Fading light cascaded into the stained glass, before, he had given no thought to the iron workings that outline each changing color. Now, Ren saw the truth behind the iron cast between shades of blue, orange, greens, and yellows. A sunrise stood in the window, though in reality it was a dimming light, soon to turn into twilight.
Without hesitation he had resigned himself to die. Not knowing the why or how, he accepted it. A part of him hated himself for this, was he not supposed to live? It was deeply rooted within him, a deep belief of the importance of his new life here. Yet there was a familiarity to the idea of passing into an endless void where nothing bothered him anymore.
For a time, he had accepted it. Now, he rather believes he may have another fate. Beginning to look through the books within his rather luxurious cell he found histories, drama, lectures, epic poems, comedies, and books on the nature of the human condition. The last and most important book was the history of magics.
Throwing away the books of deep religious importance, historical deeds, cultural relevance and the rather boring others, he selected the book about magic.
It detailed the archaic beginnings of magical understanding. At the dawn of man men believed that their thoughts and ideas populated a separate world. Through great rituals, summonings and conjurations they could bring about the entities or abilities they dreamed into the plane of thought.
The plane had been named the precursor to the modern term ‘magic.’ The language now dead, and both languages being gibberish to Ren, the translation did no good, simply naming them both ‘magic.’ As his translation certainly helped, it also undeniably had its times of oddity.
Ascension was viewed as becoming intune with the second self, an imagined perfect version of oneself. For better or ill a man or woman, beast or magical creature would become more attuned with their desired form. A man may become taller, more muscled, and have the ability to swing a sword through stone. Rather a bear would desire about the same as seen by great bears within the wilds.
As Ren became more and more infatuated by the book it had become far dimmer within the room. Lacking nearly any mana, and nearly totally drained of stamina he was left too weak to do anything, not even light a candle sized flame for more than long moments before his head began to ache from lack of mana.
He curled up inside the covers of his bed within the prison. Though the cold air of the night never came to him, a far deeper chill touched his bones. As he dreamed an eye much like his, but so terribly wrong peered into him and was dissatisfied. Feeling the small amount of his own stamina and mana coming to life and being burned away he knew his passenger was at work.
As he slept, a true void overtook him. Dreams faded, falling into an abyss beyond him. It was as if he was rendered unconscious and time passed without his being.
Dawn broke, Ren sat up, phantom pains moved through his body. Small and nearly unnoticeable, it was like when he had used eldritch touch. Though this pain lingered deep in his bones, a small energy seemed to be coiled up within him. As he mentally looked at his status, he noticed his mana and stamina were far less effected. Instead of remaining at two or three points, they had begun to linger at ten to twelve. A small amount of power for him to even cast a firebolt or run.
He knew his fate if he tried to escape those who were unknowable more powerful than himself. To be killed, destroyed, ruined, and broken.
Curious of the strangeness of his higher stats, he felt at the ritual circle surrounding him. His mana moved in tiny strings sliding over the glyphs, runes, and markings that channeled an aura of some barrier, and too the feeling of exhaustion. Delving into these sensations he felt at the barrier, it entrapped the room, lines of power striding outwards and up the walls encasing him within the room. The aura of exhaustion was a sensation of sapping at his physical and mental energies. His health was untouched.
As he was transfixed in his meditation, moving strands of mana, as thin as he could create a sound came down the hallway.
The very same man who led him into this cell appeared before the bars. The elder cleric stood looking at him. “I am no ritualist, though I can see that you try to interfere with it. Your mana washes over the ritual trying to find a point of attack. Am I wrong?”
Ren looked at the cleric, terrified of the certain death this man could give him in an instant. “
“I am just curious, it is far beyond me to damage such a thing. I apologize if it looks bad on me.”
“Your curiosity could be seen as a concern, Hollwin has informed me of your recent fascination with learning to manipulate mana. Your world had no magic?”
“No, I mean, I don’t really know. When I came here the idea of magic was silly, even stupid in some ways to me. Though I see now that it’s true.”
“Yes, I can understand that. You know nothing of your old world? Mind you, I can hear truths just as easily as I can smell flowers or mold.”
“I do not remember much of anything, just ideas. Like magic not being real, a childish fantasy or a fake trick by sleight hands.”
“Good to know that was the honest truth. Now, listen. I did not put you here without reason. Have you begun to understand why yet? Do you know?”
“Because I am from another world, new ideas or concepts, different God or Gods. Or because my power can be dangerous.” Ren looked at the floor, averting his gaze from the man staring into his soul.
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“We have no fear of another God or Gods. It is traditional for worlds to be connected through a Gate, such as what has been done with you. You are the connection between two worlds. You hold the power to become a conduit for travel between these worlds if you attain the strength to do so.”
“Is that why?” Ren returned the man’s gaze.
“It is normal for men to shelter and aid a Keeper of Gates, there is a problem though. A world without magic means the deity that has sent you was no God we desire in this world. The only reason you have been sent here is the total annihilation of this world.”
“What? Are you being serious, that sounds ridiculous!”
“I speak only the truth; you have been touched by something beyond the scope of mortal men. It is no being that we should have come into this world. It is possible for our Goddess to be devoured by such a thing. That is likely the goal of it. It would eat our world and yours. If we were starved of magic, the fundamental source of our being once ascended, we would see mass annihilation of life on this planet.”
“You really think I’m going to cause something like that? I would never bring some God-devouring-destroyer of worlds into this universe. Not in a million damn years. If you think I’m that sort of monster you’re dead wrong.”
“I see the truth in your words, young one. The Paladin you had seen by my side has gone on a quest to find a Messenger. The Messengers are the holy mouth pieces of the Goddess. If a way to destroy your link, or at least seal it away is possible you will be allowed to live a modest life under my wing. You may study and become strong, practicing magic for the good of the people. Ascension though, will be beyond you. Such a process would scar you. Something far different than marking a soul. A scar on the soul creates a wound that cannot be easily healed. It will not be unbearable, but if you wish to live you must submit to such a process.”
“So, to die or to be imprisoned for my entire life, unable to progress into my ideal self, the very purpose of ascension.” Ren’s face turned from shock to dismay.
“The sound of your words is grim, a fate that is harsh yet livable. You may truly come to love this place and the work you can do to aid the citizens of this great land under her holiness.” The cleric nodded and turned his back, bidding Ren farewell.
He fell onto the edge of the bed, staring into the distance. I am to die slave to evil, or to die slave to men. Are men not truly evil at times, am I evil?
Ren moved thin tendrils of mana across the ritual and began to infuse eldritch touch into it. The strands of mana began to disintegrate, and his physical energy began slowly depleting as well. Phantom pains began to come in small aches and pains across his body and mind.
Small corners of the ritual began to slowly weaken, it was overwhelming in strength and complexity, far beyond Ren’s understanding. He had not yet begun to use rituals, though it was his skill acquired during his first ascension.
Focusing his will on weakening the array, a slow change came to the markings that were nearly invisible to the naked eye. The rune script was slowly shrinking, though his mana soon came to a near depletion. As his limbs grew loose and hard to control, and a headache flared up he cut off the mana strands that were enveloped by eldritch touch.
Lying in bed he slowly recovered, and an hour passed. The time for his stat recovery was slowly increasing as he further damaged the ritual. He could not concede to death, and so he began to push out small waves of mana. Infusing eldritch touch into waves of mana they brushes overtop the ritual on the central floor. Over hours of waiting, recovering, and repeating his stats nearly reached the twenties when fully recharged.
The night came again, and he slept, this time having dreams. Odd and deluding, he passed corridors where every door he opened ended in a vast empty abyss. After what seemed like an eternity of voids beyond, a final door sat at the end of the hall. The door instead of being plain and unassuming looked the same as his own door. It was wood and plain yes, but a fixture of iron bars sat atop it. The bars looked into a window of a room. Darkness sat heavily across it, a small light from the moon turned blue through the reflection of painted glass. The blue hued light shone on a darkly clad figure laying on a cot.
Ren awoke, a haze sat across his mind like fog sweeping across a field. Blinking, the light of his room was dim, color painted the room in various hues from the window on the small wall his bed sat against. The sun was barely rising.
Looking at his stats he noticed they were still quite low as expected.
HP:70/70 SP:21/60 MP:23/85
He had made progress, a great deal considering he was dealing with a ritual far beyond his own strength. With newfound clarity he began again, though this time not trying to destroy the ritual. He analyzed the energy that was slowly drained from him. The rune script most damaged was one particular section outlining the inner ring of the circular formation. There, he felt his own energy condensing and being moved beyond his perception.
He activated his eldritch eyes, power consuming rapidly, the passive perception he got from the ability was magnified. With the boosted perception he viewed the energies again, this time being able to see how they were being transferred into the barrier of the cell.
Congratulations Eldritch Rouge Lvl 6
+3 Dexterity +1 Willpower +1 Vitality +1 Intelligence +5 Freepoints
What the hell, that made me get stronger? Not arguing with the increased stats, he allocated his points.
Name: Ren Race: Human Alignment: N/N
Class: Rough level 6, Tier 1 Skill: Ritualism
Marks: Gate-Walker
HP:75/75 SP:20/60 MP:19/100
Attributes:
Str: 10
Vit: 15
End: 12
Dex: 28
Wil: 20
Int: 16
Free Points: 0
After allocating the points he realized his stamina was a bit lacking. If he survived long enough to continue getting stronger, he should definitely increase his stamina.
Feeling strength come into his body, he tested out his new boost. Trying various exercises, jumping up and down, flipping, and then forming a true firebolt.
Using his segmented formula, he created a penetrating tip for the bolt. Secondly a shaft that contained the explosive energy of the bolt. A small fireball ready to explode on impact. Lastly the fletching, and his will to have it fly true.
Unable to allow the bolt to rupture inside his cell, he slowly allowed the mana to return to him, a small portion lost as the energy it took to formulate the conjuring of the bolt.