Fang narrowed his eyes, still gripping the knife tightly. "What about the world?"
Isgram sighed, trying to steady himself as his burns ached with every heartbeat.
"The world we live in, boy. Do you think it's just dirt and trees and a bunch of pissed-off elves? "Nah, it's a graveyard with a fresh coat of dirt. Always has been.
The gods, now they're the actual players. We're their pawns."
Fang scoffed, his eyes not leaving Isgram's. "And what's that got to do with me? Or you, for that matter?"
"Everything," Isgram replied, stroking his beard with a sense of wonder. "You and I... we're Magistos. Chosen by the gods. Every few years, they pick a new batch.
Used to be, a god would handpick someone with the right soul, someone who matched their element. Fire, water, wind, earth... You get the idea. But then, well... the gods fucked up. They went to war."
Fang's brow furrowed, curiosity briefly overpowering his caution. "War? Gods fighting each other?"
Isgram nodded, his gaze distant. "Aye. Back then, I wasn't much more than a greenhorn myself. Lived and died in the mountains back on earth like you.
Then, one of those gods, the fire god Lehava, picked me as his chosen one. Gave me his blessing.
As it turns out, he wasn't too popular among the others. The gods bickered, fought, and tore this world apart. When the dust settled, they made a rule.
No more handpicking champions.
Now, the blessing goes to the person who best matches the god's essence. I got Fire as I was reincarnated a couple of years after the war, just before the new rules of the gods."
Fang shifted uncomfortably, processing the idea. "So... it's not about the gods choosing anymore. It's about fate picking someone who fits."
"More or less," Isgram grunted. "And it's why people like you and me end up with power we never asked for. I didn't choose to be a blazing torch just like you didn't choose to be... Whatever magic created that little rabbit."
Smoke looked in confusion as both of the mages looked at him, his head tilting to the side.
Isgram continued.
"But the gods see us as their representatives in this world. Ever since their war ended a decade or more ago, the world has been trying to restructure itself.
The gods threw all of the empires in this world into an economic crisis, and some races were even wiped..."
Fang glanced outside, where the fire's glow still flickered through the cave entrance. "So, why find me?"
Isgram gave a crooked, weary grin. "Because the world's about to get real messy. My god warned me a couple of days ago.
A new era is coming, and the Magistos are at the center of it.
You, me, and whoever else blessed with these powers. We're about to be dragged into something bigger than us.
Listen. I have been here for a couple of years now, I have been hiding after the entire war period as requested by my god.
I made sure to stay hidden till the aftermath storm has passed.
If he says I need to stop hiding, then there is a good reason for that."
Fang's eyes watched every move by the dwarf with caution, and yet he didn't see any reason for him to lie.
"So," Isgram said, coughing again but managing to hold Fang's gaze. "You gonna sit on your ass and keep on waiting for your death, or are you gonna figure out what kind of Magisto you're gonna be? Cause I ain't risking my life for some idiotic lad."
Fang didn't answer.
His grip on the knife loosened, and he threw it towards Isgram!
The knife wasn't sharp enough to kill, but nonetheless, it was scary enough to see it flying towards the wounded dwarf.
Another wound would be fatal.
Unable to move, he closed his eyes and prayed in his heart to his god.
His prayer was answered as the knife struck the rock above him, and then bounced back to the ground.
Isgram opened his eyes to see the young elven boy squatting, looking him straight in the eyes.
"If I told you I had a plan for the chosen ones, would you help?"
Isgram sighed, but his eyes widened soon after as he realized that the intent in Fang's voice was sincere.
'Is it possible this boy has a plan? Lehava didn't specify anything on the subject, only that the god who chose him was smart to choose him.'
Isgram coughed and straightened, his back leaning against the wall properly now.
"Tell me your plan, and I'll tell you my position.
I have lots to talk with you anyway."
Fang looked into Isgram's brown eyes, almost staring.
Seeing Isgram not wavering, he smiled at him.
"Good. This is a pleasant change.
Well, we do have a lot to discuss, especially the elves you talked about.
I need to go hunt. do I need to worry about those elves?"
Isgram chuckled, a dry, wheezing sound that turned into a cough. He spat to the side, then wiped his mouth with the back of his charred hand. "Worry? Always.
Elves are like taxes. Show up when you least want them, take more than you expect, and never really go away. Especially if you owe them something. like your life."
Isgram said, shifting to make himself more comfortable. "But it depends on the kind of elves.
You've got your courtly ones... Noble, polished, and uptight as hell.
Then you have the military ones, those who fought and fought hard in the recent wars.
Those will not let go till you drop dead, that is if they see you as a threat.
Which, unfortunately, they have."
Fang narrowed his eyes again, less suspicion this time, more curiosity.
"What do you mean? They see me as a threat? How the hell would they even know who I am?"
Isgram grunted and leaned back against the rock. "You think I've been rotting in this cave all this time? Nah. I've moved, watched, listened."
He coughed, then continued, voice hoarse.
"I hid, sure, but not like some coward. Kept my head low. Hood up, beard short, tongue quiet. No fire magic. No dwarven talk. I was a shadow."
Fang's heart went out to him, as he too knew loneliness on earth and here too.
"Spent years between borders. Winters near the Elven outskirts, summers deeper in dwarf territory. Wherever no one asked questions."
Fang stayed silent, eyes narrowed.
"People don't notice much. They're too busy starving or bleeding. But courts? Oh, they see everything. Their spies have sharper senses than wolves and more loyalty than kings."
He paused. His eyes turned cold.
"I heard them. In the markets, near the Elven capital. Whispers. Not rumors, but confirmed whispers.
New chosen ones have emerged.
Even the nobles looked pale."
Fang's breath caught in his throat.
"The gods' war shattered the balance. Another batch of god-touched walking the land? That terrifies them. And you? You're the worst of it."
Fang frowned. "Why me?"
Isgram stared him down.
"A scout came back from Highwood. Barely breathing. Said he saw something wrong. A boy, no older than sixteen, standing in the Forest of Death."
He let the words hang. Then dropped the bomb:
"Not alone. He stood with a god."
Fang didn't reply.
He stood still for a moment, then turned toward the mouth of the cave. His shadow flickered against the stone walls as he walked out, the night wind catching his cloak.
Smoke padded behind him, ears perked.
Isgram looked at his back and said loudly.
"I guess the rumors were true. To think one would see the gods themselves, what a rare sight. I only heard the voice of my god, nothing more.
So it's true. The gods aren't just picking champions anymore...They're showing up in person.This world's about to burn."
but then, a scream tore through the night.
high, human, and raw.