Aozaki Aoko [577-579] (Patreon)

Chapter 577: The Core Chamber

"Hm...? You seem a bit different today." Doric, who was enjoying breakfast in the dining hall, tilted her head as she spoke after seeing Aoko.

"Is that so?" Aoko twirled her hair around her finger and replied casually, "Maybe it's because I finally defeated that demi-lich and reached level 20?"

This was a lie. The real reason Doric sensed something different was because, as a druid with extremely high perception, she picked up on the legendary destiny now surrounding Aoko. But Aoko had no intention of revealing that to her companions just yet.

"Hah, even if that city lord's gone senile, he still dropped plenty of gold coins," Edgin added optimistically. "Both you and Holga got stronger from this fight."

"I leveled up quite a bit too," Simon nodded in agreement. "I feel like I'll be able to level up as a wizard soon. I've collected a lot of magical knowledge I haven't had a chance to study yet."

"Here, you can keep this book for now." Aoko handed Simon Iriolarthas's spellbook. "I've already copied the spells I need. There are some rare spells in here—it's worth reading."

"Thank you!" Simon eagerly took the book and immediately started flipping through it.

"Hey! Don't read that thing near me while I'm eating!" Holga, sitting beside Simon, protested. "There's a dead bug stuck to the cover. It's disgusting!"

"Sorry, Holga." Simon quickly closed the book and set it aside. "I just got too excited..."

"Nethereese arcanists always have the weirdest tastes," Doric commented, glancing at the twisted insect specimen on the book's cover. "They seem desperate to prove they're different from normal people."

"The Netherese Empire itself is a twisted regime," Aoko remarked acidly. "Compared to other countries, it's neither an empire nor normal."

"Why do you say that?" Edgin asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Because Netheril doesn't have an emperor or even a council in the usual sense," Aoko explained. "It's just a coalition of floating city-states ruled by powerful archmages. When crisis hits, there's no unified command. If you've read the book about the Karsus's Folly crisis, you'll understand."

"Sounds like some kind of patchwork abomination," Simon remarked.

"Calling it a patchwork monster is almost a compliment," Aoko replied. "Many archmages had the power to resolve the crisis, but they chose to sit back and watch. In the end, they let a fool mess everything up and blew the whole empire into a barren desert."

"Let's not start the day with heavy topics," Edgin said, gulping down his orange juice. "About our next plan—Aoko, did you figure out where the thing is?"

"Of course." Aoko nodded. "It's not hard to find. As the heart of this city, it's right beneath our feet."

"In the deepest basement beneath the central tower."

…

Once everything was ready, the newly empowered Aoko and her teammates resumed their exploration of Iriolarthas's tower.

This time, everyone except Aoko was much more relaxed, knowing the tower's master had already been defeated. The biggest threats were gone—at worst, they might run into summoned creatures or traps, but nothing on the scale of a legendary lich.

Aoko, outwardly at ease, actually had her guard raised higher than ever since coming to Faerûn. She would never underestimate a legendary destiny rival.

She kept her true purpose secret from her team because, in her experience with prophecy, the more people know about fate, the more unpredictable things become.

Maybe in the Nasuverse she could control her own destiny, but here, in Faerûn, she could not.

The party left the city lord's study via a teleportation passage and returned to the second floor of the central spire—the floor with the Stasis Chamber and the Triangular Library.

From the oval plaza, they returned to the north side where the elevator was. This time, they activated the elevator to the highest floor—the dome.

With the rhythmic sound of machinery, the elevator carried them to the dome.

This floor was similar in design to the second, centered on an oval hall—though smaller in area and taller in height.

The dome's ceiling was adorned with intricate metal crafts and reliefs, but years of cold winds had covered them with shining frost and icicles, obscuring their true appearance.

There was another vertical shaft at the center, also protected by a force field, but unlike the second floor, there were no animated wards here.

Perhaps Iriolarthas valued her study more, or maybe the animated wards here had simply run off—such things happened.

Aoko took out her Power Staff again, tapping the force field over the shaft and chanting: "Ostlorin."

The shield shattered on cue, and the teleportation gate within the shaft activated.

Like before, Aoko led the way into the portal, but this time she let everyone else enter right after her.

The scene before their eyes shifted rapidly as they passed through: from the cold dome hall to the warm underground core chamber.

Yes—warm.

Aoko flexed her hands in surprise. Being here gave her the same feeling as when she dove deep into the Weave during meditation, but now she was physically present in the material plane.

Chapter 578: Synchronizing the Mythallar

Aoko looked up. In the very center of the core chamber, a massive, fifty-foot-diameter glowing sphere floated atop ornate supports, radiating overwhelming arcane energy.

Four nested metal rings spun around it, channeling a portion of the energy into Ythryn's circuits.

According to Netherese texts, a standard large mythallar would be about 150 feet in diameter; this one was only 50.

But even a mini-mythallar held more power than mortals could imagine. If someone were to detonate it, the entire city of Ythryn would be destroyed in moments.

Aoko raised her Power Staff again, saying "Ostlorin" to dispel the last protective shield around the mythallar. Raw arcane energy washed over everyone.

Except for Aoko and Simon, the others felt intense pressure and discomfort. This was normal for non-arcane casters in the presence of a mythallar. Even Simon, descendant of Elminster, wasn't immune.

"Step back, everyone," Aoko instructed. "I need to synchronize with the mythallar so I can handle it. This will take a while. Guard the entrance and don't let anyone interrupt me."

"No problem!" Edgin replied. "I wouldn't go near that giant glass ball even if you asked me to."

With everyone in place, Aoko turned to face the Ythryn Mythallar. It had originally been synchronized to Iriolarthas, but after he lost his phylactery and became a demi-lich, that bond weakened. Now, with the Power Staff in Aoko's hands, she could easily sever the old connection.

Aoko raised the staff, aiming its crystal tip at the mythallar and chanting. A golden beam shot out and struck the sphere, slowing the spinning rings and decreasing the output.

A mournful wail echoed in Aoko's mind, but she ignored it—she never pitied defeated rivals.

Ythryn's mythallar could be synchronized to up to eight spellcasters, corresponding to the eight archmages of the eight spires.

Now, it was completely unattuned—ready for a new master.

Satisfied with its state, Aoko began the synchronization ritual.

…

Meanwhile, the recently revived Dzaan finally arrived inside Ythryn.

Dzaan, like a mouse in a granary, eagerly looted every magical artifact and book he could find. Though he met several magical guardians, his restored powers and undead minion allowed him to overcome them.

Previously, Dzaan seemed weak because he'd lost his spellbook and most of his abilities.

Now, with his spellbook and supplies regained, he was almost back to full power—not so easy to defeat anymore.

Dzaan roamed Ythryn's streets and alleys with glee. To him, the floating city ruins were a childhood dream come true, filled with hidden magical treasures.

This is my paradise, my divine realm, Dzaan thought.

But good times never last. Dzaan soon ran into someone unexpected.

He spotted two familiar figures—two of the three Brotherhood of the Arcane mages sent to hunt him down: Vellynne Harpell, the traitor from the Harpell family, now an old necromancer; and Avarice, a cruel and greedy tiefling evoker who was the newest member of the Brotherhood.

Dzaan hid in a nearby house and observed as the two searched the Hall of Weightless Wonders, planning his next move.

There were only two of them. For some reason, Dzaan didn't see Nass Lantomir, the third member. Had she been killed, or was she searching elsewhere?

Whatever the reason, this was a rare opportunity. If all three reunited, even a surprise attack would have little chance of success.

As a defector from the Arcane Brotherhood, Dzaan knew their skills well, and today he still had plenty of spell slots.

Dzaan and his undead minion versus Avarice and Vellynne—a fair fight, with the advantage on his side!

He crept toward the hall's entrance, peering inside with an Arcane Eye. The two mages were unaware of his presence.

Vellynne, being old, could be eliminated with a single sneak attack; Avarice would be kept busy by the undead.

With his plan set, Dzaan signaled his minion to attack and began casting. A Heart Grasp spell struck Vellynne in the back, dropping her to her knees, clutching her chest in pain.

The surprise also alerted Avarice, who blocked the undead's attack with her staff and immediately started casting at Dzaan.

"Dzaan, you traitor, you're alive?!" Avarice shouted in shock and fury, blasting the undead back with a Thunderwave and turning her spells on Dzaan—her combat reflexes sharp.

Vellynne was dead from the heart attack, but Avarice survived. Dzaan was forced into a direct duel.

Chapter 579: Descent

Now outnumbered, Avarice fought back while retreating, hoping to escape and regroup.

But Dzaan wasn't about to let that happen. He shattered her Flaming Sphere and, working with his undead, cornered her.

Just as Dzaan was about to deliver the finishing blow, he felt a chill down his spine. His strength ebbed, and nameless terror rose in his heart.

Struggling to command his undead and turn to see his attacker, Dzaan finally saw the face of his assailant—

It was Nass Lantomir, the third member of the Brotherhood team. But she was now a wraith, her body half-transparent.

Her arm phased through Dzaan's chest from the Ethereal Plane, clutching his heart and draining his life with a necrotic touch.

She was a ghost; the real Nass Lantomir had long since died.

"You're late!" Avarice, having dispatched the undead, spat bloody saliva on the ground. "Damn it, how is this guy still alive? Wasn't he burned at the stake?"

"S-Sorry," Nass replied in a hollow, timid voice. "I was searching another tower further away and hurried back when I saw you fighting..."

"Forget it." Avarice knew it wasn't Nass's fault. She stripped Vellynne's body of gear and spellbooks, stuffed them in her pack, and started planning their next move.

"Can she come back as a ghost?" Avarice asked, pointing at Vellynne's corpse. "There's probably more danger in this city—we can't handle it alone!"

"No, I can't sense her soul..." Nass shook her head. "Vellynne is truly dead."

"Damn it!" Avarice cursed, then took a deep breath and regained her composure. She had prepared herself for powerful enemies before entering Ythryn.

After all, it would be strange not to run into powerful foes in a perfectly preserved flying city from Netheril's era.

Now, with the team down to one and a half members, even the proud Avarice had to tread carefully. She resolved to be even more cautious in the upcoming loot runs.

…

Back in the core chamber—

Synchronizing with the Ythryn mythallar took considerable time. Aoko had been at it for hours, while her teammates entered standby mode, chatting and planning.

Simon even used magic to build a trench and set traps at the entrance, preparing for any possible enemy.

Everything seemed to be heading toward success. During synchronization, Aoko discovered a key fact: the mythallar could disperse the Everlasting Rime by adjusting the climate.

In Netherese times, there was a 10th-level spell called Mythanthar's World Weave, but after Mystra banned such magics, it became a lost art.

However, this mythallar could do something similar, though by different means.

The Everlasting Rime was actually a powerful spell maintained by Auril, the Frostmaiden, using her divine power. Unlike Mythanthar's spell, which permanently changed the climate, Auril's spell required ongoing divine energy.

Thus, if Aoko could synchronize with the mythallar and use its permanency-like magic, she could dispel Auril's spell and restore the climate.

Hearing this, her companions finally relaxed. They'd long sought a solution to the Rime, knowing Auril was responsible but unable to fight a god.

Before Aoko arrived, Edgin and the others had seen many human sacrifices across Ten-Towns—criminals or bandits offered to Auril to temporarily stave off the blizzards.

But Edgin knew such sacrifices couldn't last. Eventually, ordinary townsfolk would be chosen.

So when Aoko discovered a way to end the Rime, Edgin felt a huge weight lift from his heart—he no longer had to worry about his wife or daughter being chosen as sacrifices.

With hope in his heart, Edgin looked toward Aoko. Aoko stood with hands raised, chanting—her voice growing louder as the mythallar's glow brightened.

Synchronization was nearly complete!

Arcane power flowed gently into Aoko, but even so, she found controlling the mythallar far from easy.

After a period of intense focus, Aoko succeeded. With her will, the frost in the core chamber vanished and the temperature became pleasantly warm.

Just as everyone relaxed, disaster struck.

The temperature plummeted, frost spread rapidly through the chamber, and an indescribable oppressive force assaulted the minds and bodies of everyone in Aoko's party.

The holy symbol around Aoko's neck suddenly shone with golden light, dispelling the pressure on her—but not her companions. Edgin and the others were forced to their knees, gasping for breath.

A certain being had descended.