He was standing inside a massive, subterranean chamber. Surprisingly well lit, with glimmering crystals adorning the walls, inundating the room with an intense, dazzling green-white light. Hundreds of creatures, humanoid and bestial, physical and ethereal, all of them raising their voices and hooting as the prisoner in the center was dragged across the floor in chains. And on top of a raised pedestal, forming a throne of basalt, sat a regal woman with snow-white hair. Somehow, even from a hundred yards away, he could see the loveliness of her features clearly, too magnetic to ignore. She was a creature of coldness, turned to such rage that her beauty had become a knife that stabbed at the eyes of the beholder.
“The Supreme Queen cannot die,” she said, her voice reminding him of a glacier. “But she can suffer.”
And just like that, the spell was broken.
Instantly, Lukas knew who the prisoner was.
He tore his eyes away from the white-haired woman and looked at the prisoner, his feet moving on their own accord. Breathing hard and fast, Lukas moved through the masses, yet none of them paid him any attention. Like he didn’t even exist.
And then he saw it.
Saw Her.
Bound in chains, the metal entwining her waist, tearing into her flesh. They pried at her back and kept her upright while the collar around her neck constantly pulled the neck down. Several pairs of chains pulled her arms and neck ahead, dragging her bloodied feet through the cold stone floor.
“Ina—” Lukas tried, but words failed him. Instead, he just watched. The sheer surreality of what he was watching threw a spark of comprehension into his mind. This — this was a memory. Inanna’s memory. Her fate at the hands of her sister—
Lukas whirled back and looked at the white-haired woman.
Ereshkigal.
Empress of the Dead.
“Welcome, sister,” Ereshkigal’s voice boomed, “to the Seven Gates of the Underworld!”
As she spoke those words, the cavern changed, Her will altering the matter inside her realm to reforge, not unlike how the Crypt had altered itself at the Guardian’s will. Where there was nothing but dreary darkness stood seven gates. Seven archways.
He knew what this was.
He had read about it.
The Seven Gates of the Underworld. The barriers that drew the line between the living and the dead. Each Gate held authority over one of the seven fundamental tenets of existence itself. Passing through them would mean an absolute suppression of each one.
At least, that was how Babylonian myths painted them.
“YOU, WHO HAVE ALWAYS TAKEN, SHALL FEEL WHAT IT MEANS TO BE DEPRIVED.”
Lukas watched with unfolding horror as they dragged Inanna through the first gate. The trap of Opulence, it was called. How he knew it, he didn’t know. He just did. Everything that was her and hers would stay. Everything that was not ceased to be hers. A large golden axe materialized at her feet, unmoving.
The Axe of Marduk.
Her opal ring, the symbol of her victory over the Goddess of the Night, slid down her finger. Her necklace and her divine bracelets, smidgens of Truth that once belonged to Gula, now dropped onto the floor.
Inanna did not react. She just trudged through.
“MY HUSBAND WAS LOST TO YOUR UNABATED LUSTS. LIVE AN ETERNITY BEREFT OF THEM.”
The Second Gate, the Trap of Passion, tore at her sacral knot. Once the Goddess of Desire, Inanna would no longer feel pleasure. Her body shriveled like a prune, and her breasts sagged. Her cheeks wrinkled as every bit of her sensuality and charm faded away, leaving a twisted, ugly caricature of herself behind. One that forever could not feel another’s touch.
Every single bone in Lukas’s body wanted to run after her, but something rooted him where he stood. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but watch.
Why? He did not know.
“WARS HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR FOOTSTEPS. CIVILIZATIONS BURNED AND LIVES TORN APART ALL FOR YOUR PRIDE. FOREVER LOSE YOUR DOMINANCE AND CONVICTION.”
The Trap of Self-Esteem revoked Inanna’s authority as the Monarch of the Heavens. Her golden crown appeared in an earthen heap on the floor as something flung her through the Third Gate. No longer would she hold the title of Queen.
“YOU WHO HAVE COMMANDED LEGIONS TO BRING FORTH DESTRUCTION SHALL BE CURSED WITH ETERNAL SILENCE.”
Her lips were sealed together, not allowing even the slightest murmur to escape as the chains dragged her through the Fourth Gate: the Trap of Expression.
This — this wasn’t right. This wasn’t true. Inanna — Inanna couldn’t be bound by this. The Trap of Expression would’ve cursed her with silence. Yet he had spent days and weeks talking to her. Inanna was one of the most expressive beings he had ever met. Even the reflection arising out of her divinity had all her powers. She had used kinetomancy, had manifested the axe—
No. She hadn’t. Not in the real world. She had only manifested it in his mindscape. But expression? If her passing through this gate was real, then how was she—
His thoughts lay in wait as the Supreme Queen was dragged through the fifth gate.
“YOUR MIGHT RISES WITH FEAR. BE ISOLATED FROM ALL EXISTENCE. YOUR THRONE, YOUR RELICS, YOUR TEMPLES, YOUR WORSHIPPERS. MAY YOUR FAITH BE ENTIRELY LOST.”
The Fifth Gate, the Trap of Connectivity, untethered the memories of her temples and the collective faith of her worshippers. Once aware of everything on Heaven and Earth, Inanna could no longer see past the archway that stood before her.
Isolated. That's what she said. Inanna had always claimed the pendant as her abode. A relic. Much like the axe. Did that mean that the real Inanna — the true Supreme Queen, was still trapped there? Trapped amidst the seven gates? But then, surely Inanna knew that? Surely she’d know that the scrying spell would’ve failed —
“QUEEN. CONQUEROR. PLUNDERER. YOU WHO CONSIDER YOURSELF ABOVE ALL ELSE SHALL BREED NO THOUGHT. LIVE AS WOULD A PEBBLE.”
Inanna turned around, her parched lips wanting to speak. To her sister. Lukas wished she’d look at him. But she didn’t. Instead, a glazed look formed in her eyes. Tears crawled down his cheeks, but not a word left his lips. The disoriented, nigh unconscious Queen was dragged through the last gate.
The Trap of the Weeping Souls.
“LET THE MEMORIES OF THE RUTHLESS GODDESS FADE AWAY. LET HER DOMAIN BE BURIED IN TIME. NO LONGER SHALL YOU BE ONE OF US. I CAST YOU…OUT!”
Inanna trembled as her body spasmed, before she fell upon the cold stone floor like a marionette with its strings severed. Naked and unmoving, her glassy eyes stared lifelessly ahead at her sister, a single tear trickling down her cheek.
I will— Lukas vowed — I will find a way. I will find a way. I will get you out. I swear—
“Always remember, dear sister,” Ereshkigal murmured fondly. “Whatever I do, I do for love.”
She flicked her hand, and Inanna's limp body was carelessly tossed against the wall. At the last moment, a rocky spike erupted outwards, piercing her through the chest.
Straight through her heart.
“INAAAA—”
…
…
…
“—AAANNNA!” Lukas yelled, opening his eyes to the world of white that lay before him. His right hand was outstretched in the air above him, vainly trying to grab something beyond his grasp. His cheeks were wet. Maybe he was sobbing. His throat was parched, like someone had poured sand into it.
Next came the terror. The pain. The realization of what he had just witnessed, what had happened to Inanna. A cry arose from the deepest trenches of his heart, one that wanted to scream out in defiance, to save the Goddess. To bring her back.
Then his vision came into focus and stabbed him in the eyes like a knife.
Lukas shut his eyes and screamed. The pain was impossible. His chest was in agony. He tried to hold off breathing for as long as he could, but eventually, he couldn’t put it off anymore and again, fire spread across his chest. His skull hurt like it was being crushed by the arms of a metal crusher. That— what was it he had seen? What were those lines?
Lukas winced.
Even the sheer memory made the pain return. For the next several moments, the simple struggle of trying to breathe and keep his eyes closed consumed his entire reality. And yet he could not forget that image that he had seen.
Lines.
Spanning in all directions — straight, curved, bent, twisted, drawn in every variant possible. A meshwork of threads that spread across his entire line of vision. Like a kaleidoscope coming into focus, the pattern of threads sprung out from objects, around their periphery, diverging from within, and converging into within. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them.
And they terrified him. Not because he couldn’t understand them, but because he did.
They were trajectories.
Motion trajectories.
In its simplest form, motion resulted from push or a pull. Then came magnitudes, and directions and angles. And his eyes were showing him the motion trajectories associated with every single object within his range of vision. And unless he himself was in motion or in a crowd, seeing such a thing would not have troubled him like it did.
Trouble was, what he saw weren’t just motion trajectories, but all potential motion trajectories.
He had studied how the collective number of tangents around an object were infinite. That also meant that the cumulative potential motion trajectories around an object were also infinite. And the knowledge of those infinite trajectories, associated with every single object within his range of vision, both in isolated and combined context, had flooded his mind the moment he had opened his eyes. Tachypsychia be damned, that much data would’ve fried a supercomputer’s circuits. Lukas was lucky he only got off with five blood vessels rupturing.
His ears, eyes and nose were wet. Sticky and wet. Whimpering, Lukas stayed like that, waiting for Prophylaxis to save his sorry ass.
—I warn you, mortal. This power is a deadly legacy. My belief is that it will destroy you—
Shut up Inanna! He growled.
She wasn’t there. She wouldn’t return. All he had was the knowledge granted by the Inanna he had manifested back then. That specter — that reflection of a reflection, had thrashed around that monstrosity like it was nothing. It did not matter if his opponent was using lifeforce or mana, fire or water, was physical or ethereal. If they moved, they used motion. And Kinetomancy ruled over all forms of motion. This was a power that could fight literal gods.
And it was a complete hindrance to Lukas, rendering him all but blind.
“Damn it!” He cursed.
What to do? He couldn’t just keep his eyes shut forever. He needed to shut this off. Somehow.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Anyhow. After several nerve-wracking seconds of deep breathing, Lukas cudgeled his brain into working. His grandfather often said that one way of tackling a difficult problem was to focus on everything but the problem. Focussing on the lines would get him nowhere. He needed to look somewhere else.
These trajectories… they weren’t obstructing his vision, but adding to it. Like an extra function. Or a skill.
“Stop this. Stop this skill at once.”
He gasped in elation as the Screen flickered before his mind. Unfortunately, the message did nothing to lift his spirits.
Host Body stuck in Skill Assimilation
Which meant… what exactly?
Apex Skill Acquisition Complete
Apex Skill Assimilation under process.
Host Body found partially compatible.
That, he figured, was all kinds of bad. Inanna had only used a bit of her powers. Just enough to kick the King’s arse without destroying Lukas’s body. But even that bit was a bit too much for him.
It was too high-level. The Omphalos had greedily grabbed it all, and now it was facing a unique problem.
Apex Skill Assimilation under process
Host Body under constant reconfiguration
His body wasn’t compatible. Simple as that.
If only it was as easy to explain that to the Omphalos. Lostbelt’s consciousness or not, it was like a machine. It had rules and protocols and followed them to the letter. It could go against its own programming no more than Lukas could recreate Earth around him.
And currently, it was stuck reconfiguring his body, making it a perfect fit for Inanna’s power.
At least now he knew what was wrong with him. His body was trying to adjust to whatever it had grabbed from Inanna, and these… lines were a symptom. He just needed to identify what was causing it.
Show me my soulscape.
SOULSCAPE
NAME
Lukas Aguilar
Type
Prime Host
Level
21
Experience
4163
Current Threshold
17640
Utilized Soul Capacity
863500 / ∞
ESSENCE
Maximum Lifeforce Output
82750
Replenishment Rate
4600 / hour
LEY LINE NETWORK
Maximum Mana Output
84000
Synthesis Rate
4710 / hour
So far, it was exactly how he remembered things. That meant that change would have to be in the next section.
SKILL ATTRIBUTES
SKILL
LEVEL
CONSUMED SOUL CAP
Raw Lifeforce Manipulation
3
5000
Kinetomancy (APEX)
4
850000
Psychomancy
2
500
Shatterpoint Intuition
2
500
“....”
It actually took him an entire second to register what he was seeing, and then a couple more to understand what it implied. The number — that impossible number flashing before him was so massive that it was surreal. He wasn’t sure whether to be distracted by the number ‘4’ written on the Level-column, or the sheer figure written beside it, or the conspicuous absence of several of his lifeforce skills.
As his brain rebooted from the shock, he realized Kinetomancy was an Apex skill, and thus, was an aggregation of multiple skills, including the ones he had boasted. Now that the BROKEN suffix had been replaced by a neat ‘Level-4’, and the previous figure replaced by the six-digit figure sitting snugly beside it, it stood to reason that his other skills had been upgraded, and combined into Kinetomancy.
But still… Level-4.
Lukas checked it again.
Level-4.
He wasn’t seeing things. Level-3 Momentum Manipulation had allowed him to curb stomp the bylestyr squad. Level-4 was exponentially greater than that. Even then, a Level-4 skill would’ve cost him fifty-thousand soul capacity.
Level-4 Kinetomancy? It cost seventeen times more than that. Whether that was because Kinetomancy was an amalgamation of seventeen Level-4 skills, all of them based on the principles of motion was anybody’s guess.
He itched to do a little jig. Then he remembered he was effectively blind, and that made him sober again.
“Can you…” he murmured in English, “can you give me an estimate of how long this… skill assimilation will take?”
Like always, the Screen was eager to respond.
Prime Host Augmentation Attempted.
Failed!
Host Body Synchronization Incomplete
Level 39 required to achieve complete synchronization
Quick responses didn’t always translate to good news. He had the skill, but he had ways to go before that synchronization happened. And by the looks of it, it’d be quite some time until he got there.
The threshold of every level kept increasing on an exponential level. He still remembered how he had crossed the Experience Threshold of just 40 units by smacking moss. Compared to that, he had required a staggering 16000 units to cross from Level-20 to Level-21. By that logic, to move to Level-39, he’d require…
706800 Experience
“Right. Thank you.”
That Level-39? It’d take him forever to get there, and that was considering he got dropped into multiple borderlands for the foreseeable future. And if he had to go through that as a blind man, he might as well give up.
And it wasn’t just lifeforce-skills that were affected by Kinetomancy. His mana-skills were far from untouched. Where previously lay multiple clusters of skills segregated by elements now lay a simpler, more cohesive list.
Fire Creation
3
5000
Water Creation
2
500
Terraportation
2
500
Conjuration
2
500
Disintegration
2
500
Seismic Sensing
2
500
All forms of mana manipulation were gone. Conjuration and Disintegration were creation skills and thus stayed. It had assimilated everything else under one singular apex skill, and until he could level up, his problems were there to stay.
“You done fucked up, Lukas Aguilar!”
But deciding to keep his eyes shut and actually keeping them shut were two different things. He didn’t know where he was. His very last memory was tumbling his way into a familiar room, with a pair of equally familiar, jet-black eyes looking at him. He remembered drifting through that endless sea of mist and mana and crashing into a hard table, and seeing those eyes looking at him with surprise and vindication. Eyes that could only belong to one individual.
NO —
Lukas couldn’t help himself. He snapped his eyes open.
—And instantly shut them, hissing in acute pain.
No. He told himself. This wouldn’t do. There had to be some way. This wasn’t the first time he had seen motion trajectories. Even Shatterpoint Intuition did something similar, showing him the most direct path for a strike. He was no stranger to using kinetomancy either, pulling and pushing objects and prey out of their motions.
Maybe if he learnt to ignore it, or completely stop using kinetomancy, and instead just limit his eyes to see then…
Come on, Inanna. Help me out here.
Preparing himself, he slowly opened his eyes. The meshwork of pale white tendrils slowly receded to the background, like a watermark, leaving his vision mostly clear. It still hurt, and the way those lines shifted every time his gaze flickered made it incredibly distracting and annoying. And if he tried to focus on anything, the lines instantly returned, and with it, the pain.
Still, it was better than being blind.
He was in a familiar, spartan room. Monster-hide served as his bed cushion, with cold, hard rock beneath it. An earthen jug with water, and a door to his south, with bioluminescent moss growing on the walls, offering a dreary green illumination.
He knew this place.
He had been here; had walked this floor. This…
Lukas swallowed. His fears had come true. He was in yokai territory. Those eyes — it was Solana. He had crashed into Solana’s office. And this… this was his old quarters. This was where he had stayed the last time.
His issues about vision forgotten, Lukas jumped up, looking around with growing hysteria. He still had his shirts and pants on. Tattered and charred they might be, but he still had them, which was a level up from going commando. The protective vest was still there, burnt and complete with holes on both sides. His fractals, present. His pendant, that too, inert and cold like before. Blob too was there, acting as an undershirt.
He clenched his fists. Lifeforce surged through them. His fractals were working too. Surrounded by rock on all sides, it was terrifyingly easy to churn earth-mana. He was certain he could terraport his way out with ease. Yokai territory or not, he had options this time around. Blob… Blob was still acting as his undershirt. His fingers found the cold metal of the pendant, the lapis lazuli feeling just as cold as always. Completely devoid of energy. There was no sign to prove that whatever had happened was real and not a dream. Inanna had really appeared, arising out of the shard of divinity within him, and helped him out of an impossible situation. Inanna — who was a specter of the real thing, had faced that demon king, and ensured his escape, bolstering his skills in the process.
Inanna, who he had just dreamt about. Seen what she had suffered.
He’d find a way. Bring her back. No matter the cost.
But first, he needed to find a way out of here. Had to save Tanya. Solana had openly claimed that she’d kill him if he sided with the Asukans. But she wouldn’t kill Tanya. No. She’d make someone possess her, and then use her as a bargaining chip to make him agree to more deals.
No. Not again. He’d find Tanya and escape. If he was strong before, he was a monster now. Unless Solana was a Level-4 in disguise, he was reasonably certain he could fight her and whatever army she threw at him, and escape.
Escape? He thought. Why? If a fight’s what they want, he thought coldly, then a fight is what they’ll get. These yokai ambushed me and fucked with me before. And now they think they can hold Tanya as a hostage to get me to do whatever the fuck they want. I’ll… I’ll tear a new one out of their treacherous bloody—
And on and on it went for the next three seconds. Lukas was breathing hard and his lifeforce was already informing his instincts, fueling them with the need to defend his possession against an intruder. His body was already heating up, and the temperature around him was rising high.
He closed his eyes and fought the feeling down. He had a lot of experience in bringing himself down from lifeforce-highs in the past. But there was a difference between then and now, especially since he had around two magnitudes more lifeforce rushing through his body, one that was too great to be calmed down by his breathing techniques. There was only one way that might work — asserting his rational mind.
So he started counting prime numbers. And then multiples of sixteen and seventeen, all the way till twenty-five, all the while trying to hammer ruthless logic against the primitive instincts flooding his system.
“One, I don’t know where they’ve kept Tanya. Two. They have not attacked me. Preemptive offense will damage chances of negotiation.”
He breathed in and out.
“Three. I have no clue about the forces in this place. Four. Solana could always throw me back into the Haze if she catches me off-guard.”
The lifeforce within him spat and frothed as it slowed down, and the white curtain forming all over his vision was slowly turning to normal.
“Five. I don’t actually know if they have her. Maybe she’s lost in the Haze, and in that case, I’ll need their help in finding her.”
The temperature was falling.
“And Six, killing people without reason is wrong.”
As the flaring instincts whimpered and died, Lukas huffed out a breath and opened his eyes. His kinetomancy was fucked up, he was in yokai territory, and he was suffering lifeforce-highs. Seemed like the day just kept on giving. All he needed was for Solana to trap him into another bargain, and his day would be complete.
As if on cue, someone struck the door from outside.
Twice.