The cave was a damp monstrosity filled with poisonous fungal spores, natural shadow magic, and gelatinous creatures that glided up and down its tunnels. They carried shimmering red chunks of ore. The air reeked as if someone had left the embodiment of death in the oven too long. An eerie chime echoed throughout the cave every odd minute or so.

  As soon as Sen took his first step into the cavern at the cave’s end, his interface pricked at the edges of his mind.

  [Entering the realm of the King of Shadows, the Shadow Hell. Tracking complete. Track request: Locate the second strongest being in the world. Would you like to input additional instructions?]

  “No, that’ll be all for now, Tutor,” Sen said. The prickling sensation faded.

  The cavern was as tall as it was wide. There were huge piles of the same red ore that the slime-like creatures were hauling scattered about. In the cavern’s center, a large, circular shadow-portal dominated the room. It was embedded within the cave ground, facing upward, and Sen felt a presence looming within. If his senses were correct, the being inside was close to ascending.

  “You know, they’ll make you a king after this,” Sen said to the man on his left.

  Ragmár was a man with what he himself called the beginnings of a beard on his face. Though Sen thought it glorified stubble at best. He wore brown hair in a ponytail and he covered himself with a simple white tunic and leather pants. With Sen’s wards in place, wearing armor would just invite discomfort.

  “They should be making you king. You’re the one that’s going to kill this thing. I don’t know why you insist on giving me the credit,” Ragmár said.

  On Sen’s right, Mori sneezed. “These spores are killing me. I think I’m allergic.”

  The portal of shadow bubbled. It seemed its inhabitant was rousing.

  A giant, sickly purple hand reached through the portal and slammed into the ground. The ground cracked under its weight. Pure power filled the room. The rest of the King of Shadow’s body was not far behind. He had the shape of a giant man, and his eyes were devoid of pupils. Void black hair hung from his head and covered his unclothed body. Luckily, from the waist down, he remained in the portal. It seemed there wasn’t much of a choice, as his head already brushed against the ceiling.

  “To trespass into the realm of the Shadowhell is to end oneself. Yet you stand there, you talk and whisper as if you are not already dead,” the King of Shadows spat. “I would warn you to prepare, but your life is already—”

  Sen tilted his head. “I’m sorry, it seemed as if you were on the brink of a breakthrough just now. Do you need some help?”

  The Shadow King’s mouth fell open. “How dare you interrupt the King of…wait, what?”

  “Tutor, if you would, that shadow artifact we collected a while ago.”

  [Acknowledged.]

  A hand-sized marble with swirling shades of black appeared in his palm. After a quick inspection, Sen nodded and casually rolled it towards the purple giant before him.

  The sphere disappeared in an instant; the King of Shadows absorbed its power as soon as he felt what it was. The sphere dissolved into plumes of smoke that were quickly inhaled by purple nostrils.

  [The King of Shadows has ascended. According to modern practice, he will now be known as the God of Shadows.]

  Clenched eyes opened, and the God of Shadows looked directly at Sen. “Mortal! I will make you the highest of my servants! Come, stand beside me, and we shall bring the world to ruin!”

  Beside Sen, Ragmár stifled laughter.

  Mori shook his head. “Poor soul.”

  Sen grinned. “I just wanted to make sure you put up a good fight. Now, hit me with your strongest spell. We’ve got a coronation to get to.”

  “You mock me? You mock a god! Insolent child, I would have placed you ahead of all other mortals. I would’ve granted you wealth and power. Instead, you squander this gift and mock me? You will taste the power of a god now. You—”

  Sen leaned his head back and pretended he was snoring.

  Ragmár sighed.

  The God of Shadows cast a spell in a fit of rage. “Shadefire Massacre!” Geysers of shadow fire shot out of the ground. The room’s heat quickly sweltered, and the fringes of Sen’s wards hissed as subtle puffs of smoke rose off them. The geysers’ streams quickly flowed together, forming a giant ball of shade flame. It pulsed over and over, the power within condensing until finally it was ready to be released. Its caster wasted no time and sent it forward.

  It flew through the air directly at them.

  Sen still pretended to be asleep.

  “Sen…” Ragmár said.

  Snores.

  “Master?” Mori frowned.

  More snores.

  “Well, life was fun while it lasted.” Ragmár sighed.

  The spell slammed into the invisible barrier Sen had erected, but it didn’t fizzle out. It kept pushing, and the barrier slowly bulged inward.

  It threatened to crack.

  Sen opened his eyes and yawned. “Alright, I suppose I should respond with a spell of my own.” He thought for a moment before the perfect one struck him. An amused expression crossed his face. “Butterfly,” he said, holding up a finger. A transparent butterfly appeared, hovering just above his fingertips.

  Mori leaned forward, studying the spell.

  Ragmár’s eyes bulged out of his head. “That’s a party trick! An illusion, what will that possibly do here?” he demanded.

  Sen rolled his eyes. “Fine. Butterfly Maxim.”

  “Maxim?” the God of Shadows questioned.

  The butterfly roared to life, more vibrant than before. A quiet, peaceful aura blazed around it. It was the weakest spell in the world, enhanced by a maximizer. A spell modification that brought out a spell’s true power. He’d never tried this before, but what better time than now? When he faced a god?

  The barrier cracked and the ball of black fire broke through.

  “Release,” Sen said. The butterfly shot forward and directly through the center of the Shadow God’s attack. One instant they faced the strongest attack of the ruler of the Shade Hell, and the next it was simply gone.

  “Enhanced Cognition Maxim. Enhanced Perception Maxim,” Sen said quickly. He wanted to study the effects of his spell, and he’d extended its power to everyone else in the room as well. “Tutor, give us some music. Something…dramatic and delightful.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  An orchestra started to play as he watched his butterfly soar through the sky like a glorious warrior rides into battle. The geysers of shadow in the ground rushed forward to interrupt the magic insect’s path. The Shadow God’s intent to survive was the only thing fueling the spells. Sen’s butterfly twirled through the air, dodging streams of shadow as the resonant notes of violins sang in the background. It closed its wings and dove through an explosive sphere of shade flame, emerging on the other side unscathed with wings unfolded. All as a flute narrated its actions, ebbing and flowing with its movements. And then, the butterfly reached its destination, mere inches from the face of the Shadow God. His enhanced senses let Sen see the fear and shock plastered on the God of Shadows’ face.

  “How could I be defeated by a…butterfly?”

  A gong resounded throughout their minds as the butterfly flew directly through the Shadow God’s face and splattered gore and viscera on the back wall of the cavern. With that, Sen took a bow, and the orchestra finished playing.

  “Bravo, master!” Mori clapped.

  Ragmár shook his head. “Did you really need to use that spell? You nearly gave me a heart attack, Sen.”

  “Well, I thought about that saying,” Sen said. “A butterfly forms under pressure. Or…diamond butterflies are…wait, maybe I’m misremembering.”

  [You have earned one mana point. Now displaying stats.]

  “There’s no need, Tutor.”

  The box had already appeared.

  Name: Sen Locke

  Rank: God-Class Magician

  Level: 99

  Strength: 0 (99 while under the effects of Mana Aggression)

  Speed: 0 (99 while under the effects of Mana Encapsulation)

  Magic: 99 (Max)

  Constitution: 0 (99 while under the effects of Mana Protection)

  Mana Points: 999,999,999+

  Sen waved the box away. “I told you I don’t need an explanation about the other stats; you can just list the number after I apply my hybrid stat enhancement. It’s the same thing.”

  [That would be dishonest and a misrepresentation of your abilities. If I did that, and you forgot to apply the proper enhancement, you might end up splattered on the wall like the God of Shadows did. I respectfully refuse. I live here; you know.]

  Sometimes Tutor pretended to be just an interface; other times his personality slipped out a bit more. Ragmár and Mori were still talking about the spell he’d used, but Sen’s attention remained inward.

  “Tutor, how strong is the next strongest opponent I can fight?” he asked.

  [There are no additional opponents beyond the king level at this time. You’ve defeated all of them. Also, there was a magic artifact on the God of Shadows’ body. He was using it to strengthen himself before you gave him an artifact more in line with his power. Would you like to examine it or send it to storage?]

  “Storage,” he said simply.

  Sen’s heart sank. He closed his eyes and focused on his connection to the source of all magic itself. In his mind, he could visualize the threads that connected one spell to another. High above the interconnected threads, there was a golden, spherical sun of magic that he’d always dreamed of reaching. No matter how hard he searched, he could never quite find the threads leading toward it. Another opponent defeated, and yet he was no closer. The truth dawned on him. He’d been born too early. The world just wasn’t there yet. There would come a day when magic progressed, but it wouldn’t be in his lifetime. One person couldn’t advance it alone. The System progressed alongside humanity, and he was too far ahead of the curve.

  The thought was too much, and he acted on impulse.

  “Mori, you’re in charge while I’m away. Take care of Ragmár for me.”

  With that, he willed open the door to his temporal world, and stepped through the portal.

  Some time later

  The gentle, ear-caressing chorus of siren song was the only alarm capable of waking him from his nap. The recording played on a loop, luring him from the softness of his bed. He rolled over, and with the flick of his hand the tome containing the siren recording flew into a wall. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the device wouldn’t break so easily. It was for the best; he wouldn’t want to oversleep. He fought the allure of red dragon silk sheets and pillows stuffed to the brim with phoenix feathers. He fought against the blanket made from the fur of a sacred wooly mammoth from the icy plains of Siersen. The natural magic of the plain turned lesser men to snow, and the mammoths had given him the coat of an ancestor as a reward for helping them. It was incredibly hard to get out of bed in the morning.

  Especially when you realized there weren’t any strong opponents left in the world.

  “Ugh,” he groaned as he rose out of his bed. “How long was I asleep? I feel like I just went to bed, but this fuzzy feeling is awful.” He wiped his eyes and squinted as the room came into focus.

  He’d cultivated this space since childhood to be the ultimate comfort. The room was painted red, a mixture of berries and the purified blood of a demon lord. His ceiling was a small pond that floated atop fluffy white clouds and led to a waterfall that covered an entire wall on one side of his room. He found the sound of running water relaxing.

  On the opposite side, rows of bookshelves lined the wall; some were works he’d collected, others were essentially his own magic journals. Records of experiments and revelations. About a hundred of them were missing; Mori liked to keep a few to study in his free time. A large diamond chest lined with wool sat at the foot of his bed; it contained a plethora of magic artifacts he’d collected over the years. The only remaining thing in the room was a carved desk, which he used to write and gather his thoughts, and a door that led both nowhere and everywhere. He hated clutter; he summoned and dismissed items and furniture as he needed them.

  It was as simple as shifting the broken time within this temporal space. When he needed furniture, he shifted the world to a time when what he needed was present. When he didn’t, he shifted it away again. The effects were limited to items he actually owned, but at his level, procuring whatever he needed was simple.

  As if to prove the point, he waved his hand, and his desk disappeared into a temporal storage space accessible only within this room. He walked to the door, and before opening it, said a name.

  “Mori.”

  The sound of thunder cracked, and then a gentle light emerged from a gap above the door. Sen opened it and stepped through.

  When he emerged, he was standing in a throne room. A regal-looking king sat before him. An older man with a thick beard and long, flowing brown hair. A simple crown twisted around his forehead with a gem in its center. He had the stomach and stature of a king.

  On either side of him, a row of knights reacted to Sen’s sudden appearance. They lowered halberds and drew swords, surrounding Sen. He ignored them and looked around the room. He stood in its center, atop a thick red wool carpet. The windows were made of stained glass; elaborate sets of armor and taxidermy magic beast parts stood on display against the wall. This was a grand castle indeed, and he wondered why he was there. The stained-glass window forced him to do a double take. Was that a depiction of…him?

  He shook his head; the real question was what was he doing here? The door should’ve taken him to Mori.

  “Master…where have you been? We thought you were dead,” someone said. The knights flinched at the man’s voice. But Sen recognized it.

  “Mori?” he called out.

  Mori stepped out from behind the king’s throne. He was every bit Sen’s twin. After all, he’d been created by a spell known as Perfect Replica. Their features were nearly one and the same. They had long white hair that hung down their backs, and red eyes the color of fresh blood. When he’d left, they’d often passed for identical twins, but now…now Mori looked older. He was in mid-twenties at least, taller, and with a more defined jawline. Sen was still physically only nineteen. But replicas aged differently, more slowly.

  “You thought I was dead? I haven’t been gone that long,” Sen said. He paused. “Have I?”

  Tutor answered before Mori could. [You’ve been asleep for one hundred years.]

  Sen blinked. “What?”

  The king looked awestruck, and until now, he hadn’t moved. The knights still looked between Sen and their ruler, unsure of how to respond. They were further confused by the fact that Mori seemed to recognize him and the two of them looked so similar.

  The king looked at Mori, who nodded, and then the king rose from the throne. “My friend…it’s been so long.”

  And as he spoke, Sen realized exactly who the king was.

  As the king acknowledged him as a friend, one knight stood up straight and bellowed. “All hail his glorious majesty. King Ragmár the First!”

  As one, the knights sheathed their weapons and bowed.

  He’d been gone for a hundred years.

  “Ragmár, you’re…old.” Sen shook his head.

  The surrounding knights gasped, but King Ragmár chuckled.

  [Master, you might want to check this: the sun…]

  Sen held a hand up and closed his eyes immediately. To check on those hidden threads of magic. The sun. The sun in the cradle of all magic itself shone brightly, and it was closer now. By the smallest margin, it was closer. And all it took was time.

  If a hundred years could take him this far, then what would happen if he went even further? But all of that still begged another question. How had he skipped a hundred years into the future?

  The grand doors to the throne room burst open, and a man in his mid-forties strode into the room wearing thick armor and a stern expression. “My lord, we’re under siege again! Their army is at our gates. Fear not, I am readying my men to deal with the invaders as we speak.” He stopped as he noticed Sen standing in the middle of the room, then he looked up at Mori. “Master Mori…you have a son?” he asked.

  King Ragmár spoke. “General Beck, I trust you can handle this. We’re in the middle of something.”

  “Sir!”

  “This is terribly confusing if I’m being honest, but it seems we have a siege to deal with,” Sen said. He turned his thoughts toward Tutor. “See if you can find what caused the time skip. I’ll deal with the threat.”

  [Acknowledged.]

  Ragmár and Mori both held out a hand. “Sen!” Ragmár cried out.

  “Master, wait!” Mori said at the same time.

  Sen smiled. “Warp Maxim.” It was time to flex those magic muscles of his. He needed to make sure he hadn’t lost his edge after sleeping so long.

  In a flash, he, Mori, and King Ragmár disappeared from the throne room. Leaving everyone else behind in stunned silence.

  Tracking complete. Track request: Tutor's character profiles. A collection of information compiled to serve the God of Magic by yours truly.

  Ragmár

  does rely on Sen a little too often, but he makes up for it with his skill dealing with nobles and smoothing over...incidents. Someone has to deal with the aftermath when the God of Magic goes a little too far during fights.