The cave was no longer empty.
Now, at all times, there were at least two guards posted inside the closed space, maintaining a barrier across the entrance. And while this had poor implications for his ability to escape, it was heartening to see his captors visibly struggle to exist in the same environment he was thriving in.
They’re fine for the first hour or so, but then they start to… Wilt, almost. The guards were cycled out every third hour or so, and he had seen forty-two different faces across four days. It’s a much larger rotation than necessary, and none of them ever show up twice on the same day, either. Spending time in here must really fuck with them. It explained why the mind-reader never spent more than ten consecutive minutes interrogating him.
Or maybe he’s afraid I’ll figure out how to block him on purpose. While his Path could seemingly insulate his mind completely, he wasn’t able to control it in a conscious manner; to enter that ‘anti-telepath’ state, he needed to either resonate with his Path on an extreme, borderline-perfect level, or dive deep into meditation. Neither of those were things he could flick on and off at will; he had managed it only twice, after that first time when he made his failed bid to escape. But maybe I could control it consciously, if he pushes me enough times in a row.
And because Bull knew that, the mind-reader knew it too, so he was being careful around him. That’s the line of logic, anyway.
But the guards and roiling purple energy shield weren’t the only changes to his prison; he was now the proud owner of a short wooden table, a cushion, and a copper chamberpot. Exactly as Lu described, this system of ‘consumption’ didn’t seem to be enhancing his body at all; he needed to eat, drink, and sleep just like a mortal would. My spiritual sense and mental effort are similarly crippled… But I still have muscle and spell power. He had been able to get through a large section of tunnel with only his body and first realm spells; how far could he push, now that he had built up a full network and regained access to the second through fourth realm? Maybe fifth, though only the cheapest possible spells.
At this point he had become as strong as he was able, at least within the confines of the cave. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment, and conserving energy; he only had what he had brought in with him, and he would only be able to replenish himself once he left the room. And even once I’m out, I’ll still need to be conservative; that monstrosity of a spell Lu made was way too long for me to memorise, so I’ll have to start fresh every time I fill up on waste qi.
But that was something to worry about later, after he had escaped.
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Everything had been going so well. He had a shard of the shattered Escort Rod, he had a sample of the otherworldly energy called qi – it had been obvious, if labour-intensive, to use one to home in on the source of the other. And it had worked perfectly; the dimension tunnel was stable enough for two-way travel, and he had even made contact with a weak local clan to help him cement a foothold on the other side. Even his new body was performing above his expectations.
But then things had started to go wrong. The aliens were not only resisting his psychic techniques, but were doing so in a way he failed to understand. And though his body was metabolizing the two energies well enough, he was finding it hard to adapt to being corporeal again, to having something he needed to move and defend. His battle against the escaped prisoner had been laughable, an absolutely horrible showing not just by the standard of a grandmaster, but by the standards he set for his brotherhood’s weakest members. Fireblessed, a man of average combat ability, had taken fewer hits than he had. The prisoner had very nearly escaped, and reduced all his careful planning to ash. His brothers were still on his side, but he could feel them wavering at his lack of strength.
And worse than all of those other setbacks combined, Junk Dog had for whatever reason decided to set the Brotherhood of Psychokinetics to the side, giving more favour even to those brotherhoods who had failed to pull their weight in the war effort.
It was maddening; only the Mechanicals were being treated with less respect, despite their two brotherhoods – along with the Cloud-Touchers, of course – having been the only army to actually win.
And now it seemed that his efforts to build something with the other world were falling apart as well. “What do you mean, they found you? Who found you?” These conversations were always at least slightly confusing, the inconsistent flow of time between dimensions making everything surreal, but this one was going poorer than usual. Two Worlds knew he was losing composure, but was powerless to stop it; after so long anchored in diffuse and mindless substrates, touching the minds of others with only the most detached intimacy, he had no tools to control his own emotions. In time he would relearn those skills, but for now he was a puppet dancing on strings of neurotransmitters.
Black Cloak Long, in contrast, seemed unreasonably calm. “We retrieved the disciple, but while we were preparing to send him over, he was able to activate the spacial treasure somehow. I can’t imagine how he accomplished it; the thing wasn’t even turned on.”
His fist tightened around the handheld radio. “That shouldn’t-“ That shouldn’t be possible! The Rod was shattered completely; I needed a ridiculous amount of energy to activate it, and we weren’t even traversing any actual distance! “You need to find him again. He can’t have gone far-“
“Apologies, but please allow me to finish, benefactor. The disciple activated the treasure, and shortly after we detected the approach of two Elders; likely of the Steadfast Heart Sect, though that is merely an assumption.” Two Worlds opened his mouth, but the human continued. “This, what I am doing right now, is a courtesy call; we will not be able to continue our relationship. The Black Cloak Group must retreat, and I cannot allow any compromised materials to go with it.”
Two Worlds’ teeth cut into the sides of his cheeks. “Surely, our business needs not end here? We both stand to gain-“
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Again, he was cut off. “I stand to gain nothing.” The man’s hollow words took on an amused tone. “As I said, no compromised materials will be kept, including individuals. As fellow practitioners of the mental arts, we can make no compromise in this.”
The grandmaster’s rage built… And then ebbed away. “Ha.” The sound was short and crisp, and solitary. “Goodbye, Black Cloak Long. May you find peace in the innumerable deadworlds.” I did not think you would be willing to die for your clan. I truly failed to understand the human mind.
“Even if my Path is cut short, that too is a destination.” A pause, radio static crackling in two otherwise empty rooms. “One final thing. I promised the disciple I would relay a message. I see no reason not to honour that request now, the situation being what it is…”
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There was a period of time, very nearly half a second, between when Winding Wind alerted him to the compound, and when he struck it.
Hell’s Monkey Snatches the Moon!
There was also a period of time between when his punch hit, and the destruction of the compound, but that was much shorter.
A half-sphere of earth and stone, extending outward for a half-kilometre from where his fist touched the ground, was savagely compacted. But not as compacted as it could have been; he had deliberately throttled the spell, left its killing power low so that anyone above the inner realms would be able to survive.
Only a single man emerged from the rubble as it began to settle into a crater. Whatever concealments they had were destroyed by his art, but even still he could sense no remains or unconscious bodies. So they managed to evacuate. Mostly, at least. A single man left behind likely meant this was a disposable thrall or uncovered spy, but White Knuckle would attempt capture nonetheless.
“Member of the Black Cloak Group, know that I am Elder White Knuckle of the Steadfast Heart Sect. Yield.”
The man shook himself. Dust came off his pitch-black garments, leaving them spotless. “Sen. I refuse.”
True Lightning Palm! White Knuckle’s outstretched palm struck the man’s clothed face, and a sizzling sound came from every pore of his body as twenty tines of celestial punishment arced through him. His cloak started to come apart, and White Knuckle was concerned for a moment, thinking he had misjudged the man’s realm and killed him, but rather than fall to ash his entire body turned red. He continued to come apart, and before a second had passed the man named Sen had turned into a flock of blood-red crows. They flew in every direction, attempting to scatter.
White Knuckle cloaked his body in wind and twisted after the birds, but each one he struck merely burst into smaller and smaller crows. He struck the crows with greater and greater fury – but almost immediately noticed the unnatural bloodlust that had come over him, and backed off to cleanse his mind.
“Ah, I had hoped you would feed me a bit more. I suppose this will have to do.”
The attack came from nowhere that White Knuckle could detect. It latched on to his mind, and his anger began to overwhelm him. He activated the formations carved into his bones, expending them to banish the effect – but it simply returned, bleeding into him from somewhere deep inside. A combined attack on my mind and soul.
His mind was overwhelmed, and he tipped over into insensate fury- No. My fists are righteous; they are never outside my control. The effect broke like glass, slashing into him even as it dissipated. Blood poured from his mouth where he had sheared through his tongue while unconscious. Golden Benevolence.
“A magnificent attack. Unfortunately, you are simply too far below.” His words were not boastful; if they had been of similar strength, that attack would have crippled him at the very least. Even with three realms on the man, he could feel long slashes opening up across his body; soul damage, being mirrored in reality. No healing art would close those, not permanently, not until his soul had healed.
The crows whirled in the air, but with the spell broken he could easily pick out the man hiding among them. He jumped at him, and the crows exploded as the qi inside them was drawn back to their master. A long wavy-bladed dagger appeared in his hand, and he met White Knuckle’s fist with the point.
It failed to penetrate his skin; the man was blasted away, and White Knuckle followed, striking him over and over, sending him further into the air. The man cast a shield, but White Knuckle merely increased the force of his next strike, smashing through it. That attack must have drawn nearly his entire reserve, to wound a man of my stature. One more Lightning Palm should be enough.
He lined of the forms in his mind, channeled qi, and thrust out his arm-
A sharp pain at the back of his neck. And then, a boom as Winding Wind struck something he could not sense. He completed his attack, striking Sen in the chest even as blood welled from a small cut just under his skull. Sen spasmed, then began to fall, his clothing losing its unnatural blackness. White Knuckle struck out with his sense, wrapping it around the man’s soul and constricting to keep him unconscious- but then, a pain, mildly familiar.
His eyes widened. The touch of the other world, here? He hit the ground with Sen’s body in a bridal carry, while a way’s away Winding Wind was forced back by… Something.
So there were at least two. It was alarming that he hadn’t sensed the other; even though he was not a specialist, the figure had been all but standing on his back. In fact I still cannot sense it. He knew there was something there, but only because Wind’s attacks were hitting a point of seemingly empty air. “Junior, do you require assistance?”
“I believe not, elder brother.” But his sense flared, projecting a different answer. White Knuckle nodded and began turning away, but also cast Telepathic Bond.
[Winding Wind?]
[Be wary. I did not truly sense them attacking you; I moved on the barest twitch of instinct. There could be more, and I would not know it.]
The next moment their Telepathic Bond was shredded by some sort of spell. Even the Patriarch’s spell wavered, though it held strong in the end. Winding Wind’s next blast of air seemingly went wide, not impeded by anything.
The two Elders stood tense, all their defences up, as a gentle breeze blew through the otherwise silent crater.
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Two Worlds tilted his head, though the man on the other end of the radio would obviously be unable to see it. A code of some sort? His brain worked, and a moment later he had deduced it. “Ahh, I understand. Not unclever.”
“You understand it? It seems like complete gibberish to me; some sort of coded phrase I don’t have the cypher for.”
“It pertains to the geography of the region. A verbal map, to guide his friend to a retrieval location I assume.” It was probably the most useful thing Lu had thought of. Two Worlds applauded the logic in sending a practical, rather than emotional message, but not enough to actually pass that message on. Although…
“I see.” There was a soft whump, like air being forced out of a waterskin. “Ah, there go the proximity alarms. I believe that’s my cue to leave, benefactor.”
“Wait.” A grandmaster could not allow themselves to respect an enemy, not truly, but there was still a shadow of emotion playing over his heart. It seems I’ve become sentimental in my young age. “Let me pass along one last technique.”
He imparted the knowledge, throwing it through the radio in a rush of pure thought. Then he turned to his end of the dimensional tunneler, and adjusted several knobs before activating it. The machine whirred to life, there was a curious sucking sensation, and then a shard of the Escort Rod congealed out of space and the tunneler went dead.
Though a weak point in the dimensional barrier would persist, there was no longer an active connection. If he wanted to try somewhere else – a necessity, given that the current point would be compromised – he would need to physically move the machine, and start from scratch.