Carmack watched from above as rows of his clay golems were engaged by charging metal hulks. When the two armies met, the bladed arms of the enemy’s iron golems cut through his earthen sentries like hot metal through butter.
This was what the end of his centuries-old lineage was to look like. Cornered from all ends and descended upon by wealthier and better-equipped enemies.
He watched as a false floor fell out, sending dozens of iron golems hurtling to their doom. Not that it mattered. Charging at their backs were thousands of warriors donned in magical equipment, who leaped over the newly formed ravine and slammed into the ranks of his soldiers along their second line of defense.
It was hopeless. No number of traps would reverse what his enemies had put into motion. He was simply too outnumbered.
“If only these lands still contained iron ore… perhaps then I would have stood a chance.”
Staying his anger, Carmack just sighed. His ancestors had left him little in this desolate domain, but there was little point in holding grudges. They had done what they needed to during their reigns. He couldn’t blame them for that.
However, even under such hopeless conditions, he wasn’t about to just roll over and accept his fate. Raising a hand, he sent monstrous stone stakes falling from the cavern’s ceiling, but before they could crash into the enemy’s lines, they were halted and suspended mid-air.
It was the enemy geomancers.
One-on-one, Carmack was sure he could best them all. But having more resources and wealth wasn’t enough for his enemy. That bastard had formed an entire coalition through lies and manipulation to take him out.
“You coward, Gertheim. Tearing down all my hard work… I tirelessly slaved to rebuild the palace and city. Poured my resources into my army of clay golems just to watch them be destroyed before my eyes. It was all for naught. One day, I shall wring that stocky little gnome neck of yours!”
Gertheim was a local lord like himself, and a lover's spat had twisted him into a vile enemy. Beatrice. Carmack shivered. The hooked-nosed witch of a woman had taken a liking to him and had ended her engagement to Gertheim, sending the little man into a rage. Unfortunately, the gnome was sly with his words. And this was the result.
Worst still, Carmack had been so close to reviving his family’s name and power, but it seemed his enemies wouldn’t allow it.
They wanted the Steelhammer Dynasty—his dynasty—to remain broken.
He watched now as his men, armed with crude weapons, were cut down by magically endowed foes.
The battle had become a slaughter.
It is only fitting that a captain goes down with his ship. With that thought, Carmack climbed the ledge of the tower he was staring over and leaped down onto the battlefield below.
On impact, the ground rippled out like an earthquake, and spikes of stone shot out in every direction, impaling dozens of his enemies. In response, battle cries echoed out and soldiers from all around drew down on power from their magical items and special skills as they unleashed a wave of countering attacks.
Warriors charged from all around, but Carmack would not bend his knee. This was his final act of defiance, and he flung them away with magical beams of rock and stone spikes that shot outward.
However, no amount of power could stay the force of overwhelming numbers forever. Glowing blades and beams blasting out from weapons dissected flying rocks. Rippling shields flashed around attackers, nullifying attacks and spells shot back. Carmack raised his defenses, walls, and barriers of rock, blocking many of the attacks, but the condemning assault was too much. Gaps were found, and spells and skills cut lines across his body. Blood dripped from his lips, and pain lanced through his growing wounds.
Swarming around him, the bulk of the enemy army continued on to his palace fortress, bringing down the walls with help from the geomancers who still hid at the enemy’s rear.
“Coward bastards! Even in my final hour, you hide! And you, Gertheim, I know you’re out there! I’ll wring your flabby neck once I get a hold of you!”
Flicking his wrist, Carmack sent a wave of rock crashing through his attackers and killing several. But it was in vain. His enemy returned the favor a hundredfold. Rock skin and stone barriers arose once more to protect him from the onslaught, but the magical bombardment that crashed against his defenses was too much, cutting through his earthen armor in several places.
Even ants can overwhelm a titan with enough numbers, Carmack sighed internally as he felt his barriers wilt around him.
Stealing his attention from the battle, a strange sensation poked at him, and Carmack turned his senses inward. What could they possibly be planning now? Looking down at his hands and thick fingers—rough as a stone’s surface—he tried to understand the magic’s origin, and he summoned another stone barrier to keep out the external attacks.
Where is this attack coming from?
Streams of purple magic bound themselves around his arms. “A summoning?” Carmack’s brow bent, forming deep creases between his eyes. “This power is not of this world... was beating me not enough? Have my enemies cursed me to a prison in some other world as a final insult?”
He could feel the spell binding itself to him. The magic was primitive, but its casters had sacrificed enough to see it through, and breaking it would be no easy task.
Carmack grunted and channeled his remaining mana into the magical bindings that attempted to hold him, hoping to brute force himself free. But it was hopeless; such simple methods would not work against a spell of such magnitude.
He cast one last look at his enemies, his crumbling fortress, and broken army as the magic pulled him from this world and into another. Reality warped around him, pulling colors and swirling them into a portal that dragged his very soul into its depths.
No power could save him now, and his body twisted, turned, and healed as magic dragged him across distances unimaginable.
The stone chamber pulsed with magic as priestesses of unmatched beauty chanted, their melodic voices soothing and almost ethereal. Channeling the magic that flowed past the priestesses, warlocks dressed in red robes held their hands high as ribbons of power flowed from them and into the communal spell.
Toward the rear of the chamber, spell scribes carefully watched their inscriptions, marking them anew wherever errant magic dared to disturb the formation.
A pile of magical artifacts at the chamber’s center hummed with power as the magical energies within were permanently drawn from them and cast up into the communal spell forming.
Armored guards stood watch at the edge of the cavernous chamber, their gazes vigilant, ensuring no external disturbances—this was a spell that could only be cast once.
Drawing itself before the cohort of magical casters, a pentagram of glowing, purple flames lit up, and a swirling portal appeared at its heart. The portal bulged and shook, then unceremoniously spat out a form that rolled across the hard earth before promptly disappearing with a—
*Plop*
Stats and levels are not compatible with the host world. No established conversion rate was found on record.
Class unavailable…
Error!
Error!
Error!
No Compatible Class Available!
Estimating stats and level conversion rate…
Converting at an ad-hoc rate…
Gasping for air, Carmack groaned as he came to a halt and felt the chill of a damp chamber and cold stone beneath his hands. Pushing up to his knees, he steadied his spinning stomach.
“That sucked,” he muttered as he gathered himself, gradually raising his head to stare around the hazily lit chamber. “What bastard put you up to this? Was it Gertheim? I’ll string that little cherry pie-obsessed gnome up once I get back to Avalock!”
Carmack wanted to get to his feet and teach the person who summoned him here a lesson, but he was overcome by a draining sensation that left him heavy and shaky.
“Apologies, off-worlder, but It was I, High Priest Managra,” an elderly man in fine silver robes sparkling with luminescent gems declared. Falling to his knees before Carmack and kowtowing. “I led my people in this act. I beg of you, have mercy on us, for this was an act cast in the most desperate of times.”
The old man’s pleas carried power. It was probably magic, Carmack realized, but nonetheless, he believed him. There was no doubt in his mind that this old man was sincere.
These people don’t work for that bastard Gertheim, do they? Wait, if I’m no longer on Avalock, how do I understand them?
The old priest saw the befuddled expression twisting its way across Carmack’s face. “I see you are confused. That’s to be expected.”
“How is it that I can understand your words?”
“Ahh, so that is what troubles you. It’s the spell’s blessing. Comprehension of our world’s languages is one of the gifts it bestows on the summoned. Please, we can go over this in time. For now, we desperately need your help to escape.”
Hmph, novel. It should at least make my stay here easier… at least until I can return to Avalock and send my fist through Gertheim’s ugly face. Wait… what were those system messages when I first appeared here?
Carmack got a bad feeling as he opened his status page.
Huh? What nonsense is this? Level 3??? And those stats… I haven’t had stats like this since I was a child.
At least he still had his Traits, Carmack realized, including a new one, seemingly thanks to their spell.
“Excuse me, hero. I didn't mean to trouble you. If you wish to talk in detail about this, I can spare the time,” the High Priest said, interrupting his thoughts as he read Carmack’s worry.
“It’s… it doesn't matter.” Internally grimacing, Carmack put aside his newly recalibrated stats and levels. He needed to learn more about this place… this world. “What makes you so desperate to summon me?” He added, turning his gaze from the wrinkled and white-haired man, he cast it upon the hundreds of others clustered around them in the damp chamber.
There were women who wore braided hair and faces of perfect beauty, gowned in white robes that hung loosely from their frames. Behind them were cowled men in dark, red robes, potions hanging from their belts, and staffs in their gaunt hands. To their sides were simpler-looking men and women alike. They wore robes as well, but of various colors, and held piles of scrolls bunched up under their arms and special holsters for quills and ink wells on their belts. And at the very rear of the chamber were men dressed in a weave of chain and plate metal armor, swords at their sides and spears in their hands.
“Our city, once great and prosperous, has been brought to ruin by demonic hordes that plague our world. We hide here now with those who escaped our enemy's wrath, deep below our city in ancient, in cavernous tunnels meant for hiding during siege. It was all we could do to survive. But we cannot remain down here. Our food dwindles, and our people grow weak. With the last of our magical relics, we sought hope in desperation and chose to summon a worthy hero who could help win back our city for us.”
Stuck down here? The thought was amusing to Carmack. He could sense pathways through the earth in all directions. Perhaps their enemies blocked those pathways? No, that wasn’t it. None of these people had an affinity for earth, he could feel it.
Deep below? Carmack thought as he replayed the old man’s words.
“Wait, this great city of yours was up there? On the surface?”
“Ahh—yes,” Managra hesitantly nodded. “Like all great cities. That was until the demons. It is naught but ruins now.”
The people of this world live above the surface, but the expanse of their underground is vast… how could this be?
Even weakened and robbed of his levels, an archgeomancer such as Carmack could glean all kinds of information from the earth around him.
But they don’t want to live underground, do they? They want to return to their surface. What a pity.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t something he could help them with. Somehow, power felt different in this world, but even from a cursory glance, he knew he could not defeat all who stood in this chamber alone. He could sense that even the old man was more powerful than he was now. What good could he achieve if these people could not overcome this demonic threat themselves?
It is probably wise for me to hide my aura. If these people realize I am as weakened as I am, they might not be so welcoming. Then again, I doubt I can fool them entirely. Based on the power I feel radiating from him, the old man should have already figured out as much.
“I am sorry, High Priest, but your faith was misplaced. Your summoning spell has weakened me greatly, and even had it not, I am no one-man army. If this is your last hope, I’m afraid your city is lost.”
Carmack wasn’t about to share every detail, but he didn't want to start on a lie. Besides, he sensed no harm directed at him and certainly wasn’t going to face a demonic army alone.
Whispers echoed throughout the chamber, threatening to dislodge the peace, but were tempered as the old man raised a shaky hand and stood to his feet.
“I respect your honesty, hero,” High Priest Managra bowed his head. “But this spell is not mistaken. It is a holy vestige of the church itself. It is designed to seek out he who would best aid us in our time of need. Our people’s greatest trump card. If the spell found you, then there must be a reason for its decision. Such ancient magic is not so easily fooled or misled. Even if we can’t reclaim our city, perhaps you can help us in another way. Please, save us before our rations are exhausted and our people starve in this cavernous prison.”
Carmack eyed the old man for a moment. His weary, sunken eyes were determined far more than they should be for a man his age. The old man believed every word he said. With a grunt, Carmack turned his gaze to the underground cavern around them.
They really are stuck here, aren’t they? Even with all the opportunities at their fingertips… Carmack’s thoughts trailed off. There was only one possibility that made sense.
“Wait, are none of you geomancers?”
“Huh, geomancer?” High Priest Managra muttered. “What do you mean?”
No… don’t tell me they don’t even know what geomancy is in this world?
Everything was starting to make sense. Maybe their special spell hadn’t led them astray, he realized. In Avalock—his old world—magical studies revolved almost entirely around geomancy. Since the surface had long become inhospitable, they had become the masters of the underground.
Now, he found himself underground once more, save in a distant world where the people lacked the ability to properly exploit it.
Even if I am greatly weakened, I have a great opportunity if I am this world’s only geomancer. They have lost their city, but perhaps I can lead them to a new, better one.
Carmack turned his hand over, ignoring the locked attention of hundreds around him. His spell list appeared.
It has everything! He sighed in relief. Despite being only level 3, he could still cast geomancy spells from all twelve circles, as long as he had the mana to do so—which he didn’t, currently.
This… this is something I can work with.
“So, these underground chambers lead nowhere, and you’re stuck in here?” Carmack cleared his throat as he refocused on the situation, breaking the tense silence that had formed.
“Exactly,” Managra slumped. “The only way out is through tunnels above, which we escaped through, and the demons will surely slaughter us if we attempt that. It is believed that an eon ago, these caverns connected to the Undercavern, an expansive network of caves and tunnels that stretch across much of our world. But no such passageway has been found in the weeks since we escaped down here, and my men have scoured every inch.”
“I see,” Carmack scratched his broad chin. “Am I free to walk these chambers?”
“Absolutely,” Managra nodded furiously and snapped his fingers. “Captain, escort our hero wherever he wishes,” he bellowed with lungs far stronger than they should be for his age.
Hurrying from the outer edges of the cavern, a grizzled, hard-looking man with a thick brown beard bowed before the High Priest, several guardsmen in tow. Unlike the others, his armor was full plate, and he carried a sword as tall as himself across his back.
“Yes, my lord,” the captain said, raising his head and turning to Carmack. “Lead on, hero. Your protection is our duty, and I shall answer any questions you may have to the best of my ability.”
“Right,” Carmack nodded and strolled over to the cavern's walls. The people around him parted as he neared, many dropping to their knees and offering prayers. “Let’s find a way out of here.”
Placing an open palm against the cold stone, Carmack closed his eyes and channeled mana into the rock. It was solid, unpenetrable, and far too thick for what he had in mind, but his mana found pathway elsewhere.
Carmack began to walk, his mana in tune with the earth around him. People gawked, trying to make sense of his actions, but he provided no further explanation.
His mana led him out from the massive cavern he had been summoned into, through a stone corridor, and into an even larger one. Thousands of people lay prostrated across the massive cavern. But as he walked out, they rose from the floor, and gasps flooded the crowd, reaching a crescendo. Still, they dared not speak words above hushed murmurs.
Carmack ignored them all, and the guardsmen formed a human wall between him and the people. However, it didn’t seem necessary as they simply watched with undivided attention.
He followed his mana, fingers tracing the stone wall as he walked. The cavern must have been hundreds of acres, and while the tunnels mightn’t have led anywhere, dozens of them were dotted along its walls.
Soon, between sentries of stalagmites, Carmack turned his attention down one of these tunnels.
His mana pulsed through the earth, at one with the rock. It told him the way and could direct him even in the lowest of light. And his eyes—trained for darkness—could pierce through impenetrable shadow.
As Carmack stepped into the tunnel, the guardsmen at his rear glanced confusedly at one another as he disappeared into the darkness.
“Hurry on then, men. Follow the hero!” The captain ordered, and one of his men, bearing a torch, led the way.
The tunnel ebbed, sometimes barely wide enough for Carmack’s broad shoulders at some points and at other times wide enough for several men to stand abreast.
Ravines that disappeared into impenetrable darkness bordered the path at times, and at others, steamy vents spewed forth volcanic heat.
The man leading Carmack walked with a creased brow, clearly uncertain of his supposed hero. He assumed the man was some kind of scout and had likely walked this tunnel already and was sure of its ending. However, Carmack trusted his mana.
However, the scout’s doubtful gaze was turned upside down as they reached a crumbling rock ledge. With a wave of his hand, the rock moved beneath Carmack’s magical command, widening and strengthening the path.
“What was that skill?” The guard muttered in disbelief.
“Just basic geomancy,” Carmack shrugged.
Continuing forward, the damp air was thick with the scent of sulfur, and its yellow veins stained the rock ahead.
“Here,” Carmack said, halting at the solid rock wall. “I suspect great mana was cast into the ground here many eons ago. Powerful mana left to soak in stone for generations can find anchor and breed consciousness.”
The man beside Carmack raised a brow. The others were still winding through the passage at their rear, and he was not sure if the other-worlder’s words were for him or just spoken aloud for himself.
“But you’re only an infant, aren’t you?” Carmack said, tenderly stroking the wall of sulfur and gray rock. “Not yet capable of walking or moving. Let me help you with that.”
Closing his eyes, Carmack carefully directed his mana into the partially developed core deep within the rock. By elemental standards, it was an infant, but its core had been cultivating in hibernation for centuries already.
The core of concentrated mana within the stone flickered and brightened as Carmack’s mana flooded into it. He could not create such magnificent things with his mana alone, but with a core and enough mana, it was a different story.
Luckily, it was so close already. Carmack panted, his mana almost exhausted.
Stone groaned, and debris loosened, sending the man to his left and those who had caught up to his right staggering backward and raising their guards.
“There you are,” Carmack said tenderly as the very rock before him crumbled and began to move. “Take your first steps carefully, young one.”
Rocks and stones loosened as the passage began to move, and tiny avalanches fell toward Carmack but harmlessly passed to his sides as if consciously avoiding him.
Earth Elemental Awoken!
Bonus experience rewarded for completing a task far beyond your level!
Calculating Experience…
Ding!
Level 4 Achieved!
Oh, that’s handy. Carmack hadn’t exactly expected the notification, but he wasn’t surprised either. He had used his affinity to awaken the construct, and at least on Avalock, affinities were gained at only the highest levels when someone became truly at one with their power. And it was certainly not a feat a level 3 should have been capable of.
His brow perked as three spendable stat points appeared on his status page. “This… this is different…”
On Avalock, stat gains from a single level began at 10 points and could increase to as much as a hundred.
Perhaps my stats are not as bad as they appear. I must to consult these people on the matter when I get the chance.
Still, stats were stats, and Carmack knew exactly what he wanted to spend them on. The three free stat points went straight into Mental, increasing his mana by 15.
If I can continue to gain levels this quickly, increasing my mana pool shouldn’t take too long.
He already had the spells available to him. With enough mana, Carmack could rebuild his golem army and subterranean fortress on this world. But unlike Avalock, there would be no threat from jealous and manipulative geomancers.
Stealing his attention back from his musings, the rock began to jerk to life and pulled itself free from the passage. The earth elemental climbed to its feet and turned its gaze down at Carmack.
The guards at his back gasped as they laid eyes on the walking stone giant. It must have stood at least eight feet tall, and glowing yellow dots formed at what appeared to be a head of rock atop its humanoid body.
“Greetings, I am Carmack.”
The stone figure stood silently for a moment, followed by a low, unintelligible grumble of grinding stone.
“Tark, is it? My pleasure,” Carmack flurried his hands in a half-bow. “May I and my people pass through here, Tark?”
Again, the figure of rock stood silently for a long moment before the sound of grinding stone traveled through the air.
“If you wish,” Carmack nodded.
“What is going on, hero?” The guard captain stammered in disbelief at his side.
“This earth elemental wishes to serve me in repayment for awakening it,” Carmack said matter-of-factly and began to walk into the corridor cleared by the elemental as it stepped aside.
The guardsmen shared a hesitant glance but then followed after. As they entered with their torches, an inkling of the next cavern’s grandness was revealed.
In the distance, greens, purples, and blues glowed, dotted across an expanse that seemed to travel for miles.
“It’s–it’s huge,” the captain stammered.
“This must be your world’s Undercavern, or at least a part of it,” Carmack said. “I shall walk ahead. Order your people to collect their belongings and follow through this tunnel.”
“What of the High Priest? He’ll want to know what’s happening.”
“Send him through. I’ll be here,” Carmack replied, already walking off into the darkness.
He might have lost much of his power, but he was still an archgeomancer of Avalock, and he could feel the earth around him speaking back. His mana directed him on, deep into the darkness of the Undercavern. He asked it to find them purchase in this new world, somewhere he could lead these desperate people. Somewhere, they could make a home of their own.
His mana beckoned him forth, deep into the cavern. He could feel that it had found something. Something worthy of them.
Halting, he concentrated. Sensing and getting a feel for where his mana directed him before turning back.
He needed to wait for the others to be their shepherd. But his purpose for this was not entirely philanthropic. The opportunity presented to him was clear—an entire underground world without a single geomancer to compete with.
Even weakened, this was his biome, as were the clouds to the aeromancers and the seas to the aquamancers. In Avalock, he was just another master geomancer. A lord in his own land, and without a doubt powerful, but not unrivaled.
Even if the greatest powers of this world resided above the surface and had magic equal to what could be found on Avalock, that still left vast tracks of land to be claimed. Though he doubted it would be that easy. Where life could be sustained, powers formed, and there would no doubt be competitors to deal with in this underground world.
Perhaps, in this world, I can be more than a regional lord… a king, maybe, or even an emperor?
A smile tugged at the corner of Carmack’s lips as he considered the possibilities.
That old man was right. The summoning spell wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing.
A world to bend and carve to my liking—how fate smiles upon me.
