The Rat King
They say everyone has at least one god they worship, one guardian watching over them. And that god will continue to protect you as you go along in life. But that is a saying for the fortunate. For the ones without chains. For what is a slave to a god? What fortune smiles down upon them?
When the Rat King moved, shackles hurt his feet. They were being weighed down by some heavy cargo. He wandered in the heat of the barrens, dragging his cargo as his lips cracked and his throat closed, parched from these sands without water.
If only, If only he had the key.
Then he could be done, and run free.
But now, It seemed as if death himself lurked in the shadows of this place as evening drew to a close, his ruby eyes disappearing everywhere he glanced. It couldn't just be an illusion from the heat. Perhaps, he did just come for the men joined in bondage with him. Dead, rotting men. If these chains weren't magical, he would've cut off their feet or found a way to break them.
How unfortunate for him.
But he persisted. There was no other way.
Even if the gods neglected him, surely there was some manner of man or beast to take him in?
Not as a slave, but as an equal.
Night settled as the heat turned to chills that ran across his skin. He was almost naked, and so were the men by his feet. He decided to rest and sat down on the crystalline ruby sands of this peculiar desert. It was said that nothing grows here, as the God of Death stripped this land of its ability to harbor life. The God of Death and The God of Life, the first two gods known by man. There are many legends about their origin. Some say it was the blood of the people killed by the two gods' births that stained these sands ruby red for eternity, others say it was the God of Death's first act to claim this place as his domain. One thing is for certain:
In asking for a life, what was to become the life god caused much more death than she could've imagined. For the lights name their price for a wish, and their judgment is irreversible. A lesson in irony always makes them snicker and sneer. As for Death, his suffering is still ongoing to this day.
Cove was laying down, feeling the vibrations of the magiphages as they shifted through these gem-like sands. Nothing lived here, but these creatures were not alive anyway. They merely existed, seeping up the godly energy from this soil. The sand's magic absorbs all light and life, while these phages eat away at that stored energy as the night cools the sands to a bearable temperature. It really was a good sight to die to. The cool dark marine of the sky fading into the warm glow of the shifting illuminated ruby sands. Now all he had to do was wait. To catch a phage colony and destroy it. It was the only way he could use magic, if but for a second.
He watched the vibrations carefully. If the sands started seemingly levitating in a hand-sized star pattern, the colony he needed was underneath. The sands danced in synchronized waves, as if communicating with one another. Was this supposed to happen? He knew a little about the phages, but clearly not enough. What did this mean?
Suddenly, the sand's vibrations sent sand flying meters into the air. Was he supposed to run? Cove hurried through the disorienting patterns in the sand, his balance thrown off every second. Dragging ten corpses only led to more panic. Soon, he couldn't move his feet at all. He could only observe what was around him.
After finally getting a good look at his situation, he noticed the star. Not palm-sized, that's for sure. 20 meters? No, it was impossible to tell the size at a glance. The megacolony living in this desert had finally revealed itself. Black shadows phased through the sand, manifesting as translucent crystal armor plating surrounding a jelly-like interior. There was no face, only a thousand small red crystal orbs hidden within its smoke-black head structure. It was slender and snake-like, its skin vibrating and waving smoothly across the surface where the armor did not block. The vibrations seemed to shake the entirety of the desert itself, putting into perspective its awing might.
Magiphage megacolony, also known by its common name, the slime. Just as humans have trillions of specialized cells making up their bodies, these colonies have all of that and more. Though small slimes are weak and only somewhat intelligent, this one's body stretches for miles beneath the surface, giving it intelligence and power beyond that of dragons and even some divine beings.
Thankfully, magic is their main food source, and the rumors of slimes eating people are false. Time to ask it for directions, if it is willing. Its sheer size alone made Cove more than a little anxious. This was the biggest thing he's ever seen, never mind talked to.
A great voice bellowed through the slime's skin, a distorted mix of deep vibrations that manifested themselves into words.
"Look at you, Rat King. Tethered to your brothers and in desperate need. Should I decide to show you mercy and deal with you here, your unique presence would be wiped off this earth forever. However, I grant you my generosity at this time. I will spare you from me and my home. But this does come at a price. Let it be known that a soul is the purest form of what you humans call… magic. A catalyst for the arts your species has learned. Now, which do you care for, creature? Your body, or your soul? When your kind dies, they meet only death. Contradicting the words of the church, there is only one way for souls to go. They are turned to dust, and reconfigured with a million other fragments both recycled and new. This is how new souls are born. To save you from this fate here, why not give your soul to me? Your ability to use magic will forever cease, but you will be alive. Is that not a fair trade?"
Tired, starved, and near death, The Rat King opened his mouth.
In the desert, where the sands turned white once more, the people of Mesada Village were shocked at the visage they were witnessing. A man, riding on the back of the great slime towering over them, dead men caught at his ankles. The man's eyes were tired yet fierce, his skin baked and brown, his hair long and mangled, as he stepped down after the creature lowered its head just for him. No one knew where he came from, or why he was the only one who made it out of that forbidden desert. But one thing was for sure. The legend of the Rat King who tamed the Great Slime of the Ruby Desert spread far and wide. What was that Rat King doing now? Were the rumors true? Did he still carry those bodies with him, wherever he went? Did he still have the beast under his authority?
As he stared into the distance, he witnessed a betrayal.
And a hunt for power.
He watched as a golden-haired girl ran from the Lady of the house as she was preparing to take her life, unaware that Lady Geneva had already run past him towards the quarrel, her own grimoire exposed.
Just what is happening here?
Time to find out.