u/RIP_elTrazin_07

Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meison, Magiekaiser of the Heiliges Magiereich

Date, Calendar After the Fall: 14th of Solitas, 1401

I sighed as I held my head at my desk.

The Heiliges Kaiserliches Magiereich der Menschenlande—or simply the Magiereich—the greatest kingdom of mankind.

Founded five hundred years ago as a union of kingdoms and city-states to repel the invasion of the elven warlock Agrakzas.

An endless kingdom…

Endlessly chaotic.

Principalities, duchies, and bishoprics divided in everything but name.

When I accepted this position within the Council of Mages as Magiekaiser, I believed I would be the one to finally unite the realm into a single nation.

So far, the process had been slow and exhausting.

At the very least, I managed to depose Grand Duke Lorea of Vadenverg without provoking a rebellion in the process.

Only Bishop Sachari of Überland and Archduke Edgar of Aurs remain before every obstacle to the Kingdom’s centralization is removed.

…Wonderful. I sound like some kind of fairy tale villain.

Not to mention that I still have to send funding to Altland so they can rebuild after the latest incursion from the beastmen of the Lupusreich forests.

And I must also find some pyromancer willing to burn that forest to the ground once and for all so the werewolves can finally be driven out of Altland.

Then there is the matter of sending resources to the Kingdom of Prubeu to halt the Five Green Fangs invading their territory.

Reestablishing a safe passage connecting the Tsardom of Rovgorov with the rest of the Human Kingdoms.

The war against the Empire of Vampiria.

Elonia invading practically everyone.

…Dragon Gods, what else could possibly go wrong?

“Your Majesty" ... Damned

“What is it, Sir Marcel?” I managed to hide my exhaustion.

Sir Marcel Fritz, paladin of the Order of the Thousand Pristines.

“His Eminence Williamson has reached solid ground in the unknown lands. He successfully established a communication tower connected to the tower network, and the teleportation altar should be operational within a few days,” he explained while removing his helmet.

“And this is where the bad news begins?” I anticipated.

“They were attacked one week after arrival by natives—beastmen of varying appearances, though most possessed ovine features. Three thousand of our men faced an estimated six thousand of them. One thousand carried professional military equipment, two hundred among those wore plate armor, and two were presumed to be mages,” he explained with tactical coldness.

“How many survivors?” I asked, already expecting the worst.

“…Nearly the entire fleet sent to the New World survived. Three hundred wounded and fifty dead.”

…What?

“The enemy retreated after the first volley from the musketeers. The infantry encountered little difficulty dispatching those they managed to catch. The enemy suffered a total of six hundred eighty-one fatalities from explosions, gunfire, combat wounds, or trampling caused by retreating warriors running over their own allies. An additional eight hundred are estimated to have suffered injuries from similar causes. Williamson convinced the commanding officer, Don Fernando Peñales, to end the pursuit in case it proved to be a trap intended to overextend allied forces.”

…A battle far too perfect.

Nearly fifteen hundred enemy casualties in a battle where the opposing force outnumbered the allied troops two to one, all while sustaining minimal losses.

“Report on the weaponry of this new enemy of mankind.”

Marcel nodded.

“Their technological level appears comparable to the kingdoms of Frenia, though they completely lack cavalry. Despite possessing steel armor, none of it displayed any alchemical or magical treatment. The only remarkable feature was that the knights possessed orichalcum plating over vital sections of their armor.”

That made no sense.

They possessed mages. They should know how to produce such things.

Something was wrong.

“Who else knows of this?”

“Every man who invested in the expedition is aware of what occurred. The King of Acelod and the King of Brugbugdy have each offered five thousand quintals of weapons to combat these beastmen. Should the cost of teleporting soldiers concern you, the Queen of Barcelia and the King of the Dwarves are willing to assist with the expenses.”

Calling King Gradev IV of Brandar “King of the Dwarves” was technically inaccurate, since the Bodir League was a federation of city-states.

Still, Gradev was commonly referred to as such due to ruling the wealthiest dwarven city.

I owed that dwarf quite a lot.

“Inform every noble in the Kingdom: if they can afford to send men, they are to do so. Preferably by ship. I do not wish to abuse the treasuries of others on something as expensive as teleporting an army."

“It shall be done, Your Majesty,” Marcel replied before departing.

____

Remembrance Scroll: Slanek, Scout of the Venlil Duchy

I opened my eyes, surprised that I had managed to open them at all.

I was inside a grayish tent and—oh, by Solgalik.

A predator was consuming a poor Nevok right in front of me.

Its back was turned toward me as it carried out the horrible act.

It wore white clothing stained with the blood of previous victims.

[Étape 2, presque arrivée à la 3.] the predator muttered in a muffled voice, presumably because it had the Nevok’s organs in its mouth.

Or so I thought before it turned its head, revealing that it wore a mask vaguely resembling the head of a bird, one that would make eating impossible.

It raised a pair of tweezers holding an organ blackened by a familiar disease.

The Hunger.

A sickness that transformed prey into rotten, irrational predators.

The predator removed organ after organ infected by the disease before placing them on a table, cutting them apart, examining them through a magnifying lens, and taking notes in a journal.

[Autopsie 523.] the predator murmured while writing. [Cinquantième cadavre présentant des symptômes de Rage Noire, actuellement dans un état intermédiaire entre l’étape 2 et l’étape 3.]

I tried to push the cage in an attempt to escape the tent, but that only drew the predator’s attention.

[Oh, il est réveillé, mon ami.] it said while clasping its hands together. [N’aie pas peur, je suis docteur.]

“Lux.”

A sphere of light appeared in its hand, and it brought it toward my eyes. It grabbed my snout and forced me to look directly at it.

[Bon, tout semble en ordre.]

Then it released me.

This predator could use magic.

Was it a noble?

[…Huggg. Où sont mes manières? Tu ne connais pas ma langue et je ne connais pas la tienne. Je vais devoir aller chercher un mage pour qu’il te lance un sort de traduction.]

The predator hurried away and returned shortly afterward with a younger-looking predator with blond fur.

[J’ai besoin d’un sort d’Omniparle ici.]

The younger predator pulled out a wooden wand and pointed it toward me.

So this is how Slanek dies…

Mother…

I love you.

“Omniparle.”

…Why was I still alive?

“Can you understand me now?” the white-clad predator asked in perfect Venlilian, though with a nasal tone. “Judging by the shock in your eyes, I’ll assume that means yes.”

The predator performed an exaggerated bow.

“Doctor Vacile Kunrad, at your service.”

It straightened itself after speaking.

“You must not fear me, my friend…”

“I am a doctor.”

A question for you mortals: Making the Arxur have Mexica and Maya aesthetics? A friend already got his account taken down for “inciting hatred,” and I’d rather not be next.

---

Remembrance Scroll: Noah Williamson, Master Mage of the Heiliges Magiereich

Date, Calendar After the Fall: 12th of Solitas, 1401

“Hurry up, move it!” shouted Don Fernando as he barked orders at his men.

We were constructing a teleportation altar and a tower for messenger mages.

Sailors carried construction materials for both structures from the ship.

“There is something I do not like about this place,” I said. “Everything feels too… dry. As though it has not rained in a very, very long time.”

“It is probably a drought,” Don Fernando replied.

“No, it is not that. It feels different… though I cannot say why.”

“The fact that nothing has given us an incurable magical disease in the five days we’ve been here is already an achievement,” said a deceptively jovial voice.

The owner of the voice was the volunteer physician.

His white plague doctor attire contrasted with the mysterious fluids staining his apron.

“Doctor Kunrad, I thought you and a contingent of my men went over there to conduct your strange experiments… where are my five men?” Don Fernando asked as he grabbed his pistol.

“Yes, about that.” Kunrad reached behind his back and… pulled out a crossbow bolt dripping with his blood. “We have a rather unpleasant native problem. They appeared to be some sort of sheep beastmen.”

Every sailor froze.

Don Fernando was the first to react.

“Get the pikes and muskets! Prepare defensive positions!” he shouted as his men rushed into action. “How long until they arrive, Doctor?”

“Judging by their short legs, their equipment—which I should mention resembles a standard Frenio army entirely lacking cavalry—and taking into account the acceleration spells I used to escape them…” he spoke as though he had not just removed a bolt from his own body, “one hour. They will arrive in one hour.”

“…Go treat yourself, Doctor,” said Don Fernando.

“That was the idea.”

He walked away with his hands behind his back…

There were five more bolts lodged in it.

---

Remembrance Scroll: Slanek, Scout of the Venlil Duchy

My hands were still trembling.

We had managed to ambush a group of predators.

Five were eliminated and burned, but one managed to escape.

It was tall and unnaturally thin, to the point that it looked malnourished, yet its endurance and mobility ruled out the possibility of starvation.

The predator ran, presumably toward its own kind, and we quickly lost it thanks to its acceleration spells.

We were one thousand men-at-arms against the predator vanguard, along with peasant levies gathered in great haste.

Our numbers would overwhelm them immediately.

We only had to hold the defensive line while they attacked like mindless beasts.

At last, we spotted the predators’ defensive line, and our formation began to organize itself…

Wait. A defensive line?

Spearmen carrying absurdly long pikes, an officer mounted atop an enslaved prey beast, a mage, and several others holding metallic tubes with wooden grips.

There were also strange cylinders of far greater size surrounded by multiple predators, each attached to wheeled wooden frames.

We also noticed a complete lack of predators throwing themselves suicidally toward us in a frenzy.

So we had no choice but to continue advancing.

The strategy was always the same.

The frontline would endure any charge for as long as possible while we crossbowmen eliminated the predators with our only advantage over them: crossbow technology, which allowed us to match the Arxur slingers by wielding weapons deadlier than theirs.

And these creatures did not appear to possess slingers at all. Perhaps they were even more primitive than the Arxur themselves.

We also had two mages prepared to cast fireballs upon the vicious predators.

[Musketeers, raise weapons! Cannoneers, load the artillery! Pikemen, lower pikes!]

The predator officer shouted orders in a language I did not understand.

The men carrying those metal-and-wood tubes raised them as though they were…

Crossbows?

Did they possess their own crossbows?

This was bad.

Even with slings, the Arxur’s accuracy was undeniable. If these predators had crossbows, it would be no different…

Though it mattered little. No crossbow could fire from such a distance.

The predators standing around the large cylinders placed metal balls inside them.

And the spearmen lowered the tips of their weapons forward.

[Ready!] The officer raised his sword. [Aim… fire!]

BOOM

"BLITZ"

Those were the last sounds I heard before chaos erupted.

Explosions and bolts of lightning covered the battlefield.

Our army, terrified by the thunderous noise, broke into a complete rout.

At least, those who were not already dead or dying.

I looked toward where the mages had been.

Both nobles were dead.

Judging by the crater where they once stood, there was little room for doubt.

Steel armor was pierced effortlessly as the knights wearing it collapsed to the ground.

I did the smartest thing possible.

I ran.

The Krakotl took to the skies.

All of us fled in terror.

And the predators?

The pikemen had abandoned their primary weapons and instead drew thin swords and daggers before charging directly at us.

Some explosions rang out again, though they soon ceased once predator steel found flesh.

The peasant levies were the first to fall, victims of thrusts and stabbings, while others were killed by riders mounted upon enslaved prey beasts, creatures either indifferent or resigned to the cruelty carried out by their masters, who wielded smaller versions of those tubes of death alongside spears and swords.

Alongside them fell those who still possessed the will to fight, souls admirable enough to overcome their fear and stand against evil…

If only all of us had been like them.

Eventually, the evil horde caught up to us.

I turned quickly and drove a bolt into a predator’s head.

Only for another to arrive from my flank and kick my crossbow away, depriving me of my greatest weapon.

[You are the most pathetic beastman I have ever fought,] it said in its guttural language while making exaggerated, boastful movements with its thin sword. [En garde, sheep-man. Let us see what you are capable of.]

I barely managed to draw my morningstar in time to block the first thrust.

With great difficulty, I pushed myself aside to avoid the dagger before striking the predator’s breastplate with my spiked weapon.

Aside from a dent, the predator seemed perfectly fine for someone who should have had broken ribs.

[Alchemized steel, idiot.]

It struck me with its forearm hard enough to throw me onto my back.

I felt the bones in my knee strain beneath the predator’s kick, and then I felt cold steel pierce my shoulder.

[This is how we do things in Astoris,] it said before wrenching the weapon free from my shoulder with another kick.

Then my head struck stone.

---

Remembrance Scroll: Shaldra, Mentalist of Chief Hunter Isif, Arxur Empire

“Siffyyyyyy~” I called as I pushed open the stone gate.

On the other side stood Siffy, flanked by two guards carrying long obsidian spears and shields, both wearing the hides of Jungle Grunts.

Normally, I would not discuss matters like this with others nearby, but these two were more defective than a malformed hatchling. They would not say a word as long as I continued falsifying their purity examinations.

Siffy wore the same expression as always: that “I think I’m intimidating because I look like I’m smelling rotten meat” face, complete with that ridiculous feathered headdress and his bronze armor decorated with gold ornaments.

Siffy grimaced the moment he heard my voice.

Had he heard me eighty years ago, he would have been fighting the other males for the chance to share my bed. Ungrateful brat.

And while I was at it, I also admired his gold teeth.

“Shaldra, I have told you for the past seven solar cycles that—”

Naturally, I did not let the brat finish.

“Yes, yes, it is Isif and all that. Whatever you say, darling,” I interrupted while tossing the Remembrance Scroll toward him.

Siffy jumped slightly to catch the scroll before glaring at me with open irritation.

“I already know what you are going to say, but look at it first. It came from one of your scouts. The boy seemed quite desperate for me to examine it…”

I flicked my tail lightly.

“And oh, it was absolutely worth it.”

He sighed before opening the scroll, his eyes glowing pink as the memories flowed into his mind.

He remained like that for half a minute until the glow finally faded.

“So tell me,” I asked, my tail swaying slightly behind me, “what happens next?”

“…Chief Hunter Isif will inform the Descendant Prophet and—”

I cut him off again.

“That is what Chief Hunter Isif will do. What will Siffy do?”

“…Send twice as many scouts to the Venlil Duchy. I want to know everything possible about these new predators.”

The tone of reluctant surrender in his voice was music to my ears.

“That is the spirit.”

I turned around and began leaving the throne room.

“Goodbye, Siffy… enjoy your book or whatever it is you brood over these days.”

Siffy’s irritated growls were the last melody I heard before leaving the chamber.

____

Prey Empire: For all the empathetic and wise prey in the world

Ahem, ahem...

What? Were you expecting a memory transcript in the very first paragraph? Or maybe something easily visible at the start of the chapter?

HA! No.

Greetings, fruit-heralds, faithful followers, and magically mind-controlled servants! I am your favorite god, inventor of two thousand different languages, master of every spell ever conceived, and the one who stopped the evil creator of pineapple pizza from replacing all food in existence with pineapples!

Raltan!

Now, you may be asking yourselves:

“Raltan, why did the creator—who is definitely not you—decide to restart the story from the beginning?”

Simple.

The worldbuilding was garbage.

During the creator’s little sabbatical, he spent his time consuming absurd amounts of fantasy:
The Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, Warhammer Fantasy...
(Should he start looking into Age of Sigmar? I still don't know.)

...and even RWBY, if that somehow counts as fantasy.

He also watched countless worldbuilding and writing videos before finally realizing one painful truth:

His character writing sucked.

So, with the help of a Spanish D&D YouTuber, ChatGPT, and ME personally, we tore apart the fabric of reality itself and rebuilt it into what it is today.

And so...

Our story begins thirty million years ago—

What?

“What do you mean we don’t have time for that?!”

It’s only five hundred years of reading!

I am educating these barbarians with QUALITY literature!

...Fine.

Our story begins in a sea far, far away.

Oh, what? Were you expecting me to say “kingdom far, far away”?

We have originality here.

____

Remembrance Scroll: Noah Williamson, Master Mage of the Heiliges Magiereich

Date, Calendar After the Fall: 7th of Solitas, 1401

Location: Spegnian ship, San Ezequiel of the Kingdom of Castelia, captained by Captain Don Fernando Peñales

I closed the book containing my memories as I adjusted my cobalt-colored cloak.

I filled my lungs with air before exhaling and stepping outside.

I waved at the ship’s healer before continuing my way toward the deck.

At last, I found the stairs and abandoned the darkness of the ship’s interior.

As expected from a Spegnian vessel, the sailors spoke quickly and constantly mocked one another.

“Master Mage,” said the jovial voice of Don Fernando.

“Don Fernando, it is good to see the crew in such high spirits,” I replied with my hands clasped together.

“And why wouldn’t they be? If that antique someone found in their grandmother’s basement is real, then this voyage should end today.”

By that, he meant the map.

A relic from the ancient civilization that ruled the world before everything.

The map was worn and partially rotten, but a route to another continent was still visible, one that circled around the Central Continent.

The kingdoms quickly became interested in it… mostly because searching for new lands was easier than challenging the rabbit beastmen of the Central Continent again.

“But you should not worry about any of that, illustrious one. Stay here, admire the sea, enjoy the smell of my crew’s complete lack of hygiene, and later join me in complaining about the awful food we have aboard.”

“Land ho!” shouted the lookout.

“…Oh no, we must do absolutely nothing,” he said before running toward the helm.

I stared at the horizon, toward the newly discovered landmass.

This would become a mythical year for every intelligent being in the known world.

____

Remembrance Scroll: Duchess Tarva Sulran of the Duchy of Venlil

Location: Dayside Castle, Venlil Capital

Predators.

Ever since they emerged and destroyed the first civilization, they have hunted innocent prey.

Our first tribal civilizations were barely capable of resisting them.

Then came the Kolshians.

With their magic and purity of soul, they rose from the depths and drove back the terror.

And there they founded the Empire of Prey, to unite all prey beneath a single compassionate crown.

Five hundred years of peace, prosperity, and expansion followed as we encountered other peoples.

…But the Dark Gods did not forgive us.

Primitive creatures, driven by bloodlust and possessing an intelligence worthy only of prey—

The Arxur.

They emerged from their southern jungles like a plague, wielding primitive weapons forged from volcanic stone and clad in bronze armor and the hides of their victims.

And they brought with them only death and war.

The Empire has barely managed to repel their endless hunger for blood.

Then the great evil emerged from the—

And from the eastern seas, two hundred years ago, came the Vampires.

Creatures that arrived in the dead of night and abducted innocent prey, never to be seen again.

We never discovered what became of either the Vampires or their victims.

For two hundred years, the Vampires have not returned to these lands.

And I pray to Solgalik that it remains that way.

“Duchess,” said Cheln, my Chancellor, “terrible news from the scouts.” He frantically waved a scroll enchanted with Remembrance magic.

I sighed before taking the scroll, wondering how many Arxur this time.

But when I returned to reality…

I knew we were doomed.

____

Forty Minutes Earlier

Remembrance Scroll: Slanek, Scout of the Venlil Duchy

Watching the coastline.

A task that seemed unnecessary, since nobody would willingly live near the sea.

Only ruins remained here—cities older than the great evil of the Arxur, and civilizations even older than our own.

But that was the trap.

Any one of those ruins could serve as a hiding place for Arxur raiding parties preparing to strike deeper into the Empire.

That was why it was the duty of my herdmates and I to explore the coast and prevent such attacks.

“Hey, I see something,” said one of my companions, a Krakotl.

Our equipment was simple.

Green and blue hooded robes that barely protected us from the elements, let alone the obsidian blades of even the lowliest Arxur grunts.

Our only weapons were concealment spells, a few bolts tipped with elemental fire-stones, many ordinary bolts, and our crossbows.

Our captain, a Sivkit named Mudch, carried one fitted with a lever mechanism that allowed him to reload rapidly and fire several bolts in quick succession.

What the Krakotl had spotted was a ship.

But it lacked the crude, rectangular ornaments typical of Arxur vessels.

This one looked far more refined and elegant.

At the top of its mast flew a light blue banner bearing a yellow circle with a red wavy cross at its center.

We used a visual amplification spell to observe the people around the ship…

And they were predators.

Hairless creatures dressed in strange fabrics, with vicious eyes, growling among themselves as they drove a wooden pole into the ground and tied to it a banner identical to the one on the ship.

One of the Krakotl tightened his grip on his crossbow and prepared to attack them, but Mudch stopped him.

“We still have the advantage of surprise. We must return to the ducal capital and warn Marshal Kam and the Duchess so an offensive can be assembled,” he said with the experience of someone who had done this hundreds of times—and who was deeply disliked by the Inquisition because of it.

The Krakotl let out a frustrated squawk before turning around and leaving with the rest of the herd.

____

Kingdom of Castelia: por el Santo Dragon, por el Rey y por Spegna