The Newt and Demon - Chapter 4.52 - Ward Upgrades

The concept of time was difficult to grasp within the heavenly realms. There were no guarantees on the progression of sections to minutes, then minutes to hours, within Tero’gal. Only a person’s willpower allowed them to see that passage clearly. But there was a distinct advantage to resting within the realm. Any effects brought by a bond with a god, increased attributes, or other system-generated mind-altering states of being were rendered inert. The entire thing seemed design to remove the horrid condition a person would find themselves at above Level 100.

Tresk had an unnaturally strong willpower. She counted the seconds and minutes as though they were on the mortal plane, scoffing when Theo asked how many hours had passed.

“Five minutes since you last asked me!” she shouted.

Even Benton had things to attend to in his own realm, having departed several hours ago. Theo, Tresk, and Alex stood in an open field, watching as a gentle wind blew the surrounding grasses. Things like eddies formed atop that tall grass, dancing like water sprites in the fields. They watched Belgar and the ill-formed spirits, working to fell trees from the vast forest. He had a plan to create a small town by hand. Something that seemed absurd at first, until the alchemist considered the lone topic on his mind. The passage of time within the realm.

They could visit for twelve hours a day before upgrades. Tresk predicted that time would at least double. Five minutes would pass in the real world, and twenty-four hours would pass there in Tero’gal. While it was a chance to grind experience, the alchemist saw it as a chance to rest. Unburdened by the needs of the real world, he could appreciate the little things. Like scones and tea.

The small stream, fed by cool waters from a bubbling stream, had expanded. It snaked its way over the terrain, curving until it ran through the forests. Theo plunged into those depths, taking notes on the Earth-like trees around him. They were mostly pines, rising to the sky with sparse branches near the base and bushy little things near the top. Some old live oaks dotted the area, creating clearings with their greedy boughs. The group relaxed under one such tree, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“This is nice,” Tresk said, shredding fallen leaves as she relaxed. The Marshling could not sit still under any circumstances.

Very relaxing. Alex preened her feathers.

Theo put off his need to talk about business. His mind had a tendency to wander, even here in Tero’gal. He kept his mouth shut, enjoying the endless roll of hours that flowed by like water from the stream. It bubbled somewhere nearby. Somewhere under the branches of Earth trees. What a strange thought to consider.

Tresk announced that the skill would end soon. They’d be sent tumbling back to the mortal plane. Theo imagined Fenian tapping his foot, waiting for them to return at any moment. Five minutes in the real world to twenty-four hours in Tero’gal.

“What a charmed life we live,” Theo said with a chuckle. He laughed even as an unseen force pulled him by the navel, sending them all falling through reality.

Fenian’s room came into focus moments later. The Elf was still in his wheelchair, tapping his fingers impatiently on the armrest. “A neat trick that most would kill to get.”

“Yeah, I understand your plan,” Theo said, nodding at the Elf. “But I have a question of far more importance.”

“And what might that be?” Fenian asked.

“What’s for dinner?” Tresk asked, finishing Theo’s thought.

In the short time they were gone, Salire had stirred from her slumber. When Theo went to check on her, she was trying to fight her way past Rowan. Only when the alchemist ordered her to rest until at least tomorrow did she calm down. The Half-Ogre assistant seemed frazzled by the newly minted alchemist’s eagerness.

“She’s stronger than she looks, Theo,” Rowan growled.

Theo didn’t care to remember when it had become a tradition to have dinner in his manor. But the table was long, and Sarisa always bought too much food from Xam. Perhaps it was the [Endless Comfort] upgrade that made even the roughest chair feel like a pillow of clouds. Whatever the case was, the dining room was packed with people tonight. Enough folks to fill every seat around the table, then another spot for Fenian to pull his chair up to.

Dinner was predictably delicious. The conversation swayed here and there, but Theo’s eyes were locked on Fenian. The conversations on the Bridge of Shadows and in Tero’gal got the alchemist thinking more about his motives. After the plates were cleared away, the alchemist invited him for a chat in the garden.

“Oh, trying to get me alone?” Fenian asked. “You’ll have to do more than wine and dine me, my dear alchemist. I’m hard to catch.”

Theo groaned, walking out into the expansive garden. Fenian followed closely behind, guiding his artifice wheelchair over the ledge, and out into the damp grass. It was still as hot as ever in the Season of Fire with no signs of letting up. But the thing lingering on the alchemist’s mind had nothing to do with the weather.

“I’m no stranger to your ideals, Fenian.” Theo busied himself with weeding the garden, plucking stray sprouts of green from the manicured area. “How many innocent lives are you willing to let fall for your plans?”

“We’re direct tonight, aren’t we? Someone must have ruffled your feathers in the other realms.”

Theo was familiar with similar doctrines. Not Fenian’s deflection, but his attitude toward casualties of war. That idea had seen most of Earth’s population annihilated. Left with what? A few domed cities clinging to survival. Outlying areas so irradiated they would never recover. Wisdom of the Soul didn’t need to tell him who had made the undead problem worse.

“I can’t help but think about all the people that died. Because of what you did.”

Fenian steered his wheelchair over a hump in the earth, edging toward a thorny bush. “Do you know the problem with an outside view?”

“What’s that?”

Fenian reached his good hand into the bush, pushing past the leafy exterior and into the tangle of brambles within. He withdrew his hand, holding it up to reveal a trickle of blood tracing its way down his forearm. “Everything gets messy on the inside.”

“But is Karasan that bad?”

“How can I put your mind at ease?” Fenian asked. He stroked his chin, lost in thought. “The undead were already moving, heading for the weakest settlements. The king’s plan was always the same. To hide away and leave them to die. This put his plans to hide the Throne of the Herald back a few steps, but not enough to stop him. He’d just wait. What I did was mercy.”

“How the hell is that a mercy?”

“Well, it was very tricky. When a person dies, they normally get cast into the void. They go through trials until they find their way to their patron. If they don’t find a realm to call home, they’ll likely die. Then they’re off to the hells. Torture for eternity and all that nonsense. What I did—rather genius, really—was to make sure they found a home.”

“Where did you send them? And how?”

“Balkor’s old domain. Rotting. Fading. But still there. Somewhere in the void. So, you’re left with a question. Aren’t you? Is Fenian evil because he brought the undead down swifter, or is he a saint because he guaranteed everyone involved an afterlife?”

Theo would have called him evil. Back before he gained his own realm, filled with dead people that seemed happy enough. Belgar was the best example for that. He was now living a life free of his mortal bonds, allowing him to enjoy himself. The alchemist saw the pieces that Fenian was laying down, and he didn’t know if he liked the conclusion. Some spirits that had died to the undead came to Tero’gal on their own.

“You want me to go get them, don’t you?” Theo asked, laughing. “You want them to live in Tero’gal.”

“Maybe,” Fenian shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll just say this. Karsan set his kingdom up to be destroyed by Balkor’s remnants. He built Qavell to harvest power from the towns he neglected. For the singular purpose of suppressing the throne. So I couldn’t reach it. So that he could lord over his little kingdom, reaping the rewards of an imperfect system. One designed to go through cycles of destruction and suffering.”

Theo tapped his foot on the wet grass. “What does the throne do?”

“It is one of several. One in the high heavens, one on the mortal plane, and a few in the void. The Throne of the Herald gives the occupant domain over the mortal plane. It would give me the ability to change things here, Theo. That comes with time, of course. I must occupy the throne for a long time. Undisturbed.”

Theo groaned, then shook his head. He took a steadying breath, tapping his foot faster. Fenian had already told him enough to put his mind at ease, but this new thing? Although he said nothing about it, the Elf wanted the throne in Broken Tusk. A curtain of undeath to the north to defend it. But in those moments of contemplation, the alchemist saw the silver lining. People had told him that this world was built on development, then destruction. An endless cycle that no one could break.

“So, you’re the guy?” Theo asked. “The one that’s going to make the entire world better?”

“Despite the blood on my hands, that was always our intention. I assume you’re sympathetic to my cause.”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

Theo needed a distraction to process the information Fenian gave him. A pleasant rest in the Dreamwalk would do him wonders. He had things he wanted to work on. New spells to cast for his mage core. Not some grand design wrought by Fenian and Khahar. And god knows who else. There were several thrones. Meaning more conspirators. But remaking the world to be better was a noble cause. Things weren’t the way they were meant to be, and there were powers stopping that change from happening.

“Alright. I’m going to bed.”

“Theo,” Fenian said, rolling after the alchemist as he walked away. “You’re still with me, aren’t you?”

“I’m with you to the end, Fenian,” Theo said, smiling. “Until we’re both dead from your over-reaching need to assume this throne. Until the world sees us as the villains because your convoluted plan involves killing a continent of people.”

“Yes. That’s all very good. But what rises from the ashes will dwarf anything that came before. Peace, my friend. Peace at last!”

Theo walked away before Fenian could draw him in anymore. That man could stab him in the belly and make him feel guilty for getting the knife dirty. Tresk was waiting with Alex in their bedroom. There were a few reports available in the administration screen, but the alchemist ignored them for now. Instead, he fell into bed and off to the Dreamwalk.

“Oh, you’re feeling spicy tonight!” Tresk shouted the moment their feet landed on soft ground. She had directed them to a dream version of Tero’gal.

“Is this ironic?” Theo asked. “A dream version of a heavenly realm?”

No, just weird.

Theo explained everything that had happened with Fenian. Tresk was sympathetic toward the Elf’s ideals, pushing the alchemist over the edge. If she agreed with his methods, then he was onboard. They were already too deep and there seemed no sense in stopping now. It would either pan out, or they’d all be dead.

Tresk tricked Theo into practicing his throwing knives for a while. He only took part in the training for a few hours before his mind wandered, breaking his concentration. He excused himself, wiping goblin guys from his clothes and moving to a small section of forest to practice his magic. While he had already figured out a way to craft second tier wards, he hadn’t put those concepts into practice. Drogramath’s crude limerick would have given enough of a hint.

The Drogramathi tongue was poetic. One thing Theo hoped to accomplish by putting his own thoughts down in a book was to dispel the mystery of the language. His copy of Basic Drogramath Alchemy was ‌useless by now. He paused for a moment.

“What do you call Toru’aun’s language? Toru’auni? Toru’aunese?” Toruish?”

Theo shook away the question, moving on to his work for the day. He imagined parchment and a pen, then wrote several spells out in their circular form. This was an introspective task, making the peaceful forest the perfect place. Even the battle in the distance wasn’t enough to draw him away from the work. After several hours of messing around with reinforcement rings of poetry, he found a rather simple solution.

A spell forged with the Queen of Mystery, Toru’aun, should be equally mysterious. The reading order was often nonsense, going from one part of the ring to another without reason. So why not continue the story on the outside of the ring? Theo expanded one of his simple spells, [Lesser Reveal], writing more of the hidden Dronons’ tale on the outside of the ring. He borrowed some willpower from Tresk, convincing the Dreamwalk’s system to allow him to discover something new.

It came together in a flash. The mana requirement to cast the second tier spells was far greater than the first tier. Theo focused on infusing a rock with the new spell, only to find himself drained by the end of it. He imagined more mana, then pushed on until the ward was complete. A plain gray rock pulsed with power for a moment, the shifting words of Toru’aun emblazoned on the surface. He inspected the ward, satisfied with his newest accomplishment.

[Reveal]

[Advanced Ward]

Creates a reactive field of [Reveal]. Field only activates when enemies are detected in range.

Trigger:

Detect Enemy

Duration:

5 days.

Sometimes the system was stingy with information. The second tier ward had a significantly longer duration, and the power from within was greater. Theo imagined a goblin nearby, close enough to activate the ward. The dome that sprung up was massive, easily twice the size of the old one. He spent more of his time in the Dreamwalk working on his other wards, memorizing those patterns so he could use them on the fly.

Theo could cast his wards without applying them to an object. But that method always seemed to fall flat for him. Almost as though Toru’aun herself designed his core for a specific purpose. To apply wards to objects, rather than channeling them as a spell.

The temptation to create a ward out of the powerful properties produced by the [Dragon Apple] was overwhelming. The system allowed him to absorb the property by imagining some [Refined Dragon’s Fire Essence], but the story didn’t come easy. He gave up when it had become twice as large as his normal wards, revealing the complexity of understanding such an intricate property.

Fortunately, the [Dragon’s Dance] property gave up its secrets easily. That wasn’t a surprise. The rarity on the [Dragon Apple Petals] was only epic, not mythic like the fruit itself. Theo wrote a story about Dronon performing a dance of death, defeating their enemies by crushing them underfoot. When he applied the ward to a stone, it shattered. Instead, he imagined a length of carved bone. That took the spell easily, revealing interlacing lines of text on the surface that glowed with colors shifting between red and black. The alchemist inspected his new ward, unsurprised by the description.

[Dragon’s Dance]

[Advance Ward]

Creates a reactive field of [Dragon’s Dance]. Field only activates when enemies are detected in range.

Trigger:

Detect Enemy

Duration:

5 days.

This was an interesting way to approach alchemy, Theo realized as he held the bone. They hadn’t brewed the potion-version of this property, yet. He set it down, got to a healthy distance, then summoned a goblin near the ward.

Theo flinched back as the goblin appeared. The reactive bubble surrounding the bone turned a fiery red. Streams of silver swirled through the sphere, lashing out at everything with impunity. Magical blades wove a dance of death, felling trees and vegetation as readily as the goblin itself. When the spell expired, the creature was nothing more than a stain of red on the ground and a lingering mist in the air.

“Chalk that up to ‘dangerous crap’,” Theo said, nodding to himself. He then applied the ward to a few bone daggers and ran off to find Tresk and Alex.

Tresk was running the goose through some drills. A small army of Trolls waited for the signal to attack while the Marshling rattled off combat tactics. Theo watched for some time, noting how Alex’s control of her nature aspect had developed. She was a true Broken Tusker already, facing a problem with nothing but force of will and determination. Great vines sprung from the ground near the feet of the Trolls, wrapping around the ankles with deadly thorns. Once she had constricted a group of the monsters, she opened her bill and issued forth a massive fireball.

Trolls writhed against the burning vines, their flesh covered completely in something like burning pitch. Theo watched with pride as his growing goose took out a fair number of the Trolls.

“She’s getting better,” Theo said, nodding with approval.

“Yeah, why do I have the feeling you’re gonna show us something cool?” Tresk asked, jumping up and down with excitement. “Just throw the dagger already!”

Theo laughed, withdrawing a warded bone dagger from nowhere. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sailing at the burning Trolls. Pieces of the imagined creatures sailed from within the resulting sphere. It churned them into red paste, killing the weakened monsters with relative ease.

“Cool. Just gonna show off like that?” Tresk asked.

“It was cool, wasn’t it?”

Tresk grumbled. “Yeah. It was awesome.”