Going from a hundred and seventy to a thousand and ninety intelligence in seconds had consequences. When Ori had increased his level, he did so for ostensibly good reasons. He’d wanted to feel physically stronger while Intelligence had become an increasingly frustrating bottleneck for many of his skills and abilities. It defined the size of his mana pool and the initial strength of spells he could cast. It capped his prodigious perception and limited the duration of his Domain.
Between the automatic points he received due to his Class’s per-level bonuses and the additional points he added, he was now a hundred times smarter than before he began the trials. Connections that had once been out of reach exploded into his consciousness as synapses that were once fleshy and purely biochemical substrates were infused by his newly densified mana. His faint connection to his soul, previously a peripheral sense, solidified into an astral proprioception. Meanwhile, the range and detail of his perception increased tenfold.
This caused an instant headache followed by nausea, as the sensory and cognitive stimulation expanded into a nascent mind that was still raw and freshly formed. Once more, Ori used a part of his Split Mind to deal with the pain and discomfort while another part monitored and analysed the changes to his senses.
Peritia and mana thickened the air.
Shouts of alarm from the freed fae were distant as concepts Ori had not been smart enough to understand suddenly became obvious. This included memory fragments of Eltitus he had once found incomprehensible, while his comprehension of his classes soared to new heights.
This increased connection to his soul sparked the continuation of a self-reflection and acceptance that Ori now knew would last as long as he lived.
As Seraphine’s Beacon appeared in his hand, its soft white glow centred him like a lantern in a storm. Minor conclusions related to himself, his path, and the synergies therein revealed themselves under the spiritual strain of a mind and will, stretched far beyond what a normal awakened should have experienced. Ori knew there was a cost to maintaining his state of oneness, a diamond-clear introspection, but he felt that this opportunity, a second enlightenment so soon after his last, was too rare and valuable to pass up.
Congratulations, Soulcraft - Irregular - Immersion (2nd) has evolved to Soulcraft - Irregular - Integration (3rd)
Congratulations, Duælism - Irregular - Threshold (1st) has evolved to Duælism - Irregular - Immersion (2nd)
Congratulations, Wands - Sovereign - Threshold (1st) has evolved to Wands - Sovereign - Immersion (2nd)
Warning, suffering temporary Will depletion: 2,182 (out of 62,248)
Ori exhaled as he watched his Will characteristic value rapidly tick back up. Within a minute, the value had quadrupled but the rate seemed to slow the higher the value became. Either way, his current effective value was now slightly higher than it had been before his ascension to Nascent. As he came back to himself, his mind spun with dizziness that rooted him to the spot for fear of appearing drunk. Meanwhile, a soul-deep hunger and exhaustion almost caused his eyes to roll back into his skull.
“Ori?”
He could hear the worry in Freya’s distant voice but was initially unable to reply as he accustomed himself to the rank of Nascent.
“It’s okay,” Ori finally wheezed, fetching one of his enchanted flagons and taking a long sip of water. “Remind me never to level up forty-eight times at once.”
“You did WHAT!?” Freya almost screeched.
“Hey, it was your idea.”
“I meant levelling just to twenty-six so you seemed like a newly ascended Nascent, and not all at once,” Freya hissed on his shoulder. “I’m surprised your brain isn’t leaking out of your ears.”
Ori shrugged, regretting the motion instantly as it spawned another bout of dizziness. He noticed how his limbs seemed to react slower than his soul as if it was an afterimage, or his soul a pre-cognition of his intent. It felt difficult to walk like his feet were suddenly further away and swung with an unreal freedom and lightness.
Nausea continued as he grew accustomed to his new proprioception. Fighting the unpleasant sensations and general overstimulation, Ori took in the sight around him and was disturbed by what he saw. Many of the fae lay on the floor, some weeping or dazed, others in clear supplication to him as if he were some kind of messiah. Even Karanno’s usual affability was replaced by confusion and awe.
Uneasy with the intensity of adoration, Ori felt like escaping the fervent eyes to settle his mind. However, he knew this was a moment he couldn’t afford to squander. He inhaled, straightening his spine and raising his chin. Words came from his heart while Will of the High Human and his Aura of the Progenitor magnified his presence to the extreme. He focused his attention on the people around him and spoke.
“Stand up. You don't kneel to me, you shouldn't kneel to anyone ever again. All of you here have taken that first step towards freedom. By walking out of your cages and choosing to fight, you have proven that while they can break bones and twist minds, your will remains, your hope remains, your RAGE remains!
“Use that rage as fuel as you work to gather the rest of your comrades, gather food and weapons, strip the Middle Reaches bare of any provisions. And by the end of today, you’ll be free from this prison one way or another.”
Ori waited in the silence that followed. Unsure of the reception, he gave Karanno a nod and made his way out. Karanno hesitated for a moment, a question on his lips, before he nodded, his floppy hair settling to hide his eyes as Ori carefully stepped out of the crowded cave entrance and made his way to the Gate rooms.
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Ori sat with Lysara’s greatly diminished form above his left knee. Freya sat cross-legged on his right shoulder, returning to her study of mana control, having reached the third stage of Integration.
“So, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t do this, right? All our regenerated mana just disappears if our mana pools are full, doesn’t it?” Ori asked.
“I believe so, but Ori, there are passive effects you might not know about from having a mana surplus. It can improve health and resilience, especially for those attuned to it, like us,” Freya replied, an orb of cosmic light dancing on her fingertips.
“But Lysara needs it to heal and grow,” Ori countered. He sighed as something occurred to him, whether due to his increased comprehension, intelligence or perception, Ori realised Freya was afraid. After spending so long without Mana, so long completely drained of the magic she needed to exist, how could she not be weary of giving away even the amount she didn't need? Knowing this, Ori altered his approach. “How about this then? What if I made it so we give away just eighty per cent of our mana? The rest should be enough for those surplus effects you mentioned.”
“And you’re sure this will have no effect when we are in deficit?” Freya said, her voice small.
“I’m pretty sure. I’ve never done this kind of soulcrafting before, but I’m confident it’ll work as intended,” Ori said. Their discussion paused as Ruenne’del approached and silently joined them. She sat cross-legged, her oversized great sword and dragonfly wings brushing against the stone as she pressed her back to the cave wall several metres away. Half-expecting news or a request from the freed captives, he was surprised when she quietly sat there, lost in her thoughts.
“You could join us, over here I mean. If you want,” Ori said, unsure why he offered.
“Would that be on your other knee or opposite shoulder?” she fired back, almost catching Ori off guard. Once again, were it not for his improved intelligence or a general increase in his self-assuredness, instead of being defensive, Ori returned her quip, giving as good as he got.
“Well, there’s also space on my lap, if you’re up for it?”
Ruenne’del stared at him for a long moment before a wry smile crept across her fine, narrow lips. Ori’s heart raced as she stood up, walked towards them, and sat against the wall beside him, their shoulders an inch apart. Despite not taking his offer, he considered their improved proximity a positive step in their interactions and smiled in self-satisfaction.
“They’re calling you The Redeemer. They could be your people if you wanted them to be,” Ruenne’del said, her voice small and distracted.
“My people?”
“To lead, to rule. Here or in the Faewylds if you wished.”
“I just want to get them home, or at least far away from here,” Ori grunted in dismay. “Then the next group in the next Reaches, and then hopefully find a way out of this prison and up to the surface.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“The surface? You do not wish to use the Gates to return to your realm?”
“I wish. No, it seems I’m stuck on this realm for a while.”
“But the surface—it is ice and mountains from horizon to horizon. You would not survive the treacherous path to safety.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“Summoned.”
“By who? Demons? Infernals?”
She shook her head. “High Elves. Caladmaethor Lunae’sereg.”
“Lunaesidhe High Elves?” Ori said, his heart racing as his mind whirled.
“Yes—They’re here because of you?” Ruenne’del said, surprised by the implications.
“Yeah, I think so. Harriet, one of my bonded, said she sent people to see if they could rescue me. But if you’re down here, how come they’re still on the surface?” ‘Wait, is that what that Warden meant by ‘business on the surface’?’ Ori wondered internally.
“They needed a specialist to divine this prison's location. Even I couldn’t locate it until after the announcement of the High Human’s ascension.”
Ori internally cringed at the implications of a universe-wide announcement of his racial evolution but suppressed outward signs of his thoughts and emotions. “But you led them here?”
“Yes, likely they are skirmishing with those elven forces still above while I snuck in through vents they couldn’t follow.”
Ori tried to imagine her small, lithe form scurrying through narrow tunnels and fissures in the mountain above all because she was seeking him, or at least something he could offer. He pushed those thoughts aside as he attempted to understand the strategic picture on the surface.
“And with the celestials moving ahead… It should end up as a nasty pincer manoeuvre…” Ori nodded to himself as several more details clicked into place. “Hopefully the Dean or this Overseer doesn’t arrive before we get out. I still don’t think I could have taken on that Galroga, even now. Speaking of which, you were awesome for the brief second I saw you fight.”
“You watched me?”
“When we were running, I took a second to look back and you were slicing a leg off that monster. It was mad. Was that a class or spell?”
Ruenne’del suppressed a smile, her cheeks rosy as she shrugged. “Meliantha Veranor, or Blade Dancer of the Summer’s Light, is one of my classes.”
“Wait, you’re like a blade dancer, like the High Elves?”
“High Elves are like the fae; their dances come from us.”
“Right, yeah, I should’ve remembered,” Ori said, chastened.
“We weakened it, but your elemental blew its head off just as all hope was seemingly lost,” she continued.
“Lysara. And that reminds me,” Ori said, summoning one piece of his six-blade experimental array. Wielded by an Aetheric hand, Ori held his physical hand out, his palm open beneath the blade. The insane effect of his enchantments, which he already knew he could vastly improve upon, caused his skin to break out in goosebumps as the blade began to slice into his palm before it was an inch away from touching his exposed skin.
With blood freely flowing from his hand, he began his soulcrafting, using the Mana in his blood as a conduit and authorisation for Lysara to access his Mana. Freya, surprising Ori, extended her palm too, her expression resolute. When Ori asked if she was sure, she nodded, and Ori was careful to draw just a drop of blood from her delicate, tiny hand to link her Mana pool to the weave.
Ruenne’del watched in silent fascination as the full force of his intent, Bondweaver abilities, and newly improved Soulcraft comprehension forged a new bond between Freya, Lysara, and himself—a connection of Mana and Mana insights. Whenever he or Freya were full and had no use for their excess Mana regeneration, eighty per cent would now go towards Lysara’s endless Mana pool regardless of the distance that separated them until either party wanted to dissolve this bond. As the ones who held the monikers; Wisdom and Potential of the Bondweaver worked together for the benefit of all, they would give whatever they didn’t need to the needy, fuelling their growth while acting like a bank of Mana that could be called upon in times of distress.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Lysara said, her normally clipped, no-nonsense voice filled with gratitude.
“You more than deserve it,” Ori said before groaning as he pushed himself off the floor and dusted his tattered jeans. “I really need to get some clothes,” he muttered, finding himself bare-chested once more after donating most of his clothing and equipment to the released prisoners.
He made his way over to the Gate, a stone plinth that stood just a step above the rocky cave floor. Its perfectly flat surface with large, gouged runes and glyphs seemed in perfect condition as Ori examined every inch of the room-sized enchantment for cracks or intentional sabotage.
He repaired a few hairline fractures with Echo Forging and burnt into memory the nature of the enchantments running through the artefact as Lysara and Freya regaled him with tales of their battle against the Galroga.
“So, how exactly did you almost get yourself killed in the end?” Ori asked as he set up the last of the built-in sources to redirect their Mana towards the Gate formation.
"I was too close to the blast radius. When its head detonated, I got caught in the explosion. I shed a lot of myself when its accursed blood fell on me, but Undying Spark kept me in the fight," Lysara answered.
“Not that there was any fight left in anyone at that point. Only the Archangels were still standing by then,” Freya chimed in.
“Yeah, we need to find a way of improving the spell—a better way of using Antimatter at longer ranges without hurting ourselves,” Ori concluded. “And… I’m just about done with this Gate.”
Based on Freya’s knowledge, Gates like these created two-way bridges or wormholes between two fixed locations. As this was one of the simpler types of artefacts, it only had one destination and if obstructed, there was a chance a magical backlash could disrupt the mechanism or irreparably damage the enchantment.
“I’ll go through it first,” Ruenne’del said, surprising Ori with her earnestness. “I’m a summons, so things like this would only unsummon me.”
“Right,” Ori said, relief mixed with a seed of disappointment. “Okay then.”
Ori walked up to the plate that activated the Gate and, with a flicker of intent, commanded it to activate.
The Gate came to life with a deep sonorous drone, its runes and glyphs glowed with a soft blue light that seemed ever more erie in the darkened subterranean room. The air shimmered as a swirling whirlpool began to form before it deepened, tunnelling through and beyond the confines of the small room they were situated. A visible wormhole through which they could see the other side suddenly snapped into place, and like gentle ripples on a calm pond, the vision they saw undulated and shimmered with unreal, distant daylight. Beyond the swirling portal lay a Faewyld forest, a breathtaking expanse of vibrant colours and fantastical flora.
“Be careful,” Ori called out, his concern evident despite his attempt to sound confident. In response, Ruenne’del stepped forward, her dragonfly wings fluttering lightly beneath her sheathed Great Sword as she prepared to step through. She cast a glance at Ori, who nodded, and then she disappeared into the wormhole, her form blending seamlessly with the vibrant scene beyond.
He could see her on the other side, her form tentative and cautious, as she looked from one side to the next, arms out and ready to fight in a way Ori didn’t quite understand. She seemed so incredibly small out there, so far away surrounded by trees a match to any grand oak or Sequoia from Earth, a solitary flash of Pink that did not seem out of place in the vibrant forest..
A few moments later, the vortex shimmered again and Ruenne’del reappeared unscathed. “It’s safe,” she confirmed. “The other side is clear and the connection is stable.”
Ori let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Let’s start moving everyone through.”
----------------------------------------
One by one the fae stepped through the Gate: Satyrs, Fairies, Vulpixin, Spriggin and many others, their expressions a mix of fear, numb disbelief and hope. Through the wormhole, they could see the Faewyld Forest more clearly now and with this sight came tears of joy and loss. The trees were tall and wide, their bark vibrant with teal greens and purple moss. Leaves of every imaginable colour fluttered in the gentle breeze, and strange, luminescent flowers bloomed in a riot of shapes and sizes. Bioluminescent vines coiled around the trunks, casting a soft, ethereal glow that illuminated the forest floor.
Creatures flitted through the air, some resembling oversized butterflies with wings that shimmered like stained glass, others like tiny dragons that exhaled puffs of sparkling mist.
“Alright, time to go,” Ori said, gesturing towards the portal and ushering the bedraggled group of over a hundred men and women through. The wormhole gently ripped as each Fae made their way through, their forms instantly seeming distant, as if on the overside of the surface of a pond. Meanwhile, a cognitive dissonance settled over Ori as he tried to work out just how much distance there was between them now if such a concept could even apply, or if there was any distance between them at all.
Midway through the procession, a noise echoed through the distant cavern. He turned to see a group of infernals emerging from a tunnel on the far side of the magma tube. Ori's enhanced perception caught eyes filled with confusion, outrage, and then malevolent intent.
Ori shouted, “Freya, get everyone through now!”
Freya transformed into her sprite form and zoomed away, quickly ushering the remaining Fae through the Gate. Ori summoned his Array, his Aetheric hands and weapons forming around him in a ghostly phalanx as he prepared to face the charging infernals. The fae screamed, the orderly procession on the verge of turning into a panicked stampede. Trusting Karanno and Freya to guide them through the portal safely, Ori cast Mirror Protection, Prismatic Shield, Mind over Mind, and Mind over Motion far faster than he had ever done before while Lysara and Ruenne’del took their positions beside him.
Spellfire crashed over prismatic shields that shimmered and absorbed each attack as the infernals charged. The hexagonal, glass-like, prism segments seemed alive with magic, the spell seeming exotic under senses and reactions heightened far beyond anything he'd ever experienced. At the entrance, his shielded form was a bulwark to the Gate room and the evacuating Fae behind him while Aetheric hands blocked and deflected errant spells that might have whizzed wide to deadly effect. The ground exploded before him as a stray fireball was lobbed short, meanwhile, he quickly catalogued his spells and decided how to respond.
Wasting no further time, Multifocal Casting allowed Ori to cast seven instances of Lesser Smite, one instance for every Wand or Focus he held for no additional cognitive strain and a minor Mana cost penalty. Lesser Smite, the celestial-aspected spell instantly crashed against the group of Greater rankers. It was a spell like no other he had access to, an instantaneous, look-see-kill spell, one that didn't travel between him or some other point in space and the target. Simply, see an enemy, and their bodies shone and then burned with golden white celestial fire.
It was as awesome as it was horrifying. It reminded him of burning ants with a magnifying glass, except these ants were sentient, seven-foot-tall demons that screamed in a pitch high enough to shred vocal cords as they cooked.
Lysara’s elemental power flared, sending bolts of lightning into the fray, her Flux affinity seemingly outshining smite in a way that made Ori's mind temporarily consider the inefficiencies of the wasted energies. As the afterimage cleared from his vision Ruenne’del emerged within the remaining demons as if stepping out of Ori's blind spot or fold in space, her four-foot-long blade slicing through the last infernal neck with deadly grace.
The hum of the Gate, burning and heavy breathing were the only sounds remaining after the sudden interlude of violence. Greater Rankers had never been much of a threat to him, but they could have done serious damage to the escapees or the Gate artefact before everyone was safe. Ori stood over the dying embers of celestial fire consuming the dead infernals as his adrenaline faded.
“Is everyone through?” he asked, glancing back at Freya as the humming behind him ceased.
"A few remain, they say they want to follow you, the Redeemer."
"For fuck'sake."