Mosh’s life settled into a routine. He would wake up early, and make his way to his hunting grounds. Search for creatures to hunt, just for the increases they brought to indexes, or for the food they provided whenever he started to run low. Afternoons and evenings were for practice, meditation for Soul cultivation and progressing in his mana paths. He found the last frustrating, the mana paths growing more difficult to clear and connect as more were cleared. He saw the problem, clearing the mana paths did not remove the impurities within, he was shunting them around. Eventually, he would have to remove the impurities, or so Midkar said, though he seemed to be relishing the prospect and said he would advise him of the process when the time came. It involved pain, lots of it, and Midkar stated it was seen by many amongst the Kin as a rite of passage. A time of rejoicing and how you handled the pain a sign of your resolution and worth. Mosh wondered at his culture and what seemed to be its glorification of pain but refrained from comment to avoid yet another lecture on how superior the Kin were and how their culture reflected their superiority of Mind, Body and Soul.
His progress was steady. Slowly, but steadily he could feel his growth, his advancement. He knew he would earn his first break and return to Earth when he advanced from the Outer Ring to the First Ring, but he knew the stories, the cautionary tales told, that it was better to move forward slowly. That to advance too quickly was to invite disaster and death.
Silky Two grew, he saw how he and Mosh had finally confirmed Silky was male and gained muscle, weight and height. Some of it seemed to be that he was growing from kitten to adult, but other parts seemed to be from his eating the meat of higher-tier beasts. Humans could not advance in such a style, a feature common to many sapients, they need to gain the points from killing beasts or absorbing from them.
It was ten days since his entrance to the Crucible and Mosh finally reached a milestone in his Soul cultivation, his core foundation was finally cleansed of impurities! A milestone the mana records saw fit to remark on.
The candidate had advanced Soul Core, Foundation, to Purity Level: Good 1/50. Soul Points Awarded: 100
Mosh rejoiced. Not only did his Soul Core purity advance a Grade, but it seemed that was how you earned Soul points, aside from absorbing them from the bodies of defeated foes.
‘Well done Kid, step one done. If you want to advance properly, don’t work on gaining points for your Soul Tier yet, advance your purity another grade. A slog, yes, but it is worthwhile. If you aren’t worried about the long term, start advancing Soul, but it will handicap you in the future. So, the question is, do you have the patience of the Kin or the impulsiveness of a beast?
Once again, Midkar irritated him with his tone, but he did point out the path he should take, at least in his opinion. Mosh wondered if the advice was good, but Shiel had indicated he should trust his mentor and while Midkar was irritating, his advice was good. He swallowed his impatience, and in the following days, he refrained from absorbing Souls from the bodies of his kills.
A few days later his normal routine was broken. He was lying in wait at the lake, seeking his next kill, when the peace was broken by a shrill cry. A large crane launched itself into the sky, only to stall in the air as an arrow pierced it and brought it to the ground. He watched and saw another candidate in the Crucible emerge. He marvelled at it, he recognized the species but had only seen it in books, a Scraw, a lizard one. The scraw's body is short and squat but heavily muscled and covered only in a light layer of cloth. Leaving its arms and legs bare. Its head was the size of human, though its eyes were larger with large vertical pupils. A crest adorned its head from the centre of its skull until it disappeared beneath his shirt down his back, with three horns, one to each side and one facing forward, adorning it. He knew Shiel had said to be careful, but after two weeks alone, he needed company that was not a loveable but non-verbal pet, or a sarcastic, narcissistic voice in his head. He stood, and the scraw came to a halt, watching him, the body of the crane dangling from its hands.
Myrddin
Myrddin sat at his workbench in his laboratory, carefully withdrawing a metal bucket from a large stone basin before him that was filled with a viscous, sickly green liquid. He was careful not to touch or let any of it splash on him and he manipulated mana to handle the bucket without him needing to come close. The bucket floated, coming to a stop near a bed upon which a woman lay. Her body was naked, but few would feel any arousal at its sight. It was marred, scarred and mutilated. The face she turned towards him was missing an eye, its empty socket framed by twisted skin rolled into hideous scars. Myrddin addressed her, “This is your last chance Niamh. If you accept the changes, then sit and tilt the bucket over yourself. Otherwise, stand and leave, it will not affect your position, and this is only for those who choose it. And remember, only take as much as you can bear.” Myrddin waited patiently, waiting for the woman, but patience was not needed. Niamh lifted herself on one arm, using the other to grab the bucket and pull it towards her.
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“My mind was decided the day I went into suspension, waiting in case our ploy was overturned. The oh-so ‘Moral and ethical’ Inner Council did this to me when they sent me against a foe that was beyond me, claiming that it was an error, and that the scouts were wrong. They marred me, and my body forever changed, so now let me change it further so I can act as your sword against them!” She looked up at the bucket floating above her, a grim smile on her face as her hand pulled down and its contents fell upon her. It flowed down, striking her head, flowing down her face and her back, rivulets snaking across her body. Her face grimaced, pain contorting her features, but she remained silent, no sound came from her.
Myrddin watched as Niamh poured the liquid onto herself, and a look of horror came over her face. She had been told, a few drops, only what she could handle! She had not understood, and she seemed to think it was about handling pain. It was not, if it was just about pain anaesthetics and numbing agents could be handled. He watched as her shin stretched as the insides of her body shifted, as blood poured from her mouth and from the myriad bones that grew spurs and pierced her spears from within. It did not take long, and she was just a mangled corpse, the fifth such. Fanatics had their place, but it seemed the long time in suspension had robbed them of common sense!
He rang his bell, summoning Sinead. “Have someone come and ready her for burial. And see if we have any volunteers that are not from suspension, I begin to wonder if there is something in the protocol that promotes fanaticism and destroys common sense!”
Sinead grimaced, bowed, and exited without speaking. Not even a minute later a team of four entered, carrying a body bag and cleaning equipment. They were quick and efficient, and the bed soon back to a pristine state as the body was removed and everything cleaned. They bowed and exited; the body bag carried by the four of them. As they exited, a young woman entered, who immediately disrobed and took a seat on the bed. Myrddin examined her, looking at her fit, healthy and rather attractive body, unmarred aside from tattooed glyphs, most likely foci for spells.
“You are welcome, and I honour your sacrifice but before proceeding please introduce yourself and confirm you understand what you are doing here.” Myrddin addressed her, politely, softly, and respectfully.
“Lord Archmagus, I am disciple Carryn, of the third circle. My understanding is that you will use a magical catalyst to accelerate changes within me that will turn me into a Weapon against the Greater Mileu. I understand that this will warp me, alter me, and turn me away from the correct human form, but that it will aid the Elder Council and the World of Earth. I understand that I can never change back, and if we succeed in our aim of once again removing mana from Earth, I will perish as from the moment the Catalyst changes me, I will not be able to exist without mana. I have been told that many have tried, and failed, that they have been too ambitious and taken too much of the Catalyst. I will be careful.” She bowed her head, waiting, seeking his consent.
Myrddin stood and summoned the bucket back to himself. He moved it over the stone basin, the glowing glyphs siphoning power from the mana-enriched atmosphere and the mana circle above, scribed glyphs altering mana, imbuing it with elements of change and evolution, the enriched mana dripping into the stone basin and mingling with the more mundane condensed atmospheric mana. Again, the bucket was filled and floated over to the woman. She took it, with trembling hands and fear-filled eyes, but she did not loose her nerve. She pulled the bucket towards her and tilted it. A few drops spilt out and onto her, and she closed her eyes and a silent scream emitted from her mouth. She spilled another thin stream letting the liquid run down her body and then pushed it away. Her body convulsed, she writhed on the body, screams and whimpers being emitted.
It took long. She lay there, contorted, writhing in agony for at least two hours, but finally, she stopped. Tears ran down her face, but it was no longer the face she had arrived with. Her hair was gone, and thick scales covered much of her body. Her arms were elongated, reaching the ground when she stood, with sharp claws at the end of each finger, which only had three of, though she retained a thumb. Her eyes were grey, almost lost behind the bony ridges that overshadowed them As he watched, he saw a secondary eyelid blink. Her nose had disappeared, leaving behind two large slits above an expanded mouth.
Her body bore the same scales as her head, a thick layer of scales forming armour. She jumped from the bed with alacrity, her movements almost too fast to follow. She was not used to her strength and jumped too high, her head almost hitting the high ceiling. She landed, coming down into a crouch, her arms lying across the floor and her head bowed.
“My Lord Archmagus, I am ready to serve the will of the Elder Council.”
Myrddin nodded, his face showing his satisfaction at finally having had success with the catalyst. He examined her, activating skills to evaluate her and tell him what his mundane senses would not. His skills told him what they could without the impossible task of breaching the privacy of the Mana Record. The results were better than expected, she was no longer Human but considered a Mana Hybrid with enhancements for claws, muscles, and most unexpectedly but welcome, a body that was adapted to mana and bearing an enhancement to utilise environmental mana for short-term mana burst for offence or defence. Yes, she would do. In time, he would have many such serving them, and then they would act to overthrow not just the Earth but the entire Greater Mileu