It is understood by most mages that blood magic is the most destructive when inside the body. The elements will simply break the bodies' functions and the plagues of all kinds are either trivial to deal with or a greater threat to the creator. Blood can subvert the body and fit itself inside.
A blood mage using their own blood could take over a mage in every way that matters, which is why Taramo immediately activated all defenses on his brain. Since he was not a wisp he needed some physiological actions in order to access the mana within himself just like someone would need to do so to speak, eat, or even breathe. If it could get into his brain he would become a passenger in his own body.
But the blood wisp went in the opposite direction, down his throat and towards his heart. Taramo scrambled his defenses, and was only able to hold the thing back since it halted for a second. The remnants of his mana-flu had not been completely removed and the wisp had reacted to some scar tissue. Because of this he'd managed to get some defenses around his heart and the large scar right above it. He was protected in the same way someone would be if they were holding a lion back by the jaws.
If he sent any attack and the thing missed he would deal catastrophic damage to his own body, though in his microsecond of non-activity the blot remained right below his collar bone. It was siphoning his mana from the area though even something that small could do significantly more damage if it intended to.
Filaments that were too small to do anything emanated from the spot and Taramo firmly held onto the one that reached towards his heart. The chance that blood magic innovated was likely enough he would need to improvise. Instead he felt an emotion coming from the thing.
Curiosity.
Then he felt a gallon of memories empty themselves into him in a moment.
---
Drawing on the black brick walls with white and red chalk.
Helping his father, a broad shouldered and clean shaven man with immense muscles and a leather apron, carrying his massive forge hammer in both of his small hands.
Celebrating eight years of life and being helped to make his own hammer.
Playing with his friends and chasing a cat down an alleyway.
Getting lost.
Being found by something and smothered into unconsciousness.
Being drained into a pool and pandemonium for at least three forever's.
And now, being free inside a body with a task greater than life itself.
---
Taramo didn't know the situation outside his body. At best seconds had passed and the lion at his throat was paused, considering how to proceed. Taramo could end himself and deny the blood any more of his magic. If his revival chamber was fully functional he would have done so in an instant. As it was he couldn't afford to risk it so he took a greater risk.
"What is your task?" He projected at the droplet as it was pulling his mana away while deciding what to do. Defenses shot up around the wisp, then slowly lowered themselves.
"I need to help. Bad men hurt father and I need to help."
"Why attack me?"
"He promised to not hurt them. I need someone else's ... stuff. I can't use his. He wanted the plant's stuff but it was too strong."
"Are they close to him?"
"Yes! They make him work for them and don't give him anything. It's not fair!"
"I could share what you need."
"Why?"
"You could take it from me but it would hurt me and I would fight back. I could also share how to fight them better so you would win and make your father proud. Do you agree?"
"Tell me how to win first." The near pout that he felt in the communication was welcomed by Taramo. His understanding of the situation was accepted by the child so accepting his help was inevitable. The Priest and the Silver Chain would be unprepared for the false punch to be made with full force.
When the blot of blood left him Taramo forced Spot to miss it and once it reintegrated itself with the main mass it immediately zoomed off away from the still aggressive Ariwyn.
"Stand down." Taramo managed to croak out. Despite the only moments having passed his throat felt dry from the speech in his mind. His mind should catch up with his body soon and rectify it.
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Both his protectors were all over him, checking his potential injuries and licking his face respectively.
"It's all right."
"That thing took half your available mana! How could it be?"
"I gave it to them."
"Why?"
"My choices were limited. The fragment was forthright with its needs and willing to accept my mana peacefully if I showed them how to proceed in their task. I think the priest wanted to do a false flag with the blood magic and needed some of our mana signature to make it happen."
"And you let it!?"
"And I showed it how to do real damage as well. It wasn't the best option but I'd rather not die again if I can avoid it."
Ariwyn only didn't huff due to her current lack of lungs. She wanted to return to the safety of the village but Taramo insisted on meditating here to recover his mana. He'd sown the wind and hoped to minimize the collateral damage when he reaped the whirlwind.
---
"The power of logistics is unmeasurable." A high priest of Adras was addressing two dozen priest applicants. Sixth sons, orphans, those with little name that the priesthood would lose.
They were in a secondary room that was in a separate building from the main palace where Adras rested on his Throne of Permanence, but his ability to split his mind's working and delegate thoughts to inactive priests meant he could sometimes engage in a bit of idleness.
Among the applicants there were statistically two who could manage the work. It was as likely as not that either of them would decide to remain for the whole application process but those who are loyal and without many prospects are never turned away. Adras Priests can relatively easily match people up with jobs that they would enjoy and the communities would need.
Knowing what someone is good at, what the skills are good for, and where the skills are needed is something Adras does not advertise, but it helps all corners of the empire for a loyal subject to be given what they need.
And something else forced itself into his attention. A warning at the south end of the Empire. Had the dead dragons escaped the city? Anything else that would try to attack a priest would be trivial to deal with.
He piggybacked onto the Priest's senses to identify the problem. He was outside the temple that had been allocated to him those millennia ago and there were others in the fort. A caravan maybe? Those other people were definitely armed but anyone in the near lawless lands there would do so if they could.
Most of them were dead with a conspicuous lack of blood on the eviscerated corpses.
Directly in front of the priest was a massive blood wyrm. It hadn't pounced yet and any suggested movement like bunching muscles would be only a feint so when the flood of fire left the priest's fingers Adras was mildly surprised that the wyrm did not pounce.
It flinched away and cowered, eventually fleeing in terror. Some of it did get away when it blasted into different parts and finally attacked but the behavior was unusual.
A decade was a short time for the other powers to decide to involve themselves in war and a non-attack like that was most likely something to draw his attention away from the rest of the empire. That wyrm could have dealt with the priest and severed the connection from the area. Anyone truly attacking with such a strategy would have attempted such an approach.
Then Adras noticed the communication from the priest.
(There was an attack. They use blood magic. Permission to label and use emergency reserve?)
This priest was one of the older stock. Maybe he was getting rusty there with little problems to deal with. He'd give permission and do a brief overview of the at risk areas.
If there was no big problem he'd turn his attention back to the once metropolis of Tarnox.
Something didn't feel right there.
---
"What was it about him... "Taramo sat with his guards as attentive as brand new razorblades. Taramo was resting, meditating, to regather and process mana. Spot was laying in his lap like a tired dog, though his ears were betraying his trick. Ariwyn was halfway up the building keeping watch, maintaining a tight warding schema that watched all things bigger than a mote of dust as it pulled the mana towards Taramo. Both were loyal, trusting.
"That's it." The boy that was made into the blood wyrm trusted him. Some cynical part of Taramo thought that it was badly placed since his creator was an enemy, but that boy was made to be a tool. Telling him would only cause trouble and hurt him.
Thinking of the other Pitarav who lived with him most of them had been awed and fearful starting off. Probably a result of the 'gods' that interacted with people, Ariwyn herself wasn't the most caring sort of deity, and those he'd talked to about it, passing conversations, had insisted she was one of the most caring. Honesty was in those words.
Once the Silver Chain was dealt with he'd need to find something else to do with himself. Experimenting with magic alongside Niki and making sure that his body remained functional would take some effort, but were secondary. Maybe he should make a place where people wouldn't need to be distrustful. Where people wouldn't feel the need to cheat or to worry whether their actions would result in being smote off the surface of the world.
Feeling a massive pulse of mana from the fort and a warping in the system node leaving a message that he could perceive with no action on his own part.
System attacker: Having directly attacked a priest of the System the priest has license to retaliate in full. Now is the time to beg for forgiveness or pray justice is quick.
There was also some attachment that was supposed to restrict him and apparently cause unbearable pain but it did not apply to a dead person or a once dead person.
He stood, shook off the tiredness his meditation had brought. It was nearing night and he wouldn't sleep tonight unless he was dead.
