THEOS - Chapter 47: Gods Give Lemons

They were in quite the dilemma.

Six days had passed faster than Luke thought they would, and their impromptu group still didn’t have their tenth and last white scroll. With the countdown ticking, well they would have some things to think about and soon.

Contrary to their expectations, no one had challenged them. No one fell into any of the traps they had laid out. Hell, they didn’t even see a person outside of their group from the moment they had reunited.

Instead, after their single day of rest, they had constantly been besieged by an endless stream of monsters during the day. A horde that only relented for five or six hours when the nine suns went down, and started right back up in the wee hours of the morning. The very moment the sky began to lighten.

It wasn’t just the rabicorns anymore either. Hydras, all sorts of jungle cats, wolves, and even a few toothy black worms that had tunneled out from underneath them wherever the ground was damp.

The worms especially had been a close call. The first time the group had met them was after it rained on the fourth day. Silently and unseen until the last moment, one of them had burst out of the ground and swallowed Spiros straight out of the sky and dove back in. Kind of like one of the Gegenees but minus the minor earthquakes.

Earthquakes which at the time seemed menacing, but now Luke was grateful for them. A warning was a warning, no matter how intimidating.

Luckily, the Son of House Paris had made enough of a commotion after being swallowed that they were able to cut it out from its belly before it dove back into the ground and digested him enough to send him home.

A second later, and it would have been curtains for Luke’s quest. A fact that still gave him chills. Since then, they had made especially sure to keep close watch on the ground for any signs of shifting Earth. Something that was as tiresome as it was necessary.

It wasn’t all bad though. The mana was admittedly, quite nice, and so were the gains he was making in his attributes.

His progress was quicker than it had been for months due to a mix of factors. His high arcana stat was paying dividends now that he didn’t have access to stat points. With his saturation point so high, the rate he was absorbing the Aetherial Mana hadn’t slowed even a little. Combined with the naturally high levels of the mysterious energy in the air, and the fact that a good number of the beasts he had killed were of the warrior tier… Well, things were looking very good on that front. Better than he ever could have hoped.

But the way things were going, also made him nervous. A single day without an encounter with another contestant could be chalked down to bad luck. Maybe their ambush was seen through, and their numbers scared away prospective targets like Arya thought they would.

Except, even when they took precautions to prevent that sort of thing, it didn’t make any difference.

No matter how far away they set the trap, or how tempting they made the scrolls, they never drew anyone to them. At one point, they had even left a pair of scrolls completely unguarded hoping that someone would show their face. It didn’t work. Instead, Luke started having flashbacks to his life back on Earth and all his unsuccessful fishing trips. The hours of waiting with line in the water, and no fish willing to take a bite, while the cold wind nipped at his fingers and ears. Not fun.

After exhausting every strategy they could come up with, they had even tried splitting up into two groups. Three of them with a single black scroll and the rest with the full pairs. Both groups had gone in opposite directions, hoping that the black scroll would latch onto a white that didn’t belong to them. They went full speed for an entire day, and the direction on the arrow hadn’t deviated once from the white scrolls already in their possession.

In order not to waste time or unduly risk the complete pairs, they had reunited shortly after. All of them had come to the same conclusion Luke had. Even if no one had vocalized it just yet.

Either we’re just very unlucky, or more likely– Hephaestus is putting his finger on the scales.

Pulling strings like some puppet master. Hiding us from other people or messing around with our scrolls so that we don’t find anyone else and no one finds us. He prevented Blinky from participating when we were fighting the hydra at the start of the trial, so it’s obvious that the test isn’t exactly impartial. The gods are looking for a particular kind of winner, and it seems they’ll bend the rules a little to make it happen.

It’s a little ironic, but I think Hephaestus actually wants the trophy to go to someone who isn’t connected. A random cultivator that doesn’t have a godly parent in their corner. Which, with Theseus and Ella in our little cabal, doesn’t help.

He probably, and rightly, assumes that anyone that comes to us wouldn’t have a fair chance. So he wants four of us to advance while leaving one of us behind to fend for themself. Which it will come down to. It’s inevitable really. Pretty soon, we’ll be hitting the seven day limit, and be teleported to the next stage. Unless we bury the scrolls and no one touches them. Which isn’t going to happen.

The question then, is who’s going to stay behind alone while the others take their scrolls and leave? Luke thought, looking between the four others. Knowing already that he would be the one to take the bullet for the team.

It wasn’t even him being altruistic. Not entirely. Spriros needed to go to the next level, and fast. The last thing Luke wanted was for him to stay behind alone.

More importantly, he could use the time. No, he needed the time. To rack up even more attributes, to advance his Technique, and to figure out what to do with his spell. The longer he stayed in the forest the stronger he would be.

Watching Arya and Spiros fight had the First Truth of Death practically itching, and he could feel it in his bones, that he had made some progress. He could feel himself inching towards some realization, but like an almost remembered word, it sat on the tip of his tongue. Unable to be vocalized.

I’ll go back to that tomorrow though when the monsters come back. For now– I have real progress to make.

Closing his eyes, Luke meditated on his mana pool. Slowly finding the floating icon that gave him the ability to turn his energy to flame and command it. Without his bloodline activated it was as indescribable as ever. A complicated shape that shifted, shimmered, and distorted. Just paying attention to it made Luke’s mind ache.

An ache that fell away the instant he activated his bloodline and its form suddenly became observable. Not comprehensible, not yet, but it was a start. A little chink, that with some creative leveraging, would reveal its secrets.

Even after looking at it every spare second he had gotten in the last few days, it still threatened to take his breath away. The spell was truly magnificent to look at, and equally difficult to copy. The closest thing he could compare it to, was a sculpture, and not a simple one but a masterpiece. Something made by a genius at the height of their skill.

Within that vein, his self appointed task of copying it felt like he was aping on someone’s masterpiece with all the difficulty that it entailed.

He felt like he had a slab of marble that was big enough, a chisel that was sharp enough, and the literal statue of David on his lawn, and that he was trying to remake it. Technically Luke had all the references he needed to copy the thing, but he wasn’t Michelangelo. Luke wasn’t seeing an angel trapped in stone, that he was setting free.

Not even close.

But it wasn’t impossible and he had quite a few things going for him. Which was actually just the one thing. The Eyes of Insight.

He didn’t know how the god had done it, but the spell was made of his own mana which was why activating his bloodline let him see it in the first place.

The scroll the god had given him atop the pyramid, Luke reasoned, was akin to a stencil or a stamp that had been pressed onto his mana. One that used his own mana as ink. One that when he passed his mana through, gave him the ability to throw fireballs.

Wherein lied his first hurdle and one that he had been agonizing over the past few days.

I’m basically trying to make a structure out of water… underwater. My mana is uniform, and I can bend and twist it all I want, but if it’s surrounded by the rest of my mana… well then it’s all just homogenous.

I can’t really separate my mana within my mana pool, and that’s where the spell needs to be. It’s like writing on a blank page with a white colored pencil. Nothing’s gonna show.

A switch flipped, and it was like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Suddenly, he felt stupid for not immediately coming to the right solution.

If he couldn’t draw out the spell inside his mana pool, then he would just have to give his mana the correct shape outside of his mana pool.

Grinning, he extended his palm out in front of him, and watched as a thin tendril of mana emerged out of it at the behest of his will.

Severing his connection to it, Luke just watched the blob hang in the air. Months ago, he had done something similar sitting in Cyzicus’s workshop. Back then, he hadn’t tested his bloodline and as a consequence been able to see his mana.

Instead, he had relied entirely on feel to reduce the quantity enough to sneak it into the ring. If feeling was all he had to rely on now, what he was about to do would be impossible.

Instead, he turned his attention towards a random branch of the spell– one of a hundred and three, and with an effort of his will twisted the mana in the air into a shape that was as close to the runes he was seeing as possible.

I’m lucky I’m working with my mana instead of something I can run out of. Luke thought, as he inspected both his attempt and the original. Making minor tunes to it as he went. Thinning a line here, thickening it there. Making sure the bend was just the way it was in the original.

When he was satisfied, he moved on to the next branch. Then the next. Then the one after that.

At which point he became aware of another problem.

Just holding his mana outside his body was an effort of will, and one that got harder and harder the longer he did, and soon a dull pain began to spread through his head even as his construct threatened to be washed away in the mana of the world. He could hold it together for a while longer, but soon he would need to let it go, let his headache recede, and try again fresh.

The only thing that relieved him was that his mana held the shape he assigned to it without active thought. He had been half worried that it would be like multiplying big numbers in his head. Where it would be a pain to remember which number was in what place, which ones he had carries, and how many zeros there were and where they were.

Alright, come on Luke, focus. He thought to himself. Then doing just that, he continued tracing the branches of the spell.

Until he had ten, and his head felt like someone had jabbed a spike through it.

The more complex the shape, I guess the harder it is to hold. Even if maintaining the shape itself doesn’t cause problems. Let’s see how far I can take it though.

At Thirty branches he felt ready to puke. Thirty-one branches, he thought he was going to lose consciousness. Thirty-two branches, his vision began to swim. Thirty-thr–

The whole thing collapsed, and Luke sighed in relief as his headache instantly faded and his Arcana shot up a single point.

Huh. That’s useful.

Then taking a moment to collect himself, he looked at the others. Who were still sitting in silence and staring at the fire with long faces. No doubt wondering how to broach the subject of who would be staying behind.

Shaking his head, he looked to the sky. It was still pitch black and full of countless stars.

I still have a couple more hours. He thought, and got back to work. He needed to get this. If not today, then tomorrow.

Then I need to get a grip on my Technique. As it is, I’m not going to win.