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Brain’s eyes snapped open. Immediately, without even taking a moment to identify his surroundings, the silver-haired man turned his gaze to his torso, and gasped. He touched his side to be sure of it, and was able to confirm what his eyes were telling him; that the grievous injury which Cobra had inflicted upon him was gone without a trace, as if it had never even been there… even his clothes were mended and cleaned of the blood and gore that had stained them.
Had it been nothing but a dream? He wondered for a moment. Was he still locked up in prison even now? Inspecting the room he now found himself in, though, the wizard discarded that notion. This place gave the impression of being some sort of rustic cabin, with the walls, floor and ceiling being made of bare, unvarnished wood, as was all the furniture.
Getting to his feet—for he had awakened lying on the floor—Brain glanced out of an unbarred window, finding out there a snowy, white landscape that carried on as far as the eye could see with no sign of civilisation. This was certainly no prison. Also, for some reason there was an overpowering odour of ginger saturating the entire room. The wizard glanced around, searching for the source, but was quickly distracted by what he found lying on a dining table which took up about a third of the room.
A long, wooden pole with a skull on one end. The skull wore a headdress and clutched a crystal ball between its jaws.
“Klodoa?” Brain asked, shocked at seeing the sentient staff here. He had been sure that Zero had destroyed Klodoa. No reply was forthcoming, so after a moment, the man picked up the stick in his right hand, and peered into its eye sockets, “Kodoa!”
Still nothing, “Klodoa, wake up!”
When the staff continued to be an inanimate object, Brain growled under his breath, and smashed it into the back of a chair, which was immediately smashed to pieces… apparently, whatever wood it had been carved from was not the most resilient. Still, though, Klodoa remained silent. And for some reason, the ginger smell grew even stronger.
The wizard stared at the staff again. It felt like Klodoa, and certainly looked like him. Brain was confident that he could use this staff as a focus for his power, just as he had with Klodoa in the past… but was this really Klodoa, or just an extraordinarily accurate replica? He supposed that it didn’t really matter. Brain was hardly the sentimental sort, so whether Klodoa was actually alive or not meant little to him.
The main issue here was that someone had to be behind this. Someone must have found him passed out but not yet dead, after that bastard, Cobra, had struck him, and transported him here, to wherever here was. Whoever that person was, they may well be intending to use him for their own ends.
This situation was not ideal.
The wizard did briefly consider that both he and his staff actually were dead, and that this place was their afterlife… but quickly discarded the notion; there wasn’t nearly enough fire and brimstone around for this to be hell.
Returning to his inspection of his new environment, Brain soon found that the ginger smell was coming from the furniture itself. Snapping off a small piece of the already-broken chair, he tasted it. Gingerbread.
The entire room and all its furnishings were made from gingerbread. This place, he decided, was pretty damn weird.
As he walked towards a door next to the window he had glanced through previously, the silver-haired man held up his left hand and sent a small pulse of darkness magic into the door handle and lock, obliterating them utterly. For all he knew, the door mightn’t even have been locked, but that hardly mattered to him. Shoving open the now handle-less slab of gingerbread, the wizard stepped out into the snow.
Only to immediately realise that something was off with it too. The temperature out here was right, but the snow didn’t crunch beneath his feet like it ought to. Crouching, he scooped a little up, sniffed it, then, tentatively, tasted it. He scowled, “Icing.”
Shaking his head, Brain stood again, looking around disgustedly at the strange, sugary landscape. The gingerbread cabin seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere, and a slight, downward slope of white icing was in front of him. Behind him, the slope continued upwards; it seemed that the cabin was part-way up a mountain.
Off to his left there was a pine forest, so he decided to head that way, for no reason other than that it wasn’t an empty waste. He had no idea why some madman would build an edible house and cover everything around it in icing, but he didn’t really care. He had escaped prison, only for his own guild to then turn on him… even if he hadn't been somehow transported to a faraway land, he would've been at a loss for what to do now, honestly. Still, he had his life and his freedom, so he would make the most of it.
He may need to make finding himself some more pawns to take advantage of a priority, as his previous encounter with the wizards of those legal guilds had made it painfully clear that he was not strong enough as he was… and that was before he’d been left to rot in prison for years whilst they trained and improved. It could be that by this point those wizards who had once struggled to defeat the Oración Seis were now so powerful that they could take him down without breaking a sweat.
Therefore his first goal would have to be finding out where he was, his second gathering more information, and his third recruiting new help.
***
He reached the forest before long, and immediately knew that something was wrong with it too. It didn’t smell right. Approaching the nearest tree, he took a closer look at it. What had at first seemed like a light coating of snow was revealed to be caster sugar, the pine needles were thin, gummy sweets, and the branches and tree trunk were chocolate. Snarling, he glared at his surroundings.
This entire mountain was a joke, he was beginning to suspect. He had no idea why, but it seemed that everything on it had been built from—or possibly transformed into—confectionery, presumably through the use of very powerful, yet undeniably stupid, magic. It had to be magic, as he couldn’t imagine anyone doing all this by hand; it would surely take more than an entire lifetime to complete.
Still, if it had been purposefully put here then was it not likely that its creator was also the one responsible for bringing Brain to this place? And if that was the case, did it not mean that they would likely be observing him? Coming to the conclusion that the mastermind might be annoyed enough to show themselves if he trashed their stupid, candy forest, Brain decided to wreck everything.
Holding Klodoa aloft, he poured magic power into the skull and the crystal ball in its mouth, focusing on the spell he wished to cast. More magic, in the form of green light, began to rise up from the ground and materialise from the air around him, all of it coalescing around the end of his staff. The seconds ticked by as the silver-haired man gathered more and more power, until he figured he had enough and cut off the flow of energy.
“Dark Rondo!” Brain screamed. A purple, magic circle materialised for a moment in front of Klodoa’s skull, and from its centre, dozens of thick bolts of green magic blasted forth. The wizard was pointing the staff upwards, at an angle which resulted in the spell’s projectiles rising high into the air before curving downwards and raining onto the forest from above.
Looking at the size of the explosions the projectiles caused, as well as sensing the amount of magic he’d been able to channel while charging up the spell, Brain knew that his Dark Rondo was much weaker than it should have been, and that knowledge caused him to growl in frustration; this day was just getting worse and worse.
He wasn’t sure if being in prison—locked away in one of those anti-magic cells—for so long had caused his magic power to atrophy somehow, or if his new weakness was a result of being almost killed by Coba… or perhaps it was even due to whatever spell had teleported him to this mountain. Whatever the reason, its discovery was not a pleasant revelation.
On the bright side, chocolate was not the most resilient of materials, so despite his weakened state, his spell utterly devastated the section of forest he’d struck. Trunks and branches snapped and melted, along with the sugar, gummy sweets and icing. When the rain of death had abated, all that was left in the cleared area was a sticky, brown, green and white mess, dotted with partially melted tree stumps.
Brain grinned, and waited a few moments. Unfortunately, no one suddenly appeared out of the ether to berate him for damaging their ridiculous work of art. He wasn't about to give up so quickly, though, so simply shrugged and raised Klodoa up again, once more beginning to draw in magic. He had plenty of power left, so wasn’t going to be stopping any time soon. He imagined that the mountain’s creator would show themselves at some point before he had destroyed their entire forest...
Had it been nothing but a dream? He wondered for a moment. Was he still locked up in prison even now? Inspecting the room he now found himself in, though, the wizard discarded that notion. This place gave the impression of being some sort of rustic cabin, with the walls, floor and ceiling being made of bare, unvarnished wood, as was all the furniture.
Getting to his feet—for he had awakened lying on the floor—Brain glanced out of an unbarred window, finding out there a snowy, white landscape that carried on as far as the eye could see with no sign of civilisation. This was certainly no prison. Also, for some reason there was an overpowering odour of ginger saturating the entire room. The wizard glanced around, searching for the source, but was quickly distracted by what he found lying on a dining table which took up about a third of the room.
A long, wooden pole with a skull on one end. The skull wore a headdress and clutched a crystal ball between its jaws.
“Klodoa?” Brain asked, shocked at seeing the sentient staff here. He had been sure that Zero had destroyed Klodoa. No reply was forthcoming, so after a moment, the man picked up the stick in his right hand, and peered into its eye sockets, “Kodoa!”
Still nothing, “Klodoa, wake up!”
When the staff continued to be an inanimate object, Brain growled under his breath, and smashed it into the back of a chair, which was immediately smashed to pieces… apparently, whatever wood it had been carved from was not the most resilient. Still, though, Klodoa remained silent. And for some reason, the ginger smell grew even stronger.
The wizard stared at the staff again. It felt like Klodoa, and certainly looked like him. Brain was confident that he could use this staff as a focus for his power, just as he had with Klodoa in the past… but was this really Klodoa, or just an extraordinarily accurate replica? He supposed that it didn’t really matter. Brain was hardly the sentimental sort, so whether Klodoa was actually alive or not meant little to him.
The main issue here was that someone had to be behind this. Someone must have found him passed out but not yet dead, after that bastard, Cobra, had struck him, and transported him here, to wherever here was. Whoever that person was, they may well be intending to use him for their own ends.
This situation was not ideal.
The wizard did briefly consider that both he and his staff actually were dead, and that this place was their afterlife… but quickly discarded the notion; there wasn’t nearly enough fire and brimstone around for this to be hell.
Returning to his inspection of his new environment, Brain soon found that the ginger smell was coming from the furniture itself. Snapping off a small piece of the already-broken chair, he tasted it. Gingerbread.
The entire room and all its furnishings were made from gingerbread. This place, he decided, was pretty damn weird.
As he walked towards a door next to the window he had glanced through previously, the silver-haired man held up his left hand and sent a small pulse of darkness magic into the door handle and lock, obliterating them utterly. For all he knew, the door mightn’t even have been locked, but that hardly mattered to him. Shoving open the now handle-less slab of gingerbread, the wizard stepped out into the snow.
Only to immediately realise that something was off with it too. The temperature out here was right, but the snow didn’t crunch beneath his feet like it ought to. Crouching, he scooped a little up, sniffed it, then, tentatively, tasted it. He scowled, “Icing.”
Shaking his head, Brain stood again, looking around disgustedly at the strange, sugary landscape. The gingerbread cabin seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere, and a slight, downward slope of white icing was in front of him. Behind him, the slope continued upwards; it seemed that the cabin was part-way up a mountain.
Off to his left there was a pine forest, so he decided to head that way, for no reason other than that it wasn’t an empty waste. He had no idea why some madman would build an edible house and cover everything around it in icing, but he didn’t really care. He had escaped prison, only for his own guild to then turn on him… even if he hadn't been somehow transported to a faraway land, he would've been at a loss for what to do now, honestly. Still, he had his life and his freedom, so he would make the most of it.
He may need to make finding himself some more pawns to take advantage of a priority, as his previous encounter with the wizards of those legal guilds had made it painfully clear that he was not strong enough as he was… and that was before he’d been left to rot in prison for years whilst they trained and improved. It could be that by this point those wizards who had once struggled to defeat the Oración Seis were now so powerful that they could take him down without breaking a sweat.
Therefore his first goal would have to be finding out where he was, his second gathering more information, and his third recruiting new help.
***
He reached the forest before long, and immediately knew that something was wrong with it too. It didn’t smell right. Approaching the nearest tree, he took a closer look at it. What had at first seemed like a light coating of snow was revealed to be caster sugar, the pine needles were thin, gummy sweets, and the branches and tree trunk were chocolate. Snarling, he glared at his surroundings.
This entire mountain was a joke, he was beginning to suspect. He had no idea why, but it seemed that everything on it had been built from—or possibly transformed into—confectionery, presumably through the use of very powerful, yet undeniably stupid, magic. It had to be magic, as he couldn’t imagine anyone doing all this by hand; it would surely take more than an entire lifetime to complete.
Still, if it had been purposefully put here then was it not likely that its creator was also the one responsible for bringing Brain to this place? And if that was the case, did it not mean that they would likely be observing him? Coming to the conclusion that the mastermind might be annoyed enough to show themselves if he trashed their stupid, candy forest, Brain decided to wreck everything.
Holding Klodoa aloft, he poured magic power into the skull and the crystal ball in its mouth, focusing on the spell he wished to cast. More magic, in the form of green light, began to rise up from the ground and materialise from the air around him, all of it coalescing around the end of his staff. The seconds ticked by as the silver-haired man gathered more and more power, until he figured he had enough and cut off the flow of energy.
“Dark Rondo!” Brain screamed. A purple, magic circle materialised for a moment in front of Klodoa’s skull, and from its centre, dozens of thick bolts of green magic blasted forth. The wizard was pointing the staff upwards, at an angle which resulted in the spell’s projectiles rising high into the air before curving downwards and raining onto the forest from above.
Looking at the size of the explosions the projectiles caused, as well as sensing the amount of magic he’d been able to channel while charging up the spell, Brain knew that his Dark Rondo was much weaker than it should have been, and that knowledge caused him to growl in frustration; this day was just getting worse and worse.
He wasn’t sure if being in prison—locked away in one of those anti-magic cells—for so long had caused his magic power to atrophy somehow, or if his new weakness was a result of being almost killed by Coba… or perhaps it was even due to whatever spell had teleported him to this mountain. Whatever the reason, its discovery was not a pleasant revelation.
On the bright side, chocolate was not the most resilient of materials, so despite his weakened state, his spell utterly devastated the section of forest he’d struck. Trunks and branches snapped and melted, along with the sugar, gummy sweets and icing. When the rain of death had abated, all that was left in the cleared area was a sticky, brown, green and white mess, dotted with partially melted tree stumps.
Brain grinned, and waited a few moments. Unfortunately, no one suddenly appeared out of the ether to berate him for damaging their ridiculous work of art. He wasn't about to give up so quickly, though, so simply shrugged and raised Klodoa up again, once more beginning to draw in magic. He had plenty of power left, so wasn’t going to be stopping any time soon. He imagined that the mountain’s creator would show themselves at some point before he had destroyed their entire forest...