First-Person Narrative – Eval

  As the woman from Trinatrum left my office, I took a deep breath, letting the silence settle.

  The room, once filled with discussion, now seemed emptier—yet my mind was anything but.

  I turned my gaze toward the flickering candle on my desk, watching the flame waver.

  "Marsil…”

  The name itself didn’t matter.

  What mattered was how he had encountered the Amorans in the first place.

  It wasn’t mere coincidence.

  Something had drawn him to them—or them to him.

  That fact alone unsettled me.

  I reached for the bottle of wine on my desk, pouring myself a cup.

  As the rich aroma filled the air, I swirled the liquid absentmindedly, my mind racing through the possibilities.

  "Things are changing."

  I muttered the words to myself, leaning back in my chair.

  That much was clear.

  The Morningstar Act had always been a human movement, one built from the suffering of mages under noble oppression.

  We had fought against tyranny, against Amber’s corruption—against our own kind, even.

  But we had never mixed with beings outside the human race.

  And now, the Amorans had entered the picture.

  This was not acceptable.

  "No strangers of the human race should get involved with the Morningstar Act."

  We had enough enemies already.

  Felix was gathering allies, reaching out to Ancient Totem and Howling Beast—two factions that were not to be underestimated.

  If the Morningstar Act suddenly found itself entangled in a separate war against Amorans, we would be at a severe disadvantage.

  The movement could collapse before we even reached our true goal.

  I couldn’t allow that.

  I needed to understand what was happening.

  And more importantly… I needed to know what role Marsil played in all of this.

  I took a slow sip of wine, the taste sharp against my tongue.

  Trinatrum was already moving to deal with the Amorans, but that did little to ease my concerns.

  I had worked with them before.

  They were efficient, disciplined, and devoted to their cause.

  But that was precisely the issue.

  Their only priority was humanity and human mage legacy.

  They did not care about political conflicts, about uprisings, or about freedom.

  They cared about purity protection of human magical bloodlines against all outside influences.

  If they deemed Marsil to be a threat, they would move against him without hesitation.

  And that, in turn, could force my hand.

  If Marsil was truly as strong as they claimed, then he was an asset.

  A powerful, independent force that could be guided if handled correctly.

  I tapped my fingers against the wooden surface of my desk, lost in thought.

  Marsil had already drawn attention.

  First, from Elenora, who had foolishly tried to eliminate him.

  Now, from Trinatrum, who saw him as a wild variable in their war against Amorans.

  But what was his goal?

  Was he simply a wandering mage, trying to grow stronger?

  Or was he something more?

  A potential ally?

  A future enemy?

  I needed to find out—before someone else did.

  Before Trinatrum made a decision that forced my hand.

  Or worse before Marsil himself made a decision that forced his.

  I sighed, setting my cup down.

  I would need information.

  I would need to ask my own people about the Amorans and how they had come into contact with Marsil.

  If this was just a coincidence, then it could be dismissed.

  But if it was something deeper…

  Then I had to decide.

  Would I let Marsil remain independent?

  Or would I bring him into the fold—before someone else did?

  Either way, I had no intention of leaving things to chance.

  Because if there was one thing I had learned in this war, it was this:

  Whoever waits too long to act… loses.

  -

  First-Person Narrative – Endrel

  The injured Amoran sat before me, his hands and feet tied, his posture upright despite the wounds he had sustained.

  His face, though bruised, still held a smug confidence.

  Flanking him were two of my mages.

  I stepped forward, meeting the Amoran’s gaze with a casual smile.

  “Why is an Amoran on the Human Continent?”

  The Amoran tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes glinting with an unnatural glow.

  Then, in a voice that was both silent and strong, he replied:

  “We can be wherever we want. Humans are not that important.”

  I couldn’t help myself.

  I laughed.

  Not a harsh or angry laugh.

  I turned slightly, whispering to my companions just loud enough for the Amoran to hear:

  “They always think this way.”

  One of my mages, Dren furrowed his brow and added.

  “There are rumors… but I was never sure they were like this.”

  I turned back to the Amoran, raising a hand before bringing it down in a mocking slap against his cheek.

  The Amoran’s smile did not waver, but I could see a flicker of something beneath the surface.

  Not fear, but irritation.

  Good.

  I turned back to the Dren and shrugged.

  “It’s not just arrogance it’s their race policy.”

  I gestured at the bound Amoran.

  “They see every race as beneath them, as slaves waiting to be claimed. It’s not about power, not really. It’s about entitlement.”

  I let my words hang in the air, watching as my words sank in.

  The Amoran let out a low chuckle.

  “And you humans are any different?”

  I smirked, crossing my arms.

  “We might be a mess, but we don’t think every other race exists to serve us.”

  The Amoran’s golden eyes narrowed slightly.

  “You should. You would have been stronger.”

  I shook my head.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Strength means nothing when you’re blind.”

  The room fell silent for a moment.

  The Amoran’s breathing was steady.

  He was watching us, studying our every reaction, as if even now, bound and surrounded, he was still the one who held the power.

  I leaned in slightly.

  “You don’t seem concerned about your situation.”

  The Amoran chuckled.

  “Why should I be? You think tying my hands makes me powerless?”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “That depends. Do you think dying here would be worth it?”

  For the first time, his smile faltered just for a fraction of a second.

  Not enough for a normal person to notice.

  But I did.

  I knew his kind.

  I had studied them.

  They weren’t afraid of death, not in the same way humans were.

  But they weren’t reckless, either.

  I straightened up, placing a hand on my hip.

  “You Amorans have remained hidden for centuries, lurking in the shadows, keeping to your underground cities and avoiding the Human Continent.”

  I tilted my head slightly.

  “Yet now, you’re here. And you expect me to believe it’s a coincidence?”

  The Amoran said nothing.

  Which, in itself, was an answer.

  I turned to my two mages.

  “The Amorans are up to something.”

  Dren frowned and shook his head as he asked.

  “You think they’re planning something big?”

  I exhaled sharply.

  “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.”

  I turned back to the Amoran.

  “How many more of you are on this continent?”

  The Amoran just smiled again, tilting his head.

  “Enough.”

  That one word sent a chill through the room.

  I didn’t like it.

  Something was coming.

  Something bigger than a single Amoran getting caught in a fight.

  And if I didn’t figure out what it was soon…

  We would all pay the price.

  -

  The wooden door of the hidden cabin creaked behind me as I stepped out, the cold air of the night pressing against my skin.

  My two mages followed, their footsteps light, yet filled with the same unspoken tension that had settled in my chest.

  I rubbed my forehead, feeling the dull throb of stress creeping in.

  The interrogation was over.

  But the questions remained.

  Dren stepped beside me, his expression thoughtful.

  “You look tense, Captain.”

  I let out a slow exhale, running a hand through my hair before responding.

  “The Human Continent is already at war.”

  I looked out into the distance, my eyes tracing the darkened treetops as the wind rustled through the branches.

  “And it’s going to get worse.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment.

  Not because they didn’t understand—no, they understood too well.

  Morningstar Act and Freedom of Amber were tearing each other apart.

  And now, the Amorans had appeared.

  How long until other factions, other races, decided that now was the perfect time to sink their claws into the conflict?

  Rellan crossed his arms.

  “Morningstar Act won’t win without blood.”

  I nodded, my jaw tightening.

  “That’s the problem.”

  I reached into my coat, pulling out a small silver case and flipping it open.

  Inside, neatly arranged, were several finely rolled cigars.

  I took one, placed it between my lips, and lit the tip with a flick of my finger, a small spark of magic igniting the dried leaves.

  As I took a deep inhale, the familiar taste of smoke and spice filled my lungs.

  Then, I let it out in a slow stream, watching the smoke curl into the night air.

  “War is already bad enough.”

  I took another drag.

  “The last thing we need is for races from the other continents to get involved. The moment they do, we won’t be fighting for control anymore—we’ll be fighting to survive.”

  Ralies on the other hand let out a slow breath.

  “You think the Amorans aren’t the only ones?”

  I glanced at him.

  “I think the Amorans were never the only ones.”

  Ralies frowned.

  “You’re saying other races have already made their moves?”

  I tapped the ash off my cigar, watching the glowing embers fall onto the damp earth.

  “I’m saying it’s only a matter of time before they do.”

  The Human Continent was in chaos.

  Morningstar Act, Freedom of Amber, the nobles, the mercenary factions, the underground guilds—everyone was picking sides.

  And now?

  Now, the hidden forces were starting to reveal themselves.

  I thought about the Amoran in the cabin, tied up, still smiling even after everything.

  He knew something.

  Something I didn’t.

  And that was the worst part.

  Because in war, the ones with knowledge were the ones who survived.

  I took another long drag, then turned to my mages.

  “Dren, Ralies, listen to me carefully.”

  Both of them stood at attention, eyes focused.

  “From now on, we don’t just watch the war. We watch the movements of outsiders—not just the Amorans, but anyone who doesn’t belong here.”

  Varric nodded, his expression serious.

  “You think they’ll use this war as a distraction?”

  I exhaled another cloud of smoke.

  “Of course they will. That’s what I’d do.”

  Morningstar Act was growing stronger.

  Freedom of Amber was pushing back harder than ever.

  And now, Trinatrum... our organization getting more active than ever.

  The world was shifting.

  And if we didn’t shift with it…

  We would be the ones buried in the ruins.

  I flicked the end of my cigar, letting the embers fade.

  Then, I turned to my men.

  “Let’s move.”

  We had a war to survive.

  -

  First-Person Narrative – Marsil

  I sat back in my chair, letting my head rest against the wooden surface as I closed my eyes for a moment.

  The weight of the past few days settled on me, but I refused to let it slow me down.

  I had made great progress with my Red Globes, pushing their range and control further than I initially expected.

  That alone was satisfying.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Not yet.

  I needed to keep moving forward, and my next goal was clear.

  I opened my eyes, gazing at the dimly lit room, my thoughts sharpening.

  The next step in my training was the anti-tracking magic I had acquired—Blood-Eye Aura

  Or rather, as I had decided to rename it: Blood Veil.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I thought about that.

  “I really do have a habit of changing spell names for myself, don’t I?”

  I chuckled softly at the thought, shaking my head.

  It wasn’t just a matter of preference—renaming a spell was a way of making it mine.

  It created a deeper connection, one that allowed me to understand the magic on a personal level rather than simply memorizing its structure from a book.

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk as I focused once more.

  Blood Veil wasn’t just a simple spell.

  It was a self-inflicted curse, one that allowed me to hide my magical energy from detection.

  If I could master it, I would be able to move without being tracked by other mages.

  I could slip past barriers, avoid detection from enemies, and conceal my presence whenever necessary.

  But compared to Red Globes, Blood Veil was significantly harder to master.

  The reason?

  It required more than just magical control—it needed conceptual knowledge and a deep understanding of the flow of magic itself.

  I had to alter the way my presence was perceived in the magical world.

  I reached into my bag, pulling out the book I had purchased Maglianor Compendium.

  Flipping through the pages, I searched for anything related to magical erasure techniques.

  After several minutes, I found a section discussing "Arcane Dissolution", a theoretical concept that claimed magic could be neutralized by attuning oneself to the surrounding environment.

  I frowned, reading the passage carefully.

  This wasn't exactly the same as Blood Veil, but the idea behind it resonated with what I was trying to accomplish.

  The key, it seemed, was to synchronize my magical aura with the ambient mana in the air.

  By doing so, my presence would become indistinguishable from the natural magical background of the world.

  Taking a deep breath, I reached inward, feeling the flow of my own magic.

  Step one: Channel the energy and shape the spell.

  I raised my hand, focusing on my core, allowing my magical power to surface.

  The familiar warmth spread through my veins, responding to my intent.

  Blood Veil required an internal shift rather than an external projection like Red Globes.

  I envisioned my magical aura dissolving, becoming one with the air around me.

  Then, I willed it to vanish.

  A faint tingling sensation ran through my body as I cast the spell, and for a brief moment, I felt a strange disconnect—as if my own presence was slipping away.

  But before I could stabilize it, a sharp pain shot through my chest, and the magic collapsed instantly.

  The backlash left me slightly dizzy, my breathing uneven.

  I cursed under my breath.

  “Damn it… It’s harder than I thought.”

  I had only held it for two seconds before losing control.

  I sat still for a moment, letting my body recover before I tried again.

  I had made a mistake in my approach.

  Rather than trying to force my magic to vanish, I needed to guide it gently, naturally.

  Instead of fighting against the mana around me, I had to blend into it.

  I inhaled slowly, closing my eyes once more.

  This time, I didn’t just will my magic to disappear.

  I imagined it melting into the world, spreading thin, until it was no longer something separate but a part of everything.

  Seconds passed.

  And then—

  Silence.

  An eerie, absolute silence.

  I opened my eyes.

  For a moment, I felt nothing.

  My own presence, my own magic—it was as if it had vanished completely.

  A slow smile spread across my face.

  It wasn’t perfect yet, but I had felt it.

  For a brief second, I had truly erased my magical presence.

  I leaned back in my chair, letting out a satisfied exhale.

  Blood Veil was working.

  Now, I just had to master it.

  -

  -

  First-Person Narrative – Marsil

  Two days had passed.

  Two days of relentless practice, refining the technique over and over again.

  And now—

  I closed my eyes, focusing inward, feeling the flow of my magical energy.

  A deep breath.

  A whisper.

  “Blood Veil.”

  As soon as I spoke, a faint crimson-colored aura surged around me, lasting for a single second before it vanished completely.

  It left behind an eerie silence.

  A stillness that wasn’t just physical—but magical as well.

  No energy leaked from my body.

  No magical fluctuations radiated into the environment.

  I had completely erased my presence from the perspective of any mage trying to sense me.

  A small, satisfied laugh escaped my lips.

  “It’s working.”

  I ran a hand over my chin, nodding to myself.

  I could feel the difference now.

  Without Blood Veil, my magic would naturally seep into the surroundings, making me noticeable to anyone sensitive enough to track energy.

  But now, with the spell fully cast, I was like a ghost—my magic wasn’t just hidden, it was muted, blending into the world itself.

  Perfect.

  Now that I had successfully incorporated Blood Veil into my arsenal, I could move undetected, avoid magical tracking, and potentially bypass barriers or security spells designed to detect magical signatures.

  It was an invaluable tool.

  But as I stood there, testing the duration of the spell, an idea crept into my mind.

  If I could use Blood Veil on myself… why not on my spells?