5.47 Separated (Patreon)

Difference: Minimal

After delivering the orders and gifts, Calm had to walk. Not far, just a quick stroll to the nearest teleportation hub. Logistics were, after all, too strained to facilitate a personal Time mage for every messenger—which he basically was. Soul mages at the peak of Conception were difficult to affect with subversive magic, but most were better used as Inquisitors or in similar duties. Being particularly bad at fighting or rooting out the dead, running missives was the role Calm served.

When he arrived at the building, he at least did not need to wait in line. Few could claim more importance than a messenger of House Blackburg, not to mention the other important people he had been helping. Calm would have not actually minded the wait, but he had to carry countless more letters and missives while always keeping at most two on him at a time to avoid turning into a too worthwhile of a target.

“Calm,” Avys’ voice suddenly sounded within his Soul, communicating from a far distance. That was strange, as it was off the recent strict schedule. He carefully listened. “What lies at the center of your heart?”

What a strange question. Still, it instantly sent his mind to spiral. Center of your heart, a curious phrase with exactly 128,097 definitions. That number made him frown. Too many, even for his labyrinth of self, and also too concrete to instantly know. Which was probably why it had been specifically pointed out. Rapidly, he began to untangle the mess to try and piece together what the real meaning had been.

At that moment, the platform activated. Nonsense amalgam definitions as well as those that sounded plausible flashed through the mage’s mind. The “anatomical organ which pumps blood” was likely not what he was looking for, neither was it at the “center” of itself. Nor was it likely the yearning-bleeding-always-broken-parabolic-wayseeker. Others were not even close, such as “Refrigeration’s folly”, which likely meant nothing even though it was among the possible meanings. Truly, why had he built such a needlessly complex maze?

The search had distracted him so much he had not even noticed he had arrived at the wrong place until the attack started. With supreme coordination, chains of earth bound his entire body, Life magic deadened and incapacitated his flesh, Essence directly disrupted his power, while Fate revoked even the very concept of escape. Even his chance to use any external contingencies was denied. More importantly, an entire squadron of Soul mages were suppressing him from projecting even the slightest Soul magic outward, including a Ravener.

Calm did not panic. Instead, most of him remained focused on the task issued by his Lady. Resistance was futile anyhow, and he had noticed the slight traces of Time magic cast by one of the undead, putting them all under significant local dilation. Likely to avoid a discrepancy from being noticed. This was not the kind of force sent to kill. It was sent to subvert without notice.

Why was one of the definitions a chain of all the subsequent numbers going from one to a thousand? It was the only numerical value among all of them, so perhaps that had some relevance. But no. He was rapidly going and discarding the meanings, having already gone through two-thirds. Outright bad luck that he had not stumbled into the “correct” definition by sheer chance.

Soon enough, the Ravener began to dig inside his head and Soul while all the other undead kept him suppressed and unable to so much as end his own life. Of course, the Domain embodying undead had likely expected that task to be easy. How good could the defenses of suppressed Conception mage possibly be? Which was why Calm did not try to protect himself directly.

Instead, he randomly swapped all the letters of the alphabet at random, dissolving most of his consciousness into a warbled mess of utter gibberish. For a mind that thought in “words” to a much greater degree than the average human, that was basically the equivalent of ego death. It didn’t even take any real effort, used as he was to similar maneuvers.

Of course, underneath all that, he had left a bit of himself safely intact. A solid steel needle in the mushy, chewed through haystack that could put everything back in place later. More importantly, it remained focused on resolving the dilemma of “what lies at the center of your heart”, even if at a much lower capacity. The undead would undoubtedly spend some time trying to salvage the situation before killing him and he only had a few thousand more to go through.

Pendulum-of-all-beginnings? No. A bundle of hungry tarantulas feeding on the flesh of a nameless golden tree that Calm actually imagined as more of a low bush was likely not it either. One by one, the definitions fell away, until the inevitable happened. The last one was isolated. “A will to overcome what I am”. It was… likewise wrong.

That put him in quite the troublesome situation. The Lich was shuffling through the mess of boundless meaninglessness quite skillfully, which meant Calm probably had seconds before his remnant was fished out. He looked for what else there could be, imagining the shape of what he had discarded and immediately, almost instinctually, noticed the trick.

It was the question. The very premise was completely wrong. It forced him to operate on a presumption that could only be noticed after vanquishing the hundred thousand incorrect reckonings. For they had served a purpose. That of a seal of such entrenched self deception that even his mastery was insufficient to uncover it independently. Truly, Calm had to admit, it was his finest work. A masterpiece. So profound, he did not remember making it. Could not. 

Was actively convinced he had not achieved it.

The Ravener flinched when the change happened, in that strange ways that undead did. Not the shake of a body, for few retained their mortal ticks for long, but that of a Soul. When something so consumed by rage and hatred it struggled to think was suddenly snapped awake from the torpor by something unexpected and dangerous.

Calm could not have that. So before the real threat could recover, Calm’s nonexistent heart sprung forth. There was nothing at its center, for it in itself was not real. An all encompassing DELUSION. The Ravener stepped into its undefining embrace and so did the other undead.

By the end of the hour, the Rot would know that their plan had succeeded. One of the confidants of Ezax Von Blackburg had been successfully subverted. Of course, what they had planted in him had to be incredibly subtle. Just a seed that would grow inside Calm for days before it could start to catch even a whisper of his thoughts. Years and decades before it could achieve something more decisive. 

Anything less subtle than that would be too easily spotted. But they used this particular method very sparingly, so nothing short of a High Inquisitor was likely to uncover that particular abnormality. An ace, worth using at such a critical juncture.

Their victim was thereafter teleported away through to platform towards their original destination. There would be a few milliseconds of discrepancy, but that little was unlikely to get noticed. Not for a routine journey through a desperately overfull hub. They would never again use the particular traitor who had facilitated it either, already scheming the attack that would remove them from the enemy’s potential interrogation pool. A coordinated strike on most teleportation hubs was strategically sound anyhow, this just gave it additional benefits.

“It is a delusion, my Lady,” Calm replied. Then the messenger went on with his duties. 

Some Magelord in the Duchy of Brown needed a letter delivered and had called upon him. During Wartime something so simple naturally required no additional compensation. It was only two hours later than he could finally meet Avys again for another missive of her own.

“I think I have done exactly what you wanted,” he confessed soon after entering her favored office. “Even though I am not sure how.”

“Perfect,” Avys smiled. “Isolate the ear, we will be feeding it plentifully quite soon. Now tell me, what else have you learned from your guests?”

“Much,” Calm nodded and started speaking. He did not have any idea whatsoever how he had defeated a dedicated Ravener in mind magic nor how he was so easily subverting the spell planted into him. It did not bother the man in the slightest.

Irwyn observed the man who led them through the portal. His attire was strange, composed of tightly fitting multicolored scales, though it was hard to even notice the seams. Almost like an armor, but with minimal bulk and still relatively thin materials that made it move more like a jumpsuit. 

One thing that warranted curiosity was that Irwyn could not tell at all what the clearly magical equipment did. The craftsmanship was so pristine that Irwyn could not feel anything over the noise of the man’s Domain. 

He did not have long to ponder such though, as he and Elizabeth were brought into a small conference room. Five other people were already seated in the plain-looking space. It was just chairs facing an empty spot at the front. Wordlessly, the Time mage teleported away again before they themselves could even pick their spots, not bothering with a portal for self-transport.

“How many more?” A woman lightly groaned from the side. 

Irwyn quickly took her in, as well as the rest of the room, and decided to momentarily ignore their attires. Each was distinct, but in a way he could not place. It probably meant none were from the Duchy of Black, but the color coding was not neat enough to pinpoint. Rather, he was taking measure of the fact that each and every one of them possessed a Domain.

Which meant, as per usual, that Irwyn and Elizabeth were the youngest in the room by decades. Their masks at least hid that fact. And two others looked not a day over twenty: The woman who had complained earlier—whose magic felt vaguely the way wet dirt smelled—and an apparent Life mage. Of the remaining three, one hid their face with a plain white mask, while the last two were huddled together and turned away from them. Irwyn and Elizabeth picked a seat each as everyone ignored the previous comment. 

Less than two minutes later, the Time mage returned with another person holding a Domain—a woman in a truly ostentatious cyan and red gown—then pointed her towards a chair for them to get seated down. He did not leave against, instead starting introductions without any further delay.

“You may call me by my callsign, Flea. It is the closest thing to a name I will be sharing. I have been tasked to distribute you among more experienced squads where you might, hopefully, not do more harm then good. I expect each of you to be either sheltered to uselessness, so new to your Domain you cannot even walk yet, or foolishly undertrained in combat. Know that we will not spend long enough to change my mind, so don’t bother trying. Realm girl, you first.”

“Excuse you!” she huffed again, which seemed a pattern. “The least you could afford us, who have been so rudely torn…”

That was as far as she got before a bubble of Time magic closed around her, leaving just a few centimeters of space above her skin. The casting of it had been fast. Faster than any other attack Irwyn had seen a Domain mage cast—or at least since he had become strong enough to tell the difference. He honestly wasn’t sure if he would have been able to react to it in time. His shield was also better suited for denying penetration rather than stopping a different spell from surrounding it.

Inside the bubble, the woman accelerated. With his exceptionally fast perception, Irwyn could tell that the Time there was moving extremely fast. To an almost ridiculous degree. Likely, the multiple was well over a thousand. He wasn’t sure how difficult that actually was to achieve with Domains, but the fact that the woman was visibly struggling to break out and clearly failing spoke volumes. In the meantime, Flea turned towards the huddled Duo.

“Fate, right? Wresting or Divination?”

“We Wrest,” one of them said, a woman’s voice, though they remained huddled.

“However, it is not meant for battle,” the second spoke, also a woman it seemed. “But we nudge weather for better harvest, help crafters tip the scales between adequate and great. This… this is not what we do.”

“So, blind optimism made you never prepare for battle,” Flea nodded. “I will assign you to whoever is free to provide a crash course. Squads 7 and 14 can fit a support like you.”

“We would… prefer to remain together,” the second woman reiterated.

“There is no point in having two Wresters in one squad. Any other skills to add?” To that, they had no answer, merely huddling closer. “Callsigns… Carrot and Chisel.” 

Irwyn did not quite frown behind the mask, but he wasn’t sure he would be willing to separate from Elizabeth. They had some overlap in their abilities, but their synergy was still excellent, not to speak of their mutual understanding. He shared a glance at Elizabeth who nodded. She would make a more coherent argument than him.

“Life boy next, what can you do?” their examiner asked.

“Cosmetic surgery,” the young seeming man announced. “Some of the best in the whole Federation! I believe I could provide emergency healing… to an extent. My understanding of the body is excellent and removing things comes easily, but I am untrained in fighting taint. Curses or even magical poisons could be too much.”

“Better than nothing. How fast can you fly?”

“Not… very.”

“Squad 3 is high mobility and could use a healer… but you won’t keep up. Squad 5 it is then. Artillery and holding the ground focused, they can use you as a contingency if anything slips through. Callsign…”

“Dazzle,” the man suggested.

“Sure.”

At that point, the bubble popped. The woman almost stumbled out of her seat when it happened, releasing a heavy breath of relief. How long had that been for her? Irwyn wondered. There were no apparent signs of starvation or anything such, but those would take a long while to appear on a Domain mage. It could have been days for all he knew. Nonetheless, the spell had vosibly shaken its target.

“You got your Domain before sixty, congratulations,” Flea turned to address her. “That doesn’t mean shit against Raveners who have been killing mages exactly like you for two to five centuries. Even Named die. You can return to your delusions of grandeur after the War. What. Can. You. Do?

“I… sculpt landscape,” she said, visibly fearful and mellowed out.

“What exactly does that mean?” Flea reiterated.

“With the right terrain, I can raise anything from a secluded hilly meadow with a pond, to carving faces into mountains. Imagination and precision are usually the biggest limiters.”

“If you can build from the earth, you can also make a sinkhole, right?”

“Yes… I could.”

“How far can you reach in a few seconds.”

“Tens of kilometers, if I keep the designs very simple. I have been doing such exercises for years.”

That actually earned a nod of approval. “Squad 2, specialized in mass culling. If you can just bury and crush anything that cannot fly it will reduce the strain on their real heavy hitters. Callsign...”

“Tomb,” she tried.

“These are very intentionally not descriptive of what you can do. Callsign Rude. You and Dazzle, step up.”

When they did, he cast separate portals for them, presumably sending them towards their new squads. The pair of Fate mages remained in the room as Flea continued his interrogation, finally turning towards Irwyn and Elizabeth.

“We are not splitting up,” she announced and stared Flea down. The veteran did not bother with a staring contest or an argument. He just summoned a new bubble around them both. Irwyn was ready.

The spell tried to close in around his barrier, which he had intentionally expanded outward. Since Firmamental boundary stopped the spell from passing inside, it instead had to stretch over a far wider area to catch them. That would weaken the spell greatly. 

Irwyn wasn’t sure exactly what laws of Time magic the spell was fighting against, but it was definitely in contest with Finity. That meant any increase in area made it far harder to maintain. Since the veteran was unlikely to commit all his power unto exhaustion on something like this, the spell had limited power which had to be spread thinner than intended.

As soon the time dilation started, Irwyn began pushing his barrier to expand. Since the edge of Flea’s own bubble was literally touching the boundary of Irwyn’s barrier, this caused an immediate clash. Irwyn wouldn’t call it easy to break out, but he just kept throwing his bottomless reserves of mana at the problem until overwhelming occurred.

During this time, Elizabeth had taken the opportunity to also show off, if more subtly. Without ever changing her sitting position, she had briefly Voidwalked right out of the barrier into a different seat, remained there for a few breaths—just to make sure everyone noticed—then strode right back in, making complete mockery of the spell’s containment.

“How much did that affect your mana reserves?”

“Negligibly,” Irwyn honestly replied. He hadn’t felt the strain of lacking magic since before Conception. Though perhaps shedding all restraints with a Domain would finally let him at least notice some kind of expenditure. Elizabeth in the meantime did not even bother answering.

“Do you at least have experience fighting together?” Flea asked with a nod.

“Extensive.” Irwyn nodded back.

“Hmmm, Void and… Starfire? Strange pairing, but it does cover each other’s weaknesses well. Focus?”

“Artillery and area shielding,” Irwyn said. 

“Both of which are notoriously mana intensive to the point doctrine trains those roles as entirely separate at all levels.”

“I have yet to meet anyone in the same stage who can match me in reserves,” Irwyn said. Which was true, even if dramatically understated. “I chose this for a good reason.”

“And you?”

“Mobility, Voidwalking, directly tearing individual targets apart.”

“Can you travel long distances through the Void? Guide groups?”

“I… have not received Guide training yet,” she admitted after a moment of hesitation, though it obviously pained her. “With high confidence, bringing up to ten people to City Black or Abonisle is feasible. Anything more is hard for me to estimate due to the lack of experience.”

“Scratch the wall next to me, your faster direct motion,” he instructed.

Elizabeth did not hesitate for even a split second, a black blur crossing the room almost instantly. It was done without Voidwalking or the carefulness needed to avoid attacks in real combat, but the speed was still genuinely impressive. A little line appeared in the wall, then the next moment Elizabeth was sitting next to Irwyn again. Anyone without a Domain would have likely seen nothing more than a small twitch.

“Makes one wonder why you two weren’t already fighting,” Flea frowned. “Fine. Squad 11 has lost their main offensive mage recently. I am willing to let you try and fill his role with the two of you. Call…”

“Mockingbird and Shrike,” Elizabeth interrupted. Pointing at Irwyn, then herself, probably based on the masks. 

“Works. Come,” Flea said. A portal was already prepared for them to step through by the time they stood up.