Chapter 393: Vertex A., The One Beloved by Aether (Patreon)

second of the day. Read the 392 before this one.

Enjoy!

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Upon arriving in Valaryth, Priam immediately recognized three familiar faces. Myuri, his administrator; Bertomne, the sand-singer; and Trap, a goblin obsessed with traps. All three visibly relaxed when their boss emerged behind the elven figure exuding such a heavy aura.

“Master!” cried the goblin, spinning around and bowing low before Priam.

“Trap? What the hell are you doing here?”

Her job was to make the land between the rampart and the dome a no-corrupted land.

“I felt a trap, so I came to investigate! It was in the portal, and so exquisitely vicious.” Her eyes sparkled with manic delight. “I couldn’t figure it out, so I crossed through to trigger it!”

Priam pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “You know you’d have died, right?”

“Even a child knows that goblin and kobold bloodlines grant some resistance to traps,” the clone interjected, scanning everything as though peering beyond its walls.

“I’m not from this universe.”

“An original excuse for ignorance.”

A dozen biting retorts lined up in Priam’s mind, but he swallowed them. “So, any goblin could survive a trap set by a former Tier 5? I call bullshit.”

“Your underling’s a hybrid who inherited the best traits of both species. Hence why she’s still breathing. Even you would’ve been shredded by the spatial storm generated by an unstable rift. I’d wager her racial Talent is quite the mutation.”

Priam forced a smile for Trap. “Next time you feel the presence of an unknown trap, warn me, alright?”

“Okay!” she chirped. Maybe because she was child-sized, Priam had trouble believing she would remember his order.

“Mmh. Did any of you see the intruder?”

All three shook their heads.

“Found him,” the clone murmured. “He’s far.”

“I can fly fast here.”

“Unnecessary.”

The elf turned toward the rift and conjured a ring of aether above his palm. The circle expanded to envelope the portal, blooming with constellations of micro-runes. A veil of utter blackness washed over the gate to Oasis. When it tore open, the scenery beyond had changed. In place of the chamber under Log-a-rhythm, Priam saw a coral barrier.

“Let’s hope this is just temporary,” he muttered. Thanks to the laws of Elysium, he wasn’t worried about being stranded here, but returning without the rift might be hard.

The clone offered no reply and stepped through. Priam followed.

The first thing he noticed was that they were underwater. A few meters above, the ocean surface was eerily calm, allowing sunlight to illuminate a chamber the size of a tennis court.

The second was that the coral had grown to form furniture, sculptures, and walls. Mineral fused with the animal to create colorful amenities. Chromatic tiles formed by the dazzling exoskeletons of countless polyps. At first glance, the décor was beautiful.

A few seconds after scanning his environment, Priam gulped. The floor beneath him was an intricate mosaic, depicting the mating dance of fantastical aquatic creatures. And every tile…

“They’re runes,” he whispered in Rhem, as the local tongue was capable of being spoken underwater. Then, gauging the surface area of the artwork, he added, “Millions of runes.”

“Not runes, fractal glyphs,” the elf corrected. “Each sigil is composed of smaller, identical sigils, which in turn are made of even smaller, identical sigils… in a replicating pattern.”

Priam was familiar with these fascinating mathematical objects. Fractals occurred naturally in snowflakes, Romanesco broccoli, and fern leaves.

The clone crouched and touched a tile. “I’m detecting sigils smaller than viruses. The recursion might go even further.”

Priam’s eyes widened. That was on the scale of computer transistors, ten to a hundred times larger than an atom. At such dimensions, classical physics began to fall apart. Covering an entire room this way surpassed the limits of human technology.

“I’m not sure Sumstresh—or any local, for that matter—has the power to create something like this,” he murmured, throat dry as he realized he was walking atop a ritual of unknowable magnitude.

“Even my original wouldn’t be able to craft something like this,” the elf confirmed. “It requires a very specific Concept, and a level of patience most minds can’t begin to fathom.”

Priam whistled in awe. “A remnant from before Valaryth’s fracture?”

The clone straightened. “The coral is less than a hundred years old.”

“Damn. Who the hell could’ve pulled this off?”

“Judging by the purity of the aether, and what I think I understand of the ritual’s intent... A Pioneer.”

“If only,” said a third voice.

Priam’s eyes went wide. Standing before him was an androgynous figure, part man, part elf, with snow-white skin and hair. The contrast with their long black coat, cloak, and nails was striking. The only hint of color were a single earring, a pair of glasses, golden embroidery on the hems of the coat, and lashes and brows shimmering with gold.

Their visual impact was nothing compared to the spiritual pressure they radiated. The being couldn’t have stood more than one meter seventy, yet Priam had never felt so small in his life. Glancing down, he understood his instincts hadn’t been mistaken. The newcomer’s shadow stretched across the floor, up the walls, and covered the ceiling. 

Through their bond, Priam felt Jasmine’s existential terror. His Shadow was frozen, like a panicked doe, mute with horror.

On another day, her fear might have filled him with rage. Today, even Priam’s primary sin was silent. As was the draconic bloodline he resonated with. His intelligence didn’t allow him to deny reality.

He was standing before a pure-blooded dragon.

[Elevated cortisol levels. Survival protocol initiated.]

[Heroic Identification]

For the first time in his life, Priam felt the skill hesitate. Then, permission was granted.

[Vertex A. - Tier ? - Monarch] - The One beloved by aether.

Lvl Up: [Heroic Identification] lvl 2PERC +1MEM +1CHAR +1

The phrase sent chills down Priam’s spine.

As if they had been waiting for their host’s impoliteness, the dragon returned the favor.

Lvl Up: [Ciphered Record] lvl 10, 11, 12, 13, 14MEM +30META (Affinity) +30META (Authority) +75

A single glance from the apex being had triggered a cascade of level-ups the likes of which Priam had never seen. It brought him no joy. Not for a moment did he believe the dragon had missed anything. With his secrets laid bare, Priam held his breath. If the creature decided to dissect him for his alien Talent, his journey would end here.

“Another one fleeing death. Your Patron is going all-in with their gifts.” The dragon raised one hand. “I grant your heart permission to beat.”

A pulse jolted the Champion, and he realized that his draconic heart had stopped beating the moment Vertex appeared.

As the representative of one of the three supreme races withdrew their gaze, Priam felt deflated. His most precious secrets hadn’t even been deemed worthy of interest. Even [He Who Eludes Death] had failed to impress. He was not the first Chosen to cross this dragon’s path.

“Our intrusion into your lair was the result of unfortunate coincidence,” said the Demiurge clone, his tone measured. “A modest token to apologize,” he added, removing his mask—a priceless artefact.

The dragon lifted a hand. “Unnecessary. If I hadn’t been expecting you, you would not be here. You seek the Fallen.”

“Indeed. He is a criminal of the Elven Empire, whom I have sworn to bring to the pillory. Literally.”

“He has committed crimes here as well. For attempting to steal one of my Terrors, his sentence is the study of his soul.”

Had he been able, Priam would have swallowed hard.

The dragon turned to him. “A duel to the death is something else. Ending their suffering is a kindness. A parent’s sin should not stain the child.”

For the first time in his life, Priam’s curiosity gave way to his survival instinct.

“His soul?” the elf asked.

“It skirts the line of the apocryphal. Only a Faith-based intervention keeps it from falling. A fascinating phenomenon.”

The clone’s face hardened at the mention of an apocryphal crime, and even more so at that of the Faith path.

“I see. When can I retrieve the Fallen?”

“Never. There is no karma between us.”

The Demiurge’s clone narrowed his eyes. “I act under my Queen’s direct orders.”

“This conversation will only continue if failure is more unbearable to you than death.”

The elf stayed silent for a few seconds before vanishing. Stunned, Priam found himself alone before an apex being.

“A Juggernaut… There shall be karma between us. Should you release the first five Terrors, I will give you the Fallen. Free the final two, and you’ll receive the World Key.”

Before Priam could say a word, the dragon dismissed him by closing their eyes. The portal surged forward and swallowed him whole.

From beginning to end, Priam hadn’t spoken a single word.

*

The ground beneath his palms was pale stone. Familiar. A hand gripped his shoulder, helping him to his feet. Free of the lair, his bloodline and his instinct began to awaken again. It took Priam a second to recognize the Demiurge.

“You left me—”

“Will you kill the fucker?”

“The dragon? Are you insane?!”

“The Fallen.”

“Oh.” Priam shook the elf’s hand off and frowned. “Yes. My second gate is built on… Nevermind. Anyway, I need that kill.”

“To avoid crippling your Story,” the Demiurge guessed. “When?”

Priam mentally mapped out the coming weeks. The tournament was nearing its end, which meant the Reunion was on the horizon. Before that, he had to get his affairs in order—that meant improving his race and progressing as far as possible in the Colosseum. Then would come his High Tribulation.

“Before Tier 1. Two months, max.”

The elf studied him for a long moment, then grunted. “If you fail, don’t even think of returning to the Empire.”

Priam ignored the threat. “Why not do it yourself? Just half an hour ago, you were going on about the huge gap between low and mid Tiers... and Valaryth caps out at Tier 1.”

“Valaryth doesn’t produce Tier 2 aether, but the lair was overflowing with it.” The Demiurge looked toward the portal leading back to the Oasis outpost. “They’re using their Mind Ennoblement and that ritual we saw to artificially raise the aether’s Tier.”

“To baptize their soul.”

“Maybe. I can’t pretend to understand a Pioneer’s mind.”

“Why do that?”

Not for a moment could Priam imagine that the dragon lacked the means to pass a High Tribulation in Elysium.

“Because it should be impossible. Just as it’s impossible for a dragon to refuse a Tier 5 artifact.” The Demiurge removed his mask and stared at it. “That alone should’ve awakened their greed. And if that were all... you saw what they looked like.”

“A blend of man, woman, and elf.”

The elf clicked his tongue in irritation. “A projection—you wouldn’t survive witnessing their true majesty. I’m talking about their gender.”

“Vertex looked androgynous.”

“Right? Well, maybe because dragons are so keen on reproduction, their gender is extremely polarized. There’s no mistaking a male for a female. Plus, they possess one of the strongest sex drives in the multiverse, but this one didn’t try to fuck us.”

“Yeah, they seem to defy the stereotype,” Priam observed.

The Demiurge burst out laughing. “Stereotype? We’re talking about bloodline-encoded traits. Haven’t you felt how your rage grows more feral each time you purify yours? How your arrogance gets increasingly difficult to rein in? Imagine a pure blood.” The elf slid the mask back into place. “Dragons are world calamities, but their sins make them predictable.”

“We can resist our impulses. If I listened to my rage, I’d still be trying to kill Léo.”

The Demiurge sneered. “When my students think sheer will can solve a bloodline problem, I sedate them chemically. None have stayed awake more than a minute. If you think dragons lack willpower, you’re an idiot.”

“Then what? Am I doomed to be a slave to my bloodline’s urges?”

“Not if you temper your body, your mind, and your soul with enough experience. You’ve got the luxury of easing into it. Pure blood doesn’t.” The Tier 5 glanced toward the portal to Valaryth. “I’ve never heard of a dragon taming their bloodline this early.”

The defensive posture, the uncertain voice… Perhaps a little late, Priam understood why the elf had not forced the issue with Vertex.

The Demiurge was afraid.

*

Seated before a toiletry mirror, Esmée was removing the opulent necklaces adorning her throat. She might have admired them more had they not been gifted the night before by her brother. According to him, an Empyrean princess could not appear impoverished before her future in-laws.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Rohan enter. The young Aelbe closed the door behind him and approached, stopping at the boundary of her personal space.

“You’re even lovelier without makeup,” he said.

The opinion of a man she didn’t like carried little weight, but Esmée plastered a polite smile to her face.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“A woman shouldn’t be so formal with her future husband. Assuming, of course, you still wish to become my wife.”

So that was it.

“Why would I have changed my mind?”

“Greed, perhaps. My father proclaimed our engagement publicly, before witnesses. The exodus to Proxima must go forward, or he’ll lose face. Your brother is already attempting to exploit the situation, demanding greater guarantees in exchange for your hand... but in the end, the decision rests with you. The Demiurge will ensure it.”

For once, Aydan couldn’t compel her through the geas.

“You grant me more agency than I believed I possessed.”

“I credit you with more intelligence than I have, but don’t insult mine.”

“Then rest assured. I understand it’s in my best interest to accept your proposal.”

“The heart has its reasons that reason knows not. I saw the way you looked at Priam.”

Esmée looked away. “The First was the first man to recognize my worth. For that, he has my gratitude. Nothing more.”

“If you say so.”

Silence stretched, until Rohan sighed. “My father sent me tonight to ensure this marriage would proceed.”

Esmée met his eyes and shivered as the Aelbe refused to meet hers. “You want to impregnate me.”

“What?” Rohan jolted. “No! I—no! I mean… one day, yes. But not tonight!”

Her pulse slowed a fraction. “Then what?”

“I… I thought we might get to know one another better. Perhaps over a drink,” he offered, pulling two bottles. Inside, a crimson liquid swirled like liquid rubies caught in a tempest. 

Esmée recognized the Snahert love-filter. A two part potion designed to force one being to fall in love with another, tipping the scales of affection and balance in a relationship. The hormonal equivalent of mind control. 

She looked into Rohan’s eyes and saw only earnest hope. He doesn’t know?

“With pleasure,” she said, walking over to fetch two glasses from a cabinet. With her back to the Aelbe, she hesitated, then inscribed two minute permutation runes at the bottom of each cup.

Having lived a life bound by a geas, Esmée had no intention of trading one master’s yoke for another.

*

Status: 

PHYSICAL:Strength 1 253Constitution 2 146 Agility 1 652 Vitality 2 105Perception 991 (+1) 

MENTAL:Vivacity (D) 666 Dexterity 983 Memory 1 208 (+56)Willpower 1 298Charisma 962 (+2) 

META:Meta-affinity (O) 1 443 (+38) Meta-focus 886  Meta-endurance 1 616 Meta-perception 861 Meta-chance 1 089Meta-authority 927 (+128)

Potential: 33 746 (+22) Tier 0

[Tribulation]: Five Tribulations pending.

Next thresholds: 12 attributes > 1 200 / 3 attributes > 1 800 / 1 attribute > 2 400

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Vertex - The One beloved by aether