Chương 3: Real contact and life

The next morning, Gaix found a craftsman near the Temple District, someone used to working with ceremonial items for priests and nobles. After some careful phrasing and a few extra silver pieces to keep the commission quiet, Gaix walked away with a beautiful black stone tablet, framed in rich mahogany. It was blank, smooth, and heavy with potential. To hedge his bets, he also purchased a monster core—a fist-sized crimson orb torn from a young earth drake.

Not the rarest find, but still expensive, potent, and volatile enough to matter. He searched the city for a suitable spot. Temples were too holy. Alleys were too exposed. Eventually, he found a shallow alley tucked behind a shuttered tannery, dark and quiet, with no foot traffic and a clean, dry stone patch near a crooked window. It would do. He knelt, placed the black tablet and the monster core side by side within his brass altar bowl, and bowed his head.

"Great Patron Joshua Steel," he whispered.

"I seek your will. I offer this—my curiosity, my loyalty, and this vessel for your voice. If you would command, I will obey." Silence. Only the faint rustle of the city wind and the distant clatter of carts. Then… flash. Both the tablet and the core vanished, dissolved into tendrils of soft golden light. Gaix exhaled slowly. No voice. No sign. But still… He smiled. It was an answer. And that was enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - It was mid-Saturday breakfast when Joshua finally checked the green window that he avoided last day as he was not sure if he was ready to see how many people was killed by Gaix and his cerberus. He squinted at it, half-chewing. [Warlock Gaix Tahinor has completed the following:] [– Raid Contribution: +312 Points] [– Combat Kills/Support: +197 Points] [– Summoned Guardian (Cerberus): +355 Points] [Total Patron Points Earned: 864] [Level Up! Level Up!] [You have reached Patron Level 3.] [New Option Unlocked: Peer – You may now observe the other world through the eyes of small critters and or your favoured warlocks.]"Heh… yeah… kind of expected this." Josh mumbled, tossing another triangle of toast into his mouth. He leaned back, scratching Princess behind the ears while she happily chomped on her own breakfast beside him. Truth be told, he'd barely spent a third of the money he'd gained from that first draconic mess of an offering. He didn't need Gaix, but…

Well, it was nice having someone on the other side. The scar-faced young warlock had grown on him. Awkwardly formal, ridiculously dramatic, but determined and genuinely devoted.

Somewhere between a role-playing partner and a pen pal with fire spears. As he rinsed off his plate and dropped it in the drying rack, another notification popped. [Incoming Prayer – Gaix Tahinor] [Visual & Audio Active – View Offering?]"Huh, he's praying again?" Josh wiped his hands, leaned over the counter, and tapped the translucent icon. Gaix's voice came through the moment he opened the feed.

"Great Patron Joshua Steel," the warlock intoned with grave sincerity.

"I seek your will. I offer this—my curiosity, my loyalty, and this vessel for your voice. If you would command, I will obey." Joshua blinked.

"Dramatic much?" he muttered with a grin, mostly to himself. The offering items materialized instantly on the kitchen counter. First, a solid black marble tablet, framed in rich mahogany—heavy, polished, and honestly quite beautiful. The kind of object you'd expect in a museum display. Then, hovering above the fruit bowl, came a glowing red orb, warm and pulsing faintly with menace. Josh leaned in and winced. It smelled faintly like dried blood and burnt ozone.

"Alright, not touching that with bare hands." He grabbed a pair of winter gloves from the entryway, lifted the orb carefully, and placed it into the now fruitless fruit bowl.

"This time, no conversion," he told the system aloud.

"Let's actually give him something to work with." The black surface was pristine, begging to be written on. He wandered into the garage and rummaged through the old junk drawer until he found a stick of chalk, mostly intact. Back at the kitchen table, he paused, thinking for a long moment before carefully writing: 1. Do not hurt the innocent. 2. Do not abuse power to rule over others. 3. Try not to kill humanoids unless necessary. Only kill as a last resort. 4. Offerings should consist of gems or rare items.

"There," he said, nodding at his handiwork.

"Rules of engagement and shopping suggestions." A beat passed and Josh smiled. If he was supposed to give out rules then being a good person would be enough.

"I hope he can read English though" He turned to the orb. The glowing core pulsed gently, like a patient heart. The system had labeled it a monster core from a young drake, which sounded both terrifying and awesome. A mix of caution and excitement swirled in his chest. Joshua bit his lip. The idea that came to his mind was absurd but… wasn't he like given a godlike role? He was not too proud but he did try to use magic and of course nothing happened but…

he walked to the display shelf and pulled down one of his favorite collector's items, a Silksong dragon figurine, hand-painted, elegantly posed in mid-flight.

"Or crazy," he added.

"But here we go." He touched the orb to the figurine. They dissolved instantly, converted into light, swallowed by the system with a hum of arcane satisfaction. A second later, something plopped into his hands... An egg. Roughly the size of an ostrich egg, smooth and warm to the touch, its surface shimmered with a pearlescent sheen that rippled like northern lights trapped in glass. Josh held his breath, staring.

"This is sick," he whispered, unable to stop grinning, his hand shaking from excitement then he realize what he had done. If this really was a dragon egg… well that's tomorrow Josh's problem. He carefully carried it over to the corner of the living room where an old desk lamp sat unused. Flicking it on, he draped a thick scarf around the base, fashioning an impromptu nest. Princess padded over, ears perked and nose twitching. Josh wagged a finger at her.

"No touch." She sat obediently, tail wagging, eyes fixed on the softly glowing egg. Finally, he returned to the black marble tablet. With a slight push and a mental confirmation, he slid it into the glowing blessing slot. [Blessing Accepted.] [Delivering Commandments…] The tablet vanished in a swirl of gold. Josh leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, the grin still plastered across his face.

"Yeah… This is way better than going bowling with the boys." - - - - - - - - - - - - - The black tablet arrived without fanfare. One moment the ritual bowl was empty. The next, the weight of something divine settled into it like a stone in water. Gaix stared at the tablet for a full ten seconds before he even dared to breathe. It was perfectly intact. The polished marble glistened beneath the low light of his rented room. The mahogany frame had been lovingly preserved.

And across its obsidian surface, glowing faintly in chalk-white symbols… were runes he had never seen before. His stomach dropped.

"No… no no no…" he whispered, carefully lifting the tablet out of the bowl and holding it up to the light. He turned it this way and that, hoping some pattern would emerge, some glyph would suddenly click in his memory. They didn't. The symbols weren't elvish, draconic, celestial, or any known runic structure. They were elegant. Neatly spaced. But utterly alien. Gaix nearly ran out the door, tablet clutched in both hands like a sacred artifact. He didn't even stop to eat.

His destination was clear, the Library of Avenglade. - - - - - - - - - - - - The old marble library sat nestled between the city's noble quarter and the temple district, open to the public, so long as one had clean boots, quiet manners, and no history of stealing grimoires. Gaix had just enough of all three. He stormed through the front doors, nearly knocking over a scholar and half-startling a roosting owl familiar from its perch.

He set the tablet down on the nearest empty table and rifled through the catalog with shaky fingers. Nothing under "Steel." Nothing under "Unknown Divine Script." Nothing under "Modern Common Derivatives." Not even a hint under "Foreign Deific Dialects." The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He moved from one aisle to the next, a growing frenzy building in his chest. Sweat beaded at his brow.

He whispered comparisons to himself, tracing each rune with his fingers and muttering old linguistic theories. He had just pulled his fifth book off the shelf when a voice interrupted:"You look like a man decoding prophecy or having a breakdown. Possibly both." Gaix turned around sharply. A man in sky-blue robes stood nearby, holding a cup of tea and looking far too casual for someone walking through a cathedral of knowledge.

His robes were lined with gold-threaded runes, and his fingers sparkled faintly with active spellwork.

"I'm Archmage Calliven," the man said with a polite nod.

"Would you like assistance, or shall I continue watching you suffer?" Gaix straightened, trying not to sound too desperate. Also meeting with someone of power was not what he expected, but he reacted fast and bowed deep.

"I… I received a divine message. From my patron. But the script is unknown. Not magical. Not any language I've ever seen." Calliven stepped closer, peered down at the tablet, and raised a brow.

"Hmm. Interesting... No, this isn't from our world at all. This is language from Elsewhere—true alien script. Though quite elegant." He tapped his fingers together.

"I can translate it, if you like." Gaix blinked.

"You can?"

"For a modest sum," the mage added with a smirk.

"…how modest?"

"Fifteen gold." The knot in Gaix's stomach twisted harder. Fifteen gold was more than three months of expenses at the least. Still, he had it, and this wasn't just a curiosity. It was commandments. Divine scripture.

"Fine," he sighed, reaching into his pouch and handing over the coins one by one. Calliven pocketed them without shame and extended both hands over the tablet. His voice dropped into a calm chant, and a wave of light shimmered across the black surface. The alien letters writhed slightly—then slowly, like rising ink, translated themselves into perfect, legible common. Gaix leaned in, heart pounding. 1. Do not hurt the innocent. 2. Do not abuse power to rule over others. 3. Try not to kill humanoids unless necessary.

Only kill as a last resort. 4. Offerings should consist of gems or rare items. Simple. Clear. A moral code. A list of expectations. There was no demand for worship. No blood tax. No burning cities in his name. Just… restraint. Kindness. Curiosity. Calliven gave a low whistle.

"Well, that's a first. Most gods ask for sacrifices or wierd stuff. Yours just wants you to be decent." Gaix didn't respond. He was still staring at the words. Something warm, something strange filled his chest, part reverence, part relief.

"Thank you," he finally murmured. Then, tablet cradled like a newborn flame, he walked back out into the city with renewed purpose. His god had spoken. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The morning started with loud barking. Joshua snapped awake to the sound of Princess losing her mind, claws scrambling against the hardwood floor and her deep woofs echoing through the hallway. He was up in seconds, heart hammering, stumbling half-blind through the door." Princess! What is it…" Then he saw it.

Under the lamp something shook. The scarf he'd wrapped around the makeshift nest was moving faintly with shimmering light coming through. The egg shook gently, but obviously. It split like a soft blossom, the lines glowing with soft white fire. Thin threads of pale light unraveled from the shell, drifting lazily like silk in water. Josh realized he was holding his breath and let out a ghasp. Princess had stopped barking now. She just stared, ears perked, tail still. Perfect silence had settled over the room.

Then the shell fell open. Something delicate and beautiful crawled free. The hatchling was small, barely the size of a housecat, but undeniably a dragon. Its body was long and lithe, its movements graceful despite the shakiness of new life. Smooth, elegant limbs ended in soft talons. A pair of long, thin wings unfolded from its back, and they didn't look like leather or bone. They looked like woven silk, translucent and iridescent, catching the light in waves of pale color.

Its scales shimmered with a soft pearlescent glow, mostly white with hints of moonstone blue and silver that shifted subtly as it moved. Its eyes were large, intelligent, and curious, pale lavender with no pupils, like shallow pools reflecting starlight. The baby dragon gave a soft chirping sound, melodic, almost musical. The air shimmered faintly around her, as though even her voice carried protective magic. Joshua dropped to his knees, mouth open.

"No. Way," he whispered.

"You're real." The dragon blinked at him, then took a few cautious steps forward—claws clicking gently on the wooden floor. She paused in front of Princess, who held completely still, as if knowing this moment was sacred. The dragon sniffed the dog's nose. Princess licked the dragon's cheek once, gently, then wagged her tail once. The dragon turned toward him next, tilted her head, and let out another soft note. It was higher this time, almost like a tuning fork.

The air around Joshua shimmered for a second, and he felt... comforted. Warm. Safe. Like she had declared him hers. He reached out carefully and touched her snout with a single finger. Her scales were cool, impossibly smooth, like glass and silk had decided to have a child. He laughed softly.

"You are beautiful." Josh pulled the dragon to himself, newborn goop be damned and hugged it. The figurine he'd used, Silksong Dragon, was from a fantasy game he'd played endlessly during his teenage years. These dragons were companions, not warriors. They didn't bite or burn but shielded their masters with harmonic wards and sang haunting, beautiful melodies that soothed minds and repelled fear. She was his now. He looked her over, her pale beauty and glimmering wings catching the dawn light through the window.

"I'll call you Luna," he said, voice barely more than a whisper… somehow knowing it was a she. The dragon cooed soft, high, and sweet and fluttered her wings once, lifting an inch into the air before wobbling and falling back onto her belly with a squeaky huff. Joshua laughed, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He reached down and gently scooped her up in both hands, cradling her like something impossibly fragile. Princess sat beside him, tail swaying slowly.

Luna curled in his palms, resting her tiny head against his wrist. It was the most surreal Saturday morning of his life. And easily the best. Gaix had finally invested in a proper outfit, one befitting a warlock who had stared death in the eye and come back with blessings from another world. Now that he had money and a good way to earn more. Gone were the threadbare robes and patched sleeves.

In their place, he now wore a light brown tunic, finely stitched and well-fitted, with reinforced seams at the shoulders and chest. It bore no sigils or mystical threads, but it carried a quiet sturdiness, functional, dependable, and clean. Over his shoulders draped a steel-grey traveler's cape, clasped at the collarbone with a simple brass hook. The fabric rippled in the breeze, catching faint glints of silver thread woven along its hem.

It offered protection from wind and weather, and just enough drama to turn a few heads as he walked through the streets of Avenglade. His brass ritual plate hung from a leather loop on his belt, polished to a mirror shine. In his right hand, he carried a new quarterstaff, plain ash wood, sanded smooth, capped with iron on either end. It was not a masterwork nor a conduit of spells, but it served as both walking aid and last line of defense.

He wasn't exactly skilled with staff weapons, but it felt good to hold something solid. On his feet were black leather boots, newly oiled, cleanly stitched, and—for the first time in years, free of holes. They didn't let in water and they made his step feel just a little more sure. Even his hair, once neglected in the chaos of survival was now neatly trimmed and combed. His skin was clean after a long and hard scrub.

The long scar that ran diagonally across the left side of his face, somehow seemed faded, less of a wound, more of a mark. As if even it had accepted the change. He wasn't flashy. He wasn't noble. But for the first time in a long while, Gaix Tahinor looked the part not of a desperate man fumbling with old magic, but of an adept magic user. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The late afternoon sun cast golden light over the streets of Avenglade, its warmth pushing back the last stubborn shadows of the city.

Gaix's boots struck the stone with confident rhythm, his brass plate clinking gently at his side as he moved with purpose. His steel-grey cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze. The building loomed ahead, the Avenglade Chapterhouse of the Arcane Society, one of the most prestigious magical institutions in the kingdom. Built of old red brick and reinforced by a lattice of etched stone, the place was alive with enchantments.

Runes glimmered faintly along the archways, and a low hum of magical resonance could be felt in the bones of anyone attuned to the arcane. Gaix didn't hesitate. He pushed through the main doors, bypassing the sprawling portal corridor where massive stone arches stood like silent sentinels. Each arch shimmered with violet light, connected to major points across the Kingdom of Vancott, major cities, academies, noble holdings.

Expensive, regulated, and very much not for men in warlock robes who walked places like normal people. He passed the corridor without sparing a glance. He didn't need a portal. He was about to get handsomely rewarded for discovering a new deity… or at least he hoped. The Warlock Quarter was buried two floors down, past the Alchemical Annex and the Hall of Theoretical Summoning. It smelled faintly of sulfur, dried ink, and overcooked stew.

Gaix followed the familiar stone hallway, eager now, steps quick with anticipation. He found the counter easily enough. Finding anyone behind it however proved more difficult. The desk sat abandoned, a thin film of dust just starting to gather on the ledgers and inkwells. Scroll tubes leaned precariously in a corner. A candle had long since burned out, its wax pooled uselessly on a stack of outdated registration forms.

"Hello?" Gaix called, eyebrows raised. A moment of silence. Then… thud. A distant clatter, followed by an annoyed grunt and a very creative curse. From a side door emerged a grumpy-looking gnome, no taller than a boot stand and dressed in oversized robes that dragged on the floor. His wild, sleep-matted hair stuck out in several directions, and he rubbed one eye with the back of his hand.

"What do you want?" he snapped, voice scratchy from nap-interruption and unapologetically lacking any form of courtesy. Gaix straightened, still grinning.

"I'd like to register a new entity. One I've formed a contract with." The gnome stopped mid-step. Blinked.

"…Come again?"

"A new entity. Unknown. Powerful. Not in your archives. I've already received multiple blessings, a manifested summon, and direct written commandments." Gaix's grin widened. There was a long pause. The gnome's expression shifted from irritation to incredulous disbelief. You could almost hear the gears grinding in his head, painfully slow, like an old cart climbing a steep hill.

"…Right," he finally muttered.

"Let me contact Magister Majorius in the capital. This isn't something I can authorize alone." He reached for a quill and a thick parchment scroll with practiced reluctance.

"Name and place of stay in the city?"

"Gaix Tahinor. I'm staying in the Emberback Inn, third floor, corner room." The gnome scribbled it down, muttering as he wrote.

"Come back two days from now in the early morning just in case." the small humanoid grunted. In the obsidian heart of the Grand Citadel of Vancott, buried deep within a spiraling tower of black stone and flickering wards, Archmagister Majorius read the summons. His fingers drummed across the parchment with deliberate contempt.

"Request for inspection: Border city of Avenglade Warlock claims to have contracted with a previously unknown divine entity. Submitted by: Apprentice Registrar Telfin… Warlock Wing, Regional Chapterhouse." Majorius raised one silver eyebrow so sharply that a nearby flame guttered nervously.

"Someone's been drinking vermilion ink again," he muttered, folding the parchment once, then twice, with almost surgical disdain. A new god-like entity. In Avenglade. Of all places. It had been nearly four centuries since anyone had made such a claim, and even those turned out to be overgrown spirits, rogue elementals, or delusional cultists with good branding. Still… just in case. Majorius turned in his seat, a high-backed monstrosity of bonewood, and narrowed his eyes toward the corner of the chamber.

"Varos," he said softly. A low growl emerged from the shadows. The hellhound slunk forward, smoke trailing from its maw, three eyes blinking out of sync. Its claws clicked on the floor, and it stretched as if waking from a pleasant nap.

"If this is another failed hedge-mage playing prophet," Majorius said, standing and brushing ash from his robe, "I'll cook him on a spit and feed him to you with rosemary." Varos thumped his tail against the flagstones once. Approval. Majorius tapped the air, and several enchanted brass spheres began orbiting him, mostly to show how powerful of a Warlock he was. Each held immense combat spells though he did not really used but kept them for attention.

He stepped toward the mirror-chamber to prepare his arrival ensemble. No one would call Majorius subtle. He selected a robe woven from void silk, a color so black it looked like it swallowed the light. Threaded throughout were crackling violet sigils, etched by storm-spirits and fueled by bound lightning. His belt was a chain of smoking iron links, and from his neck hung a pendant shaped like a closed eyelid, rumored to be his fourth eye. The final touch: a cloak that billowed constantly, even in still air.

Dramatic, yes. But he believed in setting expectations. When Majorius stepped into the portal chamber, every scribe, apprentice, and junior magus cleared a path. Some bowed. Some fled. He turned instead to the portal arch, already humming with power.

"Avenglade," he said flatly. The runes flared. The air cracked. Thunder whispered beneath the stones and a portal manifested. A step… and he was gone.