One might wonder at this point, why did I need five hits on our opponent and why did I not go more lethal blows while attacking? The explanation was simultaneously simple and complicated. With every hit that I landed on the man, I seeded a fragment of psykhe within his body. I veiled the mana, taking some influence in the Shadow’s mana in the implementation; not that I believed the man would notice in his crazed state. This culminated in several avenues of attack for me, some of which didn’t require as many as five infusions of psykhe. That said, I was greedy and wanted more than a simple win over my foe.
Hence, I stood in place while Ricky traded blows with the transformed man, enacting the most difficult of my possible plans to achieve victory in this battle. I created an orb of psykhe which emerged from my maw and sank into the earth. Once it disappeared from sight, I closed my eyes attuning my senses to the mana as it moved through the ground. Soon, I found it, the metaphysical border of the ley line beneath our battleground. I had been worried that the chase would’ve brought us too far for me to establish a signal, but I overestimated how far our chase took us. My psykhe hummed as I forced it to resonate with the ley line causing the power within Libbu’s ancient structures to respond in kind.
For multiple reasons, I stopped short of establishing a connection with the ley line and even lowered the resonance, so the Mother Spirit couldn’t intervene by forcing the matter. I wasn’t sure if the pseudo-core structure could do that, but I knew far too little about her to take the risk. I felt one with the earth at that moment, sensing the tremors from Ricky and the laughing man’s brawl throughout my entire body. As soon as the harmony reached its peak, I activated the infusions of psykhe within our opponent matching their frequency with the signal orb.
The only effect was the establishment of an open signal between the ley line and the transformed man via my psykhe. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t take advantage of said signal, but that wasn’t true for other parties. Thankfully, the fruits of my labor came just one minute later. I felt it coming like one feels the static in the air right before a lightning strike.
“Ricky, retreat!” I said telepathically as to not alert our foe. The giant man slammed a bloody fist into the slender monstronsity’s face before jumping backward. His shoulders sagged with fatigue and although his eyes remained alert, I could tell this battle would need to end soon.
Morgana’s attack came like the wrath of the heavens.
Since meeting the Holston Matriarch, I had been curious as to her capabilities. I could ascertain a rough estimate of her mana capacity and control, but while that was a measure of power, it was only one among the many facets that could contribute to a practitioner’s strength. No, seeing someone in action provided an much better gauge overall. So, when the ground erupted spewing forth molten earth and metal, I was impressed with the display of raw power.
To clarify, she didn’t summon the magma resting within the earth: she converted the mana of the ley line into an eruption of lava and superheated metal. Mana to matter conversion technique were among the most difficult and complex tools that a practitioner could employ. They often expended far more energy than other options and required time to use which is why I tended to stay away from them. That said, in terms of potential and effectiveness against physical targets, these techniques dominated until practitioners reached the highest levels of mastery and its position reversed. These are generalizations, of course: no one would argue about the merits of subtlety to the Void Consuming Star, for example.
All this to say, I was impressed with Morgana’s display. I’ll admit that since I overcame the death curse imparted by Elizabeth Blackthorn’s dagger and my defeat of Elijah Daniels, I’ve had a poor opinion of modern practitioners. Can you blame me? My filicidal grandmother claimed the self-aggrandizing title of Archmage, yet her curse couldn’t finish the job. The fact that she didn’t expect resistance of my caliber was a poor excuse and spoke more of her lack of thoroughness. On top of that, Elijah Daniels considered himself talented because he could utilize techniques of his level without verbal incantations, a practice that measured only halfway to decent at best. So, when I heard Morgana’s name spoken of in reverence by some family members and Holsburg citizens, I wasn’t expecting much despite my initial impressions of her.
Even empowered as he was, our opponent stood no chance of withstanding the torrent of earthly power. If I’m being honest, the attack would’ve killed me outright if I were hit by it since the molten earth and metal were creations of mana as opposed to mundane forces manipulated by sorcery. My pseudo-immortality only extended to damage that couldn’t overwhelmed the solidified connection between my powerful soul and mortal body.
The man’s manic cackles transitioned to a mix between tormented screeching and wheezing laughs. I decided that I hated the sound for multiple reasons and rather than wait for his regeneration to fail under the onslaught, I capitalized on his weakness, enacting the final phase of my plan. The orb of psykhe rose from the ground and reentered my body syncing the mana within my body with the infusions placed within my victim. Once it was in place, I established a rudimentary connection between our bodies and activated the most interesting function of my modified Astral Gate for the second time. I wasn’t certain that a bodily connection created with my psykhe would suffice in lieu of the physical contact required, but my worries were, thankfully, unfounded.
The sounds of the dying man went quiet as his soul was ripped violently from his body like a leaf caught in a gale. My nerves raced with electricity and my thoughts swelled with fragmented thoughts and memories from the man, or Theo as I learned. I nearly lost my footing from the mental and bodily overload. Unlike the first time, the process wasn’t automatic. I quickly took control of the wayward soul, preventing it from dissipating and purging the contamination caused by the Laughing Blight’s mana. My perception warped as years of memories blended with the seconds passing in reality. Briefly, I felt empathy for Theo.
The Shadow’s Passing made him an orphan. He grew up in the husk of Clarksville not too far from Holsburg. He, along with other waifs fended for themselves: some selling their bodies for labor or the pleasure of another, others disappearing without any warning, and then, those like Theo who surrendered to dark creatures in the night that promised safety and sustenance. The faces of those he loved flashed through my mind, ever-fleeting. He had a sister, a prostitute, who disappeared several years ago, and he hoped to find her one day. Even that, one of his strongest desires was obscured in the face of what he became. The last half year of his life was filled with laughter, whispers, and fear.
Although it felt like a lifetime, the absorption only took seven seconds. I exhaled, my breath carrying with it any trace of compassion for Theo as my mind reoriented itself. The comfortable peace settled curtesy of my technique and I let out a pent-up breath laced with wisps of shadow that I purged from Theo’s soul.
“So, yer the one, ay?” echoed a raspy voice.
I looked around the ruined road for its source. Off to the side, Ricky sat on the ground sucking in breaths like some beast after a long run. He was looking past the dissipating cloud of black mist, drawing my gaze to it as well. There, the black skull floated in the air having shrunk to the size of a melon. The eye sockets pulsed with a sickly green light as my eyes met them. The teeth clattered sending an uneasy sensation through my body and revealing that the skull wasn’t a simple construct of mana. For the first time, the skull moved, turning so its gaze fell on me.
“Ta think, I’d gander upon a wee pup like yerself feastin on a man’s soul,” said the skull. It bobbed up and down in the air. “Poor, poor little Theo. He never stood a chance.”
Cold, apathetic laughter echoed through the air distorting my perception subtly every time the sound hit my inner ear. I growled reflexively, reinforcing the protections that I’d already placed, just in case. The sound reached a crescendo as black ooze seeped from the skull’s mouth. The ooze moved like a living creature shaping and wriggling occasionally while the skull was engulfed in its pulsing mass. The ooze solidified after a few seconds into a humanoid shape. The figure smiled showing inhumanly white teeth.
“Who are you?” I finally decided to ask. A faint amount of worry began to worm its way into my calm mind. If this individual was hostile, I wasn’t sure Ricky and I could deal with that especially if this new foe was at the same level or more powerful.
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“Ah, ye lads nowadays, always jumpin the gun and forgettin yer manners,” the figure said, shaking its head. “Me name’s Finn O’Malley, Archbishop of the Brotherhood of Divine Comedy. But, don’t let that title impose on ya too much, everyone who knows me calls me Cackles including the poor lad whose soul you were just munchin on.”
The name instantly brought forward memories from Theo’s soul. I saw a short, pale man with auburn hair and burning, green eyes. He wore casual clothing compared to the others around him and moved with a swagger that always made Theo feel secure in following his orders. I stared at this crude avatar in front of me wondering how much of the man’s formidable power could be brought to bear through it.
“And what business do you have with me?” I asked. My thoughts weren’t focused on the conversation, instead, I was scanning my structures, gauging Ricky’s condition, and managing the influx of energy from absorbing Theo’s soul.
“Oh! It's not my business, lad. Yer query best be directed at the Laughing Blight. I am but his humble messenger. Ye see, lad, you’ve taken twice over that which isn’t yours!” He waggled a misshapen finger. “Greed’s not good. My master in all his wisdom has bid me deliver a message to ye.”
“And, what message would that be?” I growled, coiling my muscles in anticipation. Ricky shakily pushed himself to his feet.
“Hahaha!” Cackles threw his head back, once more releasing the sickening sound of his laughter. His eyes blazed with pale, green fire as he spread his arms wide. “Welcome o’ child of soul and shadow! Allow me to guide you in this, your first of many Trials! Six months hence, the first act of our Ebon Masque shall begin! Until then… I hope you’ve enjoyed this taste of what’s to come!”
The laughter continued and the archbishop’s avatar dissolved into a pool of black ooze. The pool bubbled violently like a caustic fluid eating at the earth before suddenly extending toward Theo’s body and consuming it. From the pool, five black humanoid shapes rose. They each looked identical to Theo after his monstrous transformation. My calm fractured as I realized what had just happened.
For the first time since becoming “human”, I had witnessed sorcery beyond my ability to follow. My mastery of mana and prior power let me understand what happened, but my senses weren’t powerful enough in the Physical to follow the sorcery as it was enacted. Unlike in the Astral where I could leverage my soul and consciousness to clumsily stand-in for some functions otherwise designated to structures, I was limited to the capabilities of my mortal shell and my completed astral structures while in the physical world. In the future, I suspected I could bring the full breadth of my soul’s capability to bear, but that wouldn’t happen for several Orders of Astral Power. The best I could manage was a glimpse that risked causing permanent damage to my soul tether and body.
While the clones of Theo finished forming, I hurriedly took stock of my psykhe reserves. I was below half capacity although my supply was rapidly growing as the ziggurat within my Astral Domain converted the essence gained from Theo’s soul into psykhe. I looked at Ricky and knew immediately that he couldn’t run far in his current state. Thanks to the access that he allowed to our covenant link, I also felt the presence of his strange mana, faint and nearly as depleted as its wielder.
Psykhe rippled through my muscles after I came to a decision. I couldn’t leave Ricky, but we couldn’t fight these creatures. Individually, they were slightly weaker than Theo had been at his peak; however, their numbers more than made up for that deficit. My body started to change, guided by my will and the instinct born in the shifter structure.
Earlier, I had allowed the structure to work near-autonomously to attain a more intimate understanding of how it worked. I may have created the original shifter structure, but as I’ve stated prior, they have changed noticeably from my original design. On top of that, I had never personally experienced the effects until that night. After experiencing it, my mastery of flesh craft took over altering my lupine form with improvement as I saw fit.
At that moment, I utilized the structure for a different purpose. If I had to explain my approach to sorcery up until that point, it was similar to a twenty-first-century programmer designing software for his personal use every time that he required a new function or issue addressed. For more permanent functions, I would make a utility program, or structure, that could handle the task. However, if the function required only temporary use, I designed an application software from scratch, but I wouldn’t go through the trouble of saving it or embedding the structure in the Astral. In essence, every time that I used sorcery, I was creating a technique from scratch even when it was something that I had used in the past. For basic techniques, like lower-order attacks and defensive measures, this wasn’t anything of note since practitioners performed similar feats all the time; however, as I said, I had always done this, even when I enacted sorcery during the Shadow’s Passing as a Ninth Order astral being. For example, I had spontaneously produced a technique capable of turning a normal person into a sorcerer from the ground up.
As you may already realize and will come to understand later, this practice is extremely abnormal and borderline impossible.
So, to return to my analogy, as I transformed, I treated my shifter structure like an application software capable of editing and creating templates for fleshcraft techniques. At present, the structure came with two “templates” inherently: the wolf form that I chased Theo with and a hybrid wolf-human form which I had seen part of in the form of Jonathan Holston’s partially shifted body. Rather than create any new templates which would take time, I was editing the hybrid form, adding muscle mass, tendon strength, flexibility, and bone density. The shifter structure accepted my changes with ease adjusting under my watchful eye to its new function and shaving a large amount of time off of the normal activation time for such a technique. The shift took a sizable amount of mana, but unlike my first transformation, this one only took a few seconds.
My form had grown by a meter so that I towered over even Ricky who seemed to frown as he realized that he had to look up at me. My white-grey fur was much denser and long dagger-like claws extended from my humanoid arms and legs. Height wasn’t the only thing that I surpassed Ricky in either. Iron-like muscles corded throughout my body wound tight with potential and power. In one bounding leap, I reached him and started running away from the monstrosities who also moved. They howled with maddened laughter as they chased us, but my hybrid form proved slightly faster than them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough to lose them with the added weight of Ricky who belched all sorts of expletives ensuring that I knew how unhappy he was with our current arrangement.
I was forced to jump sideways suddenly as three lances of caustic darkness pierced the ground at my prior location. Unfortunately, the dodge bled off some of my momentum resulting in a loss of speed. Our pursuers grew closer and I pushed my body further feeling a burning in my chest and legs. Slung over my shoulder, Ricky panted as I sensed him try and fail to summon a portion of his mana to launch some sort of counter-attack. I had to avoid several more attacks, each one letting the abominations close the distance. Finally, after one dark lance grazed my side, the lead clone of Theo pulled abreast of me and swiped at my exposed flank mid-stride.
I lashed out, roaring instinctively in response to the threat. My claw tore into its skull sending it careening off the road and negating its attack at the same time. I was surprised by the power behind my strike and considered a stand, but put the thought out of my head when the creature simply got up to join its cohorts in the chase. I would need mana to put these creatures down and I didn’t have enough to put them all down.
This went on for nearly twenty minutes before finally, help arrived.
A guttural howl shook the ground beneath my feet, nearly making me stumble. On the surface of my soul, my shifter structure reacted and I sensed the pack link alerting me to the presence of rapidly approaching pack members. One, in particular, caught my attention as a gray blur moved through my vision faster than my eyes could track.
Regis impacted with the lead abomination like an incarnation of feral fury. I had initially thought that my size was beyond the measure of other shifters based on my experience with the progenitors that I created, but I was wrong. The Holston Patriarch was a wall of fur and muscle in his hybrid form. While I measured at close to three meters in my hybrid form, Regis must’ve been four or five. It was hard to tell because of his animalistic posture and speed as he combated the abominations.
Yellow light trailed from his claws giving off the same signature as Morgana’s mana. This seemed to nullify the regenerative capabilities of the Theo clones because the ones he put down didn’t get back up. I continued on my way trusting the pack leader to triumph and soon ran into Dante and a man that I didn’t know in their wolf forms. Like Regis, they were significantly larger than I had been as a wolf. On Dante’s back, Liberty sat looking mildly displeased with the method of her transportation.
When they saw me, all three of their eyes widened. Relief hit me hard as the tension left my body. Without further ado, I dropped Ricky and sat down on the hard ground, grimacing at the tremble in my muscles and breath. Ricky finally got a look at our company and he grinned, his teeth bloody with a few missing. He didn’t miss a beat as he raised a hand that might’ve been better described as a meat club with bone protrusions and waved.
“Hey, Uncle Dante, Big Jim, Aunt Liberty! Fancy meeting you here!”
My eyes met Liberty’s and for a moment, she stared into them. Then, as though she had found what she was looking for, a beaming smile spread across her face. She shook her head, getting down from Dante who was the size of a small horse as a wolf in one smooth motion.
Without saying anything, she walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my torso, or at least, she did the best she could. I felt mildly displeased by the sudden contact especially after being so tense but didn’t resist. She whispered something which I barely made out even with my augmented hearing.
“Thank the heavens you’re safe”