The corpse ran for a long time—through night and into day. By daylight, the stench was starting to rise. At one point, I just leapt off its shoulders mid-run and blasted it with the strongest bolt of lightning I could muster. Tumbled to the ground, tried to rise to numbed legs. No chance—but sitting worked. My backside ached too. Sitting on the bouncing shoulders of a sprinting brute for hours? Yeah, no joke.
The creature staggered a few more steps, paused, and then began trudging toward me. The lightning clearly had an effect. I centered myself, pressed my palms together, twisted them apart…
"Ha!" Six seconds for a wind blade—just enough to split its rotting head.
Out crawled two halves of the parasite—squirming, twitching. I spat and walked past it. It'd bake in the sun, and the corpse was far off the road. This greedy desert swallowed bodies fast. Soon there'd be nothing left but scorched flesh and bleached bone.
Why did I do it? Pff… we had a deal: the demon would help me escape. But I suspect the moment I dismounted, my "transport" would've turned hunter. And me—the prey. No way I was letting that worm nest in my brain.
I kept the light cloak—a hooded wrap with belt. It hung too long, but I twisted the excess fabric around my waist for a proper fit.
The sun was rising, and I kept walking. My high prana and endurance kept fatigue at bay. To distract myself from the heat and monotony, I started gathering mana along the way. Poor results at first—but I adjusted. One unit every five minutes if I was lucky. Still, better than nothing.
But joy never came. Yes, I escaped.
But Master Yen remained.
News would reach him slowly—five days minimum. Maybe ten to twenty.
I had time to get far.
But even if I did—then what?
He's a mage. A real one. A master.
Me? I'm apprentice-tier at best. And while I've downloaded plenty from the libraries of Yen, Gazi, and some from Halai—not all of it's been read. Much is useless or beyond my current grasp. Some spells… I'm afraid to even touch.
Like that demon. That was a reckless gamble.
Luckily, the system analyzed the summoning circle:
Composite barrier component of magic circles.
Function: containment.
Operation: direct magical resistance between summoner and summoned, with force ratio (7:3).
Easily broken by high-tier entities.
Even then, I barely held it.
And that creature wasn't particularly strong—it came from Kwvetzol-Iin.
Sumerian demonologists usually prefer Lang, but nearby dark realms include Hell and Kwvetzol-Iin, maybe others. Halai Ji Besh had an entry on this one.
Originally, the book was given to me to study concentration techniques used in demonology. I doubt the mages intended me to learn summoning—more likely it was another "spiritual development" exercise.
I read the whole thing. Well—copied it, then read it.
Some later chapters outlined tasks suited for demon assistance. This one included.
He was called the Worm-Ridden Gravedigger—a rare entity from Kwvetzol-Iin.
His rotting body swarmed with toothy worms he could detach and implant into corpses.
They became zombies. Typically armed with claws and fangs.
When they bit, they drained prana—like vampires. Sometimes even mana—feeding it back to their master.
Fortunately, few demons could control more than five at a time. A dozen? Highly unlikely.
And they weren't immortal. Even mundane wounds weakened them.
Kill the worm—kill the zombie.
The guards could handle the demon.
The city might suffer ten corpses. Maybe a few more.
Do I regret the risk? Absolutely.
But I also hated killing slaves. Had no other choice. Damn...
My mental curse came from forgetting about Halai Ji Besh.
News would reach him eventually.
And worse—I wasn't just fleeing from a master demonologist.
I had a magister and a master involved.
My grasp on ancient geography was weak.
This was the third millennium BCE.
Had it been 400–0 BCE, I'd have mapped Europe and North Africa in detail—from Gallic tribes to Arabian kingdoms.
But Alexander the Great and Rome were centuries away.
I had to flee—now.
Where could I go?
I knew life followed the water—between the great Tigris and Euphrates. And along the Mediterranean coast.
Most of the coast belonged to Egypt now.
Between the rivers, Akkadian kingdoms thrived.
Yes—kingdoms. Tiny, warring patches of land.
Some swore loyalty to the emperor. Most did as they pleased.
Sumer itself barely occupied a tenth of the region—but its influence towered above the rest.
Akkad was off-limits. Too close to the mages who wanted me dead.
Egypt?
Likely another trap.
Every Egyptian mage is also a priest.
Sure, a Sumerian mage might be a priest of Marduk—but they rarely act like one.
I suspect Egypt is only safe in transit. Not as a place to linger.
Farther south? Still Egypt.
There are fascinating places—like mighty Memphis with its sages. It resists the Egyptian king.
But it lies hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away.
North? Some coastlines belong to the people of Crete—but their lands lie even farther than Memphis.
Besides, I know nothing of their magic, customs, or politics.
I'd be safer among Egyptians than Cretans.
There's also barbaric Kush to the south and wild northern Kassia.
But the Kassites are worse than the Sumerians—more savage, more hostile.
And they hate Sumerians.
Even Gazi, Halai, and Yen had Kassite blood. That unsettles me.
Eventually, cresting another hill—I saw it.
The vast watery expanse of the Euphrates.
Vegetation appeared—palms, thickets.
The mighty river sliced through desert and plain, fostering groves even in distant soil.
And along its banks? Trees and bushes thrived everywhere.
Okay, "mighty" was an exaggeration.
The Euphrates is long—very long.
Broad… but not endless.
Not the Volga. Not the Neva.
Still impressive, though—flood season was ending.
Soon it would shrink.
Navigable, yes. But it's just a watery ribbon slicing through scorched land.
I'd rested briefly before—but never like this.
Here, far off the road, in the shade of an unknown tree—I ate, and slept.
Woke deep in the night.
Luckily, the stars were bright.
The moon shone well.
Still—a thick darkness lingered.
I had work to do.
What exactly?
Build a raft.
Running wouldn't get me far.
The demon had carried me far from the city—an entire night and part of the day.
After that, I'd walked: night, day, breaking only briefly.
I'd weathered the midday sun by soaking my head and hiding under the white cloak in the pitiful shade of rocks and weeds.
A long trek—ending at the Euphrates.
Now it was night.
If anyone had pursued me, they'd be leaving the city right now.
Which means I had at least a full day's head start.
And even that assumed the guards knew I existed.
Only the demon could've told them—and who'd listen to that?
Assuming it even spoke.
If news reaches Yen or Halai, I need to be long gone.
Hopefully, the river will carry me far before that.
So—I couldn't waste time.
Wind blades weren't strong enough to chop trees.
But water blades could.
Plenty of water here.
Air helped shave and refine the wood.
Plus—I had a decent knife.
Mana flowed easier here—Euphrates water helped.
I'm still more hydromancer than anything else.
Water mana empowered my blades.
The river worked with me.
I labored long and hard.
Manual work conserved mana.
Eventually, I managed weak concentration—restoring mana as I worked.
Made plenty of logs—fairly straight ones, too.
But what to bind them with?
Ideas came quickly. Now to act.
Soon, long strands of algae lay ready.
The sun had long since risen—and neared its peak.
I swam extensively, exploring a kilometer in both directions, hunting for vines or pliable branches.
Found some, thankfully.
Waiting was all that remained.
But I used the time to fish.
It went poorly.
Still, I caught a few—bubble-trapped with hydromancy.
Cleaned them. Reeked of fish.
Made a fire.
Started to grill my catch.
By evening, after eating the fish and washing again, I began lashing the logs together. I knew the material was shoddy, so I tied each joint three or four times for safety. This raft needed to hold at least a week. Longer would be better—but even a week's journey would take me well past the empire's borders.
There was a feature in the system: skill purchase. That's how I "bought" literacy in Sumerian script. It cost me four free stat points. And with only two points granted per level, that had been expensive. I had no way to learn other languages—so I spoke only Sumerian. Well, and a few others... but people wouldn't speak those for another five thousand years.
That meant I'd need to learn a new language fast once I reached a new place—or suffer for it. So my short-term goal became: gain at least two levels in two to three weeks. How? Brilliant question. In ten years of life here, I'd gained only seventeen levels total. The system hadn't offered any new quests. It rarely did—and by some opaque algorithm. Experience usually came from new spells. Learned spells. But "fully learned" meant actually used. Like with the Cleansing of Inanna: first I learned it, got some XP. Then, when I finally applied it, the spell registered as mastered—and gave me another XP bump.
I considered re-learning every single spell in my virtual grimoire—but the problem is... they're all already learned. Not necessarily usable, but studied. I'd had that idea before. So maybe the best path forward is mastering spells I haven't used yet? Logically, yes. I had no better options.
The raft moved neither fast nor slow—but it moved steadily. About six to seven kilometers per hour. A little faster than walking. That meant roughly 150 km per day. In the beginning, I figured I could just lie back and let it carry me. But soon I realized it needed constant guidance. And since my only tools were magical—well, mana was spent. Not quickly, but a solid fifty units per hour. On average.
So while I trained my magic, I also had to steer my ride. Not easy.
While practicing spells, I debated what to develop next. I settled on the neutral water arrow from Word Magic. Initially, I considered hydromancy methods—but decided Word Magic would be easier, then I could try adapting it into hydromantic casting.
Let's clarify the difference. Word Magic is the masterpiece of Sumerian magical thought in terms of unification and versatility. Maybe not just Sumerian. Its beauty lies in flexibility: it can shape nearly any spell from any school. Take hydromancy—it's focused on manipulating water, usually using water-aligned mana. It can control liquid directly or form spells by mental control and often hand gestures. Though there are exceptions.
A hydromancer near a sea, lake, or stream is a monster. Mana flows easily from water, and it's already aligned—no need to convert neutral mana. Water's abundant, and doesn't need to be conjured from pseudo-matter, which is super mana-intensive.
But put that mage in a graveyard? Not very useful.
Necromancer? The opposite.
Word Magic, though? It lets you cast spells across disciplines—so long as you've studied them.
Pros: adaptability.
Cons: less potent than "pure" casting, slower activation, limited spell control to known incantations.
Still, nearly every Sumerian mage knows at least a few Word Magic spells. Including me. So learning a water arrow this way was simpler than pure hydromancy.
Though to be clear—if a pyromancer is constitutionally unable to manipulate water mana, no amount of repetition will help them cast a water spear.
That's why I was muttering the incantation for the water arrow.
There's also the water spear—similar but much more powerful.
In pure hydromancy, the only difference between the two is how much mana you pump into them.
But again—I wasn't using pure hydromancy.
"Ha…" I flicked my wrist.
A dense water projectile erupted—cone-shaped.
It flew at a small riverside tree and tore a chunk from its trunk.
Experience +3
Nice. Just two hundred more like that and I'll level up.
Sadly, water arrow won't give more XP once mastered.
Water spear next?
I kept at it for a while. By the end, I was dead tired.
First attempts often failed. Mana drained. Strength vanished.
Recovery was slow.
By evening, I had mastered eleven spells.
Nine came from hydromancy or had Word Magic equivalents.
The river wasn't barren.
I passed fishing villages.
A small sailboat overtook me once.
At the third village, I approached the bank.
"Hey! Hold it!"
A few fishermen waited.
"Who are you supposed to be?"
"A traveler," I said.
"I need food, lodging, and a boat."
I gestured toward my raft—it was starting to fall apart.
The algae ties hadn't held.
"Maybe you're a demon," one man grunted.
I sighed. Obvious setup. They wanted to rob me.
"I've had enough."
Telekinesis for the win.
A powerful three-hundred-mana shove knocked them all flat.
"Don't block my path, worms.
And thank Marduk I'm in a good mood."
They finally realized I wasn't some kid—I was a mage.
I ignored their words and walked on.
No inn or tavern here.
Grimacing, I took up the offer of one would-be thief.
He was the boldest—"offering" to sell me his boat "as an apology."
Not expensive.
A couple silver shekels.
Another coin bought me dried fish, some flatbread, nuts, and fruit.
I didn't plan to stay. My journey resumed.
"If my master were here, he'd have burned you alive…"
The thought passed bitterly.
But I was committed to necessary ruthlessness—not cruelty for its own sake.
And burning peasants alive?
That wasn't in me.
Drowning, maybe. But not burning.
And besides, I'm no imperial master—just a runaway, unrecognized apprentice.
A former slave.
No room to show off.
I kept sailing.
The boat wasn't as comfortable as the raft.
Lying down was hard.
But dangling my legs over the edge helped.
I resumed magic study once I learned to steer the boat properly.
It even had a paddle—made maneuvering easier.
Hydromancy was my strongest skill.
I focused on it.
For emergencies, I wanted some knowledge in aeromancy and electromancy.
Electromancy? I barely knew anything beyond basic electrokinesis.
Useful for tossing a lightning bolt, lighting a fire, stunning with a shock…
But I wanted more.
Thankfully, Gazi had been an elementalist.
From his inheritance, I had a few lightning spells—not as many as I'd hoped.
The banks of the Euphrates shifted—sometimes thick grass, sometimes jungle.
Twice I hit river splits.
First time—a small channel.
Second—a real fork, wide and tricky.
Luckily, I had a rough sense of direction.
I knew where to turn.
Still, the current tried to drag me the wrong way.
To resist it, I had to burn every last drop of mana I had.
I sailed for nearly five days. Late on the fourth evening, I spotted Ruk-Ippu—an imperial border fortress built right on the Euphrates. Stronghold with three hundred soldiers and solid artillery. It existed for one reason: to prevent enemy armies from breaching the river frontier. A few months each year, western winds surged. With magical support, warships could travel upstream in days and land troops nearly anywhere along the Euphrates, bypassing weaker border posts. Ruk-Ippu had put an end to the conflict between the Empire and various coalitions of Akkadian kingdoms.
Not that I knew the history firsthand—I overheard Gazi mentioning it once. Can't remember to whom.
Hydromancy excels at generating powerful currents. With base-level hydrokinesis, I swept past the fortress at speed. They shot a couple arrows—but I'm an aeromancer too: none hit. The Akkadian side had no equivalent fortress. All bordering kingdoms had sworn fealty to the Empire, no longer fearing invasion. And sending troops via the Euphrates made little sense anyway—the river barely touches their lands. It runs hundreds of kilometers through imperial territory.
Sailing wasn't exactly safe. The Euphrates teemed with wildlife, including predators. Especially downstream—especially snakes. One such creature slithered aboard and bit me. Panicked, I fired a wind blade and punctured the boat's hull. Grabbed my bags, yanked myself ashore with telekinesis, cast Cleansing of Inanna, then healing. That tiny snake cost me a boat and 250 mana. Damn…
Luckily, my gear survived. Both what I brought from Gazi's house and what I got from the fishing village. And now I was on Akkadian soil. Thankfully, some locals understood Sumerian.
"Hate snakes," I spat. Then, knowing it was foolish, I sent a surge of lightning into the river. Held it for four seconds—drained my mana.
With a sigh, I sat down to meditate. By the time I finished, the sun was past midday.
I continued downstream. I feared the creatures that Halai and Yen might unleash. Near water, I could fight back. On water—I had real advantage. In the desert? I'd be torn to ribbons.
—
Atulan, lugal of Eridu, glared at the mage-consultant. The vile creature crawling from Master Gazi's burning house, trailed by three other monstrosities with razor-sharp claws and teeth, hardly resembled anything human. Rotting flesh, squirming protrusions, rancid pus…
"Douse it with oil. A lot of oil," the mage said, straining to crush the ground beneath the creature and forming a pit. It clearly wore him out.
"Where did this thing come from, Dimur?" the lugal scowled. Twelve guards dead. Nine imperial subjects. More than twenty slaves.
"All evil comes from these damn mages ruining people's lives," he muttered. "We lived in peace… then the house caught fire, and this horror came out…"
"I don't know," Dimur exhaled, teeth clenched in frustration. "Looks like a chimera or necrotic entity. Never seen anything like it. We need an experienced necromancer. Or a demonologist. Ideally both. Give me two guards—I'll investigate what's left of the house…"
"Look!" the lugal pointed at the dissolving corpse, sloughing into a puddle of pus.
"Tiamat's womb!" Dimur swore, launching a fire arrow from his hand—it landed in the goo, making it reek even worse.
"What was that?" the lugal drew his sword.
"A demon. Fled back to its realm. Douse everything in oil and burn it. Then bury it. And get a priest—have him purify the ground. Burn the bodies too, after blessing them. I'll contact the guild. You—find out everything you can, lugal."
"…Fine."
Eight days later
"The magister will not be pleased. Not at all."
Yen surveyed the ruins of his now-deceased apprentice's home.
Summoning the soul would be nearly impossible: the corpse had been used by a demon, then burned by the city guard.
By all accounts—it had been something grotesque.
Yen, a master himself, begrudgingly agreed with the mage-consultant: this had been a true demon, one that fled back to its realm.
"I'm done."
"Master?" the lugal asked eagerly.
"I'll come to your estate tonight. I need to contact Magister Halai," Yen grimaced. "There's something I must confirm with him."
"The sooner the better," the lugal muttered.
Four days later
"Filthy little brat…"
Magister of Demonology Halai Ji Besh was livid.
His plans—ruined.
"Wretched bastard… Masters? Ha! Two piles of donkey dung! Worthless!
Well done, right? Yes, well done!
Too well! Spawn of Pazuzu…"
For a second he considered using his apprentice—but no. That idiot was enrolled officially.
If the Guild found out… and he'd be forced to refund the hefty tuition he'd already pocketed.
That animal would just die anyway.
Bah—these mages who prepare tasty snacks for demons always forget that sometimes dinner objects to its fate.
A slave entered, bowed, offering a bowl of berries.
Halai struck him in the ribs with his staff, then kept beating.
Relentlessly.
Ten minutes later, the boy lay dead.
"Argh…"
Halai stormed out into the corridor.
"Hey, someone—clean that mess up," he spat.
Twelve days later
Reach the coast in three weeks?
No problem.
I managed to gain two levels and picked up the Egyptian spoken language.
Gods—what it cost me…
Still, the sense of dread never left me.
I was afraid—truly afraid.
Gripped by it.
I don't know—maybe it was paranoia, maybe not.
But I felt like demons sent by Halai or Yen were following close behind.
"Tiamat's womb…" I muttered, rising and heading for the nearest temple.
Six copper shekels—Sumerian—hit the altar. They accepted them here.
A statue of a man with a frog's head guarded the entrance.
"Need help, young man?" the priest asked.
The temple was empty.
Early morning—most were still asleep.
Few had the mindset for prayer this early.
"I don't know if you can help me, priest.
But help is something I won't turn down," I said, gazing at the statue.
"Who is this?"
"You don't know whose temple you've walked into?"
The priest stepped closer, visibly surprised.
"I'm from far away.
From Sumer."
"Oh! Sumer...
Land of lying gods," he sneered.
"Funny—that's exactly how they describe Egypt back there," I smirked.
"You're not afraid to say things like that here, boy?"
"I've got bigger things to fear.
So—who is this?"
"Him?
That's Heh.
Lord of infinity and the endless sea."
"Infinity and sea?"
"Have you seen anything more infinite than the sea?"
"I have," I replied.
"The sky.
It's endless where the sea ends."
The priest blinked—clearly intrigued.
"Incredibly wise thoughts for someone so young.
But the sky belongs to Amun-Ra.
How old are you, boy?"
"Thirteen…
Fourteen, actually," I corrected myself.
I figured they would've sacrificed me on my birthday—how symbolic that would've been.
"Come inside.
Tell me your story," the man smiled.
I didn't resist.
Not that I trusted him—but why not?
The system marked my escape quest as complete—but I disagreed.
I was still running.
Demons from Halai and Yen were after me—I was sure of it.
New Quest: Prey of the Demonologists
You escaped your master—sent him to the afterlife.
But his allies remain.
They still want you sacrificed—or at the very least, punished.
Mages don't take insults lightly.
Especially not from slaves.
Use any means necessary to evade their pursuit.
Reward: 1 level, 5 gold shekels, your life.
I froze.
Exactly what I expected.
Hmm… maybe the system only assigns one quest every fixed interval?
That's possible.
Yes—it's definitely possible.
Ha.
And again—a generous reward.
"So that's how it is…" The priest looked thoughtful. "Quite the story. A runaway slave… That's serious business in these lands. Very serious."
I was ready to kill him if I had to—but—
"But a mage, servant of the gods, cannot be a slave. Show me your magic, boy."
He watched closely.
I shrugged and floated into the air.
Spun gently. Landed in place.
"Well then... you weren't lying at all."
He smiled faintly.
"You know… would you be interested in the protection of Heh?"
"Protection of Heh? Would it keep me safe from demons and the friends of my former master?"
"Oh, not at all!" the priest chuckled. "Of course not. But Heh can sometimes offer guidance and strength.
Besides, demons tend to steer far away from those marked by gods." He smiled.
"And what does Heh want in return?" I tensed a little.
"Prayer. Offerings," he said with a shrug.
"Simple. Maybe his servants will ask something of you—you fulfill it.
And the reward likely won't take long to follow."
"I understand…"
You've been offered divine patronage: Heh.
If accepted, the following skills will be unlocked:
Aura of Sanctity, Banishment, Blessing, Offering to Heh, Divine Revelation
To use them, you must earn the god's favor through devoted prayer and substantial offerings.
Heh may demand fulfillment of his will.
If the bond is broken, you will suffer the Curse of Divine Displeasure.
Accept: Yes / No
All the demons of Leng! What am I supposed to do?
Although… Pfff... As if I had any chance of escaping whatever they'd send after me.
Yes.
"I feel you didn't refuse," the priest smiled. "Come."
He led me to the altar and pulled out a bowl of water—likely seawater.
He told me to remove my shirt, then began chanting, flicking droplets onto my chest.
Blessing of the Initiate
You have become an adept of the god Heh. You've received the skills:…
You are blessed. From this moment forward, the sea is your ally…
Divine Power: 0
Divine Power = the strength of your faith.
Pray. Offer gifts.
Divine Power influences Heh's favor.
It fuels divine skills.
It is your connection to the god.
"Priest, do you have any books?" I asked.
"Books?"
"Prayers, rituals… I'm guessing that's how this works?"
"Ah! No—I have everything memorized," he said, smiling.
"But I can teach you."
"That would be great…"
I stayed at the temple until the following morning.
Ran to town twice to buy some treats.
Spent the rest of the time talking with the priest and his acolytes.
My book steadily filled with prayers and incantations.
At dawn, they gently hinted it was time to go.
"Tiglat," the priest said in parting,
"The sea is your friend and faithful ally—from yesterday onward.
Try to live near it. Better yet—find a ship to serve on.
Believe me—you won't regret it," he added with a chuckle.
"I…" I paused. "Thank you for the advice."
I bowed—and walked away. Without looking back.
The port was huge—this was a major trade city, after all.
From here, goods from Greece traveled into Akkadia and Sumer.
Strangely, I had assumed Greece didn't exist yet.
Well, not in the form I know.
I asked a merchant about Athens and Sparta—he'd never heard of them.
Or Thessaloniki.
And yet… here we are.
The priest's advice was brilliant—why hadn't I thought of it sooner? A ship. Of course! I'm a hydromancer! Maybe I don't love my specialty, but I never had a choice—and where is a water mage most powerful? That's right. The sea. Not to mention, reaching me on open water won't be easy for whatever monstrosities get sent my way. And Halai and Yen won't expect this move. Besides, I'm far from their only problem—and definitely not the biggest one.
I started searching for a decent vessel, chatting with merchants at a nearby bazaar, buying a few things…
"… I don't really know. Just feel like traveling, you know? I'm a water mage, yeah..."
"Yeah, sure you are," one man scoffed.
"Pfff… Watch!"
With a flick of my wrist, a floating sphere of water spun above my palm and froze solid.
"Oh… Forgive my rudeness, Master Mage…" The man didn't know where to look.
"It's fine—I'm not easily offended," I chuckled. "Nice pendant, by the way," I added, eyeing the bronze ornament.
"Oh, that? Came from Heliot! Beautiful city," he grinned.
It was a finely crafted bronze pendant shaped like a flower, with twisting stemwork.
"And how much?"
"Ten silver shekels!"
"Kha… That's a joke. It barely looks worth one," I scoffed.
"Well… eight?" The merchant hesitated. "Alright, alright—two. Only out of respect, Master Mage."
"Fair enough," I said, pulling the coins off the string around my belt.
"You're looking to travel?"
"Yeah. I'm a water mage. I want to explore other lands. Thought I might get hired on a ship…"
"I can point you toward something…"
And so the day went. Luckily, I found a place to sleep.
But time felt like it was slipping away—like sand in an hourglass.
"Hey! Get the captain!" I called out to a sailor on one of the ships.
"Keep walking, brat," he spat and tried to shove past me.
He froze at the sound—the crackling of lightning coursing between my fingers.
"Fetch the captain," I repeated.
The man—barely twenty-five—didn't tempt fate. He ran.
Soon he returned with a well-dressed man.
The captain wore fine but practical gear: a sleeveless jacket reinforced with broad metal rings—not chainmail, but close. Bracers and greaves. Twin daggers at his waist.
"You're a mage?" he looked me over skeptically.
"I am," I confirmed, reigniting the lightning trick in my fingers.
"What do you want? Looking to place an order?"
He spoke Egyptian with an accent—clearly Cretan.
"Take me into your crew," I said simply.
The captain frowned, then motioned for me to follow.
We boarded the ship. Not large, but by the standards of this time—a masterpiece of nautical engineering.
Sailors came and went, but the deck was mostly clear.
We stepped aside to a corner of the stern deck—alone.
"You want in the crew?" He studied me.
"Let's start from the top.
Mages don't usually join crews.
It happens, but I'm just a ship's captain—not some wealthy merchant who can afford a mage.
And this isn't the personal flagship of the Minovkli fleet.
So what do you want?
What can you do?
And don't lie, spellcaster."
He paused, then added, "Also—why do you look so young?"
"It's simple.
I'm a runaway slave from Sumer.
No need to grab your weapons—here in Egypt, mages can't legally be slaves.
And I've taken Heh as my patron god."
That calmed him instantly.
Taking an Egyptian deity as patron?
It's like swearing loyalty to the pharaoh. Not citizenship, but close enough.
"I look young because I am young. Just fourteen.
But I'm talented.
Most mages reach my level around twenty-five or thirty.
My… former owners. They won't let me go easily.
That's why I'd rather join the crew of a traveling merchant.
My core element is water.
And Heh is one of the gods of the sea."
"And what kind of skills," the captain asked dryly, "are supposed to convince me to take on a runaway slave hunted by spellcasters?
Your former owners—they were mages, weren't they?"
He smirked.
"And Sumer—if I remember right—has a very small coast and an even smaller fleet, doesn't it?"
"You're right, I've never served on a ship. But!" I raised my hands. "I can heal, brew potions, sustain a favorable wind for hours, and in open sea I'm a strong combat unit. Sure, I'm weak in close quarters—but against a pirate ship, I might be able to sink it before it gets close. Or at least cripple it and wipe out most of the crew. I have a head full of knowledge. I'll soon learn to control weather—I promise."
"Interesting. You say you're a healer… Can you regrow a severed arm?"
"No. But I can mend a broken one in under a minute. And if someone's gut is split open—I can fix that too... just not quickly. And I can cure many diseases."
"But that'd require herbs and potions, which, I assume, you don't have." He raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"I don't need them," I said immediately. "Everything I just described—I can do with these hands alone." I held them out.
"Not even a staff?" he scoffed.
"A staff? Ah... Maybe that's not common everywhere." I shrugged. "No staff. No focus."
"You said you could heal a torn belly?" He drew a dagger. "I'll rip yours open right now. If you heal—you stay. If not, you walk. Deal?"
"Uh..." I stepped back.
"There's no room for weakness at sea." The captain began to lower his dagger. "I need to trust every crew member… What are you doing?"
"Just avoiding wrecking my clothes," I muttered, stripping off my upper layers. "Go on. Strike."
I braced for brutal pain.
A torn belly... it's horrific.
Yen once hit me with a spell that shredded my shoulder. I passed out from the pain, woke up screaming, haunted for days by phantom agony. That was when I fell in love with Sumerian nights—when sleep escaped me, I could at least watch the stars and savor the cool breeze carrying the fragrances of imperial lands.
The moment the captain moved, I triggered Lesser Healing.
The spell activated just as the dagger sliced my abdomen.
The pain was unbearable—I doubled over.
But it passed fast.
I collapsed, then rose after a few breaths.
Blood coated the dagger. A red gash lined my stomach—a half-sealed wound.
I cast another healing spell. The scar faded, the internal sting vanished.
"So, did I pass your test?" My voice came out raspy.
"Hm… I'll pay you two gold shekels a month," the captain said after a pause. "You'll get a private cabin. Meals with the crew. If that doesn't suit you—buy your own food. I won't micromanage you, but if needed, I'll rope you into labor. I hope you're not soft-handed. Then again, you were a slave—you probably know how to work. If I tell you to follow someone's lead—you do it. Even if it's just a sailor or a slave. On this ship, my word is law. My will is divine. Got it?"
"I accept," I replied. "But your orders don't cover my private life, and you don't own my soul or body."
"Fair enough. But I won't tolerate women on board."
"There won't be any," I said calmly. "My name is Tiglat."
"I'm Ekil."
"Pleasure."
—
I spent the two remaining days before departure meditating beside the water—trying to push my magical reserves higher. I hit 900 mana. That's a lot—especially considering what I had just two or three months ago. And 900 was exactly enough to sustain the favorable wind spell for three hours. Yes, that spell—straight out of Gazi's aeromancy book. He had it listed among the elementalist spells.
I also began studying a vital magic: personal shields.
A phenomenal system. In battle, everyone else gets zero room for error. You get as many chances as the number of shields you wear.
I didn't forget to pray to Heh.
Genuinely pray, I should emphasize.
It's hard to be insincere when a sword hangs over your head like Damocles.
Though… how many centuries until Damocles even exists?
People constantly stared at the "sorcerer" perched at the stern.
My muttered prayers drew wild theories: I was casting curses, chatting with demons, or trying to seduce a mermaid into an orgy.
Yes, I'm well aware of my genius.
A genius in all fields, apparently. Even ones I never imagined.
Most of the gossip came from dockworkers and servants of visiting merchants.
The crew didn't bother with me—mostly Greeks, speaking in classical Greek.
No idea how that's possible—it's supposed to emerge centuries later with the rise of Hellas.
But reality is what it is.
The sense of looming danger never left me.
That evening, I left the ship and walked beyond the city walls, warning Ekil I'd return by morning.
—
The ritual was long, taxing…
But the system rewarded me with +40 XP afterward.
"You—are you a scorpion-man?"
"Yes."
"Did Halai Ji Besh and Yen send anything after me?"
"No."
I froze.
"Either of them?" I added quickly.
"Yes."
Damn demon...
"Who?"
"Both."
So he meant not together...?
"What did they send after me?"
"Various things."
"Just creatures—or curses too?"
"Just creatures."
"Only demons?"
"Yes."
"Which ones?"
"Hellhounds. Night-sniffers."
"How many hellhounds?"
"Seventeen."
"And sniffers?"
"Four."
"If I stay here, when will they reach me?"
"Release me—my mate is near!" He grew agitated.
"Answer me!"
"One day. Release me!"
"Go." I broke the circle.
The demon—half scorpion, half man—like a scorpion centaur—vanished.
For a moment, something flickered after him.
A blurry silhouette.
To be safe, I poured seawater mixed with blood from my prayer onto the ritual site.
"One day, huh?"
I looked up at the lightening sky.
Dawn would break in thirty to forty minutes.
But the pale blue had already overtaken the stars.
—
I had gold.
Eight shekels bought a sacrificial ceremony organized by the priest.
During the mass prayer, I offered Heh a young bull, using the proper skill.
Afterward, the bull was roasted and eaten, washed down with a sip of seawater.
Apparently, the offering impressed the god—my Divine Power jumped significantly.
The threat pressed closer.
But thankfully, we departed early the next morning—just as the first light touched the horizon.
Ekil wanted a long sailing day.
And he had a secret weapon: a mage who could summon wind.
"Well, time to earn your keep, boy," he said in Egyptian. "Call your wind!"
"Which direction?"
"What?"
"Which way should it blow?"
"Hmm… There." He pointed vaguely.
Understandable.
His whole life he prayed for favorable winds, bowed to nature's whims...
And now someone's asking him to choose the wind.
Hah.
Like the sun suddenly asking beachgoers which cheek to tan for a perfect glow.
I sat at the stern, calmly casting the wind spell.
After thirty seconds, it began to build.
Two minutes later—it was steady and pulling the ship.
I stayed there, focused, meditative.
From time to time, I heard voices on deck.
Much later, after learning Greek, I realized they were cheering for me.
"Captain Ekil was right to hire a sorcerer!"
"We'll live like kings!"
"Always a tailwind now!"
At the edge of my senses, I felt demons—far off, but approaching.
They'd reach the port soon.
But our ship would no longer be there.
Hellhounds can't sprint across water.
And they swim... poorly.
Crossing a bay is one thing.
The sea?
Hah.
Looks like I've won the next round in my race against death.