Chương 67: Warden And Oracle

High Warden Rother's greatest fear was manifesting right in front of his eyes and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt this helpless. At least, not after becoming the High Warden of Arcoryx City, the greatest jewel of the nation of Androvia. Sure, the Grand Warden at the National Palace might outrank and outpower him, but Rother had never felt like he wasn't capable of doing something according to his capabilities. Not until now. Not so acutely.

Not in this moment where two powers far beyond him were coming to a head. And it had all started on that fateful day when he had received the reports about a ripple in the city's barriers. Rother had refused to believe that it could be the work of some unknowable, enigmatic mage who had come from some unfathomable Realm. It sounded so fanciful. And Headmaster Alaric hadn't been helping matters by trying to pretend everything was fine. It was because of Alaric that Rother hadn't carried out a full investigation.

Nevertheless, Rother had done his due diligence. He had kept a closer eye on Arcoryx Academy, had scrutinized all the new teachers and students moving through the place, and had even placed tighter security nearby. It was his notices that had the Enforcers acting so quickly after the ever so suspicious theft. One that they still didn't have a proper lead on. But things had finally come to a head on the day of the Incursion. The Headmaster didn't outrank Rother by any means.

They looked after terribly different spheres of influence. While Alaric was in charge of running Arcoryx Academy, Rother had to look after the security of Arcoryx City as a whole, including the academy within its famous walls. Nevertheless, they were cordial, almost friendly, always working together rather well more often than not. As such, Rother often accommodated any requests Alaric had.

In this case, the High Warden had reluctantly looked away in anything involving their enigmatic new sub-Academ, Marionys Ryland. Even when the warning signs had been loud and clear, even when the Oracle herself had started giving hints that something was wrong, he had ignored anything strange going on at the academy. Up until the Living Mana Incursion had torn through Arcoryx City. Up until Ryland had torn through the Incursion. That was when things had come to a head.

Because Alaric's condition was that Ryland would never do anything to pose a threat to everything Rother was supposed to safeguard, even to the point of giving up his life. But then, against that ravenous, malformed tide of Living Mana, he had unleashed the kind of power that Rother couldn't ignore. He had ripped apart the fabric of space and time, had banished the Living Mana to unreality. Rother hadn't just been flabbergasted that day when he had stared up at the sky over Arcoryx City.

He had been gobsmacked with hopelessness. Because if he had been forced to stand against that sort of power, then it would have been his first instance of utter helplessness as the High Warden. Needless to say, that moment had sent everything into a tizzy. The whole of Androvia—the whole of Vyrd, as far as Rother had heard the rumours—had been speaking of that incident.

The Royal Court had sent several dozen messages, missives had arrived from corners of Androvia Rother hadn't contacted in decades, and mages everywhere had gone on high alert. But the worst reaction had come from the Oracle. Just Rother's luck that she was present in Arcoryx through this whole mess. Now he was having to deal with not just an unknowable mage who could casually shatter reality itself, but he also had to contend with the most powerful figure from the Churches.

Not that the Oracle would ever admit it was luck. Oh no. She and her fancy headdress had stated that she was reading Fate. That she had to be present for the momentousness that Arcoryx City would be undergoing. Crazy hag. Rother hadn't been sure what to make of it at first. She had prophesized something about a Calamity being present in the city.

Rother had really, really hoped it was the rambling of the senile, and then, when the Living Mana had rolled in, he had started to dread that she had meant the Incursion was a cover for the birth of a new Calamity. And then it had been wiped out just like that. Rother had really tried not to think of the implications of the Oracle's prophecy after that. Because if the supposed Calamity hadn't been associated with the Living Mana Incursion, then… Then it was right here. Right among them.

Right on this broken mountain that Marionys Ryland had transported them to.

"Your Eminence," Rother said urgently. The biting wind was trying to steal away his words, but he was already channelling his magic.

"Please. I beseech you not to go through with this."

"My dear High Warden," she said in that silky, ageless voice of hers.

"I beseech you to let go of your fears." Rother found himself swallowing when she turned to face him. Her blindfold had fallen to the ground. There were several Church priests and priestesses looking mortified that something of the Oracle's had touched the dirt beneath her feet, though they didn't dare move. Not when her sunlit eyes were now bared to the world. Beyond them, the rest of the gathering hadn't noticed the significance of the Oracle's actions yet.

They were too busy gawking at the fact that they had all been transported to a completely different location with next to no effort. Rother couldn't really blame them. For all the mortification etched onto Alaric's face, the High Warden noted that no one was immediately decrying Ryland's decision as something rash. Though, to be fair, he had been challenged to prove himself. So, he had.

"Th-this is…" The dragonkin Academ got to his feet, shivering in the chilly air atop one of the tallest mountains in all of Androvia. His blue scales looked extra sharp in the cold.

"This cannot be real," Soto said. He was looking around wildly, pretending to be unaffected by the wind and the temperature unlike everyone else, as though that would prove this was all just an elaborate illusion. Even now, he refused to drop the act that the Oracle had requested he perform.

"A duplicity of this nature is almost shameful." If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"Soto, please." Another Academ, a heavyset woman with thick glasses and an air of jitteriness about her, was getting to her feet. She cast a quick Glyph of Warmth to dispel the chill.

"All this feels impossible. But… it is real." Oh, yes. High Warden Rother had no doubt this was real. The biting cold, the frigid air, the mana-dense atmosphere of the top of this broken mountain were all convincingly true. Ryland had brought them here in truth. All of them. Regardless of what personal defensive Inscriptions and Relics they might have possessed. Rother was once again forcefully reminded of that Living Mana Incursion incident.

The other Academs were too wowed by the sudden outpouring of incredible magic to note the Oracle's growing intensity. But the same couldn't be said for the Headmaster. Rother had to hold himself back from exhaling a sigh of relief. What in the Realms was wrong with him? Losing his nerve in a situation like this? Thanking the Great Gods for timely reinforcements? Just because he had been racking his head for a way to prevent anything drastic from occurring didn't mean he ought to forget his station.

"I am in agreement with the High Warden, Your Eminence," Alaric said, coming to a stop as close as he respectfully could. The other Church clergy were all on high alert.

"Surely nothing extreme is needed here."

"I am here to perform my duties, Headmaster," the Oracle said, her saccharine sweetness never fading for a second.

"What is and isn't necessary will be clear in moments." Her burning eyes were on Ryland, who appeared as placid and calm as he had since the moment Rother had spotted him. Even now, even after the Oracle had more or less challenged him directly, there hadn't been even a flicker of a change in his posture. What in all the blasted Realms was this man—this mad mage —made of?

"You orchestrated this all along, didn't you?" Alaric all but hissed. The clergy frowned hard at his tone, and he added the honorific at the end.

"Your Eminence?"

"Have I now?" the Oracle asked.

"It's clear to anyone with actual eyes that one of my High Academs is… compromised. And now we're here. On Sundermount. Far beyond Arcoryx City and Academy, far away from both civilization and any annoying authorities who could lay claim to some sort of oversight against your intentions."

"You would accuse a poor Church lady of such demonic shrewdness?" There was no heat in her voice, which was necessary to prevent the rest of the clergy from bodily assaulting the Headmaster in affront. Not that Alaric appeared even a little bit daunted.

"I am merely stating it as it appears to me," Alaric said.

"Especially since you're forbidden from lying." That was true enough. The two Oracles of the two Churches were branded with Inscriptions so powerful, only Alaric could truly rival them among the gathered mages. But the drawback was that many of those Inscriptions came with severe restrictions, aligned with the faith of the Great Gods. As the greatest power that the Churches were capable of wielding, the Oracle had great magic and great restrictions.

In this case, her Inscriptions would burn with divine fire if she ever uttered a lie. She stepped forward now, divine magic intensifying over her.

"Nothing I do," she said.

"Is ever based on a lie." All this time, Ryland had merely been watching things with his habitual casualness. Even now, Rother got an undeniable feeling like the most that inscrutable mage was feeling was a faint disappointment that his robes lacked pockets for him to shove his hands into. It had to be an affectation. How could one remain calm when the Oracle herself was approaching in that manner, brooding with ever rising power, the promise of divine justice echoing with her every step?

How could one remain almost unfeeling in the face of the imminent threat of utter annihilation? This man…

"Marionys Ryland," the Oracle said.

"I'm glad you agreed to bring us all here." Rother gritted his teeth. A part of him was still trying to find some way he could prevent a confrontation from occurring here. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he genuinely feared for the Oracle. The way that Incursion had been ripped apart and banished, the way power unlike anything Rother had felt before had pulsed out from that fleshy, abominable cloud…

The High Warden hated feeling like even the Oracle of Androvia would fail to stand against magic of that severity. But he could do nothing to stymie his helplessness. A quick glance at Alaric showed the Headmaster had been forced to give up as well. Although, his hands were ready to cast quick magic if necessary.

"Oracle Vertha," Ryland said with a slight inclination of his head in respect.

"I suspect you aren't quite satisfied with my display just yet."

"Your suspicion is correct." She tilted her head.

"You seem to know me, yet I have no recollection of you."

"You are the Oracle of Androvia, Your Eminence. Well, one of them. I try not to be overly ignorant." The Oracle's growing power was taking on a form that no one could deny any longer. Everyone busy staring around in awe at being atop Sundermount was now forced to redirect their gazes to the shining magic taking form around her. Her Soul Glyph of Divinity floated with sunlit gold like a destructive halo.

"Ryland," the Oracle said, her voice echoing with the same power gathering around her. It even rumbled through the ground and boomed alongside the thunder in the rapidly growing storm clouds.

"I hereby sentence you to divine judgment. I hereby claim, in the truth written by the strands of Fate, that the Great Gods shall determine your destiny!" Alarm claimed nearly every gathered Academ. Magic flared from several, Glyphs popping up and fading just as fast as spell circles brought out their powers. But just as quickly, the Church clergy was among them, allaying fears where possible and standing as resolute warnings where not.

No Academ was to interfere with the pivotal workings of the Church, even if it was one of their own being targeted. Despite that, several of the Academs refused to be cowed. Their magic still burned strong. It was only Alaric's insistence on remaining where he stood, on not showing any signs of "standing up for Ryland" or whatever it was that the other Academs might have misguidedly attempted, that finally mollified them. Tension made Rother's arms twitch, but he held his ground. He stayed his hand.

His subordinates followed his lead as trained. Good, Calamity-cursed grief.

"That's rather harsh, don't you think?" Ryland said mildly, like the Oracle had called him too shabby instead of calling him someone deserving of the gods' wrath. Her words now made the world ripple.

"Do you object?"

"Does it matter?" She smiled. Then her Soul Glyph of Divinity imprinted into reality itself with all its Tier [20] ferocity." [Invocation]," she incanted. Tremendous pressure started hammering on Rother like he was standing against stormy waves. He wasn't the only one affected, of course. Every other Warden and clergy member were erecting barriers, regardless of their effectiveness against the magic that had started shaking the mountain and lacing the intensifying storm clouds with golden lightning.

Through the strengthening maelstrom, Ryland still looked entirely unbothered. If anything, he sported a gleam of interest in his amber eyes.

"Very intriguing!" How was Rother hearing the fellow through the madness? If his words affected the Oracle, she ignored it entirely.

"I call upon the wisdom of Uldovyx the Sun Dragon, scion of Great Arcoryx," she chanted, her every word making Rother's heart stutter.

"I call upon the insight of Graenon the Everlasting, He of The Eternal Dusk. I call upon the judgment of Hyrmir Unsung, War-lost Brethren. O' Great Gods! Hear my plea! Grant me a sliver of your greatness, so that I may cull the threat to Fate itself!" Rother was now being forced to step back. Even Alaric couldn't hold his ground, despite ostensibly being the same overarching rank as the Oracle—they were both one of the few Primordial-ranked mages of Androvia. Clearly, the Oracle eclipsed the Headmaster himself.

The manifesting divinities were turning Sundermount into an eruption of magic. Golden power frothed through every iota of reality, molten and magnificent. Rother's eyes could barely take it all in. The head and neck of a mighty golden dragon were forming over the Oracle's back. Her right arm was reshaping, molten power encasing it to form a muscled limb bearing a sparking spear. Even her robes shimmered, rippling before they were replaced with armour constructed from an aurora.

In the face of such awesome might, Rother's earlier thoughts began to flee. So this was the true power of an Oracle. He could hardly fathom it, hardly believe he was in the presence of something of this nature. How idiotic he had been to think she'd have had any trouble accomplishing her objectives. How foolish he had been to think anyone could withstand this sort of might. He could hardly even see Ryland against the eradicating radiance of the Oracle's sorcery.

Golden wings spread out from her back to stretch across the entire mountaintop. She rose into the air, a thousand golden bolts of lightning scarpering across the clouds before striking her spear. Despite his ears feeling like they were rupturing, Rother somehow still heard her.

"Prepare yourself, Marionys Ryland," she said, her words echoing with irrepressible power.

"To face the destiny that befalls all Calamities!" Then she fell upon the figure of Ryland like divine retribution incarnate. And Ryland— still —just stood there.