Orphan At The Edge Of The World - 274 The Magician 32

If the situation wasn’t so dire, he would have laughed at the cleric’s intonation. Sadly, it fit the warp and weft of the current twisted world’s requirements for proper casting. Whatever enjoyment he could derive from the middle school syndrome poetry was surpassed by greater needs.

Unfortunately that wasn’t the only progress bar Orison had to worry about. Wren wasn’t the only one with a big secret. Steel had one of his own as well. Close to an hour before the destination, the armored man’s ‘corruption’ rate had climbed a few percent as well. That meant Steel was already fighting for his life and drawing on a forbidden power to keep going.

Although it would recover with rest and disuse, every quarter mark was a hard line with consequences for passing it. Whatever entity the armored man had made a bargain with, it wasn’t anything good. That was why, when it shot clear past twenty-five and neared thirty before slowing back down, Orison winced and started wondering if he should hope the man would die before reaching fifty.

By the time Wren had reached the freshly dug out entrance to an earthy tunnel, Steel’s corruption rate slipped up one point after it had hit forty. With the necessity of having to slow down or fall prey to traps, Wren’s Find Objective assisted journey saw the points climb another two in steady, five minute intervals. The young mage realized that the man was already dead but that hadn’t stopped the rise of corruption.

“Damn it! I knew it was weird. Well, now I know what happened to the original person before he got sucked into being stuck in the repeating loop of this plane. If Wren doesn’t reach him before the line goes much over fifty, her resurrection technique isn’t going to be worth squat because he’ll be an undead. One of the scary ones, for sure,” Orison mused in wary concern.

His goal was trashed but out of sentimentality, Orison continued to help the cleric reach Steel. Chances were high that the armored man would just tear her apart on sight but it’s what she wanted and Orison felt he owed her that much after everything. He wondered if he’d even be able to accomplish that much because after Steel’s corruption rate passed seventy percent, story synchronization started lowering with it.

Starting to fatigue and running out of reserves, Wren shouted out for Steel in heart wrenching despair. Perhaps it was a combination of a human being more desirable prey to undead and the last vestiges of humanity left in the man but he actually showed up. Ripping and clawing his way to her, their eyes met and the cleric was certain that when he reached her, she was dead. Yet, she wanted nothing more than to be right where she was.

The kobolds, goblins and other less known harassers of humanity scattered like cockroaches when the lights came on. Despite that, few survived Steel’s path of destruction to Wren. When they met, she dodged a jerky swipe only to wrap herself around his armorless and wound riddled chest.

With what must have been the last of revenant Steel’s fading consciousness, he asked, “Wh-why?”

Holding back a pained scream as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder and claw-like fingers into her back, she gritted out, “Because I love you.”

All the failure and regret bottled up inside Steel manifested itself as a bitter howl. It was the last defiant act of a broken man who knew that in the next few seconds, he was going to destroy the only thing that had given color to his dull world since he was a child. Those last few seconds weren’t wasted but Orison knew Wren’s own last act of defiance was doomed to fail.

“Barren Mother, on you I call. I have chosen the one I desire to pull from your peaceful bosom and into the sufferings of life. Release the seal, oh granter of eternal serenity,” the cleric’s agony laced voice implored.

Contrary to the young mage’s assumption, the loss of virtue required to unleash the pent up procreative power was a great deal more metaphorical than literal. The mingling of their blood from his wounds into the ones he had caused and the corruption laced saliva of his bite into her shoulder was more than sufficient. It was quite a pretty light show in spirit sight as well.

As the power of eldritch ritual locked horns with a semi divine patron mark’s ability, both of them received a brief stay of execution. There was even a moment where the tides of corruption started to reverse. Although he didn’t see it accomplishing much, Orison directed all their accumulated grace to bolster the unleashed sigil’s effects.

Seeing no reason not to fight the good fight til the inevitable bitter end, he even lent some power to mending the man’s body like it was a torn shirt. Whatever was in his power to do, he did just to grant them even a fraction of a second longer together. Despite how pointless it seemed, Orison tried to remember the importance of the little things.

It was then that the young mage felt it. Although it was completely unnecessary, the entity behind Steel’s curse was offended by the thwarting of its will and moved to crush the faltering resistance. It was a kind of pettiness Orison was all too familiar with.

There was also something familiar that tickled his mind about the particular feeling of the entity’s essence. With nothing better to do in the last seconds before he’d be sent back to the maze with a torn soul and damaged consciousness, the young mage delved down the line of that dark power for an image of its sender. What he saw left him in horrified awe but also sparked an insane idea.

Through Wren, Orison worked a ritual he’d only used once before. Steel’s dark blood and some small pieces of torn ribbons of flesh rapidly whipped into a magic circle containing the model for healing, mending and a spot for sacrifice. With a monumental and exhausting heave of intent that would bring the world will’s attention swiveling in their direction, he shoved a portion of the entity’s power towards the sacrifice portion.

Lost in trying to capture each visceral moment of their embrace, Wren didn’t even notice her own mouth open to say, “Life to death, death to life.”

The circle flared to life. Latched onto the dark essence and where it came from, Orison used the paltry amount of key power he could filter through to tie them closer, use the entity’s surprised recoil to pull them across to where it was. And although it worked, whether or not it should have been done was another question altogether.

The stygian darkness of their new surroundings didn’t stay that way for long. Heavily curse laden air met circle and the same catalytic reaction that warped the magic circle to ridiculously powerful and warped function once before, occurred again. Circle bursting forth brilliant light, the gigantic creature sharing the deeply buried space with them was revealed in all it’s grotesque glory.

Withered and desiccated, the football stadium sized mummified fetus lay partially suspended in the air. It’s necrotized umbilical cord whipping around it like a writhing and wounded snake. In the next moment, nothing was visible. But considering the most and next to only interesting feature in the cavernous space, no one was that upset about it.

Alternating waves of darkness and light built up speed until the giant undead demigod let out a shriek of pain and rage that went off like a sonic bomb. Not that it mattered to the couple inside the circle. They had been pulled into Orison’s desolate realm. Then next moment, three figures spilled out. Orison had separated from Wren. Hopeful and prepared for such an event, he took advantage of the disorientation to have Wren activate the circle again before the weakened and wounded undead thing could destroy them.

Before his desolate realm dragged them in again, as a mountain of life crystal sprang into being around Wren, Orison reversed the calling that the First Family control device within the maze sent to him. Two more confused people joined the mix. In the next iteration there were five naked people spitting out clay. With the last big activation of the circle left to go, Orison linked his key to it and activated it himself.

What the young mage attempted next was completely beyond his or his key’s ability to fully accomplish. But, he tried up to the very limit of what he was capable. He only hoped it would be enough to achieve his most desired goal. Anything extra outside of that was just bonus.

He reach to connect Osmos Nine with the Maze control system. He reached for connections to all the devil controlled ‘crossroad posts’ that bore a striking resemblance to the ‘demon fingers’ of another place. But most important to him, Orison reached for the connections to several souls caught in a never ending nightmare of grim stories on three different linked planes.

Because of how things turned out, he already forfeited his decade of protected meditation meant to allow him to digest the concepts his tower was holding. Because of his unexpected growth of paternal affection for Wren and Steel, he forfeited the massive amount of grace and quite a large amount of the life crystal to afford them a head start on whatever future path they decided to walk.

The biggest sacrifice had been control, however. In reaching out so far and stretching himself so thin, much was left to chance. In such a situation, there were bound to be unforeseen results and consequences. There were plenty. But under the chaos of the moment, all that could reliably be determined was results when the dice of fate stopped rolling.

All things considered, he hadn’t ‘saved’ very many but millions of soul cores were ripped from the triad of planes’ control to seek reincarnation. The undead kingdom had been a major repository of them. It wasn’t the only method the three planes had used to trap souls but it had been one of the most important and housed nearly all of the key figures Orison cared about. Apparently all but one, because he hadn’t sensed its presence.

As he burned through nearly all of his Osomos Nine retrieval reward to emergency transport the meager handful of surrounding people not already bound to the maze, the young mage lamented bitterly. Out of all that he had managed to accomplish, he felt almost sure that he hadn’t saved Grit. Out of all the hollow soul victims, he mourned the most for the sheer bitterness of the relived fate that particular man had to endure.

***

With very little time to gauge gains and losses, the group of people appeared in the extra dimensional maze. Only the most observant were vaguely aware that a column of black lightning writhing with angry purple streaks was about to land where they were. The sheer force and size of which lent imagination to the idea of utter destruction.

As Orison once again battled to place the fatigued key back into his tower’s door so he wouldn’t be dragged down into a dangerous deep trance, several arguments were breaking out. At one point, the young mage’s concentration was broken to the degree of failing, dooming him to a VERY long and likely fatal nap. Dimitri had assaulted him, almost killed him.

That hadn’t gone over well with the group Orison had brought back with him. Some people had died but someone revived them. Before he had recovered enough to focus on the outside world, a tremor caused by the disturbing violation of safe zone rules, shook the maze. Shortly after, people were being teleported elsewhere.

***

During his deep sleep, the young mage relived his entire life in reverse and then in fast forward. From people to animals, to sentient mineral, to unfathomable entity; all the parts that his soul had retained or regained were aired out and repacked away with the efficiency of a compressed file into a solid state hard drive. Most of the time, he was a passive observer but sometimes it felt far more real. Some dim part of himself realized that the physical form left to the mercies of the outside world was taking advantage and being taken advantage of.

It all took an unknown but long feeling amount of time. That feeling was intensified when he was forced to go through it a second time. One of his pact spirits had reacquired and ‘helpfully’ returned a few more of the mystically resource dense pieces of his ‘old self’. Fortunately, the second time only had to cover the new additions and was mostly free of ‘vivid’ memories that all too often included persons from the real world aiding in the reenacting of.

With glacier slowness, the young mage opened his eyes and moved with the stiffness of a reanimated corpse out of a cushion lined crystal sarcophagus. The first thing he noticed was his ‘knight’ knelt in front of it, facing outwards in what appeared to be some kind of standby mode. After placing the energy starved defender back into the desolate realm, he left the circular, crystalline room he was in.

As if some mechanism inside was waiting for him to stir, the lights of the room powered down and a slit of a opening appeared in a part of the spherical wall. Walking out, he stood in an anti-chamber with only one person in it. The young man was dressed in punk metal accessories and had a single red streak in his black hair.

Orison cleared his throat to get the meditating ‘punk rocker’s attention before cutting him off with, “Got dragged into my desolate realm when you added those artifacts?”

The young man gulped guiltily and slowly nodded. “Well, what’s done is done. Fill me in on what I’ve missed.”

Klein’s addition to the mess came at a much later date but he filled in what he could outside of things Orison specifically asked him not to, such as who did what to him while he was sleeping. Considering the main offenders would have been the ones who stuck around to keep him safe and care for him, it was a miserable trade off that Orison simply chose to focus on the positive of.

It didn’t escape his notice that Klein himself looked a little too relieved to hear that. But whatever guilt the man possessed, it seemed more focused on the delay of Orison’s recovery than whatever small indiscretions the guy had indulged in. When it came to light that Orison would routinely revert to ‘ball of light form’, he guessed the nature of it and wasn’t too bothered by someone playing a little ‘look only’ cosplay with the young mage’s sleeping form to provide some ‘entertainment’.

“So, the lady dragon that was once a lich made that recovery casket for me and placed it in the accelerated room but took all the rest of the equipment and items I threw up? And as for the ‘slow room’ across the hall, the team pooled their earned points to leave a few people behind?” Orison asked.

“Yessir! Oh, wait before you leave. We don’t know what will happen when you step out of here. It’s best that you do what ya gotta do before then,” Klein replied.

While the young mage took care of business in the partitioned restroom, the punk rocker rambled, “Suniir is going to be so happy to see you. I joke. No one knows what that guy is thinking…ever.

“Oh, that’s Pete Senior and Illiyani’s son. He and Little Pete don’t seem to get along at all. I think that’s one of the reasons that good ole Sunshine was chosen to stay.

“If there’s still enough points left to share between the nanny team, Mimi should be here too. She gave me your game console but make sure to get your magic stick back from her. A lot of people wonder how she connived them out of you but I think I know!

“I’m pretty sure she’s the reason that girls even came on your knight’s radar. I don’t really think she meant any harm but I guess it was metal head’s last straw on you being taken advantage of or something… Don’t be too hard on her, okay? She a cute little shorty and she was one of the only people who didn’t know much of anything about who they are or where they came from.”

Orison sighed. “I don’t particularly have any intentions on pursuing anything that happened while I was reliant on everybody to take care of me. Worst case, I’ll write it off as even… How long was I down?”