Marshy Wake

'Where am I?' He thought. It was the first of many questions. He found himself facing a void where nothing but blackness surrounded him. He felt nothing. No pain. No sensation of any kind. Yet he knew he was there, somewhere.

He remembered it vividly, how he lost and failed. Traitors in front of him. A desperate spell. An explosion of light. Then nothing.

He failed.

He didn't know where his heart was, but it ached. A sharp wave of guilt and despair.

Where was he? How was he? What was he? There was nothing wherever he thought he turned. Maybe his soul was floating somewhere, but where?

Without light, he had no other proof other than the fact he could feel he was there, somewhere.

Was all of creation destroyed? If so, was this his punishment for failing? Was he all that remained in a universe gone forever? The very thought shivered him down his spine, or so it felt that way. He wasn't even sure a soul had one.

Or did he still have a soul?

Then suddenly, seemingly from the corner of his vision, a small speck of light emerged from the void.

He tried to turn. The light moved. Yes! His soul was there after all, in an ocean of darkness.

He was now facing the light as it glowed in the distance, twinkling somewhat like a star.

Then he blinked.

A surge of sensation overwhelmed his being. He felt his body. There was no pain at first, but he was uncomfortable. Something was wrong.

He was back in Daigmun.

He blinked once more, and his vision slowly returned. Gone was the single speck of light he found, replaced by a glittering sea of stars that blanketed the night sky.

He gasped.

He felt the sudden need to inhale as deep as he could as if he had held his breathe for too long. Pain surged in every joint as he tried to move.

There was no mistaking it. His body felt fragile. A single strike, he felt, could end him right then and there.

Thankfully, no such strike came.

Ignoring the circumstances of his body for the moment, he darted his eyes left and right, taking in his surroundings.

He was in a swampy marsh. A few trees stood nearby flanked by vines and tall reeds. Lilies floated over the murky waters as a few glowing critters slowly zipped about.

Ispios be praised! He thought.

He wasn't in the murky waters, which was a blessing. Instead, he was on a small mound just above the water line. A few curious frogs and a dubiously oversized water worm were staring at him from the edges.

"Hel...lo... there..." He tried to greet his audience. His mouth was dry, and his jaw ached.

Clenching his fists, he began to draw in the magic that lingered all around him. Magic was everywhere, Ispios made it so. As Champion, he was most proficient in drawing in nature's magic.

Greenish and bluish lights slowly appeared all around him like mists given color.

The bluish misty light was the easiest to draw in. It funneled itself from the nearby waters and seeped deep into his skin.

The greenish misty light came from the nearby trees and other foliage. It was the most potent of natural magic and therefore could only be absorbed through a similar process to breathing.

As the natural magic entered his body, he felt his own mana replenishing. With this, he slowly began healing himself, carefully.

Healing magic was a rare magical art and one of the hardest to master. It worked by assisting the body throughout the natural healing process, improving the repairing of damaged organs and tissue, oftentimes speeding up the rate of recovery.

However, if one was not careful, cancerous growths could come about and kill a limb. If one was reckless, a life would be lost.

With this in mind, the injured champion poured his newfound magic on his many wounds at a steady pace.

As the initial shock of his awakening wore off, he began to realize most of what was wrong with his body.

Several damaged organs, some internal bleeding, torn muscles, and a great many broken bones. It was a miracle he was still alive.

The possibility still remained that this was nothing but an illusion conceived by some unknown power. But as he took in the natural magic and felt his body slowly rejuvenate, the chances of it all being an illusion evaporated alongside his wounds.

He did not know how long he was in this sorry state. A few mins? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? His mind shuddered at the thought that maybe years had gone by.

What had become of his patron? Of his master? What had become of the empire he had left behind? He knew they fought as valiantly as he did but given that he failed, chances were they failed as well.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

'My successors should've been... able to...' He thought. Thinking was hard for the moment. His mind felt tired as if he hadn't had a good night's rest in a long, long while.

But he was a Champion, lifted beyond the confinement of mortality, given power and status equal to that of the High Angels.

Yet he felt drowsy. Slowly, his head began to ache, and a great sense of dread befell him.

"My.. master..." He tried to pray, "hear your Champion.... I.. know you're... there... please... hear me.... please...."

Silence. The voice of his master never came. Not even his presence made itself known. His master, patron, and deity always came and answered his pleas and calls, be they in whispers or song. But here there was not a single word heard nor a single note sung.

His master was not there. Not anymore.

He fought back the tears that began to well underneath his eyes. Guilt and devastation strangled his heart and choked him.

As the magic around him continued pouring into his body, his mind shook off the devastation he felt. Now was not the time to wallow in his grief.

First and foremost, he needed to restore his body and regain just enough of his strength to get out of this swamp.

Several frogs and a humongous water worm watching him from the edges wasn't exactly the company he wanted but they were company still.

Speaking of the water worm, he noticed that it had a glowing spot in the middle of its long body as it tried to wriggle further up the mound. It was a strange sight to say the least.

The water worms he knew were smaller, did not glow whatsoever, and were actually great at slithering.

This one was wriggling, violently.

Despite the violent wriggles, he didn't feel threatened. The water worm was simply trying to get a closer look at him, or so his instincts told him.

Or was it really instinct?

As if sensing his confusion, the water worm sudden stopped wriggling and lifted its bland head from the ground. It had no eyes, but it looked as if it was staring right into his eyes.

"...hi?" He struggled to speak but greeted the creature nonetheless. The water worm stared at him for a few more seconds before moving its head up and down as if it was nodding.

The water worm then shook its head in a gentle manner before wriggling once more. It wriggled towards his left arm and stayed there, as if to give a sense of closer company to the downed champion.

Arcelius wasn't alarmed nor was he uncomfortable with the big water worm sitting next to him. In fact, there was a sense of relief that came from the creature's gesture.

The frogs stayed where they were, staring and croaking into the night. Arecelius then gazed upon the sea of stars once more, trying to deduce what part of the night it was.

There were several constellations to look at, some harder to see than others. But those hardest to see were the most accurate in giving information about the hour.

And the most reliable was the Spade of Heaven, a constellation of several stars that formed the shape of a mighty spade. It was sitting to the right of his vision with its outermost point, that being the tip of the spade's handle, pointing southwest.

"6... hours..." He muttered. He had 6 hours to recover some of his strength. Less than enough time to recover all of his power, if that was even possible due to his state, but it was enough to get him up his feet. Hopefully.

Arcelius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The magic would continue pouring even without his direct intervention. It was like breathing now. All he had to do was wait.

The darkness in which he found himself after closing his eyes felt like a void. It was no simple darkness in which there was just an absent of light. Nay. It felt as if there was once light but the darkness had consumed it and everything else.

To his surprise, he fell asleep.

Not a moment too soon, he found himself back in those very halls of gold and marble. He fought. He hesitated. He failed. Then the blinding light of their victory.

Darkness came upon him again. He wailed and he screamed. He begged for his master to be alright. He hoped that surely, maybe, they won the war in heaven.

Something fell upon his chest and Arcelius awoke, sweaty and gasping for air. Pain flared all over his broken body though it wasn't as unbearable as before.

Still the pain racked him like a flood of molten metal against skin and he found himself almost succumbing to shock.

He groaned for a long while before the pain died down. Then there was only the feeling that something was laying on his chest.

Slowly he tilted his head forward and found the culprit behind his agony. A green frog sat there on his chest with its convex pupils staring back.

He could've burst into rage right then and there and slew the frog with any of the myriad of abilities he could muster using the magic streaming into his body. However, no such rage came.

Sure the frog had caused him immense agony for a couple of seconds but something about it seemed to calm him in the end.

"You... better... prove... yourself..." He told the frog. Though he struggled still, his mouth and throat felt better than before.

Looking around, he saw that his audience of swamp creatures had grown in number and diversity. More frogs of different colors were sat along the edges. A few more water worms of different sizes were wriggling in the murky waters surrounding him.

The dubiously sized water worm was still sat to his right.

Down in the distance to his left, however, was a pair of glowing white eyes that reflected the starlit sky. It slowly made its way towards his stranded mound, leaving a wake of large ripples on the relatively calm and murky waters.

A predator, now at all times. Arcelius was frustrated and somewhat threatened. He steeled himself and readied a spell in his mind. If he was fast enough, he could deal a killing blow through the use of a wind slash.

Doubt lingered in his mind, however. Though he felt threatened, he wasn't exactly alarmed. He wasn't sure whether the reptile was there to take advantage of his sorry state and claim a free meal or was actually just as curious as the other creatures that had surrounded him.

He decided to let it come. A foolish decision. But he went with it nonetheless.

The creature made itself seen when it emerged from the waters and crawled over the edge of the mound. It was a long, strong looking reptile with a fiercely shaped snout, wide and scaly skin that ran through its body, and a mouth edged with sharp teeth.

It greeted Arcelius with a snarl.

Before Arcelius could react in defense, however, the predator suddenly rested its head on the wet soil of the mound and stared.

A minute of staring later, Arcelius blinked and sighed in relief. The reptilian predator merely watched. He wasn't seen as a free meal after all. He was more of an attraction to the lesser creatures of the swampy marsh.

He then realized that suddenly appearing in the middle of their home wasn't exactly a good entrance. Not to mention he immediately started drawing in the magic around the area as soon as he woke up.

From their perspective and rightfully so, he was the intruder and the threat, not them.

Still, as far as the night went, he was tolerated by his scaly and slimey audience.

He gazed at the night sky once more and found that he had slept for 2 to 3 hours. 3 more hours to go and the gleam of the coming sun would slather the sky in orange hue before basking the lands in its bright yellow light.

Critters sang across the swampy marsh with unheard rhythm and confusing harmony. The otherwise silent night was as calm as it could be.

Wherever he was right now was what he had. It wasn't the best situation to wake up in, but it was better than not waking up at all. From the back of his mind, he felt an urge to move as soon as he was able. There was something calling for him.

Pushing his grief and his regrets aside for the moment, Arcelius steeled himself.

For as long as he lived and drew breathe, his oaths shall remain. He could feel it, something was beckoning.

He was needed still.