The Runic Alchemist

Tristan looked upon the ornately decorated table they had somehow managed to fit into this three story wooden building. Though it was nothing compared to what Lady Vidalia could make her own, it served its purpose as the Bonecrusher's residence and their meeting room for strategizing.

He wasn't alone at the table; Aramis, Bonecrusher, Xavier (the Pugilist Transcendent Seed), and several high-ranking commanders and important captains were seated around it.

One of the captains went on and on, reporting their losses, victories, defeats, and everything in between for the past week. Tristan barely listened, his thoughts wandering to the months that had passed since their commander and the boy had vanished without a trace. Everyone had their own theories, the common folk spreading all kinds of rumors to which even they had not been spared from.

The boy was a mystery—a devil one day, a hero the next, and then a bastard who had somehow taken their Lady Commander away. Tristan had managed to convince this room, at least, that it could have been a simple mistake. They were experimenting with the waygate tool when something unexpected might have happened.

He reassured them that the two were likely safe somewhere, though he couldn't shake the memory of the boy's unconvincing expression when asked where he had sent Threadripper that day.

Six months later, still no sign of them. Their spies in the enemy camp confirmed that Ashenvale was just as confused and disbelieving at the loss of their third ranker. Some called Threadripper a deserter and traitor, speculating that he had fled to Eldoris. That rumor only circulated among the common folk, though; those in power knew better.

Threadripper had served his kingdom for nearly a century, tested countless times by temptation, and had never wavered before.

Moondancer had taken her time confirming the rumors, and when she was certain, she launched an attack with her overwhelming forces. They had stalled her advance, but not for long. The barrier they had set up held for days but finally shattered under relentless assault. Then, they had no choice but to face her, alongside Aramis, Xavier, and Lysandrea.

It was one of the most brutal fights of Tristan's life. They were beaten to the edge of defeat, and it was only thanks to Lysandrea's bravery—and her invaluable sacrifice—that they managed to flee in one piece.

For a time, they hid, engaging in small skirmishes in the deep forest. Meanwhile, multiple Ashenvale units crossed into Eldoris from all directions. Only when Bonecrusher rejoined them did they have enough firepower to launch a counterattack. They reclaimed some territory and set up camp just kilometers away from the cold winds of the Dreaded Lands.

They sent out calls for reinforcements, to nearby regions and far ones. The Empire's attacks had occupied most of their forces and third-rankers, leaving only Bonecrusher and their small group to contend with the vengeful Moondancer and the Transcendent-rank reinforcement from Ashenvale, Aethergale.

They fought Moondancer again and again, in inconclusive battles, waiting for the smallest mistake to exploit. Many of Ashenvale's people had infiltrated to the inner lands, which had been one of their objectives. But Ashenvale's main force—over 30,000 strong—was still blocked by them. Survival had become a day-to-day struggle, fighting endless battles.

The captain now reporting had been detailing the state of their forces and the havoc Ashenvale's rogue units were wreaking.

"...In conclusion, many rogue forces from Ashenvale's army have separated from their main host and are wreaking havoc across the wide-spread forest and its numerous towns and villages. Local lords are resisting, but the enemy outnumbers and overpowers them. Many lords have requested backup, and we are prioritizing the most vulnerable, sending help where we can..."

Tristan yawned, tuning the rest out. The gesture earned him cold glares from everyone at the table, but no one could blame him. They had been fighting day and night, facing head-on assaults, hidden assassins, and sabotage attempts. Their supplies had been targeted, and important figures had been marked for death.

The constant state of alert, the never-ending duties, and the need to maintain security had left him sleepless and exhausted. When would this hell end? If only they had...

Suddenly, the captain fell silent. Everyone at the table froze, All with heightened senses felt a strange pull in the air. Tristan's hand instinctively went to the sword at his waist.

The silence was shattered by a sharp, unnatural crack—like lightning striking just overhead. A deep 'whoomp' followed, as though the air itself had been sucked into a void. A shimmering, bright blue portal tore into existence with a startling rush, a violent gust that sounded like the world itself was gasping in surprise.

The moment hung in stunned silence, only the faint buzz of static lingering in the air, as if reality were struggling to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

Then, a figure leaped out of the portal, landing on one knee on the wooden floor. Another smaller figure followed, stumbling, gasping, and collapsing to the floor, struggling to regain his senses.

"Holy fucking shit, I knew it! I fucking knew it!" Tristan yelled, the shock releasing the tension in the room. His outburst seemed to jolt everyone into action. The soldiers rushed to help their lady, fetching water and refreshments. Check for new content on m-vl-em-pyr

But Lady Vidalia took only seconds to regain her composure. She raised her hand, halting those who were tending to her. Tristan hurriedly gestured for everyone to leave the room, though some were too stubborn to go, including Aramis, Xavier and Bonecrusher, who sat with a confused, curious look on his face. He didn't move, his gaze fixed on Lady Vidalia.

Finally, Lady Vidalia made her way to the table and sat down, her eyes scanning the faces of those still present. From behind her, a groaning sound echoed through the room as the boy—Maximus—rose to his feet. Unlike Vidalia, his movements were graceless. He rubbed his forehead, cursed under his breath, and stumbled toward the table, still trying to regain his bearings.