The imposing gates of the Council of Sages' Castle groaned open, revealing an interior that sharply contrasted with the city's chaos. The echo of their footsteps resonated in a large circular hall, lit by mana orbs floating in the air, casting long, dancing shadows. The atmosphere was one of oppressive solemnity. Towering shelves, packed with ancient tomes, surrounded the room, and strange runic artifacts emitted a faint hum, concentrating the little stable magic that remained in this place.
In the center of the hall, seated around an obsidian table etched with intricate symbols, were four Sages. They wore somber-colored robes, and their faces, furrowed by years of study and worry, reflected the gravity of the situation. They were figures of authority, but all eyes converged on the fifth seat, occupied by Sage Theron, the Sage of Old Times. His presence was like a cornerstone, a tense calm that didn't hide the weariness in his eyes.
Beside them, standing ramrod straight like an oak, was Commander Valerius, Lumenis's highest military authority. His battle-scarred, gleaming combat armor contrasted with the Sages' robes, but his sharp, penetrating gaze made it clear that he was no less calculating or fearful of the mages' power.
A murmur of low voices filled the hall, a tense discussion about the situation.
"What worries me, Sages, is what the hell happened to the creature we expelled," Commander Valerius growled, his commanding voice filling the hall. "That shapeless thing... we pushed it out of the perimeter, yes, but we don't know where it went. Our elite soldiers, the best on this damn planet, could barely slow it down. We lost good men trying to contain it. It wasn't until your Council intervened that we managed to push it back into the forest. We need to know what the hell it was and where the hell it is. It could be in any nearby town right now, sowing chaos." His fist gently struck the obsidian table, a gesture that in another military man would have been disrespectful, but in Valerius, it was pure determination. "If it comes back, we need to be ready not to lose half the damn garrison."
One of the other Sages, with a gray beard and piercing eyes, nodded, his face grim. "The Commander is right. Uncertainty is a more dangerous weapon than the beast itself. Those phenomena that leave no trace, those that vanish when annihilated... We've seen them in other places in our nearby cities and towns. Luckily, we've exterminated them, but we can never investigate them closely. They simply leave no physical evidence."
It was Sage Theron who finally spoke, his voice laden with a heavy truth that resonated in the silence. "All this instability, the appearance of these creatures in various places around our world... the abrupt cessation of the tremors... it all indicates the same thing. With the information we've gathered so far from ancient grimoires, and considering the nature of these vanishing beings, it's most likely related." His gaze rested on the table, his voice firm. "We must act with extreme caution. We have already put the capital on high alert, and we must inform nearby cities and towns about this attack right now because we must now determine what to do with this situation. We don't truly know what we are dealing with."
The Last and his group watched from the entrance, motionless. The atmosphere was charged, desperation and determination mixing on the faces of the leaders. Commander Valerius, a steel wall, stood firm, his gaze defiant of the situation's gravity. The Sages, with all their power and knowledge, were perplexed.
Suddenly, the Sages noticed the unexpected visit of The Last and his group. Their eyes widened slightly at the sight of the intruders, their discussion momentarily forgotten.
The Last stepped forward, his grave voice resonating in the hall. "Excuse the interruption, my story, honorable Sages, began in a remote village. After a successful mission, I met Sage Elara. He led me to an abandoned village and there, apparently, he imposed a seal on me that has nullified my magic and abilities. What we witnessed next was... a grotesque mutation. The Sage transformed and was about to kill my companions, but, just before he could, an unknown force sucked him away."
As The Last spoke, the gray-bearded Sage, intrigued by the mention of the seal, extended a hand. A panel of runic and semi-digital light projected into the air in front of The Last, scanning his body. The Sage observed the data flickering and his eyes widened in astonishment. He murmured something inaudible and nudged the Sage sitting beside him. "Hey, look at this," he whispered, surprise tinging his voice.
While the Sage leaned in to see the strange readings on the panel, Sage Theron, with an expression of deep seriousness, interrupted with a revelation of his own. "The Sage from the village you speak of... Elara... died a long time ago. We haven't had direct contact with that village for quite a while. We received sporadic reports, yes, but we couldn't contact him personally."
A shiver ran through the room. The situation, already strange, became even more enigmatic.
Sage Theron stood up, his interest clearly piqued. He approached The Last and extended his own hand, activating another similar magical panel, this time to examine the seal on The Last in more depth. "A magic seal... and Elara imposed it, you say?" His wise, penetrating eyes scanned the projected symbols. Suddenly, his face paled. "But this... this seal is much older. This is... what the hell is this?"
The other Sage, the one who had been examining The Last from the beginning, nodded vigorously. "Hey, Sage Theron, if that seems weird to you, look at this!" He pointed to a series of anomalous fluctuations in The Last's seal readings, something that went beyond mere magical disruption.
All the Sages leaned in, whispering, and Commander Valerius watched them with impatience and growing frustration.
Sage Theron looked up from the panel, his intense gaze fixed on The Last. "Very well, young man. This is... intriguing. But you said you had something else. What do you bring us that is so urgent?"
Tyron, who had been observing the scene with his usual stoicism, stepped forward. With a sharp movement, he dropped the tarp-covered bundle onto the obsidian table. The fabric slid away, revealing a piece of mutated, amorphous, dark purple flesh, still pulsating with an unhealthy energy and emitting a nauseating stench. It was an undeniably alien fragment, bloody and disgusting.
The Sages were stunned, recoiling slightly. Commander Valerius, accustomed to the brutality of war, approached, his gaze a mixture of repulsion and fascination.
"This," Tyron said, his voice rough but clear, "are the remains of the monster we faced in the forest. It's similar to the one you fought in the capital... or perhaps the same one, but now much more physical. It has changed."
The Sages activated their own magical analysis orbs, the beams of light sweeping over the deformed remains. The digital panels in front of them filled with incomprehensible data.
"By the beards of the ancients!" exclaimed one of the Sages, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of horror and discovery. "This energy... it's the same as what we detected in the rift! But denser!"
Another Sage, with a touch of intellectual greed in his voice, looked at Theron. "Sage, do you think this... this could be useful for the cannon? We were missing essential components, unique materials that could withstand the dissonance... With these remains, we could try to forge something good for defense, for the Runic Defense Cannon!"
Just then, as the last word of the proposal hung in the air, a brutal and sudden jolt hit them. It wasn't a tremor. It was a full-blown earthquake, much stronger than anything they had felt so far. The ground beneath their feet roared, the hall shook violently, and the mana orbs flickered with instability, casting chaotic shadows.
"The magic chambers, quickly!" Sage Theron ordered, his voice tense but firm, while the rest of the Council clung to the table.
The digital panels flickered and connected to the kingdom's exterior projections. What they saw chilled them to the bone. Several gigantic rifts opened across the earth, tearing the ground apart and swallowing nearby buildings. But the most terrifying thing wasn't below. Above, in the sky covering the kingdom, something was breaking. It wasn't opening yet, but enormous lines of runic fracture spread like a spiderweb, a wound about to tear completely. It seemed the firmament itself was about to give way.
The impact was palpable on the Sages' faces. Urgency transformed into desperation.
"This is more serious than we thought!" exclaimed the gray-bearded Sage, his eyes fixed on the celestial cracks. "We need that cannon right now!"
Sage Theron slammed his palm on the table. "There's no time to lose! Take the beast's remains to the Scientific-Magical Department immediately! All available personnel must work on the cannon tirelessly! And you," he said, turning to The Last and his group with new intensity in his gaze, "remain here. Your information, and that seal, are now of vital importance."
A final tremor shook the hall, longer this time, like the last breath of a dying beast. The mana lights flickered almost to extinction, plunging the Council into an unsettling gloom. Outside, the roar of the earth and the distant screams of people mingled with a new, sharp sound, like the thickest, oldest crystal in the world breaking in slow motion.
Tyron was the first to react. He ran to one of the arched openings of the hall that led outside, a magical window that now showed a panorama of desolation. The Last followed him, and what they saw left them breathless.
The sky, which had previously only shown latent cracks, now began to shatter. Huge fragments of light and shadow broke off from a massive fissure that expanded silently, like a bleeding wound in the cosmos. These were not clouds, nor known magical phenomena. It was reality itself tearing apart, revealing an abyssal, unfathomable void that seemed to suck in the light. And from the deepest part of this new scar, a faint but unmistakable screech was heard, like the awakening of something incomprehensibly vast and hungry.
The Sages remained in their seats, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of their magical panels that flickered with red alerts. Commander Valerius clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the broken sky, the iron determination that characterized him now tinged with chilling horror.
The Last felt the familiar tingling of his seal. A cold connection to that opening void. He raised a hand, as if he could stop the imminent catastrophe.
Could a runic cannon, forged from the flesh of a monster, truly contain the impending tearing of reality?