< 110. Wildcast (3) >
*
To establish a perfect strategy, the first step is to accurately assess one’s own abilities. For Fernandez, this was akin to a survival task. In his previous life, to survive, he had to use everything he could in the most optimal and efficient way possible.
Thus, understanding the conditions required to use his best spell and the resources it would consume was the first step.
After all, his life was almost like a consumable resource, and to face the Great Demon, everything he had would need to be fully projected.
-Whuuuung…
The sandstorm swept across the wilderness. Fernandez held Neferka by the neck in the midst of a bone-dust storm that blocked all directions.
“There’s something I’ve been curious about your kind. Wraith. Why do you remain loyal to the Pharaoh?”
[What?]
At this sudden question, Neferka seemed visibly taken aback. Fernandez could read Neferka’s emotions through the chains around his neck.
“What grants the Pharaoh his authority? Your gods are dead, and the Great Demon is sealed. Even the power that raised you isn’t the Pharaoh’s. So why do you remain loyal to him?”
[…]
Neferka said nothing, but the turmoil in his mind was palpable. The high nobles, the so-called upper echelons of the Ivory Seat, were driven by ambition.
Their souls were no different from when they were alive. They still desired to eat, drink, and revel. But all that remained of their rotting flesh and dried bones was the cold chill of death.
They mimicked eating as they did in life and adorned themselves with glittering jewels. But all of it was as hollow as a mirage.
Thus, what drove them was solely satisfaction. Solely ambition. A futile desire to prove they still held influence in this world.
Fernandez slowly placed his hand on Neferka’s skull. He could feel the wraith’s soul shrinking. The defeat of his legion, the Pharaoh’s reprimand, and his own shattered pride were all laid bare.
His self-esteem, crushed by the forced resurrection and the instability of his soul. And above all.
Fear.
In a single moment, Fernandez had destroyed his legion, leaving no room for the burial priests and mages to resist. The spells that obliterated the Ivory Seat’s finest guards. The overwhelming skill with the sword.
Neferka feared Fernandez. And Fernandez knew that scent of fear well. It was familiar, thrilling.
Fernandez whispered in a low voice.
“I wonder what you can do.”
[What do you want?]
“To achieve what you truly desire.”
[…To kill you and beg the Pharaoh for forgiveness.]
“No.”
Fernandez slowly bent down to meet his eyes. Neferka tried to turn his head, but the strong grip kept him in place.
“You desire something higher. Wraith. A new Pharaoh? You know your master is no god. Most of your gods are dead, and even the remaining ones have abandoned you. Does the Pharaoh of a burnt-out kingdom have to be Tutankhamun Gartep?”
[But the bloodline of the gods…]
“Ha!”
A smile crept onto Fernandez’s lips.
“If bloodline is the issue, look at your body now. Where does blood flow in you?”
[So you’re telling me to betray the Pharaoh?]
“I’m telling you not to betray yourself. Wraith, Mumto has lost control over you. Did you rise to submit to the rule of someone weaker than him?”
His gloomy blue eyes seemed to pierce through Neferka’s gaze. If he had a body, Neferka would have swallowed dryly and trembled.
It was a terrifying, dreadful temptation. The scent of death and flames seemed to fill his hollow throat. Slowly, the bone-dust storm began to clear.
Beyond the whirlwind of the wraith’s screams and shattered bones, the sun set over the canyon. In the distance, beasts and natives watched with fearful eyes.
A heat haze swirled around Fernandez. The scent of death and flames. It was the scent of ambition. Neferka’s soul began to burn hotly.
Betray the Pharaoh. Let the Pharaoh die. And he would become the god of this Great Wilderness. A sentence he had never thought of before.
‘Never thought of it? Really?’
Neferka remained silent. Had he been told not to betray himself? Yes. Deep within him, a lofty ambition breathed.
-Thud.
Neferka slapped away Fernandez’s hand gripping his head. Then, with blazing eyes, he looked up at Fernandez.
[I do not swear loyalty. Mage.]
“So be it.”
[I do not swear loyalty to you. I swear loyalty to no one.]
“So be it.”
[My name is Neferka. Neferka the Unsubdued. Neferka the Dominator!! I rose to dominate. Legion Slayer, Noble Slayer!]
What an elegant way of speaking. Fernandez laughed deeply. He gazed into Neferka’s burning eyes.
“So be it.”
Corruption. Temptation. Division. It was a strategy all too familiar to him. With power, charm, rhetoric, and magic. And he had all of it in perfect measure.
*
[By the Pharaoh’s side, there are three generals known as the Triarch.]
“You’re not one of them, are you?”
[…The Triarch stays only by the Pharaoh’s side. Their duty is to protect the Pharaoh’s safety. Meremre and I are on the offensive…]
He had taken over the legion. Before the Pharaoh’s advance, it was his role to halt the lands he would rule.
*
Fernandez gazed at the night sky, reading the constellations. The flow of magical energy was strangely turbulent. It was only natural, as he had cast a spell of Great Magic scale by using all the nearby ley lines.
However, because he had drawn power from the Soul Realm, the wheels of the heavens appeared even clearer. He stared at the yellow-glowing star and the river of magical energy spreading like a mirage between them, lost in thought.
When Abel looked at the stars, she would recall their beauty and the stories tied to the constellations. She loved this filthy, fierce world, as if pearls could be found in the mud.
But Fernandez was not that kind of person. He saw filth as just that—filth. And he was the type to ponder how to use it.
When Abel looked at the stars, he saw the flow of magical energy intertwined among them. The influence of Tutankhamun Gartep flickered in the sky. The flow of magical energy was a concept that transcended perception and space.
On such a clear night in the wasteland, such things were visible.
-Whish…
A cool wind wrapped around his robe and brushed past. The sound of someone approaching reached his ears.
*
[The strongest among the Triarchs is Tutankhamun Gartep’s greatest warrior, War Captain Kaharefer. He knows nothing of magic, but fights as if blessed by the gods. He will never leave the Pharaoh’s side.]
“How strong is he?”
“Strong enough.”
*
Beastman warriors were approaching Fernandez from behind. They feared him. The familiar scent of terror emanated from their bodies.
After long battles, escapes, and wandering, the warriors looked dreadful. When Fernandez turned to look at them, they bowed their heads in fear and lowered their tails.
“We’ve gathered all the warriors as you commanded, Elder.”
“Is this all you have?”
“Some remaining warriors must protect the children, women, and elders of the tribe. These are all who can leave the tribe to fight.”
About thirty emaciated Beastmen men glanced at Fernandez.
“Are we going to die?”
“What?”
Fernandez frowned at their words. What were they talking about?
“If you plan to kill us and offer us as sacrifices to demons… Please spare the children of our tribe…”
“What nonsense… Enough. Don’t explain. If I wanted to kill you, why would I have kept you alive? You still have uses.”
Fernandez lost interest in the men and turned back to gaze at the sky. The warriors hesitated, bowed their heads, and asked quietly.
“Then what must we do to repay your grace?”
“Speak of what you have seen.”
“…Huh?”
“Of what I have done, what I can do, and what you think I might have done. Spread my story to everyone you meet from now on. Let everyone in this wasteland know my name.”
So that it becomes one of the many rumors and superstitions floating in the wasteland.
“Let it be a tale for the ignorant, a warning for the wise, and a caution for the wraiths wandering this wasteland.”
So that they prepare for him, guard against him, and seek to verify the truth of the rumors themselves.
*
[Mages and priests will not be your match, Mage. They are fools who cannot even replicate half of half the magic you wield. So the one you must be wary of is him. Kaharefer, the War Captain of Tutankhamun Gartep.]
“I must lure him out from under the Pharaoh’s shadow.”
“Yes. If possible. Make the Pharaoh send out his strongest warrior.”
“For example, spread the rumor that Mumto, weakened and having escaped his seal, roams the wasteland alone.”
“Exactly.”
Neferka chuckled at Fernandez’s words. Yes, that kind of rumor would suffice. Tutankhamun Gartep was protected by tens of thousands of skeletons within his palace, and there was no warrior more trustworthy than Kaharefer.
If the rumor spread that Mumto, drained of power, wandered the wasteland alone, the Pharaoh would surely send his War Captain.
Mages? They couldn’t be trusted. They would be enchanted by Mumto’s magic and crave his knowledge. Priests too. Mumto possessed divinity, so they might even submit to him.
But the War Captain was different. He boasted the might to claim himself the strongest in the wasteland, and his loyalty had already been proven in life.
So if the Pharaoh sent an assassin after Mumto, it would undoubtedly be the War Captain.
“You know your role, right?”
“Time is the biggest issue, Mage. If you fail or don’t arrive in time when all preparations are complete, our plan will be for naught.”
“I’ve never been late.”
Neferka hesitated as he saw Fernandez’s smile. Could this mage really do it? The War Captain would surely come armed with every Great Magic talisman to counter Mumto.
[I hope you win. Don’t underestimate the War Captain, Mage. You might die before you can even cast your proud magic.]
Fernandez smiled at Neferka’s threat.
*
The warriors were confused by Fernandez’s words. Usually, dark mages wanted to hide their identities. After all, there were too many who wanted to kill dark mages.
And wasn’t this a dangerous time? There were many existing powers in this wasteland who would not welcome a new strong force.
But the warriors dared not question Fernandez further. They simply bowed their heads and asked.
“What should we call you, Elder?”
“Wildcast (Wandering Mage).”
If the rumor spread that a single spell had sent an entire legion to the Soul Realm. And if Neferka returned to prove it true.
If he could whisper into the Pharaoh’s ear that a single mage had done all this, and that he had declared himself as such. Then the Pharaoh would surely act immediately, hiding himself further, gathering all his legions for defense, and sending assassins.
-“I have returned.”
If he heard such words. Tutankhamun Gartep would surely…
“Call me Faijashi Wildcast.”
Faijashi, in the ancient dialect of the Melachum Empire, means ‘traitor.’ Let that name become a symbol of terror.
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