Terminus: Procuring The Sorcerer's Seal

[20:10] The common folk were inside for the most part at this time of night, with few still making their nightly rounds. This came in tandem to the occasional guard patrol across the perimeter of the island to keep a lookout for magus antics and undesirables attempting anything against the safety of the nonmagus populace.

Someone must've caught sight of a ship, a boat -- something traveling under the moonlight's grace, because a welcoming party of the local clergy seemed to idle within the small settlement's centre. They were clearly dressed differently than the majority -- in ebony and crimson colors, much like the guards, except taking to more regal-looking material. Amongst them, the individual that sent the summon in question -- an elder man that appeared to walk with a limp, upper-visage cloaked with their oversized hood draping over.

Much younger individuals passed their glances at what appeared to be another magus presence, quietly awaiting their approach. The elder speaks first, as they offer a beckoning hand.

''Ah, word spreads far... I am assuming you are the individual I had sent the missive to, yes? I... Am Maledictus Varyn Dublis, a pleasure to make the acquaintance.''
(Etheric Presence)

[20:18] "Indeed I am, I'm am humbled that you were willing to seek me out."

His travels to the land of Antefinem was a wonder, it the graze of the salty sea air was a welcomed change to his usual trips to the mainland. As he looks about the bustling settlement, his attention is met with a welcomed introduction to this land.

"I appreciate the welcoming party, Sir Maledictus, I am quite curious of the reason for my audience, but it is indeed welcomed."

Arcanum had finally gained a bit of political stride due to the efforts of everyone within the settlement, it was nice to have even a modicum of recognition. For now, Mishra would humbly await an explanation of his purpose here. He waves to the welcoming party, admiring the settlements denizens and appreciating the kindness offered to him.

For now, his eye peers past the veil of the physical and into the astral, a hum of arcane magic radiating from his person as he stands at attention.
(Mishra Canon)

[20:24] ''Ah yes... Purpose. You have been summoned here for what shall be ultimately righteous - A momentous occasion that I am confident will be looked upon in Antefinem's history. He, will be greatly appeased of your presence. If you would, follow me to His shrine.

There, perhaps He shall commune with you directly."
The Maledictus started on their swivel, hobbling on their way to the Antefinemite Spire, with his fellow clergy members helping them out. It was clear, there was a hierarchy here with the religious sect -- with this individual seemingly acting in a leadership role.

Though, this land was known for its democracy, even moreso for its recent election of a nonmagus settlement leader, followed by a third electory victory by Harbringer in the recent few months. There did not seem to be any outright explanation as to who He was... However, given the audience presented before Mishra, perhaps they could piece it together.
(Etheric Presence)

[20:25] Laurentius of Terminus had arrived as well- a pause, and a nod, towards the Consul. The soldier prepares to follow along, in silence. Still in as pristine a condition as ever.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[20:26] Mishra Canon says, "Very well."
[20:29] It was mysterious indeed, Mishra had heard much of the republic of Antifinem, but the leader of which was mercurial and illusive in most circumstance. It was intriguing to truly find out who and what was governing this land.

Mishra follows Laurentis with a color of anticipation on his face. The architecture was one that he appreciated, watching the busy staff move about official building as they reached their targeted location.

Mishra nods as they arrive, waiting patiently for the apex of the scene.
(Mishra Canon)

[20:42] Staircase, after staircase...
Each floor exhibited yet another facet of Antefinemite life...

A Grand Hall, with libraries open to the public. Even a high seat for the presidential leader to sit upon for official public matters away from the outdoor elements. The numbers here were sparse compared to the Dormitory Hall. Plenty of individuals from guards to children could be found here. It didn't necessarily matter the time of day or night, for this was where most found their home until the resources to maintain across the entire isle could be formally established. But then... Came the final hall, followed by the shrine.

Stepping into the room, immediately introduced them to a pungent magus presence. The air was heavy here...
Cold... Dim? Even the moonlight through painted windows seemed off-cast. A blink, and a faint silhouette of a featureless man could be spotted hovering just outside of one's focused vision. However, a glance to formally witness it would reveal... Nothing.

A hallucination? Perhaps...
Yet, whatever magus signature could be sensed here, was spread out... As though everywhere, even seeping through the seams of the walls. However, there was a definitive source: The vantablack pool at the center of the shrine room. Whatever clergy did not follow them up the stairs, was already here, meditating along the edges of each side save for the northern face, by the balcony.

Thump-ump....
Thump-ump....
Thump-ump....Thump-ump....

It was like a heartbeat... Pounding underfoot.
The Heart of Antefinem itself -- Their Patron.

The air shuddered ever so slightly, as ebonic tendrils spilled from the surface of the ichorous substance. One... Two... Three serpentine tendrils spilled from their aquatic refuge, to arch their tips in Mishra's direction.
Yet another pulsation, and a foreign surge of mana sought to radiate through the air... Through armor and cloth...
To rattle through skin, through flesh... Unto and through muscle and bone, to sense it all through.

As though something were aiming to -peer- through the anatomical structures throughout and beyond the magus circuitry. The mind could feel the buzzing... An ancient psionic entity, was listening for wandering thoughts of an unwarded mind. Those already attuned and devout, had their thoughts casually perused -- Their memories of sights, of words spoken, and passive emotional thought on the matter, telegraphed to it, without need of sharing those same senses...

Somewhere beneath the surface, lied its true self... Its whole self...
"Ah... Only three of such claimed stature have entered my shrine. Only three in over a century with talents, such as yours...

To think, I would find an era, where a multitude of you exist.

Alas... I believe you have a power I want... And in exchange, I can bestow upon you, materia."

What need were there for introductions... At least, if it were not requested of them first. At least, Mishra Canon had come to realize, whom their summoning audience was -- to some extent.
(Etheric Presence)

[20:53] It was a curious sensation indeed, it felt almost akin to the unreality, though much more physical. The air was ripe with magic, a feeling of ancient power that permeated to even the center of Mishra's own spirit.

There was much more here than he anticipated, much more here than the public was led to believe. Mishra was no stranger to mysteries and secrets kept out of the public eye and in the depths of halls unfounded by the layman. The tone of the scene had changed, less wonder and more trepidatious curiosity.

"The Power that you seek."

Mishra could only assume that a connection to the Astral Sea was what this mercurial being was after. An understanding of the nature of the realm at large, nigh godhood. The Sea of the infinite, the Final Frontier just before the very void itself.

Thump-ump....

Thump-ump...

Thump-ump...


Thump-ump...

The sound of an ever mysterious force of life began to ring into the air ever so softly. Even with the view beyond the physical, its origin was one lost to the Sorcerer. He know that there were many in this land that were wise to the Revolution that was beginning...

All of it began with the disparity between the Magi that ruled the land like gods, and the Non-magi who suffered and acquiesced to their whims.

"I see. The wave is indeed coming. One where the ideology of worship no longer seeps into the political landscape of this country, where the choices and actions of a being is judged rather than the gods they serve, worship, or idealize."

Sorcery, the gateway to a new world, the precipice of true enlightenment. Mishra would never be the gatekeeper to that knowledge, it was free for any to take.

"Very well."


(Mishra Canon)

[21:10] The tendrils waded there for the time being, as though tasting the air. The resonations through one's person revealed magus abnormalities of peculiar nature. However, beyond the ethereal and metaphysical? There seemed to be a distinct limitation to their sensory abilities. The fundamental laws of existence simply lied beyond one's influence, ergo beyond one's perception. Whatever fragment of their being was taken, simply did not translate to the ancient observer's gaze.

The seal, however, -did- draw its attention... And with such confirmation silently realized? The tendrils slinked back into the depths. It was true... Humanity was witnessing a revolution of sorts from its old ways. Straying away from their Gods... Gods that had provided countless tribulations in this entities' lifetime. Conflict and trials, that were likely... Soon, to be wrought to an end.

The immediate room took to a brief tremor, as thoughsomething massive was disturbed... and in time? It'd be revealed...
Small... Dots? Started to blot their way across the surface of the vantablack subtance. Bead-like, no larger than a pea, if leaned down to inspect. Though, soon after, larger chunks of the materia seemed to float to the surface.

It was sanguineous in appearance...
A tough, muscle tissue that pulsated with cardiac-inspired properties. Even from a distance, the radiance it put off ensured at a glance that whatever it peeled off from was incredibly dense with mana.
A fleshbud: large enough to contest the size of the sorcerer, wading on the surface as it slowly floated to the edge closest to Mishra.

The voice boomed out once more, soon revealing to be telepathic in nature.
"Unto you, I bestow a portion of my flesh as payment.

I am well aware of the matters of your sorcery. The variants of it that exist... What is practiced... What is oft observed.

Now, I shall such a seal for myself..."
The tremors continued, before the surface of the liquid alchemical preservatives was breached much more abruptly than before.

A black rain pitter-pattered across the room, offering a brief white mist before revealing...
A gargantuan arm, outstretched for the ceiling!
It had to be nearing a dozen feet in height as it stretched out, challenging the size of some giants, before it waved to, fro... and finally down, to the ground between Laurentius and Mishra. Oddly calculated, as though confident not to crush either in its descent.
(Etheric Presence)

[21:10] {Item} You throw Fleshbud.
[21:21] Pooled blood, an observation of his own spirit, the tremor of the domain they occupy, the feeling of ancient memories vibrating through the mentalscape....

All of it was much more than Mishra expected. Still, in this land of magic, only wonders could spawn. His eyes peer at the mound of flesh, beating and writhing in its existence, offered as a tribute to the astral flame.

The essence of this...Pressence made physical, and one that allowed Mishra to enact the rite of the Astral Flame.

An apparatus was pulled from nothing, a distortion of time and space conjured a hilt, one that seemed to be incomplete...but one that would serve it's purpose of creating another new sorcerer. One born from the tribulations of time, the rancor of Meranthe's checkered history.

As Mishra spoke, the weight of Arcane magic matched the austere presence of the leader of Antifinem? The true Patron that pushed for a different way in this insanity...

"As one makes an offering to the Astral Flame, a tie to faith is severed and replaced with the very essence that allows many gods of this realm to achieve that Stature. To truly have agency over your soul, to Be your own deity. So many in this country strive for some semblance of the divine, some way to circumvent their mortality and achieve ascendancy through such violence and unnecessary ways. The Astral Sea invites us with no conditions other than a piece of one's self."

"Give to receive. A piece of flesh for a piece of eternity itself."

The balance between order and chaos is met in the center of Mishra's spirit, and as his form reaches the apex of the Arcane...his Eminence, Mishra reaches into the will of his soul to evoke the force of the astral, one that blesses him with a single concept.

Vorpality

"Are you prepared?"
(Mishra Canon)

[21:31] To be your own deity.
If only, they knew just how apt their words were...


Once a slave, enchained by supernatural powers... Now, free...
Once prey sought out by magus hunters... Now, unchallenged...
Once victim to the Wrath of Gods... And now?
A God.

The gargantuan arm remains rested upon the surface from the pool, while the remainder of the body abstained from the surface. A meager glance at the arm would reveal bulbous growths actively kneading beyond the surface...
Flesh generation? Uncontrolled -- A constant internal battle between invocational residue of multiple Death Magic castings, and one's natural ability to regenerate. The result: A cancerous overcompensation, likely what resulted in such a boon being offered... And very much was seemingly was taking place upon this offered appendage.

The chill of the Occult was strong within such close proximity, almost as though an amplifier to the voice to breached out for one's mind.

"As I've always been."

Was this not fate? Was this not predestined?
After all, this... Was the final step.
(Etheric Presence)

[21:32] ** Mishra Canon has inflicted an injury upon Etheric Presence. ("Sorcerer Initiation", "", "Permanent", "") **
[21:43] As the force of Vorpality began to swell into the base of the hilt, Mishra swings the blade instantly.

A distortion of reality reverberates around them room, the feeling of the Astral Sea flooding the scene with the essence of life itself. As the air around them begins to realign with reality, the vision of the world around them becoming clear.

Whatever ties that this being had to which ever deity it served or didn't serve no longer applied. Through Vorpality, the idea of a sorcerer, the very notion ceased to be simply a thought, but now enacted into law.

Not becoming true...but Retroactively true...

Vorpality - to cut through anything, even the notion of potential, and simply injecting fact into reality....

"Time is a circle, this rite was not simply destined, but it has always has been, always will be, and always is..."

"Once and Future."

The words carried a weight of Austerity, one that came with an attunement to the very nature of what it meant to truly have Authority over the world around them. Mishra observes the hilt into his hands, another blessing of the Astral was conducted, and the energy within finally attuned and established its purpose through the force of Vorpality.

He looks...still at this mercurial force with no discernable form.

"The world around you is seen through a new lens, or maybe an old one. I won't pretend to fully understand your nature, your form, or your ambition...but know that we stand in the edge of infinity. One that will be granted to the country, and then the world."

"We're at the dawn of a second Mythical Era."
(Mishra Canon)

[22:01] The insignis had stood, hands behind his back, in the perfect parade rest for which he was known. The rite, observed- as he had contacted Mishra to see it done... the Patron would finally be able to step into the role that He deserved, no longer limited to parlor tricks and mild things.

Something more. Something greater. Something it's own.

What Antefinem truly deserved, carving it's own path as it always had. The beginning of the path towards the promised End- now marching on through infinity.

The age of Sorcery had come to Antefinem. Power to the People, wrested free from any, by His guiding hand. To build their own world and future in their own hands, where it belonged.

He stands in observance of the new dawn.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[22:06] Upon the initiation of such rite -- It was as though every declaration against the non-believers that dared to sully one's claim, were denied all at once. All that had been, and all that ever would be -- would simply have to accept that fact.
So long ago, had one been naught more than a byproduct of Man.

Now? He had evolved to become so much more...
A concept: Personified.
A Constant, all on his own.

So many steps were taken...
So many lives lost...
So many wounds taken, and battles fought...
So many ages passed... And so many more civilizations rose and fell...

Here, within his recently erected cradle? The next step had been taken.
The Final Step.

It was as though, the evocation had beckoned forth a vibrant, opaque light... With its nigh immediate subsiding? The offered arm, was gone... But the surface of the pool waded...
Ripples across the surface, bounced, rolled... Before yetanother tremor carried out.

This time, it was much more constant...
Much deeper...
Much... Grander...

One tendril...
Two tendrils...
Three tendri-- Nay, countless tendrils, before bulbous growths pulsated before one's gander. It rose from the surface, foot by foot...
Nearing the vaulted ceiling with a managerie of cancerous growths that resembled fungal flora spread across a physical vessel that was clearly carved out from the bottom jaw, through the chest.

Alas... The presence of Death Magic was all the more potent now...
One could witness, what the Patron of Antefinem truly appeared to be, before it was ignited in a transmundanic pyre. The sickly squelches of sinew and muscle tissue generating anew, swelling up in the absence of reforming bone structure, popping back into place as it shifted accordingly. The entity was regenerating rapidly, both wounds incurred, and old ones from long ago.

A new arm, now riddled with an external circuitry not similiar from its left, unaffected one - Its own variant of the Sorcerer's Seal: A declaration of its claim upon Divinity, realized at long last: The Sorcerer's Brand. The shine of solid crmison hues, contrasted with ebonic flesh -- A realization of the origin of Antefinem's national colors could come to light now. The opposing arm contrasted with an illuminated external circuitry of mana, despite radiating a vacuum-like presence.

As though it sought to rip the mana from one's very anatomy, even remotely. Within the core of that palm, would lie runic inscriptions lining an alchemically inspired transmutation circle: The Patron's Brand.

Two Brands: One for each gargantuan arm. Each with a unique power -- Both potent alone, but together? Capable of bridging gaps that separate they simply could not.
Over a century's worth of waiting, for this exact moment... And Mishra had enabled it. The air quivered as infinitum was realized, passively explored with the wade of both branded arms...

Of a multitude of affinities...
Unbound by the limitations of a mortal lifespan...
Unbound by the limitations of a mortal anatomy...
"Humanity shall forever know your name...
Of this, I am certain."
The words were spoken, but without a bottom maw? They simply required telepathic broadcasting.

He could feel it...
The sensation of mana tributes from thousands of nonmagus and magus ilk alike... Across decades... Nay, a century's worth.
Then, there was the realization of the Astral Sea, no longer beyond his grasp... Infinity.

He could tap into both...
A hand that could reach for countless motes essence... and another, that could reach for the souls of countless subjects...

Every passing moment, sounded the air with more cackling of muscle tissue violently shifted into place, of bones snapping to, of their body slowly reforming... As it had been submerged... Shrouded away from the public eye for decades.
The gazes of the clergy widened, as gasps filled the room...

The Maledictus stumbled backwards, before knealing with watery eyes -- Their Patron had done it...

"Today... Is the End of yet another age...
--and the dawn... Of a new one..."
(Terminus)

[22:20] The tale of a new age was written in revolution, a shift in ideas, the force of a thousands of souls suppressed and sequestered by the elite and the plenty.

The power of what was, a force of death now given agency again. The power that allows the force of the world to truly forge something different.


"The world isn't broken, the potential of so many lies within the power of those that have not. Absent of the greed and ambition plagued with the will to conquer. What is done, is done with the aim to rectify this disparity."

"Regardless of your aims or ambitions, I can imagine that we will see ourselves move forward with whatever goals we see fit. Be it villain, savior, or revolutionary, the story of this country is written with blood, ambitious, cruelty, compassion and certainty."

Mishra was no stranger to the dark, Muse herself being a force of death, doing battle with Varrach directly, unshackling the soul of a Hiraeth and gaining the Ire of their patron.

While his own story was done out of the public eye, he understood that those that shaped was done in the light of the public eye, aiming to seek legacy and infamy...

And then there were those that did their work in the dark...in the mud where the paupers lived and suffered. He himself, aimed to do the latter, where those who stories were not recognized could feel scene.

He wondered, where Terminus would direct their story...

In the light of glory, vainglory and infamy...

Or in the dirt, where the regulars lived and grind to lay the foundation of the REAL work.

"I wonder, where your story will lead you..."
(Mishra Canon)

[22:35] Slowly, it swiveled within its pool of blood, gazing down upon the very perpetrator that revealed to him his birthright. The image of Mishra Canon was reflected within their solid crimson hues, with an ancient mind turning machinations behind them. It was contemplating upon this individual... Mulling about its own endeavors.

There were many humans it came across in its long existence... Many roles that it had taken since its conception upon Meranthe. Many conflicts wagered against the Equisol Bloodline or Varrach alike -- Once a rival, then, a loner... Now, something short of Divine.

"My... Story...

What a fascinating take."
Though their head was so close to the ceiling, their eyes broke from the sorcerer to gaze upon it... As though to peer through it... All while writhing in the moment.
To flex their once lost muscles once again...
Tofeel the sensation of air against their skin again...
To collapse the gills that took form upon their neck, and embrace the chill of air upon the surface again...

Thirty years was a long time to spend submerged in a alchemical preservative bath... However, it was only a blip in his existence. He was taking it all in now.

"That manuscript seems reserved solely for Fate herself to unravel. Though, I am confident that with this power? Even the forces of Memoria shall be rendered subject to my whim."

After all, he did not need this power to overcome Mortyl -- Regardless, if her last presence was graced with mercy...
Now, with it? What more was within his grasp?

A flesh mound seemed to be engorging itself around the neck region, slowly rebuilding the framework of a voicebox, offering a metallic ring to the pseudo-telepathic voice that spoke afterwards.
"I dO lOoK fOrWaRd To SeEiNg It ThRoUgH..."
It was going to take a bit longer before it was fully rejuvenated, but being able to rise from his own deathrest, likely justified as much.
(Terminus)

[22:38] Mishra Canon says, "We shall see..."
[22:39] Terminus says, "How... Interesting..."
[22:40] Terminus says, "The ability to traverse the world... Before my very eyes... "
[22:40] Terminus says, "The ability to speak... I've forgotten what my own natural voice sounded like..."
[22:40] Laurentius of Terminus says, "Welcome back, My Lord."
[22:45] {Item} You picked up Egg x10. Dropped by Laurentius of Terminus.
[22:45] {Item} You picked up Golden Egg x2. Dropped by Laurentius of Terminus.
[22:45] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Barbarian ). Dropped by Laurentius of Terminus..
[22:45] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Zurge). Dropped by Laurentius of Terminus..
[22:45] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Oogub).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Mongo).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Bavabafa).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Karik).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Zyrak).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Agni).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Agaron).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Grundor).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Mazchna).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Zyrak).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Hragn).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Lurk).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Barbarian ).
[22:46] {Item} You drop Magic Core Fragment (Zurge).
[22:46] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Zyrak). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:46] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Karik). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:46] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Agni). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:46] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Agaron). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:46] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Grundor). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Zyrak). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Mazchna). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Oogub). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Mongo). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Bavabafa). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Barbarian ). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Zurge). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Lurk). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You picked up Magic Core Fragment (Hragn). Dropped by Terminus..
[22:47] {Item} You throw Magic Core Fragment (Zurge).
[22:47] {Item} You throw Magic Core Fragment (Barbarian ).
[22:48] Terminus has placed Egg (x10) into the chest at 401,516,8
[22:48] Terminus has placed Golden Egg (x2) into the chest at 401,516,8
[22:49] {Item} You throw Kidnapped Citizen x2.
[22:49] {Item} You picked up Kidnapped Citizen x2. Dropped by Terminus.
[22:55] As Mishra leaves, and Terminus has become something... more... the Champion of Antefinem remains standing near the base of the pool. No longer was his Lord fully confined, nor restrained. They had done it.

It had taken years. A decade- no, more than that... and- how many battles? Ninety four. That was what he remembered. Ninety four, held in that precise memory, of fights throughout the wilds- and once or twice, in war. But now, at least part of his mission was fulfilled. Terminus was mostly whole again, the Patron able to exist without decades beneath the waters spent.

"Varrach moves to pull the heavens down for unknown purpose. His first step, apparently, was a success. The armies of Meranthe march on Pscaela, the heart of Sin.

Nations celebrate beyond that, continued existence. Aetius forces clashed with the Republic over ideology, though it is unknown if that will last. Little else to report." There is a subtle snapping noise, a crackling as his unnatural vitality weaves bones back together again in full.

Resilient. Even still.

"I am not undefeatable, still, though I have collected essence at... what appears to be an unusually high rate.

What is thy bidding now, my lord?"
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[23:18] A long-lost bottom maw has been thoroughly regenerated, flesh sheathing the hollowed chestal cavity. However, the foreign powers aren't nullified outright. Rather, they are concentrated into a refined point, separate from one's core. After decades of living with the malady, it has been compartmentalized from the rest of the immediate surrounding anatomy.

Whether it was a constant feeding of mana to drown it, or a passive effort to nullify it, was unknown. Only that Terminus had existed long enough to make extensive efforts to unmake what weakened him... To empower himself through plots and countless invocations behind the scenes. As he feels jaw-bones formulate into place, and a nega-core forged out of the catalyst of his Hollowed Husk? He listens to Laurentius.

The sound of bones snapping for his ears to hear...
The feeling that it resonated through the atmosphere...
Terminus knew it well... It was him.
He had managed to evolve, in perpetuity with himself, even beyond his immediate vessel. On some level, he had already known this... Yet, to realize it so distinctly, here and now? It was gratifying.

He spoke, voice still rattled between an unfinished voicebox, and underdeveloped throat, and a distinct telepathic endeavor.
"You are not undefeatable, because you are still Imperfected. Worry not... Perfection, is at hand.

Your struggle is soon to come to an End...
The previous age... Has come to an End..."
His head lowered, finally laying his gaze upon his creation.

Not once had he had the luxury of witnessing it... And today? He could...
This, was what his hand wrought...
This, was what developed upon the mainland of Meranthe...
This, was Laurentius... His Laurentius...
A Force Of Nature...
A Champion Of His Name:
Mordeaux.

"If the Fel Lord's promise bares any merit to this day, Varrach is to be undisturbed in any endeavor that shall invoke further devastation upon the Pantheon and any other deity of mortal worship beyond my influence.

The Heart of Sin shall fall, in time. It is inevitable. The rest -- A matter of time."

What was his bidding?
"This power is not yet complete... But the end, lies on the horizon. Draw forth the essence of this land, be it Beast or Man. Procure ever mote of mana spared from mortal hand, crystalized materia - no exception.

Ascension is at-hand... --and with it?

A b s o l u t e
P e r f e c t i o n.
"

Hands balled into fists, as mana was allowed to surge through the circutry of both brands. For the moment, the Patron could realize power within both domains... But there was a clear limitation:
To claim mana, and properly ascend others - Required essence...
To invoke dominion over the world at large - Required essence...

Surely, he could graze the souls of those he laid his Patron's Brand upon, but he simply didn't have the capability to claim the souls of those around him so liberally. If Muse and Michael Eros were worth their merit with their claim, then it was within his power now! He simply needed more essence...
He simply needed to ensure his comprehension of the Arcane was as thorough as one thought. Thus, more was needed...

Before he could truly farm Humanity as they farmed the land...
No longer to reap crops... But souls...
"Once such is done, any and all that you could desire... Shall be yours, and more..."

At last, there was nothing that he couldn't do anymore. The last step wastaken... All that mattered now, was that they managed to make the metaphorical sprint down the final hallway...
To reach for the last door...
To open it...
To realize...

Ascension.
Perfection.
(Terminus)