Arch-mage Mathers walked with purpose, his steps hurried but controlled. He and his retinue made their way toward the office he was currently borrowing from Jennings, his scowl growing worse the longer he listened to one of the young mages currently accompanying him. The man on his right was struggling to keep up while most of his mind was focused on relaying what he was reading on his link. ‘The young never spend enough time training the basics. The fool can probably cast a class 3 variable event but can’t walk and read at the same time,’ he thought to himself with some disappointment.

Glancing over his shoulders as he walked, he looked at the three young mages dutifully following him, delicately probing their field strengths. With just a thought, he opened his link and brought up their employment records, noting their ages. Only one of them was out of their first century. Halting his observations, his attention returned forward, dismissing them from his thoughts. While part of his attention listened to the young man drone on, the core of his mind wandered, ‘Was I really any different at that age? Seduced by the lure of power and results, we all tend to ignore what’s important. If we didn’t, then we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?’

Interrupting the young man’s impeccable report on the status of the Tower of Magic’s various efforts, Mathers asked, “Are the preparations finished for the summit? Anyone fail to respond to the summons?”

As the young mage on the right fell silent, the one trailing behind him spoke up, eager to report her successful efforts. “No, arch-magister, the court-mages have all confirmed their attendance. The conclave has been opened and the communication array is charging as we speak.”

Mathers grunted in annoyance. “I’m not the arch-magister. Just because I’m sitting in his chair doesn’t mean I’ve taken the position. If he can get by being called an arch-mage, than so can I,” he said, with a little more heat in his voice than he intended.

“Of course, arch-mage,” the young mage replied immediately.

Rolling his eyes, Mathers moved on. “Speaking of the old troublemaker, have our analysts and the infiltration teams found anything supporting his hypothesis?” he asked, turning to the young man on his left.

With a calm, controlled voice, the young mage replied, “Not much as of yet. However, one of the infiltration teams in Valtenburg found evidence confirming a plot between some nobles and several agents with ties to the Tower of Fate.”

Pausing in the hallway, Mathers turned to young man and glared at him. “What kind of plot?” he asked icily.

The young man met Mathers eyes without flinching and replied, “The local nobles were hiding evidence of an essence disturbance. They’d paid off mages and logicians working at the local towers to alter the data in the local Thought-hub and suppress reports of sightings. According to the records the infiltration team found, the fateweavers were promising that such actions would lead to a new dungeon spawning within the city’s control range.”

Mathers scoffed, then resumed heading toward the magister’s private office. “Idiots all of them. The nobles for giving up their honor for a chance to raise their position, the local mages for selling their futures, the logicians for risking their lives for valens, and those fate weaving morons for relying on probability to predict what kind of dungeon would spawn. For all they know their actions might end up allowing a rift to open right next to a city. They’ve been wrong before, why do they think the damn laws prohibiting prophecy manipulation exist! The hubris of those bastards is just as bad as Jennings said.”

The three mages replied in unison, “Yes, arch-mage.”

Had Mathers been paying attention, he might have found it amusing to see them all look at each other in surprise at their impromptu coordination.

Reaching his destination, he waved his hand to softly throw open the large doors. Without breaking stride he walked into the entryway and saw his two assistants stand up from their desks to greet him. Before they could say anything, he asked tersely, “Anything I need to know?”

The assistants shared a brief look across the room, then the one on his left said, “Lord Walker’s party encountered a mob in the wilds of Dorchester. It looks like we’re finally going to get some answers about the anomaly’s essence-shield! The consensus in the council chamber is that the shield isn’t anchored properly and is only powered by the ambient essence. However I, and the other Nero-knights believe that he isn’t even using a shield. Everything up to this point has been his natural field protecting him from harm. Well, as much harm as it could at this point. But that’s still impressive considering he isn’t even level 15 yet. Him having a field of such strength at his level is incredible!” The young man’s voice gained enthusiasm as he spoke.

Mathers stuttered to a stop as the assistant relayed his theories, the young mages following him almost ran into him. The scowl which had been permanently attached to his face transitioned to shock. He looked at the assistant and replied in a voice devoid of warmth, “I meant about anything important. I don’t care who our mages spend their free time watching, but when there are things of importance that need doing, I expect everyone of us to rise to the occasion. We might be facing an official Tower war for the first time in a thousand years, and this one might span the entirety of the kingdom. Over half of the cities in Oglivarch have Towers of Fate by this point, every one of them currently operating under a royal seal. Nevertheless, the Tower of Magic has stood as one of the pillars this kingdom was built on since its inception, and I will not allow those fateweaving half-wits to spread their idiocy any longer. The director wants evidence of their wrongdoings, and I’ll be damned if we don’t find it for him. I’ll be in my office… focus on what matters.”

Mathers took two steps toward his office, then paused once again to glare at the assistant. “And ‘Nero-knights’? Really?” he asked with his voice full of derision. “If you end up making some of those t-shirts Nero always talked about, I’d recommend sending him some royalties. He strikes me as the kind of man who wouldn’t be happy having his ideas stolen.” Shaking his head in disappointment, he muttered, “Idiots… I’m surrounded by idiots.”

As he stormed through his office doors, the three mages that had been accompanying him rushed to follow him in before the doors slammed shut behind them.

The two assistants shared a look, their faces rife with fear and embarrassment. The one who hadn’t spoken said, “I told you he wouldn’t care right now. You should have just written out a report and sent it to his link labeled as an anomaly update."

The overly enthusiastic fan of Nero replied, “Yeah, that probably would have been a good idea. After all, he probably wanted to watch it himself. No one likes to have the ending spoiled.”

Together, they nodded in agreement, then sat down and returned to their duties.

-----

Instead of fleeing the wilds after their defeat, they had skirted the boundary, heading North along the border. Considering that they had only been, at most, 30 minutes into the wilds when they’d met the mob, they were still surprisingly close to the edge of the forest. While that was good news for their safety, it didn’t bode well for their time table.

Nero saw Sergeant Wesker stand up, wash out his cup with some water from his canteen, then toss the contents into the fire. As the water caused a pleasant ‘hiss’, Wesker addressed the group, “Alright, 10 minute warning. You know the drill.”

Nero watched as the man began collecting the gear he had changed out of. Now in full plate, Wesker looked like a walking tank. The armor wasn’t fancy, and the dull steel reminded Nero of any number of hackneyed knights he’d seen in movies and television. The image wasn’t helped by his fluid motions, which gave the false impression that the armor wasn’t metal at all, just a pale imitation of what the warriors of old used to wear. Nero stifled a chuckle at seeing him bend down and start picking up his old leathers and chainmail as if he weren’t hindered by his armor at all.

As Nero watched his companions start breaking down their temporary camp. Cathleen and Rose began dealing with the food and the fire, Nick stood up and stretched before heading for the ward stones, while Nero debated whether or not to ask for a few minutes to work on his essence shield. ‘There is never enough time in the field. I’m either on watch, eating, or I’m asleep. Is it any wonder I never got around to reading the mission packet?’ he asked himself wryly.

Pushing himself off his stump with his left hand, he smoothly pulled it into his personal space the moment his weight was off of it. Without saying a word, he followed Nick toward the ward stones. Normally when they collected the stones, he was just responsible for keeping an eye out while Nick took care of turning them off and purging the remaining essence. Storing them charged was apparently a no-go.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Quickly catching up to Nick, Nero whispered, “Hey man, can you keep an eye out while you deal the stones? I want to try and figure out how to add a meta-thing to my essence shield.”

Nick snorted, and replied just as quietly, “Sure, my sensory range should be more than enough to handle it. And it’s a ‘meta-physical’ layer. Just do the same thing you do with a shield spell, just without the spell-form.”

Nero glared at Nick’s back, replying, “Yeah, sure. Do the spell without doing the spell. Can you people even hear yourselves? I’m surrounded by fortune-cookies.”

Nick’s feet paused and he looked back at Nero confused. “Your old world had cookies that gave inaccurate prophecies? That’s just… I don’t know what that is. You know, everything I learn about your world makes me understand a little more about how you became how you are. You really have been through a lot.” His voice was full of sincere compassion. As he walked off toward the stones, Nero could see him shaking his head in pity.

Nero didn’t bother to correct him, as the man’s horrific opinion of Earth was a constant source of amusement that he never seemed to get tired of.

Instead, he just followed along behind him, while focusing on fixing his essence shield. First things first, he slowly let the condensed essence he had been carrying release. It felt like forcing himself to slouch after having worked on his posture for a year. There was an element of comfort, but overall it just felt… wrong.

Rolling his shoulders and shaking out his limbs, Nero tried to loosen himself up. He saw Nick glance at him over his shoulder, probably wondering what he was doing. Ignoring him, Nero extended his field as far as it could go, straining to reach out through the forest. After spreading his psyche as thin as possible, he flexed his will and lightly grabbed at the edges. He imagined that this must be what raking a lake must feel like. He didn’t exactly force it, but any free essence in the area pulled in toward his body, compressing against the natural field along his skin. Firming his hold, he compressed the essence, watching it flow around him faster and faster. The amount of essence he pulled in was much higher than what he’d been capable of even a few days ago. Smiling at his progress, he tried to focus on his next steps.

Meanwhile, Nick had brought them to the first ward stone and was lazily holding it up, idly watching it drain whatever essence it had collected over the past half hour, while leading them to the next stone.

Nero’s mind worked furiously, but he really had no idea what he should be doing. His pride warred with his common sense for almost a full minute before he sighed in defeat. ‘Get over yourself. Nick is RIGHT there, just ask him for help. There is no point trying to do this on your own. You’re not on Earth anymore, you can afford to admit that you have no idea what the hell you're doing. Not knowing something is not a punishable offense here,’ he assured himself.

“Hey Nick, I got the essence condensed, but I don’t know where to go from here,” Nero asked without asking, not realizing that he hadn’t actually asked a question.

Nick didn’t bother to turn around to address him. He was picking up the next ward stone, already having deactivated it “Have you infused your center into the essence you’ve collected?” he asked simply, no judgment at all in his voice.

Nero frowned, then focused on the rushing currents moving along his body. Delicately, he tried to release some of his center into the compressed essence. Normally, he’d use his hands as the medium for his center, or at least visualize it appearing somewhere. Letting it seep out of his core was an odd feeling. Almost immediately, his senses started identifying the flows. He sensed so many different types of essence, he began to feel dizzy and stumbled into Nick.

Nick, feeling Nero bump into him, looked over and saw Nero’s blank face. “Nero, stop focusing on the flows, just let your center connect with the field,” he said, an undercurrent of annoyance slipping into his tone.

Nero nodded absently, pulling his awareness away from the flows. Yet, he could still feel the essence covering every inch of his body, slipping through his clothes, running along the thin edge of his bio-field. Psychically, he could practically ‘taste’ the color of his leather armor. Information and sensations were bombarding his mind, as if his identity were entwined with everything in that small, compact area. Which, in a way, it kind of was.

Nero’s attention was pulled by Nick’s hands clapping in front of his face. “Snap out of it. Learn to master your mind. You are in control of what you focus on. Don’t get lost in the essence. Just claim it, and let it serve as a buffer between you and the world. You understand what I’m saying?” Nick asked, finally giving Nero his full attention.

Nero nodded dumbly, doing his best to control his scattered thoughts. Shaking his head harshly, he pushed the information he was receiving to the corner of his mind. It was like being surrounded by flashing lights and people trying to get your attention, but having to focus on the person whispering right in front of you. But those mind stats must be useful for something, so Nero persevered and forced himself to focus on Nick’s face. With his attention finally locked onto his friend, he said, “Alright, I think I got it. It’s a pain in the ass, but I got it. Now what?”

Nick was staring hard at Nero, standing directly in front of him, forcing Nero to keep looking him in the eyes. “Good. Now gently, try and focus on the field of control you have at the edge of the compressed field. It should feel like a thin film, a separate area of your psychic presence frozen in space, currently holding back your center along with the essence you’ve collected. Let me know when you’ve found it,” he said with total seriousness.

Nero grimaced, muttering, “Don’t call it a film.”

He did his best to ignore the corralled essence imbued with his center, and focused his mind on the edge of the field. Like a calm in a storm, he felt the grip that had become second nature to him become clear in his senses. It was like focusing on the muscles you used to breath, having forgotten about them but being intimately aware of them in the moment. “Found it. It’s actually not that bad if I maintain my focus on it. It makes ignoring the essence flows much easier,” he whispered, not paying much attention to what he was saying.

Nick nodded, watching Nero’s eyes glaze over. He remembered what it was like for him when he went through this training. He had expected Nero to have an easier time than he did, but after thinking about it, he realized what the problem was. Nero’s field was far too strong for him to manage. His psychic field was just too powerful, and his skills were not capable of controlling it. In a way, it was nice to see Nero having trouble with something that for most people is incredibly simple.

Keeping his voice calm and steady, he said, “Alright Nero. Now I want you to think about that layer becoming a shield. It’s just like the shield spell, remember? Its purpose is to stop things from getting past it. Nothing can cross it if you don’t want it to. It is your shield. You decide what can pass. Focus on making it real, and let the center you’ve released into the field mix with it. Give it an identity.”

Nero imagined his mage armor. A bubble enveloping his body and clothes, its only function to defend him from harm. With it, he was invincible. Nothing could hurt him. He was a mage, and this was his armor. His focus narrowed, and the mage-armor became the entirety of his world.

It happened so fast, he almost didn’t catch it. Like a loading screen which had been stuck at 99%, it ticked over to one hundred. His shield solidified, and he could feel the comfort of having a magic shield protecting his body from harm. It was there, but it wasn’t. He held up his hand, staring at it in awe. Through his psychic field, he could see the film covering his entire body, yet his eyes saw nothing. It was disorienting and wonderful.

Nick’s voice was calm, but commanding. “Nero, check your center levels.”

Not even questioning Nick’s orders, he pulled up his identity.

Name

Nero Walker

Level

13

Race

Human

Growth

72%

Tier

1

Condition

100%

Age

14

Center

76%

Body

4

Mind

5

Soul

2

Confluence

10

Stars

0

Pillars

1 / 1

Nero muttered, “76%, wait… 75%”

Nick’s voice was firm, “Nero, focus! Remember to hold on to yourself. Firm your will. Control your center. The better you can hold it together, the longer you can keep your shield active. If you really plan to walk around with an essence shield active at all times, you have a lot of work to do.”

Nero heard what Nick said, and his resolve was reignited. Like a man being told that he had to hang the shelves before getting to go to the bar with his friends, Nero put his all into controlling what was happening. He was getting a headache, but he was getting a handle on it.

Checking his identity, he saw that it had dropped to 67% before stabilizing. Yet, Nero knew he couldn’t keep up this level on concentration forever. He felt like his mind was splitting. He had to keep his center contained, ignore the essence flows begging for his attention, and finally maintain the identity of the shield itself. And that wasn’t taking into account moving around or interacting with the material world around him.

Nick’s voice remained steady. “Now, pull back your center from the essence field. Let it flow back into your center. Don’t let any slip away.”

Nero’s brow was covered in sweat, but he did what he was told. He felt his center pull back from the condensed essence, slipping back into his core. The essence lost its voice, and the onslaught of sensory information vanished. But, he could still feel the shield holding steady. Looking at his identity, he saw he had regained around 10% of his center, putting him back up to 77%. Doing some quick math… he had no idea how much center he had lost while creating his shield.

‘Good job dumb-ass. Couldn’t even bother to check your center before starting an experiment. You’re a real credit to the mages of Dorchester,’ Nero mocked himself ruthlessly.