His tablet vibrated again. Instead of ignoring it as he usually did, he didn't have much to do in the bare chamber he'd been stuck in since the door had closed, opting to swipe through his notifications.
[You've entered a secondary astral pocket. Categorization.... ERROR. Data communicates that this may be a dungeon class veil breach. Tread with caution, unknown environment. Unknown level of threat. Reward for submitted data: ERROR. Link with relay stations impossible. Submission to local association headquarters will result in a reward of.... CALCULATING.... +450 contribution points (LACK OF ARCHIVED DATA).]
[Congratulations! You've defeated an alpha class monster related to multiple bounties. Rewards pending. Please visit your local adventurer's association office to collect. Thank you for your service!]
[Quest completed! That's one thick ass boy! Reward: +128 contribution points, further monetary or artifact rewards available at your...]
“This thing is worthless...” Tyr scoffed, pocketing it with a sublime lack of interest. He hadn't come here for contribution points, which he hadn't known existed at the time. He felt a pang in his chest at his abandonment of them, but they were strong. They'd leave this place and live whole and fulfilling lives, outside the yoke of slavery. Fulfilling his oath to both them, and Samson, all in one go. Two birds with one stone, finally doing something right with his life.
The chamber began to shake as the slit of a door appeared on the wall opposite him. A gravely, grating sound heralding a voice that rang through the stone cube he'd been trapped in for hours.
“Aspirant registered. Welcome, planestrider! Welcome to Ark Altrimar. Trial level one. Please ask any questions you may have before we begin.” The voice was cheery. Bright and notably lacking the artificial chime of 'Navi'. It sounded like a real person...
“What is this place?” Tyr asked, not hoping for much of an answer. With such a normal sounding voice, it had to be recording, rather than an intelligence. Surprisingly, it answered.
“This is installation 14-02. Constructed by Altrimar Algolos some... Error. Apologies, something seemed to be broken! Let's call it three centuries based on how your world measures time. It exists as a challenge for any and all planestriders. Any further questions?”
Altrimar Algolos...? Tyr hadn't been given much opportunity to peruse the black book written by the man, but it couldn't be anyone else. The foremost human expert on the topic of darkness magic. The only question was what he had to do with this monolithic tower. Veda and Altrimar both were seen in the frame of the yin and yang. The western symbol for 'balance'. Each were masters of their respective elements, with a particular disposition for one or the other. Veda for light, and Altrimar for darkness. Both had penned black books, both of which were in Tyr's possession even now.
“What do I do here? What is expected of me?” He'd take the voice up on its offer to answer his question.
“Nothing is expected. All that the great master asks is that you enjoy yourself. A series of challenges have been arrayed and constructed based on the ERROR. Apologies, we have no record of the life form in which you identify. Cataloging now. Registered, REDACTED variant, fragmented, bloodline nephilim. Thank you for your contribution!”
“Can I leave this place?”
“You sure can't!” Foreboding, made worse by the cheery voice...
“...”
“Any further questions?”
Tyr had none, and no idea what to even ask to begin with.
“None.” He said. “How do I start?” A challenge was just what he needed to get his mind off things. It wasn't like this place was built with an exit.
–
He'd expected a fight. Always expected one, no matter where he was. Constantly thinking about when something would show up and try to kill him. Instead, he was welcomed through the opening door by the bright voice, stalking forward with daggers raised to find himself in something akin to a reception or waiting room. An undead, a skeleton bare of flesh and without weapon greeted him. Wholly out of place considering the well illuminated hall and the insanely clean granite on the floor. Tyr barely paused as he smashed it to splinters. Before another came, speaking in a droning voice before he smashed it too. And another, and another. Each one of the creatures to come around the corner and greet him was so week, a kick to their midriff and all that was left was a pile of bones.
“Please do not abuse your attendants.” The advisor's voice came. “While they may be undead, they do not possess the hunger for the flesh of living things. These are merely servitors, not a threat, and not part of the challenge. If you continue to do so, we will be forced to take defensive measures. I won't warn you again, ha ha! Frankly, I hope you don't listen!”
Tyr wasn't so trusting. It was a dozen more 'servitors' later before a rather burly ghoul appeared from a side passage. Swatting him flat against the wall and putting him into a choke-hold. There was a bit of a disconnect with how good the creature smelled considering its clear state of rot. “Listen, man. Not a single one of us wants to be here, and I don't need you making it harder. Ever worked customer service? Stupid question, I know. You've probably never worked a day in your life. Get a grip, planeswalker.”
“...You can speak.” Tyr didn't question it, only observed the fact. Powerful enough in the limbs to ensure that his attempts to struggle were in vain.
“You can speak.” The ghoul repeated in a mimicking voice. “How dehumanizing is that? What is your problem, you can speak? I've had some awful guests in my time, but you might just take the cake. Get in your room and stay there before I call security on you.” It said, casting him into a room and making to leave. Just before it turned back to stare at him with its one good eye. “Maybe focus on treating people based on who they are on the inside, because that's what matters. You racist bitch. I am a person, with feelings!”
And with that, it left in a huff, slamming the door shut. Another incredibly bizarre and unexpected twist the path that Tyr's life had taken him. Always leaving him dazed and confused. He really had expected a fight, like all the books depicting the adventurers life. Monsters ahead of him, and a trusty sword in hand. It didn't have to be a sword, but the heroes in the books always used those in particular. Tyr had noticed that he was better with a simple axe, and the daggers weren't bad. He just thought swords looked cooler...
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Looking about, he was surrounded by walls. One contained a large picture window that looked over a lush jungle, but he was absolutely certain that it was some kind of illusion. A projection. Though no magic could be felt, the tower he'd seen was more of an obelisk. Not a structure. It had possessed five sides, hard and straight and glossy, not a chance a window was contained on any face of it. Tapping on the window confirmed his theory. It looked like glass, but was hard and coarse.
Otherwise, it was a fairly normal bedroom. He remained naked, and a change of clothes awaited him. A v-necked, white linen shirt, dark blue pants that seemed made of sail cloth, silken underwear, long socks and a black wool cardigan of impressive softness. He donned them all after using a cleansing cloth provided by Girshan to wipe himself clean. Almost as good as a shower, and far more accessible. Bits of water magic here and there made up for the rest. His ensemble was finished with a pair of rubber soled shoes with no laces on them. Whoever had build this place, their taste in fashion was eclectic, and he found that he liked it.
“...What is this place?” He asked himself, speaking his thoughts aloud, forgetting that intelligence observing him. Always speaking into his mind.
“Hello again! This is installation 14-02--”
“No.” Tyr interrupted, gratified when the voice silenced itself immediately. He could feel no vibration in the air, checking this time to make sure of it. Somehow, it was speaking directly into his mind via some form of telepathy. Not any variant he was familiar with, though. There were no threads of mana connecting himself to any part of the room or beyond. “Let me rephrase the question... What is the purpose of this place? What is installation 14-02?”
“Installation 14-02 is a containment facility designed through the joint effort of REDACTED and Altrimar Algolos for the purpose of REDACTED. Apologies, my responses are limited and there is information I am not able to provide. Suffice it to say that this tower feeds from both your mana and... Apologies, calculating. Knowledge of terrestrial world energy identified. Acknowledged. Calculating. Suffice it to say that this tower feeds from both your mana and spira, as well as your thoughts and memories to supplement its function. Do not fear! Nothing is taken permanently. In fact, you might even leave better than when you came!”
“So it's a...” Tyr's face twisted up, a tower that fed on his energy. “A vampire tower...? Why would you need me to feed it?”
“Installation 14-02 takes roughly 0.05% of all resident bodies' natural regeneration of etheric energy. It does not seek to harm you, nor does it take more than it needs. Vampiric? Hardly. Think of it as a symbiosis. You are rewarded for your efforts here, and our facility only takes a bit of your energy as a sort of service fee. Please note that all backwash of etheric energies are also taken. Don't worry, this is energy that would be wasted otherwise. We are an efficient and plane friendly facility! As for your second question, we do not need you to feed the tower. It acts as a catalog and archive to collect useful information from your subconscious that might be used to benefit the REDACTED. Apologies, information regarding the army of lig--... Er... This information is confidential! I... I think?”
“So you can ready my mind?” Tyr asked, feeling uncomfortable. Of all the strange things he'd seen in his life, this might be the strangest.
“Yes!” It answered cheerfully. Obscuring nothing.
“What does this facility 'contain'?” He asked.
“That information is confidential. As for the wider expanse of your question, you can think of this facility as the dimensional anchor that holds the ark together. A worldcraft of the auronim, though my pilots have long since abandon the craft. Think of it as... We're under new management! Better management, trust us!”
Tyr sighed, giving up in his quest for answers. It was enough to know that this astral space was some kind of dimensional vessel. Abe had been bizarrely correct in his metaphor for the purpose of these places, probably...? “Okay, fine. What do I need to do?”
“There are no requirements here in the living quarters of installation 14-02!” The voice answered, as cheerful and happy as always. “Please enjoy your stay. You can stay... Calculating based on resident life force... Oh no! It appears that you are terminally ill, ha! That really sucks! Administering cure... ERROR. Apologies, the current extent of my facilities are incapable of regenerating a warped mana core. Oh no! I'm sorry, but to be honest I really do not care! Date of death approximately... Calculating. Adjusting based on your developed mana and spira levels... ERROR. Please remove the obstruction worn on your left wrist.”
“No.” Tyr answered. Abaddon had asked, and he'd refused. It was, including her now destroyed armor that was abandoned somewhere in the jungle after he'd run, the last mementos of his mother. His instinct said not to take it off, and he'd always obeyed it.
“Understood!” The voice chimes. “Rough estimate... Calculating... Two to three months.”
“Can you advise on how to fix it?” He asked.
“Of course!” It answered. “Kill!”
–
Unable to sleep, and still considering the words of the now silent voice in his head, Tyr decided to tour the space. Burned into his mind were points of reference. There was a bar, a cantina, garden, and all sorts of various facilities. Rooms for entertainment, and a wing dedicated entirely to sleeping. Walking from one end to the other, he could easily observe that this structure – should it be the same tower he entered – was far larger on the inside than it was on the out. Not really all that rare, but the raw scale of it was insane. The tower was 'large', very tall, at least twenty meters wide. But inside... The corridors wound around so it was hard to say, but a spatial dilation of 100x wouldn't have been surprising.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Everywhere were the undead 'servitors', as they were called. Serving as the staff, all unique in appearance and most of them capable of speech. Only after an intense observation did Tyr notice that they were actually... Alive? They had their own unique personalities, nothing to bind them to what must've been a summoner. Those he'd smashed had been put back together, their cores were a blend of mana and spira rather than just the former. They had hobbies, and while he was confused about the mechanics of how skeletons... Well, some of them had romantic relationships... So...
Altrimar was a mage who stood at the absolute peak of dark magic. Where Solomon was a master of anima, and Ellemar a master of all things space – Altrimar had carved his own niche. Seemingly mastering the art of creating pseudo-souls not unlike Solomon, with no need for anima. Theoretically impossible, but he'd done it. Or someone else had, Tyr wasn't really sure but the undead claimed they were all created by him. As to 'how', unfortunately, they didn't know. They called themselves 'living dead', not undead.
His meal was fake, something he'd noticed. Some kind of protein paste gruel, packed with nutrients but otherwise almost entirely composed of mana. An illusion, but it tasted as real as anything he'd ever eaten. Even the texture felt true to life, which was typically where illusions fell off. He'd asked them to drop it, and they did – after a brief series of polite refusals. What had been the flat disc shape of a steak collapsed into something like a potato mash, but significantly wetter. It didn't look appetizing, but it didn't look disgusting either. Tasted like salty sand, though. Like grits with no seasoning, and significantly harder to swallow.
Hmm... Not only is it a complete approximation of real food, with a nutrient content, it's also infused with pure mana. Even archmages don't eat like this except on the rarest of occasions. But this food is like... Enchanted? Is their culinary enchanting? I wonder if Killian would be able to understand this. How does it hold it's shape? He asked them to return it to its previous form, and they did. They being it, and it being the tower itself. The undead attendants simply watched on, constantly staring at what must've been their only guest in a very long time. Every 'facial expression' was communicated verbally, seeing as most didn't have any muscles to animate their face.
“Despite my grimace, I am actually smiling!”
“Er...”
“Have you enjoyed your meal!?” The skeleton 'chef' yelled. Far too loud, like it was just now trying to wrap its head around speaking for the first time in ages. “I am currently winking at you! Since I don't have eyes, I thought I'd let you know!”
“It was good.” Tyr squinted back at the skeleton, but he didn't seem to care about the scrunched fast being given him. “Great, even. What's it made out of?”
“It is better if you do not ask questions that you do not want the answer to!” The chef replied. His name being 'Animated Automated Chef Construct Designation MC-420'. That was too much of a mouthful, so in the subsequent meals, Tyr just called him 'chef', which the skeleton didn't seem to mind. “We are required by REDACTED to make you aware of the fact that your meal consists in no part of sentient or sapient individuals, trust us!”
“...Alright. Do you, uh... You said I can order anything, right?”
“You sure can!!!”
“So you can serve me human flesh, or at least make this taste like human flesh?”
“That is incredibly disturbing, ha ha! I refuse!”
Without further ado, Tyr left the cantina, shaking his head. There were a lot of attendants, but some only appeared during specific hours of the day. Morning, late afternoon, and in the dead of night. Most of them seemed to have no purpose beyond walking around, cleaning things that didn't need to be cleaned, doing the same exact thing every day. Yet they all possessed individual will as far as Tyr was able to tell. So bizarre was it, that it successfully distracted him from all worries, which was something worth appreciating.
The facilities were large, but not labyrinthine. For the most part it followed a grid pattern, with maps detailing various locations to facilitate easier travel. Obsessively clean hallways of pale, glossy ivory. No lines could be seen anywhere to indicate it was cast of stone, only the doors and some embellishments on the wall serving as 'features'. He headed toward the spa area. Though he was capable of cleaning himself easily enough with his enchanted cloth or water magic, nothing beat a real shower or bath.
Unlike the other facilities, it wasn't so monotone in appearance. Ivory reflective floors gave way to waxed planks and decorative water features. Striped ferns of red and gold that gave off an incredibly pleasant aroma sat below lighted sconces on the walls. It was co-ed, with no separation for gender, one single and open aired bath house that looked out over a serene vista of snow wreathed mountains. Another illusion, or perhaps a window to another world. It looked so real, and his attempts to toy with the mana had no effect. As if it really was a real landscape on the other side. Spellbreaking should allow him to disrupt the mana at least enough to generate a ripple in its surface, but he couldn't. The same hard and coarse stone as the window in the chambers he'd been offered. Examples of phenomenal magic were everywhere in this place.
Disrobing, he entered the steaming confines of the massive pool set at the center of the spa area. Built in a lattice, it got deeper the further one went into the water, going from waist height to twice Tyr's standing height at the center. Hot enough to pull the filth from his skin instantly, the water gave off a bizarre aura. Enchanted like everything else. If he'd had to guess, Tyr would say that this water was only as hot (or cool) as it needed to be. Changing temperature and configuring itself for every specific visitor. Something that shouldn't be possible, again, but 'hey, it's magic'. The idea that someone had managed to 'enchant' water was new...
“Ah...” He sighed, letting his worries (literally) wash away. Enough to coax him into the embrace of peaceful slumber as he rested his head against the springy 'stone' rimming the pool. Even that seemed... Magic. Leaving him wondering just how deep the well went regarding what mana was capable of. Everything, by the looks of it, even bending reality...
“Nice, isn't it?” A voice came from across the pool. There was no intent in it. No violence, only an ageless sort of exhaustion. Tyr felt no threat from the other man. Man, judging by the sound of his voice.
“It is.” Tyr said, a bit startled at the first sign of a 'living' being in the place, but altogether too relaxed to care. “How long was I asleep?”
“Not sure, about ten minutes since I got here. Time is kind of funny in this place, I haven't been keeping track. Do you know how long you've been here? In regular time. Not like... Astral time, or whatever...”
“About a day and a half.” Tyr said. “Not sure how long I was out, but I rarely sleep more than four hours at a time.” The man, whoever he was, was right. The vista on the 'window' remained the same. The sun not having moved at all. Whether that was a sign that it was artificial, or simply alien, Tyr wasn't sure. “You?”
“No idea. Five years, maybe ten. Been a long time, though.” The voice came, musing and full of conflict.
“You're trapped here?” Tyr asked.
“Trapped. Yeah, I guess. Not that I care. Hells, this is the best I've ever lived and felt in my life. They can 'trap' me here until the day I die, and according to the administrator, they'll let me stay. Forever. Well, not forever. Forever for me, but not for the world. Eventually, I'll die and become a servitor if I so choose. I'll probably do that. A job's a job, right?” The man chuckled to himself at the 'joke'. “Name's Farron, you...? Wait...” Farron paused, squinting as if he were looking at something very far away. “Tyr...?” He breathed, inching closer through the mist to look the mentioned directly in the eye. He was an older man. Middle aged, in his thirties or forties. A man Tyr was absolutely sure he'd never seen before in his life.
“That's me.” Tyr frowned.
But before he could do much, this 'Farron' reacted enough for the both of them, kneeling down in the waist deep water with his fist clenched over his heart. “Commander... I never thought I'd see you again. I fought under you, you know? In the fifth legion. Can't get that ticking out of my head. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Do you remember the REDACTED?”
Tyr just stared on impassively, unable to know what to make of the bizarre display.
“Ah... I see.”
“You, see...?” Tyr asked, confused. He'd quickly gotten used to that term. Redacted. Some kind of censorship, things he was suppose to hear. It was what it was, and he'd stopped being troubled over it at this point.
“Mhm... You're not my Tyr. Still, it's good to see your face again, commander. It's been so long.” A tear, or perhaps some moisture from the humid atmosphere made itself apparent on the mans face, tracing down his jaw before dropping into the water. “I didn't run. I want you to know that, even if you're not you. I was sucked into the rift, you know? I swear it on my grandfather. Do you remember when you saved him?”
“Farron...” Tyr paused. “Farron... Your grandfathers name is Jurgen, correct?”
Farron laughed, slapping a belly gone soft after years spent in this relaxing place. His frame was good. Well used to battle, though it had taken a wider bearing after some years of living the high life here in this resort-esque facility. “It is my greatest honor that you remember me. After all these years.” He bowed again, fist to his heart in the Harani way. “It was a great honor as well to serve under you, for the time that I did. Well, not you, but you. You know?”
Not really... Tyr thought to himself, shaking his head.
“I just healed your grandfather maybe four weeks ago. How could you be...?”
“So old?” Farron belted another laugh. He had a barking one, like Tyr. Like a dog, one of the reason he'd been given the unfortunate nickname of 'mutt' by the less savory nobles of Haran. “We must be from other planes. There's not a lot I can say, because I'll get punished if I try to subvert the rules. Other timelines. But you are the same. I would never not recognize you, young or old.” Farron smiled, a bright and toothy grin full of reverence. One that quickly twisted into a mask of mourning. “What you did for us... I...”
“Please refrain from interacting overmuch with beings alien to your dimension.” The administrator, the voice in the walls, spoke to both of them.
“Yes ma'am.” Farron replied, looking nervous before sinking low in the water. “Like I said...”
“It's fine.” Tyr sighed. “I am well aware of the concept of a multiverse, though I wish I'd never known. Makes everything seem so... Pointless. Like, if there are so many versions of me – why exist at all?”
“Yeah.” Farron smiled dumbly. “Believe me. I've seen it, and I understand. At least you come from a timeline that saw us meet. Would've been awkward otherwise. My grandfather is alive in your timeline?”
“Can I answer that question?” Tyr looked nervously at the walls. Nowhere in particular. It was hard to know from what direction they were being observed.
“Time is linear. I come from the future, technically, but we belong to the same timeline. Well, everything does. Like... In worlds that obey the cosmic laws, thirty years for you is thirty years for me. Only in very uncommon exceptions like this place, is it allowed. Not sure why, though. No gods around the answer it, I suppose. Anyways, yes. You can tell me everything about your world because it's technically in the past. Except its not. Like... On a cosmic scale? Sorry, commander, I've never been much of a scholar... Technically speaking, whatever events occurred on my world are done and over with, while it runs linear to your own timeline, I... Fuck it, I have no idea how it works and won't pretend otherwise.”
Tyr snorted. “I get it. So? I was your general or something? No. Never mind. I do not wish to know my future. Seems like a can of worms.”
“Believe me.” Farron nodded. “It really is. All I can say is that if you ever run into some guy name RED--... Shit. Man... So it'll happen to you too.” He snorted. “Well, the other you came out just fine, and he was a lot more of a handful than you seem to be. You'll figure it out. You're taking this all in stride pretty well. I remember when I first learned to walk the rifts, I was beside myself. To think there there are other versions of me elsewhere? Other worlds? It's terrifying.”
“In a way, I can see what you mean.” Tyr shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this at the current moment, having ignored the profound sense of encroaching doom as best he could. Others might travel to different worlds and find their doppelgangers doing all manner of things. For Tyr, almost every life had been spent fighting. Constantly, and he always lost. It didn't just sting at his pride, though. It was worse than that. Everything he knew would turn to ash in his mouth, and he'd be forced to watch until the endgame. All because of some curse Thanatos and others had alluded to him having.
Here, in this world, he was caught in a loop of strange encounters and half adventurers. Things taken from him by others while he waited for a death that was supposed to have come already.
“Well...” Tyr sighed, taking Farron's hand and lifting himself out of the pool. His scars were gone now, only smooth skin beneath. The man said it happened to everyone who used the pools. 'Magic' was such a convenient excuse. It made him feel more naked than ever, rather than thankful for any sort of perceived gift. “It was nice to re-meet you. I think I'm going to go ahead and see what these 'challenges' are all about.”
“Mmm.” Farron nodded, looking a bit sad that they wouldn't be spending more time together. But his eyes were determined. “Good luck.”
“One more thing.” Tyr paused, he didn't know how to voice his concerns, but Farron seemed like the amicable type. Someone he'd manipulated, maybe. Someone loyal.
“Anything.” Something about the way that man looked at him was so unnerving. Pure, unadulterated faith. Regardless of whether or not the man knew that Tyr was not 'his'.
“Was I a good person? A good man?”
Farron smiled softly, wistfully. “If there is such a thing as a good man, it was you – Tyr Faeron.”