The Adventurer's Forge was ready for business. It had been about a week and a half since elf boy and Julian left, so she wouldn't have to wait much longer. Especially if the little thief returned. Along with Midas, wherever he had gone.
The Aviary was ready to act as an arena, with the walls, floor, and mural renewed. Lasair had bolstered the numbers of all her creatures but [MANAMANDERS], as those had yet to prove useful except Midas. She had also raised most of them to a reasonable level, with the average for any given group being around level three.
Her [LIEUTENANTS] had all been doing... something. Apollo had been practicing illusions with his [MINOR LUMENMANCY], in hopes that it would be useful with his hypnosis. Mirage had been doing precision practice with her [MAJOR AREOMANCY]. Ozymandias had been doing meditation of some kind, where he would just stare off into space and then act like he had some kind of revelation.
Most interesting of all was Chunk. He was vibing.
No practice, no training, no worries. All he had done in the few days of his existence was create a small garden bed in her core room, and then pester Mirage until she grabbed some plants from the outside. He had a few different varieties now, and was seeming to enjoy the very basics of gardening. He was having fun trying, at least.
The interesting part was that the laid back routine had already earned him [MINOR GEOMANCY]. She was fairly certain that all he had done and had continued to do was garden and make the occasional vase. They were very good vases though. Maybe he just got the level for his precision, as most of his work seemed to have few mistakes.
Whatever all of them were doing, she hoped they were having fun.
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Mirage wanted [GREATER AREOMANCY]. She wanted it so, so bad. It would give her the same control over air that the cold one had held over ice. The amount of control that would let her be all the faster to run, and all the stronger to fight. But strength was not everything. Hence, precision.
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It was another idea from Mother's world. A vacuum, they called it. Well, they called more than one thing a vacuum, but she didn't mean the cleaning tool. It was a contained space with nothing in it. Not just nothing, but nothing. No pressure, no resistance, no air. An area of pure nothing. And she wanted to make one.
It was a grueling endeavor. She hadn't quite realized just how much stuff made up what she controlled. Simply put, things wanted to be. Just be. Exist. And she was actively trying to defy one of the most strict natural laws.
But she was sure of one thing. If she could figure it out, it would be immensely powerful. Imagine, an enemy going to breathe, and finding their lungs filled with nothing. It would be devastating. It would be precise. It would be strong.
And she would be fast enough.
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Apollo was rather annoyed. Why did light have to be so fast? Several times now, he'd almost had enough control to make an illusion, just for it to slip out of his grasp. Light was like a child refusing to do something purely on the principle that they were asked to. He could feel it resisting, breaking his hold with a far too smug feeling.
But illusions would be so useful if he could unlock them!
His hypnosis would become stronger by leaps and bounds. With the way it worked based on context, being able to create 'real' context would be incredible! He would have so much more strength and control with his demands, and would be better at defending Mama!
He knew she needed it, with all the trouble she had caused him. [SOUL TETHER] twinged at the thought.
And even just having illusions for their usual purpose would be nice too. Trickery was fun, as with all forms of deceit. He would make Mama proud, and show anyone who messed with his home just how much he had grown.
Apollo would not stop at showing them. If necessary, he would demand the understanding.
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Ozymandias was pensive. He had seen only two of his fellow disciples' inspirations, and both had been utterly horrifying. It made him reluctant to speed forward in his quest for truth. What if he stumbled across something so incomprehensible that it shattered his mind? What if he saw whatever inspiration had birthed the Law?
But his practice had been worth it. He could hold the lesser memories for far longer now, and exert control over them to a certain extent. The most he had been able to do so far was shift his view around, not being limited to the perspective of the memory holder.
But it was progress. He would have his truth. He would have his kingdom. And they would know him, they would all know him.
Ozymandias, king of kings.
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Chunk was vibing.