The mansion was, even by the standards of the Sacred Eight, ostentatious.
Mujin never really had eyes for architecture, preferring pragmatism and security over vaulted ceilings and items of ceremonial and artistic value. Given the all-around magnificence that sprawled all across the estate, the owner clearly held differing notions about the topic.
For this was the Z’allar, the house of the Earth King.
A massive construct that faded in and out of view of outside eyes and constantly flowed in shape and size. Using the word ‘building’ to describe it was inaccurate, as it was mostly built out of enchantments and terramancy instead of stone and mortar, crafted out of a quality so impeccable, that it was unfathomable to anyone less than a terramancer Warlord.
It was the result of years of inter-regional research on terramancy, the crowning achievement of the Terramancer’s Guild, built in cooperation with a dozen different guilds, and homage paid by kingdoms and clans to please the one man that lived here. This majestic edifice, located in the center of Khemmel, the capital city of Luthar, was where the Earth King held court, dictating laws and orders to the Cobalt Army and the Ministry. This was the place where he’d receive foreign dignitaries, all from this seat of power.
This wasn’t the first time he was here, nor the first time he was giving any sort of news. But the sheer absurdity of the situation, as well as what had transpired recently left a bad taste in his mouth. Honestly, he had delayed coming to meet his ‘friend’ and benefactor long enough. Any more and he’d have to keel haul himself for being a coward out of sheer principle.
“I already know what happened, Mujin,” said Trestan Banksi. “There is no need to bother me with stale news.”
“The girl isn’t alone,” said Mujin, in a tone that indicated how off-putting the situation was.
“I should hope not,” said the Earth King softly, with just a hint of curiosity. “If she was indeed capable of shattering the wards of the Peak, I would shift my support to her in a heartbeat. I hope you didn’t do anything excessive in anger.”
Mujin decided to wisely keep quiet about the destroyed mountain adjacent to the Peak. “I have learned a good deal of things. Some are irrelevant. Some surprisingly worth noting.”
“Oh? That’s a rarity,” the Earth King expressed disbelief as he sat on his throne, serving himself some wine. Despite his words, he didn’t look at all curious. If anything, he was amused.
Mujin couldn’t blame him. After all the posturing and Ultaf’s recent actions, losing the Sacred Eight status had been the greatest shame that his grandson could’ve brought to his clan. And then, right after, someone had destroyed the greatest fortification of the Shimizu, protected by an enchantment crafted by Mujin’s father — the Wind King himself.
In a few hours of work.
If someone was trying to teach Mujin humility, they were succeeding.
“It is… curious that the Fire King is still enjoying Lord Naowa’s hospitality,” said Mujin. “In Haviskali of all places.”
“Oh?”
“All I’m saying is that —”
The rest of his words died in Trestan Banksi’s laughter. “Have you truly fallen so low as to believe in such rumors, Mujin? Perhaps you really should step down and let the girl take your place. If nothing else, she is resourceful enough to shatter past a King’s defenses, and bind a King’s kami successfully, which is more than anything any of Wakamura’s blood have been able to do until this day.”
Mujin bristled, but kept quiet.
“But…” said Trestan Banksi. “You raise a vital point. It is most unusual for Jimmo Asuka to remain behind. The other Clans might be baying for your blood for the svartalfar massacre, but not Jimmo Asuka.”
“Why?”
The Earth King met his eyes. “If the Fire King wanted you gone, you’d be gone. You wouldn’t have been standing here, talking about it. Do not mistake his affability for his weakness, Mujin. That man has worn that mask for so long that he’s almost forgotten what sort of creature he is behind it.”
Mujin wholeheartedly agreed. His own father, the Wind King, had been just a hair short of terrified of Jimmo Asuka, despite being a King himself. One of the things Wakamura Shimizu did in his last days was keep repeating about the absurdity that was the Fire King, and after Mujin had met the man face to face, he was willing to agree with his late father’s sentiments.
It wasn’t his power, or his position, or his status as a demigod.
Rather, it was the look in his eyes. At times, it was the wide gaze of a small child, full of awe and wonder. Of innocence and eager anticipation, as though about to be read an exciting story.
At other times, it was the relaxed expression of a man that was at the end of his life.
Both expressions were genuine. Both were extreme, and both spoke of an intense insanity. A pure, calm, peaceful and completely unique brand of insanity that one would ignore unless one was actively looking for it.
It terrified him to a core in a way nothing ever did, sending chills down his spine, urging him to leave and run away from this demon as quickly as possible.
“But you’re right,” continued the Earth King. “Something is certainly off. It isn’t in Jimmo Asuka’s nature to act this heavy-handedly. Something else is afoot, and I’m more inclined to believe that the girl has something to do with the Peak’s destruction. Someone out there is playing a clever game, using the Fire King’s presence at Haviskali to mask his or her actions. It almost feels… ordained.”
Mujin froze. “Ordained? You mean a Chosen?”
If the gods themselves had decided to take action, there was nothing anyone could do to stop their wrath. Of course, no one among the Pantheon would ever bother take positions against a mortal, but it was for these situations that they had their Chosen — representatives anointed to the holy status by the Pantheon, complete with divine blessings bestowed upon them, and often ended up burning entire towns and cities to ashes whenever one of them decided to act up.
“It can’t be a Chosen,” said Mujin slowly. “No Chosen would willingly side with her. Not after knowing what lies in her blood.”
“Ah,” said the man, his silky tone cutting through the atmosphere like a knife. “The same old fable. An ancient power, providence of a lost god from the Time Before, carried by the White Witch old Wakamura defeated in battle. A power capable of ending a King. A power you’ve promised me, in return for my support for decades. A power that I now wonder is even real to begin with.”
“It’s real,” Mujin hissed.
“Then where is it?” snarled the Earth King, and gravity within the room multiplied twenty-fold. One moment Mujin was standing on his feet, and the next moment his knees were crushing the very floor as the inexorable power of gravity made his body feel like it was made of dense metal. It took everything to simply hold his head up and not fall face-first to the floor.
“Do not forget, Mujin,” said the Earth King. “My support is what enabled you to run those twisted experiments all this while. But for all your claims, she’s successfully avoided the Great Goddess’s All-Seeing -Eye. For all we know, she could potentially survive a Chosen’s inspection.”
His expression grew pensive. “I’m almost wondering if I should just let this girl take over. It would prove to be a most interesting decade or two, before I need her to exercise my little plan.”
Wonderful, thought Mujin caustically. This was the problem with dealing with pseudo-immortal beings that were the Kings. They tended to consider years and years of time with the same approach that most people thought of minutes and hours. With their body also reflecting their elemental status, the Kings were less bremetan and more of a force of Nature in themselves.
Things would not end well if he criticized the Earth King. It might affect everything, or maybe it might not even matter. He had lost everything — his Peak, his Sacred-Eight status, his soldiers, and his grandson. His sole remaining hope was to find the girl and extract Ezzeron out of her. He knew that there was no way she would’ve grown that strong this quickly, which meant there was someone helping her. Someone with the resources or the skill set to break through his father’s enchantments, and capable of destroying the entire mountain top in one go.
This newcomer, this… stranger scared Mujin.
“I have one more news,” he said at last. “Lord Naowa shifted the Cobalt Army from guarding the Desert borders to the capital city.”
“Irrelevant,” scoffed Trestan Banksi. “It is clear that your actions lack the bare thought a man would’ve put into an endeavor of such significance. Did you know that nearly a year ago, an unknown energy signature emerged from the Desert, a Level-5, from what my feelers say, and I’m likened to agree.”
“But that’s impossible,” claimed Mujin. “Surely there’s something —”
“Wrong? I think not. Especially when the feelers up there in the extreme North of the Empire also registered the same reading. Unknown element. Level-5. Exuding out of the Desert.”
“But that’s… impossible,” whispered Mujin. “Even a Level-5 energy signature couldn’t travel that —”
“That far?” challenged the Earth King. “Every single feeler in the entire Empire felt it. All they could garner was that someone,” he gave Mujin a pointed look. “Was casting a Level-5 spell, reaching past the horizons of the Empire, into the borderlands and the Unknown.”
Mujin didn’t know what to think anymore. A spell that big? Spell potency was inversely proportional to the area of effect, unless of course, the very nature of the spell was limited to esoteric parameters. But in that case, the power level of the spell would be almost impossible to detect. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. The idea that someone could cast a spell of such an impossible area of effect and yet register itself as a Level-5 from the extreme North of the Empire was both fascinating and terrifying at the same time.
No doubt the Emperor himself was interested in this.
“What — what was it about?”
“To connect,” said the Earth King simply.
“To connect?” Mujin repeated in confusion. “To what?”
“Nobody knows,” said the Earth King, giving him a strange, inscrutable smile. “I sent my own men to investigate the matter, and do you know what they found? Traces of yokai activity inside the Desert, and the obliterated remains of adventurer camps. Since then, yokai activity all over the South-East has risen dramatically, a rather ominous coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Mujin scowled, not liking the insinuation in the man’s words. “Yokai activity usually waxes around Black Moon Rising, Trestan. They wane down to the minimum within a month or so, as the Mists recede.”
“Yet this time,” countered the Earth King. “We have had as many as five Mist-nights since the Black Moon Rising. Another ominous sign that something is out of order. I have long since mentioned that the Chains of Unity need to be held up at all costs, but your Clan is failing spectacularly on that front. You failed to conquer Ezerron, your son failed to conquer Ezzeron. The only person that succeeds is a fugitive, and you’d rather risk resources and reputation — yours and mine, to find her and extract a power I’ve only heard about than hold the Chains of Unity together. Such senility is unbecoming of you. In fact, I would much rather believe that you’re doing this quite intentionally.”
Mujin looked at him in confusion.
“A few months later, my wayward son Zuken barters a trade with the Zwaray Keep, and this girl, your niece, is part of the negotiations. My feelers catch another Level-5 activity from within the Haze, and the next thing we know, your grandson massacres the svartalfar populace, destroying the Well in the process. A well, I’m told, is one of the most significant edifices in the entire Empire, important enough for the Fire King himself to come running.”
The Earth King met Mujin’s eyes. “And now, another unknown activity, crashes a Level-5 wardline and destroys the defenses that have lasted for the past two centuries and handcrafted by the Wind King himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if the attack was Level-5, albeit fine tuned to a very small area.”
“I do not trust words,” said the Earth King. “I even ignore actions. But I never disregard patterns, Mujin. And if you notice clearly, a very interesting pattern emerges. And the pattern says that something is afoot, and your Clan is heavily involved with this. One wonders, what power have you and your grand-daughter unleashed that you and your clan have gone so far to hide? Why did your grandson eliminate the very population that could’ve explained the Level-5 activity within the Haze? Why were Shimizu battlements found in the Desert? Just what are you hiding, Mujin Shimizu?”
Mujin’s eyes went wide, as did his mouth. For a second, he was too surprised to speak.
“You are no longer part of the Sacred Eight, Mujin. You know perfectly well what that means, what fate befalls those unlucky enough to lose their Sacred Eight status. When the Sacred Eight meets in the upcoming month, there will be questions asked. Questions that would not go unanswered.”
The sort of look that told him that the answers to said questions would be the ones that the Sacred Eight and the rest of the Empire would know, but not necessarily, would be the truth.
They were at a critical crossroads. There was no doubt that Trestan Banksi would not like the truth behind the questions he would ask. And if they contained incriminating evidence, it would put a stain on not only Mujin's, but Trestan’s as well, given how he had supported him over the decades.
The latter would be acceptable.
The issue was that while the Earth King was no stranger to forbidden research, antiquated knowledge and conspiracy, rarely was he the one at risk. Due to the nature of Mujin’s actions, Trestan’s name would be dragged through the mud given his consistent support for his actions. While he had much to gain, he also had much to lose. The very idea of being forced into such a position in the first place was infuriating.
That was the reason behind this inquisition. There was far more to Tanya’s powers and the recent activities that Trestan wasn’t aware of. Mujin knew perfectly well that Tanya’s mother was the yuki-onna Tsurara, a direct descendant of the yokai Empress Meynte. Given the yokai kingdom was scorched and turned into this barren wasteland, it was very much possible that the girl had unearthed some ancient relic to empower herself. That, or her heritage was allowing her to utilize Ezzeron’s true power on a limited basis. Either way,if any information of that nature came to light later on before the other Sacred Eight, the repercussions could be catastrophic.
The Earth King would willingly massacre the entire Shimizu Clan overnight then be subjected to such humiliation.
Especially with the Fire King involved in this mess.
“I accept your conditions, old friend. But I humbly beseech you for one last favor. I shall of course come clean about everything, and if you think I have wronged you, go ahead and end me. I shall not stop you. But if you feel my cause has reason, then I request military support from you to do whatever is needed to reclaim my name and prestige back.”
The Earth King gave him a speculative look. “Very well, speak your fill, and I will judge if you’re worth my support anymore.”
----------------------------------------
“I was wondering when you’d finally show up,” said Zuken, as Lukas closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.
“What can I say?” said Lukas. “Elena’s warned all of us from disturbing you. Somehow, the yokai are more afraid of her than me. Not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”
He wasn’t joking either. Something about the changeling made the yokai shy away from her presence. Even Solana, with all her aging wisdom, looked uncomfortable in her presence though she tried her best not to show it. Lukas had tried coaxing it out of a couple of yokai, but the best response was that there was something about her that terrified them in a way they couldn’t even understand, much less explain.
The only people to feel otherwise were Tanya, and Maude.
“Please, come in,” said Zuken with a laugh. “I’ve been hearing nothing but tales of your exploits. Ever since I woke up, all Elena seems to talk about is you. If I didn’t know better, I’d have considered you competition for her affections.”
Lukas coughed. Affections? From Elena? How?
“Trust me,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ve already got a girl at my side. And she’s the jealous type.”
“I’ve got some experience with that. Word to the wise, those types can be quite petty.”
“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Lukas said airily, remembering some of Tanya’s reactions about the changeling.
Zuken laughed, and ended up coughing. Reaching for the glass of water placed on the table next to him, he sat a little upright, resting himself against the headboard. “Come, sit.”
He crossed the distance between them and sat down on the sole chair placed next to the bed. Ever since his extradition from the Peak, Maude had been treating Zuken, and constantly checking his vitals, with Elena sitting next to him and taking care of his needs. With the possibility of war imminent and just a few days away, the yokai were busy with preparation, leaving this section of the territory practically empty.
“How are you?”
“Still here,” Zuken said with a sigh, looking at his hands. “Not sure how useful I will be without my tools, but I’ll try to help you out against the Shimizu.”
Lukas bit his tongue. “Sorry about what happened to your place. You didn’t have to do that for Tanya. But you did, and for that, I’m grateful.”
“Is that why you got me out of that place?” asked the terramancer. “Out of gratitude?”
“Partly,” Lukas admitted. It felt a little weird chatting up with this man without any negotiation or caring for subtext. “Tanya also wanted revenge on her brother and her grandfather. Two birds with a stone and all that.”
“An interesting analogy,” Zuken noted. “Two birds with a stone. I’ll have to remember that. Is that a saying from your world?”
Lukas nodded.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Interesting,” Zuken said. “Maybe when times are less exciting, you can tell me a little about it.”
“Somehow, I doubt hearing about a world without potential would interest you.”
The terramancer barked out a laugh. “You weren’t joking after all. Your world really didn’t have potential?”
“Potential, lifeforce, mana — none of it. At least, during my time. I mean, we had technology, not that it stopped people from turning the planet into a shithole, but it was where I had my shit.”
“Huh… a world filled with people that live and grow and develop even without potential. Sounds like the perfect place for someone like me.”
Lukas raised a brow.
“I guess there’s no point in hiding it, but I’m a failure at lifeforce and terramancy,” said Zuken.
“That sounds like such a lie.”
“Heh! You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” The terramancer laughed again, but there was no mirth in his expression or tone. “I take concoctions, specially prepared to enhance mana-production. And my fractals are the best mezals can buy. A hundred and seventy percent production, and they need maintenance after every three hundred days or so. That and I was inside an underground anomaly, surrounded by my element.”
Lukas didn’t know if it was because of Maude’s treatment, or the torture, but Zuken was a lot less inhibited than he remembered the man.
“Since when did Zuken Banksi become so carefree about revealing his own weaknesses? The man I negotiated with always acted from a position of strength.”
“Haha! I suppose times change,” said the man, and Lukas could feel the frustration in his tone. “Back then, you were an interesting specimen, unique but within the range of my understanding. From all that I’ve heard, it seems like I knew next to nothing about you.”
“Well, I can’t blame you for that. The time between then and now has been quite educational for myself. I know myself a lot better now, and I’m not sure if I should be amazed or terrified.”
“Well, Olfric is definitely terrified. He’s been claiming that you are exactly what we hypothesized back then. “A demigod.”
“And that takes us back to that conversation, doesn’t it?” Lukas asked, chuckling. “Sorry, bud. Still not a demigod.”
“Well,” Zuken sighed. “It was worth a try.”
No one spoke anything for a long moment.
“Aguilar,” said Zuken, breaking the silence. “What are you, really?”
Lukas smiled. That was a loaded question like nothing else. Even he didn’t truly understand what he was. Inanna had called him an anomaly. Solana called him an Outsider. Meynte addressed him as a soulcrafter, while Frost, the incarnate of the End, had a plethora of words to describe him, and none of them were worth mentioning in polite conversation.
“The Fire King has given me an official title,” said Lukas. “Forger. You could say I’m the new lessee of the Zwaray Keep in exchange for my services.”
“The Fire King, huh? Someone’s moved up in our world.” Zuken laughed, though there was a tinge of hesitation in his tone. “About time, really. So, forging, is what you do?”
“I forge what I understand. Objects, people, spirits.” Lukas very carefully stayed away from saying souls. “ I study their properties, their skills, their nature, their… souls, and try to replicate what I understand in all kinds of ways.”
Zuken gave him a flat, unblinking stare, as if judging how honest he was being. Finally, the man sighed.
“Forger then. I suppose that’s better than a demigod. The kind of Sin you have probably accumulated after destroying the entire castle and killing all those men…”
Lukas scowled, thinking back on that stunt he had pulled. Both when he had channeled the Dranizthl’s technique, and later, when he had altered the wardstones, he had been the cause of thousands of deaths. No wonder everyone in the territory was giving him a wide berth. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of someone that could perform a genocide and walk away without a scratch.
“Speaking of forgery,” began Zuken again, “there’s been something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Lukas cocked his head.
“You altered those wardstones in the castle.”
Oh. That.
“I was watching. You altered Carquane crystals while they were still channeling energy from the ley line. Not even the best legion of terramancers mezals could buy would do that, even at sword-point. And you did it in minutes. Isn’t that right?”
Lukas shook his head. “Not minutes.”
“Oh,” said Zuken, slightly disappointed. “I imagine you made a cursory study of wardstones before attempting the ambush then.”
Lukas smiled. “You misunderstand, Banksi. It didn't take minutes. Just a moment’s glance is enough.”
“Just a—” Zuken paused, inhaling, and giving him an intense look. “I don’t mean to insult you, but if you could prove your word. I mean, I understand you don’t have to. I don’t owe you anything but —”
Lukas didn’t respond. He just raised his hand.
Metaforge Active
“From dead minerals to spiritual alloys, to lifeforce-wielding bremetans to body-possessing yokai, there is nothing I cannot analyze.”
Condensing Anomalous Energy
Replicating instance…
“And what I can analyze, I can recreate.”
Altering mana conversion patterns
Creating Altered Instance
In his empty palm, raw power began to coalesce, in the form of a sphere, crackling with barely contained ferocity. With practiced will, Lukas guided it to the form he intended. The sphere condensed, and split into two, forming a ring of dazzling white, before expanding laterally, forming two cylindrical structures, a shape that they both were extremely familiar with. Where the light faded, shades of dark chocolate brown began to show. Spiraling lines of silver crisscrossed the structure in familiar patterns, not one or two, but all seven of them, promising a mana production enhancement close to ninety percent — the best he had seen and analyzed so far.
“That is —” Zuken trailed off.
Forging Complete
Lukas held it out to him. With trembling hands, Zuken grabbed it — a pair of fractals with seven spirals of silver. He had gotten Lukas an exact copy of this, only that one had been specifically altered to allow Lukas access to all elements. This one though….
“I altered the mana conversion matrix,” said Lukas. “It will only channel terramantic power. It should increase your mana production by close to a hundred and thirty percent. Granted, not my best work, but in my defense, I haven’t had the opportunity to experiment with fractal mechanics until recently.”
“This — you —”
Lukas laughed at the way the normally composed man was grasping for words. “Does that make you feel better now?”
Zuken opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out of his mouth. Instead, he silently put those fractals over his wrists, and clenched his fists. Lukas felt the surge of earth mana within the man, and the next moment, Zuken thrust his right hand at the floor, and a shaft of solid rock shot out of the ground, hovering in mid-air. He twisted his hand slightly, and the slab was cut into exactly sixteen uniform pieces. The terramancer twisted his wrist slightly, and the sixteen pieces began to contort, forming a screw-like end on one side. The flat end then thinned, and the next moment, eight pairs of short spears with spiral heads were floating in the air. His teeth clenching, Zuken made a sudden thrust, and then the weapons shot towards the opposite wall, piercing through it.
Lukas just watched it with a smile. Normally, he’d have gone out of his way to hide his potential, but too many people were in the know at this moment. Too many people that he couldn’t trust knew of his skills.
Obscurity wasn’t a safe option for him to hide beneath, so, audacity would have to do.
Besides, Zuken was someone that had at least done something for him, and for someone he cared about.
When the bremetan finally looked up from his fractals, Lukas noticed the slight glistening in the corner of his eyes. He met Lukas’s eyes, and he could see the emotions swelling in them, only held back by an ironclad will. He knew exactly what Zuken felt, after all that time spent in prison, alone, helpless, to be finally able to use his power again felt nothing short of exhilarating for the man.
“I understand,” Lukas said, still smiling. “Trust me. I’ve been in your place. I understand what it’s like to feel helpless.”
“You, really, you?”
He laughed. “Would you believe it if I told you that when I entered this world, I had neither lifeforce nor mana?”
“No…?”
“Well,” Lukas said, with a half-shrug. “It’s still true. It took me a while to even learn that there’s something called lifeforce, much less learn to harness it.”
“And mana?”
He smiled. “Story for another time, perhaps?”
Zuken did not pry.
“In the interests of reciprocation, can I ask you something in return?”
The terramancer’s eyes lit up. “Anything.”
Yep. Lukas observed. Definitely uninhibited.
“What’s your deal with the Earth King?” He asked. “You are his son, yet he supports Mujin Shimizu over you.”
And just like that, the terramancer’s face slackened slightly. “The Earth King if my father, yes, but in name only. Growing up in the Earth King’s Court, I had always suffered his displeasure for being born with a terribly low ECR. It’s why I walked away from the kingdom, before my father lost it and executed me. All my life, I’ve searched for ways to increase my ECR, but only managed to find hacks to boost my mana production. Like my fractals. I also found elixirs to temporarily enhance my lifeforce if needed. They are quite expensive, and overuse causes adverse effects on my health. You might not have known this, but I was in a terrible state for weeks after we took you out of that anomaly.”
Lukas tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.
“When we found that featherglass in the anomaly, I — I couldn’t believe my eyes. I performed the tests over and over, I… Maybe I wanted to prove that they were fake, that such a thing couldn’t possibly exist, I mean, not even the Great Goddess…” He trailed off. “But it was real. Featherglass of that much purity could store skills, and spiritual information. I thought if the svartalfars could reverse-engineer it, then perhaps I could find a way out for my lack of soul capacity. It would be a crutch, yes, but something’s better than nothing.”
That was the second time he had described himself like that. Was that how Banksi really saw himself? He wondered just what transpired in that castle to turn the once prideful man into a shell of his former self.
“Unfortunately,” Zuken sighed. “That avenue is dead too. Ultaf destroyed half the Keep. And the svartalfars know that I took him there. I doubt they’d even be willing to honor our deal, assuming they even have the samples….”
He trailed off right there, as if struck by a new realization, and stared up at Lukas with narrowed eyes. “You said that you can recreate whatever you analyze. That’s what you said, right? Does that mean you can create… featherglass as well?”
Lukas arched a single brow, and said, “yes.”
“I mean I won’t be surprised if you can’t. Featherglass is an absolutely rare thing in itself, and something of that purity is inconceivable. Even the Emperor himself cannot boast of something that pure so I…” Zuken paused his rambling, spotting the amused expression on Lukas’s face before his words hit him. “Wait, did you say, yes?”
“I did.”
Lukas held his hand up, and repeated the previous process again. A moment later, a shard of featherglass, no more than half a pound in weight, rested atop his open palm.
“That —that is —” said Zuken, looking at him like he had just discovered fire.
Lukas passed it to him. With shaky hands, Zuken held it, looking at it with eyes full of wondrous disbelief. He ran his fingers softly over the spiritually rich substance, careful not to exert anything but the slightest pressure. For all its wonderful properties, featherglass was a fragile thing.
The man must have been hit with another surprising thought, for he looked at the fractals he was wearing, and then at the crystal. He repeated those actions again, and then again, before looking up at Lukas in bewilderment.
“These are not ether constructs.”
“What gave it away?”
“Because — because it cannot be Ether. Ether constructs start disintegrating when you channel mana through them. But these fractals are the real thing. How — how could you have possibly created it?”
“You bremetans put too much importance on Ether and too less on the world around you,” said Lukas. “Fire, Water, Wind, Earth and Ether — five elements. But have you ever considered where these elements came from? What is the source of mana? Of lifeforce?”
Zuken looked taken-aback at that question. “You’re talking about theology. Not science.”
Lukas took a moment to marvel at the fact that even in this world where gods were real, a clear distinction between theology and science existed.
“Perhaps.”
The terramancer took a sip from the glass, and licked his parched lips. “The priests at the Shrine taught us that the primordials created the world, into which they sowed life and potential. The elements are the constituents of the world, and are always interchanging from one form to another.”
Lukas threw his head back and laughed, much to Zuken’s frown.
“Did I say something odd?”
“No,” Lukas said, chuckling again. “Sorry. It’s just, that explanation would have fitted perfectly back in my world. You know, where there are no gods and goddesses, but the clergy make all kinds of stories about them. About how the world came into existence because the gods wished it to be.” He chuckled some more. “I mean seriously, all that infinite space out there, with stars and nebulae and galaxies, and somehow, they’re just there for the ‘humans’ on Earth to stare at the night sky and adore their beauty. Like it’s some kind of natural wallpaper.”
His lips twisted into a sneer. “But you know what’s even more hilarious? This place. You have real gods, not parables and myths but real, walking, talking gods. Hell, even your Emperor was born from a goddess. And even then, your world history is nothing but a big heap of bullshit.”
Had this been Olfric, he would have instantly taken offense to his words. Zuken Banksi just sighed.
“I can’t disagree with that notion. Honestly, if primordials were really the creators of this world, then they must be extremely shabby in their designs. I do not doubt that the Emperor is the son of the Great Goddess, but I get skeptical when they claim that Amaterasu is the eldest spawn of the Primordials themselves.”
Lukas snorted. “You do not doubt the man born of god. You doubt the god that’s born of another god. Sounds legit.”
Zuken scowled. “I know it sounds like lunacy when you put it that way, but I cannot fathom why anyone would create a world with so many problems, create such diversity and then wage a war to bring it all under the control of a single species? For an Empire blessed by divinity, it experiences a frightening number of colossal leadership errors. Most of these are just covered up, and unless you know where to look, you won’t even find anything about the Time Before. You have the tale of the Nine-Tailed Fox defeating the mighty Ryujin, but none of the texts ever talks about the Norse god Odin or the entire pantheon of Asgard. Every vanir out there worships the vanir gods of old, but none of the Asukan texts ever mention them. I mean, if you are the creator, why does your own scripture contain so many errors?”
“Speaking like that would probably get you arrested on grounds of sacrilege.”
Zuken grinned. “I suppose I would. Luckily, we’re in yokai territory. While that terrifies the fuck out of me, I know I wouldn’t find any Onmyōji around.”
“I’m pretty sure I can get Olfric here if you want.”
Zuken laughed. “Not necessary. But we digress. The priests at the Shrine teach us that Amaterasu defeated the Nine-Tailed Fox, and when she tried to destroy our world by clashing the Ikai Realm with it, She Ascended to godhood, sharing her power of Eternal Light with the world, casting the mists away. That is why she is the Great Goddess. That is the yokai fear the Eternal Light, because its holiness destroys all things evil.”
And there was the spark he had always associated with the man. It felt good to know that the man hadn’t lost that.
“But I’m still here, ain’t I? Despite being in yokai territory. And not just me, Olfric, Elena, Tanya, you — the yokai helped you get me out. And while they fear the Eternal Light, that does not not necessarily make them evil.”
“Honestly,” the terramancer rambled on. “The more I look at the Empire, the more my instincts whisper scam.”
Lukas wondered if it was because he was simply that bored out of his mind, or just that emaciated from his prison time that he had lost control of his impulses, or if he was simply enjoying conversing with someone that gave zero fucks about the strict theological doctrines mandated by the Empire.
“I mean, everyone knows that the Emperor does not age. That much, at least, is undeniable. You would think that under the control of a single, immortal governor at the helm, the society would become ideal. Instead all we have is an aggregation of a hundred kingdoms that are almost always at war with each other.”
“And you wonder if the Emperor lets it happen because he doesn’t care—”
“Or, because he can’t?” Zuken finished. “I mean, in terms of power, he is supposed to be equivalent to any of the other Kings. The only reason the other Kings pay him the obeisance they do, is because he is a demigod. But when you’ve traveled across the Empire as much as I have, you start questioning if the gods even care about their worshippers, much less about the other species. Strange isn’t it, given their parents, the Primordials, were the ones that created all of it.”
“The yokai have their own variation of the world’s genesis,” Lukas informed him. “And while it has its own quirks, I personally find it a little closer to the truth as I understand it.”
“And do you?” asked Zuken. “Understand it, I mean?”
Lukas thought back to the memory of the Origin, seeing that incomprehensible existence, seeing tiny smidgens of potential — Omphaloi, arise out of the Origin, and appear on the singularities and realms in the form of new anomalies.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Lukas repeated, and realized Zuken was waiting for a proper response. “My teacher told me that every world arises as an Omphalos — an orb of pure and nigh infinite potential, arising out of an entity that some call the Great Progenitor. An entity that existed at the very beginning of Time, when the Universe was nothing but formless Infinity.”
He paused for a moment. “She called it the Origin.”
“The Origin.”
“The Origin. The Provenance. The Cradle of Creation. It has as many names as there are languages. Each Omphalos births out an Anomaly, which later evolves into a Singularity and separates from the World, or the Realm it was born in. Finally, when the Singularity gives birth to its own unique rules, it transforms into a new Realm, completely cut off from its source.”
“That’s an interesting theory,” said Zuken. “One I have never heard before. I think the closest thing I can compare it to is Kvasir’s ramblings. I believe I gave you a copy of it.”
Lukas smiled. “Anomalies give rise to monsters. Monsters evolve to become species. Species morph and specialize into Races, like the bremetan, or the svartalfar, or the yokai. Races accumulate to form civilizations, sometimes as a singular group, and at times, a cluster, like you see in borderlands. In case you’re wondering, borderlands are actually Singularities that lie floating, attached to the infinitely vast Ikai realm.”
Olfric would have attacked him by now, accusing him of spreading treasonous lies. Zuken on the other hand —
“And… gods? Where do they come from?”
“Races level up. One, two, three, at four, they become Warlords. And at five, they gain absolute mastery of the element. They become Kings. But even at that grand stage, they are limited by the rules of the world, by the laws that govern the Universe. Until..” he took a dramatic pause. “Until someone breaks free of those laws, and establishes his or her own law. Their Truth. Something that did not exist before, a law that alters the Universe itself by its very existence.”
“Like… Eternal Light?”
“Exactly, like Eternal Light. And through that Ascension, through achieving that impossible rule and making it possible, a mortal becomes divine. A bremetan becomes a god.”
“You’re claiming that even the Great Goddess and her kin were mortals once.”
“Yes,” said Lukas. “Honestly, from what I understand, even if the Primordials did exist, they were nothing but some old gods that preceded the current Asukan pantheon. That would only make Amaterasu and her kin demigods, just like the Emperor. And the chance that all three of them — Amaterasu, Susanoo and Tsukuyomi, all three managed to attain their own independent divinity is so hilariously low that I’d rather bet on you defeating a King, than on that ludicrous nonsense.”
“You’re saying some pretty outrageous things you know,” said the terramancer. “You’re implying that not only did the Primordials not create the world, they might not even have existed in the first place. A myth spread across generations, by the current gods to hide the true history of the world.”
“Good,” said Lukas. “It’s about time I’m the one saying outrageous things. Oh, and you are ignoring another possibility.”
“Which is?”
“That Amaterasu, Tsukoyomi and Susanoo aren’t godlings, or siblings. Just three independent bremetan gods that came together and scammed the world populace.”
The suggestion was so blasphemous that it took Zuken at least three seconds to process it entirely. Lukas watched amused, as the terramancer tried to process the implications, only to arrive at horrendous conclusions over and over and over.
He stood up. It was time to meet Tanya and check on her progress. Perhaps he could communicate with Frost about some ideas he had about Inanna’s resurrection. Besides, he imagined Zuken would be quite busy for some time with his new fractals, and the dangerous ideas Lukas had just infected him with. Turning around, he walked back to the door and was just about to open it when —
“Hey.”
It was his tone that made him stop dead in his tracks and his body tensed instantly.
Zuken hadn’t moved, but Lukas could feel his gaze at his back. “From what you told me, you believe that the world itself is the source of everything. The living, the non-living, the elements.”
It wasn’t what he believed. It simply was.
“Correct.”
“Which means that the raw energy, the natural energy drawn from the heart of the world, the one that flows through ley lines and empowers wards, that is the true and original source of energy. One that can create anything and everything.”
Except potential. Lukas didn’t say.
“Also correct.”
Zuken met his eyes, hesitation vivid in them. “And you can somehow tap into this energy… to forge anything and everything. And I saw you make the metal slime take the form of a muspel… No, not the form, it became a muspel. You… you created life.”
This time Lukas turned around.
Silence followed, with Zuken staring at the featherglass crystal still in his hands.
“If you have something to ask,” said Lukas. “Feel free to ask it.”
Zuken nodded cautiously. “You have an almost endless soul capacity. And you can use the world’s natural energy, and create anything, living, non-living, even rare substances like featherglass without care. And you can create life. And Sin does not affect you.”
“I still don’t see a question there.”
“It’s just…. Back when you and I sat in my office, you claimed that all that potential from your world had to go somewhere. Does that mean that your powers are derived from the World You belonged to?”
Lukas gave him a smile, somehow managing to make it look comforting and menacing at the same time.
“I was joking, remember?”
And then he opened the door —
Only for Maude to rush in and stumble against him.
“Maude—” he began, bending to help her stand up. Then he noticed how short of breath she was, her eyes frantically looking at his face.
“Leader received word…” she said, breathing fast and hard. “The Shimizu… They know that Tanya is in Yokai territory. And they’re on their way to attack us.”
“What?” Lukas hissed. “How did he know?”
“I — I don’t know,” stammered the oni. “It gets worse. Mujin isn’t coming alone. He’s being supported by the Earth King’s army. Lukas, we…. we’re all going to die.”
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