tMFUtM - b1c5 - A Five-Pointed Circle (Patreon)

AN: I have got to stop waking up so late.

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“No way, no how! I refuse to join your muddy party, you sun-addled fey! I never even asked to be brought here, and by stone, I’m not going to hold my silence and let you push me around any longer! You just seized me without asking, so stop making presumptions already. I’m no stone-forsaken child in need of your muck-scented guidance!”

Rugrim’s patience finally came to an end. He had always had a bit of a short fuse—it never took terribly much for him to discard paltry notions like politeness. Especially when it came to other people trying to dictate his muddy life, as though they were Tehmpp himself!

He had hoped the loamy fey would be chastised. He had expected the group to be annoyed.

The one thing he hadn’t anticipated was the reaction he got: the entire group gaped at him as if he had uttered inscrutable nonsense!

“Fascinating. In another few centuries it may evolve into an entirely separate language.” The scrawny alleged mage was the first to break the silence.

See, Rugrim was somewhat used to speaking to dwarves. He was well acquainted with his people’s shortcuts and pronunciations. Everyone else, in contrast, spoke in an awkwardly stiff way—completely understandable, but unusual.

He had never expected them to lack the personal context required to parse out what he actually said: “Nho way, nho ‘ow! Ah r’fuse ta joihn yer moody phartay, ye soon-addell’d fey! Ah ‘ver ‘ven ahsked tah be broot heah, ‘n bhai stoon, ahm noot gooin’ ta hald mah seelance ahn let yooh poosh me ‘roond ahny loongah! Yah jus’ seezeded me w’out asken, so ‘top maken presumpshuns ‘ready. Ah aheen’t no stoon-fersayken ‘hild en need oof yer mook-schent’d ghai-dunce!”

“Ah, if I may, I believe this is the exact scenario in which I am most helpful.” A high-pitched voice cut in. Against all expectations and sense, it didn’t come from any of the… colorful individuals. Instead, the little malformed metal skull around the short cloak-wearer seemed to be the origin of the voice—discernible only because sparks flew violently from its seams and gaps with every syllable it uttered. “The good entity is speaking your standard language, accented by a dialect that likely stemmed from a cultural seclusion with insufficient contact with outsiders to keep the language normative. I have an acceptable degree of confidence that the good entity has declined to join our party and states that Dawn brought him here against his will. It is likely that he is displeased by this.”

“Dawn.” The golem lowered its head into its oversized hands. “We have talked about this.”

“Right, sorry!” The tall fey woman slipped around Rugrim, before bowing—so close her hair tickled his nose when she sharply bent over. “I got carried away, and I apologize for my actions.”

Good.

“But!”

No, no buts!

“Translation metal that insists on being called a series of numbers I can never remember, tell him—” The fey woman was already back on her feet and back to her usual (profoundly excessive) volume.

“Ask the dwarf what their plans are and where they intend to go.” The golem cut her off, the first word projected at the same volume the fey favored.

Rugrim was perfectly capable of answering, but he was also… curious about the strange skull. He had never even read about any artifact quite like it.

“Very well. While I lack a sufficient sample to recreate the exact dialect, I will attempt to use other dialects that exist to fill in the gaps in my knowledge.” A… worrying volume of sparks sprayed all over the creature’s robes and the table. “Stopgap prepared. Yo to my D-Man! Gimme da D-L on the shizzle for your rizzle! Tali-ho!”

By the time the weird metal skull was done talking, every eye on the tavern had moved to it. In the aftermath, the cloaked figure that was wearing the skull started angrily(?) chittering and chirping, bonking the thing with tiny glove-covered fists.

“What do you mean ‘Never do that again’? My assistance was requested and I provided it. And, if I might be allowed to toot my own proverbial horn, I believe that I did so quite marvelously.” The sparking metal thing protested.

“…Right, not sure what I expected. I’m bound for the north; I’ve got some personal matters to attend to with one Tharamond.” Rugrim answered. Then—far more hesitantly—he amended the statement. “Though I suppose I should ask to borrow the ear of your mage for a bit before I depart.”

“The good dwarf said—” The skull began to speak up.

“I believe that we can communicate without your assistance, 7-06-3921.” The golem hurriedly interjected, before its attention settled on Rugrim. “The way is long and dangerous. You don’t have to join our party forever—no matter what Dawn says. However, I would honestly recommend joining with us, at least until we reach a major hub city in another nation. We’re also heading out of the southern territories.”

Ugh, just what he needed. Good sense.

Unfortunately, there was more than a bit of truth to the golem’s words. Sure, the recorded claims of the population density of horrendous sunbaked monsters had clearly been somewhat exaggerated, but he only needed to encounter one to have a very bad day. He was just a miner, after all!

“…And how much would that cost me?” His voice was stiff.

“Not a thing! We’re all friends heading the same way and we can think of this as a mutual tryout!” The fey woman just had to be the one to answer.

“Just consider us fellow travellers going the same way, if you prefer.” The golem corrected.

“Whatever! Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone! Everyone, this is my good friend…” Without even a hint of remorse, the woman flashed him an expectant look.

“…Rugrim Stonesplint.” He reluctantly answered.

“Rugrim. Hm. How would you feel about being… Copper? It’d fit the theme we have going! I’m Dawn by the way. Juuuust Dawn, no alarming family names here.” The last bit was provided in singsong, with an impish smirk on her face.

She then rushed over and put her arms around one of the golem’s massive arms.

“This is Tin. They look cold and intimidating, but they’re actually quite warm and great to snuggle up to on a cold night!” The fey—Dawn—had a terrible sense for relevant information to provide in introductions.

“This is Steel. They’re a completely ordinary gnome.” The woman moved to the tiny creature in the oversized garments, patting an expanse of cloth affectionately.

“Next up we have my good friend Origin, that I’m definitely not just meeting for the first time. I think I’ll call him… Brass.” She set a hand on his arm with a broad smile.

Yeah, there was no way Rugrim was going to stick around with those lunatics any longer than he had to.

<L2 Divide>

“I still can’t believe you never encountered a single monster after days of travel. That’s not just lucky, that’s… legendary!” At least Dawn believed him.

They had finished buying the essential supplies they needed and their other preparations. It was the morning after he had met the four weirdos, and they finally left the town at their backs as they set out on the road.

“I do not believe that ‘legendary’ is the proper name for very lucky. But it is surprising, sometimes it feels like we can barely take a step out of a settlement in this area without… Ah.” Tin paused, gazing forward.

A moment later, two massive creatures burst out of the soft soil just ahead and to the left of the road.

They were covered in segmented carapaces the color of the dirt that clung to them. There were no appendages, eyes, or even discernible mouths on them—but they were each larger than a good wagon!

The creatures charged Rugrim and the others with legitimately impressive speed.

Tin set down the massive bundle of their possessions that had been at its back, then met their charge. Despite being smaller than either of the worms, the golem’s oversized hands intercepted the frontmost part of each worm and forced them to a halt—after sliding back a few meters.

Tin, the group’s improbable (and impossible) leader. An unfeeling golem from a lost age.

“Take them down!” Tin directed the order.

Steel, the group’s “thief slash rogue slash tinker type” just sat down and watched the show with visible disappointment. Rugrim had been warned that the ‘gnome’ (which was absolutely not a gnome—gnomes weren’t covered in a dense coat of brown, black, and orange-yellow fur) had no interest in living beings, but that seemed excessive!

Dawn strode forward, drawing the thin sword at her hip.

“Leave it to me! Foul monsters, you will know my wrath! Your reign of terror against the good people of…” She seemed to deflate. “Yeah, sorry, I’ve got nothing. There was nothing beautiful about Zen City.”

Dawn, allegedly the most powerful of the group. She was an actual oathsworn—a class Rugrim had never even read about anyone taking. Sure, oathsworns were well-known; they made a solemn oath that became the foundation for their entire System. They received far more power than any other class archetype… at the cost of only being able to access it while directly upholding their oath. The rest of the time, they were weaker than anyone their level should be.

Rugrim took a quick glance back. The town’s guards—a mere stone’s throw away—were trying very hard to pretend they hadn’t noticed the group’s plight.

“Right. Origin, got a spell for this?” Tin moved on to the last member of the team, seemingly unperturbed.

“Of course. I might only have the one, but…” The man walked to the side in no hurry—as if his party member wasn’t wrestling two creatures that were each larger than the entire party combined—as he removed his spectacles.

“The power of magic, as you know, is reliant on the number of points in the conjured circle—that is the number of places the outermost sigil connects to the circle itself. Now, bear witness…”

The man seemed to melt away into a pool of shadows. Shadows that were, somehow, unbothered by the sun’s brilliance. Instead, they pooled and gathered. Then grew.

From where the mage had once stood, the shadows twisted and expanded, taking on a new form. The new entity was larger than most buildings Rugrim had ever seen. Its entire body was encased in a craggy, black carapace that shimmered like oil beneath the light. Four powerful legs bore its weight and braced themselves, as it raised an arm covered in pointy protrusions and spread its claw-like fingers.

“To the greatest advancement in magic that our world has ever seen!” Origin’s voice had changed with his form. No longer was it the reedy or masculine, instead a booming, powerful, and feminine voice echoed across area.

Electric pink light flared into existence between the demon’s fingers. As promised, a magic circle flared into existence, circle first, with the sigils filling themselves in rapidly. It was so bright that Rugrim’s eyes watered as he beheld…

The five-pointed circle.

“Magic Cannon.” The demon announced, followed by the brief incantation.

That was strange. Rugrim was no expert in magic, but he had read more than a few books. The library might have lacked for much guidance on magic, but some of the basics had been recorded. Magic Cannon was one of the most basic spells around.

…And every circle Rugrim could recall had eight points.

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[Improved Recall]: 15 -> 16

[Magic Proficiency, Basic]: 1 -> 4

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Just as Rugrim realized he should be disappointed in his fellow mage, the spell went off.

And the world became nothing more than a blinding flare of purple magical light—a vibrance so intense that it denied every other sense Rugrim possessed. There was no sound, the scent of the wind and the taste of the hateful pollen on his tongue vanished. But no, that wasn’t quite true.

He could feel an intense, horrific vibration—as though the world itself was trying its best to shake itself apart.