Dark Wizard's Case Read online

  DARK WIZARD'S CASE

  Book I

  By Kirill Klevanski

  Text Copyright © 2019 Kirill Klevanski

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book can be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  Introduced by Valeria Kornosenko.

  Translated by Ingrid Wolf

  Edited by Jared Firth

  Cover designed by Valeria Vlasova

  Illustrations by Natalia Breeva

  Preface

  The year was 2031. And while it would have been not unlike any other year, what made it remarkable was the Magic Lens market release. Although to be fair, it wasn’t your normal release. The blueprints, documentation, and everything else for the breakthrough device appeared out of nowhere on Reddit on September 1, 2031, instantly spreading across the internet like wildfire.

  Who posted the dump? Who created the device, one that hid smartphone-esque computing power and microLED image quality in what looked like plain contact lenses? Half a century later, that remains a mystery.

  All we have is a screen name: Prophet.

  Growth shot through the roof for the company manufacturing Magic Lenses. Software was supplied by a variety of developers, including some industry giants.

  In just one year, the Magic Lens became as ubiquitous as smartphones. Many people got rid of their smartphones, in fact.

  But it was then, on September 1, 2032, one year to the day after Prophet posted the lens blueprints to Reddit, that he struck again with a new piece of software for the Magic Lens.

  It was open-source, available to everyone absolutely free of charge.

  We all remember how quickly the entire world downloaded it.

  But when they installed it…

  At first, everyone thought it was a game.

  It took two or three days of people having a blast destroying monsters, using magic, and beating dungeons to realize that it actually wasn’t. It was reality.

  It was reality revealed by the Magic Lens.

  Some governments tried to ban the lenses and their software, but Prophet had taken care of that by making everything open-source and available online. It would have been easier to shut down the internet than to keep humanity from their magic.

  That’s when the research began.

  Magic had always been around, it turned out. The problem was that with each generation, fewer and fewer humans were capable of seeing, feeling, and sensing it.

  As a result, the magic that had once been an inherent part of everyday life was confined to legends and fairy tales. The mortal world and the magic world co-existed as two sides of the same coin, never interacting with each other. Humans, with very rare exceptions, were unable to spot the magic creatures. The latter kept their distance.

  To be fair, the exceptions on the magic side were far more common. That explained why about ten million people around the world went missing every year, never to be heard from again.

  The magic creatures, vampires and all the rest, needed food. Vampires require an absurd amount of blood just to stay alive, while werewolves… Well, they’re in a category all to themselves.

  The Magic Lens restored the gift of magic to humanity. Research showed that its ability to transform mysterious magic into ordinary numbers and figures was based on quantum uncertainty, hyperposition, string theory, ray gravity, and the distortion of time-space by speed, or the gravitational difference between two points. There’s more, but the list gets even more incomprehensible from there.

  In 2032, regardless, magic once again became a normal part of life on Earth again.

  Humans suddenly discovered that the Ural, Himalayan, and Andean Mountains are inhabited by dwarves, the forests of Canada and Siberia by elves. Fish swim side by side with mermaids, nagas, kappas, and other magic creatures. And it isn’t just birds soaring through the skies; there are also dragons, phoenixes, griffins, and even creatures whose names had long since disappeared from legends and fairy tales.

  Ogres. Trolls. Wargs. Goblins. Orcs. Fairies. Giants. Cyclopes. Medusas. Centaurs. Cyclopes…did I mention them already? Regular old humans were suddenly in contact with all of them.

  Remember Tony Stark’s speech in one of those superhero movies? (How quaint they look today.) You know, the guy in the iron suit who started by fighting normal people before moving on to superhumans, aliens, and even gods? That trajectory, it turns out, extends much further than previously thought.

  But magic advanced by leaps and bounds after 2032. Humans worked on it. Studied it. Believed in it. (At least, if the clerics and other zealots of the Word are right about everything on Earth being moved by Faith.)

  In other words, magic didn’t become just another part of life on New Earth. It worked its way deeply into every aspect of life, developing and transforming as it went. The age of digital technology was followed by the age of magic and technology integration.

  They even found Atlantis.

  Sure, it wasn’t that hard. For thousands of years, the state of Atlantis had been thriving on a continent hidden from the mortal world under the water, with just its tip protruding above the waves for everyone as New Zealand.

  It also turned out that the old non-magical technology we used to use had failed to grasp Earth’s full size. The planet is almost half again as large as people used to think.

  Scientists went back to the drawing board, poring over what they thought they knew to combine physical laws with the laws of magic and sorcery.

  Just to take one example, no one yet knows why the larger Earth discovery didn’t change the number of days in the year, the number of hours in the solar day, or even gravitational acceleration.

  Fifty years later, in 2081, our stack of unsolved riddles still dwarfs the ones we’ve figured out the answers to.

  But humans went on living.

  They learned magic at schools of witchcraft and wizardry. They visited the lands of sapient magic creatures. They hunted non-sapient magic creatures. They explored dungeons. They loved. They betrayed. They gave birth. They died.

  They fought wars, too.

  Back in 2040, the First Magic War changed the global map and all but destroyed the planet. More on that later.

  Reddit was successful in its mission to change the world. (For better or worse? Hard to say.)

  Some are still adamantly set against the usage of Magic Lenses, rejecting all forms of magic. But they’re few and capable of nothing more than scattered terrorist attacks.

  We’ve already gone through two generations—and there’s a third maturing—for whom magic is just as commonplace as the internet once was. (Of course, the internet is still around.)

  Just don’t be surprised if you come across an elf wearing sneakers and a baseball cap, drinking a Starbucks, and tapping away at a Mac laptop. Of course, you’re still unlikely to come across one like that, be it in New York, Tokyo, London, or Moscow, unless you can get your hands on a pass for the city sector occupied by the magic races. That’s your best shot.

  The only place where you’re sure to bump into someone from one of the magic races is Myers City, the capital of Atlantis deep in the Pacific Ocean. The birthplace of magic.

  But how did magic come to be?

  Who was the Prophet?

  Why was the Magic Lens created?

  Alex Doom, also known as Alexander Dumsky, had no idea.

  And who is Alex Doom?

  Good question.

  Chapter 1

  Straightening his shabby leather jacket, Alex waited for the gate to rattle off to the side, revealing a time-worn asphalt road.
/>   “Get out of here, Doom,” boomed a voice from behind him.

  Alex turned toward the steel tower and the fat guard behind the reinforced glass. He couldn’t remember the tubby man’s name, though that didn’t keep him from flashing a middle finger tattooed with the word DOOM.

  The guard shouted something back, but Alex was already too far away to hear what it was.

  Flipping his jacket collar up, he left the grounds of the Special Correctional Institution for Uniquely Gifted Humans. It was a prison for wizards, in other words, and it was where Alex had spent the past few years. The past four years, to be precise.

  His hands shivered from the cold as he fished a crumpled pack of unfiltered cigarettes out of his pocket. Catching a glimpse of it, he smiled, tossed a cancer stick out, and caught it deftly out of the air with his lips.

  Odd as this may sound, he’d actually hadn’t learned that trick outside prison. It had been back in those barracks buried several miles underground, the ones where everyone wore magic-inhibiting collars.

  Alex rubbed his neck. He could still feel the weight of the adamantius, the accursed metal used by the government to inhibit wizards when they broke the law. Of course, that wasn’t all they used. There were also the bullying guards who were only too happy to overstep what they were allowed to do, not to mention plenty of other unpleasantries.

  “Damn it,” Alex muttered. By force of habit, he’d held a thumb to his cigarette only for it to not light up.

  Glancing at the heavy manacle around his left ankle, Alex cursed again. He was going to be without his magic for a while longer.

  And he didn’t have a lighter. How were you supposed to get one onto an island forgotten by gods, humans, spirits, demons, fairies, and all the other beings, one connected to Myers City by just a single bridge?

  Leading to the bridge was a broken road traversed once a day by a bus. Given that the sun was already sinking toward the ocean in the west, Alex had been released shortly after the solitary steel lifeboat had left.

  Alex picked up the gray bag he’d had with him when he was arrested by the Department of Law and Order, walked to the bus stop, and sat down on the wooden bench.

  There was a piercing northern wind blowing. Myers City had a short summer, and the weather had already gone downhill with August still up on the calendar. Alex wrapped his thin jacket tighter around himself, anxious for some warmth. Chewing on his cigarette, his mind wandered to what was left of his life. He didn’t have many choices, not fresh out of prison with a serious black-magic conviction on his record.

  And, to be honest, magic was all he was good at.

  “Life is such a blast,” he drawled, peering out over the endless stone ridge battered by the cold sea waves. The prison was rumored to be a replica of once-famous Alcatraz. It was the first prison for wizards modeled after a regular one.

  His reflection on that particular historical irony was interrupted by the squeal of brakes as a long, imposing limo came to a sudden stop next to the rusty bus station. The plentiful chrome accents accentuated its black, all-business look. And the classic gas exhaust spoke volumes about the car owner—in an age of magic modules, few people could afford the ownership tax on a classic gas car, let alone buy one.

  A man got out of the driver’s seat. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing an insanely expensive suit and dazzling shoes, his face was crisscrossed by scars.

  Alex shuddered. He’d see people like that before, just not as drivers. They’d been the best fighters the High Garden gangs had to offer.

  Analyze, Alex commanded the neurochip in his lens.

  A reddish message flashed in front of his eyes.

  [Name: ??? Race: Human. Mana level: 4561.]

  Alex almost choked on his cigarette. Four and a half thousand conventional mana points made for an awfully strong Adept.

  What kind of monster could afford to hire a full-fledged Adept as his driver? Alex didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out, either. But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be given much of a choice.

  The introduction was about to be made.

  The driver pushed his cap over steel eyes that could have belonged to a soldier or a hitman before opening the passenger door.

  “Thanks, Duncan,” a sleek, melodious voice said. “Get in, Mr. Dumsky. We have some things to discuss.”

  Alex glanced up at the gray, overhanging sky. Shrouded in dark clouds, it weighed on his shoulders like a granite coffin lid.

  Any normal person in his shoes would have refused, only to get tucked into the limo anyway, just less presentably.

  When a clearly official car stops in front of you, declining an invitation isn’t stupid. It’s suicide.

  Shouldering his bag, Alex walked over to the limo and smiled insolently at the driver.

  “Hi, Dunk,” he said with a wave before ducking into the car without waiting for a response.

  He had to admit, even in his good days, his buttocks had never felt such comfort. Far from a regular car seat, it was an actual armchair. The upholstery was beige leather, and it had wooden armrests, a footrest, ventilation, massage rollers, and presumably a whole litany of other absurdly expensive and incredibly luxurious features.

  Sitting in an identical armchair facing his was a middle-aged man. In the outside world, one of racist and sexist mortals, he wouldn’t have escaped being labelled as Asian. But there, in the land of magic, he was just a state official with yellowish skin and narrow eyes.

  His well-groomed hands, shiny with fresh body lotion and nail polish, held a plain file folder. That’s right—not a tablet or even a smartphone. It was a hard copy. Alex didn’t think anyone used them anymore, at least not outside the mafia.

  Analyze.

  [Name: ??? Race: ??? Mana level: ???]

  Just as Alex suspected, the suit worked for some government agency. No one but high-ranking officials were permitted by Myers City law to hide their race or mana level.

  Shit.

  Alex didn’t even feel the limo start moving. His only clue was the scenery outside starting to coast by.

  “Alex Dumsky. Raised at St. Frederick Orphanage. Escaped at age seven. First brought to the police station at eight. For stealing…” The suit stopped turning the pages lazily and raised his eyebrows. “A cat?”

  “Troubled childhood,” Alex replied, specifying that he’d been robbing an apartment when the cat had swallowed its owner’s earring. Crazy animal.

  “Joined the Tkils gang at ten, according to the police. The youngest gang member ever?”

  “I have a gift,” Alex said with a smile.

  “No argument here.” The suit nodded. “Two hundred mana points at age twelve indicates incredibly rare potential. By twelve, you’d already hit five hundred mana points and the Practitioner level. If you’d been studying at a public school, they’d have labeled you a genius.”

  “No, they wouldn’t have.”

  “You’re right,” the suit agreed. “Most likely, they’d have done mental body surgery right away to keep you from practicing dark magic.”

  “…which isn’t prohibited.” An evil note crept into Alex’s voice as the suit’s words stirred up an old grudge. “But you use it as a reason to maim children.”

  “We spare them a hard and unnecessary fate. But that’s not what we’re here to discuss. So, a young boy of twelve with Practitioner power…no, a Practitioner dark wizard decides that the Tkils gang isn’t quite right for him.” The suit turned a page, and Alex spotted a few pictures. What he saw there was even less to his liking than the dreary view out the window.

  “When he saw that, Duncan noted that you deserved a bunk in a mental hospital, not a prison.”

  “And the gangsters thought I deserved a bunk in the next world.” Alex kept looking out the window. “I disagreed.”

  “I see,” the suit said, nodding again. “So, for a long time, our unattested Practitioner dark wizard fall off the radar. And two years later, the city’s black market was boomi
ng.”

  Alex couldn’t help chuckling smugly. He’d had so much fun working with the old dwarf back in those days.

  “Dozens of top-level spells, all the way up to Mystic, and a gang war triggered in the High Garden district.” The suit turned another page. “Then you made a mistake, Mr. Dumsky: you underestimated law enforcement. However skilled you were at averting eyes, buying a sports car with a magic drive at fourteen is ridiculous. That’s more than I can afford with my government salary.”

  Alex coughed. If his guess about the suit’s position was true, he could afford a dozen of them.

  “And that was how they got you,” the man posing as a simple civil servant went on.

  “You don’t happen to have a lighter on you, do you?”

  “No smoking in here,” the suit snapped. “Two years spent chasing down a mouse like you, and the whole time you were living a street over from the High Garden police department. The nerve.”

  Alex had a different opinion. As the two-bit scammers said in the streets that were his alma mater, the best hiding places are in plain sight.

  “Then two attempts at detention. A sixteen-year-old at the Mystic level, twelve hundred mana points strong. I’ll admit, I’ve never seen anyone like that before.” There were more pictures, and that set filled Alex with pride. “You sent three operatives, all seasoned Practitioners, into intensive care. Four more spent months at the hospital recovering from a variety of injuries.”

  Alex hadn’t been looking for a fight that day. But they smashed his car! And even though he could have easily afforded a new one back then, it was a matter of principle. He’d invested so much energy in the fraudulent scheme it had taken to buy the thing that it had sentimental value.

  Or maybe he was just the sick bastard the media portrayed him as. He tried to remember if he’d kept that article.

  “For a whole month, no one hears a peep from you until you pop up in a meaningless bar brawl. Ridiculous.”

  Alex winced. That memory wasn’t a pleasant one.

  “You were in custody a week later.” The suit glanced over another page from the file and whistled. “Detained by an Adept and forty Mystic-level operatives. They really came at you.”