Chương 129: Andle

Day 965 On days like this, I am glad I swiped the replenishing tome during my adventuring years. Yes, I did technically "steal" this tome, but neither my Patron nor my company at the time had any qualms about it... Most likely because I swiped this tome from a blood cult. I really do miss my old companions, but as the sands of time move, my time on this foul coil we call life slowly seeps away. Now, you may be interested in who I am, if you are reading this! I am Andle.

I have no family name, and I used to be an adventurer, as such. I had companions, a lover, friends, and people I would consider family. But not many years before I became who I am today, I was but a young urchin surviving in the streets of.... well, if you're reading this right now, you'll realistically never go there. One day, hundreds of others and I were kidnapped by a cult, one that had been slowly eating away at my home from the shadows for potentially hundreds of years.

They infected me and others with a disease, one that allowed them to compel those who were infected and force us to do things that I wouldn't dare to describe. But to my fortune and misfortune, I was deemed an adequate weapon against the cult. Several others and I were freed by an insider within the cult and banded together in search of a cure, and in the end, that one daring adventure was the beginning of the best years of my life, and the end of what's left of it.

It was euphoric to be among people who didn't consider me an outsider, to trust, to love, and to live a life, and in the end, the cult was destroyed thoroughly. During my adventure, I was forced to make decisions repeatedly; I was considered a hero among heroes for them, but those who died due to my decisions weighed heavily on my soul, and during a crucial point in our crusade against evil, I was given a choice, a sacrificial one.

I had the choice to use the disease that compelled me and many others as a weapon to fight back; the only reason my companions and I survived in the first place was because the insider who released us was the same one who infected us with a modified variant. The choice I had was to progress the modified variant into a superior variant, the same one the cult leaders used to force others to bend to their command.

I had the choice to sacrifice my comrades, and they looked at me so eagerly, so ready to accept a fate that would turn them into monsters. Then again, I had the choice to accept that fate myself... and that's what I did. The disease my group was infected with was a stolen copy of the ones the cult leaders used, but modified solely to resist the influence of said leaders.

The insider also modified the disease to kill us if we gained the same powers as the cult leaders as a safeguard, and the look on their face when they realized that they needed to progress one of us was uniquely pained. I didn't know how I should have felt about the insider; they did give me a choice to effectively kill one of my companions for me to save my own scales, but I do not resent them. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

They cared enough to tell me that progressing the modified disease would surely kill me with time, though they didn't tell the others about such a caveat. I don't really enjoy talking about my past much, but now that I'm a far way from home, I felt like it would be nice to know that I was possibly perceived by someone other than my patron. While my friends and family, and all the infected, were safely cured, my progressing disease was unfortunately incurable. I was fated for an unpleasant death and a short life.

I made my decision, and I do not regret it. I figured that instead of keeling over in front of my friends and lover, I kept my ticking lifespan a secret, with the only other person who knew being the one who told me. And I disappeared with only the clothes on my back. I'd rather them resent me for leaving unprompted than for them to know the true weight of my sacrifice besides a deformity.

To move to positive pastures, I have learned that the continent I lived on was not even a speck on the realm; I have noticed the rules of magic seemed to vary place to place with novel mutations and use cases. I have seen Will in use, an ingenious tool that where I come from was nowhere to be seen. Truly marvelous what our realm provides. Our realm is the embodiment of chaos, and a beautiful place.

If a person resolved themselves and had the tools to travel, at some point they would discover a place that they could have only imagined. I have mingled with Humans, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, Vampires, Tieflings, and even the Devils themselves, and so many unique people just in my home, but to my surprise, there were more out there. I have crossed continents of water; I have seen continents of rock. Some of the places I have travelled made the home that I travelled for years look like a child's dollhouse.

Places here and there are unfathomably big; I have seen cities that span the horizon, technology that makes stories of divine intervention seem like afternoons, and creatures so diverse that I find it hard to fathom what could not exist. Though none of this would be possible without my patron!

Now, I have learned that Warlocks are not common knowledge outside of my home; even there, we were fairly rare, but a Warlock is a person who forms a pact with a being, often deities who we refer to as our patron more often than not; in turn, they supply us with power. I have met few other Warlocks during my time alive, but among the ones I have met and even Patrons I have met in the flesh, I believe my Patron is the weirdest.

While other Patrons inflate their status and have prides that shame kings, they tend to be more contractual than my Patron. My Patron has a weird habit of collecting misfits and pacting with them in exchange for power; I myself am included in that mass. My Patron refuses to be called a deity, and unlike other Patrons, randomly helps his Warlocks with no price. I am bound by my pact to not speak much of him, but without him, I wouldn't be alive today, nor would I be able to travel using one of his boons.

Wayport travel is what he calls it; once again, due to my pact, I can't explain how it works, although I myself have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. It's effectively a system of teleportation that his Warlocks have set up all around the realm over several decades. I'm running out of space on the page to write the rest, so I'll shorten it further.

Permission to use Wayports is difficult to obtain, and the distance between each port is unimaginably vast; even if I had a hundred more years of life left in me, I would not be able to walk back home without the Wayport I left there. The only reason that I have been able to use it recently is that my Patron has given me a task, which in itself is an incredibly rare occurrence. I am to seek someone out and aid them. Even I do not know who this someone is.

I assume they are a fellow warlock, but to send me on a mission so distant from my home is making me wonder what wonders I might experience during my final adventure. Well, it seems that I have filled out my page to the brim! I will tear this page and throw it to the winds; whether this flies into someone's hands, into a lake of water or fire, or is discovered in far years to come, I am satisfied that someone might know my thoughts before the final chapter of my life. - Andle