RE:volt! Chapter 36: The World That Moved On.

  Sitting underneath the moonlight, Ark opened the dirt-covered book he held in his hands, reading the title over and over again.

  Rise of Emperor Roland: Formation of the Holy Nation.

  The title made Ark sick. In his past life, Roland was just the prince of a fledgling nation, a kingdom that bordered the sea and had been laid to ruin by the dragon’s assault. The only survivor, Roland was a prince of no nation who bore the burden of leading a camp of refugees to safety when he had run into Liana and Ark busy defending their monastery from a flight of wyverns.

  A chill ran down Ark’s spine as he remembered the day the head priest and the rest of the clergy had abandoned the church. The religious site, built atop a mine where dozens of slaves worked day and night mining gold for the church to export.

  Branded, they were called, each slave serving the church given a magical brand that denoted their debt that needed to be repaid.

  As a child, Ark had been sold into slavery to cover the debts of his parents that had been bought by the Church. Ark could barely remember his life before servitude, being somewhere between four to five years old before he began his training.

  Ark was but a simple combat thrall at the time, a servant charged with protecting Liana despite her protests of wanting nothing to do with slaves. When the leaders of the monastery fled, taking with them their Dearlings, food, and riches, Liana stayed behind, vowing to protect the people who had nothing but pickaxes to defend themselves.

  And then Roland arrived.

  He was charismatic, brought weapons, and soldiers, instructed Liana and the others on how to fight wyverns and win. Despite his demeanor and attitude, for the battered and hopeless men, women, and children of the mines, Roland became a beacon of hope, a beacon that was only overshadowed by Ark’s prowess in battle.

  The battle that ensued wasn’t Ark’s first taste of hell, wasn’t his first time dealing with wyverns, however it was his first time commanding. Like a mad dog let loose, Ark butchered the invading swarm with claymore in hand. However, despite his best efforts, people died. Lots of people.

  At the end of the day, all that remained of the once prestigious monastery was a smoldering ruin of marble and melted gold. Its stores plundered, its walls laid low. The only thing that kept the survivors from falling into despair during those trying terms was Liana, the priestess absolving those who remained of their debts and vowing to free those bound in chains.

  Ark took a breath. It was the same day she had promised him freedom.

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  The dragons had to be stopped, she told him. That even though the Church had lost its way it didn’t mean that the suffering of the people could be ignored. She wanted to change things from the inside, gather followers and influence, rid the world of Branded and end the exploitation perpetuated by the Church on abled bodied men and women who could stand up against the dragon threat.

  At the time, Ark didn’t care. His purpose was to serve, to fight, to die at her behest. Yet as time passed, he began to shed his cold-bloodedness and indulge in the warmth that was Liana.

  That was nearly a lifetime ago, her dreams never coming to pass with slavery instituted far and wide beyond the church it seemed.

  Ark reread the title of the book. The answers he wanted, just a simple page turn away. Finally, after sitting there on the roof of his barracks for what felt like an eternity with his jaw clenching and unclenching, Ark readied himself before finally opening the tome.

  “The story of our Holy Emperor…”

  ****

  Day began to break before Ark finally lifted his tired eyes from the book, his jaw dropped at what he had read.

  Things were… bad.

  What was their continent of Riszellia was split up into a multitude of nations. The biggest of course being the Holy Imperium. A country ruled by the self-proclaimed emperor of mankind, a nation that engulfed more than half of the central continent and was locked into a never ending war with the other countries.

  Armestris to the North, Faringar to the South, Versii to the east, and to the west, the World scar.

  Once former allies the giants were now enemies of mankind.

  The World Tree was tainted with the elves who had given Xon Gae Bolg and had taught Jasper Magic, removed from the world.

  And now slavery was widespread and the norm across the entire Holy Imperium comprised of six great houses that worshiped Roland as a god.

  But What perhaps raised the most red flags for not only Ark but Irelix, was that Roland was described as a golden scaled god. A being who had shed the limitations of mortals and attained the dragon’s gifts when he had slayed Irelix. Usurping her position as Dragon and obtaining the peak of martial and magical might.

  As for the rest of the “heroes”, Jasper had established the Mage’s Circle, an organization dedicated to unraveling the secrets of the world from The Grand Belfry of Manos off the coast of the continent.

  Stya had founded her own nation, Armestris, the ice empress creating an icy tundra inhospitable to all living things with the noble purpose of protecting the continent from the Ice Wyrms that lay dormant under the ice.

  And as for Xon, he had become Roland’s chief general, the man’s executioner, The Knight of One the book described him whose purpose had become to lead the armies of man.

  Ark grimaced as he buried the book back beneath the tree, his mind in turmoil as he pondered the ramifications of his hit list. According to the book and the used calendar he had previously obtained from Ninety-nine, Ark was able to surmise that nearly a hundred years had passed since his betrayal and subsequent death at Roland’s hands.

  A hundred years, where the world moved on after his death and the fall of Irelix.

  For most, revenge would have been outside of their grasp, but for Ark… Mana users possessed elevated lifespans, meaning that while the world had changed with many of things Ark was familiar with being lost to the annals of time, his betrayers weren’t. There was a strong possibility that they were still alive.

  “A hundred years to get stronger…” Ark muttered as he walked climbed back into his barracks, laying back down as the other children began to wake up.