A Bored Lich

There stood two on a stage of fools: one who had acted without a brain and the other who had no brain. Two blue flames reflected in Maximus' golden eyes. After so many restless nights, he could barely tell that a Lich stood in front of him. No matter how strong Maximus had become, even he was not invincible.

The ground quaked, and dust fell from the ceiling. Maximus recalled the goddess speaking of the sudden war on his doorstep, and cursed under his breath. It was faint, but he was sure he heard another voice from behind the seats.

"Have you finally hit your breaking point, hero?" called the same, sourceless voice that had granted his desperate wish.

"I can't tell if you're just another hallucination," Maximus snarled as he readied his blade. The blood of the goddess dripped off of it. "I didn't mean for any of this."

The deep voice continued: "You, o' mighty hero, were the embodiment of determination. You grew stronger by inheriting the wishes of your fallen comrades. You slew my champion, the Demon King. You believed it was for the greater good. Now, do you see the lies you have been fed? You were turned into a monster then thrown away like the poor village trash she found you as."

"You don't know a thing about me," Maximus snapped. "Nor what I've been through. Leave my home. I will strike no deal with the God of Evil."

As opposed to the goddess's serene form, when he took shape, there was no physical body. An enormous face of red mist gazed upon him. "O' mighty hero," he continued. "You can barely hold the sword of legend. That is why my sister still lives. You missed the heart by inches."

A magic circle appeared along the back wall, just above the stage's seats. White stone was turned into an overhead view of the swamp. Countless shapes darted through the valley. Maximus recognized formations of war. The rivers turned red. Spells erupted, flinging shapes with deadly force. "I may be the embodiment of evil, but even I know this must end. War is hell, but it's not my domain. It's...her's."

Maximus pulled a scroll out of his spatial ring and tossed it from one hand to the other, then again, and again. "How did the world find out about the map? I thought only the War Monks knew about it."

"Your rampage is...infamous if not impressive. They all tracked the trail of destruction. They fight over who will slay the heretic, and claim his treasure for themselves."

"I see," Maximus sat on the stage's edge. "So you just want the map to end this, right?" He shook his head. "I'd say you would have to rip it from my cold, dead hands, but that isn't much of a threat right now," he coughed.

The red, misty face raised an eyebrow. "Most panic at this point, when they can feel the end approaching."

"I've been running from death long enough to get used to the feeling," Maximus said as he fiddled with the scroll's wax binding. "I have nothing but time." He condensed golden life essence around his ears. He could hear the battle waging just outside his home. "Out there are Humans, Angels, Savages, Demons, Elves, and Dwarves." It was odd. He didn't fight the sudden numbness, which kept him on the brink of collapse, but he knew he couldn't just sit and watch. The issue was that he had to allow empathy in to find a solution. He had to fight, but there was no enemy, just more fools. "Soon enough there'll only be one race left."

"No, there won't be anyone left. Your new friend ensures that." Maximus glanced over at the Lich, who remained as still as a statue. It stared at the swamp seemingly in a trance. "Unlike my privileged sister, I know that the greater good is a big fat lie. If just one of those warriors live, the knowledge of soul magic will call even more to their deaths. This game will reach a bloody end, where no one wins. Can you argue against that? Will you convince yourself with optimism and dreams that you alone can turn everything around? Can you save all of them?"

Maximus looked at the shapes moving through the swamp, then back to the scroll. He smiled and nodded. "I told you to leave. Leave."

The God of Evil was silent for several moments. "You disappoint me, O' once mighty hero. They won't let you save them, do you understand that? There is literally no avenue for you to win."

"For me maybe," Maximus said as he raised a hand high above his head. "But that's the great thing about people. No matter how many die, more will come. I'm sure one of them will find a solution. I just have to trust in the good of people the same way I was entrusted. I'm a hero. I will always do the right thing." With a snap of his fingers and a bit of soulmana, the very air within the academy shifted. Stone split. Desks shattered. Mana was twisted and bent. The red mist vanished.

No sooner had he finished the spell did thousands of magic circles fill the space. The Lich broke out of its trance, and had turned to its target with its skeletal arms outstretched. Mana rose up like the flames that made its eyes. With another snap, the magic circles shattered.

"You too," Maximus said as he got to his feet. "Leave my sight."

One final use of soulmagic made the Lich retract his mana, and walk out of the building. Since the magic view of the swamp had vanished he couldn't see the havoc that followed, but he could hear a single incantation: "Calamity Magic: Mutant Spawn." The shrill roar of thousands of creatures followed.

"You don't have to leave though," Maximus continued to speak even though he alone stood on the stage. "Show yourself."

"H-hello," Eric stuttered as he revealed himself. Fresh bruises and stitches littered his swollen face. "M-mister Draken and..." He looked at the Lich and went stone cold. "I'm sorry. I followed my masters here, even though they banned me from the monastery. I'm sorry. I didn't want any of this."

"It's fine," Maximus said. "I know you're not really a traitor. You were just used."

"But you swore you would kill me," his voice shook just like his small, emaciated body. He broke down in tears. "How can you just say it's fine after what I've done? I got them killed! I killed my best friend and Doevm. Be angry. Yell at me like when Cerlius and I pranked Doevm. The War Monks get mad, so why don't you? If what I've heard is true, I'm just another pawn on a gameboard. If it's truly fine then did you even love your kids at all?"

Maxmius tossed the green gemstone to him. "Don't get me wrong. You can never be forgiven. If it wasn't for the present situation I'd kill you where you stand, but that stuff doesn't matter anymore. I need you to listen to me. I need you to help me hide the map, because the world trusts you, and you know that the goddess is a lie. Find someone worthy of the map, no matter how long it takes. Someone must inherit the mantle."

"How?" Eric asked. "I'm just a kid. What am I supposed to do with this."

"I can help you start, but you have to figure the rest out," Maximus said as he placed the scroll on the ground, and took the small, smelly, wooden crate into his spatial ring. "Use the gemstone. That's all I'll tell you. No one can find it or the scroll through magical means, not if you hide it in this place." He stepped off the stage and walked towards the exit, where dozens of footsteps and the dull clank of metal striking metal had gotten louder. "I'll ensure that no one remembers what soulmagic is. We won't meet again. Good luck and may the Goddess burn in hell for what she's done to us both."

Back to the present…

A slow heartbeat quickened as consciousness returned.

The one called Cerlius lay behind a pile of rubble.

Blue life essence stretched around his heart.

Color slowly returned to his face.

His eyes slowly opened, as did his mouth: "I remember."