Jasmine’s heart swelled. She smiled, fond and fierce, then snapped her fingers. From her pocket ring spilled thousands of glittering gold coins, crashing into a mountain at her feet. The cavern rang with the sound of wealth piling high, the gleam of their hoarded and unused feast-fund casting sparks in the dimness.
Her eyes met Quinlan’s again. He cocked his head to the side as a smirk tugged at his mouth. To his girls, it was a smirk that bolstered their confidence, knowing that their man was once again back in control after all that happened in the feast.
But to his enemies... It would look like the smile of the devil himself.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Jasmine’s expression said everything. ’Yes.’
"Let’s give that crazed bitch the migraine of the millennium together, my love."
Their joined hands lifted into the air.
Mana surged.
From the void, a tome materialized and began hovering right before his gaze.
The [Necromantic Codex]. The catalyst of his necromantic might.
Quinlan’s elemental eyes flickered as he willed the book open, and soulscript began scrawling across the pages. He cast a brief glance into his soul storage.
380 lionkin warrior souls remained in the Levels 4045 range.
All of them were harvested during the genocidal massacre he and Vex mitted together back then.
But seeing those numbers, Quinlan no longer felt satisfied. His lips curved into a dangerous grin. ’It’s about time I focused on necromancy again.’
He was only a Tier I Necromancer. The most basic stage. His spells were at their crudest pared to what awaited him down the path.
With a mere thought of him, the Codex displayed the requirement to rank up:
> Necromantic Tier Ascension
To ascend to Tier II:
Possess 10 Elite Souls of Rank 3 or higher.
At present, he had only two: Eve and Veyrin. He has only two elites. That meant he needed to harvest more. Not just eight... but many more. His smirk widened even further, promising nothing good to those who dared to stand in his path.
’Soon.’
While Quinlan was preparing to summon his soul army, Jasmine was already working her magic. Her blue eyes glittered faintly at first. But then... a drastic change occurred.
The sapphire hue melted away, replaced by blindingly bright gold. Her irises gleamed like freshly minted coins, impossibly bright, unnaturally sharp. They caught every flicker of mana in the air and turned it into radiance, burning like miniature suns in the darkness.
It wasn’t a gentle glow one might expect from a tender soul such as Jasmine. No, her eyes were cutting, domineering. Those golden eyes were not meant to invite trust. They were meant to mand. To demand. To remind the world that wealth was more than paper, more than metal. It was power incarnate. ṘÃΝɵᛒΕṣ
But more importantly than anything, they served as undeniable proof that...
The entity known as Jasmine Argentis... No, that wasn’t quite right. Not anymore. It should be...
The entity known as Jasmine Elysiar was no longer an insignificant existence. No longer a mere run-of-the-mill merchant girl, she was now...
The one and only:
Tyrant of Trade.
Quinlan glanced at her, and the corner of his mouth lifted. The overwhelming shine of her eyes reminded him of Vex’s cursed pentagram eyes that had carved themselves into legend in Greenvale. Many drawings of them existed among the mon children who used them in their games. Those were the eyes of the enemy; the kid who sported them had to be defeated by the heroes.
But Jasmine’s golden coin-eyes promised something entirely different than ominous curses: a control so absolute that even kings would think twice before bartering with her.
Jasmine stretched her free hand toward the mountain of coins at her feet.
"[Gilded Legions of the Tyrant]."
Her voice was sharp, manding, a queen making her decree. The coins shivered, then lifted into the air as her spell took hold. Then they burst into a fountain of shimmering metal, swirling into a storm of glimmering blades, shields, and armor. Each coin stretched, twisted, and snapped into shape.
Mercenaries clad in ornate mail and heavy helms emerged one by one with hollow eyes that were filled with nothing but loyalty that had been bought and paid for.
The army of wealth had arrived.
The Tyrant of Trade smirked with utmost satisfaction at the sight of her large mercenary army. It was by far the most liberating experience she’s ever felt. Well, torturing her father was a very serious contender for the number one spot, but it was a different sort of liberation she felt now.
Back then, Aurelion was handed to her on a silver platter by her new family. She didn’t do much, for she couldn’t. A damsel in distress who had to be saved.
But now... She had secured the gold coins for this transactional spell using her own expertise gathered through more than a decade of straining mercantile work. Then, she used her own mana to cast her own spell, which she got from her own class...
This otherworldly sight was the culmination of all her life’s struggles.
And it was so incredibly satisfying.
Quinlan’s heart swelled at the sight of his beloved woman’s visible, euphoric feelings bubbling to the front. She deserved it all, he thought as his teeth flashed in the dark.
But then he refocused. It was still a race against the clock; he couldn’t afford to get mesmerized by his lover’s sight. His refocused voice came.
"[Awaken]."
Two blue forms pulled themselves from the void. Eve and Veyrin, his elites.
But that was only the beginning.
Quinlan’s eyes burned brighter.
"[March of the Damned]."
The cavern shook. One by one, lionkin warriors clawed their way out of nothingness, spectral bodies reforming from their harvested and stored souls. Muscular frames covered in spectral fur, armed with axes, blades, and spears.
A hundred lionkin soldiers filled the underground hall, their ranks perfect, their discipline absolute.
Side by side, Jasmine’s gilded mercenaries gleamed with golden light while Quinlan’s spectral horde radiated chilling death. Riches and ruin. Light and shadow.
Together, they filled the cavern beneath Valorian with an army born of two extremes, wealth and death, both bought and manded by a couple whose hands were still entwined.
"Go."
They spoke in unison.
Quinlan opened a path for them to the surface, and then, he himself made his move as well.
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