The New World - Chapter 347

Chapter 347: Set Up

Shalahora spoke quietly yet with great force,

“I only showed him pain.”

I winced, “It looked as though you robbed him of reason. How in the hell could he experience pain like that without any wounds, not even psionic ones?”

Shalahora’s voice grew distant, “It was not his pain.”

My eyes widened as Shalahora seethed,

“It was my own.”

I held myself in place, wanting to step back but choosing not to. In the corner, Malos lost his mind to the anguish Shalahora exposed him to. Curiosity burned in my chest, but I gave myself a moment to consider before I frowned,

“It seems like you wielded it like a weapon. Whose pain it is doesn’t change what was done or how effective the attack was either. It also doesn’t explain what the assault was.”

Shalahora’s words coursed out, “Is it not obvious? I shared my experiences with him, the ones I normally hide but unusually expose.”

I tapped my foot while considering how a psionic attack customarily operated. Torix and I battled it out with our willpowers, and by coordinating our assaults, we sent out slicing cuts at specific weaknesses. Shalahora’s attack mirrored my psionic drowning, but it operated on a far more insidious level. While I sent in random thoughts into a person’s head, Shalahora flooded their mind with a specific experience.

Depending on the person, they might shatter, and Malos’s ego death was an example of that. Shalahora condensed and tilted his head at me, “Listen. I understand you’re curious about the tools I wield. That isn’t a surprise, as curiosity is inevitable in developed species. I am not lying when I say my ‘attack’ was simple. I shared my experiences with him.”

Crossing my arms, my mind raced with possibilities, “Sharing experiences, huh? I guess it’s possible. Still, that doesn’t explain the Old One’s energy when you attacked.” An epiphany sparked in my mind as I widened my eyes, “Unless…Was the Old One the source of your terrible memory?”

Shalahora’s eyes widened, “Do you know of Mesmera as well?”

I winced, “I do know.”

Shalahora stared at the map of Leviathan-7, “It is a presence that lingers and spreads through memories and knowledge, and that Old One is a part of my suffering. It is not the cause, however.”

The idea of an entity existing through knowledge and memories alone reminded me of an autobiography that constantly changed. Wanting nothing to do with Mesmera, I frowned, “You speak in riddles.”

Shalahora cackled before expanding, “Yes, I suppose that’s true. You were curious of my past before, yet you chose the wise way of restraint…You are someone who understands the danger of knowledge and ambition, and that tempers the path you’ve chosen to take.”

Shalahora sifted around, “That’s why you’ve refused to view my memories – you worry that understanding my past will lead you towards madness. Or that perhaps madness has ingrained itself into me. In turn, it may ingrain itself into you.”

Shalahora condensed and raised an arm, “Worry not. The trauma I lived is simple yet profound. The memories bear down like mountains on my mind, but the story itself is no such burden. To Malos, I exposed the fullness of those experiences, and they ruptured his weak psyche. He is a cup overly full, one left shattered by what it tried to contain.”

I gazed down at Malos, “No, that’s not right. His mind didn’t drown. He simply couldn’t handle it.”

Shalahora spoke with a cynical edge, “He will return to himself, though changed in persona. I doubt it will be for the better. In that regard, it’s incredible how effective a tool one’s experiences may be at times, whether directly or indirectly.”

His tone turned hopeful, “And there exists no deeper directness than turning one’s pain into their sword and one’s grit into their shield.”

My mind raced as Shalahora spoke. In particular, a new Old One set me on edge. Eonoth melted my body the last time we spoke, and Etorhma pitted me against Yawm. In general, those esoteric, godlike creatures interacted with this universe without any care of how they affected people, ideas, or anything really.

And the torments the Old Ones wrought dwarfed my ability to comprehend them.

Despite all of that, knowing Shalahora’s history was necessary since it let me trust him moving forward. Otherwise, I’d carry so many doubts that a long-term relationship wouldn’t be feasible. I winced while biting my tongue,

“Hm…Alright. I can listen to the story but don’t share the memories. Also, if you can, don’t tell me about the Old One either.”

Shalahora’s sky blue eyes widened, “You know of it now, so it is too late to undo what has been done. It was only a matter of time before it found you, however. It finds all that it wishes to see.”

As I remembered the name Mesmera, strange energy rippled out from around me. It touched on this dimension, so I condensed my own wake around me. The power bounced off my denser, dimensional space, and a slight laugh echoed into my ears. I closed my eyes, “Well…Dammit.”

Shalahora tilted his head, “You believe that ignorance of them will mitigate their impact on you? Are you truly that naive?”

While I understood his viewpoint, I disagreed. I shook my head,

“I don’t believe that. I know it’s true. The Old Ones are heavily limited in our universe for some reason. Why, exactly? I have no clue, but I know talking to them won’t help me find out. They only talk about what they can directly offer, and it’s always tempting.”

Shalahora peered away, “That…That is true.”

I raised a hand, “But I’ve seen what happens to anyone or anything that engages with those monstrosities. Those that listen are turned inside out, but even worse, they are never allowed to die from it. They have shamble on, half alive and half dead. They turn immortality into a curse, and I’m not buying into their lies.”

As I spoke, memories of Yawm and how he was twisted into an abomination flashed before my mind. Even more musings about Lehesion and his toxic codependence on Elysium sprung up in my head too. Even Eonoth’s roaring and my melting body snapped into my head, and I recalled Etorhma shoving knowledge of the cipher into my psyche. A cold shiver raced up my spine, and I spit,

“Anything they touch turns into shambling monstrosities.”

Shalahora’s eyes slanted, “Ah…You must think this of me as well.”

I clasped my hand into a fist but said nothing. Shalahora nodded,

“You would be right on all accounts…And though I lived for centuries, my time with Mesmera is what’s defined me the most. It was a crossroad where I chose one path in place of another. I still don’t know if my choice was correct, but it was made. Now I walk that path.”

“And the trauma?”

Shalahora’s voice stuttered, “I…I watched my entire species die before I made my choice. It was no peaceful walk into the night. It was a slow, lonely march.”

I narrowed my eyes, “But you mentioned there being more of you? How can that be if everyone died?”

Shalahora scoffed, “There are more, and yet, there are not. To that question, there exists no simple answer, I’m afraid, and I will betray your requests if I answer your questions.”

I raised my palms, “You know what, I’m good then. I get it. Watching your race die is pretty horrific anyway, regardless of how it happens. I’m guessing if an Old One was involved, it was a particularly creative and horrific demise, so you have my sympathy. Well, what little I can give.”

Shalahora shook his head, “The fall of my kind was an inevitable and natural demise, but that made it no less haunting. You see, nature, like the Old Ones, is oftentimes cruel and unyielding. I’ve faced both their wraths first hand, and they have brought me to my knees…Now that cycle may have continued once more but to these rulers.”

I peered back around, Obolis explaining my cipher’s contract to the other rulers in excruciating detail. The faction supporting Malos died down their protests but not because they agreed with me. They refused to speak out of fear, and that wasn’t what I wanted. I lifted a hand to Shalahora,

“I’m still a little confused, but that’s enough. I also don’t want to pry. If I got this right, your race died before you made a choice with an Old One. You shared that experience with Malos, and he was too weak to handle it. Do I have it right?”

Shalahora gazed at the frog rulers whose mind was left shattered,

“To share is to give away a portion of. I have given nothing, only allowed him to scan over what I’ve faced. It was a common tactic of my species. Many would head into arduous situations to use the memories as weapons in their arsenals. I stand at the peak of that methodology. Though in my case, it was not by choice.”

I peered off, wondering how that might work with my own mind magic. The worst of my experiences culminated with the psionic deaths my time magic demanded. Having someone else experience those sensations could crush them, but I had no idea how to share memories. If I did, it didn’t have the same sting as the actual event, while Shalahora’s did.

Either way, Obolis stepped up after speaking with the other rulers. Carrying the tablet I gave him, The Emperor had already signed the document, as had most of the other rulers. Obolis lifted the tablet up, “These are those that I could convince, though many chose not to sign the document.”

I frowned, “Was it a majority?”

Obolis tilted his head to the other diplomats, “Somewhat, though most of the rulers lay below. If you show them anything well made, the remaining ruler’s defiance shall cave.”

I rolled my shoulders, “Then I’ll build this place up while having people sign below.”

The cipheric runes over my skin shimmered with glowing mana streams, the energy radiating out with quintessence. I paced up to a portion of the room between two other areas. I shooed everyone away,

“Stand back, everybody.”

The rulers looked at me before stepping back. I took nearby chairs and tables, floating them away. After a few seconds, my body stood still. Obolis’s eyes widened before he gasped, “Daniel…Are you dead?”

A new body regenerated outside of my dead one, metal and shining blood pouring from nothing. I scoffed, “What did you say? I can’t hear anything when I’m out of myself like that.”

Obolis murmured, “Did you just die?“

I waved my hands, “Of course not. My body did.”

Even with his experience with me, Obolis peered off at that one. He blinked a few times before shaking his head, “I…Well…If you’re healthy then, it’s fine.”

I gave him a thumbs-up before my next body died. A dozen Daniel statues littered the room before I pulled them along with gravity wells. I dragged a large pile of my corpses where I intended on working, and I stood on them. Thermal energy coursed through my palms, breaking the stack of me into a thick, molten metal.

Collecting into a large pool of sheening liquid, I coursed it towards an emptied portion of the room. The other rulers backed further away as I funneled the liquid dimensional fabric into a giant, hollowed block. From my dimensional storage, I pulled out a hundred blue cores. The flowing cerulean mass coursed into slots of my giant metal cube.

Simultaneously, I charged telepathic runes by standing in place and funneling mana into my grimoire. My surroundings melted even while I contained the energies. I gave myself a chastising thump on my forehead before sighing. I got used to my surroundings being tough, and that was a bad habit to get into.

Not wanting to destroy the entire base, I put my grimoire into my pocket dimension. Beside me, the cube of fabric and cores amassed a behemothic reserve of energy, turning the metal into a colossal, psionic battery. Testing a new theory, I applied time magic into my pocket dimension’s space.

In a small patch within, a temporal flow started, and it was enough to fill in the grimoire’s energy needs. Having contained the devastation of my charging, I remained motionless for an hour. The rulers lost interest after a few minutes, many wondering what I needed but leaving me to my devices. A few studied the giant power cell I crafted while others developed their own ideas. Once charged, the eye slit of my helmet snapped open.

I pulled my grimoire from my dimensional space and slotted the glowing sigils onto the power battery. Coated in the markings, the giant cube enlivened, energy radiating out from the hundred blue cores. They rippled into the cipheric markings on the matrix of metal. Drelex walked up to me, and the giant catfish gestured to the metal hunk,

“Impressive. If you’d like, we can contact Entilla for his wiring expertise. He should be able to help you connect that power source to this building’s infrastructure.”

I shook my head, “We can’t. There’s too much energy.”

Drelex waved his hands, “You misunderstand our wiring infrastructure. Graphene is an incredible conductor, and it can transfer a near limitless amount of energy.”

I frowned, “I’m no professional, but I think it’s different with mana. No matter the process you take, mana is will and intelligence converted into physical energy. The fact of the matter is, this energy is alive, and we need something alive to tame it.”

I shrugged, “Otherwise, this will be utterly unusable outside of anyone with a solid psionic ability. And speaking of which, I’ll need to prevent anyone from manipulating this energy source for their own gain, too.”

The catfish’s whiskers writhed, “Interestingly enough, I may be able to help with embedding a language cipher to help with communication efforts between this, erm, psionic entity you’re creating. If you’d like, that is.”

My eyes widened, “That would be great, actually.”

Drelex waved a hand, “And just as well, I do think Entilla may help restructure the wiring to suit this, ahem, machine’s needs.”

I tapped my side, “Hm, the last thing I want to do is all that detailed work. I definitely want his help then.”

Drelex raised a webbed hand, “Ah yes, may I use your grimoire? It shall help with creating my own schema-based runes and for showing Entilla.”

I floated the book over to him, and he perused some of my runic works. A wry smile came over Drelex’s face,

“There’s no wonder you let me see this. Without your specific abilities, no one can even use these incantations.”

I shrugged, “They’re a big part of how I made it this far. Oh yeah, can you actually use the pages? I’ve always wondered if anyone else could besides me.”

Drelex raised a finger, “I definitely can, and thank you. It’s been difficult to develop my own grimoire given the mana constraints here.”

I leaned back, “You don’t have a grimoire? How in the hell do you work with runes?”

Drelex gazed at me in confusion before he tapped his forehead, “What are you even…Oh. I understand. I do own a grimoire, but it’s not here on Leviathan-7. Schema stripped us of what we held in our dimensional storages, and he gave us little time to prepare for this journey. In fact, few own a grimoire except for you.”

He pointed at me, “While you may think I’m odd, I’m actually the norm, and you’re the exception. In this instance, at least.”

I eyed my grimoire, “Ah, then you’d better bring that back.”

Drelex bowed, “I most certainly shall.”

I turned back to my work, planting lines of runes onto the power battery. Drelex paced off, giving me some time to handle most of the work involved. By the time he returned with the blue lizard ruler, I had finalized a terminal for the psionic battery. It would be the place for Drelex’s language cipher and Entilla’s wiring adjustments.

Entilla cheered up, the blue lizard standing taller and with a brighter look on his face. He inspected my workflow before nodding, “You weren’t lying, Drelex…He has gotten his feet wet with this kind of endeavor before. Color me surprised.”

Though still sarcastic, Entilla’s lightened tone gave him an affable air rather than his scornful banter. a Drelex swung a webbed hand, “Can you handle the installation of the wires here?”

Entilla sighed, “I…I suppose, but it looks like the energy within would blow the fuses and burn out every device here. We need many transfusers in place.”

I turned and raised a brow, “Transfusers?”

Entilla waved a hand, “They control the flow of power so that no machine ends up with more power than it needs. It prevents short-circuiting.”

I frowned, “You just call for however much energy you need at once.”

Entilla spread his arms, “What about machines that need power all the time? Do you need a worker for them to monitor energy intake? We don’t have a labor force of that size here.”

I stood and put my hands on my hips, “Well, usually I just use golem cores for that.”

Entilla rubbed his temples, his broad skull giving space for his long jaw, “How exactly does a golem core handle energy transfusion? Aren’t they simple war machines?”

Drelex waved his hands, “This is obviously an issue with communication and terms. Daniel’s likely referring to AI automation.”

Entilla nodded, “Ah, that makes perfect sense then. He should just say so.”

I spread my hands, “But it’s not artificial intelligence. It’s perfectly natural.”

The two rulers stared at me before Shalahora murmured, “Are you certain of that?”

I shook my head, “At this point, no. Anyways, I can handle the energy, er, transfusion on my own. Besides that, you guys are making this way more complicated than it has to be.”

Entilla raised a palm, “Excuse me, I was just curious how you managed the problems. This, hm, system you’ve devised is unlike anything I’ve ever used before. It’s very…Raw.”

I tapped my side, “I think it’s that I don’t have as many problems to manage as you guys do.”

Entilla raised a scaled brow, “We’ll see.”

At this point, I was done having to justify myself every two seconds to every ruler here. While frustrating, I kept myself calm while continuing the job. Shifting the conversation, Drelex used quintessent mana to carve into the metal sheets of my grimoire as he said,

“Well, does anyone have thoughts about Schema’s purpose here?”

Entilla shrugged, “Personally, I think Schema intended on making a statement to the universe here: fight with me or die alone. I heard it loud and clear, and I intend to support him after this is over.”

Drelex’s whiskers pulled down, “I shall be doing the same if only to reduce the chance of these kinds of tragedies occurring once more.”

I shook my head, “I wouldn’t if I were you guys.”

Drelex’s eyes narrowed, “Wait a moment, you’re the one that was pulled into the initial stages of the war with Elysium, aren’t you?”

I sighed, “Yeah…It wasn’t easy to get out.”

Entilla scoffed, “Schema does have a way of wringing out his sentients, doesn’t he?”

Drelex’s eyes went distant, “First, he wrings until sweat pours. Then he keeps squeezing until oil oozes from his victim’s pores. Then the hair is ripped out. Skin tears. Blood pours. And lastly, the bones break.”

Entilla leaned back from Drelex, “Yeesh, it looks like I’m not the only one needing a sunbath.”

Drelex gave a hollow smile, the bones on the edges of his mouth made for it, “Perhaps some time in a pool would help me. I know Schema is no kind master, but he does face an unyielding enemy. Just as well, the eldritch aren’t the only beasts he’s gone against.”

I shook my head, “Poor excuses. Most of what we’re talking about doesn’t even require killing us. Schema’s working around limited parameters, and that’s why he pulls stunts like this. Our deaths are the result of his inability to change, and worse still, these are only the sacrifices we know about.”

Remembering Hod’s people being eldritchified, I contemned, “Schema isn’t testing anyone here. He’s killing as many as he can, and unfortunately, he’s been more than just successful.”

Iona stepped up to us, and she crossed her arms, “I wouldn’t go that far. Valgus had a massive part in this, and he’s the reason we’re so inept overall.”

I connected blue cores to the mass of fabric while I mused, “Really now? Does anyone have any idea why Valgus is so hellbent on killing every survivor he meets?”

Drelex’s eyes widened as he etched into a blank page, “That’s one of the largest mysteries present. He’s been targeting the Schema-led faction almost exclusively, and he’s picked off the survivor’s scouts one by one when they left this place.”

I pulled my hair back in my helmet using a strand of armor, “Huh…He’s on a mission. Knowing who he follows, it’s Baldowah.”

Iona raised her brow, “But Baldowah works with Schema. That doesn’t make sense.”

I deadpanned, “It makes perfect sense. I just told you the answer: Schema wants everyone dead. Assuming that, everything fits in place quite well, I think.”

The rulers in watching our conversation blinked a few times, a sort of realization clicking on in their minds. Drelex closed his eyes while shutting my grimoire. He handed it over while murmuring, “It’s finished. I’m going to the terrarium. I need to spend some time in the algae pits.”

Entilla’s wry sarcasm fizzled, “Yeah. You should do that.”

An awkward silence passed over us before Iona reached out a hand to testify in Schema’s defense. No words left her lips at first. Lowering her arm, she stammered,

“No one’s fought for Schema’s defense against Elysium. Even 1% of Schema-owned space could easily destroy Elysium if they united against them. But no one did, and it’s forced drastic measures.”

I sighed, “I was the prime example of why you shouldn’t follow Schema. He took advantage of me, which put my home planet in an awful situation. We’re still dealing with the culling, and after having faced Yawm, I had to get rid of our unknown statuses on Giess.” I spread my arms, “And wouldn’t you know it, I ended up wrapped up in a galactic rebellion right after. Now I’m trapped here in a death game all before I can establish rule over my homeworld.”

Obolis stepped up, interested in the conversation, “Ah, would any of you mind me joining in this conversation?”

I raised my brow, “That depends on your goals.”

Obolis smiled at me, “Then I’ll keep my conversation contained. I’ll merely listen.”

Entilla flashed his sharp teeth as he spoke, “Culling? You’re struggling with that stage of development still? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Obolis leaned over, “It’s true. His planet has yet to finish its culling.”

Entilla blinked over a transparent covering on his eyes, “Well, you never mentioned just how young you really were. I thought Schema mentioned something twenty-five years in the system. The culling doesn’t even last a decade.”

Obolis smiled, and I glared at him. The Emperor leaned over to Entilla, “That is his actual age, not his time in the system.”

Entilla tapped his side, “Ah…You’re an avatar for an Old One, then. A freak.”

I raised my brow, and Entilla raised his hands, “I mean it in a good way.”

Finishing my work, I deadpanned, “Good to know.”

Obolis stared at his claws, sliding into the conversation, “You must understand his perspective, Daniel. This stems from a difference in expectations. Most rulers assume your age is a number since birth, but they also assume it isn’t your true age. Your circumstances mirror the byproduct of reincarnation, rebirth, etc. You simply exceed conventional scaling patterns.”

I blinked, “Reincarnation? Rebirth? Does it happen often or something?”

Obolis kept looking at his hands, “Certainly not, but it’s more common than your current predicament. You also mentioned facing many hardships brought on by Schema’s quests. That, too, is unusual. I existed at the beginning of the albony’s Schemafication. That took place centuries ago. In those times, many bonuses helped propel us to prominence…Along with a healthy and due amount of force, of course.”

Obolis lowered his hands, “We were never confronted with an enemy of Yawm’s caliber, and neither were we expected to visit other planets before establishing our own.”

I moved my hands back and forth, “It’s not that simple. I didn’t have to, per se. Well, I definitely had to versus Yawm, but that was because of a quarantine. And then going to Giess was to get rid of me and my friends’ unknown statuses.”

Entilla clicked his tongue, “Oof, Schema still hadn’t rid you of your Unknown status after finishing an S- tier bounty? Wow. Your life sucks.”

I sneered, “Do we have to keep talking about this?”

Obolis spread his hands, “Absolutely not-“

Iona interjected, “I’d like to know. It sounds like you’ve been put in a poor position by Schema. Did you ever think of why Schema would do that?”

Peeved by the constant interruptions, I dropped my work, gawking at her in disgust,

“No. I didn’t.”

She shrugged, “I think that’s the issue. He put you in poor positions because he believed in your ability to get out of them. He saw potential in you, and obviously, he’s awarded you in equal measure.”

Almost forgotten from his silence, the gray insect ruler stepped up. Its head writhed as it hissed, “Schema saw potential in me. My life far worse now. I listen to metal man’s words. His life made hard from Schema as well. Even I understand, and I am not smart…Iona…Are you stupid?”

I bust out laughing before I put a hand over the gray insect’s shoulders, “What’s your name?”

“Jaieex.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, “You’re cool, Jaieex. You’re welcome to come by my place if you get tired of being here.”

He spread his wings, “Why not?”

Iona narrowed her eyes, “Jaieex, huh? I’ll make sure to remember you the next time I talk to Schema.”

I tilted my head at the matrix of fabric, “You bring petty to a whole other level. It’s impressive how small you can be.”

I snapped my fingers, a bolt of mana surging through the power battery. As it came to life, I zipped wires of my fabric out, collecting and placing them into bundled coils. After setting several bundles down, I pointed at Entilla,

“You mentioned wiring expertise. Will these supplies work?”

Glad to change the conversation, Entilla shook his head, “I’ll need insulation for the wires, the AI automation systems you mentioned, and interfaces for all of the places you’ll need.”

I shrugged, “You won’t need insulation. This amount of power won’t leech out of the wires. I’ll be putting someone over this device and managing the power here, and they’ll be handling any interface needs psionically.”

A few rulers heard that, and they stepped up. A different fire imp stepped up, his glowing cinders for hair releasing sparks as he spoke,

“If you need someone to manage it, I can?”

Entilla frowned, “I can as well. I promise to be impartial.”

Iona raised her hands, “I know we aren’t on the best of terms, but-“

I shouted over them, “Shush.” I grimaced, “You think this will be handled by someone I don’t know? What do you take me for? An idiot?”

Jaieex raised one of his insect arms, “I don’t.”

I smiled at him, “I know.”

Iona sneered, “You don’t even know anyone else. How are you going to assign someone else to this?”

Shalahora whispered, “I wish to not manage this power system. To do so would bore me to death.”

I put my extra-dimensional fabric into my dimensional storage, “Don’t worry. I have someone else in mind.”

I molded myself into a director golem’s shape and pulled my mind out of my body. Reconstructing from the ether, I hovered over the body, and I inspected it. Finding no flaws, I landed on the floor before channeling mana into my grimoire. Using my pocket dimension to contain the energies involved, I created the primordial golem core for this golem body.

The sizzling core leaked out of my starry shield, and I slotted it into the golem’s body. The director came online, everything connecting in a violent snap. The primordial golem popped a fist against his chest plate, standing tall and upright. He telepathically synced and announced,

“It is so good to see you, creator. This whole ‘coming into being’ thing is rather pleasant, actually. From the void and into the veritable, as they say.”

I pointed at everything, “Who’s they? Anyways, your job is to manage this place for these individuals. If they don’t go against me or my allies, then do everything in your power to achieve their goals. I included those in the cipher documents. Is that understood?”

The director’s navy blue eyes dolloped primordial mana as the golem clapped his hands together, “In all ways, creator. In all ways.”

The rulers ogled at the process, and I smiled at them,

“He’s the manager, and good luck replicating that engineering process. It’s one of a kind.”

A few rulers laughed at that, which was surprising since I didn’t really think that was funny. One thing I appreciated was how everyone stopped gawking in amazement. Most of these people accustomed themselves to the unusual because of their station. It made me stand out less compared to home. Either way, I cracked my knuckles and got to making guardsmen golems next.

It was time to turn this place around.