Chapter 2 An overwhelming victory

Their battle lasted a long time, the blows came one after the other with immeasurable power that devastated everything in their path, dragging the city into flames and chaos.

But in the end, as it was written, the magician was totally, irremediably defeated. Lying on the cold, ramshackle ground, on top of the only place that ever wanted him, Goem, the black magician, watched the emperor slowly and inexorably approach him, his wounded body already regenerating and shining with vigor and health under the blinding shine of the silver armor. Finally, when he arrived above the vanquished and watched him alternating mockery and intolerable sneers, the sovereign placed a scornful foot on his defeated opponent's bruised body and pointed his scepter at it.

"My plan was to get rid of you Goem. But in the end it seems to me that it would be too great a loss, especially for the future which I see in my mind and I look forward to with delight. Isn't that also your opinion, my beautiful one," the teasing winner inquired, turning to his creature, who laid victoriously on the corpse of the black beast, its beautiful shiny fur reddened by the blood of his slaughtered opponent, and replied with a neutral growl.

"And what have you finally decided to do to me, your majesty?"

"Something that I particularly fond of and for which you probably would have preferred death in the end."

Taking advantage of the emperor's brief moment of inattention, the wizard concentrated and deployed his last forces to activate a powerful and unique spell.

"What did you just do, Goem?" the Warrior of Light inquired, curious.

"Something I'm particularly fond of and have always promised myself to do for my posterity."

"I see," his interlocutor remarked, strangely amused.

Then as fate took life, a slight tremor as a symbol of a last breath was heard, and then from the ruined ground came out four statues of giants engraved with deep arabesques. They rose up and then stood up with pride and a rather disconcerting intensity before moving each one towards a cardinal point. By taking their respective places, they turned towards the city, and the marks engraved on their rocky bodies illuminated darkly, then they opened wide the mouth and a thick fog came out of it, magic fog which quickly covered all the city. A little intrigued, the triumphant emperor a little intrigued, decided to let the spell take place, then crossing the arms, the foot always crushing his enemy, he took a lazy pause to follow the scene without showing the least point of concern so much he was confident in his considerable power, curious of the outcome. But disappointed, he shrugged his shoulders and launched a remark with a mocking disdain.

"That's all?"

A venomous look answered him which he was totally insensitive from.

"I was expecting a bit of originality, Goem, but it was pretty lame. And although out of compassion and to salute your meritorious efforts, I recognize that it's a pretty powerful spell, I could dissipate it without any problem. But I won't," he decided after a few seconds of awkward silence, with an indecipherable smile. "Besides, you know it won't be able to keep me here, in any way, don't you? Nor any of my blood."

"Yes, I know that. But the others, those who are not fortunate enough to share even a drop of your cursed blood, will remain prisoners."

"And that gives me a wonderful idea for my next battles."

The sorcerer glanced at his opponent with a piercing, hateful look and then sketched out a weak, ironic smile.

"I can't believe all these idiots think you're good. If only they could see what you really are in all your darkness, a darkness so opaque that even I cannot conceive, then they will probably lose everything that makes them authentic."

The emperor simply laughed at this statement.

"Even their simplest smile. But don't worry, Goem," he continued, with feigned seriousness, "I think they are all more or less aware of the truth already. But they're just too afraid to realize it.

"I sincerely sympathize with you, your majesty."

"And I thank you for it."

The sovereign offered him a smile of false compassion, the same one he wore before the imposing sarcophagus in which he had just locked up his defeated opponent.

Then, after a last mischievous greeting to the sealed prison, he gracefully and nonchalantly left the immense room where the magician was to rest, and closed the double door with a reckless gesture of the hand without even turning around.

He walked away from the immense prison built in the heart of a cursed forest, forbidden to light, and climbed on his silver beast, which flew in the gray sky with majestic radiance and power.

When the emperor returned to his empire, a nation whose unparalleled beauty and prosperity were famous and envied in all magical worlds, he was acclaimed by all, his empire experienced moments of tremendous euphoria and rejoicing. His exceptional and unparalleled triumph was transcribed in golden letters and magical lights in the history books. And never was a sovereign more loved than he was.

But when the festivities and cries of joy finally subsided, the victorious and beloved sovereign went to his usual place of solitude and freedom, a hidden garden with a thousand secrets, ignored by all and protected by invincible spells. It was a huge and disturbing room, whose walls covered with sacred and moving paintings were perfectly divided into two parts.

One of them represented a kingdom of infinite light with a joyful people, living in harmony in a peaceful and prosperous kingdom ruled by a generous and upright ruler.

The other represented a dark kingdom, eternally devastated by the scourges of the world, where the people fought tirelessly and cruelly for everything, under the satisfied and sardonic gaze of a tormented ruler.

***

It was the story of this battle told like a fabulous tale. Then life was also to resume its march and flow like rain from the magical Geley Mountains. Good or bad, the inexorable evolution took place, and the legend that made the magic nations tremble became myth. And as Goemantis wished, the eternal mist preserved his shattered kingdom and the works of his life.

But what no one expected was that the magi, with the same dark soul and a mistaken vision of things, would gain the right to enter this closed place of the world. Thus, although simple people were perpetually frightened by Stanys and his great city of mist, black magicians inspired by their defeated pioneer began to visit the legendary kingdom. Thus, year after year, they continued to invade it for various reasons, some to take refuge, others to exercise their magic and atrocious authority, and a minority simply to do research to strengthen the power of darkness.

But later, as the city gradually gained power and notoriety, part of the cursed place was transformed into an orphanage which received the name of Athok and had only received this title by name, a monumental and atrocious fortress directed by a black mage whose greatest and main passion was to destroy children. A mage named Sirkol, banished from the world of magic for his unforgivable acts.