CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE
Purrsefone of the House of Sands had always been something of an outlier among his people. Where his many siblings took after the house patriarch in almost every respect—drawing power from the aspects of cosmic dust and dream—for reasons he could not begin to understand, his god mother, the all powerful system herself, had blessed him with the deeds of, not the Sandman, lord patriarch of the House of Sands, but one of the eldest forebears in existence.
The Void Father himself.
Where his siblings’ regalia—every member of the family’s main branch in possession of at leastthe title of Lord—leaned more towards a mix of dream and sand, his Regalia, the Bell of Silent Suffering, touched heavily upon the aspects of anguish and isolation. The obvious similarities to the fabled aspects of the Void Father apparent in his appearance—the far stronger deeds of the Void Father practically overpowering the mundane genetics of his dam and sire.
And while they all took some inspiration from Purrenthkesk’s perfected form, Purrsefone resembled their ancient depictions of him the most out of all his siblings. The passing millennia having diluted the influence of the Void Father’s deeds considerably.
Thus raised in the lap of luxury, due to his high peerage and his resemblance to the forebear, he’d always thought himself blessed by the Void Father himself. It was only after receiving his actual blessing, that he realized his previous delusions couldn’t have been farther from the truth. By all accounts his birth had been a fluke, but this blessing was the real deal.
?[Penumbral PlainsWalk (Rare)]?
Outside of the shadow realm, it acted primarily as a better version of shadow step. Allowing him to merge with, and then traverse through pools of shadow. Inside the shadow realm however, it effectively allowed him to traverse the deadly realm uncontested. For so long as he had the mana to charge the skill, that was. And, considering the shadow realm was effectively just one big shadow, with a single cast, he could basically travel safely through the shadow realm indefinitely.
?[Penumbral Legion (Epic)]?
Penumbral legion allowed for the user to summon a number of penumbral wraiths, at the cost of up to eighty percent of the user’s attribute points. Now, of course, this wasn’t a permanent thing. The user always had the option to un-summon the legion and regain their attributes. While they weresummoned, however, they effectively split the pool of lost attributes between themselves.
Now normally, these wraiths would be rather generic—faceless, mindless puppets which the user would then need to manually control. However, when used in conjunction with the second and last of his regalia’s named abilities, Imprint of Torment, he was able to partially circumvent that restriction. In essence, it allowed him to take a portion of the battle experience from those he’d tortured to death, and imprint it onto his shadow wraiths. Greatly boosting their autonomy, and fleshing out their individual assortment of weapons.
Ultimately freeing up his mind to take in the battlefield as a whole, and operate accordingly.
?[Penumbral Reflection (Ancient)]?
Penumbral reflection allowed entry into the shadow realm proper. It even allowed him to bring others along with him, although, for whatever infuriating reason, they had to be willing participants, or else it wouldn’t work. Thankfully, his penumbral wraiths, being an extension of his class, were the one exception.
All of that taken together, and it painted a fairly clear picture as to what style of combat his Penumbral Conductor class was inherently geared towards. In honor of his great progenitor, Purrsefone had tried his best to remain as faithful to the spirit of the class as possible. What effectively amounted to quite literally orchestrating events from the shadows.
And yet, despite his feelings, he found the sorry sight before him far too gratifying to ignore. He simply had to spectate it in person. The panorama of inky silhouettes, like life-sized paper cutouts—what denizens of the natural realm typically appeared as inside the shadow realm—nowhere near as enjoyable as it should’ve been. Least of all because neither the taste of sorrow, nor despair, could bridge the gap between realms.
Purrsefone watched the kneeling silhouette’s shoulders shudder with quiet sobs. Head bowed, Purrsefone couldn’t exactly make out his expression. His wraiths, meanwhile, loomed over his diminutive form, blocking all avenues of escape. Even as shadowy brambles affixed him in place, the sharpened blade of a long hatchet poised above his bared nape.
Thus secure in his own immunity to any of the boys tricks, worse came to worse he’d simply kill him and be done, Purrsefone summoned up the nebulous sense of his Penumbral Reflection skill, and prepared to slip back into the natural realm.
Who knew? Perhaps by the end of the day he’d have a new wraith to add to his collection. It was the least the brat could do to compensate him for the ones he’d irreparably destroyed.
As he surfaced from dreary monochrome to full color, almost immediately he could tell that something was off. He didn’t need to be able to taste the flare of triumph to realize it either. Instead of being wracked with sobs, as he’d assumed, by all accounts the boy appeared to be… was he…!? No it couldn’t be… was he holding back laughter?!
Instinctually, Purrsefone reached for his Penumbral Reflection, and yet, somehow, the boy was faster. Skin flushed a bright, cherry red, his head snapped up so abruptly, Purrsefone’s lowered attributes barely registered it. Between his teeth he held a forbidding looking scroll the color of pitch. The waves of wrongness radiating out from the thing, so palpable, it left a visible heat haze in the air. The creature’s eyes widened with sudden comprehension.
That was-!
Before he could do anything to save himself, the heretic child had already chomped down onto the blighted scroll, releasing a pressurized surge of unholy mana to wash over everything in their near vicinity—Purrsefone very much included.
The vile sludge slapping onto surfaces and sticking fast, like the black tar it so resembled. Whereupon it then began to explore. To delve. To burrow. Slipping past fur, seeping through pours, and outright ignoring the innate defenses higher purity mana usually afforded him. Mana, at least of his core grade and purity, little use against the malignant energy whose only imperative was to consume other mana.
Only really successful in slowing it down slightly, as, the higher the purity, typically, the longer it took to digest.
Body recoiling in horrified agony, Purrsefone still possessed enough presence of mind to un-summon the majority of his wraith avatars. With their bodies made primarily of shadow aspected mana, they’d, quite literally, been being eaten alive. The black gunk that’d coated their forms promptly slapped to the ground. Where it then began to squirm, sickeningly, in the child’s direction. More and more of the fallen gunk doing much the same, before being picked up by invisible hands, and shuttled through the air towards his outstretched fingers.
Entering through his palms and then vanishing completely, as if it’d never been.
The hatchet wielding puppet remained. And, in the absence of it’s siblings, all of it’s attributes suddenly skyrocketed. The boost prolonging the time it had left just enough to carry out the very last of Purrsefone’s commands.
Fixing the boy with one last look of spite and outrage, the creature gave the order. From bare inches away, the massive hatchet blade fell. High above them, an unheard voice screamed.
+++
His master casually bent down and retrieved a flat stone from the several hundred lining the deserted plateau. His voice carrying far within the incredibly massive underground space. And yet, despite that, his words remained just barely audible over the roar of the rushing river far below.
“Alright! Let’s just say, for the sake of illustration, you became an all powerful primordial deity for a day. Capable of bending the very fabric of reality to suit your every whim.”
“I can definitely think of worse ways to wake up,” Richard broke in.
“And, in this hypothetical scenario, you randomly decide that the grand universal tapestry and all its unspoken bylaws—its many heavens, hells, aspects and the like—is, instead, nothing more than a tranquil pond.”
“Aaand you lost me. I mean, maybe as my hundred and first decree for a quick laugh, but, jumping straight to actualizing obscure similes from the get-go? Personally, I just don’t see it. Actually, you know what? I’d probably grow a beard first, if anything. Always thought I’d look good with a beard. All I ever managed was a patchy goatee that was always too ‘Milwaukee serial killer-esque’ for my tastes. I hate to be a critic, but it’s just, make it make sense you know?”
“Your full beard is flowing, long, and majestic. You’ve just ticked off the last item on your extensive list. And you are currently in a near comatose state of omnipotent ennui.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Huh. Yeah that’d do it alright.”
“Right then! Now that all the particulars have been seen to, in this fictional scenario, the second primary energy type, mana, would exist as nothing more or less than the pond’s reflection. Chuck a stone into the pond-”
By way of demonstration, his master chucked the flat stone down the steep gorge into the frothing whitewater rapids of the dragon vein far far below. Whereupon it promptly disappeared without a trace well before it reached the churning river of energy.
“-or, in other words, enact a physical change to the natural world—be it large or small—and the ripples which spread out as a result will, naturally, be felt in the reflection as well.”
“Except, that isn’t exactly true, is it?” Richard butt in. “Mana is more than capable of affecting the natural world if you know how.”
“That’s precisely the point, my mouthy disciple. Now quit your interrupting, or I toss you down the gorge.”
Richard shut up. His teacher nodded appreciably.
“It’s the ability to alter the pond’s reflection, without actively touching the pond itself, which distinguishes a novice as being on the path to mana mastery. To a sufficiently learned mana master, it’s the reflection which largely decides the overall state of the pond. Effectively making mana the invisible framework upon which all of this,” he gesticulated wildly in the air. “-runs.”
His master finished with a grand gesture and, privy to the way his masters mind worked by now, Richard was quick to applaud.
“Now, what was that you were saying about mana batteries?”
Richard perked up.
“Well, the mana inside these caves is so ridiculously dense and pure, I figured it’d be perfect to increase my own mana and core purity exponentially in one fell swoop. And, you know, we’re not going to be here forever, right?”
“Seeing as your mana fundamentals are leagues ahead of your life energy ones, I’d say we could feasibly knock this lesson out in a cool half hour.”
“And, just to make sure, there’s definitely no wiggle room on that…?”
His master gave him a stern look.
“Need I remind you this is an inheritance, not your personal playground. The less energy spent here, the more time you’ll have to complete the more difficult trials down the line.”
“Right. Gotcha. Makes total sense, just thought I’d ask. With things being as they are, however, I’d thought- you know. If I could maybe squirrel away some of this sweet sweet mana now, I wouldn’t have to go haring off to find some bountiful, mana rich Eldorado later down the line.”
His master didn’t look convinced.
“Would give me more time to focus on my fundamentals,” Richard tacked on hurriedly.
“Hmm…” his master screwed up his face in contemplation. “Well… so long as it doesn’t derail the lesson plan too much- and if I can lecture while you’re at it… then I suppose I see little harm in it. Just lay down the charging formations and we can get on with our lesson.”
“Ahah… yeah well. About that…”
His master’s accommodating expression quickly turned to one of suspicion.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Well, you see, the thing is, to get the best possible results, I kind of need- well, not need so much as would greatly prefer to circulate the mana through my core at least once before funneling it into the battery.”
“Manually?!” his teacher was incredulous.
“Yeah, well, I don’t really have access to formations just yet. So sue me. Also, if I really want to get the best bang for my buck, I was thinking it might be smart to get closer to the dragon vein.”
His master squinted.
“How close?”
Richard was sweating now.
“As close as possible…?”
His teacher froze for the briefest moment, before breaking out in a wide grin.
“You know what? I think that’s a wonderful idea. Truly inspired. And while divination was always more my mothers forte, I genuinely cannot see a world in which this goes wrong. Really, you should go right on ahead. I’ll watch.”
Richard blinked.
“Y-you’re not going to help? I had kind of banked a lot of my plans on-”
“Ha!” his teacher cut in. “And rob you of the opportunity to triumph over adversity?! I wouldn’t dare! Where would the fun- I mean, what kind of teacher would I be if I did that?! A piss poor one, if you ask me! So! When can we start?”
Richard, still intent on following through with his plans regardless, nevertheless eyed his teacher with a dubious expression. Unbeknownst to him, the putrid black veins hugging the inside of his mana channels, throbbed in anticipation.
+++
The hatchet blade cleanly severed head from shoulders in one smooth motion. And, in a moment of purest triumph, only slightly diminished by the rampant corruption spreading through his veins, Purrsefone caught the spike of terror and confusion which spilled out in his final moments. It was delicious. It was delectable. It was… wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately understand.
What was this?
Inspecting the body more closely, he wasn’t immediately graced by the sight of the boys head rolling through the dirt. No, instead it was far too large and… reptilian?! Purrsefone stared down, uncomprehendingly, at the dead gangster which lay at his feet. Eyes repeatedly drawn to the undersized sheep’s mask glued to the side of its decapitated head.
Just then, a radiant spotlight beamed down on them from above. As if the sun had finally come out to play. Peaking through an obstinate cloud cover. All very innocuous imagery, if you conveniently ignored the fact it’d been nighttime just a few moments ago. The creature reached for Penumbral Reflection just as an elemental castigation poured down from above. Amidst the raw, cataclysmic expression of an empress’s fury, it was anyone’s guess who was quicker on the draw.
+++
Still kneeling, Richard appeared right back where he’d initially left his bound captives. Taking in the state of the demolished encampment, he relaxed when no immediate threats leapt out at him. Grunting, he began to heave himself to his feet. He was almost there, when a thunderous crack—like a thousand lightning strikes happening simultaneously—resounded from a couple kilometers away.
Richard raised a hand to shade his eyes. Whistled his appreciation as the rain of lightning bolts just kept on coming. The hair on his arms began to stand up, even from so far away. The sharp smell of ozone swiftly invading his nostrils.
“There, see?” he muttered to himself. “Told ya you’d get the hang of it. Swear that kid’s a monster. And, you know what? I think I’m almost okay with how terrifying that is. That’s what I like to call progress people!”
These last words he addressed to the pile of bound bodies before plopping his butt down on one of them. Waving gaily at the one guys wildly swiveling eyes. Then he frowned. Took a quick head count of his precious sacrificial lambs, then frowned some more.
“Are we missing someone?”
Richard stood up, then spun in a circle. He spotted the escapee with little difficulty. He was inching his way across the ground like a worm, after all. Kind of hard to miss. The runaway shot him a backwards glance, they locked eyes, and it’s inching suddenly took on a frantic edge. Richard merely scratched his chin.
Should he call him back or…?
As he watched and idly pondered what to do, however, something very interesting happened. A square portal suddenly split the air before the runner, leading onto a grubby, trash laden alleyway—dirty puddles reflecting bright neon hues. Richard appeared before the portal in an instant, causing the man sized inchworm to scream through his gag and frantically inch the other way. Richard paid the guy no mind, however. With an audible gulp, Richard reached a tentative finger towards the open portal.
Only to recoil when an electric current ran through his arm all the way up the elbow.
***WARNING!***
ACCESS ATTEMPT DENIED: UNAUTHORIZED USER DETECTED.
SUBSEQUENT ATTEMPTS TO ACCESS AND OR LEAVE A RESTRICTED SECTOR WITHOUT THE REQUISITE PERMISSIONS WILL TRIGGER AN AUTOMATED SYSTEM RESPONSE.
Richard tsk’ed. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Then he paused. Glanced back at the remaining bodies. Bit his lip. There were four in all, not including the inchworm. Finally making up his mind, he dashed over to the inchworm, slapped a binding talisman over his eyes, dashed over to one of the bodies and tossed him through the portal. He hit the other side with a splash and a groan. The portal didn’t even spark.
Okay, so, I get how I’m barred from entry—newly inter grated sector lock and everything—but can someone please tell me, in what world, this guy has sector hopping privileges?! Make it make sense system.
Shaking his head in bemusement, without further ado, Richard plucked an especially sharp dagger from his storage and drew it across his throat. Thankfully it was high quality enough to slice him from ear to ear. Instead of killing himself on the spot, however—and dooming the rest of humanity in the lamest way possible—he suddenly found himself on the other side of the portal. Foot almost completely submerged in a stinking puddle of slime.
Richard retrieved his foot, made a face, and vigorously shook it off. Only then did he make his way over to the very end of the alleyway, and peak his head out tentatively.
And while he couldn’t make out much through the choking smog, at a glance, there really was no mistaking it.
“Toto…? I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
The towering sci-fi monoliths which quickly disappeared into the artificial cloud cover. Each covered in years’ worth of grime and alien graffiti. Bright neon advertisements lighting up the murk. Flashing off the reflective masks of passers by.
Richard ducked back into the shadows as a few faceless masked began to turn in his direction. Heart racing, despite the noxious fumes reddening his eyes and tickling the back of his throat, all Richard really wanted to do was jump for joy. Instead, Richard took a deep breath to calm his nerves, instantly regretted it, then slit his own throat before a sudden coughing fit could expose him.
Just as he hoped, he appeared inside the burnt out remains of the encampment once more. Sans another of the bound bodies. After the coughing fit finally passed, and he felt like himself again, his eyes landed first on the inchworm, then flicked back to the portal, a plan forming. Now this guy absolutely couldn’t die, he’d make sure it was so. He’d make sure he had an enviable life even, lived out the rest of his days in the lap of luxury.
Because, when the time finally came, he would prove himself worth every penny. His ticket to Neverland. They thought the sector lock was put in place to protect developing worlds from people like them? Oh, they had another thing coming. Not now, obviously, but some day soon… someday soon.
It’d be open season on those reptilian executives.
“For now though… I suppose we’ll have to settle for an Elite.”
Richard pulled a handful of Mark 3’s from storage. Each resembling little origami cicadas, they all shimmered with a thin coat of silvery energy.
“With Mark 2 having been such a roaring success, borderline malfunctional mana battery that it was, I have to say, I have very high hopes for you guys.”
The paper cicadas said nothing, merely flexed their wings experimentally, and gently vibrated in his hand. Letting out that iconic chirping sound. Richard dumped the rest of the origami cicadas held in storage, until there was a big old pile of the chirping insects crawling at his feet. Richard next raised a hand, coalesced a single bead of silver energy on the very tip of his finger, infused it with all the intent he could possibly pack into it, then let it drop onto the shifting pile.
It impacted with a soft plink, whereupon it spread rapidly.
The group of paper cicadas froze for an instant, as their imperative was tweaked ever so slightly. Now instead of homing missiles, they were just… homing. He doubted they’d be doing much blowing up, so why risk it?
Then, all at once, they shot into the air as one. Whereupon they immediately flew off in the direction of the lightning storm that had just recently abated.
“Attaboy!” Richard grinned after the cloud of paper insects as if he were seeing his first born off to college. He was even forced to wipe away an unshed tear. “Fetch!”
