The Storm King

Chapter 497: Prince of the Thunderbird Clan

As Leon led Maia and Valeria toward the door between the talons of the great Thunderbird colossus, he turned his attention to the Thunderbird herself. He doubted she would given how distant she usually was, but he hoped she would provide some insight regarding this place.

[Hmm?] the Thunderbird responded when he asked for just that. [I have no idea what this place could be. When it was built, my Clan was so big and spread across so much of the universe that it was honestly impossible to know what each and every one of them was doing. I barely even checked in on the Storm King himself most of the time.]

[Did the exploits of your descendants not interest you at all?] Leon wondered as he and the other two reached the slope of the hill and began to ascend, only a few hundred feet now remaining between them and the door. She’d told him several times by now that they didn’t, but with what he was seeing, he wanted to hear it again.

With the colossus looming over him, its jeweled eyes glowing white with power, the Thunderbird responded, [No, as you well know. My time was up when I… not long after the Primal Gods and Devils fell. There’s little left for me in the physical world.]

Leon heard sorrow, anger, and bitterness in her voice, though she tried to hide it. Before he could ask anything more of her, though, he felt her attention recede, apparently leaving him to his own devices now that he had conquered the colossus’ power. He was a little irritated, but such a powerful being in such a unique position was hardly one that needed to adhere to common social niceties, though he would’ve preferred a little more of her time.

But just as he was about to turn his full attention back to the hill, Xaphan spoke up. [That was a good job you did, human. You absorbed quite a bit of magic power.]

[I’m quite proud of that,] Leon said, his face breaking out into a smile.

[And it’s something to be proud of—for someone of your power, at least. You absorbed enough power to expand your soul realm, even.]

[Really?] Leon almost stopped in place, his eyes going wide. [Did… is that good? I mean, it sounds good, but is that dangerous?]

[How much was it, though?]

[I’d say about five miles. You even managed to hold on to quite a bit of that power. Good boy, Leon, gooood boyyy.]

Leon nodded appreciatively, ignoring the demon’s provocations. Five miles was still a hefty increase given that he needed his soul realm to hit one hundred miles in order to ascend to the eighth-tier.

[Thanks, Xaphan,] Leon said as he, Valeria, and Maia arrived at the top of the hill.

Answering despite the question seeming rhetorical, Leon said, “Someplace important enough to place on that map. Someplace that needed to be secure and remote. Someplace that was attacked by demons sometime in the last eighty thousand years.”

[It hardly looks like it was attacked,] Maia said as she glanced first up at the colossus, then back into the Vale.

“That, I think, would depend solely on how long ago it was attacked,” Leon said. “Though, I would agree that it doesn’t look like any significant damage was inflicted however long all that was.”

The field was flat and peaceful, filled with nothing but grass and the demon corpses. The colossus was intact—or, had been before Leon semi-defaced it with his lightning bolt—indicating that the demons, for all their power, had been unable to harm it.

“Not going to lie, that seems… unlikely,” Valeria said. “If those were the demons that created that ice wall, then I can’t imagine that they couldn’t have damaged this place. I mean, that colossus’ attack was stopped by a seventh-tier mage! No offense…”

Valeria nodded. “Maybe we’ll find some answers inside.”

Leon nodded back and turned his attention to the door. It was strangely small given the size of the hill, the Vale, and the colossus towering over it, but was at least wide enough for Leon and the ladies to enter side-by-side comfortably if they so wished. Still, compared to the Cradle and Xaphan’s prison, the door seemed positively minuscule.

Flashing red on the door was a familiar runic circle, one that Leon carefully, hesitantly approached. Turning back to the other two, he said, “This statue is still functioning. We need to assume that other defenses in this place are, as well. So prepare yourselves for anything.”

Valeria nodded, while Maia gave him a dangerous smile. He could feel her anger and indignation after being useless during the attack from the statue, and she seemed practically electrified at the thought of getting some visceral payback.

Leon pressed his hand to the circle and the door swiftly slid open. Unsure what he was expecting in the first place, the bright hall beyond was certainly not it. He, Valeria, and Maia walked in, their guards up, ready to defend themselves, though it was difficult in light of the splendor that greeted them.

The hall was just like the prison as far as Leon could tell, and much wider and more open than the door would suggest. Its glossy gray metal walls were sloped, thinner at the top and wider at the bottom, with bright white fire burning in the lower corners to provide soft, indirect light. But the hallway gave a momentary impression of being rectangular, for dropping straight down from the higher corners were barely translucent monochromatic projections of light, showing heavily stylized exotic landscapes, heroic figures in moments of triumph, scenes of battle, and so much more that Leon’s eyes started to glaze over from detail overload.

The floor was rich gray carpet, while the ceiling about thirty feet up had a similar enchantment to that of the Cradle’s ceiling, showing bright blue sky interspersed only with a handful of fluffy white clouds, giving the impression that the ceiling was open to the sky outside rather than the mountain that it was.

Completing that outdoor look, the hall was trisected by two rows of columns that appeared to be living trees whose leafy canopies extended up past where the ceiling appeared to be. There were hundreds of trees in the hall, each one with different colored leaves, adding a bright burst of color to the otherwise relatively colorless hall. Adding to the trisection were two rows of grass connecting the trees, which also furthered the impression that they were still outside.

Leon’s heart began racing the more of the place he saw, each and every sign of magic just another testament to the power his Clan once wielded. It stood as a challenge to him, demanding that he reach for greater heights and surpass such feats of magic.

But even these most basic of enchantments that adorned the walls and ceiling were beyond him, too arcane for him to reproduce. He hadn’t the faintest idea of how to even approximate such things, and they were only the enchantments that decorated the entrance hall!

And that one thought brought Leon back to reality. There was no way this place could’ve remained so intact on its own, especially in light of the Cradle, the prison, and the archives below Argent Palace.

Leon took a deep breath to steady himself and slowly crept forward, his magic power rushing through his veins, keeping him ready and alert for anything that looked like it might jump out at them. Beside him, he could sense Valeria and Maia in similar states of heightened alertness.

But nothing jumped out at them, no wards were activated, no traps were sprung. The place seemed as deserted and defenseless to Leon as the Cradle had been. However, the functioning statue outside and the fact that there were no signs of decay or deterioration to anything they could see indicated otherwise.

Saying exactly what was on Leon’s mind, Valeria said, “This place looks like it’s been seeing regular maintenance…”

Leon gritted his teeth and had them all halt as he stared ahead. The hall was long, almost absurdly so, but he could only see a handful of breaks in the projected murals that would indicate a door.

As Leon paused to contemplate the merits of trying to, as politely as he could, figure out a way to greet any potential inhabitants of this place, a voice rang out, a voice unmistakably masculine, one that sounded as ancient as the statue outside, and as tired as the dead.

“Your… guess… wouldn’t be wrong…”

Leon couldn’t help it, hearing the voice come from seemingly nowhere set him off, causing him to drop into a combat stance and summon his sword from his soul realm. As soon as the blade was revealed, he thought he heard a slight gasp from the voice, but he wasn’t sure. He felt Maia and Valeria tense up as well, and only becoming more so once the door on the other end of the long hall swung open and figures began to march out of it.

“Please…” the voice continued, sounding soothing and grandfatherly and without any sign that he’d gasped before, leading Leon to think that he’d imagined the whole thing, “we are… of the same… blood… Violence… is unneeded…”

That failed to get Leon to stow his blade, but he did loosen up a fraction. He noted the ‘same blood’ comment, but that only served to make him distrust whoever was speaking, for the Thunderbird had on multiple occasions told him in no uncertain terms that he was the last of her blood that still lived. He quickly cast his gaze inward, hoping to see if she was still hanging around in his soul realm after the ‘battle’ with the colossus, but he was disappointed to see that she was nowhere to be seen.

Leon grimaced and put the blood issue aside, at least for the time being. “We’re not here for violence! All we’re here for is to find someone who may have come here not too long ago…”

“I… do not… want… violence… either,” the voice said, clearly straining to be heard despite remaining calm. “Please… my… servants… will… answer… questions…”

The voice said no more, but Leon and the other two didn’t hold it against them given how much effort it sounded like it was taking for them to speak. Instead, they turned their attention fully to the figures approaching them.

These bronze beings numbered a dozen, by Leon’s count.

“What should we do?” Valeria asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the still-open door.

Leon grimaced. “Whoever is here is connected to me, I think. I’m… not going to go anywhere…”

[This is dangerous,] Maia protested as she stared at the oncoming bronze figures. Indeed, when Leon took a closer look at their auras, he found them to be tremendously powerful, seventh-tier all.

“I… I’m going to risk it,” Leon said, unwilling as he was to let go of this chance to see a part of his legacy. Besides, while the figures were advancing, he didn’t detect a single trace of killing intent or any other sign of their hostility, and the voice had been welcoming enough. But Valeria and Maia were obviously uncomfortable—he was, too, of course, but… “You two can wait outside if you want. I won’t ask you to come with.”

Maia just glared at him while Valeria gave him a disbelieving look.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, this is your moment to turn around and go back,” Leon said with a forced smile. “If things turn sideways, as they so often do, then we all chose this. We all chose to continue on.”

“Hardly a choice here, either turn around and save myself or continue and find my father,” Valeria murmured as she shot a dark look Leon’s way, who at least had the good graces to grimace.

“Right, sorry,” Leon replied. “Not trying to dodge responsibility, just… I don’t want anyone to jump into this pit after me if they don’t want to.”

[I certainly don’t want to, but I go where you go,] Maia stated. [If anyone tried to bring you harm, they will die at my hand!]

Leon smiled in gratitude, but the oncoming bronze figures finally arrived before he could respond. They marched in two rows, with seven in front and five behind. The one in the center of the group was the largest and most ornate, with its bronze form covered in glowing runes and engravings in a style that matched many of the decorative projections on the walls.

More eye-catching than that, though, was the fact that there was no way Leon could ever mistake these things for anything other than golems now that they were up close. Their bronze armor had large gaps at the joints through which bright golden lightning flowed like a river, animating their bodies and giving them some semblance of life.

The golems stopped about five paces or so away from Leon and his party. The leading golem, the eye slits in its helmet-head glowing brilliant gold, took another couple of steps forward, ignoring the semi-brandished weapons and obvious magical readiness of Leon, Valeria, and Maia, and addressed Leon in an inhumanly deep, resonant voice, as if its words were echoing around inside of its metallic form, “Welcome, Young Lord, to the Northern Research Center of Jason Keraunos, Storm King and Lord of the Thunderbird Clan. By His Highness, Nestor, Prince of the Thunderbird Clan, Lord of Storm-Shaping, and Chief Researcher of this installation, I have been ordered to escort you and your companions further inside.”

“Wait, what?!” he quietly but intensely asked in disbelief. “Prince Nestor?! The son of Jason Keraunos? He ordered you to welcome me?”

The golem twitched as if holding itself back from something before responding to Leon. Its voice came out as if it were clenching its nonexistent teeth in anger, “… Yes. Now, please stow your weapons and accompany me to better accommodations.”

The golem then stood to the side, swept out its hand, and lightly bowed, clearly showing that it wanted Leon and his party to start walking down the hall. The golems behind it likewise stood to the side, like servants at a palace waiting to see if there was anything their guests needed upon their arrival.

But Leon wasn’t thinking about any of that. He’d come across Prince Nestor’s name several times—the golem beneath Argent Palace had dropped his name, and he’d found it inscribed on a door in the Cradle. More astoundingly, though, was that the Thunderbird had specifically told Leon that Nestor had survived the death of Jason Keraunos, but later died without children.

But if Nestor were somehow still alive…

Leon needed no more invitation. He took off down the hall, Valeria and Maia only hesitating for a few moments before following.