Supreme Magus

Chapter 4112: Equal Partnership (Part 1)

”Countless allies! The Black Throne had countless allies!” Salanoth said via air magic, and her host was allowed to regenerate. ”And they all died of natural death or in battle. All of them!”

”The trinket is right.” The Black Throne said. ”There is an enormous difference between an alliance, no matter how unwilling, and coercion, no matter how rewarding. I want you to fight for us.

”If you fight for me, you won’t hesitate to betray me the moment things go south.”

”That’s weird.” Jorl said. ”A while ago, Orpal used similar words to explain why he and Night work together even though they despise each other.”

”That means your enemy is not as stupid as you think.” The voice replied. ”You need my help more than you think, little finch.”

”Fine.” Jorl sighed and took a step forward.

The pressure in the room disappeared, allowing him to reach the Black Throne with ease.

’What is this rancid smell, and why carve the keystone of a mighty mage tower out of something so undignified?’ Jorl pondered for a moment before sitting on the throne and finding the answers to his questions.

The armrests turned up, revealing themselves to be twisted arms that grabbed the Storm Griffon’s wrists. A howling skull emerged from the backrest and released dozens of tendrils of Spirit Magic that seeped inside Jorl’s head and mana core.

The Storm Griffon shrieked and thrashed, but the twisted, mangled corpse of Ealassor Rehin that fused with the remains of his equipment formed the so-called Black Throne, pinned Jorl down with the weight of his entire tower.

Strong of the Forbidden Magic that kept his remains alive and millennia of experience, Rehin used the tendrils to force a mind link to sift through the Storm Griffon’s mind.

He forced Jorl to reveal every facet of the events he had shared with the Black Throne without omissions. Once Rehin confirmed the Storm Griffon’s motivations to look for his help, he dug deeper in Jorl’s mind.

Rehin felt the Griffon’s determination, his drive to survive against all odds in spite of his family and Orpal’s obsession with Lith.

The channel he forced open, however, worked both ways. Jorl exploited the mind link to probe Rehin’s memories, learning about his so-called ally and searching for anything he could use against the Black Throne.

’This is a game two can play.’ Jorl snarled, discovering that Rehin couldn’t care less about the intrusion.

His mind was an open book, and so was his past.

Ealassor Rehin belonged to a time before Guardians, Magi, and Rulers of the Flames. He had been born back when Awakened were considered and treated as gods by the mortal masses.

Rehin had been considered an unparalleled genius and a master of all specialization, but even he was helpless against the passing of time. Rehin knew of the white core, but never reached the enlightenment necessary to achieve it.

He tried and failed until the lifespan he had left didn’t allow him any more failures.

That’s when he searched for answers in Forbidden Magic. As the human Representative, Rehin had hunted down many Forbidden Mages during his tenure and punished them for their crimes.

He had taken all their creations and Grimoires for himself to keep them away from those young or reckless enough to abuse such knowledge. Rehin wasn’t young anymore, but he couldn’t afford caution.

He looked for the secret of immortality back when Baba Yaga had yet to be born, and sought to Forgemaster something that today would be easily recognized as an overcomplicated and oversized phylactery.

Ealassor Rehin succeeded in his quest, yet he also failed.

During the final steps to Forgemaster Ljosard, the Tower of Light, he lost control of the life force of his victims that was supposed to bind him forever to his creation and make him as immortal as its stones.

Rehin’s frail, old body burned in the process along with all his prized artifacts he wore as protection against the wild energy of Forbidden Magic. Rehin’s flesh and bones turned into charcoal, mixing with the molten Davross of his armor and the charred wood of his staff.

The spell had granted his wish, keeping death at bay as long as he was bound to his magic tower. At the same time, however, it had forced him to live in a wretched form that couldn’t move, breathe, touch, or hear anything if not through enchantments.

Ljosard worked as intended, keeping Rehin alive and his body immune to the passing of time. Alas, Rehin had meant the Tower of Light to preserve his aged but powerful body, not the ruined, molten mess that his final misstep had turned him into.

He was dead yet alive, eternally frozen in the agonizing instant when his soul was about to abandon its mortal frame.

On that day, Ealassor Rehin and Ljosard died, and the Black Throne was born.

Mad with power and pain, the cursed tower found no solace in his newfound crippled immortality. As any good researcher, however, he wasted little time crying in self-pity and focused on finding a solution.

As soon as the Black Throne mastered his new body and almighty abilities, he sought the domination of Mogar. Yet he didn’t care about ruling over those pitiful, short-lived races, whom he already considered as ants back when he was still a human mage.

The cursed tower’s goal was to conquer Mogar’s Awakened society. To become the god of the gods and control everything through his less talented, but still useful former rivals. He needed their help to overcome the limits of his current condition and restore his body.

The start of his campaign took the Awakened Council by surprise, and many fell at his enchantments before they could even understand what had killed them. To those he defeated, the Black Throne offered a single choice.

Servitude or death.

Most Awakened chose servitude, expecting the Council to kill the monster swiftly and set them free. They were wrong, but so was the Black Throne.

He was indeed invincible, but only while standing above a mana geyser. Away from an abundant source of world energy, every spell he cast would deplete his energy reserves, and every attack he suffered would crack his walls.

The Awakened Council needed but one skirmish to realize the secret of the Black Throne’s power and never fought around a mana geyser unless absolutely necessary. The battle lasted longer than the cursed tower and his unwilling servants expected.

He was the god among gods, but only in the right places. Everywhere else, the Black Throne was just a man with a powerful artifact, and time was once again his greatest enemy.

Moreover, as it often happened in the magic society, the appearance of the cursed tower had sparked countless ideas in the minds of young geniuses and old monsters. They now knew that a mage tower was possible.

With every battle, they uncovered more of the Black Throne’s secrets and untapped potential. That knowledge was enough to light the way for the geniuses and monsters. If Ealassor Rehin had done it, they could do it too.

And they did. Or rather, a 526-year-old Awakened human, Arghon For, did it. He Forgemastered his own mage tower, Indomitable Will.

The true first mage tower in Mogar’s history.