Wenlianna paces the lounge on the airship near the tea table where one of the magic radios Daniel helped her develop. She has her notebook in her hand and open to a page with various observations and plans scribbled on it haphazardly.
Of course, she hasn’t been able to read a single word for the past hour, becoming more and more anxious in proportion to the time that has passed.
There’s no way they’ll lose, right? Hekate and the Dragon Empresses are with them. Plus, Mother sent the knights as well. That’s more than enough.
The magic artisan hums in anxious frustration as she continues worrying.
What if there’s something else? What if Yaulwembor wasn’t the last of its kind? Should we go? Should I have accompanied them? What…?
“Wenlianna…” states the stern and matronly voice of her mother, yanking the eldest Stalvaltan daughter out of her thoughts.
“Y-Yes, Mother?”
Aramellianna sighs. “I’ve called you three times.”
“S-Sorry. I was just… thinking…”
The Grand Duchess sips at her drink, the green band wine that Daniel presented to her as a gift. She pats the lounge sofa she’s seated on. “Come. Sit, Wenlianna.”
Haldestania is seated next to the Grand Duchess, drawing with ‘crayons’, which Daniel provided for her, along with paper. The colored wax writing utensils are surprisingly easy for children to use, and apparently easier and less costly to make. And, she has a huge selection of colors. Bunnrimae is also playing a board game against Aoloan, who is teaching her as they play.
Wenlianna nervously fidgets, but she obeys her mother, walking over sheepishly and plopping down next to the matriarch of the Stalvaltan household.
Aramellianna doesn’t even ask, pouring a small amount of wine for her daughter.
“M-Mother? I… Daniel said…”
“You had your cycle last week, did you not?”
The magic artisan turns pale and flinches. She looks down, admitting quietly, “Y-... Yes…”
“I’m not ashamed of you, my darling Wenlie. It took your father and I several tries before you graced us with your presence. Haldestania was the least troublesome, if we were to compare.”
“I was?” asks the youngest daughter happily as her third eldest sister, Yormolett giggles nearby.
The Grand Duchess pets the youngest girl’s head, adding, “Yes, my sweet baby. Your father barely looked at me, and you came along.”
This time, Kera’tai and Aoloan snicker softly in amusement.
Aramellianna then continues her point to her eldest child as she gives the wine glass to Wenlianna. “You’ll find success soon enough. From what I have seen, Daniel has had no issues yet.”
This time, Yormolett snickers as she glances at Kera’tai and Aoloan, who grin playfully.
“But, that is not what is troubling you, is it?”
Wenlianna looks down at her mother’s knowing question. “No…”
The Grand Duchess taps her glass gently to Wenlianna’s, nodding as she lifts her glass to take a sip, and Wenlianna relents, drinking her own. She sighs as the sharp taste passes her tongue.
“I would trade my prized garden to send Daniel back in time to produce this drink for all of the times I was waiting on my dear husband.” She cups Wenlianna’s cheek gently.
“During times of war, when your beloved rides off to battle, it is a luxury to believe he will return in only a day or so. Normally, campaigns take weeks or months.” She sips her wine, smirking. “And, a Stalvaltan daughter was born eight months later.”
Wenlianna and Yormolett blush, embarrassed by how straightforward their mother is.
“Wh-What do I do to… pass the time? I… I can’t…”
“You’ll have to learn to endure, my dear Wenlianna. And, if you can, distract yourself with work.”
Wenlianna sighs. “I should have brought Lady Ahok…”
Before she finishes her thought, the radio activates. “Guardian One, Mechanic One.”
Wenlianna all but dives on the radio to grip the microphone, nearly fumbling it as she desperately tries to alleviate her anxiety with the reassurance of hearing Daniel’s voice. “M-Mechanic One, Guardian One, I’m here, Daniel. Over.”
Daniel’s voice laughs lightly over the radio, and Wenlianna blushes, recalling what she did wrong. “S-Sorry, D-um, Mechanic One.”
“No worries, Guardian One. We’ll get there. Mechanic One requesting extraction. Landing zone is secure. Over.”
“Extraction?” asks Wenlianna only to the ones around her.
Kera’tai answers, “That’s the order to come get them.”
“Ah! Right!” She quickly squeezes the transmitter button. “Mechanic One, confirmed. Extraction… coming?”
Aramellianna snickers lightly, and she gestures over her shoulder. “Sir Magnir, please relay to the bridge to depart for the lake to pick up our Imperial rulers.”
“At once, your Grace,” replies the blue dragon. He leaves the room long enough to head to the bridge and inform them to depart.
Wenlianna repeats, “Extraction coming, Mechanic One. We’re on our way. Over.”
“Ten-four, Guardian One. Mechanic One standing by, over.”
“Mechanic One, Grendel Five. Is now a good time? Over.” The voice is a slightly higher octave male voice, distinct for the goblins.
“Go ahead, Grendel Five. Over.”
“Grendel Five requesting additional armored support. Over.”
There’s a moment’s pause, and Wenlianna looks at Aramellianna. The only goblins that should be requesting armored support are those carrying out the ‘invasion’ of the Stalvaltan Grand Duchy as they establish footholds and secure the Grand Duchy before the full invasion of Mornistae will begin.
“Grendel Five, Mechanic One, we haven’t received any reports of combat engagement today. Are you under attack? Over.”
“Negative, Mechanic One. Vassal villages of Zone One requesting increased defense after seeing Iron Drakes. Over.”
Aramellianna crosses her arms. “Even I haven’t seen the… ‘tanks’ in action.It sounds like the invasion is more than welcome in my territory.”
Her daughters laugh softly, and Daniel’s voice returns after a moment to obviously discuss it with the companions with him. “Guardian One, Mechanic One, is Chief Guardian available? Over.”
Aramellianna holds her hand out for the microphone and Wenlianna hands it over a little reluctantly. The Grand Duchess inspects the device for a moment before squeezing the button.
“Mechanic One, Chief Guardian speaking. Over.”
“Chief Guardian, request authorization for increased armor support in Zone One. Over.”
She looks at the others watching her for a moment. The matron of the Stalvaltan Grand Duchy asks only those in the lounge, “‘Zone One’ is the Grand Duchy for certain, yes?”
“Yes, your Grace,” replies Kera’tai.
“And, he’s asking my permission over the radio?”
“Daniel has made it clear that you will still hold cognizance over the Grand Duchy, hasn’t he?”
“Indeed. It's just admirable to hear it so directly.” She clears her throat and squeezes the button. “Mechanic One, Chief Guardian… I authorize increased armor support. Over.”
“Affirmative, Chief Guardian. Grendel Five, Mechanic One, request received. Reinforcements will be dispatched. Over.”
“Thank you, Mechanic One. Grendel Five, out.”
“Guardian One, Mechanic One, standing by for pickup. Mechanic One out.”
Aramellianna responds simply, rather than handing the microphone back, “Confirmed, Mechanic One. Guardian One en route. Guardian One out.” She hands the radio transceiver back to the magic artisan, and Wenlianna hangs it on the side of the radio. Her expression is already more relaxed from the pacing worrywort that she was a few minutes ago.
With a sigh, Aramellianna muses playfully, “So very lucky, my dear Wenlianna.”
“L-Lucky?”
The Grand Duchess grins deviously. “Are you not? Even before he has returned, you get to hear his voice for reassurance.”
“T-True…” She blushes and smiles happily, rejoining her mother on the lounge sofa.
Haldestania asks, “How come you talked funny on the radio, Mother? You don’t talk like that normally.”
“That’s true. I’m not quite certain, myself.”
Aoloan takes the chance to chime in, “It’s to make it more reliable to pass messages, from what Daniel has said.”
“By talking funny?” asks the curious young girl.
Wenlianna smiles and replies in a tender tone, “Yes, Desti. It’s for structure, like the actors in a play.”
The youngest Stalvaltan daughter nods as she makes sense of it in her brain. She once asked why play actors always say the same things in the plays, since there aren’t an abundance of different plays in existence yet.
“Soooo… why the strange names? Is Daniel no longer going to call Mother ‘Mother?’”
Aramellianna snickers playfully and pets the young girl’s head. “It is a privilege to be called ‘Mother’ by someone so charming, not an obligation. That said, the code names are for our protection, so if anyone is able to spy on the communications, they won't be able to easily know that the Emperor of the Fievegal or the Stalvaltan Grand Duchess are speaking and what they’re planning.”
Kera’tai adds politely, “We’re all still working together to iron out any confusion, of course.”
“Of course,” replies the Grand Duchess warmly.
Magnir reenters the lounge, and he states politely, “Your Grace, the airship will arrive in twenty minutes from warm up. Final inspections are being completed now.”
“Thank you, Sir Magnir. I know I’m not in your line of command, but I appreciate you delivering the message for me.”
“It was no trouble, your Grace.”
“Sir Magnir?” asks Bunnrimae out of the blue.
“Yes, my Lady?” replies the Jomsviking.
“Don’t you worry about L-... Umm… Dame Roeta?”
“I have faith in my Mukori’s strength, as well as our allies. If I had to choose, I would go instead, if not alongside, but I am not so foolish as to believe I would have been of great use this time.”
The young girl goes quiet, glancing at Aramellianna for a moment. Magnir takes a hint and doesn't pry. He adds, “Roeta knows her limits. That is the most important thing.”
“The dragons live rather differently than we do, dear Bunnrimae,” replies Aramellianna gently. “There are different expectations of what they can accomplish.”
The young girl nods obediently. “Understood, Mother. Thank you.”
She does, however, glance at Magnir once more, and he matches her gaze for a moment. It’s not right for him to encourage her line of thinking, but he also doesn’t want to be the one to simply crush her spirit. The greatest gift Magnir and Roeta have received is the self-determination to plot their own courses in life. They have an egg safely laid in the Citadel to carry on their legacy if either of them falls, and as long as Roeta is safe, a second one is on the way. Daniel doesn’t intend to restrict any race from having children, but he has asked the dragons to be conservative, since they still need to increase the livestock populations to be able to feed the giant, primarily-carnivorous omnivores reliably. This is especially true for the hatchlings, since it will be unsafe to transform them until they can adapt to their own physiology enough to understand the change. Hekate, as a counter-example, has never been in her natural form, and she is afraid of heights, even though a feldrok could fly with ease.
Regardless, Bunnrimae isn’t Magnir’s concern, and it might cause issues if he meddles where his own influence doesn’t belong.
For now, he can just hope his suspicions are premature. If she needs support, he’ll do what he can as an outsider, but it would likely fall to Reignleif, who is a distant ancestor to the Stalvaltan family, to truly handle whatever the young girl’s concerns truly are.
In the meantime, the airship slowly ascends into the air with a light rumble as the crew pilots it. Once aweigh, the giant flying mansion banks at a lax pace towards the east where the subjugation team is. The vessel isn’t nearly as fast as the shuttles, but it makes good time for its size. And, an additional luxury is the level of comfort while riding in the large ship.
It’ll be a nice break for the battle weary warriors of the Fievegal to relax on their return to the city.
***
Rikuto walks with Grand Prince Yaulander through the castle of Mornistae in order to reach the ritual room. According to the texts and journals regarding the ‘Divine Summoning’, as the people of Zenkon call it, there don’t appear to be any great restrictions on its use, other than a MASSIVE source of mana is needed, which was provided by the artifact in the lowest part of Mornistae the last time it was used.
Since the artifact was used so recently, however, this means that the artifact won’t have enough mana to complete a summoning.
Yaulander has provided a solution to that problem. In addition to the spare ‘enhanced magic crystals’, also known as diamonds, which have yet to be loaded into reloading rings for the void artillery, the Grand Prince has sent for his own stockpile of enhanced magic crystals, which are each charged with pure mana.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Rikuto is skeptical that a couple hundred mana crystals charged by human-kin hands will be able to power a ritual normally receiving its energy from a strange and seemingly unknowable divine artifact from ancient times. Though, one of the historical records seemed to have indicated that living sacrifices were the source of the needed mana for the very first summoning, this record is, at best, a third-hand account by copying a second-hand translation of the original text.
Inside the ritual room, the fifty five mages brought by Yaulander are hard at work with those of Mornistae, staging the magic crystals in accordance with the artwork in the book. When the thousands of sacrifices were made, they were allegedly congregating in a field around the ritual circle.
In this case, the patterns on the floor seem to hold some meaning, and the best mages in the kingdom and the Empire are working with the most learned historians available to them in order to make an educated guess how to power the ritual without the artifact.
“Where are we at?” asks Yaulander, a little impatient for results.
“Your enlightened Majesty, the crystals are almost placed, and the casting teams are learning the incantation. Our scribe is also making copies to help the casters.”
“Good, good.” The young blonde ruler takes a seat on the makeshift throne he had put in the ritual room so he can observe. As if on cue, a maid steps up and presents a jewel-encrusted goblet on an elaborately decorated tray. He swiftly takes the goblet, shamelessly gripping the maid's posterior. She flinches a small amount, but otherwise retains a stoic expression.
Rikuto has been noticing it in the presence of Yaulander's attaché. The tension is thick enough to cut with a blade. The Grand Prince is an assertive person, to put it lightly. Even now, Rikuto still has doubts about trying to summon another Earthling, but Yaulander has been driving forward unabashedly, as if the whole world is already his. And, that seems to go for Earth as well.
Mostly, Rikuto just hopes that Ryukana simply rejects the summoning. His understanding is that the Divine Realm can choose to reject summonings. Given how Rikuto’s dealings with his own concurrently summoned counterpart have gone, he’d prefer no more Earthlings arrive on Zenkon. Failing that, the least he could hope for is another Japanese person so there’s at least a greater deal of common ground.
“This is exciting!” remarks Yaulander jovially, harassing the maid for a moment longer and drinking from his goblet. Rikuto is a little uncomfortable watching, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s going to need Imperial support to deal with Daniel invading Mornistae. Given that all contact and trade with the Stalvaltan Grand Duchy has been blockaded, it could be any time that the real invasion begins. The territories around the Grand Duchy have been bolstering their forces, but if it’s true that Daniel has something larger than his rifles, it’s possible that Rikuto is dealing with artillery, which would become an even greater issue. He’ll definitely need to consider deploying the void artillery again if the invasion can’t be stopped any other way.
“Your Majesty Rikuto!” calls out Yaulander. “Aren’t you excited!? Maybe we’ll summon one of your friends.”
Rikuto smiles and nods. “Maybe. There are a lot of people on Earth.” I don’t know if that would be good or bad. It certainly would make things easier, but I wouldn’t wish being ripped away from home on anyone else. Certainly not friends. Still…
Yaulander seems eager, almost like a kid receiving a pile of gifts. The mages are still staging the crystals, though, so it’ll be a bit longer.
Suddenly, the Grand Prince blurts out, “What is taking so long?”
The tension suddenly rises again, and he asks rather caustically, “Is this process really so challenging that all of the greatest mages in the Empire are struggling?”
“No your Imperial Majesty,” replies one of the older male mages quickly. “We’re simply taking precautions to ensure…”
“I don’t care about that. Let’s get this done with so we can return home.”
The mages glance at each other nervously. Rikuto has only learned a modest amount about magic, but a crucial part is the accurate performance of the spell. Incantations can be pronounced with an accent, but they still need to be spoken correctly, or else the spell effect could be vastly different than the goal. Likewise, when preparing physical catalysts for a ritual, like the summoning, careful placement can be the difference between a successful casting and a failure.
But, just as dangerous as an incorrectly performed spell seems to be angering the impatient Grand Prince.
Rikuto almost tried to stop him, as the only ranking person in the room who might be able to get through to him, but since he is hoping for a failure, though one with minimal collateral damage, he manages to prevent himself from speaking. One of the maids nearby notices the otherworlder king hesitate, and she watches him.
Rikuto simply pastes on his business smile and leaves it be, and the mage seems to come to a similar conclusion, not wanting to be punished by the Grand Prince when they’ve already done most of the steps. He urges the more rapid placement of the last handful of crystals, and the mages take their places.
Scholars are also gathered in the room documenting everything. Artists are drawing the scene in sketches with charcoal pencils or other utensils, and one of the Imperial Magic Artisans is using a magic holo-capture device to take a snapshot of the scene from one of the overlooking balconies.
If Rikuto didn’t know better, he’d think they were pioneering the first ever space flight of Zenkon, not a ritual that was performed a little over a year ago. Then again, there were quite a few people gathered around when Rikuto and Daniel arrived, so there’s no telling what all of their roles were at the time.
And, for the Empire, this is the first time anyone outside of Mornistae has been able to witness or partake in the ritual. It truly is a historic event from their perspective.
The same senior mage jogs back over, declaring, “Your great and wise Majesty, we have placed all of the crystals.”
“Is the spell ready to cast?” asks Yaulander with his same haughty tone.
“Yes, your Majesty. But, I would like…”
“I don’t care what you like. Bring forth a Divine Summon.”
Again, the mage hesitates, but his own desire for self-preservation urges him to simply obey. He steps back, bowing crisply. “As you wish, your enlightened Majesty. We’ll begin at once.”
As he returns to the group to begin directing the combined 112 mages, Rikuto can’t help but feel a little sorry for them. It gets compounded when Yaulander slouches in his mobile ‘throne’, laying across the arms with an absolutely unhidden boredom. He grumbles, “Amazing how we always have to tell everyone how to do their jobs, wouldn’t you agree, King Rikuto?”
The Japanese man bites his tongue for a moment, resisting the urge to retort coldly. It’s no small secret that there is a distinct difference between leading and being a boss, and right now, Yaulander is simply being a boss. Rare is the time when micromanaging accomplishes anything of value, which is why Rikuto generally tries to leave his subordinates to their tasks, only applying pressure when he lets his own fears and emotions get the better of him. He would never punish anyone for trying to play it safe, which these mages and spellcasters are hoping to do, but are being pressured into overlooking due to the impatient Grand Prince.
He finally responds just before Yaulander can snap at him, “Everyone is on edge because it’s a big undertaking, your Majesty Grand Prince Yaulander. Were it so simple, my predecessors, and theirs before them, would have been casting this spell at every opportunity, most likely.”
Yaulander nods. “Mm, yes, yes, good point. But, the sooner we get another summon here, the sooner we can begin our full campaign against the traitor Daniel. Every minute we waste is another minute he is gathering allies, torturing women and children, and spilling the blood of innocents.”
Again, Rikuto holds his tongue. Daniel wasn’t a violent person, but it has been months since they’ve encountered each other last, and now Daniel has started invading the kingdom of Mornistae with demon forces armed with firearms. He is not the same person that simply tried to lay low in town and live a peaceful life, nor is he the same person who leapt into the water to rescue a knight in addition to Erimaya. For now, Rikuto has to assume Daniel has fallen to the darker desires in his heart, and maybe Yaulander has more information than Rikuto, rather than just assumptions.
The lead mage calls out, “The chant cannot be stopped once it begins, so do not falter. If we falter, it could be our own mana that is forfeit.”
“““Yes, Grand Magus!””” call out the others in unison.
They all take deep breaths, readying themselves and their own favored casting instruments. Rikuto sees several elaborate staves taller than their wielders and decorated with various different trinkets and crystals, as well as being made of differing materials. There are wands that have strange designs, and which the Japanese man can’t help but compare to the loosely baby-rattle like design of a magical girl wand from a popular anime named after the moon, as well as much more simple stick-like instruments reminding him of a certain wizarding school from a series of books turned into movies.
Similar to the casting of magic having some tolerance for the difference in caster, the instrument used to channel one’s mana is based more on how the mage uses it, how they implement their own mana, how efficiently they can guide the process on their own, and the more precise portions of the spell that they are leaving to the instrument over their own imagination. With the stick-like wands, they magic circles and glyphs are ‘drawn’ in the air, while the tall staves act as a sort of amplifier, and the magical-girl wands combine aspects of each of the other two, providing some mana amplification as well as allowing the construction of the spell via a more somatic or kinetic gesture. Thankfully, the structure of the magic is being generated by the ritual patterns drawn on the floor of the castle, and the bulk of the mana is coming from the magic crystals scattered across the pattern at seemingly key points.
The chanting begins, though it’s probably more accurate to call it a simultaneous oration. The spell doesn’t have the melody typical of chanting, nor a simple repetition, but a long formula of words said in a language Rikuto doesn’t understand. It seems to possibly be an extremely old dialect of a language very similar to Eastern Imperial Trade, which is the most common language in the allied territories, similar to how French and Spanish are both descended of Latin, but rather drastically differ in the modern era from both Latin as well as each other.
The tone is slow and somewhat monotonous sounding, and the mages keep their tempo steady. Some are reading from the copied texts, while others have memorized the incantation in spite of how long it is. Rikuto wonders if there are different kinds of mages on Zenkon, such as making a distinction between “mage”, “sorcerer”, “wizard”, and “warlock”, since he doesn’t seem to hear much different other than ‘mage’ -in the native language, of course-.
As he’s pondering this, though, the magic really starts.
It begins as a sparkling flicker of lights near the center of the circle, and he notices a couple of the younger mages, a male shenwulf and a female human, nearly fumble over their words by being partially distracted. After the sparkling flickers of light, a more steady glowing point of brightness appears, hovering in midair over the middle of the ritual markings. It’s nearly blinding to look directly at, like a high-wattage light bulb, and around it swirls many mist-like streams of magical energy, originating in near imperceptible trails from the mages and crystals, combining together and coalescing into the core. The spell is charging, building volume before the whole sphere pulses, nearly startling several more mages into faltering, including the first two, and they just barely retain focus to avoid dropping the spell casting.
Yaulander calls out, “If any one of you causes this spell to fail because of cowardice, you will be a catalyst for the next attempt.”
Rikuto notices several of the mages, especially younger ones who are already struggling with nervousness, grip their staves or wands more tightly, very nearly stammering or flubbing words. Even a small mistake could have unknowable consequences here and now. For all the Japanese king knows, an actual monstrous demon like the Balrog or even Shuten-dōji himself could be what appears if the summoning is incorrectly performed.
The mist-like streams of visible mana are beautiful to behold, and they grow alongside the core sphere. The entire ritual room is getting brighter and brighter, to the point that the magic lanterns and backup torches being used to light the room provide no more benefit than a candle under the midday sun. The magic energy flowing into the center has become akin to rivers, wavering and dancing around the orb, which now has its own rings orbiting around it like the common visual model of an atom.
Magic doesn’t usually seem to behave in the same way atomic physics do, so Rikuto couldn’t even begin to hypothesize exactly what forces are at play to cause the shape of the core of the spell. He suspects it would be a fair assumption to make that magic presents a fifth fundamental force, at the very least, when it comes to speaking about physics. While the young Japanese man was well-studied at his high school and university, he is certainly far from being a true physicist and wouldn’t quite know where to begin to quantify and define a new fundamental force, beyond what he has observed so far.
And, before his very eyes, the magic core of the spell continues to evolve and grow, transforming into a three meter wide work of art with elaborate streams of magic energy, wisps and trails being cast off like licks of gentle fire, and a wide array of colors and shades blending like a mystical fire and water blend.
Or, even going deeper, it may even resemble the very nature of the six magical elements, as well as pure mana, swirling together in harmony. The otherworldly king feels at peace watching the display, like he is gazing upon creation itself. He can’t help but be amazed, and even Yaulander is sitting up, speechless at the wondrous display of energy before them.
There’s also a low hum in the air, not like a static buzz as one might associate with an electrical arc, but more of a single musical note being held. It is gentle in nature and ever-present in the air, like a soft solfège syllable being held by an angel’s voice. Giving credence to this thought is the slow change in the sound, the difference being nearly imperceptible right away, but becoming more noticeable as time goes on. It grows in volume, as well as the tone, sounding to Rikuto like the subtle change from an “uuu” sound to an “ooo”, and then a bit after that into a low ‘aaa’ sound.
As the volume slowly increases, the mages incanting the spell have to raise their own voices, going from a moderate talking volume to a loud talk, and eventually to near-yelling to ensure that they stay in time with each other.
Several of the less-experienced and one of the eldest mages are showing visible signs of fatigue starting to set in, with sweat beginning to form on their faces and color filling their cheeks and foreheads.
Without knowing the spell himself, Rikuto has no idea whether or not they’re approaching the climax of the spell, or if it will continue to get more strenuous for the mages to the point that they’ll start losing individuals. He can only hope that he can deflect Yaulander if it comes to pass and save their lives. In addition to the good karma it would bring sparing a perfectly capable mage’s life, he may earn himself a favor when the Kingdom of Mornistae could use more mages most.
As the ending of the spell seems to be more and more sure, Rikuto begins chanting only in his own mind; Please be Japanese. Please be Japanese. If anyone up there is listening, please send another Japanese person. Please.
The core of the spell starts to waver, and the “rings” orbiting the unevenly wavering amorphous shape that was an orb are also taking seemingly impossible shapes, like an optical illusion given tangible form.
It truly does seem to be transcending reality, which was what Rikuto believed of isekai stories, specifically ‘transported to another world’ instances. They would have to be, fantastical as they are.
At least, that was what he believed of such stories, until he found himself as the protagonist of one.
Now, he is observing the impending crescendo for a magic spell intended to bring forth a deuteragonist to this strange tale. Rikuto doesn’t even realize time is passing before his eyes.
The angelic song has risen to a powerful “aaa” sound, nearly completely drowning out even the most powerful voice of the mages, a large boruan woman with impressive vocal capacity. Even she is red in the face and dripping with sweat, and a couple of the youngest mages begin collapsing, unable to continue. It could be the length and fervor needed to continue intoning the spell, or their mana could be completely spent. Regardless, the spell is at the precipice of either completion or failure.
Before long, the more senior mages begin losing strength and fainting just as their juniors have, threatening to collapse the entire spell. Diamonds all around the ritual circle begin fading, and a few even shatter.
Diamonds.
One of the hardest known substances to the advanced world known as Earth shatters like glass under the power of the Divine.
The number mages still casting dwindles rapidly until a single solitary mage is left standing, the senior mage leading the ritual who spoke to Yaulander a couple of times.
He alone stands before a stupefying amount of god-like power, wavering and pulsing as if to threaten eruption should this final mage falter.
Rikuto feels momentarily helpless; a sense of dread that something is about to go terribly wrong, or that it is already doing so.
Without really thinking things through, he is sparked into action by the last mage wobbling, stumbling his footing to stay standing as he keeps the spell going even with the heavy burden of the spell still drawing on him.
Rikuto dashes forward to the closest mage with a staff and copied spell, kicking it up to his hand with the toe of his boot. He scans quickly for the words he can barely hear, starting from the bottom. He has to try.
And, as fortune would have it, the young otherworlder finds it, hearing the words and able to follow along. He silently prays in the back of his mind that he can pull it off, since he doesn’t know if there are any syllables that are pronounced significantly differently than they appear, as was the case when he had to learn basic English in school. Like many of his classmates, it took time for him to emulate the sounds of the very foreign language, and were it not for the magic of Zenkon, he would still be a very long way off from sounding passable to a native speaker.
Regardless, Rikuto doesn’t have time to worry about it. He listens to the other mage, timing it to join in.
““... ga chi koto wa la mourute! …”” The otherworlder king does his best, shouting the words in tempo with the senior mage while channeling his mana through the staff. He's not sure if it'll make a difference, since nothing happens at first, other than the crystal of the staff beginning to glow. Meanwhile, the popping and banging of diamonds bursting like glass balloons adds to the overall cacophony filling the room.
And suddenly, as Rikuto urgently shouts the unintelligible words he's reading from the page, an intangible weight hits him with the gentleness of a boulder, nearly buckling his knees in an instant.
Though the suddenness is that of a meteor landing on him, it becomes almost indescribable what he's actually feeling. It's almost like he's being crushed and pulled apart at the same time, as if he's a hundred meters beneath the sea and a giant vacuum cleaner is trying to pull him in, unsurprisingly towards the core of the spell. He's not physically being pulled, but it certainly feels like his very soul is being drawn into the dangerously beautiful Divine Spark.
The only other voice fades, and the Japanese undergraduate notices one last body sink to a kneel before toppling virtually lifelessly to the floor. All at once, the imposing simultaneous crushing and decompressing sensation doubles in intensity, and Rikuto nearly faints on the spot. It is physically painful across his whole body, and he feels wholly exhausted in what feels like seconds.
Seconds, minutes, hours; he honestly isn't sure, since his voice feels hoarse, but he can’t account for time at all since the burdensome load of the spell was put on him.
Just as he is about to falter, he strengthens his footing. His legs wobble in protest, and he is forced to a kneel, as if he is Atlas himself.
The otherworlder king keeps calling out the spell as he reads it, nearly missing the continued line. He tries to put all thoughts out of his mind except for finishing the spell. It has to be close. So long has been the incantation, and yet, it must have an end. There! Almost there! thinks Rikuto to himself as he sees the final line appear in his peripheral.
He just has a little longer to go. Just a little longer…
Immediately after the final word is said, all of the magical energy filling the air thumps like a massive heartbeat of the true gods of legend. The star-like core has taken on a beautiful form, filling the room with colorful light as swirling loops of mana flare off like coronas from the sun.
Then, like a charged laser, the energy pulses in a beam towards the ceiling of the room, doing no damage as the core rapidly disappears towards the heavens.
Rikuto collapses to his hands and knees, panting heavily as the full weight of his seemingly-sudden exhaustion hits him in full.
If he understands correctly, the Prayer of Summoning has been sent. It is in the hands of the Divine Realm to answer it now.
There is an eerie quiet that befalls the room, completely silent as the few maids who managed to keep their composure stare in awe at the still glowing magic circle. The room feels dark in comparison to the daylight-like glow of the spell. Even Yaulander is speechless.
Rikuto retches briefly, but thankfully nothing comes up, and he continues huffing to catch his breath. His heart threatens to burst from his chest and explode.
And then it happens.
A beam of light that immediately reminds Rikuto of the glow that appeared on that fateful day appears, spearing into the magic circle.
The answer from the gods has arrived.
***