It turned out the rift was a Sun-aspected ethereal rift, which wasn’t the best matchup. Powerful riftbeasts with Sun affinities significantly dulled the lethality of Maria’s fire blasts. Ascendant energy added piercing power, but the monstrous worms were still huge, requiring several searing strikes to take out. Ian’s constructs still did enough damage to kill them, but it was tedious work when the riftbeasts could come as large as apartment buildings. The best way was to kill them from the inside, attacking critical organs.
Ian’s focus was pushed to its limit as he controlled his mannequins, shared in Maria’s sight over their bond, coordinated with Euryphel, and worked to avoid detection. The latter was growing more difficult by the moment as a tide of riftbeasts saturated the ocean around the rift.
Riftbeasts rarely left their place of origin. Not only did they need to find the rift exit, which was seldom obvious, but they were weakened when they left. This often meant a riftbeast would retreat back into its rift rather than proceed forth into the greater world.
It did happen, of course–but never on a large scale. Nothing close to what Ian saw now. But there was one key point to note. While the riftbeasts all maintained a semblance of life, possessing a fleshy body, they were all dead. It was a feat of carnimancy–flesh-shaping–one that weaponized the vast numbers of riftbeasts without placing much load on their master.
Ian couldn’t deny he was getting irritated by their lack of progress. The mannequins were intended to fight against Achemiss directly, constructed explicitly to fight a Death and Dark practitioner. With no knowledge of the enemy’s whereabouts, he used them to cull the most powerful monsters in the rift instead, but they were ill-suited for the task.
In Regret scenarios, he’d tried using the transmission artifact on Achemiss, but it hadn’t revealed anything. The world was bathed in complete darkness. Achemiss was likely underground or in some kind of shelter that lacked visible lights, relying instead on his practice to perceive the world. That was the only conclusion that made sense.
When Ian tried transforming the transmission artifact first and summoning Achemiss to himself, it bafflingly had no effect that Ian could perceive. Achemiss just didn’t appear. He’d never had that happen before.
Ian was taking all this as fact given what scenario-Ian claimed. He didn’t have a personal recollection of the transmission artifact experiments. He had never used the artifact on Achemiss outside of a scenario, but he was growing increasingly tempted to. Maybe actually using the artifact in real life would spook Achemiss and force him to change his behavior. Ian had no idea.
“Eury,” Ian said, “I need you to run another scenario for me.”
“Done.” He paused. “You contacted Cayeun Suncloud?”
“About the transmission artifact,” Ian confirmed. “What did she tell me?”
“You asked her why the transmission artifact would fail to work, and she apparently laughed and told you to think about the basic rules.”
Ian’s expression darkened, his mind processing Euryphel’s words and coming to its own conclusion before the Crowned Executor could finish speaking. There was one very obvious rule they’d stuck to in Eternity: no using the transmission artifact in spaces with irregular time. Given the artifact’s priceless nature, they hadn’t dared to cross its stated limits, especially since they personally knew Suncloud’s volatile manner.
“Achemiss… is in a dilated space?” Ian finished.
“That’s what it sounds like.”
Ian was positive none of the five rifts were dilated. He would have sensed it through his connection with all the mannequins and Maria. So how could that be?
“In the interest of time, you and I have several conversations in scenarios and come to the following conclusion,” Euryphel continued. “It must be tied to his Dark affinity. We plan around Achemiss by focusing on the Death side of the coin, while devoting relatively little concern to the Dark side. Mostly just preparations to deal with void attacks. But Ian–nothing Achemiss has ever done showcased offensive Dark.”
“I know,” Ian replied. “That’s part of the problem when trying to prepare for a fight. Many of his capabilities as a Dark practitioner are a mystery. We know he can make void storages, but that’s not unique.”
“Making a dilated space that he can enter might be within his capabilities, then.”
Ian felt like they were missing something. If it was really easy enough to make dilated spaces on demand, Ian thought he’d have heard of it. While ascendants didn’t view them as necessary or particularly useful due to their immortality, it was a simple fact that being able to occasionally slow down–or even speed up–time had its uses. Yet as far as he knew, void storages came in one variety only–stasis.
Actually, that’s not right, Ian thought. His mind went to Bluebird, his favored glosSword before ascending. Ian only had a rough grasp of how the technology worked, but he knew they were powered by large reactors housed in void storages. There was a clear transfer of energy out, and while the exact specifications eluded him, time didn’t seem frozen.
Such workings of Dark affinity were at the peak of what people could do. But what about an ascendant like Achemiss, with countless years to master his practice, and ascendant energy to nudge the rules of reality and make the impossible possible?
There simply wasn’t time to consider all the possibilities, even when they discussed at the speed of thought via quantum channel, but it did seem feasible that Achemiss could have used his Dark affinity to create a dilated space.
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But even if he did make such a space, there must be limitations, Ian realized. Otherwise he would have no need of the rifts to hide his End arrow.
What those limitations were, Ian unsurprisingly had no idea. The easiest possibility was that Achemiss could only spend a limited amount of time within before needing to emerge. Ian would have to go with that until other evidence emerged.
“What can we do with this information?” Ian asked, frustrated, not that emotions transferred over quantum channel.
“Well,” Euryphel began, “we have an inkling that Achemiss is in this rift, and that he’s possibly hiding inside within a dilated space of his own making. How would being in such a space affect his control over his constructs?”
“He’d still maintain a connection, and I think he’d still be able to command them and respond to what’s happening on the outside,” Ian said. “But if we did something, he might be slower to respond, the disconnect between the passage of time making it more difficult to analyze complex developments. Especially since he lacks a Beginning affinity.”
“And the Regret practitioner he’s in contact with?” Eury asked.
“That depends on how they’re communicating. If we assume they have a direct line to one another, like that between master and construct, it may just seem like information about the outside was arriving slowly. But it would give Achemiss more time to plan countermeasures and direct his army in real time.”
“It seems like our first priority should be forcing Achemiss to leave his hidey-hole. What might happen if we did something drastic?”
“Like?”
“Collapsing the rift.”
Ian’s mind went blank for a beat. A rift collapse was completely destructive, everything within vanishing from existence. Ian didn’t see how he’d survive without prior warning. “You say that like we can just do it.” As far as Ian knew, rifts operated on their own schedule. They might be stable for a long time, or only last for a fleeting few days or hours in the most unstable cases. All the rifts given to Achemiss had been stable, known quantities–extremely unlikely to catastrophically collapse.
“You and Maria are good at piercing the veil,” Euryphel continued. “Maybe you can pierce a rift.”
Ian thought it was a longshot, but what did they have to lose at this point? “You tell me.”
—
Maria, Ian said over the lich bond, grabbing her attention. It had been a hot second since he’d reached out to her. In that time, she’d helped destroy other hulking riftbeasts while spreading her arrays over the sand.
How are things outside? she asked.
A bit messy, Ian replied. Lots of worms. It’s challenging to remain hidden, but as you discovered, they’re sensitive to vitality. I can spoof my own vital signature to appear uninteresting.
That isn’t why you’re reaching out to me, though, Maria guessed.
No, it is not. He paused, and she could feel uncertainty over the bond. What would you say to collapsing the rift?
Maria snorted as she glided over the sand, her eyes fixed on the unending horde of riftbeasts. Seriously, what were these things, a breeding factory?
I’d ask how to do it, she said. I assume it’s dangerous to collapse a rift from the inside, but that shouldn’t be a problem for me. I’ll just respawn.
We can’t actually simulate collapsing the rift in a Regret scenario, Ian said. It takes more than a minute for you to pull off, if it’s possible at all.
What do you want me to try? she asked.
Pierce the veil, like we do in Eternity to visit new planes.
That sounded simple enough, but clearly it couldn’t be that easy. Maria finished off her current array, then stood firm on the sand, empowering her fingers with energy. Then, she struck out at the air. Her goal wasn’t to tear it wide open in one go–that would be challenging without a veil vulnerability–but she should at least be able to make a small mark.
To her astonishment, her fingers almost skidded off, as though she’d tried to scratch metal with mundane hands. Frowning, she gathered energy in her foot. Then she kicked out, all the force of an empowered blow combining with the piercing power of her ascendant energy. This time she felt a slight amount of give, like she’d pressed firmly on a glossY chassis and deformed the smooth, white material. As the energy from her foot faded, the sky looked undisturbed. There was no trace she’d ever attacked it.
Are you sure this is possible? Maria asked.
Not at all. But until we think of something better to do, keep trying. In the meantime, I’ll have my mannequins continue scanning the desert in the hopes of finding Achemiss’s lair. He obviously has some kind of workshop–he’s not working out in the open with all this sand. No one would be that much of a masochist. Especially not him–his workshop in Eternity was spotless.
Maria chuckled lightly, not finding fault with his logic. But a feeling of dread continued to grow within her. Achemiss was here, somewhere, and he wanted to kill them. Ideally he’d come after her, taking the metaphorical bait, but it didn’t seem like things were moving in that direction.
So what was he doing? What was he waiting for? Why bother with the riftbeast distraction?
She punctuated each question with a jab at the rift’s supposed veil, but the blows failed to do damage. Ian, do you have Holiday’s plane compass, the one that points to veil vulnerabilities?
Yeah. You want it?
It’s a long shot, but maybe a rift has vulnerabilities I can exploit. Can you send it over so I don’t have to leave the rift?
It’s a bit challenging to get a construct through the throng, Ian said. I suppose it’s time to stop being so passive. Two can play at a game of numbers.
While waiting for Ian’s special delivery, Maria resumed making her arrays, seeing no point in fruitlessly striking the air.
Before long, Ian reached out again. Catch. I think you’re in for a nice surprise.
Maria turned around to behold a thin serpent, not unlike the worms, but entirely made of bone and with two glowing, dark violet gems where its eyes should be. Its mouth was curved in an awkward rictus, like some deep-sea fish from a documentary. Clenched in its jaws was the compass.
Maria placed her hand beneath its mouth and it dropped the artifact, its behavior almost dog-like. Shaking her head, Maria snapped the compass open and stared at the needle in anticipation. If no vulnerabilities existed, the needle would hang limp.
To her shock, it actually pointed in a direction. Firmly.
There was a vulnerability nearby.