Antebellum 2.9

2000, June 29: Phoenix, AZ, USA

My summer homework was finished in mere hours and with nothing left to do, I spent much of the day in meditation again. I wasn't blind, figuratively, I mean. I knew the PRT hid things from us younger Wards and though I couldn't be sure to what extent, I had my suspicions. Events were escalating and my potions were being used up as fast as I could make them. Coupled with the fact that Redbird and Echo, another member of Protectorate Team One, had been reassigned to Oathkeeper's command and the things I'd heard implied some worrying times for the city.

I did at least manage to find out what happened to the Petricite they took. Most of it was machined into handcuffs, but a few slivers were ground down into caps for bullets. They wouldn't work. I could've told them that if they bothered to ask, but of course they didn't. They saw a magic metal and figured they could do whatever they wanted.

At its core, Petricite wasn't a mana dampener, though I often referred to it that way. It was a mana absorber, a sink. There were ways to draw out the mana stored in Petricite, that was how Galio could move, but it also meant there was only so much mana a nugget of Petricite could absorb at a time before it became ineffective. Like with any energy sink, if you introduced too much energy into the material faster than its maximum rate of absorption, it'd explode like a pipe bursting during a flood. And with no one but me able to measure mana, they had no surefire way of knowing how to best use the material.

Raquel's amulet would passively discharge the stored mana harmlessly into the atmosphere, that was the whole point of me reinforcing it with mana in the forging process, but if she intentionally tried to activate her power constantly, she would eventually overwhelm the material. It'd then fail to inhibit her for a while until its mana reserves emptied again. Accidental, infrequent surges of her power, it could handle, but constant use? That was too much for a single nugget the size of a quarter.

Which made the tiny caps placed over bullets absolutely worthless. They might inhibit a cape's power for all of a second or two, but getting shot tended to do that anyway.

If one good thing came of this mess, it was that I got begrudging permission to machine my own Petricite. Eventually, the PRT would learn that tinkertech shouldn't be fiddled with by normal humans with few sparing exceptions, and I supposed I was just another data point on the way to that lesson. In the future, they'd give me a list of things they wanted it to do and I'd machine up the appropriate designs for them. Easier for everyone and less of a waste. That, and I got to smirk smugly at the director while explaining this a few days back. That was also important.

My at-home meditation sessions were productive, but I couldn't just do that all day. At the moment, I was staring at another wonder of creation, one I'd completely overlooked in my rush to make the relic pistol: the Water of Life. Kind of. More specifically, the corrupted Water of Life that was a pale reflection of the original Well found by Maokai.

I only had two bottles' worth left, but I figured I could use them to make something valuable.

'Let's see… the Water of Life comes from Helia and is inherently infused with mana aligned to life, nature, and light. Maokai found it first. Then more nature spirits came along. Then the Vesani people used it to build autonomous golems, using it to draw out their own memories. It was sacred in a way few things on Runeterra truly were, a force for creation and a conduit for raw, distilled experience that remained utterly pure until the Ruination. Surely an alchemist could make much of such a magically charged ingredient.

The World Rune pulsed in my soul as it leveraged options into my focus: A true healing potion, one that could restore my eyes without the addictive properties of the Shimmer or the curse of Vilemaw.

Hell, Vilemaw himself, the so-called "spider god" worshipped by Elise, was in fact a product of the Well. During the Ruination, Vilemaw was a nature spirit who became corrupted and drank of the Water of Life, gaining his godlike power. His water-infused venom was what Elise drank to gain her limited form of immortality and if I was willing to shell out, I could skip the middleman and take a sip from the genuine article.

That was the problem: shelling out. The two flawed bottles in my hands wouldn't be enough. Typically, age equated to power on Runeterra and if I wanted the pure Water of Life as Maokai first found it, enough to heal and empower myself, I'd need enough Mana Crystals to fill a truck. Much like a weapon made of True Ice or one of Ornn's masterworks, the Water of Life was beyond me.

'What else?' I probed my soul, delving deeper. 'What else can I do with this?'

More relic weapons came to the surface: A shield of light that could banish the shadows and reveal all lies. A relic cannon of black and white that could wield the Black Mist as sure as it could wield the light of the soul. A crossbow so large that it better suited a ballista attached to a cart than a single wielder.

'No,' I dismissed them all. 'I don't need another weapon. If this thing can't give me my eyes now… can I restore it somehow? Charge it?'

A different memory surfaced, one that I initially thought had nothing to do with Helia. It was a Mana Crystal encased in a blue, teardrop-shaped gem. The Prodigal Explorer would find it in a Shuriman tomb.

'The Tear of the Goddess,' I thought reverently.

In-game, it was the staple item of many rapid-fire casters because it allowed the wielder to permanently increase their mana reserves with every spell used, eventually capping out and becoming material for an even better item. If that was all it could do, I'd have no need for it. The World Rune was a limitless well after all. Why seek more mana when the little I could access already taxed me so?

But it was so much more than that. It was an anchor, a bridge between the physical and spiritual. When Ezreal reached the Tear, it was being used as the anchor of a seal used to keep the Void from bleeding over into Runeterra. Kai'Sa, who had been investigating the tomb for this exact seal, joined him and the two pushed back the Void together. After that, the Tear was brought back to Piltover, where it remained at the university for research purposes. Even I didn't know exactly where the Tear came from; the World Rune was silent on the matter, only that it was not truly the relic of a celestial.

'Does it even matter? The Tear is at least partially sacred. It's greatly attuned to protection. It can store incredible amounts of mana. Even better, it could ultimately be used as the core for a powerful artifact, not quite a masterwork to the Forgelord's standard, but near enough to be considered a national treasure by any kingdom. Combined with the World Rune's ability to transmute materials for me… Can I make this?'

I didn't even notice my hands move. Before I knew it, I had my last two bottles emptied into a bowl along with the sum total of the Mana Crystals I'd made today, twenty-eight all told. I'd probably get an earful about responsibility and "slacking off" when I showed up at the PRT with no crystals, but that was acceptable.

On the surface, the process felt superficially similar to making a relic pistol, a whole lot of transmutation and focused meditation, but there were some noteworthy differences. Unlike the Petricite, the Water of Life had much of the concepts and attunements inherent to the Tear of the Goddess. Life, light, a bridge between the physical and spiritual, a reservoir of magic… Perhaps it was this metaphysical similarity, or perhaps it was simply because I'd done something comparable before, but the transmutation came easier.

The twenty-eight crystals merged themselves into one even as the water gathered and coagulated. At the end of two hours, I had a single, beautiful gem bluer than any sapphire. It was a little bigger than my thumb and along the tail end of the Tear was a hole, perfect for a thin chain to tie it around my neck. If I needed any proof that the World Rune would indulge my intent, this minor adjustment was it.

I quickly found a chain and hooked it around my neck. The chain itself was a spare, one I'd gotten just in case the size didn't match on Raque's pendant. The moment I put it on, I felt my mana surge.

The sensation was impossible to put to words. My magic was always there; the World Rune was quite literally grafted to my soul after all. But now, now it felt closer to the surface. I didn't need extra mana, but in making the Tear and infusing my own intent into the creation process, I'd inadvertently made my first magical focus.

Wearing it also reminded me of something else that happened in-game: The wearer could deal a little extra damage against minions. It was a way to make farming a little easier, a tiny nod on the part of the developers to make sure the player didn't fall too far behind early game.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Tear was a bridge between the spiritual and physical. I now had a far more literal understanding of what that meant: Simply having it on my person would attune my body to mana, slowly increasing my physical body's ability to process magic. It was a glacial process, but I'd eventually become superhuman as my body adapted to the increased metaphysical "weight" hanging from my neck. When I'd finally gotten the full use from this item, I could turn it into something else.

'It's an item that evolves with me.' I grinned. 'It's perfect.'

X

2000, June 30: Phoenix, AZ, USA

I'd discovered a tangential benefit to having the Tear: It let me hide how efficient my Mana Crystal generating meditations had become. I stopped meditating at HQ because I was afraid my crystal generation rate would be monitored, making it all the more difficult for me to store up stockpiles for myself. Now, I could simply produce one every ten minutes and sink the excess mana into my greedy little necklace. I hadn't planned it that way, but it did give me a bit more freedom.

I was fortunate in that most of my "tinkering" could be automated. I still needed to produce the appropriate amount of crystals, enchant items, etc. but I could leave the machining to computer programs and premade casts.

I had more free time on my hands than many tinkers, but I found that it was a curse as well as a blessing. After ensuring that all my dehydrators, casts, and furnaces were running, I was ushered off to the Scottsdale Fashion Square, the mall where I'd held my debut. The PRT was insistent on "keeping up morale" and wanted me to sign my very first merchandise.

So, that's what I did for three hours. I shook hands, smiled, and pretended I gave a damn about Rubedo-brand lunchboxes and whatnot while there was a gang war going on. On the upside, Director Lyons had indeed commissioned some Rubedo-brand sunglasses which I found deliciously ironic.

Following the PR event, I changed back into my civvies. I was decked out almost entirely in PRT merch, from a Redbird-brand t-shirt and Ranchero jeans to my own sunglasses.

I spent a rare afternoon with my mom. She fussed over me like only a mother could. We had lunch, got a haircut and some new clothes she promised made me look "dashing," and visited the local music store for some jazz CDs for me and a new metronome for her.

All told, the interruption represented a startling bit of normalcy in my otherwise cape-centric life, one I suspect mom planned days in advance.

I heard the central fountain gargling in the background. Mom let go of my hand and replaced hers with my collapsible walking stick. She pushed me gently onto a bench.

"I'm going to go use the restroom. Stay here a while, okay?" she said.

I nodded agreeably. "Okay, mom. I'll be right here."

I heard her walking off into the distance and turned inwards to meditate. It wasn't like I could check my phone or anything. I didn't get to sink much into the Tear.

I hadn't sat there longer than three minutes when I heard someone come up.

"Hey, are those the new hero-glasses?" said a boy I'd never heard before. He sounded like he was a few years older than me, not old enough to have his balls drop, but not my age either. Two more footsteps accompanied him.

I mentally sighed and turned to face him. "Yeah, Rubedo's. Do you like them?"

"They're cool, but he doesn't show up much. Mom says that's 'cause he's in big trouble."

"Maybe, but these glasses are pretty comfortable."

"Can I see?" said another voice.

Seeing no harm in it, I took them off and held them out to that other boy. "Sure."

"Woah, what happened to your eyes?"

I gestured to my walking stick. "I'm blind," I explained patiently. "I got hurt, see?" I felt someone take the walking stick from me. "Please give that back. I need it to go anywhere."

"Hey, look, I'm Oathkeeper," a third voice said.

I sighed. I'd already drank three servings of Oracle's during my work as a Ward and hadn't bothered to bring any extra with me. Agent Morrison had a few, but he'd driven off already. Mom had an extra in her handbag, but she'd taken that with her. I lamented my carelessness even as I held out my hand. "Hey, give that back," I said as firmly as my eight year old body would allow.

"No, this is my sword," the child said stubbornly. Judging by the whooshing noises he kept making, he was probably acting out some of her sword draws.

'Heh, I used to do the same,' I thought bemusedly. Not quite the same, but I used to take mom's umbrella and pretend it was a lance back in my old life. 'Still annoying as fuck though.'

I stood and made a lunge for where I thought the "sword" would be. I knew Oathkeeper liked her iaido, so I reached near waist-level expecting a horizontal swing. I'd guessed right. My forearm collided with the pole and a slight sting shot up my arm. I grabbed it and yanked firmly, but the older boy held on. "Enough. I'd like my walking stick back now."

"Nu-uh," he yanked back. I winced at how much effort it took me to simply hold on to the stick and couldn't help the realization that I had a long way to go to compete with trained normal, never mind brutes and combat thinkers.

"We'll give the stick back if I can keep your glasses," the second voice said slyly, the one who'd asked to see them. "You don't even need them."

I almost lost it at that. Cover or not, playing the blind kid wasn't fun. In school, I was known as a vulnerable student and the teachers were extra-watchful around me. I didn't have that protection here. It wasn't as though I could take my emergency pills and slap the little shits around via Iron either, no matter how tempting that was. The worst part of all this was that I couldn't tell if there was any actual malice or they were just kids too stupid to know better.

"No, they're both mine so give them back."

The original boy to approach me said something, but I couldn't hear him over some girl screeching. The weight on the other end of the stick suddenly fell away.

"Leave him alone," she growled. She sounded like she'd be around our age and had a vaguely Asian accent. It wasn't thick enough that I could place her country, but it was there nonetheless.

"Hey, you kicked him!"

"Yeah, so? Fuck are you going to do about it?"

That was as far as they got because an adult finally decided to intervene now that there was actual violence.

"Hey!" he shouted. I could hear heavy footsteps coming our way and I pictured an overweight, middle-aged man with a receding hairline and puffing cheeks. "What's going on here?"

"She kicked him!" The three were readily yelling.

"She kicked my baby," a shrill woman cried. "Get her out of here!"

'For fuck's sake,' I thought. 'You mean the mom was watching nearby? Talk about shit parenting.' I was sorely tempted to hit her, consequences be damned. Instead, I yelled. "Excuse me!" When I felt eyes on me, I gestured generally to the middle-aged man. "Are you the mall security, sir?"

"Yeah, can't you see the bad-" he cut himself off, only now noticing my eyes and the walking stick in my hand.

I smiled beatifically. "No, sir. I can't see your badge. I was sitting here waiting for my mom. She's in the restroom by the way. Three boys came and took my sunglasses and walking stick. I think they were pretending the stick was Oathkeeper's sword. I asked them to give it back, but they wouldn't. Then some girl came and helped me. I don't know if she kicked him or not, but she's helping me."

"You-"

"No," the mall cop cut off the overprotective mom. He tried to cover up his faux pas the way most people do: by being seen to be doing something. "You get those three kids out of there and give me those sunglasses back," he snapped. "They each get a warning on their record. You hear me?"

'Miracle of miracles, an adult doing his job on Earth-Bet,' I drawled in my head. Still, I got up and tucked the walking stick under my arm before bowing respectfully to him. "Thank you, sir."

"Sure, kid. Here're your sunglasses."

I turned to the girl. "Thank you too. My name's Andy, what's yours?"

"Alice." I couldn't see, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

And that was how I met one Alice Nohara, daughter of super tiger-mom Shigure and major type-A personality herself. When mom arrived, she and Alice's mom got to talking. Before us kids knew what was happening, she and Shigure were gossiping like old friends.

Shigure and her husband, Kenji, owned a small izakaya called "Izakaya Nohara" not far from our own apartment. Alice had apparently recognized me from school, though I couldn't say the same for obvious reasons. She was a year above me and hadn't found a reason to hang out with someone younger during recess.

Mom thanked her profusely.

When the adults got to talking about hobbies and talents, read: subtly bragging about how awesome their kids were, Shigure expressed how she'd like Alice to pick up an instrument to "broaden her horizons and stand out for college applications." I couldn't suppress a roll of my eyes, but that went thankfully unnoticed. Mom talked about her own musical career and offered to tutor Alice in the violin. She'd become a regular voice in my life from that point.

Author's Note

Vilemaw's lore is AU. His true origins are completely unknown. We only know that he is a spider god who lives in the Shadow Isles (one of the few living things there), is worshipped by Elise, and granted her a form of immortality that lasts so long as she drinks his venom. I figured it'd be an interesting bit of flavortext to say he's a nature spirit corrupted by the Ruination who made his cave over the old Well of Life. The faded text that Markus sees near his cave in "Strand by Silken Strand" are the ruins of the sacred well.

The mall scene is admittedly very cliché, but eh. I wanted a try at handling childishness for childishness' sake. I think this fic is a bit too mature at times, not in content, but definitely in how Andy approaches matters. He can't help it, but there's an inexplicable charm in kids being kids that I like. Or maybe, this scene is more important than you'd think? Hmm...

Now, this is the conclusion of the second arc. An interlude will follow.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.