jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-628

Llewellen set aside the dwarven music box, exhaling in a mix of pain and amusement as magic continued to flood into him. He imagined, decades or even centuries from now, someone finding the last recording he’d made. If the dwarves ever came to reclaim this place, or if the elven empire breached in search of something… what was the likelihood of them knowing how it functioned? What was the likelihood it wasn’t tossed aside, or found by someone who had no understanding of its value?

Statistically, quite low.

But it didn’t really matter. There was nothing else for him to do but die, overflowing with magic. He could already feel it cracking free of his body, pushing aside organs in its bid to escape a vessel too small to hold it. He had finally found an A-rank ascension that suited him, yet as if the world was thrusting him back into place, he still lacked sufficient expertise to carry it out without perishing.

There was no pain as he leaned up against the stone walls. He had cut away pain with an improvised spell so that his last moments might be those of peace. There had been so much he had wanted to do. So many problems that he’d intended to solve, so many branches of magic left unexplored. He hadn’t spent his life in vain, despite his shortcomings. Yet it still didn’t feel like enough. The ideas coming to him never ended, but he was to die long before he could put any of them out into the world.

He felt a warm blanket cover him as blood started to escape his body, and when he exhaled, he felt it pour out across his chin. The rising power came to his neck, and then shortly after to his head. Then…

Llewellen was standing, feeling all of his limbs devoid of the sluggish power that had been coursing through them moments before. In abject surprise, he whipped his head about. It was the same room, yet now was covered in blackness that was undoubtedly traces of the magic he’d absorbed. And yet… standing there just ahead of him were three humans, of all things, bathed in blue spell light as they stared at him in wonder.

One of the humans was an old man with yellow teeth and eyes. Another had tan skin with golden tattoos, whose eyes were also yellow. The human in the back was dressed as decadently as the emperors he’d met in the lifetime, and struck quite the tall figure. But upon further inspection, she wasn’t a human—partially hidden behind her long white hair were elven ears. They were considerably less large and sharp than his. They might’ve been of a different heritage.

The woman stepped forward. “Llewellen?”

He flinched when he heard his name from this person he didn’t recognize, then looked around at everything, including his own body. Upon further inspection, this wasn’t his body. Most jarring was the androgyny, as this form lacked any parts denoting sex. But other things were subtly different, too—unrecognizable arms, legs, et cetera.

He had been so resigned to death it was difficult to feel fear, much less process what was going on. But this woman… she knew his name. That meant they all likely knew more, too. He looked at them.

“Am I safe?” He asked.

The woman nodded. “You’re in no danger.”

“I died…” he said with certainty. “…so you must’ve brought me back, somehow.”

The well-dressed woman stepped forward. “You’re right. You’re no longer in any risk of suffering from what afflicted you. I’m Anneliese, Queen of Vasquer. I’m acting on behalf of Argrave, my king. That’s Garm, and the last is Durran.” She put her hand to her silver breastplate. “We hope to bring you out of this place.”

The tattooed man began to speak, saying, “We brought you back to—”

The elven woman stopped him from saying more. “You died, Llewellen. I’m not sure how long ago precisely, but it was at least a millennium.”

His heart throbbed violently in shock—it, at least, still functioned as it ought to, despite his new and unusual body. It was difficult enough to accept the fact that he’d been brought back from the brink since he couldn’t deny things as he saw them. But the passage of time? He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much things could change in one thousand years. The fact that this woman was so ridiculously tall and possessed of shorter ears was something to evidence that. She called herself ‘queen,’ however, and not emperor. As far as he knew, no such title existed in this region.

“You know my name,” he said, looking between them all. “You know how much time has passed since I came down here, roughly. The dwarven music box I made is missing. You brought me, in particular, back. Royalty is here for this event,” he stated his observations, then crossed his arms. “While I’m very much curious about the details, I imagine you have a reason to bring me back other than charity.”

The tattooed man looked surprised at his deductions, scratching his head of black hair. The old man flashed his teeth in a wide smile, as if it was expected.

“You’re right—we do. Do you know of Gerechtigkeit?” Anneliese asked.

The unwieldy name was somewhat familiar. The man he’d met in his long journeys known only as the Alchemist had mentioned something of the sort. There were some among his people who spoke of a doomsday prophecy bearing that name, too. Still, he was working with incomplete information.

“Perhaps you’d best explain.” Llewellen gestured.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“On the way.” Anneliese gestured to Durran, then the man gave him clothes. “For now… let’s get headed to the surface. You must have experienced a terrible shock. We’re not so impolite as to make a request without at least offering you some time to adjust.”