Trinity of Magic

It took several more minutes for the other contestants to regain their senses, though a few dwarfs still appeared dazed and disoriented. However, Zeke hardly noticed. The remnants of his own experience lingered vividly in his mind, commanding his full attention.

Zeke let Akasha's words wash over him as he continued to contemplate.

This had been no mere hallucination—of that, he was certain. Furthermore, the sensation felt oddly familiar. For a moment, he couldn't quite place where he had experienced anything like this before. Then, it struck him. It was the unmistakable feeling of absorbing a fragment of someone's Soul.

The memory came rushing back: the time in Tradespire when he had unintentionally ripped the Soul from that spy, experiencing flashes of the man's life. However, that incident had been less intense than this—less vivid. The method he'd used back then had been crude and unrefined compared to the precision of the Mnemosyne Devourer, which had been distilled into the brew.

"Akasha," he called softly in his mind. "Have there been any abnormal changes to my Soul?"

For once, the Spirit didn't respond immediately. Her usual, almost instantaneous answers were absent, a sign she hadn't anticipated the question.

Akasha's answer confirmed many things for Zeke, not least among them that the devourer could indeed grow a Soul.

Zeke's initial reaction to this realization was a deep sense of regret, quickly followed by a wave of shame—and then, finally, relief.

Regret came first. He understood at once that choosing the Mnemosyne Devourer as his familiar would have allowed him to expand the size of his Soul at an exponential rate. With its help, it was entirely possible that he might have achieved the level of Archmage within a few years.

Shame followed swiftly, stemming from two reasons. The first was the thought of abandoning Akasha. While Zeke would never truly entertain the idea of giving her up, the momentary consideration made him feel profoundly guilty. Akasha wasn't just a tool or a familiar—she was a trusted friend and loyal ally who had saved his life on more than one occasion.

The second source of shame was tied to the Devourer's method of growth. Zeke recoiled at his own willingness to feed on the Souls of humans to fuel his power. This wasn't just ending a life—it was about consuming everything they were, every achievement, every memory, every spark of their being.

It wasn't just taking a life; it was appropriating their very existence.

Zeke wasn't quite sure what happened to Souls after death, but devouring them felt like a violation on a far deeper level than killing someone. It felt wrong in a way that words couldn't adequately convey—a fundamental transgression against the essence of life itself.

And finally, there was relief—relief for the choice he had made that day. Zeke knew himself well enough to recognize the danger: had he chosen the Mnemosyne Devourer as his familiar, he doubted his ability to resist its temptations. The allure of rapid growth would have been overwhelming, and more likely than not, he would have succumbed, becoming something monstrous in the process.

The announcer's voice cut through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

"Ye've all had a taste o' th' brew, young ones," the man said, his voice resonating through the amphitheater. "Now, fer those still bold enough t' carry on, stay in yer seats. Th' rest o' ye, stand up an' step away. Remember this—there's no shame in knowin' yer limits, only in thinkin' ye're tougher than ye are."

The words were uncharacteristically cautious for a dwarf, but Zeke understood the reasoning behind them. It was in no one's interest to foster an environment where the dwarfs felt compelled to push past their limits, risking their sanity for pride's sake. Offering them a dignified way to withdraw was the right call.

As expected, his words swayed some of the less prideful contestants. Roughly a third of them rose from their seats, their faces shadowed with defeat as they left the stage.

Now, only ten contestants remained—among them, Zeke, Eldrin, and Drogar.

"Quite th' ride that was, eh?" Drogar said with a strained chuckle, though the weariness in his voice was impossible to miss.

"Had enough already?" Eldrin mocked, his tone sounded sharp but his composure was equally shaken. "Ye can quit whenever ye want, ye know."

Drogar snorted, turning his attention to Zeke. "What about ye, human friend? How'd ye fare?"

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Zeke tilted his head and adopted a puzzled expression. "Fare? With what?"

"The brew, ye numbskull," Eldrin interjected.

"Oh," Zeke replied with a nonchalant hum, "It was... quite pleasant, I guess. Nothing too remarkable though."

Both dwarfs stared at him, their disbelief evident. Suspicion flickered in their eyes, though they said nothing. It was hard to fathom that the same brew, which had terrorized them so thoroughly, could leave Zeke unaffected. Yet his unruffled demeanor and the composed way he'd handled himself in the previous rounds seemed to give them pause. At least, neither challenged his claim, though it was clear they weren't entirely convinced.

"Let's see how long ye can keep up that act," Eldrin muttered after a moment of tense silence, turning forward again with a grim expression.

Drogar studied Zeke for a beat longer, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Eventually, he, too, averted his gaze, choosing instead to await the next dose of the brew in silence.

Zeke maintained a calm, neutral expression throughout. Of course, it wasn't true that the trial hadn't affected him—but there was no advantage in letting that show, not with opponents like these. Both dwarfs carried pride as high as the peaks of their mountain homes, and neither was likely to surrender willingly before their minds completely shattered.

However, It wasn't as if there was no way to deter them from continuing either.

Zeke had already pieced together the most likely scenario in which either might willingly concede. For that, at least two conditions need to be met.

First, they would only entertain the thought of surrender if the final victor wasn't their rival—each dwarf's pride would demand they fight to the bitter end rather than concede to the other.

Second, they had to be utterly convinced that winning was impossible. This second condition was the one Zeke was carefully working toward at the moment.

If he could make them believe that the brew didn't affect him, it would plant the seed of doubt. After all, nobody wanted to endure a grueling, mind-breaking trial just to realize they were competing against an anomaly. By appearing immune, Zeke could make them question whether continuing was worth the effort.

Of course, it would require more than just one casually uttered statement to plant that notion in their minds. However, Zeke was confident that with his mind affinity, he would at least be able to put on a convincing front.

"Very well," the announcer called out after it became clear that no one else was leaving. "Ye've made yer choices. Let's move on th' second round o' brews."

A collective gulp rippled through the remaining contestants as a tray of fresh vials was brought out. Even Zeke, despite his best efforts, couldn't entirely stop the tremor in his hands.

Soon, each of the ten held their second dose. Nervous glances darted around the group, but no one seemed eager to take the lead—until the lone human among them stepped forward.

"I'll go first," Zeke said, surprising even himself with how casual his voice sounded.

He brought the vial closer to his face, noticing that his composure wasn't entirely an act. Though the life and death battle at sea still lingered heavily in his mind, another part of him was eager for what lay ahead. The possibility of growing his Soul in such an extraordinary way was too tempting to ignore.

After all, opportunities like this didn't come often.

As the brew slid down his throat, Zeke's gaze swept over the group. To his satisfaction, he caught the collective shock etched on their faces. Smiling broadly, he guzzled the Dreamwalker brew as if it were nothing more than a refreshing sip of water.

The now-familiar cold rush swept through his chest, sharp and fleeting, before vanishing entirely. The world began to dissolve, colors blending and twisting chaotically, only to snap back into sharp focus with startling speed.

This time, Zeke handled the transition far better than before, his familiarity with the process lending him a measure of control.

He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light filtering through the narrow tunnel. The weight on his shoulders felt unfamiliar yet natural. A sturdy leather chest plate encased his torso, and a sword hung at his hip. The metallic tang of sweat and blood lingered in the air. He glanced around, finding himself surrounded by five other figures—their faces illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted torches.

"Eyes sharp, everyone," a gruff voice called out from ahead. The speaker was a broad-shouldered man with a thick, gray-streaked beard. His axe rested casually on his shoulder, but his sharp eyes darted around the tunnel. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Relax, Durrek," a lithe woman beside him teased, her bow loosely gripped in one hand. "You say that about every cave we've been in."

"And I'm usually right," Durrek retorted, his tone carrying a hint of humor. "Nothing good ever comes from places like this."

"Except our coin," Bram, the jovial man with the crossbow, chimed in from the rear. His crooked grin flashed in the torchlight. "Big paydays come from big risks, aye?"

"Only if we live to spend it," Helena, the armored woman, cut in sternly. She glanced at Finn, the wiry youth with twin daggers, who smirked in response.

"Details, details," he quipped. "What's life without a little danger?"

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"How about we focus on the danger in front of us instead of cracking jokes?" Mara's tone was light, but her eyes stayed fixed on the shadows ahead. "What do we know about this thing?"

Durrek sighed, his free hand scratching at his beard. "Not much, to be honest. The villagers only saw it in glimpses—too fast, too big, and too quiet."

"Quiet?" Bram echoed, cocking an eyebrow. "That doesn't line up with the marks we saw outside. Whatever left those wasn't exactly subtle."

Helena nodded, her brow furrowed. "It doesn't make sense. The tracks look like they belong to a predator—a big one. But if it's a beast, why would it leave most of the villagers untouched?"

"Fear," Mara offered, her voice steady. "Predators do that sometimes. A display of power. Keeps the rest of the herd in line."

"Maybe," Finn said, spinning one of his daggers idly. "Or maybe it's not a predator at all. What if it's something... smarter?"

The group fell silent at his words, their expressions grim. Zeke, or rather Cal, felt the weight of their unease, and his own thoughts churned. He'd been piecing together the fragments of information, and an unsettling possibility had started to form in his mind. Something about the erratic behavior, the strange mix of violence and restraint, didn't sit right.

But he couldn't voice it—not yet. The idea was too disturbing. He wasn't even sure it was possible.

"Whatever it is," Durrek finally said, breaking the silence, "we'll deal with it like we always do. Stick to the plan, watch each other's backs, and don't do anything stupid."

"So," Bram said, his grin returning as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow, "All in a day's work, eh?"

Helena rolled her eyes but didn't respond. The group pressed on, their banter fading as the tunnel widened into a cavern. The air grew colder, carrying a faint, metallic tang that set Zeke's teeth on edge. The silence deepened, broken only by the soft crunch of their boots on the rocky floor.

Zeke's heart pounded as they reached the edge of a deep pit. The enchanted torches barely illuminated the far side, where a jagged opening yawned into darkness. A distant sound—a shrill, high-pitched scream—echoed from within.

Everyone froze.

"That's not encouraging," Finn whispered, his grip tightening on his daggers.

"Stay sharp," Durrek murmured, his axe at the ready. "It's here."

The noise grew louder, reverberating through the cavern. Zeke's blood ran cold as a massive shadow began to emerge from the darkness, its silhouette shifting and unnatural. His worst fear took form, the thought he hadn't dared to voice now standing before them.

The monster had arrived.