PART FIVE
He considered it spitefully and carefully. If this Sorceress—this Louisa—would tell him to drop the sphere, he was not going to obey her. He had this Mistress's words on his side. There was no turning back. He will push on with his choice, no matter where it would lead him. He will show to them all that he will conquer this sphere—and force it to give him the power he seeks.
When he touched the Dark Sorcerer he felt what it could be like. All that power and energy in the palm of your hands. He felt it, the essence of Cosmic Energy, he'd felt it at that brief moment in which he touched the hems of the Sorcerer's robes. He wanted that kind of power. He wanted it. And he wasn't giving up until he can wield it, feel it coursing in his body—rushing in every fiber of his being.
And he will be the second Dark Sorcerer that Midgard will know…
The city of Daema was a week's journey from where he met the Dark Sorcerer. He was going on this journey…not because he wanted to—but because he simply had to. Will he feel the same aura if he touches the robes of Louisa? Will he feel the same quantity of energy? Will the Sorceress have the same kind of power—so strong that he could almost smell it?
But he was torn…he never had unity of thought ever since this sphere came to him. Always a part of him wanted to stop before it was too late—and another part wanted him to push on. It was like having a second head inside your body—a second head that hasn't popped out of your skin just as yet.
Corruption…insanity…no sense of self…madness…existence as a lifeless puppet devoid of soul…
If the Dark Sorcerer triumphed over these things then surely, he can too. He will show the Dark Sorcerer…that he wasn't the only one who can conquer the black sphere…he'd show him…for sure…
He stopped on his tracks and looked up with awe. A High Priest in his entire splendor was walking down the deserted country road; a gleaming Solar God Helm perched atop his layered blue locks. The High Priest was whistling the Pronteran Hymn as he went, hands in his pockets. The high-level cleric noticed him gawping stupidly, and stopped walking.
"I'm sorry…so rude of me…forgive me…" he mumbled and with great effort clamped his jaws together. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to gape at you like that…"
The High Priest did not answer. Instead the man just smiled and walked up to him, reaching out godlike hands. He felt himself retreat—but the High Priest's warm and soft hands found his cold and dusty cheeks.
"Recover Life Essence…" the High Priest whispered softly.
A delightful feeling of vigor, strenght, warmth and fullness swept through him. He felt the color returning to his cheeks. He…felt…happy…
The High Priest let go and surveyed him with a smile. "May the Lord our God bless you, my son. I see hard times for you…very hard indeed. You take care of yourself now, all right?"
The cleric went on his way. He seemed to struggle with himself, but—
"Father!" he called out. "Father, please—can you Warp me to the city of Daema?!"
Daema, city of Valkyries, was probably one of Midgard's high-level places. It was a city in which all the powerful could be seen. It was here he found the long-lost legends—the Warriors who have left Schwarzwald when they had been accepted to the third job class. High Priests, Champions, Creators, Professors, Whitesmiths, Lord Knights, Paladins, Stalkers, Assassin Cross, Snipers—they were all here.
He felt small and insignificant as he walked the paved streets. Heads turned to see him wherever he went, and his ears caught the sound of whispers. Were they wondering who he was; what he was doing here? He suddenly wished he had a hat to hide his face.
He'd found a nice café and bought himself some food. He was busy wolfing down his buttered toast when the back of his neck prickled all of a sudden. He immediately sensed the presence of a tremendous power in the vicinity.
Could it be…her…?
He stood up and looked wildly around. There, standing some ten feet away from him, dressed in the familiar garment of female Wizards was Louisa de Chardin herself. She was looking at him, a mysterious smile on her lips.