Maiz spent the rest of the day in frustration. He’d left what he dubbed the “Purple Room” after finding nothing else of interest in it, and found himself at the beginning of a new section of the Path. The first challenge had been… interesting. Terrifying. Impossible. He had to jump between impossibly narrow spires in the ground that rose up out of a seemingly endless pit. That might have been fine enough on its own, but each of the platforms only lasted for a bare moment before giving away beneath his feet. Without remaining constantly in motion, he tumbled into the abyss.
Maiz got to know the abyss well that day.
But he’d continued, running through the Path again and finding it a little easier than before. He’d been quite excited to cast his new spell, Windblade, but actually doing so had mixed results. The first time he’d cast it, he was facing the single plate-armored golem. He activated the talent, and immediately mana began rushing through his body and into his staff, forming a matrix just as it did for his Flaming Strike. This time though, instead of a few discrete patterns, on the third pass the magic wove itself through a set of repetitive looping whorls, then made the same pattern back upon itself, but smaller than before. This process had repeated several times, the pattern growing finer and finer with each pass until it simply began dissipating into the air. The entire staff was glowing blue to his Mana Sense at that point, and Maiz could feel a gentle breeze emanating from it.
Attacking the armored golem with the spell had resulted in a sound somewhere between the hum of an insect’s wing and the screech of an angry cat. After Maiz got over the shock of that surprise, he’d noticed that a small scratch had appeared in the golem’s armor. He’d continued attacking, though his ears protested, and then cast his Flaming Strike on top of the Windblade. Surprisingly, that worked, and his next attack did significant damage to his enemy.
And then he ran out of mana.
He’d stopped casting the spell just in time, thank Lumia, but he had come incredibly close to drawing on an empty mana pool, and based on what Hakim had told him, that would have been very bad. He hadn’t realized just how quickly Windblade was draining his mana, and just how much his Flaming Strike was taking up now with each cast.
Still, he’d forced himself to use Windblade as much as possible, if only to train the spell so that he could gain ranks for it in the Dungeon. Then, when he’d finally gotten past the golems, he’d found that, according to the Jin’Tira, he wasn’t allowed to challenge a Dungeon more than once a day. So he’d continued on, only to fail again and again at the first challenge of the next floor. A wonderful experience, all told.
The next morning however, he had a mission. He navigated the stone corridors easily enough until he made it to the mess hall. Then, instead of finding a place at one of the many unoccupied sections as he normally did, he looked for, and found, one of the only people in the Temple he actually recognized.
It was more than a little intimidating, approaching a group of Journeyman combatants that he’d never met before, but Maiz had spoken to three Masters now in his life, and those risks had more than outweighed this one.
The chatting Warrior Monks looked a little disconcerted when Maiz sat down at their section, but the largest and most commanding of them nodded and smiled as he did so.
“Hello. I am afraid I do not recall your name.” He actually looked apologetic at this, though he also seemed a little guarded, as if he wasn’t quite sure why Maiz was sitting there. Maiz was having his own doubts as well.
He smiled back, though it felt a little forced. “Maiz.” He ducked his head, and let his title display itself briefly. “You’re Adrian, right?”
The young man nodded, letting his own title display in return. It was still at the Journeyman rank, which was to be expected for someone his age.
“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here. I’ve been at the Temple for only a week now, and it’s been a little, uh…”
“Lonely?” Adrian nodded sympathetically. “I always wonder how you travellers do it, especially because you cannot leave for long.”
Maiz raised his eyebrows, then quickly furrowed them. I really need to put some points into Charisma. “I’m sorry?”
Adrian looked back at him, clearly uncomprehending. His friends, who Maiz just then noticed were all studying him curiously, did the same. “What is wrong?”
They’re sort of formal here, aren’t they? The simple observation let Maiz focus on something other than the many pairs of eyes looking at him, and he spoke in a voice he thought was suitably innocent.
“I’d, uh, just never heard of what you’re saying. Why can’t we leave here for long?”
Adrian laughed, and everyone near them let out a few chuckles as well. “Did the Jin’Sa forget to tell you, then?”
Maiz frowned, in earnest this time. “Probably?”
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“If you were to leave the Temple, not through one of the portals in the Path but physically, you would begin experiencing some memory loss. Or… hm. It is difficult to describe.”
The young man rubbed his chin in thought. It was a rather impressive gesture, considering his strong jaw and muscular arms. Maiz shifted his own arms uncomfortably. He didn’t look as emaciated as he had only a month ago, but he wasn’t going to be posing for an Illuminator any time soon. Unless they wanted to portray a scrawny young man in all his mediocre glory. It was very unfair, considering Maiz likely had enough Strength to come close to Adrian, even if his body didn’t reflect it. Of course, if bodies accurately reflected attributes like Strength, even Maiz would be positively grotesque at this point.
While Maiz was somewhat jealously looking at Adrian’s muscles, the Warrior Monk had looked to his friends across the table. Finally, a young woman who looked a little like Lila, but taller and with a heart-shaped face, piped up.
“It is as if your mind begins to consider the Temple unimportant, and stops thinking about what exactly it is. Quite similar to that feeling when you walk into a room and forget why you were going there in the first place.”
Maiz grimaced. That was an incredibly annoying sensation. Especially when asking what you were supposed to be doing could earn you a severe beating. The others at the table laughed, however.
“That is a good way of describing it Juya, but you have the most practice here at forgetting things, so I suppose you are the expert!”
This was yet another of the young Warrior Monks, and he nudged the girl as he said the words in a teasing tone. She jabbed him lightly, though a smile played at the corner of her lips.
“At least when I remember to do something, I can get it done.”
At this everyone at the table except for Maiz howled with laughter, and several comments were thrown at the young man who’d spoken. He grinned sheepishly, though he looked quite embarrassed--apparently that had been a reference to some failure of his that his friends found hilarious. Maiz felt a pang of sympathy, but he was also very curious to hear more about this… memory shift that occured when one left the Temple.
Unfortunately, the group had already moved on to other topics. One young woman complained that the Jin’Sa was, in fact, forgetting to tell them important things more and more. Apparently it made working to maintain the Temple quite the chore. Another Journeyman was talking about coming off of a full month of “non-stop” training, and how he had almost missed his work the next day because of the sleep he’d experienced. That would be using Enlightenment. Maiz realized that he really should have been using that particular skill more in training, if only to extend his practice time. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, then, though he had to consider how to hide the fact that he was using Enlightenment from the Warrior Monks here.
“Maiz, was it? Where are you from?”
Juya, the same young woman who had provided the explanation about the Temple’s memory magic was looking at him. Maiz, who had been focusing rather studiously on his food and trying not to be noticed, looked up. A bit of rice fell out of his mouth, and he blushed. I’m starting to become Hugan. After chewing quickly and swallowing, he spoke.
“Yes, I’m from Corunti, actually. Caelos.”
Juya seemed interested at that. “Oh, really? The Jin’Sa has told me that the capital of Corunti is a wonderful place, have you ever been there?”
Maiz shook his head. “Uh, no. Maybe I’ll go sometime.” He chuckled weakly. Gods, I’m somehow worse at this than I was in the training grounds. Wait.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did the Jin’Sa visit our capital? Wouldn’t she forget the Temple?”
Juya shook her head, smiling. “The Jin are the only ones who can leave the Temple without forgetting it. Some sort of talisman or magic.”
“Yes, and they never use it! Wasted, if you ask me.” Another unnamed young man interjected. He looked a touch resentful, which Maiz could understand. He had been bound to one place for years, and it was only after leaving and seeing more of the world that he realized what experiences he’d been deprived of. He found himself actually eager to see Corunti’s capital, as Juya had suggested. It was something… exciting. An adventure that wasn’t about serving a god or carrying out his plans for the future.
But those plans can’t wait too long. It hadn’t escaped Maiz’s notice that, with a resource like the Path, it was conceivable that he could overshoot Viselys’ goal, and become an Adept in a fraction of the time it normally took. And then… he could finally pay back those Sharir bastards.
“... would you, Maiz?”
Maiz started slightly at the sound of his own name. What? Juya had asked him something. Maiz briefly considered simply answering ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ but he remembered the story of the Accidental Bride, and decided to avoid any potential shenanigans.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
Juya let out a slight laugh. “We were asking if you could bring us back stories of the world, once you leave?”
“It’s a silly question, you know. He wouldn’t be able to remember,” the same man as earlier said, voice dismissive.
Juya frowned. “Huh. Why not become a Jin, then, so you do not forget?”
Maiz… wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I, uh--”
“--stop teasing him, Juya. He is just a Novice, you know.”
Adrian had turned back from his other conversation, and looked reproachfully at Juya. He nodded apologetically to Maiz. “I am sorry, she does that sometimes.”
“Stop talking about me as if I am a misbehaving camel, Adrian!”
Adrian ignored that interjection, continuing. “The Jin are all Masters, and they are all Warrior Monks, like us. She is just making a poor joke. If you really wanted to come back here, your best bet would be to make a map, with instructions to return after a set time.”
“That hardly ever works, though.” Juya still sounded a bit annoyed, but also threw a sheepish glance to Maiz.
“Yes, but nothing else does at all.”
From there, the conversation devolved into a discussion of the few travellers who came to the Temple twice, including one who apparently did so by complete coincidence. But Maiz had been given something very interesting to think about. How had Hakim remembered to send Maiz here? He must have had written himself instructions, like Adrian had suggested. The only question was, what had he written that prompted him to send Maiz, of all people?
Of course, it hadn’t escaped his notice that he himself wouldn’t have that issue when he left, thanks his Mask ability. Which meant, if he wanted, he could actually return to this place with stories of the world outside, as Juya had suggested. Perhaps he would.
Of course, before he could do any of that, he had a simple goal. Power. It was time to return to the Path.