Aurelian sat with relative calm on the granite floor of the cavernous expanse beneath what he had learned had once been the Imperial Palace of Elysea’s capital city, Avalon. That fact, and others, had been revealed to him by the gargantuan dragon king that even then loomed above him.
Bael’tharax’s head alone was large enough that Aurelian could have stepped up and placed his body against one of the dragon’s eyes, and had room to stretch upward. Each fang was over three metres long, and his massive horns were large enough that he could have easily impaled several buses along them, lengthwise, with ease.
“NOW RECLAIMER, LET US DISCUSS YOUR IMMEDIATE CONCERNS.”
Aurelian directed his attention to his HUD at Bael’tharax’s bone-shaking words, and ignored the mild vibration of the cavern that resulted from the ancient leviathan’s rumbling intonations. Instead, he looked to his status conditions area, and noted the still-present icon of a flashing chicken drumstick, and the associated signifier.
Condition: Starvation (Mild)
-15% Health Regeneration for Duration
-15% Stamina Regeneration for Duration
“I’ll admit that I’m still not really certain why Tarixi wanted me to release you from stasis when we could have just gone looking for food—?”
“We are in a complex that has been abandoned or infested for who knows how many millennia, Aurelian, and with not an iota of knowledge as to the existence or status of any stored foodstuffs. You cannot check such things from the local System interface here, and even if you could; reaching it could prove more perilous than simply starving to death slowly.”
The Echo shook her ghostly head firmly.
“While waking Bael’tharax early may have been reckless, it was also necessary. Not simply for what he can do to resolve your hunger issues, and thus save you from a painful and needlessly complex search for sustenance; but also because of what he may yet do to increase your chances against an extremely powerful foe.”
“Ah yes,” Aurelian said with a feeling of annoyance and anger building in him. “The Vasiri you never deigned to tell me about.”
“Hypothesised Vasiri.” Tarixi corrected without backing down. “And I will not apologise for attempting to ensure your safety. You may have seemed sensible and possessed of a somewhat applaudable survival instinct, but I have seen smarter people die to lesser foes for sillier reasons than bone-headed courage. I had a duty to protect you, and I saw it as being fulfilled.”
“You mean a duty to protect the Reclamation,” Aurelian corrected more coldly than he perhaps intended, though a large and stubborn part of his mind insisted it was warranted.
Tarixi flinched at his accusation, but Aurelian refused to feel guilty and instead turned back to Bael’tharax. The Dragon King had been watching the byplay with one massive golden eye, head tilted to observe the two of them from far above as he remained silent save for the deep, gale force pattern of his breathing.
When Aurelian turned to him, the dragon’s pupil slitted further in focus and he spoke once again.
“THE VALIDITY OF YOUR CONCERNS AS TO MY AWAKENING ARE NOTED AND APPRECIATED, RECLAIMER, BUT YOU NEED NOT WORRY. I MAY BE DYING, AND EVEN NOW CAN FEEL THE DEGENERATIVE POWER FLAYING AT MY VITALITY; BUT I AM HARDLY WEAK OR USELESS.” The ancient dragon shook his head as if to dislodge an itch or unwanted something that had attached to his skull, and the secondary tremble of his body from the action caused the entire excavated cavern to shake ominously from the force of his movement.
Had Aurelian not already experienced such sensations in the past, he might have run then and there for cover.
“CORRECTING YOUR HUNGER IS MERELY A MATTER OF TRANSMUTING PURE MANA INTO A CONSUMABLE ITEM. WHILE THIS MAY SOUND OR SEEM AT FIRST A MOMENTOUS UNDERTAKING, IT IS IN TRUTH A PALTRY TASK FOR ONE SUCH AS I.” All else aside, the terminal diagnosis of his situation had done nothing to hinder the dragon’s pride, and Aurelian even detected a poignant and blatant bit of smug satisfaction in Bael’tharax’s tone.
Truthfully, he couldn’t help but smile at it. He had loved Dragons and the idea of them his entire life on earth, and to meet one of such a presence, power, and magnitude as Bael’tharax was… more than he ever might have dreamed.
As if to put words into action immediately, Aurelian watched as the massive dragon’s gazing eye flickered and then flared with an eruption of prismatic energy that burned a myriad of colours each instant.
A second passed and the energy faded, and Aurelian found himself suddenly sitting before several loaves of what appeared to be flour-dusted bread, with each loaf made in the shape of a small dragon’s scale.
“IDENTIFY ALL BEFORE YOU.” The dragon commanded with satisfaction.
Aurelian was quick to comply.
Revelate!
Name: Manaforged Essenceloaf
Type: Food
Quality: Legendary
Description: Created from pure mana by the power of a leviathan-sized Dragon King, these loafs contain enough nourishment and energy to sustain and purify even a Grandmaster Tier individual. Unlike distilled Essence Droughts, no infusion is required for effect with this food.
Special Effect: Consuming this food will grant the eater the favour of the Dragon King, allowing them to recover Health, Mana, and Stamina at twice their normal rate for 24 hours per quarter of each loaf consumed. Duration stacks, effect does not.
“Wow,” Aurelian said while he read over the newly generated food with legitimate surprise, and a wide smile. “These look amazing. How did you know I like sourdough?”
“WHAT IS—YES, INDEED. I AM THE DRAGON KING. IT IS WHAT I DO. I KNOW THINGS.”
Aurelian stared up at the dragon in open disbelief for a few moments at how uncannily close he had come to quoting an immensely popular meme from earth, and then remembered where and when he was and shook himself free of the surprise. While hearing the words come from the dragon—one which Aurelian was more and more confidently comparing to an angry baby boomer, ready to rant at all the pesky undead hooligans on his proverbial lawn—had been a surprise, it wasn’t as if he really had time to be gaping at everything that caught him off-guard.
The timer in his head was still ticking down, after all.
“So how much should I eat?” he asked with a glance at Tarixi. He might have been annoyed with the Echo, but he was not idiotic enough to dismiss her advice. “It says one quarter of one will last me, but…”
“These loaves are not mere food.” the goblin’s spirit responded with no indication of their earlier interaction plaguing her. “Each one is, in its own way, a potent purifier. They will rid you of any unwanted pollutants or corrosive elements within your blood, even in the minimum consumption. It will not be as intense as when you imbibed your Soulforce draught, but it will still be a shock to your system.”
Aurelian eyed the loaves more warily at her words, and then once again eyed the negatives from his status condition. There really wasn’t a choice, no matter how much trepidation Tarixi had suddenly drilled into his thoughts.
At least she was being honest, though. Even if it was a brutal sort of honesty.
“Additionally,” Tarixi said as if the words were drawn-out of her, “it would be an opportune time to attempt to open your Root Chakra. It is the easiest of the seven, and the surge of pure energy from the loaf slice would work well in assisting you in unravelling its knot. I know you have been probing at it since I taught you to spellcast, and this might very well be the push you need.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Aurelian reached out to collect the nearest of the loaves as he listened to her, and his eyes roamed over its soft and powdery surface while he considered it. It was true about his Root Chakra, after all. He had been prodding at the block every chance he’d been able to, and trying to unravel the knot each time.
He was confident that his efforts had helped progress the process, though the compression of tied channels that formed his twisted Root Chakra remained stubbornly in place despite his best attempts to unravel it.
If it truly was like something blocking a proverbial river, then a sudden eruption of force might indeed be just what was needed to finally dislodge it. He felt like he had developed a good enough grasp of its formation to at least try.
“I’ll do it,” Aurelian said after a few more seconds’ rumination, and a look up at both Tarixi and Bael’tharax. “Though I am guessing it’s going to hurt. A lot.”
“It likely will.” Tarixi confirmed. “Though the Root Chakra is the least painful, and easiest of all the seven to unlock, it normally it takes years for a denizen to be ready to unlock their first Chakra, and they are trained to do so from the age when the System first manifests. In this case, the loaf's power will supplement your own lack of preparation,” she smiled mirthlessly.
"Were you not Nephilim,” she continued, “and circumstances not so dire, we would never consider this... but needs must outweigh wants,” she sighed while she continued. "The further you ascend along the path, the more effort and pain there is involved—though it will be markedly easier to start the process for the remaining six, as compared to your Root Chakra. Contradictory, I know. Just... prepare for pain, Aurelian.”
“Pain is becoming normal for me,” Aurelian said dryly—and fully aware of the fact he was quoting many other fictional protagonists he had read about being in similar situations—while carefully breaking off roughly a quarter of the loaf in his hand. “I figured out after the third, or fourth time my back was torn open, that I either had to learn to live with it, or hide in a dark corner of this cave and wait for the undead to find me. If this helps me deal with them, well… hell, isn’t this why I have Pain Tolerance?”
The goblin spirit simply smiled.
Aurelian didn’t feel reassured.
With careful practice, Aurelian let focus and discipline fill his mind, leaned into his Breath Control skill to stabilise himself, and then promptly popped the quarter-loaf into his mouth and chewed.
The moment he did so, his eyes went wide, and he almost lost control of his breathing immediately. It tasted like pizza, and meat pie, and beef wellington, and fresh fish and chips, and any other number of phenomenal things he hadn’t realised he’d missed so thoroughly.
Each chew was like an explosion of flavour in his mouth, and Aurelian felt tears spring to his eyes unbidden at the sheer pleasure, and bittersweet joy the food introduced him to.
When he swallowed the mouthful, he was tempted to grab more, and likely would have if not for the sudden flush of heat that rocked him to the core. In fact it seemed like quite a literal statement at that, because he could feel the tempest of power roaring within his inner mind’s eye as his Ignition Stage Calamity Core devoured and absorbed the sudden wellspring of pure mana blazing through his veins.
Aurelian’s breath hitched, and he struggled not to bend over as something equivalent to the worst cramp of his life gripped and stiffened his abdominal muscles, and his Iron Will and Pain Tolerance worked in concert to allow him to retain his focus and self-awareness amid a sudden wave of agony.
More heat filled his body from the centre point of his Core, somewhere below his solar plexus, and he heard himself moan in pain while he desperately focused inward and attempted to come to grips with what was happening.
Aurelian felt his limbs shake and his entire frame begin to rattle as the heat continued to grow at an alarming, and inexorable rate; rising with force and intensity that seemed to defy any concept of reality, and made him wonder if he was about to quite literally detonate outward.
It felt as if someone had let loose a bomb in his Core, and Aurelian could picture the crimson storm of shapeless energy as it ejected entire rivers of molten mana back into his channels.
The air around Aurelian began to haze and distort, and at first he thought it to be an effect of the mana on his mind.
Then he realised, belatedly, it was his actual body.
Steam was rising from his pores—no, not steam, but smoke. First transparent white and then gradually darker, and more shadowed oily putrescence that reminded him of the vile pus-like tar he’d expelled when taking his Soulforce draught.
It was only when he started to wonder why he’d chosen to subject himself to such mindless torture that he remembered his Chakra and almost blanched in worry.
Aurelian’s focus dove inward, and with a surge of his Mana Control skill he searched for, and identified, the prismatic radiance of the unaspected mana raging through his veins. Without any time to lose he reached out to grip the current of mana… and felt his control snap instantly.
Panic shot through his mind, and he struggled to retain control of his breathing as he tried to seize the mana with his skill once more, and again failed. The torrential power of the pure energy seemed beyond his ability to corral through sheer force, and Aurelian had to think quickly.
What had Tarixi always said to him?
Mana wanted to flow, and it wanted to surge.
It made sense then that he was attempting the equivalent of grasping the tide by the fist, which would never work.
So instead, he let it flow.
Aurelian focused not on forcing the direction of mana, but on guiding it. He reached to the fore of his channels and ‘scooped’ large amounts of his own mana—dumping it ahead of the raging river of prismatic energy—and formed it into a kind of ‘pipe’ through which the eruption of power could surge.
This pipe he altered and shifted at its exit point, and kept constantly in line with, and slightly ahead of, the rushing river of power. He dodged irrelevant mana channels, and deviations in his interior self that might have dispersed the potency of the swelling tide, all while keeping his attention solely focused on its path through his body.
Faster and faster it moved, and its concentration of potency grew with the ever-increasing funnelling of its force within his channels.
Aurelian shifted it again, and again, and again towards its destination as the putrefied, unwanted smog of what he had identified passively as infectious and corrupting mana was wafted away into nothingness by the blazing light, which each second was burning out the tar-like stains within his body.
The Dragon King’s boon was like a relentless onslaught of purification, and it incinerated the congealed and sickly lumps of acid-green ooze—which he slowly began to identify as remnant pieces of undead animation magic—clean out of his system.
Each remnant puffed into black smoke to join the rest with every moment of purgation, and when at last Aurelian turned the now crescendoing wave of power at last towards his Root Chakra; he released the funnel of mana.
He let the dragon’s energy flow free while he delved his consciousness into the radiant knot of stubborn resistance that was his Root Chakra, and began carefully and quickly widening the proverbial ‘strings’ knotting it together. It wasn’t enough to unlock it, but that was not his goal: his goal was to loosen it, and to weaken the strength of the binding between each layer of twisted and convulsed mana.
In so doing, he could allow for the rush of oncoming energy to do what he had been unable to do alone, and force it apart like the pressure of a river obliterating a weakened Dam.
The Chakra resisted him stubbornly, and with every nanometre of progress he made in unravelling the clotted mana, his body was wracked with spasms of pain, and wrenching nausea within his gut.
Pain Tolerance and Iron Will burned with brilliance in his mind’s eyes from where they threaded through, and were interlinked inside of his Core, and Aurelian gnashed his teeth in the physical world—all while throwing every ounce of his considerable Willpower at the stubbornly unmoving knot.
He used his own mana like steel columns to prop up and separate the colossal vines that were the Chakra’s knotted layers, and scrambled to go faster than ever as the roar of the oncoming tide met his mental awareness.
Some few twists and twines remained, and Aurelian worked at a feverishly redoubled pace with his mana pool dwindling as fast as his new buff regenerated it.
Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the entire collection of chaotic whorls of twisted mana, he felt the imminent crash of power.
He wasn’t done, but there was no time to be wasted.
Aurelian sucked in a breath on the outside in preparation, and then visualised himself using his own body to lift up and push apart the last major thread of the knot.
Bael’tharax’s manasurge hit his Chakra like a tsunami against a sandcastle.
Aurelian’s mind turned into noise, pain, and chaos.
His throat opened in a scream that tore his vocal cords, and his eyes, ears, and nose began to haemorrhage. His spirit recoiled, his body broke, and his mind gibbered under the obliterating tidal force of the dragon’s power. He threw every iota of himself at holding on, and yet he could feel himself slipping. He was not strong enough, nor possessed of a strong enough will to resist the shattering that was occurring.
Pain Tarixi had warned him of, but what raged through him transcended such banal names. It was not pain, it was an ending. It was a deconstruction. His Iron Will was not equipped to handle it. It couldn’t even level, so strained and drawn to its limit was the ability.
He had no breath with which to speak, and no thought with which to convey his needs regardless. He was out of options. There was no way to prevent what he knew would occur: Iron Will would break.
It would collapse under the strain of what he demanded of it, and the Rare skill would shatter before the power of a Legendary creature’s purifying wave.
It was simply not high enough in tier nor quality to resist such might.
Not high enough in quality…?
The thought penetrated the insanity of his collapsing awareness for one single, crystal-clear moment. It isn’t high enough! The differential between the Legendary-ranked item he’d consumed and the Rare-ranked skill that sought to hold it in check was too low. The only way to correct that would be if he could—
Aurelian’s mind snapped to his HUD, pulled up his sheet and without wasting even a moment of the borrowed time his fracturing identity already existed on, he slammed one of his Skill Evolution points home into Iron Will.
For one thousandth of an instant which seemed to extend into eternity, nothing happened. It was as if the point sunk into the skill and nothing else occurred from its interaction.
Then, suddenly, a note rang out.
Through his mind, his soul, and his Core.
It chimed. It trumpeted. It boomed.