A Bored Lich

"Where did Maximus Draken hide his legacies? Tell me or you'll experience more than simple pulls."

"I…" he said in between labored breaths. "I don't know what you're talking about." There was only so much pain a human could take. "Why are you doing this? We did nothing wrong."

"You did nothing" the red robed War Monk said. "Nothing but make a weapon to kill the goddess. What greater evil can there be? Of course you know about the Draken legacies." The world went black. An icy chill gripped Cerlius away from sweet unconsciousness.

He sat up sputtering water and rattling the chains in his chair. "So weak." The thing pretending to be human said. No human could have done this. No person would have acted on such a stupid reason, yet there he stood. "You're so weak yet you and your brother last longer than our disciples do." With the twentieth, most painful yank yet, Cerlius let out a hoarse scream. No one responded. No one came to help. The War Monks always made sure to explain those two facts through each of their so-called exorcisms. "I'll be back in an hour."

The guard opened the cell door for the tormentor, who tossed a pair of bloody pliers over his shoulder as he stepped out. It knocked a platter over, scattering its contents; cracked fingernails and toenails.

Cerlius's head drooped down. If he rattled the chains the guard would come in. He didn't cry out for the same reason. His brother had been brought up several times, but Cerlius had never seen him since being captured. 'Father will come for us. He's the hero, the goddess's champion. He can't lose. But...what if he doesn't find us? There's no windows here but I can tell I'm underground. I never saw a place like this when we visited their monastery.'

...

"It's so quiet here," Cerlius said as he followed from the back of the group.

"Of course," a voice called from the front of the group, their guide. "It is a monastery after all. It's just one of the many things that you can enjoy here."

They were a group of four: a brown robed War Monk, Cerlius, Maximus Draken, and Doevm. Cerlius knew that his home, Draken manor, was enormous, but it never felt that way with its narrow white stone hallways and square classrooms. While the War Monks' monastery had similar-sized hallways, instead of claustrophobic walls it had thin wooden supports that held up a high ceiling. Cold air and the midday sunlight flowed freely onto the dozens of finely kept yards and grass.

"No offense, but I'm only interested in the magic aspect of things," Doevm said, earning a quick elbow from father.

"Rude," father hissed. "These people raised me to be a hero, remember?"

"It's quite alright," the War Monk in the front chuckled. "But what of the lad in the back?" He craned his head to get a better look at Cerlius, or where Cerlius had been. "Where did he go?"

"He always does that," father chuckled, his voice fading as Cerlius wandered away from the group. "He's not as interested in magic as Doevm or I. Will it be a problem if he looks around?"

Cerlius scanned the area, finding nothing but more hallways and yards and the occasional statue of the goddess. What little wooden doors he found, he chose not to open. It wasn't that he couldn't since they didn't have locks. The faint hymns and soft bells echoing from behind those closed doors told him not to interfere. Occasionally he'd pass a War Monk and greet him but they just nodded at him and kept walking down the stone paths. 'There's nothing to do here,' he thought until he heard a resounding bang.

He stopped in his tracks and raised his head. Another bang echoed in the silence. Being the bored six-year-old he was, he wandered towards it. The number of hallways diminished, and both the number and size of the yards increased. He had no idea as to the name of the mountain he headed towards, but he knew it was the biggest he had ever seen. The monastery's walls stopped just before the base of it. Countless stairs extended up into the blue sky, each one covered in sweat. A third resounding bang drew his attention downwards, where a natural trench had been flattened and expanded into a sparring ground.

Two lines of white-robed youths ran parallel to the tall walls. At the center were two combatants and an observing red robed War Monk. Life essence and mana wrapped the two combatants in a cyan mist. Also, they were bald. Cerlius chuckled. 'Shiny domes.'

It was like a dance; the one in the lead threw fists and kicks while the other weaved out of the way. Cerlius internally called the lead one, Snake, and the other, Oil. He gripped the railing and leaned forward.

Snake's robe fluttered behind as his body sailed through the air. He would move his limbs to do all sorts of stuff. Oil remained in a funny way of standing, only shifting to flip over Snake's moves.

Snake went for a punch, which stopped before the mark. Oil reflexively leapt off the ground and realized his mistake. He brought his limbs inwards and shut his eyes. Life essence flared around Snake's bulging arms as he grabbed Oil by the robe and slammed him back to the ground with a resounding bang.

Oil bounced off the ground and rolled back into his funny way of standing. Except this time, he wobbled. The adult spectating raised three fingers and the side nearest to Snake clapped.

Cerlius's eyes hurt but he wouldn't dare to blink or he might miss something. "Cool," he muttered. He leaned on the creaking railing even more. "That's so much better than a spell. There's no boring research like father and brother like to do. There's only cool flips and stuff. They even look like they're my age."

A funny feeling ran over his head, a hand. He whipped around to see one of the bald headed youths staring right back at him. "Oh sorry," he chuckled. "It's just weird to see someone with hair."

"It's weird to see someone without hair," Cerlius said. He took a step back and glanced at the sparring ground a few dozen feet below. "Did you just climb up here?"

The apprentice War Monk shrugged. "There's these things called stairs that I used, not that a hairy gorilla like you would ever think of that."

"Oh," Cerlius narrowed his eyes. "I just assumed that you could just bounce off that round head of yours. There's no spell for that?"

"Spells?" the War Monk chuckled. "No one our age knows spells. Didn't your master ever teach you that?"

"What's that then?" With a quick flick of Cerlius's wrist, a wind enlaced with mana picked up the bottom of the War Monk's white robe. "My name is Cerlius Draken. I know a thing or two about magic."

The War Monk's face went red and he instantly flipped the bottom of his robe back down. "That's a cheap move Cerlius. My name's Eric Guildri by the way," Eric said as he suddenly stepped closer to Cerlius and stared him in the eyes. Cerlius took a step back and his foot hit the railing. "Now to get serious for a moment. I don't know how you got in or who let you walk around."

The fight below ended, and the red robed War monk dragged a black and blue combatant through a large metal door with a sturdy lock. The victorious Snake walked over to his cheering crowd with a bloody smile, missing a tooth or two. Eric glanced at the fight blow and shook his head.

"Your masters let me in," Cerlius explained. "So I have an excuse."

"Pain, I'm used to," Eric continued, not even acknowledging that Cerluis had spoken. He had a strange expression, similar to all the War Monks Cerlius had passed. The sun emerged from a cloud, highlighting the small scars across his face. "You, you're different from those I know." He grabbed Cerlius by the shoulders. "That was awesome! Can you teach me how to do that?"

"S-sure," Cerlius blurted out purely because of peer pressure. "But first…" he pointed down to the large metal door. "What does that lead to? More training?"

Eric's hand twitched. "We're not supposed to talk about that."

...

'Secret chamber? That must be where I am,' Cerlius thought. 'In that case, father might be able to rescue me. Wait, the War Monks should know that he knows. Why would they put me in a position where he'd easily find me… unless it's a trap?' At that very same moment, a resounding bang echoed from above and dust flew down.

The guard stood up straight and laughed. "He's finally returned home." He fiddled with the keys at his waist and opened the cell door. He undid Cerlius's chains, but didn't touch the mana-restricting cuffs. His hands shook.

"What are you going to do to me?" Cerlius asked, a growing fear in his gut.

"To make an example." The man swallowed hard. "And put a stop to that monster's rampage."