The following is an entry from Albert's research journal.
***
…therefore, based on the aforementioned power re-distributions, the primary theory we harbor is that what surrounds Irem isn't a single barrier, but a system of barriers and supporting spells.
It seems to work as follows: the outer barrier, the one we can interact with, is absorbing some ambient mana. A standard feature for this sort of barrier, but it seems its mana-gathering capability was damaged over time. This outer barrier then spreads the mana it gathers to the other barriers in the system, thus, powering all of them… or it used to, before it's capabilities decreased.
Again, not surprising, the barrier was active for close to a millennium; it's only natural that a lot of the weaves in its structure unraveled, accumulating points of critical failure over time. If anything, it's a miracle the whole system managed to function for as long as it did.
What is important to note is that Versagen, who, as a master necromancer, had some experience with enchanting and rituals, noticed the mana-gathering property of the outer barrier and took steps to weaken it further. Primarily by placing mana-repelling enchantments at the following coordinates on the map…
[Technical details of Versagen's work are outlined in great detail.]
…all of those measures couldn't completely cut off the mana supply to the barrier system, due to it being spherical and extending fairly deep underground, but they lessened it substantially. As a result of all his work, his prediction of the barrier being breachable within a decade was a good timeframe.
The issue is that the old necromancer wasn't capable enough to deduce that the rest of the barrier system was attached to the outer barrier. His actions are still the only reason we can attempt to breach the first barrier today, but it won't be nearly as effortless as he predicted.
The truth is, while Teuflisch is learned and talented, and brought a substantial collection of books and reference materials on the subject, he isn't exactly specialized in breaking barriers from the Mythical Era. Neither am I.
The state of the barriers surrounding Irem is such that I don't doubt our success; however, it will just take a few weeks of work. I estimate that even without Versagen, the system might have collapsed within a century, maybe two.
***
Illuminated by bright, blue, magical lights, we were in an incredibly spacious underground cavern.
It looked almost as if it had once been a gorge of some sort. I could see the eroded walls, even partially overgrown as they were with mold; however, the vast space lacked an opening above.
If it had been a canyon or a gorge once, it was a cave now.
This place was also the entrance to the city of Irem.
Through the dim, transparent, glass-like barrier, I could make out what must have once been the outer defenses of Irem.
The fortifications rose in a series of ascending defensive tiers, not separate walls but a single, integrated structure that stepped upward like a mountain. The design reminded me of the Theodosian fortifications of Constantinople, though rendered here with a grandeur that surpassed even those legendary defenses. The lowest tier began with a parapet, kept deliberately low, perhaps three meters in height, designed to give defenders an unobstructed field of fire across the killing ground before it. Behind this rose the second defensive level, climbing eight or twelve meters above the terrace that separated it from the parapet, its surface punctuated by projecting towers at regular intervals.
The main wall towered above all, a massive bulwark of stone that rose over twenty meters or more from its base, its thickness evident even from this distance. The towers here reached even higher, some stretching so far into the cavern's darkness that gauging their height through the barrier and at this distance was a bit unrealistic. Each defensive tier stood on its own raised terrace, the entire system built into ascending embankments that turned the approach into a lethal gauntlet for any attacker. Not that I knew much of warfare in this world besides what I professionally studied out of fascination back in Germany, but judging by the cities I've seen in this life, Irem's defences were extroodrinary.
What struck me as peculiar were the battlements themselves. The battlestations varied in their proportions. Some sections clearly accommodated defenders of human stature, with normal spacing between the merlons and embrasures sized for a man to stand and loose arrows, or perhaps for the mage to cast spells. Yet other sections featured different dimensions entirely, as if designed for war machines, like roman scorpions or ballistas, but with no such mechanisms in sight. The pattern wasn't immediately obvious, but something about the spacing and height of certain defensive positions suggested I was missing something, which was the main reason I was pondering the walls. I found myself unable to articulate precisely what bothered me about those odd details.
Even without my mana sensitivity able to penetrate the barrier, I could see the visual distortions where ancient protective spells still clung to the stonework. The walls seemed to vibrate with a barely perceptible resonance. That wasn't a good sign for enchantments; if anything, it meant they were failing, and rather miserably at that. The enchantments created ripples in the air, like heat from forges around the walls, barely percivable.
Many of these protective weaves had clearly failed over the millennia. Where the spell structures had collapsed, raw mana bled from the stone itself, manifesting as pale, translucent flames that flickered without heat or substance. These ghostly fires danced across the wall's surface, particularly concentrated where the enchantment anchors had once been strongest. It seemed like the walls bled with the pale light, yet, this light defied the laws of physics, and produced no luminance. It didn't reflect from the walls of the cavern, nor in the particles that must have been present in the air, unless you stared directly at it, it created no glow..
While the architecture was fascinating, it wasn't the most noticeable or concerning part.
No, those would be the giant petrified roots.
They appeared ancient, transformed to stone by age or perhaps some other process, yet their placement was unnatural. Several massive roots had pierced directly through what I could easily guess were critical junction points in the defensive enchantments (as they were in the bases of towers), the places where the magical infrastructure would have been most deeply embedded in the stone. One particularly thick root had burst through what I assume was the primary ward convergence point, the pale flames burning more intensely around the breach, as if the wound still festered after all these centuries. Other roots climbed over the battlements or wound through the towers, their stone tendrils gripping the fortifications like the fingers of some titan's skeletal hand.
Beyond the fortifications, the cavern expanded dramatically, though the barrier's murky quality made details difficult to discern. I could make out the shimmering suggestions of a vast cityscape, structures that seemed to defy reason in their scale. Some towers and spires appeared to stretch all the way to the cavern's ceiling, their tops lost in shadow and distance, even when I specifically projected the magical light towards them. The barrier's distortion turned the city into something like a mirage, shapes shifting and wavering as if viewed through disturbed water or ancient, clouded glass.
It was a sight both magnificent and deeply troubling.
It was also a shame that my mana sensitivity couldn't penetrate such barriers. Beyond what I could see, I could spy no information about what lay ahead.
I heard the footsteps and turned towards the necromancer, who approached me with a thoughtful look.
"Are you done then?" I clarified, and he simply nodded back. Tired, sure, but visibly enthusiastic.
I could understand the sentiment.
The truth was, this wasn't the first such barrier we've encountered. It's actually the fifth. Whoever sealed Irem was really determined to lock it down.
We've broken through every other barrier so far, and we were relatively certain this was the last one, yet paradoxically, it was also the most durable. Or most well-preserved, I suppose.
"I believe I've pinpointed weak points," He answered quietly, before glancing up, towards the gates, his expression lost, "It should be possible to break through again, but…" He trailed off.
He looked conflicted. I understood. This conversation was long overdue.
"Let's talk on the way back. No reason to dwell here." I offered simply.
Teuflisch blinked, glancing at me, but nodded after a moment.
And so, we headed back.
The road to Irem lay through the underground tunnel, far too vast to be a natural cave. I knew there was a lake somewhere above us, and I could also imagine carriages and people going along the road we currently traveled.
Excavating such a place, and laying down enchantements for it not to collapse… a terrifgying amount of work. Irem wasn't a small city in the middle of nowhere, in it's time, it must have been the regional capital.
Even I felt a dull sense of awe from the grandeur of this place. Nothing like this existed on Earth, and I was sure, few things compared even in this world.
"You seem excited," Teuflisch suddenly commented, making me pause and glance towards him, accompanied by two figures of his vigil.
The man seems to be teasing me.
"...how could you even tell?" I couldn't feel bewildered, but I was a bit surprised.
He wasn't completely wrong after all. I wouldn't have chosen to be a historian if the atmosphere of ancient secrets didn't excite me at least a little. In this world, with magic and mysteries added into the mix, even I felt something in my dull heart.
Yet, the fact that he could tell that much was strange.
Considering my lack of facial expressions and refusal to project anything into my body language, his deduction is unsettling.
Not that I could be unsettled, but I can intellectual deduce that it would have been.
"Just a feeling," The necomancer said with a small smile.
By the tone of his voice, and due to experience, I knew I wouldn't be able to pry a better answer from him even if I tried.
Still, as we re-threaded our path back towards the exit from the cavern and towards the Behemoth…
"You are worrying about what sort of creature is sealed within," I stated, rather than asked.
Surprisingly, we didn't talk too much about it. Between building up the camp, analyzing the barrier, Teuflisch conducting maintenance on his army, me learning the ins and outs of barrier-breaking spells (in record time), and procuring food and water while the season was still ripe, while dealing with a horrendous infestation of flying monsters on the surface, we didn't have much time to discuss this.
We acknowledge that the myth of Irem holding back something seems to have basis in reality, but it was a discussion on our second day here, and a short one at that. I dwelled on it, and I am a monster with muted emotions, so I didn't doubt Teuflisch spend some time thinking over the implications of the existence and functions of the barriers we were breaking.
It's another matter that both of us were so busy that every time we talked, the topic just never came up.
"Don't tell me you don't find it concerning?" Necromancer simply asked back, biting his lip a bit, "This barrier system is designed to hold something inside, Al. This is why we could tamper with it with such relative ease from the outside…"
He was referring to the complexity and overall power of the barrier system surrounding Irem.
The barrier clearly was erected during the Mythical Era, and was one of the prime examples of the typical magic of the time.
Magic from the Mythical Era is adherent to a fundamentally different design philosophy. Most scholars agree that it's a magic derived from demonic and/or elven magic. To explain it simply, it's overengineered, far more mana-hungry, less efficient, and far too complex. It may take decades even to start casting a new spell from the Mythical Era for an experienced mage, while it would take less than a week for the same mage to learn a modern folk spell.
For the most part, modern magic has completely surpassed the counterpart spells from the mythical era—especially offensive and defensive combat magics. Centuries of progress naturally lead to the current approach outpacing ancient magics in almost every way.
However, there were some extremely rare exceptions. Spells that simply can't be easily replicated without the overengineered approach of the past. The barrier system surrounding Irem is one such example. When mages refer to Mythical Era spells - that's what they usually mean, the rare magics that were slowly forgotten and fell out of fashion due to their complexity and difficulty to learn, rather than them simply becoming obsolete.
"That tells us multiple things," I acknowledged slowly, "That whatever has been inside was beyond Irem's capability to handle, and that it persisted in the city for a time. It must have taken enormous effort and a lot of time to prepare to seal it so thoughtfully, so the creators of the barriers knew it will be in the city,"
Teuflisch nodded, looking both troubled and excited.
"You've read the journals and memoirs I still had access to, from what I could find in our library and took with me," He said quietly, "Our line isn't simply descendant from Irem; my predecessors were either involved in creating this barrier, or were outright responsible for it."
In the memoirs he mentioned, Irem was rarely mentioned. When it had been mentioned, those were brief acknowledgments, never quite elaborating, just referencing it as the subject the reader must have known about. The mention of eternal life dates much earlier than the oldest notes in his collections, recorded a few generations after the people who saw Irem.
Sort of like most of the New Testement.
Teuflisch already gave the explanation he, and many necromancers before him, believed to be correct.
"Those generations around the time of Irem wished for it to be forgotten. It's only their disciples who grew curious. It's likely the original survivors of the catastrophe deliberately concealed and didn't record information about it."
I said out loud what he alluded to.
Necromancer nodded, glancing at me, his expression still quite complex.
"I didn't want to worry about it, with my master's will and all…" He glanced at me, "And yet, standing here I…" He trailed off, as if unable to choose the right words.
For a while, we walked in silence, as I contemplated how to answer.
"It will be a lie to say that I understand what you are feeling," I told him honestly. I had ideas, guesses, that felt far away, almost ethereal, but I've never been in his position, even in my previous life. "But I think you are forgetting something."
I gestured around, meeting the necromancer's eyes.
"All of this was created with a purpose. Stopping the calamity, even at the cost of Irem, the city your predecessors believed to be home. The city that, judging by the barrier size and what we saw in the architecture, housed tens of thousands of souls," Which, for such an ancient settlement, was an unfathomable number. "If those barriers hadn't been enough to end the threat for good, I think the masters of your masters would've passed the warning. A cautionary tale to prepare, or to finish off the calamity. After all, those people lost everything here, if not their families, then their homeland. The wish for revenge in their heart must have been powerful. If this catastrophe is a monster or a demon, and this barrier wouldn't have been enough to kill it, they would've passed their wish for revenge like a curse." I could see Teuflish's eyes widen at that, and I allowed myself a small, empty smile, "Such is the nature of a human heart, is it not?"
For a while, the necromancer seemed completely taken aback, before slowly, quietly, chuckling, shaking his head.
"Even when trying to reassure, you are trying to sound like a villain from a fairy tale, don't you, Al?" I didn't dignify the insinuation with a response; he can't prove anything anyway, "But you are right, I… well, I overlooked that. I suppose if anything dangerous was still there, Irem would've been guarded by us, not forgotten."
I nodded, mostly agreeing with his thought.
"It's concerning, however. A demon is guaranteed to starve to death under such a barrier after a thousand years," Unless, of course, that demon had some special magic to preserve the corpses of the city's inhabitants, so they won't rot. But I doubt that's the case, too many unlikely coincidences are needed for that, not to even mention that a demon being sealed in Irem with such lengthy preparation implies even stranger things, "A monster with a heart, but with a need to eat, would be dead too. A monster with a heart but without a need to eat would last." I explained slowly, "So, whatever is under the barrier, couldn't have been the latter. Of course, this speculation implies that the being we spoke of is alive; it could've theoretically been a plague of some sort." Not a natural disaster, however, not judging by how the barrier is structured.
The biggest reason why I was unconcerned was that Irem's barriers wouldn't have lasted longer than, maybe, two more centuries, even if a miracle were to occur. In the original story, there was no mention of the lost city. Whatever was sealed inside, hence, wasn't a second coming of the Demon King, and was handled without ever being remembered.
But explaining this to my companion wouldn't have been impossible, as I, myself, wasn't sure how much I could trust the original story to begin with.
Teuflisch shuddered, shaking his head.
"It's good that I know diving magic spells to cure diseases. It's hard to imagine how people managed before those spells were deciphered." He looked ahead, I think. It was hard to tell, as he was walking by my side, and I too was watching where I was going, not to trip on the uneven road. "In any case, all we could do is speculate without any certainty."
"As with all things in life."
After that, we didn't speak much until we reached the Behemoth.
***
A stationary barrier is only different from defensive spells from combat magic in sheer magnitude. You can pour more energy into it, add more functions, program for more things in it's spell structure, because you have more space to work with.
The trade-off that the barriers of this nature naturally needed rituals to erect, and more often then not, extensive preparations around the area, essentially, a lot of enchantment work.
It's almost a forgotten art in our time. Most barriers that are created are usually temporary and wither quickly. If this wasn't the case, each human settlement would've had a barrier.
This was fundamentally because, as loath as I am to admit it, the magic from the Mythical Era was simply better suited to cast such things. A design philosophy for spells of the Mythical Era was to not create a tool to fulfil a purpose, but make an artistically beautiful swiss knife. Which is exactly what stationary barriers are.
That is to say, neither me, not Teuflisch, are Legendary Mages on the level of Flamme and Serie, and neither one of us is named Frieren.
As such, the barrier from the Mythical Era, were it operating at full power, and not eroded by time and Versagen's effort, would've been completely and utterly unbreachable.
However, with the barrier weakened, it was simply a powerful defensive magic.
So breaking it wasn't a complicated affair. Find out how the energy is distributed once something strikes the barrier, find the weak points, or the weakest points we could access without excavating ground around the city, and strike simultaneously from multiple angles so that the defence couldn't adapt in time.
Teuflisch and I used, practically, the most standard barrier-breaching spell. Just like the barrier, it was cast as a ritual because it had over twenty templates. The idea of the breaching spell is simple: it embeds itself into a barrier and then ejects all the force and energy it carries into it's structure, trying to distabilize and destroy it. Unlike piercing spells, which try to pierce, breaching spells were more like a magical sledgehammer.
"Ready?" I asked the necromancer, standing next to my spot, green and golden light shined from between my fingers, as I glanced at Teuflisch.
"Almost…" He said, his expression focused. Finally, he nodded, it was a small gesture, barely visible, I think he was afraid of breaking concentration, "Ready."
"Count from three, we release at zero." I reminded, and he nodded.
"Three." The light between my fingers intensified, green threads spiraling around golden cores. Across from me, Teuflisch's own spell manifested as deep purple streaks shot through with silver; the colour came from the core templates of our respective breaching spell configurations, while mine was carrying the smashing force, his was corrosive.
"Two." The templates aligned. Twenty distinct patterns overlapped. The spell constructs hummed with barely contained force, waiting for release.
…
"Zero."
We released.
The spells shot forward like arrows of light, streaking across the cavern space. They struck the barrier simultaneously, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. The transparent surface absorbed the impact, rippling like disturbed water.
…But neither did our spells shatter against the barrier's surface. They burrowed into it, threads of green and gold and purple spreading through the magical structure like roots through soil. I watched as the spell constructs found the weak points, the places where millennia had worn the weave thin.
The barrier's response was immediate. The translucent surface flared with pale blue light, ancient defensive mechanisms activating. But they were too slow, too degraded by time. Our breaching spells had already penetrated deep into the barrier's core structure.
The ejection phase triggered.
All that compressed force, all that gathered mana, erupted outward from within the barrier itself. Cracks spread from the impact points, racing across the surface in jagged patterns. The blue light of the barrier's defenses flickered, sputtered, then began to fail.
There was the sound we knew from the previous broken barrier. A grinding, tearing noise, I believe this is how glass would sound were it to be thrown into a wood chipper. The barrier's surface fractured, great sheets of magical energy peeling away and dissolving into motes of fading light.
Through the widening breaches, I could feel the barrier's internal structure collapsing. Layers upon layers of interwoven spells unraveling, each failure cascading into the next.
The barrier held for another few seconds, trying desperately to redistribute its remaining strength, to seal the growing wounds. However, there were too many breach points and too much structural damage. With a final, almost mournful sound, like wind through ancient halls, the entire barrier shuddered and fell.
It didn't vanish instantly. Instead, it crumbled away in sections, the magical construct breaking apart and falling like physical chunks. Large portions simply ceased to exist, while others lingered for moments longer before fading into nothing. The air shimmered with residual mana, creating brief rainbows in the cavern's darkness.
"Good work," I acknowledged quietly, even as I stretched my mana sense.
The path to Irem lay open before us, the fortress walls no longer hidden behind their ancient shield. The petrified roots seemed more ominous without the barrier's distortion, their stone surfaces reflecting our magical lights.
I lowered my hands, feeling the slight tremor that came from channeling that much mana. Beside me, Teuflisch let out a long breath.
The lost city waited.
***
It didn't take us long to ascend to the tallest tower on the 'defensive wall'. Even if it did require me to fly and use some of the ropes we possessed, this was something I was used to after months of traveling together.
Once I helped Teuflisched up, the city of Irem was right there, beneath us, sleeping in the vast ocean of darkness.
I took a breath. The air that was blowing from the city was wrong. Completely dry, as if all moisture had been pulled from it centuries ago. It tasted of stone dust. No hint of the dampness that should pervade an underground cavern. Even the mold I'd noticed on the cavern walls near the entrance wasn't here.
Looking down from the tower, I knew we needed better illumination to see the full scope of what lay below.
I modified the standard light spell, adjusting its parameters for distance and intensity rather than proximity and stability. The construct took shape between my hands, compressed and volatile, more flare than lantern. With a sharp upward gesture, I launched it.
The spell shot upward, trailing pale gold light. When it reached the midpoint between us and the cavern's ceiling, I triggered the secondary template. The light bloomed outward, throwing harsh illumination across the lost city of Irem.
The sight seemed otherworldly.
From a glance, it seemed as if Irem had been built in tiers, following the natural slope of the cavern floor. The outermost districts pressed against the cavern walls, their buildings low and densely packed. Stone structures with flat roofs, all constructed from the same pale grey granite, weathered to near-white in places. The roofs themselves were curious. Some flat, others slightly domed, many decorated with what appeared to be carved patterns along their edges, though from this height I couldn't make out specific motifs. Small courtyards divided the buildings, the sort of construction meant for maximum occupancy in limited space. These outer buildings showed their age; many partially collapsed, their walls breached not by violence but by the slow pressure of the roots.
The streets between them had once been cobbled. I could still see sections where the stone paving remained intact, geometric patterns in the laying that told of the wealth of the city. Most had been buckled and broken by the roots forcing through from beneath. No moss grew in the cracks. No lichens clung to the walls. Not even the hardiest cave plants had taken hold. The city was utterly devoid of any visible life.
The petrified roots were everywhere. Some thin as my arm, worming through doorways and windows. Others, thick as ancient oaks, have burst through entire buildings, leaving rubble in their wake. The roots seemed to follow no natural pattern. They erupted from the ground at odd angles, twisted through the air, penetrated walls and roofs as if never noticing the resistance. Where they touched the cavern walls, I could trace their paths upward, spreading across the stone like a vast network of veins.
Moving inward, the buildings grew taller, more elaborate. Three and four-story structures with columns supporting upper galleries, broad stairs leading to elevated entrances. The stone here was darker, a blue-grey granite that must have been quarried from deeper deposits. I could make out suggestions of bas-reliefs on some facades, rectangular panels that would have depicted something, though the details were lost to distance.
Wide boulevards radiated from what must have been market squares, though any goods or stalls had long since turned to dust.
At several intersections stood what appeared to be monuments or memorials. Tall stone plinths that had once supported something, now empty pedestals reaching upward. One retained the lower portion of what might have been a statue, just legs and the hem of a robe carved in stone. Fountains stood dry in plaza centers, their basins cracked where roots had forced through.
There was another set of imposing walls deeper in, though it was hard to glimpse. The inner-city ring, it seems. Those were as tall as the walls beneath the tower we stood on, so it was impossible to glimpse anything beyond them.
Aside from one thing in the city's very heart.
A massive sphere of petrified roots dominated the center of Irem, beyond even the inner walls. Easily two hundred meters in diameter, though it was hard to judge the actual scale from this distance. The roots here had grown differently than elsewhere in the city. Instead of chaotic angles, they had woven together into something almost organic, almost deliberate. Into a cocoon, a half-sphere. It seemed hollow, or appeared to be.
It looked almost like a giant tumbleweed, embedded in the ground..
Beyond that barrier of roots, nothing was visible, not with this limited light.
"It's like they grew around something," Teuflisch said quietly beside me. "Then whatever they surrounded vanished."
I nodded. The root sphere did have that quality, as if it had formed around a presence that no longer existed. The roots were thickest at what would have been the sphere's surface, some as wide as the defensive towers we stood upon, then gradually thinned as they extended outward into the rest of the city.
The flare began to descend, its light dimming. In the shifting shadows, I noticed something else.
"No bodies," I observed, on the streets not far from us. "No signs of battle."
The walls showed no scorch marks from offensive magic. No weapons lay abandoned in the streets. The damage to the buildings came entirely from the roots and time. Whatever had happened to Irem's people, it hadn't been a siege or invasion. At least, not in any conventional sense.
"The roots must have come afterwards," Teuflisch said, though he sounded uncertain. "The city was already empty when they grew."
I wasn't convinced. The way the roots had penetrated the buildings suggested they had grown while the structures were intact. But the absence of any remains was peculiar. Even with a thousand years passed, there should have been something. Bones at a minimum. The dry air would have preserved them perfectly.
Tueflisch likely knew this better than I ever could; though if he had any idea, he didn't comment yet.
The flare guttered out, plunging Irem back into darkness. Only our immediate vicinity remained illuminated by the steady glow of our maintained light spells.
"We should descend," I said. "Start with the outer districts and work inward."
Teuflisch was still staring at where the root sphere had been visible moments before. "Whatever we're looking for, it's in there. In the center."
He was probably right. The concentration of roots, the way they had grown, all pointed to the city's heart as the focal point of whatever had occurred here. But charging directly to the center seemed unwise. Better to understand the full scope of Irem first, to gather what information we could from the periphery before confronting whatever secrets lay within that cage of stone.
"Patience, Lisch. Exploring the whole city will take us over a week anyway," I reminded him. "We've waited this long. Taking it steady here won't hurt," My eyebrows furrowed as I was staring ahead with empty eyes, "My mana sense is also next to useless. These roots... they used to be powerful magic, I can't sense a thing with them being everywhere."
It was as if I was surrounded by magical items of different potencies. I already didn't like this city.
Lisch glanced at me before nodding slowly.
"It's the same for me," He offered, as he glanced at one such root close to us, the one that was coiling around the tower. "I wonder what this is..." He gently poked it with his staff. A dull thud echoed.
He paused, as if startled.
"What is it?" I asked sharply, immediately.
Teuflisch glanced at me for a moment, his expression almost lost, before he once again tapped the root with his staff, casting something.
"This... it sounds more like bone than stone," He said quietly, before casting something, "But this isn't a bone, necromantic templates don't hold..."
I also approached the root and placed my hand on it.
Without a doubt...
"It's not alive, and whatever magic it once had mostly sizzled out," I commented, as I willed one of the spheres of light to hover closer. "It is white-ish in colour," I extended my nail, and scraped a piece, licking it under Lisch's bewildered gaze.
Immediately, I spat it out.
"Calcium." I looked in necromancer, "Like chalk, but less concentrated."
I knew Tueflisch was aware of basic chemistry; most mages in this world were, so while surprised, he nodded slowly.
"That's why it reminded me of a giant bone." He tapped the root again, "It sounds a bit hollow inside, should we...?"
In response, I shaped a small blade of mana in my hand, the very same one I tended to use to trim my horns, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Teuflisch nodded.
***
We collected plenty of samples from around the entrance, and to clear our consciousness, left a couple of Teuflisch's basic undead around the entrance.
Whatever was originally sealed in Irem now, almost without a doubt, was dead and gone.
But if something did survive, the destruction of the constructs would alert us and make us turn back.
For now, we decided to make a camp not far into the city, using the remains of one of the bigger buildings to rest. We needed to recover our mana, and Teuflisch was a human, so periodic breaks were expected.
I cast the spell to clear out dust in the vicinity, we made a campfire, and before long, I was making a stew.
It was ironic, but the necromancer was terrible at cooking. I, however, enjoyed working the stove in my previous life, even if I was no chief. Lisch was surprisingly adept at raising livestock and farming; even the chickens we took with us for the journey were still fine and kept producing eggs, though taking care of them was a hassle. The necromancer seems to enjoy doing that, however.
"What do you think those roots are? Some offensive spell going out of control?" The necromancer clarified, as he sat on one of the granite boxes in the ruins, that I think, used to be a container for food.
The building in the past must have been an inn, judging by the shape of the hall where we were located, and the many rooms above. That said, all the wood was long gone, and the whole building was filled with stone roots that the Vigil had to clear out for us. Mostly using their weapons to crack them, and then carrying them outside.
"While possible, I doubt it," I offered, chopping some of our remaining sun-dried tomatoes, "The destruction in this part of the city doesn't look purposeful."
Tueflisch hesitated for a moment, but nodded, taking out a small notebook from his pouch, and absent-mindedly turning a few pages.
"That's obvious enough. I suppose we will get more insight when we study the samples properly back at the laboratory," He offered, "As far as I see it, if this was a spell, it created living roots that spread out of control." The man sounded thoughtful, "I can't rule out that possibility, actually."
"Irem being a city of druids would certainly be quite a twist," I observed absent-mindedly, as I mixed the ingredients in the brew, and added a pinch of wild herbs and salt, "And an ironic one at that."
In the corner of my eyes, I noticed the necromancer's surprise.
"Druids?"
I just shook my head.
"A fictional concept from my world," I said, not wishing to explain the actual background of the ancient priesthood of a certain island nation, and instead focused on what I actually meant, "Practitioners of nature magic. They can make trees grow in seconds and 'come alive', use roots to entangle and crush their enemies, turn into beasts, and control them. Any magic you can think of that interacts with the living aspects of nature."
A small, amused smile played on Lisch's lips as he listened to me.
"But that makes little sense. What would be the defining principles of that school of magic? Core templates? Basic philosophy that separates it from other magic schools?"
I shrugged as I moved back from the campfire and sat on one of the blocks of stone that must have been a part of the archway of the building.
"Magic was treated differently from one fictional setting to another. When it comes to druids, they usually were in settings where magic was a more abstract force and less of a science. It had less to do with actual limitations or spell templates and more with broad concepts. What seemed thematically appropriate to be a separate school was one." I decided not to even explain that magic usually wasn't portrayed in our media, how it turned out to be in practice, "From that perspective, 'nature magic' made sense."
"In all fairness, I can see a combat spell using living trees to attack and defend," Lisch commented absent-mindedly, his expression growing a bit distant, "At least during the Mythical Era."
I nodded.
"I don't know half the templates you would need to make a spell like this work, but it will undoubtedly be over-complicated and less than efficient."
Lishch seemed to finally ease up a bit during the conversation, as he stared into the fire.
"The more you mention details about your world, the more I am interested in how magic was perceived there. I would pay a hefty sum to talk with you a century ago, before you had the opportunity to make sense of how magic works, just to see what you thought of it at the time," He said, I believe, with a hint of teasing. "The misconceptions must have been worse than amongst the most rural of peasants."
While not a century ago, but a bit further back, when I just appeared in this world… I think I would rather not have talked with a necromancer at all.
Especially with an entourage this menacing.
I glanced towards the Vigil. Today, Teuflisch assembled and activated all of them.
They all look slightly different. Carried different enchanted equipment. Some were practically skeletons and mummies, the older ones at least, but the more recent undead tended to be 'fresher'. Not because the bodies didn't decompose, frankly, after a necromancer took hold of the body to make a construct, decomposition wasn't a factor.
No, the recent bodies looked fresher because that's where more modern necromantic templates leaned towards. Preserving the flesh, muscles, and nerves, and making use of them to enhance the constructs further, those were relatively modern discoveries and trends in necromancy.
As such, while many of the Vigil looked like stereotypical elite undead, some did look like zombies, with slightly rotted noses and cloudy eyes, and some reminded me of vampires. Deathly pale, yes, but otherwise perfectly human in appearance, if not for their vacant stares.
Lisch will likely be able to support the operation of the Vigil for the entire day today, but from tomorrow onwards, provided Irem proves uninhabited, he will likely only take one or two of the constructs with him.
"What are you planning to do once we are done here?" I ask, glancing back at Teuflisch, "Provided the eternal life is a lie, and we find nothing here that would force us to stay for long?"
Lisch seemed a bit taken aback but my question, but smiled faintly.
"I am an Imperial Mage, you know? Our line has some prestige in the Empire; no reason not to make use of it. By all accounts, I am adopted into nobility and inherited the title and lands." The man shook his head slightly, "I suppose I will come back, continue working my craft. Hopefully, I will marry and maybe make a career?" He chuckled, scratching his head awkwardly, "In truth, it's hard for me to even entertain the idea. Even right now, being in Irem… I still can't quite believe that my quest is at its end. It's unbelievable to think that I am here, in the city where great Barmherzig wrote his tomes…"
His expression was complicated, and I think, in many ways, I understood.
"The unbelievable part is that you went so far for a dying will of your master," I said instead, and once Lish glanced at me, I offered a simple smile, to reassure him I wasn't criticizing, nor mocking, "My perspective is twisted, but I think the efforts you made are exceptional by any standard. Were I a human, I am not sure I would've left the comforts of civilization and rich life to pursue a legend, simply to satisfy an old man's will."
The necromancer looked as if he was lost for words for a moment, not necessarily in a bad way.
"Don't make it sound so selfless. The legends promised eternal life," He said, glancing away.
"Which, from the start, sounded unbelievable, I doubt you ever seriously considered it as an outcome of this expedition," I echoed, shaking my head, "A legend like this may sound alluring to an old man about to face death, but not to someone like you. You aren't here to live forever, Lisch." His reaction couldn't emotionally amuse or entertain me; that said, I could acknowledge that the flustered look was funny. I would mark it in my diary as a memory to re-live once I am human again. "From my unbiased perspective, you already did an incredible thing."
Breaking this slight verbal abuse, I switched my attention back to the pot and stood up to continue the cooking.
Teuflisch elected to keep silent for now. It took me a moment, but I recognized that he likely was both embarrassed by the conversation and maybe touched, or perhaps annoyed. Subtle distinctions like that were difficult to read.
The silence stretched between us for several minutes as the stew bubbled gently over the fire. I stirred it occasionally, adjusting the heat with minor modifications to the warming spell beneath the pot. The scent of herbs and dried vegetables filled the ruined inn's main hall, a small pocket of normalcy in this dead city.
"The consistency looks about right," I mentioned, more to break the quiet than anything else. "Another few minutes should do it."
Teuflisch nodded absently, still turning pages in his notebook. Behind him, the Vigil stood motionless, their vacant eyes reflecting the firelight. Only the two nearest to us showed any sign of activity, their heads occasionally turning to scan the perimeter in pre-programmed sweeps.
I reached for the ladle to taste the broth when something caught in my peripheral vision. Not the Vigil or Teuflisch, but one of the clay vessels we'd cleared from the rubble earlier. The pot, which I'd assumed was just another piece of ancient kitchenware, was perhaps ten centimeters closer to our fire than I remembered.
I dismissed it, returning to cooking.
The pot suddenly erupted into motion. What had been terracotta colored ceramic split open like an overripe fruit, revealing wet, pink flesh studded with dozens of mismatched teeth. The thing launched itself through the air, not at us, but directly at the stewpot.
Teuflisch's startled scream was cut short as the creature impacted our dinner.
The mimic, the actual D&D old edition monster, for that's what my mind belatedly identified it as, spread itself wide like some nightmarish starfish made of meat. Its underside was a writhing mass of tongues and circular maws that immediately began inhaling the stew with wet, sucking sounds. The entire pot disappeared beneath its bulk as it wrapped around the vessel, multiple throats working in unison to drain the contents.
It contracted, somehow maintaining its grip on the pot while sprouting what could only be described as legs, though they more resembled tentacles ending in rudimentary feet. Each limb had an eye embedded in what might generously be called a knee joint.
The creature skittered sideways with unnatural speed, the pot still wrapped in its flesh. Three of the Vigil moved to intercept, their reactions faster than either of ours. Where Teuflisch and I had hesitated from sheer disbelief, the undead constructs simply responded to the threat.
One of the Vigil constructs, wielding a greatsword, struck at the fleeing mimic. The blade sank into its flesh with a sound like cutting through wet leather, pinning it to the stone floor. The mimic's response was immediate and horrifying. The wound sprouted teeth and bit down on the sword, while simultaneously, part of its body flowed up the blade like living putty.
"Capture it alive!" I snapped at Teuflisch, summoning my staff and preparing a few defensive and offensive spells.
The Vigil adjusted their approach instantly.
Two more constructs moved to flank the creature. One grabbed what might have been a limb, only for the appendage to split open, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth that clamped onto the undead's arm. The mimic began flowing up the construct's limb, its flesh rippling and reshaping as it tried to engulf the necromantic construct.
The undead soldier showed no reaction to being partially consumed, simply continuing to follow its orders. Its free hand grabbed another section of the mimic, which promptly grew a cluster of eyes that wept some kind of acidic substance. The drops hissed against the Vigil's preserved flesh but didn't seem to significantly damage it.
"Fascinating," I observed, keeping my distance as more Vigil moved in. "The mimic is trying to digest them."
"That's impossible," Teuflisch said, though his tone suggested he was trying to convince himself. "This thing has nothing in common with mimics! Mimics are ambush predators. They disguise themselves as chests. They don't hunt, they don't chase, and they certainly don't look like that!"
The mimic had now wrapped itself around two Vigil, resembling nothing so much as a blanket of meat trying to swallow both constructs whole. Eyes and mouths appeared and disappeared across its surface seemingly at random. Our stewpot was still somehow embedded in its mass..
A third Vigil grabbed the creature from behind, and this seemed to overwhelm its ability to maintain cohesion. With a wet, tearing sound, it released the two engulfed constructs and tried to reform into something resembling a block of stone rubble. The transformation was only partially successful. It managed a vaguely blocky form, but mouths and eyes kept bubbling to the surface before sinking back into its flesh.
"Hold it steady," I asked, approaching the monster and touching the exposed section.
Instantly, the Resonant Soul curse went into effect, and the monster grew flaccid, reverting into a relaxed, boneless lamp of meat.
The Vigil adjusted their grips, each one securing a portion of the wide creature.
"This changes things," I said quietly, watching as the pot fell to the ground from the unconscious monster.
"Albert, explain," Lisch's voice broke slightly. The man looked absolutely horrified. "You called this thing a mimic? Have you seen those before!?"
"Only because it looks like a fictional monster from my world," I said honestly, "From a game. In that game, mimics don't have to be chests. They can be doors, floor panels, beds…" I trailed off, glancing around. "Anything, really, they are natural shapeshifters."
Then, I cast the famous folk spell. The mimic-identifying one on the flacid creature.
The spell came back with a positive result, confirming it to be a mimic.
"At least the mimic-identifying spell works on it," I said, glancing at Lisch, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, "Anything in Irem can be a mimic, but as long as we take it slow and confirm every surface and wall manually, it should be safe."
The necromancer looked at me.
"The spell has a ninety-nine percent chance of working correctly, doesn't it?"
I paused for a moment, immediately catching what he meant.
If absolutely everything can be a mimic, and the spell has a one percent chance to be wrong…
"I think I hate this city."
***
Log Entry: Dissection Report – Subject No. 732, Proto Mimic
Weight: [local units of measurement roughly equivalent to 100kg]
Size: Variable
Habitat: [crossed out]
The subject dabbed as a Proto Mimic (due to L's insistence, name pending) is a shape-shifting, highly adaptive, predatory monster. The subject possesses a heart/core. The subject seems to possess an enormous, insatiable hunger. The subject has been fed tea leaves (the only digestible biological substance I can freely produce) until it had so much food it couldn't physically consume any more, yet it kept trying.
The subject does not posses the need to eat, judging by the core structure, and it spend around a millennium in the ruins, dormant.
Proto Mimics, much like their contemporary cousins, seem to be ambushers, with surprisingly effective ability to camouflage themselves into most physical objects and shapes. The object it can mimic needs to be solid and sizable; otherwise (assimingly) the Proto Mimic will be unable to shift into its dimensions due to being too massive. The weight of Proto Mimic does change once it shape-shifts due to its innate magic.
Proto Mimics true form, if it can be called one, is a lamp of flesh that can freely create eyes, tongues, and mouths on itself. Those organs can freely combine, so in their true form, Proto Mimic can use tongues to move around, while growing eyes on it. It can secrete and produce potent biological acids. It isn't very durable or particularly physically strong, but it will still overpower untrained humans.
The mimic-detection spell works on them. Four hundred test casts were conducted (in turns) by me and L so far; 8 were false negatives, which is still within statistical probability of the spell's normal functions.
The main danger is two-fold. First, it's that Proto Mimics are much more aggressive than their contemporary cousins; instead of waiting for the prey to interact with them, they attack first once detected, or if they believe they are in range for a successful ambush. The second danger is that, unlike normal mimics, Proto Mimics can be anything, which naturally will slow down any exploration of the ruins infested with them, and due to the possibility of the mimic-detection giving a false negative, will always force us to send undead constructs first. Golems do not seem to provoke a response from the captured Proto Mimic, up until the golem attacked it. Proto Mimic showed voracious tendencies towards undead and a demon [this section was removed in the final draft].
***
It was the second day of the Irem exploration.
The first day, after delivering the mimic back to the Behemoth and sufficiently restraining it, was mostly spent on research and observation of the captured or collected samples. I also did a flying sweep around the city's outskirts to confirm there are no other exits that I could spot from up there. After confirming that other smaller entrances long since collapsed, as they weren't as thoughtfully enchanted as the main road, I returned to the city gates and sealed them with stone for the night.
After the vivisection, where we confirmed the nature of the threat in the city, the following day, in the afternoon, we went exploring it once again.
We decided to make a full sweep. While it was clear that the roots near the center were in the oddest shape, we were in no hurry to head there directly, electing to study the outskirts first.
All the buildings we encountered were encroached on by roots at least to some extent; some housed mimics that the undead helped us spot in time, helping us swiftly eliminate them.
Today, instead of bringing the Vigil inside fully, Lisch left two of his elite undead near the city gates, with multiple more positioned in a 'power-saving mode' nearby. If anything tries to escape Irem, it will have to go through them.
We moved in a smaller group, two Vigil constructs, and five skeletons.
"What do you think is the cause of the dry air?" I asked the necromancer curiously, as we studied the slightly damaged bas-relief on what was clearly a war memorial once, "The lack of moss and cave lichen can be explained by it, but it appears as if the air was completely sucked dry of moisture while the barrier was active."
Lisch wasn't getting distracted from sketching the bas-relief by hand. It seemed to be some symbolic image of an undead army moving after a robbed figure with a crown.
"We weren't able to identify many templates in the barrier," He offered, as he sketched, "Maybe it was one of the functions. To kill the calamity faster. If the roots were the target, it seemed quite effective."
I hummed, more in acknowledgement than in agreement.
"Maybe. Also possible that the roots were a druidic-like magic, and the water in the air is one of the requirements of the spell. Or something of that sort."
I glanced around the abandoned space, noting that all in all, it was quite small.
The memorial wasn't located in a plaza or a road; instead, it was located in the country yard of a small manor. Or what used to be a manor, I believe.
Judging by the sizable metal gates and space, at least. If there was a soil and a garden here before, it was long gone, devoured by the roots. Yesterday, when I did the flying sweep, I noted this place as an interesting anomaly close by to explore.
It's important to understand that the cavern where Irem was located wasn't perfectly spherical. The city was built underground, not merely buried by time, and protected by powerful outer barriers. The cavern around the city was clearly expanded as the city grew, so it wasn't circular; in places, it was further in a lot. Like this manor, which was located on the outskirts, and many other territories like it.
The reason why this manor was interesting, however…
Teuflisch snapped his book shut before glancing towards a peculiar spot within the mansion's territory.
It was interesting because it looked as if all the roots from the area were reaching towards it.
It was hard to even see where and why they were reaching there, because of how many roots obscured it.
Still, the Vigil constructs made good work at hacking and slashing through the calcified remains.
The sound of calcified roots cracking under the Vigil's weapons echoes through the courtyard like breaking pottery. Each strike sends white dust into the air, the calcium powder settling on our cloaks and equipment. I had to cast a dust-clearing spell multiple times just so Teuflisch wouldn't start coughing. After several minutes of methodical destruction, the constructs were clear enough of the petrified mass to reveal what lay beneath.
A stone structure emerged, partially sunken into the ground. The entrance was framed by carved pillars, each one depicting ascending spirals of what might be military ranks or ceremonial positions. The roots hadn't just grown around this place; they'd forced their way through every available gap, prying apart stones that had stood for a millennium, growing through the walls, and the heavy metallic door at the entrance was dented inwards by their weight.
"Careful," Teuflisch said. He stepped forward, running his fingers along the carvings. "This is... these symbols match the fourth legion's burial practices. The ones mentioned in volume three."
I focused on my mana senses, trying to pinpoint magical traps or enhancements. But it was no use. Roots and traces of old magic clung to the structure like cobwebs; nothing stood out in this cacophony of magical noise.
"Whatever defensive mechanisms were here, they've long since failed," I commented with certainty, as I was confident I would be able to spot anything that produced a noticeable effect.
"Wouldn't be too sure," Lisch warned, shaking his head, gesturing for the Vigil, "Let's be careful."
We descended three broad steps, the Vigil leading with weapons drawn. The entrance widened into an antechamber, and I increased the intensity of our light spells to illuminate the space.
The chamber stretched perhaps ten meters across, with a vaulted ceiling supported by thick columns. Every surface bore some form of decoration: bas-reliefs depicting military campaigns, religious symbols I didn't recognize, and text in the old script of Irem that I could partially read. The roots had invaded here, too, but they all seemed to converge toward the far wall, where they'd forced their way through what was once a hidden entrance.
"Look," I said, pointing to the mechanism. Bronze gears and corroded springs lay exposed where the roots had torn away the concealing stonework. "A sliding wall system. Probably operated by that lever mechanism there."
It reminded me of Behemoth, except every single mechanism I could see was bigger, bulkier, and much rougher.
Lisch headed there immediately. I followed, with my staff at hand, ready to weave defensive magic at any moment.
The necromancer examined the destroyed mechanism with obvious fascination. "Sophisticated for its time. The counterweights alone would have required precise calculation." He traced the path of the roots with his eyes. "And those things moved with purpose. As if they could sense what lay beyond."
The man looked outright giddy. It didn't amuse me, but I could somewhat empathize with his mood, even as a demon. Excitement wasn't foreign to me, after all.
Lisch stepped aside, and the Vigil constructs came in, as they started to pry the door open and clear the remaining gigantic roots.
A few minutes, and many more dust-clearing spells later, it was done.
The forced opening gaped before us, the roots still so thick we had to duck beneath them. We did so and descended the stairways.
The inner sanctum opened into a larger space.
Lisch sharply inhaled; the sound was audible enough to sound deafening in the silence.
I understood his reaction.
The room full of sarcophagi and what I can only assume were burial urns was dominated by two massive figures. They stood utterly motionless, positioned on either side of the chamber like ancient sentinels. Nearly three meters tall, giant skeletons fitted in rusted, but clearly once-enchanted armour that fit their frame.
"Magnificent," Teuflisch breathed. He approached slowly, reverently. "Look at the craftsmanship. See here, where the radius connects to the modified scapula? They've reinforced the joint with silver wire, enchanting failed by now but... And these scoring marks..." He pointed to deliberate grooves carved into certain bones. "This method is outright pre-historical, before we had the modern templates to carry mana across the construct. This was the most common method to create large energy pathways across the constructs without eroding them! All of this is outdated, but the craftsmanship and the refinement are on another level…"
While Lisch kept on commenting on the bones, apparently fused from multiple different people with necromantic spells, I focused on something else. Around the guardians.
Those were evidence of an ancient battle. Roots, but these weren't calcified like the others. They were withered, desiccated, but still retained some organic quality. Dark stains on the guardians' finger bones suggested they physically tore these roots apart, probably in the final days before the magic sustaining the plants died. Considering their weapons lay broken at their feet… I understood.
"Lisch, look here." After a moment of hesitation, I interrupted my companion, gesturing at the roots as I bent near them, "Those aren't like the rest."
I touched one of the roots, and my brows furrowed.
Those things had more magic in them than every other root I've seen, but… why did they preserve so well? They seemed to be plant matter and yet…
Lisch's sudden intake of air made me snap towards him, as the man kneeled next to a small pile of cut roots and cast some sort of spell on them. They twitched.
"No… no, no, impossible," He muttered to himself.
"Lisch?" But he ignored me and kept casting spells I didn't recognize.
After a few long moments, he sat back, on his ass, his expression empty.
"It must be a coincidence," He said quietly, looking up at me. "Yes, it must be."
It didn't take me long to have a suspicion. After all, above all else, Lisch is…
"Is there necromancy in those things?"
Lisch immediately shook his head in denial.
"No, no, clearly not. I mean…" He hesitated, biting his lip, "I thought I recognized some elements, but those things aren't spells… they were living creatures. There are… some patterns and overall magical structure in them that reminded me of necromancy, but that can't be right, fusing the living and the dead is the greatest heresy." As he spoke, his tone grew somber, yet more sure, "They are so well-preserved because of… certain patterns in the flesh. They are what reminded me of necromancy, but otherwise, it's something else entirely. Because of those similarities, they also reacted a little to me trying to tamper with them, but the reaction isn't right, probably coincidental."
I glanced at the cut roots around the guardians and the secret chamber. Then towards the petrified roots outside. If this is how well the roots usually were preserved…
…why did the others calcify?
Carefully, I lifted one of the severed roots, looking inside. Then, I gestured with my hand and telekinetically summoned one of the broken-off petrified roots that the Vigil broke, glancing into it.
I presented both to Teuflisch.
He checked the petrified root first, then glanced at the new sample…
"Those aren't hollow…" He realized, glancing down in concern, unease, and growing horror.
Indeed, the petrified roots we spotted all over Irem were hollow inside. They had this space akin to tubes in them. The cut-out roots, however? They just looked like…
"This isn't wood, Lisch," I told him, tapping the soft flesh inside of the root, "Not any plant matter I can recognize either. I also don't believe this is a fungus."
"I assure you this isn't muscle tissue or bone either," He told me quietly, "None of the templates that work with those triggered."
We descended into an uneasy silence. Not a magical monster, not an animal, not a plant or a fungi…
…what the hell is it then? Silicon-based life-form? Clearly not.
After a short moment, I took out the container and packed the severed roots into it.
"We will study this later," I promised him, before glancing at the tomb guardians.
Teuflisch looked at them too. His expression turned odd.
"They held their post," He said quietly. "They kept cutting down the roots that tried to reach the bodies, right up until the roots died across the city."
Behind the guardians, on raised stone platforms, rested several sarcophagi. The lids bore military insignia, and atop the central platform sat a pedestal. Upon it rested a ceremonial dagger in its sheath, the metal still bright despite the years, and beside it, carefully arranged military regalia: a plumed helmet, shoulder guards with rank insignia, a chain of office.
Teuflisch approached the pedestal carefully and crouched down next to it; its enhancements still kept the sheath and the blade handle pristine, despite the time. "I recognized the symbols from what master Versagen compiled on his search, as he stumbled across multiple tombs around Irem. This belonged to a Legion Commander, gifted ceremonially by the King." He didn't touch anything yet, just observed. "The dagger would have been purely ceremonial… it must have been enchanted specifically to be passed down, or maybe to be left like this, in the tomb. See the pommel? That's the Irem's crest, but from the older era." He gestured towards a skeleton of a dragon walking on its two feet, embodied with gold in the pommel, "The symbol we attributed to the later era is the flaming, oddly shaped skull that you saw in the tomes."
He turned back to the guardians, pulling out his notebook and sketching rapidly. "I got it! That record Master Versagen found in north-eastern necropolis... it wasn't untranslatable, it was a title. Guardian-Made. The burial place he found… it must have been symbolic, a resting place from which fallen soldiers were incorporated into these constructs." His excitement was barely contained. "This is primitive by modern standards, yes, but the efficiency... A necromancer's workshop could produce these relatively quickly after a battle. Use the honored dead to protect the honored dead."
I recalled something else when he mentioned the 'guardians'.
"Those weren't just used to protect the dead," I said, shaking my head. At his questioning glance, I explained, "The bigger platforms on the wall," I gestured at one of the skeletons, "Imagine one of them with a giant bow."
His eyes lit up at that.
"Of course!" He glanced towards the tomb guardians, "So this is why the craftsmanship between those two is almost identical, those were produced en masse by the necromancer workshops in the city!"
This was a bit interesting, but now that we had something but stone to work with, I was interested in something else…
"Can you tell how long they've been dormant?" I asked.
The necromancer paused briefly.
A moment later, Lisch extended his hand toward the nearest guardian. Visible threads flowed from his fingers towards the constructs, which I had never seen before. "I will try the older control templates, let's see if there's anything left to work with."
The threads made contact, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like grinding millstones, the guardian's head turned toward us. Its empty sockets somehow managed to convey attention despite the absence of eyes. Slowly, painfully, it raised one arm in what might be a salute or a warning.
"Barely anything left," Teuflisch murmured, maintaining the connection. "The original animation is completely gone. I'm essentially puppeteering dead weight here, no pun intended." He guided the guardian through a few more movements: flexing its fingers, shifting its stance slightly. Each motion produced creaking sounds from the ancient joints… or perhaps from the remains of armour flaking away as it moved, judging by a few pieces falling on the ground with clattering sounds.
"Look at the bone fusion technique," he continued, using his control to extend the guardian's arm for better examination. "They didn't just stick bones together; they grew them together. I thought those techniques were created four centuries ago, but… were they, instead, rediscovered? The joints are seamless. And here..." He had the guardian spread its fingers. "Extra metacarpals grafted in to provide additional grip strength. They incorporated so much in this…."
He released his control, and the guardian returned to its motionless vigil. "Whoever designed this understood efficiency on a level most modern necromancers don't even consider. This thing isn't much harder to produce than the skeleton constructs you saw me operate, and while less mana efficient, they should be a little stronger. Again, not impressive by itself, but when you consider those are mass-produced…"
I shook my head.
"Those are the guardians of a tomb of nobles of a rather high rank. Clearly ceremonial. They might actually be produced better than the average version... We can't really tell right now."
Lisch seemed a bit dejected at my comment, chuckling awkwardly.
"Ah, yes, maybe I got a bit carried away." He approached the construct with his notebook ready, "Now, let's see if I can pinpoint where the enchantments were placed from residuals in the bones…"
Wishing him good luck, I focused on something else.
I examined the roots more carefully while Teuflisch was busy documenting every detail of the guardians' construction. The pattern of their growth told its own story. For whatever reason, the roots couldn't breach the walls, despite being perfectly capable of burrowing.
As I approached one of the walls, I understood. The walls of this chamber were enchanted for durability; some of the enchantment still lingered. So the path of least resistance was the doorway… and the guardians successfully defended it.
There was only one reason for the roots to reach here, and for them to spread so thinly, that they cracked with every step across what I think used to be the garden…
"Those roots consumed organic matter. Everything organic in the city was eaten," I recalled the inn, as I talked quietly, "Furniture, bodies, probably even bones. It's possible that they drank the water too. And then…" I glanced towards the petrified root fragment, "They simply died."
I noticed that the sound of a quill scratching the paper stopped, and my gaze met Teuflisch's.
"We still can't be sure if those roots were the calamity… but they were the thing that devoured everything in the city."
By Lisch's expression, I could tell he was as unnerved as I had been by this simple deduction.
After all, even demons knew fear when facing something this far beyond understanding or reason.
Log Entry: Dissection Report – Subject No. [painted out] The Crawling Horror.
[Most of the report consists of fairly basic observations, trying to pinpoint different tissues inside root segments. Which carried nutrients, which carried water, basic attempts to study it under a very primitive microscope, Albert had constructed, which led to nothing.]
…in short, I find myself at a loss for how to properly study the biological makeup of that thing. My microscope isn't good enough to observe anything within cells yet; I can barely magnify the image to spot the cells themselves.
Still, even from my rudimentary memory of biology, I can tell that it's unnatural how none of the tissues decayed or degraded. They simply ceased being animated, supported by magics within, but from observation, they looked more dormant than dead. No sign of decay, nor did any microorganisms attempt to consume those things, or I believe I would have spotted the damage with a microscope.
It's incredibly odd. This thing is clearly organic, not made of solidified mana, but those pathways of mana within, the way the energy travels through them if I channel just a bit with the templates I used to study cores… It's almost like I am observing the body of a monster with a core.
The more I study the roots, the less I understand.
And the possible implications of what I see scare me. [This section is painted over, as if someone crossed it out multiple times.]
There are no more scientific observations I can currently make; my other thoughts on the subject will go into the diary.
-------------------------
Author Notes: This is a Halloween chapter! There is one other on Patreon, as always.
I will be honest, it's the first chapter where I spent so much effort on environmental description and tension building, as I tried to cultivate the mystery. I thought about trying to make AI art to supplement this, but I am not skilled enough to milk them for the right results, and I have way too many cool locations in the city to produce.
If some of you want to make AI art for this, go ahead. But I know it will be agonizing.