Time Cursed Mage - Chapter 7: The Promise

"Yes," she affirmed. "Twenty years ago, Kaspar von Hexenzeit was born.”

Kaspar sat perched on the edge of a large stone. He leaned forward, eyes fixed intently on Iris, eager to absorb every word of the story.

"You were famous," Iris continued, her voice softening as she recalled. "Even in my village far to the south, whispers of your name reached us. I was ten years old then, and you had just turned eight. It was when they performed the magical core test. A standard method used among the nobility to determine how many Mana Cores one possesses."

Kaspar nodded thoughtfully. ‘It makes some sense. The noble family may plan new roles or choose heirs based on magical potential.’

Iris glanced at him. "But your results were anything but standard," she said, a hint of awe creeping into her tone. "It was announced that you possessed nine Cores. An otherworldly amount of magic. Even with just one or two Circles, you had the potential to wield spells never heard of. People claimed that you would be the next hero of Silberwald. You would herald a resurgence of House Hexenzeit to its former glory."

She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips as she recalled the fervor of those days. "Merchants, envoys, and nobles from all corners of the empire flocked to Hexenzeit. All of them were eager to connect themselves with your family. It was a time of great hope and anticipation."

Kaspar sensed the shift in her demeanor. "However..." he prompted gently, bracing himself for the turn in his own tale.

Iris sighed, her gaze dropping to the stone floor. "However, when you reached sixteen, the awaited day arrived. The revelation of your magical affinity. It was time to discover how many Circles you held naturally and which element you were destined to command." She looked up; her expression was filled with sorrow. "I remember it as if it were yesterday. My family had moved to Hexenzeit by then, and the entire city was excited. The ritual was broadcast for all to witness, a grand spectacle."

"At the time, your hair was red, just like your family's. You were wearing the Haxenzeit uniform," Iris said, slightly blushing. "That's why I couldn't recognize you. You... look like a different person."

Kaspar closed his eyes, trying to summon any memory fragment, but his mind remained a frustrating blank slate.

"Participants ascended the grand ritual platform one by one," Iris continued. "Upon stepping into the center, the ground beneath them would light, displaying a Circle for each level of aptitude. Then, a card would materialize, floating before them to reveal their elemental alignment."

"In my case, a single Circle appeared," she said. "And the Empress card floated before me, signifying my affinity with Earth magic."

"Your case was special, like none before it, utterly unique," Iris said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Iris continued, her expression contemplative. "First, there was the card, the Hanged Man. It had never appeared before in any ceremony. You were the only person ever to be aligned with time magic. But then, none of the Circles lit up for you."

Kaspar furrowed his brow. "But shouldn't that have been less of a problem? Couldn't I have learned to achieve at least a Circle?" he asked, hope tinging his voice.

She sighed softly, her gaze meeting his. "Yes, in theory. But you had a unique element. At that moment, no one understood it, and to this day, we still don't fully comprehend it. Somehow, you never developed the First Circle," Iris explained gently. "Perhaps you knew why before you lost your memories."

"Damn," Kaspar muttered, frustration evident as he slapped his hand against his thigh.

While both were looking at the ground, a scream startled them, making them stand up suddenly.

"Iris!"

They turned toward the source of the voice. The echoes made it hard to pinpoint, but the tone was unmistakable, impatient, and authoritative.

"Stop slacking off and get back to your post!" the voice roared.

Iris glanced back at Kaspar, a hint of regret in her eyes. "I should go," she said, reaching for her helmet and settling it over her ebony hair. The polished metal obscured much of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

"Be careful," he advised.

She gave a slight smile. "Oh, and try to keep the noise down. Some of the guards think this place is haunted," she remarked with a wink.

"See you tomorrow," Kaspar said, a note of determination in his voice.

Iris hesitated for a moment. "The expedition is set to finish today. I don't think we'll have the chance to talk again tomorrow," she replied, her tone tinged with sadness.

"Unfortunately for you, we will," Kaspar replied cryptically.

She tilted her head, puzzled, but before she could inquire further, another shout from her superior urged her to hurry.

"Take care," she said before turning and striding briskly toward the camp.

Left alone once more, Kaspar drew a deep breath. He stood up, the weight of his sword reassuring at his side. 

The rhythmic practice of swordplay became his refuge.

--

As Kaspar had anticipated, he found himself once again at the mercy of the wyverns' relentless onslaught.

This time, he dared to attempt a bold maneuver. He charged directly into the gaping maw of one of the beasts, thrusting his blade downward, aiming for the soft tissue within its jaws. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in his chest. But his triumph was short-lived.

Another wyvern swooped from the shadows, and with a swift, brutal motion, it seized him. The world spun into chaos as razor-sharp talons closed around him.

Darkness once more gained control of his senses.

Gasping awake, Kaspar jolted upright in his tent. The echoes of his latest demise lingered like a haunting melody. Amidst the frustration, a newfound excitement ignited within him. "I... I almost drew blood from a wyvern," he whispered, a hint of a triumphant smile curving his lips. The possibility of progress kindled a spark of hope. ‘Perhaps I’m still improving.’

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes distant as he pondered his next move. ‘I need to avoid their scales,’ he mused. ‘Those hides are nearly impenetrable, but their vulnerable points do exist. Still, I need something to protect me from the flames. If I'm not quick enough, the chamber becomes so hot that I'll die before I have a chance to act.’

Kaspar's gaze drifted around his tent. His thoughts churned. ‘Weren't there supposed to be high-circle mages on this expedition?’ he questioned. The absence of their magic during the attacks puzzled him. ‘I need to find Iris again.’

Kaspar began to gather his things when his hand brushed against one of the leather-bound books he carried. A memory stirred, something Iris had mentioned. "Wait," he paused, fingertips tracing the embossed cover. ‘She said I might have known the reason I couldn't develop my Circles.’

Driven by a sudden impulse, Kaspar grabbed the book he suspected held personal notes. He tucked the book into his satchel before slipping into the sleeping camp.

As he was used, he made his way to the officers' tents and deftly ‘acquired’ the sword.

With the weapon firmly in his grasp, Kaspar returned to his secluded hideout. This time, he made no effort to conceal the sounds of his training. Each swing of the sword echoed through the cavernous passages. His intent was clear, to draw Iris back to him. For hours, he practiced relentlessly, muscles burning and breath labored, all the while listening for any sign of her approach.

"Prepare to open the gate! Everyone, get ready!"

The command boomed through the tunnels, interrupting his focus. "Already?" Kaspar muttered in surprise, lowering his sword. He paused, scanning the entrance of his hideout. "She didn't hear the noise?" Disappointment weighed on him.

He stood in contemplative silence, pondering what might have been. ‘Maybe it was when I struck the stone,’ he mused, recalling the impact that had echoed like a thunderclap. ‘That loud crash must have caught her attention before.’

Sheathing his sword, Kaspar emerged from his hideout and began to walk back toward the gate. His footsteps were heavy, his gaze fixed on the cavern floor. Thoughts of how to find Iris again swirled in his mind.

"I could search through every tent until I find her," he considered. "But she'd likely think I was a thief or worse." He sighed with frustration. "Perhaps it would be better to learn her rank or unit," he reasoned. "She thought I was a noble; maybe the other soldiers would too."

The massive doors groaned open once more. Kaspar was already used to the room. It was an immense corridor with a ceiling so high it was impossible to see. If anyone looked up, they would only be able to see the wyverns. Every twenty meters, there was a huge stone column that, in theory, reached all the way to the ceiling.

Kaspar's eyes darted around, preparing for the first attacks. He glimpsed dozens of translucent figures, phantoms of himself, running in every direction. Each one represented a path he'd taken in previous loops, echoes of choices made, and fates met. He, this time, chose the path most familiar.

"Dodge the sprayed liquid, then the flames. Then deal with the wyvern that always comes from behind," he reminded himself.

But this time, he altered his approach a bit.

"Three... two... one..." Kaspar counted under his breath, attuning himself to the pattern he'd memorized. Before the telltale shadow could loom over him, he spun on his heel, coming face to face with the beast.

Up close, the wyvern was monstrous, its scales glistening like polished obsidian. Its eyes were burning with feral intensity. Its maw gaped open, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting in the fiery light.

Without hesitation, Kaspar thrust his sword upward with all his might, aiming for the tender flesh at the roof of the creature's mouth. The blade pierced through with a sickening slice, meeting resistance before breaking through.

A deafening screech erupted from the wyvern as it reared back in agony. For the first time, Kaspar saw a torrent of dark green blood gushing from the wound, spraying across his arms and face. The viscous liquid sizzled upon contact, its warmth startling against his skin.

A surge of exhilaration coursed through him. "I did it," he screamed, a flicker of triumph igniting within.

But his victory was short-lived.

An intense burning sensation spread across his arms where the blood had splattered. Kaspar's eyes widened in alarm as he glanced down. The sleeves of his tunic were smoldering, the fabric eroding rapidly. His skin beneath began to blister and peel, an excruciating pain burning through every nerve.

"What... what's happening?" he gasped, panic rising in his throat. The realization hit him with horrifying clarity. The wyvern's blood was highly toxic, acidic enough to corrode flesh.

The sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he stumbled backward. Agony overwhelmed his senses, each movement sending fresh waves of pain coursing through his body.

Kaspar fell to his knees, the sounds of battle fading into a distorted hum. The air grew thick, his breaths shallow and ragged. He reached out blindly, fingers grasping at nothingness.

As darkness closed in.

[Initiating Curse]

[Restarting Day]

[Toxicity Resistance Increased]