Reaper Ex Magus

Chapter One: We Were Once Kings

It was angry beyond compare.

The thirst for vengeance flowed through its veins. Step after step, it began to approach.

I slayed the rest of its pack easily enough.

They came as a tidal wave of fur and fangs, charging me as I prepared my noontime meal. The dire wolves knew little of stealth. Instead they charged as the wild animals that they were.

I slayed them one after another, wolf after wolf, fang after broken fang.

The alpha wolf was the first to charge, of course. But I blocked his attack easily enough, throwing him against a tree as he leaped into the air to tear off my neck. I could have killed the wolf right then and there, but its pack got in the way.

I pinned it against a tree and thrust a knife into its gut. But its pack was coming. What felt like hundreds of teeth clamped down around me, biting down on my shoulder and arms, throwing me hard into the ground.

My clothes were torn and my world was a haze, but I endured, for their fangs failed to penetrate my flesh.

From then on, it became a simple matter of breaking wolf necks and slicing throats.

A brutal affair, but necessary for my survival.

Now, the alpha wolf prepared its charge. It lowered itself to the ground, rows of sharp teeth barred at the magus who dared slay its pack.

I prepared myself, gripping the knife in my hands.

A small weapon like the knife didn't befit me.

I prefer swords, axes, anything with better reach.

But this was all I could make given my resources at the time. My father resolved that I should not use sorcery.

"It's a trial." he said.

"It's tradition." he added.

I sighed.

My warm breath turned into mist.

Funny.

It's not even cold.

The sun was bright above me and the air was far from humid.

The wolf bounded toward me.

I responded in kind.

I positioned myself low to the ground and met its charge.

My footfall was a sledgehammer on the earth, shaking the ground with a tremor and a boom.

I charged forth at a quarter of the speed of sound. 

The giant wolf never stood a chance.

= ] | [ =

Days later I found myself in my father's solar.

Back in our castle, everything felt different. 

The leather chair I sat on was too soft.

The room was too cut off from the outside world. The air smelled and felt artificial. I found myself missing the smell of grass, the aroma of trees, and the sound of rushing water on a stream.

I raised my head and stared absentmindedly at an air conditioning vent above a bookcase. Displayed on the bookcase were dozens of thick books. The Songs of War by Shin Usu, Charging into the Fray by David Kent, Wisdom Amidst Sword and Slaughter by Heron Mie'sr— books written by veterans of countless wars.

Literature fit for knights, generals, and soldiers alike.

"How are you feeling?"

My father was gazing outside, through the large glass window of his office. All I saw was his silhouette, a dark haze embraced by the burning blare of the sun.