My studies suffer as all my attention redirects to finishing all the projects. While in that jail, I discovered a fix for the water jug. The border rune has to line it, which is evident once I think of it. With the border rune and an inductor rune of each affinity, I can hold the magic in the water long enough to reach oversaturation.
“You can’t be serious.” Bilby bargains.
“I don’t need to convince you of the value of this.”
“Of course not. It’s a damn treasure, but it is too hot. I can’t sell it.”
“Don’t sell it. Take the loss and use it yourself.” I argue.
“Of course, it would cut down on some shipping.”
“Some? You get two people you trust, and you can double your distribution line with one cart. Or play it conservatively, cut distribution lines, and replace them with the two and the bag. It reduces your risk.”
“Reduces the chances of getting caught, but it increases the severity and puts my eggs in one basket.”
“A sentence of a day in the mines means you will die that day.”
“You have a point... I would need at least three to justify the risk, though.”
“Then I will need something more.”
“Very clever. You came in asking, and now it’s me in need. Alright, show me your list. Don’t look at me that way. I know you have one.”
“Here.” I submit.
“You pick it up too quickly, be kicking me out of my house for magic beans in no time.”
“No time at all.”
“I can do it here. Get the bags-”
“These bags.”
“Too quick. Alright, your rations are in the back. Take the creates and get out of here. I assume you have a way of taking them with you?”
“Yes, I have another bag to take them.”
“Alright, good moves. We will make a merchant out of you yet.”
With the necessities stored, we need an alibi to throw off whoever will chase us. Shannai heads the challenge. That frees me to push out all the rest of the amalgamations. Two more lineless repeaters to complete and test, exposing a weakness in the durability of the lever. The problem might affect Jer’s model, but there isn’t anything I can do about that.
Several dozen— rune bearings? The name still needs work, but the diagrams don’t. Building them requires as much work as waiting for regeneration. The water jugs relieve this once they dry. A few sips replenish mana half the time.
My path is clear. The water jugs are storing mana. I have the first set of catalysts charged and a second almost. The— Sphrunes? I rather like sphrune as a name. I have dozens of each type stored away for a moment's notice. Is there anything else? I made the tracking blocker amalgamations Shannai mentioned by modifying a catalyst. I left instructions for the miscreant merchant, Urch. And I wrote to my father as well. The latter letter has to be discrete, but I think I alluded well enough.
Mage Crucus exits a shop on my way to the dorm. I’ve seen him outside of his workhouse once before. Yet he is out in the world, bustling about while looking down. He is talking to himself, no doubt working over some rune formation. I wonder if I ever have a similar countenance. I approach him and wave, taking a moment before wrestling a piece of his attention.
“Oh, initiate Vesh. It is good to see you.” He greets me without looking.
“To you as well, mage Crucus. What is that there?”
“Oh? Yes, my guilty pleasure, I am afraid. I can’t do without them. Would you like one?”
“I can never turn down such an offer. Mmmm. Is that vanilla?”
“Ah… It is— Creme caramel, they are called.” He clarifies, accenting the name with an eastern lilt. “I don’t want to give you one. I just said that to be nice.”
“That is fine enough.”
“It is no problem. Also, come to my workshop so I can give you the rubric for your project.”
“I have been meaning to stop by.” I lie, dreading the disappointing conversation.
“Yes. No need. I know how it is to find the magic of death for the first time. Be not troubled. You will come in time, and I am sure you have half a project in that head. No, it is okay. We can’t help it. So long as we do not act on it without the proper permissions.”
“You know me too well,” I concede.
"It is a glow gem diagram. Here, let's step out of the street. It is a little advanced. You will find some fun in it, no doubt."
“That does sound interesting.”
“I thought it would, with some of the variance principles in the seventh volume. You see there with the inductor runes?”
“Very interesting.” I think aloud, scrutinizing the diagram.
“You will need one with the necessary load efficacy indicated in the specification key. Do not forget the gem must have a load rated twenty percent higher.”
“I will get to work on it right away.”
The diagram is interesting for several reasons, the chief of which is the missing power rune. Normal glow gems can run off of ambient mana, but the capacity of the formation hints at a missing power rune. Something even stranger presents under this scrutiny. With pieces added, the rune could anchor to the power source. If my guess is correct, I could power every amalgamation from one source.
It opens up an entire world, and I have the secret that makes it worth so much more. Without this understanding, it's another glow gem with slight alterations. They are using the anchor to stabilize the mana in the rune formation. Could they not know so much? Or is he purposefully leaving the power rune off? Immaculate innovations are right under his nose, and he can't see them. They are blind to the world. Yet another idea pops and shakes even my relentless practicality. This gem could anchor to me, to my concentrations of magic, like a power rune.
It means power and is the most dangerous thing I have ever considered. It may be a last resort, but anchoring mana sources to my body is too risky. I could explode. The gems form readily enough once I understand the diagram, and it takes up my last week to finish them. Its rigid atomic construction makes for a merciless canvas. Any flaw rings out, resounding through the clarity and inhibiting the total load capacity of the gem. However, I succeed in creating a facsimile of perfection.
Shannai meets me at the edge of the campus, where I send my mail. She's unusually chipper, skipping up and passing along a smile that lends its joy to the world. I smile back, proffering one of the half-dozen macarons. She declines one, only to steal three. If stopping her was an option, I might have attempted it, but as it isn’t, I hardly notice her taking them, much less have a chance to object.
“You mush ge generoush wit’ joyoush tings, lesh cha lose dem,” Shannai mumbles through my macarons.
“You’re quoting saints now?”
“I quote whoever makes the point I need making.”
“You are more generous with your sweets than? If I remember, you almost beheaded me for eating a cream puff.”
“That was my birthday bouche.” She scolds.
“You have to share things with people for some stupid reason.”
“It sounds better when I say it.”
“I imagine it does. My heart wasn’t in it.”
“Are we ready on your end?”
“Yep. We can make one more try tonight. The test preparations are tomorrow, and the stage is all yours for Restday.”
Stolen story; please report.
“I think we can take a trip to Choux and get some confections for the graduation ceremony.”
“That sounds fun. And it isn’t far.”
“Exactly, we will just pop over and be back before graduation.”
“Can’t wait,” I coo.
The infiltration is routine; everything is according to plan. We enter with several jumps, leaving me steadying myself on a shelf. Once stable, both hands grab books. A slight blow of wind magic and the pages are turning. I pull the knowledge from the split-second glances, hauling the precious truth in armfuls. It is so overwhelming to be in it. This state feels un-haiman. My will forces me, heedless, into the chasm of understanding.
My reserves drain as I siphon from the catalysts. I am in another alcove before a hand appears on my shoulder. But this isn’t a hand that feels familiar, not the hand that falls softly to lift me off. It falls on my shoulder like a mace, buckling one knee and depositing me atop the other. The only familiar thing about this hand is the black tendrils pouring out of their fingers. I don't turn back, but my mask would have prevented recognition if I had. Instead, I pull from the creation catalyst in my mouth and unsheath the hilts in my hands.
Using the force of his blow and the momentum of my unsheathing, I toss my body forward. The short swords I pull aren’t my best weapon, but my rapiers are too distinctive. The magic is more potent than Little Gallah, the effusive murk burning every surface of my body in moments.
“You will fail.” The dark figure's visible mouth speaks; the rest is uncertain with indistinguishable borders, but the voice is unaltered and reminds me of that prison.
The voice that voices the darkness is the bane of me. A parasite desperate to cling to vanity. It burrows into my heart when Gallah's putrid mouth opens. To hear that indolent drool dribbling from the corners of a mocking sneer. It’s a physical blow with the contemptuous ease of a true patrician.
My rage towards Gallah rushes into me and provokes an attack. I jab out in furious blows that pass unimpeded through the shadowy form. The projection is a distraction. I roll away, narrowly avoiding an attack from behind where another form materializes. They stand away and don't make any further movements. I won't fall for the same trick again.
“Such a temper. Can your kind keep a level head, or is it beyond you?”
I ignore the words and wait for the slight distortion that hints at an attack. It did not; the only warning I get is the abrasion of magic. I recover fast but can only partially avoid it at such a range. My skin peels off, but my rage is too hopeful at this chance to let such a feeble thing quench it. I have to adjust. I have an idea, but it is stupid. I throw caution to the wind and form an inductor rune on my cornea.
The pain is impossible and transcends the lines between light and sensation. The formation blurs one eye into a teary mess for nearly three seconds before I can fully adjust the flow rate. The inductor rune pulls in light mana, giving me better sight of my surroundings. The shadows resolve on closer inspection, and I see my attacker.
I received three more attacks before I could grasp the ability, but they are worth the new application. Dodging intermittent destruction magic from all around is necessary, but the goal is to get close to Gallah. I suspect this is his plan, too, or I wouldn't have as easy a time doing or selling it until the last moment.
Within half a minute, I retreat to the spot with my back to the bookshelf. The trap stands behind me, so close I imagine the vanilla smell of Gallah. In the instant before his trap springs, magic courses through me as I turn and stab him. The strike still obeys Creations’ mercy. It is a deep wound that will impair one arm until a creation Mage repairs it. My blade enters and exits from the critical tendon. A moment hangs after the attack where Gallah is truly surprised. I use this moment to deal with the other arm before running away at full speed. I call the exit sound with a blaring, finger-assisted whistle. Furious screams burst from my attacker, who slowly swings his injured arms, sending weak attacks.
My magic fails as I stumble across the balcony in a stuttering retreat. The familiar hand appears again, and we are in a lake, the ice-cold water shocking me after the brief moment of weightlessness. My bearings submerge under the tumult, and it takes me a moment to locate the surface where Shannai is treading water with a relaxed smile. We both catch our breath before returning to the dorm, letting the water strip away any unwelcome magic. Once we are in the dorm and the dryness, Shannai regales me with her conquest.
“Beat his ass. He fell off a roof, I think. Certainly kicked him off one, but I am unsure whether he hit the ground.”
“You are unmatched, the spatial champion.”
“Too specific. The best of everyone sounds better. The unconquerable; something like that?”
“I imagine you’ll be conquering.”
“Yes, but we can’t let on. My aggression has to be warranted, so it is best to play it as defensive.”
“The arguments of rulers.”
The battle leaves me with some boldness, soothed slightly due to the burns but still present. Destruction magic on a body acts like acid, melting away the skin. The condition is debilitating enough that Shannai needs to help me into bed. However, I will recover by tomorrow.
The next day, Shannai waits outside the testing building. We arrive from separate directions and meet in the alleyway behind it. Her eyes look for mischief in mine while her demeanor maintains its usual upright stillness. I find comfort in it and wonder why I have such firm friends to assist me.
“Are you prepared?” I ask as I walk up to her.
“Do not worry about me; you are the weak one.”
“Your concern is appreciated,” I thank the empty air where Shannai had been.
A click at the door informs me of her success. I open it, slip in, and trip over an end table. Curses whisper out as I return to my feet and approach the testing room. The silence of the building puts me on edge; no one can know our plan, yet the mood feels off.
Shannai has cleared the room already, so we step in. I grab the connection cable, hooking it to the chair. With only one connection, we will have to take the test separately. We will have one chance to complete the test before fleeing tomorrow.
“Are you ready?” I inquire.
“Send me in.”
“Before you go in, remember you don’t have to kill everything. You just have to make it to the next floor,” I remind the bloodthirsty noble.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Of course.” I relent, initiating the neural link with an inductor rune in the chair harness.
Mental magic has particular limitations, such as allowing for the formation of runes on or inside someone, whether willing or unconscious, with diminished defenses. This property is how the crystal pulls in participants. It's like sending a copy of yourself into a different world, except the copy is an avatar of the consciousness it represents.
I examine the visible rune formations in the room and note them. Shannai is stable for several hours as I study until she sturs, shifting with pain on her face. Checking the connection shows no problems. I attempt to connect to her consciousness in the trial, but there is a white-hot interference. To check her over for injuries, I thread a strand into her through the finger, which disperses. That is when I notice a tattoo burning itself on the back of her hand. It resembles an inductor rune but has strange variances, such as the intertwined transference runes at the top. While I study it, she bursts to life, teleporting to the other side of the room. Sweat plasters her hair to her face, but the look in her eyes doesn't falter.
“Are you okay?” I fret.
“Yes… It is more painful than I expected.” She shakily speaks after a few reassuring glances around.
“That is promising. Is there anything I should know?”
“The end bit hurts a lot,” She smiles.
“Full of wisdom. Let's get this done. We only have a few more hours.”
“How are you going to beat that in time? These things take you forever.”
“I will be slowing time inside the test,” I reassure myself, sitting in the chair.
“Is that safe?” She hedges.
“I am not sure,” I boast as I place the device on my head.
A familiar black entry hallway appears before me. Since my last visit, I have realized creation and mental magic allow me to bring stuff into the labyrinth. The only limitation is my understanding of the object. Similar to creating things in a mind palace, as opposed to remembering them. For example, I can produce my training rapiers but not the real ones. I materialize my wooden defense, two whistles, ten metal tubes, and a bag of amalgamations. This chance to test them, as well as myself, lies ahead, to see how much my study has grown my ability.
I wait for my magic to regenerate before jogging down the quickest hallway. The traps and the bats are nothing, bolstering my stride. The Panther is a different story, yet not as formidable. Which lessens my triumph, but I come prepared. A simple tool can best the greatest of adversaries. In the willows, when a young panther is trying to push his domain into the forest around the town, a torch is enough to dissuade them. I pull a torch of my design, which uses a glow gem. For two hours, it provides light before needing direct sunlight for the same amount of time. The red glow pushes the willow panther to the end of the hallway, allowing me to advance past it.
When I come to the doors for the final challenge, I use a more straightforward method for disrupting the power runes: disconnecting the power gem with destructive spit. Several sharpened sticks sail through the opening as I shove the heavy thing. I display the coin given to me by the leader of this tribe on my first trip through this floor. Holding it up to the crack in the door, I call out a loud entreaty.
“Friend, I am a friend of the clan.”
Murmurs seep through the door before a familiar voice calls out, commanding me to show myself. I step into the room with my hands up, one displaying the coin while the other clutches a— condensed ball?— of smoke. Once the activation rune is triggered, the smoke contained will decondense, covering roughly ten square meters depending on wind speed.
“Haiman!” They all call, startling me.
“Yes?” I ask.
“There is no need to feel shame here. You are a friend of the clan,” the chief calls.
They stand taller than all the other goble-kin, using a familiar rapier as a staff. They also wreathe themselves in the old scraps of my robes. The garment is half the length, with patches speckling it. They come over and embrace my legs in a firm hug.
“It is good to see you too, Chief.”
“Are you deepening your mind in the maze this time?”
“That’s the plan, as deep as the fifth floor.”
“That is indeed a deepening. Well, good luck.”
“Do you know anything of the deeper floors?”
“I have never been past here. We have no reason for deepening.”
“Hm… Alri-” I begin as something occurs to me, “Would you want to come with me?”
“Hmm… Bringing the whole clan will be difficult. It will be best to take the strongest. But what if the panther attacks now that the door is open?”
“No problem,” I assure them as I fix and reseal the door.
“We shall embark then. Come, my kin, come to me.” The chief calls to a rougher-looking group, each holding a wooden spear.
“Come forth, and I shall bless you for our fabled journey,” I call.
As each comes up, I place a metal tube on the end of their spears and put my mouth around it. I coat the tip with metal and add a transference rune to the weapon, condensing the structure for sturdiness. The task is taxing. I have to pause twice before I finish all six. Seeing the chief still has theirs, I add one tube for appearances. With all our forces mustered, we push open the door at the back of the room, entering the second floor.
We step into a forest full of life. Tall timber trees with long leaves surround us. Plants color the orange moss, dominating the ground. Even the willows don’t cluster with such abundant life, and we have the densest foliage in the empire. I have to stop to find the next step. Three game trails sit in front of us. I gesture for the rest to keep close as I choose the one to the right.
No resistance meets our trek. Occasionally, we will catch the sound of an animal moving away from us—nothing louder than a tree rat. The nearest roots reverberate at an obnoxious input level, so we remain blind. I notice a black spot on one of the plants along the way. It has only come to my attention because I have seen a similar flower in the entryway without the discoloration. And now, the black spot is growing and transferring to the other pedals, disconcerting.
We come across our first animal half an hour into the floor. A meter-tall gofer sticks out above the grass. The only strange thing is its color, solid black. We come together as we edge closer to the creature. I dread having to attack them, but I have resolved that I will if I have to. You must do some things for no other reason.
The gofer takes off as we enter its range, trundling through the foliage with a lopsided gait. I am relieved it doesn't wish to attack us until I notice the foliage it brushes past. In a clear path, all the plants touched turn black at the point of contact. We can follow it, or we can move to the door. I look around and see more spots of black than before.
“What do you believe we should do, chief?”
“I am of the mind that we can hunt here, but that gopher is killing. It will have to die,” the chief clarifies.
“You will have to fight that battle on your own. I have to reach the fifth floor as quickly as possible.”
“Fair enough.
We follow the path until there is a hole in the ground. The area around is a network of tunnels that we must slowly pass. After another hour of travel, we reach the five-meter door to the next floor. The forest is more black than green now, but the orange moss is unfazed. We can't leave the path without risking infection.
We create a perimeter in the clearing before the door, with the Goble-kin scanning the forest as I examine the puzzle. The rune is complicated, much more than the previous one. The redundancies prevent tampering, or at least try to. The point of this floor is to find the source of the corruption and deal with it somehow. That sounds fun, but I don’t have time for that. If the doors have runes, that will be my fastest way through.
Hundreds of transference runes, some decoys, some fallbacks, and others make the door as dense as a Drevald’s scales. The lock uses the weight of the door to keep it in place. If you destroy the locks, you will also destroy the rune formation that makes the doors movable. I focus my attention on one door, looking at each rune.
When I have my plan in place, I remove the connection to all the fallback runes and activate all the others, which makes the door smaller but still movable. Adding extra magic is necessary as I have to add several power-intensive rune formations to the door. My kit is needed to add an inductor rune to the bottom that is now accessible. Then, I flatten two metal tubes into disks and add an opposing rune. Placing the disks under the door, I call everyone together.
“When I say so, push this door,” I command as they nod.
“Push!” I call out as I activate the inductor runes under the door.
When I put mana into the door, a nyx-shaking roar splits my skull. The door gives with a shove, and we all fall with it, abruptly stopping as the door loses its connection. The regrowth sticks it into the ceiling and the floor, leaving enough room for the Goble-kin. Once inside, they pry at the door while I squirm everything possible to slip through the crack.
I don’t look back at the forest, but my ears are not as inhibited, discerning a growl accompanying a rustle. The sound is not far off, and the door is centimeters from yielding my frame. I slip through, falling to the stone ground on the other side in a tangle. After disentangling from my companions, I see the following challenge: a series of lit pillars leading to a similar platform on the side. All else is darkness, where a long fall awaits. Taking a moment to calm myself, I look to the platforms. They increase in distance apart while decreasing in size. I pull out an absurd amount of rope, tying us together.
“Looks like this is straightforward,” I comment.
The Goble-kin lead and I jump last, but as soon as I step on the first platform, there is a problem. A small portion of the pillar becomes unlit, stone falling away as the darkness grows. We look at each other, and unspoken words confirm everyone’s mindset. We file to the back, getting momentum for the jump. The last one on the platform will catch the next person to jump as everyone else continues. We make it to the final jump. However, I come up short by about a foot, missing the ledge and smacking into the side of the platform, leaving me dangling over the edge with darkness clawing at me.
“The fuck!” I scream, clinging to the rope.
“Don’t move, Haiman! We gotcha.” An assured shout rolls over the edge as I scream.