Age of Beast Tamers and Exorcists
Chapter 68: The Dead One?!

Chapter 68: The Dead One?!

Nero Norman replied to Zmey with a firm nod, "Tell me what I have to do." A hint of a smile flashed on Zmey’s face as he heard the response. *** Nero ventured outside the dungeons. Two armoured men with helmets and spears by their sides guarded the cave mouth. He dashed through their midst, and they only saw him when he was already a few metres away. Zmey’s urgent tone resounded in his mind with every hurried step he took along the narrow path. ’Yes. I should help him get those things right away.’ In the meantime, he headed north, reaching the rocky main gate of the Sanctuary. He rushed to fetch the Kingsleys’ emblem from his pocket. It was a flat, carved wood piece with jagged sides. And a lone arrow was etched on its surface. One of the most powerful emblems in Eldengrove. Somehow, Nero felt different too as he showed the emblem to the watchmen and they bowed right away. It was right away that they opened the door. He exited with the poise of a highly respected individual until he recalled that time was not on his side. Zmey had told him he might soon be taken out of the cell. And no one knows when Luca would want to leave the capital. Entering his Soul Land would help his journey and understanding of the system. That said, Nero should gather the necessary materials without delay. Norman walked with total confidence into the left path, 8 metres from the Sanctuary’s gate. He knew that getting information around the kingdom would be a piece of cake for someone like him. From one house to the other, he knocked and asked for directions to a potion seller in the kingdom. All he hoped for was that the shop shouldn’t be that far away. Some of the people he knocked on their doors threw curses at him like "You raggedy son of a bitch! Do I look like that direction in your damned eyes?", "Suck your balls, bastard! Come knock again at my door and I will show you why your mother should have given birth to a bigger fool!"... "The potion seller is up there in Heaven where your great granny went to get hers. Go there in a hurry!" But... was Nero affected by these insults? Not at all. He had heard many of them when selling information to make money in Frosthaven. They did so because he might have distracted them from something important. Like a frail-looking guy his age who had appeared naked before him. Nero could see the graceful curves of a lady on the bed inside the wood-built house the guy came out from. But, at the end of his efforts, he found the way. Nero should be happy about this. Yet, it wasn’t so when he had to spend three gold coins. Three whopping gold coins! That could have bought him a supper. But thinking of who he used them for at least took the discomfort off his mind. Zmey was actually the second person he had spent his money on; Lady Nadia was first... *** Nero rushed back to the dungeons. His heart sank. His knees tightened from exhaustion. He panted. He was so tired. Yet, he kept going. He held tight to a large black piece of clothing, wrapped in his hand while the heavy weight slept at his back. The jagged shapes pushing from inside the wrapped cloth suggested it held a lot of things inside. "Welcome back..." The watchmen at the dungeon entrance bowed, only to realise the wind swept fast past them. They looked up to realise no one was in front of them anymore. Loud footsteps echoed deep inside the cave. Seating leg-crossed on the bed, his head down, Zmey heard a loud creak from the leftward direction. That was where the door was. He immediately recoiled and jumped down from the bed. Nero slid to his front. He crouched without delay and unwrapped the black piece of clothing. Sweat trickled down his chin. Still, he smiled, though it was erratic. Zmey gripped the gate’s metal. He lingered on Nero’s hand as he unwrapped the cloth locks. "Got enough?" he asked. Nero didn’t reply right away. Instead, he continued unwrapping it. Then, finally, he loosened the last lock. The clothing spread to reveal many slender charcoal-black sticks veined with faint silver cracks. The tips bore a crystallised, deep-blue resin that shimmered, appearing almost liquid. When Nero slid the clothing into the cell, and Zmey held one of those incenses, it remained solid to touch. Not only that, but it was also cold. "Those are the Etherbound Incense you requested. I asked the merchant for confirmation. He said they’re made from crushed soul crystals and eldritch herbs. That matches your description," said Nero as he watched Zmey place the black clothing on the bed. Zmey turned back at him. He said with a faint smile, "Thanks again, Nero..." Right away, Nero said, "Um... I will be heading out now. They might not allow me get in here next time... so..." Zmey reassured him, "Don’t worry. I will be fine on my own." But still, Nero had that wrapped expression on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck while a nervous smile crossed his face. "Uh... I don’t know how to say this because I may sound somehow. But... when you get back from your Soul Land, could you teach me how to re-enter mine? I mean, that would be when you have been released... Before you leave the capital, you know... Please." Zmey smiled, "There’s no problem with that. I will make sure of it." Nero gave him a thumbs-up. "Yes!" Then he waved. "See you later, Ashbane!" And after that, Nero disappeared from his sight. The next second had the door creaking, signalling the guy’s departure. Zmey sighed. Even he himself had no idea what he would find in that Soul Land of his. In no time, Zmey got into action. The main material needed was the blood of the first awakening. And that was his. He should either draw it from the centre of his palm or his forehead. He looked here and there. But there was no sharp object around. Even the walls were flat, like a hungry man’s abdomen. The gate was so well-shaped that it had no jagged parts. ’The next option then...’ Without a second thought, he moved closer to the wall and slammed his forehead against it. Pain shot to the back of his head immediately. But, getting what he wanted, he didn’t mind it. A straight wound stretched across his forehead from which blood trickled down. He moved away from the wall. Then he pressed his thumb on the wound. He used that to draw an arc on the floor. Tapping more blood, he drew more arcs until he drew a large circle with his own blood. Following that, Zmey took the incenses one after the other. He placed them close to the blazing flame lamps and lit them. As the manual he read in the past said, he needed the mystical mist from the incense to phase into his internal realm. A wholesome of it. As he lit the incense sticks, he either dropped them around on the floor or leaned them against the walls. Now, he had completed the ritual preparation. And now, he sat himself down in the big circle. Zmey closed his eyes. The incense wafted through his nose. It smelt metallic, being a silver-blue mist that clouded both the cell and his vicinity. Inhaling enough of this was crucial to phase into the internal realm. Because it aligns a mage’s consciousness with their soul frequency. He could feel something pulling up from inside himself. Like a prisoner struggling to break lose. Zmey realised, deep down, it was the time for the final call. With gentleness, he recited, "By the essence of my soul and the blood of my being, I break the veil and walk the path within. Open, my soul. Return me to the land where my spirit reigns!" Twish! As though more of the sticks were lit, the mist raised higher. It had only leveled to Zmey’s chest before. But now, it clouded atop him. He sat there, legs crossed and palms pressed against each other... while the mystical mist consumed him. The dull curves of the circular blood rune brightened right away. Every curve, every misdrawn line shaped out for the world to see. *** The air was sultry. Zmey could feel he wasn’t seating no more. But standing instead. Hot breeze layered over his skin. Heat bit from beneath his shoes, that he pressed his toes tight in resistance. He didn’t, at first, dared to open his eyes. Because he wasn’t ready to face the picture of his real personality. He could hear monstrous screeches, cries of men, women and infants. Every noise, to his own steady breathing, were like thunder to his ears. Like the first time he came here. You could hear even the movement of the wind so clearly you would feel frustrated in the end. He wasn’t ready to face it, not again. But what’s the point? He must find what changed in here right after he awakened as an elemental mage. Gently, Zmey opened his eyes... He creased his brows as he saw a billowing black silhoutte in the distance. It stood out so clearly; besides, the other of the expanse were blazing flames... orange. ’What’s that?’ He clenched his fist. For a few seconds, he made his own vision blurry. Because.... he didn’t even know what to do if he found out entirely. ... But not anymore... He glanced straight up. .... His jaw dropped. .... His eyes grew wide. "That’s... him!" Someone else in his Soul Land? He walked closer, one step at a time. He had wished the silhoutte could be something else. Yet, the picture of that figure got clearer. He halted, shock washing over him. "Captain Silvan... Ferox?"