Hand of The Eldritch God

The road was long and boring to be quite frank. Ren just kept at his task of keeping the old man’s tea warm. Over time he did notice his mana began to slowly drain less. The upkeep of the process began to cheapen. As he attempted to continuously repeat tasks, he noticed that they seemed to always become easier. Muscle memory gave him swiftness in reloading the revolver while a sort of mental muscle memory began to form in his creation of flames.

With time he began attempting to give shape to the flames, make one side slightly burn more than another, to make flames slowly lick up the sides, and then to quickly recede. When Hollwin finished the rest of his tea he took the pot giving freedom to Ren to shape flames in his hand freely. Trying to make humanoid shapes, circles, and boxes made of fire. While making one of his humanoid effigies, Tayin spoke up.

“You know, doing that won’t make people take kindly to you. Making little humanoid shapes with burning mana while staring into your hand transfixed. You look like a madman waiting to burn the world.”

“What, oh, yeah.” Lost in his own little world, she had surprised him.

From her comment, and the lack of remaining mana, he decided to lay off the playing with fire. Instead, he looked around, a forested landscape surrounded him besides the small farm on occasion, or a small group of houses forming not-quite-villages.

It was on the horizon ahead, a city. Raedem, is the largest city for quite a long distance. A great stone brick Monastery sat at its rear end, behind it a mountain belonging to the same range they had walked along for days now. As the sun sat at the apex of the sky, he believed it would be another hour until they got there.

In the time between, talk was small and barely passed between them. No beasts nor strange creatures lurked so close to massive civilizations housing powerful ascendants, therefore they had no excitement in that realm. Some travelers and caravans passed them, kind words exchanged, and all continued on their paths. The road broke apart in many places, with signs leading to other lands and distant mountains. The closer they became the more the road split off and the more travelers passed, many not even looking at others, simply stepping or riding forward.

The gates were closed now, and Ren could see guards stationed before the great walls that outline the city. As they approached a man hailed Hollwin and welcomed him back to the city, a small gesture for Tayin, and no acknowledgment of Ren.

The gate was opened for them, and they passed into a massive street. Vendors, travelers, and citizens packed the streets everywhere. The scents of perfumes at stalls, flowers, foods, and the gleam of pretty souvenirs overwhelmed him. Quickly realizing he did not like the city awfully much, Ren went to see what goods were around.

The two others agreed and followed him. The first stall he stopped at, was cold kebabs of unrecognized treats. Dumpling-like pastries that were heavily spiced and covered in a glaze. Trying one Ren was elated. Not as good as the bread made by the innkeeper’s wife, but astonishingly good for a market stall.

The next was selling broaches, rings, necklaces, and other forms of jewelry. Never the biggest fan of boosting his presentation with such things, he passed on by.

The third stall contained a small bubbling cauldron, the smell from it was sweet yet had a slightly familiar smell. Buying a small cup of it, he was supposed to drink it in one quick gulp.

“Oh, sweet Silver Lady, please help us.” The old cleric whispered. Tayin smiled against Hollwin’s frown.

The burning hot liquid went down quickly. The heat of it burned his mouth for a few long seconds. After the heat burned away, he felt the sting of powerful alcohol going down his throat. The unexpected, large amount of booze threw him off. Coughing, he covered his mouth.

Between labored breaths, “Why didn’t you warn me, I thought we had at least built that much trust.”

Tayin’s great grin only expanded. “Lesson learned then, huh?”

After deep breaths, they moved to the next stall. Seeing more drinks he decided it was better to just ignore the rest.

A street down, the sound of ringing anvils could be heard. Exploring he found that it was a guild of blacksmiths, jewelry craftsmen, and all sorts of metal and gem workings.

“Ren, we must be going,” Hollwin spoke as gestured to follow him.

They began down the central street and continued for a half hour.

Turning they entered a smaller street, during their journey he noticed their pathway avoided all sorts of slums and poor areas that surrounded the rich central streets.

The smaller street extended for another ten minutes before a wall came before them. This central wall surrounds the Monastery and its large garden. Hollwin approached and placed his hand on the gate. A large holy symbol, that of the Silver Goddess’ triangle and bisecting line. The gate opened and revealed many plain men tending the garden, buckets of water, rakes, and other implements in hand.

The paved roadway they were on extended into a staircase at the entryway of the Monastery. Great stone bricks made up the architecture, painted glass, and silver ornaments crossed every aspect of its design. Most prominently were the silver holy symbols featured all across the building.

Tayin wandered off to walk through the garden, the men tending to the grounds seemed not to even notice her. Solid in their tranquility, they were unphased when she called her winds and practiced calling it forth again and again.

Hollwin, on the other hand, seemed quite intent on speaking to his brethren. Excusing himself, he asked Ren to wait at the entrance before a grand door opened for Hollwin, this time not even requiring his hand to be placed upon it. Ren watched as the doors closed between himself and the elderly man who had been watching over him for quite some time now.

Sitting down, he crossed his legs while practicing bringing forth his flames. Again and again, he shaped them differently, even forming bolts without releasing them, simply letting them burn away in his hand.

Hollwin strode quickly to the head Cleric's chambers. On the way many tried to speak to him, rebounding them all he forced his way into the chambers, though many told him the master was in conference.

Going on to one knee, Hollwin prostrated himself before his better. The eldest Cleric looked down on him, his attention broken away from a paladin that sat across from him.

“Stand my brother, if there was no great emergency in your presence, you would not have interrupted me.” The white-haired man spoke. A beard matched his shoulder-length hair. Great ornate robes hung from him, and an imperial holy symbol hung great and shining on his chest.

“Yes, you are correct as always, great master.” Hollwin stood slowly as he began. “I have found an alien man; he has been sent here by a deity from another realm. As it is unprecedented in this young world, I do not know much of what to have done.”

“I believe whatever actions you have taken will likely have been for the best; I assume you brought them here?”

“Yes, a young man, clad in black carrying a knife and strange weapon from his world. You see, great master, there is a problem.”

“Go on.”

“He possessed no magic, and in his short time here he has exponentially grown in strength. He has strange knowledge of even the heavenly bodies. The most vital point here is that his power is wrong, I have made him practice proper elemental magics. The power he has from the mark of his God is wrong. The Silver Goddess’ light permeates all things and brings healing and protection, he… corrupts and ruins that which is before him. When he first ascended and made use of the gift of his God it destroyed a twice ascendant shapeshifter. His very eyes burned from his skull and changed to dark voids that terrify me to look into. I have acted as I would with any other man while I stood before him, my great master, but I am terrified. I know nothing that even the Silver Goddess’ light cannot purge, no damage of venom, poison, or disease that a barely ascended man could create.”

“You have done well my brother, take rest. I will handle things from here. Mettrax, may I ask you for your aid in this?” The master of the Monastery looked to the paladin he had been in conference with.

“Of course, it is my sacred duty.”

“Now then, let us find this man.”

Ren played with the fire in his hand, three bolts danced around each other. An epiphany struck him at that moment, to combine bolts together as separate parts acting together. A head of the firebolt to penetrate, a shaft to contain the energy of the fire, and lastly the imaginary fletching to guide it true. By separating the energies into a separate segmented attack, he may be able to utilize it without pushing beyond his current limit. With his phantom pains gone, he believed it would now be a fast process. With newfound confidence, he began the segmented creation of his first true firebolt.

A well-dressed man in an ornate robe exited the Monastery behind Ren. Following the figure was a man in dull golden-hued plate armor. On his back was strapped both a shield and heavy mace. They stared into his back, watching him create the first true firebolt.

He began the creation first with the head, shaped like an ordinary bolt head; it was designed to punch through tough hide, stone, metal, and armor. It took several minutes but the process was complete, now time to begin-

“Is that a flame spike meant for driving through armor?”

Startled Ren swung his head around to find the two men patiently watching him. “No, well sort of, I’m developing an attack with fire. I figured to shape it like a crossbow bolt or arrow. This is the head of it, I’m separating the parts of the conjuring into three pieces to make the willpower within each one more competent and not combine or interfere with one another.”

“Well, that is quite a feat for a first attack. Most simply feel happy with tossing a fist full of fire at another’s head.” The cleric looked down at him with a small smile. “Sorry to interrupt you, I will need you to come with me. As you are not from this world, we have the duty to aid you and ensure you get the proper treatment.”

Ren, unable to read their levels like he could a beast, tried something new. Forcing mana into eldritch eyes and using his analyze skill, a pain shot into his head. For a moment he felt two terrifying powers before him. Like looking into both the sun and a mountain falling onto your head at once, he gasped.

The paladin moved slightly as Ren caught himself from having a meltdown, utterly overwhelmed by what was before him.

“Did you… look into us?” The paladin spoke.

“Forgive me, I never tried that before…” Ren held his head as the hulking man picked him off the ground and stood him up.

“Forgive me for being rude, but we must move on from this place young man,” Mettrax said, his armor clanking.

Ren followed the two as they walked through the Monastery. Hallways full of tapestries, ornate carpets, and objects of importance. Passing by three paintings, he saw the depiction of a woman standing alone on a battlefield surrounded by demonic figures. Another one, that of the same woman shedding light down from atop a mountain and everything crumbling into an abyss, the singular other person atop the mountain pierced by holy light. The final depiction of the woman was her reaching into the sky and the sun descending toward her. The woman’s other hand reached down to men climbing over one another trying to reach out to her.

Taking another step, he passed from the hallway into a room with spiral stairs leading downwards. Where are they taking me? Not voicing his thoughts, he instead cordially followed them knowing any resistance was entirely useless.

They passed the quarters of the clerics down below. Men cleaned the floors religiously, every inch looking untouched by a single foot in its lifetime. A small reading room was on the right, the left a tiny kitchen where a man prepared a simple stew.

After passing many of the men’s quarters a large, far more decorated room stood. The master cleric pushed on the wooden door with a small, barred window, inside he saw the light of day coming from a painted window crossed by iron workings. The shelves were covered in books detailing a long history. Small instruments for measuring, testing, and experimentation lay on a desk far to the left side. On the right was storage for food, clothing, and essentials. A bed lined the wall beside the storage barrels and shelves. In the room’s center was a well-kept brazier, around it chairs sat and a table to its side.

“Please make yourself at home, we will speak soon.” The cleric turned and began to walk away, the paladin eyeing him for a moment before nodding and walking off, behind him he pushed the door closed.

Ren watched the door slowly closing before him, as it neared to slam shut entirely, it slowed. For a brief moment the door had almost stayed open, it had almost remained unlocked. When it truly did close, everything changed.

A marking appeared on the door. A circle encased with various runes, markings, and patterns. At the same moment, a similar pattern of runes and markings erupted from the floor. As if both were projections, they sank into the objects they were bound to. Still there, they were smaller and far fainter but still Ren could see what had happened to him.

Ren felt both his mana and stamina draining into what he saw as a ritual below him. A phantom glow coalesced around the walls and ceiling before shimmering out of existence.

If I never trusted them, if I threw down the coin he blessed and ran deep into that cave, would I be alive right now? What if… It’s meaningless, isn’t it?