[IP] The Asteroid Man
...
Gillian was in a dark place. Not mentally, so far as he could tell, but physically.
There wasn't much in the manner of light to speak of (beyond the glow of whatever rift had brought him in) or atmosphere- for that matter. It took only an instant before the air in his lungs was causing rather unpleasant burning to the soft tissues present, and his skin went along to make some unusual popping sensations. He was shrouded in powerful magics to ready for physical strikes and mental attacks, but in all of Gillian's many experiences when combating the doldrum of eternal life, he'd never considered a defense for leaving the planet entirely.
Spending a millennia bored among the stars waiting to land somewhere didn't appeal to the Dark Lord of Death much more than watching paint dry for a few thousand years. Even with magic, the entire venture had seemed a large waste of time.
And yet: Here he was, and already a few seconds away from a rather permanent end to his immortal existence, wondering if perhaps he should have readied and provided the genre of space exploration a slight bit more thought. Just because he might live eternally off harvested souls, didn't mean he could reasonably solve problems while all but completely asphyxiated in a vacuum.
His hands drew forth a sphere of mana, yanking further air from the rift behind him within its growing protection. Pulling it tightly, knotting off the threads of power, Gillian let his hands drop with a slow exhalation as the healing magics seeped through wanting veins. Sweet relief came quickly: That was much better.
Now for the more pressing considerations: Where in all the gods and void had he ended up?
Instead of another plane of existence coming to him, it appeared the opposite had played itself out. One more example of many previous that showed tinkering with the essences of Universal chaos was not something an inexperienced soul should attempt. If there was any with a wealth of knowledge on the subject Gillian was perhaps the most experienced of all, and even in self-reflection his ego could abide to acknowledge some ignorance.
Toying with forces that held realities and worlds separate wasn't the easiest topic to approach, certainly.
Idly, his eyes slowly followed the large rocks which floated by as his vision adjusted within the sphere. They floated, but in a clean direction. No bobbing as if upon the surface of a liquid, no this was more like drifting on a perfect glide of a flat surface not paralleled with anything familiar to his own perspective. It was almost as if the principal forces he'd considered standard were suddenly no longer applicable to the matter around him.
That wasn't something to rule out, considering the circumstances.
Blinking curiously, Gillian realized they most definitely weren't, as his body was already slowly lifting from the flat surface of crystal covered stone.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Intriguing. Another motion of his hands brought both feet firmly against the material once more. Drifting off into the empty abyss seemed a large waste of time, and it was presumed best to be avoided for the moment. What physics might command, magic might alter.
Lashing out with strands of power, some of the few crystals present on the large stone platform were drawn to him, nimbly spinning on his every whim as Gillian delved into what properties they contained. Elements unlike many from his own plane of existence, unknown and unrecorded by and text or scribe known to memory.
"Rodrick. Do you still live, or did my absence render you a mindless husk?"
"My lord, I am glad to hear your voice still among the living. "A deep voice replied from the portal of light. Gillian let a cruel smile reach his face. If anything, the undead was probably mid-thought on how to seal his precious lord within the dark coffin of a distant void.
"I'm certain that my absence would undoubtedly pain you." Sarcasm dripped from his tone, as more magics tensed and formed along the portal's edges. "Now be a dear: Hold these for me."
The airy resonance of his voice seemed trapped and squeezed as the sound emerged. In the rift behind him, Gillian threw dozens of crystals with a spin of his hand- magics tossing the pieces with rough abandon. The rough grunts of impact and armor collapsing onto a stone floor rang clearly, even with the presumed dimensional separation.
"Rodrick. Have any of the Mages reported unusual behavior from the spheres?"
"No my Lord." The sullen tone was back again. "But they've all died, so that's not the fairest question."
Gillian clicked his tongue, considering. He'd forgotten that somehow. It was a tedious thing, replacing mages. Unlike the majority of his servants, undead lacked the capacity for technical magics- their minds simply failed in that aspect sooner rather than later, so reviving them was hardly cost-effective.
The last batch had been torn into bloody paste regardless now that he thought of it. There was no point in trying to bring a puddle with the consistences of crushed tomatoes and pulp back to the realm of the living. At best it might bubble, at worst it might smell.
Gillian knew this first hand.
"What of their replacements? Those still in training must have some grasp of the subject by now. Fetch them for me, bring them to the rift."
"As you command." The deep voice replied, hefty clank of armor rattling off and away from the open expanse of light.
As silence returned to the protal, Gillian considered what had gone wrong- and more importantly "how" it had gone wrong. There were further experiments to perform, tests and conclusions to draw. He'd need the more capable mages in training for at least a few of them.
Summoning his staff, wood forming in wisps of mana beneath his fingers, Gillian lifted further adjustments to the portal, stepping through it back to the world he'd come from originally, watching as the pressure of the void weighed down upon his seals and magics. Certainly, he would need to perform some confirmations.
The sound of hurried footsteps and panting breath arrived in the form of many visibly nervous Mages, each more uncomfortable than the last. Many had swollen red and puffy eyes, blistered hands and running noses. He supposed they had every right to be in such a condition, considering the fates of their predecessors. Behind them, the Dark armor of Knight Rodrick stood tall and firm, a tower of unquestionable strength and authority. It truly was a sight to behold, the first true day of youth in service to their master: Almost enough to bring a genuine tear to his eyes.
Letting the staff go in a puff of mana and smoke, Gillian clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, drawing their attention.
"Right then! Today we're going to see if a portal to another plane can be closed and reopened without fatal consequences." His smile returned. "So I'm going to need at least one volunteer."
The sounds of dry-heaves and sobs were music to his ears.