to explain the damage." "Exploding trees," Rogar added. "That was in one of the reports. Said a whole scout group got hit by a wave of fire. No arrows. No siege weapons. Just... light." Gorrak grunted. "Sounds like tall tales to me." Skitz raised an eyebrow, setting his mug down. "Why the interest in mages, my Lord?" His tone was casual, but not mocking. "Is there something special about them?" All eyes turned to Lumberling. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at the dancing torchlight on the wall. Then he set down his spoon and leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "They’re not tales," Lumberling said firmly. That drew everyone’s attention. "They’re different. No armor. No swords. No Knights. But they still fight, and they’re winning battles." Skitz narrowed his eyes. "So what are they, really?" Lumberling looked at them one by one. Then he spoke. "If the knowledge I learned from them is right. Then they could burn a city with flame summoned from nothing. Freeze rivers. Control minds. Create illusions so real you’d swear they were truth. They don’t strengthen their bodies like we do, they rewrite the battlefield itself." Rogar blinked. "No weapons?" "Not the kind you’d recognize. Just staves, tomes, rings, sometimes nothing at all. A strong mage could fight off entire squads from range." Gorrak exhaled slowly. "Stronger than Knights?" Lumberling nodded. "If they had time to cast, yes. A single spell could turn the tide of a battle." That made the table fall quiet. "Magic," Aren murmured. "That’s what they’re using." Lumberling gave a slow nod. "If the reports are even halfway true... they’re more dangerous than any noble’s army. Not because they’re strong like a Knight, but because their power doesn’t follow the same rules." "But can they be killed?" Trask asked simply. Lumberling’s eyes gleamed. "Everything can be killed. But this isn’t about that." Then Skitz leaned forward, grinning slightly. "So what’s the plan? Don’t tell me you’re just curious." Lumberling returned the grin, but his eyes were cold. "I want to devour one." Silence. Lumberling continued. "I want to see if their essence is different. If it can be absorbed. Learned from. I’ve seen what devouring monsters and men can do. But if I could devour a mage..." "You’d gain access to a whole new system of power," Skitz finished, expression more serious now. "One no one in this empire really understands yet." Lumberling nodded. He remembered the priest who once healed with divine power at the church, light that mended flesh and quieted pain. But that was something sacred, tied to the gods. He hadn’t dared to even consider devouring one of them. But mages? Mages were different. A heavy silence settled over the table. Even the fire seemed to crackle more softly. Gorrak finally muttered, "Devour a mage..." Trask’s hand paused halfway to his cup. "You’re serious," Aren said, voice low. Not disbelief. Just confirmation of the weight behind it. "I am," Lumberling replied. Rogar leaned forward, arms folded. "What if it backfires?" he asked. "What if mage essence isn’t like the others? What if your body rejects it?" Lumberling didn’t answer immediately. "Then I’ll know," he finally said, "where my limits truly lie." He stared at the flickering flame on the torchlit wall. "I want to study one," Lumberling continued. "If we can understand how their power works, even learn from it, it changes everything." "You think we can learn magic?" Rogar asked, half-incredulous. "Maybe not the same way they do. But power always leaves something behind. A path. A trace." Lumberling’s voice dropped lower. "If we can find that path, even a sliver of it... it might be enough." Rogar rubbed the back of his neck. "Won’t that be... risky? You said yourself these mages might be rare. And strong. We don’t even know their level." "I’m not rushing in blind," Lumberling said. "They’re not common, and any mage deployed to the battlefield will be strong, Knight one Stage or above, I’m sure. We’ll need timing, location, and a solid plan." Gorrak grunted. "That’s a lot of ifs." "But worth it," Skitz said, surprising the others with how quickly he backed the idea. "If there’s even a chance we can bring that power into our ranks? Even just one mage on our side would change the entire war." Lumberling looked at each of them. "This won’t change our goals," he said. "We still take contracts. Still grow Duskspire. But keep your eyes open. Ask questions. If we get a lead on a mage, I want to be ready." He paused, letting that sink in. "But we won’t be the only ones," he added. "Power like that doesn’t go unnoticed. I don’t believe for a second the Empire hasn’t taken interest, especially the nobles. So be careful. When you ask questions... don’t make noise you can’t silence." Then Aren nodded once, slow and thoughtful. "If they’re as strong as you say... maybe it’s not just about devouring them." Lumberling met his gaze. "What do you mean?" "Maybe... we recruit one." Skitz snorted. "Good luck. If they’re anything like the nobles we’ve met, they won’t trust us." Lumberling shrugged. "Then we make them an offer they can’t ignore." Trask, silent until now, finally spoke in a gravelly murmur. "Find. Learn. Devour... or ally." The others nodded slowly. The air around the table shifted again, charged not with heat, but with purpose. They had walked into this world as survivors. But now? Now they were building something greater. And mages... mages were the next step. Lumberling leaned back slightly, the candlelight reflecting off the steel edge of his mask. "Power doesn’t wait for permission," he said softly. "It rewards those willing to chase it through fire."