Sen looked up at the grand exterior of the kingdom’s walls. A large river surrounded them, and a beautiful stone bridge was the only way in or out. Magnificent red and orange twin banners hung on either side of the gate; they rippled in the wind and blazed like actual fire. There was magic within them. Inscribed on them was a lion with a thick mane; that must be the crest of King Ragmár. Atop the walls, soldiers hurried to ready defenses, and the stone entrance into the kingdom had already been sealed shut.

  Behind them waited a large force. Though they didn’t exactly look as if they were ready for war. They were setting up tents. Large tents that might fit ten or twenty people each. None of them were paying Sen or his companions much attention. Ahead of them, a bald, tan-skinned man stood alone, staring up at the walls. He wore a light brown robe that hung loosely over one shoulder, exposing the back and chest of his opposite side. He seemed fit and likely to be in his thirties.

  Sen couldn’t help it. “So, what are you looking at?” he asked as he approached.

  The man spoke without turning to look at him. “These walls. I wonder if I stare at them long enough, will they shatter under the pressure of a mighty gaze? Or perhaps I’ll only embolden them. Perhaps they’ll steel themselves lest they embarrass their ancestors. What do you think?” he asked.

  Sen arched a brow. “The walls? We’re talking about walls?”

  “Yes, you’re very perceptive. What is your name, stranger?”

  “I’m Sen,” he said. Then he turned to point toward his companions. Ragmár shook his head fervently. He’d already removed his crown and hidden it under his cloak. Mori looked at the king with sympathy; he knew his master well. “And these two are Mori, and King Ragmár himself!” Sen threw his hand out to present them.

  At this, the tan-skinned man turned. He followed Sen’s gesture until his eyes met the king’s. “You…the king is here?” His eyes widened, and he turned back to the walls. He pointed at them angrily. “You would forsake your oath? I expected you to submit before my will, but never did I think you would cast out your own king. Feckless cowards! May you crumble so that new walls will serve his majesty more loyally!” he spat.

  Ragmár and Mori stared at him with stunned expressions. Sen was starting to wonder how many spells this guy had taken to the head. With his rant over, the man turned and faced them.

  “Behold! I am the handsome, the powerful, the great Diablo! I have heard tales far and wide of your court wizard. I have come to challenge the God of Magic to a duel!”

  Ragmár sighed. He turned and looked back at all the tents being set up.

  Mori shook his head. “Diablo, we’ve told you time and time again, you can’t keep doing this,” he said. “People are going to think we’re under attack.”

  Diablo looked confused. He knelt before the king and lowered his head. “My apologies, I am great, and I am wonderful, but I am no usurper. I am a prince of your vassal kingdom. My family has guarded the desert on your behalf since your rise to power, your majesty.”

  “Who exactly are all these people?” Mori asked. “You’ve never brought so many before.”

  Diablo rose, a grin on his face. “These are my people! They believe I will overcome the God of Magic and take his title from him. I am here to ensure they are not disappointed.”

  Sen looked at Mori. “Do you want to handle this or…”

  Mori bowed. “Please, by all means, Master, I’d love to see you in action once more.”

  There was a twinkle in Diablo’s eyes at that. “It is you? You are the feared and respected, the mighty and undefeated God of Magic? You defeated the Dreadgiant King Garlon and the Snake Goddess Serpia? But you’re so young.”

  Sen was reluctant to acknowledge the title. When most people reached the top ranks, they became the king or god of something. He’d risen to the top and defeated all the others. It was the reason they’d given him the moniker the God of Magic. To declare him unrivaled. Unfortunately, it was true, and it was a hell of a curse when you were chasing a worthy opponent. “That is what some call me, but I prefer Sen, if you don’t mind.”

  Diablo nodded. “Let it be known, I acknowledge you as Sen. Now, Sen, would you honor me with a duel before my people, and before yours?”

  Diablo had sensed it too then. The gates to the castle grated open, and General Beck rode out with dozens of knights on horseback, ready to save the king. Sen realized they weren’t focused on Diablo at all; they were staring at him.

  [You did teleport away with their king, you realize that right?]

  They charged, but King Ragmár quickly whispered something to Mori.

  Mori nodded. He cast a simple spell, and a colorful light shot toward the general.

  At once, General Beck held up a hand, and the knights slowed their approach. So Ragmár had ordered them to stand down. “I will duel you. Do you have any requests?” Sen asked.

  “Diablo asks only for a good fight; please do not hold back against me.”

  Sen nodded, though of course he’d hold back a little. “Well, there’s no time like the present, your majesty would you do the honors?”

  King Ragmár nodded. The knights filed in to one side, lined up to keep an eye on the king. Diablo’s people quickly gathered as word spread and approached from the other side, clamoring to see the duel.

  Each of them turned to look at the king. “You may begin.”

  Diablo wasted no time. “Fireball-Trio!”

  Sen tilted his head at that. Diablo was using a modifier. Modifiers allowed the caster to alter a spell’s original form according to their will. The number of modifiers was endless, but like a spell, you needed to acquire mastery over them to use them properly. Diablo had gained understanding over the fireball spell, but also over the modifier trio.

  The fireball shot directly toward him. When it had crossed about half the distance, it split into three, each pivoting into a new direction before continuing its approach. Sen eyed each of them. They were smaller initially after splitting off, but each quickly grew to be the same size as the original. One came from above, and the other two from either side.

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  Sen looked Diablo in the eye. “Well, you got me,” he said, throwing his hands up.

  Diablo looked confused. At least he did in the moment before the fireballs converged on Sen and covered his body.

  Ragmár’s mouth parted. Mori sighed.

  Diablo’s people cheered. They thought he’d won.

  Sen looked around as the fire enveloped his body. He had to admit; the heat was exactly what he needed after such a long nap. The technique wasn’t anything he couldn’t do himself, but he was mildly impressed Diablo could return a Trio modified spell back to its original strength before the attack landed. He showed remarkable control over his magic. Given time, he could develop his talents even further. Sen held up a hand and cast his own spell.

  “Fireball Maxim,” he said. As the new fireball formed, it absorbed the essence of Diablo’s. In an instant, it consumed the weaker spell to bolster itself. Through the roaring flames, Sen could see a shocked expression on his opponent’s face. “Release.”

  The fireball slammed forward and into the ground, scattering dirt, grass, and dust everywhere. When the smoke cleared, Sen frowned for a moment. Diablo was gone. Had he dodged it? Or perhaps it was an illusion? The man might be stronger than he realized. But as the dust cleared, it quickly became clear Sen had overdone it a bit.

  All that remained of Diablo were two shoes and a portion of either leg that still stood straight up. Everything above that was gone. The faces of Diablo’s fans turned from excitement to horror.

  Sen grimaced. “Mori, please tell me you grabbed his soul in time…”

  Mori nodded. “Of course, master. Shall I restore him?”

  King Ragmár took a deep breath. “Please do, before we have an incident on our hands. He’s a prince of a vassal kingdom!” Ragmár shook his head. “He’s been back thirty minutes, and he’s killed a prince in front of hundreds…thousands of people.”

  “Full Restoration Body and Soul!” Mori said.

  Diablo returned faster than the human eye could process. He didn’t even blink. “You killed me! You killed the great Diablo!”

  For a moment, Sen thought this might actually turn into a siege now. Judging by Ragmár’s twitching eye, the king was thinking the same.

  Diablo stormed toward him until they were face to face. He stared at Sen as if looking for the right words to express his anger. “You…” He kneeled. “You must teach me this power! I acknowledge defeat.”

  Okay…maybe not anger.

  Ragmár was just as stunned as Sen was. So, Mori took a little initiative. “The winner is the God of Magic!” he declared.

  To Sen’s surprise, everyone cheered. Even Diablo’s people.

  [Congratulations on your victory. I believe I’ve found the cause of the time skip, and yes, it can be replicated.]

  Sen’s eyes gleamed.

  [Carefully.]

  He looked at Diablo. “Take this,” he said. “Memory Guidance Maxim.”

  Diablo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head for a moment before returning to normal. “A…maximizer?” His eyes lit up at the knowledge Sen gave him. Diablo turned and aimed at the sky. “Fireball Maxim!”

  The backlash from the fireball exploded and killed him instantly. Again.

  “Mori!”

  “On it, master.”

  King Ragmár, Sen, and Mori now sat alone in the throne room.

  “I’m glad he left satisfied with that new trick of his, but I am worried knowledge of magic like that will spread. Even with Mori here, keeping the peace is a difficult balance,” Ragmár said.

  “Fireball Full Cannon. It had a nice ring to it,” Mori said.

  Sen laughed. “Don’t worry, Memory Guidance is conditional. From your perspective, it happened in a flash, but in Diablo’s mind, he agreed he must never use the power for evil, among a few other things. He also may only choose a single successor, and they in turn must accept the terms I set as well. If they gain the power and break the terms, the Memory Guidance spell will purge them of the ability to use magic completely. And yes, Mori, the maximizer he came up with wasn’t bad at all.”

  King Ragmár shook his head. “I’ve never seen somebody brush off dying so many times in a row.”

  [May I begin?] Tutor projected his words into all of their minds.

  Under Sen’s instruction, Tutor retrieved the object he’d analyzed.

  It appeared in his hand, and Sen held it up for everyone to see.

  A crystal-clear blue orb with a transparent butterfly dancing through it. “It’s an artifact the God of Shadows was using to channel his power. Apparently, he wasn’t compatible with it, which kept him from ascending. But the butterfly spell was.”

  Mori shook his head. “You’re saying this was the reason you disappeared for a hundred years?”

  “Well, Tutor?”

  [Affirmative. Out here, the artifact is unable to alter time. However, in the confines of the temporal world the master created, conditions were optimal for activation. It triggered automatically as soon as he returned. The butterfly spell was preserved as well, but after a hundred years it’s fading now. That’s what allowed us to escape the forward flow of time.]

  Ragmár closed his eyes. “I lost my friend for a hundred years, and for what?”

  Sen raised a brow. “I don’t know, this is a pretty nice kingdom.”

  “This was never my dream. Sure, I wanted peace. I wanted the power to protect that peace, but…we were supposed to do it together,” Ragmár sounded sad.

  Sen smiled. “My friend, I’m here now, and I have a plan. Do you remember the sun I always told you about?”

  Mori perked up. “The peak of all magic? I still haven’t been able to sense it, even with a portion of your memories and magic power. Have you discovered something about it, master?”

  “Yes. It’s closer now than it was a hundred years ago. I believe if we went further, we could get even closer. We could experience a new pinnacle of magic. Humanity has progressed in just a hundred years; imagine what they can do in a thousand? I know I’ve been gone, Ragmár, but now’s our chance. We could go on a real adventure. Like when we fought Garlon and Serpia!”

  “Like when you fought Garlon and Serpia,” Ragmár corrected, and the sad look on his face told Sen exactly what he would say next. “I hope this path is truly what you’ve always wanted, Sen. But I cannot walk it with you. This kingdom, my people, they rely on me. I’m old, my friend. Only Mori’s magic has kept me alive all this time, and even that will reach its limit soon. This is a journey you’ll have to walk without me.”

  Sen’s gaze fell to the ground. “I’m…I’m sure I can extend it further. We could probably even return your youth in someway, I’d need to look at my notes but—”

  Ragmár’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I have a family, Sen. A wife and many children. I can’t abandon them, and I can’t bring them all with me now, can I?”

  “Well…”

  Ragmár smiled at him. “You’ll be okay, and you’ll have Mori by your side too. Besides, when you arrive in the future, you’re going to need allies. I’ll do everything I can to bolster the kingdom, and I’ll make sure the kings that come after me know you’re coming. When you arrive, you’ll have their full support.”

  Mori looked up, surprised at the first part of what Ragmár said. “Really? Would the kingdom really be okay without me? No, the master will want me to stay and protect you.”

  Sen turned to Mori. “It’s been a hundred years; you’ve followed my instructions wonderfully. This is your decision and your decision alone.”

  Ragmár nodded as well. “You’ve done more than enough for the kingdom.”

  Mori looked as if he could cry. “Okay, well then, if it’s alright, I’d like to go to the future as well.”

  Sen looked between his two friends. “I’m just glad your beard finally grew in Ragmár, can you imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been if it hadn’t after a century?”

  Ragmár snorted. “Says the man who hasn’t bathed in a year!”

  Sen smiled, and the two men embraced. He knew Ragmár was right. No matter how much time had been stolen from them, from two men who considered each other brothers, now they had to walk their own paths. Ragmár the end of his, and Sen the beginning. “Thank you, Ragmár. For being a friend to me when few others could.”

  Ragmár grinned. “Go get everything you’ve ever wanted, my friend. I’ll be rooting for you.”

  Sen and Mori stood within his temporal world, in the center of the red room. In front of them, the crystal floated. Sen stared at it. “Tutor, is everything in order?”

  [It is. I’m running final calculations now.]

  Sen nodded, staring at the butterfly trapped within the artifact that had started it all. He thought of what the future might hold; how many powerful magicians and warriors might he meet? Would he find rivals? Peers? Whatever the case, he wouldn’t know until he began. He closed his eyes one last time and looked up at the magical sun high above the complex web of all magical knowledge in the world. Soon, he’d reached out and grab it, but first. It was time to go to the future again.

  Ragmár (Updated)