Jaben had yet to recover from what he had witnessed in Stygai. Though known as the King of Asshai and a master of dark warlock magic, with a knowledge base vast enough to rival a living encyclopedia of sorcery, nothing in his long experience could compare to what he had just seen.
No spell he knew—no ritual, incantation, or art—could approach the level of power Lynd had displayed. To Jaben, that wasn't magic. That was divine wrath, the power of a god made manifest.
Years ago, he'd heard stories about what had happened in Qohor. He had scoffed at them then, convinced they were exaggerated accounts from those ignorant of true magic.
A spell that could destroy half a city? Nonsense. Likely just illusions. He himself could cast a darkness spell thick enough to blanket an entire city in shadow. To a commoner, that would seem as terrifying as the destruction of a city. It wasn't destruction—just fear, misunderstanding.
Later, when Quillor returned to Asshai preaching his faith in the God of Magic and recounting what he had witnessed in Qohor, Jaben and the other mages of Asshai had ridiculed him. They called him mad.
Now, only now, did Jaben understand that Quillor had spoken the truth. The rumors had been real. Lynd Tarran's magic truly possessed the power to obliterate worlds. Stygai—a mighty city—had vanished before Jaben's eyes, erased by Lynd's magic. The experience had shattered his understanding of what magic could be.
In his view, even the most destructive magic, like the Pyromancer's flame arts, could at best mimic dragonfire—enough to burn a few hundred people alive. But it could never level an entire city. Most magic, after all, was meant for duels or assassinations—like the Shadowbinder's infamous shadow assassins.
But today, he had witnessed something different. Something beyond comprehension. Power that felt divine.
"God of Magic..." Jaben sat before the statue of the deity within the temple, gazing up at a figure carved to resemble Lynd exactly. A thought came to him—foreign, unfamiliar. He began to pray. For the first time, he prayed to a god.
Quillor, standing nearby, observed him with puzzled eyes. Ever since Jaben had returned from Stygai, he had been in a daze, unsettled and distracted, as though traumatized—just as Quillor himself had once been in Qohor.
There was no doubt in his mind: Lynd had done something truly unimaginable in Stygai. Otherwise, Jaben would never have returned in this state.
Quillor wanted to ask, but didn't know how. Lynd had returned to Asshai and gone straight to rest behind the temple. His dragon now slept outside the temple, both of them appearing exhausted, as though they had endured a grueling battle.
Jaben, meanwhile, had ignored every question. He simply sat in silence before the statue of the God of Magic. Everything about him suggested he was on the verge of conversion—of truly believing in the god Lynd represented.
Suppressing his curiosity, Quillor proceeded with his daily ritual, kneeling before the statue to offer prayer as usual.
After he finished reciting the invocation, Jaben suddenly spoke.
"Quillor... if I wanted to follow the God of Magic, would I need a particular status or rank?"
Quillor blinked, surprised, but then smiled.
"No. Anyone can believe in the God of Magic."
"Hm," Jaben replied quietly. And that was it. He said no more, as if the question had been a passing thought, never truly meant to be taken seriously.
Still, Quillor couldn't suppress his curiosity.
"What really happened between you and our lord in Stygai?" he asked. "Has Euron been dealt with? Why have you been acting so strangely since returning?"
Jaben hesitated, looking at Quillor. Then, after a moment's silence, he began to recount everything he had seen and heard in Stygai.
Even though Quillor had braced himself for something shocking, he was still stunned when he heard that Lynd had destroyed the entire ruins of Stygai Castle.
Quillor had never been to Stygai himself, but over the years, many Shadowbinders and spellcasters from Asshai had journeyed to the corpse city. A few had been fortunate enough to return, leaving behind accounts and descriptions of the place. Thanks to those records, Quillor's understanding of Stygai was no less detailed than those who had walked its cursed streets.
Though Stygai wasn't as vast as Asshai, it was still a massive city—easily rivaling major ports like Miracle Harbor. And yet, such a city had been completely erased by Lynd's magic. The sheer scale of it brought back haunting memories of the cataclysm Quillor had witnessed in Qohor. A deep sense of regret crept into his heart.
He wished—truly wished—he had gone with them.
Lynd's return to Asshai caused quite a stir. No one really knew what he had gone to the Shadow Lands for—only that, before departing, he had burned a foreign ship. Most assumed it was a show of force, a warning to the many spellcaster factions in Asshai.
Only a few knew who the ship had belonged to, and even fewer knew where its owner had gone. They speculated that Lynd was pursuing that very person.
But when Lynd returned from the Shadow Lands in less than a day, many believed he had failed—or had been frightened off by the countless monsters said to dwell there. Either way, they were glad. It pleased them to see someone as seemingly invincible as Lynd stumble.
Still, even if they suspected Lynd had retreated in defeat, none of them dared to provoke him. Disheveled or not, the power he wielded was far beyond their reach.
And then there was Quillor—a dangerous Bloodmage—at his side. On top of that, word had spread that the hidden affliction within the Dark Warlock Jaben had been cured by Lynd, suggesting Jaben could now cast spells again.
Though Jaben could no longer match his former might when he was called the King of Asshai, his threat level had not diminished. Many longtime residents still remembered just how terrifying his dark magic had been.
While the spellcasters of Asshai focused their attention on Lynd, none of them noticed that the waters of the Ashen River—flowing through the heart of the city—were rapidly receding. The riverbed near the banks was already exposed.
It wasn't until a Shadowbinder went to the Ashen River to catch a fish for a ritual that the anomaly was discovered.
Though no one in Asshai liked the Ashen River—many would have loved to see it vanish altogether—they were all acutely aware of its importance. Countless potions and magical rites relied on its waters or the creatures within. Now, with the river drying up and signs of an unprecedented drought appearing, many began to speculate whether this might be linked to the recent appearance of the red comet.
Curiously, no one thought to connect it to Lynd's journey into the Shadow Lands. Perhaps they simply couldn't imagine anyone, no matter how powerful, being capable of causing the Ashen River to dry up.
In response to the situation, the spellcasters of Asshai gathered to discuss sending a team upstream to investigate the source of the problem and determine whether it could be resolved.
Naturally, the group would be led by Shadowbinders—those most familiar with the Shadow Lands—joined by other spellcasters who had previously ventured into that cursed region. Accompanied by over five hundred slaves and mercenaries, the expedition was divided into three groups, each entering the Shadow Lands in succession.
...
As the first group crossed into the Shadow Lands, Lynd awoke from a deep sleep. He didn't know if it was from having fully unleashed the rune power within him, or simply from the sense of closure after defeating Euron. Either way, it had been a deep, restful sleep—one of the best in a long while.
"Are you coming with me?"
Lynd had never cared for a place like Asshai. Now that he was rested, he was ready to return to Summerhall. Before leaving, he turned and asked Jaben.
Jaben bowed respectfully.
"My lord, please go on ahead. I'll bring some people to Summerhall in a few months."
"My lord?"
Lynd raised an eyebrow, smiling at both the title and the reverence he saw in Jaben's eyes.
"So... you've come to believe in the God of Magic too?"
"Yes," Jaben said with a nod. "After witnessing the destruction of Stygai, how could I not believe that you are the God of Magic?"
Lynd could see that Jaben's faith was different from Quillor's. Quillor truly revered him as a god. Jaben, on the other hand, simply saw him as a supremely powerful spellcaster. To him, the title God of Magic was just that—a title. Just as King of Asshai had once been his own.
Still, Lynd didn't mind. Once Jaben arrived at Summerhall and underwent the trials of the Redemption Sept, he would see things differently.
After expressing his hope that Jaben would head to Summerhall soon, Lynd turned to Quillor and said, "After this, gather as much intelligence as you can on Ulthos. If possible, arrange for someone to establish an outpost there. I'll be needing it in the future."
"As my lord commands," Quillor replied with a nod.
"You're interested in the continent of Ulthos?" Jaben interjected. "I know of an adventurer who once ventured deep into Ulthos. He's now living in seclusion on Leng Island. I might be able to convince him to come out and help."
"There's such a man? Excellent, very good," Lynd nodded. "But for now, there's no need to bring him out. Wait until the Miracle Guild establishes a branch on Leng Island—then invite him."
Lynd gave Quillor a few more instructions, mostly concerning the future establishment of the Miracle Guild in Asshai. Once all was said and done, he mounted Deltos and departed.
But even after his departure, the impact Lynd had left behind in Asshai didn't fade. If anything, it only intensified—and soon spiraled into disaster.
First, after the destruction and melting of Stygai, the Black Stones beneath the city seemed to fall into a dormant state. They no longer emitted any magical energy.
However, many of the creatures in the Shadow Lands depended on that very magic to survive. Though their intelligence was limited, they could sense that something was wrong.
The only instinct they had left was to search for more Black Stone magic—and the closest source was Asshai. Though the Black Stone in Asshai differed greatly in nature from the stones of Stygai, for these creatures—already deep in the throes of addiction—it made no difference.
Deprived of Black Stone magic, their bodies would rapidly deteriorate. Death was inevitable unless they found a new source. Asshai had become their only hope.
Thus began their migration.
The monsters of the Shadow Lands were not unified; they attacked each other upon encounter, even turning on their own kind. Chaos followed in their wake.
And as fate would have it, the spellcasters and mercenaries who had been sent into the Shadow Lands to investigate the drying of the Ashen River happened to cross paths with this monstrous tide.
Despite the formidable strength of the Shadowbinders and other mages in the group, they were vastly outnumbered. They were soon overwhelmed. Within hours, Asshai's finest Shadowbinders had been wiped out—leaving behind only lesser mages and a few apprentices.
Among them was a warlock who, before dying, used a secret technique to alert a friend back in Asshai. That was how the city learned of what had happened—and realized that the monsters of the Shadow Lands were heading straight for them. War was inevitable.
But Asshai had not known war in many years. All its defenses had been designed with humans in mind. No preparations had been made for the onslaught of magical beasts.
The moment merchants at the docks learned of the approaching monsters, they packed their things and fled, taking their people with them. Within a day, the harbor district was nearly abandoned.
The exodus of merchants also meant a sharp decline in available ships. Even those spellcasters who wanted to escape the coming disaster had no vessels left to carry them.
As panic gripped the city, Jaben stepped forward.
He demanded that everyone follow his command and prepare to fight the monsters of the Shadow Lands.
Naturally, some questioned his authority. But once they saw Jaben wield his fearsome dark magic again, those doubts vanished. The dread of the once-King of Asshai returned in full force.
Jaben quickly began organizing a defensive strategy, tailoring it to the specific types of monsters they might face. All slaves in the city were rounded up and fed potent secret concoctions—drugs that dulled fear and made them fight without regard for their own lives.
Jaben didn't expect the slaves to survive. In fact, he doubted they could stop the horde at all. But they could buy time—slow the monsters down, kill a few. If necessary, they would serve as bait, drawing the beasts into traps he had laid in advance.
Under Jaben's ruthless and efficient command, fortifications sprang up in just one day. And almost as if on cue, the monsters of the Shadow Lands arrived at the city's edge the moment the defenses were completed.
Now came the true test—would Jaben's defense plan hold?