《Starbreaker》


 Chapter 1

    ¡°It is said that the basic building block of all magic is the mana that we store within our core and shape to cast spells, but I would posit instead that more instrumental yet is faith. If we do not believe that magic exists, if we do not believe that we are capable of shaping mana, then we cannot even begin. Will is the root of all arcana, and force of will is born of belief.¡±


    ¡ªThe Foreword to Fundamentals of Arcana, Albrecht Magnus


    The orphanage in Telas Norn was no place for children. Perched on top of a cliff overlooking the endless blue horizon of the Ceaseless Sea, the three stories of grey stone capped with green copper tiles might have looked picturesque from the outside, but inside it was damp and cold all year round. The flagstones in winter were so cold they felt like knives in the children¡¯s heels. Sylvas Vail grew up there and hated every moment of it.


    He¡¯d been considered lucky by the others because he had been given a name before the Flux took his parents, but he would have traded that name away in a moment if it got him out of that miserable place. If someone had wanted to adopt him, he would have changed anything they wanted, been anyone they wanted. But nobody ever wanted him.


    ¡°Vail?¡± The matron¡¯s voice echoed through the halls. ¡°Where is Vail?¡±


    Sylvas kept to himself as much as he could, trying to hide the deep desperation to escape from this awful place, but if he had friends in the orphanage, they would have known where to find him. It was a part of the building no longer in use, because looking out the windows and down could give the toughest orphan vertigo as the waves beat at the cliffs below, and because the stone of the place was beginning to crumble. It was just dangerous enough that Sylvas knew he¡¯d be left alone there.


    ¡°Vail!¡± He could hear his name being called distantly. Softer than the sound of the waves down below. The family name of a family that no longer existed. The name that made the others resent him. Ignoring a summons from the matron was a surefire way to get a beating and even worse duties than he¡¯d already drawn. There might have still been a cane with his name on it when he got downstairs to the greeting hall, but it would be less painful than if he waited. He could survive the cane. He¡¯d done it before. He could do this.


    He made good time scurrying along the halls as quietly as he could. Being late was unforgivable, but running was an offense too. Contradictory, like so many of the rules here. They were simply meant to know where and when they were meant to be somewhere and be there without prior instruction. Supposedly, they were being molded into the kind of kids that someone wouldn¡¯t mind taking home, but even at twelve, Sylvas had come to the conclusion that he was never going to be that kid.


    At the last moment he slowed his pace to a walk, and entered the Greeting Hall with the same placid expression on his face that he¡¯d been cultivating for years. He was ready for the Matron, for the snarling and demands that came with her, but he was not ready for what he found in the hall.


    Adoptions were few and far between. One or two a year. And it was only during adoptions that outsiders came into this building, and more specifically, this room. Today, there was a crowd.


    ¡°So kind of you to join us Vail.¡± The matron said with a smile. A smile with malice lurking behind it. He would pay later for making their guests wait on him.


    But in spite of the promised punishment, Sylvas couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the visitors. This was not a family looking for a child. This was not even several families. None of the people gathered here in their robes of black and red looked to be related to one another, but there were hints of similarity here and there in their features that Sylvas couldn¡¯t shake. A nose here. A jawline there. Pieced together, he could have assembled a picture of the Grand Duke of Telas Norn.


    What were nobles doing here? A farmer might adopt a boy for the width of his shoulders and the burdens he could bear, but nobility was all about bloodlines and heredity, none of them would ever want a child unrelated to them around.


    ¡°This is the one?¡± A woman of impeccable breeding, pallid skin, and a frighteningly hungry expression asked the matron while staring down at him.


    ¡°Vail knows his letters, his numbers, and he tests well.¡± That was the closest that Sylvas had ever heard the matron come to saying something complimentary about him.


    There were other orphans in the room, over on the sidelines, being talked to individually by the strangers in their strange garb, but slowly all eyes began to turn to him.


    ¡°He reads for pleasure?¡± The woman dragged her gaze off him, and back to the Matron.


    The matron was forced to concede that point too. ¡°Every book in our meagre library.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t right of course. Sylvas didn¡¯t read for pleasure. He read to escape. He read in the desperate hope that somewhere in one of these books he might find some answer to the riddle of his circumstances. Something that might get him out of here.


    ¡°You know your history, boy?¡± The noblewoman¡¯s attention was back on him, and he found his cheeks flushed.


    ¡°What I¡¯ve been able to read of it, milady.¡± He was quite proud of himself for remembering the correct way to address someone of her station. He¡¯d never expected to meet anyone but commoners for the rest of his stay here, and nobody but beggars in the street when he turned sixteen and they cast him out.


    It gave the woman pause. ¡°I am not a lady of the court, boy. I am¡­ no-one at all.¡±


    His brows drew down. She was lying, obviously. Anyone with eyes could see the familial resemblance to the ruling family of the city state, and anyone with a nose could tell that she was perfumed with oils that nobody shy of a merchant could afford. But if she wanted to lie, he would go along with it. ¡°Apologies, ma¡¯am. I mistook you for someone else.¡±


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    This brought a thin-lipped smile to the noblewoman¡¯s face. Which in turn brought an even thinner-lipped smile to the matron¡¯s to match it. Adoptions were the solution to half of her problems, and the generous donations that the orphanage would receive from these new patrons would be the solution to the other half. The better Sylvas performed, the sooner she could be rid of him.


    ¡°It seems to me, young Vail, that you would appreciate it if I spoke plainly with you.¡±


    Sylvas nodded tentatively.


    ¡°We represent an ancient order that has guided the hands of the Grand Dukes since time immemorial. It is our intent to adopt as many of your number as are capable to join our ranks.¡±


    Sylvas wet his lips and glanced to the Matron, who had taken on a stone-faced expression. ¡°The Heralds?¡±


    ¡°Now where did you hear that name?¡± The smile on her face had grown still. It didn¡¯t reach her eyes.


    The Heralds of the Hollow Heart were a legend. A myth. Something that people snuck into the history books as an in-joke or nod to silly stories for children. Yet here this woman stood, acting as though she were one of them, and their secret was in danger of being revealed. The Heralds, in the stories of Telas Norn, were like the witches and wizards in the fairy tales the countryside children knew. Magical.


    ¡°Books.¡± He managed to blurt out. He was too old to believe in fairy tales.


    For the first time, the noblewoman drew down her hood, revealing the scarlet of its lining, and the gorgeous tumble of raven hair that she¡¯d set loose. ¡°We are not in books.¡±


    ¡°There are¡­ mentions of the name.¡± His head was already spinning trying to piece this all together. ¡°Holes in history where you¡¯d have fit in.¡±


    ¡°Quite the little academic.¡± The woman¡¯s heavy gaze turned back to the Matron, and Sylvas breathed easy again. There had been a palpable sense of danger there for a moment. ¡°Clever, well mannered, none-too-ugly and to all appearances quite the obedient little thing. Tell me, why hasn¡¯t he been adopted yet?¡±


    Sylvas grit his teeth. Things had been going so well. He¡¯d actually felt a brief spark of hope that this might have been his last day in the orphanage. It had been foolish of him really.


    ¡°He is all that you say he is ma¡¯am.¡± The matron once more conceded in offering a compliment to Sylvas. ¡°But there is an oddity to him.¡±


    All that the Matron had to do was keep her mouth shut and Sylvas could have been out. Why did she have to tell this beautiful stranger about his oddities?


    ¡°Pray tell,¡± The Herald smiled invitingly once more. ¡°What oddities have kept him an orphan? A violent temper? A vicious cruelty to him?¡±


    Sylvas kept his teeth clamped shut against those horrible accusations. He had no temper, so far as he could tell. When he hit the others, it was to protect himself, not to sate some hunger for violence. The same went for cruelty. He was only as cruel as this place forced him to be to survive.


    ¡°Things go amiss around Vail.¡± And just like that the matron had damned him.


    The Herald¡¯s smile began to ease. ¡°He steals?¡±


    ¡°Not as such, no. But the things that he needs tend to show up around him. Things he had no way of getting.¡± The Matron was being very careful not to actually lie about him or the many suspicions she could not prove, but obviously she didn¡¯t want to face the consequences of handing off a wicked child to someone of power and influence either. ¡°Lost things seem to show up around him. He returns them to their owners promptly, but¡­ it is odd.¡±


    ¡°Odd indeed.¡± The herald¡¯s smile only deepened as the Matron spoke instead of shifting into the dismay that Sylvas had feared to see. ¡°May I have some time alone with the boy?¡±


    The Matron looked like she¡¯d been pinioned by the unexpected request. On the one hand, she couldn¡¯t say no to a wealthy patron, on the other, she couldn¡¯t risk Sylvas speaking out of turn. She turned to look at him, met his gaze and when he nodded to her, it was as much to confirm that he knew when to keep his mouth shut as it was to confirm that he was content to talk alone with the stranger. The Matron stiffened, irritated to have Sylvas in any position of power over her, but she stepped away all the same.


    He decided that the best thing to do was tell the truth. Or as much as would ensure he didn¡¯t get in further trouble. ¡°I do not steal. I don¡¯t know why things find their way to me, but I swear that I have never taken anything that¡­¡±


    The Herald had sunk down to her haunches so that they were eye to eye, and now she cut him off with the brush of a fingertips on his lips. ¡°Things simply appear around you?¡±


    He leaned away a little, perturbed by her gentle touch. He had not known a gentle touch in living memory. ¡°I realize it sounds ridiculous, but truly. I have no control over it whatsoever.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to?¡± She cocked her head to the side and smiled.


    Sylvas was at a loss. ¡°I beg your pardon ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Would you like to have control over this power you possess?¡± Her grin was wide now, far more than it had ever been since she¡¯d arrived. As though the very thoughts she was voicing were making her excited. ¡°Would you like to study it, expand upon it, make it your life¡¯s work?¡±


    There was no script for this situation, nothing the Matron had coached him to say, so he fell back on what he did know. ¡°I do not know what you mean ma¡¯am. Whatever work you might have, I swear I¡¯ll turn my hand to and work at diligently, but¡­¡±


    When she spoke again, it set off a little flutter in Sylvas¡¯ stomach. ¡°Do you know that different is just another word for special?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡± When all eyes had turned to him on arrival, he had felt like he wanted to run, but under this intense scrutiny, he didn¡¯t even think that he could get his feet to move. It was as though the weight of her stare was holding him in place.


    ¡°The reason you do not fit in amongst these children, and these dried up husks left to tend them, is not because you are different. It is because you are special. Things do not appear around you because you are odd, but because you have a gift.¡±


    He found the courage to ask. ¡°What gift might that be, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°You know of the Heralds.¡± This close, Sylvas could see that she wore some sort of powder on her face, to make her look paler and to disguise the fine lines on her face. She might have been as old as the Matron, beneath the mask of makeup. ¡°You know our area of expertise. Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    It felt like his usually quick wits were lagging behind. ¡°Are you trying to tell me that magic is real, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°I am trying to tell you that if all that I have been told about you is true, then you will be the one and only child that the Heralds take from this place. You will be taken to the Temple Tower of Telas Mirmir to apprentice with the Grand Masters of my order, and you will be trained in our rites and our ways. So the question becomes this.¡± She leaned in close enough that her breath warmed his cheek. ¡°Do you believe that magic is real?¡±


    It was a cruel joke. To ask a child who had suffered as Sylvas had suffered whether or not there might still be some wonder in the world. Something true and beautiful beyond all this misery and hardship. Magic was a story that the older kids told the little ones to get them to sleep at night. Nobody with any sense believed it was real any more that they believed that the Heralds were real. Yet here one stood, right in front of Sylvas. Either that or a very bored noble with a very cruel sense of humor.


    He could prove himself hardened to the world, or he could let her think him vulnerable. If she wanted a vulnerable child to torment, then it would still be better than the orphanage. So he said what she wanted him to say.


    ¡°Magic is real.¡±

 Chapter 2

    ¡°Of all the Eidolon cults, few have a coherent internal philosophy. As though whoever were planting the seeds of these practices did not care enough to give the religion that they were founding all of its necessary components. The truth is much more efficient. By leaving gaps in the translations and texts, the originators of these outbreaks are helping their religion to take root by co-opting local practices and beliefs to fill in the blanks.¡±


    ¡ªStarseeds: Corruption of The Great Filter, Gimbul Steelbeard


    On his first day in Telas Mirmir, Sylvas learned that he had not been lying.


    The journey had taken the latter half of the day and all through the night, but whatever High Lord¡¯s carriage he had been loaded into entirely alone did not slow or stop to rest its horses, and he had been rocked into uncertain sleep sometime in the early hours.


    He was the only one of all the children in the orphanage that the Heralds took, as the Lady had told him he would be. What she had not told him was that he was far from the only child in all the world that they had collected.


    Telas Mirmir rose smooth and perfect against the backdrop of mountains that marked the line of division between the domain of Telas Norn and the Virtuous City of Telas Skuld. Forest had once climbed the foot of the mountains and blanketed this whole swathe of land, but all had been sacrificed to the pyre of progress. Now all that remained was dead earth as far as the eye could see, stumps that could not be plucked from the soil had been burned away, peppering the land with sear marks.


    But stranger than the blighted land, the looming tower and the dark robed figures flitting around were the other children. Dozens of them, plucked not from orphanages and misery, but from happy families that had given them up freely to the cause.


    A girl only a year older than Sylvas broke away from the group as he arrived, and she gave him the same appraising look as the others in the orphanage once had, before he¡¯d proven he was willing to kick and bite if someone held him down. She smiled at him and said, ¡°welcome.¡±


    He had been taught that politeness was important. ¡°Good day to you, miss.¡±


    She smiled at that. ¡°You¡¯re from Telas Norn?¡±


    So far as Sylvas had known, he had no accent, but hearing her speak, the light way her voice lilted towards the end of each sentence, he realized that he did, he¡¯d just never heard any other. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know where you¡¯re from.¡±


    ¡°Telas Abrak, all the way across on the other coast. Since you¡¯re local, I¡¯ll be relying on you to serve as my tour guide.¡± She was smiling, but there was still a coldness to her expression, just like with the High Lady who had adopted him the day before. This was all practiced politeness that he knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up with.


    Before he could start tripping over his words, a silence fell over the whole garden that surrounded the base of the tower. Only the tinkling of the fountain could still be heard for a moment, before an older man shrouded beneath the cowl of the black and red robes of the Heralds stepped out and began to speak. He was not shouting, but his voice carried to the gathered children all the same. ¡°Greetings to you, chosen ones.¡±


    If they had been silent before, now a pin could have been heard dropping to the gravel path. ¡°Each of you has been carefully selected for your natural talents, to carry on the ancient art of the Heralds of the Hollow Heart: To learn our ways. To master our powers. To change the world.¡±


    It drew Sylvas up short. None of the children around him looked in the least bit suspicious or confused. They looked like they believed everything that was being told to them. Sylvas filed that away for later. Either they knew something he didn¡¯t or they were gullible. Either was vital to know if he was going to be dealing with them going forward.


    ¡°Of all the children in Croesia, you are the ones most naturally gifted in the art of magic, but without training and discipline your potential will be wasted.¡± Sylvas made his way slowly forward into the press of preteens, the girl from Telas Abrak dogging his heels all the way. Pushing forward to be closer, to be sure he did not miss a word. ¡°Luck is all that you have had so far. A happy accident of birth that made you capable of greatness. Squander that, and you shall progress no further. Capitalize upon it, and you shall become the next generation of Grand Masters of the Heralds of the Hollow Heart. Capitalize upon it, and you shall become gods amongst mortals.¡±


    There was excitement showing on many of the faces around him. Ambition burning bright behind the eyes of the children who were now his competitors. Sylvas didn¡¯t believe that he had that same fire. That same desire to rule over others. All that he wanted was a better life, away from the misery of the orphanage and the obscurity he would fall into afterwards.


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    I¡¯m going to succeed here, he thought, not because I want to be better than the others, but because I can never afford to be worse.


    He could not let them cast him out and send him back, he had an opportunity here to change his life, and he had no intention of letting it go.


    ¡°Do you suppose there will be magic potions and wands?¡± The girl from Telas Abrak needled him. ¡°Do you think we shall be summoning up dragons and demons?¡±


    He ignored her entirely, instead trying to press forwards once again, when he saw the old man who¡¯d been lecturing them sink down onto his knees. While they stood upon the gravel paths of the garden, the old man was upon the solid flagstones set around the fountain, and as he got closer, Sylvas could see that there were markings all around him. A solid circle line of chalk surrounded him, but symbols too. Writing in some language he¡¯d never seen before.


    Sylvas startled a little at the press of the girl from Abrak against his side, she leaned in close to whisper in his ear as they watched. ¡°They did this little demonstration for my parents, to convince them to part with a daughter coming up on marrying age. The money helped too, I¡¯m sure, and the promises of glory, but this is quite the little trick.¡±


    A low hum filled the air, barely perceptible over the usual sounds of flowing water and chittering bugs. ¡°It¡¯s a magic circle, you see. A binding to stop mana from flowing away when the mage draws it in. Those sigils seal it, make it so it can¡¯t escape. And the mage, he draws mana towards him, and because it can¡¯t escape after, it gets denser and denser until¡ª¡±


    There was a flash of light. The old man vanished in a pillar of pure white that lasted barely a moment, then he was returned, and he rose to his feet, somewhat unsteadily. ¡°Each of you shall learn to draw upon the power of the invisible world as I have demonstrated. Then you can begin your training proper.¡±


    The light. There must have been some rational explanation for it. Some reason that they¡¯d want to trick all of their new recruits into believing that magic was real, that there was some hidden power that they all could access. Sylvas thought his mind now racing.


    With the presentation over, clear nasal voices soon rose from behind them, one belonging to the woman who had fetched Sylvas here, standing by the gateway into the gardens, ¡°as all are now present, we shall take a day for you to accustom yourselves to your new environs. Tomorrow, we will begin to test you.¡±


    ¡°Come on then local guide, show me around the place.¡± The girl was teasing him, he realized. Though he wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d done to warrant her special attention. As the crowd of other children dispersed, some who knew one another gathering in cliques, others trying to make tentative friendships, Sylvas passed them by on his way to the magic circle. He sank down to his haunches and studied it. Not the circle itself, which was easy enough to work out how to draw, but the sigils around it. They bore no resemblance to any language he had ever encountered. Sylvas brow furrowed. Telas Norn is a port city with travelers from around Croesia passing through. I should know the look of it at least.


    ¡°Come on.¡± Her voice was pitched up into a whine, but Sylvas had been subjected to far worse. ¡°I don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    He cast her a backwards glance before returning to studying the sigils. ¡°Miss, you have been here longer than me. I¡¯ve no idea where anything is.¡±


    She huffed. ¡°Well, you aren¡¯t much of a guide then, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Shifting down onto his knees, Sylvas leaned over the circle, sniffing the air for any hint of alchemy. The tell-tale sharp scent of ozone if lightning had struck. There was nothing. Whatever had produced the light was gone now, in a flash. Extending a hand over the circle, he tried to feel for anything unusual, but there was no change whatsoever between the inside and out.


    ¡°What would be the point of tricking us now?¡± Sylvas whispered to himself. ¡°They¡¯ve already got us.¡±


    The girl had joined him on her haunches. The fancy lace frippery of her dress bunched up around her knees as she almost bumped heads with him as they both examined the circle. ¡°I imagine that if they wanted us easier to manipulate, tricking us into thinking they have magic powers might do the trick.¡±


    He didn¡¯t intend to speak with her, but she was doing a very helpful job in voicing what he was thinking. ¡°But there are so many easier ways to do that without setting yourself up to prove the impossible.¡±


    ¡°So magic is real, and we¡¯re really here to learn it.¡± She yawned as she said it, covering her mouth delicately.


    Sylvas finally just gave in and asked. ¡°Why are you talking to me?¡±


    She gave a little shrug that made him notice her shoulders were exposed in her dress. ¡°Because you¡¯re different from the others.¡±


    He felt a brief swell of pride. Even here among all these other chosen ones, he had stood out as unique and important. But then he took a moment to glance around at the rest of the students and the reason that he had drawn her attention became apparent. ¡°I¡¯m different because¡­¡±


    ¡°Because you have no shoes.¡±


    It was his turn to sigh. ¡°Where I¡¯m from, we don¡¯t wear them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been to Telas Norn before, you know.¡± She scoffed. ¡°I know that they have shoes there¡­¡±


    Sylvas was doing his best not to show any annoyance. It would have been impolite, and if there was anything he dreaded, it was being impolite. ¡°Then I suppose that I must be from somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a mystery are you?¡± She giggled. ¡°I do so love a mystery.¡±


    They both drew themselves back up to standing, and stared for a moment, before he stuck out his hand. ¡°Sylvas Vail.¡±


    She looked genuinely perplexed. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°My name. So that you don¡¯t have the whole puzzle to solve without any clues.¡± He managed to smile.


    ¡°And you may call me¡­ Lady Elmira Ka¡ª¡± She cut herself short. ¡°No, I shan¡¯t make it too easy for you. Mira. You can call me Mira.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Mira.¡±


    Her smile seemed markedly more genuine this time around. ¡°And you too, Sylvas Vail.¡±

 Chapter 3

    ¡°A magic circle is, at its core, about containment. Mana can enter the circle, but it cannot leave. It is for this reason that circles are used in the cultivation of a core, and it is for this reason that the gradation of a mage¡¯s overall power is typically measured in circles. Once the first circle has been formed within the mage, they can maintain a mana core without external assistance, and from that point they may technically be as competent in the casting of any spell as those of a higher circle. But rarely can stability be maintained when attempting to contain the amounts of mana required for higher magic.¡±


    ¡ªA Child¡¯s Book of Spells, Immaltan Vitorius


    On the next day, Sylvas Vail began his study of magic.


    The inside of the great tower of Telas Mirmir was richly decorated in dark wood inlaid with mother of pearl, the kind of opulence that the other students were accustomed to, but that Sylvas had never seen in his entire life. They spent the mornings in the spacious chamber that they were informed was the library, but which seemed to be exceptionally light on books, given just how many of them there were. Not that they were given free rein to go and read as they saw fit anyway. Each of them was handed a scroll upon entry into the room, and shuffled off to a desk to begin studying it.


    Mira began complaining within the first minute. ¡°Remind me why we need to memorize these sigils?¡±


    Speaking had not been forbidden, as such, but there were Heralds watching over the students with some intensity, and there could be no question that they were being judged based on their conduct. He did not want to give the impression that he was going to be a disruptive element, even if he still had his doubts about the whole thing.


    Sylvas sighed as he looked over towards her. ¡°So that we can draw a magic circle to contain mana.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but why do we need to memorize them.¡± She waved her scroll at him. ¡°We have them right here on paper. Couldn¡¯t we just carry that with us?¡±


    They could have, probably, but I suspect that this, like so many things, is actually a test on the part of my new guardians. He thought as he considered the logic, seeing the value in such a test. To see who could memorize the sigils and recreate them the quickest. To see who was committed enough to memorize them.


    ¡°I suspect that we¡¯ll have more important things to carry cheat-notes for.¡±


    ¡°You mean for magic spells?¡± There was a slight mocking note in Mira¡¯s voice, though it was clearly intended to tease him than cast doubt.


    Sylvas nodded without looking, already having begun tracing the lines of the sigils with his fingertip, getting used to making the shapes. ¡°I mean for magic spells.¡±


    The first practical magic that they would undertake arrived in the afternoon. At lunch they were taken back down to the ground floor of the tower where a great hall was laid out with tables and plates. There was no trickery or magic afoot down here, just the diligent work of a whole village¡¯s worth of cooks, kitchen boys and miscellaneous servants. Sylvas thanked each of them profusely when they brought him his lunch, drawing the disdain of all the surrounding students. Out of pure spite, Mira began doing the same, and soon everyone was treating the servants like they were actual people, just to prove themselves morally superior.


    Soon after they were herded right back up to near the top of the tower, to where magic circles had already been chalked upon the flagstones. Each of them was seated cross-legged inside of their own one, and first tasked with examining the markings that surrounded them for any errors.


    This might have been the test of the morning¡¯s study, so Sylvas turned his full attention to it. So far as he could recall, every symbol arranged around the circle was correct and matched what had been on his scroll, but of course, he did not have the scroll on hand to double check it. He closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate, to bring it back in front of his mind¡¯s eye. Where was the error? Was there an error?


    ¡°Do you see it?¡± He asked Mira, without really thinking about it. She had already settled down to meditate.


    She opened one lazy eye. ¡°See what?¡±


    ¡°The mistake?¡± He was trying not to be snappy, but he was getting increasingly annoyed at his own failure.


    She peered over at his circle. ¡°There¡¯s a mistake?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± He grumbled, dropping back down to his knees to look closer at one sigil that could possibly have been ambiguous, or that he had simply remembered incorrectly. ¡°I can¡¯t see one.¡±


    She opened both eyes only long enough to roll them, then went back to her meditation. ¡°Then there isn¡¯t one.¡±


    ¡°You read the scroll the same as me! If the circle isn¡¯t drawn properly, then this isn¡¯t going to work.¡± He felt himself getting increasingly frustrated the more he started at the symbol.


    ¡°Might not work anyway.¡±


    And there was the unfortunate truth that all of his fussing and fretting had been trying to avoid. If the circle was right, and he sat down and tried, and he failed to do the impossible then he would be cast out. He had no doubt about it. What he did have plenty of doubts about were everything else. If magic was real. If the circle was right. If he¡¯d be able to feel the mana that was supposedly trapped inside. This wasn¡¯t something he could prepare for, something he could study up on. He would either be a mage, or not, and no amount of delaying would change that outcome.


    He stepped over the chalk into the circle and he felt nothing. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    Once more, Mira begrudgingly opened an eye. ¡°How would you know? You¡¯ve never done this before.¡±


    He leaned as close as he dared without going over the line of the circle to whisper, ¡°I don¡¯t feel anything.¡±


    ¡°Neither do I.¡± She shrugged.


    Sylvas started peering around at the sigils again. ¡°So there¡¯s something wrong with the circles?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She paused, then added. ¡°Neither do you.¡±


    They spent the rest of the afternoon in silent contemplation of the absolutely nothing that they were experiencing. An experience that had Sylvas frustration turning to a near all-consuming worry.


    What am I doing wrong? He didn¡¯t ask Mira, who he suspected had fallen asleep in an upright position judging by the gentle snoring sounds. I¡¯m here, I¡¯m trying to feel the mana. What am I missing?


    And then the absence of the thing became a thing in itself. It was in the space between the things that he could see and feel, the empty space where none of his senses touched. His lips moved as attempted to rally his confidence after every failure to grasp it, his whispers escaping soft enough that only he could hear. ¡°I can do this.¡±


    Outside of his body, he knew that the mana existed but he couldn¡¯t sense it. When it drifted through him, it was like senses that he¡¯d never known he had were coming alive.


    ¡°I can do this.¡± He whispered it out louder as the dawning realization took over him. Magic was real, it had been, all along, he just hadn¡¯t been looking for it.


    It was an epiphany that only he and a handful of the others found themselves privy to in the days and weeks that followed, the number gradually growing in dribs and drabs as they finally recognized the mana flowing through them. Though by the time that half of the students had caught up, taken their first steps in reaching for magic, Sylvas and the other leaders of the pack had moved on to the next step in their journey.


    ¡°How are you doing it?¡±


    Mira¡¯s question took him by surprise as it pulled him out of his concentration, and it wasn¡¯t exactly easy for him to answer.


    ¡°I just¡­ do it? I¡¯m not sure I can put it in words.¡±


    She practically hissed at that understandably useless explanation. ¡°Well everybody else is trying to put it in words, you can at least do the same too.¡±


    That caught his attention at least, Sylvas been so focused the last few weeks that he¡¯d missed that. Missed practically everything that wasn¡¯t his studies if he was going to be truly honest. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you talking to anyone else.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because we¡¯re gossiping about you behind your back.¡± She slumped her shoulders in defeat. ¡°Try to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Hrm.¡± Sylvas grunted in response as he considered the first minor revelation that had guided him on his way, he could at least give her that. ¡°All I can tell you is that you can¡¯t force it. The mana I mean.¡±


    ¡°Willpower is the heart of mana control.¡± She did her best reedy impression of the Herald who had given them today¡¯s lecture before switching back to her own voice. ¡°Isn¡¯t the whole thing about forcing it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to¡­ you can feel mana now, right?¡±


    Her expression became entirely devoid of emotion. ¡°No I¡¯ve been lying to everyone, fully expecting that you will teach me how to draw mana in our evening chats so that my deception is never uncovered.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    She leaned over and whacked him in the arm with the back of her hand, too softly for him to really feel it through the thick fabric of the new clothes he¡¯d found waiting for him inside a wardrobe in his room. The first ones he¡¯d ever worn that had been made perfectly to his size.


    ¡°I can feel it now,¡± Mira grumbled as she glared at him. ¡°You really thought that I¡¯d¡­¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Sylvas simply stared at her as she trailed off. ¡°Seems in character.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just work off the assumption that I am being entirely honest with you and proceed from there.¡± She said while rolling her eyes at him.


    ¡°That feels like a dangerous assumption.¡±


    ¡°Sylvas¡­¡± She replied, tone no longer playful.


    ¡°You have to be aware of the mana, leave yourself open to it, and call it into the circle, but you can¡¯t try to grab hold of it once it is there.¡± He did his best to translate all that he¡¯d found in the ancient texts to guide him into little snippets for her to easily digest. ¡°You have to let it come to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh good, more doing nothing.¡± She replied dryly and with a noticeable amount of frustration. Understandably so from Sylvas¡¯s perspective and the little he¡¯d actually paid attention to since their arrival.


    The other students had lived good, comfortable lives as the nobles of Croesia did. They had not spent all their lives wanting. So when the mana slipped through their fingers, they lost their concentration, grumbled, complained, and stormed away. They felt like they were entitled to the mana. To magic. To all of it. Only Sylvas felt like he had to earn it. Only he worked night and day to earn it.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t doing nothing. It is wanting the mana to come to you so badly that it does.¡±


    She let out a little contemptuous snort. It suited her upturned nose. ¡°Shall I wish on a falling star while I¡¯m at it?¡±


    It was a response that immediately caused Sylvas to frown as he stared back at her. He had been trying to concentrate on his given exercise when she¡¯d interrupted him. To learn how to draw in power and let it rest within him. The distraction, and the response he was getting suddenly, made him a little snappy. ¡°Perhaps you could wish to be a little less stubborn so that when you ask a friend for help you feel inclined to listen.¡±


    ¡°Are we friends now?¡± She answered him coldly. ¡°I don¡¯t recall extending a formal invitation.¡±


    It was a statement that was enough to instantly set Sylvas on edge, his almost forgotten politeness coming to the fore, ¡°right, I shouldn¡¯t have presumed.¡±


    ¡°Oh stop being so wet and prickly,¡± Mira growled as she blew a strand of hair that had escaped her high ponytail off her face. ¡°Of course we¡¯re friends. If we weren¡¯t friends, I wouldn¡¯t be talking about you behind your back. I¡¯d be doing it to your face. I¡¯m just¡­I¡¯m¡­¡±


    Mira trailed off for a second as she gave Sylvas an truly earnest look, the first that he¡¯d ever seen from the young woman.


    ¡°I¡¯m falling behind,¡± she whispered simply as if the admission cost her something from her soul. ¡°And I need help. Can¡­can you help me?¡±


    Sylvas stomach instantly stilled at her words and the sheer desperation that they carried. ¡°I¡­uh. Of course Mira. I can help you.¡±


    *** Chapters Split Here In Revised Draft!***


    ¡°The development of a nascent civilization is closely correlated to what their society¡¯s outlook on magic is. In the places where it is a hushed thing, something to be kept secret, disbelieved, or even outlawed, we see limited progress, the civilization at best advancing to the limits of what natural sciences have to offer, or at worse, simply collapsing due to internal strife or disaster and soon after going extinct. However this latter fate is not wholly unique to the magic shunning societies, but also in those where magic is celebrated and taught freely. In fact, civilizations that wholly embrace magic without reservation or fear are actually more likely to find themselves meeting a tragic end, than those who do not.¡±


    ¡ªStatistical Correlations on the Acceptance of Magic in Primative Cultures, Hantis Cron


    And that was how the next few weeks of Sylvas life went as he bent his efforts not only to meet his tutors expectations, but also ensure that Mira did the same for hers. It was an extra task at that at first he expected to slow him down, but quickly did the opposite.


    As he taught Mira, as he explained what he learned, Sylvas soon found himself honing his own understanding of magic all the better. Something that soon manifested itself in his ability to touch and draw mana faster than any of the students. For him it became as easy as closing his eyes and visualizing mana swirling all around him, which in turn allowed him to draw it in towards him with every breath inwards, and letting it drift away with every breath out. He learned that if he tried to grab it like they all did in the beginning, then it slipped through his fingers, but if he drew it to himself slowly, like a fisherman working some great fish on the line, then it would come to rest in his grasp. But as his skill grew, so did his fear to tell anyone, even Mira, because a part of him worried at how too quickly her jokes about sharing his secrets could become the truth, and the one advantage he had over the others might evaporate.


    But more than just the advantages that teaching brought, so too did all of the new books aid him. For while the rest of the students complained about how uncomfortable their solitary rooms were, Sylvas reveled in having peace for the first time. Better even, there was nobody counting his candles or how late he stayed awake. Here he could read as late as he desired, and everything in the library was available to him.


    Force of will was what steered mana. Concentration. If there was one thing that Sylvas had, it was willpower. He had made it through the orphanage. Through the tests that the Heralds concocted for him week after week. Through the sleepless nights, curled around the scrolls of sigils. Memorizing spells, memorizing the shapes the mana would take when he managed to grab control of it. Will was the one thing that he was not lacking, and it showed.


    ¡°I believe that I may have to kill you, Sylvas Vail.¡± Mira was cursing his name again by the end of one seemingly mundane week. She¡¯d no sooner managed to draw mana successfully during her sessions in the big work hall, then he¡¯d managed to cast for the first time.


    He was the first in the entire group to achieve such a thing. The flash of light that had defined their introduction to magic. A brief and momentary thing, but one that nobody could pretend had been only in his head. Not even Sylvas. The whole room was usually suffused with murmurs and whispers as they were meant to be in silent meditation, but for the first time there was real absolute silence, broken only by Mira¡¯s empty threat.


    Even now, the Heralds were still largely unknown to the students. Mira was able to keep Sylvas abreast of all the comings and goings, cliques and infighting among their fellow children, but their instructors remained distant, unknowable. They barely spoke except to give instruction, barely looked at those in their care except when it was necessary, and all in all, Sylvas was glad that he¡¯d been polite to the servants from the beginning as they seemed to be the only adults willing to behave like human beings. So, when the Heralds approached him after that first day of successful casting, he did not know the pair of them. He¡¯d have recognized the woman who first recruited him from the orphanage, but these were not her.


    As they led him off, out of the long hall of scowling students still seated in their unlit circles, he cast a brief backwards glance to Mira, fully expecting her to be just as furious as the rest that he was advancing and she was falling behind, but the expression on her face was strange. Some mixture of calculating and impressed. He didn¡¯t know what to make of her, even now. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to reveal that their friendship was a long con, or a practical joke.


    ¡°You alone have succeeded.¡± One of the heralds at his side told him. A tall grizzled man with a beard dangling from his cowl to his chest. ¡°So the Masters wish to speak with you.¡±


    From behind the closed doors of their chambers just beneath the flat top of the tower, the Masters ruled over everything. They were the ones who had sent out the Heralds to fetch children. They were the ones with the true books of magic that the students were too undeveloped to see from which their scrolls and exercises were drawn.


    ¡°You will speak only when addressed directly. The words of the masters are for your ears only and are not to be repeated. Any breach of these rules or that trust will result in dire consequences.¡± The other herald didn¡¯t ask if Sylvas understood. His understanding was unnecessary. These were not threats, they were statements. His understanding mattered less than his obedience.


    ¡°You will obey whatever directives the masters deliver unto you as though they are spoken by the Hollow Heart itself. Failure is unacceptable.¡± Trust in the Masters was absolute, not because there was any clarity in their actions or the words filtered down from them, but because they were the only authority left to answer to. The only order left in Sylvas¡¯ world.


    And now he would go through those closed doors. He would enter those chambers. He would meet the Masters. It was almost overwhelming, but only almost, he kept his wits about him as the dark wooden doors were parted and the chamber beyond was exposed. There were no windows, only candle-light, and even that was dim, and arranged in such a way that the people seated in the podium were kept deep in the shadows of their cowls. What harm it could do to expose their identity to him? Sylvas had no idea.


    ¡°Acolyte, you have achieved that lowest order of magic. The casting of a spell.¡± The voice of the Master was strange, androgynous. Deep, but not so far from being a woman¡¯s that it was impossible. ¡°It is time for your training to progress to the next stage. The first secret of the Heralds shall be yours.¡±


    Despite its darkness the room gave up some secrets. A smell of damp and ancient paper. Dusty despite the underlying rot. Books and ancient relics were in here, beyond the candle-light. The secrets that the Masters taught, bound in leather.


    Another voice echoed from the other side of the chamber. This Master remained seated while the others stood. Perhaps a disability, perhaps simply a distraction. The voice did not sound so rough that it could be mistaken for anyone elderly. ¡°Anyone can do magic if they know the words, the sigils, the circle to contain the mana long enough to use it. But we want you to go further. We want you to be more than just brief conduits for the mana to pass through. To hold it inside you, to use it when you want it. A real mage, not just a dabbler. Like so many before you.¡±


    ¡°The mana within you is now under your control.¡± This voice was distinctly female and faintly familiar, like he had known its owner once, long ago. ¡°Where you will it to go, it shall go. But without a circle to bind it, it shall flee you and leave a barren waste behind.¡±


    Sylvas was already familiar with the first hints of that sensation. Everywhere that he went, mana tickled through him now, but it was only in the circle that it condensed enough for him to feel like it was more than cobwebs brushing over his skin. Drawing mana within the circle left him feeling oddly sated, and the sudden emptiness after he had cast a spell came as a shock every time.


    The first master spoke again. ¡°To progress, to become, you must make a binding within yourself. A circle forged of mana to hold a well within you.¡±


    ¡°The Way of the Hollow Heart is the way of emptiness.¡± The seated Master spoke, and all the cowled heads turned that way in time with Sylvas. ¡°To form a circle within you, you must first cultivate an empty place devoid of flesh and thought through which the mana might flow.¡±


    The familiar voice, tickling at the edge of Sylvas memory came again. It couldn¡¯t be the woman who had come and taken him from the orphanage, for he¡¯d seen her around Telas Mirmir. She was not secluded away from them all. ¡°You shall embody magic, integrate mana into your body, to become a better vessel for it.¡±


    ¡°Your Embodiment shall be the Arterium Arcanum. The scroll for its achievement can be found there, by your hand.¡± Sylvas had not even noticed the podium at his side in the midst of all the excitement.


    Another of the Masters spoke, but Sylvas was too distracted by the scrolls laid out beside him to mark which one. ¡°And for your mind, your Paradigm shall be the Cavus Cephalos. The scroll for its achievement lies by the Arterium Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Through these techniques combined, you shall achieve the first degree of enlightenment, and you can begin to prepare for the challenges ahead.¡± The first voice came again.


    ¡°Do not hesitate.¡± One master said.


    ¡°Do not delay.¡± Echoed back another.


    They spoke in practiced succession despite being unable to see one another. ¡°Your advancement is vital to the cause.¡±


    The woman¡¯s familiar voice drew his attention back to her, standing there at the opposite side of the circle. ¡°You have been chosen for a reason.¡±


    He had been warned not to speak out of turn, but it seemed to Sylvas that there had been no moment throughout the meeting in which he could have even done so. In a way it was a relief, he¡¯d had no opportunity to show himself up with his lack of good breeding and culture.


    With all pageantry over, he was then taken not to the grand chamber where they all practiced to resume his work but down instead. Down past the ground floor of the tower and deeper. Past the kitchens and store rooms and all the rest, until finally he came to a room, a half of the size of the one in which he slept. It looked more like a dungeon than anything else.


    Inside, there was a circle, not marked in chalk, but carved into the stone itself. The room smelled of rust and sweat despite the cool temperature down here beneath the surface. He still had the scrolls grasped tightly in his grip. The Herald accompanying him waved a hand for Sylvas to enter. ¡°The last student to study down here died in this room. Would be well that you didn¡¯t as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see that I don¡¯t.¡± Sylvas replied as started at the circle, taking care to keep his tone as painstakingly polite as possible.


    But all he got was an indeterminate grunt in response before the door was closed on him, leaving him alone in the dim light of a single candle on a shelf carved into the raw stone of the tower foundations.


    A clear sign as any that he was to begin his new studies without delay.

 Chapter 4

    ¡°While one¡¯s paradigm can be considered simply to be a guiding philosophy, in the embodiment we see a mage¡¯s true commitment to their craft. It is one thing to dabble in the forbidden arts, another entirely to turn over your body to the service of those arts. Magic demands much of those who would wield her. Too much for many.¡±


    ¡ªThe Body of Work, Lerman Vilmander


    The other students had been disdainful before. Now, when Sylvas finally returned to them at dinner time, he could see that they hated him. They had always been snide and quiet around him, silence falling as he passed, but now they went on talking as he went by, even speaking up louder as they disparaged him. He could do what the rest of them struggled and strived for and they hated him for it. That a child without a family or education beyond any street rat had surpassed them.


    In an instant he realized that he was now alone in the tower, alone in the same way that he¡¯d been in the orphanage, surrounded by people, but distant from them all the same. The only way out of such an exile was to do even better, to be so much better that they had no choice other than to accept him.


    ¡°Tell me everything.¡± A familiar voice demanded the moment that he stopped walking and took a seat at an empty table.


    Correction, he was alone apart from Mira, who for some reason stayed close, even when everyone else shunned him.


    ¡°I am not permitted to speak of the masters¡­¡± He began, unsure of how to even begin to explain as the girl sat down across from him.


    ¡°Forget the masters, what do they have you doing down there in the dungeons?¡±


    His brows drew down and he cast a nervous glance to the other tables in the dining hall. ¡°How do you know where I¡­¡±


    ¡°Servants.¡± She cut him off, the single word explaining everything. ¡°Now spit it out.¡±


    ¡°I am not permitted to speak of¡­¡±


    She leaned across the table until their faces were almost touching. ¡°Don¡¯t let a little bit of attention go to your head, I will still absolutely smack you.¡±


    Sylvas weighed his options. Judged that nobody was liable to be listening in on their conversation, and answered her honestly. ¡°Initiation rites, changing my body and my mind to hold mana inside me.¡±


    ¡°I knew it.¡± She exclaimed in a whisper before dropping back into her seat.


    ¡°Then why did you ask¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright fine,¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°I suspected it and you confirmed my suspicions. Pedant.¡±


    Sylvas tried to justify telling her what he¡¯d learned to himself. ¡°It does seem the inevitable progression of what we have been learning.¡±


    She ducked back in to be uncomfortably close to him. ¡°So tell me what I need to do.¡±


    ¡°You need to learn how to cast spells every time you are trying to.¡±


    She snorted as if that an obvious statement to make. ¡°Yes, very droll. Then what?¡±


    Sylvas leaned back as far as the chair allowed, just in case she took what he said next the wrong way. ¡°Then the Masters will share the next step with you. It¡­it might not be the same as mine.¡±


    ¡°What kind¡ªOh. You¡¯re serious?¡± She answered back, genuine surprise washing over her face after she¡¯d fully considered what he said.


    ¡°I am. More even, I don¡¯t know what would happen if you tried to take the next step of our journey before completing the first, but I fear it could be catastrophic.¡±


    The look that he¡¯d been expecting appeared in Mira¡¯s eye as she glared back at him. ¡°Why? Because you are so terribly wise now that you¡¯ve advanced ahead of us?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯ve been studying the techniques they gave me, and it feels like there are good odds that they¡¯re going to kill us if we do them wrong.¡±


    ¡°Oh so you¡¯re holding out on me out of concern for my safety?¡± Her mood changed almost instantly as she began to flutter her eyelashes coquettishly. ¡°How sweet. Give me the scrolls so I can see for myself.¡±


    Sylvas immediately shook his head, he¡¯d been forced to leave the scrolls behind, locked in his new room on the lower floor. Likely for the reason he was facing now. ¡°I cannot.¡±


    Thoroughly disgruntled, Mira flung herself back in her own seat, nearly rocking it back and over. ¡°Ugh. What is the point of being your friend if you won¡¯t help me?¡±


    ¡°I thought the point was having a friend.¡± Sylvas had always been good at keeping his emotions concealed, but the outright admission from Mira that she was only using him for the help he could grant her burned his heart all the same.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be maudlin.¡± She picked up on his carefully controlled expression. ¡°We¡¯re still going to be friends, even if you insist on being useless to me. I¡¯d just rather not be riding your coat-tails for the whole time that I¡¯m here.¡±


    He let out a little snort of relief, starting to find a pattern to the games she played. ¡°Perhaps you could devote some of your scheming and intrigue time to studying?¡±


    ¡°And leave the scheming and intrigue up to you?¡± She faked a laugh. ¡°We¡¯d be dead in a week.¡±


    Soon after that day, the long hall where Sylvas and the other students gathered each day became a distant memory. Something to look back on fondly. For from there on out he spent every day buried so deep in the lower floors that he had to pass by all the servants who kept the place running, past the warmth of the kitchens and the laughter of normal people who hadn¡¯t been chosen for something great. On the way down, he didn¡¯t mind it, but on the way back, when he was exhausted and every step felt like a mountain he had to climb, he envied them.


    They get to live and laugh without having to think about magic. They get the joy of knowing it exists without having to do the painful work of making it happen.


    ¡°Are you going to tell me what the scrolls do yet?¡± Mira asked each time she ambushed him outside of his quarters with unerring timing as he returned. Something that left him wondering how much time she actually spent lingering there, waiting for him to return.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Have you learned to cast consistently?¡± Sylvas would ask in return as he stepped into his room, only to have her promptly stalk off, sometimes with and sometimes without slamming his door shut behind her.


    Down in the cell in the dungeons it was almost as cold as the orphanage used to get, but Sylvas would still leave it every night slick with sweat. The first part was easy, sitting down in the circle and calling in the mana, but then things took a turn for the worse. When he was drawing the mana in now, he wasn¡¯t trying to cast a spell, he was driving it into his own body. He was carving channels in his own flesh for it to pass through. At least three times a day as he struggled against it, he whispered to himself the mantra that saw him through it.


    ¡°You can do this.¡±


    The diagram of the correct formation of channels was laid out in front of him on the scroll that he was allowed to show nobody. The lines, snaking out from the middle of the chest. The detailed instructions on where the mana could be pushed without killing him.


    ¡°You can do this.¡±


    It had taken him weeks to learn the most basic parts of casting a spell consistently, but this new practice, this new challenge, led nowhere. Pushing the mana into and through his body did nothing but hurt. It burned where it touched, feeling cold as ice despite the searing pain, but he kept at it all the same. He knew that there was a prize at the end worth any amount of suffering. He reminded himself again and again.


    You can do this.


    Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the mana that he pulled inside began to flow out to where he had been driving it. Just a tiny fraction of what he could gather in the circle, but enough that he could feel it inside him.


    You can do this.


    Then, one day, he found himself waking up to Mira¡¯s panicked face standing over him, a quick glancing telling him he was on the floor, half way into his room. More than that, he found his arms clenching at his stomach, the memory of the pain, of the mana driving too close to his stomach coming to the fore.


    ¡°Sylvas! Wake up! Wake up!¡± She exclaimed as she grabbed a hold of his face to turn his head towards her, a move that let him see a puddle of blood soaking into her skirts. ¡°What happened?¡±


    He shook his head, remembering the blood that he vomited on the ground right before he¡¯d passed out. ¡°Told you¡­ it was dangerous¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fetch one of the heralds.¡± She said quickly as she drew a bloody hand back, or tried to rather, his hand catching her by the sleeve and drawing a gasp of surprise out of her.


    ¡°No.¡±


    She turned to boggled at him as if she hadn¡¯t understood what he¡¯d said. ¡°What?¡±


    Sylvas tried to use his tenuous grip on her to pull himself up to sitting, but the pain, it wasn¡¯t just the usual burn of mana searing through flesh, it was acid searing inside him. ¡°They¡¯ll¡­ make me stop.¡±


    ¡°Someone has to, you¡¯re killing yourself!¡± She snapped back, her eyes watering as she spoke.


    Sylvas laid his head back against the stone. ¡°I¡¯ve bled¡­ for less important things.¡±


    Mira tugged her arm free of him, her head shaking rapidly. ¡°No. I¡¯m getting someone, right now.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± He barely managed to groan, his vision starting to blur.


    ¡°Then stop me.¡± Mira replied as she pulled away from him. ¡°Stand up and make me stop.¡±


    ¡°I¡­can¡¯t.¡± Sylvas said, knowing that it was true in every sense of the word. He had gone too far.


    ¡°Then you need help.¡±


    He lost himself to the dark soon after she left. If she hadn¡¯t come along, he wasn¡¯t sure he would have survived the night. As it was, he awoke in his bed with a cut and stitches on his torso that had not been there before. The tug of more stitching within him making itself known every time he tried to move.


    Soon after one of the servants brought him food and helped him with his ablutions in what had to be the single most mortifying experience of his life. She knew nothing of what had befallen him, only that one of the ¡®little masters¡¯ had taken ill and needed some tender care. She brought him the books that he requested and left him alone to discover that he was too weak to hold a leatherbound tome over his face, and too pained to move around to rest it on anything. The time was destined to be wasted it seemed.


    The Masters had sent down orders for him. Conveyed by one of the Heralds in passing. They ordered him to lie in his bed, to rest, to even stare at the ceiling, so long as did nothing to slow his healing. It was something that galled him. Weeks, even months might pass before then, and he knew that already some of the other students had been granted access to the lower floor. The only comfort that he could take was the idea that he had a month¡¯s head-start on them, even if they were being given ample time now to get ahead of him.


    It was a thought that he let fester inside him for when Mira came to him the next day, giving her all of the contempt that he could muster in his feeble state despite the obvious cheer that she had come with. ¡°I told you not to tell them.¡±


    ¡°Would you rather have died?¡± Mira growled back, her expression quickly falling. ¡°You would have, you know.¡±


    He groaned as he tried to sit up and see her properly. ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, you¡¯re right, life-saving surgery is definitely something you can just skip because it is interfering with your schedule.¡±


    ¡°I¡­would have thought of something.¡± He gave up on sitting up. Glowering angrily up at the same patch of ceiling he¡¯d been looking at for hours.


    ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t have Sylvas,¡± Mira countered in a heated voice, something giving way. ¡°I watched the light in your eyes vanish, you pig-headed oaf! I thought you were as good as gone!¡±


    ¡°Me? Pig-headed¡ª¡±


    Sylvas words died in his mouth as Mira suddenly seized hold of his chin and twisted his face towards her. She was close now, far too close for comfort. ¡°Sylvas. Please. Do not make me worry about you like that again, I did not enjoy it and I do not appreciate it.¡±


    His eyes flitted down to her lips where they were slightly parted and dewy in the candle-light and then he spoke about something else, anything else to distract him from the sudden surge of hormones he felt coursing through him. ¡°You¡­you were happy when you first arrived, and I stepped on it. Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°It certainly did.¡± She replied, light reappearing on her face. ¡°I can do it now. I¡¯m being moved to a room right alongside yours and the others on the floors below. Today. As soon as I see the Masters.¡±


    It was a joy to be certain, and one that calmed the pain and frustration that otherwise plagued Sylvas heart. Unfortunately it also one that he drifted off sometime in the midst of, because when next he stirred the candle illuminating his room had burned down to nearly nothing and he was alone once more.


    Or that¡¯s what he thought at first, the belief rapidly changing the more his senses cleared and he realized that something was prickling at the periphery of his perception, that some presence lurked in the stillness of his chamber.


    ¡°What use is the chosen one if he ends up buried before he¡¯s even begun?¡±


    He knew that voice. The woman who had fetched him first from the orphanage, the one that the grapevine whispered was a bastard-duchess of Telas Norn risen to power by alternate means.


    In everything the Heralds said and did, there was a test. He was sore, tired and the practice that was meant to make him a mage had rendered him an invalid, so he imagined that they thought him defeated. He replied carefully, ¡°what use is a chosen one who can¡¯t achieve his potential?¡±


    ¡°You will end your studies here. We shall find you some quiet apprenticeship to retire to and live well.¡± It was phrased as a statement, but Sylvas knew it was a question. If such a thing had been decided, they would not have sent a herald to discuss it with him, he would simply have found himself shipped off.


    ¡°I will not.¡±


    There was a soft intake of breath. Feigned surprise at his defiance, perhaps. Then her voice again in the dark, soft as a whisper. ¡°To continue is to court death.¡±


    He had always known this. Once you understood it, it was so easy to see how magic could go wrong. How a mis-spoken word or some misshapen mana might bring his life to an end. He had made peace with it. ¡°We all die. But I¡¯d rather have my life matter first.¡±


    If she was surprised at that answer, then she hadn¡¯t been paying as close attention to him as he had suspected. I was nobody. I had no family, no friends, no money. I was never going to make any difference in the world. I was never going to matter. I was going to be forgotten.


    The heralds had changed that. They had given him a chance to be more, to matter, to change the world. There was no way he was going to give up that opportunity just because it might kill him.


    Her visits went on through his convalescence, brief checks to ensure that he was still alive. The three women, Herald, Servant, and Mira were the only brief respite that he had from the awful boredom. He could not get up. He could not draw a circle, unaided, with which to undertake his embodiment. All he could do was wait, and continue to guide Mira through the difficult early stages as best that he could.


    And hope he didn¡¯t fall too far behind.

 Chapter 5

    ¡°Circles are the most natural form in the universe. The geometry of a circle interferes with the free passage of mana. The natural curvature is a temptation that mana cannot seem to resist following instead of pushing through. All spellforms are ultimately shaped of intersecting curves, with points of crossover the nexus in which effects are created. And any circle, sufficiently reinforced with sigils, will contain mana in its raw and undirected state. Through this simple device mana saturation can be achieved and the unattuned can begin their training.¡±


    ¡ªSacred Geometry, Archmage Karth Veilbohr


    Neither Sylvas nor Mira would ever admit to another mistake, and before long it became common practice amongst all the students to hide the wounds that their Embodiment was dealing them. Bandages were discreetly shared under the dining table and the aroma of antiseptic herbs became as commonplace as any incense.


    Sylvas bled. Sylvas hurt. But inside him, bright channels of power began to spread. His body wasn¡¯t his own anymore. It was a home for the mana. It belonged to magic, and there was nothing that he hated more than when the end of the day¡¯s meditation came, he stepped over the borders of his graven circle and the mana flooded out of him again, leaving him hollow.


    Mira and he took turns helping one another up the stairs, depending on which of them had done themselves the graver injury. The Arterium Arcanum was demanding, training the body to accept mana was like training a fish to breathe air, and to Sylvas immense annoyance, this was still the easy part of preparing to become a mage. His embodiment was progressing in slow agonizing increments, but it was progressing. Which left the other part of the equation; his Paradigm.


    The sacred texts had called this Embodiment. The Arterium Arcanum Embodiment. And it was, to Sylvas immense annoyance, the easy part of preparing to become a mage. To hold magic inside him required more than just carving channels through his flesh with mana. The body was only half of the equation. He needed to change his mind too.


    All that he needed to do to progress in the Arterium Arcanum was suffer and mutilate himself for months on end, but the Cavus Cephalos Paradigm escaped him entirely.


    Emptying the body of flesh so that mana could pass through hurt, but was an achievable goal to strive for. On the other hand, emptying his mind of thoughts, all thoughts, was impossible. Sylvas had no idea how to not think. Every moment of every day, he had a thousand thoughts running through his head. He did what the scrolls said, he visualized himself in emptiness with nothing but the distant stars around him. He let his body take over its own functions and freed his consciousness. And then something would pop into his head. Some spell or translation that he was working on. Some footnote on one of the Sacred Texts might have helped him to clear his mind but it was now the thing occupying his mind when he was trying to keep it clear. It didn¡¯t matter how smart he was. How much he had learned. How hard he studied. His mind just wouldn¡¯t stop. Maybe if he hadn¡¯t been smart, and hadn¡¯t learned so much, there would have been less tucked away behind the curtains in his brain to slip out onto center stage every single time he tried to clear it.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t this easier?¡± Mira huffed after another long day of failure. ¡°Animals don¡¯t think all day long. Rocks don¡¯t think. I¡¯d swear most people don¡¯t think either. So why can¡¯t we?¡±


    Sylvas had a napkin held up to his eye to catch the blood leaking from his tear duct, but he managed to give her a contemptuous look all the same. ¡°Because they aren¡¯t trying to simultaneously empty their mind of all thoughts while also using that same mind to do so. It is like trying to lift a box that you are standing on top of.¡±


    ¡°But they are still doing it!¡± Mira¡¯s voice dropped to an aggravated hiss. Her progress with her embodiment was as far along as Sylvas¡¯ by now, thanks to his assistance in the early stages, and his own inability to progress while laid up. She was not the only one. She recounted rumors of the successes and failures of the others constantly, but Sylvas barely even saw them anymore. Each abided by their own schedule of study. Some slept all day, preferring the dead of night to be wasted down in the lower floors. Others stuck to the usual schedule. Meal times were the only occasions when they were all together, and a fair number of them didn¡¯t bother to attend. Preferring more rest, or more work. Ambition seemed to have brought the majority up to speed with Sylvas, with only the time that he¡¯d started ahead of them earning him his highly disputed position as the best student.


    ¡°Then seek that which makes the stone unthinking, or the rodent or whatever else it is that you¡¯re intent on emulating.¡± He was too tired to even argue properly. He¡¯d started off trying to sound wise and abandoned that course midway.


    ¡°Rodents have brains a fraction of the size of ours, rocks have no brains at all. So unless you want to do some swift work around my skull with a chisel, I believe that we need to return to our initial concept.¡±


    It had taken him months before his Embodiment was nearing complete. Slow months with nothing to show for them but blood in his chamber pot and pains in places that he hadn¡¯t known he was capable of feeling pain. But even by the end of that, when he could fill the channels of mana within his body all but instantly the second he stepped inside a circle binding, his Paradigm pushed no further forward. He would manage moments of emptiness. Moments that were interrupted just a breath later when the inanest thought drifted into his mind and ruined everything. The harder he tried, the more frustrated he became, and the worse that he got at it.


    Then came the funeral. It wasn¡¯t the first. The longer that they studied magic and practiced their embodiments, the more funerals they attended. Every member of the Heralds from the Grand Masters down were in attendance in the gardens of Telas Mirmir. The place was perpetually in a haze of fog and rain from up on the mountains, but by some working of magic, today there was only the dull chill in the air and the earth was unsodden enough that it could be dug without difficulty.


    Sylvas didn¡¯t know the name of the dead student. He hadn¡¯t troubled himself to learn most of them. They were his competition, not his friends. The only friend he had was Mira, and she was standing beside him in uncharacteristic silence, holding his hand limply.


    He was not going to die. The worst part of his embodiment was already done. The vital organs that risked rupture had now been sealed off behind scar-tissue and while the final extending tendrils of mana were closer to the surface now and resulted in endless bruises and bleeds, he believed that the worst of the danger was past. There was no way for him to relate with the failure in the casket, nor any way for him to feel sorry for the dead girl. My doom is going to be altogether different.


    In the beginning, he had told himself, over and over like a mantra. ¡°You can do this.¡± But now when he whispered it to himself, it sounded like he was begging it to be true.


    ¡°How are we going to do this?¡± Mira drew him back out of his sulk a few days later. The bleed in his eye had stopped, but there was a wetness inside, somewhere upon his ribs that he could now feel. It was good that their robes were black, it concealed so many stains.


    He shifted uncomfortably, hoping that this fresh wound might not need stoppering. ¡°We¡¯re going to keep trying.¡±


    ¡°Time is running out. The other rooms beneath the tower are full now. We might have started off ahead, but it¡¯s just a matter of time before we are surpassed.¡± She leaned in closer, keeping her voice pitched low so it wouldn¡¯t carry. ¡°Unless we¡­ unless you can solve this.¡±


    He too leaned in closer, quick to try and bolster her spirits as she did for him so often during their struggles. ¡°Don¡¯t discount yourself so quickly.¡±


    ¡°I think we both know that you¡¯re the one with the talent for this.¡± She scoffed. ¡°The Heralds have had their eyes on you since the first day.¡±


    Sylvas shook his head as if that attention meant anything after all this time. ¡°So have you.¡±


    That brought her up short for a moment, then she shrugged her shoulders and pushed on. A move that she all but instantly regretted with a pained wince, the motion causing blood to begin running down from her left ear immediately after the motion. Not that it stopped her from continuing. ¡°Because whoever masters magic is going to be the most powerful person on the planet, and I¡¯m placing a hefty wager of time invested on it being you.¡±


    Sylvas chuckled. She¡¯d been spinning these tales of herself as some sort of grand manipulator since the first day to justify why she¡¯d sought his friendship, and each was more entertaining than the last. ¡°Because we¡¯re friends now, I¡¯ll be so indebted to you that I¡¯ll serve whatever scheme you come up with?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, that would be ridiculous.¡± She said, trying to lift a spoon of stew to her lips and discovering that her elbow had ceased bending partway. ¡°You¡¯ll do as I please because you¡¯ll be my husband.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Sylvas mind went entirely blank. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You see how substantial my gamble is now? I¡¯ll be known among the ruling houses as the girl who spent half a decade courting some peasant unless you make something of yourself.¡± She tried to prod him, but her elbow gave up again. ¡°My reputation shall be in tatters.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m¡­¡± Sylvas took a moment to compose himself. ¡°We aren¡¯t romantically involved.¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Well no, of course not.¡± She said, as if it were the least important part of a future marriage. ¡°I¡¯m building rapport with you, establishing a friendship. I¡¯ll woo you with some light petting over the next few years until you¡¯re desperate to marry me. Then I suppose you¡¯ll be uniting the Heralds with the ruling house of Telas Abrak, and become a mage-prince¡­ or perhaps they¡¯ll invent some new title just for you.¡±


    He stared at her mystified. ¡°And do I get any say in this?¡±


    ¡°Sylvas, darling. You haven¡¯t had a say in anything since the moment I met you, why should that change now?¡±


    ¡°I am not interested in¡­¡± She leaned across the table and brushed her lips against his before he could say what he had no interest in. It was the first time Sylvas had been kissed in his life. Soft, fleeting, but shocking enough to his system that he froze for an instant.


    Mira settled herself back down with a rather smug expression on her face. Sylvas remained in stunned silence until she cleared her throat. ¡°The problem of the Paradigm?¡±


    Sylvas took it for the lifeline that it was and nodded. ¡°The problem of the Paradigm.¡±


    Committed with a new goal, a new future far beyond anything he had ever planned, Sylvas then threw himself back into his training with renewed vigor. With Mira¡¯s aid, they raided the library for every single meditation guide they could find, begged each Herald they saw for even a scrap of insight, adopted ascetic diets, everything they could possibly think of. In a fit of frustration Sylvas even abstained from sleep for three entire days, thinking that if he was to think that he might find a better way to empty his mind.


    However none of what they tried worked. None of his attempts allowed the mana to flow through his mind the way it did his body. Even as he pushed it at his mind with enough force that blood ran from his nose and his vision darkened, he still could not get it to work.


    With his embodiment complete, Sylvas spent every day and most of each night in his little room on the flower floors, sitting inside a circle, eyes shut tightly. He had been drawing in more and more mana each session, hoping that eventually the sheer weight of it would break through whatever barrier he was crashing into. The channels inside his body were full, the air all around him was heavy with the potential of the power that he¡¯d gathered and still nothing was happening.


    Yet according to all that he¡¯d read and knew something should have been.


    There was no reason that it wasn¡¯t working. He wasn¡¯t thinking about anything. All his attention was being spent on absolutely nothing. He wasn¡¯t even thinking about what a waste of time this all was when there were so many other things that he could have been doing. Or sitting there feeling completely defeated, the way that he sometimes did this late in the night when he had still failed utterly. He was doing absolutely everything that he was meant to be doing, but it wasn¡¯t working.


    That is not until the day that it finally did.


    It began with a slamming door in the hallway outside his room. A sign that one of his competitors had given up for the night and began staggering up to their bed. But in his mind, completely empty of all thoughts, he hadn¡¯t been thinking about where he was, or what the noises he was hearing might have meant.


    Instead, he heard the bang, and he was instantly sent back in the orphanage, waiting for one of the bigger kids to come storming in and take their frustrations out on the weaker, smaller ones. He had emptied his mind so completely that he¡¯d lost his place in time. Memories and the present blending into one. His whole body was tense, and he was listening with an intensity that he had forgotten he was capable of. An absolute stillness and silence, like a mouse cowering in the shadow of a hawk.


    It should have been the opposite of an empty mind, but that spike of anxiety from so long ago had washed all his thoughts away. He couldn¡¯t think when he needed to focus on what he was hearing, couldn¡¯t think in case he needed to react, so his mind was completely clear.


    The mana flowed.


    Carving channels into his body had been agony, but the mana flowed into his mind as if it was the perfect vessel for it. It flowed through his mind, and then out to connect with his body, one continual loop of mana washing through him in rhythm with his breathing.


    Sylvas lost it almost immediately. Completely overwhelmed by the sensation, he did what he always did, made the same mistake he always made, and he tried to analyze everything. When he tried to analyze, his mind filled up with thoughts, pushing the mana out. He tried to grab it, the way that he had when first summoning mana into a circle, but it slipped away.


    Sylvas swore in every language he knew. Like one of the sulking rich students. Then he startled himself into silence as his own voice echoed back changed. His voice was so much deeper than he remembered. He had been so focused on the changes he was making to himself, that he had forgotten his body was making changes all its own.


    That shock, that silence, was all it took for him to find the emptiness again. When his mind was open instead of focused on its own thoughts. The mana flowed and he felt such elation that he cut it off all over again. I need to calm down. I need to stop worrying that I can never achieve the impossible task of emptying my mind, because now I¡¯ve done it. Twice. He knew how it felt now. And he could do it again and again until he got it right. Until he could hold his mind empty forever.


    He slept like a baby that night. Probably for the first time since he was a baby, before the orphanage and the threats that came with it when he was vulnerable and asleep. His future had been hanging in the balance, and now, by luck more than anything else, it wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°You bastard, you did it.¡± Mira caught him by the front of his robes and dragged him away from the rest of the breakfasting students, the woman needing only a single look at him to discover his secret.


    ¡°My parents were wed before they died, thank you very much.¡± He said it reflexively after all the time he¡¯d spent thinking of the orphanage.


    But Mira was not in a mood to be distracted. ¡°You¡¯ve cracked the paradigm, I can see it.¡±


    ¡°You can see it?¡± He raised an eyebrow at her. Some of the students had made grandiose claims about their abilities in the early part of their stay in Telas Mirmir.


    ¡°On your face, you smug ass.¡± She prodded the offending face with a finger. ¡°You¡¯ve been getting more and more worried for weeks and then today, overnight, the weight I saw upon you is gone. What am I supposed to think except that your problem is solved?¡±


    The struggle not to scream and shout about it continued inside Sylvas, but he conceded. ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°You bastard, you did it.¡± She repeated.


    This time he couldn¡¯t conceal his smile. ¡°Would you like to learn how?¡±


    That day they sat almost atop one another in the circle in his cell, with him serving as the siphon to draw mana in and her merely saturating herself in it without the effort and thought required. While he did that, filling the space up with mana in what had now become a reflexive way, his mind strayed to her. They were both leaving the gangly awkwardness of youth behind slowly but surely. Taking shape into the adults they would someday become ¨C and despite Sylvas having now perfected the technique of emptying his mind of all thoughts ¨C his hormones were beginning to rear their ugly head again as he made those observations about her.


    Perhaps marriage wouldn¡¯t be so terrible a prospect. The two of them certainly got along well. In that she is literally the only person in my entire social circle. He dragged his mind away to focus on the far more important circle that he was working on.


    When he summoned the mana, he felt it flowing through his body and his empty mind. It moved almost as if there was no difference between one and the other. It flowed faster through his body than his mind, leading to some odd little hiccups and build-ups of mana within him, but gradually he came to recognize them before they occurred, to give the mana a little push as it passed through the imperceptible barrier between mind and body. The mana, once it was inside him, circulated endlessly between his Embodiment and Paradigm, a perfect circle, made of two parts. He could visualize that circle now, and to his delight, he realized that within it, the mana that he had drawn could not escape. Just as he had drawn a circle of chalk outside himself in the hall above, he had now drawn a circle of mana inside.


    ¡°What are you up to back there?¡± Mira muttered demurely as she glanced back at him, breaking his concentration and letting all the mana that he¡¯d contained flood out of him again. It washed over her, drawing out a surprised gasp which distracted Sylvas even more. Perhaps this had been a bad idea.


    She huffed. ¡°I swear I almost had it before you... I almost touched that instinctive animal mind that you say is the route to mastery. I can understand why they had us work separately before, having someone so close is definitely a distraction.¡±


    Sylvas was quick to shuffle away from her and out of the circle, conceding, ¡°maybe this wasn¡¯t our best idea.¡±


    She fluttered her eyelashes at him mockingly. ¡°Oh but it was so terribly romantic of you, wanting to share your big moment with me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a paradigm to master?¡± He grumbled.


    She effortlessly countered with a smile. ¡°And don¡¯t you have a metaphysical circle to forge out of mana?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a cell of your own to sit in?¡± He was working on the circle. It was just taking time to solidify it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have any sense of propriety?¡± She placed a hand on her chest and feigned a gasp. ¡°Inviting a young woman to sit on your lap all day?¡±


    Sylvas choked on his next words, and Mira left the room smirking before he could get out a rebuttal. Some glorious day, he would get the last word, but it remained in his distant future.


    There were many things that texts had never explained. They had told him how to get to this point, and said that after he had combined Embodiment and Paradigm he would have mastered the movement of mana within himself, and would be able to retain the mana that he needed to cast, but they never said how.


    From hints and implications across dozens of texts, he had worked that the circle of mana flowing through him containing the gathered mana within. Now that he had the flow of mana within him regulated to ensure that it moved smoothly between both halves of the circle, he realized how easy it was to manipulate any mana inside of himself but still he was no closer to being able to retain the mana within him once he left the external circle carved around him. The flow of mana held for a while, but it was too ephemeral, it would wisp apart and leave him with no way of holding the mana within him in its place. Then he¡¯d be back to the start again.


    Each day, he aligned his body and mind, and drew in mana. More than he had ever been able to muster before. Until it glowed within him at the center of his being, pulsing in time with the heart it shared the same space with. Surrounded by the circle that he had made with flows through his body. He kept on drawing in more, and as he did, more radiated out, trying to escape but colliding violently with the circle. It bounced and rebounded around inside of him. Hurting with every deflection and threatening to break his concentration, but still he drew more and more, until there was no more room within the circle, and it began to suffuse out. The flowing circle of mana became denser as mana bled into it, thicker and slower moving until finally, weeks after he had achieved the paradigm, it became solid. He let go of his control over the mana then, surprised into stillness. The circle didn¡¯t move. The mana trapped inside did not escape. He had forced so much mana into it that it had become a solid band of magic inside him.


    He rose to his feet, muscles aching after so long without movement, but the circle of forged solid mana did not budge, not even when he took that first stumbling step outside the circle on the floor.


    Sylvas was a mage. The first mage of his generation. He walked up the stairs, past the sobs and cries in the other cells where his counterparts were still laboring away, mining out parts of their bodies so that the mana had somewhere to flow. Past the bloodstains and the bad memories of everything that he¡¯d put himself through. None of it mattered because he had made it to his goal. As for the rest of them, still struggling and striving to do the same thing that he had achieved, it didn¡¯t matter if they succeeded or failed, because he was the first. He would always be the first.


    He had won.

 Chapter 6

    ¡°For some, magic is a purely practical affair, for others a religious experience. Most find that their experience of magic arrives somewhere in the midground, between the calculus of casting and the bliss of magic being done. Yet both seek advancement. The practical, for the new opportunities it presents. The religious, to become more godly.¡±


    ¡ªHeretical Philosophies: Understanding the Obsidian Dominion, Elenya Starweaver


    The time that Sylvas spent becoming a mage had felt like the longest in his life, but the years that followed had vanished faster than he could blink. Soon he wasn¡¯t just a student, he was the teacher, instructing all of the others in how to achieve what had come to him so easily ¨C from their perspective. His ascension to mage was accompanied by a rapid climb through the ranks of the Heralds. The Grand Masters were still above him, providing him with guidance and instruction from their Sacred Texts, but beyond that, he had almost complete freedom to shape the mages of tomorrow to his own design. Unfortunately for them, the only way that he had learned to become a mage was the hard way, and while he could offer guidance to help them achieve their Paradigm far more easily than he could have, the Embodiment remained the same arduous process, with a fair few casualties along the way.


    He wore the hooded robes of the Heralds now, black lined with red silk to represent the Heart, but the other students turned out in the tower gardens garbed all in black at least once a month to consign one of their number to the earth. Every one of them looking down into the hole in the wet dirt, painfully aware that one wrong move could send them to the same place. It was a testament to their courage, or at least their ambition, that none of them ever quit.


    ¡°Surprised that wasn¡¯t you.¡± Mira whispered to him, their hands clasped together far more comfortably after years of familiarity.


    ¡°It very nearly was.¡± He reminded her. ¡°Many times.¡±


    ¡°Never me though.¡±


    It would have been inappropriate to laugh at a funeral, so he restrained himself to a wry smile. ¡°No. You always had the sense to let me wander blind into the uncharted morass first.¡±


    ¡°No point in both of us losing a boot.¡±


    Sylvas own progress in the intervening years had been sufficiently impressive to keep him in the favor of the Masters, even when there were so many other mages now among their ranks.


    With a supply of mana to call upon, he studied the spells that he was now granted access to, massaging many of them into new and more usable forms, and proceeding to teach those forms to the other students. His particular favorite was the Arcane Arrow, which he¡¯d cobbled together from an old manual on mana focus, which essentially just allowed them all to hit each other at a distance, but once that had become widely used, his next new spell: a kind of magical shield to deflect attacks of that sort had become the hottest new commodity to be traded. Most of the other students assumed that they were getting these spells passed down from the tomes of old, and delighted in them. Meanwhile, only the masters and Sylvas knew who was really behind them. And Mira, of course. I have no secrets from her, even when I want to.


    Increasingly as the years had rolled on, the applications of the spells that he was learning from the sacred texts were becoming more esoteric, and simultaneously, more focused. Temporary embodiments to reinforce him against channeling more mana than his body could withstand. Wards to direct specific spells away from him. Fragments of spells that were obviously never meant to be cast, but which informed the way that he thought about the next fragment the Masters fed him.


    ¡°What do you suppose it all means?¡± Mira would ask, lolling her head back off the end of his bed as he sat in meditation.


    ¡°The spells?¡± He had only opened one eye, and even that, he¡¯d opened grudgingly. There was a lot of pain when he tried to force more mana into his core than it could hold, and a lot of tension too, as he had to carefully maintain the balance in case he suffered a catastrophic failure of the circle he was putting under strain. Catastrophic in the explosive sense. Not every coffin in the gardens has a whole body inside it, many hold nothing at all.


    Still Mira had never let a little thing like mortal danger stop her from chatting. ¡°What are they working you towards?¡±


    He closed his eyes again, trying to find the perfect balance and flow of mana once more. ¡°I¡¯m sure that you will know a moment after I find out.¡±


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t be like that.¡± She grumbled while waving her hand aimlessly through the air. ¡°You must have theories¡­ suspicions?¡±


    There was so much hinted at it in the texts that he was given, but never clearly stated. It had come to his attention that he was already outstripping all of the existing mages that the Heralds had thus far produced, but even with that, the amount of information being withheld from him was infinite in comparison to what he knew. The argument had always been that this was the path to progression, walking before he could run would be perilous, but by now he was strides ahead of all who¡¯d come before him. He couldn¡¯t understand why they were still being so secretive.


    ¡°Something vast.¡± He eventually said. ¡°A single great spell that outstrips everything that we¡¯ve done before.¡±


    ¡°Then what about what they¡¯re teaching the rest of us? The different training course that they¡¯ve put the new round of students into. The ones they¡¯ve hauled in after seeing how well their gamble with us paid out?¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Pieces of the larger spell, I suspect.¡± Sylvas had poured over Mira¡¯s work, as much for his own understanding of it as to assist her. ¡°Pieces that will make sense when they are all brought together. For me¡­I¡¯ve mostly been learning bodily reinforcements.¡±


    He was uncomfortable with the admission, but he wouldn¡¯t lie to her unless the masters demanded it. ¡°To keep me alive while I cast a spell of such power it should incinerate me.¡±


    ¡°But you have no idea what that spell is?¡±


    With a sigh, he abandoned his meditation, and opened his eyes to meet her steady stare. ¡°Ascension.¡±


    ¡°So you do know?!¡±


    ¡°No, you asked for a guess. So I¡¯m guessing. I¡¯ve filled myself up with mana until my circle tremors and my channels bleed but I cannot progress beyond where I am. Ascension is the only purpose I could imagine this new spell could hold.¡±


    She smirked. ¡°Because everything is all about you?¡±


    ¡°Because the magic I am studying is beyond what any of us could achieve with the mana we have, and while I¡¯ve no doubt that magic as a team sport would be quite popular, I cannot¡­ I will not accept that this is my limitation.¡±


    She propped herself up on her elbows to plant a kiss on his cheek. ¡°There¡¯s that ambition again. The one that drew me in to start with.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought you were smitten with my absent shoes.¡± He couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    Her gaze drifted down to his lips. ¡°I can feel more than one thing at a time.¡± As he leaned in a little closer, she stopped him with a fingertip on his chin. ¡°For instance, right now I¡¯m feeling annoyed and tired.¡± She rolled off the bed and headed for the door.


    ¡°Will I see you tomorrow?¡± Sylvas cursed himself internally for calling after her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you always?¡± She smiled as she eased herself out into the corridor, a single hand waving to mark her departure.


    He settled to bed not long after. Most nights, with his meditation uninterrupted, he would have continued pushing, but tonight the exhaustion of it all seemed to catch him by surprise and he took to sleep like a fish to water.


    At least until he was stirred by the wards on his door being interfered with.


    Some might have called it paranoia, to ward the door to his chambers with locks and alarms when he was surrounded by his own allies, in his own place of power, but some part of Sylvas had never forgotten the orphanage, and the terror of stirring in the dead of night to the sense of bodies in motion in the pitch black.


    He rolled to his feet, sleep already long gone and weighed whether he had time to throw on robes before whoever was coming for him made it through the door. The wards would hold them for a minute at least, assuming that they had a mage almost as good as Sylvas available to them, and since the only ones who would benefit from him dying in the night were those mages second in power to him who sought his position at the top of the ladder, it was a reasonable assumption.


    He shrugged on his outer robe and readied himself, summoning a little ball of light for illumination and catching the briefest glimpse of who he had become in the mirror. His hair, once shaved short to prevent fleas was now long enough to reach his mid-back, bound back in a simple leather tie to keep it from his face. His body had been shaped through years of calisthenic exercises into something that might not have been the ideal, but at least functioned well enough. The only thing that remained familiar was his eyes.


    There was a knock on the door that finally identified his intruder. ¡°Sylvas Vail, the Masters require your presence.¡±


    It was her. The bastard-duchess who was as close to a mother as he¡¯d ever know. He tore down his wards with barely a thought, and the door swung open. She was alone, but for one other herald, and neither of them showed any signs of wishing him ill. ¡°They require my presence in the middle of the night?¡±


    ¡°Do you suppose that the time matters when they have a task for you?¡± She arched a perfectly groomed brow.


    ¡°I do not.¡± He tied the belt of his robe as best he could and followed her into the night-dark corridors.


    He found the courage now to speak to the heralds often, even those that had been here since before he was born. At some point seniority was no longer so important. ¡°Do you know what this is about?¡±


    There was a sternness to her features that Sylvas wasn¡¯t used to. ¡°I do not.¡±


    They proceeded in silence from there.


    There may have been the full complement of Masters in the usual chambers, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t see a single one of them. He only knew that the room was occupied at all in its pitch-black state because he heard the softness of breathing.


    ¡°You are at your limit.¡± The voice in the dark spoke with an uneven hitch in its breath. ¡°Mortal as we are, we are bound by our limitations, and you¡­ you have reached yours.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Sylvas was at a loss for words. He wondered if this was another test. Like when he had been injured and offered a way to leave.


    ¡°This is not a comment upon your ability, it is the natural state of the world, you have climbed as high as you can climb because there are no rungs above you.¡±


    Sylvas fell back into silence. Still unsure. So often in training they had been told things were one way, only to discover that they were the opposite as they ascended. Deception was a necessary part of their training, mana was shaped by belief, and believing that magic was more than they had been told could lead to catastrophe.


    ¡°But there is a way to change that natural order.¡± He felt goosebumps rise across his arms, the hair on the back of his neck stood. ¡°If the Gates of Heaven are opened, then power will rain down on all of us, and a path beyond the Way of the Hollow Heart will be revealed.¡±


    ¡°To open the Gates of Heaven¡­¡± The concept was alien to him, mana flowed through all things, but the Way of the Hollow Heart told them that it flowed first and foremost from heaven, where their patron, the Twilight Oracle, dwelled.


    ¡°Is the purpose for which you were chosen by the Hollow Heart above. Our god longs for us. He wishes to bathe us all in glory. To remake this sinful world into a righteous place¡­¡±


    From the shadows, a familiar voice whispered, his own personal patron, the baseborn duchess. ¡°A place where no little boys find themselves in orphanages, alone and afraid.¡±


    ¡°A world without suffering, or cruelty.¡± Intoned another of the masters. ¡°A world where all are equal.¡±


    The first voice came again. ¡°But he cannot come to us without invitation. He cannot come if the Gates are shut.¡±


    ¡°You shall be the Key and the Gate.¡± Another voice spoke, leading Sylvas to think that perhaps all the masters were all here after all. ¡°You shall be the lever by which divinity is laid open to us all.¡±


    ¡°This world is unholy.¡± Came one final voice, wheezing, rasping and geriatric. ¡°But you are not. You are hope. You are the future.¡±


    ¡°This is not an easy thing we ask of you.¡± Sylvas eyes darted around in the dark trying to follow who was speaking, but he couldn¡¯t make anything out. ¡°If you desire to turn from this course, speak now and no dishonor shall be laid upon you. We ask you to do a greater thing, perform a greater work, than any have ever achieved in all of history. We ask you to make yourself a legend among men. A living embodiment of our god¡¯s power and grace.¡±


    For a long moment there was silence, then they asked, ¡°what say you brother?¡±


    He was the chosen one. He always had been. The idea that he might flinch away from his task was laughable. ¡°Nothing worth doing is easy.¡±


    With a deep breath, he reminded himself. ¡°I can do this.¡±

 Chapter 7

    ¡°There is no material in all of creation so prized, sought after and despised as Etherium. Without it, we would not have the raw mana potential to perform many of the acts of magic required to maintain an interplanetary society. But even so, the conflicts spawned by those seeking the rarest of materials have resulted in such widespread death and destruction that one is forced to ask whether it is all worthwhile.¡±


    ¡ªStar Shipping: Logistics of the Empyrean, Rudvin Hammerheart


    Preparations began the very next day. And there was much to prepare before the time came. The ritual would coincide with the planetary alignment, when all of the spheres of their system formed a line and all of the mana that usually spun off them and drifted wild through space was drawn along that line.


    The tower of Telas Mirmir had been constructed specifically for its location as a focal nexus of the floes of mana throughout the world, and it was here that the great line of mana being forced into Croesia by the aligned planets would strike down. Yet this in itself would not be enough to open the gates of heaven. The power gathered in Telas Mirmir by the alignment would be used only by the others, in the casting of the many pieces of magic required to make the way ready, and to channel all that was leftover to the focal point atop the tower.


    The tower of the fortress in which Sylvas had spent his entire adult life was flat-topped with a single smooth plane of stone stretching out across its whole surface. How the workers had managed to get it up there without magic at their disposal defied all logic. It had been built right back at the founding of the Heralds to someday serve this final purpose. A grand canvas on which he would lay down the chalk markings of the greatest summoning circle the world had ever seen.


    Secrets had always been a part of living among the Heralds. The grand masters knew all and revealed little, only doling out lessons as they became essential. But now, so close to fulfilling his grand destiny there was one secret that they still held back from Sylvas, to be revealed upon the final day before he cast the most important spell in the history of the world.


    That being the source of mana that they would be relying on to perform the spell of summoning and cast open the gates of heaven.


    He pressed on with his work in ignorance, mastering every other component of the great spell, but throughout the whole process he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Sylvas was used to some of the younger students at Telas Mirmir giving him uncomfortable amounts of attention, and some of the older Heralds too, but this felt different. There was no reason for anyone to hide admiration, or any of the other, less respectful, reasons that they might stare at him, so this veiled interest made the hair on the back of his neck prickle up. It was only a week before the final day that he finally caught sight of the watcher.


    Slim enough across the shoulders that she could not have been a grown man, identity entirely concealed beneath the hood of the Herald¡¯s robes. She watched him as he went about his studies. Not when he was performing magic and teaching others, but when he was alone, meditating for mana or re-reading the ritual needlessly. More than once he¡¯d risen from where he had been working and moved to approach her, but every time before he could reach her, she vanished, either scampering off somewhere in the tower or blending into the crowd of other initiates of the Heralds. She was like a shadow, always there, just on the periphery of his vision, but always untouchable.


    Perhaps one of the masters had come out of seclusion, perhaps a herald, obsessed as he was with the great work, perhaps simply a coincidence.


    She was a small mystery, compared to the grand ones that Sylvas worked to unlock. He could not allow himself to lose focus on the task at hand. In seven days, the world would end by his hand and a glorious new order would be born.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that they¡¯re actually trusting you with this.¡± Mira slumped down on the bed beside him. It was long past midnight, but he remained propped up, reading and rereading the spell. The intersections between the working he would commit and the mana-forms that the others were contributing.


    ¡°Thank you for that vote of overwhelming confidence.¡± He attempted to frown at her, but it didn¡¯t come to fruition.


    She leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes glazing as she took in the complex spell laid out on paper. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re the best qualified by far, I just mean¡­ it seems like such an impossible thing?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Doing impossible things is what magic is for.¡±


    She made a little noise. Non-committal. As if she weren¡¯t sure if he was right or not. Then she said, ¡°when it¡¯s done, we should get married.¡±


    He raised a wry eyebrow, entirely too accustomed to her outlandish statements to be flustered by this point. ¡°Should we?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be at the height of your popularity immediately after gracing the world with the presence of the divine. It should be more than sufficient to convince my family that you¡¯re worthy of me.¡±


    For all that it was somewhat degrading to be discussed in such a manner, he¡¯d always appreciated that Mira was candid about how her family would think of him rather than trying to divert him with niceties. ¡°And you don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have better prospects as the savior of Croesia?¡±


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t be silly, you¡¯re utterly smitten with me.¡±


    Perhaps he should have denied it, but the sad truth was that she was basically his whole world. When he thought about other people, they were in the abstract. Numbers and names. Only Mira felt real.


    On the night of the cosmic alignment, the sky was clear. It was silly to have thought that it could have been otherwise. It was fated, and even if it wasn¡¯t, everyone working atop the tower knew spells to change the weather by this point in their education. All the stars shone down on the rooftop of Telas Mirmir where Sylvas and the other heralds made ready, and to the distant periphery a circle of the other members of the Heralds stood silent witness. The Grand Masters were among them. Gathered to the rear of the tower on a raised podium where they could keep watch over proceedings. Among them sat the reliquary, with the source of power that would make this whole evening possible, and to the very furthest left of their line stood Sylvas¡¯ Watcher.


    The wind whipped by, making those Heralds closest to the edge grab for each other with every gust, but it did not trouble Sylvas and the others doing the great work at all. If anything, having the chalk dust blown away from their summoning circles made it easier to keep everything clean and precise as they laid them out. Or rather, as the acolytes laid them out, and Sylvas walked around methodically checking every single detail of the spell over. The Grand Masters could have done this double checking after a lifetime of studying the Sacred Texts, he was sure, but they had delegated this task, along with all magical workings involved in this night, to him. It was an incredible honor. And a terrible pressure.


    Even when there were perfectly scribed sigils he found himself scrubbing them away and rewriting them himself if there was even a hint of doubt in his mind. The original mage tasked with scribing them looked affronted every time, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. This was the most important spell that had ever been cast, and he wasn¡¯t going to let someone¡¯s feelings get in the way of making sure it was done right. Mira¡¯s section seemed to be perfect, which made sense, as he had gone through every inch of it with her. Even so he mimed wiping a bit out just to hear her snort in annoyance before flashing her a grin.


    Sylvas had never worn one of the fancy timepieces on his wrist that so many of the richer Heralds flashed around proudly, so he had to rely on his own sense of time to tell him when midnight was approaching. That and the fact that search as he might, he could no longer find anything to fix or busy himself with. The preparations were complete.


    Sylvas approached the Grand Masters and the reliquary was passed into his care. Everything was going as it should, except for the prickling at the back of his neck that just would not stop. The Watcher¡¯s eyes were still locked on him. He couldn¡¯t see them under the shroud of her robes, but he could feel the stare.


    So instead of descending from the dais and beginning the great work, he finally succumbed to temptation, he walked along the line of Grand Masters until he stood face to empty hood with her and asked, ¡°who are you?¡±


    The voice that answered him wasn¡¯t what he expected, it didn¡¯t sound like some wizened old hag, but someone as young as him, but with a strange almost metallic echo to her voice, like she was wearing a helmet under her hood.


    ¡°I am only here to observe.¡± She cocked her head to the side, ever so slightly. ¡°I wanted to be here, to see the beginning.¡±


    He didn¡¯t really know what to say to that, and the other Grand Masters seemed to accept her presence there without comment, so he set his other questions aside to focus on the much more important task at hand.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Looking around him at the gathered acolytes, Sylvas could almost feel their excitement. This was the moment that they¡¯d all been waiting for. The moment they¡¯d all been fighting to get to their whole lives, through the trials of Embodiment and Paradigm, through learning how to carry the mana within them and shape it into spells. Finally they would do what they were born to do. What fate had decreed would be their duty.


    With a nod from him, they began.


    Mana was invisible to the naked eye, at least for Sylvas. Some of the more advanced spells that he¡¯d studied spoke about it being visible to mages as if it were a common enough thing, but if it was true, nobody in the tower could do it. So he had to navigate blind, feeling for the flows of mana and trusting that the shapes that he was forming it into were the correct ones. First, he reinforced himself for the casting to come, his own spells combining with those being cast by the mages around him to make him a suitable vessel for the power that he would soon have to channel. All of the mana that he had worked so very hard to cultivate and store within himself began to wash away, not because there was some leak in his containment, but because he was casting, one spell after another, after another, all just to make himself ready for the greater spell to come.


    It didn¡¯t matter that he was spending all of his own mana, because within the gold-rimmed, sealed-lead box that he had been given by the Grand Masters there was a source of mana sufficient to complete the whole ritual without him needing to provide a drop. The reliquary was sealed with a combination lock, a riddle only solvable by those who had studied magic, knew the specific patterns of thought that defined the Heralds of the Hollow Heart and most importantly of all, knew the name of their God, which the etchings were all component sigils of.


    The goal was not to move the various pieces of the lock until a pattern was established in the etchings, but to move them until there was no pattern at all. Until there was an emptiness at the center of the pattern. Only then did the heavy metal spring open and the great gift that had been bestowed upon them was revealed.


    Sylvas staggered as the box opened. The wash of raw power coming from the reliquary overwhelmed him and his newly developed senses. It was like the world outside had suddenly become as dense with mana as he was on the inside. As if he were in a circle and every mage here had dumped out all the mana they could muster into it. They hadn¡¯t even started trying to draw on it, but he was already overwhelmed by the power, mana pushing its way through the solid circle of mana within him to fill his core even though he had not tried to draw it in.


    All around him, he could see the same effect rolling out across the rooftop. They were all contained in one great circle as well as dozens of smaller ones meant to house the various component spells that would eventually be combined, but Sylvas had the sense that even without that containment, there was so much mana pouring out of the box that it would have felt the same.


    Using his eyes, instead of his other overwhelmed senses, he peered down into the reliquary and saw a crystal. They had made some small study of crystals in his training, as their habit of vibrating at different frequencies could make them useful in designing focuses for magic, but nothing had ever been told to them about this. It felt like it should have been glowing, but it wasn¡¯t emitting any light at all. Quite the opposite in fact. The surface of the uneven cluster of crystalline shapes was so dark that it didn¡¯t even produce any reflections, and while it should have been quite simple for Sylvas to look down into the reliquary chest and see the thing, as it was the only object lying upon the red velvet, instead he found it was shrouded, as though there was a cloud of darkness surrounding it. As he reached out his hand towards it, he was startled to see the color of his skin fading, first to a monochrome in the starlight, then dipping towards the same total darkness as his fingers brushed against the cold surface of the crystal.


    The mana leapt up into him. More than Sylvas could handle, even with all of the reinforcements that he and the others had layered on. He had no idea what happened to a mage that drew too much mana into their body and mind, but he knew that it couldn¡¯t be good, given how many of the other students that they had buried as a result of doing just that. He had to get it out, he pressed back against the mana with his will, and was overwhelmed. There was no sending it back to where it came from, the torrential outburst of power could not be reversed. The only way to survive was to cast the spell. To use the mana faster than it could cook him from within.


    The time-keeper of the Grand Masters watched over them all, cueing up the different mages as midnight approached and the conflux of mana from the aligned stars began to rain down but they need not have bothered. Everyone knew their role, the timing, everything. They had spent their whole lives preparing for this moment. Sylvas looked up to the stars as he spoke the first words of the summoning, the shining clustered dots of the other planets all shining bright for one final moment before they would vanish as they passed into the shadow of Croesia. This was his moment.


    The mana within him seemed to roar in answer to all that was raining down, resonating with the power without. The dark crystal laying at his feet at the very heart of the grand design vibrated in tune with it too. Everything thrummed with power, and it was all waiting for him. The spells of reinforcement that he himself had cast were empowered, layer upon layer of magic pressed over him, over the channels of mana carved through his flesh and mind. Everything was ready, everything except for him. His heart was hammering in his chest, the words of the spell doing their best to slip away from him. The pressure of being the one responsible for throwing open the gates of Heaven, the pressure of being the only one who could do it, of being the chosen one that prophecy foretold; it was all too much. How is anyone meant to concentrate with so much riding on their every word?


    And in his momentary panic, he reached for the familiar to calm him. To the Paradigm of the Unburdened Mind. All of his fears and doubts were washed away in an instant. Everything was. He had nothing to fear, he had memorized every word of the spell months ago, and it was still fresh on the tip of his tongue. This was the purpose of the Paradigm. Not just making it possible for him to form the circle of magic within him, but ensuring that when the time came, he would be able to act, unburdened by unnecessary thoughts and worries.


    Opening his mouth, he began to chant.


    At once the sigils scribed onto the rooftop began to glow with the gathered mana, chalk sizzling away to be replaced with golden light, golden sigils drifting up off the ground to float around the central point of the circle as Sylvas spoke. The dark crystal flared with mana, sending shadows up in a plume amidst the swirling sigils, such raw power, bound in their turning circles.


    All across the rooftop, the hundred spells that comprised the greater one were spoken to life, each one of them sending the sigils glowing golden and spiraling up into pillars, drifting in a slow orbit around the central point of the spell that Sylvas was casting. Each one of them was another system in orbit around the galactic swirl of magic above the dark crystal.


    One mage casting alone would have taken a week to prepare all of the parts of this spell, it was so intricate and dense, not to mention that each glowing sigil drifting by was composed of so much condensed mana that it had become visible to the naked eye, more than most of these mages could muster in a day.


    Sylvas was not another singer in the chorus, he was the conductor, his words gave the other spells their direction, made them sound like one coherent song instead of a cacophony. But he was more than that too. The summoning might have been gathering around the dark crystal, but it was him that was going to serve as the focal point for it all, broadcasting the full and unabridged version of this call out into the universe once it was complete.


    The power flowing up from the dark crystal now seemed to redouble its efforts, going from a whisper of magic rising into the sky to becoming a torrent, and a quick glance skywards told Sylvas why. The planets had aligned. The flow of mana was at its peak.


    The final sigils rose from the roof to join the constellation of mana gathered above, and with one great effort of will, Sylvas drew the completed spell to him. The mana of the crystal leapt ahead of the spell, striking him with enough force that he would have been torn into bloody pieces, were it not for all the reinforcements layered on him. It drove through his channels, refilling his core to bursting and then went on pushing, straining against the Circle inside him. It too would have shattered without all the spells of reinforcement still being cast and recast on him.


    Wetness trickled down his cheeks, and Sylvas didn¡¯t know if his eyes were bleeding, or if he was just weeping at the beauty of the spell that he was working.


    The spell, the great work that they had all devoted their lives to, had moved in slow orbit around the pillar of mana that the crystal was projecting up, but now it followed the flow of power. It rushed after the mana, into Sylvas. When he spoke, every word felt like fire. Scorching up his throat even as spells of healing repaired him. ¡°I cast the gates of heaven open.¡±


    Thunder pealed all around them, not a single rumble, but concussive blasts sounding over and over again. Blinding light burst to life outside of the summoning circle. Each thunderous roar another explosion of light, each explosion of light not fading after it had appeared, but expanding, stretching out to reveal a darkness within. Like tears in the fabric of the world.


    Still Sylvas pressed on. He had been warned in the scriptures that there would be unexpected effects when so much power was wielded, but they were to ignore everything that happened outside of their circle. This was the Grand Masters command and he would not disobey, or allow himself any petty distractions, not now when victory was at hand. He called out to the night sky, now startlingly dark in contrast to the bursts of brightness that had just marred his vision. ¡°God above all gods.¡±


    His body had been honed to channel this mana, his mind made empty so that the spell could pass through him without damage, but all the same, he bled. His hands shook as he shaped the mana spilling from them into more sigils to fill in the breaks between one great spell and the next and bond them all into a single masterful working. Once again, it was only his indomitable will that got him through. That stilled his quaking hands. That forced the words out of his mouth, even as they sizzled and seared. He could taste iron as he cried out. ¡°Master above all masters.¡±


    The rifts in the fabric of the world began to spill out dark shadows. Not the steady flow of mana that came from the crystal, but jagged edged shapes darting off into the night, too dark to make out with the edges of each tear still shining so bright. There was an impact against the invisible barrier surrounding the tower-top, then another, then a steady rattle of bodies being flung against the magic circle, shadowy shapes leering out of the night. Blocking the rifts from sight until only Sylvas, surrounded by the glowing sigils of the spell could be seen at all. He was the only source of light, other than the stars above. Monsters or demons, or whatever they were, they could not enter the circle, and they didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was the spell. Whatever damage those creatures might have been doing out there to the rest of the world, Sylvas knew it would all be set right when the summoning was complete. ¡°I call to you, oh Hollow Heart!¡±


    ¡°Crimson King of the Starless, Twilight Oracle, Empty Whisper,¡± Sylvas cried out into the darkness. ¡°I summon you!¡±


    He threw back his head as he bellowed that final word and saw what the others around him had already begun screaming about. The stars in the sky above them, as permanent as anything could be in the universe, had begun to fall.

 Chapter 8

    ¡°Much has been said of the Eidolon¡¯s capacity for destruction, but the psychological warfare that it brings to bear against mortals is perhaps its most insidious weapon. Those who stand in the presence of an Eidolon are consumed with fear. Their own emotions overwritten by the will of the creature. It takes an act of willpower to even fight an Eidolon, let alone conjure up the hope that one might prevail.¡±


    ¡ªThe Forever War: Eidolon Incursions and Defense, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    The moment of realization did not jar him out of his state of perfect emptiness for long. It didn¡¯t have time. The spell was passing through him faster and faster now. The sigils swirled up through him as he raised one hand to the heavens and a great burning bolt of pure white light leapt from his palm. The other rifts, the ones outside of the protective circle, had been tiny little pinpricks compared to the massive tear that opened up above the tower. It was vast enough that the whole tower fortress itself could have passed through without brushing the sides. Or at least, it would be, once it had finished opening out. For now there was only the light, and the tiny slit of nothingness running down its center. A tiny slit of nothingness that Sylvas realized with a jolt was not empty but was instead completely dark because something vast was pressed right up against the portal on the other side. Bigger than the tower. Perhaps bigger than Telas Norn, capitol of all Croesia. He could not judge the creature that he beheld, because it was so vast that his mind couldn¡¯t make sense of it.


    This was the Crimson King, this was the god that he had brought into this world to bring forth, to set right all that was wrong in all of creation. The Hollow Heart that all of them served.


    It was terrifying.


    It wasn¡¯t just the size of it, but the chittering claws that stretched out to grasp at the edges of the rift and pulled as though it could pry the world open by sheer strength alone. There was a slickness to those claws that reminded Sylvas of the scuttling things that the fishermen sometimes pulled up from the deep oceans and called bad omens. Too many legs, each one of them jagged and razor-edged.


    The other mages had scattered, running and screaming at the sight of the rift, at the sight of god descending from the heavens towards them. Only Sylvas maintained the Paradigm of the Unburdened Mind and carried on with the spell. As his supporters broke and fled, the protections that they had layered onto Sylvas began to fade, and the torrent of raw mana passing through him became all the more unbearable. The channels within him, carefully carved and reinforced with years upon years of mana, began to rupture, and the mana that was meant to flow straight up into the portal and spread it wide began to diffuse into him instead. The golden glow of the spell suffused his pale skin, and light began to burst through, searing and scarring as it left him. Pinpricks, like the ones that they¡¯d ripped in the fabric of reality without even trying.


    The Grand Masters were the only ones with the presence of mind to come forward and drop to their arthritic knees in supplication. This was their life¡¯s work, just as surely as it had been Sylvas¡¯. Only the watcher didn¡¯t join them, still standing back on the raised dais, watching all the chaos unfolding around her without the slightest sign of distress. Sylvas envied her. He could not look on the tear in the sky that the clawed terror of a god was pulling itself through and feel nothing. He could not look at the stars falling from the sky or hear the screams of the students he¡¯d spent years training or think about the nightmares befalling everyone beyond the protection of the tower¡¯s circle without it intruding on his peace of mind.


    The Paradigm was meant to purge him of all that. To leave his mind empty of all distractions. Yet thoughts intruded all the same. He could not look up at the thing slithering through the hole in the air and think nothing. Which meant that what he was thinking was not a distraction or intrusive feeling, it was the correct analysis of what his senses were telling him.


    This was not right.


    The spell lurched its way through him now, with all the speed of a runaway horse gone mad. The golden sigils surging up through his body to join the rest of the spell in the sky. Ripping his insides to shreds as they passed. In just a moment, it would all be over, the spell would have passed through him, the dark crystal¡¯s mana would have flowed freely out of his body and up into the portal. Already it had spread wide enough for more of the god to be seen.


    Every part of the Crimson King that came into sight made Sylvas more horrified. He had not expected god to be beautiful, or at least, he had not expected that god would be beautiful in a way that a human being might understand, but this thing was repulsive in every sense of the word. Where the claws moved aside, there were thick plated scales of the same awful deep crimson chitin, and as the god heaved against the edges of the portal, those scales rippled apart, and Sylvas caught glimpses of what lay beneath. If it had been blood or muscle, his stomach would not have turned. Blood was what you were meant to find beneath flesh, not the empty void that lay inside of The Twilight Oracle. With each mighty flex, and each tiny opening between the vast plates of chitin, Sylvas felt it pulling on him, dragging him up into the air, towards the nothingness at the heart of their god. It truly was hollow, but it was a hungering emptiness that wanted to swallow everything.


    In that darkness between the sharp angles of crimson, there should have been stars. Inside, the Crimson King was meant to hold all of eternity, all of creation, instead he was as empty as the promises that the Grand Masters had made.


    I can¡¯t do this. Sylvas throat was raw and ragged but the words echoed in his mind all the same.


    The seams around the portal were still scorching white, but with time, Sylvas eyes had grown accustomed to them. He could see the slow expansion of the opening now, every word of the spell that he was casting stretching it out a little bit wider. When it was opened up wide enough, the thing on the other side would come through. It wasn¡¯t bringing salvation or a new world where everything was fair, unless you think that everyone being dead is the only way to get equality.


    Everything he had been through, everything he had strived for, it had all led him to this moment and now that he was faced with what should have been his greatest victory, his crowning achievement, he wanted to take it back. I have to stop it. The only trouble was that the spell had already been cast.


    The grand ritual to bring the Crimson King down from the heavens had already been completed, the words spoken, the mana woven. All that remained was for it to resolve. Sylvas might have been the focus that the spell was passing through, but that did not mean he was casting it, any more than a riverbed was forcing water to flow. It had been cast, the crystal was providing it with all the mana it required, the workings of the spell had been completed, and all that he could do was let it burn through him.


    The gateway in the sky was spread wide enough now for Sylvas to catch glimpses of an alien landscape beyond the dark mass of the Crimson King. Pearlescent and swirling like oil on water. That tiny bit of illumination made the abomination coming through even more awful. Every ridge and crevasse of its shell shining red as fresh spilled blood, and the darkness between the plates so much deeper in contrast. He had thought that the god¡¯s shell was smooth at a first glance, but now he could see that it was marked with strange whorls and striations, shapes like the sigils that they had chalked out to summon it. Like it was made out of magic itself.


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    It reached through the opening into the real world and snatched up one of the Grand Masters without hesitation. It had too many of those little pincer legs, but too many of these arms too, each one ending not in a crab-claw like Sylvas might have expected, but a deformed version of a human hand with eight fingers. With the chitinous hide, each hand that stretched through on the hideously elongated arms took on the appearance of a splayed red spider, almost delicate looking when he compared it to the body of the god. But even if they looked delicate compared to the solid trunk of the Crimson King, their grip was still powerful beyond anything Sylvas could have imagined. When it plucked up its victims, they didn¡¯t scream for mercy as they were crushed. That would have taken much more time than they had. The spider-claw hands closed as if the air inside them was empty, and the Grand Masters, the wisest and most powerful people in all of Croesia burst apart like overripe fruit.


    Blood should have been raining down, and it did hang in the air all around the god for a moment, but soon it slicked up onto the chitin, slithering across the surface, along the engraved lines and whorls to eventually vanish into the gaps in the armor.


    He wasn¡¯t going to let this happen. He had no idea how much damage he¡¯d already done, but he knew in his heart that if the Crimson King made it through there would be no going back. No survivors.


    Mira was on her knees, trapped in the rubble of the god¡¯s first touchdown. She was casting, frantically, but all her mana had been spent in the protections layered around Sylvas. He had to stop this now.


    The mana flowed through him, carrying with it the sigils of the spell, and with all the force of will that he had left, Sylvas took hold of it. It burned and it took everything in Sylvas not to let go then and there, it was like sticking his mind into an open flame, but he did it again all the same. The flowing sigils of the spell slowed in their ascent up his arm into the portal. The mana didn¡¯t. There was just too much coming from the crystal at his feet, so much raw mana that it was forcing its way up and through him, carrying the spell on, even as he fought back against it.


    Everywhere that he managed to slow the spell, it burned. Just as tiny pinpricks of pain had sizzled through his skin as the mana burst out through his channels, now the sigils he had trapped inside him began to rise, searing to the surface, dragging their way up through his flesh. The pain was incomparable. All that he¡¯d suffered through his embodiment had been like a gentle kiss compared to what the mana was doing to him now. And it was just going to keep on going. Every word of the spell was going to burn through him, no matter how hard he tried to fight it or force it back. It didn¡¯t matter if he had the strongest will in the world, he couldn¡¯t stop what had already happened. This spell was going to complete. The Crimson King was going to come through.


    Despair couldn¡¯t reach him while he was in the Paradigm, but he knew that it was there, lurking just outside his rational mind. He could release the Paradigm, disrupt the channel that the mana was passing through and hope that it would be enough to stop the spell, but he didn¡¯t believe it would be. The spell-forms would just burn up through him, riding the unstoppable tide of mana up into the sky. I would be too dead to know about it, which might be preferable to still being here when the Crimson King comes through.


    The arms of the monster raked across the rooftop now, scattering the mages who had tried to flee into clattering bones and then gulping down the gore into the cracks in its shell. There was no way out for any of them. The magic circle around the tower prevented the other acolytes from even jumping to their death to get away. They were a feast laid out to welcome the Crimson King into the world, and it seemed that the god, monster, or whatever it might be had worked up quite an appetite in its travels.


    Sylvas would be the dessert. Left to the end, when he was charred to practically nothing by the magic pouring through him. The chosen one. Chosen to end the world. Chosen to die a fool¡¯s death.


    Mira was screaming from where she lay pinned, the god didn¡¯t even seem to have noticed her. One of its great chitinous claws came down close to her, nowhere near to touching, but immediately her skin began to tear. Just being in the presence of the thing was enough to kill. And she was all too close now. First shreds of skin, then a steady spray of blood drew out from her, drifting through the air to be absorbed into the hungering red.


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t move. He couldn¡¯t reach out to her. He tore his throat to pieces each time he tried to speak anything but the words of the spell passing through him. She met his gaze across the tower¡¯s top and even in the dim light filtering through from the otherworld he could see the betrayal in her eyes. He had done this to her. As he watched, more and more of her was siphoned away, skin and hair, blood and flesh, until the bare bones on one side of her skull shone out, but still somehow she did not die. Her left hand, the only limb unpinned, reached out towards him. Then she fell limp, and her suffering was over.


    All that remained of her swept away on the wind, coiling as dust into the waiting emptiness inside the Crimson King. Everything that she was, everything that she could have been, gone in moments.


    His grief couldn¡¯t reach him inside the Paradigm unless he deliberately let it in to influence his clear thoughts, but that was just what he did now. If he was going to die, he deserved to at least die angry.


    The anger helped more than he¡¯d ever have expected. The overwhelming pain was still there, the spell-work was still sizzling its way out through his flesh, but now that pain became fuel for his anger, and that anger drove him to do something that a purely rational Sylvas never would have.


    Despite all his desperate attempts to stop the magic flowing up his arm, it still did. Up into his palm where it spread out in a glowing pillar to widen the portal. His fingers were deadened and numb from the torrent of mana, but they still obeyed him as he curled them in, searing them on the blasting mana, straining with body and will together to stop it all for just one moment. One moment was all that he needed. The mana rushed up and into him, filling him up to bursting, but for the length of one breath he was able to stop its motion.


    He brought his fist down on the crystal.


    If there had been any nerves left not burnt away in the chaos of the casting, slamming his fist into a jagged lump of rock probably would have hurt, but now Sylvas only felt the thump reverberating up his arm, like it was happening to someone else, far away. He wondered if he was going into shock.


    Shards of the dark crystal tumbled away, fragments of it were embedded in his hand, but he brought it down again all the same.


    This time, light burst out from between his curled and blackened fingers, an explosion of raw power as the mana from the crystal was looped back around and delivered to it full force. For a moment, it seemed to have done nothing at all.


    The Crimson King loomed vast and terrible overhead, dozens of its arms already extended through, claws digging down into the solid stone of the tower¡¯s roof as though it were butter, trying to hook in and get a grip solid enough to start dragging itself through. It had no eyes, no head even, so far as Sylvas could see, but all the same he felt the weight of its awareness turning towards him. Pinning him down with the raw power of its attention.


    Then the crystal at Sylvas feet, already so overcharged with mana, imploded. All that raw power turned back in on itself caused the crystalized mana to collapse inwards. The vacuum dragged Sylvas off his feet, to his knees, but the sudden end to the mana flow did something stranger still. It dragged the spell back from where it had continued struggling its way out of his hand and inside of him. It wasn¡¯t enough, not nearly enough to undo the summoning or close the portal, but that last agonizing inch of space that would have let the solid bulk of the monster from beyond come through would never arrive.


    The Crimson King seemed to know it before Sylvas did. Slamming itself bodily against the white-hot edges of the portal and rebounding over and over. The thunderous impact of its impossibly huge body echoed through the gap, like a drumbeat.


    The summoning spell had been dragged back from the edge of completion, but it wasn¡¯t gone. Without the endless tide of mana pushing it out of Sylvas it remained lodged inside him, every sigil of it searing its way out through his arm before dissipating into the air. The final words of the spell that would have doomed the world scarring up from within his flesh.


    If the implosion hadn¡¯t brought him to his knees, then the exhaustion would have. Sylvas toppled forward, his bleeding hand and the other, strangely unmarked by everything that had happened thrust out to catch him before he landed face first in the shattered remains of the dark crystal.


    His mind and body had been a temple, carefully constructed over the last eight years to house mana, and the spell he had just disrupted. Now that it was over, that temple that he built felt like it was crumbling apart. Trying to cast a spell so powerful with all of the reinforcements and protections stripped from him had left him wrecked.


    He might have been dying, but Croesia would live. He had stopped the thing on the other side of the sky from coming through. He had saved them all. Or so he thought, for the next thing he heard was a sickening crunch that shook the entire tower.


    Followed by the Crimson King pulling itself through into reality.

 Chapter 9

    ¡°Each Eidolon is unique, and in this lack of uniformity we witness their first true defense against us. They are protean and changeable, while we are creatures of a universe with constants. A weapon that can best one Eidolon is not guaranteed to even scratch another. A weapon that we have long discarded for its lack of power might slay the greatest civilization destroyer before it has even emerged from its portal.¡±


    ¡ªEidolon Paradise: A theoretical extrapolation on the Otherworld, Thel-Velar


    The demon or god was still too big to easily fit through the portal, but it seemed that its patience had run out regardless. It was forcing itself through the gap. The solid red plates of chitin that Sylvas would have guessed were completely indestructible cracked and shattered under the forces that the Crimson King was putting on them, twisting over the invisible form of the dark void inside it and contorting to try and pass through.


    It couldn¡¯t do this. It wasn¡¯t fair. Sylvas had stopped the spell. He had pretty much killed himself stopping the spell. But it came on through all the same. The spider-claw hands on the spindly arms pressed down into the stone of the tower until they hooked in something solid enough that the sharpness of the claws didn¡¯t simply part it. Then with it¡¯s new anchor in place, the Crimson King heaved its shattered husk against the portal once more, pulling with all its impossible strength. Inch by creaking inch, it came through.


    Whatever spell had been holding back the weather finally failed. The wind whipped by again for what felt like the first time in hours, and everywhere that the Crimson King had touched was swept away in plumes. What Sylvas had mistaken for the thing¡¯s razor sharpness and impossible strength was something else entirely. Everything that it touched turned to dust. Everywhere its spidery hands had brushed over was reduced to a puff on the wind. No wonder it had been in such a hurry to burst the mages that it had managed to seize and drink down their contents, if it hadn¡¯t, they would have crumbled away before its thirst could be slaked.


    Its attention swept across the tower top more forcefully than the wind, and now that he was no longer vital to it coming through, the weight of it on Sylvas was crushing. The presence of this thing, the amount of raw will that it was exerting, it was beyond anything he ever could have imagined.


    The other mages of the Heralds were dead. Either slaughtered by the approach of the Crimson King, or leaping from the tower as the magic circle containing them all was shattered beyond recognition by the destruction of so much of the tower-top¡¯s surface. Sylvas had been left alive because he was serving the purpose he had always been intended for. He was the beacon that would guide the Crimson King through.


    Now he was not a beacon, he was not a piece in the summoning, he was just himself, small and fragile in the face of this massive monster.


    With the circle broken, all of the horrors from outside of the tower could suddenly get in, hellion screeches echoed from all around. Those shadowy shapes that had come pouring in through the lesser rifts now resolved into hideous, monstrous, things almost as terrible as the Crimson King itself.


    Eyeless and faceless, with solid plates of chitin where there should have been those features, and with wings like a bat¡¯s ending in hooked claws serving as the only limbs extending out from their slick bodies, a whole chorus of nightmarish cherubs descended on the tower. Yet as they swept in, Sylvas soon saw it wasn¡¯t to attack, but rather to pick at the carrion that the Crimson King had left behind. So far as Sylvas could see they had no mouths, but they tore at the corpses of the dead all the same, splattering whatever had not turned to dust across the pocked surface of the tower before flitting off again into the night.


    Sylvas set the palm of his uninjured hand down on the ground and pushed himself up to his feet. Without even moving from the spot he managed to stumble, his legs felt like rubber. In spite of everything, he could still feel mana inside him. Inside the circle that he¡¯d forged. His head pounded, the words of the great spell seared into his mind, but the other spells that he had learned were still there too, just under the surface. He slipped into his Paradigm and his thoughts cleared once more. The thing coming into his world might have been a terror beyond all imagining. It might even have been the god that the Grand Masters had been tricked into thinking it was, but he was Sylvas Vail. The most powerful mage in all Croesia. He whispered his old mantra to himself, ¡°I can do this.¡±


    Then he looked up.


    Above him, the Crimson King filled the sky. His whole world was filled up with the sheer size of it. The striations and whorls that had been patterned on its chitin were now the fault lines where it had shattered itself to drag its way through the portal. It should have given him some comfort to think that it was injured, but instead it filled him with even more dread. Each time that the creature moved, the fragmented shell parted and he could see the deep dark nothingness inside it. Looking up into it was like standing at the edge of the tower and looking down. He could feel his stomach drop every time another little bit of emptiness was revealed.


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    One of his arms dangled uselessly at his side, scorched and scarred beyond all use, but the other one he raised up to point at the monster. Palm first.


    Sylvas magical education had been focused on summoning for so long, that he couldn¡¯t recall the last time that he¡¯d cast something offensive, but that didn¡¯t mean he had forgotten how. Concentrating, he formed his mana into a spell in the blackened palm of his hand. The Arcane Arrow.


    He cast it. The channels inside of him aching now that mana flowed through him again. The bolt of crackling white magic leapt from his palm to strike the Twilight Oracle where it loomed overhead, and to his surprise, it took notice. There was barely a scuff mark on its chitin from his most lethal spell, but the monster lurched back all the same. As if startled that anyone would dare to attack it.


    It didn¡¯t retreat back into the portal to its own world. Sylvas wasn¡¯t even sure that it would be able to, it looked fairly stuck with the central trunk of its body firmly wedged into that hole in the air, but it did rear up, away from him. Its spindle-fingers that had been reaching for him jerked away as though it had touched a candle flame.


    If it can hurt, then I¡¯m going to hurt it. Sylvas might have doomed the world, but he could make this thing pay for every inch it crept out of its portal. Easy as it had been back in the target practice hall, he summoned another Arcane Arrow to his palm and launched it.


    The element of surprise was gone now. The Crimson King reacted to the assault by twisting to slam all the spread pieces of chitin closest to Sylvas together, shielding its inner darkness from the spark of light that he had tried to launch into it. That flinch told him everything he needed to know. Beneath the chitin, there was weakness. He could hurt it if he struck there.


    As he readied his next Arrow, the Crimson King swung for him. Two spider-claws spread wide and coming together to clap him into mulch and dust. Instinct would have made anyone sane try to run from this thing, but with the clarity of mind that the Paradigm brought, Sylvas could see past the animal parts of his brain that wanted to respond like that and actually think.


    He flung himself forwards instead, landing hard on his injured arm and driving a scream out of his lungs, but rolling under the spindle-arms to rise again inside the monster¡¯s reach. He loosed his Arrow, and it should have found its mark, but the rapid motion of something as big as the Crimson King had kicked up another cloud of dust, obscuring everything from sight. Sylvas had no idea if his spell had hit or not.


    Relying on his eyes was going to get him killed. The hands came down at him again, hidden by the darkness beyond and the thick dust until he heard their whistling approach. One struck short, tearing apart the solid stone in front of him and shattering everything around it, launching him into the air with the impact. The other clawed hand came into sight as he cleared the top of the dust-cloud. Sweeping across to intercept him. All eight of the god¡¯s other arms were otherwise occupied. Hooked here and there around the edges of the tower, setting the whole building rocking on its foundations as it tried to pull its way through.


    In swift succession, Sylvas fired off three Arcane Arrows, each one hitting home into the gap between the plates of chitin. The one that struck the Twilight Oracle¡¯s wrist joint seemed as though it might stop its attack at first, but only served to send a shudder through the spidery limb as it quickly recovered.


    The next arrow was deflected almost casually by one of the endless chittering hooked legs that ran up the sides of the King¡¯s trunk. Arrayed not like any human body down the two sides, but instead in twisting spirals stretching from its top down to where its tail end disappeared into the portal. The shell didn¡¯t even show a glow from where the bolt of blue light had flown into it. It was as though all of the work that had gone into perfecting it, all of the targets reduced to smoldering rubble throughout the years, had been a dream, and the spell did nothing at all.


    Sylvas final shot soared not towards the demon-god itself, but to the portal¡¯s edge. There was no time to concoct some counter to the summoning spell, and even if he had all the time in the world, without a source of mana as potent as the destroyed crystal, he would never have been able to fuel it. Some degree of cleverness in a casting could amplify the effects he would get when trying to counter magic, but at the end of the day, without the brute force to tear apart the spell-form it would prove pointless.


    But just because he could not entirely undo the spell didn¡¯t mean that he couldn¡¯t disrupt it. Every moment that the Crimson King was held in the portal was another that Croesia was safe from its tender disintegrating touch.


    Before it could even make contact with the blinding light of the portal, the spell vanished from sight, but it definitely did something. The perfect curvature of the perfect circle that the tear in the sky had become warped on impact. Flickering and twisting, digging into the Oracle¡¯s side. Sylvas didn¡¯t know if the thing could feel pain, but he hoped it did.


    Then his time for a heroic last stand was up. The hand that had been swooping towards him through this whole final flurry of magic as he hung above the tower¡¯s ruined surface was there, a breath away from impact.


    With a practice born of years of having to deflect thrown balls of paper and worse being flung at him by the mages who would one day come to study under him, Sylvas cast a shield.


    Any physical blow or projectile would have been stopped dead by it, but the gargantuan monster was not made of physical matter alone. It was made of impossible things. Mana, and other, stranger forces, the shield stopped it from touching him and rendering him down to dust, but it didn¡¯t stop the power of the blow. Sylvas was launched across the rooftop. Desperately fleeting between the different spells in his arsenal, trying to think of anything that might stop his momentum before it was too late.


    Yet as Sylvas flew, tumbling end over end, out into the open air beyond the tower¡¯s edge he could think of nothing, nothing that could save him as gravity took its hold upon his body and started dragging him down to the ground below.

 Chapter 10

    ¡°Few elements in the makeup of the Empyrean are as important or as overlooked as the Ardent. They serve as a constant reminder of the Empyrean¡¯s fundamental purpose. An alliance founded on the defense of each other. They exemplify the spirit of the Empyrean. They are our heroes, and they are our living sacrifices, offered up on the altar of war.¡±


    ¡ªA People¡¯s Oral History of the Empyrean Alliance, Rosen Barvel


    Sylvas fell.


    There wasn¡¯t enough time for his life to flash before his eyes. No time to think about the way that he¡¯d been tricked. No time to look back at all the stories of him being the chosen one. No time for him to come to terms with the fact that he¡¯d ended the world, led there by the people that he had trusted the most.


    Instead there was just the whipping of wind past his face as he fell towards the distant ground.


    Perhaps I¡¯ll land in the courtyard where the others were buried. He thought as tears streamed from his eyes. Perhaps I¡¯ll be back with them one last time. At least before the whole world turns to dust.


    Yet as soon as he finished that thought, his fall abruptly stopped.


    ¡°Nice try lad,¡± a deep voice from behind Sylvas rumbled, ¡°but we¡¯ll take it from here now.¡±


    Suddenly there was an arm around his chest, the limb clad in white armor inlaid with silver, its dull gleam showing it to be made of a material that Sylvas had never seen before and would have struggled to describe. But that was only the first of his surprises, for as he twisted in his savior¡¯s grip he made out something that wasn¡¯t exactly a man. It was shorter than a man, but much broader too. The white armor stopped somewhere about the not-man¡¯s neck, letting a face which was just as broad featured as their body, and adorned with a fairly spectacular beard hang loose in the air.


    ¡°What? Who¡­¡±


    There were a million questions that erupted in his mind, but no time to ask them as they began to rise back upwards. Breath catching in his throat as agony pulsed from his injured arm, Sylvas saw that beneath the stout man¡¯s feet there was solid ground, but only a little island of it, floating up to carry them to the tower¡¯s top. Whoever they were, they had magic, magic that far surpassed Sylvas¡¯ own. Yet before that discovery could spawn a million more questions, Sylvas forced himself into the emptiness of the Unburdened Mind so that he could escape the pain of his injuries. So he could say what needed to be said instead of blurting out an incomprehensible stream of nonsense. ¡°The demon-god is coming through on the tower-top. We have to stop it.¡±


    ¡°Demon-god?¡± The bearded man repeated, before letting out a dry chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s an Eidolon, lad. A tier eight Leviathan Harrower if I¡¯m scrying it right.¡±


    ¡°An eidolon?¡± Sylvas repeated as he tested the word in his mouth, ready to demand an answer as to what such an entity was.


    Yet before he could a flash of movement caught Sylvas¡¯s eye, prompting him to first realize that they were almost level with the top of the tower now, and second, that they were not alone. Coming into view on either side of them Sylvas saw that there were others in the same white armor as his savior. Some of them flew of their own accord, carried by the wind, while others were being lifted by a slab of stone like the one carrying him. Further out he caught even more glimpses of distant white in the shadows, all while magic shot out from all around them directed towards the lesser creatures Sylvas had seen erupt from the rift.


    Creatures Sylvas only now knew were called eidolons.


    They¡¯re all mages¡­and they¡¯re all stronger than me by far. Stronger than the greatest mage on Croesia. Sylvas thought as he watched them battle, each of them casting spells that he couldn¡¯t even begin to comprehend. But where? Where did they come from? And how¡­how is it that they¡¯re¡ª


    ¡°Hey, you. Ya still with me?¡± The gruff voice that had rescued Sylvas suddenly asked, its presence cutting through his thoughts. ¡°Command has a question. They wannae know just how that rift got cracked open. Were you lot experimentin with magic and things got away from ye all? Or were you lookin to call this demon-god from the get-go?¡±


    ¡°It¡­it wasn¡¯t supposed to be that,¡± Sylvas immediately protested, his words causing the gravity of what he¡¯d done, of what he¡¯d unleashed, to threaten his focus. ¡°It was supposed to be a ritual¡ª¡±


    ¡°Of course it was lad,¡± his savior interrupted, right before uttering what Sylvas could only assume was a curse. ¡°And let me guess. Somebody, or something, gave you that ritual. Or maybe you lot found a place or ruin describing the right magics so you could summon it. I bet whichever it was, it told ya it was gonnae fix all your problems, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    It was a statement that despite his Paradigm, the active emptiness of the Unburdened Mind calming his thoughts, made Sylvas¡¯s mouth fell open in surprise. ¡°How could you possibly know all that?¡±


    ¡°Because we handle one of these¡­rituals at least once a month.¡± The man growled angrily as their platform settled onto the pocked top of the tower. ¡°Sometimes even more if folks are on leave and we need to cover their sectors. Every time it¡¯s a similar story.¡±


    ¡°You¡­handle¡­¡± Sylvas started to say, only to find himself abruptly cut off by a loud, deafening wail that caused his heart to tremble.


    The very same wail he had heard from the Crimson King when the rift calling it into this world had first opened.


    Oh, oh no. Sylvas thought as the being came into view, seeing that in the time since he¡¯d been cast from the rooftop, the monster had almost hauled its entire body through the portal that separated its realm from this one. But not without cost either, Sylvas saw, for the chitin nearest to the blinding circle of light that was the rift had warped and cracked from being forced through too small a gap. Not that such a pain slowed the creature any as it fought to push through, it seeming to just be a matter of time until its whole bulk came slithering out.


    That was unless it was stopped, as Sylvas¡¯ savior and all of those accompanying him immediately set out to do as they landed, each of them beginning to cast spells in rapid succession.


    ¡°Good, now stay clear lad!¡± Sylvas heard the man shout as he was unceremoniously dumped to the ground. ¡°We¡¯ll send this critter back into the void it came from!¡±


    And then, as soon as those words left their mouth, a thick spur of stone erupted from the rooftop, launching itself upwards to knock away one of the Crimson King¡¯s clawed hands that had thrust out in their direction. However, no sooner did the stone land, did it begin to flake away into nothingness as the demon-god¡¯s, no, the eidolon¡¯s, reaving presence shredded it apart. Not that such a thing even fazed the mysterious white-clad mages as they cast again, and again. One spike erupted sideways to knock a second reaching hand aside, quickly followed by a second ¨C its sharp point angling itself towards the center of the eidolon¡¯s trunk like body as if it were a spear held at the ready.


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    For a moment, Sylvas couldn¡¯t understand why the mage had chosen to stop the attack short, other than perhaps a lack of stone in the tower¡¯s top, but a moment later, clarity arrived in the form of an explosion, as it so often did. Arriving unseen, one of the other white-clad casters had flung a massive ball of fire at the eidolon from behind, the flames washing harmlessly over its chitinous hide. Yet while they did little, the impact of the blast forced the massive creature downwards.


    Right into the awaiting spike of stone.


    Screeching across the hard plate of chitin between the coils of legs for a span before finding a gap and finally driving in, Sylvas heard the Crimson King let out a deafening wail as the spar drove into its body. As it did, sprawling cracks spiderwebbed out across the eidolon¡¯s patterned shell with bursts of bleeding light rushing out from within.


    Rocked by the mind-numbing cry, Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but flinch as another mage in white landed by his side, this one a woman far taller with him and waifish in build. Yet her sudden arrival wasn¡¯t what stole his attention in that moment, rather it was her sharply pointed ears and fine features, signaling that she too was of a people that he had never seen or heard of before. More too, she appeared to be no less of a mage than his savior, her white armored gauntlet gesturing sharply, prompting a gleaming staff to appear out from nothingness. Snatching it up, she wasted no time in taking aim, pointing the staff¡¯s crystal tip in the direction of the Crimson King, all while beginning her own incantation.


    One that against everything he expected to hear, happened to be familiar to Sylvas.


    Wait, she¡¯s not¡ª Sylvas thought in a sudden panic as he followed her aim, seeing that it was right for the center of the Crimson King¡¯s body, the placement from her perspective no doubt guaranteeing a hit. However from his own painful experience before his fall, Sylvas knew that it was the wrong place to strike.


    ¡°No, wait! Tell her to¡­¡± Sylvas¡¯s warning died in his throat as the short man who¡¯d saved him abruptly broke away, the very ground he¡¯d been standing on rising upwards into a tall pillar of stone. The Crimson King had the advantage of height over all of them, especially the squat armored man in particular, so taking it away was imperative. Yet in doing so, it forced Sylvas to make a desperate move.


    That move in question being to lunge towards the newly arrived woman¡¯s staff and knock its aim to the side.


    Arriving right as the spell she¡¯d been channeling unleashed itself from the staff¡¯s crystal focus in the form of a bar of light, Sylvas had just enough time to see that he hadn¡¯t been too late. That he had managed to shift her aim just enough so that when the light reached the Crimson King, only a small fraction of it touched the centermost scale of its body and was reflected every which way, deeply scoring the stone it touched. Yet even so, it allowed the rest of the blast to bore a hole straight through its side.


    But that was about all he was able to see, for the second time in as many minutes, Sylvas was then sent flying towards the tower¡¯s edge by a mighty blow, causing him to roll end over end. The only thing different this time was that he had the wherewithal to catch himself on one of the raised platforms the short mage had left in his wake, instead of going over the edge. Granted, his ribs cracked on impact as he did so, but it was a world better than what the distant ground would have done to him.


    ¡°Do not interfere, Harbinger!¡± He heard the woman bark angrily as his head swam from the strike, threatening to once again pull him out from his focus. Yet with a mighty surge of will he forced himself past the disorientation and stared back at the Crimson King, seeing that the spray of crimson light pour free from beneath where the woman¡¯s bolt had ripped its shell open leaving the whole thing quivering and immobile. Moreover for the first time since he¡¯d laid eyes on it, the aura of terrible destruction around the eidolon seemed to retreat.


    A weakness that all of the attacking mages wasted no time in taking advantage of as another fireball exploded across its back, bathing the tower with heat, and driving the eidolon further down onto the spike of stone that kept it pinned in place. It was enough to cause the cracks on its shell to spread out further and further, each break causing a brilliant crimson light to shine out from within.


    That glimpse was all that Sylvas was able to see however, as a swarm of the flying monsters arrived yet again, blocking his view of what was going on as they swept by, raking at all the white-clad mages with their claws in the process. Fortunately, whatever the armor they wore was made of was resilient enough for the flurry of blows the eidolons landed to only stagger the mages, and not pierce through it, allowing them all to continue their fight. Then just as quickly as the swarm of insect like eidolons had appeared, they were gone, leaving Sylvas to once again find the tall woman, her face now slit in three lines, across her lips, nose, and through one of her eyes.


    Yet even so, she looked perfectly serene and focused, casting with the same fervor he¡¯d last seen her with.


    How? Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but wonder as he stared at her. Already he had known that these mages were on a completely different level, if only for the fact that they were choosing to willingly fight the nightmare that he had spawned into the world. But to see that even with a ruined face the one mage didn¡¯t so much as flinch in her efforts to do so only reaffirmed their superiority in every possible aspect. It was a realization that had him turning to look inwards at his own injuries, Sylvas only then noticing that the pain that had wracked him since his casting of the ritual was gone.


    Ah, no, not gone! Just¡­numbed. He corrected himself after a quick probe of his arm told him otherwise, the agony prompting him to glance down towards it. The mana burns that ran up the length of his arm had stopped screaming their tales of devastation to his brain, but he was far from completely healed, the arm still hanging limp and useless at his side. But even so¡­it feels¡­better? And it¡¯s not bleeding anymore. Did one of them cast a mending spell on me that I didn¡¯t see?


    But whatever the answers might have been to that question, Sylvas once again had no time to discover them, for in the brief moment that his attention had wandered, the battle had shifted yet again.


    ¡°Fall to me!¡± He heard the tall woman shout, her voice¡¯s commanding presence so potent that it practically caused the very air to resonate as it reached out to grab Sylvas¡¯s attention.


    And for good reason too, Sylvas noted a second later as he spotted a renewed flight of the lesser, insect like, eidolons as they flew in to swarm the tower en masse once more.


    This time, the woman was ready for their arrival, the butt of her staff slamming into the ground at her feet and causing a cage of light to burst out from its tip, surrounding her. As the fliers crashed into it, they burst apart into cubed chunks, spattering along the ground beyond her before beginning to dissolve away into raw mana.


    ¡°Gonna be comin in hot!¡± The familiar voice of the short mage abruptly announced from amid the chaos, prompting Sylvas¡¯s gaze to launch itself back upwards, arriving just in time to see the man leap off of the towering pillar he¡¯d been surveying the battlefield from.


    Gasping as he saw the man begin to plummet downwards, for a second Sylvas thought that the mage had intended to strike out at the Crimson King, the massive eidolon having remained fixed in place by a constant barrage of explosive fire upon it. It was a fact even further reinforced by the great fist of stone that appeared in the mage¡¯s hand as he fell, Sylvas immediately likening it to a fist falling from the heavens themselves, deigned to fully impale the monster on the spike it already sat upon.


    Except that wasn¡¯t where the mage landed.


    Instead, the man fell just short of the monster, his fist smashing into the stone floor of the tower¡¯s peak, which promptly leapt up and outwards as if he had dropped a boulder into a pond. Rising up in a powerful ripple of magic made real, the wave of stone then launched everything upon it into the air, including the Crimson King, who was flung free of the thick spike that had pinned it.


    It was a sight that immediately stupefied Sylvas as he watched the wave of stone rush towards him, the other mages before him either leaping over the wave or taking flight with magic.


    What¡­what am I supposed to do? He thought numbly as the ground beneath his feet abruptly lurched upwards.


    Thereby sending him flying off the tower¡¯s edge once more.

 Chapter 11

    ¡°In the realm of magical study, there is nothing more fundamentally misunderstood as a worldsoul. It is, in essence, a mana core for an entire planet. Just as we cultivate our own cores, a worldsoul is a naturally occurring conglomeration of the native floes of mana throughout space. Without it, mana does not gather around a world. Without it, magic cannot be performed there. A soul-less world, is a dead world.¡±


    ¡ªCosmic Errata: Notes on Interplanetary Mana Tides, Theron Greenmantle


    For the third time in the day, Sylvas found himself flicked away by powers that he couldn¡¯t even begin to understand, spinning head over heels in the process.


    But unlike the last two times there was no physical trauma to accompany the instant nausea of being tossed around like a doll. It was as if one moment, he was on the ground, half sprawled out and cradling his charred arm, and the next, he was thirty feet in the air with the tower and the battle beneath him. However as it had been with both prior occasions, it did not appear that Sylvas¡¯s fate was to end up splattered upon the rock below, for as soon as gravity began to reassert its hold upon him, a stream of light shot out from the tower to surround him.


    Flinching as it arrived, the next thing Sylvas knew was that he was surrounded by a well of pale white energy, its presence against his body soft as a down quilt. Yet more importantly than how it felt, the light somehow stopped his descent from gaining any meaningful momentum and instead pulled him downwards back towards the tower. The point-eared woman who¡¯d cast him aside earlier was saving him now.


    Not that it looks like it¡¯s costing her much to do it. Sylvas was gently pulled back towards the battle, seeing that she wasn¡¯t even looking in his direction. The fact that he had been saved, had Sylvas assuming that she had finally understood why he had interfered with her aim. Something instantly confirmed when she launched another beam of white light at the recovering form of the Crimson King, choosing to avoid the centermost part of its body and boring a hole through the scaled shells adjacent to it.


    A move that had the conquering crustacean taking a step backwards.


    Maybe we can beat this, Sylvas suddenly thought as his journey through the air came to an end, the light that had captured him winking out just a couple scant feet above the tower floor, close enough that he was easily able to catch himself. Maybe¡­maybe this isn¡¯t the end.


    It was a desperate thought clearly reflected in all of the white-armored mages as they unleashed a renewed torrent of magic at the Crimson King, its ravaged body bleeding out countless streams of red hued light.


    The short mage that first rescued Sylvas sprinted beneath the arching bulk of the Crimson King¡¯s body, another great fist of stone forming around his hand. One that he delivered squarely to the monstrosity¡¯s face, a fresh spar of stone launching out from under his feet and guiding him directly towards the eidolon¡¯s maw. The Crimson King had already been reeling before the mighty crunching uppercut arrived, but once it did, the powerful, thundering blow sent it flying back towards the portal that had spawned it.


    Wait, they aren¡¯t trying to kill it, Sylvas abruptly realized as a series of concussive blasts suddenly erupted before the Crimson King¡¯s face, causing it to shrink away from their impact. They¡¯re trying to force it back. Force it back into the void. I can do that.


    It was a thought that instantly had Sylvas reaching out to the lingering dregs of the spell that hung in the air with his mind. The one he had devoted years to mastering. The one that still remained perfect in his memory. The one that now he had actually cast and felt how the magic worked through it, he could repurpose, picking out the individual parts he needed to save them all.


    Sylvas closed his eyes to blot out the otherworldly horror that he¡¯d unleashed upon his realm, refusing to let the weight of what he¡¯d done slow him down as he searched for whatever threads remained.


    And against all odds, he found them.


    There were only a few of them still left, mere fragments of the grand tapestry he and the others had woven to open the portal. Yet as Sylvas examined what was left, he knew that it would be enough, the few fragments that were missing were practically burned onto the inside of his eyelids and easy enough to reconstruct.


    If not there, then on my arm, Sylvas thought with a distant grimace, remembering all too well how this same spell had then rebounded against him, the sigils and threads charring his arm to the bone. Without the dark crystal, the circle or¡­or the others, I¡¯ll need to shoulder the entire casting. But I can do this. I have to do this.


    The magic of the ritual came easier to him now than it had before as he grabbed hold of the rapidly fraying threads and started repairing them. The practice of having already created them was certainly a part of the ease, for he was used to channeling the mana into these shapes now. But more than it just being familiar, Sylvas was armed with a degree of certainty that he¡¯d been missing before.


    As the Crimson King had begun its journey into the world of the living, Sylvas remembered being overwhelmed by the feeling of wrongness, that he¡¯d been acting against what was best. Yet this time as he rewove the ritual¡¯s magic, he felt a new certainty that this time what he was doing was right. A process that was only sped along even faster when he managed to lift his deadened, scarred up arm up an inch or two, the mana he poured through it twisting itself into the right spell-forms as it surged through the burnt channels without his input. Reopening his eyes as the magic solidified in his grasp, Sylvas saw the supposed gates of heaven open the rest of the way before him, causing the pearlescent sky of the otherworld to shine through, its alien appearance offensive to his mind.


    There¡­ it¡¯s open, Sylvas thought as he wrestled the ritual into place, all his concentration going to keeping it active. Now¡­now hopefully they can take advantage of it.


    And to Sylvas¡¯s immediate relief, they did, an excited, incomprehensible shout from among the other mages splitting the air.


    Instantly an array of lightning spells lanced out towards the Crimson King, shocking and staggering the creature until it was completely off-balance and unable to react. Moreover, the flame-caster that Sylvas had seen earlier flew from over the tower¡¯s edge and laid into the eidolon once more, this time with a barrage of boulder sized fireballs. Nor was the short mage who had first saved Sylvas excluded from the renewed assault, the man having clad himself entirely in a thick coating of stone, more than doubling his size, magic enhancing his strength so vastly that every strike he landed rocked the Crimson King backwards.


    Then it was step by step, inch by inch, that they all drove the eidolon out of Croesia and into whatever nightmare realm it had come from. Of course, the thing Sylvas had called god didn¡¯t make it easy for them, railing against the assault as best it could. It lashed out both with its spindle-arms and the aura of destruction that surrounded it, but neither one could reach or find purchase among the mages driving it back, all but sealing its fate in the process as it destroyed anything it might have used to find traction.


    Almost¡­there, almost¡­ there, Sylvas repeated to himself as his body trembled, but not with the terror or pain that were both still lurking somewhere outside of his Paradigm, but exhaustion.


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    Even before fighting an otherworldly horror, he had performed more magic than everyone else on the planet combined prior to the arrival of the strangers, and the efforts had not left him feeling energized. In spite of that, he forced himself to join the other mages in striking at the eidolon, splitting his mind and focus away from maintaining the ritual to conjure bolts of pure force, or as he knew them, arcane arrows. His reserves of mana, that he¡¯d once been so proud of, had been almost entirely depleted by the day¡¯s events, but with the final dregs that remained, he launched bright sparks of blue power at the Crimson King.


    While his attacks had little visible effect, he felt satisfaction in joining with the other mages as they hammered at the eidolon. Everywhere that its shell had been shattered now began to bleed crimson light, with streams of bubbling, oozing darkness soon joining it. Working together, they drove it back to the edge of the portal, and then each time that it managed to hook one of its claws onto the white band surrounding the hole in reality, all attacks were focused on that claw until its grip was lost.


    The thing must have had a hundred claws arrayed around its body, and Sylvas could have sworn that it caught hold of the portal rim with every single one. Not to mention the arms that it was lashing out with hopelessly trying to grab onto anything at all. It was no use of course. The solid stone of the tower-top was already reduced halfway to slag and rubble, and it had the consistency of pudding in the eidolon¡¯s grasp thanks to its aura of destruction. There was nothing there that would stop the slow drive back out of the world.


    The short mage¡¯s stone covering had sloughed away in the face of his close proximity to the eidolon, but as he launched himself away from the Twilight Prophet on a ripple of stone that sizzled away to dust before he was even full off it he looked up to where Sylvas was still hanging in the sky and gave him a wink. Sylvas didn¡¯t have a clue what that wink was meant to mean, but it seemed friendly. At least in comparison to the creature now halfway back through the portal.


    A concerted effort from all of the mages began soon after, the point-eared woman, the fire-slinger and the short one all working together with focused blasts of their respective elements, not into the dark opening at the heart of the Crimson King, but all across its armor. Using the thing¡¯s resilience against it to push it back further than if the spells had been sinking into the darkness below and doing it real harm. Other mages still in flight around the tower¡¯s top cast protections over them so that they could focus solely on their assault.


    At last the great pillar of writhing claws and arms had been driven back and the portal that had been the doom of the whole world became the focus of the gathered mages. Just like Sylvas and his many apprentices had worked in tandem to create the portal, the mages worked together on a counterspell. A well-practiced one, judging by how easily they all picked up their respective parts.


    All the other tears in the sky that had been letting the lesser Eidolons through to run riot had been obliterated sometime while Sylvas was distracted by the creature in front of him, and now the gates of heaven needed to be swung shut once and for all.


    He could see the other mages on the rooftop trying to undo what he had done, but they were working blind, fumbling in the dark at a spell of such complexity it had taken him years to master. They may have been his better in every other way, but not in this one. This spell was his in a way that no other ever would be. An obsession carved into his memory as surely as the mana had carved through his body.


    Through the fighting, he had felt as though he was in the way, surplus to requirements, but now it was these strangers from another world who were out of their element. This was his domain. There was little mana left in him after everything, but still enough for this.


    I can do this.


    With a squeeze of his hand, the fragile spell that had opened the portal gave away. He had control of it now, mastery of it, and he crushed the vital threads of mana until the spell-form collapsed. There was no will contesting his. No overwhelming force trying to keep it open, or to push through.


    As the spell broke, the portal collapsed in on itself. Sliding closed far more neatly than it had first been brought into being, all of its perfectly circular circumference shrinking at the same rate until there was nothing in the air but a mote of light, then not even that. The gathered mages breathed a sigh of relief.


    With a flick of the wrist, the point-eared woman let Sylvas fall back to the ground, his landing softened by the deep banks of dust that were all that remained of the massive stone slab that had once capped the tower.


    In their white armor, they all looked similar enough that the differences in stature between the various mages could be forgotten. Particularly once they started shaking hands, clapping each other on the back, and bodily seizing one another in tight hugs ¨C in the case of the short one. Sylvas was soon on the receiving end of one of the short man¡¯s bone crushing grapples, the man¡¯s beard bristling against his own cleanshaven face. ¡°You did good lad, couldn¡¯t have shoved it through without you.¡±


    ¡°Your assistance avoiding the Eidolon¡¯s protective shell was similarly appreciated.¡± The point-eared woman added, already moving on to her next task, her staff had vanished back into nothingness, and a conjured quill was scribbling out her battle-report on a glowing slate that drifted beside her as she cast various spells of detection over the empty space where the portal had been, recording her results. She cast a glance Sylvas¡¯ way. ¡°My apologies for misunderstanding your intent during combat, some of the cults on uncontacted worlds that have been seeded with arcanum are...resistant when we arrive.¡±


    ¡°Resistant? That puts it rather mildly,¡± the short man stated with a half snort, half growl as he shook dust and gravel from his beard. In the heat of battle, Sylvas had heard them call the man, Fargus, allowing him to place at least one name among his newfound saviors. ¡°Though if the lad hadn¡¯t stopped the summoning, there¡¯s no doubt the Harrower would have been through and burrowed to the core before we even got here. The whole planet would have been dead, without a doubt.¡±


    ¡°I cannot deny that the delay he provided gave us sufficient deployment time. Though, that wouldn¡¯t have been a problem had we not needed to rely on the drop-pods.¡± The woman didn¡¯t sigh, as that would have been a far greater display of emotion than she seemed comfortable with. But her tone was still a little curt. Sylvas hadn¡¯t caught her name, nobody had needed to shout it out, she had known what to do at all times.


    ¡°Ugh, the pods again?¡± Fargus replied with a scoff. ¡°Look me in the eye and tell me that you¡¯d really rather have Gimmerin port us down here. You know as well as I that half us would end up phased inside stone, instead of on top of it.¡±


    It was a challenge that the woman simply chose not to reply to, her attention instead turning to look towards what Sylvas identified as the flame-casting mage as they came down to land beside them.


    Until now he had been kept in the air by a steady stream of flames and sparks from his feet that left the otherwise white armor blackened with soot from sole to knee, but now that he was on the ground, Sylvas had the opportunity to actually look at him. He had dark hair, slicked back from a proud face with a prominent nose, a pair of goat-like horns curling back over that slick black hair and his skin was a bright vibrant red. With the other two, it had been easy enough for Sylvas to assume that they were odd looking people, but this one more or less confirmed to him that they were all different species from him entirely.


    Catching his stare the red man gave him a curt nod and raised what Sylvas thought was an eyebrow. ¡°You all right buddy?¡±


    ¡°Uh, y-yeah,¡± he replied, his voice coming out a bit too high pitched for his liking as he looked away. Little of everything that had happened made much, if any, sense to Sylvas, but he did his best to commit it all to memory. With time, a lot of time, he hoped he would be able to parse through and make sense of everything.


    Or at least some of it, Sylvas added dryly as he watched Fargus exchange a pair of slaps with the fire mage, before turning to look his way, a smile across his face. Or at least, Sylvas assumed that he was smiling under all that moustache, given that he sounded happy.


    ¡°You did well lad,¡± he said yet again when his focus returned to Sylvas. ¡°Most folks turn run when they first see an Eidolon, let alone one like that. You should be proud.¡±


    However given that Sylvas had been responsible for said Eidolon appearing, he couldn¡¯t quite muster that emotion, let alone capture the short man¡¯s sense of gleeful victory. So instead he sidestepped answering it directly, and instead asked a question, his voice that scarcely sounded like his own. ¡°Is it¡­ over?¡±


    Immediately, as if by literal magic, the other mages in close proximity around Sylvas and the man suddenly found themselves with something to do, the pair practically spinning as they turned away. The lithe woman moving to investigate where the portal and the ritual had taken place and the horned man turning to search the skies, no doubt looking for more of the flying abominations that had been swooping them earlier.


    A reaction that told Sylvas all that he needed to know about where the short man¡¯s answer was going to go next.


    ¡°Ah, yes and no, lad.¡± He said gently, his eyes dropping down to the ground as if he were suddenly shy. ¡°The yes part in the sense that the eidolon is back where it belongs and there won¡¯t be any more of its kind coming through.¡±


    ¡°As for the no part, uh,¡± Fargus continued as he cast a quick spell that manifested the outline of a glowing eye over his head for an instant. ¡°Well, according to that last scry, the worldsoul of your planet is dead.¡±

 Chapter 12

    ¡°There are times when destruction is a kindness. When there is a cancer that must be excised so that the healthy body can go on. Sometimes it is an individual. Sometimes it is a world. If universe is a living organism. Then I am the surgeon that saves it.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Sylvas Vail¡¯s heart felt like it had just stopped. It sat leaden and useless in his chest. ¡°I thought that you said I¡¯d stopped it in time. I thought you said that¡­¡±


    ¡°Aye lad, you stopped the Harrower, but there were other eidolons that made it through. Lesser ones, a few tier 2 Ravagers and¡­¡± Fargus paused for a second to look askance to his colleagues who were doing their best not to make eye contact. ¡°Well¡­ the fact is¡­ the planet isn¡¯t alive anymore, and even if it was, there aren¡¯t enough of your people around for you all to keep living here. You wouldn¡¯t have enough bodies to keep breeding without consanguinity setting in. You know, birth deformities and such. And that¡¯s only if you all found a way to survive the Eternal Winter that will fall upon your world now.¡±


    There was a long pause as the man simply stared back at Sylvas before gently shaking his head. ¡°What you did was keep the planet together long enough for us to arrive. That means those that survived everything, well, it means they still have a chance...¡±


    But even so, the knowledge was almost too much for Sylvas to bear. After everything that he¡¯d done to save Croesia, after everything all of them had done, it still wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°How many people died?¡±


    The bearded mage shifted uncomfortably from one white-clad foot to the other, once again glancing over at the others of his squad in the hopes of some rescue from this awkward conversation. ¡°Can you not scry for yourself and see¡ª¡±


    Sylvas cut him off with a shake of the head. ¡°How many? Please. I¡­I need to know.¡±


    But the answer didn¡¯t come from Fargus, his rescue arriving instead from the point-eared woman who¡¯s voice echoed across the tower¡¯s peak. ¡°Ninety percent is our best estimate. Some of your people may be out of sight somewhere our scrying can¡¯t reach but at the moment¡­that looks to be all.¡±


    ¡°Ninety percent?¡± Sylvas repeated it back, certain that there was some mistake, that he was somehow misunderstanding what he¡¯d just been told. ¡°Ninety percent of all the people in Croesia are just¡­gone? It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s not even been a span since we started the ritual. How¡­how can that even¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry lad.¡± Fargus stated, his shoulders slumped as he looked back at Sylvas. ¡°There¡¯s a reason we come down hard on eidolon summoning.¡±


    ¡°But how?¡± Sylvas demanded, his voice breaking even through the focus of the Unburdened Mind and threatening his composure. ¡°How¡­ how could so many have¡­¡±


    ¡°Because mundane weapons can¡¯t so much as scratch Eidolons. And it seems that you and all the other mages of your world were here.¡± The woman answered back. ¡°There was nothing they could do.¡±


    ¡°Nothing they could do.¡± Sylvas repeated as the mage¡¯s words slammed into him, prompting the true scale of what he had done, inadvertently or not, to race through his mind. Not only had he summoned these things into the world and let them run riot, slaughtering all but a tiny fraction of Croesia¡¯s population, but he had also been the only one who could have stopped the monsters when they arrived.


    The other mages atop the tower could have fought, he told himself, grasping for whatever straw he could find to keep his sanity intact, yet to no avail. But at the end of the day, it was my responsibility as the best of them to lead by example. That¡¯s what I thought I was doing¡­right up until¡­until¡­


    It was right at that moment that Sylvas¡¯s focus finally gave out, that his increasingly tenuous grip on his Paradigm, finally failed, leaving all of reality, and the pain associated with it to come crashing in. Arriving all at once, Sylvas found himself driven to his knees by the impossible guilt of what he¡¯d done, the pure agony of his injuries, and the sheer exhaustion of his journey through it all.


    ¡°It was me,¡± he whispered through the storm that threatened to consume him. ¡°I killed all those¡ª¡±


    ¡°No you didn¡¯t. Don¡¯t ever think that.¡± There was an edge of emotion in the point-eared woman¡¯s voice as she viciously cut off Sylvas from finishing, her presence arriving at his side a moment later. ¡°Whoever gave your planet the arcanum for the ritual did so deliberately. Whoever taught you to summon; they¡¯re the ones responsible. The power you used should never have been in your hands to do this in the first place.¡±


    ¡°But I still did it.¡± Sylvas voice cracked. ¡°I¡­ I spent my whole life learning how to use magic, all for this and¡­¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± The red horned man said suddenly, having reappeared at some point Sylvas had missed after his short jaunt through the air. ¡°You aren¡¯t the first person to be tricked into doing something you didn¡¯t want to. Doubt you¡¯ll be the last either.¡±


    ¡°Aye, lad, it¡¯s gonna sting a while. I¡¯ve no doubt. But what¡¯s done is done.¡± Fargus said from Sylvas¡¯s opposite side. ¡°No point in breaking yourself over it. Not when you¡¯ve still got a path forward.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± The point-eared woman said, Sylvas seeing something akin to a forced smile on her face when he looked up towards her. ¡°The Empyrean Alliance will take care of all those who survived. They shall find you refugees a new home, the same way that they always do in circumstances like this.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sylvas repeated, the day¡¯s events and his cascading emotions making it impossible keep up with the conversation¡¯s abrupt shift. ¡°What do you mean refugees?¡±


    ¡°I mean what¡¯s left of your people, lad.¡± Fargus said as they shuffled in closer to give Sylvas a pat on the shoulder that sent pain lancing through his mana-wracked body. ¡°They¡¯ll all get new homes, lives, all they could want for to start anew.¡±


    ¡°But this is our home¡­¡± Sylvas started to say, only to trail off as the woman shook her head beside him.


    ¡°Not anymore.¡± She stated curtly, it seemed that whatever sympathy she had been drawing on had run out, bringing the familiar cold analytic voice back. ¡°Beyond the devastation of your population, the death of your worldsoul will send your planet into an ice age for the next several centuries, at the absolute least. After which it might rekindle itself if the stellar currents bless it with enough mana to do so. And that¡¯s assuming if deep-earth scrying doesn¡¯t produce any interesting mineral results. If it does, then it¡¯s more likely to be cracked open and mined completely empty.¡±


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    Once more, Sylvas mind spun at the news. The whole planet was going to be uninhabitable, there were only a handful of people left, and he had been deceived. Either the grand masters had known all along that they were bringing about the end, or they too had been too stupid to recognize that there was certain doom at the end of the path they walked.


    But if they did know, then they already paid the price for their treachery, Sylvas thought with a burning anger that he had never known before this moment. But that means whoever gave them the sacred¡­no, they were never really sacred books, were they? Whatever they were, whoever gave them to the old masters are still out there. Living free to do it again¡­and again.


    Mira was gone. He¡¯d never hear her laughing at him again. Never hold her hand as they walked in the courtyard. They¡¯d never see each other again.


    Without the Paradigm to keep his mind clear, all sorts of thoughts and feelings overtook Sylvas as he pondered that thought, but none of them were as powerful as his newfound rage which only continued to grow.


    ¡°Who did this?¡± He demanded as he forced himself into a sitting position. ¡°Who gave us the spells, who set our world up to die?¡±


    All three of the white-armored mages nearby looked at each other when Sylvas asked that question, their eyes dancing between one another in a way that suggested some sort of silent communication, yet even so, none of them broke the silence that had fallen. After a long moment of simmering with anger, Sylvas was about to break that silence himself, likely by shouting and demanding answers like one of the spoiled princelings he¡¯d been forced to teach years earlier. Thankfully before it could get to that, the lady in white cut him off before he could shame himself with that kind of outburst.


    ¡°I can assure you, that if the Ardent were aware of that, this incident would not have occurred.¡±


    Sylvas took a deep breath at the meaningless answer, using the space it gave him to settle his emotions, stopping just shy of falling back into his Paradigm. Then once he was calm, he simply asked a second time. ¡°You don¡¯t have any idea who is responsible?¡±


    This time it was Fargus that replied, and with more sympathy than Sylvas expected. ¡°Lad, the trouble with uncontacted planets is in the name. We aren¡¯t in contact with them. We didn¡¯t even know you existed until today.¡±


    The idea that a whole world had been entirely unknown was a momentarily stupefying thing for Sylvas to process, but when he thought about it, the rationale didn¡¯t take long for him to understand. He himself hadn¡¯t known that there were other worlds up there among the stars that had bright red men with horns, or little men with beards or women with pointed ears among them. So the reverse was only fair, if still frustrating in its own right.


    ¡°Our presence here is a result of alarming mana disruption spikes on our long-range divination.¡± The point-eared woman explained. ¡°Otherwise we would have remained blissfully unaware that this world was inhabited. The galaxy is simply too vast otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Is inhabited.¡± Sylvas replied with a shake of his head. ¡°You must know that my people aren¡¯t going to want to leave. At least not easily.¡±


    Fargus let out a sound like a sigh, at that. ¡°Aye, we know. But we ain¡¯t in the business of saving people just to let them kill themselves after. So that will be¡­um, accounted for.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Resistance among the general population is expected, and appropriate force will be applied as necessary to preserve your lives.¡± The woman stated, her words coming so casually that it left Sylvas at a loss for words.


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s enough now.¡± She interrupted with a shake of her head, folding both her tablet and quill back into whatever invisible space she hid them in when they weren¡¯t in use. ¡°It would be best if we take you directly to the healers. You are suffering from severe injuries as a result of your interference with the summoning spell and your conflict with the eidolon. Honestly, I am surprised you have even been able to speak with us this long.¡±


    ¡°Hold on now lass.¡± The bearded one called back over his shoulder. ¡°Did you scry him?¡±


    She didn¡¯t twitch at the digressive comment, but one very nearly appeared at the man¡¯s comment, her posture suddenly going very still. Yet even so, she humored the comment and looked Sylvas up and down, eyes resting on the ruin of his arm, the blood soaked through his tattered robes and running down his face like tears. ¡°I have eyes, scrying doesn¡¯t seem necessary at this juncture.¡±


    ¡°Do it,¡± the short one replied, ignoring her tone. ¡°Check him out.¡±


    That same eye manifested over the pointy-eared mage¡¯s head as she cast and then she blinked, hard. ¡°That is¡­ unexpected.¡±


    The short one chuckled. ¡°Ain¡¯t it just?¡±


    Sylvas had suffered through quite enough of being talked over.  ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Your core, lad.¡± He pointed at Sylvas chest. ¡°You¡¯ve got enough room for mana rammed up you to make a third circle mage flinch. And you were holding it with just one?¡±


    Sylvas felt like his head was about to explode. There were mages with more than one circle. No wonder these strangers were so much more powerful than him in spite of all he had done to advance. He¡¯d been missing that vital foundational information.


    ¡°You can make more than one circle?¡± His mouth moved on its own while his brain spun out into all the possibilities. If three circles were possible, then how many more could he create? Was there any upper limit to his growth?


    ¡°Wherever they put him, they¡¯d better get him training. Shame to waste that potential.¡± The red man said the last word with particular contempt, looking down on Sylvas where he lay in the dirt.


    The pointed eared woman brushed it all aside with a flick of the wrist. ¡°Regardless of what his future may hold, he shall be deprived of any future if he does not receive medical treatment. So, one of you, I don¡¯t care who, see to it. Now, please.¡±


    An order that surprisingly enough, the both of them took in stride, their eyes shifting over towards Sylvas with clinical precision as they began to talk about moving him.


    Not that Sylvas soon found himself able to follow along with what they planned, his mind soon spiraling in every direction.


    The world was ending. Had ended. And everyone he had ever known was dead. He was responsible for casting the spell that had done it and now everyone else on the planet was going to be forcibly removed and sent off to who knew where among the stars. He had not become the greatest mage on the planet so that he could stand aside and let things like this happen. With more circles of mana forged within him, the magic he could perform would increase exponentially, he could fix this, some of this at least. All it would take was time. So long as he could stay here on his world, there was still hope that he might restore Croesia to some part of its former glory, regardless of what these ¡®Ardent¡¯ had to say for themselves.


    Sylvas had not been idle as they talked over him and his head spun with all the new knowledge they were bombarding him with. He had placed his working hand on the ground and worked it around until the ash felt compact enough that it wouldn¡¯t just slip away the moment he moved. He had rocked himself forward until he could bring up his knees without immediately toppling onto his back. Pushing off the ground with all the strength that he had left, he rose, barely hearing the surprised grunts that said movement brought around him.


    ¡°Croesia is burning. I don¡¯t need a healer, I need to¡­¡±


    Sylvas stood at his full height for just one moment, towering over the bearded mage who had first rescued him, eye-to-eye with the horned one. Then the next thing he knew he felt the world shift beneath his feet. For an instant he thought that the tower had been so abused through the summoning and the battle that it was going to fall, then he realized that it was not the vast edifice of stone that was toppling, but rather him. He had lost too much blood. He had suffered too many injuries. Darkness was encroaching from all sides and the dusty remains of his old life rushed up to meet his face before he lost all awareness.

 Chapter 13

    ¡°Humans, being the most populous. Elves, being the wisest. Dwarves, the most industrious. Fiends, the hardiest. The Najash, the most naturally cunning. These make up but a fraction of the sapient creatures with which we share this universe.¡±


    ¡ªThe Sentient Species, Mison Aelweth


    Spaceships were less exciting than Sylvas might initially have imagined, though he had hardly gotten the best view of them so far. From waking up in a stark white infirmary somewhere in high orbit above Croesia¡¯s equator to eventually being released into the equally blank holding bays alongside the rest of the remaining population of the planet there had been little of interest. These parts of the ship were deliberately designed without windows. It wasn¡¯t out of cruelty, it was necessary. Most people who had never been in space before tended to get extremely agitated when they looked outside and saw nothingness dotted with stars for the first time. Sylvas seemed to be the only one among the Croesians who felt some spark of excitement over it. To be above the sky, out here in the vast cosmos would have left him elated, if the cost for this flight hadn¡¯t been most of the life on his home planet.


    The Ardent ships that had arrived first were sleek constructs of the same shining white material that they crafted their armor from, but the bigger ships that had arrived later from the Empyrean Alliance to collect the refugees weren¡¯t nearly as pretty. Huge blocky things, like haphazardly cobbled together cuboids of bare metal that stretched out so far that Sylvas couldn¡¯t see both ends of one at once. From what little he¡¯d been able to gather in his limited interaction with this ship¡¯s crew, the blocky ships were more or less the standard everywhere. They never entered an atmosphere, so there was no need to make them aerodynamic.


    Sylvas Vail was twenty years old by the reckoning of his planet, he had no purpose, no home, no Mira, no friends, no relationships at all. His future had been preordained for him up until the moment of the summoning and now he was in an undiscovered country with no plan or even an inkling of an idea about what he wanted to do with himself. Worse, with Mira gone and his lifetime of isolation, there wasn¡¯t even anyone for him to commiserate with about having accidentally destroying their home world.


    Not that such an action was a particularly safe one to dwell upon, or at least it certainly wasn¡¯t publicly.


    Having been warned by Fargus, who had dropped by the infirmary while they were still healing his arm back into working order, Sylvas had been told to avoid telling other refugees what had really happened on the planet and his role in it. For even if it wasn¡¯t really his fault, spouting that he had any role in the destruction of their world was a pretty surefire way of getting strangled in his sleep. If not worse.


    But beyond the warning itself, Sylvas did have the opportunity learn other things from the man. Things such as the fact that he belonged to a people called the Dwarves who mostly dwelled in asteroids and mining colonies, where they were now going, and countless other pieces of general knowledge as what to expect in the days to come.


    One particular piece of which Sylvas found himself turning over in his mind again and again.


    ¡°They tell you that they don¡¯t know who¡¯s seeding uncontacted planets with Arcanum, but they¡¯re lying. The official line is that it¡¯s unknown because it ain¡¯t ¡®politically correct¡¯, but everybody knows the Obsidian Dominion are doing it.¡± Fargus had grumbled this into Sylvas ear when he first pulled him in for a hug. A hug that left the slowly regenerating remains of his arm screaming in pain. All down the length of it, the sigils of the spell were still marked, imprinted permanently on his skin thanks to the length of time they¡¯d been held there, burning. None of the magical healing that was available had been able to do anything about them. Though the healers did promise he¡¯d get the full use of his arm back, eventually.


    His own research into the Obsidian Dominion since being released from the infirmary hadn¡¯t turned up much information. They are a rival power to the Empyrean, a feudal dictatorship, rather than a democracy. As a non-citizen, the information that he could pull up on the enchanted slates that the refugees had been given to help them learn about the new structure that their lives would follow was extremely limited. The idea that it was somehow rude to ask about the Dominion was implanted in Sylvas. One that he took in stride and said nothing about. He wasn¡¯t about to risk offending the Empyrean when his life depended on their kindness.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot they don¡¯t tell you when you get evacuated. Most refugees wouldn¡¯t want to hear it and we wouldn¡¯t want the hassle. The rest of your folk, they¡¯re sheep. They¡¯ll go where they¡¯re told and wear whatever shackles are put on them, but you¡¯re a bright one, lad. You can come out on top in all this.¡± Fargus had explained once the medical staff had moved off and left them to their conversation. ¡°Moving planets, housing, jobs, even establishing new colonies, that doesn¡¯t come cheap, and your people are going to be the ones stuck with the debt. It¡¯ll take them centuries of hard labor to pay it back.¡±


    They hadn¡¯t been rescued to be enslaved. Technically, any one of them could go elsewhere, owing nothing more than the cost of their passage off-world, but given that none of them had anything to their name, even that tiny debt would follow them forever. It seemed that the Empyrean¡¯s debt collectors were almost omniscient, by Fargus¡¯ telling. To go anywhere else also meant abandoning what was left of my people, and trying to find my own way in a vast galaxy that not one of them knew the first thing about. It was no wonder that nobody from Croesia had even thought about it.


    ¡°What you need to do is get yourself citizenship. Citizen¡¯s debts to the Empyrean are forgiven. And I reckon I¡¯ve got just the way for you to do it.¡±


    The slate that he¡¯d laid down on the bed for Sylvas wasn¡¯t the ¡®acclimatizing information¡¯ one that everyone else had been given, the magic shone differently, and it wouldn¡¯t power up without him feeding it a thread of mana from his own supplies. Something that still left a dull ache, even after a full course of treatment.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Words shone up at him in the common tongue of Empyrean Standard that he¡¯d been frantically learning since arrival, the translation spells were simple enough, but he preferred not to need them, it would mark him as an outsider in the long run.


    Join the Ardent.


    It was a recruitment catalogue, outlining all the benefits of military service within the Empyrean, all the possibilities for advancement, all the benefits that veterans would receive. Part of that benefits package was citizenship, paid upfront.


    ¡°I¡¯m a mage, not a soldier.¡± Sylvas had given his new friend a pained smile. Following orders blindly cost me my entire planet. It cost me Mira. I¡¯m not going to sign up to do the same again.


    ¡°Look here lad,¡± The dwarf told him, flicking through the slate¡¯s projected words until he came to what he was looking for. Corpus Mageia. ¡°The Empyrean needs mages like you. Without us, their ships don¡¯t move, their wars don¡¯t get waged and the monsters in the shadows all come crawling out. There¡¯s more eidolons every day. Feels like half the worlds in the sky are trying to blow themselves up when I¡¯m not looking. They need you. We need you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m barely a mage at all.¡± It was hard for Sylvas to admit it, given how much of his life he had devoted to excellence, but it was the truth. On Croesia he might have been the greatest, but that was when he was a big fish in a very small pond, scarcely a puddle on the galactic scale.


    Fargus flicked the slate to the next page. Arcane Training. ¡°That¡¯s why you need to join lad. You¡¯ve got the makings of a great mage, you could reach the fifth circle and become a fully-fledged eidolon hunter like me in just a few decades!¡±


    ¡°A great mage?¡± Sylvas should have been using his Paradigm to keep his cool, but the bitterness of the last few days of suffering were still too fresh. ¡°I managed one spell that doesn¡¯t look like a parlor trick to you people, and it nearly killed me and everyone else on the planet.¡±


    For a moment, Fargus just sat there, as if he was weighing his words, a hard look slowly drawing down his bristling brows over his eyes. ¡°Ain¡¯t here to hold your hand while ya pity yourself lad. Ya been through the dirt and are bleedin inside and out, aye, I see that. Everyone can. But at the same time, I see ya standing on a knife¡¯s edge. Ya can suck it up and do something with yarself, get the help ya need, or¡­ya can slag off with the rest of yar kinfolk to some backwater where y¡¯all rot and relive yar nightmares, day in and out. Then, if ya survive those ghosts, then it¡¯ll be just a count of time before ya explode from all the mana ya don¡¯t know what to do with. And mark my words, explode ya will.¡±


    Sylvas managed a dry laugh at the dwarf¡¯s brutal assessment. ¡°You don¡¯t make it sound like much of a choice at all.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice lad, it¡¯s just sometimes there¡¯s only one good choice.¡±


    So now he sat alone in one of the few observation bays that the refugees were allowed access to once they¡¯d been given explicit permission, looking out at the stars and trying to decide what to do. Croesia had long ago been lost from sight. They¡¯d set off from the planet almost as soon as everyone was on board, and with him still in the infirmary for the first few days of their passage, Sylvas had completely missed his last opportunity to see his world and say his goodbyes.


    He had not received a visit from the elvish woman that he had helped down on the planet, but he had not been expecting to. She didn¡¯t seem the sentimental type. There had been a dry memo attached to his file when the Empyrean administrators were first assigning him a bunk. A commendation for his assistance in tackling the eidolon on Croesia that meant that the guards on the ship were a little more lenient towards his wandering outside the designated bays.


    The majority of the Ardent ships had travelled in convoy with them for a couple of days before peeling off to their respective destinations, leaving behind only a single small frigate to watch over them in transit. Fargus hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to say goodbye in person, having instead sent a message saying that he¡¯d claimed by duties he couldn¡¯t escape from.


    Which was why it came as a genuine surprise when the door to the darkened observation deck swung open and the red-skinned fiend that had shown not the least amount of interest in him walked in and slung himself down by Sylvas side. ¡°Farg said you¡¯re signing on.¡±


    ¡°Good evening to you too.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t turn to look at the stern face or horns, he remembered them well enough.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t do it.¡± The fiend continued, as if Sylvas hadn¡¯t said anything.


    That surprised Sylvas enough that he did turn to look at the man now. ¡°You don¡¯t think it is the only rational course?¡±


    ¡°I think you can¡¯t cut it.¡± It shocked Sylvas silent. Ever since he¡¯d left the orphanage, all that he had ever heard was praise and admiration for his incredible talents, so to hear someone tell him he wasn¡¯t good enough was a shock. ¡°Training¡¯s hard. Being in the Ardent¡¯s hard. You¡¯re not. You¡¯re soft. Weak.¡±


    The fiend had said it so casually it took Sylvas a moment to believe what he was hearing. Anger boiled up in him uninvited. ¡°I don¡¯t know what sort of hell you¡¯re from, but where I¡¯m from, there was nobody that suffered more, or worked harder. I don¡¯t fear your Ardent training.¡±


    The fiend scoffed. ¡°I bet you don¡¯t last three months.¡±


    Sylvas knuckles whitened as he tried to restrain himself. Casting on one of the Empyrean¡¯s prized soldiers was a surefire way to get thrown off the ship, directly into space. His voice came out in a growl. ¡°I would take that bet.¡±


    ¡°Fifty gold. That¡¯s your sign on bonus. If you don¡¯t make it the three months, I get to come take it off your corpse.¡± The fiend¡¯s lips curled up into something between a sneer and a smile, showing off his pointed teeth.


    ¡°Fifty gold.¡± Sylvas snapped back. ¡°You can mail it to me at whatever magical academy they place the strongest mages in.¡±


    A slate dropped from the fiend¡¯s hand to land between them, an application to the Ardent Military, already filled with Sylvas details. What?


    ¡°Sign it.¡± The fiend stated.


    Sylvas ran his thumb across the bottom of the form, willing mana through into the device through that point of contact, and his name appeared.


    The fiend¡¯s smile contorted even further as he held out a hand. ¡°Now shake on the bet.¡±


    Still simmering, Sylvas grabbed the fiend¡¯s hand. His grip was hot to the touch. Not enough to hurt, but close.


    ¡°Welcome to the Ardent Infantry Corps, dumbass.¡± The fiend pulled Sylvas off the bench, to his feet. ¡°Now let¡¯s get you drunk enough that you don¡¯t have time to regret it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sylvas staggered to his feet.


    ¡°I transferred the fifty gold into your account before I came in here, so you¡¯re buying the first round.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He demanded yet again as he was dragged out of the door the fiend had come in through, and out of the section of the ship non-citizens were allowed to roam.


    ¡°Drinks! Booze! Gods, I hope they had liquor on your planet, otherwise tonight is about to get even funnier.¡± The Ardent mage strode off along the corridor with a spring in his step and a swish in the pointed tail dangling from the back of his armor.


    Leaving Sylvas standing by the open doorway with his mouth still flapping open and shut. ¡°What?!¡±

 Author Announcement - Scion of Magic Launch!

    Hi Everyone! I hope that you''re all enjoying Starbreaker so far! I''m here with an out of schedule announcement that my other web serial - Scion of Magic has launched on Royal Road!


    You can find the details and the link here:


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    Scion of Magic</a>


    Death, it turns out, is nothing but a new beginning for Vincent.


    Rather than a final curtain call before the sweet embrace of oblivion wipes away his grievous wounds, Vincent awakens in a body that isn¡¯t his and in a city he¡¯s never been in before. With only the cryptic words of a long lost god and the fragmented memories of a life once lived to guide him, Vincent finds himself burdened with an impossible task: to prevent an unknown corruption from devouring the realm whole.


    Except there¡¯s one problem. From what he soon discovers, it might be too late.


    Far too late.


    Expectations:


    - Strong But Depowered MC To Start


    - Gradual Progression Throughout


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.- Different Take On Cultivation/Magic/Power Progression


    - Rare Blue Boxes To Keep Details Organized


    - No Harem


    - Slow Burn Story & Action Pacing (Come sit a while and listen)


    - Snek Draggo


    This series is for you if:


    - You Liked Primal Hunter, Bastion, Legend of the Arch Magus, Unintended Cultivator


    - Want a Slow(er) Burn Reincarnation Story


    - Are looking for a deep and wide Power Progression System


    Release Schedule:


    Note: This series will be delivered on a ''Best Effort Basis'' with occasional (but well communicated pauses) as I split time between Scion of Magic and Starbreaker web serials - as well as the upcoming World of Warcraft Expansion on August 22nd.


    12PM Eastern Time - Tuesday - Thursday - Saturday with every 4th week being a ''break week'' with no chapters.


    Next Break Week: July 29th to August 3rd.


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    I hope you find it interesting to check out as I alternate between the story here on Starbreaker and Scion of Magic over there!


    As a couple of important notes regarding expectations going forward - Starbreaker will be my ''Primary'' project for the indefinite future! This is the story that is ''strongest'' in my mind and has a number of deadlines that I have already agreed to. As a result this means that all of you readers will have constant Starbreaker chapters to look forward to on a week to week basis.


    On the flip side that means Scion of Magic is my ''Secondary'' project for whenever I have extra brain cells and minutes to rub together. That means that there will come a point in time where I run out of either and need to prioritize other projects or enjoy vacation time (See The Upcoming World of Warcraft Expansion) and the series will go on small pauses whenever my backlog of chapters there is exhausted. That said, it is my expectation to finish book 1 of Scion of Magic this year, so any delays there will be minimal as I catch up or shuffle my other publishing projects around.


    Regardless of that though - I truly appreciate all of your support and excitement so far, I hope you all love what the stories have coming next!


    Luke

 Chapter 14

    ¡°The Aions have been called many things by the countless cultures that have encountered their relics throughout history, but the one thing that all agree upon is that they are the source of magic as we now know it. It is their language we speak to cast spells. Their technology we cannibalize to travel the stars. Small wonder that there are rumors to this day of the Aions themselves still walking among us. Like kings disguised as peasants.¡±


    ¡ªAions: The Argument Against, Rupe Gongfeller


    The fiend was called Kerbo, and he turned out to be less obnoxious after a few glasses of this curious new drink that Sylvas had never encountered before, called whiskey. Either that or Sylvas had become numb to the jibes after his own few glasses of whiskey. He probably learned more about the Empyrean, the Obsidian Dominion, the Ardent, the training he¡¯d receive, and the general state of the universe in that wood paneled bar on a ship zooming through space than he had in weeks of reading the officially sanctioned documentation.


    ¡°So the Empyrean started out as a ragtag alliance between the various sentient races who had mastered enough magic to reach the stars. Then it grew out to encompass more and more planets and people as time went on. It sprawled, colonies and outposts spread thin across the whole galactic arm, wherever they can find resources worth plundering.¡± Kerbo hadn¡¯t even begun to slur his words yet, but the whiskey on his breath combined with the standing temperature of a fiend meant that he was exhaling an alcoholic haze into the air between them. ¡°There¡¯s this ruling triumvirate, elected democratically every decade, but the trio we¡¯ve got now have been standing unopposed except by each other for longer than I can remember.¡±


    ¡°The Obsidian Dominion?¡± Kerbo nearly spilled his drink when he started talking about them in hissed tones. ¡°They¡¯re everything wrong with the universe. While the Empyrean spread mostly to protect people and help them protect themselves, the Dominion¡¯s goal is conquest. When the Empyrean come across a new civilization capable of space-travel, they extend an invitation to join, along with trade deals and all the other usual diplomacy. When the Dominion comes up on a new civilization, any civilization, they get two options, join willingly, or be invaded. To make matters worse, they¡¯ve got magitech way beyond what anyone other than the Empyrean had managed to cobble together.¡± Kerbo leaned in close, horns almost butting Sylvas in the face when he whispered. ¡°They¡¯re way ahead of us too. Nobody knows how they¡¯re doing it. Something to do with all the Aion vaults they go after, we think. Maybe something to do with the Eidolons too? They don¡¯t want the universe destroyed, so there has to be some reason they keep trying to get them summoned.¡±


    ¡°The Ardent? They aren¡¯t the standard military of the Empyrean, that was mostly made up of militias from the different species that joined. The Ardent are a special force that was originally intended to only be deployed in case of Eidolon incursions in Empyrean space, but as Eidolons began gaining a foothold and building up outside of Empyrean territory, we had to expand the remit to cover all the uncontacted civilizations that could be protected too. It was the right thing to do to protect people who couldn¡¯t protect themselves, and, you know, letting enemies mass on your doorstep is generally a bad idea every time.


    ¡°That¡¯s why they go so hard with recruiting, why almost every mage in the Empyrean gets an invite if they look like they¡¯d be viable in combat. And that¡¯s why we get the best training and equipment that the Empyrean has to offer. The Dominion might be an enemy that needs to be fought everywhere they brush against Empyrean space, but the Eidolons are something else. They¡¯re an extinction event made flesh.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t understand why you¡¯d even be a mage if you weren¡¯t going to use that power where it was needed the most, but Kerbo was quick to point out, ¡°most people weren¡¯t fighters. Besides, mages are needed everywhere, not just on the front-lines. Mages make interstellar travel possible. Common routes within the Empyrean have Jump-Gates assembled in space so that any decent enough caster with basic training can teleport their ship from one system to another, but for rapid travel beyond that, you needed specialists capable of reshaping space. Fighting the Eidolons is important, but without magic everywhere, the Empyrean would grind to a halt.¡±


    Kerbo was having to yell this last bit over the music. Someone had converted an empty hangar bay into an impromptu dance hall, but unlike the courtly affairs that Sylvas had seen back on Croesia before the fall, on those few occasions that nobility came visiting Telas Mirmir, this kind of dancing was a lot more¡­ intense. The music was deafeningly loud, full of heavy drums and strange sounds from instruments that Sylvas couldn¡¯t place. Each beat of the drums seemed to make the dancers contort and rub up against one another.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    There seemed to be a lot of fiends like Kerbo in the crowd, as opposed to the more mixed human, elf and dwarf populations that had filled out the rest of the ship, so Sylvas assumed that this was their traditional mode of dance rather than something common across the Empyrean. He¡¯d drunk enough of that charmingly chemical-tasting whiskey now that his body moved with the rhythm too. Or maybe he was just being jostled. Sylvas couldn¡¯t really remember how he¡¯d ended up here. Though he did know that his account was down to thirty gold already, somehow, and he vaguely recalled the stout dwarf behind the bar declining to sell them any more whiskey after Kerbo had started a very minor fire in their booth.


    There was more whiskey at this dance-hall, and fiends all around him, rubbing themselves up against him, writhing. It was strange, alien, in a way that he didn¡¯t know how to describe. Horned strangers were all trying to coax him into their arms. They didn¡¯t even know him. Nothing beyond the glances that they had given him in the strobing red lights of the dance.


    Mira. She¡¯d been the only one to ever want him this close.


    It was all too much for Sylvas, all the noise and the flashing, the softness of skin and the roughness of leather, and especially the way that he felt like the floor was spinning under his feet. He caught a hold of Kerbo¡¯s arm and tried to tell him that he wanted to leave, but some horns sounded in the background, bringing a cheer from the crowd, and Sylvas had no idea if he was heard or not as he staggered his way through the crowd towards what he hoped was the exit.


    He had gone the wrong way or gotten turned around somehow. He didn¡¯t end up back by the corridor but by the opening into space. Some genius had opened it up to let the stars shine in, and for a moment Sylvas was on the precipice of the great void beyond. Then he bumped up against the ward that was keeping them inside and the space outside, and he rebounded into the crowd.


    Crashing into people like that at a normal dance would probably have been a faux-pas, but at the fiend rave, the man who he¡¯d knocked flying just laughed about it, closing the distance to pat him heavily on the back. One of the fiend women he¡¯d been dancing with earlier caught sight of his face in the strobe of the red lights, and recognized from his expression that he was no longer having a good time, so she took him by the hand and led him through the thrumming mass of bodies to the exit. Something for which he¡¯d have been eternally grateful if she hadn¡¯t then kissed him.


    On Croesia, kissing was for people that had been courting for long enough that they were almost certainly going to be getting married. Sylvas was so shocked that he just froze there while the bright red woman shoved her tongue in his mouth. He¡¯d already been nauseous, but the surprise of that forked tongue brushing against his tonsils was almost enough to make him retch up his dinner. Given that dinner had been nothing but whiskey, that probably would have been a better idea than keeping it down.


    Mira had been the only one to ever kiss him.


    The fiend leaned back, clearly disappointed with the lack of a reaction from him, but then shrugged her shoulders and headed back into the party, letting the bay-doors slide shut behind her and leaving Sylvas standing, stunned, and confused in the sudden silence of the hallway.


    For a long moment he waited, swaying, unsure of where he was on the ship, let alone where his bunk was from here. He was regretting the whiskey now, but not nearly as much as he¡¯d regret it in the morning.


    Following his ears rather than his memory, Sylvas moved along the corridors of the ship towards wherever he heard voices, hoping that he might come to some thoroughfare through the ship that he could use to get back to the section locked down for the refugees, but he wandered into one wrong place after another. Doors that shouldn¡¯t have opened to his approach swung wide when he stumbled up to them, with a little white shield icon appearing on the slate beside them. The sign of the Ardent. The enchantments that operated the ship¡¯s interior were now aware of his new allegiance. Even if it hadn¡¯t fully sunk in for him.


    After wandering into, and being politely ejected, from various areas vital to the ship¡¯s operations, Sylvas eventually found himself back in the area of the now closed bar where the evening had begun. They had come from the observation deck, if he could get back there, then he¡¯d be able to find his bunk. He just needed to get there.


    Some kind hearted elf who was heading home after his shift pointed Sylvas in the right direction, and as exhaustion began to overtake him, he found his way to the benches that he had sat on earlier, staring out at the stars. He would sit down there for just a moment. Just to give his head some time to stop spinning. Maybe he¡¯d lie down for just a blink too, but he definitely wasn¡¯t going to sleep here.


    The stars seemed to sway as he lay there staring out at them. They were in motion anyway, drifting by as the ship made its way to the nearest jump-gate. He blinked, blearily, at them. All those stars could have had planets. All of those planets could have had people. Any one of them could have learned the spell and summoned the Eidolon that destroyed their world. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Croesia?


    Shadows had been encroaching on the periphery of his vision for most of his journey to this bench, but now one of them seemed more solid than the others. A figure clad in a hooded robe, just like the grand masters back home. None of them had survived the tower. It had been the first thing that Sylvas checked when he finally came to. So who was it?


    ¡°What¡­ what do you want?¡± He managed to mumble out.


    That same cool echoing voice that he¡¯d heard only once before replied. ¡°Only to observe.¡±


    Then sleep took Sylvas over, and all the stars faded away to black.

 Chapter 15

    ¡°The Standardization of Spells, Embodiments and Paradigms was a necessity for the ongoing growth and prosperity of the Empyrean Alliance. Each culture had their own name for identical magics, and the confusion and overlap became a source of danger. ¡°


    ¡ªFundamentals of Arcana, Albrecht Magnus


    The day after signing up to join the Ardent was one of learning. First, Sylvas learned what a hangover was. Then he learned that someone who had never tasted alcohol beyond watered down wine should not indulge in what amounted to an entire bottle of whiskey over the course of an evening. Then he learned that his time no longer belonged to him. The moment that their recruitment papers were signed, recruits of the Ardent were expected to be available for their duties.


    While he had managed to acquire vital information about the state of the universe last night, along with many anecdotes from Kerbo about what he should expect from his training, Sylvas came to the realization that everything he had done the night before was a very serious mistake as he was awoken by a chirping sound, and had to blink rapidly before the glowing white shape hovering in the air beside his head resolved into a shield shape. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and regretted it right away, as his stomach seemed to turn over inside him. With a fumbling hand, he managed to slap at the hovering shield.


    A harsh voice spoke directly into his mind. ¡°Report to medical bay for scrying at oh-six-hundred.¡±


    There was a momentary delay as his head pounded and he tried to decipher the numbers at the end of the sentence, then the voice came again. ¡°Failure to report for duty at the designated time will result in immediate expulsion from the Corpus Mageia training program.¡±


    With a mouth that felt simultaneously fuzzy and gummy, Sylvas managed to mumble. ¡°What¡­ what time is it?¡±


    The little floating shield had already dispersed into the ether and could give no answer. So he had to take several swaying steps over to the doorway and slapped his hand onto the slate there. The time appeared but it took him a moment to focus on it.


    0556.


    He stared at that number as it ticked along to 0557, trying to get his brain into motion. Connecting the dots between that number and the one the sending spell had shouted into his brain.


    Through the swirling vortex of whiskey still in his brain, Sylvas couldn¡¯t make head nor tail of any of it. It was only when he forced himself into his Paradigm that he understood what was happening. ¡°Oh¡­ six¡­ oh¡­ no.¡±


    He took off at a sprint. The medical bay was one of the few parts of the main ship that he knew the location of, thanks to having spent so much time there when he first left home, but that didn¡¯t mean that he knew its location in relation to where he was now. He had only the vaguest of maps in his head of the ship¡¯s layout, and that map was currently pretty badly stained with spilled whiskey. If he was back in the refugee bays, he¡¯d have made it in three minutes without straining himself, but from here, wherever here was, it was a different situation. There had to be a direct route that didn¡¯t involve swinging by his old bunk, he just had to think.


    Every door in the ship was open to him now, so he didn¡¯t have to worry about running into restricted areas that the refugees were barred from, though he imagined that he¡¯d get expelled from the program pretty fast if he went barging into the captain¡¯s personal quarters or something.


    He nearly crashed headlong into a pair of humans coming the other way along a corridor and had to leap clear over the top of a dwarf who had been hidden from sight behind them or risk sprawling both of them on the deck.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± He called back over his shoulder as all three of them stared after him in dismay. Then he was around a bend and out of sight.


    If he stopped running to touch a slate, it could probably direct him, but the delay while it did that would make him late. His mind had always been the sharpest tool in his arsenal, and it would not let him down, not now with his whole future at stake.


    Sylvas burst through the door at the end of the corridor into another one of the wide promenades that ran along the length of the ship, but it was a familiar one. He¡¯d been here before. Medical was just at the far end.


    Since arriving on the ship there had been little opportunity for exercise. While he was in recovery, he had been barred from anything resembling straining himself. As one of the Heralds, he had a strict calisthenics regime that he was meant to follow each morning, but surrounded every moment by the people who the Heralds had betrayed to their deaths had given him a very good reason not to observe any of their customs in case they were recognized. So far as the rest of the survivors of Croesia knew, that is those survivors that even knew they existed in the first place, the Heralds of the Hollow Heart had all died with their world. Nobody had been in any rush to spoil that neat ending to the story of their home-world.


    The long and short of it was, that even if he hadn¡¯t drunk so much the night before, he should have been panting and breathless by now. He was panting and breathless, his body aching and complaining from his sudden burst of motion, the slow-healing mana-channels in his flesh inflamed by the sudden blood-flow. The paradigm kept it all at bay. He was aware of all these things, but his mind was not overwhelmed by them. He could make decisions without having to obey the desires of his flesh. His body was telling him to give up, to collapse, to rest and hope that his lateness might be forgiven but Sylvas mind could not be deceived by it. He could push on, push his body past exhaustion, if only for a little while.


    He ran along the promenade, twisting his body as he went to pass through gaps in the crowd, jumping up onto benches and leaping clear over the top of the crew and passengers who wouldn¡¯t get out of his way. Every step was pushing his body past its limits, but he just went on pushing.


    The slate outside the medical bay read: 0559 when he slid to a halt in front of it and ticked over to 0600 as the door slid open and he stepped inside, drenched in sour smelling sweat.


    He had expected one of the Ardent to be there waiting for him. Technically one of them was. Kerbo was laid out on one of the occupied cots with a cold compress on his forehead, snoring like a freight train. But as to superior officers, there were none to be seen. Still nervous about being marked late, Sylvas walked up to the nearest white-robed doctor to check in, remembering his manners only at the last moment. ¡°Good morning, Doctor.¡±


    She was an elf of such great age that her hair had turned gray and there were the beginnings of wrinkles appearing on her face. Sylvas didn¡¯t know enough about the elves yet to say for sure how old that might make her, but every other elf he¡¯d met had looked like they were in their twenties despite having centuries under their belts, he assumed she was ancient. She glanced up from the slate in her hands. ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Sylvas Vail.¡± He did his best to sound like the kind of recruit he imagined that the Ardent wanted. Excited to be here.


    She ran her eyes up and down him observing his sweat-slicked brow. ¡°And what¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    Sylvas swayed slightly, trying to maintain his balance as his whole body told him to lie down and die. ¡°I was told to report here for scrying?¡±


    She blinked. ¡°You¡¯re the new Ardent Infantry recruit?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He did his best to stand at attention.


    It seemed that he had finally done something to warrant her full focus. She put the slate down on her desk and nodded towards the cots lining one side of the room. ¡°That one came in looking for you about oh-two-hundred. Thought you were dead.¡±


    Kerbo wasn¡¯t even aware enough of his surroundings to groan. After he¡¯d lost the new recruit in the dead of night, he had presumably had to continue drinking to deal with the guilt of having lost the new recruit.


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Sylvas replied. It was meant to sound glib, but with the way he was feeling, he wasn¡¯t so sure it was a joke.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t anyone ever tell you not to go drinking with fiends?¡± She took in Sylvas¡¯ confused expression and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re human. Your people don¡¯t come from planets full of brimstone and toxins. They¡¯ve got a natural resistance to alcohol, same as any poison. You don¡¯t.¡±


    There was a sound like a bark from one of the other beds, and Sylvas jerked his head around. He thought that one of the other patients was choking but the noise was continuing. It was a dwarf. A dwarf that appeared to be missing both legs and one arm, judging by how the sheet lay over her barrel-like body. She wasn¡¯t choking, she was laughing. ¡°This wee whip of a lad out-drank a fiend? No wonder he looks like krahg!¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Sylvas hadn¡¯t learned any dwarvish yet, and the translation spells that covered the ship didn¡¯t seem to be willing to translate obscenities. Still, he got the general idea.


    ¡°Let me get you an antitoxin, then we can scry you.¡± The doctor led Sylvas away from the dwarf before anything else could be said that the translation spells wouldn¡¯t like. A bright blue liquid in a vial was passed his way, and he knocked it back without question. At this point, Sylvas had absolute faith in the Empyrean¡¯s medicine. It had brought him back from the brink of death with nothing to show for it but some scarring.


    It was cool going down, chilling, really. The turmoil in his stomach stopped immediately, and the soothing ice spread out through his body, easing his many discomforts before finally hitting his brain. The hangover vanished in an instant, and he felt like he¡¯d been reborn. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect me or any other doctor to hand them out every time you decide to have a little fun. Next time you¡¯re on your own. I need clear readings on my scrying, that¡¯s all.¡± She said it sternly, but there was something like a smile playing about her lips.


    ¡°My apologies.¡± Sylvas smiled back. Then followed her through into an examination room where she had him strip off his shirt so she could get a better look at his scars.


    She shook her head as she looked them over, hands hovering above the markings in his skin without ever touching. ¡°Never seen anything like it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be the first person to ever stop a casting midway through.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± She conceded. ¡°But your Embodiment and circumstances are unusual, and frankly I¡¯m surprised you survived the damage long enough for us to treat you.¡±


    With that solemn statement, she moved on to the main part of the examination. Casting the same scrying spell that Sylvas had seen down on the planet, before losing consciousness.


    ¡°No major health issues that I can see,¡± She conjured a slate and began scribbling on it. ¡°You¡¯ve recovered full use of the arm?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I have.¡±


    When she looked at him, the same pale blue glow flickered in her eyes as shone out of the symbolic eye above her head. Sylvas needed to learn that scrying spell as soon as possible. It looked like it had many uses. ¡°First Circle Mage, what¡¯s your Paradigm?¡±


    He was surprised that she couldn¡¯t tell just by looking at him, given the way that her vision seemed to tunnel through his flesh. Either that or maybe she was just being polite. ¡°The Paradigm of the Unburdened Mind.¡±


    ¡°Clearmind,¡± She didn¡¯t correct him, exactly. It was more like she was just telling him what her preferred terminology was. ¡°Not a popular choice nowadays, when there are so many easier options to get you advancing faster.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Sylvas was at a loss for words again. There were easier ways to open your mind to mana than emptying it of all thoughts? He had spent his entire life struggling and striving, just to be told now that he¡¯d deliberately taken the rocky path up the mountain. ¡°It was the only one that was available to me.¡±


    ¡°And your Embodiment¡­¡± She looked him up and down with a little frown. ¡°Well it isn¡¯t an enhancement. What did your people call it?¡±


    Another way that the Grand Masters and whoever that had set them on their path had screwed him over. ¡°Arterium Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Arterium¡­ heh¡­ Magic Veins, eh? Not an inaccurate description.¡± She conjured a pale crystal wand out of thin air and pressed its sharp tip against Sylvas¡¯ arm. Watching as the illuminated mana from the device spread through him, lighting up his mana channels. She conjured out another slate, this one wider and darker, and held it up long enough for the image of his channels to burn into it. ¡°It will make casting spells easier for you than if you¡¯d picked another embodiment, but you¡¯ve missed out on any of the potential physical benefits like improved strength, slowed aging, increased energy and such. For now you¡¯ll be reliant on spellwork alone to get by. It may be worth attempting to counter-balance it with your next circle.¡±


    So he could have been immortal and super-powered, but instead he¡¯d been made into a more efficient channel for mana to flow through. It was hardly surprising, given what the Heralds had wanted to use him for, but it still stung to think about what he¡¯d missed out on.


    She frowned as she looked at his chest, seeing right through the flesh to the core of mana within. ¡°That is considerably higher mana density than I¡¯d have expected from a first circle mage. You must be able to cast far above your level, seven to ten spells between breaks depending on complexity?¡± He nodded at her estimate, though since leaving Croesia he¡¯d discovered that most of the spells that he¡¯d learned back home were remedial at best, they still required about as much mana as the more complex and refined ones used by people in the Empyrean. He¡¯d be a lot more effective after training, but the actual amount of magic he could do wouldn¡¯t be vastly different.


    She looked up from his core to his face, quizzically. ¡°How are you maintaining that?¡±


    ¡°Daily meditation to replenish anything I¡¯ve used?¡± He knew it wasn¡¯t the answer that she was looking for, but he had to say something.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have some additional technique I¡¯m not able to scry?¡± Her frown had gone from perplexed to concerned. ¡°Some artifact that helps you maintain circle stability?¡±


    Again, he knew it was the wrong answer, but he had to give it. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± She sank down onto a chair, heavily. ¡°As your doctor, I¡¯m going to give you some advice that I normally wouldn¡¯t give. You need to advance as soon as possible.¡±


    That made no sense, if you could be a second circle mage, why would you choose to remain a first circle one? ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you usually advise that?¡±


    The blue icon of an eye had faded away, and the elf¡¯s eyes were grey again instead of lit up from within. It made her expression easier to read, to see the sadness that lurked among the wrinkles. ¡°Because rushing advancement almost always results in unstable progression. The only reason I can imagine that your current circle is holding up so well is because you received basically no instruction in how to combine an embodiment and paradigm to form one, so you had to spend a long time constructing it painstakingly from scratch.¡±


    It hurt to hear it described that way, as if he¡¯d been given a simple task and blundered through it, but the fact of the matter was that she was right. He had been given nothing to work from except the tiniest scraps from the Grand Masters, and he¡¯d been able to pull together a working circle. He could be ashamed of how he¡¯d started out, or he could be proud of his accomplishments, so he chose to be proud. ¡°Painstakingly is right.¡±


    She put her slate aside, letting it vanish back into whatever nothingness all the Empyrean mages seemed to have at their disposal. ¡°At the time, you would have had no mana in containment, so if it destabilized, there was no problem, but if you were to make a second circle with the same haphazard trial and error, it could be lethal.¡±


    Sylvas had only seen the body of one of his fellow students after their containment failed. There hadn¡¯t been much left of it. When the mana had escaped, it had burst out in every direction at high speed, and carried fragments of organs, blood and bones all over the bed-chamber. He was intimately familiar with how lethal failure could be and how such a fate was likely in his future based on what Fargus had told him.


    ¡°Wait, so you don¡¯t want me to make a second circle?¡± He asked, his face, which until now had been an expression of forced calm, dropping into a frown.


    The doctor sighed as she shook her head. ¡°What I want isn¡¯t relevant. You need to advance, or your overcharged mana-core is going to break containment, and soon.¡±


    After the week that Sylvas had been through and the dwarf¡¯s earlier warnings, hearing the renewed death sentence didn¡¯t even cause him to blink.


    And how could it? Sylvas wondered as he tried to order his thoughts. His whole world had been destroyed, both figuratively and literally, he had learned that his people weren¡¯t the only ones in the universe. That the magic he¡¯d spent his whole life cultivating was just a drop in the ocean of what was really out there. So the idea that Fargus was right and that Sylvas needed to truly fast-track his own growth as a mage to prevent himself from dying wasn¡¯t really that much of a shock to the system.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m new to a lot of this.¡± Admitting ignorance would have been a terrible mistake back home, when he was meant to be the greatest of the greatest, but there was some freedom in just being one among many. ¡°Can you advise me on the best way to advance as quickly as possible?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to pick out a second Paradigm and Embodiment to form your next circle, there should be a library of the known ones onboard, or you can hold off until you enter training with the Ardent.¡± She paused to consider her next words. ¡°I¡¯d imagine that they have more combat focused paths available that the general population don¡¯t have ready access to. That is if you want to pursue them.¡±


    Sylvas nodded along, as if shaping his mind and body to follow a new Paradigm and Embodiment wasn¡¯t a massive and arduous undertaking.


    She pressed on. ¡°Your training with the Ardent is liable to be a help siphoning off your mana in training to keep the levels safe, especially with you being in the Infantry to start. I¡¯d say that by the time you¡¯ve learned your Affinity and hit the Third Circle that your core should be stable again.¡±


    Admitting his ignorance the first time had been difficult, this time it came easier. ¡°Affinity?¡±


    ¡°Wow, they really didn¡¯t tell you anything.¡± She didn¡¯t sound like she was mocking him. More like she was genuinely surprised at how bad the education he¡¯d received had been.


    ¡°The information we were given was¡­¡± Sylvas explained with a sigh. ¡°Very restricted.¡±


    ¡°Well, you saw the Ardent in action. So you know that higher level mages have a focus on specific elements.¡±


    Sylvas nodded at the woman¡¯s words. Every one of his saviors had only produced magic of a limited type, but given all the ways that they¡¯d used that magic, Sylvas hadn¡¯t really considered it to be much of a restriction. ¡°I do. Though I assumed it was just specialization through spell selection.¡±


    The doctor shook her head once again as she leaned back in her chair, letting out a heavy breath before explaining. ¡°The mana that you draw is infused with various elemental forces depending upon your environment. At present, they¡¯re all mingled together, opposing elements neutralizing each other and generally weakening the mana¡¯s potential power. Every mage will eventually discover a limited range of elements that they have a natural inclination towards in Affinity Testing. After that, you can refine the mana that you are drawing in to remove other elements and¡­ you know what? They¡¯ll explain all this to you in much clearer detail as part of your training, so I¡¯ll leave it at that for now.¡±


    ¡°So I passed the scrying?¡± Sylvas asked eagerly. ¡°I am allowed to join the Ardent?¡±


    She held up a hand to stop him before he got too excited. ¡°There is no medical reason that you cannot begin training, whether you join the Ardent afterwards will depend entirely on you.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I had a choice.¡± He had citizenship now, and he was going to receive the magical training that he needed to advance, if he could elect to leave the Ardent after completing his training, there might have been a whole world of opportunities out there beyond military service.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t about choice.¡± The doctor had returned to looking at her slates, refusing to meet Sylvas eye. ¡°If you complete your training, you¡¯ll join the Ardent. If you don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    He filled in the gaps when she trailed off. ¡°I have to find somewhere else in the Empyrean I fit in.¡±


    She looked up at him sharply. ¡°The only way people leave Ardent training without finishing it is in a body bag.¡±

 Chapter 16

    ¡°The Ardent, while a complete organization in of itself is further subdivided into multiple branches for more efficient administration and specialization with the two largest branches being the Ardent Navy and the Ardent Infantry Corps. Of these two core branches almost all recruits will at first be enlisted into the Infantry Corps to begin their training and learn the most essential skills expected of an Ardent Servicemember. However once a recruit¡¯s ability progresses to reveal an affinity, they should anticipate to find themselves reassigned to a service branch that best reflects their capability.¡±


    ¡ªSo You Want To Join The Ardent, Recruitment Brochure


    The rest of the journey was uneventful in comparison to the revelations of his medical scan. Sylvas never saw Kerbo again, though they did exchange some brief messages via slate to confirm what the doctor had told the fiend: that Sylvas was still alive despite the older man¡¯s best efforts.


    Another white shield had appeared to him after the results of his scan were in, and he¡¯d been informed of the travel itinerary in a way that none of the other refugees had been. The ship was currently making for the Farrengul system where there was an active jump-gate that they¡¯d be using to travel further into the galactic arm and the heart of the Empyrean. From there, he and his fellow recruits would jump ship to a military freighter and take a second gate to a Relic World called Strife, where they would begin their training.


    The big advantage of citizenship that Sylvas had discovered so far was that he was actually able to look things up when he didn¡¯t understand them. According to his slate, Farrengul was a mining outpost operated almost exclusively by dwarves and fiends. Though it also serves as an unofficial trading post for all of the local non-Empyrean systems, generating an impressive amount of gold in tariffs and tax for the exotic goods that pass through it.


    A Relic World was one that had been deprived of whatever original population had lived there by an extinction event. In the case of Strife, this had been an Eidolon of War.


    The Worldsoul is what differentiates it from Croesia. We lost our population and our connection to magic. Strife¡¯s soul lives on, somehow.


    The Ardent training grounds on the planet were mentioned in the official records, but details about them were absent. Either the Empyrean didn¡¯t know what the Ardent did there, or their activities were considered to be a secret. Either way, it didn¡¯t help Sylvas to prepare very much.


    He had his own room assigned to him on the ship after he¡¯d become a citizen. He could have still gone back to the refugees, and slept in the bunk available to him there, but the idea didn¡¯t have any appeal. Who would he have to say goodbye to?


    I was never one of them. Sylvas thought as he shook the idea from his mind. Mira was the only person that tethered me to the place. And now that she¡¯s gone¡­well. So am I.


    It was an understandable conclusion to make too. For while they came from the same planet, the worlds that they had lived in had been too different. He doubted anyone would even notice that he was gone. The new room was spartan in the extreme, there was a bed that was little more than a raised platform with a pad on it, a second smaller raised platform to serve as a table beside it, and nothing else. After the lavish accommodation he¡¯d been given back in Telas Mirmir it should have felt sparse, but he was comfortable there for the first time in what felt like years. He had grown up with nothing before the Heralds took him, and the greatest luxury he could ever have asked for was the privacy of his own room. Now he had it.


    Most of his time between his medical and the ship¡¯s arrival at Farrengul was spent reading. With the private room, he was able to pick up his calisthenics again each morning, hidden from the sight of others, but it was a brief visit to physical effort before he had to turn his attention back to more pressing matters. His first circle had been made through agonizing effort using the only methods that were available to him, but reading through the slate¡¯s introductory methods for children possessing a gift for magic he realized just how much easier everything could have been.


    There were specific patterns of mana that he could have used to reshape his mind, spells that he was essentially casting on himself to permanently alter how he thought and functioned. As for the embodiment of magic, very few people, especially children, were willing to endure the painful and potentially dangerous process that his Arterium Arcanum had demanded. Most simply infused the mana that they were gathering into specific organs of their body to strengthen them. Among those planning on military service like he had signed up for, the most common embodiments were of the skin or the muscles.


    The skin to make it toughened and armored against attack, the muscles to improve their density and physical strength. Even among those going further afield and infusing their nervous system with mana to improve their reaction speed, usually in combination with a Paradigm that would speed up their thinking, didn¡¯t run nearly as many risks as those undertaking the changes he had. If infusing the nerves went wrong, it would be painful, but at least there was no permanent damage, just a slap on the figurative wrist and a chance to start again.


    Given where he was starting from, he had taken the doctor¡¯s advice to heart and started examining these basic techniques, trying to find one that he was willing to commit to for the rest of his life. The Paradigms seemed almost comically simple compared to learning how to entirely clear his mind. The Embodiments on the other hand seemed¡­ wrong, somehow. He had made his body into the perfect tool to channel mana, and he had stored it all carefully inside his core. Infusing it out from that core into his body, whichever system he chose, would have been in opposition to that philosophy. It made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn¡¯t readily explain.


    He checked on his core regularly now that the doctor had confirmed to him the dangers of its density, but he never felt like there was any real sign that his circle was at risk of giving out. It was under strain the same way a barrel was under strain when it was full of water, but nobody expected every barrel to suddenly burst. He¡¯d built his circle for this purpose, and he didn¡¯t know why the doctor nor Fargus thought it wasn¡¯t up to the task. Even if he trusted their opinions all the same.


    Their arrival at Farrengul was less exciting than Sylvas had hoped. Peering out of the windows in the observation bay, he¡¯d expected to see some world with the space around it bustling with traffic, but it seemed like he¡¯d greatly misjudged just how big space was. They might have been in the Farrengul system, but that didn¡¯t mean that they were going anywhere near to the inhabited planets or the numerous bands of asteroids circling the bright star he was told was at its center. Even if there had been a hundred other ships out there, he never would have seen them. The distances between ships were kept as great as possible for safety from collision or interference in the propulsion spells, and their distance from the system¡¯s star meant that there likely wouldn¡¯t have been enough light to make out much more than dark spots in the distance anyway.


    Most importantly, the jump-gate was not built in the middle of the system, but well out beyond its furthest celestial body. And it was the gate that they were here for, not trading or sightseeing. As disappointments went, it didn¡¯t rank highly in Sylvas¡¯ estimates. His last disappointment had been discovering that he wasn¡¯t the chosen one meant to save the world, but the patsy meant to help destroy it, so not getting to see some miners and traders came a distant third. Somewhere behind waking up to discover that he was an orphan.


    At least the jump itself was exciting. The blocky Empyrean ship might not have looked particularly sleek or fit for that purpose, but that was only because until now, Sylvas had never seen the purpose it was intended for. Lines of sigils ran along the length of the ship¡¯s hull, invisible to the naked eye, but glowing now that the spell to transport them was underway. As they approached the gate, Sylvas finally caught sight of it. A strange square of shining metal hanging in space, with a smaller square inside it, looking far too tiny for their vast craft to possibly fit through.


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    But again, distance was playing tricks on Sylvas¡¯ perception. As they drew closer, the square became larger. The glowing sigils covering its surface had seemed like nothing more than lights dotted across the flat face before could now be made out. Unfamiliar to Sylvas, but not entirely foreign. The same alphabet as the one he had learned for the summoning, but a different language entirely. Different from the sigils still marked into his arm like a tattoo as well. Whatever language magic took the form of when it was cast, Sylvas hadn¡¯t been able to discover yet in his studies. Another question for his trainers at Strife, when he arrived.


    He¡¯d set aside beginning work towards his next advancement until then too. The options in terms of publicly available Embodiments and Paradigms were just too limiting, he felt sure that there was something better for him out there, and no matter what the doctor said, he couldn¡¯t feel the faintest bit of instability in his core. So he wasn¡¯t going to rush into a commitment that would last the rest of his life, certainly not without there being a much more tangible and pressing need to do so.


    When they were close enough to almost touch the gate, drifting towards it on momentum alone as all the spells that had been propelling the ship until now fell silent so that they didn¡¯t interfere with the teleportation, Sylvas could feel the mana all around him beginning to churn and rush. The sigils on the gate flared. The sigils along the length of the ship did too. Pulsing together in harmony. And then faster than he could blink, they moved.


    A flash of light enveloped them as the nose of the ship dipped into the gap inside the jump-gate, then suddenly they were gone. One moment there was one set of stars, the next, another. Sylvas hadn¡¯t felt a thing, but now a shiver ran through him. As the ship was drifting along to its destination, it had been easy enough to watch the familiar stars drift by and adapt, but now there could be no denying that home was far behind, when even the sky was unfamiliar.


    He took a breath to steady himself, then jumped when a white shield suddenly appeared at the periphery of his vision. More orders. ¡°Report to airlock 3 for transfer to AEAS Slamdunk at 1600 hours.¡±


    ¡°Aeas?¡± He mumbled to himself, tapping it into his slate. Ardent Empyrean Alliance Ship. Slamdunk was a funny name for a ship, but from what he¡¯d been able to learn it was Ardent tradition to let whoever captained a ship for the first time name it, explaining some of the oddities on their rosters.


    His slate also informed him that the time was 1547. It was lucky that Sylvas had no intention of saying goodbye to the other refugees before they carried on their journey to wherever the Empyrean Alliance meant to dump them, since it didn¡¯t look like he would have had time anyway.


    He had left Croesia with nothing but the clothes on his back, which had mostly been disintegrated by the forces of magic tearing through him, and the remains had been cut off by the medical staff. He¡¯d received a standard issue civilian jumpsuit to cover his dignity, but that wasn¡¯t really his, not any more than the slate that he¡¯d been handed was. They belonged to the Empyrean, and they were meant to make his presence on their ship slightly less annoying for their citizens. That was all. He had nothing to pack and nothing to carry, so he didn¡¯t even bother to go back to his assigned quarters before heading to Port 3. Though he did cast one backwards glance at the windows lining the observation deck, hoping to catch some glimpse of the Slamdunk before he was inside it. There was no sign of it. No sign of anything except the glinting jump-gate out there in the cold of space. With a shrug, Sylvas set off.


    Nobody was waiting for him at the airlock, just as nobody from the Ardent had been in medical. They all had too many important things to do to bother with some lowly new recruit. Sylvas had hoped that there might have been some other new recruits, so he might learn a little bit more from some better-informed citizens of the Empyrean about what he should expect from his training, but he was alone. At least, he was alone to begin with.


    The door to the airlock slid open and the dwarf from medical walked in. The fact that she was walking was the first surprise. Last Sylvas had seen her, she¡¯d had no legs. Now there were shining iron ones attached to her own standard issue jumpsuit. One of her arms was a metallic construct too. Some magic that Sylvas had never seen. Despite clearly being made out of inanimate metal, they moved like real limbs. Having spent most of her time on board in the sterility of the medical bay, there had being no opportunity for her to have found any dirt on board but she still gave off the impression that she should have been grubby. Oil or soot should have been slicked on her round face. She didn¡¯t have the beard of all the other dwarves Sylvas had met, for obvious reasons, but she did have tattoos running along her broad jawline to give it the same sort of definition. A row of tribal spikes, extending up into a stripe that ran up her chin and divided her bottom lip. She caught sight of him and grinned. ¡°Devil-drinker! Glad you made it!¡±


    She stuck out her metal hand, and Sylvas took it without thinking. It was warm to the touch, just like a living hand would have been, but the way that she ground the bones in his hands together while shaking it felt distinctly mechanical.  ¡°Nice to meet you proper! Kaya Runemaul.¡±


    Managing to remember his manners and not whimper as she continued crushing his hand, he said, ¡°Sylvas Vail. It¡¯s a¡­ pleasure.¡±


    Releasing him from the death-grip and slapping her hands on her belly, Kaya grinned. ¡°So how¡¯d they get their hooks in you?¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± Sylvas tried to shake some life back into his poor hand.


    ¡°The Empyrean Krahgs?¡± She was so jovial it was hard to take offence at anything she said. ¡°How¡¯d they rope you into fighting gods and monsters for them?¡±


    ¡°I met some of the Ardent on my world.¡± As pleasant as Kaya seemed intent on being, there was no reason for him to give everything about his life away. He had no idea how he was going to be treated as an outsider to the Empyrean Alliance, and he didn¡¯t think that sharing the tale of how he¡¯d summoned an Eidolon to destroy his world was going to make him any friends among the Ardent when they were tasked with stopping incursions like that from happening. ¡°They talked me into it.¡±


    ¡°Press-ganged you? Did they?¡± She chuckled then wiggled her metal fingers at him. ¡°They had to pay me an arm and a leg before I¡¯d sign up and join the Empyrean. Two legs, actually.¡±


    There went Sylvas hopes of getting some inside information about the civilization he¡¯d just joined. ¡°You weren¡¯t a citizen before?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I was free.¡± Her smile faded a little. ¡°Then there was a tunnel collapse back on that floating rock I called home, I lost some bits, needed their docs to patch me up. This was the price of the spare parts.¡±


    Sylvas had no idea what to say to that, but he tried to match her upbeat tone from before. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to lose any important parts of my body until after training.¡±


    For a moment she peered up at him, and he worried that he¡¯d gone too far, but then she let out that same choke-sounding laugh from the medical bay and slapped him on the back hard enough to jar his whole body.  ¡°Aye, we¡¯ve got our whole lives to be dismembered by Eidolons, I just wanted to get a head-start.¡±


    Sylvas had known in the abstract that there were other settlements in space near Croesia, out beyond the Empyrean, and that many of them were mining ventures like the dwarves seemed to gravitate towards, but it hadn¡¯t really occurred to him that he¡¯d ever meet somebody from one of them. Someone who had known all about magic and the wider universe the whole time, but still chose to stay out of it. ¡°So were you a miner before your accident?¡±


    ¡°A miner? Is that all you think dwarves are good for?!¡± She bellowed, faking outrage for just a moment before chuckling at his startled expression. ¡°Nah, I was a farmer. Mushrooms. Collected all the krahg in the colony, sprinkled it with spores, kept it wet, filled everyone¡¯s bellies.¡±


    Sylvas blinked. ¡°I would have thought it would have been easier to just buy food from outlying colonies.¡±


    ¡°Maybe for folks in the Empyrean, but out there, you don¡¯t get traders coming by on the regular. Doesn¡¯t matter how much ore you dig, it ain¡¯t worth nothing with nobody to sell it to.¡± She nodded sagely. ¡°The only gold that matters in reality is grain.¡±


    ¡°Then I hope the Ardent pay you well with crops.¡± Sylvas said with a wry smile.


    The dwarf chuckled again, but before she could say any more the empty space outside the airlock turned white. For a moment, Sylvas thought that they¡¯d jumped again, but it was the hull of the Ardent freighter pulling up alongside the ship.


    Without warning, the airlock sprung open. All of the air in the chamber was sucked out, and both Sylvas and Kaya were dragged out with it.


    There was one awful moment when they were both outside, drifting in the freezing dark, wide eyes meeting then they slammed into the open airlock on the Ardent ship and it snapped shut behind them. They¡¯d been carried the distance between the two craft in an instant in the sudden burst of air. Both of the new recruits scrambled up to their knees, heaving for breath after the momentary exposure to the vacuum of space, but they didn¡¯t have long to think. The inner airlock sprung open, and a white-armored Ardent stepped in. He scowled down at the two of them as they struggled back to their feet. ¡°Welcome to the Slamdunk, worms, let¡¯s put you to work.¡±

 Chapter 17

    ¡°Relic worlds are an oddity in the Empyrean and beyond. Places that were destroyed in antiquity, almost always by Eidolons, but that inexplicably retain a living world-soul. It is from them that we learned much of what we now know of how and why Eidolon incursions occur, but they also stand as chilling testaments to what happens when their invasions go unhalted.¡±


    ¡ªSo You Want To Join The Ardent, Recruitment Brochure


    The Ardent who had met them coming onto the ship was possibly the least pleasant person that Sylvas had encountered since leaving home. A Najash lizardman, who presumably had a name but insisted on being referred to only as ¡®Sir.¡¯


    Sir gave them an extremely brief tour of the ship as they jogged to keep up. The bridge, the engine room and the artillery decks were all off limits, as were the crew quarters. There was a single converted cargo bay set aside for them, with a bunk-bed hastily thrown against a wall beside a folded-out table and a device behind a screened-off corner that landed somewhere between toilet and bucket. ¡°This is your world from here until we get to Strife. And no, you don¡¯t get a schedule how long that¡¯ll be. Until we arrive, you¡¯ll eat here, you sleep here, you train here. I see you anywhere else on the ship, I kick your ass back here.¡±


    He cast a spell then, similar to the scrying one that all the Ardent seemed to use, but different too. It left a glowing eye hovering in the air above where Sir had been. ¡°When I give you an order, I am speaking with the voice of God. If you have a question about any of my orders, no you don¡¯t.¡±


    With a flick of the wrist he conjured a slate and glanced at it. ¡°Rations will be delivered at 1900, lights out a 2200. Early bed-time for you babies, because I¡¯m going to work you to the bone tomorrow. Training starts at 0600. Until 1900, you run.¡±


    Sylvas and Kaya looked at each other. ¡°Run?¡±


    ¡°Did you just question the voice of God, recruit?¡±


    ¡°No sir.¡± Sylvas snapped back.


    ¡°You will run circuits of this bay until 1900 hours. You will be observed throughout. Failure to make enough circuits will result in rations being withheld until you have reached the goals designated for you.¡±


    They both knew better than to ask what the goal actually was. Questioning authority, even with reasonable questions, was not allowed, apparently.


    Sir strode off towards the door that they had come in by, barking over his shoulder, ¡°start running, worms.¡±


    Sylvas ran. Kaya stared after him for a moment, obviously not used to getting bossed around, but she caught on quick enough, and started running too, following the route that Sylvas did. Along the length of the sealed bay doors, back towards the wall with the doors, past the doors, then back out towards the bunks again.


    The first circuit was fine. Sylvas wasn¡¯t running as fast as he could, recognizing that four hours of sprinting was going to be impossible, but with his longer legs, he was still easily outpacing Kaya. On the second circuit she seemed to find her rhythm, and while he had almost managed to lap her that first time, they ended up running side by side from that point forward.


    The bed-rest and easy living of being on the Empyrean ship for the past week caught up to Sylvas fast. His legs started to feel rubbery after only fifteen minutes of going around and around, while Kaya seemed to have just found her stride. She was red in the face from her efforts, but hardly struggling. Meanwhile Sylvas could barely manage to pant out, ¡°how?¡±


    ¡°New legs took some getting used to is all.¡± She replied with a grin.


    She began to draw ahead of him then. Not because of any sudden burst of speed, but because while he was mortal and tiring, she apparently had a boundless font of energy to draw on. She drew too far ahead for him to even talk to her, not that he had any breath left to talk. And for the half-hour that followed, she slowly but unstoppably closed the distance of that first lap he had gained on her until they were side by side again. ¡°Come on boy, you can do it. One foot in front of the other.¡±


    He barely had the energy to lift a hand and make an obscene gesture at her. At least, he hoped it was obscene to dwarves the same way it had been on his home planet. Judging by her laughter, it had translated well enough for the meaning to be understood.


    She started pulling ahead of him again, and all that Sylvas could do was watch helplessly. He didn¡¯t have the strength left to try and match her speed. His legs felt like molten lead, and his lungs felt like they were burning too. Willpower was the only thing keeping him moving. Willpower and the fear of letting his new masters down and being kicked out of the program before it had even begun.


    ¡°Guess you didn¡¯t do a lot of heavy lifting wherever you sprouted from?¡± Kaya asked as she caught up to him once again.


    He managed to shake his head, but actual words were beyond him.


    Meanwhile she continued her chuckling. ¡°Whatever Embodiment you¡¯ve got, it sucks the krahg right out of the krahgnahar.¡±


    He felt like he should have made some attempt to defend the mana reinforcement that had made him a mage, but in this particular situation, it was hard to disagree with her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t feel too bad for eating my dust boy, the new legs run on magic, and the rest of me has the Steelflesh, ain¡¯t many book-readers who could keep up with me.¡± She called back over her shoulder with a chortle. She was too jovial to hate, but Sylvas made a good attempt at it anyway, as she pulled ahead of him once more.


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    The next time that she came around, Sylvas exhaustion gave way to frustration. He¡¯d been stuck with this useless Embodiment, he hadn¡¯t chosen it. If he could have made himself into some unstoppable machine like Kaya, then of course he would have. She could go on running forever without even breaking a sweat, and here he was feeling like he¡¯d gone three rounds with a Leviathan Harrower. The Clearmind Paradigm meant that he didn¡¯t have to feel these things, didn¡¯t have to endure the dark mood that was taking over him, but he could still choose to indulge in his anger if he wanted to, and it helped. Being angry gave him the energy to keep on pushing, to keep on going. Ignoring the complaints of his body as he kept his eyes fixed on the dwarf running ahead of him.


    Kaya went on stretching the distance between them, but now that he¡¯d tapped into that reserve of frustration, he could keep on going. Keep on pushing. Long past the point that his legs should have given out. His breath came out raspy and rough, like his parents had in their final moments before the Flux took them, but he didn¡¯t stop. He wasn¡¯t going to show the Ardent that they¡¯d been wrong to recruit him. He was going to prove that he was the best, even if he didn¡¯t have all the advantages that someone like Kaya had.


    He could hear her, distantly, over the sound of his own thumping footsteps and his heart thumping in his ears. He could hear her catching up on him again.


    Just like when he¡¯d been bleeding to death on the tower-top, the edges of his vision began to darken. At least an hour had passed, maybe two, he¡¯d lost count of how many times they¡¯d gone around and around this miserable little room. He felt like he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand.


    The floor was covered in a massive sheet of some sort of material that was neither stone, wood or metal. It had a little bit of spring in it like wood, but it seemed to be one vast solid piece rather than boards. Sylvas couldn¡¯t say how long had passed when he became more intimately aware of the floor. Able to study it from up close. The pain of the fall wouldn¡¯t show up until later, even though he¡¯d gone face first into the ground.


    Kaya was there at his side, almost immediately, hooking her hands under his armpits and hauling him back up to standing. Their difference in heights made it awkward, but she was strong enough that it didn¡¯t matter so much. ¡°Time for a nice sit down, I think.¡±


    Sylvas pushed away from her, staggering a few steps before he could start jogging again, much slower than he had been, but still moving.


    ¡°Are you out of your mind, boy?¡± She called after him, shaking her head.


    Hitting the floor had knocked the wind out of Sylvas, but the delay before Kaya could get to him and get him back on his feet had given him a tiny window for recovery. He jogged on, calling back. ¡°Can¡¯t stop.¡±


    ¡°You can, you know.¡± She put on a turn of speed to catch up to him, then slowed her pace until they were running side by side. ¡°These Ardent krahgs would never ask you to keep going like this.¡±


    ¡°Incorrect, Recruit Runemaul.¡± Sir¡¯s voice cut through the sweaty air. ¡°The expectation is that you will fulfill your mission, no matter what it is, no matter what discomfort it might cause you.¡±


    Sylvas cast a bleary stare around the room, looking for the lizardman, but his voice seemed to be echoing out from the hovering eye sigil.


    ¡°However, it is apparent that Recruit Vail is at his physical limit, so we will put this stress test to an end.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Sylvas managed to groan. ¡°I can still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you just question the voice of God, Vail?¡± Sir¡¯s voice echoed and boomed in the enclosed space of their training bay.


    Disgust settled in Sylvas¡¯ stomach. ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Rations will be dispensed at 1900, as stated. Until then, both of you are done.¡±


    Kaya hooked an arm around Sylvas waist to stop his legs giving out and started to lead him over towards the bunks, only for the door of the room to abruptly slide open, and their scaly skinned overlord to come strolling in with a contemptuous flick of his tail. ¡°Vail, you have received a passing grade for the day. Runemaul, you have not.¡±


    Kaya¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°I¡¯m good to run some more boss.¡±


    ¡°It is a matter of attitude, recruit.¡± Sir said that last word like it was a slur. ¡°Vail was willing to push past the limits of his body to fulfill his mission. You couldn¡¯t even stay focused on yours.¡±


    She let Sylvas go, and he staggered with the sudden lack of support. Kaya squared her shoulders and barked at her commanding officer. ¡°What¡¯s that mean? I ran round like there was a krahg-ing Eidolon on my heels?!¡±


    Sir¡¯s tail lashed from side to side in annoyance. ¡°Your task was not to assist Vail. It was to run. In battle, your empathy could cost the rest of your team their lives. Cost you all your victory. As such, everyone in the Ardent needs to stands for themselves first, or they¡¯ll be dead soon after.¡±


    He stalked out of the room after that without another word, leaving the two of them to their wounded pride.


    Sylvas had made it as far as the bunk-beds, but his legs were not complying as he tried to climb the ladder. Kaya pushed him down onto the bottom bunk with a scoff. ¡°Ever comes a night you¡¯re not more tired than me, you can climb up.¡±


    She scrambled up the ladder and out of sight, and Sylvas lay there groaning for almost a whole minute before his brain caught up to everything that had happened. ¡°Kaya?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The glowing eye hovering over the room had faded when the lizardman had come in, but Sylvas didn¡¯t know if they were still listening in on everything they said. If they were, then he supposed he was about to lose whatever faith the Ardent had put in him. ¡°If you fall¡­ I¡¯m helping you up.¡±


    For a moment she was silent, then she grumbled. ¡°Cheers.¡±


    The rations might have been pitiful by the standards of the Empyrean Alliance, but they tasted heavenly to Sylvas after a lifetime of gruel. He didn¡¯t know if there was some enchantment on the little hard sticks that they¡¯d been handed that made them blossom into flavors in his mouth, and he didn¡¯t care.


    Kaya came down and they sat side by side on his bunk to eat in companionable silence. It was still many hours until lights out, but after the food was done, they both returned to their bunks.


    For a long moment he lay there in silence, the lights of the room still blazing, his body aching with the day¡¯s efforts, the he gave up on conversation and closed his eyes. ¡°Goodnight Kaya.¡±


    ¡°Sleep tight.¡± She chuckled back from above him. Kaya was already snoring by the time that the lights went out, loud as a waterfall and with almost as much drool spilling out.


    Sleep did not come so easily for Sylvas, who was now giving serious consideration to the decision that he¡¯d made. Wondering if he hadn¡¯t just traded in one set of bad masters for another. The Ardent fought the Eidolons, and the Eidolons had killed his world, that had seemed reason enough to join up. To find a way to avenge Mira, to avenge everyone that his actions had cost.


    But he wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to become the kind of person that the lizardman wanted him to be, pushing himself to the point of destruction while making the choice that let friends and allies drop around him. He might have spent his whole life being conditioned and trained to bring about the end of the world without questioning orders, but even he wasn¡¯t sure if he could be cold enough to give the Ardent what they wanted.


    Sleep came and stole him away some time in the dark of night. That was the one good thing about being so exhausted, the completeness of it. Tonight, for the first time since leaving, he hoped that he would not see Croesia burn, to see Mira die yet again, when he closed his eyes.


    Yet like every night that had come before, he was not so lucky.

 Chapter 18

    ¡°Teleportation is a facet of spatial magic, typically empowered by the use of an ample supply of Etherium. The greater the distance travelled, the greater the mana expenditure. There can be no denying its utility, but in practical terms the expenditure is typically too great to justify its use outside of fringe cases.¡±


    ¡ªThrough the Gates of Reality: Spatial Magic and You, Jakrus¡¯Kal


    Morning was a state of mind on a spaceship. There was no sun rise, no planet for it to rise over, but everyone seemed to mutually agree that it was time to get up.


    Already aching before they even began, both of the new recruits were on their feet, standing at attention before Sir stalked in at 0600 precisely. He looked them up and down without comment, and Sylvas braced himself for the worst. If they were going to be running again, he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d make it half as far as he had yesterday. Exercise like that might have made him stronger in the long run, but in the short term it left him a wreck.


    ¡°Upon arrival at Strife you will be placed in classes to advance you through the various circles of magic until you are powerful enough to stand a chance on the battlefield. It is an academic setting, but you will be facing combat training from day one. We are not training you to be soft, tower dwelling mages, we are forging you to into weapons, which in your case as Infantry recruits, means to be the point of the spear against the deadliest threats in the known universe. Furthermore, you will have the freedom,¡± he snarled the world as if it tasted bad in his mouth, ¡°to advance according to your own designs, but you will receive advice directly from your superiors on what choices will make you the most useful to whatever branch of the Ardent you end up in. We cannot force you to take that advice, as that would be a violation of your rights and bodily autonomy, but if you make the incorrect decisions and make yourselves unviable for combat, then you can expect little chance at support or promotion moving forward.¡±


    Sir cast a series of spells, quick and casual in a way that made Sylvas envious. He had no idea how many circles this mage possessed, but judging by how casually he spent his mana, it went well beyond his own. One of the spells conjured that same glowing eye to observe them in their superior¡¯s absence, but the others spawned in a series of glowing circular planes, about the size of dinner plates, which began drifting around in an orbit above their caster where he stood in the middle of the room. He beckoned the recruits forward, then cast a final spell that encircled them all, along with the vast majority of the room. ¡°Your current advancement has been reviewed, and your training will reflect your personal strengths and weaknesses. Lucky for you, you¡¯ve both developed in opposing directions, so we can kill two birds with one stone with each exercise.¡±


    Kaya leaned towards Sylvas and whispered so loud he nearly jumped away from her. ¡°Why are we killing birds?¡±


    Sir just rolled his eyes. ¡°Cat heaven is mouse hell, Runemaul.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a cat?¡± She asked next. Though Sylvas had enough sense not to answer her while their superior was still glowering.


    ¡°Above you are targets, they will be color coded. Runemaul, red. Vail, Blue. If you strike a target of the opposing color, you fail. If you fail to strike all of your targets within the allotted time, you fail. If you somehow manage to do damage to the hull by missing with a spell that is potent enough to penetrate the circle I have placed around you¡­¡±


    ¡°We fail.¡± Kaya replied in a singsong tone.


    ¡°No,¡± It was hard to smile without lips, but the lizardman managed a nasty grin all the same. ¡°If you damage the ship, we leave you in here to get sucked out into the vacuum. So don¡¯t try to show off, Vail.¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth to object to being singled out, but decided to take it as a compliment to his abilities that they thought he might have been strong enough to actually do that kind of damage.


    ¡°Test starts when the targets take on their colors, ends when they disappear.¡± He stalked to the edge of the circle that enclosed them, and parted it with a whispered spell for just long enough to step out. ¡°And try not to hit each other, don¡¯t think Runemaul has enough spare parts left.¡±


    Kaya immediately muttered something untranslatable under her breath.


    Then, as abruptly as the running had started yesterday, the targets suddenly sprung to life. Switching to their red and blue colors and moving faster, deliberately weaving back and forth so that a red target might be shielded by a blue at any moment.


    ¡°Back to back?¡± Sylvas suggested, and Kaya moved around without questioning it.


    Sylvas hadn¡¯t actually used any magic since leaving home. He could still feel the mana inside him, still feel it flowing out to fill the channels in his flesh and the hollow spaces of his mind, but actually casting hadn¡¯t been necessary until now. He was surprised to see his usually steady hands shake a little. He supposed it made sense. The last time he¡¯d been casting, the wild mana unleashed had ravaged him and left him for dead. Kaya barked out a spell behind him and he heard a sound like a gong being struck. One of her targets had been hit. She was going to beat him again if he didn¡¯t start casting. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let Clearmind do its job. When he opened his eyes again, all the feelings that he didn¡¯t want to deal with were gone. All that was in front of him was the task. One he was well-equipped to handle.


    An arcane arrow leapt from his palm to strike the first of the blue targets as it spun by. He wasn¡¯t used to moving targets, so he only barely clipped its edge, but the gong sounded and the plate vanished. A smile began to grow on his face as he cast again, and again.


    One by one, the blue targets began to deplete. He aimed just a little ahead of them and was gratified to hit each and every time. There was a dull thumping sound each time one of Kaya¡¯s shots missed and hit the outer circle, though he¡¯d gladly admit that there were only two or three of those thumps throughout the whole exercise. Her marksmanship seemed to be on par with his own, she just seemed to take a little longer with each cast, giving the targets time to spin away.


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    Yesterday he had rushed ahead of her in the beginning and slowed as his reserves of energy were depleted but now it was the opposite. He blasted rapidly through his targets, only slowing as they were increasingly rare among the sea of red blurring past his eyes. Each cast seemed to take her longer and longer, at least in comparison to the rapid rate that he had churned out his spells. His mana reserves were down almost halfway, but from the fizzling and sparking sounds when she attempted to cast her spells, it sounded like her mana was guttering out. The long gaps between spells were her slipping into brief bouts of distracted meditation, trying to draw in more mana until she had the power to fire again. Sylvas hadn¡¯t realized it yesterday, but while his embodiment might have been useless when it came to physical activity, more like a long-term injury that would never fully heal, it gave him a massive advantage when it came to actual spellcasting. Without the channels for mana to flow through, casting must have been much more difficult, and even with a reserve of mana as dense as the one he¡¯d cultivated, a lot of it probably would have gone to waste with every single cast, just trying to force it out past the limits of his body.


    By the time that he¡¯d hit the last of his targets, her casting had stopped entirely, and when he turned to face her, she was glassy-eyed and pale. Sweat beading all over her face. It was a look that Sylvas had only ever seen once before on a student back home, moments before they collapsed in the middle of the dining hall, their heart having stopped before they even hit the ground.


    She pushed too far. Drew on and spent something deeper within than just mana. Sylvas realized as he recognized the symptoms to the nameless affliction. Just as he¡¯d been past his limit yesterday, she was past her limit now. It was enough to have him glance up to the glowing eye above them.


    Sir was watching. He had watched her push herself past the limits of what she could do, and he was still going to come in here and call her a failure because of the red targets still swooping around them. It was time to decide whether he wanted to be the kind of soldier that the Ardent wanted him to be.


    He laid a hand flat in the middle of Kaya¡¯s back and he pushed the mana out of his core and into hers. It flowed readily through the channels in his body to the palm of his hand, following the course that every one of his arcane arrows had gone, then it dispersed out into her body. Some of it was lost, most of it, probably, but some managed to drive out of him with enough force to hit her core and replenish it. He drained himself down until he was almost as empty as she had been, then he slumped to the floor to meditate.


    With the new rush of power he¡¯d granted her, Kaya was able to start casting again, to start thinking again. She threw him a grateful look just before he closed his eyes and started reaching out for fresh mana. The sound of gongs began anew.


    By the time that he had replenished enough of his mana that he no longer felt shaky, the test was over. Of the thirty targets each of them had been assigned Sylvas had downed all thirty, and Kaya twenty, with the last five having come in rapid succession near the end after he¡¯d topped off her reserves. Sir had returned by the time that Sylvas opened his eyes, and while he barked out that Kaya had failed the test, there was something in his expression that told Sylvas that she¡¯d won his respect all the same.


    He pressed on with their instruction. ¡°On Strife, there are no easy targets. Anything you try to hit will try to hit you back. Remember that.¡±


    They nodded in acknowledgement, which seemed to satisfy their instructor for now. ¡°Break to replenish your mana, next test is at 0800.¡±


    He stalked back out of the room to whatever duties kept him so preoccupied, and Sylvas was relieved to see that the glowing eye had faded along with the circle protect the ship from any misfires. He turned to Kaya and then let out a strangled grunting noise as she seized him around the waist and hoisted him off his feet. For a moment, he thought that he was under attack, then realized she was hugging him. ¡°Boy, I don¡¯t know what you did, but you did it.¡±


    ¡°It was just¡­ some extra mana.¡± He managed to huff out.


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s done for me like that before, boy.¡± She spun on the spot with his feet dangling. ¡°Not blood, not friend, nobody. I was drained dry. Pushed like the lizard told us and pushed a step too far. Nearly dried up something inside of me for good. I¡¯d have dropped dead if you hadn¡¯t done whatever you did.¡±


    Sylvas was genuinely struggling to breathe. ¡°You¡­ did the same¡­ for me¡­ yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re kin now.¡± She said with a firmness that shocked him almost as much as the squeeze driving the air out his lungs. ¡°Sylvas Runemaul, just say the word, you¡¯re in my clan.¡±


    ¡°It was just¡­ a little mana.¡± He barely whispered before she finally noticed that she was crushing the life out of him and dropped him back to the deck.


    ¡°Saved my life, boy. And I won¡¯t soon forget it.¡± She cut him off before he could make any more protests. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get to meditating before he¡¯s back with some more misery for us.¡±


    After his brief spin through the air and the disorientation of the bear hug, Sylvas was more than ready to sink down to sitting and fall into his usual meditation routine. Visualizing all the stars outside of the ship and imagining them drawing in closer to him with every inhalation. The mana came easily to begin with. It was only ever towards the end of meditation that he had to work to force more inside his circle. To cram it in dense as it could get. He had practiced meditation all his life, surrounded by fellow students of the arcane and all of the outbursts that they had as they failed to achieve what he could do so much more easily.


    What he had never had to do up until that point in his life however, was listen to all of the grunts and grumblings that Kaya made as she tried to settle herself.


    Her snoring seemed positively peaceful in comparison to the noises coming out of her now. The clearing of the throat that never seemed to quite catch whatever was troubling her. The huffing and puffing as she tried to go through a breathing technique. The little grunts that she made each time she shifted her position beside him. If he hadn¡¯t had Clearmind to block out the distractions, it was entirely possible that he might have attempted to murder her.


    He did such a good job of blocking out distractions as he reached the end of the cycle and started having to force mana inside his circle that he didn¡¯t even notice when their commanding officer stalked back into the room. He distantly heard Kaya¡¯s movement as she scrambled to her feet, and attention, but he set it aside as just another of her endless shifts in position. His eyes only snapped open when the lizardman was standing over him, practically growling. ¡°Rise and shine, recruits!¡±


    Springing up after sitting perfectly still for so long was less easy than Kaya had made it sound, and his attempt at standing to attention was probably contemptable by the standards of the Ardent, but there was no complaint from the lizardman. ¡°I¡¯ve got a lucky surprise for you both today.¡±


    Neither of them felt particularly lucky, but they didn¡¯t dare to interrupt.


    ¡°As it happens, we arrive at the jump to Strife in four hours and command has informed me that they need you rested up before your boots hit the ground. Guess that means you¡¯re both due a hot welcoming. Imagine my excitement at the news. So what that means for you both is that you¡¯re on slate duties until we arrive.¡± Sir eyes flashed once with energy as he did something with his magic. ¡°The Slamdunk¡¯s library is open to you for the remainder of the trip, don¡¯t waste the opportunity. Your classmates to be sure won¡¯t.¡±


    And just like that, Sylvas day of torment turned into a dream come true.

 Chapter 19

    ¡°There are rules in any society, and none more so than the society of elves, where memories are long and grudges carried longer still. To scry another individual without their permission could easily be interpreted as an invasion of privacy not unlike hoisting up their skirts to take a peek underneath. Which is to say, do so at your peril, for the social repercussions are likely to be vigorous and immediate.¡±


    ¡ªFundamentals of Arcane Etiquette, Elenya Starweaver


    There was no physical library on board the ship, just as there had been no physical books to be seen anywhere on the freighter that had brought Sylvas this far. What they had was access to all of the information that was ephemerally stored somewhere in the ship through the use of their slates. Until now they had been entirely locked down to the bare minimum of access, telling them little more than a civilian would have been able to learn, but with Sir¡¯s command, the slates had suddenly become a bountiful cornucopia.


    Four hours wasn¡¯t nearly long enough. Sylvas knew that the other students at Strife were going to be far ahead of him, just by virtue of all the different spells and techniques that they would have had available to them in the wider universe. He needed to cram a lifetime¡¯s worth of magic into his head in a few hours so he could be ready for that welcoming that Sir had alluded to. Kaya was saying something to him, but he¡¯d slammed Clearmind back into place so that he could focus on the slate in his hands.


    First up was the scrying spell he¡¯d seen all of the Ardent using. Even if he couldn¡¯t compete with the other trainees, he¡¯d at least be able to see what they were and what they were doing that he couldn¡¯t. It took him only a few seconds to find the spell, and three or four attempts at reading it through before he realized that he was lacking some of the foundations of the magic system it had been built for. He could directly channel mana, he could project it into spells as if he was scribbling out the words for it, but this magic seemed to operate on a completely different level, connected up with laws of the universe that he hadn¡¯t even heard of until now. His gargantuan task had just become even more massive, and he quickly loaded all the recommended reading onto his slate. Kaya was still talking, so he tuned her back in. ¡°¡­think we¡¯re savages just because we didn¡¯t come from the core worlds, reckon we¡¯ve never even heard of¡ª¡±


    Sylvas cut her off. ¡°Kaya, I haven¡¯t come across most of the spells that they use regularly, my education was very¡­ focused.¡±


    ¡°Well. Why didn¡¯t you say so, boy? I could have been teaching you what you needed from our first night!¡±


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t realize just how limited my education was until I was face to face with the reality of the situation, so could you please just let me study as much as I can so I¡¯m not a complete laughing stock once we get to Strife?¡±


    She peered over his shoulder at the book-list he had collated. ¡°Don¡¯t you go worrying, boy, there¡¯s plenty time for all that academic krahg. What you need is practical lessons.¡±


    He gawked at her. He knew that she felt indebted to him after the little mana donation he¡¯d made earlier, but he couldn¡¯t believe how much she was willing to throw away. ¡°And you mean to squander the precious little time we¡¯ve got teaching me instead of studying yourself?¡±


    ¡°Boy, you do understand that we¡¯re starting off as infantry, yeah? Cause I think you¡¯ve got the wrong idea about all this.¡± She chuckled as she sank down to sit beside him. ¡°They ain¡¯t trying to make us officers, special forces, or researchers out the gate. They¡¯re trying to make us ground pounders, grunts, bodies, whatever you like to call it, to throw at a problem. What they want out of us is just enough magic to blast a hole in whatever¡¯s ahead of us and call it a day.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t believe it could be nearly that simple. Without the groundwork of the arcanum they were using, he would be navigating without a map. ¡°The scrying spell, it requires¡ª¡±


    She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. ¡°It needs you to believe it will work even if you don¡¯t understand why it works. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°But how can I¡ª¡±


    Once again she cut him off before he could get her to understand. ¡°Same way you trust that when you jump you¡¯ll come down again. Ain¡¯t for us to know why. Just to believe it.¡±


    He had no faith in this process, but if she was right then he could always go back and do all the required reading afterwards and focus on learning the actual spells first.


    ¡°Alright, show me the scrying spell.¡±


    The magic involved was relatively simple, the Arcane Eye that was summoned overhead was some sort of manifestation of a higher power of insight that it would take him a long time to fully understand. But actually invoking it was as simple as forming his mana into the right shape and speaking the words, same as any other spell. He cast it, and for a second, nothing happened, then he looked askance at Kaya and almost fell over as information flooded his mind.


    Name: Kayagrah Ormbjorn Runemaul


    Species: Meteoric Dwarf


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 100%


    First Circle Embodiment: Steelflesh


    First Circle Paradigm: Clockmind


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    Affinity: Undiscovered


    Strength: E1


    Resilience: E7


    Speed: F5


    Potency: F9


    Focus: E0


    Regeneration: F9


    ¡°Meteoric Dwarf?¡± Sylvas blurted it out, feeling like it was the least intrusive bit of information that had just been dumped into his head.


    Kaya smiled at his success. ¡°Aye, some dwarves live on the dirt, my kin mine the heavens themselves.¡±


    He stared at her a little longer, willing the eye to tell him more before it faded away to nothing, but no more was forthcoming. ¡°What do the letters and numbers mean? Oh, and is that all there is? The Ardent seemed to have more information at their disposal than just¡ª¡±


    The hand that had been resting on his shoulder moved up to slap the back of his head. ¡°Boy, I¡¯m teaching you basics. You want advanced stuff, take a class.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ thank you Kaya.¡±


    She looked bemused before shifting her attention. ¡°Next lesson. Get a haircut.¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    She seized hold of the hair on the back of his head, where it was still aching from the slap and gave it a sharp tug, hard enough to make Sylvas eyes water. ¡°I¡¯m sure you impressed all the girlies with that mop on your head back home, but you¡¯re a soldier now. Long hair is a good way to get grabbed. And grabbed is a good way to get got.¡±


    Her own hair was bundled up into a braid atop her head, well out of the way.


    Before he even had time to make a comment on her manhandling him, she pressed on. ¡°Right, the letters and numbers you mentioned. Those I can speak to though. They¡¯re a gauge as to how strong whatever you¡¯re scryin is for that attribute. Somethin that¡¯s ranked low, say an F0, is about as strong, potent, whatever as a human man. Which is to say not at all. So if you see that, you¡¯ve not an issue to stress about. If you see anythin higher, say a rank A, well you¡¯d best just start pissin yourself, cause it can likely crack a planet in half, let alone turn ya to paste. Now tell me, what else didn¡¯t they teach you?¡±


    He tried to cover the full breadth of his lack of knowledge, but the way that his education had all been a manipulation left him in the awful position of having no clue what a normal one would have looked like. ¡°I don¡¯t even know.¡±


    What should have been a stressful few hours of studying turned into an extremely rapid rush through all of the things a mage should have known by Sylvas¡¯ age.


    ¡°Kinesis?¡±


    He learned the simple spells to manipulate objects from a distance without the need to touch them, something terribly helpful to the meteoric dwarves, given the hazardous materials they often encountered while mining out the space rocks they called home.


    ¡°Farsight?¡±


    This spell was similar enough to the scrying one that it didn¡¯t take much longer than learning the mana-form and he could cast it. The eye manifested on the opposite side of the room and he could close his own eyes and see through it in all directions at once, which was headache inducing, but undeniably useful.


    ¡°Wards?¡±


    He did know a great many wards and enchantments, but they had all been pretty exclusively used to shield him from the vast volumes of mana that he had to channel rather than to protect him from outside forces. The exceptions were the wards he¡¯d placed on his door at night to keep it sealed and alert him with a noise if they were disturbed, and the shield he¡¯d been granted to deflect spells.


    By the time that the ship lurched on contact with the next jump-gate, Sylvas had three shields at his disposal. One that could block physical objects being launched at him, the original one that could block energy and one additional ward that could hypothetically block things like the scrying spell, but they didn¡¯t have a chance to try it out before the white icons of the Ardent materialized beside them with their new orders.


    ¡°Sending spells!¡± Kaya slapped her own forehead, leaving a red mark thanks to her having forgotten once again about her metal hand. ¡°Completely forgot about them, great for sending a message to folks.¡±


    They each touched their own shield, and Sylvas was fascinated to discover that he couldn¡¯t overhear the message for Kaya, though he assumed it was identical to his own. ¡°Report to teleportal 1 for transfer to Strife immediately.¡±


    Kaya carried as little baggage as him, but she still insisted on clambering up into her bunk and double-checking that there had been nothing left behind. Sylvas had fully expected for their superior the lizardman to return and bark at them to get moving, but it seemed that they weren¡¯t even being graced with that little bit of politeness. He checked his slate for directions to the teleportal, up two decks and to the rear of the ship, and then waited impatiently for Kaya to come back down.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there!¡± She nudged him with her shoulder as she passed. ¡°We¡¯ve got a whole new planet to vohrt up!¡±


    That last word of dwarfish didn¡¯t come with enough of a context clue for Sylvas to work out what it meant, but he didn¡¯t dare to ask in case Kaya explained it. After a night in the presence of the chorus of her bodily functions, he was pretty sure that she was completely shameless. As such, he didn¡¯t want to risk arriving on a new world and meeting the people he¡¯d be spending his immediate future with while bearing the awful blushing he feared she¡¯d bring on.


    They traversed the AEAS Slamdunk in record time, probably moving considerably faster than Sylvas¡¯ laps around the training bay the day before. Eventually they arrived in the presence of a bored looking human mage dressed not in the armor of the Ardent like most of the people on board, but in simple grey robes with a little white shield patch sewn onto the chest. ¡°You kids been teleported before?¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± Kaya said with a grin, bounding over to stand in the silvery circle set in the floor.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t actually¡ª¡± Sylvas began to say, but the man was already casting, and he had to hurry over to join Kaya in the circle. She took a deep breath in and then blew it all out. Sylvas started to do the same but was too slow. The spell caught him with his lungs still half full of air. Everything around them went white.


    Sylvas arrived on the planet in agony. His lungs were crushed by the sudden vacuum that had formed inside him. If he hadn¡¯t suffered through the pain of digging his own mana channels, then it probably would have knocked him off his feet. As it was, he was left gasping and flailing for a moment before he managed to gulp fresh air down into his lungs. All while a giggling Kaya gave him a several unhelpful thumps on the back.


    They had not arrived in another pristine facility like he had been expecting. They were outside.


    Standing inside a silvery circle set in the red stone beneath their feet, there was thick sand, and it wasn¡¯t limited to there, the whole world seemed to be covered in it, with every whiff of wind sending up a fresh plume. Beneath the sand, he could make out vast structures that he first took for hills, but they were too angular, too even in their shape. These were buildings, vast ruins toppled all around as far as the eye could see. Some bore the marks of battle, whole sections destroyed by fire burning hot enough to melt the exposed steel beams protruding from the stonework, or marred by catastrophic explosions that left nothing but perfect spherical holes that had now been filled in with red sand. Other parts seemed perfectly intact, apart from the fact that the stone beneath them had bucked them off and sent them tumbling all around to land in heaps atop one another. This desert had been a city once. Or rather it still was a city, just one buried underneath dunes of crimson sand.


    In the abstract, he had known what a relic world was, but seeing it in person was a different matter. This was what he had tried to save Croesia from. This was somehow, better than how Croesia had ended up.


    This was Strife.

 Chapter 20

    ¡°There is no valor in death. There is no honor in a defeat. History is written by the victors. Failure to recognize this is a weakness, and all weakness is punished.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Unlike the unfriendly send-off that they¡¯d received on the ship, there were people waiting to greet them once they stepped out of the circle and got over the initial shock.


    Again, Sylvas had been fully expecting Ardent in their shining white armor, but it seemed like that was reserved for the people out on the frontlines, fighting Eidolons. There were two older people, a female human and a male fiend dressed in simple robes that might originally have been grey but were now thoroughly stained with red from the sand or dust or whatever they were walking through. The air tasted of iron, now that Sylvas was actually breathing, that might have explained the red tint to everything.


    ¡°Recruits, fall in.¡± The woman took a step forward while the fiend hung back, marking something off on his slate. ¡°This will be your home until you graduate into one of the branches of the Ardent. It takes some getting used to, but you will get used to it. Eventually.¡±


    She spun on her heel and started walking down an indent in the dunes that might have been a path, the fiend fell into step behind her, and after a quick glance to one another Sylvas and Kaya took off at a trot to keep up with them.


    ¡°This is Administrator Mengrammon, I am Instructor Aurea. For the duration of your stay here, you will be in my charge. If you have a problem, you bring it to your instructor. If you have a problem with an instructor, you bring it to me.¡± Aurea didn¡¯t even glance back to make sure they were keeping up. ¡°Administrator Mengrammon deals with the running of facilities here, do not disturb him unless you want to know just how badly the person that controls your ration, duty and bunk can ruin your life.¡±


    As they emerged from between those first dunes, the vastness of the Ardent base on Strife made itself known. Between them and the dense thicket of fallen buildings was a chasm deep enough and wide enough to swallow Telas Norn whole without it touching the sides. It stretched off towards the distant horizon where the sun burned red through the clouds, whether it was rising or setting, Sylvas had no idea. But to their left rose a vast wall of stone, not a fallen building like the rest, but raw rock jutting up out of the choking rust colored dust. At first it was just a ridge that had been hidden from sight beyond the heaped dunes, but soon the dust fell away and the incredible height of it became known. The height of it was almost enough to give Sylvas vertigo, and he¡¯d lived and worked in the tallest tower on Croesia for most of his life. Those fallen distant buildings that Sylvas had thought so huge just a moment ago would have been dwarfed by this natural cliff. Not that it was easy to tell, given how much of everything was submerged in the dust.


    Aurea had paused long enough for them to get over their initial awe, then pressed on. ¡°I don¡¯t know where you came from, and unless it¡¯ll somehow impact your duties, I do not want to know. I just need you to obey the simple rules that I lay out for you so that you can survive until graduation.¡±


    As they carried on in the lee of the cliff, Sylvas began to recognize that what he¡¯d taken for pits and faults in the wall were intentional carvings. Swirling patterns completely unfamiliar to him scratched into the face of the stone, punctuated by perfect square indentations that he realized with a start were open windows or entryways. The stone itself was grey and dead, but the red dust had imbedded itself in the surface, wedging into the cracks and crevasses and giving the cliff its distinctive decoration. He wouldn¡¯t have even turned to notice the buildings coming into sight along the cliff¡¯s base if it hadn¡¯t had been for the sudden shiver that ran through him as they crossed the invisible ward-line around the claimed territory.


    ¡°There are no restrictions to your movements, you are free to travel the planet as you see fit. You will notice, however, that the majority of students remain on campus, behind the wards. This is not a coincidence.¡± She paused in her steady stroll, looking their way once more. ¡°There are dangers on any Relic World, and Strife is no exception. You are free to make bad decisions, we only hope that you learn from them.¡±


    At a glance, Sylvas would have guessed that the whole world was dead. It wasn¡¯t as if anything could grow in the choked earth, which meant that anything that did survive out there would have been bereft of nutrition. When she spoke about dangers, he had to assume that they were discussing something more esoteric than the predators that had haunted the wild places of Croesia. He knew that this world had been destroyed by an Eidolon, but it wasn¡¯t as though it was still stomping around. He¡¯d have to find some other student and pump them for information about whatever threats were meant to be out there.


    The buildings that the Ardent had claimed for their training camp could not have been more different from the distant toppled towers of steel and stone. There was a degree of care and effort put into the construction that would have made the artisans of home ashamed. Complex crenellations and frescoes covered every exposed wall of the buildings. Once they might have been things of true beauty that people came from all over to see, now they were ruins. Whatever beauty they might have once possessed destroyed by the violence that had sundered some of them into pieces and knocked others askew. Slowly but surely, Sylvas was seeing through the optical illusion of Strife. It looked as smooth and even as the surface of any planet he¡¯d ever walked ¨C an admittedly short list of worlds ¨C but that was only because of the levelling effect of the dust laying on top of everything. The stone below the earth where these buildings had been anchored had been smashed and shattered, knocked off kilter by tectonic forces that he couldn¡¯t even conceive of.


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    ¡°Your lessons will be conducted primarily in the central temple complex,¡± Aurea pointed to the largest of the intact buildings. It was still missing a whole wing on the side facing away from the cliff, and it was set at an off camber, just slightly tilted from being upright. It rose like a spire to almost a quarter of the cliff¡¯s height, and here and there amongst the caked on red dust that clogged its intricately carved outer surfaces there were glints of white polished marble not yet sanded away to nothing.


    Sylvas eyes turned to follow where Aurea¡¯s hand pointed, but his mind was buzzing with everything that they¡¯d seen so far. She gestured vaguely away from the buildings to the dunes towards the ravine. ¡°Live training will take place in the field beyond the wards, your safety is not guaranteed in any scenario.¡±


    It should have felt dangerous, to be doing their training out next to such a sudden drop-off, but there was so much space all around them, completely devoid of people, devoid of anything really, that Sylvas didn¡¯t think they¡¯d ever feel constrained.


    ¡°Affinity testing is conducted in outbuilding four, outbuildings one through three are storage and supplies, speak to Quartermaster Chul if you need anything and she¡¯ll be happy to direct you. Anything on Strife is yours for the taking if it helps your training, but the Quartermaster prefers to keep her stock-lists up to date.¡±


    The outbuildings were all vast edifices of carved stone that would have made a fine and stately home for any of the high lords of Croesia, were it not for their terrible state of disrepair. They were slung lower than the temple, but Sylvas struggled to think of anything that wouldn¡¯t have looked squat next to that spire. Around their sides red dust had heaped up, sometimes almost as high as the second story. Here and there, glints of metal showed through the cracked walls and tumbledown roofs where the new arrivals had thrown up some hasty patches and shoring to keep them upright. ¡°Outbuildings five and up are mixed purpose, some of your lessons might take you there, but not all of them have been fully reclaimed, your safety is not guaranteed if you choose to explore them.¡±


    Even within the wards that the Ardent had laid down, it sounded like there were still dangers. Admittedly, they were more likely to be problems of crumbling architecture rather than rampaging Eidolons, but it did put things into perspective. Perhaps the danger out in the dunes wasn¡¯t any creature, but simply the instability of what was hidden underneath them. If those great towers out beyond the chasm were the norm for this world, it would be easy enough to step above a window somewhere out there and be sucked down into a ruin when the dust gave way.


    Finally Aurea came to a halt just as they reached the outer edges of the buildings, gesturing towards the cliff-face itself. ¡°You¡¯ll be billeted underground in the necropolis, it doesn¡¯t sound very friendly, but once you¡¯ve seen the dust-storms sweeping through you won¡¯t mind the company of the dead so much.¡±


    Kaya had been blessedly quiet throughout the hike down, but now she piped up. ¡°What¡¯s that other building over there?¡±


    It was another tower, similar to the primary temple but shorter and slung further out between the cliff and the rest of the campus. The lower floors were blocky and looked like they¡¯d been reinforced with some modern construction that made it stand out from the rest of the ruins. ¡°As you¡¯re both Infantry recruits don¡¯t need to worry about that building, its primary use is for those who have already been transferred to the naval service as well as those selected for officer cadet training. They both have a much more intensive academic workload and as such need a different environment for study. Perhaps if either of you distinguish yourselves during your training, you¡¯ll find yourselves transferred there, but until then, I¡¯d suggest steering clear unless you¡¯re invited.¡±


    ¡°I see, thank you instructor,¡± Kaya replied afterwards, her expression taking a bit of a thoughtful look as she continued to stare in the direction of the building.


    The next notable moment after that was when Mengrammon abruptly turned to look at them as they were walking and snapped out a quick spell, almost prompting Sylvas to instinctively cast a shield. Fortunately though he was able to stop his hands from rising at the last second when he realized it was just a simple scrying spell. One that unlike the other Kaya had taught him he was able to see as well.


    Name: Kayagrah Ormbjorn Runemaul


    Species: Meteoric Dwarf


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 88%


    First Circle Embodiment: Steelflesh


    First Circle Paradigm: Clockmind


    Affinity: Undiscovered


    Strength: E1


    Resilience: E7


    Speed: F5


    Potency: F9


    Focus: E0


    Regeneration: F9


    Name: Sylvas Vail


    Species: Human


    Health: 94%


    Mana: 281%


    First Circle Embodiment: Arterium Arcanum


    First Circle Paradigm: Clearmind


    Affinity: Undiscovered


    Strength: F1


    Resilience: F2


    Speed: F1


    Potency: E2


    Focus: E9


    Regeneration: E9


    ¡°Everything looks good,¡± the administrator declared simply before picking up speed away from them without any further acknowledgement, very clearly heading off to attend to whatever duties was next on his schedule.


    Then it was Aurea¡¯s turn to give the two of them another glance over before motioning on ahead. ¡°Your first task is to report to Quartermaster Chul for uniforms, then to head straight to the temple to catch up to your classes for the day, when you have time check your slates for dormitory assignments. You can get settled in after the day¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Er, what time should we start?¡± Sylvas asked, almost leaving the question there before suddenly remembering himself. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Now, recruit.¡± Aurea replied as she fixed Sylvas with a stare. ¡°And I¡¯d run if I were you. Sunset is in eighteen minutes; that¡¯s when your first class starts.¡±


    Kaya had her slate out and was frantically flicking through the text on the screen trying to locate the quartermaster, so she missed the slightest hint of a sly smile on Aurea¡¯s face as she sent them off.


    ¡°Welcome to Strife.¡±

 Chapter 21

    ¡°The Crest of the Ardent is one of the most sophisticated pieces of magical item manufacture that you are ever likely to see. A device smaller than the palm of your hand, which will nonetheless shield you from death and bodily harm unless you are exposed to ridiculously extreme forces. Just another benefit of signing up today!¡±


    ¡ªSo You Want To Join The Ardent, Recruitment Brochure


    Quartermaster Chul was another fiend, albeit one who was about twice the width of any of the ones that Sylvas had encountered previously. Sylvas had assumed that their litheness was a species specific trait, but apparently there was a great deal of diversity. Chul looked like she had been made out of a single slab of muscle that horns and a face had been pasted onto, but she was clipped, polite and efficient in dealing with them. Handing over correctly sized uniforms to them both, and promising that she¡¯d have three changes delivered to their bunks by the day¡¯s end.


    Kaya immediately began stripping off her old clothes to get into her uniform and Sylvas almost got whiplash, turning away so quickly.


    She hooted with laughter. Then reached up and tugged at the back of his jumpsuit hard enough that it nearly pulled him off-balance. ¡°Go on, get changed quick, we¡¯ve got ten minutes and no clues as where to go.¡±


    Sylvas glanced around, but there wasn¡¯t anywhere nearby that would serve to hide him from sight. Chul sat behind a desk, and beyond that desk were endless rows of shelves, but they all ran directly away from where they stood, offering no cover. Besides, he was pretty sure the fiend would not have been happy about him wandering back there. ¡°I would prefer a little privacy.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve seen it all before,¡± Kaya brayed. ¡°Haven¡¯t we Chul?¡±


    Sylvas looked to the fiend for support and received nothing but the same dull-eyed expression that had been there since they arrived, and presumably every moment of her life before they walked in. Eventually the massive fiend conceded and gave a shrug with one shoulder.


    Reaching for the zipper, and very deliberately not looking back at Kaya, Sylvas changed into his new uniform. There was some degree of hooting and whistling coming from behind him as he was exposed, but he chose not to pay it any mind. Or at least he tried to, he was still bright red by the time that they¡¯d turned in their old jumpsuits and got out the door.


    The uniforms were strange to Sylvas, who had spent his previous life dealing only in natural fabrics and wooden buttons. The plain dark garments worn against the skin were oddly constricting compared to the loose flowing robes he had been accustomed to, tight around him, but with enough give in the fabric that they didn¡¯t impede his movements. At least the trousers were vaguely familiar, though they too were black. The only real flair in the whole outfit was the overcoat, which hung down to hit him mid-thigh, and was meant to be worn open, so far as he could tell. It was white, with some blue sections, presumably signaling something about his rank or role that he didn¡¯t understand. Kaya looked completely comfortable in her own trousers and top until she added that same jacket on top, at which point the forced formality of it made her look out of place.


    ¡°Stop gawking and start running.¡± She grumbled at him, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. It was funny but Sylvas was pretty sure that she¡¯d have been more comfortable strutting around in nothing at all than in the well-fitted uniform.


    The distance from Outbuilding One to the temple was not far but running across the dust made for slow going. Sylvas couldn¡¯t get traction, and even the far more athletic dwarf at his side seemed to be struggling, pumping her short legs as fast as they could carry her and only just managing to keep pace with Sylvas.


    They arrived just as the red sun was dipping out of sight behind the dunes, barely having a moment to take in the hodge-podge mixture of new technology and ancient stonework that comprised the entryway into the temple building before they bolted up the stairs. The lecture hall was in the center of the spire, almost halfway up its height, and Sylvas began to wonder if their circular sprints around the bay on the ship had just been preparation for getting to class on time up these spiral staircases. His red face by the time that he¡¯d made it to the heavy wooden doors of the chamber was due to being overheated and overexerted instead of any unexpected nudity and they burst in side by side.


    There were dozens of other students in the room. All of them wearing the same uniforms that Sylvas and Kaya had just shrugged on. Beyond that uniform though, there was a diversity of faces that Sylvas had never imagined that he might encounter in his lifetime. Elves, dwarves, humans, fiends, najash, and a hulking furry creature that Sylvas had never even read about sat in the rows of raised seating around the sides of the round room looking down at the instructor who was currently perched up on the edge of his desk, fiddling with his slate.


    The instructor had looked human when they arrived, but on closer inspection, there were certain elements that Sylvas had never seen in any human being before. The man¡¯s eyes were a solid blue, shining like the ocean in the sunlight and his shaggy hair floated around his head as though he were himself suspended in water. His robes were as plain and simple as Instructor Aurea¡¯s but in a deep blue to match his eyes, and they too shifted about him as though moved by unseen tides. He looked up at the new arrivals with an expression that Sylvas found hard to read through his alien features, before gesturing to an empty space in the front row.


    There was some low chatter as they took their places, along with a great deal of staring, but silence fell when the instructor rose to his feet. Sylvas and Kaya had been the last to arrive.


    ¡°For those of you who are new here, good evening, I am Instructor Fahred, tasked with the dubious honor of instructing all you meatheads in the art of magic.¡± There were some chuckles among the other students, but Sylvas suspected that it hadn¡¯t been the joke that they were taking it as. ¡°Each of you will receive some degree of one-on-one instruction to assist with your advancement, but for the most part the only time that I have to look at your vacant expressions will be here, in this chamber. Where I will impart my boundless knowledge, and if you manage to absorb even the tiniest fraction of it, a miracle will have occurred.¡±


    He drew his hand from the slate he carried towards the great slate on the wall behind him, creating an illusory duplicate of what he had scribed there large enough for them all to see. The title on the board read ¡°Magic for Idiots.¡±


    Kaya seemed amused, so Sylvas kept his opinions to himself as the lecture began in earnest.


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    Over the course of an hour, everything that Sylvas thought that he knew about magic was overturned with offhand comments and quips from Fahred. The basics were blessedly intact, but the larger context that had been deliberately hidden from him when he was a puppet of the Grand Masters started to come into view at last.


    With a soft spoken word, water began to spiral up from Fahred¡¯s fingertips, glimmering in the dull electric light of the lecture hall, coiling and twisting into spellforms, then breaking apart into the component sigils of each form. ¡°I present to you now, the official introduction to magic, even if it is a load of nonsense. The language of spells, the components we slap together like toddlers with building blocks, was once spoken and written by some primordial species that predated all the rest of them by so long that they have passed into legend.¡±


    He rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Some think that magic is the language of the gods who had created the universe, some think it is the speech of a species that had advanced so far in their understanding of magic that they may as well have been gods. With every expression of their thoughts becoming reality.¡±


    The water display burst apart, spritzing the front row with a cloud of vapor.


    ¡°Personally, I¡¯m of the opinion that the language allegedly used by these Aions is simply some universal constant, like the speed of light, or gravity. We do not understand the full context of it, but it works all the same. Much like a primitive sapient throwing a rock doesn¡¯t need to understand the underlying physics, all he has to do to throw. So too we do the same with our efforts in magic. Or at least you all do.¡±


    Some of the other students were frowning as he proceeded with the lecture, but Sylvas expression remained neutral. He wanted to understand what the Instructor was driving at, even if the path he was taking to get there kept changing.


    ¡°And if you want to get truly upset with me contradicting your elementary education, I also don¡¯t believe that Eidolons are existing creatures that dwell in another plane of reality. It makes more sense for them to be conjurations of imagination. Things that people believed in and invested with enough magical power to manifest into reality.¡±


    Both of these views were what Sylvas would have once called heresy, but it seemed that the Empyrean Alliance and the Ardent were a little more relaxed about people disputing the things that they considered fundamental truths. There was something strangely freeing about learning the Empyrean way of thinking while also hearing someone undercut it constantly with contradictory evidence, but it probably wasn¡¯t the most conducive to easy learning.


    Kaya¡¯s brows were drawn down and deep furrows showed on her forehead as she scribbled notes. A glance along the row showed that most of the other recruits had similarly aggravated expressions. Mages that didn¡¯t want to learn more about magic. That was something that Sylvas had never expected to encounter in his life, but he supposed that for all of them, magic was just a fact of life, whereas for him it had been a revelation.


    The instructor must have spotted his roaming eyes, because Sylvas attention was snapped back to him by a sudden squirt of water hitting the side of the head, prompting some laughter from the other students.


    ¡°Terribly sorry to bore you, didn¡¯t realize you knew all this already.¡± Fahred smirked before returning to the lecture. Sylvas tried to mop some of the moisture out of his hair with his sleeve, but the overcoat wasn¡¯t absorbent on the outside, so he really just moved the water around.


    There was another hour to the lecture before it finally came to its end, by which point Kaya looked as though she had gone three rounds boxing with Quartermaster Chul or drunk three rounds with Kerbo. Her eyes were glazed over. For Sylvas, it was everything that he¡¯d hoped for and more. This idea of the words of spells being some universal constant helped him to understand some of the bits and pieces that Kaya had been teaching him back on the ship, about tapping into other concepts that existed outside of his understanding to cast magic. Obviously, he meant to learn more and bring those concepts into his understanding as soon as possible, but it was nice to know that all of them were floundering in the dark together to some degree. Even if Instructor Fahred acted as though he knew all the secrets to the universe, and they were just above Sylvas and the other recruits¡¯ pay-grade.


    The class began to file out after the instructor wiped the board clean of his hasty scribbles and diagrams, with most of the existing students heading down the stairs en-masse in a group. One or two stragglers hung back to give Sylvas and Kaya a little more staring time, but for the most part, they were left behind alone.


    Fahred looked up as Sylvas approached his desk. ¡°Your next class is in out-building five, beginning in fifteen minutes, I recommend you get down there as swiftly as possible before Instructor Vaelith comes to the conclusion that you¡¯re trying to skip it and sends her wolves after you.¡±


    When Sylvas still didn¡¯t leave, the instructor sighed and set down his slate, gesturing at Sylvas for him to speak. ¡°You said that we¡¯d have private lessons to discuss our advancement.¡±


    Rolling his eyes, Fahred returned to his work. ¡°It will be added to your timetable in due course.¡±


    The instructor seemed to think that had settled the matter, but after a long moment, he seemed to realize that Sylvas was still standing there, with Kaya half-hiding behind him as though she didn¡¯t want to be implicated in his terrible crime of speaking to the person that was meant to be teaching them. ¡°I¡¯ve been told that I need to advance as quickly as possible.¡±


    Fahred let out a high-pitched laugh while his expression remained entirely bored. ¡°Of course you were. Which particular imbecile passed that terrible advice down to you? You advance when you have the capacity to do so, rushing it is a surefire way to create instabilities in your mana core.¡±


    Ignoring the sarcasm, Sylvas answered the question as though it was a real one. ¡°The doctor on the ship that brought us.¡±


    ¡°You were advised to advance fast for medical reasons, never heard that one before.¡± Fahred¡¯s tone was still flippant, but Sylvas had obviously caught his attention. He looked up at him properly now, and all around the man¡¯s head a halo of blue eyes began to manifest as he cast a spell of scrying. ¡°Oh I see, oh that is profoundly stupid. Who taught you to condense your mana like that at circle one?¡±


    The question took Sylvas off-guard. ¡°Nobody? I mean, myself, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that adds up. Self-taught mages, the bane of my existence.¡± Fahred pinched the bridge of his hawkish nose. ¡°Your erstwhile medical advisor is correct, with the density of mana you currently possess, you are essentially a ticking time-bomb. Bravo! Usually you infantry recruits have to be here a few days before they become a danger to themselves and others but you¡¯re ahead of the pack.¡±


    Hearing his doom being spoken yet again had little effect on Sylvas. He¡¯d been through enough in his short life that the prospect of death by explosion didn¡¯t really faze him all that much. ¡°Will I be able to receive one-on-one¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, obviously.¡± Fahred cut him off before grumbling. ¡°You¡¯re the most special mage that has ever crossed my path, and you require my full and undivided attention because of how very important you are.¡±


    Sylvas stared at him blankly, making sure not to show the irritation that he was feeling inside. ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t want to explode.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s quite literally the smartest thing I¡¯ve heard anyone say today,¡± Fahred replied as he rolled his eyes theatrically once, before giving Sylvas an reluctant, yet acknowledging nod. ¡°It will be added to your timetable when we can fit you in. Please try not to catastrophically explode before then. Or if you do, try not to do it in my classroom, I haven¡¯t the patience for cleaning up your giblets.¡±


    They left for their next class after that without another word said and no love lost between Sylvas and his current favorite instructor. Heading down the flight of stairs alone, again, with all the other students having long since departed.


    Kaya smirked at him as they rounded the bend in the stairs. ¡°That went well.¡±


    His eyes narrowed, but he didn¡¯t answer her.


    ¡°Careful you don¡¯t stub your toe and explode.¡± She nudged him with an elbow. ¡°Careful you don¡¯t trip. Wouldn¡¯t want you to explode all the way down the stairs.¡±


    Her antics were enough to bring a little smile back to Sylvas face, but if he had known what the rest of his day was going to contain, there wouldn¡¯t have been a force powerful enough in the universe to brighten his mood.

 Chapter 22

    ¡°Live combat drills are one of the most effective ways to train Ardent troops for conflict with the Enemy. While Eidolons will not behave like humanoid casters, the variety of spells and embodiments on display in the typical training group does represent the diversity of foes that will be faced with some degree of accuracy. The rivalries that develop as a result of these combat drills also provide many recruits with the drive they need to succeed.¡±


    ¡ªInternal Memo, Administrator Mengrammon


    As it turned out, their next lesson was not actually going to take place in the outbuilding. That was just where they were all meeting up before heading out into the field beyond the wards. Sylvas felt a little prickle of anxiety as they passed beyond the protective barrier of the spells, but it was short lived.


    Instructor Vaelith was an elvish woman of indeterminate years, scarred all across her exposed face and arms from what must have been decades if not centuries of minor injuries. Unlike the flowing hair that species seemed to cultivate normally, her hair was clipped short, so close that the intricate vines tattooed on her head were visible through the fuzz, and there was a determined set to her jaw that changed her from just another delicate featured elf into something more imposing.


    It also turned out that the wolves that Fahred had joked about were literal, rather than figurative.


    There were two of them dogging her heels everywhere that she walked. Grey furred in places, but thinning to a green mist as they moved, like they were fading in and out of being. At first, Sylvas thought that they were just another visual illusion but then he caught sight of the footprints they were leaving behind in the dust. Whatever they were, they were physically there, at least to some extent. Maybe he had it backwards, and they were actual wolves that Vaelith had cast some sort of enchantment on rather than something she¡¯d conjured into being, but his gut told him that the Ardent probably weren¡¯t allowed to keep pets.


    The open space between the edge of the wards and the chasm was even bigger than Sylvas had originally thought. The whole class worth of students had to jog to keep up with the pace that Vaelith set, but they could have gone on jogging for another ten minutes without actually reaching the ravine.


    In spite of the sunset and the relative darkness outside, Sylvas wasn¡¯t cold. Warmth still radiated up from beneath the dust, and judging by the fact that nobody else had thrown on an extra layer, he supposed that it would continue to stay comfortable. It was strange, moving around under the starlight as if it was midday, but the stars here shone that much brighter that if he didn¡¯t look up Sylvas could almost convince himself it wasn¡¯t night. If it was this warm at night, then he could only imagine that Strife became unbearable when the sun was high, which probably explained the flipped schedule.


    He almost walked into the back of Kaya when the procession suddenly stopped. Vaelith turned to face them, her dogs snarling silently by her sides. ¡°I see new faces, so it is our job to show these tourists what life on Strife is all about.¡±


    Groaning started all around, cut short only when Vaelith raised a hand for silence. ¡°That is correct children, we are doing live combat testing today.¡±


    She clapped her hands together, not for silence, but to begin her casting. Beneath their feet the dust began to boil. Already, the other students were taking off running in different directions, some little cliques sticking together, but most sprinting all out whichever way didn¡¯t seem to contain another student. Sylvas cast a worried glance in Kaya¡¯s direction. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    Kaya stared at him with a vaguely anxious expression. ¡°Remember about that hot greeting? Well, I think we found it.¡±


    From beneath the sand, stone began to rise. Not the fallen buildings of the distant side of the ravine, but massive rectangular blocks all the same, rising up all around them in what looked like a random pattern. Blocking direct line of sight between the different students and spreading out across the plain to make a sort of blank fa?ade of what a city might look like if stripped back to nothing but abstract shapes. By the time Vaelith was done, Sylvas and Kaya were the only ones still nearby. She clapped her hands again. ¡°Run along, kids. Time to fight everyone else in your class.¡±


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    ¡°What?¡± Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but blurt it out, even after the many lessons he¡¯d learned about asking stupid questions already.


    Vaelith was smiling, but there was no happiness in it. Only a predatory intensity that set his hair on edge. ¡°Live combat training. Don¡¯t hit each other with anything overtly lethal. Don¡¯t pull punches either. They won¡¯t be going easy on you.¡±


    Sylvas cast his gaze around the false cityscape, it had been an oddity before, but now it was hostile, every shadow potentially hiding an enemy. ¡°Do we have specific opponents, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Everyone is a target.¡± She barked back, cutting him off. Her wolves snarling briefly as if to punctuate the point. ¡°If it isn¡¯t wearing an Ardent uniform, it is a threat. That¡¯s your first lesson of the day.¡±


    She then threw something at Sylvas and Kaya. The dwarf¡¯s mechanical hand snapped out to catch it, while the one directed to Sylvas hit him square in the chest and he had to fumble to snag it.


    It was something like a broach or cloak-clip. A small silver shield. Something Sylvas had seen the other students wearing and assumed was simply a part of the uniform. But touching it, he could feel the mana bound up inside it. It was a construct of magic as much as any physical craftsmanship. A potent one.


    ¡°The crest keeps you alive. Absorbs the worst of the hits, knocks you out when you¡¯ve taken enough damage to kill you.¡± Vaelith¡¯s attention had already turned back to the field. ¡°Wear it at all times. Or don¡¯t. Saves me from grading you if you¡¯re dead.¡±


    Kaya had caught up to the conversation, grumbling mostly to herself. ¡°Aren¡¯t some of that lot second circle mages already?¡±


    ¡°Most of them,¡± Vaelith conceded readily. ¡°A few are up to their third. You¡¯re both a few weeks behind after all.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem fair.¡± The dwarf crossed her arms across her chest.


    A harmless blast of green fire washed over them both, sparking both crests briefly to life and sending Kaya staggering back. A sign that Vaelith¡¯s patience had reached its end. ¡°You think Eidolons and all of the other nasties in the universe will play fair? Line up in order of power so that we can match up with them safely? They won¡¯t. So get your assess out there and get bloody.¡±


    Kaya opened and shut her mouth, fury bubbling beneath the surface, then grabbed Sylvas by the sleeve and dragged him off with her. ¡°Cheeky culgh, thinks she can talk to me like I¡¯m krahg just because we¡¯re¡ª¡±


    ¡°Kaya, you¡¯re getting untranslatable again.¡± Sylvas spoke as gently as he dared the instructors words having left an impression on him.


    ¡°I get it, alright?¡± Kaya snapped back at him. ¡°I get why they¡¯re doing all this, trying to keep us on our toes. Doesn¡¯t mean I have to be happy about it.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they are trying to make us adaptable.¡± Sylvas wasn¡¯t exactly delighted with the situation himself. He was letting Kaya drag him along mostly so that he didn¡¯t have to watch where he was going and could instead keep his senses sharp in case they came under attack. With a quick press, the crest assumed its position on his chest. This was hardly his first time being the new kid in a new situation, and he was well aware of the pack mentality that would probably lead the existing students to gang up on them.


    In the distance, spells sounded, their strange echoes bouncing back and forth through the valleys of the city streets Vaelith had raised.


    ¡°And what¡¯s this krahg about fighting the other recruits?¡± Kaya went on grumbling without pause. ¡°Do they think that we¡¯re just going to¡ª¡±


    Whatever Kaya thought that the Ardent thought, Sylvas would never find out. Because the solid stone block beside them parted like a curtain, and one of the other recruits, a hulking human who Sylvas was pretty sure had been snoring during the lecture, came barreling out at them.


    Both of them had their own sets of instincts. Sylvas cast a shield against incoming spells that the incoming recruit ran right through without even noticing. Kaya¡¯s response was to dive straight into the charging human¡¯s midsection, slamming her shoulder into his gut and doubling him over, before straightening up and dumping him onto the ground behind her. With a twist of the hips and a brutal crunch, she brought her heel down onto his face before he could recover.


    Just like that, they¡¯d taken down their first classmate.


    ¡°Blessed kragh.¡± Kaya let out a huff of breath before squatting to check that their attacker was out for the count.


    Sylvas let his useless shield drop. ¡°Remind me never to annoy you.¡±


    ¡°I will. Daily.¡± She chuckled, rising to her feet again. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    An explosion detonated somewhere out of sight, the wave of displaced air and heat washing over the two of them, rocking them where they stood.


    ¡°Kill them all, I suppose,¡± He looked from her bloody steel heel to the suddenly sinister stone risen all around them. It was perfectly smooth, spell-wrought, and it had given nothing away about the incoming attack until the very last moment. ¡°Or knock them out at least.¡±


    Kaya rolled her eyes at the oversimplified statement. ¡°Aye, but, how?¡±

 Chapter 23

    ¡°Magical combat differs immensely from the hand-to-hand brawling that characterizes most pre-advancement societies. It is a matter of tactics, planning, cunning and resource allocation. Each spell that you cast has the opportunity cost of one that you now cannot. Each spell you fail to cast has the opportunity cost of victory.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    While his education had been considered prodigious back on his home world, fighting had never been central to it.


    Life had been slower, more focused on their advancement. The few spells that could have been used in combat were things that he¡¯d picked up in his own research, or as part of competing with the others, rather than it being his focus. He was completely out of his depth. But his brain hadn¡¯t suddenly stopped working just because he¡¯d been thrown into a new situation.


    ¡°You handle them close, I handle them at range. If nothing else, my mana supplies can hopefully outlast them.¡±


    Above them, spells flitted through the air. Sudden volleys of flame, lightning, and other bright and far more bombastically colored bolts zipped through the sky, back and forth. Swiveling in direction as their casters moved at high speed. Kaya kept her eyes on Sylvas. ¡°But how do you want to do this?¡±


    Sylvas looked around once more. They didn¡¯t have the same experience as the people that were already here, the other students had probably honed their reflexes in fights like this regularly. If they wanted to come out on top, then they couldn¡¯t just go with the flow and accept whatever was happening to them, they had to change the game. ¡°They¡¯re used to fighting in this environment. So we either change the environment or get out of it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d rather be a sitting frog out on the sand?¡±


    ¡°A sitting frog?¡± He repeated in question, frowning as he did so.


    ¡°Aye, out in the open.¡±


    Sylvas had to think about it for a moment, but the fact was that he probably would have preferred that. He¡¯d have been able to see what was happening around him and respond accordingly. Admittedly, he might lose the head-to-head fight with all the other students, but at least he¡¯d feel like he had a fair shot at it.


    But to do that, he needed to change the lay of the land. ¡°Do you know the spell Vaelith used to raise the blocks?¡±


    Kaya scowled at him as she crossed her arms before her. ¡°You think that just because I¡¯m a dwarf I know every spell that works stone?!¡±


    Sylvas ignored her usual silly posturing for what it was, unable to find himself reminded of Mira in that moment. He quickly shoved the recollection down before his heart started hurting. ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I do know it but I can only cast it once before I¡¯m out of mana. What are you thinking?¡±


    A figure flitted by above them, pursued by a second, both flying too fast for Sylvas to recognize either one of them, but not so fast that they could outpace his Arcane Arrow. One lanced up and struck the pursuer, sending a najash girl tumbling out of the sky to hit the top of one of the buildings beside them hard enough to leave a bloody stain and a scatter of teeth. Sylvas winced, it hadn¡¯t even crossed his mind that people would get hurt. He¡¯d assumed that Vaelith had some sort of ward in place to protect them from real harm, or that the gentle strike he¡¯d made with his Arrow would have scored him a point without the results being so gruesome. The najash didn¡¯t move, just dangled there off the corner of the block. Surrounded by a shimmering silvery glow emanating from her crest.


    ¡°We need to move.¡± Sylvas slipped into Clearmind so he could focus on the task at hand. ¡°Somebody surely saw that.¡±


    ¡°You just¡­¡± Kaya gawked at the fallen lizard-woman as Sylvas dragged her away. ¡°Blessed kragh, boy. Didn¡¯t know you had it in you.¡±


    Sylvas felt sick to his stomach at the sight of the blood trickling down the side of the now cracked stone, but if this was what his life was going to be from now on, he had to get used to it.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got two options, as I see it. Drop the stone back beneath the earth and level the field, at which point we become reliant on me casting faster than everyone else. Or raise even more, crushing everyone into even closer quarters, so that your expertise can shine.¡±


    Kaya looked uncomfortable, possibly for the first time since Sylvas met her. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve got the juice to level the whole thing.¡±


    Without knowing the spell or even any of its workings, Sylvas had no idea how much mana it would take to cast. ¡°How much could you bring down?¡±


    ¡°A few?¡± She shrugged, sheepishly.


    Sylvas kept on scanning the skyline above the buildings as they moved, just waiting for someone to spot the fallen lizard-woman and calculate their position from there. ¡°That isn¡¯t very specific.¡±


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    ¡°How am I meant to know, I don¡¯t use a mining spell for¡ª¡±


    A thunderclap overhead drowned out the rest of that sentence. A thunderclap that then in turn repeated itself, again and again, getting louder with each peal. Kaya put her hands over her ears, but Sylvas bore through the pain with Clearmind to keep him focused.


    They¡¯d had only a few moments to pull their plans together once they¡¯d realized the situation they¡¯d been dumped into, but the other students had been doing this for weeks or months. The teams that Sylvas had seen scurrying off together had probably put together contingency plans for each scenario that they had been dumped into. The thunderous resonance was just one piece of one plan.


    The second piece came into sight, rounding a corner up ahead. Three students all in all. One elf, one dwarf and one fiend. The fiend and elf were in the midst of casting, one summoning the thunderous peals that were sounding overhead, the other creating the protective bubble that surrounded the three of them and kept them from the other spell¡¯s effects.


    The thunder spell was nothing if not effective. Kaya was halfway curled to the fetal position, trying to protect her ears, and Sylvas was dimly aware that he had stopped hearing entirely at some point. He felt blood running down his jaw, leaking steadily from where the deafening noise had achieved its goal, bursting his eardrums.


    However instead of stopping Sylvas like it had Kaya, all it meant was that everything that happened in the next few seconds did so in total silence.


    The leader of the trio spotted Sylvas and Kaya where they stood and launched a spell their way that Sylvas managed to deflect with a hasty and half-formed shield. That dart of red light rebounded into a nearby wall, showering them with fragments and gravel.


    In response, Sylvas launched one Arcane Arrow after another at the trio. The first struck their shield and was absorbed. The pale blue of his magic spreading across its curve and then fading away entirely. He adjusted his aim. He didn¡¯t know how to bring down their shield, had no experience with counter-spells at all, but that didn¡¯t mean he was out of the fight. The next arcane arrow shot right past their shield entirely and clipped the corner of the building beside them.


    Sylvas had invested the full destructive power that he could into that second arrow, far more than he would have dared launch at another person if he didn¡¯t want them dead. Unfortunately thanks to the heat of battle his calculation of the angles involved were off.


    The chunk of rock that was blown off the block beside the trio was meant to soar across and hit their dwarf leader in the temple, knocking him out of the fight and eliminating the threat. Instead, it landed in the elf¡¯s hands, crushing his fingers and disrupting his casting.


    There was no sound, but Sylvas liked to imagine that the bubble went pop when the casting of the shield stopped. Both fiend, elf and dwarf were struck by the fiend¡¯s thunderous spell, knocked to their knees by it, grasping at their ears. It only lasted a brief moment before the interrupted casting brought the effect to an end, but that moment was enough to floor all three of them, and more than enough time for Sylvas to line up his shots.


    The first Arcane Arrow hit the dwarf in the forehead with enough force to knock him out. The fiend seemed to recover faster than the elf, moving to cast again the moment that her friend fell, but she too took an Arcane Arrow to the face before she had a chance to speak another word.


    Kaya stumbled into Sylvas¡¯ line of sight, mouth working as she went, meaning that she was probably rambling on as usual. That was a relief at least, there was probably no harm done. The elf managed to throw up a ward before Sylvas¡¯ Arrow hit her, but it gave Kaya all the time she needed to close the distance between them and leap at the unfortunate elf. She led with her metal fist and landed on top of a soon unconscious elf. She said something to Sylvas, but he couldn¡¯t make out a word. Pointing at his bleeding ears by way of explanation.


    The dwarf¡¯s brows drew down and she said something that Sylvas probably wouldn¡¯t have understood anyway thanks to the limitations of translation spells.


    Then a spell took her from behind.


    It wasn¡¯t one of the simple darts of power that the students had been flinging around so far, yet something much more sinister. There was a concussion that Sylvas felt even at this distance, and her prosthetics were all flung away from her body with brutal force. She landed heavily on her face, the same impact that had smashed her legs and arm away having thankfully put her out of action before she had to deal with the traumatic consequences of her dismemberment. The silvery haze of the crest covered her, slowing the bleeding, stabilizing her without actually helping.


    The dwarf that Sylvas had thought was knocked out was back on his feet and casting.


    Sylvas was alone, deafened, and completely out of his depth. So he did the only thing that made sense, he went on the offensive. Nobody in their right mind would have charged towards that caster, which meant that they were probably completely unprepared.


    The ground rippled beneath his feet as he sprinted forwards, sending him crashing face-first into Kaya where she lay. He pushed himself up and readied a ward just in time to deflect a beam of bright, blinding red light as it lanced at him. It seared out from the central point where it had struck that shield, spreading rapidly until he let the spell fall, then the cinders scattered away from him. For a moment he could see again, just well enough that when a second beam of red zipped towards him, he was able to duck down. It sizzled past the back of his neck, setting his hair on fire as he got his head out of the way.


    The mage attacking him was stout and solid, but moving with such speed and grace that it stunned Sylvas. The man leapt from where he had last launched a beam, kicked off the wall above them and came down on the far side of Sylvas, already casting once more. Sylvas own attempt to send an Arcane Arrow after him hit nothing but air. The dwarf was just too fast.


    This time it was not a red beam but a solid orb of the same color that struck Sylvas square in the chest, driving all the air from his lungs with its burning impact. If he hadn¡¯t already endured such terrible pain as a part of summoning an Eidolon, then the pain alone probably would have been enough to knock him out then and there. But he managed to breathe through, gathering his wits and his strength once more.


    He hadn¡¯t even made it off his knees yet since being toppled by the initial rippling of the ground but looking up at the dwarf sneering down at him with contempt, he tried to stand.


    It was the latest in a long line of mistakes.


    The dwarf had closed the distance between them in the time since casting the orb. And his fist caught Sylvas square in the jaw. Sylvas had taken more than his fair share of punches in his early life, but nothing could have prepared him for this one. Kaya had been strong thanks to her Embodiment, but this dwarf was a true monster. Bones shattered, muscles ripped and Sylvas was knocked out cold before he even hit the ground, a flutter of silver covering his vision before everything turned dark.

 Chapter 24

    ¡°Advances in the field of medical magic have always been at the forefront of every society that eventually reached the stars. Without the ability to heal from grievous injury, much of the experimentation necessary to master magic simply would not happen.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    The infirmary on Strife was one of the most visited chambers in the underground complex within the cliff-face.


    While most of the tunnels were bare stone carved into the solid rock, decorated only with a thin coating of the same red dust that seemed to get everywhere, the infirmary was made almost entirely of pristine white panels and tiles. The only oddity in this sterile environment was that over in the corner of the room, far from the beds, where the doctor dwelled, someone had brought in some sort of antique rug, a wooden desk, and a complex piece of steam powered machinery that apparently made coffee. Its hissing was actually what woke him up, blinking at the bright light shining down on his face from above. He looked around, but Kaya was not in the beds to either side of him, and the others were sealed off behind thin curtains.


    Reaching up to his chest, Sylvas could still feel the ache from where the red sphere had struck him. A round bruise right on his breastbone. On the plus side, his face didn¡¯t seem any the worse for wear after having its jaw knocked off. He worked his mouth open and shut a few times, feeling a strange numbness instead of pain. The beds that he could see were all occupied by other students from the same training exercise that he¡¯d just been downed by. The Najash girl that he¡¯d knocked out of the sky was staring directly at him from the bed opposite. She showed her teeth, which might have been a smile or a demonstration that they had all been put back into their correct place, but it seemed more like a threat. ¡°A cheap shot.¡±


    The mistake had been hers of course. She had put herself out in the open where anyone might have struck her down. It was just coincidence that Sylvas happened to be the first one to do so. ¡°I see a target, I hit a target.¡±


    She pushed herself off the bed to loom over him. ¡°Next time, your sithrask is mine.¡±


    The word didn¡¯t translate, but Sylvas had a vague idea that it was a part of his anatomy that she wished to own. He knew so little about the Najashi culture that it was entirely possible that this was flirting rather than death threats, but he wasn¡¯t sure which was more frightening. Either way, the lizard swished her tail in irritation as she left the room, almost colliding with the doctor as she entered, carrying an armful of potion bottles.


    For the first time since having access to a slate and the Empyrean¡¯s introductory course to galactic civilization, he could not immediately place the species he was face to face with. There were parts of her features that he would have said were entirely human, but her ears came to sharp points beneath the curls of her hair. A half-elf maybe? Or something else entirely that he¡¯d never encountered in his reading. She wore white robes and a tired expression, giving him a glance before saying, ¡°you¡¯re awake? Good. Get out. I need the bed.¡±


    He obeyed almost without thinking, pausing only to retrieve his jacket from where it had been hung on a hook by the bed and ask, ¡°my friend Kaya¡­¡±


    Rolling her eyes, the doctor dumped the potions in a heap on a hovering tray and picked up a slate. ¡°Species, sex, circle?¡±


    It took Sylvas a moment. ¡°Dwarf, female, first circle.¡±


    ¡°Recruit Runemaul recovered and has since been released.¡± She tapped the name on her slate, then snapped a hand twice in his direction before pointing at the door. ¡°Now get out.¡±


    Sylvas¡¯ own slate had recovered from being bashed around a little, so he was able to consult with it and learn that he¡¯d missed the only other lesson that they had scheduled for the day but given that 90% of his class had also missed it for medical reasons, the class had been dismissed anyway. Dinner was in the mess hall in about an hour. He had until then to track down his bunk, and Kaya. Hopefully not in that order.


    He wished that they¡¯d had time to cover sending spells before they made planetfall, but it seemed that he needn¡¯t have worried. The second that he stepped out from inside of the wards around the infirmary, Kaya¡¯s sending intercepted him. It was not a pristine white shield like the official messages from the Ardent command, but a haphazardly drawn mushroom. Sylvas sighed his relief as he touched the icon. ¡°Shame you got your culgh kicked. I¡¯m back in one piece. See you in the mess. If you¡¯re up.¡±


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    That was one thing off his to-do list at least. He turned a corner to head towards the bunks and ran directly into a fist to the gut.


    He doubled over. It knocked the wind right out of him. Any attempt to cast was stopped by the lack of air to speak a spell. The next punch was to the face. An uppercut that toppled him over backwards and left him sprawling. The pain hadn¡¯t even arrived before his attacker had seized him by the front of his shirt and hauled him forward until their noses were touching. The dwarf from earlier. A tightly trimmed beard, a wide nose and eyes narrowed with hate. ¡°You ever pull a stunt like that again, there isn¡¯t going to be enough of you left for the mongrel to stitch back together.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t mean to laugh. He really didn¡¯t. But ever since he¡¯d been picked up off his home-world and launched into space everything had felt wrong, alien and confusing. There was nothing familiar for him to hold onto and find his balance. But this, some petty bully with delusions of grandeur, was so familiar to him that it felt like home.


    The dwarf reared back far enough for Sylvas to see his two groupies from earlier lurking behind him. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t bother to answer him. There was no point. Not with men like this. Whatever he said, this thug wouldn¡¯t hear him. His words would be twisted around to justify whatever treatment the bully felt was warranted. So Sylvas did exactly what he¡¯d always done when cornered like this.


    He drove his forehead into the dwarf¡¯s nose.


    The angle wasn¡¯t the best, and he was still weak after his time in the infirmary, but there was a viscerally satisfying crunch as the already flat nose flattened out even more and blood started gushing down the dwarf¡¯s face. He let go of Sylvas and staggered back, reeling from the blow, and Sylvas had enough time to launch himself after the dwarf before the other two could intervene.


    The goal wasn¡¯t to kill the dwarf. He was pretty sure that no matter how cutthroat the Ardent were with their students, they still wouldn¡¯t have wanted their ranks depleted. But if he could convince the dwarf that he was willing to kill him over something so trivial, then an ambush like this probably wouldn¡¯t happen again. He rode the other man¡¯s body down to the dusty floor, hammering blows into his face. Keeping him dazed and confused so that he wouldn¡¯t remember that he was about six times stronger than Sylvas and more than capable of throwing him off.


    Overwhelming violence hadn¡¯t been the response that the dwarf¡¯s lackeys were expecting. The fiend stood by, stunned, and the elf¡¯s expression honestly looked mostly amused. As though he didn¡¯t want to be there anyway and this was a more interesting development than he could have hoped for.


    Still, it couldn¡¯t last forever. Sylvas was still swinging away with his fists when he felt the prickle of kinesis seizing hold of him and hoisting him off. The elf was casting it, even if he didn¡¯t want to be. Meanwhile, the fiend had finally caught on to current events and dashed forward to help his friend back to his feet. The dwarf¡¯s pristine white jacket was stained red down the front as his nose continued to gush blood, and despite the difference in their comparative strengths, Sylvas was pleased to see bruises already blossoming all over the man¡¯s face. Where there weren¡¯t bruises, his face was darkening to a deep red as fury overtook him. The fiend who had helped him up now had to restrain him from rushing at Sylvas all over again while he dangled in the air in the elf¡¯s kinesis¡¯ grasp.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you up on charges!¡± The dwarf bellowed. ¡°You just assaulted a superior officer!¡±


    The elf was watching Sylvas, watching his expression, trying to work out how he was going to react when the kinesis released. Sylvas raised an eyebrow at him, which was about all the motion he could manage while still being held, but it seemed to be enough for the grip to be released. He landed heavily back on his feet. ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone superior here.¡±


    Once again, if Sylvas hadn¡¯t been watching the elf¡¯s face, he didn¡¯t think that he would have seen the slight smirk that appeared there before a carefully disciplined mask of indifference was put back into place.


    The dwarf swaggered forward, pulling at his bloodied jacket to show the black arm patches with a single star that differed from Sylvas¡¯ plain blue. Something Sylvas had overlooked amidst all the action. ¡°I¡¯m in the naval service and officer cadet program, and you¡¯re just lowly infantry. That means I say the word and you spend the night in the brig.¡±


    Both the fiend and the elf wore black trimmed uniform jackets too.


    ¡°And you think you¡¯re going to walk away unscathed? You don¡¯t think they¡¯ll want to know why you and your minions were waiting here to ambush me?¡±


    The fiend was whispering frantically into the dwarf¡¯s ear now. Low enough that Sylvas only caught snippets of her words. ¡°¡ªnot actually officers yet, and we really don¡¯t want that kind of attention otherwise!¡±


    It was enough for the dwarf to pull himself together and spit blood at Sylvas feet. ¡°Right. I tripped. We both tripped. Got it?¡±


    The swagger was back, the superiority, Sylvas couldn¡¯t stand it. And leaving it at this wouldn¡¯t make this problem go away, he had to make sure that the dwarf knew not to bother him. ¡°If you beat me out there, that¡¯s just training. But if you try to ambush me like this again, they¡¯ll never find your body. Got it?¡±


    The dwarf snarled, but the fiend was already nodding and dragging his friend away. ¡°Didn¡¯t happen, won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    It was clearly not the end of the matter for the petty dwarf, but the fiend had her head on straight, and the elf mostly seemed bemused about the whole thing. They hauled him away without any further comment.


    Sylvas debated for a moment whether he should head back to the infirmary and get what little damage he¡¯d suffered patched up, but the pain wasn¡¯t too bad compared to what he was used to, and he couldn¡¯t think of a decent explanation for his injuries that wouldn¡¯t prompt a lot of unwanted questions.


    So with a sigh, he shook his head and he went back to looking for his bunk.

 Chapter 25 & 26

    ¡°On each relic world Eidolons still roam the wild places. Of course they do. They have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. Their work is complete. They are death, and there is nothing left to kill.¡±


    ¡ªRequiem For the Vanished, Luvid Hagen


    His slate gave pretty clear instructions, but the maps were all shown on its two-dimensional surface, when the complex of tunnels and chambers inside the cliff-face was extremely three dimensional. There was no clear distinction between the chimneys through the stone that would have ladders and those that were simply bare and dusty rock, so while moving downwards was all too easy, moving up was hit-or-miss all the way. If I could fly, it would have been no problem. If mana infused my muscles, I could have leapt up and rebounded to the floor above without breaking a sweat, but to a mage with no particular enhancements to their body, and no spells to help me move around, just getting to my bunk is a challenge. And it was a bunk, rather than a room.


    Despite all of the empty space in this ruin that he¡¯d spent time wandering through to find where they¡¯d sleep at night, his bed was fastened on top of another and lined up in a hallway with countless more. The tunnel was barely wide enough for him and the bed to stand side by side, if one of the lockers in between the bunks was opened then the passage became unusable too. It seemed like it was deliberately designed to make them as claustrophobic and uncomfortable as possible. Perhaps it was. Perhaps these were the conditions that they¡¯d be sleeping in on Ardent ships once their training was done. With his bunk found, Sylvas checked in the locker to find the promised changes of uniform already hanging in place, along with a second pair of boots resting at the bottom that he hadn¡¯t even thought to ask about.


    The mess hall was a lot easier to find, if not easier to get to. The whole complex had been built by mages, for mages, so the usual concerns about things like verticality were absent from the design. Stairs and elevators didn¡¯t exist, in part because of the age of the structure they were inhabiting here in the cliffs, but mostly because the people living there didn¡¯t need them.


    The punch earlier had been forgotten in the flood of adrenaline that followed, but it ached like a knot in his stomach now as he clambered and climbed his way down chimneys cut into the bare stone. It was just as well that he had woken in the infirmary so early, otherwise he probably would have missed dinner entirely.


    He arrived in another pristine white space within the cliffside, with all the dust and crumbling stone held back by plates of that same material the ardent ships seemed to be constructed from. Even with the best efforts of the staff and whatever cleaning spells they had at their disposal, the floor did not remain white, red footprints trailed everywhere about the mess. The same regulation patterned boots. The tables and benches were all sterile planes of metal, devoid of any homey touches. This place was not somewhere to get comfortable. Nowhere on the planet seemed to be. The Ardent could have made it a comfortable place if they had wanted, could have set up filtering fields to keep out the rust-colored dust and built in furnishings to make everyone feel at home, but the intention was for them to be uncomfortable. Comfort would have encouraged them to stay put, when the only path to comfort was ascension, even the lazy could be driven on. Sylvas had seen it all, in his last life, before his world died.


    ¡°Oi! Devildrinker!¡± Kaya bellowed at the top of her lungs, making Sylvas and every other recruit nearby flinch. ¡°Over here!¡±


    Somehow, despite having been here precisely the same length of time as Sylvas, Kaya had already managed to slot herself neatly in amongst the other recruits. She was seated in the middle of one of the benches with others pressed in neatly at her sides. All eyes had turned to Sylvas, of course, with her drawing attention to him, but they soon returned to their conversations, all of which Kaya seemed to be at the heart of. Sylvas had known that she was easy to get along with once you got past the rough edges, but he had no idea that she¡¯d prove to be so¡­ sociable.


    He made a detour to the kitchen where a depressed looking elf in a hairnet carefully assembled a tray of food for him, even adding a sprig of some herb on top of the heap of nutritional slop just for the look of it, then headed over to join Kaya. It was with no small amazement that he approached the packed table and saw people slide along the bench to make room for him. Perhaps he would find some camaraderie here after all.


    ¡°Why¡¯s she call you that?¡± A slender fiend girl to his left asked him and for a brief moment, Sylvas flashed back to the memory of a forked tongue tickling along the roof of his mouth.


    He blinked the recollection away. ¡°The first time that I met Kaya, it was after a rather poorly considered night out with one of your kinfolk.¡±


    ¡°End up in the infirmary then, too?¡± The girl had turned back to her dinner with a roll of the eyes.


    It was a fair assumption, but it still irritated Sylvas a little. ¡°Well, yes, but just for my physical exam. The fiend that I had gone out with was there¡ª¡±


    ¡°Was still blacked-out.¡± Kaya cackled from the other side of the table.


    There was a moment of hushed silence before something asked. ¡°He outdrank a fiend?¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth to correct their misunderstanding, but it seemed Kaya was having none of it. ¡°Even showed up to his appointment on time the next morning!¡±


    Sylvas face nearly hit his nutritional slop when the fiend girl slapped him on the back. ¡°Damn boy! If that¡¯s the case, I¡¯ll have to take you out with me next time we get leave.¡±


    There was some laughter, and a sense of general agreement from the rest of the table that they were looking forward to going out drinking with Sylvas, or possibly just looking forward to going out drinking.


    By that point, correcting them all would have been even more awkward, so Sylvas just started picking at his dinner instead. It was less than appetizing. The dwarf to his left chuckled. ¡°You get used to it.¡±


    Sylvas forced himself to chew and swallow a mouthful before replying, ¡°I don¡¯t want to?¡±


    That drew out another chuckle, even though Sylvas hadn¡¯t been joking in the slightest.


    An albino Najash beside Kaya leaned forward, it took Sylvas a moment to realize it was the same one who he had knocked out of the sky, and who had threatened him in the infirmary. ¡°I hear you ran into little Lord Hammerheart.¡±


    ¡°The dwarf with the minions?¡± Sylvas was still dealing with the gritty texture of the food on his tongue. ¡°I had no idea that he was nobility.¡±


    That drew more laughter. The fiend at his side nudged him with a giggle that seemed far too girlish for somebody with horns. ¡°He sure thinks he¡¯s nobility.¡±


    ¡°Daddy¡¯s mining consortium bought him a spot in naval training.¡± The Najash continued. ¡°Needs to be knocked down a peg¡­ or five.¡±


    The knot in Sylvas stomach ached at the sentiment. ¡°Well I can assure you that after today, I intend to do as much knocking as possible.¡±


    ¡°Good on you, lad.¡± The dwarf at his side said, warmly.


    It seemed that loyalties were not drawn along racial lines among the Ardent, that was a relief. For despite having been informed that humans were the dominant species among the Empyrean, Sylvas had to say that he had seen very few of them on Strife until now. So if he¡¯d been forced to have to fall back on them for support every time there was a disagreement, they would have been heavily outnumbered.


    There were a couple of humans at this table, but they looked as alien to Sylvas as any of the others. One had metal rings fixed through his ears and a beard like a dwarf¡¯s. Another had bright pink hair, buzzed in so short at the sides that he could make out inked patterns on her scalp. They might have been human, but their experiences living inside the Empyrean were so different from everything that he¡¯d ever known that he didn¡¯t even know how to talk to them. The pink haired girl caught him staring and flashed him an insincere smile. All of her teeth were made of gold.


    Extremely different.


    Attention was drawn back to Kaya by a belch. ¡°I was just telling these soft Empyrean folks that their days of topping rankings were over now the real competition has arrived from outside their borders.¡±


    Sylvas did his best not to flinch again. He had hoped to keep his status as an outsider a secret and do some private study to catch up on any customs and behavior that currently escaped him, but it seemed that Kaya felt honesty was the best policy, even if it painted a target on their backs.


    The Najash snorted. ¡°I keep telling her, the Empyrean recruits are the ones to watch out for. We¡¯re here because we¡¯ve got to be. They chose to be here.¡±


    Kaya waved her hand as if she could knock the words away. ¡°Load of krahg! I grew up sleeping on cold steel, eating cold steel, breaking ore with my bare hands. This lot couldn¡¯t bend a girder if you held it for them.¡±


    The dwarf at Sylvas side barked something back in dwarvish that had Kaya on her feet and roaring more untranslatable words right back at him. The dwarf had thrown himself up to meet her eye to eye, bellowing right back, then the two of them slumped back down onto their respective benches and went back to eating as though nothing had happened. The fiend girl giggled. ¡°Dwarves¡­¡±


    She had leaned in close like it was a whisper, and Sylvas had felt her breath tickling his ear. For a brief moment he was distracted enough to eat his dinner without the unpleasant experience of tasting it.


    The albino najash watched Sylvas with narrowed eyes, but said nothing to shame him, even though it must have been abundantly clear from his slow spreading blush what had happened. Instead she just shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Kaya. ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance to prove it tomorrow, one way or the other.¡±


    ¡°We starting out with another big scrap at dawn?¡± Kaya looked entirely too excited by the prospect. Sylvas had gotten some measure of revenge on Hammerheart and his lackeys, but he imagined that his dwarf friend was itching for some payback.


    ¡°No, we¡¯ll be starting lectures.¡± Her sharp teeth snapped shut after the word. ¡°Anyone who can cast a spell can fight. Not everyone can make it through three hours of Instructor Hagen¡¯s Tactical Introduction.¡±


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    All around them there was groaning. Echoing even beyond their table, as the whole room caught on to the class being mentioned. Ironically, the fact that it was so reviled by everyone else made Sylvas quite excited to experience it. If only so that he could share in the communal complaining.


    The meal came to a relatively abrupt end after that. In spite of the quality of the food and the ongoing conversation happening around him, Sylvas was able to shovel it all away in record time, catching up to Kaya even though she was well ahead of him thanks to her earlier arrival. They rose all together as a table, fully intent on walking together as far as they could to their respective bunks, but that plan was thrown out of the window as all around them little white shields suddenly burst into existence. Sylvas actually tried to touch one meant for the person next to him, only for his fingers to pass through the sending harmlessly. On his second attempt he heard Instructor Vaelith¡¯s voice speaking into his head. ¡°Change of plan children. Live combat drill. Now.¡±


    Sylvas gawked at the message, but the other recruits were already setting off for the exit. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Eidolons don¡¯t wait until its convenient.¡± The fiend girl who had been giving him confusing feelings called back over her shoulder.


    He looked to Kaya for support, but she was hopping along towards the door trying to pull a boot back onto her mechanized leg as she went. ¡°Come on, boy. Two chances to kick culgh in the same day ain¡¯t an opportunity to turn down.¡±


    **I screwed up the Chapter Patterning here -- This will be a double chapter page.**


    ¡°Warfare is the highest calling of all sentient beings. The means by which we differentiate ourselves. Yet the greatest battle can be won without a spell being cast or a blade being drawn. In silent dark, death can come and change the course of history.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    The recruits arrived on the field, en masse, to discover that the other half of the school, the naval training program, had arrived before them and were neatly arrayed opposite. Somewhere among them was Hammerheart and his minions, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t pick them out of the line-up at this distance. Vaelith strode between the two lines, rapidly casting something that made her voice boom across the plains.


    ¡°Good evening children. So sorry to interrupt your nap time, but this is a live combat drill.¡± She said it with a light-hearted tone that belied the tension strumming through all of the more seasoned recruits. ¡°You will be observed and judged based on your effectiveness in combat, your ability to problem-solve, and your ability to follow the orders of your senior cadets. Failure in any of these categories means you have failed the test. Fail the test and you get¡­¡±


    ¡°Remedial lessons.¡± The recruits around Sylvas echoed in response, the words coming out as a more of a groan than anything else.


    Vaelith¡¯s voice washed over them, rocking Sylvas back on his heels with its volume. ¡°And since you have a full schedule here on Strife, guess who¡¯s time those lessons come out of?¡±


    This time there was no answer. It was so clearly a rhetorical question that even this group could grasp it. Vaelith pressed on. ¡°Two recruits to one officer cadet, if you¡¯ve got somebody you want to stick with, grab them now.¡±


    Sylvas looked around for Kaya, but she was out of arm¡¯s reach after their mad rush out from the cliffs. He felt a hand close on his, and relief flooded through him before he could turn around and meet the pink eyes of the albino lizard woman from earlier on. He almost snatched his hand back, but by then it was too late.


    Vaelith¡¯s latest spell took hold, a whisper of green fire washing over them all. ¡°Alright pairs, stick together and head towards your commanding cadet outlined in green. You¡¯ve got twenty seconds, then we¡¯re starting without you.¡±


    Sylvas met the Najash¡¯s startled stare and the pair of them took off running towards the opposite line. Sylvas looked back and forth along it for the tell-tale glow of Vaelith¡¯s magic around one of the officer cadets but he could see nothing.


    Sylvas turned to his companion. ¡°Do you see it?¡±


    He trailed off as he realized that he didn¡¯t even know her name, leaving the sentence hanging awkwardly. At least until she saved him with a nod, her head turning to the left.


    ¡°There.¡± She stated, hand coming up to point and giving them a destination to rush to.


    As they ran for the distant figure lit up in green, Sylvas grumbled to himself. ¡°What is the point of giving us a schedule if they intend to¡ª¡±


    The Najash cut him off with a hiss. ¡°We are being tested. Adaptability is one of the criteria.¡±


    Sylvas refrained from complaining anymore because he didn¡¯t have enough breath to do otherwise. It seemed that the lizard-girl had some sort of physical enhancement as well. It seemed increasingly likely that he was the only one on the planet who didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t much care for being physically overpowered by literally everyone around him, but if he couldn¡¯t do anything about it until he was forging his second circle then he could at least pretend that what was simple exercise for them wasn¡¯t killing him.


    They arrived at their would be officer for the day, an unfamiliar human man with a starred black patch on his jacket who glanced back and forth between the two of them placidly. While Vaelith¡¯s hair was buzzed short, this slightly overweight fellow seemed to be entirely devoid of any hair whatsoever, not even an eyelash was anywhere to be seen. He looked to the Najash. ¡°Who¡¯s this then?¡±


    ¡°New blood.¡± She finally let Sylvas¡¯ hand go. ¡°Didn¡¯t want him sniping me again.¡±


    ¡°This one got you in testing?¡± The cadet chortled. ¡°He¡¯s still got space-dust on him.¡±


    The najash didn¡¯t rise to the bait. ¡°Just watch.¡±


    Sylvas held out a hand in greeting. ¡°Sylvas Vail.¡±


    The other human looked down at his hand as if it were something disgusting. ¡°Today, you¡¯ll call me sir.¡±


    The najash slapped Sylvas¡¯ hand down. ¡°I¡¯m Gharia and this smooth-skin dolt is Bortan.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t keep some degree of sarcasm out of his voice as he replied. ¡°A pleasure to meet you.¡±


    Vaelith saved them from the discomfort of any further socializing. ¡°Three leagues south there is a storm-front coming in. Only trouble is, there¡¯s no wind. What does that tell you?¡±


    As one, the senior cadets replied. ¡°Eidolons.¡±


    Sylvas¡¯ attention was instantly caught. He had not even considered the possibility that he¡¯d be facing an actual eidolon on his first day of training to be one of the Ardent. It hardly seemed fair.


    Vaelith¡¯s voice went on booming over the top of his panic. ¡°If a single eidolon makes it through to the wards here at campus, you fail. If any of the other recruits on the field die, you fail. If you die, you fail. Nice simple mission for you. When they¡¯re all dead, you go to bed.¡±


    Sylvas¡¯ mind began spinning, why would there be Eidolons here? Now? This place was a part of the Empyrean, it was meant to be safe from fools like him being tricked into summoning them. Bortan had set off towards the southern front without hesitation. Was this normal? Were eidolons everywhere? Sylvas forced himself into Clearmind. Distractions were dangerous right now.


    ¡°Is this a regular thing?¡± He called out to Gharia.


    ¡°It¡¯s a relic world.¡± She gave a casual shrug before putting on a fresh turn of acceleration to catch up to Bortan where he strode ahead.


    After that, he didn¡¯t have breath to spare for more questions. The other two had embodiments that let them eat up the terrain with ease, while he was having to struggle every step of the way with the red sand shifting underfoot.


    His two companions on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble whatsoever. They were sniping comments back and forth at each other that Sylvas, trailing behind, could only catch on the wind.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t they kicked you out of training yet?¡± Gharia¡¯s abrasive comments towards Sylvas no longer seemed so abrasive.


    To his credit Bortan took it in stride. Clearly this was not the first time she had needled him. ¡°Because I¡¯m an exemplary student.¡±


    ¡°An exemplar that can¡¯t hit circle four.¡± Gharia said it as though she were talking to Sylvas, even though the comment was clearly directed at their team leader.


    Bortan rolled his eyes. ¡°Rushing advancement is a surefire way to¡ª¡±


    Gharia put on another turn of speed, darting ahead of the other mage and then running along backwards so she could see his face as she tormented him. ¡°Maybe you weren¡¯t meant to be on a ship, or an officer at that too, ever think of that?¡±


    ¡°But if I wasn¡¯t either, who would get you meatheads to where you needed to be and then told you what to do?¡± He replied with a bland smile that instantly prompted an amused chuckle from Gharia.


    ¡°To be fair, I¡¯m pretty sure we could puzzle out the complexities of ¡®go over there and blast the eidolons, not each other¡¯ without your incredible tactical mind.¡±


    And with that, it seemed like it was Bortan¡¯s turn to go on the offensive. ¡°Can¡¯t even hit circle three and she thinks she can do my job¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh didn¡¯t you hear? Rushing advancement is a surefire way to¡ª¡±


    Sylvas attention was turned from their banter towards the distant horizon. It was still night on Strife, in as much as the planet had night at all. Over the horizon in every direction a glow seemed to linger, whether the product of the planetary system¡¯s suns being so close to rising once more, or some sort of ambient charge created by all of the magic that saturated the world, Sylvas couldn¡¯t say for sure. It would be another topic for him to research. One of many.


    Regardless, as the storm came into sight, it became rapidly apparent that it was less a gathering of clouds sprinkling down rain, as he had been accustomed to back home, and more of a wall of red sand, drawn up into whipping dervishes and slowly advancing on them. Here and there across that wall, dark shapes moved, like shadows behind a veil. Most were low to the ground, advancing troops of varying sizes, but others flitted across the sky within the sandstorm. Either tempest tossed by the forces involved, or so powerful in their flight that whatever wind powered the swirling sand¡¯s advance didn¡¯t impede them.


    It was different from Croesia. There the rifts had opened and the nightmares had come pouring out, but here, it seemed almost natural for them to exist in this world. In a place so alien, those strange shadows seemed at home and the mortals arrayed against them felt like they were the intruders.


    Sylvas had expected to feel fear now that he was facing eidolons again, but to his surprise, even without Clearmind, it was less like fear and more like a tempered anxiety, almost excitement. These were the things that had destroyed my world, left me adrift in the cosmos, yet for some reason I just can¡¯t muster up any terror.


    Perhaps it was the casual way that all the other recruits were lining up to face them as if it were just another lesson that they had to get through. Perhaps it was simply the fact that there were other people at his side at all.


    He drew in a few steadying breaths, trying to ignore the thick dust coating his tongue each time that he did, and he asked. ¡°What are your orders, sir?¡±


    After so much disrespect from Gharia, Bortan was momentarily stunned, then he conceded. ¡°She was pretty much right. Blast the eidolons as they break cover, don¡¯t get killed.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any strategy that you want us to follow?¡± Sylvas couldn¡¯t hold back his surprise.


    ¡°They¡¯re tier one eidolons, they can¡¯t even think, let alone cast. Just blast them until you tap out of mana, then sit back and watch me wipe out the rest.¡±


    Gharia chuffed once more, tail lashing. ¡°Oh yes, a third circle mage can totally solo a whole swarm of remnant war eidolons.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re one unit of many, also, shut up.¡± Bortan kept his gaze on the wall of red advancing on them, but he pointed a finger in her general direction. ¡°That¡¯s an order.¡±


    ¡°Denied.¡± She replied before turning to Sylvas. ¡°What would you do different, new guy?¡±


    Sylvas sighed at being put on the spot. ¡°Follow orders?¡±


    Her chuff of amusement turned into a snort of disgust when she realized he wasn¡¯t joking. ¡°Bortan orders aren¡¯t orders, he¡¯s a baby officer, they¡¯re still more like¡­uh, suggestions?¡±


    ¡°I am standing right here you know.¡± Bortan was casting some sort of protective spells on himself in preparation for the fight to come.


    ¡°I am unfamiliar with the enemy, unfamiliar with the terrain, unfamiliar with your capabilities.¡± Sylvas felt obliged to explain further, so she didn¡¯t misunderstand his compliance as weakness, as she seemed intent on doing. ¡°I need more information before I can start contradicting anyone.¡±


    ¡°You could learn a lot from this guy, Gharia.¡± The nascent officer commented, his tone particularly amused.


    Before she could break out into a stream of native words that the translator spell wouldn¡¯t bother with, Sylvas added. ¡°Of course, if I was familiar with all those things, I suspect I¡¯d have better orders to give than; blast them and don¡¯t die.¡±


    It wiped the smirk off Bortan¡¯s face as swiftly as it had come. While he¡¯d taken all of Gharia¡¯s ribbing in good faith, it seemed like Sylvas¡¯ one comment wasn¡¯t going to be given the same grace. ¡°In the heat of battle, freshie, you¡¯ll have no time for clever tactics. Kill or be killed.¡±


    The first of the eidolons burst free of the sand wall, dashing forward ahead of the pack towards their position. The other recruits scattered along the battle-line did nothing in response. Why would they? It wasn¡¯t their position to hold, and they had limited mana supplies to deal with what the night threw at them.


    Scuttling legs were Sylvas first impression, running along both sides of the creature¡¯s flattened and elongated body were so many needle-thin legs that he couldn¡¯t count them. So many that they seemed more like rippling hairs than limbs at all. But at the front there was a shape that was recognizable. A gaping open hole into the core of the monster, unprotected by the bright red chitin that enclosed the rest of it, but guarded by a snapping array of mandibles arrayed around it in a full circle, like some nightmare lamprey blended with a centipede.


    At the speed it was travelling, it would be on them in seconds, and as Sylvas cast a glance to Gharia and Bortan he realized that neither one of them was casting. Instead they were staring intently at him. Waiting for him to deal with the rampaging monster of nightmare that was bearing down on them all, alone.

 Chapter 27

    ¡°Mana conservation is a vital skill until the fifth circle is achieved. Every mage is limited in the number and potency of spells that they can cast as a result of the mana that they have stored, in addition to their other natural limitations, both physical and mental.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    He didn¡¯t know if they had both been offended by his little joke of a comment, or if this was simply how they hazed new recruits, but what he did know was that someone was going to get badly injured at best when the oncoming train of an eidolons reached them.


    Stepping around Bortan, he readied an arcane arrow and sent it flaring off through the night. It struck home, trailing sparks all along the length of the eidolon¡¯s armored back, but it did nothing to stop the beast¡¯s approach. In the time between it escaping the storm and reaching them, Sylvas had little context to judge how big the thing was, but now he could tell it stood as tall as a warhorse and trailed back so long that it had almost reached them by the time its tail emerged from the sand.


    A second arcane arrow, then a third, were similarly hopeless. One dart of blue shot off through the night only to burst apart on contact with the armor in a shimmer of stars, fading only just fast enough that the next could chase those dwindling sparks back along the charging chitin.


    My spells are useless. I had suspected as much. It wouldn¡¯t have made sense to arm me with anything useful when my only purpose was to be a conduit for the summoning of eidolons.


    Adjusting his aim, Sylvas dumped twice the power needed into his next arcane arrow and launched it into the open mouth of the eidolon.


    The light vanished from sight into that internal darkness, with the eidolon charging on untroubled, then there was a stutter in its steps. The smoothness of its motion had been reliant on every limb moving in perfect harmony, and now it began to stumble, tripping over its own feet. It lost its footing, but not its momentum, even as it crashed to the ground, it came slithering on. That same momentum would have carried it, crashing into Sylvas and the others if it weren¡¯t for Bortan.


    The other human stepped forward, slammed a heel into the earth and cast. Ice seized the eidolon, stopping it dead in its tracks and crusting it with frost. Sylvas realized that it was in fact dead. His final arrow, the one he¡¯d cast expecting it to do nothing at all, had been sufficient to end the eidolon¡¯s life. ¡°It worked?¡±


    Gharia looked at him like he was an idiot. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it work?!¡±


    He snapped his mouth shut before he could give away any more of his weaknesses and turned back to the oncoming storm. Perhaps it was the memory of the last time he¡¯d faced eidolons, or perhaps it was just coincidence, but the scars on his arm began to itch.


    From high up in the oncoming red cloud, another of the same centipede-like eidolons emerged. This one¡¯s body was fully flattened out instead of curved into an arch its body rippling like waves as they somehow carried it through the air. Remembering, a moment too late perhaps, that he had improved his arsenal of spells since the last time he¡¯d encountered them, Sylvas scried it.


    Name: Bellicose Drifter


    Species: First Tier Eidolon


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 100%


    Affinity: Unknown


    Strength: E2


    Resilience: E2


    Speed: E2


    Potency: F2


    Focus: F2


    Regeneration: F1


    Turning his gaze down from that vast kite of a creature, his eyes, still glowing bright from the spell took in some of the others arrayed against them.


    The majority of the eidolon¡¯s ranks seemed to be made up of squat creatures no taller than him, little more than two overly muscled legs comprised of interlocking plates of chitin with an axe-head of a body above, made from the very same chitin as all the rest but one large single piece honed to a sharp line at its front.


    Name: Parching Charger


    Species: First Tier Eidolon


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 100%


    Affinity: Unknown


    Strength: E1


    Resilience: E1


    Speed: E4


    Potency: F1


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    Focus: F1


    Regeneration: F1


    They rushed forwards towards the assembled mages, and without an opening in their shell, Sylvas probably would have struggled to work out where to hit them, but as it turned out, their strongest point was also their weakest. They had been made so top-heavy that even a glancing spell to the legs was enough to send them crashing to the ground.


    As they rushed on, it had seemed to Sylvas at first that they were trailing dust from the cloud with them, but it was only as they fell and went on churning it out that he recognized them as the source of the red sand covering everything. It flowed out from the places where the chitinous plates met, clogging those joints up and making every step that the Chargers took into a cacophony of screeching scrapes.


    There were other eidolons in amongst their ranks, but they were few and far between, and the scrying faded before Sylvas could focus in on one of them. If he came face to face with one himself, he could always scry again.


    Bortan had turned his attention from the enemy at the appearance of the eye over Sylvas head, and he grunted out, ¡°conserve mana,¡± before launching a spray of elegant but deadly icicles out into the battle-lines of their enemy.


    Everywhere they struck, eidolons fell. Everywhere they missed, ice spread out across the red sand, solidifying the surface, but making it too slippery for the Drifter¡¯s tiny legs to find purchase. It slowed the advance to a crawl everywhere that he cast.


    Meanwhile, Gharia had not been idle. She may not have had some elemental mastery under her belt to empower her spells, but she was certainly no slouch. While Sylvas arcane arrows were barbs of blue light, the missiles that she launched from her clawed fingertips were entirely different. Little more that barely shaped pebbles of glowing purple-pink that seemed to waft sluggishly towards their target. But because she cast them by the handful, and they had the opportunity to drift in the air, they proved lethally effective even without careful aim. Each eidolon that came charging into one faltered and died as the tiny pebble exploded out in a flash of white-hot power. There was a feral grin on her face as she looked back towards him.


    ¡°Falling behind, new blood.¡±


    Sylvas picked up the pace, doing exactly as he had been ordered and started to blast away with renewed abandon.


    While his companion¡¯s eyes seemed locked on ground level, the eidolons above were making good progress across the sky towards what Sylvas was still reluctant to call home. He could not allow that. One by one, his arcane arrows were loosed, splashing off the underside of one armored eidolon to the next. Magic was at work within them, because nothing so vast and heavy should have been able to fly at all, let alone drift by them with such ease. Worse yet, the storm of red dust was rapidly approaching, and with its arrival all visibility of the fliers would be gone.


    The only other distinguishing feature of the night sky, apart from the entirely unfamiliar stars, were eyes. Green eyes of scrying spells manifesting all along their battle-lines so that Vaelith and the other instructors could spy on them as they fought.


    He needed something more than the spells at his disposal, he needed to bring those flying eidolons down before it was too late. The itching in his arm had now grown to a steady burn everywhere that he was scarred. His fingers began to curl in on themselves as the tendons within contracted. He didn¡¯t know what was happening, didn¡¯t know if it was fear robbing him of his faculties despite his Clearmind paradigm, or if there was some injury within him that the Empyrean doctors had not been able to find. Regardless, he could not give it any mind right now. Not even when it was giving every spell he cast the odd sensation of an echo, both in his scars and in his head. Like there was something there that he couldn¡¯t see, but that the magic was reverberating off of.


    Kinesis. He could move things with his mind by using that spell, and what were the eidolons but large and distant objects? The fact that they lived meant nothing, the elf¡¯s attack on him earlier had proven that. The fact that they were vast and monstrous and terrifying meant nothing either, thanks to his paradigm. All that mattered was that he had the spell on his lips that could bring the monsters down and leave their weak openings vulnerable to the spells of the other recruits.


    The spell as it was written was too small, too granular, but he¡¯d spent long enough in study of other small and granular spells to understand how it might be expanded out from its humble beginnings. The only problem would be the mana-cost, it would escalate just as rapidly as the scope of the spell.


    He felt inside himself, touching the reserve within his circle and was startled to realize that it was full, not only full, but full to the very limit of what he could manage. He hadn¡¯t a clue where that mana had come from, but now was not the time to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He reached up with his scarred hand, spoke the words of his modified spell, and he pulled.


    His arm shook as the magic all but launched itself from him. It wasn¡¯t as though he was trying to physically pull the eidolons from the sky, but the strain of so much mana pouring through him made it feel like he was. It was the first time that he had channeled so much power since Croesia, and if it weren¡¯t for his Clearmind, he probably would have had some very confusing feelings about that.


    The raw mana he¡¯d exerted flooded out through Sylvas¡¯ channels, blazing through even the scar tissue that had formed around them. As he cast, the sleeve of his uniform jacket burst apart as the force of power escaping through his now glowing scars exploded out. Both Gharia and Bortan froze in surprise, but neither one of them was half as surprised as Sylvas himself.


    Still, there was no time to think twice about his destroyed jacket when the spell was still at work. Its tail was hooked in his core, draining mana all the that he had stockpiled there as the spell played out. He shook, blazing bright with the power he was wielding for one long moment, teetering on the edge between success and the inevitable backlash if the spell failed. Then like a rubber band snapping, the spell took hold.


    As one, the eidolons drifting so gracefully across the sky were hauled down.


    The sudden release of tension dropped Sylvas to his knees, he had forgotten to breathe while he was casting, too intent on the work and the strain, so now he gasped in great mouthfuls of iron-tainted air. He teetered on the brink of unconsciousness before mana flowed back into his core. Where it was coming from when he had not a moment for meditation, he couldn¡¯t have guessed.


    There was no time for introspection or confusion now. Not with a rain of eidolon¡¯s fast approaching, plucked from the air by his power and flung to the earth by gravity now that their flight had been interrupted. The Drifters tried to right themselves, to resume the steady ripple of the cilia-legs along their sides that had carried them out from the storm, but now that they were so low, they became easy prey for the gathered Ardent recruits. If Sylvas simple arcane arrow could slay one, the destructive potential of the higher circle mages¡¯ elemental blasts were enough to shatter their chitin from the inside.


    Gharia hooked an arm around him and hauled him to his feet while still casting her own blasts of magic at the oncoming Chargers. ¡°Come on, Sigil. Back to work.¡±


    He didn¡¯t give the misnaming a second thought. She was right, there was far too much to do. His core remained almost entirely depleted, but there was still a slow trickle of mana making its way in from somewhere. Enough to stay in the fight, if not to pull any more clever tricks. The warm glow in his arm was already beginning to fade, leaving the exposed skin feeling cold in the night air.


    Taking a step away from the najash, he found his balance, and began casting once more. One arcane arrow after another darting out into the night sky. Less powerful than his first killing blow, much more tempered by his limited reserves, but enough to down the Drifters if his aim was true.


    Time had been against them with the approaching storm-front, but in those last few seconds before the stars vanished into a whorl of red, Sylvas saw the last of the flying eidolons die. If nothing else, they no longer had to worry about any of them sneaking by and costing them their victory. All they had to deal with now was the rush of eidolons on the ground, charging forward to slaughter them. Barely even a worry at all. Sylvas managed to cough out a laugh before the clouds swept over them.

 Derp - My Bad

    Hey everyone - Sorry about the mix up but it looks like I munched a chapter when I was uploading this originally and completely missed inserting one that should have otherwise been in the list. This all washes out in the end however as we get one chapter early!


    If you''d like to get a bit of clarity, please go back to: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/89519/starbreaker/chapter/1755227/chapter-25</a> and read the missing chapter, then progress to Chapter 27. This will start our break week a little early however - so I will see you back here on the 26th  for chapter 28 or over on my Patreon should you choose to join to read ahead!


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Thank you all for your support in the meantime, it''s been stellar!!


    Luke

 Chapter 28

    ¡°Discipline within the Ardent is a matter administered to by the first superior officer to the offending party, escalating to the next in rank only in marginal cases. Common procedures include confinement to the campus, confinement to the brig, removal of privileges, demotion, expulsion and execution. Summarily dispatched as needed.¡±


    ¡ªKeeping the Peace Among the Peacekeepers, Gorgan Wartback


    Despite his hard work, the truth was that Sylvas had no idea how many more eidolons they were really facing. There could still have been any number of Drifters on the ground, charging along like the first armored centipede they¡¯d encountered, and the swarms of Chargers seemed to be endless. Combined with the limited visibility now that the storm had washed over them, the battle could have already been over without them knowing it, or they could have still had days of foes to face.


    He tried to tell himself that the Instructors wouldn¡¯t have sent them out here to face such an overwhelming force, but all of his experiences with the Ardent so far seemed to suggest otherwise. They¡¯d send them out to face an impossible enemy, just to see how long it took them to fail, then rank them on who¡¯d been the last one standing, assuming there were survivors.


    Within the storm, Bortan¡¯s orders finally made some degree of sense. There was no time now for clever tricks, no time for anything except to react. The great red jagged blade of a Charger came into view for only a fraction of a second before an icicle from Bortan¡¯s fingertip sliced into it and pinned it to the ground. When another loomed large behind Gharia, Sylvas cast his own arcane arrow on instinct, clipping it off course to crash blade first between them and their officer.


    It was difficult to tell in the chaos, but he suspected that she winked at him.


    Then she was casting again, flinging out those neon pink bubbles once more. They vanished into the cloud, sizzling as they went, but the distinctive sound of their detonations came soon after as they made contact with the enemy. Or at least Sylvas hoped it was the enemy and nobody that had accidentally wandered out of position.


    There wasn¡¯t much time to worry about it though, not when there were still more of the eidolons coming.


    In better circumstances, Sylvas would have relied on his ears for guidance, listening for the approach of enemies when his eyes didn¡¯t help, but out there on the field of battle, even discounting the steady shriek of the wind within the storm, it was impossible to hear anything over the sounds of magic. Spells detonated loud and close. Crackling lightning tore through the storm, briefly illuminating oncoming enemies as shadows before leaving them all blinking away the afterimages.


    Sylvas cast and cast again, ending up back to back with Gharia, with Bortan lost from sight behind the fallen eidolon between them. As a Charger came into sight he¡¯d knock it down, making the terrain just that little harder for the next one to surmount, raising them up as they clambered over the bodies of their dead so that their legs, their weakest point, were directly in his line of fire.


    All he could do was cast, all he could taste was blood in his mouth. Iron from the air, or some channel in his body rupturing, he could not guess. Clearmind took away his distractions, but it did nothing to accelerate his responses. Which meant he didn¡¯t have attention to spare for speculation. He cast, and he cast, until there was a veritable wall of dead eidolons all around them, and still they came on. Gharia dropped to her knees, trying to meditate in the midst of the chaos, and Sylvas had to turn then to fire over her head, covering both sides of their little fortress of corpses alone while Bortan handled the front point where the worst of the charge must have been hitting.


    The only good thing in all of this was that the moment that the eidolons were aware of the recruits they went for them. There was no Charger attempting to skirt by and head for home base, not with prey available here.


    The night could have gone on for minutes or hours, and Sylvas, so lost in the fighting, would never have been able to recall which, but slowly the storm began to clear. The thick red dust that had been thrown up became finer and finer, until at last he could make out the next set of recruits along, surrounded by their own tally of the dead. Looking to the other side, he could make out three dwarves working together in harmony, one raising fortifications of stone while their officer stood atop a pillar, blasting fire down into every Charger that still had enough life left in it to twitch.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s over.¡± His tongue felt swollen and sluggish in his mouth after casting for so long and taking in so much dust. Gharia had returned to the fighting, but the showy spreads of glowing orbs that she¡¯d been casting before had become much less frequent, and the majority of the little specks of light had faded away before they made contact with anything at all.


    ¡°Looks like it.¡± She staggered over to the downed Charger where it lay in amongst them, and planted one boot on the flat side of its bladed body to hoist herself higher. ¡°Alright, smooth-skin?¡±


    ¡°I do have other features, you know.¡± Sylvas was surprised to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard the other man¡¯s voice. He hadn¡¯t felt any particular attachment to the man they¡¯d been assigned to but he supposed that in the face of a monstrous enemy, it was hardly surprising.


    Bortan rounded the corpse to get a proper look at Sylvas for the first time since the fighting began. ¡°What was that with your arm?¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t have a ready answer for him, but he attempted some sort of explanation all the same. ¡°My embodiment¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sigil just does that when he casts.¡± Gharia gave Sylvas a sly smile as she cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


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    ¡°Sigil.¡± Bortan chuckled, as his attention then shifted to look at the fallen creatures. ¡°Right. I¡¯m not complaining.¡±


    They made their way back across the dusty fields of Strife at a much more reasonable pace. The temperature began to climb as the suns approached the horizon, and the missing arm from Sylvas jacket soon became a minor blessing, even if he did have to keep on wiping crystalized salt from his sweat off the scars that still felt tender.


    Gharia didn¡¯t ask him any questions even if she probably had them, and it was already obvious to Sylvas that telling things to the senior recruits was not in his best interest after the brief interactions that they¡¯d had so far. He¡¯d have to thank the lizard-woman for covering for him once they had some privacy.


    Casting his gaze sideways, Sylvas could see that the three dwarves that had been manning the next station along were Kaya, their friend from the mess hall and that their commander for the day was Hammerheart. The dark-haired dwarf strode ahead of the two other recruits sullenly, but Kaya was ready with a wave, and the other dwarf, whose name Sylvas never caught, gave him a nod when he noticed him. To their other side was a human naval track recruit that Sylvas didn¡¯t know, the fiend who had been whispering in his ear. With them was another man who looked a lot worse for wear, stained with red dirt all across the white of his uniform and nursing a shoulder that looked to have been dislocated, judging by the way it dangled.


    As they finally passed over the ward-line around the base, it felt like a weight had lifted from Sylvas shoulders. As though he hadn¡¯t really believed that it was over until then.


    Vaelith stood waiting for them, looking entirely unbothered by proceedings, as if nothing had happened at all and they hadn¡¯t just spent half the night fighting for their lives. As they crossed the line of the wards, white shields began to manifest all around them. Sendings from their instructors. Gharia brushed her claws across the one that had appeared before her and nodded along to whatever was being said as she proceeded to turn on her heel and make her way towards the cliff-face. Bortan did much the same heading towards wherever it was his bunk was. Relieved to finally get a chance to use his own bunk, Sylvas touched his shield.


    ¡°Recruit Vail, report to Instructors Vaelith and Fahred for debriefing.¡±


    Sylvas frowned. Nobody else seemed to have to go to the instructor, they were all heading off for some well-deserved rest. Kaya and the other dwarf were caught up in some sort of roaring argument in their own tongue, which Sylvas was starting to think was the dwarf version of flirting. Regardless, they too headed off, leaving him to plod over to the Instructors alone.


    Fahred teleported into place beside Vaelith as Sylvas approached, and both of them turned their gaze his way. The scrutiny was uncomfortable, but he guessed that this was something to do with whatever his scars had done on the field. There was no point in worrying about it now.


    There was an odd tension between the two instructors as Sylvas closed the distance, neither one of them looking at each other, but both simmering away. It was more obvious in Vaelith, who constantly looked furious anyway, while Fahred, for all his over-the-top affectations normally had a certain calm about him. He fidgeted now. It was Vaelith who gave Sylvas some greeting.


    ¡°Well done, recruit. I am pleased to see that despite this exercise being something of a surprise, you treated it with the respect that the task deserved.¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth to thank her for the kind words, but Fahred was too impatient for niceties. ¡°Yes, yes, that wonderful do or die attitude the Ardent are so obsessed with. Enough about that, tell me Vail, what was that spell that you used?¡±


    Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure how to answer. He¡¯d known that the magic that he¡¯d learned back on Croesia differed wildly from that which was taught here, but he hadn¡¯t expected any one of his spells to be worthy of comment or ridicule. ¡°I used several spells, sir. Which one do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Oh good, he¡¯s sassy.¡± Fahred muttered to himself before continuing. ¡°The spell that you used to pull the eidolons out of the sky. Obviously.¡±


    Sylvas blinked at the strange question. ¡°Kinesis?¡±


    ¡°Kinesis.¡± Vaelith repeated back, as if unsure she had heard him correctly.


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Kinesis is a minor cantrip for picking up your laundry, not a spell that can entirely change the direction of a battle. You use it when you¡¯ve dropped a pen. Not to drop an eidolon.¡± There was an edge to Fahred¡¯s voice that Sylvas didn¡¯t recognize, something slow but inevitable like the turning of the tides. ¡°So pretty, pretty please tell us the actual spell that you used, and how you used it as a first circle mage without completely draining yourself to death.¡±


    ¡°I have no reason to lie to you sir, it was kinesis,¡± Sylvas had no idea what all the excitement was about. Yes, there had been a danger that he¡¯d tap out his mana reserves if it weren¡¯t for the new supply that he¡¯d inexplicably been drawing, but apart from that, everything went perfectly according to plan. ¡°I just adjusted the parameters a little.¡±


    ¡°Adjusted the¡­ Vail, that is spell-craft!¡± Fahred was shouting now, loud enough that the other recruits at the tail end of the march home were glancing over to see who was getting read the riot act. ¡°That is the kind of work that wizards do, mages of the fifth circle with a lifetime of experience and theory under their belts, not first circle trainees from beyond the outer edges of known space¡­ do you have even the faintest inkling of how dangerous what you just did actually was? You could have killed yourself. You could have killed everyone around you.¡±


    Sylvas had known that there was a danger involved in adjusting the spell like that, but he had felt that he had a good enough grasp on the fundamentals of such a simple spell that he could achieve the results he wanted safely. And even if he hadn¡¯t had that confidence, he would have committed to casting the spell all the same. ¡°The eidolons were going to get through, sir.¡±


    For a moment it seemed that Fahred was at a loss for words. He looked to Vaelith, who shrugged one shoulder almost imperceptibly, then back to Sylvas. His water-slicked brows drew down. ¡°You clearly cannot be trusted to make rational decisions, I¡¯m going to recommend your immediate expulsion from the training program.¡±


    Sylvas stomach dropped.


    ¡°And I¡¯m going to put you up for a commendation.¡± The elf piped up from behind Fahred.


    The instructor spun on the spot to gawk at his coworker instead of Sylvas, which was something of a relief. ¡°Vaelith?! You have got to be joking, do you have any idea¡ª¡±


    ¡°How dangerous eidolons are? Yes, I¡¯ve got a century of dead friends to remind me.¡± She nodded at Sylvas with something like a smile playing over her thin lips. ¡°This recruit did what every one of the Ardent should. He took the enemy seriously.¡±


    ¡°If his little ¡®adjustment¡¯ had gone wrong he would have died, he would have killed those around him, the risk that he took¡ª¡±


    ¡°Outside your ivory tower, on the battlefield, things aren¡¯t clean. We take risks.¡± Vaelith said as she cut him off.


    Fahred immediately scowled as he crossed his arms, robes lapping up around his legs as though storm-tossed. ¡°I am summoning Aurea. We will see what she thinks of this.¡±


    Vaelith did not need to cross her own arms to look defiant, the green spirit wolves growling at her sides conveyed her feelings well. ¡°Do it.¡±

 Chapter 29

    ¡°Advancement is often considered by mages to be a goal in itself. As though all of their problems might be solved by the ability to exploit one additional embodiment and paradigm, or hold one additional circle¡¯s worth of mana. Too often, the basics are overlooked. Spellbooks are half empty. Real growth is not in a single direction.¡±


    ¡ªThe Trouble With Mages: Why Rushing Advancement Ruins Your Future, Melia Fairbloom


    He jerked awake as though he had just landed on the burnt and broken earth of Croesia herself. The floor of the brig wasn¡¯t much more comfortable than rock would have been. Memories of the night before came creeping back to him slowly, so much more slowly than the perfect recollection of his lost world came to him every time he tried to sleep.


    Instructor Aurea had been summoned from her sleep, arriving looking slightly less prim and proper than she had when collecting Sylvas and Kaya from the portal. She had conferred with her colleagues, and eventually approached Sylvas to inform him that he was forbidden from making modifications to any spells for the foreseeable future. Then as punishment for what he¡¯d done he would be confined to the brig until further notice, and that he would also have a commendation noted on his permanent record for the personal danger that he had been willing to endure for the good of his unit. A feather in his cap that he was told would likely lead to his choice of favorable placement when he graduated.


    He had not even been on the planet for one day yet.


    Beyond the ward-line that was keeping him trapped inside of his cell, a hooded figure stood watching him. The same dark robes of the Heralds. The same odd stillness of the one among the grand masters that he did not know. ¡°You? Again?¡±


    She did not respond.


    Sylvas tried a different tact. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Observing.¡± Came the predictable reply.


    Sylvas got to his feet, still staring into the dark cowl of the robes, trying to make out a face. ¡°What do you want with me? Wasn¡¯t the death of my world enough entertainment?¡±


    He slammed a fist against the ward, and for a moment it flared opaque. By the time that flash of light had faded, he was alone once more.


    ¡°Great.¡±


    He lowered himself back down to the ground and began to meditate. In spite of the exertions of the previous day, his mana supply was not entirely depleted, or even close to depletion in truth. There had to be some fault in the construction of his first circle that needed to be addressed. It was all well and good for him to have a steady uptick in mana, but the fact that it was happening without him deliberately causing it was a concern.


    For now it was helpful, but if he were already full to bursting, the addition of more mana was liable to cause him problems. For a moment, he turned his mind back to some of the original theory that he¡¯d studied regarding circle construction, and the possibility that he had inadvertently created some sort of vacuum within his core that was drawing mana in. But parsing through the mana within him turned up nothing, so he simply let his mind clear, and let his mana reserves refill to just shy of their normal levels so that he did not overflow if some extra mana did show up unexpectedly. In other circumstances, he probably would have approached an Instructor for advice, but at present there seemed to be a minor civil war going on between the different instructors regarding him. So much of one in fact that he suspected that informing them that his containment was unstable would lend unfair credence to the arguments of the side that wanted to kick him out of the Ardent entirely.


    His slate had been confiscated before he was locked up. They seemed surprised to discover that he didn¡¯t have anything else, as though their trainees typically wandered around with baubles and trinkets spilling out of their pockets. His jacket had also been taken, presumably for repairs, but with the sun beating down on the cliffs, it had grown comfortably warm in the brig before long.


    It wouldn¡¯t have mattered much anyway. He was so exhausted after the day that just passed, he probably would have slept through almost anything. He likely would still have been asleep if not for his unexpected visitor. Assuming that there had even been a visitor in the first place and not some overactive part of his mind that had decided to torment him.


    He wished that he were still asleep, because now he was confronted with boredom for what seemed to be the first time in his life. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go. The others were probably heading off to their classes, learning the things that they needed to learn so that they could advance, and he was stuck here twiddling his thumbs, figuratively. He resorted to doing his calisthenic exercises despite his muscles still screaming at him after the past few days¡¯ exertions, until he couldn¡¯t bear any more and sank back down onto the floor. At least there was none of the pervasive red dust in here.


    Underground, there was no real way to track the passage of time. He did not think that hours had passed since his awakening, but there was really no sure way of knowing. Regardless, the arrival of Instructor Fahred was a welcome relief from the monotony. There was a bounce in the man¡¯s step, and all of the ill-will that Sylvas had felt radiating off him seemed to have faded back to his usual levels of sarcasm. ¡°A good evening to you, Recruit Vail.¡±


    ¡°Good evening, sir.¡± Sylvas could play at politeness as well as anyone. Rising to his feet and watching respectfully as the Instructor paced on the far side of the ward.


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you have realized by now, the unauthorized modification of spells is considered to be a dangerous practice within the Empyrean.¡±


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Once again, Sylvas managed to maintain a calm demeanor. ¡°It has been brought to my attention, sir.¡±


    ¡°Well, it has been brought to my attention that it is entirely possible that you were unaware of this prior to this mornings¡­ activities. And as such it may be considered unjust to punish you for what you considered to be a perfectly logical course of action.¡±


    Sylvas did let some of his relief show on his face now. ¡°So I¡¯m being released?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Fahred laughed mirthlessly. ¡°You aren¡¯t here because you¡¯re being punished. I mean, not truthfully. You¡¯re here because you are being made an example so that nobody else thinks they can casually rewrite a spell and get a pat on the head.¡±


    ¡°With respect sir, I am being punished regardless of the reason for my confinement. The others are receiving training and I am¡ª¡±


    Fahred cut him off with a casual wave of a hand. ¡°You are about to receive as intensive a bout of instruction as you can endure from the smartest person on the planet, what a terrible burden for you to suffer.¡±


    It was as a blunt a hint as Sylvas had ever received in his life, prompting his mouth to immediately snap shut.


    ¡°The way that I see it, there are two fundamentals we need to address before anything else. The first is your narrow selection of spells, and the second your advancement.¡± He conjured a chair and sat down facing Sylvas. ¡°My proposal would be to address the latter before the former, as the spells that you will be using will be entirely different once you have discovered your affinity anyway, so pushing you forward to circle three is our best bet.¡±


    ¡°You think that I can advance two circles so swiftly?¡±


    ¡°I think a great many things, dear student, and it is for that reason that my thinking is so prized. I think more before breakfast than most people manage in their entire lifespan.¡± He said it flippantly, but also with a kind of confidence that put Sylvas own pride in his abilities to shame. ¡°My thoughts on your advancement are that we can get you to the second circle before your release from this brig, and get you into affinity testing as soon as possible afterwards, which will then inform your choice of third circle embodiment and paradigm, respectively.¡±


    ¡°I want some sort of physical enhancement for my next embodiment. I¡¯m falling behind everyone else because of my¡ª¡±


    Fahred cut him off with a raised finger. ¡°Because you¡¯ve been carefully crafted into the ideal caster rather than the ideal soldier, yes. I suspected that you might feel that way given the veritable rivers of sweat I saw running off you when trying to keep up with the others. However, I¡¯m going to strongly suggest that if we are pursuing your rapid advancement then at least for this second embodiment you should hew more closely to what you know. Depending upon the element that you show affinity with, you are liable to find more useful embodiments within that specialization to counteract your physical shortfall.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t keep up with the others.¡± Sylvas tried to reason with him. ¡°Not now, and certainly not as they advance.¡±


    ¡°And right now, that is because of your limited spellbook, not because of some fault in your progression. You are built to cast, but magic provides whatever other enhancements you might want. Do you think I can lift a mountain with my bare hands? Of course I can¡¯t! But I can sever it from its roots with a blade of water and launch it into the sky with a geyser all the same.¡±


    It was a point that Sylvas had not considered. Given that the full breadth of spells available to him could always be counted on one hand, it wasn¡¯t surprising that he hadn¡¯t thought of simply casting his way around problems.


    Fahred nodded in approval as he saw Sylvas make the connection. ¡°Mobility can be enhanced with a spell of flying like your najash girlfriend uses. Brute strength means nothing in the face of an empowered blast. Do not compare yourself to others when making your choices, because at best it will make you a poor copy of them and rob you of your own progress towards being the best version of yourself that you might achieve.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but correct him the instant he finished speaking. ¡°She¡¯s not my girlfriend.¡±


    Fahred pinched the bridge of his nose as though fighting a headache. ¡°I¡¯m so glad that you are focusing on the important parts of the lessons I¡¯m conveying to you. It really fills me with confidence that you¡¯ll be able to achieve all the things I had to promise Aurea you¡¯d be able to do to get unfettered access to you.¡±


    The interdepartmental politics involved in this visit hadn¡¯t occurred to Sylvas until now. So he set aside his own concerns and listened to the allegedly smartest man on the planet. ¡°What would you advise?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re squandering mana each time you cast, leaking it out of those old injuries of yours. It will reduce your efficiency down the line, and while your overgrown core allows for that kind of waste at present, it will not always, not once you¡¯re using more advanced spells. I¡¯d advise some sort of bodily enhancement to reduce the permeability of your flesh to mana rather than some greater infusion of it into your physical body which would only serve to dilute your casting further.¡± He tossed a slate to Sylvas through the ward, and it passed in unscathed by the magic. Clearly the ward only prevented things leaving the cell, not entering them. That information might come in useful if he needed to orchestrate an escape later.


    The slate had the full and simple instructions for the Bulwark embodiment laid out, along with some scribbled notes from Fahred in the margins explaining how to best accommodate the changes that had already been made to Sylvas body. It would make him more resistant to the effects of magic, both external and internal, even if he would be just as susceptible to physical harm as ever.


    Sylvas wet his lips, swallowed his pride and said, ¡°thank you.¡±


    ¡°You can thank me by mastering it in record time.¡± Fahred didn¡¯t even acknowledge the concession that Sylvas had just made. ¡°Now, onto the more important matter of the Paradigm.¡±


    Fahred was obviously waiting for him to make another incorrect proposal, so instead he asked, ¡°do you have a suggestion?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve already taken on and mastered the most difficult one anyone at the first circle might ever consider, so I¡¯d imagine whatever second one you pick up is going to be a walk in the park for you. For a pure caster like yourself, I¡¯d typically recommend something to enhance the speed of thought, or perhaps eidetic memory to assist with the acquisition of new spells.¡±


    It was an unfamiliar term to Sylvas. ¡°Eidetic memory?¡±


    ¡°Clearmind lets you perceive more or less everything at the moment it is occurring, but you¡¯re still storing those perceptions in a leaky sieve of a human brain. With a Lockmind Paradigm everything that you take in will be permanently stored and accessible, and you will also have the advantage of preventing most telepathic intrusions that you may encounter. It was my first circle paradigm, and one I¡¯d be happy to see more of the Ardent adopt. As a military organization they seem quite resistant to pursuing anything that makes individuals more intelligent. Can¡¯t imagine why.¡±


    Ignoring the color commentary, Sylvas mind spun with the possibilities of what was being offered to him. ¡°That sounds¡­ amazing.¡±


    Fahred waved a hand, and mumbled a fragment of a spell, and the instructions for Lockmind joined Bulwark on the slate.


    ¡°Right, that should be enough to keep you busy for the rest of the evening, I¡¯m off to teach some classes. Best of luck, try not to lobotomize yourself or explode before my return.¡± He rose to his feet, banished his seat back to wherever he¡¯d summoned it from and stalked off without a word of goodbye.

 Chapter 30

    ¡°With the acquisition of each circle, the mage develops new senses as they are more thoroughly submerged into the magical world. Mana flows within the body can be sensed with the first circle, mana flows without the body with the second, and so on, up until the fifth circle.¡±


    ¡ªProgression Fantasies: Why You are Investing in the Wrong Embodiment, Curgal Groenen


    Sylvas didn¡¯t bother to act offended, why would he when he had a bounty to consume after his long hours in the desert of boredom. He felt like he was spoiled for choice now, and he dithered back and forth between the two different ways in which his future would be changed before finally settling on Lockmind. It was the one he was more excited about, and it would make it easier for him to learn the embodiment once he had mastered it. Now all that he had to do was work out how to make the mana flow into his mind in the shape proscribed here at the same time as maintaining his usual Clearmind.


    The instructions for Lockmind would have been so very easy to follow if it were his first Paradigm. He would have learned it in hours instead of the months it had taken him to master Clearmind if his instructions back home had been so clear. So damn simple. It almost broke his heart to remember what he had gone through when everything could have been so easy.


    Now of course, nothing was so easy. As it turned out, advancement was not as simple as layering one new paradigm on top of the other. They had to coexist, occupying the same space at the same time, in what should have been an impossibility. At first, he thought that he was going to have to pick apart his first circle and change its shape to accommodate the inclusion of Lockmind, but before he had even begun, he realized that it wouldn¡¯t work. He wouldn¡¯t be creating a second circle, just changing the first. The two contradictory states of mind would have to exist side by side, operating in the same brain.


    I have to find a way to be both of these people at the same time. The one that sees everything clearly in the moment, and the one who remembers everything, forever.


    In that moment of clarity, the mana flowed through him. Into the second Paradigm, flooding out to give it shape inside his mind. Clearmind had been fluid and adaptive, shifting with his thoughts to accommodate whatever he was casting or thinking, while Lockmind was solid and immovable, a core of solid steel, or rather a shell, trapping every thought that he had in his mind.


    It was overwhelming.


    The weight of all the sensory data that his body collected, sound, touch, and scent, all pressed in on him, crushing his thoughts. The part of his mind that thought of itself as himself, the part of his mind that was him, was drowning in it.


    This must have been the lobotomy that Fahred had so casually warned him about. The complete destruction of himself in the tide of incoming information. The kind of thing that you could only have known about the Paradigm if you had lived through this moment. But Fahred had lived through this.


    If he could survive, that means I will too. Sylvas¡¯ eyes were closed to what he might have seen, and now he shut down his other senses too, Clearmind gave him the tools to focus only on what he wanted to perceive in the moment, and he used it to shut out absolutely everything. A second framework of mana formed in his mind, reshaping it in its own image, but no longer threatening to destroy him.


    He held it there, the mana forms of both paradigms, until he felt certain of them both, sure that nothing could move them, then he let his senses speak again. The press of the straps of his vest against his shoulders, the gentle movement of air brushing over his skin, the sound of his own breathing, the distant sound of the stone around him shifting as the night allowed it to cool and settle back into its usual density. Every point of data was stowed away inside his mind with no way of escaping, but it was no longer a chaotic flood. It was being filed away, the importance of it being ignored entirely, until it all became background noise just like it used to be. It would be there if he thought back to it, but it wouldn¡¯t overwhelm him in the moment. In less time than it had taken him to master pronouncing Kaya¡¯s name, he had mastered his second paradigm.


    He let his fingers dance over the surface of the slate, reveling in the sensation and the way that its papery texture was stored away in his memory for later examination as he turned to the pages about the Embodiment that had been chosen for him. He supposed that he should have been annoyed that Bulwark was chosen for him, that he should have railed against his independence being stolen. But given the sheer breadth of Embodiments that were available in the Strife library this actually came as a massive relief. To have the choice taken from him, and to be given an embodiment that was essentially optimized for his own progression, was more than he could have hoped for and far from the punishment that he suspected he was meant to be suffering.


    A quick glance through the pages on the slate told him everything that he needed to know, the actual process of infusing his channels and flesh with the mana would take longer. He had proceeded with his first embodiment at what would have been considered by the Empyrean to be a reckless speed, explaining the many injuries that it had caused him. He would not, of course, be going as slowly as the text told him to, not when he had more important things that he needed to be working on and a mana core so dense that it was considered to be a danger to him and others. But he would definitely be taking things easier than he had with his first embodiment.


    Which he calculated to mean that he would be sitting still in this cell for the remainder of the night, slowly infusing mana out from his channels until shortly before the end of Strife¡¯s working day at which point he could forge his second circle.


    It required surprisingly little concentration, really. It was more like his calisthenics exercises than anything else. He shaped the mana in his core into the specific pattern that would infuse resistance into his flesh, and he let it seep out. The shaping took only as much concentration as a flex of a bicep when lifting a weight, and the infusion was more of a release than an effort. Which in turn left his mind entirely free to be bored again.


    He used Lockmind to skim back through everything that had happened since he had mastered it, reading through his sensory information like it was an old journal and finding nothing of interest or use, then he turned his attention to the slate.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    It had been cleared of all information other than that which Fahred had wanted him to have, but the act of clearing it had left absences in the magic where information used to be. It was an interesting puzzle that Sylvas eventually learned to solve by infusing the absences with wisps mana, allowing him to bring back fragments. Snippets of text that with context and time he was able to construct back into the full theoretical articles that his instructor had been reading on the thing before turning it to its new purpose.


    At some point, the beleaguered looking elf from the mess hall delivered a meal, but Sylvas barely even noticed his arrival until the smell of food pervaded through his concentration and he wolfed the brown slop down. From there, Sylvas¡¯s next focus was getting used to the unique discomfort of eating while being intensely aware of all the internal organs that the food was coming into contact with. A task that he was able to master with some difficult as he continued recreating the missing knowledge on the slate.


    Yet even as he did, he discovered that much of it was beyond him. Smug as he might have been about knowing the theory underlying the spells that he used, the theory underlying the use of magic, and his own ability to use those advantages in spell-work, there was a level of complexity here that greatly outstripped anything that he had ever encountered. Yes, he would understand it, master it, eventually. But there would likely be years of intervening study between then and the present, as he absorbed the full breadth of magical knowledge that the Empyrean had cobbled together.


    And once he had absorbed all the theory underlying what he was piecing together on the tablet, he would have a perfect copy of this very text still stowed away in his mind for perusal at his leisure. As soon as he got out of this cell, he was going to find his own slate and start consuming everything that he could lay hands on. No piece of errata, no matter how obscure would escape his sight, no appendices could conceal their dangling secrets, with this paradigm, he could do everything that he¡¯d ever wanted to. Learn everything.


    He turned his attention back to the spells that he already knew, half-formed and cobbled together as they were. He examined the places where he could change them, make them more useful to him.


    The Empyrean might have problems with modifications to existing spells, but as everyone was so ready to point out, I am not from the Empyrean. He had to work with the tools that he had available to him. And if he didn¡¯t currently have access to the theory underlying some of the spells, he at least had his own general knowledge, and enough free time to begin picking them apart in his mind to try and get to grips with how they worked.


    Some, like the scrying spell, seemed to tap into systems that already existed which he just had no knowledge of, and those he could not begin to decipher, but others were in easy reach. His Arcane Arrows were the easiest to adjust on the fly, in no small part because he¡¯d been responsible for writing the majority of the spell himself, tweaking the Aion words that they¡¯d found in other spells until he had created an amplification of destructive force. Now that he had seen some of the other spells used by other mages, the officially constructed ones rather than the cobbled together versions that he¡¯d been able to come up with and that had proliferated through the Heralds, he could see the flaws in his own design. Yet he was reluctant to make any changes now, not when they might be noticed by his Instructors and result in him being tossed back in the brig. What he had made back on Croesia would have to serve for now, at least until he unlocked whatever affinity would grant him access to the next tier of more specialized magic.


    The circle within him began to take form. One half was already in place and solid, the section composed of his paradigm, but the other half was still misty and permeable. Were it not for the first circle already hanging inside of this second one, his mana core would have passed out through that fuzzy semi-circle and he would have lost it all. Probably quite catastrophically. Instead, it remained pinned safely in place.


    He wiped away all that he¡¯d reconstructed from the slate, as there was no need to let his Instructor know that he was reading ahead, or capable of deciphering wiped slates, and then he turned his full attention to the sensations that his embodiment were now bestowing on him. Mostly a deep muscle ache, a sensation like he had been repeatedly electrocuted over the past few hours, and a numbness in the areas surrounding his mana channels that he chose to interpret as them toughening up. Or at least that¡¯s what he hoped, the other option being that he¡¯d accidentally caused permanent nerve damage by attempting to expedite the process. His body would heal from whatever minor damage this enhancement caused, he was sure, but the long-term payoff would be more than worth it.


    Just as it had the first time, when his second circle formed, Sylvas felt it click into place, like a piece of a puzzle, like an organ he had been missing. The movement of mana inside him, between body and mind began, like a secondary circulatory system, not pulsing in time to his heart beat, but always in smooth fluid motion.


    The mana in his core relaxed. Or at least became less dense than it had been a moment before. Less of a weight for him to haul around. He had been so accustomed to the tension of it pressing against his circle, and his will holding it back, that he had never even recognized the situation as anything abnormal. But now that same harmony he felt within his circles seemed to flow into the mana inside him. It no longer fought and roiled, desperate to escape, and instead became as still as water. Unmoving and placid, but with a depth he could draw on at any time. A well instead of a spigot.


    There was so much more room in his core now. He had expected the second circle to make things easier to manage based on what the doctors and instructors had said, but he had never considered that it might multiply his capacity to retain mana. He was only holding onto what he had before at present, having drawn nothing more in beyond what was required to form the circle, but there was space now for so much more. He could fill this well up to its very brim instead of having to dip down into it each time he cast a spell. He could bring back that same surface-tension that everyone was so worried about, with his will holding the mana in place, and holding twice as much mana as before.


    It would probably defy the purpose of the exercise if he went back to refilling his core to breaking point all over again, and the absence of a full core of mana also let him observe for a time, to try and detect where he was gaining the excess mana from that he was not meditating into his core. But alas, it was nowhere to be found. The whole time that he had been fighting, more and more mana had flowed into his core, coursing back through the channels of Arterium Arcanum.


    Tentatively he let mana flow out from his core, through his channels, into the brig, but there was no repetition of what happened during the battle. The mana did not return to him just because he was casting some out. Whatever that mystery source of power had been, it seemed that his new embodiment had solved it. Making his flesh impermeable and stoppering whatever leak had been empowering him. On the one hand, that was wonderful news, two birds killed with one stone and a problem solved, but on the other, he felt certain he would miss having that extra mana that he didn¡¯t need to think about drawing.


    He sat there in the empty cell, cross-legged and silent, doing nothing but feeling that flow of mana through that new circle, feeling where it was inconsistent and pushing the flow through more steadily, feeling where it was moving too swiftly and drawing it back into harmony. Only when he was fully satisfied that everything was flowing exactly as it should be and would continue to do so forever without further guidance from him did he open his eyes.


    And saw that the world was on fire.

 Chapter 31

    ¡°As mana flows through the brain, the physical structure is changed, inevitably this results in changes in behavior and perception. Trauma has a similar effect, distorting how the subject understands the world around them. Yet when the two combine, there is an oddly neutralizing effect. As though the presence of mana smooths off and heals the rough edges of a damaged psyche.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    Everywhere that Sylvas looked, there were flames and twisting chaos. He leapt to his feet and flung himself back, but it followed him. No, it had already been there before he arrived, he was entirely consumed in the flames, and it was only shock that kept him from the agony.


    He¡¯d made some stupid mistake. The mana he¡¯d let loose must have ignited on the ward. He was going to die.


    After all I¡¯d done, after all I¡¯d survived, to die in some stupid accident just after I¡¯d managed to advance. It isn¡¯t fair. It isn¡¯t right.


    The fire was bright, blinding, swirling before his eyes, but it had no scent, no sound. There was no roar as the magical flames threatened to consume him, to burn him down to a crisp.


    In desperation, even knowing that it wouldn¡¯t save him, he threw up his hands and cast a shield.


    The flames obeyed. They twisted in shape to his words, fresh flames leapt from his fingertips, contorting into light and form. Sigils and runes of the Aion tongue forming out of nothingness, spinning out into a circle before his eyes, expanding out into the shield that was usually invisible to the naked eye but which now shone with the same intensity as the flames all around it.


    Wait.


    Sylvas slipped into Clearmind, he set aside his fears and his panic. He let himself perceive what was happening, and analyzed it instead of blindly reacting. This was not fire. It shone bright, and the chaotic motions of it jumping around had reminded him of fire, so much so that all rationality had been completely bypassed and he¡¯d moved to terror, but it wasn¡¯t fire.


    It was mana.


    The energy flowing around him, fluid as plasma, chaotic as flame, was mana. Raw mana drifting in the air, that he could now inexplicably see. Taking a steadying breath, he let his shield disperse, and marveled as the careful crystalline structure of it came apart slowly from the edges, and the mana dissipated back out into the cloud. He had known in the abstract that mana was everywhere, but he had not realized just how much of it there was in every single square inch of the world. He held himself still for a moment, just breathing, watching the mana go unmoved by the intake of his breath, then he turned his attention to the ward holding him in the cell.


    It was a solid wall of that same crystalline mana that he had constructed a shield from, he could see the sigils set in each corner of it drawing fresh mana in to keep the formula of the spell endlessly repeating until it was deliberately interrupted from the outside. There the sigils worked to keep everything inside the cell from escaping, at the same time they allowed anything outside the cell to come in. Now that he could see it, he could understand it. If he cast a spell of his own, he¡¯d be able to read the sigils of Aion that comprised it, when someone else cast, if he knew what sigils mapped to what effects, he¡¯d be able to tell what they were casting before it had even been completed. This changes everything.


    With a start, he realized that Lockmind had gone from a helpful learning tool to a complete revelation. He would be able to learn any spell that he saw cast by going back and replaying the memory. Admittedly, most of them would be useless to him once he advanced into affinity magic, tied to the specific refined elemental forces that he could now see glimpses of whirling in the chaotic blend of the mana all around him. But for now, his spellbook had just grown to encompass every piece of magic done in his line of sight. With a few hours of study, he suspected he¡¯d be able to build a ward just like the one holding him in the brig. With a few years learning all the specifics of the Aion language, he¡¯d be able to reverse engineer the ward and create a counterspell. Not very helpful in the moment but given that he had a whole lifetime ahead of him, it might someday prove useful.


    Realization struck him again. This is why magic within the Empyrean is standardized.


    This was why they only used the proscribed spells. It had nothing to do with the safety of their mages, which he doubted they gave a half a damn about given the reckless way that the Ardent were taught to think. But rather everything to do with allowing those who had mastered the language of spellcasting to completely negate anything that those with lesser knowledge might cast. Admittedly, this was conspiratorial thinking, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but feel like it was what he would do if put in that position.


    Now that he had come to understand what he was seeing, Sylvas was faced with a new problem. How do I live with it?


    It was all very well being able to see the living floes of mana pervading all things, but how was he going to get anything done with that giant glowing chaos unfolding in front of him at all times. He didn¡¯t know how other people managed it, but for him it turned out to be surprisingly simple. Just as he had used Clearmind to filter out his sensory information while he was mastering Lockmind, now he used it to filter out the mana. It wasn¡¯t easy, because it was as though his eyes were trying to tell him two things at the same time, and his brain was mashing them together. His first attempt left him blind to everything except the mana, which would probably come in handy sometimes when working on specific spell work, but otherwise was a nuisance. Switching that channel of sight off and the other one on, he returned to his old perception of the world.


    Now he just had to ponder what had caused this newfound ability to see mana. Whether it was the combination of his paradigms or just a natural progression that came with the second circle. He couldn¡¯t see it when both of his paradigms weren¡¯t in use, but that didn¡¯t actually answer the question of which of those two options was granting him this sight.


    He was just starting to toy with his new vision, trying to partially dim it while still receiving some of the information it could grant him when Fahred walked back into the room and blinded him.


    The mana before had been like looking out through flames, the mana around Fahred was like staring directly into the sun. He was a beacon of power. The mana of his embodiments outlining him and the blazing inferno of his core striking Sylvas blind. At least that explained how the Ardent had known that Sylvas himself had more mana than a first circle mage was meant to. He wouldn¡¯t have been shining like Fahred, but there would certainly have been a healthier glow than was average.


    ¡°Ah good, you¡¯ve hit second circle, got the accompanying second sight, and tried to look at a wizard without any filter, very sensible of you.¡± Fahred breezed in, entirely too amused with himself as usual.


    ¡°It would have been nice to have some warning about this second sight before I got it.¡± Sylvas had to close his eyes against the blaze as he got his Clearmind to hide all mana from sight.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He was only just beginning to allow Fahred to glow again ever so slightly when the Instructor rolled his eyes, the shape of them barely visible with all the mana shining within them. ¡°As if none of the more powerful mages on your world ever told you about it.¡±


    Sylvas tried not to clench his jaw as he sharply shook his head. ¡°I was the most powerful mage on my world.¡±


    There was another of those momentary pauses that Fahred made, when he received and absorbed new information and had to decide how it was going to change things. ¡°Well that certainly explains a lot about the sense of entitlement.¡±


    It had changed little, it seemed. Sylvas took a deep breath, then tried a new approach. ¡°I believe that I have learned all that I can in the brig, would it be possible for me to begin affinity testing?¡±


    Fahred summoned his chair once more, but now Sylvas was able to make out the sigils of the spell, the floes of the mana as they took shape, he was not creating the chair out of magic, he was bringing it from somewhere else. Folding space and dragging this through. It was a truly awesome power being used for the most tawdry of things. Fahred settled himself on the chair once more. ¡°Today? No.¡±


    Sylvas was still staring at the now-completed spell, sifting through his memories, trying to place the shapes he was certain he¡¯d seen before. Had I drawn them back on Croesia, atop the tower?


    Fahred held up a finger as if to stop Sylvas before he could say any more. ¡°I regret to inform you that tomorrow is also looking extremely unlikely.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t rise to the bait. Instead he stated his case clearly and succinctly as he could. ¡°I would like to continue with my progression so that I can begin learning new spells.¡±


    ¡°Of course you would my little dove, you¡¯re the most powerful mage of whatever backwater birthed you, no wonder you¡¯re so hungry for more. But unfortunately there are certain factors that will prevent you from beginning affinity testing.¡±


    The goading seemed to be deliberate at this point. Until now, Sylvas had assumed that the other man was talking flippantly was simply his manner, but the more time that he spent in close quarters with the Instructor, the more he came to suspect that this man deliberately tried to antagonize everyone around him so that he might find weakness. ¡°Might I ask what factors those might be, sir?¡±


    ¡°Primarily the fact that I insisted that you be locked up here for three days as punishment.¡± Once more he held up a hand as if expecting Sylvas to complain. But there was no surprise that Fahred had been the driving force behind his imprisonment. Still the mage offered up an explanation. ¡°Expecting you to need that time to make the advancement you¡¯ve pounced on today. Very foolish, by the way, to force progression at a pace faster than the manuals indicate. You could have done yourself a serious injury in the process of¡ª¡±


    Sylvas cut the man¡¯s explanation off a little rudely. But no more rudely than Fahred himself had been speaking up until now. ¡°I¡¯m going to be here for two more days?¡±


    ¡°Recruit, if it had been up to Vaelith we would have had a parade in your honor and if it had been up to me you¡¯d have been shot into space never to return. We reached a compromise. Three days in the brig.¡± It had been difficult to read Fahred¡¯s expression before because of his odd mono-color eyes, and the addition of the mana glowing out from within him only made him harder to perceive properly. But Sylvas suspected that the little quirk of the Instructor¡¯s eyebrow meant that he was deliberately needling him.


    Sylvas once more took a steadying breath to keep his temper under control. ¡°Once I am released, will I be able to undertake affinity testing?¡±


    Fahred smiled pleasantly. ¡°Yes, of course. And in all likelihood your circles will have stabilized sufficiently that you can do so without any risk of false results flagging up due to instability.¡±


    If he was going to be stuck in here for two more days, then Sylvas refused to let them be a waste of his time. ¡°Would it be possible to have access to my own slate so that I can study during this time?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll have one of your little harem deliver it to you later, but I¡¯ve got half a mind to keep you locked up in here with nothing to do at all. One day without work to do and I firmly believe you¡¯d start trying to chew through the walls.¡±


    The little joke about his romantic involvement with the other recruits again. He shouldn¡¯t have let Fahred see that his last jibe along these lines had been effective, it had invited the man to pry at what he considered a weak spot. ¡°Would it also be possible for you to explain what I need to do to prepare for affinity testing?¡±


    Fahred¡¯s smile grew a little wider at that question, his head then quickly shaking side to side. ¡°Ah, no. Sorry. It doesn¡¯t work that way. This isn¡¯t the sort of test that you study for, I¡¯m afraid. It¡¯s more of a spiritual journey to connect with the fundamental forces of the cosmos that resonate best with your soul. Entirely out of your control, which I¡¯m sure that you¡¯re just going to love. It¡¯s a test that¡¯s entirely impossible to brute force through with sheer determination. Rather it¡¯s more of an exercise in letting go and letting the universe guide you. Try not to let it get to you though. I can tell you¡¯re someone desperate to be in control of everything going on around them, and that¡¯s not something you¡¯re going to find here.¡±


    It was too much of a needled to let pass entirely without comment, but the more that Sylvas engaged with it, the more that Fahred would consider this to be another valid line of attack in his attempts to rile him. He wasn¡¯t sure why the man was so intent on doing so, but he did know that he had no intention of letting the Instructor get to him. ¡°I believe that you may be mistaking me for someone else.¡±


    ¡°Or, possibly, after a long life involving the training of a great many young mages, I have better insight into your personality than whatever minor degrees of self-awareness you happen to have meandered into on your own?¡± Fahred offered it up like a counterpoint in a debate.


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but scowl at the argument, suddenly feeling tired at the circles they were going in. ¡°You think you know me better than I know myself?¡±


    ¡°I know that all you¡¯ve done since getting tossed in that cell is frantically work at increasing your own personal power despite the myriad dangers that you¡¯ve been warned of, demanded resources to help you in making that progression and at no point asked if you might be set free. Which suggests someone less concerned with the freedom that has been taken from them and more concerned with missing out on an opportunity. There aren¡¯t many people out there in the universe who just shrug and accept imprisonment. Those that do tend to be inclined towards liking things that stay the same around them. There are even fewer people still who would view imprisonment as an opportunity for an academic sabbatical.


    ¡°Oh, and before you think that¡¯s all,¡± the man added after a short pause. ¡°I also now know full well just how quickly you came to join us, the Ardent, after your planet fell. You barely took so much as a moment to breathe, let alone mourn, after your tragedy. After everyone in your life was ripped away. That is not normal. Not healthy. So yes, I¡¯m making many, many assumptions about you until I find out just how well your head is tied to your body.¡±


    Sylvas instantly felt his mouth go dry at Farhed¡¯s assessment of him, his mind all but instantly going to Mira. The man was right. He hadn¡¯t stopped to think of her, the only person he¡¯d left behind on the ruined remnants of his home world. Doing so was too painful. So much so that Sylvas had all but leapt at the first opportunity that had he¡¯d been able to justify to keep his mind moving so that the intrusive thoughts, that the nightmares that plagued him in his sleep, wouldn¡¯t consume him.


    It was too much for Sylvas to process, and he forced himself to breathe, steadily in and out as he tried to center himself. It had been already a trying day between the battle, waking up in the brig after a fresh batch of nightmares, and then undertaking the construction of a full circle in a single sitting. To add more to that was impossible and the last thing he wanted was for Fahred know just how close he truly was to losing his composure. So he fell into Clearmind and forced his scowl away before changing the subject entirely.


    ¡°Would you let me out if I asked?¡±


    Fahred stared back at him impassively, offering him the courtesy of at least a second of thought. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°That is why I didn¡¯t ask.¡± Sylvas stated, feeling his aching heart start to settle. ¡°And would my being upset over my imprisonment have made it any more likely for that answer to be yes?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± The man stated.


    ¡°Then perhaps I¡¯m simply rational,¡± Sylvas offered. ¡°Rather than possessing whatever other traits you¡¯ve assigned me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you are, Vail, maybe you aren¡¯t. We¡¯ll just need to see, won¡¯t we?¡± Fahred replied as he rose from his seat, pausing to cast the inverse of his earlier spell which banished the chair back to wherever it had come from with a formation of the same sigils that Sylvas had recognized from before. Ones that had something to do with portals, summoning, banishment.


    Fahred was almost to the door when Sylvas called out after him. ¡°Sir?¡±


    The man sighed as he stopped, turning his head to look back at him over his shoulder. ¡°Yes, Recruit?¡±


    ¡°My slate?¡±


    ¡°As I already said, it will be delivered before classes start tomorrow. Now go to sleep. You¡¯re going to need it.¡±

 Chapter 32

    ¡°It is the humble opinion of this journalist that affinity testing is an arbitrary and cruel system that is designed to create an unequal society due to circumstances entirely outside of the mage¡¯s control. None of us have any say in what affinity we will develop, no matter what the ivory tower theorists say. We get what we are given, and discriminating against others because they have an ¡®inferior¡¯ affinity is tantamount to bigotry.¡±


    ¡ªMy Affinity is Poop, Anonymous


    Sleep came easily. The stone floor of this cell was markedly more comfortable than the mattresses in the orphanage in Telas Norn, with none of the prickling straw or biting mites that had come with that supposed kindness. Exhaustion helped a lot too. Despite his complaints about being trapped in a cell, the truth was that Sylvas was getting some much-needed recovery time. As such, he didn¡¯t stir until there was a pointed cough from outside the cell, at which point he sprang upright so quickly that Kaya jumped in surprise.


    Not that it slowed what came afterwards.


    ¡°There¡¯s my boy! The man! The legend! The bad boy of the Ardent!¡± Sylvas had forgotten how loud she was.


    ¡°Good morning, Kaya.¡± He said numbly as blinked the sleep from his eyes while trying to filter out the mana that flooded his vision. Too slowly unfortunately, for the instant that his sight did clear, did he see that Kaya had tossed him a slate, prompting him to yelp in pain when it clipped off his forehead.


    An unfortunate accident that only caused the dwarven woman to yelp with a laugh. ¡°Whoops! That¡¯s what you get for enjoying your beauty sleep while the rest of us work!¡±


    Sylvas grumbled as he rubbed instant the bruise with one hand and scrabbled to retrieve his slate with the other. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing my best to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure. Anyway, hasn¡¯t been much fun since they locked you up. Classes mostly. Boring as sin. Some fighting with Vaelith¡¯s glowing dummies, but not much else to report.¡± She said without any preamble, filling him in on what he¡¯d missed. ¡°That krahg ¡®officer¡¯ I got stuck with for the fight with the Eidolons keeps butting in. Telling me how much better off I¡¯d be with him. I told him you¡¯re kin, but he isn¡¯t listening.¡±


    ¡°Hammerheart.¡± Sylvas noted with a sigh. ¡°I suspect he¡¯s going to be a problem. He already tried to give me a beating for showing him up on the field.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that how he got the broke nose?¡± Sylvas nodded as a grin split Kaya¡¯s face. ¡°Want me to take his knees off for him?¡±


    ¡°I think I made my point just fine.¡± Sylvas said with a snort at that mental image. ¡°He won¡¯t be trying it again.¡±


    ¡°Naw, he¡¯s just going around telling everyone how much you suck instead.¡±


    Sylvas shouldn¡¯t have expected any less from the man really. It was clear that he was willing to do anything that he could to put himself above the rest of them, regardless of the lies he had to tell. ¡°He¡¯s probably helping people to have a balanced viewpoint, given that you¡¯re going around telling everyone I¡¯m a god made flesh.¡±


    Kaya was unabashed at the sentiment, letting out another one of her trademark laughs. ¡°Don¡¯t want folks to know you¡¯re awesome, stop being awesome.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, trying to keep Kaya¡¯s praise under control might have been a losing battle.


    She glanced around for any signs of scrying then asked, ¡°was it you that pulled the eidolons out the sky?¡±


    There was no point in denying it given where he was now. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why I¡¯m in here.¡±


    ¡°Instructors wouldn¡¯t say anything, but I figure none of them other culgh could have pulled it off.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve since been informed that using non-standard spells is an offense that results in imprisonment in the brig by the Ardent, so I¡¯d suggest you don¡¯t try to replicate the effect.¡± Sylvas gave her a weary smile.


    ¡°Stupid bloody rules.¡±


    That brief lull in the conversation was all the prompting that Sylvas needed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to recall what was being discussed in the lessons would you? I really don¡¯t want to fall behind.¡±


    It was a statement that caused Kaya to look back at him as though he¡¯d grown a second head. ¡°How did I end up with a stanzbuhr like you as kin?¡±


    Sylvas was amazed at just how much affection could be squeezed into an insult. ¡°I believe it was something to do with this ¡®stanzbuhr¡¯ saving your life?¡±


    Kaya snorted and promptly rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t remember anything interesting, but the lessons should all have dumped on your slate.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for bringing it to me.¡±


    She promptly waved the thanks away before turning slightly to glance at the door, a sign as good as any that her classes for the day would likely be beginning soon. ¡°Any excuse to come visit.¡±


    ¡°Your company is very much appreciated. The only other people I¡¯ve seen since being put in here have been the food elf and Fahred.¡±


    ¡°Come to twist the knife, did he?¡± The woman asked, her eyebrows dropping as she spoke.


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but think back to their conversation yesterday and managed something akin to a half nod. ¡°Something like that.¡±


    Kaya leaned in close to the ward-line and spoke in a stage whisper. ¡°His kneecaps will be harder to get to, but I can try give it a go?¡±


    It was earnest enough to cause Sylvas to laugh and promptly banish whatever lingering feelings that thought of Farhed had brought up. ¡°I appreciate the thought, but I think I¡¯ve got that situation under control too.¡±


    Kaya nodded then began edging towards the door, having spent whatever free time she¡¯d had for the time of day. ¡°Right, I¡¯d better get to it. Try and be sad about being bad and naughty, or whatever they want you to do so you get out sooner. It¡¯s boring out there without you.¡±


    Even so however, Sylvas couldn¡¯t pass up the opportunity her presence, and their conversation brought him, ¡°before you go¡­¡±


    ¡°Aye?¡± Kaya asked, voice immediately suspicious.


    He smiled back at her. ¡°What is a stanzbuhr?¡±


    ¡°You are, you bloody stanzbuhr.¡± Kaya promptly exclaimed as laughter echoed back to him, the woman giving him a final wave before she strolled out of sight.


    Damn, I actually wanted to know, Sylvas thought as he watched her leave. Attempts to look up translations of the word the other day on his slate proved fruitless and at this rate he would have to approach an actual dwarf for assistance, since he suspected Kaya was not going to be forthcoming with information.


    With that thread lost to him, Sylvas then turned to his slate and discovered the lessons that he had missed were fundamentals of magical combat, eidolon classification, and a training exercise revolving around mobility in the field. He only had to glance through the written lessons to commit all the details provided to memory, though he¡¯d probably have to seek out more details on how eidolons were classified at a later time. Because while the tier list and the required response orders all made sense to a degree, he had no idea why certain Eidolons were considered so much more dangerous than similar ones.


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    There was a temptation to dive into the library of spells once he¡¯d caught up on all that he¡¯d missed, but he knew that it would ultimately prove to be a waste of time, given that his whole spell-book would change once he had an affinity. So instead he focused on magical theory that first morning. Trying his best to understand the fundamentals that informed the scrying spell and how affinities worked in general. There seemed to be as many affinities as there were embodiments and paradigms, ranging in rarity from the simple elements that they had been taught about in the orphanage all the way up to concepts so obscure that Sylvas was unsure how they could even translate into the basis for spells.


    It left him silently hoping for something simple and straightforward for his own affinity. Being able to launch himself around with pillars of stone like he had seen Fargus do would resolve the need for physical enhancements, as would armor of wrought rock. Being able to unleash torrents of flame like Kerbo would make him into a living artillery piece, capable of downing Eidolons from across the field of battle. But while that was all a pleasant distraction for a time, Sylvas didn¡¯t let himself get too carried away or invested in any idea in particular. He would have whatever affinity he had, and wishing for another would just make him miserable. Still though, he was so close that he could already taste the possibility in so many of the elemental affinities.


    Eventually he settled in to read dry theory for the remainder of the day, more to stow it away in his mind for later reference than for anything else. His reading speed was essentially as fast as he could flick his fingers at this point, thanks to Lockmind. So he probably had a very small library committed to memory before the elf from the mess hall finally showed up with some more indescribably bad slop for him to eat. A quick glance at the Strife facility guide confirmed what he already suspected while he was forcing himself to eat. Allegedly the naval and officer cadet recruits also had their own chef, given their differing schedules, who was rumored to prepare them food that was actually food as opposed to whatever this gruel happened to have once been. Another reason to loathe Hammerheart. He got to eat meat instead of¡­ Sylvas really couldn¡¯t even venture a guess what that was on the tray.


    The third day passed much the same as the second, albeit without a visit from Kaya to brighten his mood. As much as he might have relished the idea of being left alone to catch up on his reading, this was taking it to an extreme that he did not enjoy. Even with the full breadth of the Ardent¡¯s training library at his disposal, he just couldn¡¯t find the energy to keep pressing on, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep sometime after his vile meal.


    ¡°Affinity testing.¡± The rough voice stirred Sylvas from his dreams of home. Chittering red claws raking the cold flagstones of the orphanage, melting it all away into the damnable red dust of Strife.


    It was one of the instructors, one that he hadn¡¯t come across so far, a human but built to the same gargantuan proportions as some of the fiends had been. Given his very limited time on the planet it hardly came as a surprise that Sylvas didn¡¯t know the staff yet.


    The ward that had been keeping him contained was gone. The blinding swirls of mana that blinded him the moment he opened his eyes faded into a dim overlay of the physical world once more. He blinked again, then rose with his body creaking. He shouldn¡¯t have skipped calisthenics, even if his whole body was still aching. He couldn¡¯t afford for his muscles to tighten up and leave him useless.


    ¡°Outbuilding uh¡­ four?¡± Sylvas felt like his mind was still spinning up to speed.


    But with this work done in letting Sylvas looks, the Instructor was already on the way to whatever was next in his schedule, sparing him only a brief glance over his shoulder. ¡°Yes, and it¡¯s in ten minutes. So I¡¯d start running.¡±


    Cursing, Sylvas came to regret skipping calisthenics even more. He was out of breath before he¡¯d even navigated his way up from the brig, past the levels of the subterranean complex where the recruits were usually stowed away when they weren¡¯t in use and made it back to ground level.


    Stepping out into the night air of Strife should have been a massive relief after his time locked inside, but without his uniform jacket it was genuinely chill, and the sweat already beading on him felt icy. Still, he couldn¡¯t let that stop him. He ran full pelt across the red desert of the compound towards Outbuilding Four, what had probably been a chapel at some point before the coming of the Ardent and their blocky reinforcement to its crumbling fa?ade. It was one of the least intact looking of the original buildings from the planet, and the door was not the simple wood that Sylvas had become accustomed to, but some enchanted construct that he had to press a hand to for it to open. He had fully expected Instructor Fahred to be inside, waiting to see which way his training would be headed, but it seemed that the man had more important business to attend to. Instead Sylvas was confronted by a stern looking male dwarf in simple white garb, cleanly shaven in direct contradiction to every other dwarf he¡¯d ever encountered. ¡°Recruit Vail, cutting it fine.¡±


    He had to pause for a moment to catch his breath before he could reply. ¡°Sorry sir, I was only just informed of my appointment.¡±


    ¡°Not my problem.¡± The dwarf had turned his attention back to the slate in his hands. ¡°You know the procedure?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± There was no point in feigning otherwise.


    Still the dwarf huffed as if doing his job was an imposition. ¡°Enter the chamber, approach the elemental sources, see how the mana responds to you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that simple?¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s simple if you know what you¡¯re doing, now move.¡± He gave Sylvas a shove, not with his broad fingered hands, but with a spell, something like Kinesis, but barely articulated. ¡°You¡¯re going to hold up the rest of the line.¡±


    Sylvas glanced around the empty room for any signs of said line he was slowing, but didn¡¯t argue, heading for the interior door of the sterile white room, palming it open and heading inside.


    He didn¡¯t really know what to expect, but the chamber lacked any of the ceremony he would have expected. There were waist high pillars arrayed around the room, spaced evenly and contained within weak ward circles and topped with various items. Some were immediately obvious in their purpose, for the earth affinity, there was a crystal that looked something like a desert quartz, crusted with solid fragments of grey rock. As for the fire affinity, there was a little oil lantern burning away. For some of the more esoteric affinities, Sylvas struggled to identify the objects. There was a flower in a vase that he had first taken for some sort of plant or life affinity object but which he gradually came to suspect was something to do with air, given that it swayed as though in a breeze. The bottled lightning was both obvious and somewhat awe inspiring, but the obsidian bowl full of what appeared to be blood sparked further concerns. It was only when he opened up his second sight fully to observe the mana that things became clear to him.


    Normal mana was a chaotic blend of all the different affinities, but within these warded circles the balance was shifted. There were still elements of the other mana affinities, because to fully remove them would have been a complex process, but the shift in balance was enough for Sylvas to truly recognize each distinct strain of mana for the first time in his life. It would have been easier if he had simply seen mana with a fire affinity as red and water as blue, but mana was not so straightforward. If anything it was the unique movements of the mana that gave it away more than anything else, the jerking motions of lightning mana, the waves present in the water mana. From what he had read, forming the third circle was as much about creating a filter on the mana being drawn into his core as it was about creating a system of containment for that mana. The old mana within him would be diluted over time until only the elemental mana remained, and then every spell that he cast would be shaped by his affinity.


    All that I have to do is work out what affinity I have.


    Reaching out across the ward line into the swirling hot mana of the fire affinity podium, he tried to draw it in. It came, just like any other mana would, and it left a stinging sensation behind it along his channels. Technically he could draw any mana right now, regardless of affinity, which meant that being able to pull on this fire mana meant nothing. It didn¡¯t feel any different than normal. Or if it did it was only because the composition felt slightly off. Whatever revelation was meant to come when he touched mana that shared his natural affinity just wasn¡¯t there.


    It seemed that fire was not for him. Sighing, he moved across to the slow grinding drift of earth affinity mana in its pillar and tried again. It was sluggish to be drawn in, but it came, and he felt nothing at all, except the vague sensation of grit being left behind in its wake.


    Slowly and methodically he worked his way around all of the pillars, drawing in mana. Starting with the most obvious affinities, the most common, and then moving on. A broken hilt of a sword radiated war affinity and gave him nothing. A serpent¡¯s fang leaking venom provoked no feelings of sudden peace with the universe. A curious empty black fold of cloth was flooding its containment with shadow affinity and he drew it in only to learn that he had no special connection to it.


    It was infuriating.


    Like the early days of trying to draw mana, except worse. That same desperation clawed at him. I need this. He needed to find his affinity to progress. To learn new spells and stay in the Ardent. He couldn¡¯t afford to fall behind.


    But despite his best efforts, the knock on the door of the testing chamber eventually arrived like a pealing bell of doom when he was no closer to unlocking his affinity than when he started.


    His time was up. He had failed.

 Chapter 33

    ¡°Mobility, mana retention and spell selection are the key components of magical combat. Of the three, the most important is mobility because it allows for better mana retention by virtue of not needing to counter opponents spells. Mobility also matters because it informs the spell selection at your disposal. The more positions you can place yourself in, the more targets you can acquire and the wider a variety of spells you can bring to bear.¡±


    ¡ªMagical Combat Manual 1, Haxan Shaelar


    ¡°The key components of magical combat are?¡± Instructor Shaelar asked, her eyes scanning the classroom before landing upon Sylvas who promptly rattled them off.


    ¡°Spell selection, mana retention, and mobility.¡±


    ¡°And of the three the most important is?¡± She pressed while offering a curt nod.


    ¡°Mobility.¡±


    Another nod, this time followed by a gesturing hand. ¡°Because?¡±


    ¡°Because you aren¡¯t wasting mana countering spells that aren¡¯t going to hit you.¡± Sylvas explained, hoping that his precision wasn¡¯t taken as trying to show off. Yet at the same time he wasn¡¯t about to pretend that his newly perfected memory was failing him just to seem more likeable.


    ¡°And?¡± Shaelar asked, drawing the word out expectantly.


    ¡°Your positioning on the battlefield informs the spell selection at your disposal.¡±


    It was answer that prompted her to clap her hands together, making everything metal in the room chime in concordance. ¡°Correct on all counts, Recruit Vail. You may give yourself a firm pat on the back for not falling entirely behind during your imprisonment.¡±


    There was some soft laughter from among the other recruits in the hall, but not as much as Sylvas might have expected. It seemed that he wasn¡¯t entirely loathed despite Hammerheart¡¯s best efforts to spread rumors about him. Sylvas knew that most of the laughter had come from the section of the room where the naval recruits and officer cadets sat, specifically from the region surrounding Hammerheart himself. Yet even so, Sylvas resolved not to let it get to him. The immaturity, at least as much that was tolerated by the instructors, was all that really troubled him. He would have rather dealt with an assassination attempt, because at least he knew how to resolve that situation.


    The basics that this class covered had also been more thoroughly addressed in the textbook that Instructor Shaelar was teaching them from, a copy of which had been in the library, and was now lodged firmly in Sylvas head. He could give textbook accurate answers to anything she might ask because he had immediate access to the textbook. At some point in the near future he would have to point this out to his instructors, but for now he was more focused on not making waves while trying to get his next attempt at Affinity Testing go a little smoother.


    Everything that he had read about the process spoke about it in the abstract, as if anyone put in that situation would just instantly know what affinity they were drawn to, but nothing in that room had called to him at all. He knew that there were other affinities that they couldn¡¯t possibly test for, just because of the variety of affinities that were documented, but the majority of those were so obscure that nobody had written spells for them either. It would be like Croesia all over again, with him having to build himself from the ground up, inventing magic as a discipline for himself. Nobody with these obscure affinities made anything of themselves outside of academic circles, or as niche interests for more seasoned researchers. I have not come all this way to be a sideshow attraction, I did not survive the death of my world and sign my soul away to the Empyrean so that I could be quietly shuffled off into some secluded laboratory to be poked and prodded while my own power eludes me.


    He would make one of the affinities bend to his will, no matter what it took.


    ¡°¡ªa height advantage preferable in arcane combat, Recruit Runemaul?¡± Sylvas¡¯ attention suddenly was drawn back to the room at the mention of his friend¡¯s name.


    Kaya didn¡¯t flush with embarrassment the way that some dwarves did when someone made a reference to their height, but Sylvas could tell that she was quietly adding Shaelar¡¯s name to a list of people who would soon be without kneecaps if the opportunity presented itself.


    ¡°Splash damage. Firing up, you miss and you¡¯re done. Firing down, an area of effect spell still has a chance to catch the target when it hits the ground.¡±


    ¡°Correct, and of course, it is always easier to adjust position to a lower one with the assistance of gravity than to fight it. Something that we will be delving into further in Introduction to Interplanetary Combat later in the week.¡±


    Sylvas had absorbed that textbook too. Mages are always vital to space travel as they cast the spells that made the ships move, and used Spatial Magic to operate the Jump Gates that allowed inter-system travel. But they became even more essential for ship-to-ship combat.


    It was there that they excelled anything that traditional military could achieve. Given the distances and speeds involved, there was very little that a person with a conventional weapon could hope to do, but a mage might ward against incoming attacks and launch their own spells most effectively.


    Of all the facets the book had talked about, it had been Spatial Magic had particularly caught Sylvas¡¯ attention. It was something that all of the higher circle mages seemed to have some aptitude for, even if it was well outside of their affinity. More specifically it was a school of magic that allowed for teleportation and the summoning of objects from the pocket dimensions that regular casters casually referred to as ¡®Cold Storage¡¯ and used frequently. It was where Fahred had stowed his chair, where the elf back on Croesia had summoned her staff from, and seemed to serve as a general workaround for many of the problems of materials that any mage might suffer.


    Kaya grumbled, ¡°khltun,¡± under her breath and Sylvas resisted the urge to ask what it meant, already fairly certain it was something derogatory about their Instructor. Sylvas still hadn¡¯t found a primer for the dwarven language to add to his Lockmind library.


    One day, he promised himself yet again before turning his attention back to his slate. He had found a way to adjust the enchantment so that he no longer needed to flick at the screen to make text scroll by. Now, each time that he selected a text, it would roll by his vision without risking him straining his wrist to keep the pace up. The only downside was that he¡¯d occasionally look away at the wrong moment and needed to restart the book, as he did now.


    ¡°Sigil.¡±


    A Mage¡¯s Guide to Affinity and Advancement was as dry as books came and much of the theory outlined in it was stuff that Sylvas had already worked out for himself. But just because he was memorizing all of these books and could draw on those memories, it didn¡¯t mean that he fully understood them or could integrate them into how he thought about things. That took time and analysis, and having the correct language to describe all of the things that he only knew instinctually was extremely helpful in deciphering the more complex material that he was now trying to dig into.


    ¡°Hey, Sigil!¡±


    Kaya may have been content to learn spells by rote, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t stomach it. Not when some fundamental truths about how the universe worked were lurking just out of sight. He supposed it might be a difference of their upbringing. For her magic was a tool to be used, for him it was¡­ everything. His obsession, his identity, his destiny. Or at least, that was what he had been told.


    This time, the interruption came in the form of a shove. ¡°Sigil, class is over!¡±


    He blinked away the afterimages of the speeding text zipping up the slate, and turned to see the fiend girl that had attached herself to him and Kaya. Her name eluded him despite his inescapable memory, because everyone referred to her exclusively by a series of lewd nicknames that she seemed to encourage with winks and giggles at every opportunity. Since Sylvas refused to refer to anyone as Hot Lips, he was left in a nameless purgatory, despite spending so much of his day with her. It seemed that courtesy was not going to be extended both ways, however. The nickname Sigil had outpaced his real name easily, and now even some of the Instructors were calling him it.


    She hooked an arm through Sylvas¡¯ and pulled him from his seat. ¡°Come on, its combat training next. You love combat training.¡±


    ¡°Love is a strong word for how I feel about being brutalized three times a week by anyone and everyone.¡± He grumbled as he was hauled from the room.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Kaya was waiting outside for him, tapping a mechanical foot impatiently as she caught the tail end of the conversation. ¡°My boy loves it. Don¡¯t let him tell you different.¡±


    ¡°Surely to love something, you have to actually enjoy it in some way? Look forward to it? Desire it?¡±


    The fiend who remained nameless batted her eyelashes at that last word, but Kaya vigorously ignored any flirtation with an obliviousness that Sylvas envied greatly. ¡°You do though. It¡¯s like a puzzle you¡¯re trying to solve. I see your face light up every time you think about it. You ain¡¯t worked it out yet, but you love working on it.¡±


    Sylvas sighed at the words, stowing his slate away in the inner pocket of his new jacket. ¡°Well it is a school for training magical combatants, one I willingly signed up for. It makes sense that I¡¯d want to do well.¡±


    The two girls met one another¡¯s gaze around him and agreed. ¡°He loves it.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t bother to argue further. Their minds were clearly made up. Instead he turned his thoughts to the battle ahead.


    Since establishing something of a reputation for himself, he had now become a central component in Kaya¡¯s little army that she¡¯d been putting together among the other recruits. Having seen the success that the naval recruits had while working together, compared to the uncoordinated efforts of the comparatively junior infantry recruits, she had pulled everyone in their social circle into an alliance, or as she called it a ¡®union¡¯. The idea at least at a superficial level was that none of them would work against any of the others, regardless of what was demanded from the officer cadets, or instructors, who she referred to as ¡®the bosses.¡¯ There was a great deal of context to it that Sylvas was missing, especially given that they were in fact in an military academy and thus were expected to follow orders when given. But so long as the alliance held and saved him a few lumps, he wasn¡¯t going to challenge it.


    In the first few mock-battles since that alliance was formed, they¡¯d been trounced repeatedly, no doubt because they¡¯d been identified as a threat by the other groups, and thus targeted right from the beginning. A single recruit posed no real threat to the senior and thus more powerful recruits, but a group of them could take down several mages of greater power, just thanks to having more casters available to counter and cast simultaneously. Moreover Sylvas¡¯ spell book had not been expanded officially in any capacity as he waited for his next opportunity to take affinity testing, but informally, he had picked up the details of Gharia¡¯s flight spell.


    Unfortunately though, like most of the low-level magic learned before affinity testing, it was extremely inefficient. The mana cost for staying in the air was massive, as the spell constantly fought against gravity, and while Sylvas still had an above-average core of mana to draw on, it drained rapidly when he took to the air. On top of that, he had essentially expanded his spellcasting ability by what all of his allies were capable of casting, and with each exercise, they were becoming more effective at covering for one another as the right caster prepared the right spell. It still wasn¡¯t perfect. Sylvas had read up extensively on group tactics for mages, even though that was reserved for those on the officer cadet curriculum, and he still didn¡¯t feel like they were coming close to their potential. In desperation, he¡¯d started issuing commands, expecting to be completely ignored by the more senior students, and had been surprised to see them all jump to attention and obey. He would never claim to be their leader, attempting to make such a claim would likely have ended up with his head in the latrines, but in the heat of battle when they needed a clear head to make decisions, that fell to him more and more often nowadays.


    Which is why when they arrived on the field beyond the ward lines to meet Vaelith and whatever battlefield she¡¯d settled on for the day, there was no real surprise that the others turned to look at him. The fiend and Kaya¡¯s dwarf friend Ironeye were already third circle. She had a fire affinity, he had an affinity for electricity that would have made him part of an engineering corps somewhere if the Ardent hadn¡¯t scooped him up first. The rest of them, Sylvas, Kaya, and the pair of humans ¨C Luna and Orson ¨C were in their second circle.


    Kaya and Sylvas had both tried to surprise the other with news of their advancement once the circle had settled, and while Sylvas was happy for her, he couldn¡¯t help but seethe ever so slightly with jealousy at how easily it had come to her. She¡¯d picked up Quickthought as her paradigm to balance the slow and methodical nature of Clockmind, and as for her embodiment, he couldn¡¯t really begrudge her that. It was a special embodiment called Steelmeld, one that had been the temptation that had drawn her into the Empyrean to begin with. It integrated her prosthetics into her body-sense, so that they felt like a part of her once more, and benefited from the same enhancements that her flesh and blood parts did. She had spent the first few nights after his failure in the affinity testing chamber while he was spiraling into despair and panic touching her toes and giggling without explanation.


    On arrival, the naval recruits and all of the officer cadets had already been arrayed at the far end of the field, behind fortifications that Vaelith had raised for them. Between there and the recruits there was nothing but open ground.


    A killing field. Sylvas thought as he looked expectantly to their instructor, waiting for her to raise a matching set of defenses for them to protect, but as the moments ticked by, it became increasingly apparent that there would be no such rescue from what was to come.


    ¡°Today we are practicing assault on a reinforced position.¡± Vaelith told them, without a hint of sympathy. ¡°Your task is to remove the entrenched opposition. When one side of the conflict or the other is disabled, we stop. You may begin when ready.¡±


    It was a massacre waiting to happen, and worse yet, it was stupid. Or at least it did at first glance. Sylvas had no problem with the pain that came with defeat, he accepted it as his lot in life at this point, but there were no records of Eidolons constructing fortifications and defending them. It was fundamentally contrary to their nature. They were, almost exclusively, beings of destruction. This would be wonderful target practice for the entrenched recruits, who would just be able to blast away to their heart¡¯s content as they closed. However for the infantry recruits, they¡¯d be on the receiving end of said blasting, learning, or testing, nothing more than their willingness to follow orders to the point of self-destruction.


    Or¡­maybe they¡¯re looking to test something less tangible, Sylvas thought as he gave the situation more consideration. All the officers and navy recruits are over there together. Maybe they want to see what kind of leadership traits us ground pounders have when the officers aren¡¯t around to hold our hands. Or what the officers can do have when they only have the sailors to do their work for them.


    It was a theory that he partially confirmed when he glanced towards the others in his little social circle and saw that they had all turned to look at Sylvas the moment that Vaelith had stopped talking. More than just them too, he soon saw that even the other cliques of recruits seemed to be looking this way and listening in, as if hoping Sylvas could pull a miracle out of his hat.


    Well I guess that confirms that.


    ¡°We need to make our own cover. Directly shielding against their attacks is going to bottom out our mana before we can close the distance. More than that, we need¡­ ideas. Good ones. Or we¡¯re sunk.¡± Sylvas started talking, half to himself, half to those who were looking at him, hoping that somebody would volunteer a spell that would solve all their problems. ¡°Crossing to their fortifications is going to be the hardest part. Tearing them down, fighting, that¡¯s our bread and butter.¡±


    ¡°Sure is. But I¡¯ve got an itch already. Why aren¡¯t they blasting us already?¡± Kaya asked aloud, her attention fixed ahead.


    ¡°Likely because they think we¡¯ll be easy pickings when we run at them and don¡¯t want to burn mana early.¡± Gharia stated, her tail lashing unhappily. She¡¯d apparently been here a couple weeks longer than the junior recruits, but not so long as to make her one of the seniors who were a full training cycle ahead of them. Regardless of that extra time though it seemed this was her first seeing this particular scenario.


    ¡°If we spread out wide to avoid area of effect spells, some of us might make it through.¡± Luna suggested.


    Of course as soon as she was finished Ironeye suggested, ¡°if we group up tight in a spearhead, we can work a shield together and punch through.¡±


    Neither option held much appeal if Sylvas was to honest. The former would deplete their numbers and ability to deal damage massively while spreading them too thin. As for the latter strategy, it would just accelerate the rate at which they burned through their mana supplies, giving them a good chance to arrive, yet have nothing left to fight once they got there.


    ¡°What can we do to raise cover?¡± Sylvas asked the dwarves, his mind chewing at the problem.


    They glanced to one another, either considering their combined capabilities or rolling their eyes internally at his assumption that just because they were dwarves, they could raise stone.


    Eventually Kaya answered. ¡°Reckon we could toss up a few walls along the way.¡±


    ¡°What if we went the other way, could we tunnel under?¡± He was still thinking, but none of the options seemed good.


    ¡°All the dust would just fill back in.¡± Kaya said, her brows furrowing in thought as she looked at the other dwarf, who promptly nodded.


    ¡°Would have to go real deep to avoid it.¡± He said simply.


    ¡°How deep?¡± Sylvas queried, scratching his chin as he spoke.


    Ironeye considered it for a moment then shook his head. ¡°Too deep.¡±


    ¡°Sigil, I¡¯ve got something.¡± Hot Lips piped up the moment that avenue came to an end, prompting all eyes to turn to her. ¡°I¡¯ve got a blast, real wildfire stuff. Wide dispersal, weak as the day is long. But it would block line of sight the whole time its rolling out.¡±


    Sylvas grunted in thought at the news. If they only had someone with a water affinity, they could have combined it with that spell and made a thick enough fog to conceal their movements entirely, as it was, it could buy them perhaps a second before it was dispelled or dispersed all on its own.


    Or if not that and he¡¯d had the time to examine the spell, there was a chance he could have picked it apart and turned it into something useful. A directed beam of heat to punch through the enemy defenses at a distance or a solid wall of flame that would obscure them all the way across. But by now it had been made very clear to him that modifying spells again would be punished severely. Yet even so¡­that gives me with an idea.


    He promptly shifted his attention back to the dwarves. ¡°Ironeye¡­ what¡¯s your effective range?¡±


    The dwarf squinted in the direction of where the day¡¯s rivals awaited them. ¡°Couldn¡¯t hit a man at this distance.¡±


    ¡°But your lightning would hit?¡± Sylvas pressed, his thoughts slowly picking up speed. ¡°Even if you couldn¡¯t aim at something specifically?¡±


    ¡°Aye¡­¡± the dwarf replied, looked puzzled as to why he¡¯d even want to do such a thing. Not that Sylvas gave him a chance to ask.


    ¡°How wide a spread can you cast?¡±


    ¡°With a Thunderchain, I¡¯d cover about half their line,¡± he added, using a waggling hand to show his confidence. ¡°But even then, it would be like a static shock when it landed.¡±


    Sylvas had seen him casting that spell before, he knew the casting time down to the millisecond, because he¡¯d been trying to work out the best way around it and had yet to find something that worked.


    ¡°I think I have an idea.¡± Sylvas said carefully as the pieces started to come together. ¡°But it¡¯s going to be rough.¡±

 Chapter 34

    ¡°The definition of victory is simple. There is nobody left to contest you. If that requires death, then deal death. If it requires compassion, then use compassion. The goal is to eliminate all competition, not to make enemies of all their allies. The path of least resistance is always the most beneficial, as it allows you to retain more resources to be used in later conflicts. Make friends of enemies, and your ranks swell.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Sylvas closed his eyes and breathed deep. The mana flowed through him in gentle circuits as it was meant to, containing in his core the raw potential of all his untapped mana. He had a hand on Ironeye¡¯s shoulder, and the other, more tentatively placed in the square of Hot Lips¡¯ back. All three of them were already enchanted with every spell that the whole group could pull together to give them more speed as they ran together across the deserted no-mans-land.


    There was nothing left to do, but to begin.


    The other recruits, devoid of any bright ideas of their own, had filtered over to stand on the periphery of the spearhead that Sylvas was at the tip of. They¡¯d take off running when they saw everyone else go, Sylvas was sure of it. That was good.


    ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡± He spoke softly to the fiend, always feeling that he needed to be careful when he spoke to her.


    She flashed him a devilish smile at the words. ¡°Oh darling, I¡¯m always ready.¡±


    Then she promptly cast her Wildfire and it washed out across the battlefield, effusive and vast, spreading out in every direction. It wouldn¡¯t hit the enemy lines, but it wasn¡¯t meant to. It was just meant to blind them to what was happening behind it. As it began to die down, Ironeye unleashed his Thunderchain, right down the middle of their path. It erupted out in every direction, washing over the enemy entrenchment.


    Dimly, as if through a veil, Sylvas could see the mana that formed the spells. The agitation of the mana that the fire spell had caused blurred everyone else¡¯s second sight. The sudden jagged fractals that formed as the lightning passed through turned any perception of what was happening beyond it into a kaleidoscope contortion.


    Then the fiend cast again.


    Taking turns, sprinting with their whole class behind them and Sylvas hands driving them forwards, they cast. Flame then lightning, flame then lightning, over and over, keeping the enemy blind. If they had any courage in them, some might have broken from their cover and recognized that neither one of the spells had the power to do them harm, but not a one of them did. This was what Vaelith had wanted, all the recruits in one big blind charge towards the enemy, like they were mindless eidolons, but for all that they were mindless, eidolons weren¡¯t harmless. If they could have advanced behind a screen like this, then they would have too. He was teaching them a better lesson than Vaelith could have likely ever hoped.


    The Wildfire was widespread, gushing out from the fiend¡¯s outstretched hands to burst across the field in every direction, forcing smoke out ahead of it to further obscure their path. The Thunderchain on the other hand was less broad. It was only fired down the central line of their charge, crackling out from there to spread across the fronts of the fortifications, but doing less to obscure sight. It was the best Sylvas could do with the tools that he had available.


    On either end of the enemy line, mages started ducking out and launching a counter-attack. They were still reluctant to fully emerge out of fear of the harmless wildfire searing away their eyebrows, but during each casting of Thunderchain, Sylvas began to see them, launching a barrage at the flanks of the charge he was leading.


    That was why having the rest of the class charging with them was useful, especially given that their placement on the periphery of the spearhead. They had formed the expendable flanks. They were the ones getting picked off by the sharpshooters on either end of the enemy entrenchment.


    By this point in time, Sylvas knew who his allies were and he wasn¡¯t going to shed any tears for the rest, those who believed the lies that Hammerheart spread about him but still tried to cling to his coat-tails to carry them to victory. If my side has to have losses, let it be them.


    He pushed the mana out of his core, through his channels and on into the other two. Their own mana supplies would not have been sufficient to keep up the cover all the way across the whole battlefield. Even with Sylvas own supply they wouldn¡¯t have made it, but he was cheating the system. Each of them had an affinity, they could only draw one type of mana from him, while he stored all of them. Each of them could fully drain every part of the mana in his core of the affinity that they could use while leaving all the myriad other types of mana in place. Once he¡¯d unlocked his own affinity and sealed it with his third circle, this would have been impossible, but in this moment, his weakness was his strength.


    Affinities were the reason that the technique for sharing mana wasn¡¯t taught, even though it was simple enough. Much simpler if you have the Arterium Arcanum of course.


    Once the mana hit their bodies, what they could use was filtered through and the rest washed back up Sylvas¡¯ channels, contra-flowing back into his core to provide more weight to the next wave that he pushed out. With every spell, he thrust mana down one arm or the other. His steps became sluggish and stumbling. His grip on Ironeye and Hot Lips became less about pushing them on, and more about staying upright through the wild gyrations of the mana inside of him. He ran with his eyes shut, as blinded by the chaos of mana swirling all around them as the enemy would have been. He just had to trust that they were still going the right way.


    Beyond the roar of flame and thunder, he heard screams, signaling the outer flanks of their spearhead being shot down. Whittling body by body until only Sylvas and his team were left as the final outburst of flame washed over the raised fortifications just a few feet away. Everyone knew what to do from here and they all promptly leapt into action.


    Ironeye and Hot Lips had a quarter supply of mana each to keep them going, not enough to win going head-to-head with other mages on their level, but more than enough for them to support the lower circle mages while they did their work. As for Sylvas, he felt as though he was coming apart at the seams. They should have tried this in an environment where victory wasn¡¯t on the line first. If they had done some sensible experimentation, he would have known that distorting the supply of mana inside him was going to ruin his equilibrium, both his physical balance, and the floes of mana within him. For the first time, the core of mana at his center felt in danger of becoming unstable, all the natural balance created by the opposing affinities neutralizing one another was gone. Beneath one sleeve he could feel frost on his skin where all the fire mana had been stripped away, beneath the other a dull ache as though his bones had turned to stone inside his arm.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    So much of his focus had to be turned internally, that he probably wouldn¡¯t have seen doom coming for him if it weren¡¯t for Clearmind.


    Kaya and the others had set off to do what they¡¯d trained for, circumventing the fortifications where they could, cutting clean through them where they couldn¡¯t. The officer cadets and other recruits with them hadn¡¯t been able to get a clear look at them throughout their entire advance and popped out of hiding now expecting to start picking off stragglers only to face a furious mob on their doorstep. The fighting was close-range and brutal, but despite all that their forces had been depleted, the majority of the recruits had made it, and that meant that the other side was badly outnumbered. They fought back in a kind of daze as they saw their clean and perfect victory snatched away from them and were dragged down into the mud with the infantry mages who thrived in such an element.


    A great deal of frustration was being let out across the battlefield. All the long months of training that had seen the two separate groups butt heads were now blossoming out into a reckoning. Especially among the senior groups in particular. But from amidst that reckoning, Sylvas caught sight of the real problem coming his way. Hammerheart was incensed. He¡¯d definitely have been one of the arrogant fools who had thought this victory was in the bag, and now that had been taken from him, he was out for revenge.


    An aura of blazing flame surrounded him, some ward or another that kept any of the mages relying on physical attacks from getting too close, but it seemed to blaze blue-hot when he caught sight of Sylvas standing out in front of the fortifications, all alone. With a leap, the dwarf cleared the distance between them. All of the fighting was going on at the other side of the barricades, and none of Sylvas allies had held back to protect him as he tried to bring his mana circulation back into balance. For an understandable reason, since they couldn¡¯t have spared a single fighter to do so. If this was how he was going to be taken out of the exercise, he¡¯d accept it as his due. He¡¯d already achieved more than anyone else, including himself, had considered possible.


    All that he could hope to do now was delay the dwarf as long as possible. The longer that Hammerheart took to finish him off, the longer his fury would be kept away from the other mages. To that end, he needed the other man to be as clumsy as possible, otherwise this fight would be over in moments. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, stanzbuhr? This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve kicked your culgh. You should be used to it by now.¡±


    He felt sure that his pronunciation was terrible despite repeating Kaya¡¯s words perfectly, but regardless, they had the desired effect. All magic forgotten, Hammerheart charged at Sylvas, roaring out a stream of expletives that would have been untranslatable even if they weren¡¯t all mashed together.


    Which meant that Sylvas¡¯ next task was to try and deal with a titanically strong dwarf trying to punch him to death.


    As the dwarf swung the first punch at him, Sylvas managed to fire off an arcane arrow. It hurt as he cast, with all his channels inflamed by the unbalanced mana, and when it came bursting forth, it looked wrong. The blue light that usually made it up was distorted and dirty. It hit Hammerheart¡¯s fist as it swung, knocking the blow back in the direction it came, but also encasing the dwarf¡¯s arm up to the elbow in ice and grit.


    The dwarf staggered back, confused, and if Sylvas¡¯ senses hadn¡¯t all been too busy screaming about the agony he was putting himself through by casting with unbalanced mana, then it would have been the ideal opportunity for a follow up attack. As it was, Sylvas only victory was managing to remain standing.


    Hammerheart is thinking, can¡¯t have that, Sylvas thought, feeling punch drunk despite having taken no blows, prompting his next set of taunting words to come out thick and slurred.


    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡±


    Hammerheart roared as he charged in again, ducking where Sylvas next arcane arrow probably would have gone if he¡¯d managed to cast it, and drove a fist into his gut. Nothing was held back this time. Inside him, something ruptured, and Sylvas felt knuckles grazing his spine before the impact lifted him off his feet and threw him out into the red desert beyond. Here and there, red shards of what looked like glass had formed where the wildfire had been burning hot enough, but Sylvas was flung beyond that. If it had been solid ground, he¡¯d have been dead on impact, as it was, he was buried.


    The force of the blow and the fall that accompanied it rammed him down through the blood red dust and for one beautiful moment it cushioned and held him before the pain caught up. He tried to cough up blood, but the moment his mouth opened, that iron tainted ash poured in, filling his mouth and clogging it.


    Thereby stopping any hope he had of casting.


    It left him needing to lay there as the ash covered him, hoping against hope that Hammerheart came after him lest he¡¯d suffocate. Sylvas knew that the healing abilities of the Empyrean bordered on the miraculous, but how long could he go without air before he died? The crest would preserve him once he¡¯d suffocated for long enough, but it didn¡¯t supply air. Even if the Empyrean¡¯s medicine could bring him back somehow, what good would it do if he was too brain damaged to string a spell together.


    He couldn¡¯t breathe, he couldn¡¯t cast, but he could dig, so that was what he did. Hand over hand, as if he could swim up through the red sands of Strife back to safety. His lungs burned with every motion and whatever had been destroyed inside of him by Hammerheart¡¯s awful blow screamed with every motion. But even with those combined together, they didn¡¯t even compare to the pain of the mana inside of him, leaving his body feeling as if it were being shredded apart with each and every motion.


    Which for all Sylvas knew, it was.


    Panic started to consume him as he reached up as high as he could, desperately hoping that he might finally break the surface, that someone, anyone, might see it and rescue him. But he knew it was in vain. All eyes would be on the fight. Even the scrying eyes of the instructors hovering in the sky above. It didn¡¯t matter anyway. His hand didn¡¯t break through into the air. It didn¡¯t touch anything but more of the accursed dust.


    Sylvas¡¯ mouth was full of the taste of blood. His vision would have been turning black even if he wasn¡¯t buried. He couldn¡¯t move a muscle, but inside of him the mana still flowed, still churned, and beyond it there was still that echo, something that he only felt when he was so close to the edge. He had the mana and no spell to cast, but he was nothing if not resourceful in the face of inevitable death.


    Forcing the fingers of his upturned palm to spread, he forced his mana out. Everything that he could control, everything that he could push, he sent out through the channels in his upturned arm. He couldn¡¯t see the results even with his second sight, everything was too confusing and painful for that. But even so he poured every last drop of power remaining to him out and up, hoping against desperate hope that someone, anyone, might see that beacon and come save him.


    Mira. He thought desperately as the magic left him. I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m coming.


    Then the darkness encroaching on him from all sides slammed shut, and Sylvas knew nothing at all.

 Chapter 35

    Chapter 36


    ¡°The third circle is considered by many to be the defining one of a mage¡¯s career. This is of course, ridiculous. Affinity is not the be-all and end-all of a mage. There have been many mages with common affinities who have reached the rank of wizard and beyond. There have been many mages with unique affinities who lack the resources and support that they need because of the rarity.¡±


    ¡ªA Mage¡¯s Guide to Affinity and Advancement, Foron Bakrun


    Sylvas had been on the planet of Strife for a little more than a week, and the majority of his time seemed to have been spent in the brig or in the infirmary. He never thought that he would miss the worn stone of the habitable sections of the campus and the endless red dust, but here he was surrounded by sterile white again, loathing it. He tried to sit up and immediately realized what a bad idea that was.


    ¡°Ever grown back a spleen before?¡± A familiar looking half-elf asked in an almost casual tone as she appeared from nowhere and pushed him back down flat.


    Sylvas¡¯ throat felt like it had been shredded raw by all the sand and ash that had passed through it. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°You have now. So stay lying very still and doing nothing until I discharge you.¡± She tapped at a suspended bottle where it hung beside him, a long pipe trailing from it and disappearing into his arm, letting whatever alchemical concoction she was treating him with pass straight into his blood. His sleeve was gone again. Burnt tatters of the jacket were dangling around his upper arm. His vest from underneath was gone too, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to feel embarrassed about showing a little skin when the medic had already seen what was underneath it and gone for a good rummage around inside.


    Opening up his second sight, Sylvas realized just how badly he¡¯d hurt himself. Not from the damage to his channels, which he¡¯d fully expected, or the pathetic little dribble of mana coiled in his core, but from all of the enchantments and spells that were working overtime to restore the balance of that mana. He closed his eyes and tried to draw in more mana, to replenish his strength, but a firm slap to the forehead by the doctor put an end to that. ¡°Ow?¡±


    Her face suddenly loomed over him as he lay there aching. ¡°What part of doing nothing wasn¡¯t clear to you?¡±


    ¡°I was just¡ª¡± He tried to explain, only to earn a single finger poke to the forehead this time.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Not even¡ª¡±


    ¡°Noth-ing!¡± This time it was almost a shout, which was quite impressive given how bored he¡¯d seen the doctor with even the most gruesome of injuries in his short stay here. So with that in mind, Sylvas took her seriously.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    The doctor gave him one final scowl at his statement, then returned to her work. Sylvas mostly wanted to know what had happened at this point. Who had found him. How they had found him. All the answers would come to him in time, but he didn¡¯t want to wait. Nor did he want to miss any more of his lessons than he needed to. There was every chance that days had passed since the last exercise, and he had no idea. Lockmind didn¡¯t work when he wasn¡¯t conscious.


    Boredom presented a problem given that he was not only awake but also apparently alive enough that the doctor wasn¡¯t concerned about him imminently dying so long as he just didn¡¯t move. At the same time however, and given what he¡¯d just experienced, he didn¡¯t think it would be a good idea to bother the doctor just for the sake of something to do. So Sylvas did as he was told and remained lying as still as he could, letting his senses tell him all that they could and sifting through every iota of information with Lockmind.


    The doctor had mentioned a spleen needing to be regrown, the organ presumably being what Hammerheart had burst with his punch. Judging from the various enchantments at work, he had to assume that the rest of the damage had come from his own tampering with the affinity balance of his mana. The aches throughout his body certainly seemed to be centered around his channels. He wondered, briefly, just how much his new embodiment had done to protect him from the damage he was causing to himself using mana he had no affinity for. On reflection, outside the heat of battle, it seemed obvious that the reason nobody simply forced mana out of its normal affinity to gain access to a wider variety of spells was that it was damaging to do so. But yesterday, or whenever it had been, he had been riding high on his success and paid the pain no mind. I forgot that pain was a sign from the body that something was wrong, not simply a trial to be endured to prove myself.


    There was a possibility that having been raised to be the messiah of a doomsday cult might have influenced the way he thought about things like pain.


    It was that thought in particular that made Sylvas realize that true introspection really didn¡¯t suit him, or that it certainly didn¡¯t in the state he was in now. He would have greatly preferred to be doing things, learning things, moving. But being stuck in the hospital bed for all the hours that he had to wait, there was nothing to do but think. And with Lockmind, it was all too easy to go back over everything that had ever happened to him with a fine-tooth comb, sifting out every minor irritant.


    His sleeve was gone, which suggested another explosive outburst from the scars on his arms. It seemed that his new embodiment hadn¡¯t been sufficient enough to contain it, thinking that it likely had happened


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    Then there was the echo that he¡¯d felt when he¡¯d vented his mana. It was like what he¡¯d experienced when he was fighting the eidolons. Like there was something more to his magic that he wasn¡¯t quite connected with. He could feel it by its absence. He wondered if it was his missing affinity. If he simply didn¡¯t have one and never would. If his progress would drag to a halt here, as Kaya and all the rest moved on without him. He would be left paddling in the shallow end, using spells meant for children, and barred from making any change to them for fear of him injuring himself again.


    With that already weighing on his mind, he began digging back through earlier memories, before Lockmind, so unreliable, but by far more prevalent. All of the times that in retrospect, it was obvious that the grand masters were manipulating him and the rest of the Heralds of the Hollow Heart. When they were repeating what they had read in their gifted arcane texts verbatim without any deeper understanding and when they had deliberately twisted the words of the texts to better suit their ends. All of the times that if I had just a tiny bit of self-awareness I might have realized what they were actually working towards. I¡¯d been so na?ve. So stupid. So willfully blind to what was really going on.


    His whole world was dead because he had missed the now obvious signs that something was wrong. If he¡¯d just stopped for one moment, ignored all the fanfare and praise that he''d been receiving for the first time in his life, then he could have prevented all of this from happening. He could have gone on as the most powerful mage on his little backwater planet, far from sight. Doing as he pleased and never knowing that there was so much more beyond its atmosphere. If he had broken away from their dogma, he could have stopped them, he could have prevented whichever other unfortunate that they raised up from falling into the same trap he had. All those people are dead because of me. Mira is dead because of me.


    It was a spiraling train of thought that occupied Sylvas until Kaya¡¯s voice pierced through his self-pity, or rather her voice and substantial punch in the arm. ¡°I tell you stanzbuhr, there isn¡¯t a day goes by you don¡¯t hurt yourself worse than anyone else ever could.¡±


    The pain of the punch was distant and numb compared to the heart wrenching turmoil he had been caught up in, but it gave him a lifeline to focus on.


    ¡°No¡­no punching the patient.¡± He croaked as he attempted to quickly pack away all his mental baggage.


    ¡°You pull something like that again, I¡¯ll do worse than punch you!¡± The dwarf growled, her expression severe.


    ¡°And you¡¯ll do it with my blessing.¡± The doctor¡¯s voice added from somewhere across the room Sylvas couldn¡¯t see. ¡°It is my medical opinion that punching mages like him before they do something so brainlessly reckless is best kind of preventative medicine.¡±


    Sylvas immediately shook his head at the words, immediately resolving to ignore that admittedly questionable piece of medical advice. ¡°How long have I been¡ª¡±


    ¡°Three days. All of which Hammerheart has been bragging about killing you.¡± Kaya stated, her tone turning softer, even if her expression didn¡¯t. ¡°Three days of Hot Lips and Gharia fussing every time they see me, like I know anything they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. Well, I¡¯m sorry for the inconvenience.¡± Sylvas offered, deciding it was perhaps a good time to risk a shrug, given that he¡¯d already been punched.


    ¡°We thought you were dead when Vaelith pulled you out. Crest or no crest.¡± Kaya continued, her usual good cheer still taking its time in reappearing. ¡°You looked dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡­can imagine.¡± Sylvas replied, remembering full well how he felt. How close he¡¯d been to the end.


    The two of them fell silent for a moment as they shared a long look, Kaya eventually breaking it and changing the subject.


    ¡°We lost. Took more than half of them, the whole center of their formation, and that culgh Hammerheart too. If we were just punching through, we¡¯d have won. But clearing them out of the fortifications¡­ ran out of mana.¡±


    ¡°Not unexpected, I guess.¡± Sylvas said and tried to offer the best consoling nod he could muster, which was to say a particularly poor one. So instead, he took a deep breath and tried to sit up, trouble or no trouble, feeling that moment deserved more than he could offer lying down. To his amazement, not only was he able to sit up, but no one yelled him for doing so, a sign that he took that he was truly must be on the mend.


    However while he had started his motion with the intention of addressing one thing, it allowed a completely different one to catch his eye now that he could see Kaya properly for the first time since she¡¯d arrived.


    Something that she noticed before he could say anything about it, his surprised expression betraying him instantly.


    ¡°You missed affinity testing.¡± Kaya stated simply, the words explaining everything.


    Sylvas had known, abstractly, that he had missed it. Three days was a long time with how packed their training was. But even so, the significance of what she had said wasn¡¯t lost on him. ¡°What did you get?¡±


    Kaya¡¯s answer was to blink hard and look back at him, and for a moment afterwards her eyes were silvery and reflective as if someone had poured mercury in them. ¡°Metal.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really aware that was one of the options.¡± He was careful to keep his voice from betraying him as an all too familiar nightmare of being left behind started to call to him from within the depths of his mind.


    ¡°Yeah, that weird shiny feather just¡­felt right.¡±


    Sylvas nodded, full well recalling it. Just as he recalled overlooking it when it had no effect on him at all. ¡°Ah, I didn¡¯t get that one.¡±


    There was a moment of silence before he realized what he should have said and waved a quick apology with a hand. ¡°Congratulations. They¡¯ll be headhunting you for the naval track then, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Already have been,¡± Kaya replied, the first hint of a smile crossing her face, if for a second. It promptly vanished as she continued talking. ¡°Going to be strange joining the black patches after all this time. But I¡¯d be lyin if the flying among stars didn¡¯t have an appeal better than being dirtside. Feels more like home.¡±


    ¡°Understandable, but how does that fit in your schedule then?¡± Sylvas asked, deciding that it would be best to keep the conversation steering further and further away from his own lack of affinity.


    ¡°Finally out of Fahred¡¯s snooze-fests.¡± Kaya replied with another grin. ¡°You can imagine what a joy that is.¡±


    That was enough for Sylvas¡¯ humor to finally wake up and join him, manifesting itself as a laugh that immediately sprained or stretched something it shouldn¡¯t have inside him. The wincing and coughing that followed afterwards gave him enough time to compose himself for a properly polished half-truth. ¡°I¡¯m genuinely happy for you, you deserve this, and I can¡¯t wait to see what you do with your new affinity.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get yours soon enough, stanzbuhr, don¡¯t worry.¡± She replied and patted him on the shoulder, though thankfully gently this time.


    And just like that the visit was over.


    Kaya had run out of time and was soon after moving towards the door, to the next place she needed to be, leaving Sylvas to lie back down upon the bed.


    ¡°Why would I worry?¡± He said to himself after she¡¯d gone and he was staring up at the ceiling, feeling an all too familiar dread in his gut began to swell and fill the space faster than his new spleen ever could have. ¡°Why would I worry?¡±

 Chapter 36

    ¡°The goal is to remove an opponent¡¯s options until their movements become predictable. Positioning, persistent spell effects, mastery of the field of battle, these are all vital aspects. A mage may cast spells until one hits. A soldier does not have that luxury. They must create the situation in which their spell hits.¡±


    ¡ªMagical Combat Manual 1, Haxan Shaelar


    Ducking under a bolt of green flame, Sylvas rolled back to his feet.


    Vaelith¡¯s conjured wolves were closing in from all sides, spitting out missiles when they were beyond biting distance and charging in close when they thought that was a better opportunity. He¡¯d spent a few spells worth of mana picking off the closest with Arcane Arrows before they could really form up, but now they had overwhelming numbers, and he had no area of effect spells to speak of.


    The instructor obviously knew his capabilities before assigning them their tasks, so the fact that others had to deal with a few powerful opponents and he was faced with a swarm spoke to his weaknesses as a caster. She knew his spell book was more limited than the others, and she knew that he would have to think outside of the box to win. It was entirely possible she was pushing him to modify magic again, since she had been so approving of it the first time around. But Sylvas had long since decided to work within the limitations that were set for him without breaking any rules. He would admit that he didn¡¯t have a good track record of that, but he could prove it today.


    The green blasts of fire had held the majority of the wolves back from making the final charge to close on him, and that had bought him the time that he needed to complete his spell. Gharia¡¯s flying spell might have been practically useless in ongoing combat against other mages, but against Vaelith¡¯s wolves, it was ideal. Particularly now that he¡¯d learned how to only feed it just barely enough mana to keep him afloat once he¡¯d gained the height that he wanted. The drain was still substantial, but more cost-effective, and in that particular moment as the pouncing wolves¡¯ collided with solid ground instead of him, he felt like it was a very sensible investment of mana regardless.


    The wolves didn¡¯t behave like real wild animals, they didn¡¯t fight or snarl with one another after narrowly missing him. Instead they just collected themselves and all but instantly refocused their attention upon Sylvas. Vaelith had done much to invest a decent amount of cunning into partially-living constructs, but there was no mistaking for them to be true animals.


    This feels good. To be back fighting. To be moving again. Sylvas thought as he unleashed a spray of Arcane Arrows down at the wolves before they could line up their own fire-breath attacks. One after another, he punctured the green glow of one wolf after another as it managed to get its shot lined up. He knew he couldn¡¯t keep up the barrage forever, but at the same time he didn¡¯t need to.


    Gharia and Kaya had been fighting in the sectors beside him, their more substantial threats were already dealt with, and now they were closing in on where he hovered. He didn¡¯t have the right tools for this job, but that was fine, because the Ardent were a team. Kaya was a shining blur as she crossed the battlefield. The liquid metal armor that encased her rippled in the air, ready to take on whatever shape she directed it into. Meanwhile, Gharia was already casting her ever spreading bubbles of destruction without any fear of hitting him while he was in the sky. They tore through the pack as swiftly as a widespread explosion would have, a task made all the easier thanks to the limited intellect instilled in the wolves, leaving them hyper focused on trying to blast Sylvas out of the sky, rather than react to the new threat. Sylvas had noticed this fault in their ability to reason the last time they¡¯d done one of these mass combat drills, when he¡¯d strayed into someone else¡¯s designated sectors while trying to escape the seemingly endless horde of wolves at his heels.


    The girls caught his wolves in a pincer movement, Kaya¡¯s quicksilver armor lashing out in blades and chains, catching any wolves that tried to dodge around Gharia¡¯s bubbles of doom. Sylvas himself picked off any strays that managed to get around either of the girls to flank them and came down with a bump in between the two of them just in time for his victory to be recorded.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± It wasn¡¯t really enough, but it was all that he had to say to them.


    ¡°Like you wouldn¡¯t do the same for us.¡± Gharia replied, her tail flicking casually.


    For Kaya, her response was even simpler. The liquid metal retreated back from her face and she said. ¡°You¡¯re kin.¡±


    They were some of the earlier victors of the exercise, which should have bought them some time to rest and recuperate their mana, but Vaelith¡¯s Sending spells sprang into being beside them before they had a moment.


    ¡°Come see me.¡±


    It was succinct and threatening, like most of the things their Instructor said to them, and it seemed the other two had received exactly the same message, judging by their expressions. They had to pass through several contested sectors to reach the Instructor, but as they had in Sylvas own test, the glowing green constructs entirely ignored everyone but their target. Out of habit more than anything else, Sylvas launched a few Arcane Arrows at stray wolves to help out his classmates, but he wasn¡¯t going out of his way. The ones that had decided to dislike him weren¡¯t going to be swayed by a few acts of charity, and the ones on his side didn¡¯t need the help anyway. Kaya had elbowed her way into the most promising group of mages on Strife, so far as Sylvas could tell.


    Vaelith had a half dozen spells in motion when they reached her, existing controls on her constructs for the most part, but some stalled out in mid-cast, ready to be activated with a final sigil or two of mana added to the string. That kind of casting had been what gave Sylvas his scars, he looked forward to learning how to do it properly. Suspending spells so he could release them on his cue.


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    ¡°What was that Sigil?¡±


    Sylvas did a double take before realizing he was being addressed, rather than quizzed on part of a spell. ¡°What was what, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Why have you got these girls doing your dirty work for you?¡± She snapped back, her eyes flashing from one of her spells to glare at Sylvas.


    Gharia was usually quite boisterous when dealing with the Instructors, but with Vaelith, she tended to be a little bit more restrained. Like she was scared of the elf and trying hard not to show it. ¡°We agreed to assist each other, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°You agreed to¡ª¡± Vaelith cut herself off as she finished a spell that sent a burst of magic flying off to its intended destination. Her eyes glowed green, not with mana from inside her, but with the magic of the many scrying eyes she was viewing the field with. ¡°¡ªthis was not intended to be a test of your teamwork, but your skills.¡±


    ¡°Should have said that then.¡± Kaya cut in, seemingly heedless of the threat the instructor posed. Sylvas was never sure if she was brave or stupid, and he was even less sure if there was any practical difference between the two. All he knew was that he certainly wouldn¡¯t be talking to Vaelith of all the instructors they had like that.


    ¡°Well, I am saying it now. Clear as can be. Yes, you were clever and found a loophole, good work. Going forward however, do not intervene on the behalf of the weaker casters again. It defies the purpose of the exercise and their growth.¡± Vaelith spat out, glaring at them for a second before promptly turning her attention back to the other recruits still working away against her constructs.


    Sylvas should have bristled at the word ¡®weaker¡¯ but it was the truth. Until he had an affinity, his magic wasn¡¯t going to hold up to what the other two could do, and it would be three more days before he could undergo affinity testing again.


    Vaelith finished up casting whatever she was casting and turned back to them. ¡°Head east. It¡¯s going to be another active combat drill after this. Mixed ranks. And I don¡¯t want to see you three anywhere near each other. Fend for yourselves or fail alone. No more carrying dead weight.¡±


    Dead weight should have hurt too, but Sylvas had a life of taking the grim expectations of others and turning them on their heads. This would be no different.


    Two training exercises back-to-back was unusual but not unheard of. It was a good way to test who was being careful with their mana expenditure and who was burning through their reserves too fast. For Sylvas, who had definitely been burning through his reserves too fast, it was bad news on many counts, particularly now that they¡¯d been given very specific orders to go it alone. He forced himself to salute, and set off for the eastern segment, close to the drop off into the ravine, where he could already see some of Vaelith¡¯s spells raising blocks, just like their very first live training exercise on Strife.


    ¡°She can¡¯t tell us not to help you.¡± Kaya¡¯s shoulders were set as she spoke, and the metal had retreated to wherever it hid when she wasn¡¯t actively calling it up.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty certain that¡¯s exactly what she just did.¡±


    ¡°She can¡¯t.¡± Kaya growled again as if somehow denying reality could make any difference.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine Kaya,¡± Sylvas said, offering the woman a shrug. ¡°She is right. We¡¯re here to learn, and we learned how to beat her wolves. Now we¡¯re onto the next lesson¡­even if learning it puts us out early.¡±


    He tried to convince himself that was he was saying was true and practical, as if his defeats when standing alone didn¡¯t shift the perception of the other recruits. As if the tenuous position of leadership they¡¯d granted him couldn¡¯t dissolve away like salt in the sea the moment that they decided he wasn¡¯t as much of an asset as they¡¯d assumed. Then I¡¯ll be alone with no power at my disposal except what I make for myself. Power that I can¡¯t even touch without passing affinity testing.


    There were already other recruits in the false cityscape, wandering around, trying to find some position of tactical advantage before the fighting kicked off. The naval recruits and officer cadets were all there too. From what Sylvas had pieced together their curriculum had slightly less of a combat focus than the infantry recruits did, allowing them to appear irritatingly fresh whenever they did have a shared live combat class with one another.


    Regardless of that difference though, Sylvas strived to take Vaelith¡¯s orders seriously, painfully aware that her scrying eyes hovered overhead. As such he strode purposefully away from Kaya and Gharia with only a wave to mark his departure. Kaya called after him as was custom, but it was mostly a string of curse words that didn¡¯t translate anyway.


    The cityscape that Vaelith had raised from the red sands this time was different from the simple blocks of their first battle royale. It loomed taller and more oppressive, and not only because Sylvas was entirely alone out here this time around. The individual blocks had been raised higher, so that it felt more like a city than a town. Sylvas hadn¡¯t seen much of the universe beyond home and here, but from what he¡¯d read it seemed that cities grew upwards as much as outwards on other worlds. The ruins on Strife had once been a city like that. The towering blocks would serve as good vantage points, and silhouette anyone foolish enough to stand atop them against the sky like a target. What interested Sylvas more was that some of these blocks were hollow this time around.


    Not all of them though, some remained the stocky lumps of stone from their first time around, but others had simple spaces carved out within them, like they were real buildings. Given enough time and mana, Sylvas was certain Vaelith could have raised up a whole, real, city with this spell instead of the temporary facades that were thrown up now. Yet despite being only pale imitations, the facades opened up a whole brand new tactical dimension to things. Cover was no longer completely limiting. Line of sight could be manipulated much more readily. Being a solo player in this game was no longer the death sentence Sylvas had assumed it would be.


    It was still too early to bunker down in one of the buildings, when there was a risk of others wandering by and catching sight of him, but he mentally noted a few key locations that could come in useful later as he walked through the city.


    Here and there, he¡¯d catch sight of someone, secreting themselves in some little hide-away. Or a glimpse of a black patched jacket flitting around a corner out of sight as others patrolled. They were working in groups as usual. Sylvas could trace their patterns of movement in his head, one senior recruit or officer cadet holding a good piece of real estate and others circling around to keep others from settling in too close. The restriction of working alone had been saved for him, no doubt as a reward for bypassing the last exercise in an unorthodox manner.


    Then, before he¡¯d scouted even a fraction of the cityscape where they¡¯d be doing battle, Vaelith¡¯s voice sounded out, echoing through the false city that she had made.


    ¡°You may all begin.¡±

 Chapter 37

    ¡°Some say that magic leads to madness, but this could not be further from the truth. In fact, the more circles that a mage constructs, the more self-reflection they have conducted. The stereotypical mad-mage seen in fiction is simply that; a fiction. This does not preclude the mentally unstable from practicing magic, of course. They will simply be unable to progress without doing the necessary work on themselves to stabilize their issues through the reshaping of their mind through applications of mana. In short, what a mage does is not out of madness, it is a choice. It is always a choice.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    Almost at once, the sound of spells began detonating.


    It was probably a bad sign as to the status of Sylvas¡¯ psyche that he didn¡¯t even flinch, that his first reflex was to cast a quick ward to protect his ears from the sonic spell that Hammerheart¡¯s cronies had used last time around. It hadn¡¯t been a hard spell to find, or learn, which meant that Hammerheart likely saved that tactic for when there was new blood on the battlefield. A spell specifically meant to hurt the newest recruits. Either that, or meant to punish anyone in the ranks who didn¡¯t immediately go and research a solution when confronted with a spell they couldn¡¯t counter with their own abilities. In essence, he was preying on the weak either way, those who would not have been a threat due to lack of experience, or those who wouldn¡¯t be a threat due to lack of competence. It lowered Sylvas opinion of the dwarf even more.


    He took off running, casting his spell of flight as he went. He couldn¡¯t suspend his spells the way that the Instructor could, but he could delay casting by enunciating the words of the spell slowly, and with elongated gaps between them. It sounded silly, but Sylvas cared less about his appearance than the effects at this point. As he rounded a corner, he hurried through the tail end of the flight spell, caught sight of a flash of white and launched an arcane arrow before even pausing to check whether he was up against an senior or fresh recruit. The spell was deflected easily by a persistent shield ¨C a very wasteful mana sink, but one that made a degree of sense in this sort of chaotic scenario ¨C then he came under fire himself.


    Both the officer cadet in the street that he¡¯d taken a pot-shot at, and the second one perched partway up a tower unleashed elemental attacks against him. The one on the ground relying on a rattling rapid-fire spell that launched a stream of jagged stone fragments at him, the one in the tower casting with water, narrowed down to a fine beam of such pressure that it cut clean through the stone behind Sylvas as it swept towards him.


    Without the flying spell, this role in the battle would have been over. With it, he launched not to the side, but straight up, out of the course of both spells. The stone-caster raised her hands, following after him as he soared, but gravity was fighting against her shots now, and they trailed behind him, curving down to patter across the rooftops. The high intensity spray from on high lasted only a brief moment before the caster had to pause and take aim once more, by which point Sylvas had shot so far up the side of the tower where they were hiding that they were practically nose to nose. It was a male fiend that Sylvas didn¡¯t know yet in the tower, third circle, judging by the mana radiating off him.


    The fiend¡¯s watery attack was quicker to cast than an arcane arrow despite its power, and it nearly sliced into Sylvas shoulder before he arrested his own flight by cutting off mana to the spell that had propelled him up.


    For an instant, he hung there in the air, flightless, but not yet falling. He unleashed an arcane arrow before he dropped like a rock and caught only the briefest glimpse of it taking the fiend in the forehead before he had to turn his attention rapidly back to recasting the flight spell before he became a Sylvas pancake.


    If that weren¡¯t enough, he had the woman down on the ground to deal with too. She¡¯d abandoned her initial attack and switched to some sort of boulder catapulting spell that would smash him to pieces or pepper him with shrapnel if she missed and hit the tower instead. Splash damage when a direct hit couldn¡¯t be guaranteed, just like they¡¯d been taught.


    In theory, a target in the air without any means of propulsion was easy pickings, with no way to change course and avoid the hit. And it would have been if Sylvas hadn¡¯t been learning his own lessons by being brutalized by his comrades at every opportunity.


    He kicked hard off the wall that he was falling beside, launching out into the open space, and out of the arching path of the boulder that flew up to meet him. It smashed into the side of the hollowed high block and set the whole thing collapsing. He had a moment to worry that the fiend would be injured by the failure of the structure, but it was only a moment, then the steady stream of rapid-fire sharp-edged pebbles began tracing back and forth through the air, trying to catch him again.


    His stomach lurched as the flight spell took hold, jerking him back out of gravity¡¯s grasp as if they were two toddlers fighting over a doll. He careened off to the side to avoid the pebble-stream, almost colliding with the top of a lower slung building before spotting someone else in flight. Gharia was out there, across this risen city, fighting just like he was. Bolts of bright colored magic flying up towards her, but none of them hitting home. No wonder she¡¯d been so mad he tagged her first time out when she could dodge like that normally.


    In pursuit of her all-out attack, the officer cadet on the ground had let her persistent shield slip, pulling all the mana back to her core to maximize what was available for spell output. He¡¯d wager she had a physical enhancement that would let her dodge just like the flight spell let him, so the game now became what the combat lecturer had described as ¡°Threat Zones.¡±


    They had to eliminate the different places that the other could escape to, until they were pinned in place long enough to take a killing shot. For her, this would normally have been pretty easy, particularly given Sylvas lack of speed on foot. But with a whole sky to dodge around in, he¡¯d widened out the zones she¡¯d need to lock down considerably. Meanwhile, she had only the flat surface of the ground to dodge around on, plus whatever jumping she could muster.


    If he had any sort of rapid firing attack like her pebble-stream it would already be over, but Sylvas only offensive spell was his Arcane Arrow, which took an agonizingly long time to cast in the heat of battle. Luckily, she had already provided him with more than ample assistance.


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    The rocks that she had been firing up into the air fell beneath Sylvas, and from above he could trace out the exact pattern of where they¡¯d land. The parts of the earth below that would be peppered with them, and the areas that shrapnel inexplicably wasn¡¯t raining down on. He took aim at the first gap in the rain of stone, and fired. The woman dodged into that same space at the very moment his Arcane Arrow fell and it intercepted with her chest. Straight to the heart, like every spell I cast was meant to be, and so few ever were.


    He landed hard on top of the low roof of the next block, and flattened himself against it as best as he could. If anyone out there had been looking up at the wrong moment, he¡¯d announced his position to the whole battlefield. A risk that he hated to take. Of all the things that rankled him most, it was when things came down to just pure luck, in this case, the direction one person happened to be glancing. If he was seen, he had little doubt that Hammerheart, or his lackies, or any of those that thought ill of him would coordinate an attack on this position, and that would be the end of his day in the field. His attempts to prove that skill could triumph over raw power proven immediately false.


    A tiny bubble of silence surrounded Sylvas that had nothing to do with his hearing ward. He counted three breaths, drew in mana and circulated it through his circles, readying himself for the next burst of action. But as the seconds passed without anything happening, he soon began to suspect that he¡¯d managed to escape notice.


    Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly rose to his feet and took in what he could of the surrounding battle. Intense fighting was happening on the far side of the cityscape, furthest from where Sylvas¡¯ fellow infantry recruits would have entered following their last test. The senior recruits, fighting amongst themselves most likely, as he didn¡¯t expect many of his classmates to have made it that far unless they made a beeline. That was good. The more of the powerful recruits that were eliminated from the fighting, the fewer chance that he¡¯d have to deal with them personally.


    Down on the streets surrounding him, no small force of mages had gathered, drawn by the loud and messy destruction of the tower that had been brought down. They found the unconscious officer cadet where he¡¯d left her, but didn¡¯t sift the rubble for the fiend. It seemed to him that there were two distinct groups down there, neither quite ready or willing to commit to attacking the other. A gang of junior recruits had gathered around a pair of officer cadets. Presumably some pre-existing alliance, and on the other side a trio of black patch officer cadets including Bortan who had their own pact.


    If neither was willing to commit to the battle, Sylvas felt obliged to help them along. Taking careful aim, he unleashed an arcane arrow at Bortan, and then dropped to the ground out of sight. Bortan was the only one who was liable to recognize Sylvas¡¯ distinctive spells, so he was the one that had to be taken out. Sylvas didn¡¯t feel much pity for him, for compared to what was about to follow, the man had gotten off easy.


    The other two officers in training started shouting in dismay almost immediately as their ally fell and started casting a moment after. The streets around the building where Sylvas lay began to glow with excess mana washing back from the spells being cast, and he drew it all in and cycled it into his core. It was rare to find an environment so mana-rich to refuel, and he needed to stay close to mop up whichever side won.


    In response to what they¡¯d taken as an uncalled-for ambush, the recruits and officer cadets on the other side of the fallen tower had begun unleashing hell. Sylvas spotted Ironeye in amongst them, firing off lightning bolts, and did feel a slight pang of guilt to draw someone he vaguely considered a friend into the fighting. However at Vaelith¡¯s orders, he had been ordered to go it alone, which meant fighting his friends just as much as his¡­ it seemed silly to call them enemies. Rivals, was perhaps a better word.


    All five of the senior recruits had managed to take each other out of the fight with wildly mana-intensive and destructive spells. Even if they hadn¡¯t all been knocked out, they likely would have been out of the fight after this. Of the junior recruits, there were only three left standing. Ironeye, a human Sylvas didn¡¯t know yet, and¡­ he couldn¡¯t recognize the third figure through the spell that they¡¯d cast on themselves. A shimmering cloud, humanoid in shape, hung beside the other two, perhaps crouching, perhaps dwarf sized normally.


    Ironeye spotted him on top of the low-slung roof when he popped up to take in the scene as the fighting was dying down. ¡°Oi!¡±


    Sylvas winced at the recognition. There was probably a way to talk his way out of this, but if he was talking, he wasn¡¯t casting, and if he wasn¡¯t casting, he was likely to be knocked out shortly after.


    His Arcane Arrow streaked across, only to be caught in a thrumming wall of static that Ironeye threw up between them. That whole wall flashed like lightning as the arrow struck, and Sylvas had a half a second to wonder if it was deliberate or not, giving him that window of opportunity to slink away unseen.


    It was an opportunity he wasn¡¯t going to pass up, not now that the other recruits knew that he was atop this building block. He sprinted for the far side, dropped down into what should have been an alleyway, unleashed an Arcane Arrow as he was falling at the poor soul who was already lurking there and then peeked out to see if the coast was clear. It had been Orson. Another pang of guilt touched Sylvas only briefly. This was the nature of the competition and what Vaelith has insisted he do. There was no point in feeling bad about it.


    He took off in the opposite direction to the fallen mage, rounding the corner of the building and doubling back towards Ironeyes and his team. Taking them head on wasn¡¯t going to work with the dwarf screening my shots, but if I could get around them¡­


    He burst out onto the street again with his spell of flight already taking hold and hoisting him up out of the usual line of fire before he¡¯d cleared a few feet. He readied and cast an Arcane Arrow, and it took the blurred shape of a mage in the back. They had been climbing up onto the rooftop that he¡¯d just fled, relying on their empowered body to get them up there with jumping and pulling. Sylvas was draining through his mana reserves just so that he could gain the kind of mobility that came free to them, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. For him, everything on the battlefield was one of many overlapping spells, while the others¡¯ attention was split between their magic and their body. The blur was so intent on climbing up that they didn¡¯t have a chance to counter his attack, and they fell back down to earth, head hitting the stone beneath the dust with a crack.


    Ironeyes and the other mage turned to face Sylvas, hearing his spell, hearing their friend cry out. Sylvas readied another arcane arrow, but the math was against him, they¡¯d have two spells to his one. Countering him and taking him out in the span of a single casting, unless they were so disorganized that they both went on the offensive.


    As it turned out, it was the opposite. Both threw up shields against his rather feeble Arcane Arrow, it made it past one before it was fully raised, but caught on the other. The result had the arrow deflecting back to hit the first, and the bouncing back and forth between them, sending out sparks and flashes that kept them blind to his position as he went on shooting straight up.


    He could see the top side of their shields now, while they were still blinded by his deflecting arrow. Up here, he had all the time in the world to line up an Arcane Arrow for each of them, cast as swiftly as he could manage with just a little more mana than was needed, so that if he did manage to miss, they might still be hit with some splash back.


    But whether it struck home or not, Sylvas would never know. He had made a target of himself in the sky once again, and this time, someone took a shot at that target and hit.

 Chapter 38

    Chapter 39


    ¡°There will be loss. There will be suffering. There is a price that must be paid. But whether you will it to be so or not, the price will still be paid. If you choose to go kicking and screaming like some worthless weeping babe into the dark of night or stride out with your head held high, that is the only decision that you have to make. Cowering from the reality of cost does not make the cost go away. If you learn nothing else. Learn this. Whatever your worst fear is, it will come to pass. The goal is not to stop it, it is to become strong enough to endure.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Whatever spell hit him had no visual component that he could make out. Just a wall of force that slapped into him from below, sending him spiraling wildly across the sky. It was only when the ward protecting his hearing burnt out that he recognized the attack for what it was, some sort of sonic magic. A rare affinity, but not unheard of.


    The blast launched him well clear of the battle that he¡¯d been fighting, tumbling end over end as his spell of flight sought to regain control over his motion, sapping more and more mana as he fought back against the spin.


    He came to a halt almost at the very edge of the raised city, just a street short of one of the few tall towers on the periphery. Whoever had attacked him had launched him straight into the midst of the territory that the different recruits were contesting rather than the more established warzone that the senior recruits had claimed to duke it out amongst themselves.


    The only person he¡¯d seen with a sonic affinity was Hammerheart¡¯s pet fiend, so he had to assume that this was a deliberate move to get him in position for a more lethal attack. Yet as he hung there, throwing out all his senses in every direction, there was no sign of the next blow coming.


    But in that search, Sylvas delayed acting for a hair too long and down beneath him, he heard a cry of surprise. Then less than a second later, spells began buzzing up towards him. Most of the mana behind them had no affinity, so he¡¯d been cast back among the other junior recruits. Where the seniors probably thought he belonged.


    Letting the flying spell fail once more, he fell to the ground, casting reinforcements on his legs like he¡¯d used to survive on the tower-top back home rather than attempting to slow his fall. The impact jarred him, sending shocks and pain right up his back. Yet even so he¡¯d fallen from the sky so fast that not a single one of the spells lancing towards him came close to ruffling what was left of his hair. He chuckled to himself, pretending not to hear the manic edge to his own laughter. I guess I ended up getting that haircut Kaya wanted me to get after all, just not the way she¡¯d planned.


    Biting back his laughter at the inane thought, he took in the sights. There were spell-scars on a few of the buildings, but nothing dramatic. He didn¡¯t know the lay of the land here nearly so well. Or rather, he knew the blocks that made up the city, but not who populated it. He did not want to run into Kaya, not because he feared dealing with her affinity, though he didn¡¯t have any immediate answers for it, but because no matter which way that fight went, it was going to be bad. Their relationship wouldn¡¯t suffer, necessarily, but it would change, and he liked having something in his life that was a constant.


    Given her propensity for throwing herself into danger, this meant that the moment he heard a massive brawl breaking out a little to the east, he should have turned tail. But the sad fact of the matter was, every time the others fought, it presented Sylvas with an opportunity to distinguish himself. He might not have had the raw power of the others with their affinities, but he had his wits about him, and in the midst of a fight between people slinging bigger spells around, there was a chance for him to tip the scales.


    Putting Kaya out of his mind, he ran.


    The air grew thick as he approached the battle, dense mana erupting out in plumes. Everyone seemed to have had the same idea of rushing towards this chaos, he caught glimpses of a half dozen other recruits flitting between the buildings as they approached. He didn¡¯t want to get caught in a deadlock, so back up onto the rooftops he went with another quick use of the flying spell, fed barely enough mana to keep him afloat as he leapt from one flat top to the next. Yet even so Sylvas¡¯ reserves dwindled rapidly. No matter how necessary it might have been for him to fly, it was still causing all manner of problems that he could only hope his affinity would solve, if he ever unlocked it.


    The battle raged up ahead, spells of all sorts deflecting from an all-too familiar spherical shield. The elf in Hammerheart¡¯s thrall had used it to protect them from the fiend¡¯s deafening spell before, and it worked now, turning back every spell cast at the pair of them. No magic could get through, but that did not mean that nothing could. Some of the braver combatants went charging in to face Hammerheart toe-to-toe. Clearly a mistake. The entire set-up was a trap to force them into melee range, and they were all falling for it, hoping they could overpower someone who had built their spell-book around close-range combat.


    He hadn¡¯t wanted to cross paths with Kaya, but there she was in the middle of the sphere, slugging it out with Hammerheart. His fists were alight and moved like comets, inevitable in their fall, faster than the eye could follow from up close. Kaya meanwhile wasn¡¯t even attempting to block them. Her armor flowed out like quicksilver to meet every punch as it came. Thickening around the blow and thinning out again as he drew his fists back for the next awful swing. Every blow sounded like a ringing gong, audible even over the roar of flames and the chaos of spell-fire outside the barrier.


    She must have been out for revenge. For Sylvas sake, since as far as he could guess, Hammerheart had no issue with her personally, though he might after this, given that for every blow she tanked she was able to land one of her own, and he had no armor to keep him safe. His body had been reinforced with mana, but there was no magic stopping her steel-clad fists from bruising him up, even if his bones remained stalwartly unbreakable under her attack.


    Staying back and just watching how this played out would have been the rational course but no matter how logical Sylvas might have thought himself, he couldn¡¯t stomach letting his friends fight his battles for him. He unleashed a quick Arcane Arrow, in the vague hope it might make it through the shield. However when that failed to find purchase, sliding around the sphere in a blue smear, he did the only thing that he could to circumvent its protection. He leapt for the shield, passed through it without delay and cast again.


    An Arcane Arrow shot from his fingertips, not aimed at Hammerheart as would have been expected, but at the elf holding up the shield. As sure of himself as he might have been, he knew going one-on-one with Hammerheart¡¯s full attention on him wasn¡¯t going to end well. The only way to win this was to change the lay of the battlefield.


    The elf looked suitably surprised, and passed out as the arrow struck his chest, folding him nearly in half as he sailed through the air. Hammerheart, for his part, was too busy casting to notice that his shield was down until the torrent of spells started raining down on him. He had been tanking through Kaya¡¯s punching with spite alone, but spells were a different matter. He had to leap aside as the rainbow blend of bolts, balls and miscellaneous missiles rained in on where he¡¯d been, and Kaya followed after without hesitation, eyes on her goal throughout the entire fight. Sylvas had to throw up a shield to protect him from the incoming barrage, so there was little he could do to help her. The impact of spells rained down on top of his shield, hammering him down towards the waiting earth and the inevitable splash of all the spells that weren¡¯t hitting him just now thanks to his shield.


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    His mana reserves had ticked back up thanks to his brief period of meditation earlier, but now had dwindled to about a quarter thanks to the pounding that the shield was taking. If he couldn¡¯t get out from under this bombardment, then he was done for.


    Meanwhile, vaguely visible through the cacophony of chaos raining down around them, Sylvas could see Kaya losing. She was keeping up her valiant assault, and her armor spell had done well protecting her from his counterstrikes up until now, but while they fought, he had been casting, and now the spell finally went off. Sylvas had expected something explosive, something to knock Kaya away so that Hammerheart had time to regroup. What he had not expected was for the dwarf to lurch forward inside her guard and grapple her. Kaya seemed just as confused and dismayed, prompting her to waste breath that should have been spent rather on casting than on cussing. The armor that coated her had flowed to protect her from Hammerheart¡¯s crushing grip, but now it began to bubble and glow red as his spell superheated it. She tried to pull away from his grip, but no matter how many blows she delivered to his bloodied face, he could not be shaken.


    With a half a moment to cast, Sylvas could have ended it, sent an Arcane Arrow right into the bastard¡¯s skull and knocked him out. But he did not get that moment¡¯s reprieve. He was forced to watch from beneath his faltering shield as Hammerheart melted through Kaya¡¯s armor, and his scorching hands made contact with flesh. At once smoke began to rise, and the smell of roasting meat began to spread. It should have turned Sylvas stomach, but at this point it had been so long since he¡¯d had real food that it actually made him hungry.


    Kaya let out a scream as the fires ate into her, then thankfully passed out and collapsed before Hammerheart could do any more damage, her crest springing to life to stop the flames consuming any more of her. Then Hammerheart¡¯s eyes met Sylvas, and even through all the chaos that surrounded them, he could see that there was murderous rage boiling within them. This wasn¡¯t the worst possible scenario, but it was close. The last time they¡¯d met, Sylvas had almost died, he couldn¡¯t imagine that this time around was going to be any less terrible.


    With a slash of his arm, Hammerheart sent a red beam sweeping across the periphery of their battleground. Screams sounded as it sliced into the other recruits. Those who hadn¡¯t been hit had the good sense to take cover or run like hell after so many of them were so casually cut down. Regardless, it left just the two of them, all alone. Finally the barrage of spells against Sylvas had stopped, and now he wished it was back, if only for the cover it provided him.


    The dwarf stepped over Kaya where she lay smoldering and advanced, prompting Sylvas to fling out an Arcane Arrow, but with his enhanced body, Hammerheart sidestepped it with contemptuous ease. Cursing at the miss, Sylvas racked his brain for something, anything that might save him, but there was nothing. If it wasn¡¯t for his two Paradigms keeping his mind in equilibrium he might have lost his courage and fled.


    If he ran, Hammerheart would chase him, and he would fall. If he tried to cast his spell of flying, Hammerheart would close the distance between them before it was complete, and he would fall. If he tried to cast a shield, Hammerheart could pummel right through it. There was nothing in his arsenal of spells that could save him from what was about to happen.


    The dwarf¡¯s face had split into a terrifying grin as he advanced on Sylvas as though he had all the time in the world. He was still chanting, still holding that awful spell of burning hands that he¡¯d used on poor Kaya, but it wasn¡¯t just maintenance. Sylvas could see that he was stoking the flames, causing his hands to burn brighter and brighter as he closed the distance, the cuffs of his jacket bursting into flames from their proximity to the blue-hot glow.


    When he¡¯d touched Kaya for a moment, he¡¯d scalded her down to the bone. What would the spell do now? Would there be anything left of Sylvas when he was done? Could the Ardent resurrect him from cinders?


    The first time they¡¯d gotten into a brawl, Sylvas had pounced on Hammerheart. Ridden him to the ground, hit him as fast and as hard as he could, and it was as if this spell had been developed as a counter to that tactic. Had Hammerheart added it to his spell book just for me?


    It was a fleeting thought. Sylvas was going to fight to the last breath, because he didn¡¯t know what else to do, but he knew already that nothing at his disposal was going to save him. He started to slowcast an arcane arrow, in the vague hope that he might be able to get it off at an opportune moment while being cooked alive, but before he¡¯d completed it, Hammerheart was on him.


    His newly replaced jacket burst into flames before the dwarf¡¯s blazing hands could even touch it, and it was only by throwing himself fully back and onto the ground that Sylvas managed to escape that initial grab. He was doomed. There was no position he could get to from prone that could win him even a moment more time. Hammerheart was still chanting, still heating his hands up brighter and brighter, through blue hot and on to white, and now the flames around him became invisible, too hot for the human eye to see. He took one more step towards Sylvas where he lay hopeless on the ground and then, against all expectation, suddenly fell.


    The fiend they called Hot Lips had him. She¡¯d crossed the distance without casting in a wild sprint and launched herself like a spear into the dwarf. She¡¯d seen Sylvas in trouble, and exercise or not, she had acted on instinct to save him.


    It was the last mistake she would ever make.


    She was spitting curses at the dwarf in the fiend tongue as she arrived, her voice guttural and deep. ¡°Think you can use fire on a fiend!? I was born in flames!¡±


    She cast as she wrestled him, her spell infiltrating his, stoking the flames still hotter, twisting it back against him. It was exactly the kind of spell modification that would have had Sylvas kicked out of the Ardent in an instant, and in her rage she was doing it in plain sight of everyone. The dwarf¡¯s skin began to bubble where the flames washed back over him. Blackening and cracking. Oozing and sloughing off.


    Screaming in pain, Hammerheart¡¯s panicked flailing caught hold of her by the horns, trying to break her grip around his thick trunk, but it seemed that the agony had caused him to forget about the spell already flowing through them.


    Where his hands touched Hot Lips, she turned to ash, her horns seared clean off and the flames spread down from there. Her beautiful face was contorted in agony before the flames melted the flesh away, and then a blackened skull was all that was left staring back at Sylvas as he scrambled to his feet. Even the skull gave way beneath the impossible heat of Hammerheart¡¯s spell. Crumbling in on itself, all its contents already melted away.


    Her crest should have saved her the moment the flames seared her, but it couldn¡¯t. They only activated against hostile magic, or they would have prevented every spell of enhancement. And whatever she had done to Hammerheart¡¯s spell, it had made it hers as much as his.


    Hammerheart looked down on the death he¡¯d caused, the fire in his hands dying, and he cursed. Not himself, but her. ¡°That stupid culgh. She ruined everything.¡±


    Feeling a rage unlike any other rise up within him, Sylvas immediately began to twisted the Arcane Arrow spell he had started casting earlier just as he had the kinesis spell before. It was his most familiar spell, and almost easier to warp than it was to cast the neutered version he¡¯d been using until now. He knew instantly that it would eat up everything that was left in his core and at the same time, leave nothing behind of Hammerheart, not even a half-charred corpse still burning down to the waist.


    There wouldn¡¯t even be dust left of the dwarf when he was done.


    He raised a hand to unleash the spell and for an instant, he was blinded. Green flames washed over him as Vaelith teleported in between them. Her enhanced voice booming out angrily.


    ¡°This exercise is cancelled. Back to your bunks. Now!¡±


    Her voice died down as she dropped into a crouch beside what remained of the fiend that had been Sylvas friend. ¡°Hammerheart. Brig. One week.¡±


    ¡°He killed her.¡± Sylvas hated saying it. Hated making it real by admitting it. His eyes had drifted away from both the dwarf and the Instructor. All that was left in the world was her. He didn¡¯t even know her name.


    Vaelith cut off Hammerheart before he could say a word. ¡°There will be an investigation.¡±


    ¡°An investigation?¡± His paradigms were the only think keeping Sylvas sane enough to speak. ¡°He was trying to kill me!¡±


    Vaelith stared back at Sylvas coldly, anger dancing in her eyes. ¡°You have your orders Vail. Follow them.¡±


    Then, with the same flash of green flame, she, Hammerheart and what remained of Hot Lips were gone.

 Chapter 39

    ¡°Cut away the parts of you that are weak. Cut away the parts that care. Let your weakness bleed away. You are more than this.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    He lay in his cot the night before Affinity testing. Even Kaya¡¯s usual sociable mumblings had been slow in coming since the death of the fiend.


    Enore. Her name had been Enore. I¡¯d only learned it two days after her passing.


    His desperation before had been born of anxiety. The deep-rooted need to prove himself. Now it was something else. He didn¡¯t need to pass affinity testing so that he could keep up with the class. He needed to pass affinity testing so that when Hammerheart swaggered out of the Brig, he could kill him.


    It wasn¡¯t about vengeance. He kept on telling himself that. He wasn¡¯t out to kill Hammerheart because he¡¯d killed one of Sylvas friends. Just like he wasn¡¯t training to be one of the Ardent to seek revenge for his world. It was just practical. If Eidolons were an existential threat to everyone living in the universe, then the logical course was to fight them. And if Hammerheart ¨C who had already proven that he was willing to take things as far as to risk killing Sylvas ¨C got released, then there was no question that he would try again. Sylvas had to be ready to defend himself, and if that meant he had to spend another week in the brig after all was said and done, then he¡¯d take that delay to his education as a worthwhile investment in procuring his safety.


    Over and over, the image of Enore burning replayed in his mind. Her face burning away, just like Mira¡¯s. The two women, both dead because of him. The curse of eidetic memory. Every detail was right there, ready for him to draw it back up for further study. Lockmind was truly a double-edged sword. But he did all that he could to turn the edge away from him in the days that followed.


    The Ardent honored their dead, and as such, Enore was buried out in the desert. But not by magic, rather by hand. Sylvas and the others of their group had worked to dig out a hole deep enough that the first Eidolon to come upon her wouldn¡¯t dig her out and feast. The Ardent wanted to remind everyone that the risk of death was a part of their service, a part of what they had signed up for, and took its appearance seriously. But even so, they didn¡¯t need to worry about his morale. Sylvas felt singularly motivated.


    The lectures and lessons of the days that followed passed in a blur, committed perfectly to Sylvas memory, of course, but without any part of them being interesting or useful enough to his current predicament for him to really give a damn. The reading list had already been committed to his Lockmind, all that remained was to sift through it and form his own opinions. Something that was vital to his understanding, but completely unwelcome when it came to the Instructors who wanted rote repetition.


    All that mattered now was Sylvas¡¯ next chance at affinity testing. Not Introduction to Conceptual Magic, not Eidolon Trait Identification, not Advanced Combat Stratagems. The affinity that he received after testing would determine everything. It would give him his spell list, its rarity would solidify his future, and most importantly it would determine how well he might fare in a fight with someone of fire affinity who had leaned heavily into close combat techniques.


    With the right affinity, he would survive the deadline of Hammerheart¡¯s release and use the hostility the other man showed to him as justification for the lethal force he intended to unleash.


    All he had to do was wait until evening ¨C what the others called morning on Strife ¨C enduring the snores of Kaya and all of her ilk in the tunnels that surrounded him. It was a testament to their exhaustion after each day of training that they managed to get any sleep at all given the volume and intensity of the snoring going on. Kaya alone could have woken the dead.


    It was thanks to that deafening noise that Sylvas was entirely taken by surprise by the intrusion of an officer cadet into their bunk halls. Hammerheart¡¯s pet elf stood with his arms carefully tucked behind him, as if worried that touching anything might contaminate him. Sylvas only noticed him because he had coughed very deliberately.


    At once, Sylvas dropped from the bunk and into his best approximation of a fighting stance. He had read all he could in the manuals on Ardent close combat techniques, but practically everything was rooted in the expectation of affinity magic that he currently lacked. Yet the elf made no move to attack, or even to get out of reach, instead he motioned with his head, clearly beckoning Sylvas to follow.


    It might have been an attempt to lead him into an ambush, but Sylvas had been practicing with his second sight since receiving it. Comparing the patterns and swirls of chaotic mana to the perfect images of it that he had trapped in his Lockmind. It wasn¡¯t perfect by any means, but he felt confident that if there were a caster tucked around the corner waiting to attack, he¡¯d know it.


    Cautiously, he followed the elf out of the deafening snore chamber and a short distance towards the common areas of the under-cliff complex. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The elf looked offended, then perplexed, unsure of his own words, before finally answering. ¡°It is my desire to offer you an apology.¡±


    Sylvas blinked, not having expected such a thing. ¡°What?¡±


    It seemed like the elf had a whole speech planned that he began reciting by rote. ¡°The enmity which young lord Hammerheart bears towards you, I do not share it. You have bested me in arcane combat on multiple occasions despite the disparity in our power, and I take that to be a testament to your skill, or at the very least to my distraction. It is not a personal affront to me, it is a lesson learned.¡±


    Sylvas stared the elf down. ¡°Hammerheart murdered one of my friends while trying to kill me, and you think you can just apologize and it will go away?¡±


    Of course it hadn¡¯t been murder, at least not technically. Vaelith¡¯s promised investigation had cleared the man of that charge once it had been deduced that Enore had meddled with Hammerheart¡¯s spell, setting it to go wild outside of either of their control.


    ¡°Returning your companion to you is beyond my power, as is making any sort of meaningful recompense given our current circumstances, but speaking only to my own part in things, I feel great sorrow over the events that have unfolded. Were it in my power to turn back the clock and undo what has occurred then I would do so, and you can rest assured that moving forward I shall no longer be associating with the dwarf in question.¡± He let out a sigh, the most human he¡¯d behaved since this whole visit had begun. A hint of a normal person finally shining through. ¡°He¡­ I had no idea that he would go so far. Or rather, that he was so far gone, already.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for what he did.¡± Sylvas began, watching as the elf¡¯s tensed up shoulders immediately dropped. ¡°But you saw what kind of person he was, and you were weak enough to follow him, just because it might get you some advantages.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The elf froze in place once more and Sylvas fully expected an angry outburst, but instead he said, ¡°I¡­ you¡¯re correct, of course. I must do better.¡±


    Just to see what would happen, Sylvas held out a hand. To their mutual surprise, the elf took it and gave it a somewhat limp shake, affirming, ¡°I will do better.¡±


    With his conscience feeling clearer the elf stepped back, and Sylvas turned towards his bunk. ¡°See you around¡­¡±


    ¡°Baeldrothan.¡± The elf replied with a little twinge of the back that told Sylvas he was used to bowing when introducing himself. Maybe everywhere in the Empyrean wasn¡¯t so alien after all.


    ¡°See you around Bael.¡±


    He slept after that, feeling oddly comforted by the idea that even if Hammerheart was a complete psychopath, at least the rest of the recruits, of all stripes and ranks, were rejecting him for it instead of applauding him, the way that Sylvas had feared they would.


    What the others considered morning arrived all too soon. Sylvas dreams had been haunted by Enore ever since her death. She was integrated into the fall of Croesia, burning alongside his world. She was lurking in the shadows of the tunnel complexes of Strife, tunnels that had the cold flagstones of the orphanage, and when she lurched out at him, half her head was already burned away, and all that remained was smoke rising to choke him. Last night, the dream had been softer. She had been smiling at him, intact. They had danced, not like the fiends in the nightclub had danced, but like the nobility back home had done, finery, slow waltzes, soft music and softer smiles. Then, when the music had changed, she had become Mira. And when she had become Mira, he had snapped awake.


    His eyes were wet when he rose, and he wiped them clean fast before any of the others could see. He had been in too many situations like this in his life, where a hint of weakness might have everyone turning on him. He wasn¡¯t going to let that happen here.


    Without so much as a word to any of the others heading off to their classes, Sylvas got dressed and set off for Outbuilding Four. He couldn¡¯t allow himself any distractions. He couldn¡¯t allow anything to get in his way. Hammerheart would be back out before the weekly testing slot opened up again, if he didn¡¯t find his affinity today, everything was over. Everything he¡¯d strived for since he¡¯d been discovered in the orphanage would end if he couldn¡¯t find his affinity.


    The bald-faced dwarf was there, looking as bored and unfriendly as the last time that Sylvas had seen him. He looked up from his slate with the usual desultory sneer. ¡°Back again? Don¡¯t know why you¡¯re bothering. Either you¡¯ve got what it takes or you don¡¯t. I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re so soft on you kids. I¡¯d already have been out on my ass back in my day if I failed testing. Second chances? Huh. Ain¡¯t no second chances in the real world.¡±


    Sylvas had a great many things that he wanted to say to that man but he managed to resist every treacherous word that tried to sneak out. ¡°Is the chamber free to use, sir?¡±


    The dwarf instructor scoffed, and waved a dismissive hand at the door. ¡°Yes. Go ahead, waste your time.¡±


    Sylvas promptly turned without another word and placed his palm on the cool material of the door and it responded, sliding aside, letting him in to the dimly lit room once more.


    All the artifacts were arrayed around the chamber in exactly the same pattern as the first time that he¡¯d been here. Nothing had changed. Nothing except me.


    Last time he had studied everything with desperation, he had tried to draw on the different affinities of mana that were here, he had strained and dragged, doing the exact opposite of what he learned worked when it came to calling mana towards him. He was not going to let desperation rule him this time. He was not going to spend his whole time in the chamber reaching outwards when the true solution to his conundrum was inside him all along.


    Where he was didn¡¯t matter. What sources of mana there were nearby didn¡¯t matter. Affinity was about him. About his magic. His core. His paradigms and embodiments. It all came down to just him nothing else. So he walked to the very center of the chamber, lowered himself down to the floor, closed his eyes and let the universe speak to him.


    At first there was no answer. Then he felt, distantly, that same echo, that same vastness that he¡¯d felt before. Something out of sight and out of reach that had to be his affinity. But this time he did not reach for it, he did not push and strain to get to what was held away from him by the cosmos. Instead he breathed deeply and waited for it to come to him. Letting his senses flow with the mana as it circulated his body, just waiting for the connection to be made.


    He sank deeper into the meditation. Deeper down into the dark. Leaving all sensation behind. Until there was nothing but the cycle of mana through him and a head empty of all thoughts. The answer was inside him. The mana is his core contained traces of every kind, so one of those affinities had to be his. He pushed his mind down, deeper and deeper inside, down into the dark place where thoughts couldn¡¯t go. By his will, and force of will alone he pushed his mind inside the core of mana at his heart, reaching for the very center. The midpoint of his core, the midpoint of his self.


    What little of the world outside he could have perceived, he forgot. There was nothing but the burning truth of the mana encompassing his thoughts. The weight of it, the shape of it. Some part of him was still rational, somewhere far beyond where he¡¯d gone to now, and it sought a pattern, a shape, some sense to what his will was colliding with at the center of himself.


    He had gone too far down to hear any sound from up on high. His thinking self, his rational mind, they meant nothing at all down here in the realm of power and primal forces. If there was a shape at the heart of him, he could not recognize it by the time he¡¯d delved deep enough to touch it, but whatever was there flared out at the touch of his will.


    It was the force that had held all his mana in check when his circles had barely a whisper of strength and he¡¯d poured ever more inside himself. It was the reason that mana had come to him so easily when others had to struggle and strive for it. Everything that he was, could be explained away with this thing, this shape, this affinity.


    He surged back up from the depths with the affinity flaring at the core of him, spreading out to burn the impurities of the mana in his core away. Beginning the process that would be perfected with his third circle creating a filter to keep any of this wrong mana from entering him again. He had always visualized the mana inside him as a glowing ball of white light, but it was consumed from within by this speck of darkness that he¡¯d found at his core. A dark so deep that he hadn¡¯t even been able to see it before he touched it.


    With a jerk, he was returned to his body, to his rational mind, where a cacophony of alarms sounding all around him. With a shock at the sight before him he tried to get to his feet, but he couldn¡¯t. It was as if his body weighed ten times what it should and he couldn¡¯t move so much as an inch.


    All around him there was destruction. The white paneled walls of the chamber had been twisted and contorted, peeling away from the metal beams behind them, the various artifacts assembled here for testing had been tossed around and shattered.


    The camp must have come under attack while he was distracted, bombarded by some enemy, but he couldn¡¯t sense any hint of an eidolon nearby. A more secular enemy then, the Empire, or some pirate raiders really pushing their luck. Some curse must have been locking him down, keeping him from rising to the aid of his brothers in arms, but whatever shape the spell took eluded him.


    Fire spread from one toppled pillar, water from another, but they did not spread wildly as they should have. Instead they came to Sylvas, creeping across the floor and then being drawn up into long slow spirals around him. Every fractured fragment of an artifact did the same, tumbling in circles as they drew closer then drifting up into orbit. The floor beneath him had buckled, the plates of it twisting up like the petals of a flower trying to close around him while he sat in meditation. Even the door was mangled out of shape in its hole, the metal twisted all the more violently for not being part of something as big as the wall.


    Everywhere he looked there were spirals, not just the detritus rising to circle him but in the twisting of the wall-plates and in the mana itself. The mana flowing from him, being drawn into him, had been invisible to him before because it was too dark for him to perceive it as anything but a hole between the other particles. But now that it took on the same spiral shapes it was impossible to miss.


    His affinity had done this.


    Thunder without lightning sounded, and the door was blown into the room, colliding with the twisted plates of the floor before bouncing up to join the other shattered remnants of the room in orbit around Sylvas. The bare-faced dwarf Instructor stormed in yelling. ¡°What in the nine hundred hells have you done to my testing¡­¡±


    Then at the sight of Sylvas, he seemed to lose his voice. His mouth still moved, but no sound came out. Until finally, he managed to make a sound something like a squeak and whispered the only words Sylvas needed to hear.


    ¡°Gravity affinity.¡±

 Chapter 40

    ¡°Gravity affinity is ranked among the rarest in the known galaxy, with only 134 known mages with that affinity having existed throughout the history of the Empyrean Alliance, and 4 of them existing currently. One serves as a fleet commander for the Ardent. The second as the Empyrean¡¯s Navigator Prime. The third serves the Obsidian Dominion. And the fourth¡­well, the fourth has passed far beyond any and all scrying capability that we have available to us.¡±


    ¡ªThe Weight: Burdens of Leadership, Oswil Dohruum


    It seemed that Sylvas had the luck of being born with an affinity so rare that they didn¡¯t test for it. An affinity so rare that the whole campus on Strife seemed to have ground to a halt with its discovery. The orbiting objects and the crushing weight on him had eased as he circulated his mana and brought his core back down to its usual balance. There were no overpowering effects haunting his footsteps now, though he did still feel like there was a great weight on his shoulders.


    Classes had been cancelled for the day when Enore died. They were cancelled again now. That was how significant they thought this affinity was. Not just to the training camp, but to the whole of the Ardent. Sylvas found himself in an entirely new part of the cliff-face after they¡¯d pried him out of the testing chamber. At first he had still been in a daze, confused about what was happening, and fully expecting that he was about to be chastised into oblivion or possibly even kicked out for damage that he''d done to their precious testing chamber and the treasures they¡¯d assembled there. It was only now, in Instructor Aurea¡¯s office, sitting across from her across a desk so vast it could have doubled as a raft in case of flooding, that reality began to sink in.


    ¡°Gravity affinity is one of the least commonly found among our mages, but most vital to our efforts to deal with the Eidolon threat.¡± Aurea had been talking around the point for some time, but it seemed now she felt like enough hot air had filled the room to support whatever idea she was trying to float. ¡°As such, I have just approved your transfer to the naval service and are recommending you for the officer cadet program as well.¡±


    Sylvas blinked at the barrage of information, his mouth hanging open for a second before he collected himself. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Aurea simply nodded at him and pressed on. ¡°As a naval recruit you will receive more training related to your affinity than would otherwise be available to you on the infantry service track, and as an officer, you¡¯ll be given more detailed instruction on your affinity¡¯s strategic and logistical¡ª¡±


    It wasn¡¯t intentional when he interrupted her. ¡°So I¡¯m being promoted?¡±


    Another half nod affirmed that question. ¡°Gravity mages are among the only people capable of interstellar travel without the use of a jump gate. Or at least only people capable of doing it nigh effortlessly, there are some¡­exceptions that you¡¯ll no doubt learn about in the coming months. As such, and with a great deal of respect to the challenges they face, we aren¡¯t going to allow you to squander that gift in the rank and file. It wouldn¡¯t be fair to either of you.¡± Aurea seemed to be taking the moment he required to process all of this as hesitation to accept. ¡°And of course, given that Recruit Runemaul is already in the process of transitioning to the naval service as well, we¡¯ll make sure that your schedules will be aligned for convenience. We can arrange for more fitting quarters for the pair of you in the Blackhall as well.¡±


    It was all too much to take in at once given how quickly everything had happened, and how expectations had changed regarding his future, enough that he truthfully didn¡¯t need any further convincing. If he was to be considered as an officer cadet, then he would do best to excel in it, as he had in everything else, both for personal pride, and for the fact doing so likely meant that he would be better positioned to get the resources he needed to advance. ¡°That would be¡­ lovely. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°For obvious reasons, your training schedule is going to be adjusted.¡± Aurea continued, sparing him yet another nod. ¡°The ground based combat exercises and introductory courses pared back in favor of interstellar navigation, tactical pursuits, spatial magic, and so on.¡±


    That made the change sound a little less appealing, causing Sylvas to frown. ¡°I have been trying to hone my fighting abilities, I don¡¯t really want to lose them.¡±


    ¡°Oh you¡¯ll have more than ample opportunity for fighting once you¡¯re deployed, and you¡¯ll still participate in the quarterly cull. But for your future in the Ardent, and the Empyrean, it is vital that you begin developing the base skills expected of a naval position, including command training, should you be capable of doing so.¡±


    It was an idea that would have seemed impossible just hours ago. Command training? Did they expect him to captain a ship? He hadn¡¯t ever been on a simple boat on water back on his home world, let alone exerted any agency over it. From the moment that he¡¯d started to learn about it, Sylvas thought that his affinity might have made him a glorified engineer, or rather, an engine, for the transportation of Ardent strike forces beyond the Empyrean. The idea that just because he had a particular affinity that he¡¯d make a good commanding officer seemed bizarre to the extreme. In fact, he was so taken aback by the idea that it took him a moment to catch up and replay the other thing that she¡¯d said in his mind. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, to go back, what was it that you said about a cull?¡±


    ¡°Ah, right that. It isn¡¯t a literal cull, just what some of the students call our semester¡¯s testing cycle. Every four months you compete so that your combat capability is assessed. Typically, those who aren¡¯t performing well depart Strife soon after, allowing us to focus on those who are. Furthermore with the semester ending soon after that, I¡¯ll expect that a few of the seniors and officer cadets you¡¯ve trained with thus far will be finding new homes as they receive their first postings elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see, all right then,¡± Sylvas said as he let out a breath of relief. As it was, he already had a new affinity to learn about, a whole new spell book to master, and new circle to forge. All of that of course not including his new transition to the naval track, what he was beginning to suspect was all but guaranteed officer cadet training, and his inevitable clash Hammerheart and his clique.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Adding some sort of grand combat test on top of that would have been ridiculous.


    ¡°Good. We have high expectations. The Cull will take place in a week or so once we finalize preparations,¡± Aurea said almost casually. ¡°Usually it would be two to three weeks further in the semester, but alas there are certain upcoming events that we need to plan around and have been forced to adjust our schedule.¡±


    Oh, damn it, I had to taunt the universe, didn¡¯t I? Sylvas mentally cursed at Aurea¡¯s words, suddenly feeling like the walls were beginning to close in on him.


    ¡°Administrator Mengrammon has already filed your transfer and assigned you quarters. We expect the approval to be put through almost immediately,¡± The woman continued when Sylvas said nothing. ¡°And your lessons will begin tomorrow, though I believe that Instructor Fahred wishes to begin work on spatial magic with you now, if you feel that you have the energy.¡±


    Sylvas took a second to think about that as he pulled himself out of his internal cursing. For if he was going to honest with himself, he was bone tired. The changes in his mana made his whole body feel heavy, and the process of all the unaligned mana working its way out of his body meant that he was slowly but surely being drained. Yet, the possibilities of spatial magic were too appealing to pass up any opportunity to get to them early. ¡°I think do. I¡¯ll go to him immediately, thank you Instructor Aurea. For everything.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the woman replied as she stood up, signaling the end of the meeting, one that found Sylvas soon exiting her office and practically bumping into the man he¡¯d been preparing to go look for.


    ¡°Gravity!¡± Instructor Farhed exclaimed the second the door shut behind Sylvas, pushing himself off the wall he¡¯d been leaning against. ¡°Who would have thought that there was something of use inside you after all?¡±


    Sylvas offered the man a rather aggrieved expression, prompting him to wave a hand dismissively. ¡°Oh you know what I mean. Come on, let¡¯s see just how much we can stuff into that mind of yours before the day¡¯s out.¡±


    Practically kidnapped by Instructor from that point on, the next thing Sylvas knew they were delving deeper down into the complex, having descended down past the brig and down to an even lower level where there was essentially no modernization. All the floor has was only the ancient cut stones and odd shaped recesses set into the walls that Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but think made this particular area some kind of tomb that had been emptied out.


    ¡°There¡¯s space just along here.¡± The instructor informed him, once again waving a hand head of them.


    Soon after, the twisting corridors cut into the stone opened out into a larger chamber, with tiered steps cut into all sides, making something like an auditorium. Down at the very bottom was a raised slab of stone bigger than Sylvas, but whatever purpose it had served escaped him, given how thoroughly time had worn everything down.


    ¡°Good. Right. Perfect.¡± Fahred turned to face him, clapping his hands together eagerly. ¡°Spatial magic is derived from the spells of the gravity affinity, so it should come more easily to you than to the rest of us. By focusing gravity in a very small area to an undue intensity, we can very briefly break the rules of universal constants, opening a rift leading outside of typical space.¡±


    The portal that he had torn through to allow an eidolon entry. It had to have been spatial magic, and he had to have been chosen because of his affinity for it, even when he had no idea what an affinity even was at that point.


    ¡°In terms of practical applications, there are several. The first is transportation. By taking yourself, or a ship, outside of normal space, you can then create a similar puncture elsewhere, allowing you or your ship to return to normal space at a different location simultaneously to your disappearance. Teleportation at its finest. The most powerful gravity mages are capable of carrying a whole fleet with them, the majority can manage an entire ship, and then those of us without gravity affinity can manage to teleport ourselves.¡± He conjured a staff topped with a blue crystal radiating water aspect magic into his hands with a casual ease. ¡°Using exactly the same methodology, you can also puncture a hole into Cold Storage, it¡¯s what we call one of the many pocket dimensions that overlay our own, and use the place for the easy transportation of bulky items. The amount of space you have in that dimension is hypothetically limitless, but the energy required to punch through to it becomes greater the more that is in there. These latent adjacent planes of existence are empty of mass and energy, or at least they were prior to our interference, and the addition of mass and energy to them increases their density many times over. Bear this in mind, as you may lose access to everything you have stored in said pocket dimension if you are lacking in the power to puncture the planar barrier. Any questions so far?¡±


    ¡°How do I know where to punch back through?¡±


    ¡°That is a complex question. Space operates differently in other planes of existence. In some a mile is an inch, and in others up is down. Navigating through these planes to reach your destination is as much a matter of practice and experience as anything else. Though I imagine that you¡¯ll have no shortage of instruction on interstellar navigation now that the arm of the navy has their hooks into you.¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth with another question, only for Fahred to ramble on into the next subject without pause. ¡°Oh, and needless to say, transporting a heavier load while in transit through alternate planes is going to cause the power values required to return spike up massively in the same manner as with Cold Storage. So when the day comes, do take care not to carry a whole fleet out of reality and leave it trapped there in the endless nothingness. They do not give medals for that sort of thing in this man¡¯s Ardent.¡±


    Sylvas tried to speak again but before the first sound escaped him, Fahred turned to face him. ¡°Cold Storage is obviously the easiest spell, so we will start there, then once I¡¯m confident you aren¡¯t going to accidentally trap yourself in there, we can move on to more dangerous magic like teleportation.¡±


    ¡°What about my advancement?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡± Fahred asked, canting his head to side as if Sylvas had asked a strange question. ¡°Form a third circle with a paradigm and embodiment relevant to your affinity to filter out the wrong kinds of mana and then get on with things. You¡¯ve done it twice now.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have some sort of suggestion as to what course I should be following?¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, which is very little if we are being honest, you¡¯ve just won the affinity jackpot and now you¡¯re quibbling over whether you can get it in copper coins instead of gold. Regardless of what you do next, you are so vital to the war effort that the Ardent will forgive you all manner of sins. How you progress is much less relevant than the fact that you do progress. Just do some research and choose something appealing, quickly at that too.¡±


    It took a second Sylvas to process the man¡¯s barrage, which by the end of he simply nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll find something that suits me and advance as soon as I can do so.¡±


    ¡°Words I like to hear,¡± Fahred clapped his hands with a sound like breaking waves. ¡°So, are you ready to start breaking every natural law this is?¡±


    Sylvas nodded as he began to rolled and stretch his shoulders a sense of eagerness flowing into him. ¡°I am.¡±

 Chapter 41

    ¡°The fine tuning of a recruit¡¯s place within the Ardent is a rapid, and at times, unpredictable thing, at least for the recruits who enlist while still in the lower circles of magic. As such, it is common for career tracks and service branches to be to be adjusted at a moment¡¯s notice depending on not only the aptitude shown by the recruit, but also their affinity. It would do no good for us to burn a life affinity marching in the mud for an instant longer when they could start studying medicine all the sooner, nor would we waste a fire affinity in the cramped and cold confines of a ship when they are best suited for open war on the ground.¡±


    ¡ªMemo To All Recruits, Administrator Mengrammon


    The private tutoring session ended far sooner than Sylvas would have liked, but yet at a point where he agreed that stopping was the best course of action.


    That point in particular being when he¡¯d accidentally destroyed a sizeable fragment of inscribed stone instead of sending it to Cold Storage.


    Exhaustion had caused him to miscalculate a few critical variables while casting the spell and as such, the spell flung stone across the room where it shattered in spray of shards and dust, rather than harmlessly tucking it away into the other plane.


    ¡°A rite of passage for every student. Though I hope that slab wasn¡¯t important to anyone¡¯s research of the place,¡± Farhed said dismissively before promptly leading them out of the deep dark depths of the complex where they¡¯d been practicing and eventually back outside into the open night air, a transition that instantly made Sylvas feel nervous.


    And for an understandable reason too, Sylvas realized when he considered exactly grated at his nerves.


    Every day here so far upon Strife had felt like a battle, one that had left him almost permanently high strung. More than that too, he¡¯d been shipped here more or less directly from the most violent conflict he could have conceived of. As such, it was hardly surprising to him that whenever he was out of cover, he almost instantly became uncomfortable. Of course the alien stars above him did nothing to help his feeling either. Back on Croesia he could name the constellations and predict from the position of the moons how the floes of mana would be affected. Here on Strife he didn¡¯t know a single star and nor did he feel like he¡¯d get an opportunity to remedy that any time soon.


    But perhaps more than all of that, it was his destination that was causing his mind to stand on edge.


    That was because with every step close that he took to his new home, the Blackhall, the building where the naval recruits and officer cadets slept in, had him feeling like he was closing in on enemy fortifications. From one point of view in his mind they had all been something akin to his enemies just yesterday, the rivalries between their different branches of service within the Ardent having been exceptionally fierce. But now, with a wave of their respective hands, Instructor Aurea and Administrator Mengrammon had not only switched his service to both the navy and officer training, his approval for each having come in during his training with Farhed, but changed his bunk assignment too. Just the same way that they had changed Kaya when she manifested an affinity that was more useful on a ship than it was in the infantry.


    He was one of them now, the black patches, and he wasn¡¯t quite sure how he felt about it. So much had happened since affinity testing that morning that he¡¯d barely even taken in what had happened yet, but here he was walking into the den of the lions.


    This building seemed as old as the central tower, but while the main building of the campus had been patched and restored to working order using whatever materials were to hand, the Blackhall seemed different. The original architecture hadn¡¯t been built over, it had been restored. Reinforced where necessary, but not at the cost of the overall aesthetics of the place, which went a long way to making it feel more like his old home to Sylvas than any of the modern slickness prevalent in the Empyrean.


    As he walked up the stairs he had the sense of being watched, but nobody tried to stop him, and when he pushed the heavy wooden doors open and passed through the wards to keep out the endless dust, he found himself stepping out onto flagstones. He had shoes on now, of course. Boots really. He was a lifetime away from the orphanage and all its torments, but something about this place seemed to bring it all back.


    The first thing that Sylvas noticed was that there was furniture here. Not metal frames built to serve a function, but actual wooden chairs and tables that lined the main hall. A circular firepit was set in the center of the room, producing a steady warmth with a dull red flame that was anything but natural. The walls had been smoothed back to their original texture, though all carving and art must have long since been stripped bare by time.


    It was surprisingly pleasant.


    Then people started to take notice of him. Heads turned away from conversations, eyes rose from slates, he was deep in enemy territory and the sentries had been alerted. He saw officer cadets from Hammerheart¡¯s little clique gathered around a table to the back of the room, all eyes on him. He hadn¡¯t learned any new spells yet. His old ones would need vast modifications to work with the new mana flowing through him. This was the worst-case scenario ¨C short of Hammerheart ambushing in the hall again ¨C and Sylvas, in his tired daze, had walked right into it.


    Then, right in the midst of Sylvas¡¯ growing panic attack, Bael appeared out from nowhere and laid a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Welcome to the other half of Strife, my friend.¡±


    At those the words the spell and Sylvas¡¯s panic broke, and eyes began to turn away again. Hammerheart¡¯s friends turned their attention back to whatever they¡¯d been occupied with and the other various interested parties began to return to their conversations, not giving either of them so much as a second look. ¡°Given the news ripping our campus apart, I¡¯m not surprised to see that you¡¯ve been sent to join us here in the Blackhall. The pleasures of service no doubt. Hopefully the accommodations are to your liking at least.¡±


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    Sylvas was at a complete loss at how to even being to reply as he came down from his nervous escalation, eventually choosing to simply say, ¡°seems like a nice place.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, though I assure you it¡¯s mostly for function. Had you come last week, you¡¯d have seen twice as many here, all weeping tears of blood over our latest astrodynamics exam,¡± Bael replied, offering Sylvas a thin smile, at least until he realized that Sylvas still wasn¡¯t entirely present. ¡°Hm, you look a bit wrought, would you like me to guide you to your room, or perhaps something to eat first?¡±


    It was at that point that Sylvas realized that he hadn¡¯t thought of going back to his old bunk to collect any of his belongings, only to realize a moment afterwards that he didn¡¯t really have anything to bring anyway. His slate was in his pocket, newly updated with all of the previously restricted information about gravity affinity spells, embodiments and paradigms, and the only clothes he had left that weren¡¯t in the wash cycle were the ones on his back. Including, of course, the jacket that was his recruit uniform, which was technically out of date given his promotion and switch of service branches. ¡°Just¡­just my room for now I think, had a busy day.¡±


    The hand on his shoulder then vanished as Bael used it to motion towards a hallway at the back the room that in turn led to a stairwell. ¡°Ah yes, the type of day that prophets foretell, and historians adore from what I hear.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but wince at that assessment, having hoped to have kept at least something of his day private. But then again, it had been the better part of a day by now. Everyone who was alive would have already heard that he¡¯d destroyed the affinity testing chamber, that he had gravity affinity and that he was being promoted. Otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have made it into the Blackhall, let alone done so unchallenged. For being a whole planet, Strife was a shockingly small place when it came to rumors. Regardless, he tried to downplay it, if only to try and find some stability for himself. ¡°Eh, it¡¯s been¡­busy, but I¡¯m not sure about all the excitement.¡±


    Glancing over as they walked an amused look came over Bael¡¯s face. ¡°Oh? You don¡¯t think so? Well, then just wait until the offers start coming in.¡±


    ¡°Offers?¡± Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but glanced sideways at the man. Talking with the elf always made him feel slightly off balance. The man talked like he was from one of the old plays that Sylvas had come across in the library back home, all stiff politeness and profuse verbiage.


    ¡°Well, every shipping conglomerate in the Empyrean will want you for themselves to start with. All the noble families would love a gravity mage of their own so that they can send out looting expeditions, oh pardon me, explorations into unoccupied space. And that isn¡¯t even accounting for every smuggler or spy in the entire universe who will want to bypass the attention that passage through the gates attracts. In the span of a single day it appears that you have made yourself into the most desirable commodity in the Empyrean. Everyone will want to own, buy, or rent you.¡±


    Sylvas tried not to let the unsettled feeling that suddenly hit his stomach show on his face. ¡°I¡¯m with the Ardent.¡±


    It was a response that instantly puzzled Bael, the elf¡¯s brows jumping upwards. ¡°Hm, I did not expect that. You¡¯re worth so much more than a soldier now. You do not need to earn acceptance in our society through military service anymore. Yet you¡¯re going to stay?¡±


    Sylvas simply shrugged at the question, not knowing how else to even begin to reply. ¡°I told the Ardent that I was going to fight for them, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do.¡±


    Bael cocked his head to the side as he looked back at Sylvas, his long straight hair falling out from where it had been tucked behind his ears. It was as long as Sylvas¡¯ used to be before it was burnt off. ¡°Is this a matter of honor?¡±


    The question took Sylvas a little off guard. He supposed that it was in a way. He¡¯d made a promise to join the Ardent, to help them in the fight against the Eidolons and whatever other threats the universe had. Right now he had no intention of breaking that promise. ¡°I guess it is.¡±


    ¡°I see. A rather archaic mode of behavioral management, but one that I cannot deny has merit.¡± Bael said as their journey down the spiral staircase they were on came to an end leaving them to spill out into a central room. Circularly shaped, the room then in turn exited into a dozen more hallways, each one labeled with a letter above it. From here, Sylvas saw several doors adorned with bright brass plates, a sign as soon as any that they¡¯d reached the dormitories.


    ¡°I think I can take it from here.¡± He announced as he turned to look back at Bael, offering a genuine smile. It was nice to know he had some sort of ally here in the Blackhall, even if it was only because the man was feeling so guilty about Enore¡¯s death.


    ¡°By all means, and please do not hesitate to use a sending should you require any further guidance. This place is quite deliberately labyrinthian, I imagine to minimize the danger of any intruder in its prior days. But it does make it something of a nuisance to navigate on the day to day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep that in mind.¡± Sylvas replied, nodding his thanks again as the elf turned to ascend back up the stairs to whatever else he had scheduled for the day. That in then left Sylvas to find his room, relying on Lockmind to remind him just where exactly the sending told him to go. Fortunately it wasn¡¯t far, and before long he was placing his hand on the brass plate of a door with his name on it.


    Which in turn revealed a surprisingly well-appointed bedroom.


    By the window there was a study space with a desk and a selection of slates, presumably preloaded with the information that he¡¯d require for his studies. A small seating area around another of the dull red flame shaped heat sources. A wooden wardrobe large enough to hold an actual person¡¯s selection of clothing, rather than the 3 to 5 items that Sylvas was in possession of on a daily basis. And then, there was the bed. It was not a cot, nor a bunk, it was a double.


    Sylvas stared at it for a long time, with confusion mounting until without any warning, Kaya wandered through from the bathroom ¨C their own private bathroom ¨C in a towel to greet him. The woman instantly followed his gaze, then snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t look so scared, I¡¯m not going to jump you, I¡¯ve my own entrance and bed in my room on the other side of the bog. We¡¯re just sharin it.¡±


    ¡°The¡­ bog?¡± Sylvas hoped that his voice wasn¡¯t actually as high pitched as he sounded to his ear.


    Kaya gestured wildly to the room she¡¯d just exited from. ¡°The crap room. The toilet. The lavatory.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­okay,¡± Sylvas said, at a complete loss for words as he stared back at Kaya. Eventually he found some and did his best to send them free tactfully. ¡°I¡­I wasn¡¯t expecting that we¡¯d be sharing quarters.¡±


    Of course that statement only caused the dwarven woman to throw her head back and laugh wildly.


    ¡°You¡¯re tellin me!¡± She exclaimed while continuing to laugh. ¡°Stars, trust these Ardent kulgh to add one to one and get three. To start with, they asked me if we¡¯d be sharing the bed. Thought we were married, because while you ain¡¯t a dwarf, on my records I had it down that you were part of my clan.¡±


    ¡°And¡­and you fully corrected this misassumption?¡± Sylvas asked. ¡°Kaya, please tell me that you did.¡±


    ¡°What do you think? I can hardly bed every strong armed lad in the Blackhall if they think I¡¯ve got a husband.¡±


    The noise that came out of Sylvas¡¯ mouth afterwards was something like a strangled goose might make.

 Chapter 42

    ¡°This degree of psychological stability is a double edged sword, of course. There can be no using the excuse of an excess of emotions or a moment of madness when a mage is involved. If they commit a crime, it is because they have decided it is in their best interest to do so. If they misbehave, it is because they have made a judgement on how people will respond to that behavior. A mage is not omniscient. These judgements may be flawed, but they will be rational.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    The schedule that had been composed for him during his transition onto the officer cadet program and naval service would have been brutal for any other student.


    Yet with the combination of paradigms at his disposal, Sylvas ploughed through the book learning at a pace unmatched by his peers. Though in terms of practical work, he was still working hard to catch up, any progress he made feeling painstakingly slow.


    And the reason for that was largely that his mana base remained unstable.


    After having discovered his affinity, drawing in mana was no longer as simple as breathing, or rather, it was, but now any mana that he drew mixed into the gravity mana at his core. Which then in turn destabilized it until the mana he lacked affinity for could be filtered slowly out of him. If it hadn¡¯t have been for his second circle embodiment, Sylvas felt quite certain that he¡¯d have suffered injuries from the way that the mana inside him roiled and churned. The weight of gravity mana felt very different to the chaotic, intermixed kind he was used to, as if he was carrying a lead ball in the middle of his chest at all times. He would have become ever more reliant on spells to supplement his waning physical capabilities as the weight of it exhausted him, but the opportunity wasn¡¯t there. He needed to learn an entirely new set of spells that might have some degree of the same effect. The only magic that still worked for him consistently was kinesis, the new spells that he had learned from Fahred, and the flight spell that he¡¯d picked up from Gharia, though it was less cost-effective than before when cast with this chaotic mana.


    The intensity of catching up to his new set of classes meant that Sylvas had to be immensely choosy as to how he spent his time. Not only was he split his lessons, but he also needed study and practice a whole new set spells to better work with his affinity. Then even beyond that, Sylvas also had to sift through the countless military grade embodiments and paradigms that existed, hoping that he could find one suitable for his third circle and progression thereafter. Of course, there was also his friends, specifically Kaya, but a slightly expanding category that was slowly starting to include Bael, the elf having made a decent effort to reach out. Unfortunately that reach out was one sided, as neither Kaya nor Bael had much to say to the other, so socializing with one meant having to make up for lost time with the other.


    Which in the former¡¯s case, had Sylvas falling back into a familiar role he hadn¡¯t had since his home world had fallen.


    Originally Kaya had been dragged into the naval service by virtue of her affinity¡¯s usefulness in space, a change that Sylvas had well been aware of. However what he had missed, more specifically because of its newness in happening that very day, was Kaya¡¯s induction into the officer cadet program as well thanks largely in part to her ¡®union¡¯ building efforts, which to her immense dismay had not gone unnoticed by the instructors. Apparently it showed the exact kind of drive that the Ardent looked for in its prospective officers, and in similar fashion to her initial transition, she¡¯d been simply told what her new schedule was. Unfortunately for her, that meant needing an even greater level of academic grounding that she had to catch up on. Specifically the complex math and science needed to at least be competent in the most basic of shipboard officer roles. As such, she often needed Sylvas¡¯ assistance to keep up with the brutal pace of their lessons, which was fortunately easy enough to manage, given that their quarters were connected and that Sylvas had actually been a teacher once, thus knew how best to tutor her efficiently. Even so however, the forced proximity combined with the academic demand could have driven their relationship to a breaking point during their acclimation process, but oddly Sylvas found himself relaxing once the two of them retreated to their quarters. It started to oddly feel like home. Something he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever be fortunate to experience ever again.


    Bael, meanwhile, was giving Sylvas a long overdue seminar on the social mores of the upper echelons of society within the Empyrean. Most importantly helping him to decide which of the many letters he was now receiving offering him friendship, sponsorship, employment, and in some cases even marriage, could be safely ignored, and which of them came from people of such power and authority that they required very carefully worded rejections. By the end of the first week, Sylvas had turned down four corporations that had enough money to buy and sell whole solar systems, two crowns, via marriage to a prince and princess of different neighboring systems, respectively, and at least a dozen other major players in the Empyrean¡¯s political structure. Governing families of entire planets who officially had no impact on the policies of the allegedly democratic Empyrean, but unofficially ruled from the sidelines.


    Then, once he¡¯d finally managed to get a handle on just what the rest of the galaxy seemed to think about him, he learned just how well he fit in with the other recruits, specifically while in one of his many ship-to-ship combat lectures. It was the first class of the evening, and one that he had already memorized the textbooks for, having planned to integrate them later. Much later, such as when he was closer to actually getting out into space. As such, he¡¯d chosen to spend the time working out a new schedule for his learning on his slate while his Lockmind did the heavy lifting of actually remembering the lecture.


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    So far the new spells that came with his affinity had been easy enough to pick up, almost familiar to him, strangely. Like he¡¯d heard them all before somewhere. But given the uses that the Empyrean meant to put him to, there were few that were practical for his current situation, with combat applications being even fewer and further in between.


    Spatial magic, as an offshoot of gravity magic, was starting to become simple enough for him to manage too now that he was aware of it. He had sent and returned his slate to cold storage multiple times now, recognizing the unique resonance of the particular plane that he was tapping into, and the humming harmonics of the ones that others were using nearby. His sense for it wasn¡¯t complete yet, but he suspected that once he had completely unlocked the Waveform Paradigm that he¡¯d chosen, he would be able to detect when others had objects in Cold Storage, and gain a sense of what they were, even if such a sense wasn¡¯t always exact. One or two of the other recruits hummed to his senses, like they were vibrating in tune to some distant string being plucked, but every one of the Instructors had that same resonance. Fahred alone played a bass tone with all that he carried around in his storage space, while their current Instructor, Forgethane, had more of a midtone.


    With its rarity, there weren¡¯t a great many gravity affinity specific embodiments that had been codified for use in the Empyrean. Many of them were relatively new, on the scale of history, as so many gravity mages seemed to have been forced to develop their own. The one that Sylvas had chosen, and was now attempting to decipher into practical mana infusion into his body, had been meant originally as a method for movement in zero-gravity. Manipulating the density and weight of the body so that it could be shifted around without the need to push off anything. On paper it appeared useless to a combatant, but Sylvas had ideas.


    Usually when he was focused on a project like this, it would take a loud noise or physical contact from one of his peers to draw him out. If the Instructor asked him a question, the sound of his own name would drag him back to reality, and he would rapidly replay things with Lockmind to learn what he was being asked. This time, however, he was returned to reality by something else entirely. A sudden and complete silence that had fallen over the room.


    He glanced up to see Kaya tensed as though she were ready to go to war at his side, and he was taken aback by her fury for a moment before he followed her line of sight to the chamber doors.


    Hammerheart had just swaggered in.


    As the silence loomed and the accompanying tension built, Sylvas soon realized that as many eyes were on him as were on the dwarf. He looked Hammerheart in the eye, saw the challenge there, the beginnings of a sneer coming onto the man¡¯s face at the sight of him, and then he turned his gaze back to the slate. As if the little man didn¡¯t matter to him at all.


    Forgethane was not pleased about the disruption. ¡°Nice of you to finally join us again, recruit.¡±


    ¡°Back from my holiday.¡± Hammerheart managed to restrain the sneer in his voice when he addressed the instructor, but only just.


    ¡°Wonderful. Now take your seat.¡± Forgethane ordered before turning back to the board where he¡¯d been laying out the basics of evasive formations with the kind of perilous slowness that Sylvas was now finding so irritating in all of his classes.


    Then of course as predictable as was the rising suns, Hammerheart swaggered over to where Sylvas was sitting.


    ¡°Move. You¡¯re in my seat.¡± He said from practically on top of Sylvas.


    In every other lecture they shared before, Sylvas had seen Hammerheart sit at the back of the chamber, in the highest row, beside his friends, or rather minions, depending how charitable he was feeling. A number that after his stay in the brig and Bael¡¯s break from him only included the fiend, who even now, Sylvas saw had a space still open beside her in anticipation his return. Showing she was still loyal.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are plenty of others free.¡± Sylvas replied as politely as he could.


    Hammerheart crossed his arms and tried to loom over them, somewhat hampered by being the same height as Sylvas when the human was sitting down. ¡°I want what¡¯s mine.¡±


    By now the others around them were all staring, the Instructor plodding along with the lesson completely oblivious to the dangerous situation unfolding behind him. Kaya bristled, fists clenched under the desk, but Sylvas laid a hand on her arm and smiled. Turning that smile up to Hammerheart, he remained painstakingly polite, not for the dwarf, who didn¡¯t care what he was saying, but for everyone else to hear. ¡°I have no intention of taking what I haven¡¯t earned, and rest assured, you will get exactly what you deserve.¡±


    There was silence as the dwarf tried to work out how to escalate the situation further without getting tossed in the brig. Then one of the other officer cadets who Sylvas barely knew, a human man with close cropped hair and a scar across his chin piped up. ¡°Just sit down, will you? We¡¯re trying to learn here.¡±


    Hammerheart flinched as if he¡¯d been struck.


    Clearly he¡¯d thought he had the loyalty and support of everyone around him, something that a glance around him showed was not in fact true in the slightest. Off balance in every sense of the word, the dwarf then did exactly as he was told and went to the end of the line, right to where one of the other students had her slates piled up on a desk beside her. It was clear that he expected her to move them for him to make way, but she didn¡¯t, simply glaring at him once before turning back to the lesson. It was enough to prompt a faint snarl of defeat from Hammerheart, before he turned and stomped off yet again, this time to the back of the room where his space had been saved. It established the new order of things perfectly. Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure exactly what the man had expected after his return, after the murder he¡¯d committed, but all that he had earned was contempt.


    And more than anything, Sylvas knew that it was going to burn in him.


    All that disdain, his fall from grace, and he was going to blame it all on Sylvas, because to do otherwise would be to accept that he was responsible for his own actions and their consequences. Hammerheart was going to be coming for Sylvas. That hadn¡¯t changed. But now the dwarf was probably imagining a scenario in which ¡®accidentally¡¯ killing Sylvas would be his redemption. A way to get back in everyone¡¯s good graces.


    What luck that he was going to get an opportunity so soon.

 Chapter 43

    ¡°For every spell, there is an equal and opposite counterspell. A construct of spell forms that cancels out its effects. Sometimes these can be repurposed into a ward against a specific branch of magic, but typically only against a tight range of similarly cast spells.¡±


    ¡ªFundamentals of Arcana, Albrecht Magnus


    Vaelith stood before them on the dusty field outside of the wards.


    It was the first time that Sylvas had seen her since his promotion. She looked as stern and harsh as ever, the wolves at her heels, the only expression of her emotion that she ever let show, were snarling and snapping whenever a student stepped too close. ¡°The Quarterly Cull begins next week. Some of you are going to be found wanting. Some of you won¡¯t be. Failure or lack of effort in this exercise won¡¯t be forgiven. You will all work to prove yourselves capable, or you will leave Strife.¡±


    Terrifying as it was, Sylvas knew that Vaelith was slightly overselling things with her speech. Losing the cull wasn¡¯t going to get everyone except the winner tossed off the planet, otherwise there would be only one student on the campus at a time. But positive motivation wasn¡¯t the instructor¡¯s style, and Sylvas could see the tension that her words brought spreading amongst the other students. He stood with the senior recruits now by virtue of being an officer cadet, but across the field, he could see the junior recruits of both services. The ones who were still in the lower circles and thus still learning the usual combat exercises. They all looked like they were sweating despite the evening chill.


    But that wasn¡¯t all that Vaelith had to offer them, her enhanced voice continuing to wash over them all like a wave. ¡°And as it happens this time around, we¡¯ve got a carrot as well as a stick¡ª¡±


    Kaya¡¯s presence immediately leaned in to whisper to Sylvas but he cut her off before she could start. ¡°It¡¯s an orange vegetable that pack animals like.¡±


    ¡°¡ªthe top two teams in this contest will be getting a field trip. That¡¯s right, one even without us breathing down your neck. Off world. Thrilling for you all, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Sylvas¡¯ interest was actually peaked by that potential prize, and for good reason too. His journey in coming to the military, to the Ardent, had been a straight a line as possible with no time to so much as glance at the Empyrean society that he was now a part of. Having a chance to go and do anything that wasn¡¯t related to training sounded like a wonderful experience.


    ¡°For the cull, we will be conducting squad-based combat in our usual battlefield simulation structure. Three officer cadets to a team, six recruits. Form your teams now, train together. Learn your strengths and weaknesses. Choose your squad based on friendships at your peril.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t even need to ask Kaya, the two of them had fought together and knew each other so well that the bond was unquestionable, finding a good group of recruits probably wouldn¡¯t be hard either. He felt certain Gharia would want to be with them, even if she had a past with Bortan. Ironeye might go either way, with them or Bortan, but that wasn¡¯t a huge concern. He believed that with his new affinity, shielding could deflect lightning just like any other spell if it came to it. He¡¯d earned the trust of a large enough group of recruits by this point that it was going to be more a matter of whittling them down to a viable six, rather than trying to scrape together the dregs.


    The real concern would be picking a third officer. His first thought was actually to try and secure Bortan, just because it would guarantee them Ironeye and anyone else with mixed loyalties. But at a glance it was already apparent the man had his own team hand-picked already, the scar-chinned human from class and a heavyset najash. He hadn¡¯t been in the Blackhall long enough to know every other mage¡¯s specializations yet. The fiend¡¯s affinity was sonic, Hammerheart¡¯s was fire, but beyond that Sylvas was essentially clueless.


    Glancing around, they could see only one other pair in the same predicament as themselves. Hammerheart and his fiend. They had first approached Bael, expecting him to fall in line as usual, but the elf had turned his back on them entirely and walked away, towards Sylvas in fact. ¡°Will you have me, or shall I be left to be picked over along with the rest of the dregs?¡±


    It hadn¡¯t really crossed Sylvas¡¯ mind. He knew that the elf was useful, in the sense that he knew the social situation well, but he hadn¡¯t really considered the practical applications of his magic. When he worked for Hammerheart, all he¡¯d ever seemed to do was ward the other pair so that they could do the maximum amount of destruction. The trouble was, Sylvas didn¡¯t know that they had a better option. Whatever happened, he felt certain that Hammerheart was going to be coming after him, and after this rejection, Bael would be a target too, along with whoever he was with. Strategy would dictate that splitting the two targets across two teams would cause Hammerheart to divide his resources to go after them, but a feeling of anxiety stopped him from following through on that thought. Hammerheart would be looking to vent his anger however possible, and if Bael was alone with a team that couldn¡¯t protect him, well, he would be a ripe target.


    Their friendship had been an alliance of convenience until now, and Sylvas had to decide what to do now that it was no longer so convenient.


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    If he said no now, there was a very good chance that Bael stopped being his ¡®friend¡¯ in as much as they were friends. More than just that, if he declined the elf, there was a not small chance that they would be seeing an extended stay in the infirmary, if not worse. Meanwhile, if he said yes, they would receive a mage who their biggest competitor already knew all the ins and outs of. Hammerheart had months to learn all the counters to Bael¡¯s abilities, and Bael¡­Sylvas realized as his thoughts led him to the obvious conclusion, had the same.


    That if they took him on, he might very well have an insight that could turn the battle for them.


    Sylvas held out his hand, and Bael looked down at it for a moment before catching on to what it meant.


    ¡°Thank you. It would have been so embarrassing to be picked last like¡­ certain people.¡± He cast a meaningful glance back to Hammerheart.


    However even as Sylvas made that decision he realized that he¡¯d just done it without considering who else it might impact, prompting him to turn to look at Kaya. ¡°I really should have asked you first how you felt about¡ª¡±


    The woman shook her head, already chuckling at his discomfort. ¡°Way I see it, either this culgh is a traitor, and I get to smash his face in, or he¡¯s useful. Either¡¯s a win for me.¡±


    It was a statement that Bael didn¡¯t miss, his more than slightly worried voice then calling out, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you say you were going to smash my face¡ª¡±


    Sylvas decided to interrupt before the ensuing conversation got too far off the rails. ¡°Let¡¯s go find the recruits we want before someone else tempts them away.¡±


    In the end, they managed to get Ironeye. There was no appeal to friendship or anything of the sort, Kaya and him just gave each other a nod, and that was a done deal. Gharia was in too, though she still hadn¡¯t unlocked her affinity, so her usefulness was somewhat limited. With her, they had two fliers for scouting out the battlefield and making pinpoint attacks behind enemy lines. That is assuming Sylvas could get his own flying back into action soon enough. Luna and Orson joined habitually, and while Sylvas didn¡¯t think a lot of their skills individually, he did know that they could take an order and run with it, and that would probably be just as valuable in the heat of battle. Especially when everyone else had such strong personalities. That left two slots for Sylvas to handpick the best of the best, and he was quick to fill one. The first recruit that they¡¯d taken down in the first exercise on arrival on Strife, a hulking human named Harvan, with a stone affinity and a spell that let him pass through solid objects. It was the kind of advantage Sylvas could only have dreamed of, and he wanted it available in his toolbox.


    With Harvan shaking hands with Kaya, that left only one final space to fill, and while he asked the others for opinions and options, none of them had much of a mind for strategy and synergies between their respective skillsets.


    ¡°Aw look, he¡¯s got the pick of the litter.¡± The fiend by Hammerheart¡¯s side cooed as he grinned across the field at them from her side. White shining out from the depths of the dwarf¡¯s black beard.


    Sylvas paid her words no mind, nor Hammerheart¡¯s when he finally spoke up. ¡°Anyone with an affinity that actually wants to make it through the cull, come here. We won the last one.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t so terribly impressive, you know.¡± Bael said to Sylvas in a stage whisper that probably carried for miles. ¡°I¡¯ve won the last one, too!¡±


    ¡°We carried you, elf.¡± It was the fiend again. Perhaps her sonic affinity improved her hearing, or perhaps it was an embodiment that sharpened her senses, that, or Bael was just extremely loud. ¡°We did everything while you clung to our coat-tails.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right of course, I¡¯m sure the fact that nothing that had been cast at either of you ever made contact had absolutely no effect on whether or not you won. Silly of me for thinking otherwise, really.¡±


    It was a petty argument, and Sylvas had no interest in being drawn into it. He had a team to put together and a strategy to form. Multiple strategies, really, when he considered all the possible configurations of the battlefield that they¡¯d already seen, not to mention what may well come next.


    In his irritation, Hammerheart forgot himself. With a twist of the wrist and a hiss of magic, he cast a bolt of fire at Bael. A bolt that withered away to nothing before it could touch him as the others gawked. ¡°Perhaps now would be the time for you to explore some new options in terms of your spell selection, given that I have wards prepared against everything I¡¯ve ever seen you cast. Wards, I might add, that I shall be delighted to cast upon my team before the cull begins ensuring your impotence throughout.¡±


    Sylvas really wished that the elf wouldn¡¯t goad his former friend. If actual fighting broke out, he would be next to useless in it. He hadn¡¯t even practiced half of his new spells yet, let alone thought through their practical applications.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get you both.¡± Hammerheart growled, before stomping off once more with his fiend, and a few embarrassed looking recruits in tow.


    ¡°Bael¡­¡± Sylvas began, only to have the elf wave him off.


    ¡°My apologies for that outburst, it was quite unwarranted.¡±


    Yet even with that, Sylvas¡¯ hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, something he noticed he was doing more and more as stress overtook him. ¡°I can understand being frustrated, I can understand the feeling of being betrayed by someone you followed, trust me, it is a familiar feeling. But if you¡¯re planning on giving away any other key elements of our strategy to the other teams so that they have time to prepare counters¡­ please don¡¯t.¡±


    Bael was usually so fluent in his speech that those around him scarcely had a chance to get a word in edgewise, so seeing him struck dumb was a special treat. Kaya would have been delighted if she were paying attention. Once again, the elf simply dipped his head and showed contrition.


    With that settled, Sylvas turned his attention back to the problem at hand. The opening in their team was still there.


    From the back of the group trailing off after Hammerheart, one body broke away, stopping for a moment, as though weighing options, then turning back and walking down the dune to face Sylvas. It was a fiend. One that Sylvas had never even spoken before.


    ¡°Can I join you?¡± Came the question a moment later.


    He was small for a human, exceptionally small for a fiend, skinny in build and soft in a way that Sylvas couldn¡¯t really convey in words. From what Sylvas could remember this recruit had no affinity yet and hadn¡¯t done anything outstanding to sell his presence. As such Sylvas¡¯ first instinct was to hedge his approval. ¡°We¡¯re still discussing¡ª¡±


    But the fiend, who looked too timid to so much as cough in a social setting, promptly cut him off. ¡°Enore was my sister.¡±


    And that was the end of the discussion, they had their team for the cull.

 Chapter 44

    ¡°The manners in which magic can be applied to improve yourself is endless. There are spells to improve every metric by which a person might be judged, and if applied correctly and consistently, growth in almost every area is a possibility. But with too much focus placed on advancement to higher circles by the education system, we end up with stunted mages who miss out on these opportunities until they are too old to take full advantage of them.¡±


    ¡ªThe Trouble With Mages: Why Rushing Advancement Ruins Your Future, Melia Fairbloom


    ¡°You aren¡¯t gonna get stronger doing just that.¡± Kaya told him the next morning as he went through his calisthenics in their chambers, the sound of him exercising forcing her to stir from her own room. ¡°Maybe if you want to just tread air, fine. But if you want to actually improve, you need to do more.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what do you propose?¡± He replied, bracing himself for another one of her jokes.


    But this time, it didn¡¯t prove to be a joke.


    ¡°You¡¯re a mage, aren¡¯t you? Start empowerin yourself. Using magic.¡±


    Unfortunately that didn¡¯t help Sylvas in the slightest in figuring out exactly what Kaya meant, his blank stare prompting her to retreat to her room, grab her slate, and all but toss it towards him from the bathroom door. Catching it, or rather letting it slam into his chest and closing his arms around it, he look at what was on the page, his eye skimming over the words at the top.


    Empowerments: Body Enhancement.


    He felt like an idiot as he discovered yet another blind spot to his education as he began to read, noticing that it was one of the many new avenues of progression that opened up after receiving an affinity. Not that he¡¯d had any time to delve into it given his immediate change in workload.


    Apparently there were countless physical empowerment spells to improve his strength, resilience and reaction times, each of which were paired to the attributes and scores that his scries consolidated in their reports. By layering the proper enhancements upon himself, and pushing himself as far as he could go, they would soak into him as his body healed, granting gradual improvements depending on his efforts. Apparently, it wasn¡¯t too dissimilar to the construction of a magic item, where each day another layer of a spell was applied until finally it came to fruition, save that instead of it being a staff or wand enchanted, it was his muscles, nerves, skin, and bones.


    Or at least it was for that half of the equation.


    There were empowerments paths to the wielding of magic as well, even if they were immensely more complex to understand as attributes. Potency was basically defined by the ability to produce mana in bursts, and Focus was some sort of mental calculation on how well and quickly a mage could assemble spells. Both of which could only be improved through practice and repetition rather than through the direct aid of magic, often while under exceptionally trying conditions. The only true magical empowerment that he could come across for the other half was for Regeneration, and even then that wasn¡¯t like the empowerments designed to reinforce a physical body. Rather they were a variety of techniques to draw mana in faster, which of course varied depending on affinity.


    Though I imagine that having what is quite literally a gravity well inside me puts me in a vastly different situation than others, Sylvas thought as he scried himself, having noticed that his mana regeneration had grown exponentially since his last scry the day he¡¯d arrived on Strife without any assistance from him, the same if to a lesser extent as his other more magically inclined attributes.


    Name: Sylvas Vail


    Species: Human


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 201%


    First Circle Embodiment: Arterium Arcanum


    First Circle Paradigm: Clearmind


    Second Circle Embodiment: Arcane Bulwark


    Second Circle Paradigm: Lockmind


    Affinity: Gravity


    Strength: F1


    Resilience: F2


    Speed: F1


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Potency: E7


    Focus: E11


    Regeneration: E13


    That part was good news at least in the sense that he was already accustomed to holding in more mana than his circles should technically have allowed, because some mornings he woke up feeling full to bursting. At the same time however, it meant that he had to start making meaningful progress towards his third circle, lest he find himself truly overdoing it.


    In any case, with Kaya¡¯s aid, Sylvas quickly learned and then started casting a series of physical enhancement spells one after the other on himself, giving his body the potential to regrow all the strong once he strained it. Unfortunately it was at the cost of burning a decent amount of his reserve away. If he had pure gravity affinity mana to work with it he wouldn¡¯t have needed to do so, but for now, the mixed blend within his core meant he had to spend a lot more mana than he would have in the past.


    But it was a problem that Sylvas would just need to learn to deal with, the same with his own delayed progression in empowering himself, if for the simple fact that the cull was coming far sooner than he had time to deal with.


    The only silver lining, if it could be even considered such, was that combat exercises were effectively over for the lead up to the event. On the one hand it gave Sylvas and the other recruits more time to study and prepare, but on the other, it prevented Sylvas from truly pushing himself physically to make the most of his physical empowerments. Granted, someday he knew that the knowledge of how to slingshot a ship around a gravity well would come in handy, but with the more physical threat of the cull looming over him, focusing on academic things felt like wasted time.


    Or so he felt when it came to the bigger picture of things, for there were a few positive highlights to the classes he attended. Originally when he¡¯d been tempted him into the Ardent, Sylvas had been promised an unrivalled magical education, and only now did he finally he felt like he was starting to get it.


    And it all started with a single word from Instructor Vilmander, who taught Sylvas¡¯ very first Empowerment and Enhancement class.


    ¡°Pathetic.¡±


    ¡°Um, I beg your pardon, sir?¡± Sylvas had almost been shocked into silence as the man stopped before him, immediately realizing that he had to talk fast before Kaya could jump to his defense and landed them both in the brig.


    ¡°Second Circle. Gravity affinity, working towards Waveform Paradigm and¡­ some sort of internal weight shifting?¡±


    It was an assessment that Sylvas didn¡¯t exactly want to have broadcast to the entire class he was currently in. These were the only surprises he was liable to have at his disposal during the cull, as such he had to fall into Clearmind to help him bite back his temper. ¡°As you say, sir.¡±


    ¡°Yet not a single empowerment worth a glance set upon you? By the time I hit third circle I could manipulate my embodiment to perform minor miracles without ever having to exert a drop of mana, and what do I see in you? Flesh riddled with holes, layered on protections, a hollowed out skull, yet sealed shut from intrusion, and then stopped dead as if you didn¡¯t realize that laying the foundations of a house and building a house are two separate activities. I have come upon many a slacker in my unfortunate days as an instructor at Blackhall but none so willfully ignorant to their own capabilities.¡±


    Sylvas might have had learned patience at the feet of an apocalyptic cult that had spent generations waiting for him to arrive and condemn Croesia to destruction, but even he had his limits. ¡°You are my instructor in this subject, sir?¡±


    Vilmander nodded plainly. ¡°I am indeed.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps you might like to instruct me, sir.¡±


    Kaya made a little choking noise and promptly leaned away from Sylvas so that she wouldn¡¯t be in the direct line of fire when the Instructor went nuclear at Sylvas.


    However instead of exploding, Vilmander¡¯s eyes simply narrowed upon Sylvas. They were odd for a human, golden, and shining, but malice didn¡¯t seem to be in them. ¡°You¡¯ve already got intentions for the gravity shifting¡ª¡±


    Sylvas cut him off before he could spoil any further surprises. ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°You recognize how it can be used to enhance¡ª¡±


    Sylvas had chosen it based on the potential it had to supplant the need for improving his physical scores. ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°So that leaves us the other circles to work with, and the Waveform. That could be expanded out into something useful and sensory.¡±


    ¡°It is already something useful and sensory.¡±


    ¡°We can enhance it. Broaden the spectrum, widen the range.¡±


    Sylvas froze at the thought, eventually nodding once. ¡°So long as we don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    The man finished Sylvas¡¯ thought, his tone having changed drastically since his original introduction. ¡°¡ªlose the granularity, of course. Wouldn¡¯t do to blind ourselves to what is in front of us so that we can see the horizon more clearly.¡±


    It was enough for Sylvas to concede that the man knew his business, enough so that he made another concession, something he hadn¡¯t admitted to anyone. Even Fahred. ¡°The first two paradigms are interlocked.¡±


    ¡°That makes expanding them difficult but not impossible.¡± Vilmander tapped at his slate as they spoke, adjusting calculations. ¡°You use the first to manage second sight?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    A brief glimmer of gold appeared from beneath furrowed brows. ¡°And you¡¯ll use it for the third also?¡±


    ¡°If it becomes necessary.¡±


    ¡°It might, once we expand out the third.¡± Vilmander went on without missing a beat. ¡°Then we should shift our focus to the embodiments. Not often you see them designed specifically for casting enhancements.¡±


    ¡°And resilience.¡± Sylvas added.


    Vilmander paused in his scratching at the slate, then nodded. ¡°Limited resilience applications, but expandable.¡±


    ¡°I believe that we may have come to an understanding, Instructor.¡±


    ¡°Now kiss!¡± Kaya suddenly called out from her seat, making all the other intently listening students laugh despite themselves.


    But while Sylvas flushed with embarrassment, the Instructor didn¡¯t even glance up from his slate. ¡°Miss Runemaul, I am afraid that this is not that kind of educational institution.¡±


    As the man said that, Sylvas own slate then lit up with newly received information. Complex and interlocking spells, not only for temporary enhancements and empowerments drawing on his embodiments. But an ongoing plan for growth and expanding out their functionality exactly as the Instructor and he had just discussed in rapid-fire. The man must have had all of this ready in advance, already knowing how their meeting was going to play out. But even if he did, Sylvas couldn¡¯t find it in himself to be annoyed at being so easily played.


    For if everything on his slate did a fraction of what they promised to, he might very well have been tempted to follow Kaya¡¯s advice and kiss the man.

 Chapter 45

    ¡°Of late, there has been some criticism of the training schedules and their intensity within the Ardent. Need I remind you all that the only way that it is possible for you all to live in moderate comfort is the constant sacrifices that the Corps Mageia make to ensure that our civilization is not utterly destroyed on a daily basis? The next time that you have a complaint about how much we push our soldiers, how much we demand nothing but excellence from them, hand deliver it to the nearest rampaging horror and see what they have to say about it.¡±


    ¡ªUnplanned Retirement Speech, High General Ironfist


    The others had the same schedule as him, more or less, so he could take some small comfort in knowing that they weren¡¯t gaining ground on him, but he did notice that there were few of them around after dinner and classes were done. More than that, the dinner in the officer cadet mess within Blackhall was real food. Meat, vegetables, actually things that he could recognize. As much as Kaya may have complained to be bodily thrown onto the officer program against her will, it was just as likely that she was staying upon it for the opportunity to enjoy roast beef on the regular.


    As he found his feet, Sylvas soon learned that the others weren¡¯t simply vanishing into their rooms, but rather took advantage of their freedom to roam the whole of Strife. He had been told of that freedom on the first day, and it soon became clear as to the reason why, they were expected to use what little extra time they had to meet up with their teams and train. Which meant that however exhausted he and Kaya were after their lessons, he still had to seek out Bael, and cast sendings to everyone else to tell them where to meet.


    As they had done so today, all of them gathering under the dawn sky of Strife as it was lit up with streaks of magic.


    More than one of the teams was training out near the central ravine that had become a favorite spot, or possibly they all were, given the intensity of the radiating mana that Sylvas could see drifting up. He turned his back on it and headed for the cliff-face. The rest of his team were milling around outside the entrance to the complex, looking thoroughly perplexed about his orders to gather there. When he arrived, most of his old friends tried to flag him down, ask where they were going, but he cut them off.


    ¡°Training in plain sight of your enemy is handing away intelligence for free. We¡¯re going to be going further inland.¡±


    It took them all a moment to parse what he meant, before turning to look up at the towering cliff-face that stood between them and this promised land of invisible practice grounds. Kaya looked up at him with a wry smirk. ¡°And how do you propose that we¡ª¡±


    Sylvas answered by casting his flight spell before she could finish. So many of the common spells that were learned by those without an affinity had descended from specific spells that had been. Kinesis and flight spells were practically twins with the serial numbers filed off, and both of them came from Gravity affinity school of magic. The flight spell that he¡¯d struggled to use to keep himself afloat suddenly became able to lift all of them once the missing components were added back in.


    Of course, even with those components added in Sylvas decided against telling them that this had been his first time in casting the repaired spell it once they landed at their destination atop the cliff. It simply wouldn¡¯t be good for morale.


    Atop the cliff, they suddenly had a far better view out over Strife¡¯s surface. The elevation brought them above the level of the dust clouds, letting them see right across the ravine to the far side where the ruins of a city so vast it must have housed millions spread out in every direction. Turning back the other way, there was only the barren expanse of desert.


    His core had been depleted a quarter thanks to their flight, and would be unpredictable until it stabilized. Too much of the mana he drew now was almost instantly, and occasionally painfully expelled from him, and even with that expulsion, far too much of what he held inside him was still a chaotic mixture that wouldn¡¯t work with his affinity bound spells. Still, it had been worth it for the freedom it bought them. Freedom not only to practice out of sight, but to fail without anyone being around to judge them. It had always been Sylvas experience that failing was one of the steps on the way to innovation, and he intended on failing many times that day before exhaustion took them all.


    While the others practiced, and he weighed in to help with their discussions of tactics, he thought through their overall grand strategy. The goal would be to win, obviously, but the best course to that was, unfortunately, going to be avoiding conflict for as long as possible. Hammerheart had painted a target on his own back with his antics, and even if he was as talented as he insisted, he¡¯d have a hard time contending with every single group attacking him in turn. As much as Sylvas wanted to cut to the heart of the problem and be rid of him, the sad fact was that he really needed the dwarf and his team to be depleted before they crossed paths. Something that would be difficult to achieve, given how obvious it was that Hammerheart was going to come straight for Sylvas.


    Two days was all that they had at this point, and Sylvas worked the others to exhaustion on both of them. His own focus was elsewhere. At present, with his mana-base in flux, he was no use to anyone. If he could finish his third circle by the time that they fought he would be able to turn the battle. If he couldn¡¯t he was scarcely any more powerful than he¡¯d been without his affinity.


    He could feel it getting closer. The paradigm had, once again, turned out to be the easy part for him, a simple process of investing more and more gravity affinity mana into the relevant sensory centers in his brain. As soon as he had hit the proper threshold, it had him able to sense gravity and spatial magic in a way that nobody else on the planet could, even if he did briefly burn out his ability to taste and smell for a lot of the second day.


    The dangers of rapid advancement, once again rearing their ugly head.


    Given enough time, he could have allowed his mana core to filter out the irrelevant mana, saturated his mind and his body with it slowly, and formed the Embodiment and Paradigm without pain. But of course, he did not have time. He only had two more days remaining, during which he had to go through the motions of studying, and work on drilling his team until they could operate as a team instead of nine separate mages with their own plans and intentions.


    The basics of constructing magical items had been conveyed at some point during Fahred¡¯s lectures as a long laborious and boring process. A description that had immediately put almost every recruit off learning more, but given the immense power of the crests that they wore, Sylvas was not ready to discount the entire field of study so quickly. Neither were the Ardent, it seemed. In amidst his various strategy and navigation classes, he found his way to something like a forge deep underneath the Blackhall where Instructor Sagran held court.


    A dwarf so ancient that her features had been submerged entirely in wrinkles, she spoke with the kind of soft intensity that was common among the insane and obsessed. Most of it was dry, blueprints and spellforms and the mechanics of marrying material to magic, but in the midst of that came her stories. Offhand comments.


    ¡°They forged the lance from the frozen core of a star.¡±


    ¡°They bound the Eidolon in a web of spellforged wire.¡±


    These asides rarely seemed to match what she was talking about, and it was only with the benefit of perfect hindsight that Sylvas was able to puzzle them together. The basics that she was teaching them were the same that she¡¯d been teaching the Ardent since time immemorial, and when all their magic failed them and all their hope was lost, those same students of hers had performed miracles based solely in her curmudgeonly lectures.


    It would be useless for the Cull however. The length of time required to actually forge a magical item would stretch well past their deadline. Even then, Sylvas couldn¡¯t start committing mana to materials until he had finished purging himself of the chaotic mana still clogging up his system and prevented him from cleanly accessing his affinity. If he poured mixed mana into a magical construct it would fall apart. Time was once again against him. Try as he might to force out more and more of the mixed mana, the more that he cast out, emptying his core, the longer it seemed to take for the gravity affinity mana at his heart ¨C that little black hole at the core of his being ¨C to refine the remainder.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Something to do with the pressure. He thought every time that he faced the problem.


    While they studied the basics, with Kaya mastering them with the kind of casual ease that made Sylvas jealous, it wouldn¡¯t be until after the cull that he¡¯d get good use of Sagran¡¯s classes to begin forging equipment of his own to enhance his natural abilities. Let alone hone them to fill the gaps in his repertoire.


    Then it was back to the scalding red sky and more training. Kaya complained relentlessly. Ironeye, Gharia and Bael spent as much time glaring at him as they did practicing. The humans followed orders like they were meant to. Nobody excelled. Nobody pushed themselves to breaking point every time, except for Sylvas and the fiend.


    Enore¡¯s brother was named Anak and he bore no resemblance to his sister whatsoever, beyond sharing the same species. Where she had been ample, he was emaciated, where she had been delightful, he was withdrawn, but despite having no affinity to show, the boy did have a fire in him. He pushed himself to the point of literal collapse on the second day, and it had taken a pair of other recruits to carry him back to the cliff-face and bed. He wasn¡¯t strong, he lacked the power that would make him a pivotal player in the battle to come, but he had determination that put everyone else¡¯s to shame.


    More importantly, when Sylvas pulled him aside to talk about how he had been able to take down more powerful enemies using stealth, timing and positioning, Anak¡¯s eyes had widened in slow realization. He wouldn¡¯t be a match for the others, and he wouldn¡¯t contribute greatly to their efforts in battle. But he might very well serve as the tipping point in their conflicts if he managed to snipe stray enemies on the periphery of the fight with the languid looking rays that he cast.


    As the last of his days wore on, Sylvas himself was slowly coming face to face with the reality that he was not going to be able to cast any of the new spells that he was learning from his gravity affinity spellbook. His old spells still functioned, even if they were sluggish and ill-shaped by comparison to how they used to be, and far more costly now that he was working outside of his affinity to cast them. Allegedly there were methods of converting mana affinities in the air mid-spell that wizards had developed so that they could dip into adjacent spell-lists, but Sylvas was so far off from having the power or comprehension to perform such feats that they may as well have been mythical.


    The unaspected mana inside of him was like a poison, slowing him down, turning perfect casts into fizzling failures. It was a normal part of the journey from circle two to circle three, and he had done all the groundwork that it was possible to do without the mana-pool surrounding his core being purified in spite of the pain it caused him. But until the mana itself made the switch, he couldn¡¯t move forward. Any other time, he could have just accepted this as necessary. Waited it out. But not now. Not with the cull coming. I am not going to be a liability to the team that I forced together.


    Then, as days inevitably always do, the day of the cull arrived.


    Sylvas and his team were issued with arm-bands to wear over their jackets to signify their team as they readied themselves. Theirs was a rich red. The color of Enore¡¯s skin. Sylvas did not believe in signs from the gods, not anymore. But it made him smile softly to himself all the same.


    Vaelith had been working all night to raise not a cityscape, but a battlefield. It looked as though she had hauled up the remains of some of the tower blocks buried beneath the sand, casting them in a heap at the center of the usual field. Instead of blocks raised to look like buildings, there were practical emplacements of cover and fortification dotted around the rest of the field.


    ¡°The buildings in the center will be the real stage for the grand ballet of violence,¡± Bael stated from Sylvas side. ¡°All those enclosed spaces will make splash spells a dream.¡±


    The same had crossed Sylvas¡¯ mind. ¡°Think everyone is going to be going for them?¡±


    ¡°Most will avoid them to minimize the danger they¡¯re in initially, but I¡¯d imagine that towards the end of the battle, everyone will be drawn in with a crushing inevitability by the potential. Risk aversion can only carry you so far.¡±


    ¡°Lot of open space around them.¡± Kaya was up on her tiptoes, trying to see past the crowd. ¡°That¡¯ll be killing ground too.¡±


    ¡°Our team has the best mobility.¡± Sylvas said as he worked the puzzle through before them. ¡°It will be limited inside the buildings.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention, some might simply choose to bring the buildings down on us, as you did to poor unfortunate Abbas all those weeks ago.¡± Bael pointed out, finally giving Sylvas the name of the fiend with the water affinity. He¡¯d survived the collapse of the tower that Sylvas had dropped on him thanks to his Crest, but it had taken him a long time to get back to normal, three days at least.


    With a raised hand, Sylvas beckoned the team together. ¡°We¡¯re going straight for the ruins in the center.¡±


    ¡°What? Are you mad?¡± Ironeye growled in a near whisper.


    ¡°It is the best place to dig in and wait for the majority of the battle to play out. It¡¯s the key strategic point. Our superior mobility can get us there ahead of everyone else, and we can hold it as a fortification.¡±


    ¡°Superior mobility?¡± Gharia questioned as her tail flicked in its trademarked, irritated fashion. ¡°What good will that do us locked down inside a building?¡±


    ¡°Do any of the other teams know anything about our capabilities, beyond our mobility?¡±


    Kaya easily answered that. ¡°Doubt it, with all the sneaking you made us do.¡±


    ¡°So what would be the course of action that they least expect?¡±


    Bael still looked like he was in shock at Sylvas¡¯ idea, but he still answered. ¡°They¡¯re going to see us going in.¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯re going to have no idea why we are doing it, what we are doing inside, and whether approaching the ruins is a death sentence. I¡¯d say that lack of surety in our enemies is more than worth what we¡¯re giving up.¡± Sylvas tried to look confident, but the truth was that committing to this plan had even odds of resulting in their immediate loss. He simply couldn¡¯t think of anything more conventional that would produce the results that he needed.


    Vaelith¡¯s booming voice made them all flinch, reminding Sylvas that they¡¯d have to cast wards to protect them from Hammerheart¡¯s fiend¡¯s sonic assault. ¡°Go to your designated marker and prepare to enter the combat zone. The exercise begins in 5 minutes.¡±


    There was a glow all around them as pinpoints of light appeared. Some of the teams were right across next to the drop-off, others were right here beside the outbuildings. Sylvas and his team were somewhere in the middle. As they marched over with all haste, he quickly scribbled out his orders on his slate, then grafted the words onto a sending to all his teammates and dropped the slate into cold storage again. The sendings sprung up all around him, a forest of black shields, rather than the usual white for official messages from the Ardent. He hadn¡¯t chosen that symbol, it was just what his sending spells had become since his affinity started changing his magic. He didn¡¯t know how to feel about it. Though he supposed it matched the black patches on his jacket now.


    Everyone around him touched their shields, listening to their instructions, some of them with open dismay on their faces. Bael even fell into step beside him. ¡°My good man, I know that we have treated you like the commander in chief of this whole exercise, as the unifying factor between our various groups it seemed like the most logical course of action. But do you not suppose that before deciding upon the stratagem we are employing on the field today you might have consulted with your dwarf companion and I?¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t miss a beat as he turned to look at him. ¡°If you have a better plan, I¡¯d be happy to hear it.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± They continued marching soundlessly for a time, then Bael eventually conceded the point. ¡°If a better idea comes to me, I shall share it post-haste.¡±


    When they arrived at their marker around the periphery of the battlefield, which Sylvas now noticed had been outlined with a ward to keep anything too destructive from flying out, they were able to see that it was not only a pinpoint of light sharing the color of their armband, but also a countdown. A number hovering in the air, ticking down towards the beginning of the battle.


    Sylvas startled when he felt Kaya take his hand and give it a squeeze. Then he remembered to squeeze back. He attempted to give her a smile, but he suspected that it looked a bit sickly. Gharia was at his other side, while Bael had chosen a more central position in their formation, the better to cast his wards over them all. Behind him, all the recruits radiated tension, but none of them was crying or running, so Sylvas considered it a victory for good morale.


    As the final seconds ticked down in front of them, Sylvas retrieved his hand and began to cast. The gravity mana inside of him still felt uncomfortable and heavy compared to what he had worked with before, but he supposed that was because it was the literal representation of the concept of weight.


    5.


    With his near complete embodiment, Sylvas drained all of his own weight away. The flying spell should now lift him with the barest of effort. He¡¯d be knocked around like a leaf on a breeze if anyone attacked him, but hopefully the mobility of his weightlessness would prevent that from happening at all.


    4.


    The flight spell was still going to drain him badly for the next minute or so, as they flitted across the sky to the center of the battlefield, out of reach of the slow plodding approach of the other teams. But he¡¯d consider that mana well spent if it secured them the most important tactical position on the board without a single drop of blood spilled.


    3.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Gharia asked, tail swishing with anticipation.


    2.


    Sylvas wet his lips, tasting iron. ¡°We can do this.¡±


    1.

 Chapter 46

    ¡°In the Eidolon, witness perfection. It does not hunger, it does not tire, it consumes mana, but not at a rate less than it produces mana. Each Eidolon in our universe is a perfect engine of destruction, tailored to kill and kill and kill until there is nothing left to kill, and each one of them is uniquely designed with that goal in mind. Be as the Eidolon. Single-minded in your purpose, and unstoppable.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    And just like that, the Cull began.


    The timer vanished as it hit zero, and they took flight. His previous attempts at this spell had been test runs, weak and wobbly in comparison. This time they took flight like arrows from a bow, soaring across the battlefield faster than the other teams could manage to scramble in and take aim. Shots were fired at them, of course they were. They had made an obvious target of themselves, soaring through the sky, but they did so only briefly. Every missile launched after them fell short, every beam tracking across the open dark sky trying to pluck one of them from their flight swept after them too slow. They touched down only a short sprint from the fallen buildings and took off for them at full speed.


    Everyone would try to follow them, and everyone would make themselves an easy target for their competitors for as long as they remained focused on Sylvas¡¯ group. They¡¯d announced their position to Hammerheart, but they¡¯d also marked him as an easy target to anyone nearby with the slightest bit of sense.


    Scrambling in through the empty staring windows, they dropped into the buildings. All of the heap were interlinked by places where their windows touched, and Sylvas meant to delve down to the lowest point that they could reach so that exterior bombardment couldn¡¯t touch them. They would make no use of the killing ground outside, because they didn¡¯t need to. Every other team would be fighting in that space if they hadn¡¯t had the sense to break away from the pursuit.


    Every other team would be squandering their resources.


    None of the artful grace of the ruins that they¡¯d been living in were present in these blocks. Beyond the smooth grey stone of the construction, there was nothing here but twisted and rusted iron girders protruding where the damage had been severe. That and the endless red sands clogging up every room and hallway.


    Everyone had their orders, everyone knew where they were going, the only thing that they lacked was a way to get there. There were countless pockets of empty air in these fallen towers, but the means of traversing to them was complicated by the thick layer of red dust heaped up over windows and blocking passages. It was the same problem that they suffered every moment on Strife, the endless bloody dust. But now it wasn¡¯t an irritation, it was a blockade. Kaya started digging into it by hand when their progress was arrested, but that obviously wasn¡¯t a useful solution. ¡°Come on you load of stanzbuhr, muck in!¡±


    Harvan could scout ahead for them, find them the next pocket to go for, but he couldn¡¯t bring anyone with him as he passed through the stone. They¡¯d discovered that early in planning when Sylvas¡¯ grand idea for an ambush fell apart.


    The trouble with asking mages trained exclusively for battle to use their magic for anything else was that they just didn¡¯t have the tools. But on the other hand, Sylvas did. Concentrating, he spiked gravity and opened up a singularity point into Cold Storage near the bottom of the heap. It was harder to do so, in the middle of a solid object, he had to really push his mana to get it to cut through, but as soon as he had, the sand began pouring away, vanishing out of this plane of existence and into another. His poor slate was in there, buried under all the mess, but that was a worry for later. He was already desperately cycling mana into his body to complete his third circle, commanding a squad in battle, and trying to work out how to actually beat Hammerheart when it came down to a fight between the two of them. He didn¡¯t need any more problems to contend with at that exact moment.


    With the worst of it drained away, Sylvas closed up his pocket dimension and winced. Nobody else could feel it, but the weight of all the sand in there was like an ache to his gravitational senses. It would be costly every time he opened that up again.


    Not that Sylvas had much time to think about that, for no sooner did the blockade of sand finally vanish were immediately greeted by an Eidolon leaping soundlessly forward, out from the gloom beyond.


    They were beyond the ward-lines of the campus here. Out where all the dangers of Strife could reach them, and they¡¯d just burrowed down into whatever eidolons¡¯ called a home. Gasping as the creature appeared, Sylvas could see that t wasn¡¯t either of the Eidolons that they¡¯d seen on Strife so far. It was bloody and dripping as it sailed through the air, humanoid in shape and skeletal in protrusions, but made only of gore.


    Gore that actively dripped from its fingers as it stretched its arms out towards Sylvas, if only by virtue of him being closest.


    Reacting slower than he should have, Sylvas raised a hand to cast an Arcane Arrow, but the spell didn¡¯t come in time. He made the shapes, he spoke the words, but the mana that flowed from him was wrong. It was the wrong mix, the wrong consistency, to fit what he had woven.


    Then the eidolon was on top of him despite his best effort to belatedly dodge, a single finger of blood punching into his hand, and diving in. Instantly something bit even deeper into his flesh and he felt the Eidolon¡¯s finger attempt to force itself into his body, his wrist suddenly exploding with pain.


    Then the shouting started and Gharia¡¯s bubbles hit the thing, followed soon after by a blast of lightning from Ironeyes, which danced up through the creature, forcing its way inside Sylvas to electrocute him too. Fortunately it was enough to separate him and the creature, with him falling to the ground, half stunned while the rest of the party unloaded into the Eidolon until there was nothing left of it but a stain.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a start,¡± Kaya replied as they all quickly gathered around Sylvas, everyone muttering urgently. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­be fine,¡± Sylvas replied with a shake of his head, cursing internally at his fizzled spell, then actually out loud when Kaya cast something that caused his hand and to burn like living fire had been poured into it. Lasting for barely more than a second, she then let him go and look at it, seeing only a pink scar remaining where the creature had hit him.


    ¡°No more shaking hands with beings from the beyond,¡± the woman stated before going on to extend a hand to help him up.


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    It was a harrowing experience that set the tone for the next ten minutes of their journey into the place as they pushed their way in deeper, encountered another a barrier of sand, cleared it, and were then promptly attacked by another one of the creatures. By the time that the third attack happened, Sylvas had enough presence of mind to scry the creature, revealing exactly what it was.


    Name: Callous Gaunt


    Species: First Tier Eidolon


    Health: 100%


    Mana: 100%


    Affinity: War


    Strength: E5


    Resilience: E4


    Speed: E3


    Potency: F5


    Focus: F5


    Regeneration: F5


    Each time one emerged from the sand, everyone leapt into action. The plan had been to dig in here and preserve their mana supplies until the battle outside had mostly settled, but they were having to squander it fighting these things tooth and nail. Every one of them attacked with the same mindless berserk rage, and every one of them withstood more of a bombardment than any anything they¡¯d ever fought on Strife so far.


    Then, after a dozen of the gore hewn Gaunts later, they ran into Harvan, who confirmed that they were as deep as they were going to get.


    ¡°Alright, Bael. Time to shine.¡± Sylvas announced without any preamble as they all looked around.


    ¡°Is all this really necessary?¡± The elf sighed as he cast his wards. Any attempts to view inside the buildings should now have been blocked by his magic. Meanwhile, both Luna and Orson were casting Farsight to keep track of what was happening outside, while the others sought out the most defensible positions, and Kaya used her affinity for metal to reinforce the rusting framework keeping them from being crushed.


    Red dust rained down from the slanted ceiling as detonations echoed out far above them. They didn¡¯t need scrying spells to know that a battle still raged outside. The only question was how it would play out. Orson eventually beckoned him over with the report he¡¯d been expecting. ¡°Fierce fighting. Really, really fierce. Making it hard to see who¡¯s left at this point, but I¡¯ll keep trying.¡±


    Sylvas wasn¡¯t surprised by the limited information, just disappointed. He¡¯d half expected the other teams to have the sense to block scrying, but it seemed that they were taking a more Bortan approach to things. Focusing on what was happening in the moment at the expense of planning for the future. Sylvas took a moment and decided to cast his own Farsight to help Orson out, focusing his eye high above the battlefield, where the Instructors placed their own. It was high enough so that could see the lay of the land, if not specifics.


    At least half of the groups were out of the fighting already from what he could tell. Two of the outlying emplacements were covered in spell-scars, another was still smoldering and collapsing in on itself. On the other side of the field, the mana was so dense as to be near impregnable to his perception. But as he looked around, luck smiled on him and he was able to catch glimpses of fire and shockwaves of sonic energy coming from one of the standing emplacements that told him Hammerheart still lived, but was pinned down by at least two other groups.


    That target on his back had certainly made him as tempting as Sylvas had hoped.


    The concussions rocking the buildings they were in mostly seemed to be missed shots from that battle, overshooting their mark and touching down on the now battered towers that they took shelter beneath. There were two stragglers from the open warfare that had happened on the other front making their way towards the tower, but they were cautious, having no idea what Sylvas and his group had prepared for them.


    A hesitation that in the end cost them everything when an overshot from elsewhere skimmed across the top of the fallen towers and hit one of them head-on with enough destructive force to blast the skin clean off their bodies. Sylvas hoped that the crests took over quickly after that.


    He glanced up to inform the others of the news. ¡°Clear for now.¡±


    ¡°I hardly think that we¡¯re distinguishing ourselves, hiding down here like rats in rubble.¡± He could hear Bael, even if the elf was out of sight.


    ¡°Victory is all that matters.¡± Sylvas forced a smile. Now was not the time to debate these things. ¡°Not how good we look winning it.¡±


    ¡°The fight¡¯s done.¡± Luna called out suddenly. ¡°Two teams left as far as I can see. Hammerheart and his crew are on the way.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t deliberately seek him out, but fate made it so that his and Anak¡¯s met eyes all the same. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Gah! Well, they took out the scrying eyes.¡± Orson yelped next, Sylvas turning to see him rubbing at his eyes. ¡°Want me to spin up more?¡±


    ¡°Took them long enough,¡± Sylvas said, knowing that he wouldn¡¯t have allowed the same had their places been exchanged. ¡°And no, save your mana, we¡¯ll need it soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t just ours either.¡± Luna added as she too rubbed her eyes. ¡°The did something to pop almost all of them, including the instructors. Saw a bunch of Vaelith¡¯s vanish right before mine did.¡±


    That probably wasn¡¯t a good sign given how angry Sylvas knew the dwarf was.


    He forced a smile as the foreboding thought left him, knowing that he couldn¡¯t forget about morale. ¡°Nothing we can do about now other than get ready. Take up your places on the next floor up. Ironeyes should be already there.¡±


    They both nodded and then left, leaving only the sounds of Kaya working on her reinforcement spells to fill the air, all the noise from outside and the magic being thrown outside having vanished. They couldn¡¯t see what was happening out there, and they couldn¡¯t hear it now either. Moreover by now it was possible that the enemy were already inside the building, and equally possible they were a good distance off, planning how to level the place with them inside to secure their win. But even that didn¡¯t matter. Sylvas had planned for both outcomes.


    But the longer that a catastrophic impacts didn¡¯t rock the building the more likely that Sylvas became that, Hammerheart ¨C master of close combat ¨C had taken the bait he¡¯d dangled before him. The only thing that Sylvas regretted was not getting a head count of how many of his team were still standing before the scry went down.


    Bael opened his mouth, where he stood oh so casually leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, and from his expression Sylvas knew it was going to be nothing but an off brand comment, so he raised a finger to his lips.


    A good thing too, since the moment he did his hand come up, did a thin stream of dusty sand start to fall down beside him, enough to make everyone instantly freeze.


    Granted, it could have been one of their people moving on the next floor up, but it could have just as easily been someone else. There was simply no way to tell. Everything was perfectly still and silent, except for the soft hiss of falling sand and dust.


    Everyone stayed perfectly still and waited.


    Seconds ticked by until they became minutes and still nothing happened, a time enough to rankle even the steadiest of nerves. Eventually it even became enough that Sylvas looked for something to occupy his mind with, lest it go dull and sent his will inwards. Diving deep he touched the dark mana at his core and began to move it through the channels carved in his flesh, forcing it through the protections of his second Embodiment and out. He was so close to finishing his circle now, even with his mana supplies dwindled to a fraction of what they should have been by the day¡¯s events and his earlier brute forcing of his paradigm.


    Yet even so, he reached for more mana to draw in and replenish himself, even though he knew it wouldn¡¯t be purified into something useful until after the fighting was done. Regardless, it was an idle habit that Sylvas had all but ingrained to himself over his lifetime, needing to feel like he was doing something useful every moment of the day.


    It was habit that likely saved his life, for right as he reached for the swirling energy that surrounded him, he felt all of it suddenly draft upwards at once.


    A warning that bought him the split second he needed to throw himself to the side.

 Chapter 47

    ¡°The Hammerheart Consortium is a potent business enterprise within the Empyrean, with members stretching across almost every aspect of society. In government, the military and even the Ardent, you can find their members. The board of this organization retain the image of a family business through extreme nepotism, but while this would typically result in weakness, each member of the core Hammerheart bloodline seems to endure a baptism of fire to ensure that they are up to the tasks which they are assigned. ¡°


    ¡ªWho is Who in Interplanetary Trading, Grof Nejesej


    Through the solid rock above them, Hammerheart fell like a blazing meteor.


    Lava rained down around them and his burning fist struck down where Sylvas had been standing just a moment before. There was no way he could have known just where Sylvas had been standing, but somehow, he had.


    How did he¡ª Sylvas started to ask himself as he rolled across the ground only to cut himself short as he spotted Hammerheart and the glowing ball of fire that had been launched towards him.


    Zipping across the space between them faster than Sylvas could blink, let alone react, the fireball would have ended him right there and then and if it weren¡¯t for the wards Bael had placed on him, causing it to abruptly wink out. Or close enough to it that his role in the battle would have most certainly been over. He¡¯d expected the dwarf to be furious at the near miss and what it represented, but as Sylvas pushed himself up he found the dwarf smiling and cracking his knuckles.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯re doing it the old-fashioned way then.¡±


    Then Hammerheart was upon Sylvas like an avalanche, letting out a loud shout as he closed.


    Finishing his scramble back up to his feet, Sylvas¡¯ first thought was to backpedal as far as he could in the constrained space, but his luck only allowed him a pair of steps before his back hit a wall. That meant that he had to dodge, leaning all of his experience fighting the dwarf distilled through Lockmind to tell him which way to go, which way had the highest likelihood of survival.


    And against all odds, he made it, as the dwarf¡¯s first punch whiffed by his nose by scant inches, searing a burning line of red right across his vision.


    Unfortunately as a result of that dodge, he landed on loose sand and promptly fell, instinct screaming at him to roll, but his body simply couldn¡¯t respond fast enough. Hammerheart¡¯s boot took him in the ribs with enough enhanced strength to lift him right off the ground and crash into the wall again. Then, just like that he was caught, plucked from the air by the front of his vest bunched up in one of Hammerheart¡¯s burning fists as the other pulled back, ready to deliver what Sylvas saw as a deathblow. ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy this.¡±


    ¡°Not if I do this first.¡± Kaya abruptly snarled, appearing from just over the dwarf¡¯s shoulder. As she did, Sylvas saw that her fist was encased in liquid metal, yet not made into a simple cudgel this time, but rather a blade. One that slipped cleanly through whatever protections that the other dwarf had woven into his flesh and right into one of his kidneys.


    Hammerheart made a sound like a deflating balloon, then Kaya¡¯s other bladed fist slammed into his other side. ¡°That¡¯s for Hot Lips, you culgh-born gratzkag!¡±


    It was enough for the man¡¯s grip on Sylvas to break, sending him dropping down to the ground whereupon he immediately started scurrying away. By this point Sylvas knew very well where his strength lay and it wasn¡¯t anywhere up close to anything as hostile as Hammerheart.


    Yet even so as Sylvas played for space, he was shocked to see that the dwarf still stood when by all rights he should have fallen. The attacks that Kaya had landed had been punishing in every sense of the word, enough to have sent any other recruit to the ground. But instead of doing just that, Hammerheart bellowed and spun, swinging one of his own arms around like a pendulum and knocking both of Kaya¡¯s aside, all while tearing the blades out from his body in a spray of blood. ¡°How many times do I have to teach you this lesson, you dumb¡ª¡±


    A colored sphere, oily in rainbow colors shot across the room from at high speed took the dwarf in the throat causing whatever vile thing he was about to call Kaya was cut short.


    ¡°That was for my sister!¡± Sylvas heard Anak shout from elsewhere as he continued to play for space away from the dwarf, and saw Kaya do the same, the liquid metal of her magic transforming back into her familiar cudgels.


    Yet no sooner did the avenging fiend¡¯s shout finish, did a loud shriek fill the air, one potent enough that it instantly caused Sylvas¡¯s ears to burn with agony, reminding them that he¡¯d forgotten about the rest of the dwarf¡¯s team.


    Damn it, what did I miss? Sylvas demanded as he began to rifle through his Lockmind, replaying the scattered seconds that he had missed upon Hammerheart¡¯s arrival.


    As he did, he saw snapshots of Luna, Orson, and Ironeye still on the upper floor in the middle of a shoot-out with a few of the junior recruits that Hammerheart had press-ganged into his service. At the time there were maybe half their number left, and none of them looked to be anywhere close to fighting fit, or at least enough for Sylvas to trust that his team would be able to handle them without additional help. That however left the sonic fiend who¡¯s name Sylvas had never bothered to learn, a snapshot of memory a few seconds later telling him that he¡¯d seen her fall through the hole in the ceiling at roughly the time that Hammerheart had kicked him against the wall.


    And immediately focused her attention on the third portion of Sylvas team, which now that he knew where to look for, weren¡¯t at all doing that well.


    Turning just in time, Sylvas found himself greeted to the sight of Bael quite literally flying through the air, spinning head over heels as a blast of sonic energy struck him. But worse than just that, he saw the fiend charging after him, slowing only to send a blast of energy towards the upper floor, which promptly caused the entire building to shake. It was more than Sylvas could let go unanswered as he summoned the energy for an Arcane Arrow, the spell thankfully taking shape without issue and launching itself in her direction. From there, it crossed the distance separating them in a blink and caught the woman high in the shoulder as she ran, striking her with enough force as to send her cartwheeling heavily into the wall nearby.


    Hopefully that¡¯s helpful enough, Sylvas thought as what few seconds he had to offer the rest of the battle came to an end, courtesy of a sweltering blast of heat washing over him. Immediately he turned his attention back towards where he¡¯d last seen Kaya and Hammerheart to see the latter shroud himself in a cloak of flames, enveloping his entire body in the same scalding fire that had only clothed his fists before.


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    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± He shouted in a hoarse rage as he spun towards Sylvas, his eyes quite literally burning red with hate. So much if it in fact, Sylvas wondered if the man was truly still there behind them. ¡°You¡­you have ruined everything! My record, my career with that stupid girl and that stupid accident, and now it is time for you to pay for all of it! My family are furious. Furious, with me! As if I did a damned thing wrong. But oh I won¡¯t this time. Oh no, I¡¯m going to make things right. Right as they ever could be.¡±


    Sylvas simply stared back at the man something in his mind clicked about the dwarf, about who he truly was and what drove him to be that way. It was an understanding that hardened Sylvas¡¯ will even further, giving him the final push for what he was about to do next.


    ¡°I¡¯ll break you. Crush you.¡± The dwarf continued as he began to advance, his words causing the fires surrounding him to intensify, the rage that he was fueling them causing them to turn nearly white. ¡°I¡¯ll take you apart with my bare hands you worthless¡ª¡±


    Sylvas opened his Cold Storage directly in front of Hammerheart and promptly caused him and his words to vanish.


    No, he didn¡¯t pull the dwarf into the other plane, that would have been impossible, but what Sylvas did instead was simply let all the sand that he had packed into the place out in the form of a mighty geyser. There was no warning when it arrived, no telltale hint of an attack coming. One moment there was just him and Hammerheart in their respective pocket of battle, then the next the dwarf was slammed against the far wall by the incredible weight of what Sylvas had unleashed. But more than just brutalizing the man, the impact and the sheer quantity of the sand erupting from Sylvas¡¯ pocket realm all but instantly turned their chamber into a cloying dust storm, prompting everyone who was still standing to cry out.


    ¡°Kaya, go help Bael!¡± Sylvas shouted as he saw the dwarven woman give him an incredulous look from the corner of his eye, all while shouting something that sounded like assent to his ear.


    Which was a good thing, as that was all the consideration Sylvas had to offer anyone else as he saw the wall where he had pinned Hammerheart begin to burn and then turn to slag, a sign that even despite all the dwarf had endured he fight hadn¡¯t left him yet. That was why when a shape cloaked in living fire leapt out from behind the spraying column of sand and high into the air, Sylvas was already reacting, words spilling from his mouth to close the portal to his cold storage. Then, no sooner did the shimmering scar and the torrent of sand that it spawned vanish, did Sylvas reopen it, this time aiming its emergence at the midpoint of Hammerheart¡¯s arc as the dwarf sailed through the air.


    Arriving like the fist of an angry earthen god, the renewed torrent of sand all but crushed Hammerheart into the ground as it slammed into him, the accompanying impact so great that for a second the light of white fire surrounding him vanished. Yet despite even that, the dwarf wasn¡¯t to be denied, and again the blazing fire came back, all but setting the air aflame with its intensity.


    ¡°I¡­am¡­not¡­finished!¡± Sylvas heard Hammerheart roar from within the sands as it all but instantly turned to glass around him, creating just enough of a barrier for the image of a slowly advancing silhouette from within to appear. ¡°I¡­will¡­break¡­you!¡±


    It was enough that anyone other than Sylvas would have likely broke, the seemingly indomitable dwarf having taken injuries and weathered attacks that would have killed another soul, yet somehow remained standing. But for him, after all that he had done, after all that he had endured, the concept of faltering, of giving up when he was so close to victory didn¡¯t even enter his mind. He simply acknowledged that he wasn¡¯t finished yet, and moved the shimmering scar of his cold storage once more, this time taking Hammerheart from the side, and all but tearing him off of his feet.


    A blow that as with all the others that followed it, the dwarf somehow managed to survive, recover from, and resume his advance, prompting Sylvas to simply do it again and again, two of the falling into a test of wills unlike any other.


    I can do this, Sylvas told himself every time he closed, reopened, closed, and reopened his cold storage to blast Hammerheart with the dusty sand that he¡¯d collected, each and every single cycle becoming easier than the last as the volume stored within decreased. Yet even with that growing ease, he felt the simple action tax the dregs, the whispers of mana left in his core. He had needed to burn through a sizeable portion of his reserves with his first attack to open the storage, and now after his dozenth reopening of the pocket realm he teetered on the verge of collapse.


    Yet even so, he refused to allow himself to fall.


    Hammerheart was still standing. Enore had yet to be avenged. They hadn¡¯t yet won the Cull. So Sylvas simply couldn¡¯t give up.


    I can do this, he chanted while taking in a deep breath and cycled the pittance of mana he still had available to him, drawing it through his body and mind, readying it for another manipulation of his cold storage. Sylvas felt the rotation of the first circle as the mana passed through it, coiling around in a loop before turning to continuing on to the second. There it did the same thing, passing through his practically hollow core in a familiar feeling that Sylvas had felt countless times before.


    Except this time, instead of the mana looping back gently and peacefully as it always had, he felt it take a third turn, something that all but stopped him in his tracks.


    W-what? He demanded as he felt the mana shift, his momentary confusion then breaking a second later when he realized what had happened. My mana it¡¯s¡­pure.


    With a start Sylvas realized that he had done it. By opening and closing his cold storage over and over, he had burned away the chaotic mix of mana within his body until only a single affinity remained, his mental eye taking in the infinite darkness that was his core.


    Gravity.


    It was all that he needed to finish what he had started. It was all that had Sylvas had been waiting for as he grasped hold of the darkness, giving it one final push through the cycle.


    And closed his third circle.


    Power immediately flooded into Sylvas as the mana sealed the loop within him, every ounce of exhaustion that he¡¯d felt up until that moment simply melting away as if it had happened to someone other than him.


    I¡­I did it. He thought numbly, unable to believe what had just happened to him. Nor was he the only one either, for right at that moment he heard an enraged roar tear through the air, followed by the blooming presence of heat.


    ¡°No¡­no! I won¡¯t let you!¡± Sylvas heard Hammerheart cry out, his momentarily split focus then returning just in time to see that the dwarf had not only managed to finally close with him, but had also launched a fist towards him. Yet even as he saw the blow coming, saw where the blow would land, Sylvas did nothing.


    For he knew that he didn¡¯t need to.


    A fact that Hammerheart discovered when his fist connected with Sylvas¡¯ chin and all but shattered, the dwarf¡¯s bones bursting out through his skin as fingers and knuckles met a force they could not best. Instantly the dwarf let out a shriek of pure agony as he staggered backwards to cradle the shattered remains of his hand, the injury and the disbelief of what had happened all but stunning the man in place.


    An advantage that Sylvas wasted no time in using to finally bring the fight to an end as he shifted the now pure gravity mana that filled his body, that filled his newly forged embodiment. Yet as it shifted, it did not find itself being directed into a spell as it normally would have. Rather instead Sylvas sent it into motion, travelling down through his neck and along his arm as he prepared to swing in retaliation, the power it carried intensifying again and again until his arm was fully cocked back and he spoke the last words he had to offer the man.


    ¡°Goodbye, Hammerheart.¡±


    Then his fist struck the dwarf straight in the chest with the weight of a falling building, far more than was needed to launch him up and off his feet, through the far wall of the chamber, and into whatever lay beyond.


    A truly colossal blow that several seconds later was punctuated by a loud, distant crash, followed by Vaelith¡¯s voice sounding out.


    ¡°Exercise complete.¡±

 Epilogue

    The world shook beneath the Emperor¡¯s feet, but he was not daunted. Above him in the sky beyond the monolith, two black holes swallowed the stars, debris and anything else that came into their reach, everything but this barren rock, and the monolith atop it.


    They were perfectly positioned between the two Eyes of the Beast to be held quavering but still by the opposing forces of the black holes instead of being dragged away into one or the other. An impossible little moon, hanging in an impossible place, reachable only through the most powerful magic.


    Yet the Aions had not only found it, they had built here.


    The monolith stood almost a mile high. Its jet-black surface unscarred by meteor or dust, with all of the detritus of reality instead being dragged off into the black holes that held it here. There were markings on it, of course. Words in the language of the Aions that had not yet been translated, and many more that had, but the predominant feature of the jutting expulsion of polished stone was the line running down its center from top to bottom. It was not a wall, it was a door.


    Every Aion vault that the Dominion had opened brought them closer to universal supremacy, new magics, new technologies, new understandings of the fundamental nature of all things, a day in a vault was worth a lifetime of study to any of the swarming researchers. Truthseekers, The Emperor reminded himself. They were not his, they were simply curious, and he was willing to finance and exploit that curiosity to its ultimate end.


    Yet it was not them that toiled now, but the mages of the Dominion¡¯s highest order, whole teams of them arrayed around the latest key that they had prepared to insert into one of the many gaping indentations secreted about the dark stone of the Vault.


    It was an Eidolon. One of the many his empire and the truthseekers had called through in the last few years. One of the largest by far, a planetary annihilator before it had grown to even a fraction of its current size. Probably powerful enough now to carve a star in two.


    They had it trussed up in lines of spellfire and coaxed it forward towards the hole that matched its grotesque form perfectly. As the monolith came into its perception, the Eidolon began to buck and bray, musical and disturbing in equal measure. It fought back against its handlers, the most powerful mages in the Dominion, if not the universe, and it would have broken free if the Emperor himself had not extended out his hand towards it and clenched a fist of his will tight around whatever tangled mess of synapses and instincts it used for a mind. Spasmodically it flailed, but the fight was gone from it now. The mages pushed it forwards, onward into the void that awaited it. The keyhole forged by the Aions millennia before this Eidolon had even come into existence.


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    The magic within the Eidolon escaped in a gruesome flood as it made contact with the monolith, flowing out to light up all the sigils that surrounded its final resting place, uncovering more fragments of the prophecy writ in the stone. The ancient words that had driven the Emperor to all of this.


    Born of a pyre ten thousand souls strong. When stars are right his home will die.


    Hollow of heart; black hunger unending. Eater of light. Vanquishing kings.


    Doom in hand; pour loose the sands of time. Ender of hope. Feller of storms.


    Twinmaidens blood stains; on sorrowful soles. Fast claimed war¡¯s domain. Glad of war. Glad of pain.


    Beast eyes close for him. Vault¡¯s gates open.


    Starbreaker, thrice named.


    Starbreaker, awake.


    ¡°Master.¡± A voice called to him, distant and low. Barely audible over the Eidolon¡¯s dying screams. ¡°I come bearing news.¡±


    Valtoris turned his eyes from the vault reluctantly. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The destruction of Croesia bears fruit.¡± The voice of the woman was metallic and echoing, her appearance entirely concealed in robes of black.


    Valtoris turned his eyes back to the Eidolon as its power burned away to fuel the ancient machinery of the monolith. ¡°The summoning there was intercepted by the Empyrean.¡±


    ¡°But the mage that summoned your eidolon survives.¡±


    That was an unexpected development. ¡°What of it?¡±


    ¡°His affinity has shown. Gravity.¡±


    The consumption of the eidolon upon the pyre of progress was reaching its fever pitch, every mage in attendance forcing it forward into the stone with all their will as it screamed in existential terror. A voice like windchimes and nails on chalkboard and the charnel tear of a planetary atmosphere being stripped away.


    She prompted him again. ¡°What are your orders, master?¡±


    ¡°Hold.¡± Weighing his options, the Emperor spoke. ¡°Let us see who this gravity mage really is before we claim him.¡±


    The robed head of the woman bowed. ¡°It shall be done.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 1

    ¡°Pressure. Without it the rough carbon of a mortal could never be compressed into the diamond of a wizard. Yet it is the same pressure that transforms some into the best possible version of themselves that destroys many others. Of all those who work with magic, only a fraction ascend beyond the third circle, and from there fewer still continue their ascent to higher places. Most of those who seek their own perfection are limited in their ascent not by some fault of training, some poorly chosen direction or by the limitations of their capability but by a flaw in their personal philosophy that leaves them ill equipped to continue. For many, this is simply contentment. They feel no further drive to continue because they lack the ambition, or hunger, required to continue driving them onwards. It is difficult to categorize a person feeling content with their lot in life as a flaw, but in the case of a wizard, who must always be striving, it is. For others, it manifests instead as a crisis of faith.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it was that easy.¡± Luna joked, limping along beside them.


    ¡°It was far from the most impressive victory ever achieved in a cull, to be fair, too much running, hiding and clever tricks to impress everyone with our incredible potency and talent. Barely a showcase at all. More of a¡­¡± Bael¡¯s usually serene face twisted into something like a sneer, ¡°Military operation.¡±


    ¡°We won, didn¡¯t we?¡± Kaya grumbled from Sylvas side.


    ¡°Barely.¡± Bael had of course heard her murmur thanks to his pointed elf ears. ¡°And predominantly on the gamble of our tactics rather than any particular brilliance in our magic.¡±


    Anak, Enore¡®s brother, sounded like her when he spoke softly, and that voice cut through the mounting argument in an instant. ¡°We beat Hammerheart.¡±


    They all fell silent then. Remembering the glorious moment that the dwarf had been punched so hard he saw the curvature of the world.


    Bael was the first to concede, ¡°I must admit that was rather satisfying.¡±


    ¡°Did you see the look on his face when the punch did nothing?¡± Kaya cackled. She slapped Sylvas on the back, making him stumble. ¡°My boy got him good.¡±


    The pain had been late in arriving to Sylvas, riding as he was on a wave of endorphins and satisfaction, but when it did arrive it had accumulated some interest. The impact of Kaya¡¯s none-too-gentle slap had taken the wind out of him, and pain radiated out across his back now. Far worse than it should have been.


    With Sylvas too winded to stop her, Kaya pressed on, ¡°That punch¡­ that one he swung back, that¡¯s one for the tomes of lore. Every culgh in the cosmos with Hammerheart in their name felt it, I¡¯d wager.¡±


    ¡°It is inevitable that news of this will spread.¡± Bael agreed. ¡°Even the Ardent would struggle to conceal it. I imagine that ¡®your boy¡¯ Sigil will soon be on the receiving end of another swathe of marriage requests.¡±


    Kaya guffawed at that too. Though even through the mounting pain Sylvas noted that Gharia¡¯s tail flick was one of irritation, not amusement.


    The weight of his body, that he could now control so easily with his completed embodiment had been gradually mounting as they walked. He hadn¡¯t paid it much mind, expecting some degree of exhaustion after all that they¡¯d achieved, and accepting that walking across the shifting sands of Strife was always going to involve a certain amount of backsliding, but it had gone on getting worse.


    ¡°If he keeps on swinging like that, I might marry him.¡± Harvan piped up from behind them. Drawing a roar of laughter from Kaya, a chuckle from the others, and more irritated flicks from Gharia.


    Sylvas tried to speak. Tried to tell them he wasn¡¯t planning on settling down any time soon. Even coming close to broaching the subject of his engagement back home, which stuck in his heart like an icicle. But breath wasn¡¯t coming the way that it should. That icicle in his heart soon melted in the burn of pain.


    ¡°I saw him first, I¡¯ve got first dibs on him!¡± Kaya¡¯s roaring laughter was too loud in Sylvas ears, he could feel wetness there now, trickling down, like when Hammerheart¡¯s sonic fiend had deafened them back on their first day here.


    ¡°Never thought I¡¯d win one of these.¡± Ironeyes gruff voice could scarcely be made out through the laughter and self-congratulations going on all around him. ¡°Figured I¡¯d scrape through, but¡­ thank you.¡±


    It would have been a touching moment, if Sylvas had the attention to spare. First, he checked on the flows of mana through his circles, then his body, and all seemed as it should be. There was none of the twisting and whorls in the mana that he¡¯d have expected if there was a blockage or damage. Neither did his newly unlocked gravitational sense do much to help in that regard, according to it, his body was suffering no more pull on it than on anyone else, nothing was being manipulated, nothing was more or less than it should have been.


    ¡°Don¡¯t reckon they¡¯ll even bother to dig Hammerfart out of whatever hole he landed in.¡± Kaya brayed.


    Bael looked amused, but uncomfortable all the same. ¡°There is no need to be disrespectful to a bested opponent.¡±


    ¡°Would you dig him up? Can¡¯t be trusted not to murder people in a training exercise? Can¡¯t win in a fight against a mage a circle under him? Doesn¡¯t care about anything or anyone except his own advancement?¡± Kaya¡¯s tone had slowly shifted from a joke to pained as they went. Enore¡¯s death weighed on her more than she ever let anyone see.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t deserve to be dug out.¡± Anak¡¯s soft voice didn¡¯t match his harsh words. ¡°He doesn¡¯t deserve to live.¡±


    Sylvas tightened his grip on Kaya¡¯s shoulders and Gharia¡¯s waist, it might have been taken as a sign of affection, and that was fine, he didn¡¯t need to be drawing attention to himself right now. Where his fingers pressed into scaled flesh and cloth, they hurt. They burned. Something was seriously wrong.


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    Sylvas tried to lighten himself as he went, not reaching for his flight spell in case it drained the dregs of his mana reserves entirely but loosening gravity¡¯s grip on him with his embodiment. Yet even when he was so light he should have been floating along like a balloon, kept grounded only by Gharia and Kaya¡¯s arms around him, the feeling wouldn¡¯t leave. His face felt like it was trapped in a vice. His fist, where it had made contact with Hammerheart was unsurprisingly aching too, but all across his neck, his chest, his back, everywhere that he¡¯d shifted the gravity inside himself to make his brutal swing was aching too. It kept getting worse and worse as they walked, the pain spreading out to cover his whole body. Every movement felt like the muscle was trying to tear away from him, and bruising began to blossom on his skin.


    ¡°I for one will be delighted to see him alive and well.¡± Bael announced, ¡°Particularly the expression on his face as he skulks around the Blackhall knowing that he has burned every bridge, slapped aside every hand of friendship offered to him and lost every advantage. A more fitting punishment for a man like him, I cannot conceive of.¡±


    ¡°Doubt he¡¯s going to take it lying down.¡± Kaya¡¯s voice had dropped low and angry, though Sylvas was struggling to hear her now. There was a crunching sound with every movement now, as if the desert beneath their feet was coated in a thick frost as they trudged over it. ¡°I reckon that¡­¡±


    Sylvas managed to walk off the Culling field in the arms of his friends, all of them delighted at their victory, but that was when his progress abruptly halted. ¡°Something¡­ wrong.¡±


    Kaya thought that the blood-thick words were anything to do with what she was talking about. ¡°Aye, he¡¯ll try and say it was a trick, or doesn¡¯t count somehow. Anything to save his¡­¡±


    Gharia couldn¡¯t show concern due to her reptilian nature, but Kaya¡¯s face was expressive enough for both of them, it contorted into confusion then fear as Sylvas mumbled out, ¡°Its¡­ something¡­ wrong¡­¡±


    Collapsing into unconsciousness was rapidly becoming Sylvas most common way of getting around the campus. Like his own personal means of teleportation. He¡¯d be at a training exercise and awaken back in the infirmary.


    When his eyes opened again it was no surprise to him that he was looking up at the sterile white roof, and that he could hear the half-elf medic relentlessly complaining. ¡°Going to quit my job and get them to hire me back on at a higher pay-grade as a full-time gravity mage babysitter with the amount of time that I have to...¡± She trailed off when some scrying spell or another alerted her to Sylvas waking up. She emerged from behind the curtains surrounding one of the other wounded with a scowl. ¡°You. Again.¡±


    ¡°Me again.¡± Sylvas replied, faintly. Speaking hurt. Like the vice that had held his face had been used to work over his whole throat. ¡°What¡­¡±


    She cut him off with a flourish of her hands. Summoning an image of him, scried previously when he¡¯d been unconscious and bleeding copiously from every orifice. With a swipe of her hands, his skin vanished. Another swipe removed that gruesome display of exposed musculature and then his bones were left hanging over him instead. She dragged her hands apart, filling his whole vision with a massive illusion of his skull. It was covered in lines. Not the cobweb pattern of breaks he might have expected radiating out from Hammerheart¡¯s last blow, but zig-zagging marks spread over everything. The illusion slowly panned by him, showing him those same marks everywhere else. ¡°Microfractures across every single bone in your body, I shouldn¡¯t have expected anything less. Whatever your latest idiotic trick was, you managed to shatter your entire skeleton. Bravo. I suppose. I¡¯ve never seen that before, and I must assume that your goal in life, presenting me with new feats of medical stupidity.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­¡± He started to explain but she cut him and the illusion off instantly.


    ¡°Stop speaking you buffoon, you are vibrating your hyoid bone into dust.¡±


    He closed his mouth, and felt his teeth crumble a little at the impact.


    ¡°You will lie perfectly still in this restoration spell as it welds the pieces of your bones back together now that I¡¯ve returned them painstakingly to the correct places, you will not speak, you will breathe as shallowly as you can, anything that elevates your heart rate is liable to put a rib out of place. Try not to think too hard. Just shut up and do nothing for an hour so that I don¡¯t have to go back in to break and reset anything and start over again. I do not need you to acknowledge that you have understood, so once again I must tell you, as your doctor; shut up.¡±


    Sylvas blinked.


    The medic¡¯s eyes narrowed, but apparently blinking was permitted. ¡°Now I¡¯m going go away to see to everyone else that got injured in the accursed cull. Don¡¯t need me again.¡±


    It seemed that his new embodiment may have had some limitations that had not occurred to him.


    For a time he was able to just lay there, listening to the soft deep clicking of his own bones stitching themselves back together but his mind was already rushing ahead of him, refusing to stay put in this moment. His victory in the cull established him and his team as the dominant force among the grunts of Strife, destined for the best placements among the Ardent so long as nothing interfered. More importantly, he had dealt with the imminent threat of Hammerheart. A thug without the power to bully was nothing at all, and he¡¯d robbed him of that with this victory. Admittedly, he¡¯d been trying to deal with him in a much more permanent way, but the dwarf had survived that, and that meant that some complications remained, even if he had been dethroned.


    The curtains opposite Sylvas bed opened. Hammerheart stood there fully recovered and staring down at his enemy where he lay stretched out and helpless. Sylvas couldn¡¯t even groan. This is going to hurt.


    Step by deliberate step, Hammerheart crossed the room, no expression visible behind the thickness of his beard and a face like solid stone. Only when he was close enough to speak in a whisper did he finally rasp out, ¡°You¡¯ve ruined me. Not your redhorn, not the traitor elf, you. Ever since you arrived here, my life has turned to kragh.¡±


    By his side, the dwarf¡¯s mighty hand, almost as big as Sylvas entire head, tightened into a fist.


    ¡°I was the rising star. I was the king in waiting. Everyone respected me. Everyone thought I was going to go on to be¡­ Then you came along, and even before your lucky roll of the dice with your affinity, you were standing your ground, pushing back, interfering in all my plans. You poisoned them all against me. Tricked them into thinking I was some sort of monster. I came here to fight monsters and you¡­¡± He took a ragged breath, and his clenched fists uncurled. ¡°You win.¡±


    He stared right into Sylvas eyes, and for the first time, the tears of frustration he¡¯d been hiding cam brimming up into them. ¡°You beat me. The cull was my last chance, a chance to prove I was so strong it didn¡¯t matter what else had happened. A chance to prove I could still be all the things I was meant to be. But you¡­ you stole that from me too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing now. I was going to be the greatest, and if I can¡¯t be that¡­ what¡¯s the point. I¡¯ve handed in my resignation. I¡¯m going home.¡± He drew away from Sylvas, staring down into his helpless rivals eyes. Fists clenched. He wouldn¡¯t even have to use magic, Sylvas was so helpless, all he¡¯d need to do was lay a hand on him and press and the vengeance he¡¯d been seeking all this time would be his. Sylvas shivered in expectation and agony wracked him. By the time the darkness had cleared from his vision, Hammerheart was gone. Leaving Sylvas inexplicably whole and extremely confused.


    Just as he thought that he¡¯d gotten a grasp on everything happening on Strife, the world threw him through another twist. This changed everything again. Without Hammerheart acting as a constant source of antagonism, he could finally rely on the support of the rest of the recruits. Without Hammerheart, he could expect to enter training exercises on an even footing with everyone else. No longer would he and his allies be unduly targeted and punished just for existing.


    The first term and all of its torments were over. Things were going to be different now.

 Volume 2: Chapter 2

    ¡°The most valuable resource on any battlefield is time. Time for you to cast. Time for you to assume a favorable position. If you can steal time from an opponent without cost, you should always do so. Delay is its own reward. Delay buys you the time you need to plan. Delay the inevitable until more options become available. The right tactical overview and approach can bring the chaos of war into order.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    A coiling bolt of lightning battered off the wall, showering Sylvas with sparks and sending him running for fresh cover. He was amazed at just how quickly everything had gone wrong.


    More lightning bolts struck down, dogging his trail, summoned down from a clear and empty sky. He ran now, not because he lacked the mana for his flight spell, but because to be an inch higher than he needed to be would put him in the direct line of fire of one of the other teams. Not to mention making him taller than his surroundings and a more viable target for the raining lightning. Ironeyes was behind this particular storm, by his estimation. Unless someone else among the recruits had unlocked a new affinity when he wasn¡¯t looking.


    There was a clearing between this block of raised rubble and the next, a solid second¡¯s worth of open space where he¡¯d be a sitting duck for anyone with decent elevation. If someone didn¡¯t snipe him while he was crossing that gap, it would be a miracle. Lucky for him, they were still on Strife.


    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time that he¡¯d tried one of his new spells, but it was the first time he¡¯d try this particular use for it. Speaking each word carefully as he ran, shaping the magic in his hands, he felt it tighten around his fingers as he reached out ahead. With a twist of his wrist, he cast Invert.


    Gravity magic was at its best when it was spread over a wide area. There were very few options for direct application of gravity mana like his old Arcane Arrow, but things that encompassed a space as large as this square were a dime a dozen. Invert was one of those wide spells. It flipped the gravity within its field of effect for as long as Sylvas poured mana in to maintain it, at a hefty cost to his resources. So he didn¡¯t maintain it for much longer than the first instant. One moment of inverted gravity was all it took for the dense layer of red sand that filled the square to be launched up into the sky. A sudden plume, like a concussive strike had been launched against this area. Almost beneath notice to the other recruits. The perfect cover for him to sprint across.


    The iron taste of the red dust in his mouth was gagging, but he spat out what looked like a mouthful of clotted blood and kept going. A hand held to the level of his eyes had kept them from the worst of it. If he¡¯d seen himself then, he would have laughed. It was as though he¡¯d painted his stark white uniform with red dust on purpose to serve as camouflage. Not that he¡¯d be hard to find to the other more arcane senses at the other recruits¡¯ disposal.


    Options. He needed options. He was alone against every other team that the Ardent had fielded with little to no guarantee that they¡¯d turned on each other after the rest of his squad had been eliminated in the initial bloodbath. Five other students had been assigned to him at random, and all five of them were down within the first few seconds of the exercise. They¡¯d put up a valiant fight, as much as anyone could when they were so badly outnumbered. They¡¯d gotten a few shots off before dropping into their Crest induced comas. None of the major players had been taken out, so far as Sylvas had seen, but in the chaos, he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    He had a target on his back. It had been pasted there artificially by Hammerheart before the dwarf up and quit, but now he¡¯d earned it. Top of the class. Third circle in an affinity so rare and powerful he was still getting marriage proposals over it. If there was anyone that needed to be taken out of the fight first, it was him. If he¡¯d just thought for a second, he would have realized that. Instead he¡¯d trotted out onto the field with his squad still basking in relief that the cull was over and smugness that he¡¯d won it, and he¡¯d paid the price. Everyone around him had paid the price.


    The shield spell that he¡¯d tried to fling between him and the incoming barrage had worked. Every shot aimed at him had curved around to miss him as it struck the gravity shear. It was just a shame that it hadn¡¯t extended out a little further so that those same shots weren¡¯t redirected into his teammates. He hadn¡¯t known most of them very well, so the guilt was minimal, though Anak had been one of the ones to catch a ball of magical pain to the face, for which Sylvas definitely felt a little twang of sorrow. He really needed to harden his heart. It wasn¡¯t as though they were all going to survive out in the field when it came time to fight the Eidolons. At least here the Crests would protect them from serious harm. If not the pain.


    Throughout all his introspection, Sylvas had been casting out his senses. Sight, sound, even scent could be tricked by some of the illusions that other mages cast, but there were things that they didn¡¯t try to shield against because they were just too uncommon, and the new sense that he¡¯d developed with his latest Paradigm was one of them. The presence of any object produced the tiniest trace of gravity, and he was able to feel it. When there was movement, it was like a gentle brush of a feather against his skin. Anyone that came inside of his sphere of influence would give themselves away, just by moving. Or at least that was the theory, so far he was still working on refining it to the point of being functional rather than a massive staticky mess of sensory input. Still, when a sudden lance of mana came at him, his second sight was quick to show him the disruption it caused to the floes of mana around him, even if his grav-sense didn¡¯t.


    He''d been expecting an attack from the rear as he retreated, not a blast of water from the side. Dropping to his knees, he skidded through the sand beneath the solid line of liquid, so pressurized it would have stripped skin from bone. He hadn¡¯t noticed the fiend Abbas amongst his ambushers at the start of the exercise, so it made sense that their team would be out here somewhere, scattered from the focal point of conflict so that they could come back in afterwards and clean up any survivors.


    The beam of water dipped towards him as he slipped by, but it was not quick enough to catch him, and it was not strong enough to punch through the solid stone that had been raised to serve as obstacles for them to navigate. He went on running, hoping that his pursuers might fall into the same ambush, and that Abbas wouldn¡¯t follow.


    Whether Abbas meant to give chase or not, one of that team had launched themselves into the air. Sylvas felt spells of flight with his gravity sense whether he meant to or not. Every time he or someone else twisted the natural state of gravity, it was like an elastic being strummed in his brain. It had to be Gharia.


    He didn¡¯t need the brief glimpse of white flitting between the rooftops to confirm his suspicions. The two of them were the only ones who could reliably cast any kind of flight spell, with everyone else reliant on their embodiments for mobility.


    As she passed overhead she was casting down at him, not targeting him specifically, but raining down rainbow colored bubbles as she went into every valley or alley. It would have been quite whimsical if each of those slowly descending bubbles wasn¡¯t going to explode with enough destructive force to rip him apart. He couldn¡¯t let the bubbles come down on him, any more than he could let her spot him and call for assistance. Reaching up with his scarred hand, he cast Invert again the next time she flitted over.


    In an instant the forces being exerted by Gharia¡¯s spell reversed. Instead of repelling her from the ground, she was flung down towards it, towards him. Typically this would have ended in him receiving a face full of furious lizard-woman, but the bubbles she¡¯d cast had escaped gravity¡¯s pull in the same moment, shooting back up to meet her. Sylvas turned away so he didn¡¯t have to see the damage he¡¯d just done to his friend, but the rain of blood that came spattering down as soon as he released his spell told enough of a story about how effective the move had been.


    There would be a moment before she hit the ground, a moment before the Crest would wrap her in its safe cocoon and protect her from the lethal impact, but Sylvas did not have the time to delay and watch to make sure her landing was less brutal than her defeat.


    Explosions began to sound everywhere else around Sylvas, the other bubbles touching down and destroying all they touched. Gharia was nothing if not effective. She¡¯d been taking no chances of Sylvas getting away from her unscathed. Of course, she hadn¡¯t seen what he was capable of now he¡¯d finally gotten his hands on gravity affinity magic. He cast his new shield, Gravity Shear, as he went, and the explosions and shrapnel being thrown up in his path curved gracefully around him in a brief orbit before impacting something else. Instead of trapping him in place, Gharia had inadvertently given him moving cover. He would have to thank her later. Actually she might bite me, probably better to leave certain things unsaid.


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    As plumes of debris blasted up all around him, Sylvas moved through it like a shark through water, parting the destruction just enough to make it by. As that round of cataclysmic destruction ended, new booms echoed out from behind. Abbas and the ambushers were taking a chance at his pursuers.


    If they were distracted for long enough, he might get out of range of their senses, hunker down somewhere and try to wait out the worst of the fighting. It wasn¡¯t glorious and he wouldn¡¯t distinguish himself all that much, but if they couldn¡¯t find him, they¡¯d have no choice but to fight among themselves, and if he somehow made it to the end of the exercise, he might only have to try and take out one whole squad instead of all of them.


    The chaos of the conflict behind him would draw attention that he couldn¡¯t afford, so he risked the flight spell, not using it to soar up with all the speed it could give him, but loosening the planet¡¯s pull on him enough that he could flit between the raised blocks faster than his unenhanced body could ever manage to move him. Distance and time.


    With each moment he wasn¡¯t under attack, he had more time to plan. There was a tower of stone ahead and to the left, high ground that he could get up and snipe from. The others would be able to ascend it without much difficulty with their embodiments under normal circumstances, but they weren¡¯t up against normal circumstances, they were up against a gravity mage, which meant that if he could get that high ground, he could keep them from getting a clear shot at him. All of them barring Ironeyes, with his lightning storm.


    Which made Ironeyes the target to hit. Once he was in flight, Sylvas knew that they wouldn¡¯t be able to catch him, not with the maneuverability he¡¯d unlocked with his new affinity. He could move around in the air easier than walking on the ground now, like he had spent his whole life waiting to sprout wings. But if Ironeyes was still in the fight, then they¡¯d be able to bring him down, no matter how high he got or what cover he found.


    They were hunters, he was prey, which meant he would run and they would pursue, it was the simplest relationship in nature, an expectation hardwired into their minds. Sylvas stopped dead at the foot of the tower and turned back. A few blocks into the smooth stone city, he twisted, shooting off to the side, then with a little distance from the route they¡¯d all be following once they broke free of Abbas and found Gharia, he shot back, perpendicular to them. Nobody would expect him to turn around and charge back into danger. Not now, when he was this badly outnumbered. Surprise gave him an opportunity.


    He almost ran headlong into the fiend with the sonic affinity and her squad. Bael had called her Vel, which was almost certainly an abbreviation for something, and she had not weathered Hammerheart¡¯s downfall or her own defeat at the cull with much grace. Where before she¡¯d been coiffed and perfect, her hair hung ragged around her face now, her horns were lost in the tangle. ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Me.¡± Sylvas managed to bark out before flinging himself aside. There were only two other mages with her, both infantry track, quick to fire off their spells, but not quick enough to catch him. He let the flying spell dissipate and started casting again.


    ¡°Get out here and face me.¡± She screamed. It was not enhanced with a spell, but some part of her embodiment empowered it all the same, and Sylvas was nearly floored by the force of her words bounding and rebounding around him. He clapped his hands to his ears, his own spell cut short. Without neutral mana at his disposal, the simple cantrip he¡¯d cast to protect his hearing was as sluggish to cast as if he¡¯d been completing something potent. There was no time to waste on it, not with Vel screaming loud enough to bring the whole planet down on them. There was no time.


    Draining away his own weight with his embodiment, Sylvas leapt, kicking off the wall. Untouched by gravity, he soared over the block that had been keeping him out of sight, drifting for just a moment over the heads of all three of his attackers before he released and let his full weight return.


    He fell. There was nothing more clever or cunning than that. His full weight, propelled by gravity from the height he was at. The martial arts that some of the other students had pursued in making their embodiments had never been taught to Sylvas. He braced his legs for impact as best he could and hoped.


    Vel caught sight of him at the last moment, head jerking up just in time for his boot to make contact with her face instead of the top of her head. One heel planted neatly between her horns. She had some physical reinforcement in one of her embodiments, so the impact didn¡¯t snap her neck, but the impact was more than hard enough for the Crest to activate and save her from worse than the concussion that had knocked her out.


    With her mastery of the sonic affinity, Vel may have been an amazing mage, but she made a terrible cushion. The ground greeted Sylvas like an old enemy, the jolt of impact lancing to his hips, then right up his back. The bones of his legs didn¡¯t snap like twigs, which was nice, but that didn¡¯t mean he hadn¡¯t broken anything. He couldn¡¯t imagine that those bones were particularly strong at the moment, given that they¡¯d just been glued back together from fragments, and that same pain he¡¯d felt after beating Hammerheart was creeping up them now. He stumbled off the fallen fiend, still unsteady and ungrounded.


    Tactically speaking, he should have hit one of the other two mages, since they were positioned further back and he was now in their direct line of sight. Luckily, everything else that he¡¯d achieved in the past fraction of a second had been done without the need for him to cast a spell. So the one he¡¯d been in the process of speaking before soaring over was still ready on his lips. He twisted his hand around by his side, and Inversion took hold.


    Both mages were launched into the air in a plume of red sand, whatever spells they had been trying to cast lost in the maelstrom as they tumbled end over end up into the sky.


    In a weird way, the red sand of Strife which had done its even best to kill him every time he set foot on it was now his best ally. It choked the mages, blinded them, kept them from saving themselves when he let the Inversion fall away and they came plummeting back to earth with none of the grace Sylvas could have mustered. One clipped a stone block on the way down with a wet crunch before the soft thrum of the Crest¡¯s golden light surrounded him. The other hit the ground, head down. He had hit so hard, he was buried up to the neck, with the rest of him flailing and dangling in the air above. Whatever embodiment that guy had must have made him as solid as steel to remain conscious enough to flail after that fall.


    In a split second, Sylvas made his decision. Turning on his heel and running again. He could have hung around to try and finish the downed mage off, but gravity affinity magic mostly relied on flinging things around with brute force and if that fall hadn¡¯t killed the other grunt, he wasn¡¯t sure how hard he¡¯d need to hit the guy to put him out for the count. Working that out was time he didn¡¯t have to waste.


    The plume of red sand back there might have drawn the attention of his pursuers, so he put on a fresh turn of speed with the flight spell. His mana reserves dipped under a quarter full and he did his best to set any regrets about that aside. He was being as economical as he could, but there just wasn¡¯t enough mana for all the enemies he had to tackle. That was why outlasting long enough for them to turn on each other was his only option. If he could have worked out where all of the extra mana he¡¯d been accruing during the Cull had come from and tap it now, it would have made his life so much easier, but as it stood, he had to work with what he was carrying with him.


    Flitting between the risen stones, he caught a glimpse of white. Ardent uniform. It could have been a straggler from some other squad on their own, or it could have been a forward scout for the massed group of his pursuers. Time would tell.


    There was no outcry, no sudden surge of magic or bodies coming his way, so Sylvas kept on flying until he caught another glimpse of white, then another. The massed group of his pursuers, still charging blindly forward towards that last pillar of sand he¡¯d flung into the air, completely blind to the fact that he had flanked them.


    Another split-second decision had to be made. They didn¡¯t seem to have spotted him yet, and if he went as fast as he could, there was a chance they never would spot him. He could clear the range of their senses, head back towards where he¡¯d first been ambushed and then wait out their slow methodical search of the whole arena of battle. The longer he kept them waiting, the more frustrated they¡¯d get. That could go two ways. Either it would galvanize their conviction to take him out, or it would spill over into infighting between the different squads.


    Or, he could follow his initial plan, a fly-by strike to take out Ironeyes, then a tactical retreat to the tower where he could hold them off. He didn¡¯t know the temperament of the other naval track recruits well enough to judge how they would react to a slow search for him, but he knew enough about people in general to know how the original plan would play out. They¡¯d be drawn by him to the tower, into close quarters. There would be massive amounts of pressure on everyone involved combined with the possibility of any lucky shot taking him out. At that point their cohesion would almost certainly start breaking down. Every one of them convinced it was their last chance to get in the first strike before the inevitable dissolution of their alliance.


    It was the better plan, but Sylvas didn¡¯t really want to admit that to himself because it was also the plan that involved flinging himself face-first into danger. He was all too familiar with danger by this point in his life, and didn¡¯t have much objection to flinging himself face-first into it most of the time. Better than being flung into it backwards so he couldn¡¯t see what was going on. But given that this was purely an exercise, and this was a decision that was liable to end in him losing said exercise, it weighed on him heavier than if he¡¯d actually been putting his life on the line. Probably because nobody else had their life on the line. When he was facing Hammerheart or the Eidolons, every risk he took felt justified because even if he died, he would have been protecting someone else from them. Now that feeling was gone. This was all a grand game, and he was souring on playing it as if it were real.


    Emotion was one of the many things his first paradigm allowed him to remove from his mind, so he did so. This was the more viable tactic, so he was committing to it. Pouring more mana into his flight spell, he shot forward into the breach.

 Volume 2: Chapter 3

    ¡°Failure means death. Perhaps that death will not arrive now. Perhaps it will not arrive for many years. But the seed of it is planted in the moment that you first taste failure and allow yourself to swallow. Spit failure back into the face of any who try to force it on you.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Like a comet, Sylvas streaked out into the gathered collection of mages chasing him down. They had sent forward scouts out, but had not bothered to cover their flanks in case of ambush. They had considered themselves too powerful, all massed together, for there to be any risk of anyone being so foolish as to come for them. By fist and spell. Sylvas would teach them humility.


    The outer rank of mages, he whipped by so quickly they could have blinked and missed him, but the inner core of casters who should have been layering spells of shielding and protection all around them as they advanced, they received the worst blow. The spell of flight had ended before he burst out from between the blocks at the side of this long promenade and he had been casting a shield of his own as momentum carried him on. Gravity Shear sprang to life ahead of him as he crashed into the pack. His intent had been to turn away any spells they flung his way, but he hadn¡¯t counted on the way that Gravity Shear would interact with physical objects. Or more specifically with bodies. As the invisible buffer struck each mage, they were ripped along the surface of it by the forces at work.


    Familiar faces whipped past. Bortan¡¯s face was contorted into a mask of rage, rippling as the g-forces pulled at him. Orson and Luna clung to each other as they were carried up and over the top of him. Only Kaya managed to hold her ground, and even then it was only for a brief moment before the metal spikes she¡¯d thrust deep into the sand to keep her steady had all that surrounded them eroded away, then she was snatched back out of Sylvas¡¯ sphere of protection too. Harvan actually managed to phase through it once he realized what was happening, but by then momentum was already flinging him aside, and he hit the side of a building with what should have been a splat, were he not in the midst of trying to return to being solid. Rather than hitting rock, he sunk into it a distance before it became solid to him. He was fused with the wall, and Sylvas had very serious concerns about his survival until the golden light of his Crest plinked on.


    Still carried by the momentum of his initial swoop into their midst, Sylvas was carried on out the other side, landing lightly on his feet with gravity¡¯s grip on him loosened by his embodiment so that he could make a quick bounding leap up on top of the raised blocks on the far side of this artificial ravine.


    All of the mages he¡¯d hit had been flung behind him, in the direction that he¡¯d been heading. Not all of them had been taken out by his passage through, though he was surprised to note that neither Bortan nor Luna seemed to be moving despite him previously considering them tough as nails. Regardless, that sudden fling of all their allies in one direction had drawn the attention of the rest of the crowd. Which meant they were all looking away from Sylvas, allowing his Lockmind to pinpoint Ironeyes exact position.


    He had started casting before he¡¯d even sighted his target, painfully aware of how little time he¡¯d have before everyone began to react. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kaya already dragging herself back to her feet and shaking off the fragments of now broken metal that had surrounded her to protect her from the impact. He didn¡¯t want to be here when she arrived.


    Surrounded by allies, Ironeyes¡¯ was not as vulnerable to Inversion as the others had been. There were too many people around him who could react fast, catching him before he fell either by magic or by hand. So Sylvas did not cast Inversion. He cast Gravity Spike.


    On solid ground, or against a less physically imposing specimen, it could have been lethal. Cranking the gravity affecting a person up so high, so abruptly, could have ruptured organs, shattered bones and made them into a fleshy pancake. On the red sands of strife, the effect on Ironeyes was entirely different. One moment he was standing there, the next he had vanished. Dragged down under the sand with a sudden puff of displaced rust dust. Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure how deep he¡¯d hauled him, only that the thick layers of sand filling the channel he¡¯d been dragged down would serve as excellent insulation against any sort of electric outburst.


    He leapt for safety the moment the spell was complete, and even that was too late. A barrage of magic hit the top of the block he¡¯d been standing on. Stone shattered and shrapnel flew in every direction. Sylvas back was pummeled with hunks of rock as he fled, but the lethal magic that had detonated the obstacle into pieces passed cleanly overhead.


    Disoriented for a fraction of a second, he spun himself to face the direction of the distant tower where he meant to make his last stand and came face to face with Bael. The elf had his hands held up, showing that he wasn¡¯t casting anything. Showing that he was harmless and helpless. ¡°Please, don¡¯t let me interrupt you.¡±


    If Sylvas fought him, it would have been delay enough for the rest of the small army in pursuit of him to catch up. If he ran past, he would only have Bael¡¯s assurance that he meant no harm to protect his back. He flashed the elf a smile and took off running, legs aching every step of the way from his heavy fall earlier.


    Apparently Bael was true to his word, nothing hit Sylvas in the back, or at least, nothing immediately hit him, and by the time that the barrage of spells came raining down, he was in flight once more.


    The quarter full core of mana that he¡¯d entered the fight with had been depleted less than it could have been by his strike, but he was rapidly draining it with these flying spells. Perhaps one eighth left and no possibility of stopping to draw more.


    Ironeyes was down, the goal was achieved, but now more than ever he was painfully aware of how unbalanced this exercise was. For all his tricks and clever solutions, he was still up against dozens of mages. All of them in the third circle too, with all the power that came with it, and unlimited by only being able to cast one spell at a time. Even if his core wasn¡¯t almost emptied, winning would have been impossible.


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    His gravity sense pinged behind him, and he flung himself aside.


    ¡°SIGIL!¡±


    His mistake had been thinking that they were launching a spell at him, rather than an enraged dwarf. Kaya¡¯s manifested armor was glowing red hot from friction when she landed. She struck down like a meteor. Sylvas had no clue what combination of spells they had used to launch her after him, but he¡¯d definitely have to ask before their next group exercise.


    The glowing metal rippled and roiled like mercury, flowing out from the armor that encased her and forming a flock of blades that spread behind her like a halo. ¡°Give it up Stanzbuhr. You¡¯re done.¡±


    To release his spell of flight and cast something else at her would mean the end. Even if he took her out, the delay before he could get in the air again would give the rest of them time to catch up.


    Faced with two bad choices, he picked the one that would keep him in the fight. He turned tail and ran. Oh, this is going to suck.


    The blades followed after him with a whistling sound. A thrum through the air as their razor edges parted the way.


    Jerking straight up into the air, most of them swept by and imbedded themselves in a wall, but not all of them. One of the silvery javelins went cleanly through his calf and out the other side as he was too slow to rise. Another hit the back of his foot, ripping through boot and flesh before deflecting off bone and somehow entangling with the tendon, leaving it dangling crooked out of him.


    Pain should have overwhelmed him, but his Clearmind held it at bay. It was information he did not need right now, so he could ignore it. The important thing wasn¡¯t that his leg was crippled or that he was losing blood, it was that he hadn¡¯t been taken out of the fight. Given the speed he needed to move at, he was going to be flying everywhere anyway, so the loss of his leg for the remainder of the exercise was¡­ he could ignore it for now.


    The tower he¡¯d picked out for his last stand loomed ahead. He¡¯d given his position away now, there was no point in trying to be coy about his destination. With a fresh surge of mana to the spell he shot up and forward.


    Or at least, he tried to.


    Kaya had not been summoning more blades to fling after him. She had been regaining control of the ones she¡¯d already launched. The metal bar that was still hooked in Sylvas flesh was as immovable as if it had been embedded in the stone below him. The sudden jerk sent a fresh wash of pain through him. Having a tendon plucked like that was probably one of the most excruciating things Sylvas had ever been through. Thank you, Clearmind.


    ¡°Not so fast, boyo!¡± With a clenched fist and force of will, Kaya started dragging her harpooned prey back towards her.


    This was exactly the kind of delay that Sylvas could not afford. Drawing in a ragged breath, he did the only thing that he could to keep on fighting. He surged forwards again.


    For a moment the javelin held. The muscle running up the back of his calf was plucked like a guitar string, then it began to pull away from the bone, the skin distending out as the forces working on his fragile body began to contort it beyond all recognition. With one last push and a roar of pain, Sylvas tore free. The ripped remains of the muscles in his lower leg dangling limp and useless inside the loose, stretched bag of skin beneath his knee.


    He dragged his gaze away from his injuries and towards the tower ahead, cursing the eidetic memory that would keep the image of his ruined flesh fresh in his mind for the rest of his life. The Crest fixed to the front of his uniform had begun to glow, ready to send him into medical stasis and prevent his condition worsening, but he pushed on and snarled, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    Up in the air, before he made it to the tower-top, he was a sitting duck for any spell lobbed his way, and he began performing barrel rolls and twists from almost the moment he escaped Kaya¡¯s grasp to keep them from hitting him. Even so, more than a few came searingly close. A beam of purple scored across his back, neatly turning his uniform jacket into two equally sized pieces that fell off as he rose. Where it touched flesh, skin and muscle began to slough away. The wound could not go deeper, though there was clearly some acidic property to the spell. The reinforcements that he¡¯d built his second circle with prevented his magic or anyone else¡¯s from perforating the channels of mana he¡¯d carved inside himself.


    At least that was the only particularly good shot from his pursuers, and it wasn¡¯t as though Quartermaster Chul wasn¡¯t used to replacing his uniform every other day at this point.


    He put thoughts of her, and of the medic who would soon be bitching him out again aside. This was not an opportune moment for distractions.


    Hitting the top of the tower, momentum flipped him over onto his back. Granting him another lovely look at his mutilated leg as it flopped over him. Rolling back onto his front and letting the flight spell dissipate, he crawled back to the edge.


    The army gathering at the foot of the tower was less substantial than it had been, and from this vantage point, Sylvas could see why. Dotted back across the conjured cityscape were the char marks where battles had happened. The shattered stone and scorched sand where the overwhelming force intent on hunting him down had encountered any of the other units of students. It was a bloody swathe across the map, a war of attrition that he hadn¡¯t even known he was winning by leading them this way. Most of the squads they¡¯d encountered had assumed that their scouts were the full group and tried to jump them. The few that had held back had been annihilated all the same when the massive force had spread out to pass through tighter areas. The natural choke points where an ambush would have made sense had resulted in the army dispersing to travel through every back alley and untread path that an ambusher might have been hiding in. With numbers on their side, Kaya¡¯s little alliance had made short work of everyone else out here, but not without losses of their own.


    All in all, there had to be only fifteen of them left, including Kaya and Bael. Sylvas had taken out a fair chunk of them with his Gravity Shear charge not long ago, and judging by how drenched a few of them were, they¡¯d encountered Abbas¡¯ group too.


    Fifteen against one. I can do this.


    ¡°Sigil!¡± Kaya bellowed up. ¡°Come out and play!¡±


    As taunts went, it lacked a little of her usual punch, but he didn¡¯t intend on exchanging witticisms today. Some of the grunts that Sylvas didn¡¯t know so well made a beeline for the bottom of his tower, beginning their ascent with a combination of spells and embodiments. He let them make it a decent distance up the tower before he gave a reply. Gathering his mana, Sylvas cast Gravity Spike.


    Like most of his gravity affinity magic, it was essentially useless as a direct attack. Even though he had taken Ironeyes down with it, if there hadn¡¯t been time pressure, there would have been little trouble for the dwarf¡¯s allies to dig him out and he¡¯d be none the worse for wear, apart from having sand in some unmentionable places. But even these wide area attacks could be lethal if he timed them right, and waiting until the climbers had gotten high enough that a drop could kill them, or at least injure them badly enough to knock them out of the fight had been the right call.


    They fell from the tower¡¯s side in one entangled and yelling mass of bodies, every one of them struggling to break free of the rest, and none of them managing it before they hit the ground.


    The crunch shouldn¡¯t have been so satisfying, but it was.


    Ten against one. The odds were improving.

 Volume 2: Chapter 4

    ¡°The difference between a soldier and a mage is that the former must accept realities as they are. Terrain is a fixed and unmovable reality, positioning, transportation, materiel and logistics are masters to be obeyed. The only master that a mage serves is their own mind, their only limitation is their imagination.¡±


    ¡ªLibio Bellum Arcanum, Frondius Gallweaver


    At the foot of the tower, everyone had now spread out, recognizing that any cluster of them would welcome an attack. Even when there were a pair in range of a single spell, Sylvas held off for now. Time was on his side. The longer that they took to decide on a course of action, the more likely they were to get frustrated. The sooner they got frustrated, the sooner they started fighting among themselves and forgetting about him. If he could get a moment to meditate, he could restore some of his mana reserves, which were currently teetering dangerously low.


    At this distance he couldn¡¯t make out what they were saying to one another unless it was deliberately shouted up to him, but he could see Bael and Kaya deep in argument already. It seemed more than likely that they¡¯d be the first ones to come to blows, given how argumentative they got even without any outside pressure. Bael strode away from Kaya without a backwards glance. Leaving her fuming, Sylvas assumed.


    She summoned a pair of spikes onto her hands that looked particularly wicked and approached the wall of the tower. Even from this height Sylvas could hear and feel the impact as she hammered those spikes into the stone. Then her climb began.


    It was obvious that the climb was going to be unsuccessful. There was a pile of bodies beneath her that told her exactly what happened to anyone trying to get up here, but she came all the same. Stubborn beyond all reason.


    Sylvas dragged himself over to that side and readied another Gravity Spike. Which was when the rest of the mages seemed to finally spring into action. They may not have had a clean shot at him, but that didn¡¯t mean that they weren¡¯t going to try for some dirty ones.


    The oncoming rush of magic was enough to send Sylvas scurrying back from the rim of the tower. That purple beam zipped by, far closer than he would have liked, accompanied by zipping bolts of magic in a rainbow of colors an instant after.


    If they thought he could be pinned down like that, they didn¡¯t know enough about him.


    Closing his eyes, Sylvas reached out with his gravity sense, building a complete picture of the battlefield around him, sensing everyone and everything perfectly. He didn¡¯t need to see to cast, he knew where everyone was. Besides, even if she had shimmied around to the side a little, Kaya was in too much of a rush to go around the corner of the blocky tower she was climbing and make her approach from another side. If she had, she would have lost her covering fire, or at least enough of it. She was almost halfway up the tower in the short time it had taken Sylvas to fling himself back and get his thoughts together.


    It was hard not to be a little bit impressed with her, even as he cast the Gravity Spike that would send her crashing down.


    Her progress slowed to a complete halt as the intensity of the gravity hauling on her began to increase. The spikes she had embedded into the stone went deep, and they were all one solid piece of metal with her armor, so the risk of them snapping off was pretty slim. Inside of the armor, she must have been getting compressed lower and lower, her legs swelling as he forced more and more of her mass down. But still she did not fall. Sylvas pushed more mana into the spell. Doubling up the gravity yet again. It should have been more than enough to crush the fight out of her, but he had forgotten that she was a dwarf accustomed to extremes in her environment. The other casters at the foot of the tower seemed to have noticed her predicament and stopped launching their assault, instead shouting up words of encouragement to her. As if words could do anything against the inevitability of gravity.


    Somehow, Kaya was holding out. She couldn¡¯t advance any further so long as the Gravity Spike was being cast, but neither was she being cast back down to the bottom of the tower. They were at a stalemate, and one that was inevitably going to result in Sylvas losing. He had only a limited supply of mana to draw on, while all she had to do was remain stubborn and conscious despite the g-forces working against her. When he released his spell, he would have at best a few moments as she pulled herself together before she started climbing again, and once she was up here he did not fancy his chances in close combat with her. Particularly when he was too unsure of using his new embodiment in case he ground all his bones to dust again.


    Sylvas came to the conclusion that the dwarf might actually be insane when he heard her calling out. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got, culgh?!¡±


    It wasn¡¯t. The spell, as written, could scale up a second time to intensify the gravity even more. The last of his core would be drained to turn up the gravity that far, and while he felt confident it would be enough to pluck her off the wall, it would still leave him with all the other mages to deal with without mana.


    So he gambled, and he released Gravity Spike.


    Kaya didn¡¯t move for a long moment, still in precisely the same position as before. If Sylvas had been a little closer he might have heard her groaning at the sudden change in pressure, but with the cavalcade of spells still being flung up to keep him pinned down, no sound could be heard.


    She pulled the spike that had been keeping her pinned to the wall out with almost a comedic slowness and tried to ram it back in and continue her ascent, but no matter how strong Kaya may have been, even she had limits, and spending so much time being crushed had taken its toll on her. The point of the spike skittered over the stone without making purchase, and the force of the impact was enough to pluck her other spike out of the wall too. Kaya fell, tumbling end over end, back to the ground.


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    The crash of steel when she landed was finally something loud enough to be heard over the flurry of magic.


    Casting halted when Kaya hit the dirt, covering fire no longer being offered up. Some part of Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for his friend, as that fall really must have hurt, but given how profusely he was still bleeding thanks to her the sympathy was short lived.


    In that brief lull in the chaos, he called down, ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got?¡±


    Kaya wheezed with laughter, tinny thanks to the armor enclosing her. She wasn¡¯t out despite the fall. Sylvas hadn¡¯t expected her to survive that.


    In the brief moment before they attacked again, Sylvas had time to assess his surroundings. There were still ten mages arrayed against him, though he didn¡¯t know how effective Kaya would be after that fall, particularly given the emphasis that she placed on physicality.


    He hadn¡¯t even seen Bael for the duration of the fighting, though he sensed the elf¡¯s position now as he meandered back around from the other side of the tower block to stand beside the others. He had been casting throughout his wandering, but Sylvas hadn¡¯t really paid it much mind. Most likely the elf was just working on his usual protective magics to keep himself and the others safe from Sylvas vengeance, when he got around to raining it down.


    On seeing the elf¡¯s return, one of the other mages, a human grunt Sylvas had never caught the name of, shouted up at me. ¡°We¡¯re giving you one last chance to come down peacefully.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it will stay peaceful once I¡¯m down.¡± Sylvas called back.


    Kaya growled as she came up to her knees. ¡°You¡¯re damn right it won¡¯t, stanzbuhr.¡±


    He really would need to learn what that word meant one of these days. ¡°Then I¡¯ll politely decline.¡±


    ¡°I told you he would.¡± Kaya had made it back to her feet but seemed unsteady. If Bael wasn¡¯t there offering her support, Sylvas was pretty sure she¡¯d still have been having a nice lie down. It was odd seeing the two of them together, like a cat and a mouse that were friends. They seemed entirely too easy with each other, as if their earlier fighting had all been an act.


    ¡°Very well.¡± The elf said and snapped his fingers.


    Bael had not been wandering around aimlessly while the rest of them fought, he had been laying down a circle of mana around Sylvas¡¯ tower. Its signature had been obscured by the chaotic turmoil of magic overhead. Invisible until the elf was ready to reveal it.


    It ignited now from the spark that fell from the elf¡¯s fingers, a golden glow surrounding the base of the tower. This was not the fast and dirty magic that they had been teaching to the Ardent recruits, it was ritual work like Sylvas had once studied back before his world died. The fragments of spell writ in mana and laid along the length of the line had been incomplete, hollowed out spell-forms waiting for magic to be pushed through them. It flooded out to fill them from the circle now as Bael dumped mana into it.


    The tower shuddered underneath Sylvas. Whatever Bael had done, it was considerably more substantial than anything the others had managed. The shudder came again, a reverberation of the first, then again, and again, each tremor coming closer on the heels of the last. Magic coiled up now from the circle, great lines of it erupting like fractals from the marking on the ground, they blossomed up around the length of the tower shining bright as the sun in the perpetual twilight of Strife.


    Sylvas had no clue what magic was being used, or what he could do to counter it, all he could do was hold on for dear life as the tower beneath him shook and shuddered apart. Fragments of the hastily risen stone began to crack and tumble, each echo of the last reverberation breaking more and more of the stone apart. Bael was doing exactly what Sylvas had wanted to do the first time he saw the conjured landscape of their training grounds. He was changing the landscape to suit his needs.


    Throughout the whole thing, Kaya and the others had served as a distraction, to give Bael the time he needed to complete his circle and his ritual. It had all been a ploy, right from the start. A trap.


    Sylvas cursed under his breath. He should have known better than to underestimate Bael. The elf had been top of the class, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that it wasn¡¯t because he was riding on Hammerheart¡¯s coat-tails. Quite the opposite in fact. The more time Sylvas spent with him, the more apparent it was that most of Hammerheart¡¯s success as a purely offensive caster was built around Bael patching the holes in his defenses.


    The trap sprung with a brutal suddenness. One moment the coils of light encircling the tower were rising steadily and then they fell. Slamming back down into the circle below. The building vibrations came to a sudden halt too.


    For a fraction of a second, Sylvas thought that something had gone wrong, that the spell had failed. He let out the breath that he was holding. Then the solid stone beneath him turned to dust.


    Whatever magic had kept the red sands bound in a solid form was undone. Countered by Bael¡¯s rite. Sylvas had looked at the problem as though they were trying to change something that already existed, while Bael had seen through it and recognized that there was already magic in play creating their obstacles which he only had to undo.


    One moment, Sylvas was perfectly safe atop his tower, the next he was plummeting to his doom. A flight spell might save him if he was quick on the cast. But then he¡¯d be a sitting duck for the barrage that was sure to follow. Inversion might save him, launching him up out of range, but the breakneck change of direction at terminal velocity might literally break his neck. There was only one sensible option that he could see. Angling himself forwards towards the massed mages awaiting their chance to murder him, he cast Gravity Shear.


    They saw him starting to cast, launched missiles and beams up at him only for them to curve around the shield he was extending out ahead of him. None of them gave ground, none of them ran, they all believed that he was already beaten.


    Because he was.


    The Gravity Shear was going to do nothing to protect him from impact with the earth. He was losing this fight, one way or the other. But losing this way meant that he took all of them with him.


    As he hit terminal velocity, the air around him began to warp and quaver. Everything outside the shield accelerating as it was whipped past him, spells and air and dust alike. There was a sonic boom as he fell, as deafening as anything that Vel had ever managed to conjure up, but this time Sylvas did not flinch, he grinned. Victory was in reach.


    Only Kaya seemed to grasp what was about to happen, dragging on Bael¡¯s sleeve and trying to haul the elf out of the blast radius, but she was too hurt, and they moved too slow. Sylvas touched down right beside them.


    The concussion on impact launched every one of the ten mages arrayed against him off the ground. Even the five already felled were tossed around like rag dolls. Every one of them was flung out to batter against the walls of the lower slung blocks. Breaking bones and drawing blood everywhere that he looked. For one glorious moment, Sylvas was victorious.


    Then the ground came up to meet him.

 Volume 2: Chapter 5

    ¡°To be possessed by a fear of the future is natural, it is the unknown. Without falling victim to the fallacy of inductive reasoning, there is no possible way in which events yet to come can be predicted. But to be possessed by a fear of events that have already passed is a sickness. To obsess over that which has been and will never again be is madness. One does not cross the same river twice, and the bed that felt so vast and warm in your childhood no longer fits you as an adult. Change is the only constant in this universe and accepting that change within yourself is vital. When something happens to a person, it is that person¡¯s responsibility to put it into the greater context of the continuum of all events in their life, and to shape themselves using the tools provided to ensure that all weaknesses of character that those events provoked are repaired. Self-reflection is at the core of every successful philosophy. One cannot improve if one does not know oneself, but neither too can one improve if they dwell endlessly upon the past instead of moving forward. Change is inevitable, but whether that change is growth or entropy depends on the choices we make.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    There was no gentle awakening for Sylvas this time. The medic slapped him fully across the face to rouse him. ¡°Ow.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, I seem to have bumped you.¡± The half-elf said in monotone. ¡°How terrible. I hope that I have no exacerbated your injuries or caused you pain.¡±


    Sylvas narrowed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you for your concern.¡±


    ¡°Not content to shatter every bone in your body through magical means, you decided to go all natural this time around?¡± There was a smile plastered over the medic¡¯s face which spoke to a world of pain in Sylvas immediate future. He glanced from side to side, but it seemed that once again he was the last of the injured to recover.


    Aching all over, Sylvas grumbled. ¡°If I could have avoided falling then I would have.¡±


    ¡°Would you though? Would you have?¡± The medic drew uncomfortably close. ¡°Because it feels like you would have seen the opportunity to take a swan dive and went right for it.¡±


    Sylvas spent a lot of time keeping everything that he felt to himself, but at this particular moment, with his bones painfully knitting back together and more than one organ feeling distinctly bruised, his composure slipped just a little. His answer came out low as a growl. ¡°It was a live combat drill. What was I supposed to do?¡±


    The half-elf flung her hands up in the air. ¡°The same thing as every other student on campus; come in and get your extremely minor injuries patched up after getting hit by some spell or another, not fling yourself from the top of a high place and make no effort to break your fall.¡±


    As his heart beat harder and his anger mounted, the periphery of Sylvas vision darkened. ¡°I didn¡¯t fling¡­ Bael broke the tower I was on.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that I¡¯m unaware of your capabilities? Do you think any information on what you¡¯ve done to yourself doesn¡¯t come to me? You have a gravity affinity and an embodiment that allows you to exploit that to reduce your own weight at will. So far, you¡¯ve used it primarily for the purposes of self-destruction, but surely even someone as intent as you are on dying is aware that it could also have been used to prevent your fall from being so lethal?¡±


    Sylvas rallied, ¡°If I¡¯d done that, then¡­¡±


    ¡°Then you would have lost the game that they have you playing. I¡¯m aware. But what you and the others do not seem to be aware of is that there are consequences to your actions. The Crest preserves you in whatever state you were so that I can patch you up, but instant death can outpace the Crest with ease. Not to mention the ongoing problems that you are liable to cause yourself with these constant injuries. Your bones broke so easily this time because of how thoroughly you shattered them before. There was no time for them to harden and thicken after your prior injury. Every time you throw yourself into a life and death situation, it ticks closer and closer to being a matter of certain death, and you don¡¯t seem to care.¡±


    Sylvas lay sullenly staring at the ceiling for a moment, then grumbled out. ¡°I care.¡±


    Apparently, that wasn¡¯t good enough. ¡°I am going to be recommending you for psychological evaluation.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on!¡± He tried to sit up but the strength of his arms betrayed him and he did little more than flop.


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    A slate had been summoned to the medic¡¯s hand, and the request was being sent. ¡°If there had been one or two incidents of self-harm, it would be one thing, but this is a disturbing pattern.¡±


    Sylvas tried not to grit his teeth, since they too felt fragile still. ¡°I am not trying to hurt myself.¡±


    The medic rolled her eyes. ¡°Then why are we on a first name basis, Sylvas?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know your first name.¡±


    ¡°Suicidal and rude.¡±


    He called after her as she walked away. ¡°When can I leave?¡±


    ¡°When I say you can leave.¡± She replied, curtly. Then with a flick of her wrist and a little kinesis, the curtain around his little cubicle swept shut leaving him alone again.


    Pain was familiar. His oldest companion that had followed after him all the way from his dead world to wherever he fled. If he was honest, most of it had been self-inflicted. His drive to succeed and be accepted had made him push far beyond what anyone else would consider a sensible limit, and his desire to win, to be the best, had resulted in him making decisions that ended in what could only be described as pyrrhic victories. He fought and he won, and he fought, and he won, but the costs went on mounting, and the price he had to pay always seemed to be his own suffering.


    ¡°I am not trying to hurt myself.¡± He repeated softly to himself but in the privacy of his thoughts, he could be more honest. I¡¯m willing to hurt myself when I need to. But that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s courage. That¡¯s conviction. That¡¯s what the Ardent want from me.


    That last thought left him stewing in his own thoughts. He had completely given up all his autonomy when he joined the Heralds back on Croesia, and now he was doing the same thing again. Letting his body and his mind be used by whoever was in charge without any care for the damage it was going to do him. Why?


    He wasn¡¯t stupid. He could recognize that no small part of the Ardent training was conditioning, trying to shape their minds into the perfect little soldiers to go out and fight the threats that a regular military couldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t oblivious to his own past either, when he had been offered a chance at becoming part of something bigger than himself before, he had charged ahead completely blindly, giving up everything to become the Herald¡¯s chosen one. And now, with his Affinity and his drive and his talent, he was trying to become the Ardent¡¯s chosen one too. The most favorite son of a parent that considered him nothing more than a game-piece.


    There was a black hole inside of him that had nothing to do with the pull of gravity and everything to do with loss. He couldn¡¯t even remember his parents, and each time that he thought he might find somewhere new to belong, it had been snatched away from him. His whole world had died, because he had been so eager to please. So desperate to do whatever it took to be important. Too important to throw away.


    When the medic came back, Sylvas stopped her in her movements with a loose grip on her wrist. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She stared at him blankly. ¡°You¡¯re sorry?¡±


    ¡°That I didn¡¯t learn your name. That I didn¡¯t listen to what you were saying.¡±


    The stare had gone from blank to looking like a valiant attempt was being made to bore a hole in his head by the power of a glare alone. ¡°And this is when you promise to never darken my door again?¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth to make that promise, but caught himself in time. ¡°I¡¯ll be back here. Probably a lot more than either of us want me to be. I¡¯ve got an affinity so rare nobody really understands it, I¡¯ve got embodiments that use that affinity in ways nobody understands either. I¡¯m going to end up hurting myself sometimes, not because I want to, or because I¡¯m not being careful, but because it¡¯s¡­ inevitable.¡±


    Settling onto a chair by the side of his cot, she waved at him to continue. ¡°And here come the excuses.¡±


    ¡°No excuses. You were right, I¡¯ve been reckless.¡± It pained Sylvas to admit to anything of the sort, but until he had worked out exactly what fault in his personality drove him to such excesses, he had to play nicely. ¡°With my safety. With¡­ everything. You¡¯ve given me a lot to think about.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t buying anything that he was selling. ¡°So, I¡¯ll just cancel the psychological evaluation now you¡¯ve had a whole five minutes of introspection, shall I?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer that.¡± He answered with blunt honesty. There was no point in beating around the bush.


    ¡°Of course you would. And that¡¯s what this little speech was all about, right? Getting out of it so you can go back to doing whatever you feel like?¡±


    This took more effort than Sylvas would have liked to admit to squeeze out, but after a few deep breaths, he pressed on. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d just like a bit of time to think about all of this without anyone else trying to climb into my head beside me. If you think that I¡¯d be better off talking to somebody about this right away, then¡­ that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. But I¡¯d like some more time to think.¡±


    The medic opened and shut her mouth again. Then again. Only speaking the third time when she seemed to have made up her mind. Even if she did look particularly angry at what that mind had settled on. ¡°The first hint, the first suggestion of you putting yourself in harm¡¯s way, and I¡¯ll be writing all of this up. Do you understand me?¡±


    Relief flooded through him. It was bad enough that she knew there was something wrong with him. He didn¡¯t need everyone all the way up the ranks learning about it too. ¡°I understand. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not kidding, at the first whiff of self-destruction, you get your ass back down here and I pull you off duty. No arguments. No questions.¡±


    He managed a smile. ¡°Yes boss.¡±


    ¡°I am not your boss, I am the only person on this entire planet who doesn¡¯t think your life is an asset to be spent.¡± She pinched at the bridge of her nose as she motioned with one hand towards the door. ¡°Please do not embarrass me by making this a mistake.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Sylvas stated as he nodded back at her. ¡°I promise.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 6

    ¡°Pain is one of life¡¯s great educational tools.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Sylvas was shunted out of the infirmary shortly after that, even though he still felt as if his bones were only half-healed. He ached all over, as was typical of any day on Strife, but there was a level of exhaustion that he hadn¡¯t known before after the medic¡¯s speech about his¡­ habits.


    Bael and Kaya were just coming out of the mess hall as he arrived, both trying to act as though they weren¡¯t walking together. It was enough to make Sylvas suspect a burgeoning romance, if they didn¡¯t spend so much of their time together deliberately ignoring that the other existed. ¡°Hey¡­¡±


    After a live combat exercise there was always some tension, some unsureness over whether feelings were hurt and the results would provoke animosity, but Sylvas shouldn¡¯t have worried. ¡°You absolute madman. You crazy culgh. I cannot believe you did that.¡±


    ¡°She could, actually.¡± Bael corrected. ¡°She placed a bet on the fact that you¡¯d go out in a blaze of glory rather than allow anyone to defeat you. It was her argument against the plan to bring down the tower.¡±


    ¡°What can I say?¡± She cackled. ¡°I know my boy.¡±


    ¡°Forget that, how did you bring the tower down?¡± Sylvas pressed past Kaya¡¯s usual ego inflation to Bael¡¯s more useful analysis.


    ¡°A simple counterspell, but one that required some degree of preparation.¡±


    ¡°Some degree of¡­ I saw him doing the math in the sand, and I couldn¡¯t even understand what half the numbers he was scribbling were, let alone how he got them to add up.¡± Kaya guffawed.


    ¡°Surpassing the boundaries of your intellectual prowess isn¡¯t exactly an overnight trip, my dear.¡±


    She smiled at him politely, ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°I said¡­¡±


    Kaya cut him off. ¡°You want me to headbutt you right in the shriveled little elf raisins?¡±


    ¡°By no interpretation of my words could one come to the conclusion that¡­¡±


    She rolled her head on her shoulders to loosen up. ¡°Alright, one nutcracker coming up.¡±


    Bael scampered back with his hands upraised, trying to cross his legs while still standing. ¡°No need for all that, I apologize.¡±


    She grinned. ¡°Aye, that¡¯s right you do.¡±


    ¡°The counterspell could be incredibly helpful in future exercises. Is there any way to accelerate the process? What if we can sublimate the creation of the circle into a separate spell, and then¡­¡± The three of them fell into a mixture of technical jargon and their usual banter as they headed towards the tower that housed them. If Kaya felt like the conversation was getting too technical for her, it never seemed to show on her expression, though she did definitely offer up fewer opinions that the other two had to share.


    ¡°¡­ establishment of the circle is essential, but as are several other factors that need to be taken into account. For instance¡­¡± Bael trailed off as they entered the main living area of the Blackhall tower and the glowing illusory list of their standings in the day¡¯s exercise came into sight.


    Sylvas approached it with as calm an expression as he could have hoped to muster, assuming that he¡¯d be right on top of the roster as usual, followed by Bael and Kaya, who had come in second in the whole exercise, taken out only at the last minute.


    There were Bael and Kaya, sharing the top slot. A little unexpected, but he supposed that they had to be graded on some sort of curve depending upon their individual power, and he hadn¡¯t really demonstrated anything all that spectacular, given his newfound power and affinity.


    He wasn¡¯t in second place either. That was another naval track mage from Kaya¡¯s team. He had to search all the way down the list for his own name, hovering close to the bottom in amongst all the nobodies who had been picked off with casual ease. ¡°This can¡¯t be right.¡±


    Kaya and Bael were both looking with rapt fascination in any direction other than at him. ¡°But, I won?¡±


    With a spike of concentrated mana and gravity, he punched through to Cold Storage, reached in, and plucked out his own slate, somewhat the worse for wear. Cold Storage snapped shut behind his hand and he flicked through the slate until he found the assessment report.


    Vaelith¡¯s dry writing crackled into place on the screen. ¡°As the team containing a gravity mage, there should have been an expectation of receiving particular attention from the rival teams, and a failure to comprehend this and prepare a suitable strategy for the opening moments of the day resulted in the majority of the squad under Vail¡¯s command being wiped out in the early stages of the exercise, leaving only a single straggler behind. While this straggler of the team was able to secure victory, it was in spite of Vail¡¯s leadership rather than because of it. Given the difficulty of fighting against an unfamiliar and uncommon affinity, all other candidates scores have been adjusted accordingly.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯ve been given a handicap?¡±


    Bael wasn¡¯t smiling as such. Actual expressions very rarely showed on his face, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. ¡°Ah. The burden of excellence is the assumption that it shall continue unabated.¡±


    ¡°Excellence? I was excellent! I took out¡­¡± He trailed off, realizing that most of the people he took out were gathered around the room with rather stern expressions on their faces. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair.¡±


    ¡°Whoever told you life would be fair was having a laugh with you, stanzbuhr.¡± Kaya grumbled, trying to move him along towards their rooms.


    But it was more than unfair. Ranking him last, among the students who hadn¡¯t even fought, when he¡¯d essentially dominated the entire battlefield by himself was¡­ it was cruel. Like the Instructors had seen him happy for the first time and decided to cut him down to size. He had been challenged before. He¡¯d suffered. But it had always felt like it was a step on the path towards progress. Pulling the rug out from under him like this was something else entirely.


    The medic had been right. She¡¯d been right. He kept throwing his life on the line for the Ardent, for these stupid little tests, all to prove that he was the best that there was. That he was worth keeping around. That they shouldn¡¯t send him back. To the other Croesians on whatever backwater they¡¯d been abandoned on with their massive debts, to the orphanage where he was loathed.


    There is no going back.


    Setting his jaw, he broke away from Kaya and Bael, pushing past the other naval track students and up the spiral of stairs to head for his chambers.


    They couldn¡¯t send him away because there was nowhere to send him to. Croesia was a husk. The orphanage had fallen in the sea if it hadn¡¯t been razed. Wherever the other people that had survived his involuntary manslaughter of their planet had gone, the Ardent weren¡¯t going to send him back there. They couldn¡¯t. Not now. Not with how important he had become the moment that he found out about his gravity affinity.


    If the Ardent didn¡¯t want him, he had almost a hundred letters from people who did. Kings and Queens of whole solar systems, galaxy spanning conglomerates, even the Obsidian Dominion had sent through a polite invitation to interview with them, though it had been heavily censored by the Empyrean and the Ardent before it came to him, to the point that it was more or less indecipherable. The fact was, they could not afford to lose him. Not when all these other factions were vying for him.


    I can stop.


    Sylvas slammed the door shut behind him. As if afraid that the thought might echo down the halls. He could stop. He wouldn¡¯t, of course, he still wanted more than this plateau that he¡¯d managed to clamber onto, but the breakneck sprint ignoring all of the damage that he was doing to himself didn¡¯t have to go on the way that it had. Pain was one thing, but this was another. This self-destructive drive; for a moment he couldn¡¯t even think of where it might have come from, then he remembered his guilt. His complicity in the death of his world. Without him, they could not have called on the Eidolon. Without his actions, Mira would be sitting next to him, making sarcastic comments and belittling his every decision in that affectionate way she did. He wondered what she would have to say about him shattering every bone is his body to win at some training exercise, and then losing all the same. She¡¯d probably call it an object lesson. If he hadn¡¯t killed her.


    With a heavy exhalation, he sank down with his back still against the door. Grief pressed against the walls that he¡¯d built in his mind like an inescapable tide. The walls would hold, the walls were solid. He didn¡¯t need to worry about them. Clearmind kept it all at bay. It had been keeping it all at bay every time that these feelings had reared their ugly head.


    It was hard to remember an hour passing where he hadn¡¯t slipped into Clearmind to be rid of these thoughts. The guilt, the shame, the pain. All of it so easy to discard when there was work to do, mountains to climb, achievements to be made. Ever since his arrival on Strife there had always been an excuse to keep pushing forward, to keep himself focused on the prize. Hammerheart had been ideal, an existential threat driving Sylvas on towards advancement. If the dwarf hadn¡¯t already existed, the Ardent probably would have manufactured one to serve the same purpose.


    Drawing his knees up to his chest, Sylvas tried to breathe, slowly and steadily, like he was in meditation. Like he was trying to draw more mana inside him, despite being full. His Paradigms were both locked in place, both locked together, the interlocking points of the two circles rotating oh so slowly against one another. His mind kept clear by one and filled with potential distractions by the other. He never had to think about anything he didn¡¯t want to for the rest of his life. The weight of the water on the other side of the walls of the dam never had to find its way through.


    ¡°Everyone on Croesia. Everyone that I ever knew, is dead.¡± Sylvas said it slowly and aloud. ¡°I am responsible¡­¡±


    He had been manipulated and groomed since he was a child to fulfill his role in the ritual. He had been tricked and pushed beyond his limits by people who saw him as nothing more than a tool. He was free of them now. He had killed them all, and now he was free in a vast empty universe where he could go anywhere and do anything, and he had chosen to go on being a tool. He had chosen to keep on hurting himself, trying to become more powerful, trying to prove to everyone that he was the best, even though nobody had been asking him too.


    Hurting myself isn¡¯t going to bring them back.


    There was no price of blood so steep that he wouldn¡¯t pay it if it would have brought Croesia back. There was no price he wouldn¡¯t pay to get Mira back. But there was no price that he could pay. Killing himself wasn¡¯t going to bring them back. Being the best wasn¡¯t going to bring them back. Nothing was going to undo what he had done.


    Sylvas slammed the walls of Clearmind up against the wave of despair threatening to consume him. The roiling chaos of his thoughts went still. Pure logic prevailed.


    I don¡¯t have to do this. I don¡¯t have to suffer. I can choose to keep this buried. I can choose to protect myself.


    But he also had the choice to stop; to stop pushing himself to the limits, to stop hurting himself to prove that he was worthy of respect, to stop killing himself piece by piece so that he could get another little gold star on his report card.


    I¡¯m done.

 Volume 2: Chapter 7

    ¡°Embodiment and Paradigm are both archetypal and non-specific, a broad variety of esoteric techniques from across myriad traditions folded together under the umbrella of their specific effects. Even assuming that an embodiment from one galactic arm and another from a separate one, developed entirely independently of one another that happen to share an effect did, somehow also share a standardized result, you are then confronted with the variance of the individual. Their understanding of the technique. Their history and psychology when it comes to paradigms. Their own unique biology, when it comes to embodiments. And that is all before the various selected Embodiments and Paradigms begin interacting with each other, not to mention the further complications exacerbated by the variances created by affinities. For the purposes of categorization, the current framework is unmatched. In terms of its practical applicability to individual mages in development, the current framework is scarcely better than useless.¡±


    ¡ªThe Body of Work, Lerman Vilmander


    Sylvas found himself dividing time up in two parts. Before Hammerheart left, and after. It was now a week post-Hammerheart. A week of slowly returning to routine after the chaos of the Cull. A week of standard classes meant to shape him into a naval mage that would make the Ardent proud, and combat simulations against Vaelith¡¯s conjured constructs and the other students, the same as usual.


    If Sylvas had been quieter than usual, Kaya and his other friends mostly declined to comment. If he had been pushing himself less in the training exercises and relying on others to pick up the slack, then it had not yet become enough of an issue for any of the instructors to call him out on it. When the combat tests were against constructs, he came out on top time and time again despite his lack of any directed attack spells. When they were against the other recruits he ended up hitting the middle of the pack at best. No matter what happened, he was the target, and no matter how fast he responded or how clever he was, there was no overcoming the weight of numbers.


    It came down to mana, fundamentally. Multiple casters arrayed against him, all working together, Sylvas could think of ways around. He could funnel them into choke points or turn the battlefield to his advantage in other ways, but his spells all cost far too much and he was out of mana before he was out of opponents every time. It was the most basic arithmetic of magic, and he couldn¡¯t make it come out in his favor, no matter how many chances he had to try again.


    ¡°Is it just me, or are you getting worse?¡± Kaya had joked with him, not knowing that she was twisting the knife. Or perhaps knowing and hoping that the pain might spur him on to fix whatever was broken. He¡¯d just shrugged his shoulders and gone back to reading.


    A way forward will present itself.


    Sylvas had also been maintaining his Clearmind very carefully since he had his epiphany about what might have been driving him to cause himself harm. Keeping any intrusive thoughts about his home world and anyone he might have loved there far from his conscious mind.


    For perhaps the first time since he¡¯d joined the Ardent, Sylvas felt secure. Until now he had been teetering on the edge of a cliff, always just one misstep away from annihilation, but as he fell into the routine of regular classes and exercises things began to feel almost normal. So it was almost inevitable that when he checked his class schedule for the next week after Bael had muttered something about a guest lecturer, that every single class and exercise from his regularly scheduled routine was absent. Replaced with two words. Individual Improvement.


    It seemed to be a little vague a title for an actual course being conducted by the Ardent, but then again so had the Cull. Perhaps it was just another of these little in-jokes that the staff and students of Strife shared. He stopped Bael on their way to class to ask him about it. The response was explosive compared to the elf¡¯s usual unflinching devotion to keeping his emotions in check. ¡°No. No it can¡¯t be. Not again. Not already?!¡±


    Snatching his slate out, Bael began digging through until he found his own schedule, then let out a wail like an owl striking, or perhaps a cat being trod on. Vel was not walking with them, but she was walking nearby enough to be taken aback by the sudden noise. Sylvas wondered if she had some Embodiment relating to sound that made her more susceptible to Bael¡¯s wails. Scowling at the two of them she demanded, ¡°What?¡±


    Without a second thought as to who he was dealing with, the elf turned his slate around to show her.


    If Sylvas had thought that Bael¡¯s reaction was a little overwrought, the screamed curse word that the fiend Vel let out that shook every piece of glass in her blast radius seemed ever more dramatic. He tripped on the steps as he tried to clap hands over his ears.


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    Kaya came running up the stairs, thinking that they were under attack, only to see every senior member of the naval track program throwing a fit as she rounded the bend. She looked to Sylvas for answers, and he just shrugged. She caught onto Bortan¡¯s sleeve and stopped the human as he did his best impression of a man who¡¯d just learned he was headed to the gallows in the morning. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you?¡±


    ¡°Hell week!¡± He groaned.


    ¡°Hell week.¡± Kaya repeated back to him.


    ¡°Hell week?!¡± Came a cry from behind them as the last stragglers on the stairs caught up to the conversation.


    The wailing continued all the way to class, at which point Sylvas finally managed to isolate Bael from the surrounding melodramatics and get a straight answer out of him. ¡°What is hell week?¡±


    With a clearing of his throat, Instructor Hagen drew their attention to the front of the lecture hall. He was an older man, severe looking as well as wrinkled. Beside him hung a complex three dimensional illusion, showing the flight path of an Ardent ship, and the manner in which various gravitational anomalies would effect its velocity and heading. Sighing, he waved a hand and it rippled away. ¡°For those of you unfamiliar with the practice, Hell Week is next week. It is a period of intensive personal improvement at the expense of your regular classes. What it is not, however, is today, so please be seated and silent as I instruct you in the most basic of interplanetary navigation.¡±


    Just a few days ago, the prospect of a whole week focusing solely on improving himself rather than having to consider the various other aspects of life in the Ardent would have had Sylvas bouncing up and down with delight, but things had changed now. The frantic rush for advancement and personal power no longer seemed so vital. He had personal power enough to secure a place in the Ardent now, even if he never forged another circle for the rest of his life.


    As for the reason for the name, it wasn¡¯t hard for him to parse. Most students did not have the same drive that he used to have, to be the best version of themselves that they could be. For them, being dragged kicking and screaming towards improvement was probably arduous. Particularly if they¡¯d spent their lives leisurely acquiring their current progression without ever having to endure the intensity of forced advancement.


    Hagan had fallen into his usual monotone drawl, explaining the way that a ship could use gravity wells to accelerate and decelerate as it progressed through a system, and how such things could be used to avoid enemy casters getting an effective calculation to land their spells.


    Kaya meanwhile, seemed a little more focused on their impending doom. ¡°Hell week?!¡±


    ¡°We shall see what it is when it arrives.¡± He replied with a shrug, never taking his eyes off Hagan. Even if he couldn¡¯t hear what the instructor was saying over Kaya¡¯s hissed whispers to play it back later, he could always piece it together by lip-reading.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be hell? It is in the name. Come on Stanzbuhr. You¡¯re telling me you just¡­ don¡¯t care?¡±


    He laid a hand on hers atop the table. ¡°I care a great deal, but I can¡¯t do anything about it right now.¡±


    She rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the Instructor as if she were listening to a word he said. They had three more days of classes to get through before Hell Week kicked off. Sylvas would be sure to gather all the intelligence possible from the veterans of the last cycle¡¯s Hell Week long before then.


    No sooner was class over than his intelligence gathering could begin. ¡°It was a nightmare.¡± Bael had regained his composure somewhat since he¡¯d first heard the dreaded words Hell Week, but there was still a nervous energy to him that made Sylvas uncomfortable. ¡°The most unpleasant seven days of all my time on Strife, and I am including the period in which I was beholden to a pint-sized psychopath in that judgement, so you can take it to mean it was markedly worse than whatever personal interpretation you may be making.¡±


    Sylvas had fallen into the habit of just staying quiet around Bael when he wanted more information, since the elf was polite enough to try and fill any silence.


    ¡°First you have to endure the indignity of the most prying and invasive scrying procedure of your life as they attempt to ascertain your areas of strength and weakness, then comes the Plan.¡±


    Sylvas simply nodded, silencing Kaya with a glance. They just had to let him speak, no matter how desperate Kaya may have gotten to start demanding answers.


    ¡°Each individual student is given a specific improvement plan to optimize their progression. Primarily this period seems to be used to push those on the verge of the next circle over the edge into their next level of advancement, but for those like yourselves, so recently come into a new circle and only just stabilized, matters are considerably more nebulous.¡±


    Kaya couldn¡¯t seem to restrain herself any longer. ¡°Is it going to be like Vilmander¡¯s self-improvement spells?¡±


    ¡°Worse, oh so much worse. Every aspect of your life will come under scrutiny. Every facet of your affinity, embodiments, paradigms, spell list, it all becomes fair game for these people, and they do everything that they can to¡­ optimize you.¡±


    ¡°That hardly sounds like the most terrible fate.¡± Sylvas murmured, more to prod Bael on to his next round of histrionics than because he actually believed it for a second.


    ¡°From the moment that your eyes open to the moment that they close, you belong to the Ardent in Hell Week, there is no rest, no relaxation, even your meals are timed and modified for efficiency.¡± He groaned.


    Kaya looked between the two men with some degree of amusement. ¡°So we all have to behave like Sigil for a week?¡±


    Bael¡¯s laugh still had a hysterical edge to it, but the comparison to Sylvas previous behavior wasn¡¯t hard to make. ¡°Indeed, a week of self-sacrifice and pain, Mr Vail here will feel right at home.¡±


    Sylvas forced himself to smile, but the idea that his everyday life since he was barely old enough to read had been everyone else¡¯s idea of hell stuck with him.


    Maybe I have been over doing it a little bit, he considered thoughtfully, wondering exactly what it meant for his overall wellbeing.


    Either way, he was about to find out.

 Volume 2: Chapter 8

    ¡°What a mage is, and what a mage can become very rarely bear much resemblance to one another. All of us began as nothing. All of us end at the upper limit of our capability. What shapes us is not nature. By our very nature, we are unnatural. Who we become is shaped by how we are taught, where we place focus, and what we choose to neglect.¡±


    ¡ª Progression Fantasies: Why You are Investing in the Wrong Embodiment, Curgal Groenen


    On the first day of Individual Improvement, Sylvas rose from his bed, deliberately went through his usual ablutions, then checked his slate for an update on where he was actually meant to be going and found nothing. He was nonplussed for a moment. Every moment of his day was usually occupied and scheduled, and he felt oddly adrift without knowing where he was meant to be and when. A white shield sprang into existence beside him, and he let out a little breath of relief.


    ¡°Report to Outbuilding Seven.¡± It was a succinct message with no room for interpretation, and he had no clue who had sent him it. The voice speaking into his mind was aggressively neutral, like it didn¡¯t belong to a person at all, just something that knew what people sounded like.


    The other recruits were all setting off for one classroom or another, some of them clustering into little groups, like Ironeyes and Kaya, and others setting off individually. Outside the Blackhall, there were more fully fledged Ardent around than Sylvas had seen since arriving on the planet. A quick glance around showed no familiar faces from the battle of Croesia, but the sudden presence of so many of them made him feel oddly nervous. As if something serious was finally happening, and the war against the relentless tides of Eidolons was finally at his doorstep once again, instead of being some distant dream.


    He moved through them cautiously, aware of their power now in a way he hadn¡¯t been when he first encountered them. He didn¡¯t cast any scrying spells, in case it was taken as rude, but just from their presence in the floes of mana, he could tell that they were circles ahead of him and the other students. Most of them radiating power the way that only a few of the Instructors did. It was also his first time encountering other people with access to Cold Storage in any sort of decent numbers, and the sudden pull on his gravity sense of each individual¡¯s self-contained pocket plane of existence distorted everything. He had to filter it out so he could focus on jogging briskly across to the outbuildings, pretending all the while that he couldn¡¯t feel the weight of these strangers eyes on him as surely as he could have felt the weight of the things that they had stowed away in Cold Storage.


    The outbuildings surrounding the central temple and tower that made up the campus were all in varying states of decay, with some having had whole sections replaced with the clean sharp metal of Ardent construction and others patched as little as possible to maintain the original architecture. Outbuilding Seven was actually one of the latter ones, which typically meant that it was one of the more disused of the lot. There wasn¡¯t even one of the fancy white airlock-looking doors that the Ardent had fitted everywhere else, the door was made of wood, Sylvas chuckled as he touched it. It had been so long since he¡¯d seen anything so normal.


    What awaited him inside was anything but normal.


    Instructors Vaelith and Fahred were standing beside a disused fireplace looking extremely unhappy to be in each other¡¯s company, Instructor Vilmander was standing perfectly stock still in the middle of the room, staring at the doorway and awaiting Sylvas arrival with barely concealed contempt. The most incongruous of them all was Quartermaster Chul, who was sitting on a pile of rubble that had probably once been an internal wall and attempting to dig something out of her ear with a pinkie finger. By mass, Chul was the most impressive person in the room, but Fahred¡¯s incredible arcane power washed that away as soon as Sylvas got close enough to feel it. All eyes were on him, and he found himself oddly taken aback. He knew that he was going to be on the receiving end of some special attention as a result of his affinity, but he hadn¡¯t expected half the staff of the campus to be here.


    Fahred offered something like a smile, ¡°Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.¡±


    Vaelith scowled at her counterpart but gave Sylvas an encouraging nod. Chul didn¡¯t even seem to notice that Sylvas had come into the room and Vilmander¡­ there was an intensity to Vilmander¡¯s interest that bordered on the uncomfortable. ¡°You have presented something of a puzzle to me, Recruit.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure if he was apologizing or simply confused, but Vilmander pressed on all the same, his golden eyes blazing all the while.


    ¡°The gyrokinetic effect that you manifest is potent, but self-destructive. Presumably a result of the inherent fragility inflicted on you through your first circle embodiment, coupled with its forced direction of mana through your system¡­¡±


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    ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves.¡± Vaelith cut him off.


    Vilmander rolled his eyes, ¡°Yes, of course, procedure.¡±


    The elf took center stage, ¡°Alright Vail, it works like this. We scry you at the start, we scry you at the end. In between, we do everything we can to improve you. Everything gets recorded. Everything is quantified.¡±


    Sylvas glanced around at them all then held up his arms. ¡°Scry away.¡±


    Fahred was obviously itching for something to do and leapt forward to cast the scrying spell immediately, a somewhat tweaked version of the spell that displayed its results to everyone present, Sylvas included.


    Name: Sylvas Vail


    Species: Human


    Health: 92%


    Mana: 100%


    First Circle Embodiment: Arterium Arcanum


    First Circle Paradigm: Clearmind


    Second Circle Embodiment: Arcane Bulwark


    Second Circle Paradigm: Lockmind


    Third Circle Embodiment: Tidal Shift


    Third Circle Paradigm: Waveform


    Affinity: Gravity


    Strength: F1 ¨C B20


    Resilience: F2 ¨C A1


    Speed: F1


    Potency: E7


    Focus: E12


    Regeneration: E14


    There was a momentary pause as they all looked at the results with confusion. Vaelith cast something brief and flaring and the details were copied onto her slate. ¡°I was under the impression that you were capable of a simple scrying, Fahred.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t blame the painter if the model is ugly.¡± Was all that Fahred managed to get out before Vaelith¡¯s scrying spell was completed and produced identical puzzling results.


    Strength: F1 ¨C B20


    Resilience: F2 ¨C A1


    Fahred stared at the numbers. ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    Vilmander, alone among them, didn¡¯t seem at all surprised. ¡°Tidal Shift allows our subject to adjust his density and weight through gyrokinetic manipulation. Hence the fields of variance in his physical measurements.¡±


    Vaelith¡¯s brows, the only hair on her head, drew down into a scowl. ¡°But why are they different?¡±


    ¡°Raise the floor, raise the roof.¡± Chul grumbled from where she was still sitting.


    Fahred snapped his fingers. ¡°Scrying provides us with the maximum potential output, so if you had an A1 strength, it would simply report that, not that you were capable of exerting F through B. So¡­¡± He conjured Sylvas¡¯ last scry from before he ascended to his third circle into the air as an illusion and pointed to the resilience there too. ¡°It¡¯s native state is higher than the strength. So the more developed any one category is, the higher the enhanced version will be.¡±


    ¡°Higher floor, higher roof.¡± Chul repeated.


    Fahred forced a smile. ¡°Quite.¡±


    Vilmander was staring at Sylvas quite intently now, studying him. ¡°The self-destructive properties of the Tidal Shift, have you experimented with them?¡±


    ¡°Have I experimented with shattering all of my own bones?¡± Sylvas repeated back, to clarify.


    ¡°The young, they do everything in extremes.¡± Vilmander sighed. ¡°There is a breaking point, a point of no return, after which your own embodiment does you harm, but anywhere up to that breaking point, you can go safely.¡±


    ¡°And our first job is to get you there.¡± Vaelith never smiled exactly, but sometimes there was a gleam in her eyes that looked positively demonic. Gleeful hellish flames fluttering in her stare.


    ¡°Our first job, will be to devise a strategy of improvement.¡± Vilmander stopped the elf before she could start forcing Sylvas to break his own bones again. ¡°Which is of course, why the four of us are gathered here.¡±


    Sylvas looked between the three of his Instructors before his gaze finally fell on Quartermaster Chul, who had gone back to excavating her ear. ¡°What exactly¡­¡±


    Fahred cut him off before he could ask. ¡°I will of course be focusing my instruction on the largely noncombat portions of your spellcraft, most specifically spatial magic, teleportation and the various related spells and techniques that will compose your duties in the fleet.¡±


    ¡°And I, if it wasn¡¯t clear, will be focusing on the spellcraft that will keep you alive, teaching you how to survive and the best weaponize your affinity.¡± Vaelith¡¯s proverbial hackles were raised.


    ¡°I will be turning my own focus to improvements to your Paradigm and replacing your mana cycling technique.¡±


    ¡°And my embodiment?¡±


    Everyone turned to look at Chul. ¡°You and me are going to lift some weights.¡±


    Sylvas chuckled at the joke, only to realise nobody else was smiling. ¡°Oh you¡¯re serious.¡±


    ¡°Enhancement spells aren¡¯t going to cut it.¡± Chul met his gaze.


    ¡°While it is certainly possible to increase your strength and resilience through magic, the effect tends to be multiplicative rather than additive.¡± Fahred began explaining, ¡°And given how little the enhancement spells have to work with, you will, unfortunately need to improve your body at least a little, before your new embodiment is at its most effective and least¡­ self-destructive.¡±


    ¡°In addition to your physical training, Quartemaster Chul is going to liaise with Instructor Sagran to help source you some equipment to work in harmony with your affinity.¡± Vilmander added, before Sylvas could object.


    Until now, he¡¯d been trying to puzzle through Hell Week, or Independent Improvement, or whatever they wanted to call it. Mostly, he had been trying to work out why it had come after the Cull instead of before, when they all would have most benefited from it. And increasingly, he came to suspect that it came down to resources. They were investing a significant amount of time and resources into his improvement right now. If he was just going to fail out at the next test, then all of that would have been wasted, whereas now that he¡¯d made it through the cull, at the top of his class, no less, they could justify spending all that they wanted on him.


    ¡°Where do we start?¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 9

    ¡°The Ardent differentiated themselves from the regular militias of the Alliance through many means. Their focus on arcane warfare, flexibility of deployment and purpose as a deterrent to existential threats are often cited as the most important, but their true strength lies not in their uniformity, but in their uniqueness. Each is a specialist in their own field. This may seem like a system without redundancies, or even an impossible force to muster and manage, but instead it produces the most effective of individual combatants, each one a contained military unit in themselves, capable of decision making on the ground and of performing the functions that typically require a whole chain of command in addition to being effective combatants in and of themselves.¡±


    ¡ªA People¡¯s Oral History of the Empyrean Alliance, Rosen Barvel


    The personal attention that he was receiving from the Instructors should have made the other recruits jealous, but even the most self-obsessed of his colleagues in arms were too focused on their own personal misery to give Sylvas a second thought during this particular week.


    His first day, after the instructors had hashed out all the details of his training regimen more or less entirely without his input had been spent with Quartermaster Chul. It was pretty much the first time he had spent any time with her. She was older than him and the other recruits by a few decades, but seemed to lack a lot of the maturity that marked the actual instructors, or at least she didn¡¯t put on any airs of superiority like they did. Without a rude scry, Sylvas wouldn¡¯t find out what exact circle the voluminous fiend had achieved, but her actions seemed to speak louder than words in terms of her capabilities. Every other Instructor used teleportation and Cold Storage freely, relying on kinesis to move things around when it was required. Chul never did anything the easy way.


    Much of their time together was spent pouring over a complex filing system that the Quartermaster kept stowed away in cabinets behind her desk. A system that could have been uploaded to slates without much in the way of effort, but that the fiend seemed intent on preserving in paper form. Sylvas had never encountered anyone quite like Chul, but that was more because of the limitations of his experience than any particular rarity of her personality type. Everything in outbuilding storage had its own particular place, and had its details noted in Chul¡¯s own scratchy hand, but the vast majority of what had accrued there seemed to be primarily useless. There were a great many broken artefacts, an even greater number of functional artefacts that Sylvas could see absolutely no use for, a full laundry set up in one of the other outbuildings to deal with the uniforms of the Ardent stationed on campus that contained so many individual items of clothing it boggled his mind a little. All the different sizes and cuts of the same clothes, made for all the myriad species that had passed through Strife and all of them kept clean, pressed and ready to be worn again should another of them arrive. For someone who had lived a spartan life focused solely on self-improvement and arcane knowledge, the sheer mass of material objects that filled every inch of the rickety looking shelves in the outbuildings boggled Sylvas¡¯ mind. Chul wasn¡¯t just a quartermaster, Chul was a hoarder. Yet the filing system combined with the fiend¡¯s memory proved sufficient to find anything in its proper place.


    Conversation was pretty much non-existent as they worked. Chul would offer up an index card with some potentially useful item and they¡¯d set it aside to seek out later on. Sylvas would pluck out something that he thought might help him and more often than not, it would end up filed back where it came from after a few grunts from Chul and a little tap on some note or other that Sylvas had missed. Lockmind had granted Sylvas an eidetic memory, but somehow Chul seemed to know every detail of everything in the whole campus just as readily as Sylvas would have, if given the time to read through every single index card. It was simultaneously impressive and mystifying that anyone would have bothered.


    Eventually they took a tour through the rows upon rows of shelves, Chul having to suck in her gut to squeeze through the tighter junctions and gathered all of the potential artefacts that might assist Sylvas in one place.


    The rarity of his Gravity Affinity was a double-edged sword. Of all the items gathered here on Strife in Chul¡¯s vast collection, there were only a handful that were even tangentially related to the magic that he now wielded. But every one of them was laid out on Chul¡¯s desk by the time that they were done. Still, the fiend didn¡¯t come to a halt. Sylvas had half expected the woman to be tired from the minor exertions of exploring her hoard, but despite her impressive size, she trudged on like a juggernaut, pausing only long enough at each shelf to extract what they wanted before rambling on. The vast laundry in one of the more worn-down outbuildings turned out to be their next destination, giving Sylvas a glimpse behind the curtain at the grunt work that was required to keep a place like this running. Back on Croesia, a training camp like this would have needed a full compliment of servants to keep it running. Even the secret tower where he¡¯d undergone his training had a small village worth of common folk running around to keep everyone fed and dressed, but here it seemed most of the work fell to Chul alone.


    That work must have included repairs to damaged uniforms, judging by the heap of them by the sewing machines that Chul had set up and enchanted to repair rips. Sylvas winced at the memory of how many uniforms he had inadvertently destroyed during his time on Strife, and fully expected to be dressed down by the Quartermaster in much the same way that the medic had told him off, but instead, she bypassed that particular set of machinery to get to an unenchanted stitcher set up to one side. Draped across it was a new uniform jacket in the white and black of the Naval track. Chul scooped it up in one sausage-fingered hand and tossed it to Sylvas with a smug grin that showed her pointed needle teeth.


    He was, of course, already wearing his uniform jacket, but he took this one and unfolded it all the same. There were the usual minor enchantments woven into it to protect him from harm, nothing as elaborate as the Crest, obviously, but little things to stop every scrap of shrapnel tearing through it or any flames he strolled through from burning it. Apart from that its only real distinction was that it was lighter. Lighter by one arm.


    ¡°You made this just for me?¡± Sylvas tried to keep the twinge of amusement out of his voice.


    Chul shrugged, which was a bit like a tectonic plate moving. But said nothing until Sylvas had dressed himself again, snatching his old jacket and tossing it onto the laundry pile before they moved on.


    It felt strange to have his arm exposed, not just because he could suddenly feel the moisture in the air of the laundry on his skin, or the coolness of the night air when they meandered between the outbuildings, but because for the first time since departing Croesia, he was letting the full extent of his scars show.


    Anyone could see them. Anyone walking by could see the sigils carved into his flesh by his failure to save his world. The moment of his greatest shame and defeat, visible for all the world to see. Clearmind held the shame back. But even thinking clearly, he had to acknowledge that having the scars on display was going to prompt more questions that he didn¡¯t have answers to. Despite all the times he had been through magical healing, nothing had made a dent in the scars, if anything, they seemed to be worse than when he¡¯d left home. Not fading like all the others, but deepening, darkening, until they almost looked like a tattoo on his skin.


    Chul poked him in the bare skin of his arm and he jolted back to awareness. They were back in the storage shed, at the Quartermaster¡¯s desk, and they were ready to begin vetting the selection.


    The first, and most promising item on the list looked pretty unassuming at a first glance. Entirely out of place amidst all the futuristic technology of the Ardent. A simple leather pouch that Sylvas could wear at his waist. ¡°This seems a little pointless when I have Cold Storage at my disposal.¡±


    Chul grunted in disdain, then strummed her thick fingers across the stitching on the pouch. There was no sound, but Sylvas could feel each pluck of the threads like the twang of a harp-string with his other senses. Pressing on one particular thread Chul softly cast her own spell to access Cold Storage, and reached inside the pouch, her arm vanished a fair distance into the small bag, then came back out with a substantial looking hammer that she casually tossed aside. With her hand clear, she pressed on another thread and reached in once more. Visually there was no difference, but to Sylvas senses, what had just happened within the bag felt monumental. The pocket-dimension that was Cold Storage had just shifted. The portal formed inside the mouth of the bag had remained in place but reconnected to an entirely different plane of existence on the other side. With the demonstration complete, Chul went over to one of the big metal bins arrayed around the place, then pressed her fingers down on each line of stitching in turn while giving the bag a good shake to dislodge everything that had been stored inside it, which included several more tools, what looked like an exoskeleton piece from an Eidolon, an umbrella in desperate need of some patching and an inexplicably pristine apple, which she caught before it hit the heap of junk in the bin and returned to her desk.


    ¡°I apologize for speaking too soon, that seems like it will be exceedingly helpful to me in my new role as pack-horse for the entire Ardent corps.¡± He joked, but he was reaching for the bag with avaricious hands all the same, already thinking of all the different ways that he could use it.


    Chul wouldn¡¯t hand it over without him signing a receipt for a ¡°C-Type Bag of Holding¡± but with that done he was delighted to strap it onto his belt.


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    Next came a wand. Most of the wands that Sylvas had come across so far were delicate looking things. None of the other recruits used them, as they were typically only helpful for the young who had trouble with focusing their magic. Sylvas hadn¡¯t had that problem in a very long time. However, he could see the appeal of a wand now. If he could narrow down the area of effect of some of his gravitational distortion spells, they could become lethally effective.


    The wand Chul held out to him was anything but delicate. It was wrought iron, heavy as a rock in his hand. Solid and weighty. He looked askance to Chul, but she said nothing. Helpful as always. He pointed over to the apple on the desk with the wand and cast a simple spell of kinesis to pick it up and pull it over to him.


    Two things happened in rapid succession. The apple, which had survived untold months lost in the vacuum of a pocket dimension without harm, turned instantly to mulch, imploding in on itself with an unpleasant wet crunch. The wand, which had been constructed by twisting the wrought iron around in a spiral, unwound itself, blossoming out like the petals of a particularly clunky flower, with a shriek.


    Chul wiped some apple juice from off her cheek, and very carefully plucked the ruined wand from Sylvas fingers, grunting, ¡°Gravity¡¯s a bitch.¡±


    Sylvas probably wouldn¡¯t have put it so bluntly, but she wasn¡¯t wrong. Even earth affinity mana, considered some of the densest, wouldn¡¯t have destroyed something like that wand. He suspected that the wand had been built for metal or earth affinity mages before his own magic had destroyed it. Not that he could see Kaya wanting it.


    The next item was a pair of boots, which Sylvas sincerely hoped that he wasn¡¯t about to explode too. They were enchanted with a few easily recognizable spells that Sylvas had already managed to pick up in his classes with Instructor Sagran, self-cleaning and adjustable to any size of foot, but the fundamental enchantment escaped him. It didn¡¯t feel like anything to do with gravity magic, but presumably Chul wouldn¡¯t have presented them to him if they weren¡¯t relevant. She chimed in at the sight of his confusion. ¡°Lightfoot Boots.¡±


    Air affinity mana flowed through the soles of the shoes, removing weight from the person that wore them. With these he¡¯d be able to sprint across the shifting sands of Strife without sinking, maybe even dart over the top of bodies of water if the surface tension was high enough. More importantly, it was another way to reduce the mana cost of his flight spells. The less he weighed, the easier it would be to fly, and if he really needed to reverse their effects, he was having no trouble at all piling on more weight and gravity with his Embodiment. This was probably the first thing that they¡¯d come across that might actually be useful in a fight. Struggling to find the right words, he blurted out. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Luckily, Chul was more accustomed to this sort of transaction. She produced paperwork. He signed another receipt for ¡°Type A Lightfoot Boots.¡± They moved on.


    The next item was the largest by far. It appeared to be made entirely out of thick wires of bronze, much of it tangled when Chul first retrieved it. It was only after a fair amount of untangling that Sylvas saw the collars and cuffs meant for his wrists, ankles and throat. It looked like some sort of medieval torture device, or perhaps a full body chastity cage of some sort. Shiny and gilded but made to constrict and follow the contours of the wearer¡¯s body very tightly. Each line of wire felt like it would have bound around a single muscle on his body, and he couldn¡¯t fathom what this thing could have been for.


    ¡°Exoskeleton Reinforcement.¡± Chul informed him as he stared at it. ¡°You¡¯ve been breaking bones. This¡¯ll stop that. Mostly.¡±


    Sylvas considered how he could even get into this device, and whether it would be worth the effort. ¡°It will protect me from the extremes of my embodiment?¡±


    ¡°Until you¡¯ve built up enough muscle to take the strain.¡±


    ¡°And it won¡¯t interfere with my movement?¡±


    Chul looked sideways as he said that. Which was all the answer he needed, really.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to learn to moderate my use of my embodiment, and I suspect this would¡­ interfere.¡± He wasn¡¯t going to tell Chul that Kaya would never have let him live down wearing the exosuit, even if it was hidden under his clothes for the most part.


    The fiend just shrugged her shoulders and set it aside in a jangling heap. She turned back around with a long case in her hands, flipping up the latch, and then rolling back the lid. Inside, sitting in green felt indentations, were a row of balls.


    Sylvas looked up at her, at the jagged toothed grin, at the expectation and he chose not to say the word ¡®balls¡¯ however much it might have delighted her. He reached out tentatively towards the identical iron spheres and felt resonance with his mana. They had some aspect of gravity affinity to them. The first thing that he¡¯d come across so far that did. As he drew his hand back, the ball floated up slightly out of the case, before dropping back into place. Chul offered only one word of advice to explain them at all. ¡°Magnetism.¡±


    The weaker and more common relative of the Gravity affinity that could not enact spatial magic. No wonder it felt familiar but lacked the inherent power to stay afloat without his intervention. Reaching out to all the balls at once with his mind, Sylvas invested them all with a touch of gravity mana and let out a startled laugh as they all leapt up. He had been half expecting another wand-style explosion, but it seems that these balls, which chimed as they drifted around, were made of more solid stuff. Gradually, they moved away from the box, and began encircling him, moving first in one orbit, then drifting apart into various ones around the central core of his body.


    ¡°Bludgeons, tools, a focus for your gravity to hook onto.¡± Chul went on explaining as the little balls jingled in orbit around him. With a little effort, Sylvas could draw them closer or push them further out, the amount of mana he¡¯d invested in them was miniscule, but it felt like they¡¯d go on floating all day. He laid a hand on one and tried to pull it out of orbit, only for the ball to resist. With his new boots on, it was a simple enough thing to hold onto that floating ball and pull his feet clean off the ground. That definitely had some potential.


    ¡°Magnetic Orbitals, Elvish Origin¡± was the description on the receipt. Nothing about them seemed particularly elvish to Sylvas, beyond their inexplicable chiming, but he was sure Bael would explain them to him at great length. Divesting them of mana one by one and tucking them back into the box gave Chul more than enough time to present her next offering.


    It was a bracer made of a leather only a little darker than the Bag of Holding, inlaid with a large crystal on the outer side, right where the wrist and hand met. To the eye, it looked like nothing more than some clear quartz, but to Sylvas other senses, it sang a song of emptiness. Trying to invest it with mana the same we he had done the Orbitals had no effect, in fact, it seemed to actively repulse his mana. Perhaps it was some sort of shield.


    ¡°It¡¯s a cheat-caster.¡±


    Sylvas blinked. ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°Crystal stores unaligned mana as it passes through it, you can use it to fuel simple spells instead of your core.¡± Chul scratched the back of her head. ¡°Figured it¡¯d be handy, since gravity doesn¡¯t play nice with other affinities.¡±


    He could have kissed her. Everything that he¡¯d been learning prior to acquiring his affinity had been essentially cast aside the moment that he had gravity mana inside him instead of the chaotic mix that was called ¡®unaligned¡¯ but now they were all available to him again. Judging by the slow rate at which the crystal was accumulating mana, it wasn¡¯t going to allow for anything particularly big or complex, but just being able to do anything again after having had it snatched away filled him with relief. ¡°I cannot thank you enough for this. It will make my life¡­¡±


    ¡°Just doing my job.¡± Chul said, but he could see a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.


    Which brought them at last to the final item on the table. It was a simple circle of what appeared at a first glance to be stone, but which took on a transparency when Sylvas carefully lifted it from the table. He peered through it and could see everything on the other side with perfect clarity, but what it lacked was any sort of clarity of purpose. It was about the size of one of his eyes, he supposed, maybe it was intended to tie into his new Paradigm and make the forces of gravity visible to him, but much like he¡¯d wanted to avoid a crutch for his embodiment, he felt the same way about his paradigm. He would learn to use both of them properly in time, and until then, he would learn more by making mistakes than trying to skip past learning.


    ¡°Pick up your slate.¡± Chul grumbled.


    Sylvas did as she said absentmindedly and then startled when suddenly words appeared on the tiny circle. The text that he¡¯d been studying on his slate the night before now appeared to him in miniature on the circle. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a¡­ miniature slate.¡±


    ¡°We rig it up with some wires or something, it can sit over your eye all the time.¡± She had a broken twist of copper that looked not entirely dissimilar to the full-body nightmare she¡¯d tried to wedge him into earlier but she tossed it aside as scrap. ¡°Like a monocle.¡±


    Sylvas was accustomed to being, if not the smartest person in the room, then at least in the top ten, so he was genuinely shocked that he couldn¡¯t work out what on earth Chul was driving at. ¡°And why would we want to do that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got Lockmind.¡±


    The possibilities were suddenly endless. There was the obvious practicality of being able to look things up while not having to blind himself to his surroundings, but with Lockmind, this last little object could become the most potent tool in his arsenal. Every moment of every day, he could have a different text set to scroll past his eye. On a conscious level, he¡¯d retain none of the information, but Lockmind would stow it away in the back of his memory, ready to be retrieved at a moment¡¯s notice, no matter where he was or what he was doing.


    ¡°How did you know that¡­¡±


    Chul grinned. ¡°We track the slates, just in case. I¡¯ve seen how you use yours. Didn¡¯t get it for a while. Now I do.¡±


    ¡°Then you understand that what you¡¯re offering me is¡­¡± He was at a loss for words.


    She clapped one of her massive hands on his shoulder. ¡°Figure we¡¯ll head down to Sagran, get her to knock you together a holder, maybe talk about options?¡±


    Sylvas just nodded along with her. After everything that she had done for him today, she could have told him that they were going to jump off a bridge and he¡¯d have trotted along and performed as perfect a swan dive as he could manage if he thought it might repay her. This was amazing.


    The remainder of the first day had been spent deep in the depths of the temple complex, in the sweltering heat of Sagran¡¯s forges. Some looked to be much the same as Sylvas was familiar with from back home, but others were bizarre technological monstrosities that he was fairly certain were actually powered by some sort of miniature stars. The dwarf instructor herself had banged together the pince-nez piece to afix his new mini-slate to his nose in record time, but by the time that they¡¯d finished adjusting it, she and Chul had fallen into a rather one-sided conversation about what equipment Sylvas was lacking.


    Sagran had looked him up and down, in his half-uniform with miscellaneous heirloom items handed down from prior generations of Ardent recruits and she¡¯d huffed out a little breath that rippled the folds of wrinkles that hung about her mouth. ¡°You want a focus, right? A wand or stave¡­¡±


    ¡°Ideally.¡± Sylvas had always felt oddly nervous speaking with this particular instructor. Maybe because of her meandering which he took as a sign of senility, maybe just because heat radiated off her as if she were another one of the forges around her.


    She¡¯d shown her gums then, in what he assumed was meant to be a smile. ¡°Then you¡¯ll be making one.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 10

    ¡°By the time that an affinity for a particular type of mana has emerged, the signs have likely been there for quite some time. A fiery temper. An inclination to go with the flow. Affinities represent not only our relationship to magic, but our personalities. The core of our being is where mana is held, and it is the core of our selves that holds it. The addition of circles may seem like an artificial modification of what is our fundamental nature, but from the third circle onwards, all attempts to change course are doomed to failure. We are what we are, and the Embodiments and Paradigms aligned with out affinities merely provide more depth to that platitude. We do not seek to become the greatest mage, we seek to become the greatest version of ourselves. Refined and perfected.¡±


    ¡ªProgression Fantasies: Why You are Investing in the Wrong Embodiment, Curgal Groenen


    Day two was when things really went off the rails.


    An hour before the usual wake up call, a heavy knock sounded at the door of his chamber and Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but let out a little groan. Sleep was the only time when he couldn¡¯t maintain the walls of Clearmind and he was assaulted night by night with memories and dreams. Impossible scenarios mashed together from everything he was trying to forget. Hotlips being turned to dust at the touch of the Crimson King. Flames engulfing the orphanage as Hammerheart roared for vengeance and tiny helpless Sylvas Vail cowered beneath his bunk. Fists pumelling him, turning to claws raking at him, turning to magic bursting out through his skin, tearing him apart, every word of every spell he¡¯d ever cast glowing beneath the surface of his skin before searing through. Needless to say, he did not sleep very soundly, so having that limited amount of rest curtailed by a mystery knock was cause for quite a bit of grumbling.


    He opened the door to find Quartermaster Chul blocking out whatever daylight might have filtered in. ¡°Training time.¡±


    As it turned out, there had been absolutely no simplification in Chul¡¯s explanation of his new exercise regime. He was led out to behind the outbuildings where rubble was scattered and set to work lifting. There probably wasn¡¯t a single toppled chunk of stone that Chul couldn¡¯t have casually hoisted onto her broad and muscled back without breaking a sweat, but Sylvas himself could lift barely more than a brick in each hand before beginning to feel the strain. Calisthenics may have kept him looking trim, but it had been almost exclusively aesthetic. Within a few minutes of them starting, aches that Sylvas had thought were long cured were back and his shoulders began to burn.


    It only lasted for a brief time before no amount of willpower could overpower the screaming in his arms. It wasn¡¯t a matter of simply ignoring what his muscles were saying and pressing on, there was simply no strength left in them to lift any more. Then Chul was there, hoisting him back onto his feet, setting him on his course and taking off at a jog alongside him. Already exhausted from the hour or so of lifting rocks, Sylvas path was more serpentine than hers, but eventually he regained some sort of control over his balance and legs and he managed to catch up to the fairly gentle pace she was setting. ¡°You lift until you can¡¯t lift. Then you run until you can¡¯t run. Then the rest get you.¡±


    ¡°On the ship, when they brought us here, they made us run.¡± Sylvas panted out.


    ¡°Shame you weren¡¯t on the ship longer then.¡± Chul grinned before putting on a turn of speed. Nobody built so heavily should have been able to run at that pace for so long without even being breathless, but there she went, like a boulder rolling along beside him. And now, ahead of him.


    Letting out another groan, Sylvas picked up his own pace and chased the fiend off into the red desert.


    What he had initially taken to be fat was clearly all muscle, though how the hell she was able to propel that muscle forward at such a speed was beyond him. He had assumed that it was something to do with one of her embodiments, but the longer that they ran, the more he doubted it. She never used magic. She was still glowing to his Second Sight with as much mana as they¡¯d started out with. There was no tell-tale sign of an enhancement spell, and though he wasn¡¯t going as far as scrying her, nothing any of his senses told him could explain away her incredible fitness as anything other than incredible fitness.


    It just made him hate her more.


    Eventually, even the Air Boots that she¡¯d found for him weren¡¯t sufficient to keep him going. His feet slipped out from under him as they rounded the edge of the campus abutting the cliff-face for the third time and he hit the ground hard. Instinct got his hands up quick enough that his face didn¡¯t smash into the dirt, but combined with the pain of his earlier exercise, the jarring landing was enough to make him quit. He rolled over onto his back and panted for breath as Chul jogged casually back to his side.


    ¡°Go get your breakfast. Need to keep up your strength.¡± She was grinning again and Sylvas found that he could find no hint of anything but cruelty in it. ¡°Tomorrow will be harder.¡±


    The journey down into the complex in the cliff was torturous. As much a crawl as it was a walk. Without his embodiment making him lighter, he doubted he could have managed it at all. He slumped onto the bench opposite Luna and Ironeyes, who both looked almost as exhausted as him, though in Luna¡¯s case that was probably because she¡¯d just rolled out of bed.


    ¡°Hell week.¡± Ironeyes said solemnly.


    ¡°Hell week.¡± Sylvas and Luna agreed.


    There was better food on offer at the Blackhall itself, but to get it would require a small amount of walking, which Sylvas absolutely was not prepared to do. After devouring his slop as if it was a five star meal, Sylvas finally had enough attention to spare to take in the other two. Both were still in uniform, but he noticed some new pieces of equipment strapped onto various parts of Ironeyes. It seemed that he wasn¡¯t alone in getting Chul¡¯s upgrades, though how she¡¯d found time to torment anyone else was beyond him. As for Luna, opposite the Crest pinned to her chest, there was another broach of some sort, a circular array of colored gems glowed on it in sequence, one after the other, like a little rainbow chasing itself around. She followed his gaze to her chest, smirked as he quickly looked away, then chuckled. ¡°Accelerated affinity testing. It filters my mana intake until there¡¯s one that works.¡±


    ¡°A pity they never offered that to me, I could have avoided the damage to the testing room.¡±


    The smile on Luna¡¯s face grew cold. ¡°Think its only for folks who¡¯re really falling behind.¡±


    On that awkward note they all had to go there separate ways as white shield sendings started manifesting all around them. In Sylvas¡¯ case, two of them.


    ¡°Report to training field east.¡± There could be no mistaking Vaelith¡¯s clipped voice.


    Meanwhile, Fahred¡¯s message played alongside it. ¡°Meet me in the chamber where you began your studies into spatial magic at your earliest convenience.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure which of the orders he was meant to follow. He couldn¡¯t be in two places at once. With a sigh, he cast a pair of sendings of his own. ¡°Contradictory order from Instructor Fahred. Please clarify.¡± And the same to Fahred with Vaelith¡¯s name attached. The mess hall had already cleared out, leaving him and the beleaguered couple of staff members still lingering. They kept staring at him as he waited for his replies.


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    Both arrived more or less simultaneously. Vaelith¡¯s curt, ¡°Obey my order,¡± playing a moment ahead of, ¡°You just let me worry about Instructor Vaelith and head down here.


    Unhelpful.


    In a brief moment of inspiration, Sylvas cast another sending, this one to Instructor Vilmander. ¡°Receiving contradictory instructions, please clarify my schedule.¡±


    Another long moment ticked by, and Sylvas shuffled his way towards the door of the mess to avoid being swept up by the staff along with any of the other non-existent dirt on their floors. He could swear that the dwarf was actually prodding him out the door with the broom when he wasn¡¯t looking.


    Vilmander¡¯s missive came back. ¡°Proceed to Lecture Hall C.¡±


    For a moment, Sylvas still remained in place. Neither of the other Instructors were going to be there, and he couldn¡¯t help but feel like Vilmander was commandeering him in much the same way that they¡¯d both tried to, but after a moment of consideration, he set off for the hall all the same. Despite being a rude and disagreeable little man, Vilmander had never shown any real interest in Sylvas, regardless of his affinity or capability. If he was going to be stuck in a room with one of the three, he¡¯d prefer it was the one who wasn¡¯t going to treat him like he was some sort of chosen one. He¡¯d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.


    Sylvas arrived in the lecture hall to find a raucous argument already in full swing. Fahred looked about a moment away from sticking his tongue out at Vaelith as he said, ¡°I saw him first.¡±


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen.¡± Vilmander¡¯s dull droning voice cut through the argument by force of flatness alone. ¡°The subject of your dispute has just arrived. Might I propose that he make the decision?¡±


    The two mature adult mages spun around to look at Sylvas as he entered. Fahred quickly stepped forward, putting his back to Vaelith, which was a lot more courageous or stupid than Sylvas would have been if she¡¯d been glowering like that at him. ¡°Clearly there is no decision to be made. I¡¯ve taken this young man on as a prot¨¦g¨¦ from the moment he arrived on Strife, crafted his path of advancement, provided him with all of the reading materials he¡¯s requested¡­ clearly the best thing here is consistency, wouldn¡¯t you say? I should be the one providing you with instruction.¡±


    Vaelith¡¯s glowing green eyes narrowed as Fahred spoke. It was amazing that he made it through his whole spiel without a hole being drilled into the back of his head by her stare. ¡°You have provided him with the bare minimum of information required to advance, interfered in his freedom to choose his own path and locked his advancement potential. I need to undo the damage you¡¯ve done.¡±


    That was sufficient to catch Sylvas attention in amongst the bickering. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, locked potential?¡±


    Vaelith nodded a little too eagerly. ¡°Your circles are interlinked, you use them to manage one another. Growth requires balance. If you add another circle, it¡¯s going to be a third of what¡¯s already there and locked together, it¡¯ll spin out.¡±


    ¡°A situation that it will be no problem at all to manage with a little finesse and intelligence.¡± Fahred was quick to pipe up.


    Vaelith¡¯s stare could have bored a hole through to the core of the planet if she¡¯d glanced down instead of at Fahred. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting I lack intelligence?¡±


    ¡°So you admit that you lack the necessary finesse?¡± Unaware of how close he was to death, Fahred attempted a cheeky grin.


    ¡°Instructors.¡± Vilmander spoke with all the gravity of a mortuary attendant. ¡°Both of you are capable of assisting in this student¡¯s growth, but neither of you are going to achieve anything if you continue competing.¡±


    ¡°I assumed that both of you would be instructing me in your own areas of expertise.¡±


    ¡°Be assured that I will be doing exactly that Cadet, under my tutelage you will be able to expand your mind to encompass fields of study that wouldn¡¯t even occur to the rank and file grunts of this man¡¯s Ardent.¡± Fahred was quick to say before Vilmander¡¯s dead-eyed stare silenced him.


    The Instructor, who seemed increasingly like the only sane one in the room, then turned to Sylvas. ¡°Both Instructors are capable of assisting you through independent improvement, choose your preferred candidate.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ how am I meant to choose?¡± Offending either one of them was going to be a serious impediment to his progress on Strife and making him choose between them because they couldn¡¯t act like adults and make the decision themselves was infuriating.


    Vaelith had just been watching him levelly throughout the whole argument. Now she shrugged her shoulder. ¡°Whatever you want to do kid. No hard feelings.¡±


    ¡°Oh there will most assuredly be hard feelings on my part if you choose to abandon the course of reason and throw in with this¡­¡± He finally made eye contact with Vaelith and immediately stopped speaking.


    She cocked her shaved head to the side. ¡°This what?¡±


    ¡°Lovely young lady.¡± He answered through a carefully frozen smile.


    Once again, Sylvas reiterated. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m meant to pick one over the other. Is there a reason that they can¡¯t both teach me?¡±


    Fahred and Vaelith both opened their mouths to begin arguing again when Vilmander droned over them both. ¡°They are at cross purposes. One seeks to make you a wizard, capable of great feats. The other seeks to make you a finely honed weapon for the Ardent to wield.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be both?¡± Sylvas knew the answer to that before it was even out of his mouth. Of course he couldn¡¯t. If he wanted to be a good little soldier, it would require abandoning the freedom that an academic enjoyed. At the same time, in spite of his souring feelings about the Ardent, he still wanted to fight against the encroachment of the Eidolons and sincerely doubted that he¡¯d ever find any satisfaction in a kind of work that wasn¡¯t that. ¡°I can¡¯t be both.¡±


    ¡°I believe it is time for you to make your case, Instructors.¡± Vilmander sighed, going back to the paperwork on his slate.


    Once again, Fahred barged forward. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your life. Don¡¯t throw it away on some dusty rock, scrapping with space bugs or zombies. You have the potential to be a real wizard, to expand the bounds of the Empyrean¡¯s knowledge, to usher in a new golden age of spatial magic and become a force for real change in the galaxy.¡±


    Vaelith¡¯s pitch was a lot less egotistical. ¡°Or you stay true to your promise. You fight, you win, you save lives. Save planets.¡±


    ¡°What promise?¡± Sylvas temper prickled. He¡¯d been tricked into signing up with the Ardent, caught between a rock and a hard place with no options beyond a life of serfdom and debt or this. He felt quite certain that she knew that too. ¡°The agreement I signed with the Ardent?¡±


    ¡°Same promise I made.¡± When her voice came, it was softer than Sylvas had ever heard it. All the harshness drained out of her. ¡°The promise to your dead that you wouldn¡¯t let it happen again. Not to anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on now, don¡¯t give in to that blatant appeal to your emotions. Yes, if you go swinging magic around like a club, you¡¯ll be able to save a few people, maybe even planets like she promises.¡± His bushy brows had drawn down low over the glowing oceans of his eyes. ¡°But then you lose and you die and you end up as someone else¡¯s sad origin story while the galaxy goes on lurching from one crisis to the next because nobody is willing to take a step back and think things through. Yes, you can save lives by fighting. But think how many more you can save by eliminating the need to fight.¡±


    Sylvas opened his mouth to ask what the man was talking about, only to realize that the instructor had just been catching his breath.


    ¡°You¡¯re the first new gravity mage in decades, the only one I know of with your Paradigm, ever. With you, and some research, we could predict where Eidolon incursions are going to happen before they happen. With you and some research, we could deploy ships around the galaxy so fast that Eidolons can¡¯t ever catch up. The Empyrean is falling behind, it is becoming a second-class superpower, and if we don¡¯t do something soon, it is going to crumble. People are going to recognize that the Dominion is on the rise, and they¡¯re going to defect, and the whole universe is going to fall into ruin. Wars, plagues, whatever bloody horrible thing you can think of are going to happen if that happens, but if you can change that¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty dream.¡± Vaelith conceded. ¡°But we both know you don¡¯t get to have it.¡±


    Sylvas had been drawn to Fahred¡¯s bright and shining future where he was the savior of all the Empyrean, because anyone would have been, but just a glance at Vaelith and her scars reminded him of the world that they actually lived in.


    ¡°People like us don¡¯t get to keep our hands clean. We don¡¯t get to hide in an ivory tower. Because when the bad thing happens, we won¡¯t let it.¡± Her last words came out in a growl that made Fahred step back.


    Vilmander looked up from his notes with an exasperated air. ¡°Has a decision been reached, or do I need to involve Aurea?¡±


    Sylvas wet his lips. ¡°Both of them. I want to split the time evenly.¡±


    ¡°You can see the inherent contradiction in¡ª¡±


    Sylvas cut the man off without meaning to. ¡°And I can¡¯t decide which path to follow, so this week they can show me. They can show me what each choice really means. Where it will lead. What my future will look like.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 11

    ¡°Teleportation is one thing, but moving a whole fleet is another. Every ship needs a mage. Every ship needs etherium to power each jump. These are ongoing costs. Investments. The promise of some mythical gravity affinity mage springing up out of nowhere has held us back for too long from refining the system.¡±


    ¡ªThe Gravity of the Situation, Captain Rakarth Hammerheart


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± Fahred chuckled. ¡°Stick with me boy, and your future will be bright and beautiful.¡±


    Vaelith¡¯s shoulders relaxed now that the argument was done. She didn¡¯t make him any promises, and he appreciated that more than any amount of Fahred¡¯s rambling.


    They flipped a conjured gold coin for the first day, which Fahred won. Sylvas would have suspected that there was some sort of kinesis involved if Vaelith hadn¡¯t been watching so closely. Then she set off to do whatever it was she did when she wasn¡¯t drilling poor students and summoning battlegrounds, while Fahred took hold of Sylvas elbow and said, ¡°Hold your breath.¡±


    His gravity sense went absolutely berserk as they passed through a sudden wave of darkness, but stepping out of the other side, it quickly resolved itself back to normal. Fahred had teleported them down to the chamber where they¡¯d been studying before.


    Sylvas stomach turned over. All the gruel he¡¯d shoveled down at breakfast came rushing back up his throat and would have splattered all over Fahred¡¯s shiny boots if the man hadn¡¯t danced back just in time. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, that only happens the first dozen times or so.¡±


    Through heaving, Sylvas managed to blurt out, ¡°Warning.¡±


    ¡°Ah but if I¡¯d warned you, you wouldn¡¯t have gotten the full experience.¡± Fahred¡¯s smile was entirely too genial for the amount of vomit in the room. I wish I¡¯d picked Vaelith.


    The man launched into a lecture without a backwards glance at Sylvas panting to get his nausea under control. ¡°Now you¡¯d think that the problem with travelling greater distances with teleportation would be a higher expenditure of mana, but in fact, the issue is one of variance. Anyone with enough raw mana can bludgeon together a facsimile of your gravity mana potent enough to punch through into null-space and make the jump, but finding your way out on the other side is the biggest part of the battle. The further you travel, the more likely you are to stray, ergo the way-gate network.¡±


    Sylvas retained every word that the man said thanks to his Paradigm, but if it weren¡¯t for that, he didn¡¯t think a single word would have stuck. His head was spinning, his gravity sense had been interrupted for the first time since he¡¯d developed it, and he was having trouble feeling like he was standing on solid ground when the combination of his paradigms was trying to tell him forcefully that he should have been standing half a mile away.


    ¡°What you¡¯ve done in selecting your paradigm actually puts you miles ahead of the rest of us, as you should be able to intuitively sense the positioning of things, at least hypothetically. Everyone else has to do some fairly complex calculations just for a standard jump, which obviously get adjusted based on gravity wells interposed between us and our target which will curve our routing. Even with some familiarity between two points that you commonly travel, random changes in local gravity on the galactic scale can still skew things, not to mention that every planet is constantly in motion, every system is constantly in motion, and the spinning of galactic spirals means¡­¡± He took a momentary glance at Sylvas blank expression then switched tact. ¡°Once your paradigm has been developed into a working tool, you should be able to pop across essentially any distance as often as you like, so long as your mana reserves hold, and of course you don¡¯t need to do the expensive work of converting mana to the usable type for the spells either¡­¡±


    Sylvas had always suspected that Fahred was in love with the sound of his own voice, but as the lecture droned on, it went from a suspicion to a certainty.


    ¡°¡­The principle known as Planar Determinism means that only a single exertion of force is required, with the return from the null-space being a natural reset to your native and correct plane of existence. So while many first-time mages experience considerable anxiety about being trapped in null-space, for obvious reasons since exposure to a vacuum and absolute zero temperatures is fairly lethal, you can rest assured that your body will return to its plane of origin unless you are explicitly exerting force to keep it elsewhere.¡±


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    A piece of the puzzle slotted into place in Sylvas mind. ¡°That¡¯s why the Eidolons need to feed.¡±


    ¡°Beg pardon?¡± Fahred seemed quite put out to be interrupted mid-lecture.


    Sylvas tried to explain. ¡°They¡¯re relocated to our plane by summoning, but they have to keep on exerting force to stay here. Even though each eidolon is a closed system in terms of mana production and consumption, they seek out sources of high mana like world-souls to keep themselves topped off, otherwise they¡¯d revert to their native plane.¡±


    For a moment, Fahred seemed to be weighing his words, then his usual look of bored indifference returned. ¡°An interesting theory, but not exactly on topic for our current area of study¡­¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Sylvas cleared his throat and settled back in for more being talked at. ¡°As you were saying.¡±


    But Fahred couldn¡¯t seem to let it go yet. ¡°No, no, where did you pick up that little tidbit, the mana eating thing?¡±


    A blink drew up the relevant title from his Lockmind. ¡°Eidolon Paradise: A theoretical extrapolation on the Otherworld by Thel-Velar.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Not Greenmantle¡¯s paper?¡± Fahred wiggled his eyebrows in a perplexing manner. ¡°It is much more widely cited.¡±


    ¡°I only have the Ardent library to work from.¡±


    ¡°Remind me to subscribe you to all the academic journals in the universe, it will give you and your eidetic memory something to do as you¡¯re shipped around like an artillery piece for the rest of your life.¡± The bitterness that had crept into Fahred¡¯s voice when he¡¯d been arguing with Vaelith was back, and it made Sylvas wonder what had happened to the man to make him hate being part of the Ardent so much without giving him the push to actually leave.


    Fahred cleared his throat. ¡°Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. While it is technically possible to traverse any distance with the minimal expenditure of mana required to breach the null-space, the further that you travel within null-space, the further off-course you¡¯ll almost certainly go, which means course adjustments, which is what soaks up the vast majority of your mana-pool. The tweaks. When you¡¯re porting something big, like say, a ship, that means that for a long-distance jaunt you will require a substantial source of mana beyond your own resources, unless you happen to be blessed in two respects. Firstly with the ability to use mana with an affinity for gravity, in which case, there is lossless casting, and secondly, the ability to correctly judge the influence of the infinite complexity of weak gravity interference in the teleportation. Which, to date appears to have happened only twice throughout history. From the source of your Paradigm, and from one other gravity affinity mage who picked up the same technique a century or so later and is currently missing, presumed trapped in a black hole for all eternity.¡±


    ¡°A black hole.¡± The student stated flatly to the teacher.


    The waggling eyebrows made an unwelcome return. ¡°When I say that it is important for you to get your calculations right when making an inter-system jump without a gate, please take my words to heart. I¡¯d hate to hear about another of you stuck in a gravity well they can¡¯t crawl back out of. Though, I suppose with the time dilation of being so close to the event horizon it¡¯s entirely possible that she¡¯s already crawling out, and we just haven¡¯t seen it happen yet. Who can say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be sucked into any black holes teleporting around campus though. Am I?¡± Sylvas meant for it to be a statement rather than a question, but his nerves got the better of him.


    ¡°Not unless you ignore my instruction extremely thoroughly indeed. Or I¡¯ve fundamentally miscalculated how much more effective the correct affinity of mana will be in producing¡­ let¡¯s just keep the jaunts short for now, while you¡¯re learning.¡±


    Absolutely brimming with confidence after that little pep-talk, Sylvas began the long, boring and arduous work of calculating how to make a jump through null-space the way that everyone else did it, since only practice was liable to make it so that his paradigm would become sensitive enough to manage this part for him. After almost an hour of scribbling down numbers on his slate, pouring over star-charts and predictions about interstellar bodies in motion and no small number of irritated and increasingly impatient tuts from Fahred, he finally arrived at a teleportation solution that might take him to the other end of the room. The incantation and spell-forms were laughably simple by comparison.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to wonder if it wouldn¡¯t have been quicker to walk.¡± He quipped to Fahred, as the man fussed about laying wards and detection spells to stop him from going too far off course and appearing back inside solid stone.


    ¡°For this brief sojourn, perhaps. But what if you wished to traverse the whole campus?¡± The wizard scoffed.


    Unfortunately Sylvas had an answer for that. ¡°Pretty sure I could do that in less than an hour too.¡±


    ¡°What if you wished to be atop the cliff-face?¡±


    And that too. ¡°I can fly?¡±


    Fahred grumbled, ¡°Just cast the bloody spell, Cadet.¡±


    The actual casting of the teleportation spell would be considerably shorter for Sylvas than for other mages without all the preamble of converting mana affinities, which he hadn¡¯t even begun to study yet. As a gravity affinity mage, he could teleport almost a half a second faster than anyone else. Would wonders never cease?


    In the end, after all the calculations and angle and pressure differentials were worked out, teleportation itself was a bit of an anticlimax. He cast the spell, an aperture to null-space that was exactly the same size and shape as him appeared to swallow him up. He was consumed by howling darkness for the briefest of moment and then he was on the other side of the hall, falling to his knees to make another attempt at vomiting despite his empty stomach. Bile burned his throat, but he looked back at Fahred and managed a feral smile all the same. He¡¯d done it on his first try.


    ¡°Congratulations.¡± The Instructor clapped his hands. ¡°Now do it about a hundred more times and I¡¯ll believe you¡¯re ready to do it without the safety bars up.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 12

    ¡°The most simplistic of spells is invariably an attack. A raw expression of mana sent out from the caster towards some perceived threat. This is the least useful, and least potent application of magic.¡±


    ¡ªA Child¡¯s Book of Spells, Immaltan Vitorius


    On the third day of Hell Week, Sylvas belonged body and soul to Vaelith. He did his fitness routine with Chul, lifting rocks and running around until he was ready to throw up from exhaustion, then he cast as many reinforcement spells as he could muster to get him back to the Blackhall for a more substantial breakfast than the one he¡¯d regurgitated repeatedly the day before. After so many jaunts through null-space that his whole mana core was drained to a dribble, Sylvas had not been able to stomach any dinner.


    Kaya slumped down opposite him in the rather more refined dining hall of the Naval Track students and met his gaze. There were bags under her eyes. Sylvas didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever seen her looking less than excited to be alive before this moment, but right then and there, he suspected she would have handed back her arms and legs and laid down in some asteroid cave for a month if given the chance. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°No and no.¡± She groaned. ¡°Bad evening.¡±


    He tried to press on with polite conversation anyway. ¡°How are you enjoying your¡­¡±


    She held up a hand to stop him. ¡°Don¡¯t want to talk about it. Don¡¯t want to think about it. Got to do it all day, but these five minutes are mine.¡±


    For a long moment, neither one of them said anything, mechanically shoveling food into their mouths, then Sylvas broke. ¡°Lovely weather we¡¯re having.¡±


    Kaya almost choked on her toast trying to hold back her laughter. ¡°Are we that desperate for something to talk about?¡±


    ¡°We could discuss mushroom farming, if you¡¯d prefer?¡±


    ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll talk about it.¡± She grumbled. ¡°You daft Stanzbuhr.¡±


    ¡°How does one farm mushrooms, exactly?¡±


    ¡°I meant we could talk about hell week. Only good thing about leaving home is never having to think about those kagrackan mushrooms ever again.¡± She tossed the crust of her toast back onto her plate and skewered a sausage with what Sylvas felt was unnecessary viciousness. ¡°They¡¯ve got me run ragged, remedial classes about basic culgh, affinity spells and embodiment work. Reckon they¡¯re trying to push me to Circle Four by the end of the week. Not likely when I¡¯ve got no new paradigm to even start on yet. And affinity testing again. So bloody boring. Now I know how you felt when nothing was speaking to you.¡±


    She most assuredly did not know how he felt. The desperation not to be left behind. The desperation to get powerful enough to protect himself and everyone else. That was the one thing that Sylvas hadn¡¯t noticed in the frenetic activity of Hell Week; nobody had been trying to push him to advance, possibly for the first time in his life. He wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that either. Whether he should have been relieved, or concerned that they were happy for him to stagnate.


    Maybe they¡¯re just giving me a chance to breathe.


    Before Sylvas could recount the personal torture schedule that he¡¯d been signed up for, white shield sending spells sprang to life beside them. ¡°Ugh noooo.¡± Kaya moaned, reaching out to her one.


    Sylvas brushed his fingers against his own orders without complaint, but he certainly shared Kaya¡¯s sentiment all the same.


    Vaelith¡¯s voice was as clipped as ever. ¡°Training field east. Now.¡±


    The beleaguered recruits met each other¡¯s stare across the table, offered a half-hearted salute, then headed off to their respective training. At least during the normal day to day of life on Strife, Sylvas had his friends to distract him. It was a small comfort, but he was a man who¡¯d lived a life without any, so he was surprised at how much it hurt to have those moments snatched away.


    The elf was standing out in the open field when he arrived, a breeze making the red sand drift around her. She paid no attention to Sylvas approach, until he called out to her. ¡°Instructor.¡±


    ¡°Nice of you to join me, recruit.¡± Vaelith was usually curt to the point of rudeness, but today she seemed to be genuinely annoyed at him. Not that there was anything Sylvas could do about it.


    She turned on her heel, slamming the other foot down, and launched a spell right at him. There was no pause to cast, no moment to think. One moment they were standing, the next he was under attack. Casting a shield was impossible in the fraction of a second that he had, so Sylvas flung himself aside and the sizzling green bolt swept by, close enough to make the hairs on his bare arm stand up.


    He was casting as he went, the spell of flight took hold just as his shoulder hit the ground, then instead of rolling away his momentum, he used it, gliding along a few feet through the red before launching himself up into the air and getting himself some distance. It was lucky that he had, the next spell impacted exactly where he would have come to a halt. Sand blasted out from the point of impact, but he was already buying himself space to think.


    Vaelith was casting now. Whatever trick she¡¯d used to hold back the previous spells now spent, or her backlog of prepared spells insufficient for what she wanted to do now. A sweep of green flames erupted from her hands, chasing Sylvas up into the sky but not able to keep up with his rapid ascent. They dispersed in a wide cloud of crackling smoke long before they touched him, and for a moment, he thought he had Vaelith. Letting his flight spell die, Sylvas switched to Invert, and cast it down at her as he fell.


    Gravity reversed, slowing his descent and launching a massive updraft of sand to provide him with cover. Vaelith should have been launched up with it, perfectly visible to his gravity sense, even if his eyes and second sight were failing him. She wasn¡¯t though, she¡¯d run clear before he could offer a counter-strike, and now he was in the midst of a blinding sandstorm and she was outside, looking in and lining up her next shot. His exact position in the plume would have been obscured to her, so she¡¯d need to cast something that effected an area rather than¡­


    A construct made of green light and unabated rage burst into the column, its claws latching onto Sylvas as it dove, dragging him out of his own Inversion and back out into normal gravity, where he started falling. It was some sort of giant bird, like an eagle, and while its wings were tucked flush against its sides and it claws were sunk into his arm, it razor edged beak came down to tear at his face. Ripping strips of flesh away as he wrestled to try and get free. ¡°No. No. No.¡±


    They spun in the air, twisting, so that Sylvas ended up on top of the eagle, trying to punch it away even as they landed in the desert with a bone aching crunch. On top of the bird, the worst of the landing was passed down into it, and whatever hollow bones Vaelith had conjured into it were crushed.


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    Sylvas couldn¡¯t catch a breath, but he needed to get up, to move. If he just lay here, she was going to leave nothing of him but a scorch mark. He tried to push off the eagle and back to his feet, but without air, the strength seemed to have left his body. Plan A had failed, now for Plan B. He rolled with the eagle still entangled in his arms, and as Vaelith¡¯s next spell struck home, it struck her pet instead of Sylvas.


    The dull green of its mana-construct skeleton flared double bright for an instant before the whole thing faded away, but Sylvas remained unharmed. Mana followed the channels carved for it into reality, and the eagles and wolves that Vaelith summoned were nothing more than the blueprints for those channels infused with just enough magic to border on real.


    He couldn¡¯t stand yet, but he could move. Tossing the disintegrating remnants of the construct beast aside, he rolled out of the way before the next blast struck, beginning his own casting. He moved as he cast, spell forms trailing in fragments from his fingertips in fractals behind him. Rolling to his feet and moving ahead of the next bolt of green flame, and the next.


    There was a moment of hesitation amidst the bombardment, which Sylvas took to be a sign of the elf casting something more substantial at him. His own spell completed just as the last of the sand-cloud cleared. From Vaelith¡¯s outstretched hands, a great green serpent rose up. A hood flared around its face, and green flame poured forth from its mouth in great coughing gouts. It would have enveloped him, burnt him away to nothing, but his Gravity Shear rippled into being ahead of him long before the fire could hit home. Warping it away from him.


    Vaelith saw, and what should have been a look of frustration on her face looked concerningly like glee. She knew what I was going to do, so why didn¡¯t she exploit it? He knew the answer. This wasn¡¯t a fight. She was playing with him.


    The Ardent had been making a fool of him from the moment he was recruited. Making him run in circles. Making him throw himself into battles to prove himself. Making him push and push to be more powerful, just so that he had more power for them to use. He was tired of being a toy.


    Vaelith might have known everything that he could do at the start of the week. She might have studied every recording of him fighting prior to today, but that didn¡¯t mean that she knew everything he could do. Not by a long shot.


    The Orbitals were stowed away neatly in the pouch by his side. Not on the other side of some dimensional rift, inside the physical bag. Just a gentle push filled them with gravity affinity mana, and then he could move them as easily as thinking about them. Like they were an extension of his body. They drifted up and out of the bag as he maintained the Gravity Shear against the oncoming green flames, moving out to orbit around him, as they did whenever he wasn¡¯t actively guiding them. It had taken him both nights since he¡¯d gotten them to learn how to make them respond like this, but it had been worth sacrificing a little more sleep.


    As the blazing green torrents of flames slowed and died, Sylvas let the Gravity Shear drop too, and for the first time since they¡¯d begun this foolishness, he moved towards Vaelith instead of away. Charging right for her.


    It was obviously not what she had been expecting. Her face went blank and expectant, as if this was some entertaining trick that an animal was performing and she wanted to see how it turned out. He was not her toy. He was not the Ardent¡¯s pet. He would wipe that look off her face.


    Casting as he ran, he made no attempt to strike at her directly. If she¡¯d been able to avoid an Invert while completely blinded by the environment, he didn¡¯t have high hopes of one hitting home now. What he really needed was something direct that he could launch at her, but his spell book was barren. Every spell that was listed as using gravity affinity mana had been added to his slate, but they were almost exclusively tools for use in space, not weapons to be wielded face to face.


    Invert was a massive mana drain, reversing the direction of gravity entirely required a lot more power than just curving it slightly. Every moment that he maintained it, he lost a good chunk of his mana reserves. So when he cast it now, it wasn¡¯t ever meant to last. He stepped into the area of effect in full view of Vaelith and was flung head over heels, up into the air.


    He let the spell die almost the moment he¡¯d cast it. For one moment there was a pillar of red with him atop it and sailing through the sky, the next, he was descending on Vaelith like a meteor.


    Or rather, like a falling star-system. At the center, he descended, but all around him, the Elvish Orbitals spun in their respective orbits. With a push of will and mana, he launched the metal balls at his Instructor like buckshot. A close-range blast meant to break through her shields so that when he did land, the damage he dealt would be unblocked.


    Spinning, Vaelith summoned a pair of construct shields to her hands. Glowing and spinning circles of green that she flicked up and down as she turned to perfectly intercept every one of the little missiles that Sylvas had sent flying her way. They deflected into the sand with sad little ¡®pat¡¯ noises.


    But then he had closed the distance unimpeded. His heel was leading, and it would take her right in the jaw. He¡¯d won.


    She vanished with a pop into null-space.


    At Kaya¡¯s suggestion, Sylvas had kept his hair cropped relatively short since arriving on Strife. Hammerheart had seared a fair chunk of it off to start with, but since then he¡¯d been maintaining the length himself. Which meant that when Vaelith, who was suddenly behind him in the air, grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head, her nails scratched over his scalp.


    They hit the ground with her still riding his body down, face meeting the dirt hard. With a yank on his hair, she pried his face from the sand, and with a green spectre of a blade manifested in the other hand she hissed. ¡°Yield.¡±


    For a moment, old instincts possessed him, he tried to buck her off, gathered his strength for it, even feeling the searing cold of the razor edge against his neck, but then good sense won out. He stilled his body and sighed, ¡°I yield.¡±


    She let his hair go, and his face flopped back into the dirt as she dismounted him. Grumbling as she rose. ¡°Sloppy.¡±


    It was only once she was off that the orbitals hovering in the air all around her came into sight. Each was just a small ball of metal, but with a little push from Sylvas, those little spheres could move fast enough to shatter bone. He could have had her. In a real fight, she wouldn¡¯t have asked him to yield, she wouldn¡¯t have held the blade to his throat, she would have killed him and moved on. He was respecting that by not carrying on past the point of his death, but it still stood as a helpful testament that as well-trained and powerful as she was, he still could have taken her down with him.


    Last week, he probably would have, and they¡¯d both have ended up in the infirmary, with him being sent immediately on for psychological evaluation.


    ¡°Until you¡¯ve got your embodiment functional, close combat is a lose-condition.¡± She glanced around as the spheres spiraled in towards Sylvas. As he regained his feet, they slipped back into his pouch. ¡°Your instinct was to make distance. Trust your instincts.¡±


    There was a thin line across his throat that didn¡¯t bleed, but had been cut all the same, so shallow from the blade¡¯s touch that it had left a mark even if it hadn¡¯t gone deep enough. He cleared his throat, feeling that line vibrate. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t always be here, won¡¯t always have the dust to screen you.¡± She blew some of the red sand off her hands where it had settled. ¡°Don¡¯t get reliant on it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    She gave him a considering glance up and down. ¡°How did I beat you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a more powerful mage with far more combat experience.¡± He replied, trying not to sound too bitter about it.


    ¡°Specifics.¡±


    ¡°You have more spells available to you. More powerful spells. You have a far larger pool of mana to draw on¡­¡± he started, only for her to cut him off with a glare.


    ¡°Were any of these an issue in this fight?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He conceded with a grimace. Then he paused to rapidly recall their whole conflict blow by blow, before giving his answer. ¡°You cast faster than I can. I¡¯ve got no direct damage spells, so I have to rely on the orbitals which have limited range. You can teleport.¡±


    She looked like there was a bad taste in her mouth. ¡°I thought Fahred would have taught you to teleport by now. Given your affinity.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had one day of lessons. Nauseating lessons.¡±


    She didn¡¯t laugh, but her sneer turned into mild amusement at least.


    ¡°Direct damage.¡± She was counting off his complaints on her fingers. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing in your affinity?¡±


    ¡°Not a single spell.¡± It was a source of constant frustration, that he could be handed so rare an affinity by chance and there being essentially no spells written for that affinity. If I was allowed to modify the spells I have, it would be a very different story.


    She interrupted his introspection. ¡°Faster, I can help with.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to modify spells.¡± He said it as much as a gentle reminder to her, as out of frustration. ¡°There¡¯s so many places they could be abbreviated, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Standard spell rotation, cast faster.¡± She fired off a couple of green bolts to explode into puffs on the distant red sand with scarcely a word of the Aion language spoken. ¡°Combat magic.¡±


    ¡°How do I do that?¡± Sylvas asked with mounting awe.


    ¡°Simple.¡± Vaelith stretched. ¡°We break your mind.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 13

    ¡°Speed is the distinction between combat magic and that practiced in everyday life. There is no effect that combat spells can enact that does not have parallel in the civilian experience, no fireball that is not used in industry, no lightning bolt that is not used to power electric lighting, but while there is all the time in the world in civilian life for a spell to be cast at the mage¡¯s leisure, in combat each syllable spoken is another life lost. Each moment you spend casting is a moment that your life is shortened by. The techniques deployed to this effect are myriad and varied, but they are all ultimately achieved in the same manner. Preparation.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    ¡°So what exactly does breaking my mind entail?¡± Sylvas asked tentatively, ¡°Because I¡¯d prefer to avoid permanently damaging my ability to progress, and I¡¯d greatly prefer to avoid a psych evaluation.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re you. A single instance. And you, as you, can cast one spell.¡± Vaelith led him through her thought process. ¡°To cast more than one spell at once, you need there to be more than one instance.¡±


    Sylvas brows drew down. ¡°This¡­ instancing, that isn¡¯t how you cast multiple spells. I¡¯ve seen you part-cast and hold them.¡±


    ¡°E12 Focus. You can¡¯t handle that much information at once. You can¡¯t maintain concentration on multiple spells. By C, you¡¯ll be able to cast and hold two or three. By A, you¡¯ll manage half of what I can do if you¡¯re lucky.¡± She didn¡¯t say it with any of the ego and flair that Fahred would have, it was a statement of fact, not a brag.


    ¡°Can¡¯t I simply improve my focus?¡±


    ¡°Go on then.¡± She gestured to him. ¡°In a week, improve your focus to the C ranks and I¡¯ll teach you how to hold spells.¡±


    Sylvas sighed, ¡°Mind breaking?¡±


    ¡°Multi-instancing. Put an ego under enough strain, you can fracture it. Split the personality.¡±


    This was far from being Sylvas area of expertise, but he¡¯d read a little. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it heal?¡±


    ¡°Pretty quickly. But if you build up some scar tissue between the fragments¡­¡±


    There were many different names for it across many different cultures, all of them pulled up neatly to the fore of his brain by Lockmind. ¡°Schizophrenia. Disassociated Identities. Headmates. Multiple personality disorder.¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯re left to diverge.¡± Vaelith conceded.


    Sylvas sometimes felt like he was back home having an circular argument with Mira. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting that I completely destroy my sense of self, and then in that state, somehow¡­ manage the fragments.¡±


    For the first time, Vaelith looked less than confident. The tips of her pointed ears twitched in irritation. ¡°Did I say it was going to be easy?¡±


    ¡°How is this¡­ achieved?¡±


    ¡°Usually that¡¯s the hard part. Finding something traumatic enough to make the break.¡± She tapped him on the forehead. Strong enough that it staggered him back a step even though it was just one finger. ¡°You came with it built in.¡±


    ¡°If I was going to break I already would have.¡± Sylvas took care not to get angry.


    ¡°You¡¯re holding it together well. And I can respect that. But right now, I don¡¯t need you together. I need you to let go.¡± She wound back her arm, very clearly showing him what was about to happen, then slapped him across the face. It was hard enough to make his jaw crack, but not hard enough to rip it off his face, which meant she was pulling her punches.


    He hit the ground, and rolled back to his feet before she could close the distance. Lucky, since there had been a kick inbound.


    ¡°Come here.¡± She said through gritted teeth. It was a funny thing, realizing that she was going to beat him to the verge of death but take absolutely no pleasure in it. She would do it, and so much worse to him just because it was her duty. Sylvas almost missed Hammerheart¡¯s more personal brand of belligerence.


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    Sylvas didn¡¯t dare to call magic against her in case she felt it gave her permission to do the same back. They¡¯d already established that she was far better at combat magic than him, and there was at least a chance he¡¯d walk away from this beating. Of course, in the fraction of a second it took him to think all that, Vaelith darted across the distance between them and hammered a punch into his shoulder. Heat and pain blossomed out. Again, there was no dislocation, but it was very deliberately close. It sent him staggering back, kept him off balance so she could swing for him again. He managed to get an arm up, and their wrists collided with a crunch and more pain that he had to filter out.


    ¡°That¡¯s it soldier,¡± She flashed him a grim smile. ¡°Hands up for your ass-kicking.¡±


    Ducking the next punch lined him up perfectly for another, it cracked into his jaw, mashing his teeth together and sending him tottering back all over again. He tried to reverse the tide of the fight, charging in at her, but he had as much chance of catching hold of her as he had of catching a sunbeam. She might have moved stiffly and sternly around on a normal day, but in battle she was lithe as a cat, flowing around his outstretched arms to jab her outstretched fingers into his armpit and some cluster of nerves there that hurt like hell.


    Sylvas yelped involuntarily, then got it under control with Clearmind again.


    ¡°That¡¯s it boy, use your paradigm. Hide all the hurt away.¡±


    Perhaps he had been too hasty earlier when he decided to pack away all of his anger. Maybe it could come out and play a little.


    When she snapped another punch out, he didn¡¯t even try to dodge, just used the grounded moment when she¡¯d be in a fixed position during contact to deliver a blow of his own to her ribs. It was like punching a statue. She was solid as stone under her uniform.


    Meanwhile, her punch had not bounced off so harmlessly. His nose broke with a pop and a flood of hot red. Salt and iron on his lips.


    When she got in close enough to deliver another punch, he spat blood at her face, though it fell short. ¡°You can¡¯t beat me into remembering.¡±


    Darting back in, she feinted another punch to his head, and then stomped down on the inside of his knee, the leg gave out without breaking, but yet again, he suspected that was only because she had chosen not to break him. She flashed him another smile entirely devoid of any comfort or good humor. ¡°Ever had a good beating before?¡±


    The orphanage pressed against the barriers he¡¯d raised in his mind. ¡°Yes. I have.¡±


    ¡°This will make you remember it.¡± She said with no small amount of resignation. ¡°And after that, everything else.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± Whatever it was that Sylvas couldn¡¯t do would never be heard, because before the words were out, her elbow shot up and caught him under the jaw, slamming his teeth up and through his tongue. More blood gushed out, spilling from between his lips in a slick tide. The pain was unreal until he sequestered it away outside his protective walls again, then it was just the impracticality of functioning without the tip of his tongue.


    She was well out of reach by this point, dancing back beyond the length of his arms, and so when he spat out the little hunk of gore, it didn¡¯t sully her uniform.


    ¡°There are mages out there who could just go dig in to your brain.¡± She said it conversationally, in between bone shaking blows. ¡°Did you know that? They have spells to do what we are doing right now.¡±


    ¡°Torture?¡± He spat the word, hoping it would break through her solid steel composure, but thinking he might shake her was hopeless.


    She replied without pause after a fierce kick to the gut that folded him in half. ¡°Fragmenting.¡±


    Her next kick came down like an axe, heel digging between his shoulder blades and slamming him into the dirt. He managed to roll over before she dropped down on top of him, but that just meant he had the pleasure of being face to face with her as she started hammering blows into his face. All hints of finesse or martial art had faded, this was just brutality. Blow after blow. More pain stacked on more pain, and all of it shunted aside as fast as it came. His cheekbone broke. Teeth snapped loose. The Crest on his chest was thrumming on the periphery of his awareness, ready to save him when he hit the point of death.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t we get one of them to help instead of¡­¡± She hit him again. Again. Fiercely now.


    ¡°Because we aren¡¯t giving anyone the keys to your head. Even someone who is meant to be on our side.¡± She hit him open handed at the end of the latest flurry, knocking more teeth scattering across the dirt. ¡°You¡¯re going to be a soldier, not a weapon. No matter what Fahred thinks.¡±


    Everything was starting to go dark, but Sylvas had made it. He had survived Vaelith¡¯s beating. He was going to pass out in peace without his Paradigm ever breaking. One question still left him confused though, even in victory. ¡°You don¡¯t want the keys to my head?¡±


    She pressed her forehead against his, eye to eye with him. ¡°I want you able to make your own decisions.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want this.¡± Sylvas managed to blurt out, an appalling fear creeping into his words. ¡°I don¡¯t want to...¡±


    ¡°Nobody wants to die, kid.¡± She plucked the crest from his chest almost casually, then tossed it aside. ¡°But it¡¯s the only way to be born again. Now¡­ break.¡±


    Without the crest, fear finally came. Pain and torment, he could endure, because he always knew that afterwards he could recover, but there was no coming back from death.


    Her fist came down one final time, and the pain was the last drop of water to fall on the other side of the dam before it gave way. His paradigm, all that had been maintaining his sanity since the fall of Croesia, gave way.


    And then he broke.

 Volume 2: Chapter 14

    ¡°In our pursuit of perfection, we mutilate. Healthy minds are broken with magic as surely as with trauma, and in their breaking we find cause for celebration, because we can squeeze out a more effective casting, because we can compartmentalize thoughts, because we can pretend that the damage done has made us stronger. Damage only ever worsens that being damaged. That is why it is damage.¡±


    ¡ªFringe Affinity: The Abuse of Psychology in Paradigmcraft, Remo Aurea


    The weight of all the pain, all the suffering, all the death that he¡¯d caused, washed over Sylvas. The guilt that he¡¯d kept at bay with promises to the future that he¡¯d avenge the fallen and stop any other world falling to the Eidolons bore down on him like a tidal wave.


    Mira was dead because of him. Hotlips was dead because of him. Everyone he¡¯d ever know was dead. His whole planet was a wither lump of rock. All because of him. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Vaelith¡¯s voice cut through it all. Cold, calculating and calm as it ever had been.


    If he hadn¡¯t been so obsessed with his own progress, with being the greatest and most loved after all the years of neglect in the orphanage, then he might have stopped and thought for more than a moment about what he was doing. If he had looked twice at the ritual to summon the Crimson King, he would have realized how catastrophic the results of it could be. He had been so sure of himself. Using Clearmind then to empty himself of all doubt. The chosen one who would bring justice and equality to all.


    They had turned to ash just standing in the presence of the creature he had brought to their world. Others had burrowed down into the heart of Croesia and devoured her soul. It would never recover. He would never recover. He might have hated his life there, but Croesia was his home, his heart, his soul, and the Eidolons had eaten the soul right out of him too. Mira¡­ he¡¯d loved her, as much as anyone so smug, arrogant and self-centered could love another human being, and she had died and whispered away into nothingness before his eyes.


    This was the legacy that the chosen one had left behind. Not greatness, but oblivion. He¡¯d left, fled, ran all the way across the universe to get away from the other survivors because he couldn¡¯t stand the thought of having their eyes on him all day, every day, as they suffered in whatever refugee camp they ended up dumped in, never knowing that he was the one who had damned them to that terrible life.


    He could have gone with them. He could have suffered alongside them in penance for what he¡¯d done. It was more kindness than he deserved after all the acts of blasphemy against the natural order he had committed, but even after everything else, he was so convinced that he was special he had signed up to join the Ardent. Some intergalactic superheroes who fought against the very monsters who had destroyed his world.


    Except Sylvas was the monster that had destroyed his world. He was the one responsible, and all that he¡¯d done since he arrived on Strife was grow stronger and more capable of destroying more. Even when he received an affinity that meant he could walk away from the fighting and still do important things with his life, he chose to remain. Even though he considered his word to the Ardent to have been extracted under duress and could have walked away without a single qualm, he had stayed.


    Was it because he truly thought that there were no better opportunities for him out there? Was it because he truly wanted to beat bloody revenge into the corpses of the Eidolons? No. It was because here amongst these savages, he fit in perfectly. Every one of them desperately trying to prove themselves the strongest and more than willing to massacre one another for the title.


    He¡¯d killed his whole world to be the strongest. What did he care if he had to destroy Hammerheart, or burn Hotlips to death? What did he care if he had to step over the corpses of his friends to get to the top? He was Sylvas Vail, the chosen one.


    He was nothing. He was an idiot. A dupe. The most worthless of all the nobodies that his backwater world had given birth to. He had no family that cared enough to pluck him from an orphanage where they¡¯d been right to treat him like scum. His only use had been magic, and his only purpose had been to end all life. He had been chosen, chosen last for every game, chosen because he was the only one weak and gullible enough to become their beacon. A sacrificial goat offered up to burn bright and summon their god to kill everything. Disposable. Worthless. Kindling for arson on a global scale.


    He was the monster who would destroy everything in his path so that he could feel like he mattered, he was the pathetic child sniveling and hiding under the bed completely certain that he didn¡¯t matter at all. He was both of these things, and he was neither of these things.


    ¡°The young do everything in extremes.¡± That was what Vilmander had said, and he was right. Sylvas wasn¡¯t all powerful, or completely powerless. He wasn¡¯t the deliberate destroyer of his world or a completely hopeless dupe. He was only human. He made mistakes, and the price that had to be paid for those mistakes was terrible, but anyone who had lived his life would have made the same choices.


    The guilt was always going to be there. The shame at having been tricked into committing the worst of atrocities. But it wasn¡¯t all that he was, and he was not so weak that he was going to let the burden of what he¡¯d done stop him from doing what he meant to do. He could use it. He could let his mistakes shape him, guide him away from repeating them. He could be better.


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    Tears were streaming down his face when he slowly came back to awareness of what was going on around him. Vaelith had stayed with him. She was sitting with her legs crossed, and his head was resting on them. It felt uncomfortably intimate, looking up at her from this angle.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± She said it softer than he¡¯d have expected. The pain that he had been fully expecting to return to wasn¡¯t there, but the tell-tale marks of healing magic were all over him. Vaelith had been healing him in his sleep.


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She managed to force a tight-lipped smile. ¡°Isolated each ego fragment and guided mana flow into the gaps between them so you can snap them off again with force of will. You¡¯ll have continuity of self, outside the time of casting.¡±


    Despite the aches and pains still clinging to him, he forced himself to sit up so he wasn¡¯t resting on her thighs any more. He rubbed at the back of his neck to try and remove the soft sensation that he absolutely had not expected to be there. ¡°Thank you doesn¡¯t seem quite appropriate.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Neither does sorry.¡±


    ¡°It needed to happen.¡± Sylvas told himself as much as her.


    She nodded. ¡°Before you killed yourself.¡±


    He would have liked to have thought himself above such a course of action, but the truth was that even he hadn¡¯t known how much had been stowed away behind the walls of his Paradigm before that wall had broken down. Eventually his concentration would have given out. Eventually something would have broken through, and if it had been at the wrong moment, he wouldn¡¯t have even needed to kill himself. Not when there was a whole hostile universe just waiting for him to slip up. Not to mention the dangerous trend that the medic had noticed. He had no idea how much was filtering through subconsciously to alter his actions and thoughts. He had no idea, because to know, he would have had to look beyond the limits of what he¡¯d considered safe to view.


    The wall was gone now, an aching void remained where it had been. All the effort that he had been putting into keeping his mind clear, all the work that he¡¯d been doing to keep any thought of home, of Mira, of any of the awful things that had happened to him, out of his awareness, it was all at a loose end now. He could think more clearly, he could recall information with barely a flicker of his Lockmind. He must have been devoting more of his strength to keeping his memories contained than he had to anything else, and now that the weights had been removed, he felt as though he could move freely for the first time in¡­ ever.


    ¡°Who am I now?¡±


    ¡°Same person as before.¡± Vaelith assured him, awkwardly. ¡°Ego fragmentation doesn¡¯t change that.¡±


    He was sore and exhausted in a way that all of Chul¡¯s exercises would never be able to make him, but he felt good too. As if the awful burden that he¡¯d been carrying all this time without knowing it was finally lifted. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about that¡­ but¡­ how many fragments did I¡­¡±


    ¡°Thirty-four.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Might be a new record.¡± Vaelith¡¯s face gave away no pleasure at this fact, but he suspected that she was just as excited about the possibilities as him.


    It seemed almost comical too. ¡°So I could cast thirty-four spells at the same time?¡±


    She rose to her feet, leaving him sitting in the dirt. ¡°If you had thirty-four mouths and sixty-eight hands.¡±


    ¡°Wait, then what was the point of all this?¡± He¡¯d never read about any of this, and he had no basis for comparison, just what Vaelith was telling him.


    ¡°Part-cast multiple spells, each instance maintains theirs by feeding it mana, then you finish the spell to cast it, and the instance reintegrates. Don¡¯t be tempted to keep any divergent instance around too long, they¡¯ll go insane after an hour holding a spell. Then you¡¯ve got that to deal with when it becomes part of you again.¡±


    It had been painful enough just integrating his own memories without there being a deranged personality attached. ¡°Noted.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t pretty.¡± She offered him a hand up, and despite all the pain and the bone deep exhaustion, he took it and let her hoist him up to his feet.


    If every instance needed a constant flow of mana to maintain their spell in suspension, then double casting was going to be even more expensive. It might give him the ability to deal with being outnumbered by other casters in an explosive burst, but beyond those bursts he¡¯d end up drained quicker than ever before.


    They began the slow trudge back to the Blackhall, Vaelith being casual about it, but staying in reach in case he collapsed. ¡°So, if this was lesson one, what is next?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Vilmander tomorrow, or¡­ today. Need to check the time.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ we¡¯re done? You don¡¯t have anything else you want to teach me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve memorized every word I¡¯ve ever written. You little freak.¡± She gave him a playful punch in the back of the head that sent him staggering. ¡°What more do you want?¡±


    ¡°I sort of assumed that you¡¯d¡­¡±


    She rolled her eyes, though it was hard to tell through the green glow that enveloped them. ¡°Teach you everything I know in a week? That¡¯s what every other lesson here is for.¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d try to talk me into¡­ I don¡¯t know. Following in your footsteps. Being a soldier.¡±


    She looked at him sideways, then shook her head. ¡°You¡¯ll choose what you choose. You¡¯ve got the keys to your head now, so I figure you¡¯ll do the right thing. But if you don¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t want you here anyway.¡±


    At the entrance to the Blackhall she stopped and looked at him properly. ¡°One last thing.¡±


    Without a word of warning, she cast the more complex scrying spell on him.


    Name: Sylvas Vail


    Species: Human


    Health: 31%


    Mana: 87%


    First Circle Embodiment: Arterium Arcanum


    First Circle Paradigm: Clearmind


    Second Circle Embodiment: Arcane Bulwark


    Second Circle Paradigm: Lockmind


    Third Circle Embodiment: Tidal Shift


    Third Circle Paradigm: Waveform


    Affinity: Gravity


    Strength: F2 ¨C A1


    Resilience: F2 ¨C A1


    Speed: F2


    Potency: E7


    Focus: D1


    Regeneration: E14


    Now there was a definite hint of a smile on her face, almost lost amidst the scars. ¡°F to D. Not bad for a day¡¯s work. Let¡¯s see Fahred beat that.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± It didn¡¯t feel sufficient. ¡°For everything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get soft on me kid,¡± Vaelith bared her teeth in what could have been a smile if it wasn¡¯t so predatory. ¡°I was just starting to like you.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 15

    ¡°Desire is at the root of all things. It is what guides us to our greatest triumphs and our lowest defeats. Some argue that to be free of desire is to be enlightened. Those who argue that, are wrong. Without desire, without hunger, we would stagnate. If our ancestors had never looked with avarice upon the stars, we never would have known the glory of creation.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    To Sylvas immense and immediate surprise he woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. The whole of the previous day felt like some sort of fever dream, and he should really have been more concerned about the fact that he was still covered in slowly spreading bruises, or that two of the teeth Vaelith had clumsily grown back were fused together, but the first night¡¯s sleep without nightmares since the death of Croesia overshadowed all of that. He rose and dressed before Chul¡¯s usually wake up call and when the knock came at his door, he was ready to lift, run and generally hurt himself in pursuit of another slight uptick in his scrying stats.


    It came as something of a letdown that when he opened the door, Chul wasn¡¯t there. It was Bael. ¡°Good morning to you, my erstwhile companion. It has been too long since we spent time in one another¡¯s company so I thought it might please you to journey down into the dungeons together rather than navigating the dark stairwells in solitude.¡±


    ¡°Dungeons?¡±


    ¡°I am being facetious of course, in referring to the lower levels of the temple tower complex in such terms, but the truth remains that you and I have been summoned to hold court with Instructor Sagran, and a few moments in good company might just offer the respite that we both need after our arduous schedules of late.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m meant to be meeting Quartermaster Chul at¡­¡±


    ¡°My belief is that the rotund madam means to meet you at the forge also. Though I am of course receiving my information second hand.¡±


    ¡°Right. Uh. Okay.¡± He slung his coat on, and they stepped out.


    ¡°My own work with Instructor Sagran this hell-week has been quite productive so far. Though it seems that you¡¯ve had considerably more luck in finding viable equipment to suit your own affinity to date.¡±


    Sylvas had completely forgotten about the eye-piece, pouch and boots, all visible to anyone passing by. ¡°They¡¯re not exactly useful in terms of combat. But¡­¡±


    Bael picked up the train of thought. ¡°But there is certainly more to the life of a naval mage than getting down and scrapping in the dirt.¡±


    ¡°What have they had you doing this week? Other than making gear for yourself?¡±


    ¡°Oh the usual nonsense, much like they¡¯re inflicting upon you I imagine. Pushing towards the next circle, as ever. Expanding my catalogue of spells. Some adjustments to my paradigms to maximize their effectiveness and make me even more dazzlingly intelligent.¡±


    ¡°Surely you¡¯ve hit the point of diminishing returns there.¡± Sylvas quipped back. Falling into this easy back and forth just like he used to do with Mira. Though Bael lacked the edge of a teenage girl, his jibes were too playful and not nearly cutting enough.


    ¡°The wooden spoon requires less polish than the silverware, or so I hear.¡± Bael looked delighted to have someone to have this sort of banter with. In a strange way, he was just as out of place here as Sylvas, and with a term behind him already, there was probably a lot of compounded loneliness to erode away.


    Sylvas did his even best to play along, even if all the word games now had painful echoes from his past. ¡°The wooden spoon is used every day and the silverware is only brought out for special occasions. What an apt metaphor.¡±


    Bael mimed as though he¡¯d just been struck in the heart, but the smile on his face was inescapable. They carried on all the way across to the temple complex, swapping witticisms and saying very little of substance. They had probably spent too much of their friendship on substantial things already, serious planning and battles when they should have been trading jokes. Sylvas felt like he had permission now, to relax a little, to laugh when something was funny. He even got in a few twists of the verbal knife that he felt like Mira would have been proud of herself.


    He hadn¡¯t even been able to think about her before today without feeling like crying.


    As he had been told, Chul was waiting for him, alongside Instructor Sagran, and a slate that took up almost the full length of the workroom where the dwarf¡¯s designs were being displayed. He slowed his approach to try and take them all in. Devices he couldn¡¯t even conceive of the purpose of, laden with tiny snippets of familiar spell-work leaving him tantalized at the possibilities of how everything would come together.


    ¡°Staff will work better for you than a stave, especially if you¡¯re planning on throwing your weight around.¡± Sagran launched into her spiel without even waiting for him to be fully in earshot. ¡°You¡¯ve got the height, Chul says you¡¯ll put on the muscle. We build for tomorrow, not today.¡± She said the last bit in a strange little sing-song, as though it were some reference she was repeating that they all should have understood.


    With a slap to the slate, the information of all the other designs skidded along, leaving behind the blueprint for Sylvas¡¯ new staff. It looked shockingly simple on the surface, just a cylindrical length of plain metal that twisted at each end to leave an opening like he¡¯d seen in the wrought iron wand.


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    ¡°It isn¡¯t going to unravel like¡­¡±


    ¡°Built to purpose, for gravity affinity mana. Either end can serve as a focus, and we¡¯ll be copying over the enchantment from a pair of your orbitals to each end so you can recoup it if lost.¡± The image on the slate-wall blew up larger to show where the enchantment would be housed, at the slightly bulbous point where the twisting of the metal began.


    Sylvas opened his mouth to ask further questions but was cut off by the old dwarf launching into the next part of her speech. ¡°The real clever stuff is on the inside. Liquid metal core.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make it scalding hot?¡± Bael asked, only to be fixed with a glare by the dwarf, who until now didn¡¯t seem to have noticed him.


    Her eyes narrowed, making them vanish entirely amidst the wrinkles. ¡°You finished your piece yet?¡±


    Sensing that discretion was to his advantage, the elf beat a hasty retreat to one of the workbenches arrayed around the forge, just about as far away as he could get. Sylvas had no doubt that he¡¯d still be listening in with those incredible pointed ears of his.


    ¡°The room-temperature liquid metal core means the weight in it will always shift with momentum, maximizing impact force in close combat with your embodiment. Reinforced materials mean that it shouldn¡¯t bend or break under the forces that you¡¯re exerting, but it may need further upgrades as you increase your strength.¡± A flick of her hand on the slate brought up detailing of some clunky looking metal additions that would be made to the staff later, if he ever got to grips with using Tidal Shift without breaking all his bones.


    ¡°Ideally we¡¯d find a way to synchronize it to your orbitals, but they¡¯d need to be rebuilt from the ground up to use gravity affinity mana.¡±


    ¡°They already use¡­¡±


    ¡°Magnetic affinity tech with gravity affinity mana is close enough for them to work, but if you want them to sing, or synchronize with the staff, they need to share mana types.¡±


    ¡°I take it I¡¯m going to be working on this today, instead of our fitness training?¡± He finally asked Chul after staring up at the designs for a moment longer.


    The fiend looked him up and down and nodded. ¡°Vaelith said she trashed you.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. It wasn¡¯t an inaccurate description of his physical condition, but he had no intention of going to the infirmary and risking a psych evaluation. Who knew how long that would take, and he didn¡¯t want to miss out on a moment of the opportunities for advancement that this week had brought him.


    He stopped dead at that thought. Just yesterday, he wasn¡¯t even thinking about progression, and now it was back to the forefront. The desire to grow stronger, to get better, he had thought it was some artifact of his troubled childhood or the cult that raised him; the constant drive to prove himself worthy, but even though he felt like he¡¯d tackled that, the desire still remained. Strange.


    Sagran, Chul and Bael all turned to their own work after Sylvas had been delivered to his own workbench. His task for the day was to copy across the enchantments from his orbital spheres, and then work out how it would be converted to gravity affinity magic. Despite having come into his affinity just a few weeks back, he was already one of the foremost experts on the subject. Mostly because it was so rare nobody else ever bothered to learn much of anything about it, rather than because of his habit of studying constantly. Saying that he knew everything didn¡¯t mean he knew a lot, just that there was so little to know it hadn¡¯t taken him long to absorb it all.


    Mental note: Settle down and write a ¡°how to gravity mage¡± book when you¡¯ve finally worked it out so that the next unlucky bastard doesn¡¯t get stuck with an equally terrible education.


    As everyone had pointed out, the affinities of magnetism and gravity were incredibly close to one another. His magic latched onto the mass and weight of the magnetic metal at the center of each orbital, while a magnetic mage would presumably have touched the magnetic field that they produced. But regardless, it all still worked. Sylvas supposed that replacing the magnetic core with whatever happened to be the densest was the best option, but he was damned if he could work out what that might be without assistance. At least the actual magic part of the creation of the device seemed easy enough, there was a lot of complex aion script to transliterate and tweak, but having the freedom to actually do so was a relief after so long having to rigidly follow the officially accepted spells to the letter.


    To his immense surprise, once he had finished all of his work he discovered a smile had made its way onto his face. He¡¯d always loved magic, not just for what it could do, but as a sort of hobby and interest, and this was the closest he had come to crafting a new spell since Croesia.


    Sagran waddled by at one point to check over his work, while he himself had been shunted onto material selection, trying out different samples to see what attuned best to his affinity, and what he thought would be the best option for the staff itself. Meanwhile, all of the details for the enchanting of an arcane focus were scrolling past his left eye and being committed to memory for later reference. The overall spell-script that would run along the internal length of the staff would be more or less the same regardless of the affinity of mana being channeled, but there were key points that he had to stay focused on if he intended for the whole thing to hold together, crossing points in the lines of script and structure that had to be taken into account, and adjustments that had to be made so that when it was infused with his magic, it would function instead of melting itself from the inside out.


    It wasn¡¯t entirely unlike forging a circle of magic to progress, albeit this didn¡¯t make him bleed.


    The liquid metal options were proving hardest to choose between, he couldn¡¯t get any real sense of how they¡¯d behave once they were integrated into the staff, and he wasn¡¯t allowed to interact with them directly because they were poisonous. It left him at a bit of a loss until Sagran dawdled by and snatched one canister off the table. ¡°Taking too long. Use what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    With all of the pieces assembled, Sylvas was now ready to start construction. Which was of course when the white shield of Instructor Vilmander appeared beside him. ¡°Lecture hall F. 10 minutes.¡±


    Sylvas dropped the length of pipe he¡¯d been examining with a grunt of frustration, it bounced on the table and rolled to the edge before he had to step in and catch it. He was being silly, and he knew it. Life was not just a playground full of things for him to tinker with to his heart¡¯s content.


    Glancing to Sagran, he was about to try and convey that he was being summoned elsewhere, but it was to no avail. The dwarf paid him no mind whatsoever. He left his materials gathered as neatly as he could make them on his workbench, summoned his orbitals back to his pouch, and left a message with Bael for the old dwarf, if the other man ever managed to get a word in.


    ¡°Good luck on your future endeavors, wooden spoon.¡± Bael called after him, and Sylvas did his best to conceal a grin.


    That had been almost sharp enough for him to feel it.

 Volume 2: Chapter 16

    ¡°Allow the mana to come to you. To flow through you. It is everywhere. It is as much a part of the universe as you are. It wants to be with you. It wants to be inside you. All that you need do is let it in. Release your inhibitions. Open yourself up to the cosmos and all the wonders it can offer.¡±


    ¡ªBasics of Meditation, Stratas Peetal


    Lecture Hall F was not one of the usual selection where Sylvas had attended classes, it was actually far higher up the tower, which meant that the missive demanding his arrival in 10 minutes was cutting it very fine indeed. He eventually came across the door, having first run right past after mistaking it for a cupboard, then let himself inside to find Instructor Vilmander sitting there. His legs were crossed, his eyes were closed, he seemed to be lost in deep meditation.


    Sylvas did his best not to disturb him, creeping closer, and settling down to sit on the cushion that had been arranged opposite. The lecture hall genuinely wasn¡¯t much bigger than a cupboard, about the size of Sylvas room in the Blackhall, but with the added bonus of racked up seating and a desk occupying the vast majority of the floorspace. He was practically nose to nose with Instructor Vilmander before the other man¡¯s golden eyes shone out from beneath heavy lids. ¡°Meditation is the most basic technique to draw mana into the body, attuning yourself to it, drawing it in with each inhalation, storing what you can in your core, and then allowing the rest to escape you.¡±


    In the peaceful silence of the room, Sylvas felt himself starting to slip down into meditation himself, to join the man and recoup all the mana that he felt like he¡¯d been burning away constantly in the past week, but Vilmander shook his head. ¡°It is also the worst way to accumulate mana.¡±


    Sylvas blinked.


    ¡°The most efficient is direct absorption from Etherium, followed by that mana-sharing trick you pulled during your training games. After that we have all of the various specialized techniques to cultivate mana, followed by the inert accumulator devices like the one on your wrist and then finally meditation. The accumulator is technically less efficient, drawing an incredibly small amount of the desired mana, based exclusively on the density of said mana in the area, but it has the benefit of not requiring any input to function, something that cannot be said of meditation which requires your full attention and renders you utterly incapable of performing any other task.¡± It was the most words that Sylvas had heard out of the man in their time together and it left him slightly taken aback.


    ¡°So, you think I should learn a new technique?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Vilmander corrected. ¡°I think no child should be taught meditation. But we correct the errors of the past now.¡±


    ¡°My technique is cycling. The mana in my core is pushed out into my circles, it returns to the core carrying more with it, the natural vacuum created by its absence draws mana in to replenish what was lost. This too is slow, but constant, steady. I can move, function, think.¡±


    Sylvas prepared himself to try it only to startle at finding Vilmander¡¯s hand suddenly on his wrist. ¡°This is not for you.¡±


    With a few passes of his hands, a few twists, Vilmander constructed an illusion of Sylvas between them, looking somewhere between a sketch and one of the medical scans that they used in the infirmary. ¡°Your body.¡± He flexed his fingers, and the top layers faded away, leaving the channels carved through Sylvas¡¯ flesh and the core at the center, all alight with mana.


    ¡°This is wrong.¡± A shake of his hands, and the bright glow of Sylvas mana was replaced with darkness, like a tumor, it spread through his illusory body. ¡°There. Gravity affinity mana. It draws.¡±


    ¡°It draws?¡± Sylvas repeated back, completely unaware of what Vilmander was getting at.


    ¡°By its nature, it pulls, it brings things to it. The denser it is, the more it draws, the less there is, the less it draws. You have a natural mechanism to regenerate your mana store. Simply make your mana dense within you, and it will call out to other mana. More efficient than my cycling, same principle, create a natural situation that makes the mana go where you desire.¡±


    ¡°If that worked, wouldn¡¯t I be drawing mana all the time anyway?¡±


    ¡°The gravity pulls both ways. What is within pulls more in, what is without tries to empty you. Increase the density.¡± Vilmander was watching Sylvas like he was an interesting experiment about to provide valuable data. Not excited, but invested all the same. ¡°The intensity of your pull.¡±


    Closing his eyes, Sylvas turned his attention to his core, to the very center of it all where the densest piece of mana inside him had been compressed. He looked on that tiny event horizon in the middle of his self, and he squeezed.


    The mana all around it fell into the center of the core easily, as if it had been teetering on the brink all this time anyway, and suddenly with the same amount of mana, the gravity of it became much more. All the other mana in his core began collapsing inwards like a dying star. Sylvas gasped as it happened. He was falling in, being imploded by the bad advice of an Instructor who wanted nothing more than to make him a weapon of war. He reached out one grasping hand towards Vilmander, but the older man watched him implacably with those golden eyes and not a care in the world.


    The mana that had filled his core all collapsed inside of the central nucleus, the mana that was in the carved channels through his flesh all flowed in as well. All the mana in the surrounding area began to be drawn by the vacuum. It was a slow drift at first, imperceptible except to his second sight, and even then, only barely, but the longer that he looked, the faster the gravity mana seemed to flow to him.


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    It felt a little like having a heart attack. The clawing pain at the center of his being, the fear and confusion as it carried on even when he tried to slow the pace. His core was refilled, and the mana flowed onwards into dark heart of him, drawing more and more.


    ¡°How do I¡­ stop? How do I stop it?¡± He gasped as more and more mana drew inside him and sank down into his core and the hungering darkness within.


    ¡°You simply reverse how you began?¡± Vilmander seemed nonplussed.


    Sylvas toppled from sitting onto his side, clutching at his chest. ¡°Can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You must.¡± Vilmander¡¯s voice was stern, as though Sylvas was a child misbehaving, not a mage rapidly approaching the point of going supernova. ¡°It isn¡¯t as though we have another mage who can shift gravity mana around for you.¡±


    ¡°Hurts.¡± Sylvas gasped out. Pushing against the influx of mana with all his will and only just managing to slow it.


    When he¡¯d started this, he had clenched a fist around the mana in his heart, in his pain and confusion, that fist remained clenched. He forced it open now, the hand in real life at the end of his arm, and the grasp around the mana in the center of him which was considerably harder, it was arthritic and aching before he was done, but it was done. The rush of mana slowed to a trickle and then stopped.


    Letting out a rattling breath, Sylvas took in what had happened for the first time. All of the mana in his core had now stabilized to a level of density it hadn¡¯t reached since he joined the Ardent, as dense as when he¡¯d first began and been told that it was a danger to himself and others to have such intensity to it.


    It seemed that rules were made to be broken.


    He touched the mana in his core with his awareness and found it just as responsive as any other, just thickened and condensed to occupy less space. There was enough space inside him now for so much more, if he went back to condensing mana like this, his core could contain twice as much, maybe even more. After a few moments of panting and waiting for his core to explode, implode or otherwise catastrophically fail, he accepted that maybe he was going to survive the next few minutes.


    ¡°Good. Again.¡±


    ¡°Again?!¡± Sylvas whole body still shook. ¡°The first time nearly¡­¡±


    Vilmander spoke over him with the certainty of a man never interrupted. ¡°The first time flexing any atrophied muscle will hurt. This is what you were built for, what your affinity and embodiments all drive towards. Do not abandon your potential so readily.¡±


    ¡°If I do it again¡­¡± Sylvas cut himself off this time. It will be easier.


    One steadying breath later and the mana was rushing into him again. Once the center of his core was as dense as it could get, the flow was steady and continuous, but not vastly different from when he was meditating with deliberate intent. He supposed that as he grew stronger, adding more circles, it might be possible to increase the density further and speed things up, but by then the expectation would be that he¡¯d be retaining much more mana too, which meant¡­ He unclenched the fist around his heart and tried to breathe steadily once more. ¡°What¡­ What¡¯s the point?¡±


    Vilmander raised a bristly brow. ¡°The point?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only drawing as much mana as when I meditate.¡± Sylvas got his hammering heart under control a lot quicker this time around. It was easier. ¡°What¡¯s the advantage in changing techniques?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of walking and breathing at the same time?¡± The instructor rolled his eyes, golden light whipping around the dim room as he did. ¡°Activate the technique, then go for a walk, a run, a sleep, lift weights with Chul. Anything other than casting is available to you.¡±


    The possibilities were endless. There had always been long periods in most fights when he wasn¡¯t actively casting. Being able to regenerate mana while still maintaining awareness of what was going on around him was a massive boon. But how much of a boon remained to be seen. ¡°My embodiments?¡±


    ¡°Perfectly usable, except for your arcane channels, as they¡¯re occupied with incoming mana.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t hurt to still be able to fly. ¡°Spells that I¡¯m maintaining?¡±


    ¡°Contraflow mana through one channel to support it, isolate it from the rest.¡± Vilmander seemed to be weighing the odds. ¡°It will take practice, but it can be achieved.¡±


    And once I¡¯ve done it once, Lockmind means I can recreate it identically the next time without muddling around.


    ¡°So I can regenerate mana and still fight?¡±


    ¡°To a degree. You will be limited by the unpleasant sensation, I suspect?¡± Vilmander looked like he had in every lecture, as if the student knew the answer and he was just waiting for it.


    ¡°I can block the discomfort.¡± Sylvas said, earning a half-nod from Vilmander. ¡°Can I cast through a contraflow channel?¡±


    ¡°Inadvisable and likely self-destructive.¡±


    Yesterday, Sylvas wouldn¡¯t have thought twice about that second part, but he was growing, slowly but surely, into a wiser person. ¡°Something to revisit once I have the hang of the rest. Thank you, Instructor.¡±


    Vilmander didn¡¯t seem pleased or amused. His eyes flicked to Sylvas own only very briefly before he looked away. ¡°I do not need thanks for performing my duties.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Sylvas deflated a little.


    Without missing a beat, the Instructor cast another illusory double of Sylvas. ¡°You will be working on your Paradigm next.¡±


    This part was something that concerned him. Apparently the way that he used his various circles of magic to manage his second sight and mental state were both frowned upon, but short of tearing them all apart and starting over, he wasn¡¯t sure what could actually be done. ¡°Is this about untangling the¡­¡±


    ¡°Waveform needs work.¡± Vilmander had absolutely no courtesy whatsoever. ¡°Explore the cliffside complex, use it to navigate.¡±


    ¡°How do I¡­¡± The spell struck him entirely unexpectedly, he hadn¡¯t even realised that the other man was casting until the flare of golden light hit him. Dazzling him so much that he fell over backwards yet again. His mana was still in turmoil after the last attempt at condensing it, so he couldn¡¯t cast, but he rolled to his feet and got his fists up for all the good that they¡¯d do him in a fight with a full-blown wizard.


    There was no follow-up attack, but neither was there any reprieve. The aftereffects of the sudden burst of light should have faded by now, but everywhere that he looked everything remained completely dark. He couldn¡¯t even make out shapes. He was blind. Vilmander had blinded him. ¡°What the¡­¡±


    Vilmander cut him off before he could say anything too inadvisable. ¡°Dismissed.¡±


    He took another breath, this one to steady his temper. Yesterday an instructor beat him almost to death, today an instructor had taken his sight, he was really starting to think of Strife as a hostile work environment. Swallowing his anger, Sylvas did what he was meant to do, he extended out his other senses, reaching his hands out to try and prevent any collisions. He remembered which way the door had been, so he set off for that, only to immediately crash into something. A moment of mental mapping later gave him the layout of the room. Lockmind recalling it to him perfectly and allowing him to overlay his absent sense with at least an idea of what was around him. He moved with more confidence now through the total darkness. Reaching the door and even grasping the handle before the instructor called out to him, ¡°Don¡¯t bother going to medical. They¡¯ve instructions not to treat you until after the end of your day.¡±


    Sylvas hadn¡¯t even considered it. For all his insight into the technical side of magic, it seemed that Vilmander had a pretty poor grasp on the mentality of its practitioners. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 17

    ¡°Relic worlds are a warning. They are what could have happened to us if our path had strayed just a little. Yet few see the warning, few go to the places of the dead and witness the destruction wrought there. Few delve into the wreckage of civilizations just as advanced as ours and recognize that like us, the dead were people. As virtuous and sinful, stupid and intelligent, lucky and unlucky as us. To walk through the necropolis world of Perisant¨¦ and see the murals still painted on the walls in once vibrant colors faded to almost nothing, to look through the empty window frames and see tables still set for dinner. These were not worlds of deranged and cartoonish cultists devoted to bringing about their own ending, they were just people.¡±


    ¡ªRequiem For the Vanished, Luvid Hagen


    Sylvas escape from the temple tower was relatively simple, he had a clear map of it in his head, and while he had a few near misses with tumbles heading down the stairs, he was ultimately alright. Crossing from the tower to the cliff-face was a different matter entirely. Indoors he had a fairly clear mental map of layouts, but outside there was too much space and the skew of perspective. He knew which way he thought that the cliff-face complex entrance was, but that didn¡¯t mean it was actually going to be there. Not to mention the problem of the sand.


    With every step on Strife, the sand beneath his feet shifted. Normally this was a minor nuisance, but when he was blind, each time the sand shifted it put him subtly off-course. The more steps he made, the more it shifted and the further off he went.


    In the distance, he heard a few of the other recruits calling out to him as he went, but he couldn¡¯t have guessed who, or where, the sound echoed strangely by the cliff, distorting positions. He waved his arm in a vaguely friendly way and moved on in what he hoped was the right direction. Luck was not on his side, nobody dawdled by who happened to be heading his way. By this point in the day, everyone else would be deep into their personal improvement program, and Sylvas¡¯ big improvement for the day was losing the ability to see.


    He didn¡¯t run directly into the cliff-face, there was enough of an echo off the surface that he didn¡¯t have to worry about that kind of impact, but when he stretched out his hands and touched nothing but stone, he had reached his first real crisis since losing his sight. Left or right. The entrance to the complex could be either way, and he had absolutely no way of knowing which way he had strayed as he made what he¡¯d hoped was a beeline for the door. Logically, he could just proceed along the length of the cliff until he found it, but if he went the wrong way, there was a whole lot of cliff to get through before he found a sign that he¡¯d gone astray. He could just wander back and forth a little, on the assumption that he hadn¡¯t strayed far, but none of this was what he¡¯d actually been blinded for. He was meant to be using his Waveform Paradigm to sense the world around him.


    Closing his eyes, despite them being dead in his head anyway, he stretched out his other senses. His second sight was still there, overlaying the nothingness with vibrant color that did little to nothing to help him navigate the real world, since mana flowed through solid objects as easily as open air. It was chaotic and useless for this, so he let his Clearmind wipe it away and focused on his sense of gravity.


    He couldn¡¯t see it. Sight and gravity didn¡¯t seem to match up very well in the sensory apparatus. It was more like a low sound. Just too deep to really hear. But he felt it. The hum of the world underneath him, the deep gravity getting more and more intense the lower he reached. But it wasn¡¯t the only thing that he could feel. Like a distant duet playing in another room he could feel the pull of the binary stars beyond Strife itself. The other planets of the system were more like whispers at this distance, but they were there, and when he strained just a little, he could feel so much more, the background hubbub of the entire cosmos, just waiting to be heard.


    He knew where he was in relation to the wells of gravity beneath him and around him. The information alone would have been fairly useless if it wasn¡¯t combined with his ability to mentally map out the area with Lockmind. But even knowing exactly where he was did little to help him navigate the current situation. He needed more information than where he was on the planet, he needed to know where other things were in relation to him.


    Returning to his gravity sense, he reached out again, not listening to the deep and heavy bass notes of the planetary gravity, nor the quiet notes of the other stars and planets, but for something even more quiet.


    He wasn¡¯t listening for the gravity now, he was listening for the echo where it struck objects. Everything had its gravity, every object, no matter how small, and perhaps with time he¡¯d be able to sense every grain of sand, but for now he couldn¡¯t. He needed to see without eyes, and he couldn¡¯t sense the gravitational pull of every solid object, so he had to resort to feeling for the echo and the pull of gravity on them. It came slowly but surely, manifesting itself in his mind like lines stretching down from each solid thing, streams flowing all the way down to the planet¡¯s core. All the world was painted with those lines, that drag of weight, and with his senses he could make them all out.


    The place where stone had been carved away to make an entrance to the cliff bore just as many streaks of weight as any other part of the cliff-face, but right ahead of him, they were layered a little thinner. He could almost make out the big black nothingness beyond them. Reaching out his hand, he brushed through the lines of weight and then stepped forward, into the stone.


    Here his newfound sense became completely and utterly useless. He was moving through the gravitational warp lines, threading through them like he were weft and this was some great weaving, but he couldn¡¯t see beyond them. Even trying to use Clearmind to filter out the information was useless. He could eliminate some parts, only for the rest to stop making sense without them. He was not so attuned to this new sense yet that he could eliminate half the information it was giving him and still make sense of it. With acclimation, maybe he would get there, but for now, he was as good as blind all over again.


    He tried to overlay his mental map of the cliffside complex over the passage that he was in, but he¡¯d never accounted for all the rough patches on the floor and walls, the inclines and the divots in the stone. Despite having had all the time in the world to memorize everything here, he¡¯d never taken a moment to give it focus.


    Vague ideas of what direction he was headed in, and where the next turnoff might be, were all well and good, but he kept his hand running along the wall as he went all the same.


    He tripped a lot more than he would have expected, unsure of the floor and unaware of how much he relied on his eyes, he persevered with his gravity sense, abandoning the attempts to use echoes of planetary gravity to give things shape and straining for the minutiae, the tiny pull that each individual solid object gave off. It still escaped him.


    An opening that he hadn¡¯t recalled opened up to one side and he lost his balance, stumbling to crash into the wall and having to bite back a noise that could only be described as a growl of frustration. He didn¡¯t see any of the other recruits having to go through nonsense like this. He chuckled involuntarily; he didn¡¯t see any of the other recruits at all. The absurdity of his situation was enough to get his temper back under control, and he started making progress again. Creeping forward with a hand up on the wall and his head pounding from all the sensory data that his Waveform was bombarding it with.


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    Out in the open, the gravity¡¯s reflection had worked perfectly well. He suspected that he¡¯d even be able to sense things in flight up above him, which would no doubt come in handy during eidolon battles, but indoors it lost all use because everything above him was pulling down like a curtain, obscuring his vision. The fault wasn¡¯t with the technique, it was with his position. If he could shift around to a different perspective on the streaking lines of gravitational pull, he¡¯d be fine. Of course, the best vantage point would be at the center of the lines, at the heart of the gravity well, from there he¡¯d be able to make out everything in relation to himself, just by the length of each line. The sensory information alone would have been useless, but once again his Paradigm would allow him to overlay it into a map.


    So why don¡¯t I make myself the center?


    Slowly, tentatively, Sylvas increased his own weight, amping up the density of his body through Tidal Shift. In the beginning it had no effect at all on his vision, but then as he crept closer and closer to the point where his body would be strained beyond its limits, he saw the curve. Every line of gravity was now diverting from its course straight down towards the planet¡¯s heart, and towards the alternate well of gravity that he was generating. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to navigate by, but once he had his embodiment fully under his control and his body was no longer tearing itself apart, he¡¯d be able to rely on it.


    He allowed himself to return to his normal mass incrementally, thinking of how Chul made him slowly lower the weights she had him lifting. Slowly, slowly, he returned to normal, and he couldn¡¯t feel any of the tell-tale aches of hairline fractures. It had worked. His embodiment had worked, at least. If not his attempts to use himself as a gravity well.


    The answer was so obvious it slapped him in the face. He didn¡¯t need to be constantly seeing everything around him, just a brief shutter-shot glimpse of it all would be enough, then he could retain the mapping of the area until his next flash of vision. He cast a Gravity Spike, right at his own feet.


    The result was instantaneous. He was yanked off his feet to his knees. All the dust in the corridor swept into a heap for him to land in. And the map of the tunnel that he¡¯d been trying to piece together sprang to life. A three-dimensional representation of the tunnels around him, as clear as any illusion that the instructors had ever used. And it was tunnels, not just the one that he was in. Beyond the solid walls of the tunnel he had been walking, there were expanses of stone that gave away to other things, gaps where stone should have been, shapes and structures that he eventually managed to decipher into objects, people and furniture.


    The pulse of gravity faded as swiftly as it had come, letting the lines of gravity droop back down, but Sylvas had his map now, vague and fuzzy, but definite. He was able to walk along a distance without any issue, and when it became too fuzzy up ahead to safely navigate, he cast another little pulse.


    Step by step, pulse by pulse, he made it further and further into the cliffside. It was a massive mana sink, of course, to be constantly casting Gravity Spikes, so he did what was ostensibly the smart thing, and began drawing more mana.


    The walking-pace progress slowed to a crawl as he tried to get to grips with the sensation. The channels that had been carved through his body for magic to flow through had only been used in one direction until now, and feeling mana flow the opposite way was disconcerting to say the least, like undrinking a glass of water.


    But there could be no denying that it worked. He unclenched the fist around his core, cast a Spike, transliterated what his senses told him into a layout and then clenched the fist again. His whole body felt like it was collapsing inwards each time that he did it, his stomach turned over as the flow of mana reversed, but it worked. He could walk around while drawing mana, even if it did leave him extremely uncomfortable. Filtering out that discomfort with his Clearmind would have been easy enough, but for now he insisted on feeling it. This was all too new, and he didn¡¯t trust it fully. Only once he was sure of it would he feel safe to start ignoring it.


    He wandered. For the first time since he¡¯d arrived on Strife he had something resembling free time to explore, and while he might have been inclined to head out to the more substantial ruins beyond the field if given the choice, there was so much down in this cliff that it boggled his mind. Whoever had lived here before had been thorough in their burrowing. Even when he got down to the cold area of the deepest tunnels that the Ardent knew about, there were still more pinging off his Spikes. Hidden from sight by the solid stone, hidden from magic by warding that Sylvas couldn¡¯t have guessed at. They would have gone unseen forever, if someone with his Paradigm hadn¡¯t come wandering along. For a moment he pondered keeping them as his own little secret, but it would have served no purpose, he¡¯d report them to whoever it was relevant to at some point¡­ probably Quartermaster Chul, who¡¯d promptly fill the tunnels with more shelves.


    Time lost all meaning in the darkness. He could have counted the pulses of gravity that he unleashed like a metronome, but he had no clue how often he was stopping to check his position, so it would have provided no useful information. The long night went on with him plodding around in silence, listening for the echo of footsteps or distant voices to tell him that his session was over. They were not forthcoming, but gradually he realized that he had strayed so far into the cliff-face that it was quite possible the area was entirely uninhabited by the Ardent. He had certainly encountered more collapsed tunnels than a well-maintained military base was liable to contain. Bracing himself against the drag yet to come, Sylvas cast another Gravity Spike. Maintaining it long past the point that his surrounding area was revealed to him. The sphere of its pull expanded ever outwards, growing weaker and weaker, but he could still feel it. Pouring more mana into the spike, increasing the gravity slowly but surely until it surpassed the pull of the planet itself, his senses expanded out, overlayed with the memory-map of the places he had been until he could sense everything in a mile. The strange shifting gravity of things in motion, people. The fixed mass of the solid stone. There was so much to see.


    Releasing the spike, he had the fullest picture of his surroundings as he¡¯d been able to muster all day, turning around and heading back to the surface seemed like a solid plan now that he had gotten to grips with a feasible way to use his Paradigm.


    As he plodded along, the complex mapping that he¡¯d created with his pulses began to tickle something in his memory. The calculations that Fahred had him making to perform a teleportation. Each line that he saw when looking for the echo of gravity pulling on a solid object was one of the variables that the man had him adjusting for. The central formula was simply the line between him and his location, this gravity sense could now give him all of the rest. The measurement of the lines that he¡¯d used to work out the position of objects around him could be transferred. It wouldn¡¯t work over the vast distances he¡¯d need to traverse when piloting a ship unless he had an incredibly potent gravity well to work with, so potent that it was nearly punching through to null-space itself, but it would work. Perhaps there was a way to use the gravity spike created by the teleportation spell to navigate? What if he made one tiny jump first to map out the coordinates ahead and then¡­


    A white shield sprang to life in front of him.


    Sylvas was extremely relieved to be in the midst of the pitch darkness of the empty tunnels, because nobody heard the extremely unmanly noise he made. He blinked a few times, mystified by the sudden return of his sight, then realized that it could have been gradually returning for quite some time while he was roaming the unlit areas of the complex without him being any the wiser. Presumably his sight returning meant that this particular lesson was done.


    Touching the white sending, he was surprised to find it was from Sagran. ¡°Parts are ready when you are.¡±


    Technically it was time for him to get a rushed dinner and then try and cram in a few hours of sleep before Chul came hammering on the door of his chambers again, but just the memory of breaking apart and reconstructing enchantments put a spring in his step. It felt like real magic, instead of the rote learning he¡¯d been doing since he arrived on Strife, or at least, since he was nearly court-martialed for daring to change a spell.


    Ignoring the growl of his stomach, he set off for the temple to get back to work on his new staff.

 Volume 2: Chapter 18

    Belief is formative to magic but even as all of reality opens itself like a book to you, and everything becomes possible, so too do limitations become apparent. Without limitations, each mage to ascend would become unto a god, remaking all of creation to their whims. There are fundamental rules of magic which can be bent, but never broken. There are fundamental laws of the universe that cannot be ignored if one wishes to perform magic. The first of those laws is this. Do as you will.


    ¡ªFundamentals of Arcana, Albrecht Magnus


    Chul was waiting outside the door to Sylvas room when he got back, not as though she had just knocked, but as though she was waiting for the allotted time to knock. Did she just not sleep?


    ¡°Good morning.¡± Sylvas called out to her, in spite of the fact that it clearly wasn¡¯t going to be, given he hadn¡¯t seen the inside of his bed yet.


    ¡°Up early.¡± Was the only response he got. More than he¡¯d expected but less than a useful segue into actual conversation.


    ¡°It¡¯s a busy time.¡± He managed a smile, but she didn¡¯t seem to care if he was happy, sad or on fire, so long as he was there on time.


    The routine wasn¡¯t much changed from any other day, except that Sylvas had the added queasiness that only reversing the flow of mana in his body could bring. He hadn¡¯t even noticed at first, but his circles switched the direction of their rotation each time that he went from casting to drawing mana. It explained why he had such disorientation. Three fundamental components of his being were being flipped back and forth each time. Doing it while exercising actually proved to be quite challenging, but also useful. If he could lift weights and run while using his new technique, then he could do anything.


    He put his distraction down to that queasiness when he didn¡¯t notice Chul dragging equipment out onto the sand. Something that looked like a punching bag but isolated inside a portable magic circle and hovering in mid-air without assistance. A couple of other pieces of machinery that seemed similar. When he finally did notice the presence of the equipment, it was only because he felt a change in the air as Vaelith teleported into sight.


    She was in good humor that morning. ¡°Heel, boy.¡±


    Sylvas chuckled as he set the blocks of ancient bricks down carefully. ¡°Testing time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scrying me again?¡±


    ¡°Better.¡± She spun on her heel and delivered a kick to the hovering bag that knocked it clean out of its position in the center of the circle, bouncing it back and forth and all over the place for a moment before it wobbled to a halt and an illusion manifested on the outside of the circle reading, ¡°A10.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what the point of this is.¡± Sylvas approached the bag cautiously. ¡°What does it tell you that scrying doesn¡¯t?¡±


    Vaelith gave the closest thing to a smile Sylvas had ever seen her offer up. ¡°It tells us how hard you can hit before you break your own arm. Now hit it.¡±


    To his credit, he did swing for the bag with all his strength, and though it didn¡¯t bounce around the way that it had for Vaelith, it did at least rock back and forth in its position before announcing ¡°F2.¡±


    Chul sighed, and Sylvas felt the need to defend himself. ¡°It¡¯s only been a few days.¡±


    ¡°Next time, really hit it.¡± Was all she said back.


    He steadied his position, following the proscribed hand-to-hand combat manual to the letter, and then delivered another pathetic F2 punch.


    It was Vaelith¡¯s turn to look irritable. ¡°Use your embodiment.¡±


    ¡°It breaks my bones.¡± Sylvas felt oddly proud of himself for standing up to her, given that just a couple of days ago she¡¯d proven how easily she could beat him to death. He reached for the crest on his chest nervously. She¡¯d pinned it back on him after the need to make him fear death had passed. This was one hell of a school.


    ¡°Incremental increases.¡± She demanded and faced with the choice of failing her or keeping his bones intact, Sylvas made the safer choice. He drew back his fist, increased its weight, and swung.


    The panel read: ¡°F7.¡±


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    The bag took a full second to swing back into its natural position after that one. A solid hit, if he was any sort of judge.


    ¡°Harder.¡± Vaelith had dropped into a squat with her heels tucked under her, waiting and watching, Chul was leaning on a broken down bit of wall that seemed to be crumbling under the weight. Neither of them looked too concerned about his wellbeing.


    He swung his fist back and forward again, reducing the weight of the blow while he drew back and then increasing it rapidly as he drove it into the bag.


    ¡°F9¡±


    ¡°Come on!¡± Vaelith was back on her feet, crowding in at him. ¡°Hit it like you mean it.¡±


    The best way to increase the weight of his blows was to create as large a swing between the extremes of weight as he threw the punch, but the faster he warped himself the less time his body had to adjust and the more likely it was that he was going to come apart.


    ¡°E2¡±


    His arm ached as it dropped back to his side, and he didn¡¯t need the medic there to tell him that the micro-fractures in his bones were back. ¡°That was too much.¡±


    Vaelith was casting, the language of it unfamiliar, words Sylvas had never encountered in any of the spells that he¡¯d studied. Pain shot through his arm much more sharply this time, like ice crackling up the length of it. When it faded, the worst of the damage to his bones seemed to have eased. She nodded back to the bag. ¡°Aim for F15.¡±


    He did as she asked, and again, it felt like he¡¯d broken every bone in his arm when it made contact with the bag. He said a word in his native tongue that he was happy couldn¡¯t be translated.


    Vaelith stepped in to cast her brutal healing spell again. ¡°F14.¡±


    ¡°You do understand that this is painful?¡± Sylvas grunted as the shards of ice knitted his bones again.


    There was no sympathy. ¡°Need to know your limits.¡±


    From the beginning, the Ardent had pushed him to the point of self-destruction over and over again to try and make him as powerful as he could be. Hammerheart had been an excellent excuse for him to throw himself into it, to treat every interaction as though it were life and death, but without that persistent threat, Sylvas now found he was seeing through the thin layer of deception. Even when he was a beacon of excellence, they had continued moving the goal-posts to make it impossible for him to win. Because they feared that he¡¯d become complacent, they feared that all of his potential would go to waste. They had no trust in his own desire to advance, to become as powerful as he could be, to do exactly what he had set out to do from the beginning and fight back against the Eidolons and whoever was behind their summoning. Trust was a two-way street, and they had broken his.


    ¡°This is my limit.¡± He told her, crossing his aching arms. ¡°I can hit F10.¡±


    ¡°We already know that you can hit F10,¡± Vaelith seemed to forget that she was talking to a recruit with a brain. ¡°We¡¯re trying to reach the upper limit before you break.¡±


    ¡°You already broke me, remember.¡± He snapped back.


    It may have been for his own good, but Sylvas couldn¡¯t shake the thought that even if it hadn¡¯t been, she would have gone through with it anyway. She didn¡¯t care about his sleepless nights, she didn¡¯t care about how much it hurt him to think about the home he¡¯d destroyed, she only cared about making him into the best weapon she could. She was a smith as surely as Sagran, but the components that she was hammering into dangerous shapes were people.


    There was no frown on her face, no sign that he¡¯d offended her, but the disappointment radiated off her all the same.


    ¡°Attempt F11.¡± She ordered.


    Sylvas didn¡¯t want to. He had told her that he was done. That he wasn¡¯t going to go on hurting himself over and over, just so she could mark numbers up on a slate. His job was not to be tortured endlessly. He was here to be a soldier, a mage, one of the Ardent. Not a victim.


    But despite himself, Sylvas moved to obey. It was all very well drawing a line in the sand and saying that he wasn¡¯t going to be ordered to hurt himself any more, but unfortunately, he wanted to know just how far he could go too. At least she¡¯d made the concession of starting at lower intensity and working up instead of making him shatter his arm again and again.


    F11 was soon followed by F12. By the time that they reached F13 he could feel the strain, more in his joints than in the bones themselves. A warning that anything more would do damage. Even at F12, there had been a persistent ache and a prickling staticky sensation in his hands. ¡°That¡¯s the limit.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s aim for F15 by the end of the week.¡±


    Chul grunted. ¡°That¡¯s two days?¡±


    Vaelith glanced over at the fiend imperiously.


    Chul shrugged. ¡°Two ranks, two days.¡±


    Sylvas looked between the two of them as if they were mad. Even if he was allowed two weeks, that kind of rapid growth was unlikely.


    Still, the workout that he went through over the course of the rest of the morning was a definite step in the right direction. Where before they¡¯d been running and lifting, with these testing apparatus, Sylvas was able to work on every different group of muscles in his body, not only working out how to use the resistance they offered him to strengthen himself, but also how to enhance his strength with his embodiment. Now that he knew that he could consistently swing an F12 punch, he proceeded to work out how to shift weight around to make kicks, jumps, and all of the other motions that these machines mimicked just as effective. For some it was counterintuitive, and he was having more of an effect without his embodiment by just bearing down. For others, the only way that he made any headway at all was by flinging the internal gravity of his body up and down. Sometimes he swung too hard, and it hurt, sometimes he needed to put in more force than he had for his punches. It varied so much that without Lockmind, he likely would have forgotten half of it before the training session was done.


    He couldn¡¯t say exactly at what point during his exercises that Vaelith had left, but the lingering air of annoyance remained. It wasn¡¯t coming from Chul who was as belligerently good natured as always, and Vaelith hadn¡¯t left behind an illusory copy of herself to scowl, which left Sylvas with the inevitable conclusion that he was the one getting annoyed with himself. If nothing else, it helped to drive him on to greater feats of athleticism.

 Volume 2: Chapter 19

    ¡°Enchantment is the only kind of magic that matters in the end. Everything else fades. The fireball that burns so bright burns out. The teleportation spell makes the journey pass in an instant. But that journey is everything, and you missed it.¡±


    ¡ªMageobolgus: Elvish Philosophy Primer, Komlaeth Havenspring


    By the end of the session, it was well past time for breakfast and heading past lunch too. Sylvas had never really bothered much about food, not the way that Kaya did, but now that he was working his body so much, he discovered that he really needed to eat, and in far greater quantities than he was used to. He was getting hungry again in a way that he hadn¡¯t since he was back in the orphanage.


    Lunch was also the only time he got to glimpse anything like a friendly face. Kaya was just on her way out as he was arriving to the mess hall, hopping up to give him a kiss on the cheek as she went by and blathering about running late. Bael was still at a table, but so engrossed in the various slates spread around him that Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure if interrupting him was wise.


    Luckily, winning the Cull had resulted in a lot of friends that he hadn¡¯t known about springing up among the various officers in the naval program. After he¡¯d collected a tray containing some sort of fragrant stew and various vegetables that he¡¯d never encountered before, he was waved over to join them. Ironeyes was at the table, so Sylvas assumed that it couldn¡¯t be a den of enemies, but then again, Ironeyes had never really taken sides in most of the conflicts within the training groups. Bortan was there, which meant Sylvas knew at least one familiar face, and to his surprise the one who had waved him over was Vel, Hammerheart¡¯s old lieutenant.


    ¡°How is hell week treating you?¡± She asked as he sank down at the table beside her. Unsure of exactly how to handle the situation. Her voice was odd now that she was talking normally, throaty and a little raspy, deeper than he would have expected from how delicate she looked.


    ¡°Hellish, I suppose.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how much to give away to a potential enemy. ¡°And yourself?¡±


    She smiled at him, tight-lipped so that her shark-teeth didn¡¯t show. ¡°Closing in on circle five. I¡¯ll be out of here in no time.¡±


    He managed to return the smile before turning to his food. Bortan was happy to pick up the complaining. ¡°Wish I was already out of here. You wouldn¡¯t believe the rotation they¡¯ve got me in¡­¡±


    All the various naval candidates voiced their complaints as Sylvas shoveled down his lunch. Trying hard not to acknowledge the sensation that every time he wasn¡¯t looking at her, Vel was looking at him. He supposed that he could understand the fascination, he didn¡¯t know much about her either, and the two of them seemed to be playing their cards close to their chests. The announcement that she was approaching circle five was hardly a surprise, she was one of the students that had been here the longest, and while Sylvas was willing to admit that he had accelerated through his own training at a somewhat breakneck pace, Vel was no slouch either. Much like him, she had an unusual affinity that gave her many advantages, but even without it she¡¯d managed to rise to the top of the class alongside Bael and Hammerheart. He might have found the way that they conducted themselves a bit distasteful, but Sylvas could at least understand the tactical decision-making that had been involved there.


    He decided to take a risk. ¡°They haven¡¯t even been trying to help me advance. It has all been¡­ side-work. Trying to get my embodiments and paradigms working optimally.¡±


    Glancing at him sideways as the complaining still went on around the table, she leaned in a little conspiratorially. ¡°Don¡¯t let them get sidetracked. When you have a rare affinity, people like Fahred and Vilmander look at you like an experiment. What happens if we combine this with that¡­ They forget you¡¯re a person, or that you¡¯re trying to get off this rock and get to work.¡±


    Sylvas hadn¡¯t really given much thought to it until now. He knew that once his training was complete and his advancement had reached a point where he might be viable in the field against Eidolon incursions, they were liable to be deployed. Then again, the majority of the recruits arrived already at circle two, with a lot more of an idea of what their advancement would look like. The Cull was yearly, and this was the second that Vel had been through, which meant that two years was likely the average lifecycle of a recruit on Strife. He didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d get extra time to train for the full breadth of the naval training, or whether the crash courses they were already on represented all that they¡¯d be taught.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind, but it isn¡¯t easy to argue with them.¡± He¡¯d expected a wry smile and agreement, but instead she looked like her hackles were up.


    ¡°It¡¯s your progression, it¡¯s your life. Don¡¯t let anyone try to take that away from you. What you decide now is forever.¡±


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    He found it strange that this woman who he probably would have called his enemy a couple of weeks ago was now trying to stand up for his rights, but there was a camaraderie among all the Argent recruits that seemed to supersede any personal grudges. No matter what they had against each other, the real enemy was never forgotten. Not the Eidolons or the Dominion or any of the other miscellaneous monsters they¡¯d have to fight; the officers who were giving them orders.


    That had been the highlight of the conversation though. Both of them lapsed back into silence as they finished up their meals, and both rose at about the same moment to head off to their next scheduled session of suffering. Sylvas gave a nod that almost became a bow as old instincts died hard, and Vel returned it with a little laugh.


    Old enemies could become new friends, and the people that Sylvas had been thinking of as his allies and mentors could become the real problem. Both Fahred and Vaelith had very clear ideas on what they wanted him to be, and even after the forced revelation of reincorporating all the things he¡¯d been repressing, he wasn¡¯t left with any clearer idea of what he wanted for himself. He couldn¡¯t pretend that Fahred¡¯s promises of a lifetime of just working with magic for magic¡¯s sake weren¡¯t appealing. He even understood the underlying appeal of making broad changes to the way things were done, from a safe distance. On paper, it looked like the obvious option, particularly when Vaelith represented the other option, and her way was so bloody and cruel. Torturing himself daily to make himself strong enough to throw into the waiting maw of the Eidolons in the hopes he¡¯d choke them. But even now that he could see her motivations so starkly, he wasn¡¯t ready to turn his back on that path entirely.


    All the horrible things that had happened to him, all the things that he¡¯d been hiding away and trying to ignore, they were a part of him now. He might not have decided what that meant yet, but he didn¡¯t think he could walk away from fighting back against the evil that he saw in the universe. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be able to live with himself, sitting back and just letting the same nightmare he¡¯d lived be unleashed on others over and over again while he cowered in some distant tower, safe at the cost of others safety.


    Without any clear instructions on where he was meant to be headed from on high, Sylvas gravitated towards the things that made him happy, and in this instance that meant travelling back to the temple complex and descending deep beneath the level of the red sands outside to the forge. Sagran was notable in her absence. Every moment he¡¯d been in this room, she had been too, radiating heat and unwanted scrutiny. He found his staff in progress, examined it for anything amiss, and then set to work with the construction.


    The magic had to be woven into it as it was put together, and in many ways, the magic would shape the construction as much as heat and hammer. The curving planes of metal that twisted into the opening at each end of the staff were a prime example, the metal could have been twisted and warped by the craft of any smith, but this one was shaped by the lines of enchantment running up the inner side, spaced evenly around the inner cylinder, as the cardinal directions on a compass.


    As he worked hammer and forge to close the metal casing around the liquid metal core of the staff, he spoke the words and channeled gravity affinity into it. With magnetic affinity, he supposed that each of those cardinal lines of enchantment would have blossomed out to seek the different poles of magnetism, but with gravity, all became a spiral. The steel sang and screamed as his magic flowed through it, twisting it into the design that Sagran had predicted it would take. A steady flow of his magic running up the length of it to both ends, managed by his split awareness. He had fractured off a piece of his psyche to manage the flow of mana to one end almost instinctively, as if the very pull of needing to concentrate on two things at once had been sufficient to separate it. In tandem Sylvas and the fracture-clone of his mind drew mana from his core, easing it out into the metal, into the inscriptions, into the whole of the thing, infusing it with his power. Making it his. Not just a tool made for him, but his, and extension of his body and his will. When the metal made contact with the bulge of the freshly crafted orbital spheres inside of the cylinder, it didn¡¯t try to crush it, as would have made sense, instead it warped around it, following its curvature. That made the base of the blossoming metal at each end of the staff. Its own gravity infusion was already in place and protecting it.


    There should have been some fanfare, a ringing of bells or fireworks when the staff formed into its final whole self, but Sylvas was alone in an eerily silent forge without even the Instructor present to share in his elation. The staff was complete. The tool he needed to make his affinity actually work in combat. Perhaps it was fitting that he had been all alone when he completed it. Just like he¡¯d been alone when he forged his first circle, or shed his first tear. This memory would sustain him in the years to come. The moment where he had taken all the destructive power at his fingertips and instead he had created.


    When he had lived back on Croesia, he had little time for normal people outside of the tower. Of artisans he knew nothing at all. Things were made, there were people who made them, some were better or worse than others, but ultimately it made no difference. He couldn¡¯t have told a well-made shoe from a bad until it fell apart on his feet, and the same was true of everything else. But this thing that he had made filled him with a swell of pride, and for the first time, he understood why people made things. Why they poured their time, and passion and soul into items that others wouldn¡¯t give a second glance.


    Almost the very moment that he had finished constructing his staff, his mind began to race towards other projects that he could pick up. Perhaps he¡¯d been foolish, all this time thinking that his choices were between the path of Fahred and his high and mighty magic, or Vaelith and her gruesome combat. Perhaps this was where he really belonged, in a quiet room, all alone, making beautiful and powerful things.


    It was a nice dream.

 Volume 2: Chapter 20

    ¡°There are some who question the freedom that the Ardent are granted to choose their own course for advancement. These people argue that while choosing one¡¯s own progression is a fundamental right of everyone else in the Empyrean, the soldiers who die to protect that right should be exempted from it. The most prevalent argument against this freedom is the idea that Ardent recruits might choose to deliberately sabotage their own advancement to avoid active service. This works off a number of flawed conceptions. The first being that anyone is willing to deliberately sabotage the composition of their body and mind for such petty advantages, the second being the idea that a mage is any less valuable to the Ardent if they are not a front-line fighter. A war is won on materiel, lines of supply and intelligence, not brute force. All are welcome in the Ardent, all will have a place here.¡±


    ¡ªKeeping the Peace Among the Peacekeepers, Gorgan Wartback


    Sylvas slept like a baby that night, finishing up early and forgoing any further self-improvement or attempts at socializing in favor of a solid night¡¯s rest. They were all dead on their feet, there wasn¡¯t going to be much in the way of conversation anyway.


    There were nightmares, horrors he had witnessed, and imagined horrors yet to come. Eidolons stalking him through the catacombs of the cliff complex while he was blinded. The voice of some woman, whether Hotlips or Mira, he couldn¡¯t say. He hadn¡¯t had Lockmind back home on Croesia, and some of the memories were starting to break down now. He was going to forget Mira¡¯s voice, her face, it was all fading.


    When he woke it wasn¡¯t in terror the way it used to be, but with a deep and abiding sadness resting heavy on his chest. He hated that even more. Guilt, grief, anger and pain, he could use all of those as fuel to drive him on, but this sadness was like a suit of lead.


    Chul was waiting for him when he emerged from his chambers, and he couldn¡¯t help but wonder why she bothered. It wasn¡¯t as though he had given any sign he meant to shirk his duties, or that he had any trouble rising in the morning. He genuinely wondered if the Quartermaster just didn¡¯t have anything better to do with her time. Glancing sideways at her as they emerged into the early evening air, he tried to take the measure of her intentions, but she was a blandly belligerent as always. Her horns curled back from a face that looked vaguely sinister and grumpy, but nothing in her actions had ever conveyed that bad mood. Sylvas wondered if she was accustomed to being intimidating because of her size, and simply adopted a disposition to match it.


    She reached over and gave him a solid slap on the back. ¡°Two more days.¡±


    He staggered under the weight of the blow, and until now, every time that Chul had inadvertently sent him flying he had assumed it to be cruelty. Now he wondered if she genuinely didn¡¯t know her own strength, or more importantly, whether he was misunderstanding some cultural thing. All of the fiends that he¡¯d met had been a lot more physical than he was used to. Jostling into his personal space, pushing and shoving at their friends, licking the roof of his mouth. Admittedly, he didn¡¯t think that Chul was going to make an attempt at that one. Perhaps this was all just how they were around other people. Sylvas made a mental note to replay all the interactions with fiends that he¡¯d seen and see if this theory held up.


    The exercises of the morning were on the same testing machines as yesterday, but this time the readout of the force he was managing to generate had been turned off. They resisted his efforts to operate them, pushing back at him with more and more force as he tried to exert first his own musculature, and then his embodiment to the maximum effect, but at no point did Chul stop to check the results that they were getting. There was no need. No matter what results they produced, she still would have driven him on to keep exercising, to push his body past the limits of what it had been capable of before. The strength of some of the other species, like the fiends or dwarves, was inherently greater than the baseline for humans and no amount of exercise would ever let him ascend to the heights that they could reach, but that didn¡¯t mean that there was no area of overlap, the weakest of the fiends were naturally somewhere in the low E ranks and the mightiest humans Sylvas had read about ranked almost as high as D before taking embodiments and enhancement spells into account. If he went on with this same course of training past this nightmarish week, he would inevitably grow strong enough to contend with them. Not even considering how much his own embodiment could change things.


    It hit him like a revelation that he was going to continue with the exercise regime beyond Hell Week, that it had been designed with that in mind, to slot into his usual schedule on campus. That he¡¯d been taught how to exercise with a full complement of the machinery available for that purpose within the Empyrean, and how to improvise his own workouts. It had seemed stupid and repetitive, and he¡¯d spent most of the time practicing his new cycling technique and sifting through the information that his eyepiece had been feeding him throughout the rest of the day for anything useful. Bizarrely, this most pointless part of his self-improvement regime had turned out to be one of the most valuable.


    Chul was leaning against a crumbling wall with the same complacent stare as always. There if he needed her, but more than content to go unneeded throughout the whole routine. He couldn¡¯t shake the idea that despite the advanced and complex training that Fahred had given him, or the brutal lessons that Vaelith had handed out, perhaps Chul had done the most for him out of all of them, by being there without any demands or expectations.


    His eye-slate alerted him to the time as he¡¯d programed it to. Letting him know the session was done and breakfast was due. He disentangled himself from the apparatus he was in, something that looked halfway between a torture device and a climbing frame, and crossed the distance to Chul. She looked down at him as he opened out his arms as wide as he could and tried to stretch around her broad trunk enough that she would take it as a hug. Without hesitation, she returned it, and Sylvas regretted everything as his ribs creaked. Different methods of communication. He¡¯d have to remember that going forward.


    After Chul dropped him back onto the sand, he headed for breakfast, only to get intercepted halfway to the Blackhall by a white shield. His second sight was growing more sensitive as time went by. The minute variances in different castings of the same spells were becoming more apparent to him, which was why he was confused to be confronted with a sending spell from an Instructor that had never sent him a sending before. Or at least, not that he could recall ever seeing. Frowning, he reached out to touch it. ¡°Report to Instructor Aurea¡¯s office, top floor, temple complex.¡±


    For a moment he was surprised, but he supposed that it had been inevitable. In all his time at the campus on Strife, he¡¯d only seen the Instructor-In-Chief twice, once on arrival and once when his affinity had made itself manifest. Another meeting was probably long overdue.


    Still, he resented the many many flights of stairs that he¡¯d need to climb to get to her, right after his session out in the training fields. Gritting his teeth, he set himself to the task at a jog.


    Perhaps the decision to build the Ardent training base on Strife in these old ruins without any attempt to install a single elevator had been part of the body conditioning work that Sylvas was now engaging in so heavily with Chul, but either way, he arrived at the doors of Instructor Aurea¡¯s office breathless and exhausted. It wouldn¡¯t even occur to him until later that he had been following the hulking fiend¡¯s suggestion to keep his body weight heightened with his Tidal Shift to improve muscle growth throughout his regular day, and that he¡¯d essentially run up the stairs at almost double the regular gravity.


    Taking a moment to compose himself, he reached out to knock, only for the door to swing inwards before he could touch it. Aurea was sitting behind her desk at the far side of the cozy office, smiling at him pleasantly. A chair was sitting slightly turned as if inviting him in. ¡°I hope that you have been enjoying your time here, Recruit Vail.¡±


    He returned the smile and settled himself opposite her. ¡°I¡¯m not certain that I¡¯m meant to be enjoying my time, but it is certainly¡­ informative.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Her hand moved, almost imperceptibly, scribbling something on the slate in front of her. It seemed to be almost compulsive, rather than a deliberate attempt to ignore him and carry on working, so Sylvas remained polite and didn¡¯t draw attention to it.


    ¡°How have you been getting along with the other recruits in the naval track?¡±


    Her hand stopped moving when she asked questions, and didn¡¯t resume again until he had answered, ¡°I think I¡¯ve been getting on well with more or less everyone now. I had some issues when I first joined with¡­ well it seems silly to call a full-grown dwarf a bully, but it has been resolved.¡±


    ¡°And you have since integrated said bully¡¯s right-hand man into your own social circle and have begun making overtures towards the other member of that team. It speaks to a personal philosophy of growth, acceptance and adaptability. All admirable traits in their place.¡±


    The fact that she¡¯d commented on him getting along with Bael and the sonic fiend made him wonder if that was not the intention, if they were meant to remain as rivals to drive him on in the soap opera that the Ardent seemed intent on constructing for him to live in. ¡°You think that I should have been less accepting? Punished them for following Hammerheart? Allowed the rift between different factions among the recruits to fester?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t about what I think, it is about what you think and the decisions that you have made. I have no influence over the situation whatsoever.¡± She said it so casually he almost believed it for a moment. As if she hadn¡¯t chosen exactly who was in what lecture together, who bunked together, what friendships would easily be forged and which would have impediments.


    He tried to keep his tone neutral, but it was difficult in the face of such blatant lies. ¡°I think it is better to have everyone in your army behaving like they¡¯re on the same side.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± She smiled brightly.


    There was a long silence as she scribed whatever notes she was taking, then she looked up at Sylvas once more, over the top of the glasses that had slipped down her nose. ¡°How have you been finding the personal improvement program?¡±


    ¡°Good. I think.¡± He was taken aback a little, he hadn¡¯t really thought about it as anything more than the latest hoop they wanted him to jump through. ¡°Hard in places. Painful, but good.¡±


    ¡°And you are content with the progress that you are making?¡± Nothing in her affect gave away any hint as to whether she was content with the progress he was making, but the fact she was asking the question suggested that she wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°I understand that I leapt ahead in terms of circles very quickly, and taking some time to go back and fill in some of the blank spaces where I missed things has been very useful. Not to mention getting to grips with my new affinity spells, embodiment and paradigm.¡±


    ¡°Do you believe that the instructors you worked with this week will share this opinion?¡± She approached it from a different angle. ¡°Do you think that they are content with your progress?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I do.¡± He answered after a little thought. ¡°I haven¡¯t mastered everything they¡¯ve been teaching me yet, but I think I¡¯ve made good progress, and I have another lesson with Instructor Fahred later today when I should be able to work on teleportation some more.¡±


    Thwarted twice by his refusal to engage with the subtext of her question, Aurea finally asked him plainly. ¡°Why have you made no attempt to advance to the next circle of magic?¡±


    ¡°Because my advancement was proceeding faster than everything else, I¡¯m still getting to grips with¡­¡±


    She cut him off before he could make any more of the same excuses. ¡°Since your arrival on Strife you have advanced twice in rapid succession, and now you seem to have lost all momentum. Do you believe that you could not have conducted the necessary learning while also working towards the formation of a new circle?¡±


    The truth was, he hadn¡¯t been working towards his next circle because he was still in limbo. He didn¡¯t know which direction he wanted his future to go, and choosing one set of embodiments and paradigms over another had the chance to lock him into one of those outcomes.


    ¡°Do you think I should have been working on my fourth circle?¡±


    She smiled again. It was a very well-practiced smile. Even if he spent a century faking happiness, Sylvas didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever be able to match it. ¡°I am simply trying to understand your reasoning.¡±


    ¡°I advanced rapidly because I was informed that it was necessary to do so for my own safety and that the optimal rate of progression was slower.¡±


    Her scribbling on the plate halted again. ¡°So you believe that your decision was made purely on the basis of logic?¡±


    ¡°What else would it have been based on?¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t really understand the question.


    ¡°While I am privy to all of the information about your training and instruction, I don¡¯t know your emotional state, or the reasoning for the actions you take.¡±


    Sylvas had the benefit of Lockmind to go back through every thought that had run through his head since he had acquired that Paradigm, and throughout it all, he truly believed that logic had been his compass. That wasn¡¯t to say he hadn¡¯t been angry or upset, but ultimately when he had made his choices, it had been to acquire the advantage he needed. Not to punish those who had transgressed him. ¡°To my knowledge, every choice I have made is based in logic.¡±


    ¡°So you think it is an unfair characterization to say that you have given up your pursuit of progress?¡±


    For a moment, Sylvas was stunned, then he blurted out, ¡°Why would you think that I¡¯d¡­¡± He cut himself off as his thoughts caught up to events. ¡°Wait.¡±


    ¡°Is something troubling you?¡± Aurea¡¯s hand hovered over her slate, ready to resume her report the moment he said a word.


    ¡°This is a psychological examination.¡±


    To her credit, she didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you would assume that¡­¡±


    Things were finally making sense. ¡°It¡¯s a psychological examination because you¡¯re the only psychologist on staff, and the mental state of recruits attempting to advance to higher circles of magic is a defining characteristic of how they turn out, that¡¯s why you¡¯re in charge of the whole facility, even though Administrator Mengrammon handles all of the practicalities of keeping the base operational.¡±


    Caught in her lie, she cleared her throat and tried to press on. ¡°Be that as it may¡­¡±


    ¡°You caught on to the fact I¡¯m not pushing myself to the brink of death in every exercise, and you think it means I¡¯ve lost my drive rather than finally acquiring a little bit of sanity.¡± He let out a mirthless laugh in spite of the situation.


    ¡°I would have termed it temperance, but you aren¡¯t entirely incorrect.¡± Her smile was beginning to fade. ¡°A degree of¡­ thrust is necessary for any ascent.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve read my files. You know that I have been manipulated my entire life. In a much less ham-fisted way than the Ardent have been manipulating me so far. You must have realised that I¡¯d catch on.¡±


    Bland faced, she lied again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±


    ¡°When I was self-destructive, you were happy. Now that I¡¯m trying to live, you¡¯re not. That doesn¡¯t bode well for the future of soldiers under Ardent command, does it?¡±


    She shrugged, shamelessly, ¡°As I said, a degree of drive is necessary for success in the Ardent. The situations that our troops are sent into often seem overwhelming or hopeless. A strong drive to succeed can counter that.¡±


    He sat for a long moment, letting all of this bubble away inside of his brain, then he took a calming breath and did the unthinkable. ¡°I¡¯m going to lay my cards on the table, and I would appreciate if you would do the same.¡±


    ¡°Cards?¡± She was still playing dumb, and it was infuriating.


    ¡°I am going to be honest with you if you will do me the courtesy of being honest too.¡±


    She took her hand away from the slate, and laid both palms on the table. ¡°Insofar as I am able.¡±


    ¡°The reason I have lost my drive is because I detected your manipulation.¡± She flinched ever so slightly as he said that. A minute movement that he doubted he would have caught onto if he weren¡¯t so used to Bael¡¯s carefully schooled behavior. ¡°If left to my own devices, I am more than happy to ascend with all speed and be deployed in the battle against the Eidolons. But I am not going to be manipulated. Not again. Not after what I have been through.¡±


    She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off once more. ¡°I gave the Ardent my oath. If you tell me that you need me to walk into fire, I¡¯ll do it. But don¡¯t try to trick me by saying it won¡¯t burn.¡±


    That was apparently enough of a statement that she paused before coming back with an answer. ¡°You do not believe that you require any encouragement?¡±


    He tapped the desk beside her slate. ¡°Look at my file again, ask yourself if I have anything in my life that matters to me more than fighting the Eidolons.¡±


    Wetting her lips, Aurea sat back, her mask of civility returning in an instant. ¡°Your opinion is noted, and I shall take your aversion to being¡­ guided into account moving forward.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He replied, genuinely.


    But it seemed that the bombardment of questions was never going to end. ¡°Does this mean that you have come to some conclusion with regards to preferred mentorship moving forward?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m¡­ still weighing that.¡± Ambivalent was not something that he wanted written in any report about him. ¡°Do you have a preference?¡±


    ¡°As you have said yourself, you strive to make decisions based in logic,¡± She quirked a little smile onto her lips, and despite himself, Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but think it was genuine. ¡°I have no doubt that you will come to the conclusion that logic dictates.¡±


    He found that difficult to believe. ¡°The Ardent has no preference?¡±


    ¡°We will get full use of you, either way.¡± She pushed her seat back and rose, making it clear that their time together was firmly at its end.


    Sylvas cleared his throat as he rose. ¡°Thank you for your time, Instructor.¡±


    ¡°And you for yours, Recruit Vail.¡± She leaned over the desk to shake his hand. ¡°I realise time is at a premium at present.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 21

    ¡°Power is all that matters. Others will argue for strategy, or cunning, or even logistics, but all of these things can be overcome with sufficient power. Any spell can be borne down and crushed if you have enough mana at your disposal and the wherewithal to use it. Any enemy can be broken on the rack of your raw might if it exceeds theirs. We measure the rings of containment that we use for our mana as though they are the defining trait of our power. A circle five mage more than a match for any circle four, and so forth, but time and again we have seen the strong overthrown by the weak when the weak had more mana at their disposal. Do not be so blinded by your own power that you cannot recognize it in others, and do not forget that no matter how insurmountable your talents or powers become, they will never be a match for a primitive shaman with a chunk of etherium in his pocket.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    The intuitive part of teleportation was slowly but surely coming to Sylvas. The fact that he could constantly regenerate his mana as he went now meant that the training session beneath the stone could carry on for hours on end, and his body was slowly acclimating to its brief jumps outside of the laws of physics so the vomit flowed a little less copiously.


    At first, he hadn¡¯t been entirely clear on why they would conduct the practice sessions so deep beneath the cliff complex, but as he became more accustomed to teleportation he realized that there were two factors that made it wise. The solid mass around them actually created a sort of barrier of gravity, he could pass through it without any issue, but it gave him a sense of limitation that open air might not have. Without that trace of gravity, he most likely would have overshot a lot more, and given how little gravity mana it took to teleport; scarcely more than a particularly potent Gravity Spike it was entirely possible that he¡¯d have flung himself clear of Strife¡¯s atmosphere before he got control of himself.


    The other advantage was, of course, that if he did screw up, he would only kill himself rematerializing inside solid stone instead of phasing back into reality inside one of the other recruits and tearing the both of them apart. Isolation was key for this part of the training.


    By the midpoint of this second session, he felt confident in his ability to cast the spell successfully and to navigate null-space, so they switched track, at his request. Fahred would teleport somewhere around the chamber, and Sylvas would attempt to trace his location from the brief gravity well that he left behind. With that achieved, he was meant to teleport after him. He missed almost every time, at least in the beginning, but soon his gravity sense started pinging him with an echo. Not the tear that Fahred had entered, but the adjoining one would place itself on his mental map, and coordinating his teleportation after that was easy. For perhaps the last quarter of the lesson, they played a game of hide and seek.


    Fahred would teleport away, not somewhere in the chamber, but somewhere outside on campus, where he now felt confident that they could both reach without incident. Sylvas would trace him, and follow. The top of the Temple came first, the top of the cliffs soon after, the deep freeze off the cliffside mess hall was trickier, but no harder than Sagran¡¯s forge that they passed through to a chorus of jeers from the other students at work there. Fahred¡¯s office, his lecture hall, the laundry, the training fields outside of the wards. Even, briefly all the way across the ravine into the midst of the dead and toppled city that the campus overlooked, though some sinister sounds that could have been roaming Eidolons encouraged Fahred to move on from there a lot faster than the previous locations, heading for somewhere safe inside the wards. The words echoed behind even after Fahred was already gone. ¡°Perhaps there is a more precipitous place to play chase.¡±


    That turned out to be in one of the outbuildings among the scrap that Chul meant to get around to repairing one of these days but hadn¡¯t quite gotten to yet. There, Sylvas was delighted to see Fahred accidentally entangle his foot in a mass of what looked like fishing nets, slashing at them with tight beams of water to free himself before porting away once more. ¡°Oh that¡¯s funny is it?¡±


    Sylvas arrived in Fahred¡¯s office once more. ¡°Pretty funny.¡±


    The Instructor looked genuinely irritated for a moment, then his grin reappeared just before he disappeared.


    Sylvas followed without hesitation, diving back through null-space, with the sound of Fahred¡¯s passage through that empty silence echoing behind him like the last notes of a long-forgotten melody. He emerged into darkness, and for an awful moment he thought that Fahred had tricked him somehow, and he¡¯d buried himself alive, but his gravity sense assured him that nothing of the sort had happened. They were well above ground level, and he was nose to nose with Fahred, who was grinning like a fool now that Sylvas eyes had adjusted to the tiny thread of light making its way through the gap in the closet door. He opened his mouth to comment on how dangerous the maneouver was, putting them in such close proximity, but before he could, Fahred clapped his hands and vanished all over again.


    Outside of the closet, the sound of a shower abruptly cut off, and Sylvas was instantly awash in panic. He couldn¡¯t see outside of the closet, but his gravity sense still gave him a very good idea about who was out there. Each of the Instructors had a different resonance, based on how much they had stowed away in Cold Storage, and on the other side of those closet doors was unmistakably Vaelith, freshly emerged from a shower that they had just interrupted. Footsteps slapped across the floorboards outside and if it hadn¡¯t have been for the clarity his Paradigms granted him, Sylvas would have been caught, and likely hung up by his genitals from the side of the Blackhall. With a talent born of desperation, he teleported out.


    Atop the temple complex again, he slid a short distance along the sloped remains of a long ruined tile roof underlaid with smooth cool metal and came to a halt overlooking the campus, heart hammering in his chest. Instead of trying to follow Fahred¡¯s trail from wherever the most feared instructor in the base was bathing, Sylvas let his gravity sense roll out and find him through the resonance of his Cold Storage. He was back in his office, which made sense. Sylvas teleported there after just a moment¡¯s thought.


    Fahred was lounging in his chair, and greeted him with, ¡°Pretty funny?¡±


    The sending from Vaelith was there waiting for Sylvas when he arrived. A white shield simply saying, ¡°Anyone trained can read a teleportation trace.¡±


    He covered his face in mortification. ¡°Oh she¡¯s going to finish beating me to death next time.¡±


    ¡°As you deserve for mocking your Instructor and being such a little pervert.¡± Fahred quipped back, still looking incredibly smug. Right up until his own sending from Vaelith arrived. He listened to it in dead silence, the smile slowly melting off his face.


    Eventually, long after the message had been conveyed to him, he said, ¡°Right.¡±


    There was another long pause. ¡°Right, lessons are done for the day. I need to find a way off the planet.¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t restrain himself from grinning now, even as Fahred started mumbling about calculating for interplanetary teleportation or looking up wards that could stop a comet and ushered him out. Most of the reason for the smile was relief that blame was being correctly assigned, but there was something oddly satisfying about seeing the smug Instructor on the back foot for a change.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The time for his lessons to come to an end had already arrived, so he wasn¡¯t exactly being dismissed early, but given how hard he¡¯d been worked throughout Hell Week, actually getting to finish on time was something of a small miracle. Sylvas headed downstairs and out, eyes already turning to the Blackhall and thoughts already turning to dinner.


    Which was why the first spell hit him unimpeded. It was a bolt of green flame, and it tore cleanly through his forearm and buried itself in his hip. He folded around the blow like someone had instantaneously emptied his uniform of the body within. Collapsing with a scream of pain before he could filter it out.


    Vaelith¡¯s camouflage spell faded away now that the first blow was struck, crackling lines of green seeming to birth her out of the empty space between the buildings. ¡°On your feet, recruit.¡±


    The wound in his hip had dug only a few inches deep before cauterizing itself, a hint of white bone visible among the black char. His left hand was useless, fingers flexing, but the whole hand dangling limp from the damage of the bolt passing through. Despite all that, he rose to his feet at her command.


    ¡°If this is about¡­ the shower.¡± Despite the pain, embarrassment still flushed through him, bringing blood to his cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it was¡­¡±


    ¡°War isn¡¯t about anything, recruit.¡± She advanced on him again, magic beginning to coil and twist around her. Closing the distance between them. ¡°It just is.¡±


    Sylvas turned and ran. His left hip didn¡¯t move like it should, the other muscles having to compensate for the burnt-out ones and doing a poor job. That leg dragged with every step, but it still kept him a little ahead of her reach as he cast.


    With a lurch, his next step was into the oblivion of null-space, then he was back and running, back through the storage locker where he¡¯d been earlier, where Fahred had tangled himself. It took a simple cast of kinesis and a tug to topple the rickety shelves. Then he was casting once more, still running to put as much distance between one trail and the next, buying himself time to think. The next jump was to the top of the cliff face, where he¡¯d trained his team for the Cull. It was empty and barren, but also unexpected enough for him to prepare himself. The wound on his hip was debilitating when he was on foot, so he intended to be in the air as much as possible. The wound to the arm was more concerning, casting would take twice as long if he was producing mana and shaping it into spell-forms one handed. Some of his repertoire of spells wouldn¡¯t even be available to him. If only he had some sort of focus to work with, perhaps one that was double ended so he could produce two continuous mana streams to cast with. He drew his staff from his satchel, pressing the right finger to the right thread clumsily with his deadened hand.


    Then he started casting, rapid fire, one spell after another after another, fracturing off pieces of his psyche to hold them, ignoring the rapid drain on his mana. Either Vaelith came for him here and he held her off, or she¡¯d lost track of him and he could drain the majority of the mana back and reintegrate his fractals. If she had lost him, he¡¯d swing by the infirmary for a patch up before going out hunting her.


    He need not have worried about needing to track her down. There was only one hunter in their relationship, and it certainly wasn¡¯t him. She appeared exactly where he himself had teleported just a few seconds before and advanced on him once more.


    Time to see if the staff did what he hoped. It was now or never.


    He leveled it at her and cast Invert.


    There was no area of effect this time around, just the sudden twisting of angles and forces by the rotation of the staff and the spell. She was hit with the invisible wave of change, gravity re-asserted itself as being behind her and she was dragged from her feet, falling along the flat desert plane until she went tumbling off the cliffside.


    It worked.


    As she dipped out of sight, Sylvas swiftly recast Invert, fragmenting off another piece of his psyche to keep it on hold, then he ran.


    He had no illusions that the fall would kill Vaelith, or even knock her out, her embodiments made her a tank and one little knock wouldn¡¯t be enough, at best he¡¯d bought himself some time, at worst, her reflexes were sharp enough that¡­


    She teleported into sight a few feet ahead of him, rolling her shoulders like she was warming up. ¡°Cute.¡±


    She launched a bolt of green fire directly at Sylvas from one hand, and a second off to the side. For the briefest of moments as he raised a Gravity Shear to shield himself, he thought that the second shot had been meant to lock down his options in terms of movement, but from the corner of his eye, he saw it curve, swooping back in towards him once it was past the convex shield ahead of him. He twisted, so that the edge of his shield intercepted the bolt, curving it off course, but that left his other flank open to the next barrage.


    Vaelith was charging him, well aware of her superiority at close range, and veering towards the side that he had shielded instead of his unprotected flank. She was going to launch more curved shots to the other side to make him shield himself there and leave her route clear. He wasn¡¯t going to let her.


    She fired off another pair of bolts, but Sylvas was no longer there, he dropped his shield, reintegrated a fragment, and took flight. Both bolts buzzed under him to impact the sand as he gained height.


    While the flight spell was active, he couldn¡¯t cast anything else. It locked him into a single course of action if he wanted to maintain his mobility, but of course, Vaelith knew this. She had literally written the book on magical combat, and she knew that to win, you had to eliminate your opponent¡¯s options. What she didn¡¯t know, was all the options that Sylvas had made for himself in the past few days of training.


    Draining himself of weight in gradual increments as he flew straight up, he eventually reached the point where gravity was no longer pulling at him. Even without his flight spell, he could keep to the air now, even if he would lose all maneuverability. The air was thin up here, and his breath came ragged and desperate, but he had a few fractions of a second when she wasn¡¯t pressing him. He deployed the orbitals from his bag, and they assumed their gentle circles around him.


    He was a sitting duck up in the sky. An admittedly tiny target painted against the backdrop of stars. Vaelith wouldn¡¯t be using her eyes to track the tiny black dot, but her second sight. She could see the mana inside him, see him shaping it.


    Green glowed down on the clifftop, embers of it spitting from the fire of Vaelith¡¯s casting to zip up towards him. He still had the flight spell in action, allowing himself freedom of movement to dodge each one as they came, but it was a losing game. She could stay down there blasting away at him like an artillery emplacement until the suns rose, and he would have to dodge every single shot. She only had to get lucky once.


    Pouring more mana into his flight spell, Sylvas launched himself away, not out over the campus, but towards the distant battle-line where they¡¯d held off the Eidolon incursion not so long ago. Familiar ground for both of them, but distant enough from the campus that nothing they did was liable to cause property damage. Down below, he could see Vaelith chasing him. Moving as fast as he could in flight by the power of her legs alone. As if he needed another reason to find her intimidating.


    More spells flew, tiny green specks in the shadowed landscape beneath him, growing to roaring spheres of flame as they drew close and swept by.


    They couldn¡¯t go on like this. Sylvas couldn¡¯t anyway. His Instructor was fifth circle, she had mana to spare even without him draining his away for flight, and she hadn¡¯t been using her supply all day like him.


    She was using second sight to track him through the night sky. He could use it to stop her.


    Abandoning his flight spell, he let momentum carry him on and began casting a new spell of his own. Pouring more and more of his dwindling supply of mana into it, until his core could not have been shining half as bright as the spell he was about to cast. Then he unleashed it.


    It was a gravity spike, cast in the air.


    If he hadn¡¯t been filtering out what his second sight told him through his Clearmind, the sudden outburst of magic through that massive spell would have blinded him. He had to hope it would do the same to Vaelith. At least for long enough.


    The barrage that had been tracing him across the sky stopped. The bolts already in flight all curving towards the focal point of his gravity spike. Even near weightless as he was, the massive amount of gravity he had just exerted pulled him in too, and down beneath him in the open empty plain of red sand, chaos was unfolding. Every grain of that sand was being called up to the gravity spike. Vaelith was hauled off her feet by the sudden change in direction of gravity, and even if she hadn¡¯t been, the ground must have bucked. Even the sand compacted under her feet would have tried to rise.


    He had his moment.


    Letting the second to last of his fragments reintegrate into his psyche, Sylvas cast teleport.


    Vaelith knew him. Knew his capabilities. Knew that he was a careful tactician. She had been watching him every moment since he arrived on Strife. She knew without a doubt that he would not move into close-combat with her, because doing so would give her every advantage, just as it had the last time they fought. He would never repeat the same mistake twice. Her knowledge of him gave her all the advantages, but it was a double-edged sword.


    In the moment she was still blind, Sylvas stepped out of null-space behind her and struck.

 Volume 2: Chapter 22

    ¡°A recruit¡¯s combat aptitude cannot be assessed solely in measurable statistics. The number of spells that they have memorized, the mana they have at their disposal, the number of circles they have ascended, the scores and rankings by which we scry their physical and mental attributes are all data points which can be assessed, but they do not define their character. The most powerful mage in the universe might freeze when confronted with danger. The most talented spellcaster might flinch away at the sight of blood. To know whether a recruit in the Ardent can and will fight when the moment arrives, there can be only one way of determining. They must be placed in the crucible of combat. They must experience pain, failure and defeat, and they must return from it, seeking to fight again. We are not looking for people who can win a battle. We are looking for people who can wage a war.¡±


    ¡ªKeeping the Peace Among the Peacekeepers, Gorgan Wartback


    Anyone else would have been dead. Anyone else would have received the full weight of Sylvas swing. The gravity he had shifted in the staff, an extension of himself, the impossible weight that imbued in his body would have shattered him, but imbued in the staff that he had crafted and balanced for just this strike didn¡¯t even bend it. He couldn¡¯t have guessed what it would have registered on the punching bag they¡¯d tested his strength on, but he was willing to bet it was higher than whatever Vaelith scored in Resilience.


    She twisted as the stave came crashing down, raising an arm into its path. What should have been a killing blow to the back of her head became as crippling blow to her arm. For the first time in his life, Sylvas saw Vaelith hurt.


    Despite the mana-infused muscle surrounding it, the bone of her forearm snapped in two under the deathblow. Her incantations, probably summoning some more green flaming death to send after him, stuttered as the pain washed through her. The spells at her fingertips failed and the green dimmed.


    The arm hung as limp and useless as his deadened hand. She had to see that he¡¯d won. He said to her the very same thing she¡¯d said with a blade pressed to his neck at the start of Hell Week. ¡°Yield.¡±


    She laughed. Not the smirk he¡¯d become accustomed to, but something deep and throaty that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. ¡°From one little tap? I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    Then she was moving, charging so fast that his eyes could barely keep track, he flung his orbitals into a wild spin around him, halting her approach before she could lay hands on him, but he was in the danger zone now. Too close for comfort, too close for sanity.


    She¡¯d manifested the same single edged blade from their last fight, green fire licking off it, but while he fully expected her to slash out at his orbitals and put them out of action, he did not expect her to swing it down at her own broken arm, severing it and cauterizing the wound above the break. Her dead arm hit the ground with a puff of sand, then she was coming at him again. Ducking and weaving to break through the patterns he spun his orbitals into to block her. They were just balls of metal, when it came down to it, the only thing that made them dangerous was the velocity he was spinning them at.


    ¡°Come on boy,¡± Vaelith¡¯s grin was feral. ¡°Show me what you can do.¡±


    He slammed the base of his staff into the ground, and the orbitals fell in a circle around him, still linked by his will, and his mana. Where he¡¯d left it was where the staff stayed standing, weightless with the orbital enchantment bound at each end of it. With his hand free, he reached over to touch the crystal on the back of his broken hand, drawing out the neutral mana and casting something old and almost forgotten.


    Vaelith had only paused for a moment to assess the situation before realizing Sylvas defenses were down, then she came charging in all over again with her blade raised.


    The neutral mana that his glove had gathered worked just like his own used to. It was only a tiny speck of power compared to what he could wield now, but sometimes all he needed was a tiny speck. He flicked it down into the circle his orbitals had drawn in the sand and a magic circle snapped into place around him. Vaelith stepped through it unhindered in her charge, but the spells she¡¯d cast were stopped as she passed over the threshold. The blade faded to specks of green nothing in her hand, the enhancements that she¡¯d layered up on herself were gone too.


    Her passage disrupted the sand, broke the circle, it was a trick that could only ever hold for a fraction of a second, and only somewhere that he could mark the ground, but it was enough. With a touch of will and mana his staff leapt back to his hand, and he spun it straight into a blow that should have stopped Vaelith in her tracks.


    She caught the staff in one hand, and for that one awful moment he thought she was so strong she could stop it dead, but instead she used it as a pivot point, spinning her whole body up and around it, bringing her feet up level with Sylvas¡¯ face.


    The heel of her boot took him under the eye, his cheekbone folded like paper, and he flew.


    Familiarity had trained instinct. Sylvas had flooded his head and neck with extra weight before the blow struck home, otherwise the odds were it would have snapped his neck as well as launching him across the plain, but that extra weight had made him even more top-heavy, and even more liable to crash to the ground instead of being able to roll to his feet.


    His orbitals and staff had been left behind. All that he had left now was himself. Vaelith was coming straight for him, so fast that he couldn¡¯t think. The last spell that he¡¯d saved. He finished it through the blood flooding down into his mouth from above.


    He was not going to let her do this to him again. He was not going to let her beat him into a pulp while he was helpless. He was never going to be helpless again. He would not let anyone make him feel like that again. Not her. Not Eidolons. Not now. Not ever.


    Invert flipped the gravity around him. A plume of sand rose, and he rose with it, flung up into the air, out of Vaelith¡¯s reach. She leapt for him all the same, but all the force she¡¯d put into her leap was reversed when she came into Invert¡¯s area of effect, her trajectory, which had been perfect to catch him, was now reversed. She flew down towards the sand below, and unwilling to let such an opportunity pass him by, Sylvas let the brief Inversion end, so she¡¯d continue to plummet.


    Vaelith hit the dirt hard, slamming her one surviving hand down to disperse the impact and raising a plume of red that was all her own. Sylvas drained his own weight just enough that his own landing wouldn¡¯t be so catastrophic, landed hard and painfully anyway, then he took off running and casting. Not towards his orbitals and staff, as Vaelith seemed to expect from the way that she shot off in that direction, but in the complete opposite direction. She spotted him and corrected course almost instantly, of course, but the moments that it bought him let him finish fragmenting himself and casting his spell for later.


    She closed the distance with almost comedic ease. He was running for his life, and she made it look like nothing more than a brisk jog. Throwing up his one good hand Sylvas pulled with all his might, and all his will.


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    Instinct saved Vaelith again, she ducked as the orbitals were dragged across the desert at the speed of cannon fire to resume their position around Sylvas. But those same instincts didn¡¯t account for the staff, which flew to him low and parallel to the ground, knocking her legs out from under her as it spun to his waiting grasp.


    Scraping the bottom of his core, he cast Gravity Spike, amping up the pressure on Vaelith, crushing her and pinning her to the ground. He needed time to think, to plan. If he could hold her down for just a minute, he¡¯d be able to refresh his fragments and get a new toolbox of spells to deal with whatever she threw at him next.


    The delay was barely even the length of a breath. He didn¡¯t have enough mana to keep the Spike going for more than a second. She flipped back to her feet with a flex of muscles Sylvas was pretty sure he didn¡¯t even have, and then she launched into a fresh barrage of green fire bolts. The first few he managed to dodge, as she was casting them wild as she sprinted, but by the time they were close enough to make out the expression on each other¡¯s faces there was no way to avoid them and no time to cast a shield. Her face was contorted from its usual stern glare into something else, something savage that Sylvas would have claimed that he didn¡¯t recognize, but that he was fairly certain was showing on his own face right now. A challenge.


    Even so, the next green fire bolt that came soaring at him, he batted it away with his staff, pouring enough weight into one end to create an anomaly in the gravity surrounding it that curved the shot and made it miss him, zooming up into the air. Maybe all those dull lessons on space-flight weren¡¯t so useless.


    Within him, his core was close to empty. In the moments between casting he had tried his best to reverse the flow and draw fresh mana in, but he was simply outpacing his ability to replenish it.


    When the next bolt of green leapt from Vaelith¡¯s hands, Sylvas was exhausted enough that he might have just accepted the hit rather than try to leap away, but instead of a simple blast, the green flames surged out into the shape of some bird of prey. It swooped forward, raking at him with spectral claws that he barely managed to avoid, but by the time his attention was back on her, Vaelith was on him.


    Blade and staff met, and sparks rained down around them. Sylvas had no idea how he¡¯d even managed to get his staff up in time to block the blow, let alone how he knew to tilt it when she applied more pressure so that it skidded down the bare length of the shaft and gave him an opening to kick out into her side. It was clumsy, and he had no time to shift weight around so his kick did little more than leave a red mark on the elf¡¯s uniform, but he was taking what wins he could.


    Kicking off the immovable object of his enemy, he launched himself back, narrowly avoiding the backslash that Vaelith brought back up from where she¡¯d been deflected. It would have had his head off.


    Staggering back a step out of reach he began to cast, spinning the staff back in front of him to knock aside her next blow, with enough residual weight still clinging to one end of the staff that it felt grossly unbalanced, but hit hard enough to actually deflect her relentless strength.


    He spread his orbitals as he went, each parry giving them a little more time, and then when her next slash came in, whipping around the clumsy defenses of his quarterstaff, he launched one into action, striking at the back of Vaelith¡¯s hand and fouling the blow that should have gutted him. His uniform slit open in a long line and the flames licked across his stomach, scorching a bright red line across him. But he was alive. Every moment he was alive was a victory.


    Every moment he was alive, he was drawing in more mana.


    Darting in like shooting stars, the orbitals intercepted her, one after another after another. Every killing blow was knocked off course, every step she took was knocked off balance. With all his concentration on guiding them, Sylvas had none to spare to cast, but he wouldn¡¯t have had the time to cast anyway, not with her so close.


    All he had were problems, and he needed solutions. Pouring weight and mass into his dead left arm, he brought it up to block her next blow. It was as heavy as he could make it, all concerns about broken bones cast aside in the face of the awful damage it had already suffered. Denser than any metal. The green glowing blade cut through it like butter all the same. The laws of physics did not apply. His deadened left hand fell to the ground at their feet, and he slammed the doors of Clearmind in the face of the incoming agony.


    Now they were both down an arm. He didn¡¯t delude himself into thinking that made anything about this fair.


    Still, the moment that losing it had bought him was worth it. He managed to blurt out a good half of his gravity spike spell before Vaelith¡¯s blade thrust in past his defenses to bury its tip in his shoulder.


    It burned. The green flames licking out across his chest, arm and back, skin blackened and crackled, but in an awful way he had been lucky again. His staff had been protecting his right side, so she¡¯d struck at the left. It almost didn¡¯t matter if that whole arm was dead.


    As she pulled the blade back, he slammed the tip of his staff into her gut. Not with enough force for her to even notice, but just barely enough to let him use it as a point of leverage to push himself away. The next slash sizzled past his face without making contact.


    With a twist of the staff and the very last of his mana. Sylvas cast Gravity Spike.


    He had no idea how much damage it would do, or if it would do anything at all, but he cast a spell that was usually dispersed across a sphere of several feet in one tiny inch of space, inside Vaelith¡¯s body.


    It didn¡¯t matter how strong she was, how tough she was, or what protections she had cast. Nothing could keep her safe from every organ in her thoracic cavity being crushed together.


    Blood burst from her mouth, her eyes widened in surprise. Sylvas spell faltered almost as soon as he¡¯d cast it, the very last dregs of mana tearing out of him. Through ragged breaths, he panted out, ¡°Yield!¡±


    She had folded in around her stomach as he staggered back, whether from the pain, or from the pure gravitational pull of the spike, but as she straightened up, her teeth showed through the gore trickling from her mouth. ¡°No.¡±


    Manifesting the blade in her hand again, she started to cast, a spell that she didn¡¯t already have prepared, something that would invariable turn the tide of battle. He was tapped out. Every bit of mana poured into what should have been a killing blow. He had no ammunition to return fire, or interrupt her. He¡¯d gambled it all on one shot, and it hadn¡¯t been enough.


    The orbitals buzzed in, all pretense at defense gone now, they battered against her. One after another after another. Hits that would have downed any one of the recruits. Blows that would have torn Sylvas own jaw from his face. But Vaelith just accepted them. He saw one of her teeth fly across the sand, blood was everywhere, but she didn¡¯t stop casting, not even as she ran at him once more.


    Green fire exploded out of her. Like the illusory trick she¡¯d used to scare them all into action back in training. But where that had done them no harm, this was searing hot, scorching across Sylvas skin. Burning away his eyelids when he squeezed them shut to prevent the blindness that was sure to come. Pain consumed him, so much that even Clearmind couldn¡¯t hold it all back. His whole front side had been flayed of skin by the scorching flames of green.


    And right on the heels of the wave of fire, she came, blade at the ready. He staggered back out of range, frantically pulling in all the mana that he could, but he had forgotten one variable.


    The bird had been circling their melee, completely forgotten in the chaos, but now it hit him in the back, claws digging through what remained of his uniform and unburnt flesh to scrape across his shoulder blades. In itself it would have been bad enough, but the hit launched him back into Vaelith¡¯s reach, and that slash for the throat which should have killed him the first time around was now coming back again as she launched herself to meet him.


    There was no time to think. No space to move. His staff was splayed out of any sort of defensive position as he tried to maintain his balance. It was over. She had won.


    Not for free.


    With the last moment of awareness he had before the blade hit his throat, Sylvas pulled. The orbitals that had all been hanging around him, inert since he¡¯d abandoned his attempts to stop her casting, leapt into motion. Converging on Vaelith.


    They didn¡¯t have the distance to build up much momentum, he couldn¡¯t exert enough force on them for any sort of kill-shot, but he could make her hurt. They struck at her from every angle at once, steel striking flesh. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the blade swept in towards his throat, and he heard every thumping impact, felt ¨C through his connection to the orbitals ¨C as the bones in his impervious Instructor cracked under the barrage.


    Then he looked up at the stars as his half-severed head lolled back. He had spent a lot of time looking at the stars back on Croesia, when he was a child with nothing but his own company, and when he was a servant of the Hollow Heart he had spent many nights plotting out their positions and making calculations. The stars are so different here.


    From the edges of his vision, the stars began to vanish, and as he took one last bloody gurgling breath, everything turned to black.

 Volume 2: Chapter 23

    ¡°Forging a weapon does not only require time with the hammer and flame, but also periods of cooling. Time in which the metal rests and recovers from the changes made to it. So to must it go with mages. The more that things change, the longer stabilization requires. The greater the change, the longer the delay. It is for this reason among others that rapid advancement is rarely advisable. Change heaped upon change can result in unforeseen mutation without time and temperance.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    ¡°What time is it?¡± Sylvas mumbled. His throat was still sore, which was unusual after a visit to the medical bay.


    The half-elf stared down at him with utter dismay. ¡°You lost an arm, and your head, and you are worried about the time?¡±


    He tried to shrug but that set off a load of wards around him beeping. ¡°Hell week.¡±


    The medic pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°If I ever hear those words again, it will be too soon.¡±


    ¡°Time?¡± Sylvas tried again.


    ¡°It is midway through the day, but¡­ Do not try to get up!¡± She slammed her hands onto Sylvas¡¯ shoulders before he could budge.


    ¡°Is my head going to fall off if I move?¡± He tried to joke, but judging from the pain he¡¯d just felt¡­


    ¡°The muscles are still stitching.¡±


    He could feel them, it was less like an itch, and more like a massage when muscles were being regenerated, vibrations moving in waves as the tissue reached out to join up with the muscle strands growing from the other side. Strangely gentle until they connected and pulled themselves taut. Letting out a heavy breath, he braced himself for what was about to come.


    Sinking into a chair beside his bed, out of sight, the medic spoke. ¡°We had a conversation about what was going to happen the next time I saw you here.¡±


    ¡°You were going to recommend I undergo a psychological evaluation due to the number of times I have been injured.¡± At least she couldn¡¯t see him rolling his eyes from where she was.


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    Resisting the urge to turn and look at her was difficult, but the pain served as an ample reminder that it would be a bad idea. ¡°I¡¯ve already had one, courtesy of Instructor Aurea.¡±


    There was a lull in the conversation that he assumed was surprise, then she asked, ¡°And she found¡­¡±


    Another inadvertent attempt at a shrug left him aching all the way down to his elbows. ¡°Nothing wrong enough to pull me from duty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­. strange.¡± Was her rather disjointed observation. He assumed she was looking for the assessment in her files, and had no idea whether Aurea would have actually filed one or not, given how their conversation had ended.


    ¡°If it helps, I have reintegrated all the memories that I was repressing and have a better outlook on things after the psychological break that caused.¡±


    ¡°That¡­¡± She started in with her usual tone to tell him off then stalled out. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Also, if you wanted to make sure that I never ended up injured again, you probably should have informed Instructor Vaelith, since she¡¯s the one who did her best to make me a head shorter.¡±


    Another silence, then the medic grumbled. ¡°You¡¯re still very flippant when you talk about near death experiences.¡±


    It was enough to make Sylvas chuckle despite the pain. ¡°Would you rather I cried?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m aware that all of you macho soldier types would sooner die than let someone see you shed a tear.¡±


    ¡°Is she alright?¡±


    ¡°Instructor Vaelith underwent surgery for about four of the hours that you¡¯ve been slowly regenerating. The arm was a simple enough fix, whatever you did inside her¡­ that¡¯s a very different matter.¡± Judging by her tone, it had been a harrowing experience. ¡°Please don¡¯t make me have to untangle anyone else¡¯s spleen again.¡±


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    He forced a smile, and wondered just how powerful his newly focused gravity spike would actually turn out to be. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know she could be hurt.¡± She let out a disgusted grunt. ¡°Good job, I guess?¡±


    She was in the Argent, but didn¡¯t approve of fighting. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever understand her. He deflected with the usual casualness. ¡°I still lost.¡±


    She scoffed as she rose from her chair and headed back to her rounds. ¡°To a fifth circle mage with a century of practice.¡±


    ¡°Excuses.¡± Sylvas wished that they¡¯d propped him up before leaving him to heal, he could only just make out the top of the half-elf¡¯s head now.


    ¡°Context.¡± She replied. ¡°If you could already win every fight, they wouldn¡¯t be training you, would they?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Not so long ago he would have argued the point. Quoted some of the inspirational philosophical literature that the recruits were given to absorb about the balance of battle never being truly in your favor, and fighting on in the face of adversity, but he could recognize that not all words of wisdom were equally apt to every situation. ¡°You are correct, of course. As always.¡±


    She had a tight smile on her face as she left. ¡°Damn right.¡±


    ¡°How much longer am I going to be¡­¡± She was already off with another patient.


    Sylvas sighed, and went back to looking at the roof. Some tricky work with kinesis got his eye-slate back into place from where it had been left on the heap of other miscellaneous magical knick-knacks so the time wouldn¡¯t be entirely wasted, and he wouldn¡¯t be entirely bored.


    There wouldn¡¯t be any visitors today. Not on the last day of Hell Week. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own work to spare a thought for him. He hadn¡¯t spared a thought for any of them either, it was just the nature of the intensity of the training they¡¯d been going through.


    After any normal injury Kaya or Gharia would have been there. Without fail. They had become people that he relied upon. Maybe not for help with his new surroundings like Bael, or with his work, but people that he relied on for some sense of stability in his life. Kaya would have cracked a joke, Gharia would have been oddly possessive and passive aggressive, and between the two he¡¯d feel like this was just another normal loss.


    The Ardent were not going to get rid of him. They weren¡¯t going to toss him out just because he¡¯d failed a test. He didn¡¯t need to be the best to be safe.


    Rationally, he knew all of those things, but it was harder to convince the cold knot in his stomach that it could untangle than it was to tell himself the same rational things again and again. He had failed other tests, he had been ranked as little more than middling since the cull, he had no reason to suspect that this particular failure would be the one too far. Regardless of what else happened, he had his affinity, and his power, and they could not take either from him. Even the artifacts that had been entrusted into his care weren¡¯t outside his capability to reproduce at this point, given resources and time. There was nothing they could take from him that he couldn¡¯t replace. There was a whole universe outside of the Ardent who would love to have him at their beck and call.


    But like Kaya and Gharia, even if the Ardent was not always a kind and welcoming family, it was his now, and to be cast out would feel like being orphaned all over again. He had to start moving forward. He had to start pushing to become more powerful again. Everything Hell Week had put him through had honed what he already had at his disposal, but now he needed more.


    With a few gentle touches of kinesis, he began searching through information about embodiments and paradigms that the gravity affinity mages of the past had used. What he was looking for may not have been in the archives of the Ardent, but he would go beyond that if he had to. There was something out there that would make him stronger. That would make his fourth circle the one to perfect him. There would be no dalliance with affinity testing this time around, he didn¡¯t want a secondary affinity, and in his deepest places he knew that he wouldn¡¯t find one anyway. His heart was a black hole, and it would have consumed anything else.


    He was so focused on his advancement that he didn¡¯t even notice the return of the medic, or the ending of the spell diligently stitching the nerves, arteries and muscles in his neck back together. She loudly cleared her throat, and he startled. ¡°I¡¯m done?¡±


    ¡°Are you seriously working while recovering from being decapitated?!¡± She didn¡¯t even seem upset any more, just exasperated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like wasting time.¡±


    She pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°The regeneration of your arm and¡­ neck are complete. Take it easy on both for the next few days.¡±


    ¡°Yes, boss.¡± Sylvas sat up tentatively and was delighted to find that his lethal wound was nothing more than a gentle ache. He flexed his newly regrown hand, a little surprised at how different it felt. The old burn scar on his thumb was gone, along with the scratches and callouses he¡¯d built up exercising over the past week. ¡°The arm¡­¡±


    The medic had already taken a step away but paused at his query. ¡°You want to know if the scars on the other arm could be removed the same way? They can¡¯t. They tried it. The scars there are more than skin deep.¡±


    Sylvas blinked. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    It was clear that the half-elf didn¡¯t want to be having this conversation, even more than she didn¡¯t want to have most of the conversations that they shared. ¡°They grow back the same.¡±


    Alarms rang in Sylvas¡¯ mind. ¡°Did they cut off my arm while I was sleeping?!¡±


    ¡°Some of it, certainly.¡± She replied without flinching. ¡°But there wasn¡¯t much left of it that wasn¡¯t burnt up, so you didn¡¯t lose much.¡±


    Sylvas sat still for a moment, staring down at his spell-scarred arm. ¡°Now I¡¯m wondering how many spare limbs I¡¯ve left scattered across the galaxy¡­¡±


    ¡°We incinerate our medical waste. So none.¡± The medic drifted off again.


    ¡°Strangely, not that comforting.¡± He called after her.


    ¡°You¡¯re in the wrong place for comfort.¡± She shouted over her shoulder. ¡°Now get out. I need that bed for the next idiot.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 24

    ¡°The study of alchemy, the extraction of arcane power from the combination of naturally occurring ingredients and their derivatives. It is rarely taught in modern curriculums, looked on as quaint and archaic. But in some places the art is still alive. Often in the most unexpected of places.¡±


    ¡ªPotionometry: The Lost Art of Alchemy, Kyuben Lanceswan


    Once again, Sylvas did exactly as he was told only to be confronted with a sending spell the moment he left the warded confines of the infirmary.


    ¡°Report to Outbuilding 7.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t place the voice, exactly, but it had the curtness he¡¯d come to associate with his Instructors, so he went without question.


    As it turned out, he was there to meet with not only Instructor Vilmander, but the vast majority of the other recruits. Not just the naval track ones that Sylvas was increasingly thinking of as his peers, but all of them, lined up neatly. Stepping up, one by one, to Vilmander and some secretary at a desk beside the locked door of Outbuilding 7.


    Gharia was at the back of the line, so when Sylvas fell into place behind her, it took less than a moment for her to bare her teeth in what he hoped was a friendly greeting. ¡°Have a nice nap?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°Slept like a headless baby.¡±


    For a moment, her tail continued its usual amused swishing, then her whole body froze. ¡°Headless?¡±


    He tried to be glib, but it didn¡¯t come out right. ¡°Its hell week, and none of your instructors even decapitated you?¡±


    ¡°I was going to complain I hadn¡¯t seen an instructor all week,¡± Gharia¡¯s tail went back to lashing again in the pattern Sylvas believed could be best translated as barely constrained fury. ¡°But if that¡¯s how they treat us, I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    He shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation. ¡°Did you really think that focused training meant just for me was ever going to mean anything other than me getting my ass kicked all over campus?¡±


    She leaned in closer to him, close enough that when her tongue flicked out to taste the air it almost touched his face. ¡°Tell me which one did it, and they¡¯ll never wake up again.¡±


    ¡°Much as I appreciate the offer.¡± He leaned back. ¡°It was¡­ consensual? I suppose.¡±


    She cocked her head to the side in confusion. ¡°You consented to getting your head cut off?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Explaining the journey he¡¯d been on in the past week would have taken more time than they had before reaching the end of the line, and he didn¡¯t much feel like airing all of his sordid history in earshot of the whole campus. ¡°Committed to the exercise.¡±


    ¡°Some of them,¡± She cast a narrowed eye across the other recruits around them. ¡°They say you¡¯re crazy. A death seeker. For how you strive.¡±


    Sylvas had known that the Instructors, the medic and Aurea had a close eye on him, but not the other recruits. ¡°What do you say?¡±


    ¡°To them I say, shut up.¡±


    Sylvas chuckled. ¡°And what would you say to me?¡±


    She stilled again. ¡°If you led the charge into the black abyss without an air mask, I would follow. I trust in your judgement.¡±


    In spite of everything, he still had the trust of the people that mattered. Softly he said, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She leaned in close, and he braced himself for more sentimentality. ¡°Please do not lead me into the black abyss without an air mask.¡±


    The rest of the line turned to glower at them when Sylvas unintentionally burst into laughter.


    For all her complaints about the regimen of training that she¡¯d been dragged through, Gharia had unlocked her affinity, for air and managed to filter her mana with ease, rising up to the same circle as Sylvas again. Air was a common enough affinity outside of the Ardent, but not one used to great effect in combat, generally, which had left her feeling a little bit disconnected from the other recruits. Their futures were all but certain, the front lines of the fight against the Eidolon menace, but for Gharia things were more difficult. Air affinity was only truly effective on worlds with atmospheric conditions that were breathable or close. It would function in artificial air, but it would never have its full strength, with the ambient mana limited. In turn, that would limit her deployment opportunities immensely. She was still committed to the Ardent, she made sure to repeat that several times, but she just wasn¡¯t sure how they¡¯d use her.


    Sylvas felt like someone who could conjure air out of mana would come in particularly useful in space, but he supposed that there were already enchantments in place to do the same work.


    The queue continued to move along at a brisk pace, with every recruit receiving a brief scrying and then a recording being made of the results, but those who¡¯d already been through the process were still milling around afterwards. Kaya was at the nucleus of some social cell with a surprising mix of naval track recruits and all the rest, bridging the gap between the different branches of the Ardent, as only she could, with lewd stories revolving around a mushroom she once grew that it was gradually becoming apparent was a metaphorical mushroom. But in spite of his alternating amusement and discomfort overhearing that, Sylvas remained perplexed. There had never been a time where the recruits didn¡¯t have something to do or somewhere to go, so why they were all lingering after scrying was confusing him. Irking him. His bracer, the cheat-caster as Chul had called it, had been damaged in the fight, and he wanted to try and find some free time to repair it before getting thrown back into the usual grind, but if they were all forced to wait here until the very last recruit had been scryed, he¡¯d have lost a fair chunk of a day that he¡¯d already half slept through.


    Still, he could bite back his irritation long enough to get through the line and get his results. It had been a long and arduous week, taxing him both mentally and physically in a way that he¡¯d never expected, but it would all be worth it if it had paid off and there were some discernible improvements.


    When he finally hit the end of the line, he politely tried to ignore Gharia¡¯s scrying results, even though Lockmind ensured they¡¯d be committed to memory forever, and then stepped up. Vilmander may have had a personal investment in his improvement, but he seemed as dispassionate and disinterested as with every other recruit when Sylvas stepped up.


    Name: Sylvas Vail


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Species: Human


    Health: 68%


    Mana: 100%


    First Circle Embodiment: Arterium Arcanum


    First Circle Paradigm: Clearmind


    Second Circle Embodiment: Arcane Bulwark


    Second Circle Paradigm: Lockmind


    Third Circle Embodiment: Tidal Shift


    Third Circle Paradigm: Waveform


    Affinity: Gravity


    Strength: F4 ¨C A4


    Resilience: F4 ¨C A4


    Speed: F3


    Potency: E7


    Focus: D1


    Regeneration: D8


    He couldn¡¯t hold back a grin as he read the results. The improvements to his body had been hard won, and he¡¯d continue slogging away at making his body the pinnacle of fitness that he needed it to be to maximize the effectiveness of Tidal Shift, but the improvements to Focus and Regeneration were leaps and bounds ahead of what he¡¯d have expected. He had always known that he¡¯d be primarily a caster, thanks to Arterium Arcanum, but this was the first time that he¡¯d seen how good that future might be. Potency was the only spellcasting statistic that hadn¡¯t budged, and he¡¯d been doing no small amount of investigation into how it was improved. As it turned out, it was typically the slowest to grow across every category that they were judged on. With only a few real outliers of people born with a substantially greater ability to cast. Allegedly, his own potency was relatively high for someone born outside the Empyrean, likely inflated by his embodiments, but that didn¡¯t mean he still wouldn¡¯t have enjoyed a bit of a jump up.


    For obvious reasons Sylvas had arrived a little later than everyone else, so he had scant socializing time before the last of the queue was dealt with, strolling over to join Gharia at Kaya¡¯s wide circle and receiving a surprisingly widespread welcome. Kaya was grinning furiously from the moment she saw him, in a way that made him more than a little uncomfortable. ¡°Hey stanzbuhr. Stanzbuhr!¡±


    He gave her his undivided attention. She brayed, ¡°Hope you didn¡¯t overdo it in training and lose your head!¡±


    Chuckles rippled around the circle, and Sylvas was forced to present a smile, as if his partial decapitation hadn¡¯t been the latest in a long line of traumas that he¡¯d suffered. ¡°I was trying to lose weight, and you always said I had a fat head.¡±


    Kaya threw back her head and cackled at that. There was no malevolence in her, just the same awful drive to make puns that afflicted so many people. She was readying her next salvo of jokes, soon to be lobbed with all the grace of a child flinging rocks at a bird, when an abrupt silence fell over all of them. Instructor Aurea had emerged from the outbuilding, ducking to get out through the door without hitting her head.


    ¡°It is my great pleasure to announce that personal improvement week is now at its end.¡± There was a round of whooping and applauding from among the recruits, which the elf smiled through. ¡°But it is important for all of you to remember that what comes next is perhaps one of the most perilous parts of being a part of the Ardent¡­¡± All fell silent once more, as she glanced around. ¡°Shore leave.¡±


    A few, a very few, of the recruits managed to recognize that she¡¯d made a joke, and chuckled along, but Sylvas and all the other newer recruits had been bracing themselves for the worst and were now confronted with nothing but empty air. ¡°Shore leave?¡± Sylvas asked Gharia.


    ¡°Time off. Rest and relaxation. Holidays.¡± She replied, as blandly as she could, while her tail swished with ferocity.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± He was so perplexed by the sudden change of direction that his face set Kaya off cackling again.


    Aurea amplified her voice to be heard over the chattering that had broken out all around them. ¡°Shuttles will be prepared for you to board at start of business tomorrow. If you have any matters to attend to on Strife, now is the time. Please remember; even though the staff of this facility will not be there to watch over you, you will be observed, and your behavior will reflect on this campus, for good or ill. Try to refrain from tarnishing our reputation too badly.¡±


    Kaya shouted back. ¡°I¡¯m making no promises!¡±


    Harvan usually shrank to the background when conversation was going on, but his excitement briefly propelled him into the midst of it. ¡°We¡¯re getting off this rock?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to drink a whole brewery.¡± Kaya announced to the world at large.


    ¡°You can have the booze, just show me some women!¡± Ironeyes declared, receiving no shortage of angry stares from the women around him.


    Sylvas leaned in to clarify, ¡°You are aware that there are female recruits all around you?¡±


    ¡°Aye, and every one of them would murder me if I so much as flirt their way.¡± Luna and Gharia both conceded that point with a nod. ¡°I¡¯m not daft.¡±


    Kaya had broken into the middle of the gathered circle and had her hands raised, practically vibrating with excitement. ¡°Guys¡­ guys¡­ you¡¯re finally going to see the devil-drinker in action!¡±


    ¡°Kaya¡­¡± Sylvas began to groan before she shouted over him.


    ¡°Just you wait, every time you think he¡¯s done, he ain¡¯t done.¡±


    He tried to untangle himself from the crowd and shut her up, but found Gharia¡¯s tail was now coiled around his leg and Ironeyes was leaning hard into his other side, chortling away. ¡°Kaya, I do not intend to¡­¡±


    Bortan snorted, ¡°Who knows, maybe he¡¯ll get so drunk he might actually relax for a minute?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get carried away, now.¡± Luna quipped back.


    Kaya pointed at the other woman. ¡°Things the devil-drinker won¡¯t be saying once he¡¯s got his hands on some vlashgahr.¡±


    Sylvas had managed to drag one hand free to pinch at the bridge of his nose where he felt a headache already coming on. ¡°I am extremely hopeful that is some sort of liquor and not another untranslatable body part.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Gharia¡¯s bark of laughter in his ear almost made all the unwanted attention worthwhile.


    Instructor Aurea¡¯s voice boomed out over them once more. ¡°Your back pay for time served has been deposited into your accounts, do your best not to spend it all in one place.¡±


    Cheers rose up from all around them, the whole campus roaring with delight as if they were already drunk and foolish.


    Kaya clapped her hands together. ¡°Well lads, there goes the only thing holding us back from being drunk every single minute we¡¯re off Strife.¡±


    Sylvas tried to slow her down, ¡°I am fairly certain that the Ardent don¡¯t intend for us to¡­¡±


    ¡°What else are we going to spend it on?¡± Ironeyes cut him off with a grumble. ¡°Settling down? Buying a house? We¡¯re soldiers.¡±


    Bael opined, ¡°It is my intention to make some worthwhile, low risk and long term investments with my own pay so as to prevent any potential retirement from the service from being directly into abject poverty.¡±


    Kaya caught him by the front of his jacket. ¡°And I intend to get you so drunk you forget how to say most of those words and spend every penny on strippers.¡±


    The elf drew himself up to his full height and seemed to weigh the options before reaching down to shake Kaya¡¯s hand. ¡°It shall be a classic battle of wills and philosophies. To the victor the spoils.¡±


    Kaya jerked a thumb back at Sylvas. ¡°I suppose ol¡¯ Stanzbuhr will want to spend his whole leave in the library, swelling his brain up.¡±


    Sylvas was about to say something to that, but he found Gharia¡¯s hand clamped over his mouth. The delicate and soft scales of her palm tickling across his lips. ¡°It¡¯s my personal mission to make sure he has as much fun as that soft skinned body can handle.¡±


    That drew some more cheers from the surrounding soldiers, along with more than a little bit of noisy speculation about how much a human body could handle in comparison to those of the reptilian Najash. Particular emphasis was being put on their respective levels of stamina, for reasons that Sylvas couldn¡¯t really parse.


    ¡°You are all dismissed.¡± Aurea¡¯s voice was turned-up so loud now that it rustled Sylvas¡¯s hair with every word. ¡°Not that any of you are paying the blindest bit of attention.¡±


    As they moved, Sylvas tried to draw away from the others, but found arms locked through his, even as he tried to break away for the temple complex and the opportunity to repair his bracer, the inescapable draw of all his friends in one place, unwilling to part from his company was too much for his heart. I can fix it later. Some things are more important.


    Vlashgahr, as it turned out, was an extremely alcoholic beverage that dwarves brewed with almost miraculous levels of competence, constructing distillation systems of quiet complexity that could be stowed away in every disused corner of the campus. Some even buried under the red sands of Strife themselves. What exactly it was made out of, Sylvas had no idea. It tasted predominantly like burning, and the aroma was best described as ¡°chemical.¡± He was later informed that it had originally been meant as fuel for interstellar travel, prior to the dwarves¡¯ ascendance to magic, and he had to admit that made a degree of terrible sense. He certainly felt like he was flying.

 Volume 2: Chapter 25

    ¡°The measure of a king is not taken in war, when all rally around him, but in peace, when old allies become enemies, and every soft word masks a knife. Luck is all that is required to survive war, but to survive peace takes an entirely different animal.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Waking up in a strange place usually meant that Sylvas had suffered a gruesome injury. On this occasion, it felt like an eidolon may have breached the campus and spent several hours stamping on his head. He groaned, but then stopped, when the sound of his own groan made his head hurt too badly to go on. When Kaya offers you a bottle of something, say no. It doesn¡¯t matter what it is. It doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re dying in the desert. Don¡¯t drink anything she gives you.


    The dwarf to blame for his current state of suffering was lying face down on the floor beside the bed. She appeared to have been in the process of removing her trousers when sleep caught up to her. Despite his better judgement, Sylvas called out to her. ¡°Kaya.¡±


    She replied succinctly, ¡°No.¡±


    His throat felt like it had been stripped of its surfaces. ¡°Kaya, what time is it?¡±


    After a beat, she answered again. ¡°No.¡±


    Bael stepped out of the bathroom looking as coiffed and perfect as he ever had, even if there were the hints of bags under his eyes. ¡°We have approximately seventeen minutes before the shuttles are due to arrive to whisk us away from all this.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Kaya repeated. ¡°Five more minutes.¡±


    Bael looked down on her with an expression that looked completely alien to Sylvas, affection. ¡°My dear rug, I can assure you that my timekeeping is entirely accurate.¡±


    She flailed an arm in his direction then let out a belch so deep the light fittings vibrated. ¡°No.¡±


    In spite of seeming somewhat worse for wear, Bael was clearly enjoying being the one person in the room suffering the least. ¡°As you both seem to have been a little too inebriated to check, I shall inform you that the dress code for out off-world flight is standard uniform, so I suggest that you recover yours from around your ankles, and the top of the wardrobes, with all due haste.¡±


    Seemingly at random, Kaya burped out, ¡°Socks.¡±


    ¡°I believe that I retrieved yesterday¡¯s pair from a plant pot in the hall earlier. As they¡¯re a little grubby, I¡¯d suggest a new set.¡±


    Patting down himself, Sylvas discovered several fairly vital pieces of his own uniform were missing too. His bag and boots were sitting atop each other on the bedside table.


    ¡°My clothes¡­¡± Sylvas managed to muster.


    ¡°Are the ones atop the wardrobe, I believe that you had some inexplicable concern about Kaya attempting to steal them.¡± Bael wasn¡¯t smiling, but he wasn¡¯t smiling so hard it was clearly going to make him rupture something in a moment.


    Kaya cleared her throat like an artillery round being launched. ¡°I¡¯d never steal his pants¡­ I¡¯d win them in battle.¡±


    Fragments of the night before were returning to Sylvas now. He didn¡¯t dare dip into his lockmind memories in case the recollection of being drunk made his nausea even more pronounced than it already was. ¡°Where¡¯s¡­ where¡¯s Gharia?¡±


    ¡°I regret to inform you that it became necessary to extricate her from your person when the time for sleep arrived as she seemed quite intent on¡­ well let us just say you were a little too far in your cups to make any decisions of magnitude.¡±


    Sylvas wasn¡¯t entirely following what was being said, but he got the sense that something bad might have happened. ¡°She okay?¡±


    ¡°I do not know if she will ever speak to me again, or if she does, whether she will be entirely overwhelmed with mortification, but it seems that the Najash body processes alcohol a little differently than your own.¡±


    Alcohol. They had been drinking to celebrate their shore leave, and Kaya and the other dwarves had produced these bottles¡­ ¡°Kaya.¡±


    On instinct she replied. ¡°No.¡±


    He lurched upright, regretting it immediately. ¡°Kaya, what did I drink?¡±


    She thought about it for a moment then replied to the floor. ¡°Lots.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ lots of what?¡± It was getting easier to string thoughts together now. Slightly.


    ¡°Vlashgahr.¡±


    Just the word made him feel queasy now. ¡°What is Vlashgahr?¡±


    ¡°Is a drink.¡± Kaya wasn¡¯t trying to be evasive, so far as he could tell, she was just struggling to function.


    He tried rephrasing the question. ¡°What¡¯s it made of?¡±


    After a moment to weigh her thoughts, she replied, ¡°Fun.¡±


    He was getting nowhere.


    It took them almost the full remainder of the seventeen minutes to retrieve their belongings from where their drunken selves had found it most amusing to hide them, and to get Kaya more or less upright. The trouble was, all of her mechanical parts were working perfectly, but the biological bits kept slumping over drunkenly, leading to her falling over, repeatedly. Sylvas eventually resorted to hoisting her with Kinesis and steering her drooling and barely coherent through the halls to find their way to the shuttle launch. He never found out whose room it was that they had camped out in.


    The rush across the red sands that they¡¯d become so accustomed to became a new struggle when dragging Kaya along for the ride. They¡¯d made a brief detour to their rooms to retrieve the scant belongings that were actually theirs, with Bael assuring Sylvas repeatedly that the artifacts he¡¯d been granted by the Ardent were essentially his property until he left or died. But now, they were joined by every other one of the recruits, who seemed to be suffering almost as cruelly as Sylvas and Kaya after the festivities. He caught sight of Gharia, already lined up next to the empty space where illusions showed the shuttles would be touching down, and something about the stiffness of her posture made him miss a step. He was going to have to revisit his memories of the previous night sooner rather than later. But not right now.


    Completely destroying his psyche once in a week was more than enough.


    To his distress, the shuttle that she was lined up for was also the one that they had all been assigned to, so still dragging Kaya along, he lumbered up to the queue and set her down with an audible clunk. She was as helpful as ever. ¡°No.¡±


    Suspicion began to prickle at Sylvas mind as he glanced around the other assembled line-ups. Everyone was intermingled. People from the naval track standing alongside the regular grunts, friends, enemies and everything in between ¨C there were probably a lot more of both of those categories after the night¡¯s drinking ¨C but every single person standing in line for this shuttle was familiar. Everyone lining up behind Gharia was one of the people who had been on their team for the Cull.


    Sylvas glanced over to Bael to see if he¡¯d spotted it to and received some very meaningful eye-contact. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with shore leave. Another of the Ardent¡¯s endless supply of tricks to keep them on their toes. The only question was, where were they actually going. Initially he¡¯d assumed that there would be no shuttles at all, but the distant buzz of them descending through the atmosphere was already audible. His whole team, honed into a weapon, were being loaded into a shuttle, the only logical reason was if they were being deployed to fight something. He groaned as a fresh wave of nausea and pain washed over him. I should have known better than to believe I could let my guard down for even a moment.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The most obvious option was an Eidolon. While the larger ones still remaining on Strife were kept well away from the campus and any other Ardent installations by their wards, that did not mean that they were gone or that the Ardent wouldn¡¯t want them to be handled, eventually. Perhaps that eventuality had arrived. The ultimate live-fire drill, throwing them into direct combat with the kinds of threats that they¡¯d be facing once they were deployed. A shiver ran through Sylvas. Just the thought of standing toe-to-toe with the Eidolons was enough to make anyone sane afraid, and now that he had removed the mental blocks preventing him from experiencing that fear, and recalling every detail of his past on Croesia, it returned to him full-force. He would fight, because that was his job, but it didn¡¯t mean he relished the thought.


    Perhaps he should have saved some of that awful Vlashgahr to shore up his courage.


    The shuttles soared down from the dark sky in perfect formation, like a flock of birds, so close to one another it actually made Sylvas nervous that they¡¯d crash. As one they descended, extending clawed feet from beneath them that just prolonged the bird comparison, before they settled on the sand and the thrumming of their engines fell silent. They were definitely of Ardent make, the same slick white plastic surfaces coated all of them, except where there were shiny chrome windows for the crew inside to stare out at the motley assortment of recruits they were taking along.


    Ironeyes gave a grunt of approval at the ships before trudging over to the side, where a doorway formed out of the white material, opening like a waiting maw to disgorge a ramp for them to climb. A skinny looking human with a weedy moustache stuck his head out and called, ¡°All aboard.¡±


    The recruits surged forwards, except for him and Kaya. Her, because he needed to carry her on, and him because he still wanted more information about where exactly they were headed. He looked around for any sign of instructors or even a more seasoned recruit that might have had some clue, but there was nobody to speak to. Sighing, he poured some more mana into Kinesis and hauled Kaya along.


    The inside of the shuttle didn¡¯t give him much more to work from. Both sides were lined with seats pressed tight against the wall, with restraints that would drop down into place while they were in motion, the cabin at the front, where the pilot of little girth and sad facial hair had already retreated was sealed off from the rest by a door so they couldn¡¯t even see out of the main window. They were essentially going to be blind to the outside world once they had taken off, trusting in the pilot to take them where they needed to be. Sylvas hated that. They could be going anywhere, and he¡¯d been none the wiser.


    He corrected himself. This shuttle had none of the creature comforts that would have been required for a long flight. Whatever their destination was, it had to be somewhere around Strife. If they were actually getting some sort of break from their training, then he had to assume that they¡¯d be meeting with a larger ship to make the jump to a different star system, as from what he¡¯d read about Strife there were no other habitable planets in orbit around the binary stars.


    The shuttle lurched the moment that the last of them was on, with the gangway retracting and the door slipping shut. The chance to run and avoid whatever fresh hell they were about to be dumped into was gone. He hurried to get Kaya and himself strapped in before the next bit of turbulence bucked him off his feet.


    ¡°Wee.¡± Kaya mumbled. She looked as though she might vomit at any moment, and Sylvas greatly regretted the fact that their seats were next to one another. It could have been worse, he supposed. He could have been directly opposite her like Ironeyes was. In the exact direction that all of the last night¡¯s Vlashgahr was going to be projected when they hit turbulence again.


    As they rose, Sylvas gravity sense became¡­ agitated. He could feel himself moving further away from the largest local source of gravity and it was uncomfortable, like he was falling and had no way to stop himself. He started to close himself off to the sensation, then stopped. If he was going to be spending the rest of his life in space, travelling between worlds, then he would need to get used to this. No matter how uncomfortable it may have been for him, knowing how it felt would make him a better mage. So he endured.


    It only struck him later that this was the first memory that he ever had of leaving a planet. He had been unconscious during the evacuation of Croesia, and from there it had been nothing but ships. In a strange way it was almost like he was leaving home for the first time.


    ¡°Stanzbuhr¡­¡± Kaya groaned. ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°We are going into space, Kaya.¡± He could say it with certainty, whatever his suspicions might have been about them being relocated to another area of Strife for an operation had vanished.


    He had just started to believe that they would actually be getting shore leave when the white shield appeared in the middle of the ship. It hung there amongst them like an omen of doom, with not one of them unstrapping and reaching out to activate it, until eventually it just activated itself. Instructor Aurea¡¯s voice echoed through the cramped cabin.


    ¡°As the winners of this year¡¯s Mass Combat Assessment Exercise, you have been selected to serve as protection for an archaeological expedition that will be examining pre-extinction ruins on Strife. As such, prior to beginning your shore leave, it would best serve you to contact the representatives of the Veilbohr Institute stationed nearby to make your introductions, and receive an updated intelligence report on what that task will entail. Please conduct your


    behavior in accordance with the high standards to be expected of spokespeople of the Ardent in dealing with a significant ally.¡± There was widespread groaning starting up from most of the assembled recruits, with the exception of Bael, who looked positively delighted about the possibility of spending his time off hanging around with some random academics. ¡°This will be the only task assigned to you until the termination of your shore leave.¡±


    With that, the sending spell faded away and they were left in the thrumming silence once more. Orson, usually so laid back that he was almost horizontal, piped up. ¡°I vote Sylvas talks to them.¡±


    ¡°Seconded.¡± Harvan was the second one to betray him.


    ¡°I am quite willing to put myself forward to¡­¡± Bael began before catching Ironeye¡¯s glower.


    ¡°Bael and Kaya can come with me to meet the academics.¡± Sylvas announced, before anyone else could attempt to throw him under the cart-wheels. ¡°No sense all of us going.¡±


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re taking them.¡± Gharia growled.


    Sylvas really had no idea what her problem was today. ¡°Would you rather come with me?¡±


    ¡°Not if you were the last soft-skin in hell.¡± She snarled back.


    ¡°That¡¯s settled then.¡± He leaned back into his seat, ducking amidst the restraints so she couldn¡¯t glare at him anymore.


    ¡°Kaya, what happened last night?¡±


    For a moment it looked as though she were actually going to offer a coherent answer. But only for a moment. ¡°I think¡­ we drank.¡±


    Sylvas sank down deeper into his seat and sighed. ¡°Thank you for your contribution.¡±


    The shuttle lurched again as the last tenuous grasp of Strife released them, and for a moment, Sylvas felt like he was floating free, even though the artificial gravity in the ship was functioning perfectly. He had not realized that extra senses would come with so much baggage.


    Still, this seemed to prove that they were leaving Strife behind, so he could hardly be too upset. He had seen so little of the Empyrean beyond the ship that shuttled him here and the one that had retrieved him from the ruins of Croesia. Whatever he encountered would be new.


    Then the shuttle began to turn, escaped from the atmosphere and free to maneuver it was entirely silent outside of the shell of white, but the other shuttles were still out there, the artificial gravity didn¡¯t feel right to Sylvas, but he could still sense it, which meant it was a simple matter to pinpoint the locations of all the other shuttles in formation too. They had not all lifted off at the same moment, but they clearly had a specific course in relation to each other that they were following. The shuttle curved gently into the soft pull of Strife, surfing around the rim of its gravity well and gaining speed as it did. He¡¯d read about this for his piloting classes, using planetary bodies to slingshot ships to their maximum velocity. Except¡­ they weren¡¯t gaining enough speed to break free. It was as if they were just heading into a distant orbit instead of grazing against the gravity¡¯s pull to reach their full potential.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t leaving?¡± He meant to speak only to himself, but immediately, all eyes were on him.


    Even Gharia, who he would have assumed from her tone wanted nothing to do with him asked, ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°The shuttle, its¡­ slowing, we¡¯re heading around the planet, but not away.¡± If this had all been an elaborate ruse to make them think that they were actually getting their leave before dumping them back into a combat zone, Sylvas would be furious. Well not furious, so much as completely and utterly unsurprised. Given that the teaching methods of Strife included ambushing students with lethal sniper attacks, launching them into orbit then dropping them again seemed fairly gentle by comparison.


    ¡°Where are they taking us?¡± Anak seemed the most concerned out of everyone here, as the youngest and least advanced mage, he was also the most at risk when they were dropped into the lethal training exercises that their Instructors devised. Everyone else had taken the news that their holiday was cancelled with a kind of dull acceptance.


    Sylvas raked through the maps in his mind, trying to relate what little he knew of Strife¡¯s topography with the course he thought they were flying. He had his sense for gravity to guide him, while everyone else would have been entirely without hope of positioning themselves, but even with that, it was hard to align what he knew of the planet¡¯s surface with the few sites of interest that he¡¯d marked.


    Then, abruptly the shuttle lurched again. Sylvas was flung against the restraints, and his mental image of the world stretched out beneath them vanished. That felt like they hit something. Like something solid impacted on the ship. The shuttle had lost all its velocity and now there was a massive well of artificial gravity right outside. ¡°What in¡­¡±


    The pilot popped open the door to his cabin and emerged with a smug little grin. ¡°Welcome to Onslaught Citadel, the closest thing that this system has got to civilization. We¡¯ve got booze, we¡¯ve got gambling, we¡¯ve got shopping, we¡¯ve got it all, to a very limited interpretation of ¡®it all¡¯. I don¡¯t care where you¡¯re staying on the station, but you ain¡¯t staying here. Everyone out. Disembark. Time to go.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 26

    ¡°It is no coincidence that spellforms are comprised of interlinking fragments of arches, that the language of the aions is one of circularity and ceaseless repetition that we must introduce false ends into so that their pronunciation can be achieved or that mana can be bound in a simple circle. The circle and its derivatives are magic, in its most fundamental form. An energy that never depletes, never departs and never changes. It is eternal, flowing back into itself even as we use it. An end that is also a beginning. A beginning that is also an end.¡±


    ¡ªSacred Geometry, Archmage Karth Veilbohr


    The chair restraints had released sometime between the lurching impact of landing and the end of that explanation, but Sylvas was still at a complete loss as to where they were. Nobody had said anything about space stations in orbit around Strife. All this time, he had through that they were completely isolated down on the surface of the planet, a distress call and a jump-gate away from any sort of help, but the whole time the Ardent had people hanging in orbit above them.


    The pilot was ushering them out with all haste, pushing the recruits who were sluggish down the ramp and calling after them. ¡°Main deck is up ahead; everything branches out from there. Head left for administration, right for sleeping quarters, down for boring technical crap, up for fun, if you make it to TiChi¡¯s bar, let them know I sent you and they¡¯ll give you the first drink on the house. If you make it to TiChi herself, gird your loins, that woman is a maniac. If she winks at you, run. If she asks for me, tell her I died.¡±


    It all seemed like well-rehearsed sales patter, but he was the closest thing that they had to a guide to the station beyond the shuttle, so Sylvas paused as the man tried to shove him out. ¡°We¡¯re meant to meet up with representatives of the Veilbohr Institute.¡±


    He got a clap on the shoulder and shove for his trouble. ¡°Sounds boring, try the admin wing.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Sylvas forced himself to say as he was shoved out.


    The light was markedly dimmer than he would have expected, but there was no shortage of light-sensitive species among the Empyrean, so he supposed it made a degree of sense to keep things darker and let those that needed the light conjure some themselves. He didn¡¯t bother, he had his other senses to guide him, and Kaya, when her eyes creaked open, would be able to see just fine. She had managed to hoist herself to her feet on landing but was swaying pretty distinctly as she came down the ramp until she caught a hold on Sylvas again. That gave Gharia ample distraction to slink past without him having a chance to talk to her. The docking bay that they¡¯d arrived in seemed scarcely big enough to house the shuttle, let alone the heaps of storage boxes piled up all around it. The shuttle and the boxes matched, with that same white sheen of Ardent gear, but everything else looked distinctly older, not rusted as such, but certainly worse for wear. Exhausts from the various ships that had come and gone had stained most surfaces in an oily slick of colors, worn away on the sharp edges where things had collided or been worn down. Metal glinted from the edges and corners of the grating flooring they were crossing. As for the walls of the place, what little that was visible behind exposed cables and dangling pipes, there was a uniformity to the paneling that felt familiar, but that Sylvas couldn¡¯t quite place. Like he¡¯d walked by the architect¡¯s work before but never given in much note.


    Out of the bay, along a corridor that didn¡¯t look much better, and then the station opened out. The main deck, as it had been introduced was a vast circular space at what Sylvas presumed was the center of the station. Its construction was cleaner, the overlaying wiring and spells less intrusive, and with a start he came to realize that what they were looking at wasn¡¯t of Ardent construction, or some other station brought in by the Empyrean for them to use. ¡°It¡¯s from Strife.¡±


    The panels, arching up to points like church windows, interlocking with inverted ones descending from the ceiling, were a perfect match to the shapes that the temple complex had been constructed from down on Strife. They matched the inset spaces in the cliff complex, where lights were now installed and candles used to be burned. Just like down on the surface, the Ardent had come along and laid claim to the abandoned remains of the civilization that had been here before like some sort of macabre hermit crab, occupying the dead shell of what had come before. No wonder the Veilbohr Institute were already here, this whole place was a relic of the world that had been.


    A follow up to the first revelation hit Sylvas then. The people of strife who had summoned Eidolons and brought about their own downfall had not been in the same phase of technology as his people back on Croesia, they must have been hundreds of years ahead, capable of flight into space, and setting their gaze further afield than their own planet if they¡¯d built something like this place. It had been easy to imagine, another primitive species like his, being taken advantage of, manipulated and tricked by the seeded information, but the idea that a planet could come so far as to reach the stars on their own, only to fall at the last hurdle to joining intergalactic civilization seemed even more cruel, somehow.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    At the same time, it eased his own guilt, just a little. If even these people, capable of space flight and all the rest, had been taken in by whoever was seeding the galaxy with misinformation about the Eidolons, then it was no surprise that his own world had fallen to it.


    Sylvas had expected there to be elevators or staircases leading between the floors of the station, but instead there were ladders, running up and down through the floor below and the ceiling above, spaced like the spokes of a wheel around the exterior of this central chamber. The very center of the room seemed to be mostly comprised of various desks, where administrative staff were answering the myriad questions of those who had newly arrived with bored expressions. There were more recruits here than Sylvas could grasp to begin with, then he realized that not all of them had come from their campus. There were dozens of faces he didn¡¯t recognize in the crowd, all in the same uniform as him, but a quick glance at their respective uniforms soon gave away that while the naval track officers at the Blackhall wore white jackets with black, these others wore plain white, and grey trim respectively. Just as there was a space station hovering over Strife without him having any knowledge of it, there were other campuses down on the surface that he hadn¡¯t had the first clue about. And, as it turned out, they were all taking their shore leave together.


    The noise in the station was overwhelming, every booming word echoing back and forth in the closed quarters, and all the rabble of the recruits finally allowed to relax and talk freely was deafening. Maybe if Sylvas had lived a less solitary life before he had joined the Ardent, things might have been different, but as it was, he was more uncomfortable here amongst the people who would someday fight alongside him than he would have been if faced with a battle-line of charging eidolons. He did not stop to ask at the central desk about the Veilbohr Institute, or anything else, heading off with all haste towards the administrative section that the pilot had suggested. An arm was hooked through Kaya¡¯s dragging her along, and when she stumbled, he was surprised to see Bael on her other arm, keeping them all upright. He gave an appreciative nod, but neither man slowed.


    In the next corridor there was a brief window in which Sylvas felt like he could breathe. Bael was watching him with that strange, analytical expression that he got sometimes, as though he were introducing new variables into some model of Sylvas that he was building in his head. Well, much like Vaelith, this elf didn¡¯t have the full measure of Sylvas either. Still, some sort of distraction from his own discomfort was in order. ¡°What happened with Gharia last night?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t privy to the private parts of your conversation of course¡­¡± Bael hedged his bets carefully.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°But from what I was able to piece together it seems that you may have missed the window of opportunity to breed with her.¡± He said it as delicately as he could, but it still wasn¡¯t gentle enough.


    Sylvas choked. ¡°What? Why would she think that I wanted to¡­¡±


    And so another of the elf¡¯s impromptu etiquette lessons began. ¡°It is customary among the Najash to indulge in a somewhat adversarial courtship. Dealing the one that you are interested in a non-lethal injury is the initiating incident, followed by a not insignificant amount of bickering in the following timeframe until the egg-laying season is coming up, at which point¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡± Sylvas held up his free hand. ¡°Stop explaining.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, it seems that your ignorance in this matter may continue to cause you grief in the future if you don¡¯t learn the intricacies of¡­¡±


    Sylvas cut him off. ¡°I thought we were friends.¡±


    After a moment to parse that Sylvas was talking about Gharia rather than him, Bael shrugged. ¡°Well, presumably it helps for the father of your hatchlings to be a friend.¡±


    Sylvas still couldn¡¯t wrap his head around it. ¡°Why would she think that I was interested in¡­¡±


    Bael cut him off, mercifully. ¡°I believe that you expressed a similar sentiment last night, and the line was crossed from playful but vicious flirtation and into rejection and cruelty.¡±


    They walked along in silence for a few seconds as Sylvas mouth flapped open and shut like he was a beached fish, until finally he managed to muster up, ¡°I had no idea¡­¡±


    Bael attempted to comfort him. ¡°I am sure that she will realize in good time that your rejection of her at one of her most vulnerable moments was a result of you being a slack jawed backwater moron of no education rather than the whole thing being an act of malevolence.¡±


    ¡°I really didn¡¯t know.¡± Sylvas looked devastated enough that anyone would have been convinced. ¡°You have to believe me.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, it isn¡¯t me that requires convincing. Whether your entire courtship was just a ploy on your part to secure her alliance or if you were completely oblivious to her feelings towards you, it makes no difference to me or my opinion of you.¡± He paused for an instant. Considering. ¡°Though I suppose I would have slightly preferred to think of you as socially competent¡­¡±


    Kaya¡¯s head was bowed, but in the middle of Bael¡¯s speech she snorted, ¡°Lizard-stanzbuhr babies.¡±


    Sylvas eyes widened. ¡°Is such a thing even possible? Can Najash and humans¡­¡±


    Bael took his time formulating his answer to that a little more carefully. ¡°Not to my knowledge, no, but I suspect that the invitation was less about attempting to secure a successful clutch and more about the proposed activity that is typically preceding conception?¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± It finally dawned on Sylvas what had actually happened. ¡°She wanted to¡­ But I¡­ Oh.¡±


    He was silent for another long moment as they trudged along, before the full weight of what had happened sunk in. ¡°Oh no.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 27

    ¡°Consider the Relic world of Castigation. From it, and the Eidolon of Knowledge that consumed it, we assume that there was a vast interconnected empire based on the planet, extending out to encompass the local star systems. An empire built exclusively on the trade of knowledge. Their currency was known as the Secret. Their university buildings occupied a solid 49% of their world¡¯s surface. Think how much more they must have known than has been uncovered. The crafting of many key enchantments, unaffinitied spells of flight, mnemonic curses and many other elements of Aion previously unknown to academia were uncovered there in just a single dig.¡±


    ¡ªArchaeoarcanum: Lost Magics, Kalisdrothan Raentolathan


    ¡°Quite.¡± Bael said brightly. ¡°Shall we see if we can¡¯t locate the Veilbohr Institute emplacement before the rest of the gathered Ardent recruits make short work of any and all alcoholic beverages on the station.¡±


    They progressed further from the central room, and the temperature began to gradually drop. Sylvas probably wouldn¡¯t have noticed it, but the mana in the air seemed to gradually thin out as they progressed too.


    He voiced one of his ponderings as they went. ¡°Did you know there was a station up here?¡±


    ¡°I believe there are several judging by my night-sky observations, though which are still in use, and which are empty husks is of course an entirely different matter.¡± Bael should have been the first person that Sylvas asked, really.


    ¡°Old as balls.¡± Was Kaya¡¯s contribution.


    ¡°An astute observation from our delirious companion. The construction of this station certainly predates the emergence of the Empyrean at the very least. One can tell from the absence of many of the enchantments laid in the bulkhead and the use of a shard fragment power source, which haven¡¯t been widely produced in¡­¡±


    Someone in the white of Ardent uniform, but cut in a robe like Sylvas had never really seen stepped out from one of the side passages. A human, so far as they could tell. ¡°Excuse me, we¡¯re looking for the Veilbohr Institute?¡±


    ¡°The diggers?¡± The woman glanced at her slate. ¡°They¡¯re out by the bulkhead, head straight, then turn left before you hit space.¡±


    Sylvas gave her his most genuine looking smile, then immediately kicked himself mentally for doing so. It was bad enough that he¡¯d been leading poor Gharia along all this time without his over-politeness getting him into even more trouble. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He turned back to Bael who was ready to launch back into the lecture. ¡°As I was saying¡­¡±


    ¡°While I¡¯m sure the history lesson on archaic magic is going to be fascinating, I would like to get our introductions made as quickly as possible.¡±


    The elf seemed to wilt ever so slightly. ¡°Oh I see. Perhaps your reputation as the hard drinking party animal of the Ardent were not exaggerated after all.¡±


    ¡°My boy¡­¡± Kaya groaned proudly.


    ¡°There has been a great deal of exaggeration in that regard,¡± Sylvas cut off her usual nonsense before it could start. ¡°I believe that last night is probably the second time that I¡¯ve been drunk in my life, and I can¡¯t say that I¡¯m particularly fond of the experience given how thoroughly it has already damaged one of my closest friendships.¡±


    ¡°With respect, I do suspect that the matter of the albino serpent¡¯s affection was always going to present itself eventually, with your dear dwarf¡¯s homemade liquor only exacerbating matters by removing some of her inhibitions. And some of your higher reasoning skills that might have allowed you to navigate the situation with more ease.¡±


    Sylvas was overcome by an unexpected weariness. ¡°What should I have done?¡±


    ¡°Gharia, it would seem.¡± Bael¡¯s voice hung in the air for a moment before he realized that Sylvas had come to a complete stop and shut up.


    ¡°What? I can¡¯t just¡­¡±


    ¡°Could have. Easy.¡± Kaya affirmed. ¡°Stanzbuhr.¡±


    Sylvas straightened up and scowled. ¡°I do not believe that engaging in an illicit affair with a soldier I¡¯ll be serving alongside would make Ardent command very happy with me.¡±


    The elf and dwarf, rarely on the same page, let alone the same wavelength, looked at one another and then burst out laughing.¡±


    ¡°You think they care where you stick your¡­¡±


    Sylvas barked, ¡°Kaya!¡±


    Bael tried for a more reasoned approach. ¡°I believe that our inebriated friend is trying to say that interpersonal relationships among recruits are not typically the purview of our superiors within the military hierarchy.¡±


    Still, he refused to believe it. ¡°People can¡¯t just be¡­¡±


    Kaya had reached her own limit too. ¡°Luna and Orson.¡±


    ¡°Hammerheart and Veltrian.¡± Bael added.


    ¡°Havran and Anak.¡± Kaya was counting on her fingers as she went.


    Kaya curled up three fingers at once. ¡°Ironeyes and¡­ anything with a pulse so far as I have seen.¡±


    Sylvas blinked, trying to take all this in. ¡°Hammerheart and Vel were a couple? I had no idea.¡±


    Bael was quick with an answer then. ¡°Well it doesn¡¯t always make sense to project one¡¯s close relationships with one¡¯s enemies¡­¡±


    Still, Sylvas couldn¡¯t put it together. ¡°But she¡¯s been¡­ fine.¡±


    ¡°I imagine that any tears she may have shed over his departure were already long dried before you encountered her next. The fiends are a passionate people, their emotions burn bright, but¡­ brief. As to the matter of you having no idea as to the coupling of two people who you scarcely ever interacted with socially, that comes as little surprise since you were equally oblivious to being in a najash courting ritual since your first day on Strife.¡±


    ¡°Nobody explained how these things worked!¡± He could have looked it all up. He had access to every book on the Ardent ship, then dozens more once he arrived on Strife. It would have been so simple. But it had embarrassed him, both because he¡¯d have been treated like a child by the books learning about such matters for the first time, and because despite his insistence on being perfectly comfortable with how things were in the Empyrean, he was still very attached to his old-fashioned view on certain matters.


    ¡°Well no,¡± Bael spoke softly as he could, ¡°I can¡¯t imagine that they would have, given that you were a full-blooded adult by the time that you joined us. Most assumed that you had been given the genitalia conversation at some point prior to¡­¡±


    Sylvas cut him off. ¡°I am aware of how¡­ marriages¡­¡±


    ¡°Marriage?!¡± Kaya brayed with laughter. ¡°Nobody¡¯s getting married, Stanzbuhr. They¡¯re just fu-¡±


    Kaya was blessedly silenced by their arrival at the Veilbohr Institute¡¯s designated door. Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure that he could have coped with much more of her bluntness on matters of the heart and¡­ other organs. He rapped sharply on the metal, also made in the same archway shape that he¡¯d noticed repeated throughout all of the native Strife architecture, and it slid open to reveal a cornucopia of papers. Sylvas hadn¡¯t seen so many books since he left Croesia and had feared that he never would again. Everything in the Empyrean was handled on their slates, information being passed around them magically through a vast interlocking enchantment, but here he saw that it wasn¡¯t the case for the whole universe. Heaps of books, folders, files and papers seemed to blanket the entire chamber, and in the midst of it all there was an elf.


    It occurred to Sylvas that everyone he had really known since leaving his homeworld had been a part of the Ardent. Their clothes, uniforms, their fashions shaped by the utility of their positions. In the elf lounging in a chair before them, he caught his first real glimpse of how people in the Empyrean at large chose to present themselves.


    He looked like Bael. Not in the way that all members of a species bore resemblance to one another, but in the high cheekbones, pointed chin and absurdly long hair. While Bael¡¯s was a brown so dark as to be almost black, this elf¡¯s slicked back hair was a silvery grey. Sylvas had not yet encountered an elf so old that they bore any of the common signs of human aging, but it seemed that this one had persisted for so long through the ages that color had been gradually sapped from him. The aging did not seem to extend to his skin, there was no looseness, no wrinkles, he was as perfectly smooth as a man of twenty, with an old man¡¯s hair oiled back behind his pointed ears. At the sight of them, he leapt to his feet with the same languid grace that Sylvas had only seen from Vaelith in battle before.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°At last my young protectors have arrived! I was given word of your approach to the station by that delightful Instructor Aurea, and it seems that all of my expectations have been entirely surpassed.¡± Extending a hand towards Sylvas in a very human greeting that he got the sense was a bit awkward for an elf to perform introductions were made, ¡°I am Professor Kalisdrothan of the Veilbohr Institute. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡±


    Sylvas took the hand and shook it, unsure how tightly to squeeze given the disparity in the strength between him and this elf. He may have scored poorly in physical strength in comparison to the other recruits, but this elf looked positively waifish. A thumb brushed over his knuckles as their hands were withdrawn again. ¡°I am Sylvas Vail, this is Kaya Runemaul and this is¡­¡±


    ¡°Baeldrothan Istar Raentolathan.¡± The professor finished Sylvas sentence with considerably more names than he had known Bael had. ¡°Second cousin, I believe?¡±


    Bael looked positively delighted, but maintained his decorum. ¡°That would depend entirely upon whether you consider the matrilinear line is the deciding factor, I believe there are several points of conjunction in our respective family trees. Several, interlinking branches, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°Cousin Baeldrothan then, and we¡¯ll worry not about the specifics.¡± The elf stepped around the desk and drew Bael into a loose hug that neither seemed terribly comfortable with.


    Bael¡¯s joy had been somewhat depleted by the physical contact, but he tried not to let it show in his voice. ¡°A delight to see you again cousin, it has been far too long.¡±


    Kalis went through the usual motions and platitudes that were all too familiar to Sylvas ears after his time living among nobility. ¡°As it always is to stand in such fine company, dear one.¡±


    Kaya interrupted their delicate waltz like a mining pick to the foot. ¡°You¡¯ve met then?¡±


    Peering down at the dwarf with a bemused expression, the professor said, ¡°Our paths have crossed many times at various functions over the years, though for obvious reasons my work scarcely allowed me much time for family matters.¡±


    ¡°And it was with good reason that he was so preoccupied.¡± Bael immediately leapt in to pour on the flattery. ¡°Professor Kalisdrothan is one of the foremost minds in the Empyrean and beyond in the field of archaeology.¡±


    ¡°Well I would hardly call myself the foremost anything.¡± The other elf demurred, even though he clearly could have spent all day hearing about how wonderful he was. ¡°Given my recent publication history.¡±


    Bael let out a gasp of dismay. ¡°Professor, your papers have been formative in understanding the histories of literally hundreds of extinct cultures. Without your work, the Empyrean would be unanchored, with no chain linking it back to its roots in history.¡±


    ¡°You flatter me with a courtier¡¯s expert tongue young man but let us turn for a moment from the matters of the past to the pressing matters of the future.¡±


    Sylvas finally found an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. ¡°You¡¯re planning a dig on Strife.¡±


    ¡°Just so.¡± He gestured to the charts and maps strung about the walls of the otherwise unremarkable office space. ¡°I have been here for close on nine months now, surveying what little of the subsurface of the Relic world I have been given information about. The Ardent are a little reluctant to part with information regarding their prized training bases, as though I am about to run off to Valtoris Blackstar with every detail and facilitate invasion.¡±


    Bael seemed quite overwrought at the idea of Kalis being denied anything at all, let alone something so trivial as detailed maps of a secret military installation. ¡°Cousin, I have little influence within the Ardent as of yet, but rest assured that I shall take all steps to make every attempt to pry open the oyster shell of their protections over this world that you might glimpse the pearl at its heart.¡±


    ¡°A very generous offer, dear one, but what the full influence of the Institute has not been able to apply leverage against, I very much doubt any one member of the Ardent, no matter how upstanding, will have much luck in changing.¡±


    ¡°I shall try nonetheless.¡± Bael puffed out his chest as much as it was possible for someone so slender.


    With a wave of his hands, the maps on the walls were copied into illusions in the air between Kalis and the Ardent recruits. Various sections lighting up in red. ¡°With what I have been able to ascertain there are a great many large constructions housed beneath the hemato-sillica sediment, but given the limited time that we are to be granted on the surface to excavate and explore, it has been difficult to gauge which will prove to be the most fruitful. We have narrowed it down to a dozen or so sites, but as of yet the decision has not been made.¡±


    Sylvas frowned. ¡°Then why have we been sent to you to make arrangements for your arrival?¡±


    ¡°I suspect that would be because the Ardent would like me to depart post-haste. Having already established that I may only conduct my work under the watchful eye of their best recruits, allegedly for my team¡¯s safety in eidolon infested ruins, they are now providing me with a firm deadline during which said recruits will be available to me.¡± The Professor sighed. ¡°In essence, they wish for me to take my chances with a guess as to where the decisive find of Strife will be so that I am no longer occupying valuable space upon this station. Uncomfortable as they are with my proximity to the planet.¡±


    Shuffling his feet, Sylvas looked down. ¡°Sorry to be the bearer of bad news then.¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sort, dear one. This is simply the way of things when one is dealing with militant powers. I can assure you that the Ardent have been markedly more indulgent of my interests than many of the other organizations in the Empyrean and beyond. Everyone is delighted when there is news of some fabulous new breakthrough in archaeology, but nobody wants their own gardens being excavated for it.¡±


    Kaya piped up, apparently having surfaced from whatever queasy wasteland she¡¯d been roaming until now. ¡°Can¡¯t see the Ardent being precious about you messing up their mushroom beds.¡±


    ¡°Since their inception, the Ardent have proven to be entirely reliant upon the information that archaeology provides to them regarding their enemies, while entirely opposed to the exploration of relic worlds that might turn up that information, out of some mis-placed fear that our investigations might re-awaken the long dormant creatures that laid waste to such places.¡± Professor Kalisdrothan wiped his illusions away with an irritated flick of the wrist. ¡°I must admit to finding it infuriating at times, but at least in this particular instance the presence of their own activities on the world provides them with some reason to be reticent. Usually when I am confronted with a stonewall of bureaucracy and reluctance, there is no more sign of the Ardent upon the world than there are living Eidolons.¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t like the way that the Professor kept looking at him, even when talking to the others. Like he was transfixed, so he moved to get out of the room. ¡°Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, even if our work together may not prove fruitful.¡±


    Kalis pressed a hand to his chest. ¡°Oh have no fear, dear one, there will be fruit of the tree of knowledge to be found buried beneath the red sands, it is just a matter of how much we can harvest before our time is done.¡±


    Sylvas managed a smile for the man. ¡°I can¡¯t promise it will be the same for all of my people, but I¡¯ve got an amateur¡¯s interest in finding out what happened to Strife, so you can rest assured I¡¯ll be doing all I can to help.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Vail, that is more than I ever could have hoped to hear.¡± Sylvas began to turn away and head back outside, only for the next thing the professor said to stop him in his tracks. ¡°And I do hope that when you part ways with the Ardent, you might consider the Institute as a potential home.¡±


    For a moment, he genuinely thought that he¡¯d misheard. Or more likely, that the other man had misspoken by accident. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Sylvas Vail, the mage with the gravity affinity, if I am not much mistaken. I am certain that you are in receipt of many hundreds of offers every day proposing vast wealth in exchange for your services. The Veilbohr Institute, formidable as its donors may be, have no hope of matching such offers, but the very fact that you are still among the Ardent suggest to my mind that you are not so interested in material wealth as in other matters, and if you want answers, there is nobody in the Empyrean better equipped to answer them than our humble Institute.¡±


    Sylvas cast a glance over at Bael, wondering just how much he was writing in his letters home, and how much information was disseminating from there to distant cousins. ¡°And why would you think that I¡¯d be leaving the Ardent?¡±


    ¡°Come now Sylvas,¡± Bael said, catching the edge in his voice. ¡°There¡¯s no need for us to quarrel.¡±


    ¡°Because you have questions.¡± The professor pressed on, heedless of any warning he might have picked up on himself. ¡°You have an amateur¡¯s interest in what we do. Both suggest that you are inquisitive and bright, two qualities one does not associate with soldiery.¡±


    Bael tried to intervene. ¡°Cousin¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh take no slight from it, Baeldrothan, I¡¯d hardly call you a dullard to your face, would I?¡± The older elf chuckled. ¡°The work that the Ardent do is absolutely vital to the survival of all sentient life in the universe, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who devote themselves to it. My own kin included. But just because something is vital, that does not mean that everyone is suited to it.¡±


    Sylvas forced a neutral expression onto his face. ¡°I am suited well to the Ardent, Professor Kalisdrothan, and it to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, should that ever change, please do give us some consideration before marrying some minor interstellar royalty or cashing in with one of the big shipping companies. They might find some use for you, but we would cherish you.¡± He held up a hand in some theatrical grasp, then let it fall. ¡°And now, having said that, and done all my due diligence in begging you to sign on, I suppose that I must leave you to your shore leave. We shall remain in contact through the slate-network, assuming that you can receive mail?¡±


    ¡°We can, and I¡¯d be happy to talk more.¡± Sylvas couldn¡¯t deny that the opportunities that the Veilbohr Institute had on offer were more exciting to him than any amount of money paid into his account monthly. ¡°You are an interesting man, professor.¡±


    The elf held out his hand once more for Sylvas to shake, but when he tried to draw away, he found the elf¡¯s grasp tighter than he could have anticipated. ¡°Dear one, flattery will get you everywhere with me. If you do not take care in how kindly you speak of me, you¡¯ll find me utterly devoted.¡±


    Bael loudly cleared his throat, and Sylvas hand was allowed to drop. ¡°If it is alright with everyone, I think I¡¯d like to stay a while with my cousin. Catch up on news from back home.¡±


    ¡°I should like nothing better after nine fruitless months of staring at these drab walls to gossip with you relentlessly, dear cousin.¡± The professor showed genuine signs of excitement, for perhaps the first time since meeting them.


    ¡°Of course, Bael.¡± Sylvas bowed his head as they left. ¡°We¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    They were a few feet down the corridor, when Kaya finally spoke up. ¡°Stanzbuhr?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I take it back. Everything I ever said about you being a stanzbuhr. Every time I called you a stanzbuhr.¡± Sylvas stared down at her in surprise, until the punchline arrived. ¡°That was a real stanzbuhr.¡±


    Sighing, he started walking away, ahead of her. ¡°I still haven¡¯t got any idea what that word means.¡±


    ¡°It means him.¡± She trotted up beside him and grinned.


    ¡°So helpful.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 28

    ¡°There are some that say the only constant in life is death. That inevitability is the most potent force at work in all of the universe. As potent as gravity but pulling us towards our end through time rather than to the dirt through weight. To those people I point to the undead. As prevalent as societal collapse due to Eidolon incursion is, second only to that comes the end of a world through necromancy. Death affinity magic is much maligned in modern society as a result of this, with good reason given its potential for such widespread catastrophe. But as with most things in the study of magic, the danger is not from the magic itself so much as its misuse, and in the case of necromancy, the danger is the loop. Mages calling upon death affinity mana have within their grasp the capability to create an infinite supply for themselves. With each spell they cast, death can be made, and from that death they can extract an equal or greater amount of mana to fuel their next spell. Everywhere that there has been life, death affinity mana persists in the aftermath. Small wonder that this exploit within the usually closed system of magic has ended so many worlds.¡±


    ¡ªThe Second Apocalypse, Xiodalus Blaudud


    The booze had been flowing freely in TiChi¡¯s bar, and the woman in question, a fiend who stood as large as Quartermaster Chul while retaining a more curvaceous rather than blocky form was currently pouring some sort of smoking liqeur directly into the mouth of Anak where he lay on the bar. The surrounding recruits cheered as he diligently gulped down every drop. Sylvas had a sinking suspicion that he was going to be carrying the young man to whatever bunk he¡¯d been assigned that night.


    ¡°Devildrinker!¡± Came a chorus from the crowd as he walked in. Kaya really needed to learn when to stop speaking sometimes.


    He gave a friendly wave to the amassed recruits, only realizing a moment late that a solid half of them weren¡¯t his friends from Blackhall, but others dressed in the colors of the other campuses of Strife. Apparently his entirely incorrect reputation preceded him.


    Ironeyes hooked an arm around his back and dragged him over to the bar, pushing through the crowd. The overall d¨¦cor was a little unusual, a hodge-podge of elements from various cultures that seemed not to have been chosen so much as it had accumulated over time, filling out the walls and roof of the designated chamber assigned to this business in a manner not entirely dissimilar to Chul¡¯s hoarding. There were souvenirs from a dozen different worlds pinned to the walls, a hollowed-out skull plate of an eidolon had been converted into a light fitting that dangled just over one of the big gaming tables where Gharia and a few Najash from the other campuses were engaged in some sort of game that involved hitting balls with the points of sticks. He would have to approach her and make peace and apologies soon, but for now, he had other plans.


    ¡°Give this lad the strongest thing on the menu!¡± Ironeyes bellowed over the music and rabble. ¡°He¡¯s been outdrinking everyone on campus until now, and I want to see him glerkt himself before the night¡¯s out!¡±


    TiChi looked Sylvas up and down with a gaze that was less appraising and more amused at the idea this tiny man could hold his liquor. Still, she turned away from the now choking Anak to fetch together a few bottles off the shelves behind her.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t want to¡­¡± Sylvas was cut off by her disarming shark-smile.


    ¡°Do us all a favor sweetmeat, if you feel like you¡¯re going to glerkt yourself, come find me. Maybe I¡¯ll do it for you.¡± A salacious wink left Sylvas too flustered to reply, and even if he could have, the whooping of the surrounding recruits would have drowned him out anyway.


    Glerkt joined the list of dwarvish words he would have to learn for his own safety.


    The drink that she mixed up was made from quite normal looking bottles, but when it arrived in an ice-frosted glass in front of him, it was undergoing some sort of chemical process that had all the fluids inside roiling and flickering through a rainbow kaleidoscope of colors. He looked up at TiChi with no small amount of trepidation, but she just laughed in his face and moved on to serving the next customer. An illusory construct like a sending sprang up in front of him as he reached for the drink. ¡°Start a tab?¡±


    He fumbled at it until it accepted his answer as, ¡°No.¡±


    It responded, ¡°Pay up.¡±


    A brush of his hand against the construct informed him that his account had been charged 0.5 gold. A princely sum for a single drink, but he supposed that some of the ingredients must have been quite expensive to produce such a singularly imposing beverage.


    ¡°Bottoms up, lad!¡± Ironeyes roared. All the other recruits turned on Sylvas, chanting, ¡°Sigil! Sigil! Sigil!¡±


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    He truly had not intended on indulging any more than was necessary to get Kaya safely stowed away in the bar so that he could start exploring the station without her ongoing complaints about missing out on the fun, but they had cornered him. All of Kaya¡¯s earlier hangover seemed to have vanished by now. He sighed and brought the drink up to his lips for a sip.


    Acrid and chemical would have been his guesses as to the flavor of the bubbling potion before it touched his lips, but now he almost gagged on the sweetness of it. Fruits he¡¯d never tasted, nectar so sweet it went all the way around to sharp again, his whole face went numb almost as soon as it passed his lips, and then that same hazy feeling spread out across his whole body as it dissipated. ¡°Ugh.¡±


    This was met with some laughter, but the chant went on. ¡°Sigil. Sigil. Sigil.¡±


    There was only one way out of this, and it lay at the bottom of the glass. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, Sylvas tilted his head back and began to glug it down.


    The cheers and jeers of the bar seemed to fade away as he swallowed it. It burned all the way down his throat and he could feel it in his stomach like a lightning storm. What have I gotten myself into now. His hands, still clasped desperately around the glass began to shake, but he couldn¡¯t stop now. Finding the courage to start drinking it again might have taken all day if he didn¡¯t finish it now.


    Slowly the cheers faded until eventually the only sound in the whole bar was the tinny music being piped in and his gulping.


    As the glass emptied, there was an expectant silence, then he set it back down on the bar and cheers erupted once more. Kaya had an arm around Luna and they were both jumping up and down in excitement. Anak was staring at him with wide-eyed terror. Havran¡¯s mouth hung open. Even the recruits from the other campuses that he¡¯d never met before were staring at him in awe. Apparently, some comment was in order. ¡°I think I prefer whiskey.¡±


    That set them all off laughing and cheering again, a press of strangers all offering to buy him a whiskey, friends faces blurring as the poison he¡¯d just chugged started to spread through his system. He started picking his way through the crowd. ¡°Excuse me. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± He was surprised to have almost walked into Bortan.


    He was going to embarrass himself very badly if he didn¡¯t get out of the bar quick. Knocking the drink back may have impressed everyone but regret had been the chaser to all that alcohol. ¡°I¡¯m going¡­ I¡¯m uh¡­ toilet?¡±


    Bortan¡¯s face split into an uncharacteristic grin, then he gave Sylvas a slap on the shoulders. ¡°Come find me if you need some ice for your whiskey.¡±


    The ladders to the lower decks were liable to cause Sylvas a problem, as his fancy new boots kept trying to get away from him as he stumbled out of the crowds and into the blessed quiet of the hallway. He followed around the curve of it, not heading back towards the center of the citadel, but continuing around the region of it set aside for retail and recreation, eventually stopping when it became clear that there wasn¡¯t going to be a handy bench anywhere for him to flop down on.


    Just a few days ago, he probably would have been terrified of losing so much of his precious control over himself, but with the walls in his head torn down on purpose, there was no danger of them crumbling now that he wasn¡¯t concentrating.


    Given the absence of seats, Sylvas found one of the curving support beams arrayed out around the station¡¯s thoroughfares and leaned heavily against it. He had plans for the day, and he wasn¡¯t going to let one stupid drink spoil them.


    Time would work the cocktail from his system, but he didn¡¯t have so much time that he could afford to waste it. Before long Kaya or one of the others would come looking for him and drag him back into the festivities. He pressed his eyes closed and tried to think through the banks of fog washing over him. Sleep would make it seem quicker but cost him actual time. Even inebriated, he could use his Paradigms to manage himself. Use Lockmind to fill in blanks that his hampered awareness couldn¡¯t, use Clearmind to lock down the symptoms of drunkenness so that he could navigate unimpeded. There were options available to him. Alternatively, he could go and find whatever passed for medical care on the station, see if the miraculous hangover cure he¡¯d been given before could handle the effects of alcohol on his system while he was still inebriated. It wouldn¡¯t be free, but then, what other use did he have for his money. It wasn¡¯t as though he had any life beyond his work.


    He opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn¡¯t. There was a man standing in front of him, a little hazy through the drink. Pale hair, silvery blonde, close cropped, skin darker than Sylvas, but that was hardly difficult. ¡°This is Sigil?¡±


    The form in front of Sylvas seemed to waver. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision. This man, he was wearing the all-white uniform. He knew who Sylvas was, which was nice, because Sylvas currently wasn¡¯t entirely sure of that himself. He probably should have said something more in keeping with his reputation, but all he managed was, ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°I am Malachai.¡± He offered a hand to shake, and as confused as Sylvas was in that moment, he reached out and took it, only to find that this Malachai¡¯s grip was like a vice. ¡°First student of the Whitehall of Strife. Just as you are the first among your rabble.¡±


    The pain in his hand helped Sylvas focus on what was being said. ¡°The rankings don¡¯t really¡­¡±


    ¡°The rankings mean nothing.¡± Malachai sniffed, contemptuously. ¡°Only power matters. And you burn with it.¡±


    Reluctantly, the other man let go of his hand, and Sylvas felt like someone had just cut the line to his anchor, rocking back against the pillar once more. What was he meant to say to something like that? ¡°Thanks?¡±


    Malachai stepped in closer, filling the space that Sylvas had just fallen back from. ¡°The way that you demolished Hammerheart, took his greatest strengths and turned them against him, psychologically manipulated him past his breaking point to maximize your every advantage. It was masterful. You are the only combatant that I¡¯ve seen among the Ardent¡¯s next generation to show anything resembling the necessary commitment. An example to us all. When the time comes, I look forward to destroying you.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 29

    ¡°If knowledge is power, then why are idiots so effective? Simple. Knowledge isn¡¯t power. The application of knowledge is power, and more often than not, those possessed of too much knowledge end up tripping over it in their pursuit of application. Sometimes the correct response to a situation is exactly what the idiot would do.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    Sylvas was immediately taken aback by what he¡¯d just heard. There was a lot of passion there. A lot of what he had to assume was hate. Was this some friend of Hammerheart¡¯s, or had he somehow offended this complete stranger without trying?


    ¡°I literally just met you.¡± He said, not having a clue of what else to say.


    ¡°You have, yes. And we will meet again, in combat. Our clash will be as magnificent as all of your previous battles.¡± This close, Sylvas could see his eyes. Grey so light they were almost the same as the white of his eyes. ¡°And I shall prove my superiority to you there, on the field of battle where you are at your strongest.¡±


    Sylvas swayed for a moment, weighing the words, then shrugged his shoulders. ¡°But not right now¡­ right?¡±


    ¡°It would not be appropriate to request a duel today, unless you did me some great insult.¡± He said it as if he was hopeful that Sylvas would say something, start something. As if he couldn¡¯t wait for his opportunity.


    Sylvas wet his lips. ¡°See you later then?¡±


    ¡°Indeed you shall. You shall see me, and I you. And when next we meet, I shall test you. I shall take you to the very edge of defeat, and then I shall tip you over. I shall find you wanting.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t make any move to walk away, and eventually the stranger let out a little huff of annoyance and stalked off.


    What was that about?


    The only good thing that could be said about the whole encounter was that the threats of impending death had put a little adrenaline into Sylvas system, pushing him a little closer to sobriety, if only a little. He was going to explore, take in the sights and the possibilities of Onslaught Citadel, and then when his mind cleared, he could sift through the memories and lay more concrete plans. The others might be content to drink and gamble their days away, but Sylvas had more important things to be getting on with.


    The lower levels of the station, he¡¯d move through later once he could fully trust himself on the ladders, but this upper ring was what he was currently the most interested in anyway, because it held all of the businesses willing to trade with recruits of the Ardent. A captive audience for them, that would probably allow the merchants to hike up their prices as high as they desired, but equally, a group of consumers inherently limited and likely to share stories amongst themselves about any bad deals that they received. He would be paying over the odds for anything that he bought here, but he¡¯d also be certain that what he was buying was of good quality. That made life a little easier. Particularly since he didn¡¯t really care about having money, except for what advantages that money could buy him.


    Fighting Vaelith had underlined all of the problems with how he had been putting himself together, even as it showed how effective some of his magic could be in combat. It was time to fix the cracks.


    By the end of his tour of the upper ring he had uncovered two illicit brothels masquerading as other businesses, a speakeasy selling the kind of drinks that even TiChi wouldn¡¯t, and a variety of purveyors of petty entertainments of various varieties, from artefacts that generated illusory plays of stories that you could interact with to alchemical concoctions that could change your appearance and mental state. Some of them seemed like things that the Ardent wouldn¡¯t sanction but given the earlier conversation about coupling among the recruits, Sylvas was no longer sure of where his employers drew the lines of morality, and he wasn¡¯t planning on ruining anyone else¡¯s fun.


    The shop-front that had interested him the most was simply named ¡°Codex¡± and seemed to be one of the least frequented on the station. Inside there were books, real paper books, held behind transparent screens to protect them from the grubby hands of the general public, but the main draw seemed to be the long menu neatly typed and displayed above the counter. Most of it was a list of places Sylvas had never been or heard of, many names of places that he didn¡¯t even think were places. Historical periods on some of the planets already listed, and collections of lesser documents. It was a library of sorts, or rather a gateway to other libraries. For coin, you could gain temporary access to the listed institutions and repositories of knowledge. Sylvas¡¯ eyes widened and he looked through the list again, now understanding. The collected works of almost the entire Empyrean was here, not to mention pre-Empyrean libraries from many of the founding worlds, papers from the fringes of civilization, even some documents from outside of it, including collected bundles of ¡°Alien texts.¡±


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    Behind the counter a najash with a pair of oversized spectacles fastened to his head and a brightly colored suit looked up at him excitedly. ¡°We are looking for something in particular? This one is always happy to direct you.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ need a little time to think through exactly what I want. How long would I keep access if I purchase it?¡±


    ¡°We offer a flexible pricing plan, but it extends no further than Onslaught Citadel.¡±


    ¡°I need¡­ Paradigms and Embodiments that the Ardent library doesn¡¯t keep. And anything you have on gravity affinity magic.¡±


    The najash was scribbling away on his own slate as Sylvas spoke. ¡°This is¡­ many books across many collections. We are in need of more defining parameters if you mean to read them all in a week¡¯s leave.¡±


    This funny little lizard man was not a part of the Ardent, and Sylvas had been through enough in his life not to trust easily. ¡°Assume that my reading speed is instantaneous, do we still need to trim?¡±


    Some frantic scribbling and calculations followed. ¡°If we remove all paradigms and embodiments in the Ardent Archives, and any that require specific affinities¡­¡±


    ¡°Other than gravity affinity.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The najash¡¯s scribbling resumed. ¡°Then¡­ assuming instant reading speed¡­ we have 185 hours.¡±


    Sylvas sighed. ¡°That¡¯s more than a week.¡±


    ¡°And we would not be sleeping.¡± The najash said with a little amusement.


    Sylvas snapped his fingers. ¡°If we eliminate all the writings on Gravity Affinity that are included in the Ardent Archives too, how much do we cut down.¡±


    ¡°This one is not certain of the full extent of the Archives, as they are closed to the public and we are making assumptions, but¡­¡± His lipless mouth spread into a facsimile of a smile. ¡°One hundred and eleven hours.¡±


    Sylvas raised his hand, ready to pay. ¡°How much?¡±


    For the first time, the off little lizard man looked slightly uncomfortable. ¡°This dips into many different collections, it will not be inexpensive.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡± He repeated.


    The merchant turned back to his calculations for a moment, up on the board behind him, different collections lit up as they were accessed. A name rang a bell. ¡°You can skip the Veilbohr Institute, I already have access to that.¡±


    Even if he didn¡¯t, he knew just who to ask for it.


    Hissing at his slate, the najash restarted his calculations. Finally arriving at, ¡°Eighty-seven gold.¡±


    The number brought Sylvas up dead. That was a substantial amount of money. He¡¯d started out life in the Empyrean with only a hundred gold in total and had no idea how much the Ardent actually paid. Not to mention the costs of his other plans on the station. A glance at his own slate informed him that his account held just under two hundred gold pieces. This would cost nearly half of everything that he had.


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    A construct popped up, and he pressed a hand to it to make the payment. He would have to make sure that he made this investment worth it.


    The upper ring of the station had a single thoroughfare running around its outer loop close to the bulkhead and space, but many of the shop-fronts were actually set back along branching passages further in towards the center of the station, and by about midday, Sylvas felt confident that he¡¯d explored all of it, and that his sobriety had returned to him. He tucked himself away in a corner of one of the less frequented eateries, somewhere specializing in the distinctive human cuisine from various central worlds that he¡¯d never encountered before and set to work sifting back through his hazy drunken memories of the day so far. His head hurt before he¡¯d even made it a few minutes.


    His eye-slate was set up to run through the libraries that he¡¯d bought access to, pouring all of the available information into his brain as quickly as possible to be sifted through like this at a later date. He might be able to make some time to actually read it later, but for now, he needed the conscious parts of his brain to lay out his plans. There were materials available on the station that he¡¯d never have seen down on Strife, variations on existing items, and things that he¡¯d never even heard of before, and he needed to replay all that he¡¯d seen and cross-reference it with all that he¡¯d memorized previously so that he could determine what he needed for his next crafting project. Putting together the staff had been extremely gratifying, and there was so much more that he knew he could do with enchantment if given the opportunity. Things that even the wrinkled remains of his instructor down on the planet had never even thought of.


    The first order of business should have been to repair his spell-cheat bracer, but now that he was confronted with all of the available materials up here, he was wondering if some improvements couldn¡¯t be made. He spun back to the beginning of his day to sift through all that he¡¯d seen again, only to overshoot ever so slightly and replay his conversation with Malachai.


    At the time, lost in the haze, he had been focused exclusively on the words being said and trying to stay upright, but now, in recollection, all of the information of his other senses flooded back. His gravity sense told him little to nothing about the man, but his second sight spoke volumes. Any mage was a point where mana converged. The weight of the mana within their core bending the ambient magic towards them, distorting it with the presence of itself condensed the same way that matter was drawn to wells of gravity. But Malachai was a nexus. Mana flowed towards him from every side, the only other mages that Sylvas had come across who distorted the natural state of magic so much were full-blown 5<sup>th</sup> circle wizards. So much power at the man¡¯s fingertips. So much that it put the well that Sylvas had been so proud of excavating for himself to absolute shame. But even Malachai¡¯s incredible power wasn¡¯t enough to stun Sylvas so much as the affinity of the magic that he was calling in from all around, so dark that for one awful moment Sylvas believed that he¡¯d encountered another gravity mage, before realizing that it was not so. There was no answering pull from his own mana, no sense of recognition, Malachai¡¯s affinity was different from his but had a pull just as inevitable. Malachai was a death mage.

 Volume 2: Chapter 30

    ¡°There is always a question, when discussing world-souls, of the source. From whence the springs of mana flow. There are tidal floes of mana between worlds, a natural interchange between the different planets to seek a state of harmony. Worlds possessed of too much fire mana project it into space and it seeks worlds that are lacking it. Worlds possessed of too much of any mana will project it out into the interlinking tides and flows we refer to as the universal matrix. Yet the question remains, from where is mana born. From what place does it enter existence. It cannot simply be the same mana everywhere in perpetual motion. And the answer, dear reader, is that mana comes from everywhere and everything. Each time a candle is lit, fire affinity mana is born into the world. Each time a child is born, there is an abundance of life mana brought into existence. Everything in the universe has its place in the matrix, and every affinity of mana seeks the place where it is needed. The world-soul does not create mana, the world around it does. It merely serves as the focal point where that mana is gathered. Where it can be drawn from in times of extreme crisis, when local supplies are insufficient.¡±


    ¡ªCosmic Errata: Notes on Interplanetary Mana Tides, Theron Greenmantle


    With some food in his stomach, and the revelation of what he¡¯d learned stowed away to be worried about later, Sylvas set off again. His eye consuming all the knowledge of all the libraries he¡¯d been able to reach, his mind sifting back through all the other information that he¡¯d acquired today, helping him to compose a better plan for what he meant to do next.


    The upper ring was essentially overrun with the other recruits, the central ring predominantly closed off to visitors as it was full of offices and meeting rooms for the Ardent operations in the surrounding area. Sylvas wanted some peace and quiet to walk, process information and think without interruption, so neither was of much use. That left the lowest circle of Onslaught Citadel, where the mechanisms that kept the big hunk of metal in space were situated.


    Every so often he would cross the path of one of the Ardent manning the station, and they¡¯d give him something like a dirty look for roaming around their domain, but he and the others had been given freedom to roam all over the station, and unless he was actively causing trouble, he could expect to be unbothered. His first order of business would have to be constructing a replacement for his spell-cheat, then making the adjustments to his orbitals so that they responded to gravity, not magnetism and only then could he give serious consideration to what he might build for himself with any remaining funds. His staff had proven its value over and over again in his fight with Vaelith, so he was in no mad rush to make any major changes to it, but there were so many times when having the orbitals just a little faster and responsive could have helped turn the tide and secured him a win. They were empowered with his mana, and he could move them around just as freely as he could the mana within his own body, but there were still so many limitations, they were so sluggish, thanks to their affinity properties being off.


    Necromancy was the subject of many texts in the Ardent library. Eidolons had always served as the primary purpose of the Ardent, and their most common opponent, but the undead that could be raised with death affinity mana were a close second. The most common cause of planetary destruction behind eidolons was death magic getting out of hand, and due to its cyclical nature, it was so incredibly easy for it to get out of hand. Every death that the magic caused could fuel it. The mana was produced in vast quantities, anywhere that a death had occurred, and that meant practically everywhere in the universe. All of creation was a graveyard, every inch of every planet built on top of the dead, and even if death mana hadn¡¯t been so incredibly prevalent, it was produced endlessly by everything that lived. Every hair that was shed and every flake of skin represented a tiny death, and from it sprang forth more mana. Ambient mana, the chaotic mix that mages without affinities drew on, was often so tainted with death that it disrupted spells. That was one of the reasons that the Ardent trained their recruits on Relic Worlds, so they could become accustomed to all the death in the air.


    Sylvas pushed the intrusive thoughts down. It didn¡¯t matter if Malachai was a necromancer, the Ardent probably had a perfectly good reason for keeping him around. They¡¯d clearly looked at the possibilities of having such a caster available and decided that it outweighed the danger of having such a caster around.


    He returned to his mental catalogue of the different products that had been available for sale on the top floor, cross-referencing them with all that he¡¯d read on the construction of artifacts like his mana-cheating gauntlet, and his plans for his orbitals. Perhaps there was a way to combine the two projects, using the off-cuts from one for the other, or sharing a similar piece of spell work so that he wasn¡¯t having to produce vast quantities of enchanting text bespoke for each one. The idea that had been simmering at the back of his mind since he initially came across the mana-cheat wouldn¡¯t fade, and it didn¡¯t take long for him to realize that the components that he¡¯d need to bring that idea to life would be easy enough to find on the station, all that he had to do was make some purchases, hoping they didn¡¯t entirely deplete his savings, and then find somewhere that he could use as workshop space, provided that such a thing existed up here. If he could get all of the work done now before they returned to Strife, it would be so much better. He''d have all the time he needed to work on the project, and he¡¯d have easy access to the merchants if there was anything awry with the material he had available to him.


    Sylvas had been circling around the middle of the station for quite some time, weaving through the various chambers where machinery worked to keep the Citadel in orbit, and full of fresh air, rather than dead in space. He wasn¡¯t sure why he didn¡¯t cut out of the chaotic warren of rooms to the loop of corridors that ran around the outer hull, but something was drawing him in. Drawing him closer and closer to the center, like gravity.


    For reasons he couldn¡¯t grasp, Sylvas stopped dead next to a solid wall that must have been almost central to the station¡¯s construction. There was something in the room on the other side. His gravity sense showed a vast empty space, and then¡­ something in the middle. Something glowing with enough mana that it startled him.


    Peering through the wall with his second sight, he realized that this must have been whatever source was powering the whole station, whatever Bael had called it earlier, a shard or fragment or something. It did have a jagged shape to it, but the radiance of the mana flowing through more than blurred the lines of whatever physical space it was occupying. Sylvas shuddered as his mind brushed against it. There was so much mana. Not just contained within the shard, but flowing into it too.


    It felt like that fateful night, standing atop the tower in Croesia, when all the planets had aligned to deliver the maximum flow of mana to their world.


    It felt like an echo in the back of his mind. A long forgotten one that flared back to life at the feeling of the fragment¡¯s power.


    He pressed a hand against the wall, expecting it to be hot to the touch from all the power radiating through it. It wasn¡¯t just a source of power, it was drawing power too. All the surrounding mana in the whole solar system felt like it was making a slow drift towards it. At least from this close.


    ¡°You feel it?¡±


    Sylvas jumped at the sudden presence of another person in the corridor with him. His hand automatically raised to cast before he realized he wasn¡¯t under attack. Professor Kalisdrothan, the elf from the Veilbohr Institute hadn¡¯t snuck up on Sylvas. The gentle pulsing heartbeat of whatever lay beyond the wall had simply distracted him. ¡°Apologies professor, I didn¡¯t realize anyone else was here.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You have encountered one of the many drawbacks of life upon a space-station, dear one, there is always someone in extremely close proximity to you at all times. Even in what you would like to think are your most private moments, you are scant inches from one another. A pity that the Ardent didn¡¯t make their home upon one of the more spacious installations in orbit.¡± The elf seemed more subdued now that Bael was out of sight. He was still flamboyant, but less so.


    Sylvas glanced back to the wall. ¡°What am I feeling, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Rather more of a complex question than you meant to ask, most likely.¡± Kalisdrothan quipped. ¡°Are you familiar with the concept of a World Soul?¡±


    Somewhere in his expansive memory, Sylvas flipped open a textbook. ¡°The nexus point where the flows of mana gather at the heart of a planet, allowing life to exist there.¡±


    ¡°A somewhat abridged version, but nonetheless predominantly accurate.¡± Kalisdrothan moved over to stand beside Sylvas, then slumped down to sit on the metal-grating floor. It was incongruous, him in his fancy robes, sitting on the grubby mesh. But despite that incongruity, Sylvas sat himself down beside him with his back against the thrumming wall. ¡°When constructing these Citadels in space, the primordial residents of Strife encountered all of the usual issues that one has with such projects. Primarily that you are attempting to live in a place inherently unsupportive of life. Any mana that they needed to cast the vital spells to ensure their ongoing survival had to be drawn from the nearby planet in a rather arduous process. If you¡¯re truly interested in ancient mana transferal ladders, I¡¯ll be happy to pass you along some papers. Needless to say they swiftly hit upon the need for each of these stations to have an onboard source of mana, a miniature world soul which could provide them with a direct connection to the interstellar matrix of mana, and something to get rid of that rather nasty feeling one gets when deprived of a native mana field. The withering, I believe the humans call it. Regardless, this was hardly a novel concept, almost every spacefaring species has hit upon the desire for an artificial world to carry around in their pocket at some point. And while it is now dangerous to the point of there being a universal ban, the methodology used to produce such a thing has almost always been identical. One goes to the world soul of one¡¯s own planet, and one fragments it. Seizing those shards, patching over the damage, and then using each fragment as a world soul in its own right. In close proximity, the world soul will of course heal itself, siphoning mana back into the central mass until the miniature loses cohesion, but by displacing these shards at a sufficient distance, they retain a degree of stability. And if you¡¯re extremely lucky or very clever, your original world soul retains its stability too, so you didn¡¯t just kill your planet for a fancy battery.¡±


    Sylvas made a note to check what happened to a fragmented world soul that did not heal, but he had a suspicion already. ¡°So this station is powered by a stable fragment of a broken world soul?¡±


    ¡°Strife¡¯s world-soul, most specifically. It has been a subject of some discussion as to whether that fragmentation is what granted the planet its relic world status. After all, it is rather difficult for eidolons to gobble up your world¡¯s soul if said soul is currently parceled off into a dozen neat containers arrayed in orbit.¡± Kalisdrothan had removed a flask from inside of his robes and offered Sylvas a sip, it smelled of whiskey, but he declined all the same.


    ¡°Is that why this planet survived when so many others died?¡±


    ¡°If it is,¡± the elf couldn¡¯t entirely contain his excitement in those first few words, but it faded rapidly, ¡°There certainly hasn¡¯t been any evidence to that effect. No suggestion that the world soul of Strife itself has suffered any further damage beyond its fragmentation prior to the extinction event. It is one of the matters I intend to shed more light on, once we are on the surface. After all, to shard your world soul, you must have access to it, which suggests significant subterranean expansion that with any luck we will be able to explore.¡±


    Sylvas had closed his eyes to bask in the comforting presence of the world soul. It was like it was calling out to him. Maybe it was just because he had no home world of his own, being this close to the soul of another was having such an effect. ¡°If this is what a fragmented one feels like, I can¡¯t wait to find one that¡¯s intact.¡±


    ¡°Mostly intact.¡± Kalisdrothan corrected absently, ¡°However, I suspect you have now hit upon the rather more complex part of your question inadvertently. To whit, why can you feel the presence of the world soul?¡±


    Sylvas brows drew down. ¡°Can¡¯t everyone?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not, dear one. If they did, I imagine their days would all be spent ooh-ing and aah-ing at it rather than conducting whatever terribly important Ardent business they are attending to. If they are possessed of the second sight, then staring directly at the thing will of course reveal a mass of mana, but only you seem to be having an emotional or physiological response to its presence.¡±


    Sylvas turned his head to look at the professor directly, ¡°So you can¡¯t feel it either?¡±


    ¡°I must admit that I simply come down here for the quiet, not any great reverence.¡±


    Settling back against the wall, Sylvas began trying to puzzle it through. ¡°Then why can I feel it?¡±


    ¡°Well that, dear one, is where my original line of questioning cuts back in sharply. Is this some aspect of your affinity of which we were not aware? Is it perhaps one of the sensory enhancements you have undergone as a part of your secret Ardent training? I have no information with regard to you, so I can make no assumptions.¡±


    Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure how much to say. He kept things relatively quiet regarding the specifics of his build down on Strife to avoid the competition from learning to much and devising counter measures, but it felt strange to freely disclose it to this man too. No wonder scrying was considered so rude. Baring someone¡¯s soul without their consent was akin to ripping off their clothes.


    Sylvas tried to sort through his feelings. ¡°It feels, familiar. Like I¡¯ve felt it before. Before my affinity, before my new paradigm, I could still¡­ it was like an echo. Whenever I used too much mana, or I was¡­ I¡¯ve felt it before.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating. Then it is perhaps something nascent in your makeup, or a predictor of your affinity.¡± The elf snapped his fingers, ¡°Something that you learned at a young age? There are many pre-contact cultures who develop a religious attitude towards their world soul, was there perhaps some rite or ritual that you¡­¡±


    Sylvas could only shake his head at the idea. ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating all the same.¡± Kalisdrothan bumped his shoulder against Sylvas¡¯ own. ¡°You are a riddle, Mr. Sylvas Vail, a mystery that I hope to one day solve, with your permission of course.¡±


    Sylvas managed a chuckle back. ¡°I¡¯d love to know what is going on.¡±


    ¡°Then let us work towards that goal together. And if we should happen upon access to the world soul of Strife during our time together on the surface, then all the better to explore this unusual aspect to your sensory apparatus.¡±


    Sylvas had already been looking forward to the trip, just because archaeology was so fascinating, but now he had a personal stake in the mission. If they did manage to find the world soul, he might get one of the many questions that he had answered.


    ¡°And of course, with that mystery solved, you will immediately quit the Ardent and come work for me at the Veilbohr Institute for the remainder of your lifespan.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what Bael has been telling you that makes you think I¡¯m so unhappy in my current¡­¡± Sylvas paused, taking in the tiny quirk of the man¡¯s eyebrow. Elves. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is quite apparent that you are most attached to the Ardent.¡± Kalisdrothan chuckled. ¡°But I answer to others than myself, and those others say I must ask you to join us until you say yes. So I must ask again and again.¡±


    Sylvas climbed back to his feet, and offered a hand to the elf, who gladly took it. ¡°Well, despite that, I¡¯m genuinely pleased to have met you, Professor.¡±


    The elf actually managed a full smile as he rose. ¡°The feeling is mutual, dear one, of this I can assure you.¡±


    Together, they progressed back out through the complex tangle of rooms and corridors to the ladders leading up to the central chamber, Sylvas haltingly sharing details of his homeworld, and Kalisdrothan carrying the conversation by comparing them to the medieval practices of so many other planets. The way that the archaeologist told it, the elves were the only ones in the universe to never go through a feudal period where the wealthy and powerful lorded it over the poor and the weak like they did on Croesia. But Sylvas suspected that it was perhaps an area of history that was just being glossed over. After all, if elves lived for as long as they claimed, then many of the medieval peasants from that period might still be walking around now with no fond memories of their ancient oppressors.


    For politeness sake, Sylvas let the elf climb the ladder to the central plane ahead of him, but he would come to regret that politeness when he set up off the ladder only to see a head poking out over the top of the shaft, glowering down at him. Kaya roared, ¡°Stanzbuhr!¡±


    Groaning, Sylvas began his ascent to the third floor, and the drinking and reveling that was sure to follow. Chanting echoed down through the station as he diligently climbed, hand over hand. ¡°Sigil! Sigil! Sigil!¡±


    It was going to be an extremely long night.

 Volume 2: Chapter 31

    ¡°The mage is nothing in solitude. Their powers mean nothing. Their learning means nothing. It is only when they are placed into contrast and competition with other mages that they come to realize the value of what they have and begin to push for more. Complacency and contentment are two sides of the same coin.¡±


    ¡ªSystems of Abuse, Thele Bovradia


    Once upon a time, Sylvas would have said that there was nothing worse than death. That when a life ended, there was no possibility for it to be redeemed or improved. That was before he had spent the night drinking with the recruits from the Blackhall, Whitehall and Greyhall. Now he knew that there were worse things than death, and he was experiencing about five of them when he woke up.


    Before the drinking had started again in earnest, Sylvas could not remember having found out where they were meant to be staying that night, yet he had awoken now in a bed, so he had to assume that someone else knew, at least. The knowledge that he was in a bed was one of the first things to penetrate the fog, followed by the knowledge that the pain in his head wasn¡¯t actually going to kill him no matter how much it felt like it would, which meant that there was no escaping it.


    The next stage of his grief began as he realized that he was not alone in the bed. He could feel the weight of another body resting against him, a head nestled into his chest as he lay flat on his back, willing himself not to make a sound in case he woke whoever it was. He could not possibly have had so much to drink that he had taken one of the other recruits to bed with him. Surely. Even in the depths of his drunkenness, surely he had held onto his morality, or at least his bone-deep dread of getting into trouble from his commanding officers. That left an even shorter list of possibilities for his bedmate, and as a hardened ridge brushed against his arm, his mind immediately shot to TiChi. She had been flirting with him. She had been serving him drinks all night. She would have been more than strong enough to carry him off to bed if he had passed out, then done whatever she pleased.


    The memories would be inside his head somewhere, he knew. But just the thought of digging for them made the hangover¡¯s steady wail rise into a crescendo of suffering. There was only really one rational solution to his current situation, which would be to open his eyes and look to see who was snuggled up in bed with him, but the moment that he did, there would be no going back. In this moment it could have been anyone, but the moment that he looked, the uncertainty collapsed and his future was permanently changed.


    Whatever else he might have been, Sylvas was not a coward. He opened his eyes.


    Gharia was laying with her head on his arm, coiled around him like he was a hot rock that had been left out in the sun. In the dim artificial light of their bunk on the station, her stark white scales seemed to shimmer. The delicate, tiny scales down the front of her neck spreading out into wider ones across her chest. His uniform and her uniform were nowhere to be seen. Her scales were pressed to his flesh. Her face had been the hard ridge that he felt. Not a fiend¡¯s horn, but a najash¡¯s brow. And in the gap between where their bodies lay together, where her hips pulled away from him before her tail coiled forward to weave through his legs, there lay a clutch of eggs.


    They were safe so long as neither one of them moved, and with the way that Gharia had cuddled into him, she had essentially ensured their protection by pinning them both in place. The eggs, there were a half dozen of them, greenish, soft looking, moist and glistening. Sylvas was not ready to be a father. He had not even considered that family and children might ever be a feature in his life. He had known the horrors of being an orphan and never meant to bring any life into the universe that might suffer the same fate, particularly when both of these najash-human hybrids had parents who would go on to fight Eidolons as their full-time job. How were they going to care for them? How were they going to raise them? Were the Ardent going to take them away, to prevent distraction from their duties? Had he fathered a clutch of orphans, ready-made, to be cast out into whatever hellish orphanage that the Ardent maintained? Would he be cast out of the Ardent for this, forced to abandon his duties to the Empyrean so that he could fulfil his duties as a father? What was he meant to do? The rules for everything were so different here. Back home, they would have been shamed and despised for what they had done out of wedlock. Should he propose marriage? If they were going to be raising children together, then surely it was the decent thing to do. Would Gharia even accept his proposal? When he¡¯d fumbled the courtship with her so thoroughly through his ignorance?


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Feeling his breathing change, and the tension in his body now that sleep had left him, Gharia stirred. Both sets of her eyelids parted, and she looked at him and his expression of mounting horror, with one of such sweet softness that it would melted his heart if it wasn¡¯t hammering so hard it was trying to escape his chest.


    ¡°Mmm. Good morning, lover.¡± His heart jumped into his throat at the sound of her voice. Vibrating through his chest from where she was nestled still. He opened his mouth to answer her, but nothing came out. Her gaze turned from him, still startlingly warm for a cold-blooded creature, and she looked down at the eggs. ¡°And look what our love has made. I hope that they all grow to be as strong and handsome as their father.¡±


    Panic had already set in for Sylvas, but now it was holding him rigid and wordless. His mouth working, but no sound coming out. Gharia reached down between them, perilously close to¡­ parts of him that she had obviously made the acquaintance of last night, and she ran a caressing claw over one of the eggs. ¡°We can be a family now.¡±


    What was he meant to say? What could he say to that. ¡°Gharia¡­. I¡­¡±


    There was a purr in her voice as she leaned in closer, rubbing the ridge of her cheek against his. ¡°You were such an animal last night. After what happened on Strife, I thought that you didn¡¯t want me, but when you found me last night you were so passionate... and¡­ well, let¡¯s just say I accept your apology.¡±


    Once more Sylvas locked up in abject horror. A passionate animal?! ¡°Gharia, I don¡¯t¡­¡±


    She carefully cradled her clawed fingers around one of the eggs, lifting it up and bringing it in between their faces. A tiny life that they had created. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe that we made love so many times in one night that I laid a full six eggs¡­¡±


    She bit into the egg and chewed thoughtfully. ¡°Because we didn¡¯t. You idiot.¡±


    It felt distinctly like his brain had just been turned off and on again. The pain was still there, but the chaos that had been roiling in his mind had vanished.


    She took another bite of egg. ¡°They¡¯re pickled. You moron. We got them in the bar.¡±


    He flopped back on the bed with a groan. ¡°And why did we do that?¡±


    ¡°Because the look on your face¡­¡± She finally lost her composure, letting out that rhythmic grunting wheeze that najash produced when they laughed. In any other species, Sylvas probably would have described it as cackling.


    Kaya¡¯s laughter meanwhile, was more like guffawing. He twisted around to see her where she sat on the bunk beside them, roaring and laughing. ¡°Stanzbuhr¡­ your voice¡­ G-G-Gharia¡­¡±


    Gharia was in fact laughing so hard by this point that she accidentally rolled off the bed, leaving Sylvas alone with his five remaining pickled offspring. ¡°I hate you both. I hope you know that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you get for ditching us all day, Stanzbuhr!¡± Kaya was hooting and hollering. ¡°That¡¯s what you get.¡±


    Gharia had managed to stop laughing long enough to get her head up, her chin resting on the edge of the bed. ¡°One thing wasn¡¯t a joke, Sigil.¡± She said to him, obviously trying to hold back more laughter. ¡°We¡¯re even now.¡±


    She reached up and offered him a clawed hand, which he shook out of habit. She gave him a slow blink. ¡°Friends again.¡±


    He flopped back onto the bed groaning, accidentally splattering another egg. The girls went on laughing a little longer, until it had finally abated enough for Sylvas to ask the one burning question that still remained in his mind. ¡°If nothing happened between us, where are my clothes?¡±


    Kaya flopped back across the other bunk cackling, so he had to turn to Gharia for answers. ¡°Kaya took them off for you. Said she¡¯d seen it all before.¡±


    Sylvas bit back the first few choice remarks that he had about that, slowly bringing his Paradigm back into action to filter out his anger. ¡°If I could have them returned to me, I would appreciate it. As I would like to leave this room now.¡±


    ¡°Aww are you mad¡­¡± Kaya cackled.


    ¡°I am not angry.¡± There would be no advantage to showing how badly they had shaken him. ¡°I simply wish to leave.¡±


    ¡°We all want him to leave!¡± Luna¡¯s voice called out from the other row of bunks. ¡°Some of us are trying to sleep!¡±


    ¡°Give Sigil his pants!¡± Someone agreed. It sounded like Harvan.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Ironeyes called out from what sounded like Luna¡¯s bed. ¡°My head is killing me¡­¡±


    Mild mannered Anak flung something at them from his bed at the end of the row. ¡°He can have my trousers if it¡¯ll shut you all up! Now get out!¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 32

    ¡°Herein lies the great irony, of course. For possessions are ultimately fleeting and temporal in comparison to the self. Yet still we look to enchantments and their longevity as the immortality of the mage.¡±


    ¡ª Mageobolgus: Elvish Philosophy Primer, Komlaeth Havenspring


    Tragically, the item Anak had thrown was a boot, which Sylvas had discovered he didn¡¯t need, since his were still on his feet. They had taken them off to get to his pants, then put them back on again because, well, Sylvas didn¡¯t know why.


    It¡¯s not like I can understand their logic when they¡¯re sober, let alone when they¡¯re drunk. He thought as he scrambled to find his belongings.


    With an ongoing chorus of complaints from the hungover recruits surrounding them, Sylvas clothes were retrieved, and he had to suffer through the indignity of putting them back on amidst the half-slumbering crowd. The jokes were already starting before he¡¯d even made it to the door. About his love life, about eggs, socializing was going to be a nightmare from this point forward. He let out a sigh. It had been nice while it lasted, but it was inevitable that eventually something would happen to tarnish his reputation and make him the laughing-stock of the recruits for a day. They had all been through it at one point or another, and the only way out was to give a good-natured laugh at their jibes until they got bored.


    He pushed the whole situation out of his mind, even as he tried to wipe the slimy remains of a pickled egg off his back before pulling his vest on. There were worse things in this universe than being accused of fathering a clutch of pickled eggs, and he had been called considerably worse by those who had hated him back home. What mattered was that he had escaped Kaya¡¯s clutches once more and the day belonged to him. Even if the hangover was continuing to dog him all the way.


    The idea of a workshop or forge made the pounding in his head threaten to pop his skull like an overfilled water balloon, so he decided to dedicate the morning to purchasing the materials that he needed for his projects. Because of the rarity of gravity affinity, he would have thought that those materials that responded best to its influence would have been equally rare, and expensive, but as it turned out the opposite was the case. They were moderately easy to acquire, but as nobody had much use for them they sold for very little indeed. What he¡¯d thought might have eaten up a solid quarter of his remaining funds cost pocket change. As for the gemstones that stored mana, that was a different matter. A type of quartz that formed near to natural growths of Etherium could naturally store neutral mana, but when you got into specific affinities of mana the price rapidly climbed, as the number of places awash with the mana of a singular affinity that were also in close proximity to an Etherium deposit were extremely few and far between.


    Yet, when he went looking for this quartz, he was surprised at just how much of it could be acquired. Large pieces capable of storing vast amounts of mana were obviously in high demand for industrial purposes, but the tiny chips that were left over or dislodged from the main blocks during excavation found their way everywhere around the galaxy, they got used in little gadgets like fire starters and kids toys if they were small enough, and if they were too big for that, they just ended up left lying around at marketplaces for a pretty reasonable price. Sylvas stocked up on the ones he thought he¡¯d need, bought the other miscellaneous scraps he was after and set off to the inquiries desk on the main deck to try and find out where he could rent some workshop space.


    As it turned out, the deal on workshop space was much the same up here as it had been down on Strife, so long as he kept to himself then the local craftsmen who shared the area were happy to leave him to it. Most of them had no real interest in what he was doing, he certainly had no interest in what they were doing, and they all got along just fine.


    Without Instructor Sagran to provide him with blueprints, Sylvas had to come up with his own, inscribed not on his slate or on any illusion to be shared, but within his own perfect memory. The headache that had been threatening to split his skull down the middle all day had, by the time he got to the workshop, mostly calmed down, but he felt certain that at the first sound he made, it was going to start up again. So be it. He could filter out pain easily enough, and he knew that this pain was just his body complaining, rather than a warning that he was doing himself harm.


    The new bracer was more of a gauntlet, covering the whole back side of his left hand. Over the middle knuckle rested the original clear quartz that would store chaotic mana, and then further down on the back of the palm came all of the rest of them.


    In the original design, there was no engine. The gem would slowly absorb ambient mana as it passed through it, but that was all. It was the least efficient way of gathering mana imaginable, unless you were travelling at impossible speeds. His plans for the new design were more ambitious. So long as he wasn¡¯t casting, the black hole at the heart of his core was drawing mana in towards him, and while only mana with a gravity affinity could pass through his circles and enter his core, that did not mean it was the only kind being drawn to him. He had looked around him with his second sight when he was drawing in fresh mana. He knew that every kind was pulled towards him and simply bounced off. The trick now, was to make it so that all of the mana being drawn to him entered via the filter of the gauntlet. It would all be drawn in through the original crystal, all colors and flavors of mana could pass through it freely, and from there it would divide itself. The gravity affinity mana would be drawn through the underside of the gauntlet where the quartz touched his skin, and all the remaining mana would be drawn by a similar process into the other crystals arrayed across the back of his gauntlet. Each one of them could only hold a tiny amount of mana, and conceptually the whole thing was pointless if you were just trying to accrue more power to work with, but that was not Syvlas¡¯ interest at all. If he managed to pull this off, then he would have access to a dozen different elemental affinities of mana. He would be able to cast spells from outside his own specialty. They would never be as big or powerful as those cast be real mages of that affinity, but they would give him a wider range of tools than anyone else had at their disposal. He would be able to fight fire with fire, so to speak.


    He laid out the basic shape of the gauntlet, positioned the gems where he wanted them, and set about casting the spells that would connect the various gems to each other, and to the mana channels beneath his skin. It took considerable time, with a great deal of trial and error to get mana flowing through the gems as it was meant to, longer still to make it settle in place where he wanted it. The trick, as it turned out, was narrowing down where he drew his mana into his system from, and then ensuring that some part of it was still flowing to him through the various colored gems set further back. They served as a secondary filter before the mana reached his circles, purging the chaotic mix of mana he was drawing in of much of its chaos. Defining each thread of mana being drawn to a single type. He went back and forth, time and again, tweaking a line of spell-script here, adjusting the connections there, until finally he was contented with the work, and slipped the gauntlet on. It was uncomfortable. He wasn¡¯t used to gloves, and the rocks attached to this one made it particularly unwieldy to wear, however, there could be no denying its effectiveness.


    As he closed his eyes and drew in mana, it came, not just the mana meant for him, but all of it. Every speck drawn in by his core, dragged kicking and screaming to it via the gauntlet. His hand began to ache, and it was only on closer examination that he realised some part of the affinitied mana was being drawn through and into him. The pain was his body rejecting it. It wasn¡¯t ideal, and gave him unpleasant flashbacks to when he had tried to cast with neutral mana that had some portion of the affinities stolen from it.


    It was going to be a nuisance introducing another filter into the design to stop any overflow from coming into his system. He supposed it was to do with the fact that he was using his own body and mind as the engine to draw the power in, that when he was deliberately drawing mana, it made the solid wall of his circles more permeable. He flopped the gauntlet back onto the bench and was just starting to set to work on adding another layer of cloth with specific mana filters woven through it when he noticed that he was not alone.


    Technically speaking, he had never been alone. As Kalisdrothan had said, you were never really alone for long on a space station, and workers for the Ardent and the merchants came and went more or less constantly as he worked, but this latest visitor was another story. Eyes bored into him. He could feel the weight of will and attention being placed on him.


    He spared a glance from his work, expecting Hammerheart to have reappeared, but it wasn¡¯t the dwarf. It was a man. Malachai.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Oh good, you¡¯re here.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t normally feel inclined to fill an awkward silence, but the tension was palpable.


    Malachai¡¯s expression was hard to read, but there was a manic edge to his voice. ¡°Is it such a surprise?¡±


    ¡°Plenty of room for both of us.¡± Sylvas answered, noticing the bundled crafting supplies tucked under the other mage¡¯s arm.


    ¡°There is only enough room for one,¡± Malachai replied, moving to another empty station. ¡°At the top.¡±


    The man had chosen a station directly opposite where Sylvas had situated himself, as far from sight as he could possibly get, so that the whole time they were working, they would have their backs to one another. It was either a display of contempt or confidence, and Sylvas didn¡¯t have the time to decipher which. The important thing was that it kept what he was working on secret from Malachai, and what Malachai was working on hidden from him. Both blocking out sight of their workspaces with their bodies.


    He did what he had always done, focusing on the work at hand, letting the problem that he had no means of fixing wait until later. He didn¡¯t filter out his awareness of Malachai, because doing so still felt like it might be a danger, but he kept his mind on his work. With the new layer of spell-work woven over the interior of the gauntlet, he slipped it on again and began to cycle mana. It was as easy as breathing, with the minute adjustment that he was only pulling it in on one side of his body instead of from every direction. He had thought that might make the process slower, but his core filled at the same pace as usual, the vacuum at his center applying more force through the limited channels it had to work with. After a few minutes of cycling, and no sign of any additional overflow into his system of the wrong affinity of mana, he was convinced that the gauntlet was going to do what he wanted it to do. He flexed his fingers inside it, making sure that the physical construction would hold up just as well as the spells, and he was pleased to discover that in another life, he could have been an apprentice glove-maker. It wasn¡¯t a beautiful piece of art like so many artifacts were, but it would work. Changing his cycling technique would have been a large effort previously, but with having so recently changed it anyway, all this felt like was a minor adjustment.


    The only real concern that he had was the slight redness spreading up his arm from the gauntlet, as if he had some topical skin infection, or his hand was embarrassed about something. Opening up his second sight, he examined not the gauntlet, but himself. The channel that he had been drawing all the mana through was damaged. Not badly, like when he¡¯d tried to stop a summoning in progress, or even as badly as they got worn with a regular day of casting, but enough to be cause for concern. There was too much power being pushed through it in too short a time. Of all his embodiments, the second that he had chosen at Fahred¡¯s suggestion had never come in particularly useful so far, except for providing him a minor resistance to the magical attacks of others. Now he could see its value. He suffused some of the mana that he had drawn out of the channel and into the surrounding flesh deliberately, pouring it into the Arcane Bulwark embodiment that he had been essentially neglecting all this time. It would be one more thing that he needed to remember when cycling, to go against his instincts and let some small portion of the captured mana dissipate into his body to reinforce it, but once he knew that it needed to be introduced into the sequence, he could make it routine.


    With the first of his two projects complete, Sylvas let his concentration waver a little, glancing over to where Malachai was working at his table with a degree of ferocity Sylvas had never seen matched except by Instructor Sagran in her fugue state of smithing. He allowed his second sight to open and tried to catch a peek at what the other man was actually making.


    He was almost blinded in the first moment by all of the death mana swirling around Malachai. The sheer amount that he had, not only contained in his core but just gathered around him was remarkable. It was as if, like gravity mana called to other mana, death called to more death. The man wasn¡¯t even cycling, but all of the death mana in the whole station had gathered around him, following him like a cloud. The only downside of this revelation was of course that Sylvas couldn¡¯t see through that cloud to work out what the man was working on.


    What luck that he had other options to call on. Closing his eyes, Sylvas reached out with his gravity sense. Filtering out the artificial gravity that enchantments beneath the floor were generating was easy enough, but so far from a real source, the lines trailing down from solid objects were so light as to be barely discernible. Creating a Gravity Spike would have given him a clear vision of everything, but it lacked a certain degree of subtlety. Whatever Paradigm he chose next, he hoped that it would help him to process all the information that he was gathering with his myriad senses and perfect memory.


    There was a blade, that much he could make out, single edged and curved, unique enough in shape amongst the other detritus confusing his senses that he could be sure of it. But there seemed to be a staff too, and other pieces as well, pieces he couldn¡¯t so readily identify, less dense than metal but still solid. He had no clue what he was looking at, and the shapes of the pieces he was able to make out were odd, curved and rounded in a way that raw materials never would be. Some project that this Malachai had been working on for some time, building the pieces of before they could be combined? Or something entirely new and already part made for him by the artisan craftsmen of the station. The more he tried to focus on those pieces, the more the clarity of his vision slipped. It was as if they weren¡¯t solid at all, honeycombed with hollow pockets. None of it made any sense to Sylvas.


    Closing off his gravity sense, he turned his attention back to what lay before him. His new gauntlet was complete, and he stowed it carefully away in Cold Storage where prying eyes couldn¡¯t get to it. No spell cast from it would ever be powerful enough to contend with what any one of his peers could fling around, so its only advantage lay in surprise.


    Which left him with the orbitals, exchanging the metallic cores of them for the dense gravity responsive matter that he had accrued on his shopping trip. Rewriting the enchantments inscribed on their curved inner surfaces to interact with his own mana instead of that of whatever magnetic mage had abandoned them so long ago. It was a tedious process of repetition, making each one of them into an exact duplicate of itself, and of all the others in the set. But where the old enchantments had been bloated and sluggish, he was able to cut them down, abbreviating words of Aion until they were just barely enough to use, cutting everything as fine as he could, because his intentions for these orbitals did not end with simply making them his. True, only another gravity mage would have any chance of effecting them now that the cores had been exchanged, but more importantly, there was space enough inside of each one now for two other scripts of enchantment that would previously have interfered with what was there before.


    Before coming to the station, before his second brutalization at the hands of Vaelith, he had been studying what she had done to him the first time around, the fracturing of his psyche so that he could use its fragments to cast. There was, as she¡¯d said, a whole school of magic built around the manipulation of the mind, and it was from the spells of that discipline that he began writing the first new line of enchantment into his orbitals, painstakingly working back and forth, pressing his mind against each new enchantment to ensure that what he wanted them to do would work. It was all very well moving them in a swarm, or letting them follow their natural inclination to orbit, but it had taken entirely too much concentration to move each individual sphere. If he could divide himself to control more than one spell, then surely, he could divide his concentration to control more than one sphere at a time.


    By the time that he looked up from the work, Malachai was gone. Left without any further comment. Probably better than more death threats. Much of the day had also departed after his morning of shopping and his afternoon of work, and hunger was starting to trouble him again. It was a funny thing, back in the orphanage he had always been hungry, and in the tower he¡¯d had every meal provided on the Herald¡¯s schedule without ever having to think about it. This was probably the first time in his life that he actually got to decide what to eat and when.


    The orbitals were back in one piece, but he hadn¡¯t entirely finished his work with them. They would do everything that he needed them to do for now, and further research would be required before he could make the rest of the adjustments that he wanted. For now, he¡¯d just have to leave them on his to-do list. That was a strange experience too, having something that he wanted to do in his future. Usually his decisions were made on the basis of immediate survival, the idea that he might have a tomorrow to pick up what he¡¯d started today was an alien one.


    Clambering up the ladder to the top floor of the station, he almost immediately ran into Harvan. The man looked a little worse for wear. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ think I¡¯m out of money.¡± Harvan looked suitably embarrassed. They all received the same pay, and to have made his way through all of it on only their second day off world was frankly kind of impressive.


    ¡°How did you¡­¡± The smell of alcohol wafted off the mage, strong enough to make Sylvas choke. He must have been halfway to pickled. ¡°Did you drink it all?¡±


    ¡°Bought a round or two last night¡­ trying to get on with the other campus recruits¡­¡±


    A white shield manifested beside them, making both of them jump. Sylvas had been under the impression that he wouldn¡¯t be receiving any orders from the Ardent while they were off-world and it was difficult not to feel a little annoyed that the first free time he¡¯d ever had in his life was being interrupted. He reached out to touch the shield and was startled when his hand passed right through it. Huh. ¡°I guess its for you.¡±


    A cold voice spoke from the shield when Harvan touched it, loud enough to make the less than sober man flinch. ¡°Report to the administration deck for Introduction to Remedial Wealth Management.¡±


    Harvan groaned as if he wished he could just sink into the floor and vanish, which, of course, he could, but probably shouldn¡¯t given that they were on a space station and he might end up outside of it if he wasn¡¯t careful. Not that being exposed to the void of space was going to be more pleasant than being dressed down for wasting every penny of his money on booze.


    Sylvas let him pass, lumbering awkwardly down the ladder. Then turned to find some other friends, only to instead come face to face with Malachai once more. The death mage¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 33

    ¡°There are some who argue that a true mage can have no friends, only competitors. But this is both reductive and psychologically damaging, particularly in an organization that relies upon the teamwork of various mages to maintain its optimal fighting form. The Ardent require every individual to excel, rising to their highest possible level of competence, and in many cases the best way for them to do so, is competition. There can be no denying that. What does not follow is that these competitions need to be malignant in nature. Mages excel when they are pushed to excel, but friendly rivalry is far more effective in producing excellence than actual conflict. Every mage of the Ardent wishes to be the most powerful, they strive for it, because that power is what stands between the Eidolons and civilization. But in one another, these greatest of mages can find some degree of comfort and companionship. They have warped their bodies and minds with magic to become instruments of war, and who better to empathize with that plight, to even encourage it, than others who are possessed of the same relentless drive to advance and succeed.


    ¡ªSystems of Abuse, Thele Bovradia


    ¡°Oh come on.¡± Sylvas groaned.


    Malachai¡¯s pale eyes widened as he stepped in closer, excitement bubbling inside the other man. ¡°You crushed Hammerheart, the most powerful mage on your campus.¡±


    Sylvas looked around at the other white-clad students, all staring at him intently. It seemed that like Hammerheart, this Malachai had a following among his fellow naval track students. ¡°Yes, you mentioned that before.¡±


    ¡°Yet you come from no bloodline of wizards, nor from any world noted for producing ascendants. How could this be? That a mage raised with all the resources and competencies might be defeated by someone like you?¡±


    Sylvas swallowed the insult, took a deep breath, and answered. ¡°I¡¯m on leave. I¡¯m not here to have a fight with anyone. If you were part of the Hammerheart fan-club, I¡¯ve got to tell you, the guy deserved everything he got. You were rooting for a psychopath who didn¡¯t care if he killed people to get ahead.¡±


    The various Whitehall students looked at one another in what Sylvas was slowly realizing was confusion. Malachai took a little step back, ¡°I believe that we are misunderstanding each other.¡±


    Sylvas was past the point of politeness. ¡°Then try speaking clearly instead of making veiled threats.¡±


    ¡°Let us start over.¡± He held out a hand. ¡°Might I buy you a drink?¡±


    Sylvas stared at the hand without reaching for it. There were a great many lethal spells that you could unleash with a touch. He¡¯d seen some of them first hand, and he had to assume that a death affinity mage would have even more murderous capabilities than the average caster. Yet they were standing in a busy thoroughfare with dozens of witnesses, even beyond the crowd of Whitehall students. Tentatively, he reached out and took the hand. ¡°You want to buy me a drink?¡±


    Malachai nodded and shook the hand at the same time. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Sylvas retrieved his hand, feeling like he¡¯d just dodged a bullet. ¡°And¡­ talk?¡±


    ¡°We could sit in silence if that is your preference, but yes.¡± Malachai¡¯s face showed, for the first time, a glimmer of amusement. ¡°I would like to buy you a drink, and talk.¡±


    Sylvas eyes darted around the crowd. There were a half dozen other Ardent trainees in Malachai¡¯s wake, all of them staring at him intently even now. ¡°And your friends here¡­¡±


    ¡°They would also like to buy you a drink.¡± Malachai seemed to be amused. Good for him. Sylvas was still trying to talk down his fight or flight response. ¡°And talk.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of drinks.¡± Sylvas cast a casual glance around to see if any of the Blackhall students he knew might come rushing to his rescue, but judging by the frankly atrocious singing echoing through the whole station, he was willing to bet that they were already in TiChi¡¯s doing their best to race poor Harvan to bankruptcy.


    Malachai didn¡¯t reach for him, but Sylvas had the sense that the man wanted to take him by the arm and drag him. He¡¯d wager that there were very few people in the Death Mage¡¯s life who would say no to them. ¡°We have much to talk about.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s talk.¡±


    ¡°And drink.¡± Piped up one of the other Whitehall students, a rather excitable looking dwarf with his hair shaved into a mohawk.


    Malachai cast a glance his way that silenced him, but then nodded. ¡°And drink.¡±


    That set off a little cheer from amongst the other recruits and they began making their way towards a bar, bypassing TiChi¡¯s since it was already packed to capacity. Sylvas managed to stick his head in long enough to wave to Kaya and Gharia before he was carried off. This morning¡¯s comedy routine forgotten in the moment of trying to make sure he had witnesses in case he was murdered. They waved back but made little move from where they were huddled against the bar surrounded on all sides by some of the most imposing looking najash Sylvas had ever seen. Gharia looked to be arguing with them, while Kaya was¡­ Sylvas wasn¡¯t even sure what she was hoping to achieve, but she was holding one of the men in place by his forked tongue.


    The bar that they did eventually situate themselves in looked like it had originally been another hangar for ships coming to the station, the whole wall where bay doors had once been had been replaced with some thick transparent material that let the planet of Strife occupy their view. Glowing a radiant red. Much of the d¨¦cor of this bar seemed to have been chosen for the same purpose; to match that ambient red glow. It was a smaller place that TiChi¡¯s by far, and far less busy by comparison, but the wood paneling and simplicity of it reminded Sylvas of his very first night out drinking with the Ardent fiend who had gotten him into this mess.


    At one of the more secluded tables, he caught a glimpse of Bael and his cousin sipping glasses of wine and engaged in the kind of polite conversation that would probably still make his head spin after all these years, he gave them a nod, and received a raised glass from Bael. That was one sure witness, just in case things did go sideways.


    Sylvas and Malachai were squeezed in together at the rear of a booth, while some of the other naval recruits headed up to the bar to fetch everyone drinks. Malachai had his lapdogs well trained. ¡°Now, you say that Hammerheart was willing to kill, he made attempts on your life?¡±


    What followed was a rather stilted account of Sylvas first term on Strife. He was careful to avoid giving too much away about his own capabilities or those of the others in his group, but it seemed that Malachai and his cronies had been watching replays of the scried exercises and picking apart how every individual part had been done. ¡°And this, at the end, when Hammerheart struck you with all his strength and you suffered no harm.¡±


    ¡°One of my embodiments.¡± Sylvas conceded. They would have worked that out anyway.


    Malachai had made his way through two whiskeys in the time it had taken Sylvas to get up to that point. He had paid for neither of them. Sylvas privately hoped that the man remembered to pay his friends back, but he doubted that he would. He¡¯d probably consider it a tax for being in the presence of greatness. ¡°It was masterfully done, concealing the embodiment until the end.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a tactical choice.¡± There was no point in hiding that either. Not now that he was so far past it. ¡°I was still filtering my mana to achieve the third circle up until then.¡±


    That gave Malachai pause. ¡°So¡­ you were only second circle throughout this battle?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Sylvas took a long draw on his own drink. He remembered it tasting better the first time he¡¯d had whiskey, but maybe it was just a variance in the particular whiskeys. He didn¡¯t claim to have any expertise in the matter. Beyond knowing that if he ever drank vlashgahr again, it would be against his will.


    Despite the drinks, no part of Malachai seemed to have relaxed. If anything he seemed even more intense than before. Though at least now Sylvas could appreciate that it was just the way that the man was, as opposed to being a result of his presence. ¡°Hammerheart was in his fourth circle. At the height of his power.¡±


    ¡°I never scried him, but I¡¯d guess so.¡± Sylvas conceded.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    There was a lull in the conversation. Some of the other students had been murmuring to themselves as he¡¯d told his story as their theories about what they¡¯d seen were confirmed or denied, but now they were all looking expectantly at Malachai.


    He met Sylvas gaze. ¡°You may be a match for me.¡±


    It was difficult to know how to answer that, but it seemed like this guy really thought a lot of himself, so it was probably meant to be a compliment. ¡°Thanks?¡±


    ¡°I hope that you do not think it arrogance for me to say it is a surprise despite your rank within the Blackhall, my affinity gives me certain advantages, particularly on Strife where extinction has taken place. There are few who could match my power. Even among the fifth circle. But the more I learn of you, the more I suspect you might be one of them.¡± The level of scrutiny that he was putting on Sylvas felt uncomfortable, as if the man could scry him just by staring hard enough. He felt as though every part of himself was being weighed and measured, and he couldn¡¯t say that he liked it.


    ¡°There¡¯s more to winning a fight than just being more powerful.¡± Sylvas smiled at his own memories of his early days on Strife, sneaking around the melees, sniping easy targets. ¡°A circle one mage can beat someone in the fifth circle if they have surprise on their side.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Malachai set his glass down on the tabletop a little harder than intended. ¡°But you cannot deny probability.¡±


    ¡°Statistics don¡¯t matter.¡± Sylvas wasn¡¯t planning on getting drawn into some sort of theological debate with Malachai, no matter how badly the other man seemed to be constantly striving for an argument. ¡°Not on the level of the individual. All that matters is what happens on the day.¡±


    It was enough to finally get a real emotional response out of the other man. He scoffed. ¡°You would deny reality?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a mage, isn¡¯t that all we do?¡± Sylvas shrugged his shoulders, pretending that he couldn¡¯t feel all the power gathering around Malachai as the man became incensed. If it came to a fight, right here and now, packed like sardines into this little booth, he had no doubt that the other mage would destroy him. Sylvas couldn¡¯t even use most of his magic on this station without the danger of tearing it apart and killing them all.


    But it seemed that today was not his day to die, Malachai got himself under control and forced a smile. ¡°A unique perspective.¡±


    Sylvas let out the breath he hadn¡¯t meant to hold. ¡°If you see enough things happen that are meant to be impossible, you adjust your view on probability.¡±


    The other man¡¯s eyelid seemed to twinge a little, but only for an instant before he plastered a fake smile on his face. ¡°And now you must tell us of your romantic exploits, in the recordings you are close with many of the other students. The najash scent marks you constantly, the dwarf girl seems to have claimed you as betrothed¡­¡±


    Sylvas laughed out loud at the sudden change of tact, and the rest of the table soon descended into lewd conversations about the relationships between the various students at the Whitehall, taking some of the pressure off Sylvas to be their sole entertainment for the evening. But Malachai seemed to be unwilling to relax, even for a moment, he leaned in closer to Sylvas. ¡°Which of them is it that you have chosen? Neither najash nor dwarves suffer infidelity. Which has been rejected? Which is now your enemy?¡±


    Flustered by the sudden intensity of the questioning, Sylvas choked on his whiskey. Eventually managing to blurt out. ¡°Neither of them! I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m not courting anyone.¡±


    Malachai set his glass down again. ¡°Noted.¡±


    Conversation carried on around them for a while, before curiosity got the better of Sylvas. ¡°You¡¯re in your fourth circle now?¡±


    Malachai sipped his whiskey, showing no real sign of enjoying it. As if he were just going through the motions. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re in your second year of training?¡±


    ¡°First.¡± He corrected. ¡°As with you.¡±


    ¡°You won your cull?¡± He already knew the answer, but it seemed the best way to keep the conversation rolling on.


    Another little scoff from the death mage. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to see if I can get a copy of the scrying when I get back.¡± Sylvas attempted a smile.


    ¡°It will tell you little, I¡¯m afraid. My allies shielded me, I killed our foes.¡± He sounded almost bored. ¡°There are no secrets to be gleaned.¡±


    Sylvas blinked. ¡°You killed them?¡±


    ¡°The warding amulets, the Crests, prevented any actual deaths, of course, but yes. That is the nature of my magic.¡± Malachai swirled the whiskey in his glass as though he were lost in thought.


    Without thinking about it, Sylvas let the next words slip free. ¡°Do you ever wish it wasn¡¯t?¡±


    For the first time, Malachai seemed to be actually surprised by something he¡¯d said, instead of it just ticking off another box on some mental list he was making about Sylvas. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°Your magic, if you could have had another affinity, would you have chosen something else?¡±


    It only took a moment for the disgust on Malachai¡¯s face to be wiped away with the same blank mask that he showed every other time they¡¯d encountered each other. ¡°My affinity is what makes me powerful, it is what makes me myself. I will be the greatest among the Ardent, the finest weapon ever forged to slay the Eidolons. Why would I want to change that?¡±


    Sylvas didn¡¯t know how to answer that kind of blind conviction. ¡°I just feel like if it was me, I¡¯d feel limited. If death was the only thing I could create I wouldn¡¯t be satisfied.¡±


    ¡°Make no mistake, Sylvas Vail. Death is all that you create. You are a killer by design. Even if your spells do not deal instant death to an Eidolon with the clarity and perfection of my own, every action that you take is towards the same goal.¡± His voice had dropped in volume, but each word reverberated low in Sylvas ears. ¡°Each ship that you move is a piece in the game. Each of the Ardent you transport onto a battlefield is there to slaughter. If your spells do not kill, then they lead others to kill in your stead. If they do not destroy, they allow others to destroy with more ease. We are soldiers in an eternal war, guardians of our entire reality, and the only means by which we win that war is the complete annihilation of the Eidolons. There can be no compromise with creatures that have no thought. There can be no peace with monsters that feast on the souls of worlds. We bring death, and it is the greatest mercy we could grant. Death is a kindness when compared to what they would do to us, to all living things in this universe.¡±


    Despite the mask of neutrality that Malachai had plastered over his features, Sylvas could hear the passion leaking through in his words, and he felt for a moment, the awful vulnerability at the heart of this death mage. The crushing weight of his own beliefs. ¡°We are more than weapons.¡±


    ¡°And impossible things happen every day?¡± Malachai couldn¡¯t contain a sneer. ¡°You truly do deny reality.¡±


    ¡°And you can deny your humanity all that you want, but I¡¯ve spent a life being molded into what other people want me to be, and I¡¯m done with it.¡± Sylvas was surprised to find his own temper rising. He¡¯d thought he had better control over himself. ¡°I¡¯m nobody¡¯s playing piece, I¡¯m nobody¡¯s weapon. I want to fight the Eidolons, but not if the price is turning into one.¡±


    Malachai was smiling, and it made Sylvas want to hit him. ¡°There is the fire that I knew must have been inside you. The fire that was so absent from your accounts of your battle for ascendance. How amusing that rebellion is what fuels you.¡±


    Sylvas started pushing his way out of the booth, the other naval recruits shifting as fast as they could to get out of his way, as if he was another Malachai, and they were his underlings. It made him feel queasy. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough drinking and talking for one night.¡±


    ¡°No, please. Don¡¯t leave.¡± Malachai called after him. ¡°You¡¯re just getting interesting.¡±


    ¡°Good night, ladies and gentlemen.¡± Sylvas said to the rest of the Whitehall recruits before heading out. There wasn¡¯t enough whiskey in him to be making him feel as sick to the stomach as he was, and the chance of finding some fresh air to make himself feel better on a sealed can in space was pretty slim, so he sought out the next best thing. The corridors passed in a blur, and he had to shove his way through the crowd to get to the bar in TiChi¡¯s. Kaya and her respective reptilian suitors were still present, with Gharia and her hulking recruit having gone off somewhere a little more private. It was nice to see that her heart wasn¡¯t broken.


    ¡°Ho! Devil-drinker!¡± Kaya called to him as he approached.


    ¡°How can I possibly still have that reputation after last night?¡± Sylvas groaned. Not really feeling all that upset. A hand hit him on the ass, and he turned to see it was Ironeyes trying to slap him on the back. ¡°Even after the glurgach cocktails. You were the last one standing!¡±


    ¡°Glurgach?¡± Sylvas repeated back, hopelessly.


    ¡°What did you call me, stanzbuhr?¡± Ironeye¡¯s eyes widened in surprise.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ you just said¡­¡±


    The dwarf threw back his head and laughed, almost toppling right over before Sylvas caught him by the front of his jacket. ¡°You¡¯re alright for a long-legs.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re alright for a short-arse.¡± Kaya answered back as Sylvas was still too focused on keeping the short but incredible dense dwarf from toppling over.


    ¡°Look who¡¯s talking!¡± Ironeye¡¯s bellowed at Kaya. ¡°Shlackguzzar!¡±


    Their back and forth from that point on degenerated into bellowed words of dwarvish that Sylvas was frankly relieved not to know.


    ¡°The two of you should really just sleep together and get it out of your system.¡± Luna commented as she passed them by to place another order.


    Both dwarves immediately looked disgusted and turned the full weight of their yelling on her instead. Luckily, she couldn¡¯t understand a word of any of it either so she weathered the storm without any real injury to the ego.


    When she broke away from the bar with a drink in hand, Sylvas found himself face to face with TiChi again. ¡°What can I get you, darling?¡± She chuckled to herself. ¡°More pickled eggs?¡±


    ¡°Do you have anything other than pickled eggs to eat?¡±


    She still looked bemused. ¡°This look like a restaurant?¡±


    ¡°Whiskey then, please.¡± He didn¡¯t make the mistake of leaving a tab open and going the route of Harvan, but he did break away from the dwarves who were still lost in their argument and follow after Luna, who he hoped would be in the company of some of the more rational recruits of the Blackhall. He was to be disappointed, she was nestled amidst all of the Greyhall students, greatly enjoying all of their undivided attention, much like Sylvas had received the attentions of the Blackhall, although with more amorous undertones rather than murderous ones, he kept on walking, even as many of those strangers raised a glass to him.


    Here and there among the thriving crowd he could see his fellows, Anak still nursing a hangover from the day before, Bortan and Vel competitively trying to outdrink one another. Abbas was attempting some work of alchemical magic to turn the glass of water on the table into wine, with no success so far.


    It was all so pointless. The drinks with the Blackhall students had served some purpose at least, but all of this socializing between the different students, Sylvas couldn¡¯t see the point. Yes, they were all meant to be friendly so that when they served together they could get along, but this all just seemed so wasteful. The precious moments of their lives ticking away.


    This was only the second day of their shore leave. If he had to go another five wasting his time, he might go mad.

 Volume 2: Chapter 34

    ¡°Death affinity magic, often called necromancy, is a dark mirror to life affinity magic and healing. And that perfect mirroring often surprises those who encounter it. A necromancer cannot only summon the powers of death to lay waste to their foes, they can create a false approximation of life from amidst the death. Reanimating flesh and bones that healing magic can no longer touch. Each unit created in this manner begets more death, fueling its own continuation, and also flooding the necromancer with the mana required to continue creating new units so long as available materials exist. Perhaps most dangerously of all is the fact that each unit functions independently of its creator until receiving their focus once more. A self-sustaining, self-perpetuating army that requires none of the concentration of mana-construct creatures thanks to the existing anatomy and mana framework inherent in once-living bodies. The only issue with this perpetual state of expansion is when it reaches its natural limit. When there are no more deaths to be made, it cannot persist, the mage at the heart of it becomes the fuel that the raised dead consume to maintain their existence. There have been few opportunities throughout history to observe this in effect, particularly given that necromancy rarely occurs in a vacuum. The circumstances that would create one necromancer beget more and their conflicts consume the worlds around them.¡±


    ¡ªThe Second Apocalypse, Xiodalus Blaudud


    On the third day of shore-leave, even the hardiest partiers of the Blackhall were reaching their limits. Sylvas actually saw many of them out and about during the day, browsing the shops, eating food that wasn¡¯t just dressage on a cocktail. He served as something of a tour guide to many of his fellow recruits, guiding them to the merchants that might have the wares they were looking for, and he delighted in every one of them that he was able to bring to the library access exchange and introduce to the wonders of the myriad documents available. Kaya surprised him by picking out some dwarvish library that he¡¯d never heard of, settling herself in during her hangover to read through some old epic poems of her people. Bael, who he had thought would be most intrigued, given his academic nature, was already well aware of the place, and already running an enchantment on his slate to copy over information at much the same speed that Sylvas was consuming it.


    All the while the eye-slate ran, and Sylvas learned more and more about his affinity and the possibilities for his next step of advancement. While earlier circles were relatively easy to construct, the latter ones became more and more mana intensive, something that would be even more difficult for Sylvas given the weight and density of gravity affinity mana. Furthermore, he¡¯d come to the conclusion early on that none of the gravity affinity paradigms or embodiments would actually serve him well moving forward. His existing ones gave him a fair approximation of what most of the other more specific ones offered.


    His biggest problem at present was that while he was able to consume vast amounts of information and retain it, he could not process it with any great speed. He had toyed with the fragmentation of his psyche, thinking of setting each of the pieces to read and comprehend a specific section of the texts he¡¯d consumed and then absorb them on reintegration, but every experiment with it had resulted in a garbled mess. He was getting everything but without context or logic, it was just more chunks of data that meant nothing to him. The personality fragments couldn¡¯t create a holistic understanding of information by themselves, they were only meant to carry out simple processes like casting or maintaining spells. Even though they were all pieces of him, they were not the whole of him, and they didn¡¯t have his full mind¡¯s attention and processing to work with.


    In a weird way, his inability to sift through all the information and find a suitable paradigm actually helped to inform what he wanted his next paradigm to be. There were many speed of thought enhancing paradigms, and many more that could help him to integrate memorized material into his thinking, mostly more or less useless stuff meant for academics that would have no practical application on the battlefield. It was striking that balance that presented most of Sylvas problems. Fahred would have been overjoyed at the thought of him taking on a paradigm that was useless in a fight, Vaelith wouldn¡¯t see the point of it at all, and neither of them could see the person that Sylvas was trying to become. Even though he didn¡¯t have a clear vision of it yet, he knew it was neither of the extremes that they were demanding. Not a mindless soldier or a harmless academic. He could be more than both of these tiny little boxes that they were trying to shove him into.


    He was going to be more.


    Thanks to Bael¡¯s assistance, Sylvas soon had all the pertinent parts of the libraries he was raiding stored away, on his slate, if not in his mind. The countdown to the end of their leave no longer feeling so frantically close. Now that drinking was no longer so high on the list of everyone¡¯s priorities, Sylvas was somewhat shocked to find that he was actually enjoying socializing with them. Initially, he had assumed that the loud chaos of a bar was the natural state of friendship outside of the regimented routines of work, but as they all sat around a long table in one of the station¡¯s restaurants, a half dozen conversations going on between the various members of his closest circle of friends, he was surprisingly contented. True, he didn¡¯t particularly care about Bael¡¯s archaeological minutiae, Gharia¡¯s perversely detailed description of her love life, or any of the others niche interests either, but when he took those small details in, they painted a broader picture, and he came to a greater understanding of each of his friends. He knew not to trust Havran with money, to always trust Ironeyes with flirting. He knew that despite his relatively slim form, Anak was one of the strongest people at the table. Luna knew more about music than anyone he¡¯d ever met, and that included Veltrian, whose affinity for sound somehow didn¡¯t push her over the top in terms of technical grasp of it as an artistic medium.


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    Stranger still were the moments, the entirely unexpected moments, when he himself realized that he was known. When Kaya would pass along a bowl of dipping sauce that wasn¡¯t sweet enough for her tastes, but that she knew he¡¯d like. When there would be a little lull in an argument between two of his friends over something inconsequential, a gap in their own private conversation while they waited for him to weigh in with his opinion. Sylvas had spent his entire life holding back. Keeping who he really was behind a veneer of politeness and distance, first because any hint of a person shining through in the orphanage would have been an invitation to torment him, then to disguise his humble origins within the Heralds and most recently because he had seen everyone around him as his competition. He had tried to give as little away as he could, so that he¡¯d retain every advantage, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that he had failed. These people knew him, they liked him, in spite of knowing him. It was an idea that would take some getting used to. But still, he couldn¡¯t deny a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the hot meal in his stomach.


    There was no confusion or tripping over one another on their way back to their quarters that night, just a long line at the bathrooms as everyone cleaned up ready for bed. Beyond their immediate group, there were still plenty of partying recruits all over the station, and Sylvas had no doubt that there would be no shortage of tales of hilarity come morning, but for now, he was more than content just to hear those stories instead of living them.


    Despite the awkwardness of the last morning, he ended up nestled in a bunk in between Gharia on one side and Kaya on the other. Before his head had even hit the pillow, the dwarf was snoring, and when he rolled over so he didn¡¯t have to watch her lips vibrating along to the tune, he came face to face with the lizard woman he¡¯d inadvertently rejected. She was just lying there, watching him, with that strange predatory stillness that people found so off-putting about the Najash. Like she was debating whether or not to pounce and preserving energy until the decision was made.


    Nervously, unsure of what he was doing or why, Sylvas stretched out a hand, and hers came out from under the scratchy blanket to take it. Her expression was unreadable, so much of the Najash body language was conveyed in positioning and movement of the tail, and none of it was visible as she lay still beneath the covers. Things between them were good again. She had let the discomfort pass, there was no reason for him to say anything more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I really didn¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°I forgot how little you know.¡± She replied, her voice dry and whispering in the dark. He tried to pull his hand back, only for her to tighten her hold. ¡°I do not mean that you are¡­ you make this difficult. You appear, and you know so much without ever having to learn, and it makes me forget the things you do not know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to be more obviously stupid going forward.¡±


    She let out that little wheeze of laughter. ¡°All anyone could ask.¡±


    They lay still in companionable silence, her cold hand still in his, for a long moment. Then Sylvas decided to be brave. ¡°If I had understood¡­¡±


    It was her turn to try and pull away. A hint of a hiss on her lips.


    ¡°If I had understood, I can¡¯t promise that things would have been any different. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready for¡­ anything.¡±


    She huffed air out through her nostrils. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like I was going to ask you to raise my babies.¡±


    Time to be brave one last time, even if it was a struggle to make the words come. ¡°I lost someone¡­ close to me. Not so long ago. I don¡¯t think I could¡­¡±


    She tightened her grip on him again, the points of her claws pricking at the back of his hand. ¡°You will feel what you feel, no matter what name you put on that feeling.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I will.¡± Sylvas tried to smile, but the ache in his chest that he¡¯d spent so long ignoring was back. ¡°But I¡¯m not ready to¡­ I¡¯m not ready to think about it yet.¡±


    She let out a chuffing chuckle. ¡°Obviously stupid, as requested. Good job.¡±


    Sylvas laughed despite himself, then they both drew back into their own beds. ¡°Good night, Gharia.¡±


    ¡°Good night, idiot.¡±


    Sylvas was still smiling as he closed his eyes and drifted off, entering into a deep and peaceful sleep.


    At least until the alarms starting blaring.

 Volume 2: Chapter 35

    ¡°When you serve, your time is not your own. It might seem like it belongs to you, but you handed it off to the Ardent the moment that you signed up. And one of the first and hardest lessons that many learn as they train is that their time, however long or short it might be, is entirely out of their control. And quite possibly outside of the control of those commanding them too.¡±


    ¡ªKeeping the Peace Among the Peacemakers, Gorgan Wartback


    The klaxons had him upright and armed before he even knew what was happening. That in itself wasn¡¯t terribly surprising. They had practiced for this back on Strife. The night alarms meant an Eidolon attack. But there weren¡¯t liable to be any eidolons in orbit, so as the others pulled themselves upright, Sylvas staggered over to the inbuilt slate and tried to pull up information on what was happening. A white shield took over the entire screen before he could do anything.


    ¡°Report to docking bay 3 for immediate deployment.¡±


    ¡°Deployment?¡± Ironeyes groaned, from level with Sylvas hip.


    ¡°The holiday is over, folks.¡± Sylvas shouted over his shoulder, to a chorus of groans and moans. Yet despite all of the complaining, there wasn¡¯t a single one of them still in bed, or out of uniform. Some were still tying on their boots, but for the most part, the whole place had been stripped bare of any sign that the Ardent had been here at all. ¡°Docking bay 3.¡±


    A quick glance along the beds gave them a headcount. Gharia groaned. ¡°We¡¯re missing Anak and Orson.¡±


    ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Orson was seeing some girl from the Greyhall.¡± Luna offered. ¡°Dunno about Anak.¡±


    ¡°Okay Harvan, can you take a run around the top deck and see if you can spot our missing fiend?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d automatically fallen into the role of bossing everyone around. He supposed it was because nobody else seemed to be all that bothered that they were two soldiers down and about to be deployed into combat. ¡°Luna, you good to fetch Orson?¡±


    Both of them gave him a nod and set off, ¡°Everyone else, we¡¯re at docking bay 3, where we arrived. Move out.¡±


    On the way out of the door, he fired off a sending spell to both of the missing troops using his sluggish gravity mana. He¡¯d don his new gauntlet on the way to wherever they were going to be fighting.


    He found that he liked Onslaught Citadel a lot better in the early hours of the morning, when even the most dedicated drunks had found their way to bed. It felt like the temple down on the surface, but without the cloying red dust getting everywhere, peaceful, and designed to echo every sound back and forth about the place with the deliberate curvature of every passage.


    Footsteps echoed everywhere they went, but the klaxon that had roused them wasn¡¯t playing throughout the entire station. Whatever was happening wasn¡¯t happening here, to these people, and Sylvas felt a little twinge of relief at that. They weren¡¯t his people, and he didn¡¯t care about them the way he did the other recruits from the Blackhall, but if something bad had happened, he would have been saddened by it. He probably would have felt the same way about anywhere he¡¯d spent more than a minute, as desperate as he was for any sense of home, but he liked to think that he was a little more rational, and that his sorrow would have come from the fact that despite misunderstandings, potentially lethal competitors and his own inability to relax, he¡¯d managed to make some good memories here.


    It may very well have been the same shuttle that brought them up from the planet that they were now pouring into, highlighted with that same glowing aura of illusory magic that the Ardent used so often to guide their troops around. That same light brought exactly the same people that he¡¯d shipped up to Onslaught with to the same location, but he waited before boarding, stretching his senses out through the station in search of Anak and Orson. The latter was easy enough to spot, being dragged along behind Luna with his trousers only pulled halfway up, but tracking Harvan through the station with the way he phased in and out of existence was hard enough at the best of times, and with his gravitational sense distorted the way it was up here, seeking either him or Anak out was incredibly tricky. Turning his attention down, he left the upper floor in their competent scout¡¯s hands and searched below. Nowhere in the bottom deck of the station was there any hint of the fiend. Orson and Luna loaded themselves on the shuttle, and the pilot was glaring out at Sylvas, as though he was the one causing the delay. Cursing under his breath, he cast another sending to Havran. ¡°Come to the shuttle.¡±


    But it was only then that he finally took a proper look at his slate, and the list of troops assigned to his craft. The shuttle didn¡¯t have Anak on its registered passengers. Nor did Sylvas squad, not anymore. Digging into the central records down in the Blackhall revealed that Anak was no longer in the running to become a member of the Ardent. He¡¯d quit, taken what was left of his wages and jumped ship while he was off-world. While he could do it without having to face the people who¡¯d thought they were his friends. It sunk like a lead weight in Sylvas¡¯ stomach, but he set it aside for now. There was a fight to be won. Deserters could be dealt with after.


    The human mage he¡¯d been sending scurrying around on a wild goose chase dropped into the docking bay through the roof at a reasonably paced plummet that would likely have ended in a broken leg if Sylvas hadn¡¯t already disrupted the local gravity at the moment Havran appeared. The mage seemed as nonplussed about the situation as usual. ¡°What, are we going without our horny little mascot?¡±


    ¡°He quit.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t have time to debate this any further right now. ¡°Get on board.¡±


    ¡°He what? Wait¡­ what¡¯s happening?¡± Sylvas took a hold of the back of Havran¡¯s uniform jacket just an instant before the full pull of the artificial gravity returned, taking enough of the strain that the other man didn¡¯t stumble, then he used that grip to shove him up the ramp.


    ¡°Ready.¡± He gave the pilot a nod as he headed for the last remaining seat. Second to last remaining seat. They were going to be one man down for the operation. Why hadn¡¯t Anak said anything? If he had just spoken to any one of them, they could have given him advice, helped to make his life in the Ardent easier, all that he had to do was talk to them. Sylvas pushed it aside for now. I¡¯m not exactly the poster boy for talking things through either.


    The shuttle lurched into motion as he slumped into the seat and pulled on the restraints. Some of the others were giving him quizzical looks and Havran was gossiping away like his life depended on it. They had more important matters to attend to than one little soldier running away in the dead of night.


    The illusion blossomed to life in the middle of the cabin.


    ¡°Mournhold Citadel, largest of the orbital stations surrounding Strife, has fallen into the hands of an enemy force. Your duty is to penetrate the defenses of this station and destroy the power source animating the enemy. Your secondary objective is to retrieve important files stowed on Mournhold for the Ardent intelligence service.¡±


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    ¡°Opposing forces: you can expect to encounter a necromancer in full control of the undead constructs that populate the station and its automated defenses. In addition, other teams have been deployed to the station. Some will be operating with the same parameters as you, others will have their own agenda, other groups will be operating as allies of the necromancer. Providing an additional degree of realism in this exercise.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a culghing exercise!?¡± Kaya roared.


    Bael seemed to have turned his anguish at their holiday ending early inwards instead, replying to the illusory mission plan with a sarcastic, ¡°Chaos, how delightful.¡±


    ¡°You will be deployed onto the lower ring docking bay, and the station has been provided with a breathable atmosphere in all accessible areas. This does not mean that all life support systems will be active throughout the exercise, as that is not representative of a Citadel under siege. While the layout of this Citadel is comparative to that of Onslaught, Mournhold is built on a larger scale, serving as the primary station in the orbital defense array of the planet, it has also undergone considerable modification in the time since it¡¯s construction, so it would be inadvisable to make any assumptions based on prior knowledge.¡±


    Bael had already conjured up his own illusory map of Onslaught Citadel which he now dispelled with a huff. The image hovering in the middle of the shuttle was of the exterior of Mournhold. Given the name and the necromancy, Sylvas had assumed that there might have been a bit more bone-based decoration, but it looked much like Onslaught had, with the same four outer pylons curving around the layered circular decks at the middle. In addition to being larger overall, it also appeared to be taller. There were additional decks in the central block, but given what he¡¯d seen before, Sylvas was still willing to bet that the power source was going to be somewhere central and low.


    ¡°If a member of your team is eliminated in this exercise, leave them where they fell and they will be retrieved at a later time by medical staff. In all other cases, treat this as a live drill and expect to face lethal force. Do not damage the station, do not interfere with any functional life support systems, do not attempt to leave the station before the exercise is complete, do not attempt to circumnavigate the station by exiting into space with the belief that you can gain access at another point. Mournhold is to be treated as a live, hostile enemy emplacement with point defense systems on the exterior. While they will not actually be active during this exercise, you will be removed from the exercise as if they were should you break these parameters.¡±


    ¡°Someone tried to space-walk this before.¡± Gharia chuckled. ¡°Funny, that was my first idea too.¡±


    Sylvas ran through his available troops in his mind. Luna, Orson, Havran, Gharia, Ironeyes, Kaya and Bael.


    Kaya and Ironeyes would be extremely important on a space station, their affinities lending themselves well to the situation. Luna and Orson would be the least useful, they hadn¡¯t even manifested their affinities yet. Gharia and Havran lingered around the middle of the pack, in certain situations they could prove absolutely vital, in others, utterly useless. There was no real way to tell which it would be until they arrived. That just left him and Bael. He had no idea how useful he himself was going to be to their mission, but Bael was going to work wonders as he always did. He had a grasp of archaeology and architecture, not to mention deep-space construction, that would make navigating this Mournhold much easier. Not to mention his ability to translate different languages, and systems of magic, into something usable. Bael would probably prove to be the most useful of them all, if decision paralysis didn¡¯t cripple him so often, Sylvas would have said he was the natural choice to lead them. That, and the fact that everyone was already looking to Sylvas for answers before the briefing was even over.


    The shining representation of the station that they were approaching remained glowing in the middle of the shuttle as arguments and debates began to break out amongst the Ardent. While they¡¯d all faced constructs before, none had any experience fighting the undead, which meant that while they all debated and yelled, Sylvas dipped into his boundless memory for anything that he¡¯d read about Death Affinity and the forces it could produce.


    For a brief and glorious moment all fell silent as he closed off his senses and focused on incorporating all that there was to know, but scarcely a moment later, the shuttle jolted. The pilot let out a frightened yelp from his cockpit. That¡­ probably wasn¡¯t a good sign.


    Sylvas eyes snapped open. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    The pilot, a Najash woman as dark as Gharia was pale hissed between her teeth, ¡°We¡¯re under attack is what¡¯s happening.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Kaya wrestled, trying to free herself of her restraints before realizing that they were made of metal, and casting a quick spell to warp them out of her way. She stumbled to her feet, and then on into the cabin. ¡°The point defense systems on Mournhold aren¡¯t active.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± The pilot snapped, jerking the controls of the shuttle and sending it into a spin. ¡°Get strapped in!¡±


    Kaya, being Kaya, flung herself into the empty copilot seat and tied the belts together around her middle. ¡°Is that a culghing skeleton!?¡±


    Sylvas couldn¡¯t see it, but he assumed from Kaya¡¯s tone that it was in fact a culghing skeleton, which meant that whoever was serving as the necromancer defending Mournhold was taking a proactive approach. The pilot groaned, ¡°They¡¯re coming out our docking bay.¡±


    Impact after impact struck the shuttle, a steady patter of solid objects hitting them, and in itself, it wouldn¡¯t have been all that troublesome, but the things that were hitting weren¡¯t simply rebounding off. Even through the thick hull, the sound of scraping metal could be heard. The skeletons were trying to dig their way in.


    The pilot shouted back over her shoulder, ¡°We¡¯re pulling out. There¡¯s no way to make a safe landing.¡±


    Sylvas surprised himself, shouting back in an authoritative tone that he¡¯d never heard coming out of his mouth before. ¡°Then make an unsafe one.¡±


    ¡°You want me to¡­¡± The pilot let out a noise somewhere between a choke and a sob.


    ¡°Metal is harder than bone, crush them.¡± Sylvas reiterated. ¡°Get us on that station.¡±


    The other recruits had fallen silent since the first impact, giving each other meaningful looks as the scratching on the outside of their shuttle went on, but now all eyes turned to Sylvas, who¡¯d assumed command and was choosing to risk their lives without even consulting them. He met their stares, not with defiance, not with apology, but with his own certainty. They were not losing this exercise without even putting one foot onto Mournhold.


    There was considerably more argument going on in the pilot¡¯s cabin, but it ended abruptly when Kaya manifested one of the long metallic blades that her new embodiment had granted her. ¡°Do what the man says.¡±


    ¡°This is stupid.¡± Was all the pilot replied.


    ¡°Stupid and brave are the same thing. The only difference is if it works.¡± She looked from the razor edge of her blade to the pilot. ¡°Make us brave.¡±


    The smooth landing on Mournhold was not to happen today. Enough skeletons were boiling out of the docking bay that avoiding them was entirely impossible, so the pilot did as she was told and rammed right down the center of them. Some of the skeletons already clinging to the outer hull of the shuttle were dashed against their own reinforcements, both sides were mangled together in a tangle of bones and dust. They hit the deck of the docking bay in a skid, with no traction thanks to all the undead under the landing gear, but they did stop before crashing into the inner wall, so it appeared that today¡¯s maneuver was in fact brave rather than stupid.


    As soon as the ship stopped moving, the restraints released, and Sylvas was on his feet. ¡°Fire and light affinities are the strongest against the undead. We¡¯ve got neither. So far, we¡¯ve only run into melee combatant constructs, so let¡¯s assume that is what we¡¯re dealing with as we clear this room, we¡¯ve got a perfect choke point at the shuttle¡¯s door, so let¡¯s use it, we don¡¯t spread out into the room until we¡¯ve burned through most of the attackers or we encounter some sort of ranged attacks. Luna and Orson, you¡¯re shielding. Ironeyes, Gharia, spread the hurt. Kaya and I will hold the line. Havran and Bael, I need you dealing with anything unexpected. Bael, this is our first look at how the necromancer is running things, if you can start working out a counterspell, that would be¡­ beautiful.¡±


    Outside the shuttle, the assault had begun in earnest, clawed bones raking at the metal, trying to pry open the door. Trying to open up the can to get at the delicious meat inside. Kaya stood alongside him at the top of where the ramp would deploy and manifested her blades. For his part, Sylvas equipped himself with everything that he had in Cold Storage as fast as he could, and started fragmenting off his mind to prepare three gravity spikes and an inversion. He drew in one quick cycle of mana to make sure the gauntlet was doing its job, let his orbitals drift out into formation around him, then gave the spooked pilot a nod. ¡°Pop it.¡±

 Volume 1: Stub Warning!

    Hey everyone! I hope you have all been enjoying the story so far!


    I am writing here for those who are starting/still reading Volume 1 of the story and letting you know that the story will be stubbed in roughly 24 hours on Feb 25th. From that point on it will only be available to subscribers on my Patreon</a> or My Website</a> or for those who purchase the book on Amazon</a> or Audible</a> for it''s release next week. (Furthermore there is no guarantee the books will stay available long term on my Patreon or Website, so please catch up quickly if you choose to subscribe there.)


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    With all that being said - yes I know stubbing is a frustrating thing to experience, however given the realities of indie publishing and the strength of the Kindle Unlimited program, I simply cannot afford to pass up the income and exposure that it generates. I also understand that many of you cannot/will not support Amazon. For that reason I encourage you to look at either Patreon or my website for a way to still get this book once it has been stubbed. If for some reason neither option works, please PM me directly on any of the platforms and let me know, there is a chance we can find a solution that may still work out.


    Past that, thank you all so very much for your support up until this point! I am very excited to see how Starbreaker does with the upcoming launch next week! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this week''s chapters, things are about to get fun!


    Luke

 Volume 2: Chapter 36

    ¡°Combat in space is always curtailed. At a distance from the most common sources of mana, conservation becomes even more vitally important than when fighting planet-side. In addition, you are dealing with an environment inherently hostile to your survival, greatly limiting the tactical value of any assault. Any space-craft or station is a bubble of life just waiting to be popped, so unless both sides of a conflict are equally committed to maintaining the integrity of that bubble, you are looking at massive casualties dealt by whoever is the first to pull out a pin. In training, the Ardent focus on destructive power, due to the forces that we contend with, but in any engagement in space, we cannot unleash that power without risking ourselves and our mission. Mana conservation is an element of why the magic used is limited, but far more pressingly is the desire to remain alive. The inter-ship combat of the Ardent Navy is typically preferable to any sort of boots-on-the-ground action as a result. Better to lose a ship or citadel than the army it might take to claim it.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    The first thing to hit the Ardent when the door burst open was the cold. The chill of space still clung to the outside of the ship and the vacuum that had been occupying the landing bay was only now abating. The air from within the shuttle was dragged out, hissing, and the gathered mages rocked on their feet to maintain their stability as their environment everted into the open space. For a moment, it took Sylvas breath away, then he was able to drag his next gasp in and he regretted it. The cold had been the first thing to arrive, but the smell followed right after. The enemy came for them, and while they were not fresh and decaying bodies by any stretch of the imagination, there were still dry clinging tendrils of flesh connecting the various bones.


    The stench of decay rushed into the cabin just a step ahead of the oncoming horde, and Kaya gagged. Lucky that she didn¡¯t need to cast, really. Both of her arms were encased in steel, and both lashed out now, a scissoring strike halving the first skeleton up the ramp, and the reverse stroke knocking rib cages aside and scattering bones. She could go on swinging like that all day, never even touching her mana. So long as the tide of skeletal constructs pouring up to meet them could be slowed enough that she wasn¡¯t completely overwhelmed.


    Sylvas levelled his staff like a spear and cast his first Gravity Spike. It tore a line through the charging skeletons, right down the length of the ramp to where it finally burst into full life. Every skeleton it had touched was warped and twisted, the bones no match for the weight he¡¯d suddenly unleashed on them, but it was that final burst of gravity when the spike struck the deck that really mattered. Every skeleton in the room that had been charging forwards suddenly slowed. The closest were toppled in towards the focal point of the spike, those in the mid-range were knocked off balance as they strained against it. Only those the closest to the shuttle went more or less unhindered, and their front lines had already been cut down.


    Gharia¡¯s bubbles poured forth, wild and chaotic, drifting out into the space and exploding skeletons apart each time that they made contact with one. She churned them out endlessly, casting one spell after another after another. They¡¯d have been a foolish waste of mana in most situations, given their lack of guidance towards a target, but here with the bodies packed so tightly trying to get in through the door, they were perfect. The splash back of bone fragments should have peppered Sylvas and Kaya with shrapnel, but the overlapping shields that Luna and Orson maintained kept them from harm. Ironeyes spells were slower to enact, and he had to be considerably more careful with them, given the way that lightning was liable to leap around inside a big metal chamber, but when they were unleashed, they were truly things of beauty. Lightning arched up and over Sylvas and Kaya, over the shields and even over the front ranks of charging skeletons. When it touched down, it was only for a fraction of a second before it was leaping out again in every direction, from skeleton to skeleton, from animated corpse to immobile ones once more. The lightning didn¡¯t blow them apart or smash them to pieces, but every skeleton struck stopped dead and crumbled. The magic holding it together undone.


    Through it all more of the undead came on, crawling into the doorway from above, scrambling along the walls of the shuttle, bones creaking from the cold of the void, and together Kaya and Sylvas stopped them. His staff had greater reach than her blades, so while she stayed low, dealing with the ones coming up the ramp, he struck out at the others. Unleashing one gravity spike after another, plucking the massed bodies of the dead off the sides of the shuttle and launching them off into the docking bay. His orbitals moved around Kaya, spiraling around the blows she struck, lashing out at any bony hands reaching for her and striking with enough force to crack those bones. Even with his newfound focus, it wasn¡¯t easy, there were so many moving parts, invested with his mana and will, that he had to keep directing, the psyche fragment holding onto Inversion was beginning to ache like a needle in his skull.


    But it was working. They were holding the undead off, they were clearing the enemy forces. They just had to keep up the pace a little longer and the tide would be thinned out enough for them to make their way out and start clearing the remnants. Except, of course, life could never be so easy.


    The doors leading from the docking bay to the lower ring of the station were battle-scarred and blackened. The mechanism that opened them long dead, but the metal pried apart and rusted away to practically nothing. Everywhere Sylvas looked there were the signs of a hundred battles fought here, spell-scarred metal and molten punctures. Pieces of the previous generations of living corpses embedded in the walls and metal gratings of the floor everywhere they could be jammed. Through the gap, a white-clad mage ducked through, already casting.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    It was what he would have done. If he was planning to ambush an invading force, he wouldn¡¯t have left it up to the mindless to deal with. The undead could hold back a group of mages, but they were unlikely to stop them entirely in this basic form. The smart move would be to deploy the grunts to hold the invaders at bay and keep a second line of casters at the ready to move in and exploit whatever position they¡¯d been locked into.


    The fact that there was only one caster being sent their way didn¡¯t suggest a misplay, it suggested a problem. ¡°Everyone behind me. Now!¡±


    That spell, the one that had been trailing from the Whitehall mage¡¯s fingers since he first came into sight was still building, and through his second sight, Sylvas got some grasp of what it was about to do. Like Gharia¡¯s bubbles, or Veltrian¡¯s sonic blasts, there was concussive power contained within the sphere he¡¯d gathered. Vibrating with a lethal force, just waiting to be unleashed.


    If you were about to blast a ship back out through the docking bay it flew in through, you wouldn¡¯t send multiple troops, you¡¯d send one, because it minimized the risk of taking out more of your own troops if the spell protecting the bay from space didn¡¯t reseal itself fast enough.


    Abandoning Kaya to stand alone against the skeletal hordes, Sylvas stepped back and cast, twisting his staff in his hands, swiveling it from upright to horizontal as he spoke the final words of the Inversion.


    The orb of concussive force soared across at an almost dainty pace considering all the destruction it contained. Flying in a straight line from the Whitehall mage¡¯s hands to where it would impact the shuttle, just above the door. Blasting it into space, and exposing all of them to the deadly vacuum.


    Inversion took hold. Gravity twisted at Sylvas command. The floor of the shuttle had been their down, one moment, then the opposite side of the docking bay became down instead. They fell forward as gravity flipped, every one of them dragged from what felt like a position of safety to drop. The metal curvature of the far wall came rushing at them, the only buffer to their impact with it, the bodies of those in front of them, and the bodies of the dead being crushed between them and that distant wall.


    The spell hit the shuttle.


    If the sudden switch in gravity hadn¡¯t been enough to launch them all out of the shuttle and across the room to smash into the inside wall, then that explosion would have done the trick. It exploded out invisibly when it hit, blasting the shuttle off the ground, launching it back out into space. Emergency lights flared inside the cabin where they¡¯d stood just a moment before, and the spells designed to protect those on board snapped into effect, slamming a shield into place before the internal environment could be snatched out and replaced with nothingness. This shuttle had a mirrored material over its cockpit, so Sylvas could not see the pilot¡¯s expression, but he had to assume it was a continuation of the terror and confusion that had been afflicting her since they¡¯d first been hit by a space skeleton.


    Inversion cut out as Sylvas lost his concentration after smashing face first into the bulkhead, dumping them all onto the ground in a heap. The protective magic meant to prevent the station from emptying itself into space cut back in once the shuttle was through and out, though the heaped corpses that had been piling up around it had been flung out to drift in space. Good. Less material for the necromancer to use against them.


    The Whitehall mage had been effected by the sudden switch in gravity, the same as them, it had taken hold of him a moment after he cast, sucking him back out through the ragged gap in the twisted metal of the door and plastering him across the inside wall of the passage. Trying to untangle himself from amidst the rest of his squad, Sylvas dragged himself that way. Using his staff as a walking stick to try and pull himself up out of the morass of bodies. If he just had a moment to cast Flight, he would have been over there and knocking the hell out of the man before he could find his feet. As it was, he drew himself up just before a second torrential explosive blast washed by the gap in the door. Suppressing fire. Clever. ¡°Havran, flank him.¡±


    Sylvas cast Gravity Shear and ran. He¡¯d been right to. That suppressive blast of explosive energy may have been a big swing from the other mage, but it hadn¡¯t been everything that he had. There was another spell already being woven as Sylvas burst out into the corridor, the already crumbling metal doors warped and twisted ever more out of shape by his passage. The next explosive pulse washed over the Shear, dispersing up, down and to the sides, wrapping all around Sylvas without hitting him. The Mournhold rocked with the impact, but Sylvas had no time to worry about collateral damage in that moment, not when he was standing face to face and eye to eye with one of Malachai¡¯s little acolytes. He thrust his staff towards the man to make him think a spell was forthcoming and marveled at the speed with which a shield was raised. Another sudden pulse of explosive force that would have knocked anything else off course. It was a shame that he was facing entirely the wrong direction.


    That shield would have protected him from anything that Sylvas had launched his way, but it had done nothing to protect him from Havran. Sylvas¡¯ favorite scout had phased through the pile of bodies that he¡¯d been buried in the midst of, right through the wall, and made a beeline for Malachai¡¯s minion. The others had spent so much time developing new skills, new paradigms, new equipment and enchantments to go along with it. All that Havran had needed to perfect his own particular style of magic was the knife he now had in hand. It sunk deep and bloody into the Whitehall mage¡¯s throat before he could say another word. If he¡¯d even seen Havran on the periphery of his vision, Sylvas doubted it. The crest on their enemy¡¯s chest flared to life, enclosing him in a bubble of slowed time before he even hit the floor. Sylvas smiled. ¡°Well done.¡±


    Havran managed a half smile. ¡°Shame eidolons don¡¯t drop so easy.¡±


    ¡°Just need a bigger knife.¡± Sylvas quipped back.


    It would have been a nice moment of friendship for the two of them to share if it weren¡¯t for the explosive round of yelling that erupted in the background from where they¡¯d came interrupting it before it could truly begin.


    It seemed that they weren¡¯t finished just yet.

 Volume 2: Chapter 37

    ¡°The Standard Issue Empyrean Slate is, in spite of everything about it, an extremely advanced and complex piece of enchantment. Soulstone technology, bound to an individual and to a local network. The amount that it can do in the hands of a master is unbelievable, and even in the hands of a child it can prove to be the most potent tool of learning available to us.¡±


    ¡ª A Visitor¡¯s Guide to the Empyrean


    They ran back to the docking bay, Sylvas heading straight for the now gaping doors, Havran for the walls that provided him with no more impediment than the open air.


    After the explosions, decompression, and Sylvas own work flipping gravity around, the organized horde of the undead was now anything but. They were scattered about the room, easy pickings for any individual mage of the Ardent, but the rest of them weren¡¯t fighting. Kaya was flailing with her blades at anything that drew too close, but for the most part everyone was just cowering back. Even Ironeyes, who until now Sylvas had suspected was incapable of actually feeling fear was on the back foot, shuffling away. Bael, never the most courageous of them, looked physically sick with terror, and it was at that moment that Sylvas realized something more was going on. These were trained soldiers, they didn¡¯t scream and shy away from some bones that happened to be moving around. A quick blink into his Second Sight revealed a spell had been worked on them. Something almost invisible, and transparent, something that he didn¡¯t think he would have recognized at all if he hadn¡¯t been carefully picking apart the way that mind-effecting magic worked for his own projects.


    He had to yell to be heard over the screaming. ¡°Everyone group up.¡±


    Havran looked at him in confusion about what was happening in the room, but Sylvas didn¡¯t have time to explain every step of this. He called his orbitals to him, setting them in a buzzing spin around himself and charged towards his friends. Some of the skeletons could be knocked aside by a few regular blows from the orbitals, others needed a little assistance from his staff and the shifting of his weight and strength. They were oddly sluggish compared to arcane constructs, and Sylvas was starting to see why creating them wasn¡¯t taught widely like facets of other affinities. For a necromancer they were always going to be an easy option, but for everyone else, he wasn¡¯t sure they were worth the investment of mana required to make them move. He knocked his way through the dry bones, doing what damage he could, until he reached his squad.


    There was no point in reasoning with them, no point in trying to get them to focus, he expanded out the circle of his orbitals until they were all surrounded, corralled in by the zipping spheres. Some of them even sounded startled by those buzzing by, so it was no small surprise that the lurching remains of the dead were unsettling them. Lowering his hand, Sylvas brought the spheres down onto the surface of the deck. Sparks flew as they spun along their course, a blackened line smeared out behind each orbital. Touching a fingertip to the big clear crystal on his gauntlet, he drew out some neutral mana, and with a flick of his wrist infused it into the spheres. They trailed it behind them, each set of sparks now infused with Sylvas magic. All of them made into a single continuous circle of magic by the constant motion.


    The moment the magic circle snapped shut, the fear spell died. Sylvas hauled up his now somewhat scuffed looking orbitals and launched them outwards, smashing into the few lurching skeletons still around. Kaya seemed to shake off the spell first, leaping out to lay waste to a pair of remaining undead while the rest of the squad got their heads back together.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Gharia¡¯s tail snapped with irritation.


    Bael answered before Sylvas even had a chance. ¡°I believe we have been affected by a spell triggering our fear response.¡±


    ¡°Why would the Ardent want a mind-mage?¡± Luna spat. ¡°Eidolons don¡¯t have brains.¡±


    ¡°But we do,¡± Sylvas answered her, ¡°and Eidolons have an aura of fear not dissimilar to what was just cast on you.¡±


    There was some annoyance and grumbling amongst the gathered troops, but they didn¡¯t have time for it. ¡°Luna and Orson, scry this place. Bael, get a blocker up so we can¡¯t be scried on in return. Everyone else, secure the room, make sure everything is staying dead. If in doubt, space it.¡±


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    ¡°What about the white-coat in the hall?¡± Havran asked, half-joking.


    Sylvas managed to smile. ¡°Probably better not to space him unless he gets up again.¡±


    They¡¯d made it on board without taking any casualties, and without expending much in the way of resources. What they had spent was their element of surprise. Sylvas had no doubt that Malachai was the one that the Ardent had playing necromancer, and he had absolutely no doubt that man would have been watching their every move. Every spell that they had cast, every piece of equipment that they had used, Malachai would now be developing counter-tactics to deal with. He¡¯d made far too much of a deal about Sylvas importance to him as an opponent to think he''d miss this opportunity. But that was fine, Sylvas could use that. Between the Cull and now, he and the rest of his squad had changed up their abilities and tactics drastically, and what they¡¯d shown off in this one fight didn¡¯t account for a fraction of what they were all capable of. Still, it irked him a little that he wouldn¡¯t get to see the look on Malachai¡¯s face the first time he brought the orbitals into play. It would have been nice to see that unshakeable self-confidence shaken.


    ¡°Clear.¡± Orson called.


    Kaya nodded from the doorway. ¡°Clear.¡±


    ¡°Clear.¡± Ironeyes grunted, as he tossed one last struggling skeletal form out into space.


    The room was secured and they were invisible to any unwanted scrying, now it was time to start laying out their plans. ¡°Havran, can you keep watch while we work out our next move?¡±


    ¡°On it boss.¡± The mage chuckled, then he faded out of sight. Sylvas blinked a couple of times before switching to his second sight, where Havran was still quite visible, heading out the door. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to Sylvas what direction the other human was going to take his development, but he supposed becoming invisible as well as intangible made a degree of sense.


    Shaking the thought from his head, Sylvas pulled an illusion up from his slate. The general shape of the station. The locations that they¡¯d been directed to. Bael peered at it with a sigh. ¡°A little more detail might be useful.¡±


    Biting back his initial sarcastic reply, Sylvas closed his eyes and reached out with his gravity sense. The same problem as he¡¯d been suffering on Onslaught still persisted, and everything was both dim and fuzzy, but what he could retain, he transplanted over onto the illusion.


    It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it gave them some vague idea of the station¡¯s general layout, even if it was as simple as what was solid and what wasn¡¯t. Debris or barricades were a fuzzy grey mess, along with any other mass that Sylvas couldn¡¯t get a good grasp on with his senses. Some of those were liable to be enemies, but without getting closer or spiking gravity in a way that would be somewhat akin to tramping down the hallways blowing a trombone, there was no way to be certain. Bael traced his finger around the outer curvature of the level that they were on what had been called the lower ring, but actually appeared to have a pair more beneath it. ¡°I suspect that our best course of action may be to avoid the center of the station for now.¡±


    Sylvas felt obliged to point out that it was exactly where they needed to be going. ¡°The power source that we¡¯ve been sent to destroy¡­¡±


    Bael was quick to agree. ¡°Is almost certainly there, which means it will be the most heavily defended segment of the entire Citadel. If the briefing was correct and there are multiple factions in play here, I¡¯d suggest that the longer we wait to come into direct contact with any one of them, the more likely it is that they¡¯ll have depleted themselves to a reasonable enough degree that we might have some form of advantage over them.¡±


    ¡°Let them fight amongst themselves?¡± Ironeyes looked like he might argue. Then he crossed his arms. ¡°I like it.¡±


    Bael looked insufferably smug, as always. ¡°With all the grace of a bird in flight, we can sweep around the outside of the Citadel with minimal contact with the entrenched enemy forces, retrieve the intelligence that is our secondary objective, and then begin working our way in towards the core, hopefully after the necromancer¡¯s forces have been weakened by conflict with the other teams.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hardly revolutionary.¡± Kaya grumbled. ¡°Same thing we did at the Cull.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, the Cull, where we were notoriously defeated due to a lack of tactical foresight.¡± Bael snipped back.


    ¡°It gives us more time to get the lay of the land and an idea of our opponents, so I¡¯m in favor for now.¡± Sylvas interrupted before they could really get going.


    Malachai would be down one man now, one of his naval track mages, judging by the uniform. That meant that in terms of numbers of available mages, they were on an even footing. At an advantage even, since Sylvas team was only down its weakest member. Still, as the defenders, there was no question that the necromancer¡¯s side would have all the advantages. ¡°Onslaught had scrying built in, systems to keep track of everything going on onboard.¡±


    ¡°The Soulstone network.¡± Bael provided the technical details, as always.


    Sylvas pressed on. ¡°Right, how do we take that away?¡±


    There were a few uncomfortable looks exchanged between the other members of the team. Luna piped up, ¡°We aren¡¯t meant to damage the station.¡±


    ¡°Damage it?¡± Sylvas grinned. ¡°I want to use it.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 38

    ¡°But with the freedoms granted to our soldiers we encounter the fringe elements. Choices made that in any other army would be considered a liability or worse. Not so in the Ardent. The universe is a vast and dangerous place, full of niche situations that regular naval or ground force incursions would simply have to brute force their way through. The diversity that our detractors so revile is what grants us the advantage. The uniqueness of each member of the Ardent provides us with a toolbox to draw from that is as infinitely vast as the problems that we will face.¡±


    ¡ªKeeping the Peace Among the Peacekeepers, Gorgan Wartback


    All of the mobility that had given their squad an advantage in the Cull was gone on the station. They were moving blind into one corridor after another, each section carefully sealed from the next, and each doorway a hurdle that slowed their progress. The metalwork was old, and even if oxidization hadn¡¯t kicked in, the mechanisms that pulled them open were loud enough to wake the dead without the screeching. Every time they entered a new segment of corridor, they were making a loud announcement to anyone nearby. Rushing through was only going to get them ambushed faster. They had to progress at what felt like a snail¡¯s pace.


    The caution proved to be sensible. The chaotic swarm of undead that had attempted to block their ingress into the station to begin with had been cannon fodder, the simplest and most useless of the creatures at Malachai¡¯s command. As they moved further into the station, his inventiveness began to show.


    Sylvas ducked under the scything blade of the mantis-clawed skeleton that had just burst out of one of the seemingly endless little alcoves lining every passage. Kaya stepped in to slash through its spine, sending the two halves of the skeletal construct spinning off in opposite directions, but while such simple bodily destruction had been enough for the basic horde, these were more adaptive. The upper half soared by to land on the ground, immediately flipping itself over and clawing its way toward Luna where she stood distracted by the door controls. Sylvas cast kinesis as he realized what was happening, dragging it back a step towards him so that that slicing edge of its blades missed the other mage¡¯s Achilles tendons by an inch, buying just enough time for Kaya to make the leap on top of it and bring her blades down through the skull and end it.


    They had moved four segments around the outer ring and encountered some combination of ambushers in each and every one. Sylvas was starting to suspect that there had been no tactical deployment here. He was starting to suspect that whatever source of power kept this ancient station alive was fueling the necromancer, and he had gone all out, making every usable bone in the whole place into a trap and covering every inch of ground. At least this segment only seemed to have one of them to deal with. When they¡¯d made it past the dead Whitecoat into the first of the endless passages, there had been three of these ambushers, two in alcoves and one pressed flat against the ceiling. They would have lost Orson to the dropping one if Ironeyes had been just a little slower on his cast.


    As it was, the tension was mounting. Every member of the team was prickling with paranoia, jumping at every creak and click of the ancient station as they proceeded. It was the kind of mental state that the enemy psych-mage could manipulate all too easily. Not to mention the kind of powder keg that made calm and rational planning much more difficult. If it weren¡¯t for his Paradigm, letting him separate himself from his emotions, Sylvas wasn¡¯t sure how well he would be coping either.


    Conversation had continued more or less uninterrupted since they left the docking bay, pausing for each ambush, or when the door mechanisms entirely drowned them out. Bael in particular seemed to be delighted to finally have found a combat situation when his endless chatter was not a tactical disadvantage. ¡°If the design matches what we¡¯ve seen of the Strife natives, then the soulstone network should be built around multiple localized nexus points where anyone on the station could gain access to them. Most likely we won¡¯t be looking in the corridors for them, but they should still be evenly dispersed around the station despite our distance from the central¡­¡±


    ¡°Where should we be looking?¡± Kaya cut him off before he got too deep into his architectural lecture.


    Bael rolled his eyes. ¡°To our right side is the endless void of space, so I¡¯d suggest we keep an eye open for doorways to the left.¡±


    Orson was quick to claim the job. ¡°On it.¡±


    There was a tremor in the man¡¯s hands that he tried to hide by keeping them busy, but Sylvas was very aware that he¡¯d been shaken by the ambushes. He wasn¡¯t thinking clearly, wasn¡¯t reacting fast enough, typically Luna and Orson worked as a pair, watching each other¡¯s backs. Normally the mantis ambusher would have gotten nowhere near her without him interposing himself. Not so today.


    In a normal exercise, Sylvas would have considered it a good thing that they became less codependent, but the trouble was, Luna was used to having someone watch her back at all times. She got to be a little more reckless because of Orson¡¯s stability, and now, without him, it was going to come back to bite her. One more problem in a long list of them.


    Orson backtracked along all the alcoves, checking them to see if there was a doorway inset, but Sylvas doubted that there would be. On the plus side, there was also unlikely to be another skeleton waiting to jump out at him, so hopefully the mindless exercise would calm his nerves.


    The awful groan of the door mechanism vibrated the floor beneath their feet, drowning out any other noise for just a moment, but it was only for a moment this time, the moment that the metal plates of the door parted, far more piercing noises made it through.


    Sylvas had been standing back from the doors as they opened, giving himself some room to operate if another undead horde came pouring through, but now he wished he were closer, so that he could see more through the gap. As it was, he saw bright lances of spell-fire shooting back and forth, a chamber that was more than a mere passageway and some fresh danger for them to face.


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    ¡°Shield up!¡± He snapped to Luna, who cast as fast as she could. Without orders, the others seemed to know where to go. Kaya slipped to one side of the metal door, Havran the other, both readying their blades. The shield, when it was finally cast, sprang into place between the parting metal slabs, and it was just in time too. Someone had noticed their arrival, and a fireball of blue exploded against Luna¡¯s defenses. She grunted with effort but kept the barrier up.


    Gharia had launched herself into the air using the same flight spell that Sylvas had borrowed from her not so long ago, hovering for just a moment before dropping back down behind the barrier¡¯s protection. She cast a quick illusion, showing what she¡¯d seen of the room projected over the solid objects. Scribbled shapes of people and spells in place. It wasn¡¯t useful, but it was better than the nothing they¡¯d been operating from before.


    Most importantly were the colors she¡¯d assigned to the stick-figure outlines of the people in the next room. Every one of them was tagged red. Hostile. There were two opposing forces fighting, but they were both to be treated as enemies by Sylvas and his team. That actually made things easier.


    ¡°Ironeyes, we¡¯re up.¡±


    Sluggish gravity mana and the rapid and erratic power of electricity seemed as though they should have resulted in vastly different casting times, but with the abbreviations that Sylvas had made to Gravity Spike, and the complexity of the massive area of effect attacks that the dwarf brought to bear, they ended up surprisingly close to synchronized. Sylvas cast his spike through the slowly widening gap in the door, juicing it with enough mana to very briefly overpower the existing artificial gravity and make the middle of the chamber into ¡®down.¡¯ And then, as all of the mages in the next chamber went tumbling in towards the tiny black point he¡¯d summoned, Ironeye¡¯s chain lightning came blasting through.


    It was lethally powerful in its own right, but reliant on having conductive materials nearby to carry it from one foe to the next. In the dry desert of Strife, it typically grounded itself unless there was a whole formation of enemies in close proximity. Sylvas had just granted him the closeness that he needed.


    The shouting and casting in the next room turned first to yelps of confusion, then screams of pain as the lightning hit home. Almost all of it was happening out of sight, which Sylvas had to admit he resented a little. All this time planning out the move, and he didn¡¯t even get to see its result.


    He didn¡¯t give the screaming time to stop before barking out his next order. ¡°Push in.¡±


    Havran slipped through the solid metal, Kaya spun around the approaching entryway and Luna shoved her barrier forward into the room so they could pass by unimpeded. Bael held back to keep the widest view of the situation, as he was meant to. Which left Sylvas and Ironeyes as the first rank to charge through.


    The chaos that they wrought was frankly impressive give how little time they¡¯d had. Everything was scattered across the chamber, heaped around the blackened bodies of those that they¡¯d hit. Fragments of bones from skeletons the other teams had already crushed, lumps of dislodged metalwork, and the various pieces of equipment that they¡¯d been using.


    One of the exterior curving beams dominated the right wall of the chamber, an identical door to the one that Sylvas was passing through sat open on the other side, and on the left the ground split, one ramp going up and one going down to massive doorways that put the ones that they¡¯d been passing through up until now to shame.


    Three mages remained standing, though judging by the shimmer rapidly approaching one, it would be two the minute Havran swung. There was still some screaming going on from the heap in the middle of the room, that suggested the fight was entirely out of the fallen either, but that was a concern for after the active threats were dealt with.


    The blue trim on the uniform of the two unknown mages threw Sylvas for a moment, before he realized it was universal across all the campuses, with only the naval track students color coded. As for the other mage still on her feet on the same level as them. It was Veltrian.


    She blinked in surprise at the sight of Sylvas, recognized that he was tagged as an enemy combatant and threw her hands up in the air. There was a snap of thunder and a tiny bolt of lightning leapt from Ironeyes¡¯ hands to strike her between the eyes. Professional courtesy at its finest. She was enveloped by her Crest before she hit the ground.


    On the raised ramp, the two unknown Ardent grunts cast rapidly, one throwing up a barrier like Luna¡¯s and the other summoning fire in great looping arcs around her. The shielding one, the fiend, was lower down the ramp, and had his eyes fixed on Kaya as she charged in amidst a wash of liquid steel. He should have been paying more attention to Havran, not that he could see him. His blade became visible along with him as he plunged it into the fiend¡¯s throat. The barrier he¡¯d been chanting to maintain dropped in an instant, and Kaya went bounding on by as if nothing had happened at all.


    Through it all, Sylvas had not been idle, a fresh Gravity Spike was already on his lips, ready to cast, but he was at a loss for targets. Kaya was in too close to the fire-caster and the other two were down. He was just about to release the spell and reabsorb the mana into his core when he realized what was about to happen.


    The coils of flame dancing around the other caster weren¡¯t just a threat display, it was a spellform, one that Sylvas finally remembered from his fights with Hammerheart. It snapped into shape as Kaya got in leaping distance.


    A blast of red light, scorching hot even at this distance was unleashed. A beam of searing destruction aimed right for Kaya. She flung all the metal conjured around her forward into a shield, but it was going to wash over that, deflect to the sides, burn Havran to ash.


    Sylvas unleashed his Gravity Spike.


    Kaya, Havran and the other mage were lifted off their feet, but more importantly, the beam of red curved. It curved up, missing Kaya¡¯s shield, missing her entirely, blasting a molten line up the space-side wall, all the way to the roof.


    They dropped to the floor again as the red ray ended, then all the lethal force of the whole team was unleashed. Gharia was not limited to bubbles, no matter how much she might have favored them. A solid beam of white leapt from her fingertips to hammer into the flame-mage¡¯s face, snapping his neck before any of the half dozen other spells the rest of the squad had cast could reach him. The Crest protected him from the worst of the impacts that followed, but he¡¯d definitely have a few holes and bruises more than anyone had intended.


    Without orders, Havran and Kaya came jogging back down the slope to meet Sylvas at the groaning burn ward in the middle of the room. He brought his orbitals into play, sending them zipping into the pile to help haul each body up, one after another, and brute force dragging those the orbitals couldn¡¯t shift. Najash were surprisingly dense, even with his newfound ability to throw his weight around. He laid hands only on the ones already enshrouded by their Crests. As someone who was not protected became visible, either Havran or Kaya were there, stabbing into them until the crest sprung to life.


    It wasn¡¯t a pretty end and things went, but it was brutally effective to put an end to the battle before them, finally giving them the time they needed to think.

 Volume 2: Chapter 39

    ¡°Necromantic constructs differ from mana constructs in many ways, but their physicality is not one of them. All manner of golems and servitors are constructed in an identical fashion to those made of the dead. It is only the way that death affinity mana interacts with the existing systems of the body to instantly conduct itself that differs.¡±


    ¡ªThe Case For Death: An Affinity Maligned, Gren Stalt


    Bael clapped his hands together as if there hadn¡¯t just been a massacre before them. ¡°The inner and outer rings are out of alignment, that is why our attempts at mapping have been skewed. You can reach two floors at once from the docking ring.¡±


    ¡°Soulstone network.¡± Sylvas was feeling a little numb after the fighting, as he always did when the adrenaline began to fade.


    ¡°We shall have to proceed further in to investigate, but at least we know that we have cleared out any of the local defenders.¡±


    ¡°Which means reinforcements are inbound.¡± He turned, ¡°Gharia, in and out, feet don¡¯t touch the ground.¡±


    She nodded. Any doubts that she might have had about their relationship forgotten in the more pressing importance of the battlefield. She cast her flight spell and was off before Sylvas even had his map illusion up for them to try and make their next plan.


    ¡°Bael, block scrying.¡±


    The elf pouted. ¡°You know I have an absolute infinity of talents at my disposal, and you constantly use me for¡­¡±


    Sylvas interrupted him. ¡°Please.¡±


    Bael rolled his eyes. ¡°Well since you asked so nicely.¡±


    ¡°Cheers stanzbuhr.¡± Kaya almost interrupted his casting by slapping him on the back. ¡°If I knew how to do it, I would. But I can¡¯t. So you¡¯ve gotta.¡±


    ¡°Could I get everyone else sweeping the room and keeping an eye on the doors. We¡¯ve got four ways in, which means four ways trouble might come charging in to bite us.¡±


    There were nods of acknowledgement, and Havran shimmered back out of sight as he set off to do one job or the other. Hopefully that wasn¡¯t too mana intensive, otherwise he was wasting a very limited resource on a party trick.


    The map sprung up, still hazy thanks to the weakness of Sylvas gravity sense. He should really have used the gravity spikes he¡¯d cast as an opportunity to get a better picture, but in the heat of battle, it wasn¡¯t exactly a top priority. He tapped at their secondary target where it hung limp in the air. ¡°If the entrances to the inner rings are only at the compass points, then this is our best way in.¡±


    ¡°Counterpoint; everything ahead of us is in the outer ring is clear.¡± Ironeyes surprised them with his insight. ¡°We could swing around fast, double back at the next entry, avoid whatever the necro has put in our way.¡±


    ¡°In addition, I would wager that the nearest soulstone nexus is somewhere around this area, if they were attempting to minimize the risk of invaders gaining access. That would make it on our way.¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s a good chance we¡¯ll avoid whatever ambush Malachai has set up for us here.¡± Sylvas agreed. ¡°Outer circle, it is.¡±


    With the promise of a stretch of corridors without ambushing skeletons or ponderously slow doors, the squad seemed to be revitalized. They slipped into the usual formation, with Kaya, Gharia and Havran taking point, and then they headed out.


    Everything was much the same as it had been with their progress so far, minus the tedious delays and brief bouts of terror. There were scattered remains from a few of the same ambushing mantis skeletons as they began making their way around towards the next pylon, but those soon gave away to a plethora of other bones. It seemed that Veltrian¡¯s group had encountered the same sort of welcome as they had, but while Sylvas and his team had held their ground in the shuttle and cleared as much as they could, the fiend had taken a different approach. The chaos played out in reverse upon the floors and the walls. The tide of skeletal constructs pushed back and parted by a spearhead motion of mages. It had been effective, but costly. Sylvas counted three of her team laid about the place, and in one case splattered up the wall.


    As they reached the end of easy street, facing the first locked door that they¡¯d encountered since starting off around the outer ring this way, Sylvas couldn¡¯t help but spare a glance into the docking bay. There was a burnt path from the bay doors to the entryway, spell-scarred steel was still clicking and cooling underfoot and the bay doors themselves had been knocked out of place by some invisible force. Probably the siren screech that Veltrain could unleash when she had no need to hold back. The shuttle was still there, still intact, it seemed that the special treatment of being blasted back out into the cold expanse of space had been reserved especially for them. What they did not find was another of Malachai¡¯s mages. That was annoying. If he¡¯d split his force up to intercept everyone on arrival, then there were good odds that their numbers would have been decently depleted. As it stood, there were still six of Malachai¡¯s team unaccounted for. In the burnt mess of bodies they¡¯d left behind at the last pylon it had been impossible to tell who was with which group, since the grunts shared the same uniforms. Not to mention that they¡¯d been so badly burned by the lightning storm passing through that it had been difficult to even decipher what species a few of them were.


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    They slipped back into the same routine as before, with Luna operating the doors while everyone else stood in wait. Sylvas took a moment to prepare himself as best he could, his passive mana restoration was slower than it was planetside, and the sluggishness of his mana meant that the distances he was having to draw it over were even more of an impediment than they would have been for people with other affinities in the same situation. Still, he was pleased to see that he had nearly three quarters of his supply still available, even after two serious encounters and some skirmishing. If they¡¯d been down on the planet, he probably would have been feeling pretty good about his current position, but everything up here was too different for him to manage any sort of confidence.


    With a dull groan that made his teeth rattle, the door into the next section of the docking ring began to draw open, and immediately trouble came pouring through.


    The skeletons couldn¡¯t fit through the gap. They were ramming themselves against the slowly opening doors, cracking their skulls on the metalwork trying to get through with the same mindless aggression that they¡¯d displayed up until now. Sylvas didn¡¯t even have to think about it. ¡°Gharia.¡±


    With a lash of her tail that it was hard not to read as pleasure, Gharia stepped up to the door and began to cast. Sylvas hadn¡¯t really watched her before, usually too busy with other things, but as she cast it wasn¡¯t just a matter of hands and words the way that it was with the rest of them. There was a rhythmic quality to her words, and her body seemed to rock ever so slightly with each one. The bubbles began to pour forth, directionless and destructive. Where they met bone, explosions rang out. These were not the great catastrophic bubble spells that the najash had unleashed on the Eidolons that they¡¯d faced together, but a steady stream of small ones, each bursting apart with enough force to shatter bone and rend flesh, but nowhere near sufficient to damage the metalwork of the door or perforate an Eidolon¡¯s hide. It worked wonders. Even as the first rank of skeletons dissolved under the steady stream of her spells, more shoved their way in, trying to take their place, trying to press through the ever-widening gap. Met immediately with a rainbow of spell-bubbles and the kind of destruction that Sylvas wouldn¡¯t have wished on his worst enemies.


    But there was no forgetting that the door was opening, and the stream of annihilation that the najash girl unleashed would eventually be too narrow. Sylvas had to yell to be heard over the concussive rattle of spells and the clanking mechanisms of the door. ¡°Just like on the shuttle!¡±


    The doorway gave birth to a skeletal tide. They scrambled over one another, through one another, tangling their bones together in their desperation to kill. Kaya stepped in to start hacking away at them, but paused, there was time for someone to land a decent blow on this cluster before she started breaking it up and letting the amassed skeletons loose.


    Sylvas levelled his staff at the door and cast Gravity Spike.


    Once more, the narrowed focus of the spell helped it to punch through, warping the space and bones of every construct it passed through before sucking them all back into the next segment of corridor.


    Kaya took her chance, dipping in through the open door and into the clearing amidst her foes. Alone it would have been suicidal. With everyone else backing her up, it was almost comical how swiftly the pack was thinned. She stood inside the door, Sylvas stood right beneath the center of its arch and between them, they fought back every skeleton that tried to get past while the rest of the squad unleashed hell on them from the rear rank.


    It was so like their first fight on the station that Sylvas was surprised to find his mind wandering a little. He had to be quick and constant, he had to shift weight around his body to make each blow he struck a lethal, bone shattering blow, but there was no casting really required throughout much of the fight. He was just there to hold back the tide until everyone else did their thing. He let his senses stretch out, felt the presence of the skeletons, soft and honeycombed with pockets of air, even where they should have been solid. Then from his gravity sense, he moved on to second sight, to the simple enchantment at the heart of each skeleton, glowing a dull black-green and nestled in the empty ribcages of each one.


    Given time and study of the Aion words of death, he was sure a counterspell could be made to such a thing, but it wouldn¡¯t be by him. His mind had to remain on their task. Bael was the better equipped of the two of them to do the calculations required, so the plan remained the same. Keep him at a distance from the fighting so that he could observe and make those calculations.


    Just as fast as the mad rush of skeletons had begun, it was over. They had held their ground, used the bottleneck of the door, and won out again.


    Sylvas drew a steadying breath, then nodded to the others. ¡°Press on.¡±

 Starbreaker: Volume 1 Is Now Live!

    Hey everyone! I am happy to announce that Starbreaker: Volume 1 is now available for your reading and listening pleasure! (At least for those of you who haven''t already read it ahead of time!)


    In any case, if you are looking to get an official copy of the story, it¡¯s now available in ebook and audio on Amazon</a> and Audible</a> - as well as Paperback (and Hardcovers) on my Website</a>!


    On the other hand, if this is somehow the first time you''re hearing about Starbreaker and have somehow found your way here then you won¡¯t want to miss this brand new series chock full of Space Progression Fantasy goodness. If you enjoyed Iron Prince, Stargazers War, Starship Mage, and any of my other works then this is for you! Check out the links above and see if it strikes your fancy!


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    With all that being said however, as my supporters and followers, I have a big favor to ask you all and that is to help with all the social proof, reviews, shout outs, and support that you''re all able to give for this series. If any of you are able to leave reviews on your favorite Amazon/Audible store, that would be fantastic! If you aren''t able to then Goodreads</a> is the next best place to do so! Past that, if you are able and willing to share the book on your social media of choice, then I truly, truly appreciate it!


    Beyond that, all I have to say is thank you so much for your support in this story! It has been absolutely amazing and I can''t wait to see how it does now that it''s out in the world! You are all amazing! I hope you enjoy what is coming next for book 2 and soon after that, book 3.


    Luke

 Volume 2: Chapter 40

    ¡°Emotion has no place on the battlefield, but a mage is no soldier, and it is their passions that ignite the magic within them. To separate the feeling part of the mage from the thinking part is to cripple both. Intuition is born of emotion. Decisions are made at the meeting point of the rational and irrational mind, and to discount either¡¯s influence is to cripple oneself.¡±


    ¡ªThe Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea


    Amongst them they had not suffered a single injury, barring Ironeyes stubbing his toe on a doorframe. They had made it around almost half the station with barely a scratch, and their mana supplies remained high. Once again, Sylvas reminded himself that in any other circumstances he¡¯d be full of joy at this state of affairs.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust it.¡± He admitted out loud.


    Kaya nodded. ¡°It¡¯s too quiet. Too easy.¡±


    ¡°I am fairly certain that people wading their way through a veritable flood of reanimated corpses are not meant to comment upon how easily they are doing so.¡± Bael commented in passing as he moved into the next stretch. ¡°Most likely all is as Sylvas predicted, and the inner circles of the station where the tactical objectives have been stowed away are where the defenses have been focused.¡±


    Despite that reassurance, Sylvas called out to the squad before moving forward. ¡°Everyone keep your eyes up, it feels like there¡¯s another ambush coming.¡±


    There was some groaning and complaining, but for the most part, everyone just kept on moving about their duties, sweeping the roof and alcoves for ambushers. There were none yet. That made a degree of sense, Sylvas supposed. If their own shuttle had been Malachai¡¯s priority, placing more ambushers around it made the most sense. Though, how Malachai could have known which shuttle was his, he didn¡¯t know.


    The next door was already wheeling open by the time that Sylvas arrived at it. Luna and Orson standing in wait. After the relatively straightforward fights, it seemed like the big man was starting to calm a little, fall back into his usual routines. That was good.


    The rest of the group were still sweeping the chamber, but given how slowly the mechanisms worked, it wasn¡¯t exactly a problem. Besides, Sylvas was toying with his gravity sense as he went. Now that he knew the feel of bone, it was so much easier to detect, which meant that the alcoves no longer needed peered into and the roof didn¡¯t need a light cast over it in case there was something lurking there. He knew that they were safe. Or at least, he thought they were, until he swept his senses forward and caught wind of what was beyond the next airlock.


    ¡°Get back!¡± He yelled, trying to be heard over the machinery and cast a spell to haul them out of the way. ¡°Get back!¡±


    He was too slow.


    The sickle blades of the mantis armed skeletons so far had been just a little over arm¡¯s length. The bones combined and refined into one single edged extension, joined to the construct¡¯s elbow in place of a forearm. The ones that burst through the opening in the door were an order of magnitude bigger. Four of them slid through the gap before twisting out to the sides as the door was hauled open, metal and mechanisms all screaming in protest. Those mantis blades, they were as long as the doors themselves, and when they snapped back against the walls so that the thing coming through could gain enough traction to squeeze through the gap it had made, they sliced cleanly through everything. The control podium by the side of the door, and both Orson and Luna.


    They were bisected at the waist, both tumbling and encased in the Crest¡¯s protective bubble before anyone even knew what was happening. The screaming and bellows of everyone else did little to help Sylvas focus, but his Paradigm did what it was meant to. He silenced all thoughts for the fallen and turned his attention to the problem at hand.


    The skeletal construct had a half dozen skulls all melded together into one head, hollow sockets staring out blankly in every direction, mouths twisted into entwined screams without sound. The massive bladed arms took up the majority of its mass, with only a normal human sized rib cage dangling behind, and tendrils trailing from that that made the whole thing look like it too had been bisected. The tendrils, Sylvas realized, were spinal columns. And what they lacked in stability, they made up for in speed of motion. Every one of them might have struggled to shift the weight of the creature they¡¯d been fused to, but they worked so fast that the incremental progress they produced was sufficient to have the thing barreling forward out of the gap it had made far faster than anything that size should have moved.


    Kaya leapt for it. Her metal blades coming down, her angle of attack perfect, but it moved too swiftly, positioning its own claw to block her blade-armed swipe and deflecting her. A quick switch to second sight confirmed Sylvas¡¯ suspicions that this was a far more complex piece of necromancy than they¡¯d faced before. There were multiple nexus points were death mana coiled around the constructed body, no easy kill here.


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    Flinging itself forward out of the gap, the construct found its progress halted abruptly by the sudden barrage of magic from the rest of the squad. Those vast and ponderous bubbles of destruction that Gharia prized were flitting their way over. Ironeyes¡¯ lightning bolts dashed off the solid plates of bone it wore as armor. Even Bael, typically withdrawn from the fighting, was casting something from behind Sylvas. As for him, he knew his job. He had to pin this monster down, keep everyone else out of reach. Extend the fight long enough that the ambush became a battle, and the battle became a victory.


    Gravity spike was the obvious choice, not cast through the staff but just on the creature itself, dragging the mass of bones down to the floor and pinning it there. The only trouble was, even with all the abbreviations that he¡¯d made it still took seconds to cast, seconds that they clearly did not have. Even as he was casting, he fragmented off another part of his mind not to retain a spell, but to do the stupid thing that he didn¡¯t have enough time to think about doing. His body moved without him being consciously aware of any choice to move, the staff coming up and around his body to block the next lashing blow of the scythe claw.


    In anyone else¡¯s hands, it would have been a pointless exercise in futility. The strength of the construct could have knocked any parry aside, but Sylvas staff was a part of his body, and his body could weigh however much he chose to make it weigh. When the fine razor of bone struck against the steel staff, it cracked.


    Holding onto his staff where it was pinned to the ground with enough weight to make the deck buckle, Sylvas finished his casting.


    The claws that had been raised up to strike another lethal blow hammered down. Clattering against the iron mesh beneath them. It tried to raise them again, only to have the weight of its own bones drag it back down once more. It looked like nothing more than a giant skeletal baby throwing a tantrum, battering its blades on the ground in a fit of rage.


    The rest of the team needed no instruction. They rained death and destruction down on the construct as Sylvas kept it pinned in place. Though it bucked and it wriggled, it never mustered up enough strength to break free of his gravity spike, and once Sylvas was certain of that, he closed his eyes.


    With this blinding point of gravity at the center of his gravity sense, it was impossible to see anything nearby, but the echoes coming back from every other part of the station were ideal. He overlayed them with his mental map of the Mournhold as the others fought on.


    It was less of a fight, and more of a slaughter now. The initial surprise had won this skeletal mess a victory, but with it pinned and powerless, all that really remained was the question of how much mana it would cost to take apart.


    Not much, in the end. Kaya waded into the dense gravity and started severing key pieces by Bael¡¯s direction, and the coils of green-black death mana soon found themselves uncoiling as the enchantments bound to the distorted corpse fell apart. He released his hold on the gravity when he was sure it was done, and his hold on his emotions.


    There was time now that the fighting was over to feel his horror at seeing Luna and Orson carved in half. There was time to feel the bitter disappointment at knowing that a full third of their team was now gone. There was even time for some treacherous voice inside of Sylvas to remind him that the reason he¡¯d assigned them the task of opening the doors was because they were essentially useless in any sort of high-level magical combat, so it was better to risk them in these situations. He didn¡¯t feel particularly good about that last realization, but it did help him to temper his anger. It had been a well played out ambush, and he didn¡¯t feel like they had been bested unfairly, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t angry as all hell that he¡¯d lost two of his people.


    Bael was checking on the fallen with a dispassionate gaze. ¡°They¡¯ll live.¡±


    ¡°I just wish they were alive now.¡± Sylvas grumbled, stepping his way carefully through the fallen skeleton to make his way into the next corridor.


    ¡°Perhaps it is for the best.¡± Bael opined. ¡°After all, neither one of them was holding up too well under the pressure of¡­¡±


    ¡°Bael.¡± Sylvas drew a heavy breath. ¡°I say this with all due respect.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    The elf stared at him blankly, as if he genuinely thought that he was misunderstanding. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time to be giving performance reviews. We just lost two friends and have an uphill battle to fight. Let¡¯s keep our eyes on the prize for now, yeah?¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t want to do this right now, but he couldn¡¯t have morale suffering any more than it was already going to.


    ¡°I was merely observing that of all the possible troops to lose, the least valuable would have been¡­¡± He drew up short when he saw Sylvas¡¯ expression. ¡°It was a tragedy that could not have been avoided, and we shall avenge them henceforth.¡±


    Sylvas gave him a grateful nod, then pressed on. There were no ambushes or traps in the next stretch. It seemed that everything had been invested into one big trick. Sylvas tried to keep his mind clear of the anger that was bubbling there. He¡¯d wanted to hit Bael when the elf started talking about their lost troops, and it would have made everything so much worse. He took a steadying breath as they reached the next door then moved to operate it himself. Kaya frowned. ¡°Oi, stanzbuhr. Want to let me do that? I¡¯ve got armor.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡±


    The truth was, that without some reaction time, Kaya¡¯s liquid metal armor was unlikely to stop another guillotining blade any more than his own one-armed uniform. Besides, he wanted to be as close to the door as possible.


    Reaching out with his gravity sense, he could detect no great mass of bone beyond the airlock. He palmed the controls, brushing his fingers over the runic language of the Strife natives with a weird familiarity after living amongst their ruins. Yet even as he was doing that, he kept his gravitational sense sharp, and it was soon rewarded with movement.


    There was more waiting for them beyond the door.

 Volume 2: Chapter 41

    ¡°To be limitless is the end goal of any mage. But to achieve that, most construct a cage around themselves. Dangers they will not face. Things that they will not do. Magic that they will not use. Counterproductive.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Sylvas had to maintain a palm on the controls or the door would stop opening, but that did nothing to stop him talking to his team. The screeching of metal did interfere with that a bit, but before the doors were close to being wide enough open for them to move in, everyone had heard, ¡°Ambushers on the roof just inside the chamber. Two or three.¡±


    He was a little annoyed that he couldn¡¯t tell exactly how many there were, but their irregular size and the weird consistency of bone was making it hard for him to get a clear read. On the plus side, his last scan when he¡¯d spiked gravity had combined with his mental map to let him know this was the last stretch of outer ring before they hit the next pylon.


    The skeletal reapers came lunging down out of the dark like birds of prey, only to collide with a surprisingly solid shield that Bael had cast. The same microfractures that had plagued Sylvas as he learned to master his embodiment appeared all over their skeletal remains after that. And every blow dealt or spell cast seemed to have no trouble digging into those points of weakness and blowing them apart. He gave the elf a grateful nod, but it was brushed off with more of his usual silly over-the-top politeness. Good, it seemed like their earlier disagreement would be forgotten.


    Clearing that final section was easy enough, and Sylvas senses, stretched out into the next chamber, seemed to confirm that they would not be facing another ambush. Or at least, not a skeletal one. If there were mages in there, and they¡¯d found a way to mask themselves from his gravity sense, then Malachai and his team were smarter than they had any right to be.


    Seeing no point in dawdling, Sylvas pressed his hands to the controls once more.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Sylvas looked up, startled to see Havran in front of him. The man seemed to fade from view constantly, even when he wasn¡¯t actively turning invisible. Like he¡¯d made being uninteresting into an arcane power. ¡°I¡¯ll go through first, look and see.¡±


    ¡°Your incorporeal form protects you from physical objects, not energy. If you get hit with a spell...¡±


    ¡°I die, same as anyone else.¡± Havran had never seemed terribly brave, and he didn¡¯t seem any braver now, just more accepting. ¡°Difference is, they aren¡¯t expecting me. That door starts to open, they¡¯re definitely expecting all of you.¡±


    Normally, Sylvas would have looked to the others for their opinion, but they had set about their usual tasks with the energy of people who¡¯d just seen what a successful ambush looked like. Nobody wanted to be the next Orson and Luna. This was up to him. He sighed, ¡°Do it. Quick.¡±


    Removing his hand from the controls, he waited, still stretching out with his senses for any hint of trouble ahead. In the still dead silence, Havran shimmered out of sight and stepped through the solid metal of the door. The silence stretched. Moments passing by. Time crawling, as they waited for his return.


    It was just getting long enough that Sylvas was ready to crack open the door and go in all-spells-blazing when Havran burst back through. Flung with some force and nearly sinking cleanly through the floor of the corridor before he managed to reassert himself as solid. The moment he touched down, Sylvas saw the ruin that had been made of him. The front of his chest was frothing with blood ¨C punctured lungs ¨C and his guts were perforated too judging by the sewage smell. He was trying to speak, still trying to warn them of what was ahead, still trying to do his duty. Sylvas put a hand over his bloody mouth to still him. ¡°Shh. It¡¯s okay. You did good. Just¡­ rest for now.¡±


    The spasms that had been racking Havran slowed, the manic terror in his eyes faded, and then he went still. Dead. The Crest enveloped him.


    Sylvas stood. ¡°Bael, front and center. I¡¯ll shield. Kaya, open the door.¡±


    ¡°Are you certain that we don¡¯t just backtrack?¡± Bael was quick to suggest.


    Sylvas drew himself up and readied his Gravity Shear. ¡°Malachai doesn¡¯t want us going this way, and that¡¯s reason enough to go this way.¡±


    Kaya had the good sense not to argue with Sylvas after a glimpse of his expression. She went to the controls and started the process of opening the next lock.


    The screeching of metal, the roar of machinery, Sylvas heard none of it over the rush of blood in his ears. He¡¯d done this. He¡¯d sent Havran through, knowing the man¡¯s potential weaknesses. Knowing that this was the risk. He¡¯d done it anyway, because it could have bought them an advantage. He was as cold as Hammerheart had ever been. Just as willing to sacrifice others for his goals. It made him sick to his stomach. But he wasn¡¯t letting that sacrifice be for nothing.


    Gravity Shear formed between him and the door, up ahead of Bael, whispering dust and fragments of bone up and away to flow around them. The rest of the squad, barring Kaya, slipped into position behind him to benefit from the protection of the shield. The door was barely open a crack before they saw it. The arcane landmine beartrap that had been laid in their path.


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    It was a chaotic roiling mass of death mana. A hovering sphere of flickering black and green, like a tiny dead sun, unleashing flare after flare of razor thin energy in every direction, scarring the metalwork of the next chamber, blackening it and aging it wherever it touched. The ribbons of lethal energy swept out through the gap between the doors and washed over Sylvas shield.


    Kaya ducked as one death-flare crackled off in her direction. Where it slammed into the controls, they aged a decade before their eyes, ancient technology long preserved by the canopic jar of this space station suddenly hammered with the passing of time. Sylvas didn¡¯t need to think. ¡°Get behind the shield.¡±


    ¡°Door won¡¯t open if¡­¡± Sylvas slammed one of his orbitals into the button to open the door. Pinning it down.


    Ironeyes echoed Sylvas¡¯ words. ¡°Behind the shield.¡±


    She had to duck and weave her way through the flares as they came, looping around the front side of the shield so that it didn¡¯t just launch her aside the same way it did everything else. Sylvas mana was draining fast, but he couldn¡¯t let their only protection falter. Who knew what anyone else¡¯s attempts at a shield might do when struck by raw death. Gravity had the virtue of being eternal, immortal and unchanging, any other affinity might be wisped away to nothing.


    Safely secured, Kaya elbowed her way up to Bael. ¡°What is it, how do we undo it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this.¡± Bael answered with unabashed awe. ¡°Some fragmentary pieces of the spell, I recognize, but so much of it is death affinity that I¡¯ve never even¡­¡±


    He trailed off, still lost in admiration. Sylvas had no patience for it. Not now. Between the chanted words of his shield he barked, ¡°Solutions?¡±


    Bael was rambling mostly to himself. ¡°There¡¯s a recursive element, each time it deals harm it will be empowered with the release of death mana, anything that we cast at it is liable to be absorbed as fuel and expand it further. Given time to study it, I believe we may be able to create a counterspell, but the time to study it¡­ we do not have the mana to keep it shielded that long.¡±


    Sylvas managed to get a personality fragmented off to maintain the shield, even though it made his head ache shunting so much control off into one shard. ¡°Pull everyone back.¡±


    Bael still couldn¡¯t be made to shut up. ¡°It would not be in our best interests for you to sacrifice yourself in some sort of foolish, guilt-riddled display of¡­¡±


    Sylvas voice came out in a growl. ¡°Pull. Back.¡±


    Kaya caught his eye just long enough for her to feel confident he wasn¡¯t going to self-destruct, then grabbed Ironeyes and Bael by the back of their jackets. ¡°Come on lads, let¡¯s give him some room.¡±


    With each passing moment, the door had spread wider. More and more of the churning orb of death had been revealed. It was as big as a man, hovering ominously in the middle of the chamber, lashing out relentlessly in every direction. It wouldn¡¯t stop, it wouldn¡¯t be reasoned with, it couldn¡¯t be killed.


    With the last of them gone a safe distance back, Sylvas let his shield fall.


    At once the seething waves of death mana started coming his way, but at this distance, he had time enough to step aside, to leap the ones at a height for his legs or duck the ones at a height for his head. Despite every instinct inside of him telling him to run, to get as far away from this lethal thing as it was possible to get, he stepped forward. He pressed in closer, all the way to the threshold of the doorway. All the way to the threshold of death. Pressing one finger to a thread on his bag, he took a deep breath and opened his Cold Storage. The spell to open the way into the parallel planes was nothing more or less than a Gravity Spike, a spike of such intensity that it punched its way through the very fabric of reality and into one next door. It was a kind of magic that he knew now came so easily to him because of his affinity, but also because of the years he had spent practicing it back on Croesia. The same magic used to open the way for the Eidolons let him punch his way through into the myriad universes were they did not exist.


    He didn¡¯t open the way in his satchel, he opened it in the heart of the death-orb.


    At once, the vacuum of the empty space in his pocket dimension began pulling at it, but when that was not enough he poured in more and more mana, letting the gravity spike that should have been brief and momentary to open the way gain more and more weight. The event horizon at the center of the trap began to widen, a tiny black hole at the center of the monstrosity that had been cast before him. His hand shook as he spread his fingers wider, opening the way wider, making the hole between worlds big enough for whatever lay at the heart of this death spell to be drawn through.


    It cost too much. Too much mana, more than he had to spare, he was draining down to the dregs of his core before he felt the lurch. Before the flares of death that had been launching out seemed to stall in mid-air before being drawn back in towards the center.


    He was going to burn himself out. He had overextended, and he knew that, but there was no way back now. If he didn¡¯t keep going all of the entrapped death that he had been swallowing down into another universe would break free, explode out with the same force that he had been imploding it. It would wash over him, shred him to bones and dust. He needed more power.


    So he did something insane. He fragmented his mind in two. Not into his thinking and rational mind and one fragment to maintain the spell, but into two evenly sized pieces, one continuing to cast relentlessly, and the other, which he gave control over the left side of his body. Mana flowed endlessly out from his core, through his right arm, so fast that even with the density of it in his core it was ripping through with enough pace that he¡¯d be emptied in just a moment, but his left arm, the whole left side of him that he¡¯d assembled the gauntlet around, lay empty. Through that, he pulled.


    The hollow in the heart of him was what he used to draw mana, the emptiness called to it and pulled it in, but now as he cast, there was an even greater pull. The more mana he poured out, the emptier he became and the greater the draw. Gravity affinity mana from all around the station flooded into his left arm through the gauntlet, dragging every other kind of mana with it into the crystals arrayed around the device. Up here in space, so far from a world, it wasn¡¯t nearly enough to replace all that he was using, but it was just barely enough to keep him from death. Every time that it seemed his core was empty, there was that tiny trickle more pouring into it. Every time that it seemed he was dead, he drew one more breath.


    His eyes had been closed, he had fallen to his knees, but with agonizing effort he forced them open to see the moment that the death-curse fell through into nothingness, and just like that, the right half of him cut off the spell.


    Collapsing forward onto his hands and knees, he hauled at the mana around him with all his desperation, drawing it all in, dragging it out from the artificial generators beneath the floors, from the distant stars and the planet below. He pulled and he pulled until the sputtering dark emptiness of his core became steady once more. Then, at last, he let himself fall flat onto his face.

 Volume 2: Chapter 42

    ¡°At the very edge of reason where all others see only madness is where true genius lies. To look upon the world as it is and accept it is the most abominable kind of weakness. The universe is what we make of it. To accept limitations is to shackle ourselves. To break the bonds of law and reality is our birthright.¡±


    ¡ªThe Necessity, Valtoris Blackstar


    Kaya was kind enough to remove the metal blade from her hand before slapping Sylvas across the face. He jerked up to sitting in an instant, gasping for air. His insides felt as though they¡¯d been set alight, every beat of his heart felt like it was going to be his last. The hurt went down deeper than his bones. ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°About a minute.¡± Kaya took hold of his chin, turning his face side to side. ¡°Eyes are bloody.¡±


    He reached up to touch them, but she slapped his hand away. Her bedside manner was even worse than the medic on Strife. ¡°The blood vessels are burst, you fhet.¡±


    ¡°Fhet?¡± He asked, still more than a little bewildered.


    She grabbed at her chest and shook what she found there at his face by way of explanation, and Sylvas blushed despite himself.


    She pulled him in closer and growled in his ear. ¡°You pull anything like that again and I¡¯ll kick your kulgh out into space myself, you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Message received.¡± He replied as she dropped him back onto the metal grated floor. The next chamber was entirely empty now. Not even a hint of the arcane monstrosity that had been there before remained except for the scars, but Sylvas could still feel it in the back of his mind, like a weight. It wasn¡¯t gone. Not really. It had just been moved out of their way for now.


    With Ironeyes on one side, and Gharia on the other, he pulled himself back to his feet. Neither one of his feet seemed to be listening to him, and it was only then that he realized he still hadn¡¯t reintegrated the two halves of his brain. Pressing his eyes shut for a moment as the dizziness passed, he made himself whole again and got to experience all of the suffering that he¡¯d been through in stereo as the two memories he¡¯d made intermingled to form a new whole. Needless to say, he didn¡¯t plan on doing that again any time soon.


    People had been speaking to him while he pulled himself back together, but he¡¯d missed it. ¡°What?¡±


    Gharia frowned. ¡°I said, we need to get moving. Whoever cast that spell will have felt when it died.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Sylvas body was still weak from his exertions, but now he was back in control, he drew all his orbitals back to him and set off through the wide-open doorway.


    The layout of the next pylon chamber was no different from the last, but with the improved mapping that they¡¯d done, they now at least knew that they were heading down the stairs rather than up. Usually at the head of the formation, Sylvas fell back to walk alongside Bael as he cycled mana back into his system. It was returning at a slow trickle for now, but hopefully enough would have refilled his core that he wouldn¡¯t be entirely useless for the remainder of the exercise. They trudged on in silence for a while before Bael couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°That was very good you know, lateral thinking.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sylvas managed a smile. ¡°I nearly died.¡±


    The elf gave him a half-hearted pat on the shoulder. ¡°Well we shall hardly call it a failure just because you nearly died, the vast majority of your plans end in you actually dying, so I¡¯d venture to say that this particular solution was one of your better ones.¡±


    ¡°One of these days, I¡¯m going to work out how much of what you¡¯re saying is an insult and how much is a compliment.¡±


    ¡°Oh I very much doubt that.¡± Bael quipped back with a little smile.


    The inner decks of the Mournhold definitely looked better off than the outer rings. The wear and tear of combat through dozens of these exercises had left the most immediately contested territory a little bruised and battered, while there was only the occasion hole burned through a wall inside. There were even hints of d¨¦cor among the exposed metalwork of the walls in this place. Tattered remains of banners hung from bent flagpoles, all too clotted with filth to be even slightly readable, but present all the same, ruffling as the life support systems strained to circulate breathable air around.


    Sylvas had fully expected to encounter swarms of skeletons the moment that they stepped inside, and when he reached out with his gravity sense, he was detecting hints of bone all around them, both above and below, but the level that they were actually exploring seemed to be curiously devoid of anyone or anything.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust it.¡± Ironeyes and the others were moving in a closer formation than before, none of them willing to admit that the ambushes were getting to them.


    ¡°It¡¯s entirely possible that just as we were not made aware of the objectives of the other teams, so too might our adversaries be unaware of our secondary target. This area may be considered irrelevant.¡± Bael was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them.


    ¡°Or there¡¯s some murder magic hidden around the corner they didn¡¯t want to get too close to.¡± Kaya added with a grim grin.


    They made their way along with even more painstaking care than before. While in the outer rings they had to contend with alcoves, here there were endless chambers arrayed just off the corridor they were traversing. They all had scrying spells working overtime, and Sylvas was straining his senses for any hint of trouble ahead, to no avail. Some of the doors lay open, rusted in place, or the mechanisms that had once made them slip aside so easily jammed up by the passage of time, but for the most part they were closed and each room could have contained any number of terrible things that they were now leaving at their backs to come springing out and ambush them later. There was no reason that they couldn¡¯t have slowed to even more of a crawl, trying every single door and exploring, but thus far there didn¡¯t seem to be any indication that their presence in this section had been detected, and wrestling every door open along the way would not only greatly increase their chances of being caught, it would also slow them to the degree that they were unlikely to arrive at the World Soul Core at a similar time to the others tasked with assaulting it.


    Even as distant as they were from the other teams in this section, there were still signs of them. Vibrations rocked through the Citadel as one spell or another was cast. The whole construction was one great big sealed system, and sounds echoed through it despite the distances involved. Whispers of aion words echoing out to their ears, hints of odd scented smoke drifting through the life support systems and the tremors of the immense powers of magic being held carefully in abeyance so that they didn¡¯t all die at their own hands.


    The curvature of the station, and the curvature of the passage ahead, meant that they never had a clear view of what was to come, but as they approached the Soulstone nexus, the magic thrumming through it became visible long before the chamber that housed it. They picked up their pace in spite of themselves. Finally there was something tangible that they could face.


    Yet as they came up to the door, they slowed. There were signs of habitation here. Some shattered remains of skeletal constructs blasted to pieces in the corridor. Spell-scarring on and around the door itself. Someone had already fought here. One of the other teams must have punched through somewhere.


    With a finger pressed to his lips to silence the inevitable chatter amongst his team, Sylvas crept closer, letting his orbitals drift out to surround him again and readying his staff for combat. Liquid metal flowed over Kaya, readying her for the fight, and sparks were already crackling between Ironeyes fingers. Only Gharia and Bael looked unprepared.


    With one of his orbitals, Sylvas hit the switch to open the door.


    Inside there was light and color, so much that for a moment it dazzled them. An array of screens and slates all tied together into the magical systems of the citadel, showing the varied floes of mana being called to the worldsoul fragment and where they were being diverted, showing interior and exterior views of the citadel from emplaced scrying apparatus all over the place.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Bael¡¯s eyes lit up at the sight of it, and he started to step forward before another of Sylvas orbitals swept into his chest and held him back from advancing. It was still too quiet. There had been some fierce fighting for this point, and Sylvas doubted it would have been abandoned without some defenders.


    ¡°Run.¡± Came a dry whisper from inside the chamber. ¡°It isn¡¯t worth it, just run.¡±


    A pair of the vicious mantis blades swung down from above the doorway, sweeping through where Bael would have been standing, making no contact and continuing their arc around to slam into the ceiling above, before the skeletal ambusher hauled itself through, crawling along the roof.


    Ironeyes blasted it before it got a chance to swing at them again, but by then the rest of the ambush was already in motion.


    More skeletons came tumbling out of the rooms to either side of the nexus chamber, similar to the simple constructs they¡¯d fought back at the shuttle bay, but different, more defined somehow, as though the soft edges of them had been carved off, leaving only lethal jagged edges of bone. They had no more tactical brilliance than their predecessors, charging straight at Sylvas and the others, but what they lacked in thought, they made up for in speed.


    Kaya cut the first down, but the next was already almost upon her, leaping with its arms outstretched, not towards her, but to the sides. Its rib cage rippled open into something like a bear trap.


    The butt of Sylvas staff caught it in the pelvis, launching it back along its course, but by then the next was coming, and the next. Gharia had fallen into place on the other flank, unleashing a torrent of explosive orbs that seemed to be holding back the tide, but as Sylvas spared her a glance, the veritable wall that she¡¯d created was being rounded. The skeletons leapt to scamper on all fours along the walls, the ceiling, anywhere that the destructive bubbles weren¡¯t.


    Bael fired off shot after shot of his own magic, direct damage like he never seemed to cast. Thin razors of compressed energy that struck with precision, shattering spell and bone alike. Picking off the forerunners or dropping those above into the bombardment.


    From within the chamber came a cry of pain, the whisperer, a familiar voice. ¡°No. I won¡¯t. You can¡¯t make me.¡±


    Sylvas knew that voice, he¡¯d heard it before, it was Abbas, the water affinity fiend in the naval track. One of the other teams from the Blackhall. All that was left of one of the other teams from the Blackhall. A sickening crunch followed, then another sob. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    Trusting to his team to hold the line, Sylvas charged in. There was a plethora of gore spread across the chamber. The colored lights of the nexus shining like candy through the layer of blood spread across it. Abbas was there beside the seat, but he wasn¡¯t alone. One of the odd angular skeletons had him. He was trapped inside of its ribcage, his arms and legs outstretched and shackled by bands of bone that it had formed from its own wrists and ankles. The sounds had been the contractions of the rib cage, cracking his bones, puncturing him. Abbas¡¯ words came out pleading, even as his eyes glowed blue and liquid mana gathered in his palms. ¡°It¡¯s making me.¡±


    Clever and cruel in equal measure, capturing enemy mages and using them instead of killing them. It could expand Malachai¡¯s repertoire immensely.


    The mana gathered around Abbas was already twisting into spell-forms as the bone-shackles guided his hands. A tidal wave about to be unleashed on them, knocking the whole team to the floor, making them all easy pickings for the rest of the puppeteer skeletons. Sylvas couldn¡¯t let it happen.


    So close to the fragile machinery, there was too much danger in his spells. He shifted the weight inside him, stepped closer and delivered a lethal blow to the fiend¡¯s head, collapsing its skull with the butt of his staff and having to snatch it back as the crest enveloped the dead fiend. The skeleton that had ensnared him was trapped now, its ribs hooked inside of the fiend¡¯s body, its own limbs still locked to the dead man¡¯s. Sylvas delivered another crushing blow to its skull, then called out. ¡°Everyone in!¡±


    They came staggering back through the doorway in exactly the order they shouldn¡¯t have. First Kaya, then Gharia, Ironeyes and Bael last. Kaya should have been the last one in, holding them off at close range, Gharia should have been the second, laying down covering fire and Bael the first, as the least directly dangerous. Instead he leapt through the doorway, tumbling to a heap by Kaya¡¯s feet, tangling her up and leaving Gharia to try and hold back the whole corridor¡¯s worth of undead alone.


    Sylvas flung his staff at the door, seizing hold of the gravity hooks on either end to pin it in place across the opening at waist height. It wasn¡¯t much, but it slowed the relentless charge of the undead, made them crawl or climb to make their way in, and that was enough to buy him time to cast.


    Inversion ripped them from the ground and sent them all tumbling up into the corridor¡¯s ceiling. Releasing it just a moment later sent them crashing down again. Once more, he was buying them time. No spell in the repertoire of gravity affinity was enough to do direct damage to all of them, but he didn¡¯t need to be the one dealing the most damage. He just had to keep holding them back. Kaya had found her feet again, and she was hacking away at the skeletons that made it in. Bael had scrambled back to his feet and headed straight for the Nexus. There was no telling if this tide could even be turned, so it made sense for him to get what they came for.


    ¡°The system is locked up tighter than young Sigil¡¯s virtue.¡± He called back over his shoulder.


    Kaya let out a barking laugh in between swings of her bladed arms.


    Whether he heard her or not, Bael gave no sign, focusing instead on the slates before him. ¡°It shall take me a few moments to break through the counterspells and protections, both native and introduced by our dear friends from the Whitehall.¡±


    ¡°Do it.¡± Sylvas called, casting Inversion once more, his wrist crackling with the strain as he turned his hand and flipped gravity once more. This time he held it long enough for the skeletons now standing on the ceiling to get their footing before dropping them back down onto their heads. It didn¡¯t kill them, but once more, it bought them time.


    Ironeyes cast relentlessly throughout, each spell shaking the room like thunder, each peal of thunder the death knell for another attacker.


    Sylvas¡¯ mana reserves hadn¡¯t fully recovered yet, not even partially recovered really, considering the density of mana that he usually had at his disposal, so he was trying to be as sparing as he could with his magic. The process of division that had allowed him to draw mana and cast at the same time had been entirely too dangerous as it was, the whole thing would need refinement.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t capable of making all the difference.


    Again and again, he turned the gravity of the hallway upside down, smashing skeletons up and down, over and over. Their numbers thinned. It seemed that the endless tide of them was less endless than expected. He was able to call back his staff, use his orbitals to bombard the enemy with a fractured facet of his mind piloting each. Gathering what was left of his power, he cast a focused Gravity Spike.


    Three things happened at once. Least importantly in that moment, the massive spike of gravity dragged on every part of the station, giving Sylvas a full and clear view of their surroundings for what felt like the first time. The next was that every single skeletal construct that had been pouring out to ambush them was hauled in together to a single central point just outside the door. Skeletons were not solid, with these ones in particular being oddly fluid and flexible, they were all too easy to entangle, but that hadn¡¯t been the point of the exercise. The point was to get them all in range of the third thing that happened in that moment. Ironeyes unleashing his lightning bolt.


    It struck into the mass of bones and magic with a blinding flash and a thunderous roar that sent Sylvas and the others staggering back. Then at last in the wake of that awful cacophony, there was silence once more.


    At least until Kaya grunted. ¡°Is that it?¡±


    The others deflated a bit at that. Ironeyes scoffed, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°I was just getting going.¡± She grumbled.


    Sylvas chose to simply ignore her and turn his attention to Bael. ¡°How is it looking?¡±


    ¡°Both promising and¡­ not.¡± He sighed.


    ¡°Give us the bad news first.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t even pretend to be surprised.


    ¡°I cannot seize control of the station, nor the majority of the network, as it has been altered to operate solely on death mana, with which I cannot interact for any length of time without harming myself.¡± Bael¡¯s fingertips already looked a little wrinkled just from touching the controls. ¡°However, I believe that I can blind all of the scrying apparatus tied to this particular nexus, which should carry us as far as our next objective without the risk of encountering resistance or reinforcements.¡±


    ¡°Do it.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t even have to think about it.


    The man turned back to the console, muttering under his breath. ¡°Oh mighty Baeldrothan, wisest of all elves, won¡¯t you master this entirely alien system, toy with the forces of death and destruction and grant us invisibility from the prying eyes of our enemies.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Sylvas added with a smirk.


    He turned back to the dwarves and najash. ¡°We should have a clear run at the secondary objective if Bael manages to¡­¡±


    ¡°There is no question that I will manage it, thank you very much.¡± The elf called back over his shoulder.


    Sylvas corrected himself. ¡°We will have a clear run at the intelligence retrieval when Bael breaks into the system here.¡±


    ¡°Then what?¡± Ironeyes scratched at his beard, static discharging between the braids.


    ¡°Then we will have to work out our next move.¡± Sylvas smiled.


    ¡°Aye, you¡¯ve got no ideas at all, right?¡± He chuckled.


    Kaya always had a plan to suggest. ¡°Then we go kick the necro in the teeth and go home in time for dinner.¡±


    ¡°Something along those lines, yes.¡± Sylvas chuckled.


    Bael stepped back from the nexus console with a hiss of pain. ¡°Alright my stalwart companions, I believe that I have bought us a solid fifteen minutes of looped reporting from the scrying apparatus, we should move with all haste.¡±


    ¡°And the way is clear?¡± Kaya eyed him suspiciously.


    Sylvas had fully expected there to be some sort of sarcasm, but Bael restrained himself. ¡°So far as those selfsame devices indicate¡­ it would appear so.¡±


    Gharia clapped him on the back. ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 43

    ¡°Relic worlds stand as a testament to how far it is necessary for us to go to defend ourselves against the Eidolon menace. They show sophisticated culture, technology and magic existed across the universe and has come into being over and over again throughout its expansion, yet each of them fell. There is no threshold that a people should not cross if it rids them of the Eidolons. No price to great.¡±


    ¡ªRequiem For the Vanished, Luvid Hagen


    With the area ahead of them already scouted, the remainder of the outer circle that they had to traverse proved to be relatively quiet. There were a few more signs of fighting, where Abbas¡¯ team had come through, but even that seemed to be sparse. Here and there, when they listened, they could still hear the water that the fiend had summoned, dripping down through the gratings into the layer below, but they had little time to stop and listen. The blind spot that Bael had raised in front of the enemies¡¯ eyes would only last a short while, and now that they were getting closer to the center of the station, where the core had to lie and the defenses would be at their thickest, the danger of encountering more of the Whitehall troops was climbing. They were trusting that Malachai had someone monitoring the scrying devices, and it was entirely possible he wouldn¡¯t have bothered, arrogant as he seemed to be in his abilities. All it would take would be a random patrol to bring the whole Citadel down on them.


    The room where the intelligence dossier they were meant to collect was stowed was not immediately off the corridor, but rather through a series of rooms and doors that Sylvas probably wouldn¡¯t have even realized were there if not for the map and his gravity sense. The outer chamber looked much like any of the other dilapidated mage¡¯s studies that filled so much of the ring, the books long gone to mold and dust and the shelves not long to follow. But behind the reading desk where the ashen remains of some book or another now lay, there had been a construct like a fireplace, which could be ducked through to enter the room behind. There was even less left in there that was recognizable. Sylvas assumed it had been some sort of living quarters for the mage that worked here, but there was very little to prove it. A frame that might have once been a bed had rotted into a black rectangle on the floor. The carpets that had covered the iron gratings beneath their feet had turned to mulch. Squishing through with each step.


    Yet even that chamber wasn¡¯t secretive enough for what the Ardent had planted here to be retrieved. The map, and Sylvas gravity sense, showed another chamber beyond the one that they were in, but there was no helpful opening this time. Kaya manifested a blade and pulled back before Ironeyes caught her elbow. ¡°No destroying the place, remember.¡±


    Kaya grumbled. ¡°Wasn¡¯t going to destroy it. Just¡­ remodel a bit.¡±


    Time had robbed the walls of their art, both paintings and tapestries long worn away, but the engraving of the metalwork of the bulkhead remained, and in it a pattern. Shapes and curves etched into the joining points between the panels that before today Sylvas probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to place, but which now seemed all too obvious. The aion words used in spells of necromancy were hidden here. The same shapes bound into the constructs that had been attacking them all along.


    Every one of the sigils was familiar from the constructs now that Sylvas knew what he was looking for. All of them but one. He touched a fingertip to the black gem on his gauntlet and drew out a tiny speck of death mana, pressing it to the unfamiliar spell-form.


    With a lurch, the wall which had looked so solid a moment before snapped up and down out of their way, the jaws of some great beast opening.


    ¡°What was¡­¡±


    ¡°Just a lock. Made by the people who¡­ made this place what it is.¡± Some other type of mana might have worked, something similar to death, or simply enough chaotic mana poured in to overload the mechanism, but the fact that this lock had been made, apparently by the natives of Strife, to respond to death mana made Sylvas begin to question many things.


    He¡¯d wondered at first why the Ardent hadn¡¯t seized this place as their base of operations above the planet, given how much bigger it was, and how much easier it would have been to run, but now he was starting to think that the addition of necromancy hadn¡¯t been made by them to turn this place into a training ground. Just as they¡¯d done with the ruins down on the surface, the Ardent had found this place ready built, and turned it to their purposes without changing a thing. Whoever had lived here, back when living was still something someone could do on Strife, had been a necromancer, just like Malachai.


    The chamber they¡¯d unveiled was a private study, more intact than the rest by virtue of having been locked away. There were boot-prints through the dust that had been left there, to the desk and back, and sitting atop that desk was a bland manilla folder containing their objective. Sylvas let out a sigh of relief before stepping in to pick it up. He was too slow. Kaya dodged in ahead of him and snatched the folder up, flicking it open. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got here¡­¡±


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    It took only a moment before she let out a groan of dismay.


    ¡°Vital intelligence?¡± Bael asked. She handed the folder over and he flicked through. ¡°Ah. Quartermaster Chul¡¯s subscription to a fishing magazine. It appears we have several back issues that I believe she is waiting for.¡±


    ¡°Fishing magazines?¡± Gharia¡¯s tail flicked with anger.


    ¡°It¡¯s just an exercise.¡± Kaya chuckled. ¡°Did you think they were going to plant actual vital intelligence on this stinking rathole?¡±


    This was their objective. An illusory glow had surrounded the folder, and now it faded, yet Sylvas still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was something more here. He looked slowly around the chamber, trying to let his eidetic memory soak it all in, to let his mind piece together what was missing.


    It wasn¡¯t his eyes that were confusing him, but he closed them all the same, letting his gravity sense stretch out. ¡°There¡¯s another secret room.¡±


    They all turned to him. Kaya looking oddly giddy, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Beneath this study, there is a secondary chamber, a repository of some sort? There¡¯s an empty space with a vacuum inside to preserve the contents.¡± He held out his hands flat above the floor, as though he might be able to sense something more like that. ¡°I think it was welded shut, or sealed somehow?¡±


    The Ardent recruits looked to each other, Ironeyes shrugging his shoulders. Gharia casting annoyed glances down at the floor. Bael said, ¡°It is not a part of our mission to explore sealed sections of the Citadel.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t curious?¡±


    ¡°Curious? Perpetually my dear fellow. But there is a time and place for curiosity.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s sealed down there has been there since Strife fell. You don¡¯t know any cousins who might be interested in the contents?¡±


    ¡°You make a persuasive argument.¡±


    ¡°Might be skipping the part where one of you stanzbuhr works out how to open it.¡±


    ¡°Simple enough.¡± Bael crouched down extending his elegant fingers. ¡°I shall identify the enchantment and¡­ there¡¯s nothing here.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Ironeyes cocked his head to the side, like a dog.


    Bael looked perplexed too. ¡°There is no room beneath this one, I am scrying it, and there is nothing but solid metal below.¡±


    Sylvas closed his eyes, reached out with his gravity sense and¡­ ¡°I can feel the empty space.¡±


    Gharia¡¯s sneered, in as much as someone without lips could sneer. ¡°Guess we¡¯ve worked out why nobody else ever found it.¡±


    ¡°How can you sense it and nobody else can?¡± Ironeye¡¯s brows beetled.


    ¡°Well I imagine it is because nobody else has our dear friend¡¯s affinity and paradigm.¡± Bael looked at Sylvas curiously. ¡°The rarity of it means that whoever was hiding this¡­ whatever it is, failed to account for it in their masking.¡±


    ¡°None of which helps us open the damn thing.¡± Sylvas grumbled.


    Kaya sauntered over. ¡°I could always just¡­¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say,¡± Ironeyes growled. ¡°No property destruction?¡±


    Bael looked between the dwarves and sighed. ¡°Alas, I am inclined to agree with Kaya in this case. I believe that a direct application of force may be our best option.¡±


    Kaya clapped her hands together. ¡°I can do you one better!¡±


    They had all become accustomed to her new embodiment. The liquid metal that flowed out of her and took the shapes that she demanded, but what they didn¡¯t know was that her power wasn¡¯t limited to the conjured stuff. She laid her palms flat on the metal grating of the floor and it rippled at her touch. With a twist of her wrists, she had the whole grating off and flowing up and around her arms, then she dug in deeper, reaching down beneath the level of the floor into the metal beyond, gathering it all up and making it fluid before drawing it onto her body.


    As she punctured the vacuum seal of the chamber below, they were all rocked forward, and Kaya would have taken a nose dive directly in if it weren¡¯t for Ironeyes hand on the back of her belt restraining her. With one good tug, he removed her from the gap, along with all the metal flowing around her, that she discarded in a heap of slag in one corner of the room. ¡°Pretty cool, right?¡±


    Bael patted her on the shoulder absentmindedly, ¡°Most impressive.¡±


    The chamber beneath them was built much like every other part of the citadel, albeit to a smaller scale. The walls were lined with books that looked as good as new, and alongside them were a scattering of artifacts in sealed containers, every one of them radiating enough death mana that it made Sylvas uncomfortable just being this close to them.


    Seeing their hesitation, headstrong Gharia dropped herself in. ¡°Diaries. Spell books. Blueprints. Battle plans.¡± She glanced up, ¡°We¡¯ve got it all.¡±


    ¡°I believe that my cousin may actually lose all reason when presented with such a bounty.¡± Bael couldn¡¯t restrain his smile.


    Unbothered by the age of the tomes, Gharia began gathering them off the shelves and tossing them up. Bael dropped his fishing magazines in a frantic grab for the books. ¡°Those are rare and ancient!¡±


    Gharia mumbled something in Najashi that the translation spell struggled with, but which Sylvas suspected meant, ¡°As is your mother.¡±


    With the shelves plucked clear of books, Gharia turned to the artifacts. ¡°We taking them too?¡±


    Sylvas forced a smile onto his face. ¡°Let¡¯s just leave them for someone with the right containment equipment, right?¡±


    With a litheness that would have surprised many, Gharia leapt, rebounding off the chamber wall to gain height before arriving back in the hidden study. The books had been sorted into piles and bound by type by Bael, as if that made up for the way that they¡¯d been manhandled. And he was now slotting them carefully into his own bookbag. Presumably the kind of bag of holding that did not require opening up Cold Storage by yourself.


    Noticing what was being trodden on, Sylvas retrieved the all-important dossier of fishing magazines and passed it across to Bael to file away too.


    ¡°All right,¡± he said once the magazines vanished, seeing everyone¡¯s attention shift over to meet his. ¡°We need to plan our next move.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 44

    ¡°No matter how good you are. No matter how hard you train. Eventually you will hit the wall. This isn¡¯t through any fault of yours. Circumstances and ability very rarely align, and even less so in combat.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    ¡°Plan? What do you mean plan? There are two steps left.¡± Gharia countered before counting off the steps on her clawed hand. ¡°One: Find necromancer. Two: Kick ass.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more than just that. We need to get these historical documents out of harm¡¯s way. We need to get our secondary objective returned to the shuttle.¡± Sylvas didn¡¯t add that they needed them returned so that even if they all died in their attempt on the primary objective, they would still be able to salvage some degree of victory. ¡°And I think you should be the one to carry them.¡±


    ¡°Excuse you?¡± The najash levelled her glare at him. ¡°I¡¯m here to fight.¡±


    ¡°With your flight spell, you can get back to the shuttle faster than any of us and deliver the package.¡±


    ¡°Our shuttle got launched into space, remember?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s another Ardent shuttle in the bay we passed.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this? Is this because of the eggs?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t because of the eggs. That was funny.¡± Sylvas chuckled as he leaned in closer, then delivered the bad news, he knew she wouldn¡¯t want to hear. ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re out of mana.¡±


    She jerked back like she¡¯d been burned. ¡°I am not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Gharia, I know.¡± He cut her off.


    With a growl, she grabbed him by the front of his jacket. ¡°You didn¡¯t scry me, how could you know that¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can keep track.¡± Sylvas cut her off again with a sigh. ¡°Perfect memory, remember?¡±


    She glanced furtively around the others, as if looking for support, but they weren¡¯t going to give it to her. A mage without mana was like a fish without water. That was why her voice trembled when she whispered, ¡°I¡¯ve still got enough.¡±


    ¡°For a flight spell back to the shuttle, securing us both a victory, and a valuable archaeological find.¡± Sylvas tried to ease her into the idea, but she was resistant.


    ¡°I can fight.¡± If she had been a mammal species, Sylvas felt like there would have been tears in her eyes. As it was, both sets of her eyelids kept flickering. ¡°I¡¯m not useless.¡±


    ¡°Nobody is saying you can¡¯t. Nobody is saying you are.¡± He took a chance and pulled her into a hug. ¡°But the thing that you can do right now that would help us the most.¡±


    She rested her chin on his shoulder and grumbled. ¡°I really hate it when you¡¯re right and you know you¡¯re right, you know that? Your face, it gets all¡­ I hate it.¡±


    ¡°We all hate his stupid face.¡± Kaya piped up.


    ¡°Thank you, Kaya.¡± Sylvas¡¯ dry response made Gharia chuckle away whatever was left of her sorrows.


    ¡°Alright, back the way we came, fast as I can move.¡± She held out a hand, and somewhat reluctantly Bael passed over his book-bag.


    She looked around them for a moment, like she was memorizing their faces, then she took off.


    ¡°Good.¡± Sylvas took a long moment to be sure that she was out of earshot, then turned to everyone else. ¡°I have an idea, but I wanted to put it to the least reckless of us.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should have dispatched Kaya.¡± Bael replied at the same moment Kaya pointedly looked at Sylvas and said, ¡°but you¡¯re still here?¡±


    He shook his head at the pair and closed his eyes, feeling his senses spread out through the station, the map that they¡¯d constructed, overlayed with what he¡¯d managed to see on the soulstone nexus, and what information his gravity sense had gathered in the last spike. ¡°I have a route that will let us avoid whatever defenses have been raised and get a clean shot at the core.¡±


    The dwarves looked delighted at the prospect, but Bael remained more skeptical. ¡°That sounds far too good to be true.¡±


    ¡°Well, it will involve moving through a section of the citadel that isn¡¯t strictly¡­ right.¡±


    ¡°In what manner is it not right?¡± Bael¡¯s eyebrow arched.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t show on any of the maps.¡±


    Bael fixed him with a dull stare. ¡°Is it perhaps on the outside of the station? The very first thing that we were advised to¡­¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°It¡¯s still inside, but I think it is maybe a utility vent or¡­ I don¡¯t know. But I can feel it. We can access it through the chamber down there, and it runs the full length of the station, right to the core, as far as I can tell.


    ¡°And the catch?¡± Kaya asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think its strictly meant for people.¡±


    Bael pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°So it is unlikely to have lights, life support or any of the creature comforts to which we are accustomed?¡±


    ¡°Fine by me.¡± Ironeyes was quick to volunteer himself. ¡°Nice tunnel sounds just like home.¡±


    Kaya conceded the point with a nod to Ironeyes.


    That was two votes, but Sylvas didn¡¯t want to push the issue of Bael objected strongly enough. The elf wilted a little. ¡°I¡¯m going to get very dirty down there, won¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Almost definitely.¡± Sylvas grinned.


    It was short work for Kaya to remove one of the bookshelves where it covered the access panel, and from there, it took barely a few minutes for them all to slip down into the dark passageway. Whether it was the natural state of affairs or a result of Abbas¡¯ casting above, the tunnel was filled almost to Kaya¡¯s waist with run-off water, swirling where light shone through the grated roof above them with oil slicked across the top in a rainbow. It was stagnant, and down here without the air processers running the smell swiftly became unpleasant, but despite it all, it seemed that Bael could not be shut up. ¡°Those books are an incredible find. I only had a chance to scan through some of the diaries as I was organizing them by date, but they seemed to depict the final days of civilization upon strife. The choices made in a last ditch effort to hold back the Eidolons. Very moving stuff.¡±


    ¡°Sounds it.¡± Sylvas was paying more attention to extending his senses out ahead of them in the dark. It was all very well being able to move around blind back on Strife, but up here the water hid detritus that the shifting weights and volumes seemed to deliberately mask, so he was constantly stubbing his toes on invisible impediments.


    ¡°The Mournhold for instance, seems to have been the demesne of a certain archmage who determined that necromancy was a viable solution to the eidolon problem.¡± Bael¡¯s chatter was wearing on the dwarves, Sylvas could tell from their hunched shoulders, but there wasn¡¯t really a polite way to ask him to shut up. ¡°Better the fiend you know, or some such. This entire station was built to his specifications, built to operate using death affinity mana and powered by it.¡±


    That was actually quite interesting, and Sylvas had a follow up question, but he never got the opportunity to voice it, because a skeletal hand locked shut around his ankle and dragged him under. Stagnant water streamed up his nose, flooded his mouth. He couldn¡¯t cast because he couldn¡¯t speak and he couldn¡¯t fight because he had no traction. The skeleton latched onto his leg dragged him along the bottom of the tunnel, battering him against the jagged, rusted metal as he went, only stopping when he managed to catch hold of one eroded panel and let it dig into his flesh until it met bone. Before he could block the impulse, he cried out in pain, swallowing a lungful of the vile water. That made him cough, that made him take on more water. The skeleton was clawing its way slowly up his leg. The staff in his hand was little more than a hinderance in this total darkness with no up or down. Reaching out, he seized control of his orbitals and hammered them home into the skeleton, shattering skull and bones, splattering him with the pieces of mummified flesh still clinging to the remains. He surged up then, back to the surface just inches away, lungs on fire.


    Bursting out of the water, he caught the briefest glimpse of everyone else. The ambushing skeletons had less luck dragging Kaya and Ironeyes under, and now that she¡¯d armored herself she was moving sluggishly but relentlessly through the dead. Ironeyes couldn¡¯t bring his magic to bear without electrocuting all of them, but he¡¯d drawn a hammer from somewhere, and was laying into the skeletons with a passion.


    Bael was nowhere to be seen. Sylvas had brought him down here, into the filth and the darkness, without so much as an apology, and now the man was gone. He reached out with his gravity sense. He had to find him. Had to save him before he drowned. Sylvas himself was still choking up mouthfuls of water, even as he searched.


    Beneath the surface of the water, further back along the corridor, there was a concussion. A great blooping bubble rose up, and Sylvas took off running towards it, hoping that it was his friend and not some antique machinery throwing a fit.


    The elf rose from amidst the bubble, hair perfectly lacquered back by the stagnant water and uniform somehow looking even more fashionable. There was a skull with hair still clinging to its top in his hand, which he tossed aside almost absent mindedly.


    ¡°It seems that the undead defenders of the citadel are not entirely new.¡± He informed Sylvas as he approached. ¡°These ones appear to be remnants from the previous owners. I do wonder how many of those bodies being manipulated up above were also natives of Strife, left here to putrefy or¡­ mummify as the case may be.¡±


    ¡°We can write a very interesting paper about it when we get home.¡± He caught hold of Bael and started dragging him along. ¡°Can we go save the dwarves now?¡±


    ¡°If we must.¡± Bael answered with his usual dryness despite being literally drenched with water.


    Sylvas cast no spells in such close proximity to his friends. It would have been too dangerous. That was why it had mattered so much that when it came to fighting hand to hand, he was capable. His staff swung with such an impossible weight that reality warped and curved around it and tore through the skeletons with such force that they shattered to dust. His orbitals zipped through the air, deflecting clawed hands reaching for his friends, cracking off skulls and wrists and spines and keeping the enemy on the back heel. Without the element of surprise or any of the modifications that Malachai had made to the bodies in the upper levels, they actually made quick work of the skeletons. It was brutal close quarters hand to hand fighting, but it also wasn¡¯t nearly as dangerous as it had first seemed. Between the four of them, they made short work of the remaining skeletons.


    Sylvas waded forward from then on, sweeping his staff back and forth and taking the time to crush anything that felt too skeletal. The few that he missed, Kaya was more than happy to lay into with her own bladed arms.


    In barely any time compared to moving across the higher levels, carefully divided up for maximum defensibility, they arrived near where Sylvas had judged the core to be. There could be no doubt in his or anyone else¡¯s mind that the worldsoul shard hung above them, not when it was radiating death aspect mana so potently that they could almost hear their own death echoing in every heartbeat.


    The four of them gathered around. ¡°This is the primary objective, it is going to be the most heavily defended part of the station. There is no grand strategy here, we have no idea what we¡¯re going to be facing. If we need to split up and tackle separate targets, we will. If we need to fight together as one, we will.¡±


    ¡°Whatever comes, we¡¯ll be ready.¡± Ironeyes assured him.


    They took a step apart, then inhaled one last lungful of the putrid air. ¡°Kaya, take us up.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 45

    ¡°It is impossible for any worldsoul to bear an affinity, for the simple reason that a world cannot exist except as a holistic whole. To remove death from a world would be as destabilizing as to remove life. To remove fire, or air, or water or earth¡­ the universe is in a state of balance that cannot be disrupted if it is meant to persist, and some argue that this is why the interplanetary mana tidal network actually exists. To transfer those affinities that a world produces in excess and distribute them to worlds lacking in them. But when delving into the dark art of soul fragmentation, the truth could not be further from the natural state of things. When a worldsoul is fragmented, each piece begins to turn to corruption with immediacy. Mana of a certain affinity soon dominates, drowning out all others. It is for this reason, among others, that the fragmentation of a worldsoul cannot be used to manufacture a false facsimile to replace one that has been destroyed.¡±


    ¡ªCosmic Errata: Notes on Interplanetary Mana Tides, Theron Greenmantle


    They erupted from the deck of the core room, propelled up by a rising elevator made from the torn-out floor of the room below. There was only the briefest of moments to take everything in, then the chaos began.


    The worldsoul fragment hung in the center of the chamber, twice the height of a man, and just as wide. Once it had been a part of some grand sphere, but now only a piece of that outer curved surface remained along with a craggy mineral root heading off to the side. Death radiated from it. The surface of the stone, if it was a stone, was as deep a black as any Sylvas had ever seen but on those edges where light caught, he could make out the green reflection of life affinity mana. Surrounding it was a cobweb of walkways and gantries, ancient as the station itself by the looks of their arched design. Entry was meant to be from one of two doors connecting with those raised platforms, both at opposite ends of the circular chamber from one another, and at each of those doors, Malachai had laid out his soldiers.


    Each held two mages and one skeletal construct. However calling it a mere construct didn¡¯t really do it any justice. It was a towering conglomeration of bones. A hulking monstrous thing that must have contained a dozen corpses or more. Each of them had four limbs arrayed along the sides of its vast and empty ribcage, and each limb ended in a blade. As for legs, it seemed that fewer limbs had been the preference, with the traditional two being kept on, albeit thickened with clusters of added bones until they were as broad as tree trunks. Yet none of that concerned Sylvas so much as magic that was gathered inside those constructs. Not just Malachai¡¯s spell to raise the dead, but a maelstrom of captured magic from either an enemy or ally, ready to be unleashed.


    Malachai himself was at the center of the room. It gave him a commanding view of both doors, as well as placing him close enough to the worldsoul fragment that if he wanted to he could reach out and touch it. As it was, it didn¡¯t take second sight to know how much power he was drawing from the thing. It must have felt like all of the mana in the world was his, filtered down to just the flavor that he liked.


    ¡°The soul is the goal.¡± Ironeyes murmured, as if they needed reminding.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get it.¡± Kaya¡¯s face split into a grin for just an instant before a mask of cold steel covered it up.


    Sylvas had five spells being maintained by fragments, and he let the first one spring to life now. Flight. It cost practically nothing now that his body could shed all weight, but it still wasn¡¯t efficient enough for his needs. More often than not he was finding himself using it to slingshot himself to a new position where he could cast his next spell, maintaining it just wasn¡¯t practical in any fight that required casting.


    Which was why he had contingency plans in place.


    Shooting up, he meant to pass right by Malachai, hit him with a cheap shot and take him out if he could, disrupt whatever he was casting if he couldn¡¯t. There was no way that Malachai could have seen him rising up from beneath. No way that he could have been aware of the rising doom heading for him. Yet his head turned as Sylvas soared up all the same, and there could be no mistaking the smile on his face for anything friendly.


    ¡°Finally. You¡¯re here.¡±


    Sylvas cast Gravity Spike at him through his staff, the same lethal blow that had twisted up all of Vaelith¡¯s guts down on the surface. The air around it heaved and writhed with its passage, the metalwork that Malachai stood upon creaked and buckled at its draw, but the man just held up a hand in response.


    Where the spike hit the necromancer¡¯s shield it faltered and slowed. It still had its draw, its weight, all of Malachai¡¯s clothes swayed out towards it, but the man himself was unmoving. Where usually mana would have shone in the defensive construct of a shield there was only a whisp of white, a face screaming into the void. Sylvas had heard that necromancers dealt not only in the bodies of the dead but also their spirits, but he¡¯d taken it as more of the same superstition that surrounded anything to do with death affinity magic.


    He should have paid more attention to the superstitions.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Having switched out fragments to cast his spike, he now soared only on momentum and his own near-weightlessness, his flight spell abandoned. Spinning his staff in his hands, Sylvas took hold of the orbitals embedded in each end. He used them to steer him through the air, out of the path of the scything blade of green-black death that Malachai had launched after him. Where it hit the walkway behind, rust blossomed and age warped, the whole structure could be brought down with a few missed hits. Something that might come in handy later on.


    Kaya and the others were in motion. Ironeyes had set off up one set of stairs, already casting one of his more grandiose spells to bring down lightning from the heavens directly into the world-soul fragment. Bael was casting too, placing wards on each of them using what he¡¯d learned from the death mana trap that they¡¯d encountered earlier. As it took hold, Sylvas suddenly felt like he could breathe easier, as if the inevitability of death was weighing on him less. The presence of so much death mana in one place had been overwhelming his ability to block out the feelings it brought on without him even noticing. But Bael was not casting on his own. Kaya had a hold of him around the waist, and her other hand upon one of the metal support beams holding up the walkways and gantries around the world-soul. Just as metal flowed around wherever she touched, she now flowed up the metal in the same way, carrying her and Bael up into the belly of the beast.


    Malachai had not hesitated since he first laid eyes on Sylvas. His constructs had turned to come lumbering back towards the center of the chamber, the mages they stood alongside finally noticing that something was happening as they were abandoned. But the necromancer himself saw only one thing.


    The thing that he had been building back on Onslaught Citadel was not a staff or a sword as Sylvas had presumed, but a scythe. Bones were worked into the top of the blade, the mysterious texture he hadn¡¯t been able to identify back then with his gravity sense, and all around it death mana hung thick and heavy. With a sweep of it, he launched another of the same assaults on Sylvas as before, another wide edged blade of raw death mana soaring up towards him, losing its cohesion and shape as it got further from its caster until it became a great roiling wall of black across the whole of his vision.


    He gained weight, plummeting like a dropped stone to beneath the lethal band and flinching as its cold reached out to him, beckoning.


    Weightless again, Sylvas continued to fall, the momentum of his drop carrying him on down until he hit the same gantry that Malachai stood upon. The necromancer had looked excited before, but now he looked ecstatic. Presumably because he had his own little army charging at Sylvas from behind. Sylvas could sense them even if he couldn¡¯t see them, his own gravity spike still echoing out through the room and giving his senses clarity. He cast the third of his five spells. Inversion.


    Where before the lumbering construct and duo of mages had been charging at him freely, their feet now found no purchase on the metal mesh of the gantry, they drifted up, slowly at first, then faster, tumbling end over end as they rose towards the ceiling, the great bone construct, slow of mind and motion, flailed around as it tried to right itself, batting one of the mages right out of the Inversion and dropping her with a spine snapping crunch back onto one of the walkways. Some part of the magic contained in the other bone golem at the other end of the room died with her. Some part of its borrowed power lost. Sylvas could only hope it would help.


    The other mage seemed a little more canny than his fallen counterpart, he cast some spell Sylvas didn¡¯t know, lashing out a whip of shimmering silver to catch onto one of the walkways below before Sylvas could cut out the Inversion and send them all tumbling down again.


    At least the construct fell with almost the full weight and distance that the inversion could muster. It shattered on impact, all the many bodies that had made it up coming apart.


    Now it was Sylvas turn to grin, reveling for a moment in his success.


    Next, it was Ironeyes turn to call down the lightning. It struck from out of the nothingness above directly into the abraded root of the world-soul shard. The kind of destructive power that could have torn a hole right through the whole station if it had been out of control. Yet to everyone¡¯s dismay, there was no sign of any harm done. It wasn¡¯t like the trap earlier which could have eaten up any energy poured into it. The world-soul shard was simply too solid, too real, for the magic to have any effect.


    That was our hardest punch, Sylvas thought with a scowl, leaving him with no idea as to what they could do to the shard if that spell in particular hadn¡¯t even left so much as a scratch.


    Then he had no time for thought. Malachai had closed the distance and was whipping the scythe back and forth in a figure of eight, sending waves of lethal magic soaring at Sylvas that he scarcely had the time to dodge before the next arrived. He let one of his fragmented personalities assert itself and cast Gravity Shear. The shield rippled into effect between them just in time, sending the cross hatch of oncoming death mana lapping around it, dispersing out to strike about the room.


    ¡°Very good!¡± Malachai called out. ¡°But not nearly enough.¡±


    Throughout all of this, the necromancer had been feeding mana into his scythe, using it to cast attacks in Sylvas direction, but that had freed his mind up for the actual work of casting, and now he unleashed what he had been preparing. With one hand torn free of the scythe handle he thrust it out at Sylvas, and from it leapt a ghostly replica. The white mist had no substance, so it passed clean through his shield, plunging on until it reached him. The hand, so like the skeletal remains that had been grasping at him all day, plunged straight into his chest, its touch burning cold, and when it reached his heart, it squeezed into a fist.


    All the strength immediately left Sylvas, so much so that he toppled like a ragdoll, the quite literally life crushed out of him. A second later everything went dark and he felt himself fall into an endless nothing. He¡¯d died before, or come so close as to make no difference, but this time, this time it was entirely different.


    This was a plummet into absolute nothingness.


    All around him there was nothing but darkness. Nothing but silence. He was completely alone. Completely aware of the absence of his own body.


    This was real death.


    This was the end.


    That is until he felt a breath on his cheek, one that was accompanied by the feather-light press of lips atop his.


    ¡°Stop slacking Sylvas,¡± Mira whispered to him. ¡°You¡¯re not finished yet.¡±

 Volume 2: Chapter 46

    ¡°Hating yourself is part of being leader. So is being hated. Your job is not to be everyone¡¯s friend. Your job is to complete your mission at whatever cost has been deemed acceptable. More often than not, that means people will die. In dire circumstances, that might mean all of you, so long as victory is achieved. It¡¯s a cost that might have you rethinking your definition of victory after a few of those missions. It might have you rethinking your relationships with those around you too as you start seeing them through the lens of expendability. That is when you start hating yourself.¡±


    ¡ªSquad Tactics, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    ¡°Mira.¡±


    Sylvas gasped as his eyes opened. The world-soul shard looming vast above him, like a moon falling from orbit. Like a falling star. Everything hurt, everything ached, but he was alive.


    He had survived.


    Shunting all pain and thoughts of his visit to what came after life aside, Sylvas threw himself back up to sitting and took in what he¡¯d missed. The silver-whip armed mage had flung himself down to meet Ironeyes where the pair now traded blows, whip cracking against thunderous booms.


    Kaya and Bael had come up on the far side of Malachai, mounting the platform where they now all stood, she had her blades at the ready and the lumbering bone golem coming at her. Bael was frantically casting some sort of ritual magic, aiming up at the world-soul shard with whatever he hoped to get off before he could be stopped.


    And stopped he would be, Sylvas saw, for the two other Whitehall mages were coming for Bael and Kaya with all haste, both of them already in mid-cast.


    To Sylvas mind that left Ironeyes on his own against a single mage who had yet to show his affinity. He had bigger problems to manage if they had any hope to win the day.


    With Sylvas disabled, Malachai had turned his attention in the other direction, the simple slices of death he had been launching earlier apparently not suited to counter whatever Bael was weaving. Instead, he channeled a new form of magic, something huge, something on the verge of being unstoppable.


    The spell was gathered in his hands, green and black crackling around each other in a typhoon of whipping blades that looked so much like the awful curse they¡¯d dealt with earlier that it made Sylvas skin crawl.


    But by this point, Malachai wasn¡¯t the only one casting anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m not done with you yet!¡± Sylvas shouted out, hoping to distract the man, to make him fumble his spell, but instead he was shocked to be on the receiving end. Malachai turned, shock written on his features, but he didn¡¯t hesitate. He bowled the storm of chaotic death in his hands right at Sylvas.


    But even so, it didn¡¯t catch Sylvas unprepared, his staff leaping to his hand, pulling him up as he shed weight and lifting him over the oncoming orb, only to then slipping from his near lifeless fingers to drop him back where he¡¯d started.


    ¡°Congratulations are due, I suspect to your elf friend?¡± Malachai asked as he resorted to launching a quick sickle of death at Bael, who had to pause his spell and dive aside lest hit him. ¡°For the death ward, I mean. It saved you once but now it is spent.¡±


    Sylvas knew better than to answer that question directly, choosing to instead launch his barrage of orbitals at the man as he started to cast.


    Ripping through the air, each one of the little spheres glanced off a barrier in front of Malachai, an eerie image of a ghost bursting into focus for a split moment each time they struck. As they rebounded, Sylvas sent to strike again, and again, and again, but every time, no matter what angle he attacked from, the dead protected Malachai.


    It was a barrage that the necromancer didn¡¯t even need to raise a hand to defend against, the spell protecting him clearly attached onto some other source of mana, so that he didn¡¯t even have to spend effort maintaining it.


    The world-soul shard, of course. Sylvas realized as he wanted his attacks falter time and time again. Infinite death affinity mana, for whoever could use it.


    And Malachai knew exactly how to use it. How to use all of it.


    The man then finally launched his counter attack, a few more crisscrossing scythe blades of death that Sylvas had to duck under while continuing to cast. Yet even as he did, Sylvas saw that he was just a little too confident as he moved. A trite too smug about how easy it was for him avoid the spells. It was only a moment too late that Sylvas realized that they weren¡¯t even truly aimed at him. Not exactly.


    The junction where two of the scything death-spells met hit directly in the middle of his staff where it was hovering by his side. The metalwork of the shaft crumpled under the impact, and rust blossomed across its surface like a plague taking hold. The delicate enchantments that Sylvas had placed inside were warped and distorted. The two orbitals that he had embedded in it became numb to his touch.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    There was no chance of a direct attack on the necromancer now.


    But direct attacks were the forte of his friends, Sylvas had other tools at his disposal, such as he spell he¡¯d been casting. It was Inversion, yet again, but this time cast not on a tiny area to disrupt the enemies¡¯ movements but rather upon the whole chamber.


    The polarity of gravity shifted slowly at first, then snapped all at once, a slow drag as the wall behind Sylvas grew accustomed to being ¡®down¡¯, then an abrupt fall as they all began to plummet towards it.


    Flashing by him as the world tilted, Sylvas saw Bael catch hold of Kaya¡¯s coat-tails right as she jammed her metal spike arms through the metal mesh flooring of the gantry. Next he saw the debris and others images flash by him, moving too fast for him to do anything than acknowledge their momentum, let alone truly see what they were. That was because his attention had been fixed upon himself and Ironeyes, either of whom had anything to keep them from falling.


    But fortunately, each had their own plans and intentions to see the moment through.


    The mage fighting Ironeyes had been closing the distance with him slowly, lashing out with his whip, casting his spells, only to find a static discharge from the dwarf lashing out to intercept each blow. Ironeyes, meanwhile, had made his peace with fighting in close combat and readied his hammer. When gravity switched, the whip-mage fell towards Ironeyes before the dwarf lost his own footing and caught a heavy blow to the face from the hammer for his trouble. The dwarf then fell back towards the far wall, laughing all the way, with one fist still twisted in the other man¡¯s lapel as they in turn twisted and spun through the air.


    Spun in such a way that Ironeyes landed on top, an relatively easy thing to orchestrate when your opponent happened to have his face conveniently bludgeoned in with a hammer.


    It was enough that when the pair landed, the impact set the crest on the Whitehall mage¡¯s chest ablaze and encompassed him in a shield to absorb the force of impact. One that stretched out for both him and the dwarf by virtue of proximity.


    As for Sylvas, he had been planning to use his staff to navigate throughout the fall, but now that option was taken from him, he simply shed all of his weight. Gravity couldn¡¯t grab and drag him if he was weightless. The sudden drop in density would almost inevitably mean coming back to broken bones once he was the normal weight again, but for now, he floated while the others all fell. The bone golem rumbling end over end along the gantry. The enemy mages falling with all the grace you¡¯d expect from someone who¡¯d never faced gravity affinity magic before.


    The only one of their foes who did not seem taken aback by the sudden change in gravity was Malachai. The same grin still split his face, and as he fell towards Sylvas, he readied his scythe to be used as an actual weapon. Most likely to half Sylvas where he hung alone and exposed in the air above the platform.


    Sylvas reached out a hand and caught an orbital. The scythe slashed through the air where he¡¯d been just a moment before he was dragged aside. Malachai clicked his tongue as he fell pass. Like it was a mild annoyance to be bodily flung across the whole chamber.


    From the unforgiving steel of the bulkhead hands blossomed. Pale and white just like all the other shields and protections Malachai had at his disposal. They caught him and cradled him like a baby. Then, they tried to do the same for his three minions.


    The bone golem took its fall with some dignity, going stiff and tucking itself together so it didn¡¯t hit any of its team, or the railings. The mages on the other hand, were less smart about things. They screamed and flailed around as they tried to grab at anything that they could reach. One managed to jam an arm out through one of the barricades on the walkway and promptly broke it. The other just went end over end flailing uselessly until they finally smashed head first into the far wall. The bone golem, despite being ostensibly less intelligent by every metric, kept its cool and was rescued from smashing by the waiting hands of the ghosts.


    Letting the Inversion go, Sylvas dropped back down onto the walkway and steadied himself. He closed the distance with the one mage where she lay, broken armed and screaming on the gangway.


    She met his eyes and within the span of an instant she became Hotlips, her face melting, her bones blackening. The next, she was Mira, dissolving away into nothingness at the touch of the Eidolon he had summoned. Then she was his mother, racked with the plague and desperately clinging to his body as the life ebbed away from her.


    She was everyone he had ever let down, betrayed, disappointed.


    She was the noblewoman who took interest in some pathetic orphan and gave him a chance to become more. She was Vaelith beating him and beating him until his very mind broke. She was Gharia, the look of hurt in her eyes when he turned her down. She was Kaya, when he¡¯d done nothing to help her and she¡¯d spent all her mana and she collapsed and died on the deck of the Ardent ship.


    She is¡­ not real! Sylvas shouted in his mind as his paradigm slammed shut against all the lies that the mind mage was pouring into him. In a blink the senses that were being clouded suddenly cleared as the filter overlayed them. Her illusions, planted right into his head, wouldn¡¯t do anything now but waste the precious moments that she had left.


    All it took was a little extra weight channeled down into his leg as he kicked her in the temple, the white glow of the Crest rising up to envelop her at the same instant breaking bone sounded out. There was a time when an act like that would have turned his stomach. When the idea of putting a person down with such ruthlessness would have overwhelmed him with guilt. But now, it didn¡¯t so much as phase him, the act as normal as taking a breath.


    Maybe I am becoming what Vaelith wants me to be, Sylvas thought as his next move was to touch the thread of his bag, the one that connected to Cold Storage and bore the oppressive weight of what he had stored there.


    As he did, he saw that Ironeyes still lay where he had landed amidst the fallen mage and other bodies that had heaped themselves up against the distant wall. A place far too close to what he intended to do next. A decision had to be made again, between one of his team living and dying, a decision between victory and failure, a decision that nobody else could make for Sylvas.


    So he grit his teeth and made it.

 Volume 2: Chapter 47

    ¡°How do you kill a world? Is a world even a living thing that can be killed? In the abstract it would seem the answer is no. It is simply a sphere of solid matter in a vast expanse of emptiness. Yet there are worlds we know to be dead. And creatures that we know to be capable of killing them.¡±


    ¡ªThe Eidolon, Albrecht Magnus


    With a massive push of mana, Sylvas pulled the death-trap back out of Cold Storage and dropped it on Malachai.


    The orb of destruction burst out through the planar rift already lashing everywhere. Great flares of death mana erupted from it, swooping out in every direction, making decrepit everything that they touched. Rust bloomed, joints gave way, and the stairs up to the gantry from the side where Malachai and his surviving minions lay crumbled. Sylvas didn¡¯t look at what it was doing to Ironeyes. He couldn¡¯t stomach it. But he kept a close eye on how it would treat Malachai.


    His ghosts swarmed out to shield him, and rebuffed the first and second flares to reach out to him, but even as he scrambled back to his feet, Sylvas could see that they were weakening. The screaming faces that made up his haunted protection grew more and more contorted with each touch.


    The skeletal construct was suffering far more of the brunt of the death spell than the mage who¡¯d created it. Bleached white bones turned to yellow with each strike of it, while the magic that had empowered the construct now blazed brighter than ever before, pushed beyond the limits of what even a complex enchantment could hold.


    It pushed itself up, moving forward to put itself between its creator and the death that he¡¯d created, but Malachai stopped it with a raised hand. Over the roaring sound of the death-trap carving away at reality, Sylvas couldn¡¯t hear a word the necromancer was saying, but he could see him throwing back his head in laughter. Reaching up a hand, Malachai touched the black orb and just as swiftly as Sylvas had dumped it back out into reality, it vanished.


    Sudden silence washed over the room, all was still, except the necromancer¡¯s laughter. ¡°You tried to use it against me? I made it!¡±


    Yet against all odds, Sylvas saw a pale Ironeyes painfully rise to his feet, hidden from Malachai¡¯s sight by his own bone construct. He could get a clean shot at the man from behind, if Sylvas could just hold his attention. ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t seem right to go carrying around your magic to throw at someone else later. I thought I¡¯d better return it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m much obliged,¡± Malachai replied, his voice still giddy to the point where it was a little unsettling to hear. ¡°But you need not have bothered. I have enough power here that I¡¯ll never want for more. And I¡¯ve barely scratched the surface yet.¡±


    The way that he said that didn¡¯t make Sylvas think he was only talking about the source of mana. ¡°So you already know about the necromancer that built this place?¡±


    For a moment, Malachai looked oddly delighted, then his eyes misted over and his pallor went paler. It lasted only a moment before it passed. ¡°Know him? He is right here, right with me.¡±


    That explained everything to Sylvas. The ghost of a dead necromancer was still haunting the Citadel, and Malachai was using him. Something that Sylvas knew couldn¡¯t bode well for him.


    ¡°Anyway, as pleasant a challenge this was, I believe it is time we brought this to an end.¡± Malachai raised a hand, then thrust it forward. ¡°Try to die clean.¡±


    The bone golem was propelled up and across the chamber by ghostly hands, tossed at Sylvas like a child passing a ball. He had to leap back to avoid being crushed underfoot, and then the fight was on. Four blades spun and swept at him as he staggered back, throwing up orbitals when he could to deflect the blows, but mostly surviving on luck alone.


    Kaya and Bael were still somewhere, if he could backpedal far enough, they¡¯d be able to wade in, to help him turn the tide. He just needed time for them to find him.


    But right then, Ironeyes took his shot. A bolt of lightning discharging from between his weathered, ancient hands that burst so bright and loud that Sylvas thought that he¡¯d died again for a moment. Yet to his dismay, even the speed of lightning could not outpace the speed of the dead. It dispersed harmlessly like a storm across the surface of a fog, crackling and swirling around Malachai and his army of the dead, but never actually coming close.


    The only positive was that for one brief moment, Sylvas caught a glimpse of his second foe. Superimposed over Malachai¡¯s features in the thunder flash, he made out the ragged bearded countenance of the wizard who once was. The wraith of the dead necromancer, glowering back at him with hollow eye sockets.


    This was not going to be easy.


    The bone golem spun, sweeping all four blades at Sylvas in quick succession, adjusting up and down so that he had as much chance of dodging all four strikes as he did leaping through a whirlwind. So instead of trying to escape it, he pounced forwards, piling on as much weight as his body could bear. He hit the construct of bone like he was a wrecking ball, punching right through it and out the other side. The scattered fragments of ribs and vertebrae rained down around him as he landed. The impact of it bending the walkway in half before he could shed his weight once more.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I can make it again.¡± Malachai was beside him. He¡¯d teleported. With so much mana at his disposal, there was barely any difference between the types he needed to convert to make such a thing possible. The scythe was still in his hands, the wraith was still wrapped around him like a blanket. Just being this close was enough to make Sylvas heart stutter. It wasn¡¯t fear, it was just death. Being so close to death made his body falter. ¡°I thought you would be more impressive. Once I understood your affinity and your spells, there wasn¡¯t much more to the puzzle.¡±


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    Sylvas¡¯ body was cold and sluggish as it struggled to meet his demands. He was trying to move, trying to put some distance between them, but it was all happening too slowly. He fumbled at one hand with the other as his knees started to give out. In the distance, he could hear Kaya yelling. He could feel Bael casting some new ward to hold off death for a moment longer. Even Ironeyes, withered as he was from Sylvas¡¯s act, was down there somewhere, conjuring some fresh bolt of lightning, but the difference in power was just too great. The infinite resource of the world-soul made it impossible for anyone to beat Malachai. He could just drown them in raw power.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time that Sylvas had felt helpless, looking up at an opponent so much stronger than him. Even as the scythe was drawn back and began to swing. ¡°I had hoped you might be a challenge.¡±


    Sylvas reached up to him with a quaking hand and took hold. The fire mana drawn from his gauntlet already coiling into the shape he¡¯d made it, the words that he¡¯d heard Hammerheart speaking already on his lips. They meant many things in the aion tongue, but all of them shared one common thread.


    ¡°Burn!¡±


    Inside the shield of ghosts, there was nothing to save Malachai from the inferno Sylvas had just unleashed. His own hand burned with the heat, but he did not let go, even as flesh bubbled and bones blackened. The necromancer realized too late that he was under attack, he staggered back, trying to pull free of Sylvas grasp, only to drag his enemy along with him. Sylvas would not let him go, and from Sylvas hand spread flaming agony.


    In his attempts to break free he hit the barrier. In his attempts to pat himself out, he flipped over it, falling out of sight and ripping himself free of Sylvas grasp.


    But even so, it yet wasn¡¯t over.


    Sylvas rose to his feet now that the overbearing presence of death was no longer pushing him down. He looked at the ruined mess of his hand, his right hand, with which he¡¯d pulled down the Crimson King. The mana channels within it still glowed. Even the sigils carved into his blackened flesh could still be made out.


    Peering over the edge and down below, he saw that Malachai was smothering the flames with the chill touch of his ghosts, all while he readied a spell of such murderous power that it would wipe all of them away. Sylvas knew he could pause and cast a shield, hoping against hope that some clever solution might finally come to him, but even so he was doubtful that such a thing existed. With the shard of a world-soul fueling the necromancer, there was no way that they could stop him.


    So he had to do something different.


    But what? Sylvas asked himself as he looked up at that piece of world soul hanging over them like a malevolent god. It looked so solid, but it wasn¡¯t. To his second sight, it was blinding, so intense and full of mana that it made his own condensed core look like open air. But it was not a solid object, it was mana manifesting a solid form. He felt Kaya and Bael close onto him. Nearly close enough to stop him as sudden understanding bloomed within in his mind.


    He couldn¡¯t let them do that.


    Raising up his blackened right hand, he began to cast. Sylvas didn¡¯t need anyone to tell him how to break the soul of a world, he knew. Not because of what he¡¯d seen before when his home-world died. Not because of the things that he had read about world-souls since joining the Ardent. Not because of any rational reason. He simply realized how to do it. The primitive animal part of him that he¡¯d been crushing down before to hide from his grief and pain, the part of him that felt. It knew how to destroy. It knew the power he had at his fingertips.


    He could feel it echoing back as his power rose. That hidden secret thing that he¡¯d never been able to touch before. The piece of the puzzle of magic that he¡¯d never seen a word written about. Before, he¡¯d only touched it when he was near to death, but now he knew where it could be found, not beyond the outer horizon of desperation, but inside him, where his sorrow burned and his anger boiled.


    He cast Gravity Spike into the shard of the world soul with the last ounce mana he had in his core, and like so many carefully built things put under too much pressure, it shattered at his touch.


    The explosion knocked everyone else down. It knocked the gantries down, it ripped the walls of the chamber designed to contain the shard and left the whole station devoid of all power. But none of it hurt Sylvas. He had spent the very last drop of his mana, reaching up to kill that soul, and he should have died in turn. He should have slipped into blissful nothingness as he had when he overexerted himself before. Instead, all of the death mana that he¡¯d just unleashed plunged down into the emptiness he¡¯d made inside him.


    He hung in the air, suspended in the flux of pure power pouring into him. More than he¡¯d ever touched before, even when using the etherium that powered the summoning.


    It was wrong, twisted, mana that didn¡¯t fit him, and it hurt. Everywhere the death mana touched was burned. Everywhere it spread through his system shriveled up. All the way down to his core where it poured down into the very heart of his being. The crest on his chest exploded into tiny pieces, raining them down to join all the other destruction he had wrought. It was too much for even that sophisticated enchantment to counter.


    Gravity no longer existed on the Mournhold. Every system had died along with the shard, but with the tiny spark of mana left inside of his orbitals, Sylvas was able to pull himself down towards the only thing that would save him.


    Malachai.


    He lay still amongst the rubble, even as the debris began to float up around him. He was burned, and he was broken by the fall or the explosion, or the sudden severing from the source of his power. Sylvas laid a hand on his chest and felt no heartbeat. The crest he wore pulsed, keeping him from decaying, increasing the chances he might be salvaged. Sylvas could do better than that. His system could not hold death mana, couldn¡¯t use it. It was killing him. But here was a system in desperate need of it.


    Just as he had when he saved Kaya back on their first day in the Ardent together, he pushed the mana out of himself, and into Malachai. There was so much he didn¡¯t think that they would ever reach the end of it. By the time the transfer was done, they had drifted back up into the midst of the rubble and ruin, only held together by Sylvas feverish grip on the other man. The orbitals around them died, one by one. The tiny sparks of gravity mana being drawn back from them into Sylvas core, to keep him alive now that all that death was gone. The funny thing was, he knew he had suffered awful, terrible damage. But there was no pain. Death left no pain behind.


    But even without the pain, the exhaustion came, and the weakness and the fading too. He closed his eyes as the deeper dark encroached around the edges of his vision, and he fell at last into a dreamless sleep.

 Volume 2: Chapter 48

    ¡°Yet in the Eidolon we find nothing unique. It is a creature, arcane where others are biological. It requires sustenance, arcane where others require chemical. There is little to distinguish it from the product of any known planet¡¯s evolution. Barring one thing. The capability that all Eidolons share, and that all other creatures lack. The reason that they are feared and reviled above all else. Any mage can reign down destruction. Any mage can tear a planetary body into pieces and scatter them through the cosmos, but only one thing can truly end a world. For all the necrophobe¡¯s outcry about secondary apocalypse triggers, there has never been an overrun world that could not be cleansed and salvaged given time and resources. The eidolon is feared because it is capable of making that which is infinite, finite.¡±


    ¡ªThe Forever War: Eidolon Incursions and Defense, Fal¡¯Vaelith


    ¡°Wake up, stanzbuhr.¡± Kaya voice demanded sharply, its arrival accompanied by the pain of a hard slap across his face.


    A demand that against all of his fleeting expectations, actually worked as his mind began its journey back up and into wakefulness, leaving him coughing and spluttering. ¡°W-what¡­happened?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in the kragh is what happened.¡± She grumbled.


    He blinked a few times until his vision cleared. He felt oddly chilled despite the temperature in the room being pretty much standard. ¡°Why are we¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°You blew it up.¡± She squatted down so she was level with his face.


    ¡°I blew¡­¡± Memories began creeping back to him. ¡°The shard?¡±


    ¡°Aye, you blew it up!¡± Kaya really needed to bring her volume down, Sylvas felt like if she shouted again his eyes might pop out of his head.


    Taking a steadying breath, he let his paradigms begin playing back his memories, trying to work everything out. ¡°That was the mission?¡±


    ¡°Aye that was the mission they gave us, because they knew that nobody could ever blow it up.¡± She slugged him in the shoulder. ¡°Then you blew it up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand what¡­¡±


    Looming over him, she bellowed in his face. ¡°You blew up the thing nobody is meant to be able to blow up and now some bigwig in a uniform keeps coming down to see if you¡¯re awake and everyone else is back on shore leave while they wait for us to get out the infirmary, except we¡¯re not in the infirmary, we¡¯re in the brig. Because you blew up the thing that nobody is meant to be able to blow up!¡±


    ¡°Why are you yelling at me?!¡± He shouted back.


    ¡°Because you blew it up!¡± She screamed.


    ¡°But they told me to blow it up!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t blow it up! Nobody can blow it up.¡± She had dropped into a crouch over him now, had him by the front of his vest and was shaking him up and down. ¡°That¡¯s the whole point of a world soul!¡±


    Eye to eye, Sylvas could see that she wasn¡¯t angry, she was terrified. ¡°Then how did I blow it up?!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they want to know!¡± She screeched each word directly into Sylvas face, then gracefully dismounted him.


    ¡°Can you stop yelling?¡± He asked, after a moment¡¯s respite to get his thoughts back together. ¡°My head hurts.¡±


    She crept up very quietly then shouted in his ear. ¡°Of course your head hurts, because you blew everything up!¡±


    He covered his eyes, just to make sure they weren¡¯t actually bulging out. ¡°I¡¯m getting tired of this.¡±


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t.¡± She pried his hands off his eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t get to go back to beddy-bye land until general whatshisname comes stomping back in and you give him some answers. He¡¯s looking less and less impressed with me every time.¡±


    He started pushing himself up to a seated position, since there wasn¡¯t currently a medic yelling at him not to. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to¡­ wait, a general?¡±


    ¡°Commander Wartback, from the Ardent Tribunal.¡± Vaelith had come into the room beyond the barrier that was keeping them trapped in the brig at some point during the conversation. Sylvas hadn¡¯t even known she was on Onslaught. Though to be fair, he didn¡¯t even make the connection that he was on Onslaught until the moment he saw her.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to decide¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your punishment.¡± She said with her mouth drawn into a sour line.


    Kaya couldn¡¯t seem to help herself. ¡°Was that a plural ¡®your¡¯ before punishment, or is all that punishment just for our boy Sigil here?¡±


    ¡°That remains to be seen.¡± Vaelith gave no hint of amusement at Kaya¡¯s usual antics. It didn¡¯t bode well for how serious things had gotten.


    As if conjured by magic, the door to the brig opened at that very moment, and a procession of unexpected visitors arrived. Kalisdrothan arrived, looking harried, along with Bael, and a dwarf that Sylvas had to assume from all the medals was Commander Wartback.


    He scrambled to his feet and attempted a salute. Wartback looked from him to Vaelith then back. ¡°You teach him that?¡±


    Vaelith gave no sign of amusement, even now. ¡°No sir.¡±


    ¡°Just does that stuff on his own?¡± The dwarf chuckled. ¡°Funny little guy.¡±


    As the funny little guy in question, Sylvas felt like he should say something, but he was also vaguely aware that he was on trial and that anything he said might be used against him so he remained silent.


    Wartback drew himself up to his full height, which was about the same as Kaya¡¯s and walked over to the barrier. ¡°Alright kid. How did you do it?¡±


    ¡°Do what, sir?¡±


    ¡°The shard. You smashed it. Destroyed a piece of world soul. A very rare and unusual piece of world soul attuned to death mana. A necrotic core, as they say in the business. I want to know how.¡±


    ¡°I cast a Gravity Spike, sir. It increases gravity at the target location to¡ª¡±


    Wartback turned to the elves at his side. ¡°You got any papers on the interaction of gravity magic and world-souls?¡±


    Kalisdrothan startled, not expecting to be asked anything. ¡°Nothing that immediately springs to mind.¡±


    ¡°So the kid¡¯s story might be right on. Maybe gravity affinity is so rare, we¡¯ve never had anyone try this before. I doubt it. But maybe.¡± He turned back to Sylvas. ¡°But the thing is, rare as that gravity affinity is, stable world-soul fragments, they¡¯re rarer. Black market purchases from uncontacted planets or shattered relic worlds sort of rare. Practically priceless kind of rare.¡±


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    ¡°I apologize for any inconvenience I¡¯ve caused to the Ardent, sir. I was simply following the directives I was given to the best of my ability.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s face lowered into something between a pout and a scowl. ¡°Best of his ability, he says, it¡¯s like listening to somebody quoting the regulation book.¡±


    ¡°I believe that Recruit Vail has that particular book memorized, Commander.¡± Vaelith also looked as though she was trying not to laugh. Though in a very subtle manner that probably wouldn¡¯t have been recognizable to people who hadn¡¯t spent a great deal of time in her company.


    ¡°That right?¡± He snorted. ¡°You know I wrote it?¡±


    ¡°I do, sir.¡±


    ¡°And despite that, he still tried to salute me. We sure he isn¡¯t crazy, Vaelith?¡±


    Vaelith maintained a straight face at that question, even if her eyes drifted over towards Sylvas as she answered. ¡°No more than any of us, sir.¡±


    ¡°So half a step shy of unhinged then.¡± He flashed Sylvas a thin smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Well then, the rules are pretty straightforward here. Disciplinary action, demotion, wages garnished¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sylvas Vail completed the task that he was assigned, and you want to punish him for it?¡± Vaelith surprised them all by speaking up. Sylvas had assumed she was there to serve as his executioner if anything.


    ¡°He destroyed the Mournhold. The whole thing is out of action until we can find a necrotic core. You know how unlikely that might be?¡±


    Kalisdrothan leaned in to speak to the Commander of the Ardent. ¡°Perhaps considerably less, given that we now believe that the Ardent have an asset capable of damaging, and therefore, fragmenting a world soul.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± There was a note of surprise in the man¡¯s voice. ¡°What¡¯s your stake in this Kalis? This is just some kid who was assigned to watch you on the dig that never seems to happen. Why do you care if we shoot him into the sun?¡±


    ¡°The Institute considers Mr Vail to be a friend, Commander. Thanks to his considerable contributions in the field of archaeology.¡±


    Wartback looked at Sylvas again as if bracing himself to unleash something. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Really.¡± Kalis nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Thanks to the documentation he retrieved, we have fixed a location for our dig and expect to have a substantive answer to the Strife question within the year.¡±


    ¡°And thanks to him, the Whitehall student leading the defensive team is expected live too.¡± Vaelith added. ¡°Vail ensured that he suffered no backlash when his connection to the core was severed.¡±


    ¡°And that would have caused all too many problems on its own, wouldn¡¯t it have?¡± Wartback commented with a sigh as he closed his eyes for several seconds as if contemplating something. When he finally reopened them, they looked different to Sylvas as they fixated upon his. ¡°Alright. Alright. No punishment. No wages garnished. No shooting you in the sun. But you owe me a favor, kid. Unofficially. You got that?¡±


    Vaelith surprised them all again by stepping up to glower down at what was presumably her commanding officer. ¡°He owes you a favor for obeying orders to the letter and then being surprised that the intelligence we provided was incomplete?¡±


    Whatever formality still lingered in the air abruptly ended as the dwarf shifted to glance at the woman. ¡°Why you got to be like that Fal? I¡¯m going to get him to help crack a world-soul if he can do it. Replace what he broke. Maybe even help us better understand what he did in the first place. Is that too much to ask?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She answered immediately, but Sylvas piped up.


    ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to assist, sir.¡±


    Wartback stared at him for a moment before glancing back to Vaelith. ¡°Do you think we were ever that young?¡±


    She tapped her lip for a moment. ¡°I cannot remember ever seeing you without grey hair.¡±


    Grumbling incomprehensibly, Wartback cast a spell in the direction of the cell door, and the barrier dissipated. ¡°I think we¡¯ve done enough here. You¡¯re all released. Go drink or smile, or whatever it is kids do nowadays.¡±


    ¡°Do neither of those things,¡± Vaelith corrected as Wartback then turned to leave. ¡°You¡¯re shipping directly back to campus. Orders will be coming shortly.¡±


    She then gave the group, Sylvas in particular, the most approving nod any of them had ever seen from her, then set off after the dwarf who had resumed grumbling to himself.


    Relieved to escape whatever trouble that had been hanging over them, the group practically collapsed with relief all at once, the desire to simply fall to ground quickly being replaced by the desire to get out of the place. Yet before they could, they all realized that Kalisdrothan had remained with them for just a moment.


    ¡°I was not exaggerating when I said that your contributions to the work of the Institute are incredibly valuable.¡± He said without any preamble, his attention focused on Sylvas as he spoke. ¡°Thanks to the decisions you made we have primary source documents from a society that is extinct, and as I already said, decisions have been made regarding the exploration of Strife on the strength of the information provided within them. You have advanced my project by several years in a single bound, and I shall most assuredly not forget this.¡±


    He attempted to repeat the same sort of approving nod that Vaelith had shared, but he lacked the necessary gravity or reputation manage it without a bit of awkwardness. All the same however, it was all that the man wanted to say before turning to leave, giving the chance for all of them to escape their prison.


    Moving with purpose only shared by the recently incarcerated, Sylvas and his friends were back on the main deck of the station before they knew it. Along the way, Sylvas learned that his belongings had already been packed up to be shipped back down to Strife, so he had no opportunity to spend his time fixing up what Malachai had broken. So instead they passed the time by meandering their way up and through the scattered remnants of the recruits still drinking and eating on the top deck until they drew up short in front of an elvish caf¨¦.


    Finding none other than Malachai waiting inside.


    Eyes widening the moment he saw him, the man all but launched himself out of his seat and sprinted towards them quickly flinging himself bodily at Sylvas who had only a fraction of a second to realize that he was receiving a hug and not an attack.


    ¡°You were fantastic! Everything I dreamed of and more.¡± The man exclaimed as he attempted to crush Sylvas. ¡°Pulling out a fire spell when you have gravity affinity, beautiful! And nobody has ever¡­I mean nobody has ever, tried throwing my own trap back at me! It was¡­it was¡­fantastic! We will be discussing the events of Mournhold for some time to come. But I understand that we¡¯ll all be returning to the surface today, so it shall have to be through letters. But consider me a convert. Your most enthusiastic fan. I truly hope we can continue to learn from one another.¡±


    For a moment Sylvas was stunned by the tidal wave of emotion and excitement coming from the man, but when he finally had time to understand what he had said and Sylvas¡¯ own enthusiasm for magic asserted himself he couldn¡¯t stop from doing the same.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you thought of using the wraith as a shield!¡± He words practically fell out from his mouth. ¡°And then there was not only siphoning magic off the mages to empower the constructs so that they not only could use magic, but also switching which side the constructs were on to optimize your team¡¯s casting structure. It was brilliant!¡±


    Malachai laughed as he reached to clasped Sylvas¡¯ arm in delight, practically taking to air as his excitement reached even higher levels. ¡°I knew it! You too are true a lover of the arcane arts too!¡±


    ¡°Of course I am!¡± Sylvas was flabbergasted at the statement for second. ¡°Why else would I be a mage?!¡±


    ¡°Oh stars, you wouldn¡¯t believe the reasons people decide to¡­ no never mind that nonsense¡ªwe must talk about the battle,¡± Malachai continued as he mimed holding something. ¡°When you using the staff to pivot when switching gravity!¡±


    ¡°The ambush when we first arrived, with your concussive mage!¡± Sylvas shot back.


    Malachai¡¯s face split into an even wider smile and for the first time he seemed fully human. ¡°I really thought it might catch you out!¡±


    ¡°It was a close thing!¡± Sylvas laughed back.


    Bael and Kaya looked at each other and the elf sighed. ¡°Wonderful, now there are two of him.¡±


    The back and forth banter carried them all the way down to the shuttle bays, at which point Malachai looked utterly bereft. ¡°I shall write to you as soon as I land.¡±


    Sylvas grinned. ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    The two men stood smiling at each other for a moment, then Malachai¡¯s shoulders slumped a little. ¡°You know, it really is a shame that you declined my sister¡¯s proposal. You would have made quite an acceptable member of the family.¡±


    Sylvas blinked. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±


    ¡°Farewell to you all.¡± Malachai seemed to finally remember that the other two were present, just before he stepped back out into the corridor and they were left behind.


    Sylvas was still confused as they piled into the shuttle back to Strife and strapped in. ¡°His sister?¡±


    ¡°Ah, you mean you don¡¯t remember? She is the Marquess Dusont,¡± Bael replied, as if there was any possibility that Sylvas knew who that might be. ¡°She is the ruler of a rather pleasant star cluster. You had me write a very polite rejection of her marriage proposal about a month ago or thereabouts. A shame I suppose in hindsight seeing as how well you hit it off with her brother, who I suppose technically is still a prince.¡±


    Instantly Sylvas recalled a stack of papers that had been left in a drawer in his room back on campus, courtesy of the elf. A stack that Sylvas had never intended to prioritize in reading.


    ¡°His sister?¡± Sylvas simply repeated numbly, before catching onto the other piece of information that Bael had dropped. ¡°Wait, what do you mean he¡¯s a prince?¡±

 Volume 2: Epilogue

    Valtoris Blackstar was training. There were some who said such things were pointless, that his power was in his empire now, not in the strength of his flesh, or the reach of his magic. But they did not say that these things were pointless to their emperor¡¯s face. It was well known how much he reveled in his own personal progression, and how he encouraged it in others. There were some that said you could not rise in his court if you didn¡¯t first rise to at least the fifth circle. Though once again, they didn¡¯t say that in earshot of the emperor.


    Some days he fought with magic alone, some days with the weapons he had used to unite and forge his empire, but today he had his hands bare and empty. The same could not be said for his opponents. They were practically bristling with every bladed weapon that the universe had ever produced, and a few more that Valtoris suspected had been added to the mix for his entertainment by an overenthusiastic smith.


    Each one of these sparring partners had very clear instructions. They were to kill the emperor if they could, and if they could, he had sworn and signed a contract that would allow them to go free and unharmed afterwards. They had been drawn from among the violent criminals of the imperial prisons, those who thought themselves a match for the Blackstar could plead for his leniency, knowing that this was what it would look like.


    Amidst their number, he knew from his intelligence networks, there were four separate plants. Assassins who had been trained for this exact scenario and then dropped onto imperial worlds, where they would commit crimes, and oh so slowly make their way through the waiting lists to face him. He knew which four the assassins were, and he would pay them no extra attention until such time as he was fighting them. Even then, he probably wouldn¡¯t spend much extra attention on them. The sad truth was, the best trained assassins that his enemies could field were no more a danger to him than a cattle-thief from some farm-world he¡¯d conquered by accident.


    The running of an empire constituted a challenge. The conquest to make one, that was a challenge too. But this was mostly mummery and play acting at this point. To remind people that the lion still had claws even while it was in hibernation.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He stood ready, stripped down to his waist. Counting down the moments until the bell rang and the horde were released from the barrier that held them back. Yet the allotted moment arrived, and the barrier did not fall. He had few pleasures in life, and this was one of them. He did not like to see it interrupted. He turned to call out to one of his castellans only to discover that a black shrouded figure had made its way to stand by his side once more. Completely unseen and silent, even to his heightened senses. This would be an assassin worth fighting off.


    ¡°Forgive the interruption your¡­¡±


    He waved off the usual string of titles and praise. ¡°Forget the pleasantries. What do you have for me?¡±


    ¡°Two of the prophetic events have been completed in succession. We believe. A necromancer¡¯s defeat and¡­ evidence that is suggestive of¡­ other matters.¡±


    Blackstar followed her gaze to the prisoners behind the barrier and huffed with amusement. ¡°Speak plainly, the only ones liable to overhear will be dead before the day is out.¡±


    She still leaned in furtively to say. ¡°A worldsoul fragment, destroyed without an eidolon.¡±


    It was certainly suggestive that they¡¯d finally found the one that the prophecy referred to. But Valtoris Blackstar had not built an empire by leaving things to chance. ¡°We need to step up our plans for this one. Position¡­¡±


    She interrupted him, which was a novel experience for an emperor. ¡°We have inserted an agent into the social circle of the individual in question. More up to date feedback on the situation should be available to us from this point forward.¡±


    Despite her interruption, Blackstar was pleased. ¡°And this agent, they¡¯re in a position to push our target towards his destiny, if required?¡±


    ¡°We shall ensure that he has all of the assistance that he could possibly need.¡± The emperor opened his mouth, only for her to predict his next words. ¡°And all of the resistance, also.¡±


    ¡°Then by all means.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Proceed according to our designs.¡±


    Just as fast as she¡¯d arrived, she vanished from sight. Leaving the emperor with a smile on his face for what felt like the first time in years. He turned to face the prisoners, and they flinched away from the sight of their emperor pleased.


    Then the castellan finally did his job and turned off the barrier. Blackstar¡¯s smile grew ever wider as the assassins came for him, and their dismay only grew as he carefully placed one hand behind his back.

 Volume 2: Now Complete! Next Steps!

    Hi everyone!


    With today''s epilogue chapter being released, it now marks the official end of Volume 2 for free readers! I hope that you''ve all enjoyed the story so far! I truly appreciate all of your support in getting this far, I wouldn''t be able to do this all without you!


    As we are ending this volume I have two announcements and a request for you all.


    Starting off with the announcements:


    First off, Volume 2 will remain available for everyone''s reading pleasure until May 6th, after which it will be stubbed in preparation for Volume 2''s official release on Amazon and Audible. If you somehow ended up here before reading the story, then you now have a deadline to read it all for free before things go away.


    Second - I am currently working on getting Volume 3 finished and I expect that we will get back to posting soon. I''m currently in my third round of revisions, which I expect to be my last. Once this is finished (ideally this week), I''ll have a better idea as to when posting will resume - starting first with my Patreon</a> or My Website</a> with the advanced chapters and then trickling down to free chapters here (and everywhere else). If you want to be in the loop for Volume 3''s advanced chapters, please consider joining and/or subscribing on one of the sites to get the notice as soon as the chapters are released.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Now for the request:


    As I''m sure you all know, indie publishing is a ferocious thing, us authors are scrambling for every single possible scrap of visibly and kind words that we can get, and I am no exception to that rule. If you enjoyed reading Starbreaker and would like to ensure that the series continues beyond the three books I''ve written so far, then I would humbly ask you all for a positive review, rating, or shoutout on your social media of choice. Not only will this help attract new readers to the books and series, but it will also help me when it comes to extending this series with my publisher for another set of volumes.


    The best places to help in doing this would be on Starbreaker: Volume 1''s pages, which you can find on Amazon,</a> Audible</a>, or Goodreads.</a>


    And that''s all I''ve got! Thank you all again for your support with my story! I hope that you''ve everything so far, and are looking forward to what''s coming next!


    Catch you all soon!


    Luke