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Spaniard: Journey to the light

  Frankfield had left the town, but as he moved through the forest, he sensed something behind him. Without turning around, he fired a beam of light over his shoulder.

  A pained scream followed.

  "Juan?" Frankfield spun around, eyes wide in shock. "Why are you following me? I told you this isn't your fight."

  Juan clutched his side, grimacing. "The only way I'll get better is by facing life-or-death situations... and I can definitely help your nation with that." He paused, catching his breath. "I heard the rumors, Glux'n is hiring anyone willing to fight against the Tzae-Vaan. That's why I'm here."

  Frankfield's expression darkened. "My nation did that? How inglorious... Vaelar must be truly desperate to win this war." He sighed, then pointed a finger at Juan.

  "Fine. If you want to come with me, I'll teach you, but the hard way. Starvation is going to be your friend. You'll need to learn how to hunt, how to tell which plants are safe to eat and which ones will kill you. It won't be like your cushy home."

  Juan grinned, still clutching his injured arm. "Sounds like fun."

  The journey to Glux'n stretched before Juan and Frankfield like an endless tapestry of wonder and danger. For Juan, who had spent most of his time in human cities surrounded by the familiar clang of industry and the stench of overcrowded streets, the unearthly terrain they crossed was almost overwhelming.

  The first few weeks of travel took them through thick forests where towering trees with glowing veins pulsed faintly in the darkness. At night, Juan would stare up at the canopies, watching the bioluminescent leaves shimmer like a sea of stars above him. The creatures here were unlike anything he had ever seen, beasts with multiple eyes and limbs that shimmered between realities, enormous birds whose songs echoed like bells, and rivers that seemed to change their course whenever they pleased.

  "What kind of place is this?" Juan muttered under his breath, stepping cautiously over a root that slithered away like a living thing.

  Frankfield chuckled, walking ahead with the ease of someone who had seen it all before. "We are far from your world, Juan. This land is old, untouched by most human hands. Magic is woven into its very fabric."

  Over the course of five months, Juan and Frankfield encountered many different beings, some friendly, others less so. The first time Juan laid eyes on the beastmen, he nearly mistook them for demons. Towering, muscular creatures with fur-covered bodies and the traits of various animals, they moved with a feral grace, speaking in a guttural yet strangely elegant language. Yet, despite their fearsome appearances, the beastmen were skilled traders and surprisingly hospitable. They shared food, told stories, and even taught Juan a few words of their dialect.

  Then came the gnomes, small folk who lived underground in cities built into the roots of ancient trees. They were master craftsmen, their hands working tirelessly to create intricate machinery powered by both magic and steam. Juan spent days marveling at their ingenuity, watching as they built devices he couldn't even begin to understand.

  They passed through several cities, each one more astonishing than the last. In the great floating city of Lumis, glass towers hung suspended in the sky, connected by bridges of pure light. In the underground fortress of Durvok, Juan watched as dwarves shaped molten metal with their bare hands, their bodies resistant to heat. He even met a talking owl in the city of Verdonia, who claimed to be the chief librarian of the world's oldest archive.

  Frankfield insisted that they take on chores in these cities, calling it "earning their keep." In reality, it was training. Juan found himself hauling supplies up mountain trails, repairing enchanted artifacts under the supervision of gnome engineers, and even chopping wood under the watchful eyes of beastmen warriors. Each task, however mundane, pushed his limits. When he asked Frankfield why they couldn't just use magic, the elf merely smirked and said, "Because one day, you won't be able to rely on it."

  Food was another challenge. Frankfield refused to let Juan buy meals, insisting that he learn to hunt and forage. Tracking prey through the wilds, identifying edible plants, setting traps, these were all things Juan struggled with at first. But after weeks of failure, bruises, and near starvation, he improved. He learned the patience of the hunt, the way to move without a sound, how to sense the presence of creatures nearby.

  Juan had begun to adapt to this strange world when the true test of his journey appeared

  A dragon.

  It was on the 89th day of their journey when the attack came. The sky darkened as a shadow swept over them, followed by a deafening roar that shook the very ground. Juan barely had time to draw his barrier before the dragon descended in a storm of fire and fury.

  Its scales were a deep obsidian, eyes burning with a malevolent golden glow. Wings spanned wider than a galleon's sails, and its breath was hot enough to turn the stone beneath them to molten slag.

  Juan readied himself, but Frankfield placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is your fight," he said simply.

  Juan's stomach twisted. "Eh?.. you're joking."

  Frankfield stepped back, arms crossed. "No. Let's see what you've learned."

  Juan barely had time to argue before the dragon struck. A wave of fire cascaded toward him. Instinct took over, and a shield erupted around his body. The flames crashed against it, but not a single ember touched him.

  The dragon roared in frustration and lunged, its massive claws slashing down. Juan twisted, forming a barrier at an angle, using the force of the attack to slide backward rather than take the full impact. His mind raced. He could defend against this thing all day, but he had no way to win.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Then a thought struck him. If I can trap it inside my barrier...

  It was just a theory, an impossible idea. He had never tried something like this before. But it was the only chance he had.

  Juan raised his hands, weaving his magic to form an enormous dome around the beast. The dragon roared and thrashed, slamming against the barriers. Juan grit his teeth, straining to hold the shield steady.

  Now comes the hard part.

  Transformation magic was not something he had ever practiced, but he had seen others use it. Theoretically, if he could shrink the dragon within the confines of his shield, he could neutralize the threat.

  He took a deep breath, placing his index finger above his eye and his thumb below it, focusing his mana through this narrow lens. He willed the magic to compress, to shrink, to bend the very space within the barrier.

  For a brief moment, he felt it, power unlike anything before. The dragon's massive body shimmered, its form beginning to collapse inward.

  And then, kaboom.

  The force of the spell shattered his concentration, sending Juan sprawling. The dragon, now free, wasted no time in attacking. It reared back, ready to unleash another storm of fire.

  Frankfield sighed. "Enough."

  A single beam of light shot from his palm, piercing the dragon's skull. It collapsed instantly.

  Juan groaned, pushing himself up. "Damn it..."

  Frankfield approached, looking at Juan with an expression somewhere between amusement and approval. "That was impressive."

  Juan scowled. "I failed."

  "You think so? You contained a dragon for nearly half an hour. That's more than any mage in history has ever done."

  Juan blinked. "... Huh."

  Frankfield smirked. "Maybe shield magic is only called the weakest because no one understands its potential."

  Juan thought about that as they continued their journey. A few weeks later, they stood at the gates of Glux'n. Massive, golden walls stretched before them, gleaming under the twin suns. The air was thick with tension, soldiers marching, banners waving. The war was close.

  As Juan and Frankfield stepped through the massive golden gates of Glux'n, the very air felt different. It was warm, not in the way of the sun's embrace, but like standing near a forge, as if the city itself radiated heat. Juan looked around in awe. The architecture was nothing like the cities of men, golden towers gleamed under the twin suns, each structure carved with intricate symbols that pulsed faintly with light. Bridges of shimmering crystal connected high platforms, and canals ran through the streets.

  "We made it just in time, Juan," Frankfield said.

  The people were just as striking. Solar Elves, their yellowish-cream skin glowing faintly in the sunlight, walked the streets in flowing garments of white and gold. Their eyes, shades of deep blue or radiant amber, flickered with curiosity as they observed the new arrivals. But Juan and Frankfield were not the only ones to receive their scrutiny.

  The streets were abuzz with rumors and whispers. Juan caught snippets of conversation as they walked past the bustling crowds.

  "Necromancers... in Glux'n? The king must be truly desperate."

  "They reek of death. I heard one of them brought a whole graveyard to life just to prove a point."

  "And the Jinns... do they serve willingly, or are they bound?"

  Juan turned his head, and sure enough, among the new arrivals were several robed figures draped in deep black, their skeletal staffs clanking against the golden stone as they walked. The necromancers moved in silence, their faces hidden beneath cowls, but the air around them was cold, clashing against the city's warmth. Beside them, ethereal beings with swirling smoke-like bodies floated just above the ground, Jinns, beings of magic and fire, their eyes glowing like embers.

  Frankfield exhaled sharply. "The king must have paid them a fortune to get them here. Necromancers don't fight wars unless there's something worth raising the dead for."

  Juan swallowed hard. "So, what? Glux'n is just hiring anyone willing to kill?"

  Frankfield's expression darkened. "Glux'n has a reputation. They don't lose wars. And they don't care how they win them."

  As they moved further into the city, Juan noticed even more warriors gathered from distant lands. Human champions clad in silver armor, their capes embroidered with noble crests. Hulking beastmen wielding weapons too massive for any human to lift. Dwarves covered in soot, their war hammers crackling with runes. There were even shadowy figures cloaked in darkness, assassins from lands unknown. The mercenaries had all come for the same reason. wealth, glory, and bloodshed.

  A royal convoy, clad in golden armor and bearing the sigil of Glux'n, a radiant sun with a sword, it arrived to escort them. The streets were cleared as the warriors were led toward the heart of the city, The royal palace.

  The palace was a grand structure of gold stone and white marble, its domed ceiling enchanted to resemble a sky ablaze with golden light. Hundreds of warriors, mages, and mercenaries filled the space, murmuring among themselves as they awaited the king's arrival.

  Juan's eyes scanned the room. Some of the warriors looked eager, others indifferent. The necromancers stood in the shadows, their glowing eyes barely visible beneath their hoods. The Jinns hovered near the massive braziers lining the hall, their fiery forms flickering in the light.

  Then, the grand doors swung open, and a hush fell over the crowd.

  King Vaelar Sunstrike entered, his presence commanding. He was tall, even for a Solar Elf, his golden-blonde hair woven into intricate braids. His blue eyes shone like the sky at midday, and his armor, a masterpiece of solarite and enchanted mithril that seemed to glow from within. Draped in a cloak embroidered with unearthly patterns, he exuded both regality and power.

  Beside him, high-ranking officials and battle-scarred generals took their places. A herald stepped forward, unrolling a scroll.

  "Warriors of distant lands! You have come to Glux'n at its time of greatest need! Our kingdom, the beacon of the sun's light, stands threatened by the Tzae-Vaan, the wretched warlords of the east! They seek to steal our sacred metal, our solarite, to forge weapons that will challenge even the gods!"

  Murmurs rippled through the hall. The Tzae-Vaan were infamous. A brutal people, known for their unrelenting tactics and insatiable hunger for power. They had waged war against many nations, leaving only ruin in their wake.

  King Vaelar raised a hand, silencing the whispers. "Glux'n has never lost a war. And we do not intend to start now. We have gathered the greatest warriors, mages, and champions to ensure our victory! And to those who fight in our name, we offer rewards beyond imagination."

  He motioned toward an attendant, who stepped forward with another scroll.

  "The warrior with the most confirmed kills shall be granted treasures beyond measure! Five dragons weight in solarite! Two hundred trolls weight in mythril! More gold than any man can count! Statues shall be built in their honor! And... as many concubines as they desire!"

  The room erupted into cheers, jeers, and laughter. Some warriors clapped in excitement, others simply smirked, knowing exactly what kind of battlefield this would become.

  Juan frowned. "A la mierda! this is... a game to them?"

  Frankfield crossed his arms. "A bloody, profitable game."

  Juan exhaled sharply. It made him sick. Glux'n was hiring killers, not warriors. They didn't care about honor or justice.

  Only victory.

  The king's voice boomed again. "Now, feast and prepare! The war begins soon!"

  As the warriors dispersed, Juan turned to Frankfield. "Sooo where are we staying?"

  Frankfield stretched. "Let's find an inn. I need a drink, and you need rest."

  As they walked through the streets of Glux'n, the golden city bathed in the glow of its twin suns, Juan couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

  And that he was walking into something far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

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