The first time he had entered the liminal space, Lu had been bordering on unconscious. What little he could recall was akin to a brief dream, but nothing more than that. The second time, the experience was fairly smooth; he flew through a strange tunnel-like place. Relatively straightforward, not at all like Bull’s description of his own journeys.
The third time was neither brief nor smooth. If this is what other people experienced, I’ve been underestimating their resolve in enduring it again. I’m certainly having second thoughts about the trip back.
Though he was sealed into the airtight armour, he could swear he felt an oily wind flow over his skin. All around was a riot of colour, like someone had taken every drop of paint in the whole world and splashed it onto a massive canvas with their eyes closed. But no, it went even further than that; there were no patterns, not even the false ones your mind would conjure up just to have something to look at. It was physically impossible, and frankly headache-inducing besides.
And speckled here and there were little bits of white and black and gold, somehow still incongruent; the other disciples, each of them spread out in their own separate personal direction. It was almost more painful to look at them than the backdrop, because they should have made sense. They were the same as him, real physical objects that had some lingering connection to reality, not like the chaotic dream-stuff they were floating through.
But they didn’t; the specks had no shape, no size, no width or length or depth, and it was calling to attention the fact that something was very, very wrong with Lu’s senses – because despite some of those specks taking up large swaths of his vision, and others tiny pinpricks, he still couldn’t tell how big they were in relation to each other, or especially himself.
I wonder, what do I look like, when they look at me? Can they see me at all? What shape am I, right now?
Did he even have eyes? He felt like he was blinking, pressing them shut, but the picture of the not-a-place remained stubbornly visible. The wind, thickly thin and smoothly sticky, continued to flow around him. It’s not- it’s not real. This place isn’t real.
He swallowed. The lectures he had received on the nature of liminal space seemed very far away, right now. I wonder if there’s a reason it was so much easier last time… The splinter, maybe? It made as much sense as any explanation. Or maybe it’s just entirely random, and it might be better again on the way back.
Am I even going where I’m meant to? He had no way to tell. The Sixth Reality Gate Array was theoretically dragging him through to the other end, but those lectures also seemed very far away. No, no, it has to be doing its work. Even unshielded spirit beasts could make the trip; there’s no reason to think it would fail now, for me.
So Lu kept swallowing down his rising bile, and did his best to paddle forward. Neither of his stomachs liked this place, though the spiritual organ was handling it better than the physical one. His sense, also, was confused by the ephemeral dimensionality; he had it as expanded as it would go, but for the first time in his life discerning his spiritual sense’s relation to his body was difficult. It was like there were bits that should have been touching that weren’t, gaps where his sense couldn’t reach despite it solidly filling the entire area. Don’t think about it. It’s not real, not real – just keep moving forward.
Some of the specks were winking out, though he couldn’t tell if their numbers were actually decreasing, or even consistent from one moment to the next. All he could do was keep paddling, like a dog treading water, until eventually he winked out as well.
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First, he felt pain. Ki bit into his extended sense, and Lu almost cried in relief. Finally, finally! Has it been hours, or days? Years, or seconds? His mind seemed to clear as it realised time was suddenly linear again, and he quickly pulled his sense into his body.
Then, more pain, but of a much more mundane sort. Lu came through the Gate Array simultaneous to another disciple, neither of their bodies aligned with the ground, and the front of his helmet met their knee at the same time they both hit the ground. The helmet did its job and his third realm physique took the edge off, but there was still a certain sting to having his face smashed into his transparent faceplate. “Ack-!”
And then the third sensation he felt… he didn’t have a word for. He could have compared it to the feeling of drawing qi into his dantian, but it wasn’t that. Neither was it the empty feeling of hunger, though it shared some similarities to that as well.
No, this was something new. As Lu rolled over and took in his surroundings, his spiritual stomach was coming alive, though not in the unpleasant way it did when it encountered qi. No, this was- this was-
Inside his helmet, Lu’s eyes widened. Is this what it’s meant to feel like, having a Comprehension? He still didn’t really understand what a Comprehension was, beyond the obvious comparison to a cultivator’s Path – which he also didn’t really understand. His imparted foundation had a lot of pseudo-philosophical things to say about it, but not a lot in the way of hard information. A lot like Paths, again. Though a Comprehension seems to be developed early and universally, in a sort of instinctual way, unlike humans who tend to not develop a Path until after the inner realms, if at all.
If it was a Comprehension, he had no idea what he had done to develop it. I suppose I understand my consumption a lot better now. I have some unique techniques I’ve invented, and I figured out a few ways to take advantage of the spacial ki suffusing my body. Presumably, if a Comprehension was something that was meant to form naturally as a result of taking the first few steps of consumption, as the Grandmaster’s gift implied, then he was long overdue. I wonder why only now, though. Maybe it needed a sufficient amount of ki to..? But no, the armour is keeping it outside, so… Lu shook his head. Not now, not now. I’ll theorise later; right now I need to address the situation.
Beside him, the other disciple got to his feet as well. Now that they weren’t tangled together, Lu recognised him as Lan, his not-quite-friend the scholar. Would have preferred a combat specialist, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. Lan was probably thinking the same thing about him.
Because surrounding them were quite a lot of Horrible Swamp clansmen – well, seven. But it was a very large seven. I suppose this calls for diplomacy; that’s what we all came for, after all. Officially, anyway. Haven’t casted this in a while, but… He constructed the spellform, three realm's worth of extra mental effort helping to string together the twelve-hundred-fifty-six forms faster than he ever had before. Lu’s Interpreter, activate!
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There was a small area, a rough half-sphere on the edge of Knifefish Bog, that was not the Horrible Swamp. It was like an itch on Great Swamp Mother’s nose, one that she had been disallowed from scratching – which made it twice as annoying.
It was the staging area where the Bigger Sit would be held. A stone edifice that served as a neutral ground, where no one side would hold an advantage. Still Water and a handful of Warbosses had elected to stay in the vicinity, to get things swimming to the right current as quickly as possible.
But neither the foreigners nor the Junk Dogs had shown up on time. This was natural, expected even. They were putting great effort into halting the Dogs after all, and time flowed very erratically on the other side of the tunnel. The small amount of herself that had survived the trip could tell her little of substance, but on that one point it was obvious; one moment things would move at a crawl, then the next they sped around like hyperion dragon flies.
But just because it was expected, did not mean it was good. Her sister could break through their armies any day now, and if she did so before an agreement could be made, all the work done keeping them excluded will have been wasted. Her teeth ground against each other, and small animals fled from her hair at the sound.
A second day passed, then a third. Stinger-Tail cut into their armies, taking losses but not losing, and Great Swamp Mother’s anxiety built. She prepared to scratch at the itch, wipe away the ‘neutral ground’ that was imbedded into her soul. They could set up a different meeting; better to keep things as controlled as possible, douse the fire rather than let Junk Dog steal some of the heat. Father will forgive me.
But then, mere hours before her preparations bore fruit, the first pair of foreigners stepped out of the air – or tumbled, rather. They wore armour of white clay, of golden metal and black glass. They smelled like nothing, and her nostrils flared in offence before she could rein in her instincts. Calm. You are not a beast of the earth, use your head, and think.
She settled down. Though they looked the part, these were not warriors of the salt; as much as they smelled Lonesome, they were the proper representatives of this Steadfast Heart Cult. Weak-looking, though. Skin and bones.
Father began speaking, and she calmed even further, though she kept her power near and active. Stinger-Tail was still a day off at least, enough time if Still Water was as persuasive as he thought he was. If.
But then mother was suddenly there, and her teeth began grinding again. Bad sign. She never shows up for anything good.
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Lu bowed. “[Honourable delegates, thank you for gathering together with us. I’m sure this will end with an amiable, and equitable, friendship between our people.]” He was smiling as hard as possible; the amount of tooth would have been improper at a meeting of human leaders, but the Salt warriors might see proper comportment as disinterest. The edges of his mouth hurt, just a little. “[Ah, but please wait a moment. It seems we’ve come through in a different order than we entered, and my seniors should really be the ones to address you officially.]” White Knuckle entered first. Why did Lan and I come through before anyone else?! Truly, this planet has it in for me!
As much as he tried to project a calm demeanour, Lu’s shoulders and spine remained as tense as his thoughts. The seven clansmen formed a rough circle around the gate, including a wrinkled and – comparatively – small man who must be Patriarch Still Water. I don’t know why, but I feel very strongly that the other six are also quite strong. Is this just intuition, or has developing a Comprehension finally start filling some holes in my ability to sense ki? Again, he would have to think about it later.
Still Water stepped forward. He didn’t look much like a leader; he was wearing a simple loincloth like most of his subordinates, and the spear he carried was extremely shoddy. It was a grey metal pole, topped with a knife that looked to be made from scrap iron, slightly rusted, and the two pieces were secured with nothing more than rough twine. Probably a Junk weapon; I refuse to believe the patriarch would carry such a cheap-looking thing unless it was actually a grand treasure. Was that the knife he’d read about in reports? If so, why turn it into a spear?
The patriarch scrutinised Lu’s face, and he strained to smile as widely and genuinely as possible. Friendship! Infinite friendship! “[You are Lu, yes?]” Interpreter painted his words with an old man’s voice, a bit wheezy and impeded by a tongue that was a touch too big. Not at all like I would have assumed; with that mouth, he looks more like the main villain of a child’s play than anything. I’d have given him a snake-like voice, with drawn-out ess-es. “[My partner spoke to me of you.]” His lips curved up in his own smile – one that showed more teeth than Lu could ever hope to equal.
Sweat started to bead on Lu’s brow, for all that the advanced armour he was wearing regulated his temperature flawlessly. Granny? Ah, you didn’t speak poorly of me, did you?
Elder White Knuckle, please hurry up! Sir Lan, say something! Someone, please, I’m outnumbered here!
“[I’m glad, patriarch. To be remembered despite such a brief interaction, I must have left an impression.]” Okay, okay, let's not panic. These are peace talks; they aren't going to just jump me for no reason.
The old warrior made a sound low in his chest, which Interpreter failed to translate. “[You did. Though it turns out you were even more interesting than she assumed.]” His head dipped, like he was attempting to impart a sly secret. “[We thought you were from across the sea, you know? But the reality was even stranger.]”
Beside him Lan was standing perfectly still as though he were a statue, and Lu mentally spat foul curses at the man for his continued silence. This was meant to be part of your job! Speak! “[I suppose so, patriarch. Though I’d say it was the situation that was interesting, rather than me personally. I’m sure that any one of your clansmen would seem quite notable as well, if they suddenly hopped realities.]”
Still Water made another untranslatable noise. It was something like a cat’s purr, but… stickier? Is it a verbal tic? Does he have a cold? It was probably completely inconsequential, but at the moment every tiny detail was standing out to Lu’s paranoid mind like bright red glowing signs. “[There’s no need to be humble. If one of us happened to fall into your world, how long do you think they would survive?]”
Lu felt like he was wearing an aquarium. His sweat cascaded down like a mighty waterfall, or at least he imagined that was how it must have looked like from outside. “[I suppose that depends where they came out, sir. Assuming it was the other end of this gate here… Well, I don’t think we'd have killed them, so I imagine they'd have done about as well as I did with you.]” Assuming they can even survive without ki.
“[Hm.]” Lu had forgotten exactly how alien the Salt natives looked; with their colourful skin, extremely heavyset bodies, and flat faces, they looked equal parts menacing and kind of dopey. But the patriarch was different – with his goblinoid face and needle teeth, he was the exact opposite of dopey. “[Well I’ll take your word for it. But that’s more than enough small talk; come, sit.]” He gestured to his side, and Lu’s brows came together when he spied a blazing campfire, throwing out a torrent of black smoke as it heroically tried to consume a pile of sodden logs.
That wasn’t there a minute ago – I was focusing on the men, yes, but I definitely would have made note of such a thing.
The patriarch stepped up to the fire and settled down. A moment later the other swampdwellers followed suit, and the side further from the gate was packed full. They looked at the two humans expectantly.
Come on, it’s been a few minutes at this point at least! Please, anyone! Even if it isn’t the Elder, I’ll take any of my combat instructors, or the actual trained negotiators, or even-
There was a small fluctuation through the ki, and a figure stepped out of the shimmering gate. Tai Sho came out feet-first, but managed to stick his landing in a way that had Lu envious. He looked over to the large campfire, and his eyes met Lu’s own.
…Yes, okay, you know what? That’s fine! Even Tai Sho is fine! Moving with tension-stiffened limbs, Lu took his place across from Still Water.