The construct in front of them looked just as alien as the first time Lukas gazed upon it. Peaked spired and metallic pillars arising like dark talons, varying in thickness and jutting towards the sky. It had a twisted, off-center symmetry, an almost-balance. Ash-black, something about it gave that eerie sensation of sucking away something fundamental from his body. In the middle of that behemoth, was the roughly oval construct crafted out of several feet thick stone, an archaic archway and in its center, the familiar bruise floating in the air.
Just like he remembered it.
Or… almost. Something was missing, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
This was the svartalfar Well, the same one that he and Tanya had stepped into the Lava Ridge borderland. The only difference was that the last time, they had a legion of svartalfars around them, with Mori and Kradir accompanying them for their journey. This time, there were a legion of Asukan builders running tests on the archway. He and Tanya watched as a marching band of armored soldiers came stepping lightly from behind, catching up to them quickly. With a halt of solid, simultaneous stomp of a hundred or so boots, the legion bowed before the Shogun.
“Continue,” said the Shogun offhandedly, and the soldier captain among the legion barked out another command, and the band moved marching ahead. Far away, he could see more workers constructing new equipment and repairing the existing ones and put them back in place.
“Svartalfar technology is very different from our own,” said Lord Naowa. “Our terramancers are nowhere capable of refining metals, to the degree the svartalfars could. And that goes double for spiritual alloys. This massacre is a great blow to the entire Empire, and the Shimizu have only begun to feel that.”
Lukas glanced at Tanya who looked around solemnly.
“The Empire does not advertise it, but Wells are a svartalfar creation. Their unique metalworking, their runecraft, their ability to merge the physical with the spiritual is a skill that Asukans have longed to acquire for centuries but failed again and again. There are clans out there that have tried to illegally breed svartalfar-skills into their bloodlines by forcing them to impregnate Asukan women, or vice versa. And now, with them extinct, no more Wells can be created. Worse, we will be helpless if any of the existing Wells malfunction at any point in time.”
“Is that why you are here?” asked Lukas. “Trying to repair this Well, hoping for a miracle?”
The man’s face fell. “Unfortunately, even miracles fall short here. Not even the Eternal Light can refine spiritual alloys like svartalfar runecraft can.”
Lukas said nothing. The Screen had long since reported the successful completion of the reconstruction of svartalfar genetic structure, and prepared an amalgamated spiritual rendition, using Hreidmar as a blueprint. His inner-world now boasted of a hybrid svartalfar prototype that boasted of seventeen different Level-2 to Level-3 skills, including metalsensing, extraction, metalmind, runecraft and many others.
He glanced at the stone archway, and realized what was finally missing.
“The runes,” he murmured. “The runes on the archway are wrong.”
“Well, obviously, they are wrong,” snapped the Shogun. “The craft makes no sense.”
Lukas suppressed a chuckle. Mori had once given him a cursory introduction to svartalfar runecraft back in the borderland in her attempt to entice him into joining the Keep. The closest analogy Lukas could find was a programming language, but instead of 0s and 1s as its base as a sane person would, or even something as complex as the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, they decided to go full on crazy and use hundreds of unique characters instead.
What made it worse was that the system it operated under was a nonsensical mess. It had no rhyme or reason. No clearly defined laws that one could understand and the few rules that he somehow managed to wrap his head around didn’t make a lick of sense. Like the fact that lines from different sections shouldn’t ever overlap, except, of course, for the dozens of exceptions, when they should. Oh, and for some reason, the same rune could convey thirty-something different meanings all at the same time, and the resulting outcomes got weirder and more diversified as more runes got added into the mess.
Simply put, it was something that only the mind of a raving lunatic could fully comprehend.
Or someone that had been blessed by an Arcane skill to do exactly that.
Unfortunately, there were no svartalfar gods alive, and now with the race rendered extinct, there was no one capable of understanding their peculiar runecraft.
No one except…
Rapid Installing [SVARTALFAR] prototype
Activating Memory Sequencing and Recognition…
Analyzing related alien-Truths and adding them to System Tray
“The line there is too short,” he blurted out, pointing to a spot on the archway. “See there? It’s supposed to reach this line. Not touch it, but almost. You are supposed to stop just a hair width away. You are supposed to invoke a prayer to the World and let it fill in. Not the entire amount, just the tip. This here… is almost double that. You’re demanding the World to do your job for you. Don’t be so greedy.”
The builders around him gave him varying looks of incomprehension.
“You… Can you read this?” asked one.
“How?” asked another.
Lukas shrugged. “I don’t know…. How can’t you?”
“That’s not an answer and….” began a builder, but the Shogun stopped him short. “Young man,” he said, giving Lukas an apprehensive look. “You’re certain you recognize what’s wrong with this?”
Lukas shrugged again. A feeling of stark indifference was filling him up. Looking at these builders, at the way they were littering all over the place, making mistakes so silly that it would make a four-year-old cringe, the way they were butchering the metalcraft in the half-broken machinery, he couldn’t help but wonder what idiot had the gall to call these morons terramancers.
“Yes,” said Lukas softly. “Everything. Everything is wrong about this.”
“Excuse me?” asked a builder, affronted.
“Yes, you are excused,” said Lukas uncaringly, a passive annoyance bypassing through his usual demeanor. He looked at the Shogun. “Get them out of here. If you’re paying them, do it for something constructive.”
“And… Why would you say that?” asked the Shogun, tilting his head, studying him with great interest.
The first stirrings of annoyance flooded through Lukas’s being. What was this ignorant Asukan doing here anyway?
“Fine. I’m going to say this once, so pay attention. Runecraft is the focussed application of power, inscription, form, interpretation, definition and execution to get something done all at once. It doesn’t matter if you know how to write the word if you don’t know how to read it. And even if you know that, it's just as pointless if you don’t know the rules behind it.”
“Lukas..” Tanya all but hissed. “What are you doing?”
“Commenting on a shit job,” he answered honestly. Really, these people were putting too much power, too much strain in their half-assed attempt to copy runecraft. It was causing the lines to get distorted in several places. If they were planning to etch anything more than four or so letters, they could just forget it. It was surprising he hadn’t already killed them already for doing something so insulting.
“You are lucky that the Well not working is the only thing happening here. Honestly, I’m shocked the entire facility has blown itself apart in your faces already.”
“Are you saying that you understand this?” asked Naowa. “… Can you repair this? Make it work?”
“As it was, maybe. But after your people contaminated it, I’ll have to see.”
Tanya palmed her face.
“Lukas… that is your name, correct?” asked Naowa. “I’m sorry, I just realized I don’t know anything about you. Where are you from, perchance?”
“I — uh, I’m from Maluscion.”
“Maluscion,” murmured Lord Naowa. “A terramancer with the ability to construct barriers, and extraordinary sensing abilities… and a runecrafting skill.”
Lukas frowned briefly in confusion for a moment before the realization hit him like ice water. The shock was enough to shift his consciousness back to himself. He glanced at Tanya’s frozen expression and nearly smacked himself for the oversight.
Naowa had mentioned how other clans tried to breed svartalfars into their bloodlines to gain their runecrafting skills.
And he had just demonstrated the ability to not just understand runecraft, but also claimed to repair the damaged svartalfar machinery. And if he could do that, then the jump between having the skill to being a bremetan-svartalfar hybrid wasn’t very outlandish.
The man’s previous demeanor was gone, replaced by a surprisingly impassive mask. “To my knowledge, even svartalfar-bremetan hybrids are incapable of runecrafting. And yet, here you are.”
Lukas cursed inwardly. He had just revealed an ability that was to a great degree, alien to this world. He had gotten careless. If he had a time machine, he’d use it to go back five minutes and slug himself in the face for this.
The question was, what now?
It was like talking to someone, and somehow, in the course of conversation, you noticed that they had no shadow. It was impossible: a shadow was the result of natural laws. It was the absence of light due to one’s mass blocking its path.
But that shadow wasn’t there, despite the person being right before you.
How would one react to that? The realization that the person was different, wrong in some way that should be impossible? Would they freak out and run away, or catch and try to experiment on them?
“It seems…” said Lord Naowa, “that the clans in Maluscion have been hiding a lot from the Empire. Tell me, Lukas… are you a deviant, perhaps?” His eyes fell upon Blob, who was imitating a pair of black fractals on his wrists. “And a skilled metamancer to boot. You are a man full of talents. No wonder Banksi got his hands on you before anyone else.”
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“I’m just a vagrant,” said Lukas, letting himself relax slowly. He had forgotten what the other kind of reaction people had to finding out something impossible.
Rationalizing it until it made sense enough to ignore it completely.
“Indeed…” said Lord Naowa. “Tell me, Lukas… do you think you can help reconstruct this Well? And perhaps, the entirety of Zwaray Keep? If you are indeed capable of performing runecraft bordering on the svartalfars’ level, there are ways in which we can be useful to each other.”
He glanced at Tanya and then back to him. “How would you feel about taking over the Zwaray Keep?”
Lukas blinked.
The next day, Lukas and Tanya left the Zwaray Keep, idly watching two floating platforms carrying massive mountains of metal ore into the Keep. He had to give it to the man — When Shogun Naowa gave his word, he damn well kept it. Every single personnel was leaving the massive state, leaving behind the furniture, machinery and other resources for Lukas to start using it. There would be more platforms floating in, carrying more ore, and the security posted outside would keep away all trespassers until Lukas would take over and get the earlier security system up to snuff.
“Well, that was profitable,” he said, grinning.
“Hmm,” Tanya made a disagreeable sound. “It was a masterstroke to acquire the entire Keep for yourself in return for runecrafted equipment and repairing the Well, I can’t help but think you could’ve bargained for more.”
“More?” asked Lukas, giving her a look of exaggerated disbelief. “I’ve now got a job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Forger,” said Tanya, rolling her eyes. “How apt for the guy that is a walking-talking world in himself.”
“I probably could have pushed it more if I tried,” said Lukas, “but it would cost me goodwill for future negotiations and might have damaged the possibility for future business. And he is also getting me everything, from books in advanced terramancy and metamancy, to smithing and energy manipulation. And all these resources and most importantly, this vast estate all to myself.”
Tanya shrugged. “It’s just land.”
Lukas decided not to explain about real-estate mechanics back in the United States, or the cost of even renting in a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. By a rough estimate, the entire zone he was being handed over was a little over six hundred acres.
“Look,” he said. “It’s a place to shack up away from the Desert. That alone makes this a good deal.”
And a massive workshop for himself, once he figured how to establish a permanent territory connecting to his Omphalos. Once that could exist without him having to physically be present at all times.
But those were happy problems, and best reserved for the future.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the Keep and its problems would not be his until the next Shogun Meet, which conveniently fit in with his plans to infiltrate the Peak and break Zuken out, and potentially kill Mujin Shimizu, and get Tanya set up as the next Lady of Shimizu. She would take office there in Cyffnar, while he would set up shop at the Keep, making rune crafted weapons and enchantments as the official Forger of the Llaisy Kingdom. It very conveniently ensured that Tanya could never entice Lukas to leave the Llaisy Kingdom and join the Eaborid Kingdom.
Again, assuming both of them didn’t die trying to kill Mujin Shimizu throughout whatever harebrained scheme they were cooking. In which case, Zuken Banksi would obviously die, and Lord Naowa would ensure that the Shimizu lose everything and perish. It wouldn’t help his kingdom, but at least he’d get his vengeance.
Lukas just loved it when there was a brightside.
“What’s next?” asked Tanya. “We know that Ultaf has Zuken imprisoned at the Peak. We know that Lord Naowa can keep Mujin busy during the Shogun Meet and delay him by an entire day at best. I really hope you are not planning on visiting the Peak and try hammering through its defenses like a caveman.”
“Of course not,” said Lukas quickly. “That would be stupid after all.”
Four days later, he stood next to a glaring Tanya while doing his best to pretend everything was hunky-dory.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming to the Peak to hammer into its defenses like a caveman.”
In hindsight, Tanya really had good instincts.
Of the five people on the mission, one looked nothing like Lukas Aguilar, another looked nothing like Maude, a third looked nothing like Olfric, and a fourth looked just a bit like Solana — if the notorious skinwalker had short brown, shoulder-length hair, instead of the dark tresses that she originally had. The woman who looked a bit like Solana was distinctly unhappy to be wearing Asukan clothing.
Alas, the burdens one must bear when searching for vulnerabilities in the impenetrable fortress that was the Peak.
The fifth person looked exactly like Tanya in all-white Asukan attire, her white hair pulled back in a ponytail, as she honestly thought that the others were simply being paranoid and that such subterfuge was unnecessary.
“Oh come now, Tanya,” said Maude. “You need to learn to be comfortable in uncomfortable situations. And you don’t get to complain, Miss yuki-onna.”
Lukas suppressed a laugh as Tanya scowled at her acquaintance turned healer turned enemy. Maude exaggeratedly grabbed his arm closer to her chest as if to stave off the cold, despite being covered in several layers of monster hide. He knew enough of Maude’s shenanigans now to be surprised anymore, though given how Olfric was intently looking away, he knew whom this behavior was directed towards.
“And you can just stop showing off,” scoffed Tanya.
“Who, me?” asked Lukas, who was wearing a sleeveless jacket and a pair of trousers, happily ignoring the wintry plume around them. “I’m just channeling fire-mana. Letting the fire burn within is more than enough to ignore this weather.”
He glanced at his snow-laden clothes which had begun freezing at the edges.
“... almost ignore the weather.”
Technically, he had access to a himthursar prototype that could help him utterly ignore the cold, but when it came to the elements, he would always hold fire as the all-time best. It had pure destructive power, as well as the ability to purify everything tainted. Plus, there was just something primal, something evolution put deep in every person that made them unconsciously fear fire, to flinch from it knowing that if they got too close, they’d be burned.
The Northern Dominion was a sterile sort of place. The ground had vanished under who-knew how many feet of snow, with towering mountain peaks in every direction, looking bleak and hateful, wreathed in mist and snow. The wind moaned and blew frozen crystals into everyone’s faces, and then sank into a temporary lull.
“This is really the farthest I can get us, Lukas,” said Tanya, reading his thoughts. “Any further and we risk getting detected by the perimeter wards.”
“Why?” He asked. “I can’t even see any checkpoints here. Or soldiers. Can’t you just rift us past the perimeter?”
“That’s not how wards work,” said Solana. “A ward isn’t just a barrier you step through. It’s an enchanted volume that extends from one ward-line to another, in this case, from one checkpoint to another. The moment we rift in the middle of it, the ward will sense intrusion and react, and it won’t be nice.”
“Not… nice,” repeated Olfric. “What kind of wards are those?”
“The kind that only lets people in that are completely loyal to grandfather, but would kill everyone else,” said Tanya drolly.
“I gazed at a soldier once. Just once. He had come after me on Grandfather’s orders, and I tortured him and penetrated his mind. I didn’t know why they were so loyal to him and I wanted to know, to understand. I looked deep into his psyche and what I found was…”
She swallowed.
“It’s a process Grandfather calls the Initiation,” she said distastefully. “In the name of psionic training, his people insert a psionic matrix in their minds that creates a malleable copy of the true personality. Grandfather fears that giving them any degree of autonomy would create an escalating danger of them eventually breaking free. So instead, they are just bound deep within their own subconscious, while a completely subservient copy remains in control of their shared body.”
“Trapped within one’s own mind,” whispered Olfric.
“The man had a great deal of empirical knowledge of matters ranging from aeromancy to combat training to Command Structure of the Peak to… ‘how best to please Ultaf Shimizu.’”
Her expression hinted at how distasteful she found those memories.
“He knew nothing about the intervening period, except for what he could absorb through osmosis from co-existing with the artificial personality created to control him. He had absolutely no emotional context for anything he did or was done to him during that gap.”
“And… What happened after you sought out the original personality?” asked Lukas.
“Nothing,” said Tanya, meeting his eyes. “The moment I left his psyche, the false personality took over. I couldn’t destroy it. And when the other persona took over, I just killed him on sheer principle.”
“But —”
“No buts, Lukas,” said Tanya. “They are utterly loyal, absolutely obedient, and only move to follow their Lord’s will. They cannot be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. There is nothing they will not do. No act too vile, no Sin too dastardly, no crime too reprehensible for them. They are fanatics and Mujin Shimizu is their God.”
Lukas frowned, but stayed silent.
“Wards that only let you in if you are loyal, and horribly kill you otherwise,” said Olfric. “What kind of enchantments can we expect from them? And how do you get around such protections?”
Solana sighed. “The possibilities are not, well, endless. But fairly broad. Perhaps we should adjourn to the territory for some research?”
“Wonderful,” Lukas griped. “I might as well be back at school.”
They returned empty-handed that day. And the next. And the next. Sometimes it would be the entire group, but mostly him and Tanya. Lukas would have her rift in different locations adjoining the outer perimeter, and he employed Blob, infused with multiple prototypes to infiltrate through the ward barrier. Half the time it ended with the ward crushing Blob down with a hideous vacuum-based technique that would crush any living person to paste.
Still, it wasn’t completely useless. By the eighth day, they discovered that igriott-drawn coaches rushed out of the snowstorm, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Despite the urge, they let the coach pass unbothered, and then two days later, another coach came through again.
And finally, it was time.
One moment the coach was screeching across the dangerous terrain. The next moment, an invisible wall of inertia gripped them, paralyzing the entire thing in space. Elena stepped forward, and Charmed the two beasts into falling asleep, leaving the soldiers up for interrogation.
“What good will it do?” asked Olfric. “The moment you let him go, the false personality will take over.”
Lukas grinned. “Not quite. Tanya kills the soldiers because she doesn’t have the means to defeat the false personality. I do. I have a skill that has no other purpose but to completely and utterly destroy a mind.”
Activating Monster Prototype Dranzithl
Initiating Consciousness Shift
Enact
The first indication that something had changed was when Olfric stepped back, as Lukas’s eyes went hard, cold and narrowed. He probably recognized it, the look of glimmering insanity, the unforgiving desire to kill, to destroy, and to violate. A hiss of steam oozed around him, the magnified body heat causing the hoarfrost to instantly evaporate.
Lukas looked into the soldier’s eyes, and peered into his soul.
“W— what are you?” The strangled whisper was all he heard the soldier make. Lukas idly noted that he had done white. Sweat was beading on the man’s forehead. He was trembling, and staring at him like he had never seen anything more terrifying, as though he couldn’t bear to be near him, as though he was frightened to his core.
Inanna had once described the Dranzithl as a monster so antithetical to life, that even its proximity would cause a living being to wither. To feel its presence within one’s mind was tantamount to have grave results.
“Get it away from me,” the soldier was thrashing, flailing his arms and legs around, an animal move that paid no mind to the way the dagger-sized icicles were stabbing his legs, holding him down. “Get it away! Get it away! GETITAWAY!GETITAWAY!”
“What’s happening?” asked Olfric, but his words were drowned as the soldier let out a wail as an intense blue light burst out of his eyes and mouth, illuminating the area. After a few seconds, the scream abruptly died off.
“You — you didn’t kill him, did you?” asked Elena.
Still crouched down, Lukas regarded the two. The male, Olfric, was a potential comrade, one that he could rely on in the hunt. So long as he stayed out of the way, he could share in the prey. The woman, Elena, was prey. She would be slain, but later —
“And shift,” he declared, forcing the dranzithl instincts back down with the ease of long practice.
The sounds of the soldier’s heavily exhausted breathing told them that he was still alive. The man slowly opened his eyes to look once more at the people looking at him. He blinked repeatedly, before his eyes met Tanya, and his brow furrowed in consternation.
“Princess… Tanya?” He asked in puzzlement. “When did you get so… old? And why is your hair white?”
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