CHAPTER 14: FICTIONAL CARRIAGE

Soren slammed his face against the plate—Feylith potage, as Tina liked to call it. It was a fairly usual stew, with what looked to be carrots, potatoes, and rabbit meat. Though he couldn’t really identify the ingredients; he was just going off taste. Not that it mattered anyway—even if it tasted like mud, he would have still eaten it. He was truly lucky—Soren had no clue how he would have fed himself if he was still wandering the forest alone.

Myrin chuckled, “Slow down… We aren’t taking it away from you.”

“Let the poor guy eat. Crossing the Endless Sea must have taken its toll.” Tina stirred the pot over the fire. It had been thirty minutes since Soren had agreed to their request. During that time, Tyrel had left their encampment to scout the area again. Soren, however, didn’t concern himself with this—he was busy bombarding Myrin with questions about this new world.

The first thing his charming flutist elf companion taught him was what that glimmering pillar of light at the center of their camp was. Ever since Myrin had warned him about not touching it, he had been curious about its purpose.

“Beacons of guidance,” he spoke in a mellow voice. “These are boons that the Beast of Knowledge had left behind during His pilgrimage across Yarian. It is said that they contain revelations of His travels and can even provide ‘guidance’ to those who wish for it.

“Though…” Myrin looked up at the flicking pillar of light—frowning. “It is an extremely taxing endeavor. Many who do seek out these revelations end up ‘lost’ in them for eternity. Our mistress is actually currently conducting a study on the Beacon of Guidance’s effects. From her findings, roughly half of all recorded instances of those who touch it end up being ‘lost.’ The other half do end up getting some form of enlightenment, but also, they instantly convert to Vyakism.”

Soren lifted his brow. “Vyakism?”

Myrin nodded while slowly eating his bowl of Feylith potage. “Indeed. Up in the steep slopes of the colossal runic mountains lie countless Draconic Communion Temples. The ascetics who live in those temples follow the teachings of Vyakism.”

Soren frowned. So if I had touched that pillar of light, I would have either become brain dead or turned into a dragon worshiping monk? My damn hair could have been in danger!

“No, Vyakists don’t shave their heads bald.” Myrin chuckled.

“You read my thoughts again…”

The conversation continued from there. According to Myrin, there were exactly 365 Beacons of Guidance scattered across the lands of Yarian. Each one symbolized a day in His journey. When he heard this, Soren immediately remembered the letter he had received from Unknown. The date at the top mentioned that it was currently the 15th of Vyak—probably alluding to the calendar system they use here in Yarian. Unlike back on Earth, they did not split the year by months, weeks, and days. They simply kept track of the days while accounting for seasonal changes every ninety or so days.

What fascinated him most, however, was the fact that Yarian had a similar rotation around its sun to Earth’s. Although the stars and moon he was seeing were different from what he was used to, he could at least rely on the fact that he wouldn’t need to translate time passing between the two worlds… That would be the case if time shenanigans didn’t come into play—who knows how different dimensions operate.

Soren finished his meal relatively quickly. Despite the fact that most of the ingredients were foraged from the forest, Tina still managed to create better food than anything he could cook himself. He glanced at her and smiled.

“Thanks for the meal.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to go pack our things. Tyrel should be back any minute now.” She poured the leftover potage into a bowl for when Tyrel returned and let the fire burn out.

Myrin stood up from the log. “Alright~ Time to get the carriage ready.”

Soren handed over his bowl to Tina, “Carriage? We have one?” He looked around curiously, but found nothing in the surrounding meadow.

Myrin chuckled. “There isn’t one currently here. I will be creating one. Oh—I forgot to mention. I too possess an Abstract Class Soul Weapon. Mine is different from yours though.”

Soren looked at him in shock. Him too? Aren’t they supposed to be rare? He then remembered that Myrin had told him that their Mistress also happened to be his teacher. It made sense for her disciple to also possess a Soul Weapon of the same class.

Suddenly, a breeze of wind brushed past the both of them, knocking around Myrin’s golden hair and rattling his garments. Soren noticed Myrin opening his right hand. A small emblem or marking was clearly visible across his palm that he couldn’t observe clearly—a tattoo of some kind. He watched in awe as countless, small silver glowing orbs manifested themselves. They quickly rushed into each other, merging to form an elongated stick of some kind that glowed in the same silver white color.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

That’s his Soul Weapon? It was the flute that he had seen right before getting knocked unconscious. Though, something was different about it. Rather than a flute, it had turned into a paint brush. Myrin softly held it in his palm. He glanced over at Soren whose eyes were almost popping out of their sockets.

“Watch closely. Unlike your ‘The Records,’ mine is called ‘Artist’s Wand.’ It allows me to bring my creativity to life. I accidentally gained the Abstract Rune for it a few years ago—being a Vagrant Phantasm was worrying but I've already stabilized my Soul Chain—I should be able to last for a while without needing to reach the next node.”

Myrin gracefully glided his Soul Weapon across the air—soft strokes of white paint condensed themselves, floating in place. Soren watched as Myrin skillfully created a masterpiece. He wasn’t sure how, but the brush’s paint would change color on the fly, as if it was replying to Myrin’s vision or thoughts.

First came the frame, then the wheels, then the windows. And the painting continued from there as Myrin added more and more details to it. This wasn’t a simple doodle or sketch. It was akin to a renaissance painting. Soren could imagine the fictional carriage he was painting with its golden ornaments and details coming to life.

And to life, it came.

The moment Myrin had finished painting, he slowly walked over to it and placed his palm over it. With a simple push, the two dimensional drawing was forced out of its invisible frame, turning three dimensional.

Soren stared blankly. Right in front of him was now a carriage fit to house nobles and royalty. Tina glanced over at Myrin and shook her head. “There you go again, damn showoff. Hurry up and move the carriage away from the Beacon of Guidance!”

He smirked, “Don’t listen to her, she’s just jealous.”

Out of nowhere, a wooden bowl flew across the encampment and hit Myrin squarely on the cheek. “Stop messing around you bastard! Get moving!”

He scurried to the back of the carriage. “Damn it, why does she have to throw it so strongly…” Soren ignored their antics and followed him.

“Why do we need to push the carriage away from the Beacon of Guidance?”

“It’s because the anima contained within that grand pillar of light can easily disrupt my own anima. The carriage would instantly collapse if I kept it there for a little longer.” He spoke cheerfully while rubbing his cheek.

Soren helped push the carriage away, “What exactly is this, ‘Anima’? I keep hearing about it.”

“Willpower. It is what fuels the creation of both Mysteries and Magecraft. All beings have it. Your Soul Weapon relies on it to function and exist too, you know?”

I see… So that’s why the Secrets of the Records ritual needed my concentration to work properly… He was unconsciously feeding the ritual with his own willpower.

Soren hid his temptation to ask whether experienced magi consumed drugs—he decided to change the subject, “The carriage is cool and all, but… How are we supposed to use it in the forest? There’s no roads available and the treeline is not wide enough for the carriage.”

Myrin chuckled, “Who said the treeline isn’t wide enough?” It can be wide if it wants to be.”

“Huh?” Soren was stumped.

“Just watch and see, it will be very interesting.”

Soren shook his head and smiled. “Tina is right, you really love to brag.”

Just when they had finished moving the carriage, Soren turned his head after hearing something behind him—Tyrel. He had somehow appeared in the small clearing without Soren noticing.

“I found the perfect carriage puller.” He said plainly to Myrin.

Myrin smirked, “Oho? Where?”

Before Tyrel could answer, All three of them looked over their shoulders—sounds of tree trunks breaking caught their attention. Soren looked in shock as a large silhouette became visible from across the meadow. It was a headless creature roughly 12 feet tall holding a massive wooden club. Its chest held a large crimson eye that was scanning for prey.

Soren froze. It’s t-that thing! What the hell?! Did it follow me?! He glanced over toward Tina who was the closest to the monster.

“Run! Get the hell away from it!” He screamed at Tina.

“Calm down.” Myrin placed his hand on Soren’s shoulder and smirked. “You don’t have to worry. In fact, that thing needs to run away from Tina instead.”

It was exactly as he had said it. The moment the creature noticed Tina’s presence, it swiftly primed its arm to swing its colossal wooden club. Tina on the other hand was completely unfazed. While still holding the pan she had been cooking potage with, she gracefully jumped back, dodging the creature’s attack. The monster roared, but Tina simply used that opportunity to sprint toward the monster. Before the ogre had any time to react, she drop-kicked it in the chest—directly in the eye.

Soren watched in awe as the ogre fell to its knees, rubbing its eye in agony. Seconds later, a rope glowing in a mysterious energy had already made its way around the monster. It only took Tina about two blinks worth of time to dispatch a monster that could probably kill him with a flick of its finger.

“So strong…”

“I know right?” Myrin smirked. “This is why I try not to mess with her. Unlike me and you, she doesn’t even have a Soul Weapon.”

Soren looked over at him in shock. “You’re telling me she did all of this with just her body strength!?”

“Not quite. It's a bit hard to explain so I'll tell you more once we hit the road… Well, once I make the road, at least.”

Soren was too busy reminding himself to never offend Tina that he didn’t even bother questioning what Myrin had just said.

She walked over to the ogre and slammed her boot down on its shoulder. “You damn bastard. That pot is the only one I brought with me for the journey and you almost destroyed it!”

“......”