[Diaries of a Necromancer]

Guten tag. My name is Frae. my surname is irrelevant.

I'm a self proclaimed necromancy scholar at paragon academia,

If you are reading this, I'm dead, I failed.

I hope this book is never found, a madman’s diaries.

Nonetheless you should be confused.

You're a ghost that woke up in my body, due to my ultimate spell.

To understand any of it, lets first indulge in a history lesson. Shall we?

Powers known as factors had spread all throughout Trivanheim for millennials.

Your capabilities and limitations were defined by your genes and how you were raised as a toddler.

That randomness had been cut short by a great change of pace, a war that span across decades of brutal bloodshed.

The great war of unification.

Each school teaches different causes and implications. But I, as scholars do, had dug deeper.

Being a noble, I managed to do my research at paragon. The most prestigious school and library of unbiased knowledge in the entirety of the continent.

Take a seat, here's the story I uncovered,

When a group of strange sailors landed at the southern harbor of the Azmaran Empire, they were met with what seems to be a Fauldrik tribe leader,

The term 'fauldrik' at the time didn't mean much, it just hinted at your factor. Fauldrice was nothing but scattered tribes across Sylenthia, and the now-forgotten azmaran empire.

A new technology had been unsealed, it goes by the name of complexity.

You see, there exists only 3 factors,

Intense, Complex, and Manipulative.

respectively- sylenthian, fauldrik, and azmaran.

The first could create and manipulate a single element at a time, with immense intensity and from a small distance, the element remained after usage, by consequence resources such as metals existed in abundance.

The second could create and manipulate multiple elements at a time, reaching tens or even hundreds, depending on the individual skills and capacities, downside being the intensity of quantity was negligible.

Third factor had no summoning ability. But complex and intense manipulation of already existing materials, with the condition the factor had touched them before, this manipulation could be done from as far as the eye can see. Unlike the former.

The masses of Trivanheim had mistaken complexity for weakness, for countless generations.
 Until that unexpected day.

Information spread between tribes like a virus.

Fauldrik troops manufactured fearful weapons in mere seconds, crossbows, catapults, warships and sets of reinforced armor, with the sole purpose of sovereignty, except a few bizarre barbarians of course, there's always few who crave bloodshed, for the better or the worse.

You see, that weak intensity was easily overcome with numbers.

If a single man could make a spear, ten could make a flying carriage.

The azmaran empire fell on its face to the combined fauldrik-sylenthian forces. and the great war had been declared over, separating each nation by their factor.

As long as you maintain a low profile, you shouldn't worry about all these politics.

Jumping back to me, us.

Since the earliest of my memories, love blinded me, passion of life, every animal-insect, every blade of grass and molecule of blood, it drew me in like a magnet. I wanted to study it, feel it, dissect it, and most importantly, create it.

I remember scavenging the attic where my father once worked, I would see bottles of mucus, containers of underwater insects spiraling all across my body like a hurricane, living samples all around me like a dream scene, I felt the crown of life neatly sit at my dome, imagined myself connecting tissues, sculpting arms, pumping air into lungs.

It was fun.

I grew up around kids my age glorifying hate, praising the dance of war, speaking of their factors as they hunt rabbits and silver deer,

My family cursed my weakness, my lack of political ambition, a noble betraying his roots and traditions.

My factor grew weaker and weaker, But my passion seared to higher realms. As I stalked my father’s endeavors, his words to me kept me going through the pain my siblings and mother threw at me like darts,

living in fauldrice as a noble was decently feasible, no constant fear like our ancestors felt, looking back at it, the only thing going down was my morale.

I finally finished highschool, my family had already given up on me at that point, my connection to them grew weaker, but mine to my father strengthened.

I could finally ignore the mind jolting lessons my teachers would spew every day like starved volcanoes, my head rarely left the table surface I was sleeping on. I would have nightmares about the sounds my ears registered.

To everyone else those were normal, lessons considered basics, and I admit it, there is beauty in the complexity of warfare when its not used to trample plants and burn humans and cattle alike. To erase cells that took years perfecting their craft.

Now that I enlisted at paragon, a proper scholar, I swore to make it real, to breath it into the soul of skeptics,

I called it, Letum-Factor, art of life.

books, scriptures, written accounts, they all stacked at my desk and lockers. I knew that if I wanted to draw life, I had to first spill ink.

again and again I failed.

I danced with words, I bit the fruit of greed, lust, and envy.

again and again I failed.

There was no progress, I couldn't even plant the seed. how was I supposed to nurture the tree.

again and again I failed.

Until I didn't,

One magically dark night, my steps echoed in the empty hallways,

The moon attracted my tired gaze, my legs thrusted forward like a galloping horse. I took a break, and went stargazing.

The tree above me sheltered me from wind as I collapsed above its roots, my eyes studying the night-sky’s beautifully painted roof.

I had just got done dissecting some newly discovered fish species with abnormally large eyes, it hadn't helped my studies one bit,

My emotions gazed back at me through the stars, where countless eyes mirrored wordless implications-my mind had harbored for the better part of a decade. my pinky finger twitched with impatience, my arm swiftly followed.

My hand spread open as it sprung up, greeting the heavens, some rogue wind caressed my nails, and the sleeves of my leather jacket fell back to my shoulder, courtesy of gravity.

I shut down my heavy eyelids, struggling to not comply with slumber. Slumber had won the battle, but not the war.

For mere seconds sleep took me, shapes and colors intermingled as dreams usually start, the first image translated itself in front of me, a strange fruit. I had seen it in stuffed posters a week prior, known for its exclusivity to southern sylenthian grounds, its name, an apple.

A perfectly orange apple, a single leaf erected on its branch like a foreign flag.

Something felt, different.

My hand trembled under the weight of the wind, my pupils opened the door back to reality, pushing away my slothful eyelids.

I tossed and turned, carrying my weight to my side as I decided to sleep that night through.

In what felt romantical, a perfectly orange apple stood by my side, millimeters away from my face, I didn't remember inviting an apple for a date under the stars, so confusion took me over,

Before it finally clicked, an excitement no date with a girl had ever brought me spread trough my veins.

That was it, I succeeded. I had successfully factorized organic matter. Beautifully complex one at that.

I apologize if I bore you with my words, I often forget I'm not writing this for myself.

Where was I? oh yeah, I succeeded.

I proven my theory feasible, but the hard part was yet to come.

To translate my powers into humans, or any sort of moving creature did not prove to be an easy task, not in the slightest.

I knew one man whom I could share this enigma with, one whom supported me even when my theories sounded like nothing but a drunk farmer’s daydreams. baseless pointless shots in the dark.

The man goes by the name of Casper,

My father.

The morning that followed. I took to the east port. And sailed back to mainland Fauldrice on a new model non-factor-reliant ship, where my family awaited my arrival. as condescending as they often be, we still were family.

Skipping the obvious, a singular intention motivated my return. My father's opinion.

I patiently navigated through the ceremonies and festivities, seeking the sun's descent as a a signal for my self fulfilling reveal, a potential catalyst for events id never imagined possible, a grim-ended ecstasy.

That night. A moon of familiar magic cheered for me from above, step by step my dance matched the wind's. I walked into the library were he calmly sat, reading books of irrelevant contents. a swift pinch across his shoulder grabbed his attention, his silver eyes screamed of lacking sleep,

"is it about the new strangely eyed fish?" he curiously asked, his usual deeply comforting voice.

"I've done it, father."

"you did.. it?" his eyes jerked for milliseconds indicating conflicting emotions, as if his mind predicted my next line, and was already mourning his now-gone calm routine. prepubescent droplets of sweat outlined his wrinkles.

"I managed to materialize organic matter, like you told me, it's possible! Letum-factor is possible!"

He didn't even flinch. his muscles flexed, springing his body upward, a smile directed at me quickly followed. A failed attempt at masking his overwhelming panic.

Passing by me, his body thrusted forward, his steps orchestrating an unattractive chorus. I swiftly took the sign and followed, direction appeared to be the attic.

Without the slightest movement or effort, he factorised a steel handle on the differently colored segment of the roof, following through with a hop, pulling his weight down as he hanged from the handle, revealing a retractable wooden staircase that flung dust and moss remnants all throughout the hallway's atmosphere.

"wait here." he announced, climbing up.
"..." I replied.

A few sneezes later, he jumps back down, stopping his momentum with a quick grab of the handle.

Fostering a book to his chest. a book he then hands to me, crimson of color, a golden symbol similar to the form of a serpent engraved at the center of its cover.

A few weeks later Casper was pronounced dead by sylenthian authorities, he had ventured to sylenthia for some reason and was probably a victim of political violence,

Its been years as of now.

I don't have time nor motivation to speak of my emotions at the news, or of the book's contents. 

Responsibility had fallen on me today to engage with Sylenthia's ruler over some political issues at our soil.

I could just go.. but I had long decided today would be the day.

The day I resuscitate my father. he could mend political relations way better than I ever could, 

Due to the crimson book, I have been made aware of the eminent danger my spell could result in.

A wandering soul from unknown origins could take over me, rewrite my very being. you.

In such case.

I'm writing this to pass the torch.

 I entrust you with achieving what I had failed to do myself.

The crimson book awaits you inside a locker with my first name on it, at Paragon.

There is an empty mold under my bed. use it to create the key for the locker.

If you manage to master the Letum factor, bring Casper back and hand him this diary.

He alone could fix everything. even you.

Now that I reflect on it.

the crimson book did mention what appears to be an ancient factor.

A potential pre-existing name for my Letum factor.

My father often slipped and called it by that from time to time,

Oh yeah.. I still remember it,

It went something like.. 

"The Tri-Factor."