Legend of the Arch Magus_The Upheaval

by Michael Sisa

  He soon arrived in a plain filled with overgrown weeds. Not bothering to halt his mount, Lark quickly surveyed the surroundings. This place was wide, good enough for large armies to clash against each other.

  “We won’t win without using underhanded tricks,” he mumbled. The differences in numbers and quality between his soldiers and the beastmen were simply too large. “Traps. Poison. Fire. It doesn’t matter. We need to win this war.”

  In war, no lives were equal. Most men despised underhanded tricks like poisoning the enemy or assassinating the commander of the army, but Lark believed differently. In war, only the winner gets to write the history. The winner was justice. At the end of the day, those who survived would get to tell the tale. If it would enable his people to continue living, he would not hesitate to use these supposedly underhanded tricks. This was war after all. A competition for survival.

  Lark kept going forward. Several hours passed and he arrived at a forest. He tethered his horse to a nearby tree then carved a clay bowl on the ground using magic. He used magic again to fill the bowl with water.

  “Drink. Eat,” he said to his mount. As though the horse understood, it stared at Lark for a moment then began drinking. The grasses on the ground should be enough to fill the mount’s belly.

  Lark looked beyond the sea of trees. Unlike the ones seen in the Endless Forest, the trees in this place were smaller, their trunks thinner. The rays of the sun seeped through the canopies of leaves, giving Lark ample light to see everything.

  Lark cast his magic and he slowly soared into the sky. His cloak fluttered against the wind as he looked at the forest below. Looking further, it seemed that this forest extends far and wide, reaching until the small hills beyond. It’ll probably take Lark several days of travel to reach those hills if he used the mount.

  “I’m glad I never neglected mana training.” He inwardly praised himself for being so diligent. With his current mana pool, he could reach those hills by the end of the day, reducing travel time by several days.

  He took out a parchment and recorded the details of this place. Although his real aim was the hills beyond, creating a map of this forest would also prove crucial to the upcoming war.

  Lark leaned towards the direction of the hills, and after a deafening boom, shot his body forward. He whistled through the sky as the sea of trees below blurred. As he flew towards the hills, he carefully surveyed the forest below.

  He finally arrived at his destination. He slowly flew down and landed at the top of the hill. Below him, a small forest was spread out. Beyond that was a plain with a river.

  He looked up. It was already dusk. He opened the leather sack and took out some dried fish and bread. As he ate, he looked around and carefully surveyed the surroundings.

  It was just as he thought. This place would be the most ideal to place those traps. Those things would not annihilate an army, nor would it stop their advance completely, but it should give Lark enough time to prepare for the war.

  But first, what he needed right now were scouts.

  After filling his stomach, he amplified his senses several folds. His remaining mana should be enough for this task.

  “Over there,” he mumbled. He kicked the ground and his body shot towards the sky. His speed created a soft whistling sound as he locked on his target. He reached out his hand and grabbed a large bird. It almost got away, but Lark luckily managed to grab hold of its leg. The bird squeaked and pecked the hands of Lark as it desperately tried to escape.

  “Ouch.” Lark flinched as blood dripped down his fingers. The bird was around five times the size of a fist. Just the perfect size for reconnaissance.

  Lark gently held it as he flew towards the ground. Upon landing, he opened his leather sack and took out a quill and an ink, along with some ormatane dust. He wrote symbols on the bird’s body using a mixture of the two, all the while chanting his spells. The symbols glowed for a split second then disappeared from sight. Lark released the bird and it flew towards the sky, circled around, then flew down and perched on Lark’s shoulder.

  “Good.” Lark was satisfied with the result. He stroked the head of the bird as he grinned. He took out a crystal and wrote the same symbols on it. After activating the magic, the body of the bird froze as the symbols on the crystal glowed. After the light in the runes vanished, the bird squeaked then flew towards the sky.

  Lark touched the crystal and images started appearing inside. The hills. The sea of trees. The cloudless sky. The plains stretching beyond.

  The crystal now reflected the vision of the bird as it flew around.

  Without taking a rest, Lark repeated the process over and over again. By the time he was finished, his mana pool had been wringed dry. He slumped on the ground and heaved a sigh. A contented smile slowly formed on his lips.

  The range of this magic spanned more than a hundred kilometers. Although the crystal would not show images unless someone supplied mana into it, he would be able to fix this problem soon by making the locals take turns in channeling their mana into the core. With this, he would be able to monitor the advances of the beastmen.

  But it was not enough. He needed more.

  He was out of mana. He decided to proceed with the second part of the plan tomorrow morning, at dawn.

  ***

  Dawn came and Lark immediately proceeded with his plans. He took out several parchments and drew runes and symbols on it using ink, ormatane and gold dust. After the ink had dried, he infused his mana. He repeated this process several times, creating numerous talismans by the time noon arrived.

  The gold dust was a necessary expense. With this, the effect of the talisman should last several weeks.

  Lark looked at the forest below the hills. He stretched his limbs, ran down, and entered the sea of trees. He placed the talismans at the trunks of different trees, around several dozens of meters apart. Each talisman was small, half the size of a palm, making it inconspicuous in this forest.

  After consuming over a hundred talismans, he started activating the magic imbued inside. The forest momentarily glowed an azure hue as the runes inside broke into particles of light. The talisman turned into ashes, leaving behind scorched symbols on the trunk of the trees.

  The magic imbued in those symbols would slowly consume the life force of the trees, eventually killing it after several weeks. In return, magic poison would slowly form and permeate the air, making this forest particularly dangerous for any living being.

  As the runes sucked the life force of the trees, it slowly converts it into poisonous miasma unseen by naked eyes. These miasmas were not immediately fatal, but when someone was exposed to it for a certain period of time, they would experience symptoms similar to Magic Poisoning.

  Magic Poisoning was relatively easy to treat. But it would be a different story if thousands of warriors were afflicted by it. Surely, it would halt the advance of the beastmen’s army.

  The particles of light emanating from the runes vanished entirely. The forest resumed it calm.

  Lark closed his eyes and enjoyed the gentle breeze. Birds chirped as the trees rustled from the wind. After a month or two, this forest would die. A consequence of using this underhanded magic.

  “But I have to do this.” Lark sighed. He tightened his cloak and went back to the hills. He would make another surveillance of the surroundings, record it, then go back to Blackstone Town.

  This should give him enough time to execute the next part of his plan.

  Hopefully, the letter he sent to Big Mona in the Lion City would be enough to mobilize the Kingdom’s Army.

  Chapter Nine

  After creating a detailed map of the eastern region and preparing the traps, Lark went back to Blackstone Town. Upon arriving, he immediately started the next step of the plan. He gathered the remaining iron ingots and using transmutation magic, created bows.

  The body of the bow was made of iron, while the strings were made using twisted rawhide. Runes and symbols were engraved on the han
dle grip, limbs, and string grooves.

  Lark still firmly believed that it was not yet time to provide magic spears for the foot soldiers, but the same could not be said for the hunters from Gahelpa Village. Those guys were already proficient in archery. Giving them these magic items would not hinder their growth.

  After creating two magic bows, Lark went towards the Eastern Border.

  “Young Master.” Anandra greeted him the moment he arrived. Not far from them, the soldiers were practicing with their spears despite the scorching sun.

  “Call all of the hunters in Gahelpa here. Tell them to bring arrows with them,” said Lark.

  Anandra quizzically looked at the Young Master for a moment but eventually nodded. “As you wish.”

  Soon, over a dozen men were gathered before Lark. They all looked at him with expectant eyes. This was, after all, the first time the Young Master summoned so many men from Gahelpa.

  “Most of you have joined the army, correct?” said Lark.

  “Yes.” Several men nodded.

  Unlike the spearmen, Lark specifically asked these hunters to continue practicing with their bows. They have not yet received training in archery since they came to this town, mainly due to the previous friction between them and the locals.

  “Valak.” Lark looked at the hunter with bushy, brown beard. “Try this bow.”

  Valak stared at the bow upon receiving it. Unlike the usual bows made of yew, this one was clearly made of metal, probably iron. But surprisingly, it was light as though it was made of wood. The string was familiar. It was definitely made of twisted rawhide.

  “Try shooting that tree over there.” Lark pointed at a small tree next to a recently finished cabin.

  Valak frowned as he cast a curious gaze at the Young Master. He tapped the string once then pulled out an arrow from the quiver.

  To his surprise, the moment he nock the arrow, the runes on the bow’s body dimly glowed. Valak almost let go of his grip when a peculiar sensation flowed through his limbs. He felt something inside him was being sucked by the bow.

  “Don’t let go,” said Lark. “Shoot.”

  Although still bewildered by what was happening, Valak pulled the bowstring and released the arrow. A loud whizzing sound resounded. To everyone’s surprise, the arrow shattered a large portion of the bark upon impact and pierced through the tree, eventually lodging itself into the wooden cabin behind it.

  The absurd firepower of that single shot made the hunters’ jaws drop in wonder. They all looked at Valak as though he was some kind of monster.

  “H-Hey, Valak!”

  “What the hell’s that?!”

  “You could kill the damn basilisk with that shot!”

  Even Valak was baffled by what transpired. He looked at the bow with his jaws slacked, both of his eyes opened wide.

  “Did you like it?” Lark’s voice broke through the murmurs. “It’s a magic bow I created.”

  The hunters from Gahelpa were stunned speechless. Valak eventually broke the silence. “Made… You made this?”

  Lark nodded. “That’s right.” He showed the other bow he was carrying. “Right now, there’s only two of them. There’s eighteen of you. I’ll probably be able to give everyone their own magic bow before the week ends.”

  The hunters fell into stupor upon hearing this.

  The Young Master was going to give each of them such weapon? Somehow, they understood that they would probably use it against the supposedly invading beastmen, but the idea of wielding such powerful bows greatly enticed them. To hunters like them, such weapon was no less than a treasure.

  Even Valak, the boldest one in the group, found it hard to believe.

  “Before that.” Lark looked at the tree the arrow struck. The gaping hole on its bark clearly showed the power the behind that strike. “You need to control the amount of power in your strikes. Try shooting at that tree again.”

  Valak once again shot an arrow. This time, the strike was not as fierce as before. The piercing power was still greater than normal, but it did not manage to completely pierce through the tree’s bark.

  “As I thought.” Lark sighed. “You’ve consumed a large amount of your mana with that first strike.”

  Lark carefully explained to the hunters the basics of the magic bow.

  Just like the name implied, it was an item that would enable even non-magicians to wield mana. The runes at the bow’s grip would suck the mana of the wielder and channel it to the bow’s limbs and string grooves, creating tension far greater than normal. Some of the mana would also flow through the twisted rawhide, eventually giving the arrow an absurd piercing power.

  It worked the same way as the magic spears Lark was secretly creating. But since these hunters were already proficient with the bow, he did not hesitate in giving them these items. These men from Gahelpa valued honor highly. Even upon receiving this item, they would not easily betray him.

  Giving them these magical items would transform them into a formidable ally during the upcoming war.

  Lark have already made maps of the terrains in the Eastern Region. Properly using this elite unit could spell the difference between victory and defeat in the war against the beastmen.

  Although arduous, Lark diligently explained to them how to control the amount of mana channeled through the bow. They did not really need the absurd piercing power shown by Valak during his first strike. They only need enough power to pierce through their enemies’ armor.

  ***

  [Lion City – Merchants Guild]

  Big Mona kicked the slave in front of him. The woman accidentally spilled the wine on his gaudy clothes moments ago. An unforgivable sin punishable by death. “Damn slave! Do you know how expensive this dress is? Even if you worked all your life, you won’t be able to pay for it!”

  Another kick struck the woman at the abdomen, making her puke out the stale bread she ate for breakfast.

  “M-Master! Please forgive me!”

  But Big Mona did not stop.

  He grabbed a hemp rope and started whipping the woman, creating numerous cuts on her body. By the time Big Mona was finally satisfied beating her up, the woman was already sprawled on the ground, half-dead and unmoving.

  Big Mona spat on the soon-to-be corpse, sat on the sofa, and grabbed some snacks. He’ll ask the servants to clear the body later.

  A servant knocked on the door twice. “Big Mona, Sir. There’s a letter and a parcel for you from Blackstone Town.”

  Big Mona’s mouth was still full of biscuits when he replied, sending crumbs flying about. “Come in.”

  The servant entered the room and handed him the parchment. Big Mona wiped his hands using a napkin, unfolded the letter, and read the contents.

  As he read through the letter, his brows creased and his face twisted. He almost had the urge to tear the letter into pieces.

  “That damn, arrogant brat!” snarled Big Mona.

  The servant was startled from the sudden shout. He looked at the half-dead slave on the ground then at the fat merchant. He shivered. He prayed to the Gods that the mood of the merchant would not worsen any further.

  “That Lark Marcus! That brat!” Big Mona continued snarling. “He wants me to send a thousand soldiers to that small town within a week’s time?!”

  If not for the current prosperous trade of Kalrane Stones, Big Mona would have immediately sent his men to kill the arrogant bastard. He did not like the tone of the letter at all. It was condescending and outright rude, especially to him who held so much authority in Lion City.

  In the letter, Lark Marcus recounted the story of how lizardmen invaded his town and tried killing his men. The young noble supposedly captured some of the lizardmen who infiltrated his territory and made them spill out everything. According to them, beastmen would soon invade Blackstone Town and convert it into a stronghold, making it the pivotal point of their invasion of the Eastern Region of the Kingdom.

  Big Mona did not believe this story. According to h
is intelligence network, Alexander successfully defended the Valley of Witches a month ago, even going as far as killing Brock, one of the commanders of the Third Legion of the United Grakas Alliance.

  As long as Alexander was undefeated, there was no way for the beastmen to invade the Kingdom. Big Mona disliked that Mercenary Guild Master, but he knew that there was no man more perfect for the job of commander than him. That man was a genius. He would not be defeated by the beastmen so easily despite the difference in numbers between the two armies.

  Aside from the request for reinforcements, what angered Big Mona the most was the request of the brat to directly inform the Royal Family about the upcoming war with the beastmen. He wanted Big Mona, one of the three most prominent figures in the Lion City, to persuade the King to mobilize the army and preemptively block the advance of the enemies.

  A preposterous request.

  Although Big Mona was one of the most powerful figures in this City, he still did not have the power to persuade the King or the Royal Family.

  Just thinking that the brat of the Marcus Family had enough gal to ask such thing made Big Mona quiver in anger.

  Big Mona grabbed the bottle of wine next to him and half-emptied it. He burped, wiped his lips using a napkin then sighed. He breathed in and breathed out.

  “Calm down,” he said. “There’s no need to get worked up with just some brat.”

  Big Mona read the last part of the letter.

  If you manage to do these things, I will grant you exclusive rights to trade the middle-grade healing potions of Blackstone Town. I firmly believe that it’ll be a pivotal part of your business in the future, probably even more than the Kalrane Stones.

  As a gift, I’ve provided you with a sample of a low-grade healing potion. Also, I’ve added the formula on how to brew the mixture. Take it as a token of my appreciation.

  I expect the army within a week’s time.

  -Lark Marcus

  Big Mona snorted. What was the brat thinking? He would grant him exclusive rights to trade his so-called middle-grade healing potions? Laughable.