Chương 73: Chapter 72: Landfall

++My return to Irucci on the shores of Estalia was the start of a new era for my rise to power. Perhaps the most significant of all. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E. Agrian and the other boys began trembling like leaves in the wind as soon as they recognised the newcomer. Admittedly, I did too. But rage is a different emotion than fear, and I was able to more easily control it as she stopped before us.

"All of you are to refer to me as 'Your Divinity' when we are not in combat, and 'sir' when we are," the Demigod continued.

"You will obey me unquestioningly in the field. Anything less will get you killed. If any of you fail, cross me, or jeopardize this mission in any way, I'll personally sacrifice you to myself and put whatever dregs of power I get from that to better use than I could you. Nod if you understand." She seemed to have done this before, then. Or at least had some understanding of how difficult speech became for most people in her presence. All of us nodded, though I was reluctant to.

Even that show of deference worsened my temper.

"Good," the Demigod nodded. Did she look relieved? Interesting.

"Magicians aren't favoured by the Gods, not like nobility and certainly not like the Godtouched themselves. Do well and that might change for you all. There's always been bright futures in Garamon for people who serve the Gods well. Remember that." With that, she began heading for the skyship. As far as opening speeches went I would have given it middling marks. Higher, possibly. If I hadn't been able to smell her fear. Smell was the wrong word for it. See was closer, but still fell short.

Demigods are magical beings in a way that does not come naturally to any human, and barely comes to liches with vast and exhaustive effort. Their very beings are wrapped in with the arcane, and it runs through them almost as much as their spells. Which means that a mutant born with the power to physically see magic has no difficulty in gauging what they happen to be feeling at any given time. This one was nervous, and I did not like that one bit. I had killed Demigods in the past, once or twice.

At the height of my power, and when I could catch them by themselves. The notion of approaching something that made one fearful in my current state was not a pleasant one. I followed her onto the skyship, all the same. I did not exactly have much choice anymore. Barely feet into the vehicle, and it was already clear the difference in expenditure it had enjoyed compared to the one I first rode to Winzorth.

Where that had been more of a cargo hauler, with its seating merely being the bare-minimum needed to avoid killing its passengers with every patch of turbulence, this one seemed a thing of luxury and class. That did not mean it was impractically made however, for a quick study of its exterior, and now interior, showed me something painstakingly optimized for speed and performance. Here was the bleeding edge of aerodynamics, under my feet and over my head. Fascinating.

"Oh, this is one of my father's, eh?" Bagran asked as he rumbled aboard, his shoes making metallic thunks with every touch against the metal deckplates.

"It is," the Demigod confirmed. That painted a smirk across his face, one he directed at me.

"It was a probable guess, my family's responsible for half the skyships in the Empire. Something you can look forward to our children inheriting." He appeared to have some sort of muscular spasm, one eye violently twitching in on itself. I realised after a moment that he was attempting to wink at me. And I did not reply, because he had said nothing interesting enough to warrant it.

"How long will our journey be?" I asked the Demigod instead. She directed a glare to me, and I realised my misstep.

"... Your Divinity," I added. The phrase tasted like raw sewage, but it relaxed her.

"Fifteen hours," she replied.

"We could make the journey in half that time, but humans need sleep so we'll be moving at half-pace to give you all eight hours during the latter half of the journey. You'll be woken when you arrive." By the tone of her voice, I could tell she was none too pleased to be delaying even that much on our behalf. Then again, she was a Demigod. The lowest rung of that divine ladder, but still on it all the same. She could probably have flown there herself in far less time even than the skyship if she wished.

"We're sleeping for the latter half," Korig said hesitantly.

"What about the former?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. He spoke with a pathetic nervousness that betrayed his esteem for the Demigod. From what I recalled, he had always been one of the more religious-minded boys at the Institute. Born outside of both nobility and the magician families, he was also among the few who did not tend to openly drool over me. For that he enjoyed some small level of my approval.

"For the former half, I will be getting a look at what you can all do with your magic," Aryqatan explained, sweeping her gaze around the interior of the vehicle. It was starting to lift off now, though I did not feel any of the disturbance I had when the last one did the same.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Agrian frowned.

"We could damage the ship." The Demigod smiled.

"These walls are made of top-quality steel, from Cadnich." She paused, and her eyes flickered to me in particular.

"... Even so, hold back as best as you all can. You're not children anymore and have no excuse to go blasting out on full power all the time." Her caution was vindicated not long after as we started our demonstrations. For the most part I found no surprises here, having already grown well familiar with the abilities of my fellow Institute novices from the combat drills we did a few years prior.

I had long since become thoroughly undefeatable in those, and rarely lost even when Varylani got bored and made me spar against two or three opponents at once. My current companions were not quite so impressive, but they were all a cut above even most of the Institute. Magic missiles flew quickly and regularly, and displayed a variety of effects.

Korig had devised an anti-necromantic effect, emitting pulses of light that actually ate into the substance of death and weakened reanimates and the energies fuelling them. I noted that down as a potential threat. Varnal Tross had his own brand of magical techniques mostly based around immobilisation and harassing the enemy, which lined up with the reputation I had gleaned of him. He had a tendency to pull apart animals, apparently. Bagran's was the most notable though.

His first projectile struck a plane of stone-hard aether made specifically for our tests, drilling in somewhat and seeming to compress itself before erupting all at once. Chunks of the material were sprayed across the room as if a cannon had struck them.

"Imagine seeing that hit a person," the magician grinned as he shot a glance over my way.

"You're picturing it already, aren't you Isabel? Imagine one man, one warrior even, and a single strike from this just turning him into nothing but chunks and claret. Turns you on eh?" That was just a lucky guess on his part, and I did not give him the pleasure of having it confirmed.

"We will not have the luxury of wasting magic on overkill," I noted. His face fell swiftly, but the smile did not quite vanish.

"Not impressed yet? You want to see more…okay, sure," he was stopped by the Demigod's hand coming down on his shoulder. Gently, I thought. He winced at the impact, but did not fall with a shattered skeleton.

"Don't destroy my ship," she told him. Her voice was not louder than a human's, but it was heavier. Bagran blanched. The magician families of Garamon may not have venerated the Gods nearly as much as did the nobility, but even their most pig-headed children knew better than to invite a Demigod's ire.

"Your turn, Vornholt," Araqytan said after a moment.

"The girl I mean." I had, I must admit, been looking forward to this. I made sure to hold back a shade anyway, it would not do to go unnerving a scion of the Gods. Not yet.

"I cannot show you my combat magic," I warned the Demigod. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Because you do not want the ship destroyed." I let that sit there. Bagran bristled, Korig looked awed, Varnal seemed indifferent. Agrian, naturally, was not surprised. The boy knew by now how powerful I was. I had long since left him closer to half my power than the full of it. Aryqatan swallowed as she let that sink in.

"I saw you as a child," she said after a moment.

"You were so powerful I was called on to verify what you were. Some thought you were a Demigod being passed off as human. So I believe you, you don't need to show off your raw strength. Just show me what tricks you can do with it instead." This was actually a bit difficult. As far as problems go though, struggling to list all of my spells due to knowing so many was quite a good one to have. It went a good amount quicker than it might have, thanks to me leaving out all of my necromancy for obvious reasons.

I hurled out sparks and light, bolts of electricity, force made both powerful and invisible, aether rendered so transparent as to be almost impossible to see, gluey sludge that trapped enemies like flies in honey, incendiary oils that went up more hotly than any fireball, illusory effects of a variety that even Professor Varylani may have raised an eyebrow at. I was almost tired by the end of my display.

"What would it take for you to let me fuck you into a coma right now?" Bagran asked once I was done.

"How about I fuck you into a coma?" Agrian asked him, stepping forwards with fists raised and a snarl on his face. Bagran did not have a chance to respond before Aryqatan did.

"Save your aggression for the enemy," she snapped, glaring between the two boys with abject disgust. They withered before her eyes, and the rest of the journey was uneventful. I took the chance to train of course, knowing that, with the latter half reserved for sleep, I could time things to ensure my mana reserves were mostly replenished by the time I woke up. I do not dream normally, but I did that day. I dreamt of cold hands and thin fingers reaching for me. I dreamt of a mountainous grip closing about me.

And then I awoke.

"Welcome to Estalia," Aryqatan grunted as the skyship's deck split open to grant us an exit ramp. The light outside was blinding to my weak, organic eyes, and I realised after a moment that it was not just from how long I had been cooped up inside the vessel. As I ventured out I felt the sun like I never had before, waves of heat battering me, leaving the sand so hot I half-expected to see it slagging and melting beneath me. This was the climate of Irucci. The one I had been born into, long ago.

Long enough that it felt alien and new now.

"We stay together," Aryqatan ordered. The air seemed to cool around her, the very climate seeping with cold. Demigods had such power that the world sometimes went out of its way to please them with comfort. Our group was not so different. We stuck close and began moving without protestation.