Entry 1Mature

Inspired by Soul Sacrifice and roughly based on it's story. The writing style is that of someone writing a journal.

The life of a Sorcerer is grim. To any who wish to follow the path, they must first realize this. There is no moment of realization halfway through the entrance to Avalon. No, any who do not know to be wary of the trials of Avalon end up dead. This is not just a saying, this is known to be fact. Half of any who enter Avalon’s trials do not survive, sometimes not even half. There is a reason for this, I am sure.

I have started on smaller monsters, the first being mere goblins. These creatures are formed when rats eat discarded magic in the form of corpses and slop infused through battle nearby. It was theorized that the rats tired of crawling around and gathering food from those above them. They grew angry and that anger forced the built up magic to morph them into the monsters known as goblins.

Despite this being my first monster, I have realized I may die. For this reason, I keep a journal from this day forward. It was suggested by those who raised me and taught me the way of sorcery. They were not pleased by my questions on the subject, but they also seemed to expect my curiosity on the subject. These goblins should be nothing for my abilities, but only time would tell.

I arrived at the town, an elderly greeting me with false smiles and fake reassurances. The goblins had run the villagers out of the eastern section of the town. I do not remember its name only that is large. As I walked towards my target, I could not see any other humans among the village. It was not a surprising thing. I have noticed in the past when Avalon sent sorcerers, no one wanted to see them. Only I had showed interest.

The first of the goblins appeared around a corner as I walked. I would be lying if I say I was not scared. The fear was only momentary, though. The sight of the monstrosity started to change the initial fear into rage. The severed arm in its mouth did not help my rage any, either.

The battle was unexpectedly easy. I charged a spell and ran to the monster, my rage overflowing and controlling the moment. The spell finished as the beast noticed me. It had been too late, however, as I released my spell, shooting ice into the ground and hitting the goblin up into the air. My surprise and excitement momentarily took hold. I had practiced sorcery before, of course, but never had I used it as a weapon.

The monster fell to the ground in a fleshy heap, its soul now visible. A small rat represented the soul, only visible to the sorcerer’s vision, of course. I was told to never feel pity. For rats, it was not hard. I quickly sacrificed the soul of the corrupted rat, taking in its memories. They were faint at first, but I began to see the rat’s journey towards darkness. It was simple things that brought about the change. Hunger, despair, and loss. The rat seemed oddly human to me now and I began to feel sorrow for it.

These feelings were short lived, as three more of the monsters appeared from the alleyways. They seemed to be angry at me. Seeing the remains of their comrade, I knew why. My feelings were solid now, though. I had no fear or remorse. These creatures were driven by instinct and their blunt feelings. They had no way to rationalize or feel remorse. They deserved no remorse.

The first came at me and I dodged. The feeling of the monsters surrounding me was now vivid. I had gained some sort of sensing ability for the goblins after sacrificing one of them. This was unexpected, but useful as I formed an ice blade around my right arm and sliced one of the three remaining monsters in two. No time to absorb.

I turned to the next one and rammed the blade through its chest, or what I thought was its chest. It did not matter. The monster died the same way and I dispersed the magic, forgetting about the final goblin that had vanished. My mind was in a victorious set. I had not stopped to count the number of enemies fallen. This was a grave mistake, but not one I would regret.

As I sacrificed the other two monsters, I heard a roar. Turning, I realized the goblin was heading for me in attack. There was no time to move. I knew I would die. So soon. Instead of fear, all I felt was pity at my own ignorance. This was my doing, I was sure.

That was when she showed up.

Dressed in the darkest of clothing, an unknown sorceress moved in the way of the monsters attack and placed up a shield. I will never forget her eyes as she hit the goblin with her earthen shield and ripped its heart out with her bare hands. It seemed as if she were enjoying the battle. Was this some sort of pleasure for herself?

As she finished sacrificing the remaining goblin, she turned to me. “Are you that weak? Pathetic.”

In her eyes she held a mix of emotions. No longer did I see the bloodlust from just a moment before, but what replaced it was that of scorn, sadness, and, from what I saw, compassion. “I was unaware of the last,” I replied.

She snorted and took a breath. Her arm was a mass of dark flesh that looked to contain enough hatred to wipe out this woman’s will. I did not know how I knew this, but just seeing the arm was enough to realize its true intentions. “If you value your pathetic life, I could use someone to help with a job. You may accompany me.”

I immediately accepted. After all, the one curse that plagued a sorcerer above all our other curses and fates was loneliness. We exchanged names and became partners.

That was how I met Sortiara. 

The End

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