271 (Patreon)

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From the desk of Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789

Topics: Angels, Demons, WoB, Avandrasolaro, Thoughts on the War, Time Shelter, Greensoil.

Dated: 15d/4m/1453y Year of Stillness, middle of the 4th month of the Unending Year (tentative name).

The Angels left on the seventeenth day of the second month of the Year of Stillness. Many humans went with them. Everyone who wanted to leave was encouraged to leave, and told that if they left, they could not come back, and also that Margleknot was not a wholly pleasant place. People escaped anyway, through mass relocation magics set up by Yggdrasil. The Sovereign Cities were desolated by the Flight of the Angels, but we remain strong. I have heard that Greensoil fared far worse, and that demons are partying in the capital of Greendale.

Odaali is the new capital for all who remained, and the WoB is helping to fix them up to be the new center of their fractured empire, and also ensuring that the desecration remains minimal. For all his power, though, there are still desecrations.

The Demons are still celebrating as I write this, and they will continue to celebrate for the foreseeable future. They have invited every single human land to join them for feasts and every other thing that they got up to. It was an attempt at reconciliation of some sort.

There had been an official peace treaty and ending of animosities, but this Knowledge Mage does not believe it could last forever. The Angels went to Margleknot to fight for Good, and the Old Demons there are all Evil. When we reconnect, there will be difficulty, I am sure.

The Time Shelter held strong the whole time.

When the Time Shelter goes down, the collective belief is that the War will begin in earnest.

Due to the way time works between here and Margleknot* there was absolutely no way the Angels could be back for the War, and this Knowledge Mage hopes that they never come back at all, and also that we win the war. According to this Knowledge Mage’s inquiries, Veird is filled with more power on an individual level than that which exists on Margleknot, and Veird is only getting stronger.

Avandrasolaro officially took up the Crown of Angelic Divinity on the Seventh Sphere on the last day of the third month of the Year of Stillness. He took his crown in a holy white city that was built brand new for him by the Wizard of Benevolence. The city was mostly empty, for only 750,000 angels remained, out of the original 2,109,000,000 that went to Margleknot.

This Knowledge Mage can only speculate on what is to come, and all my speculations are poorly received, for I am rather pessimistic.

*Time is relatively frozen on Margleknot, compared to how we move here on Veird.

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From the desk of Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789

Dated: 29d/4m/1453y Year of Stillness, end of the 4th month of the Unending Year (tentative name).

Topics: WoB, Thoughts on the War, Sundering, To Sunder, Impossible Dreams

Due to recent events, this Knowledge Mage desires to put down for posterity what is happening now.

What is ‘sundering’?

Some would say it is taking something and breaking that thing down further than particles, and souls, and thought, and action. ‘To sunder a soul’, or a person, results in a massive release of energy, after all. You can only really sunder disembodied souls, too, so that could tell you a lot about a lot.

Doesn’t tell me much.

In fact, no one really knows what ‘sundering’ really is but it’s remarkably easy to do, and the effects of a sundering are easily seen during a sundering.

The Songli Highlands use a particularly easy-to-make sundering tool that is used to execute the highest of criminals. Their method is perhaps the most well documented way to sunder. You take a crystal, about the size of a fist, and you take a grand rad, also about the size of a fist, and you put them together. Literally just together. The grand rad is usually carved to have a flat spot on it, and so is the crystal, while the crystal has a purposeful point on it.

You put the flat spots together then you aim the crystal point at the disembodied soul to be sundered.

Grand rads naturally draw in ambient mana to keep themselves stable. The crystal focuses this action in a direction. The sucking-inward draws the soul into a ‘sundering area’ that exists in the joining of grand rad and crystal and in the cutting facets of the crystal, and when the soul falls into the sunderer, the soul is ripped apart, sundered, and thick air fills the area, as the soul is turned into mana. Some of that mana goes into the grand rad, but not much at all, according to what I have managed to discover.

There is no recovery from this action.

The soul is gone forever. [Reincarnation] can’t bring it back, because it is ‘sundered’. Even if you don’t sunder the full soul, and you target the remains of the victim of the sundering with a [Reincarnation], the person who comes out of the [Reincarnation] isn’t the original person, because the sundering also destroyed all the memories of the person it sundered.

This is known.

And now we come to the missives handed out by House Benevolence these past two days. I will include the text in its entirety; it is not overlong.

~

What do you know about Sundering? Report your collected findings to House Benevolence, and you might be rewarded by the Wizard of Benevolence himself. Normal information will be paid for in a normal manner.

~

And that’s it.

We all know of the generosity of the Wizard of Benevolence, and that when he sets his mind to something, that something is soon solved.

And yet, this Knowledge Mage has a hard time believing that the WoB could ever ‘solve’ sundering.

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From the desk of Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789

Dated: 5d/5m/1453y Year of Stillness, beginning of the 5th month of the Unending Year.

Topics: Thoughts on the War, Time Shelter, Nothanganathor, Gods and Wizards, Terrorism in the Theater, Missus Bertha Berter

In previous missives, I have listed concerns over the nature of the Time Shelter as an imperfect solution to the problem of Nothanganathor and the War.

Allow me to elaborate those thoughts in full, due to a terrorist incident that occurred earlier today in the Theater District of Charme.

The incident began as a rather standard play of the news, done in a comedic fashion by Missus Bertha Berter, as she often does. She spoke of Demonic meetings happening between our rulers of Charme and some visiting demons of the 5th Sphere, speaking derisively of them, earning herself a great many laughs. The problem was that those demons were in the crowd.

This Knowledge Mage does not know exactly what happened, but I will endeavor to find out the full story as soon as I can, and amend that to this report. (Note: Full report on the incident done. See file ‘Terrorism in the Theater’.)

The results of that incident were three near-deaths, all the demons murdered and sent back to New Hell, and the beginning of a larger topic that swept the Sovereign City up in its intrigue.

1) The War is going to happen whenever the Shelter comes down.

+

2) Nothanganathor doesn’t seem able/willing to end the Shelter himself.

=

3) The only way the Shelter is coming down is if our Gods and Wizards take it down.

The Gods and Wizards wish to prepare enough to open the world and then fight.

Almost everyone else wishes the world to remain Sheltered, since that seems to be working right now.

This has, as you can imagine, caused some tension.

The full nature of this tension spans the entire world, and this Knowledge Mage can only guess at the full ramifications of it all.

I will make some educated guesses in the following addendums.

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Addendum 1 of 73

On the nature of Peace...

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From the desk of Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789

Dated: 6d/8m/1453y Year of Stillness, beginning of the 8th month of the Unending Year.

Topics: [REDACTED UNTIL THE END OF THE WAR], Thoughts on the War, Time Shelter, Nothanganathor, Gods and Wizards, WoB, Solomon, [Silver Heart], Geodes, Stratagold, Sundering, ERASURE

Wizard Solomon of the Black Gate has requested more information on Sundering from several prominent Knowledge Mages, and one of them let slip that there is a large project underway to solve the Sundering problem.

This Knowledge Mage believes it is an attempt to solve the Erasure Problem, in steps.

That is all that I know at this time.

Personal Note: I feel drawn to this topic in a way I have rarely felt. This pull is of such a note that I feel compelled to write it down.

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From the desk of Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789

Dated: 6d/8m/1453y Year of Stillness, beginning of the 8th month of the Unending Year.

Topics: [REDACTED UNTIL THE END OF THE WAR], Sundering, Erasure, Personal Files, water damaged, House Benevolence, experimental magic

I apologize ahead of time for the tears on this file, because I cannot stop them from coming. I was made aware today that I am being looked at to assist with a major magical breakthrough conducted by House Benevolence, King Solomon of Genesis, and the Wizard of Benevolence. It could mean the removal of the Enemy’s greatest weapon. It could mean… I don’t know what it means.

I am apparently the victim of an Erasure.

Through a great many confluences of events, which I am still trying to understand, I was a warrior in the army of Killtree and lovers with a woman who, if she was a man, we would have been married and had kids. I do not know her name. I had been 80 years old, alongside her. And then we got [Reincarnation]ed by the Wizard of Benevolence during his Benevolencing of the Sovereign Cities. She became a man, I became myself. I do not know his name.

That whole period of my life is strangely missing. I will attempt to reconcile… Whatever I can.

Since then, I have been living in Charme, having arrived in this land a decade ago, in a way that I thought was by myself.

But I had come here with a husband who I mourn most fiercely.

Even though I do not know his name, or face, or that he even existed before today, before my meeting with King Solomon and the Apparent King Erick Flatt, I had a husband. Both King Solomon and the WoB knew me; they remembered me from all those years ago. They saw how I held hands with the woman who became my husband, before they (Read: the WoB) [Reincarnation]d me into my current form. They knew he was gone, though the Apparent King obviously knew more than King Solomon… For some unknown reason. I had thought they were the same person, and Solomon was the WoB’s repro, but it is more complicated than that. I have included my new thoughts on this matter in ‘Addendum Solomon, Repros, and the Infinite’.

But as to the current topic:

I am preparing to participate in a study to bring my husband back to me.

I hear I am not the only one participating.

I have no hopes.

And yet, they tell me they have had some success with cats.

- - - -

- - - -

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Three months ago:

“Chaos is calling. Be back later.”

Solomon half-woke to words that lingered in the absent warmth on the left side of the bed. Destiny’s scent was still there, but Destiny was gone. For one brief, horrible moment, Solomon thought he saw Red in the air.

He panicked.

He recalled a thing that Erick had spoken of once, and done a few times, but which he had never had any luck with.

Solomon reacted anyway.

He held out a hand and put it on Destiny’s bare shoulder, right in front of his own face, where he usually kissed every morning as he got up for the day.

Silver flashed.

And then Destiny was there.

Between panicked thought and quiet action maybe a thousandth of a second had passed. No time at all, really.

Solomon breathed out against Destiny’s shoulder, relief filling him as he shuddered, pretending that Destiny had been there the whole time, and maybe if he pretended enough it would be true. “Oh gods, I think I had a bad dream.”

Destiny hummed.

And then she rolled over to look Solomon in the eyes. Her blue eyes stared into his platinum ones, and she leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips. She pulled back, saying, “You seem to be the reason for my Chaos spiking today, lover. Do you know what you just did?”

Solomon paused.

He reviewed his memories.

His heart fluttered in his chest and his core vibrated with an unseen flow as he teetered on the edge of something deep.

“… I think I pulled you back here.”

“Like how Erick did to that Shackle guy, and then to those five demons who tried to escape after demolishing Greendale’s palace last week,” Destiny said, “I think you can go further with it than him, though. I think you can bring back anyone you wish.”

Solomon almost burst out laughing at the preposterousness of it all.

But Destiny’s words struck a chord, and Solomon felt something deep within call to him. Of memory, and Genesis, and Destiny here, with her hand on his face, and her eyes glittering platinum, just like his. She smiled.

And Solomon had a part of the answer.

He launched out of bed and rushed to his workrooms, saying, “It’s not [Teleport Other]. It’s completely different because it—”

Destiny laughed a chiming, wonderful sort of laugh, saying, “Drag me back to you, lover! Get it right in the moment; leave the written words for later!”

Solomon turned, and then he…

He…

He desperately wanted to kiss Destiny again, so, several meters away from her, Solomon put an arm out there and bent it, making a palming motion—

The world flickered with silver.

And then Destiny’s face was up against his, and they were kissing, their chests pressed against each other, and Solomon’s hand was on Destiny’s perfect ass, just like he had planned. Destiny giggled into Solomon’s mouth, and Solomon laughed against her neck as he held their bodies together—

A series of blue box creation messages interrupted him. He ignored the normal ones, but he did notice that he had gotten another 3 ability points.

His new spell was… different.

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Summon 1, instant + special, super long range, 500 mana <+ resons>

Attempt to bring a well-known <thing> to you. <This spell has abilities that are impossible to fully understand, and must be created. This is ritual magic.>

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That spell is on the cusp of what the Script can do, for resons are not fully integrated into the Script yet. You will faint if you use that spell too much, or fall into a deep depression. I’m not sure which. I suggest you look into a way to expand that power a lot, and do it softer than the spell I helped you make.

It might be the Erasure Solution if you push it far enough, and if you’re careful enough.

Just gotta make a space for the person you want to bring back.

-Rozeta

- -

Solomon’s heart was racing. Everything was…

Was a lot.

Destiny smiled, her eyes twinkling gold in the platinum of her irises. “Tell me the good news, Solomon.”

Solomon had ten thousand thoughts, and then he focused. “I need to do some experiments. A lot of experiments. Probably sundering experiments, too.”

Destiny patted his chest. “It’s pretty deplorable, but we can sunder some mice.”

- - - -

A month later:

Erick stepped down onto the entrance roof at Solomon’s Black Castle, where Poi stood waiting by the door, along with one other.

Tasar the Summoner stood beside Poi, with her little Spatial chipmunk [Familiar] upon her shoulders, Sengaralo. The green and black adamantium wrought smiled upon seeing Erick; her words were as solid her, as she said, “We have results.”

Erick’s heart beat hard.

For the last month Erick had been doing politics with practically everyone the world over, giving them assurances and demonstrations of his power here and there, but not too much. People got scared when there were 3 kilometer long dragons in the area.

Which was understandable.

They got even more scared when Erick wanted to practice war with them, to train with people. There was a lot of pushback, but Erick would get to that practice soon enough. He’d let that idea percolate for a while, before it was ready.

When he wasn’t running around the world, getting everyone war-ready as much as they could be, he was experimenting with the valkyries inside Veird’s Authority, to get them ready to work with all the other parts of the army he was gathering. Erick had a few plans for the upcoming war, but his strategy was mostly described as ‘leafs on the wind’, and played to the strengths of the fact that Nothanganathor was sun-sized and everyone else was mostly Erick-sized, or smaller.

While Erick had been doing that, Solomon had been working on the Erasure problem.

Honestly, Solomon’s contributions were likely going to be more important. He had recently invented a spell that Erick had shown him a few times over, but done in a way that the Script had been able to codify, for Erick certainly hadn’t tried to codify it at all. He hadn’t even thought to codify ‘[Summon]’; that was just something he did occasionally. It was not Spatial Magic for Erick, and it wasn’t even Spatial Magic for Solomon, or rather, it wasn’t Time Magic, for Spatial Magic was all really variations of Time Magic. [Summon] was Genesis Magic that did a very good job of looking like Time Magic and thus Spatial Magic.

Thus, Tasar, former Spatial Mage, had become involved. And also the whole wrought angle was important, too. Maybe even more important.

Erick contained himself for as much as decorum demanded, and then he asked, “What kind of results?”

Tasar smiled, and then she turned to Poi and bowed just her head, saying, “Tea was wonderful.”

“Anytime.” Poi said, “I’m headed back to the dungeon.” He turned to Erick, grinning. “Don’t get your hopes up so much.”

Erick laughed. “You have no idea where my hopes are right now!”

Poi smirked. “Don’t need to be able to read you to know you’re somewhere past the heliopause.”

Tasar tried to contain her excitement, too, but she also failed. She said, “[Gate] to the Project, Erick!”

Erick rapidly opened the [Gate] and went through with Tasar at his side.

- - - -

Erick stood upon a white crystal road that was minimally lined with gold, in a land known as Human Copper Neighborhood 97.

Spires of white crystal with gold striations rose up from 75 kilometers of depth and light and wind to plunge into the sky, traveling another 45 more kilometers up there before it reached the upper edge of the Stratagold Geode. Clouds flowed through everywhere, like mist carved up by the crystals, obscuring much of the further lands in soft white shadows. Those clouds mostly stayed in the divisions between neighborhoods, though, because the wrought living here needed space to be delineated, so that neighborhoods were clearly marked without actually being clearly marked. The spires themselves varied between tens or hundreds of meters wide, but all of them were white and gold crystal shot through with housing and green spaces and all sorts of normal, everyday mainstreet-like shops. Skyroads of crystal connected every spire to every other spire. And as it was above, so it was below; Like stacked civilizations, everyone lived above someone, and below someone else.

But this place was different for one good reason.

Off to the side, way over there, stood the open edge of Stratagold, where Claws had attacked and killed and ripped apart these neighborhoods in ruthless fashion. It was a cavern littered with light and air and nothing else; a great big void. A wound. The wounds of that attack were many.

The streets here used to hold so many people, all of them human-shaped copper wrought, mostly ancient and green with patina. Now, the space held people who were lost, and yet finding themselves once again, through the [Silver Heart]s floating among the survivors.

Wrought were people, just like anyone else, but wrought liked routine way more than most. It was a sacrosanct part of their culture. The ancient green-colored metallic ‘humans’ of this land were among the most dedicated to that routine. The slightest provocation to their daily routine was an unkind disturbance on as deep of a level as stabbing someone.

That was why, when the Red attacked, and carved open this wall of Stratagold and carved away at the people therein, the people of this land were hurt the most, though only a few of them realized their hurt.

And now…

Here was the experiment to heal this damage.

The idea was simple enough.

Genesis created things. With the [Silver Heart], Genesis was self-creating, too, and it also made the world around it better through its presence.

A person did the same thing.

Solomon had taken [Summon] and [Silver Heart] and a few tens of other ideas —a lot of ideas about lodestones in the manasphere, gradually bringing together what was Sundered, if possible— and combined them into a spell called [Summon My Heart]. He was on his tenth iteration of that magic, trying to get it right. As soon as he got it right, his hope was that the user of the spell could cast the spell, and then ritually help that Heart come back to real life. It was [Familiar] magic, but wholly different.

The hope was that Solomon could bring back the Erased.

It was basically [Reincarnation] magic on a level far beyond what Erick had ever touched, and it included all the learning of resons that Erick had brought back from Margleknot. But it had needed a testing ground with stable people, willing to put in the hard work to pretend that a floating, disembodied Heart was a person.

Thus, this particular testing ground.

Some signs held on the viewing walkway to Erick’s side.

DO NOT:

Interact with the area, scan the area, mana sense the area, or do anything else other than calmly observe from a distance. Do not disparage what they’re trying to do here.

DO:

Try to understand what they’re doing. Acknowledge that it will work.

Prayers can go a long way when interacting with the ephemeral.

They were a hundred meters from the edge of the experiment, at the closest possible point to interact with the experiment. Every other space around this land was guarded well by the warriors of Stratagold and by many extensive magics. Better viewing areas were far, far behind Erick, at the viewing booth way back there. Those places had [Scry] eyes set up around the area. Viewing from this platform was viewing it for real, though.

Erick didn’t instantly see anything happening down there, but he was using his normal sight, and no Sight magics at all—

“Oh shit,” Erick said, as he saw it. He saw a Heart moving around on its own, doing something. “Is it actually working?”

Tasar whispered, “We believe so.” She asked, “You see the cat?”

The cat?

“… No,” Erick said, still looking at what he was actually looking at. “I see the [Summon My Heart] clipping leaves on the bridge down there, like a gardener.” Erick rapidly glanced around, trying to see— “Oh my gods. The cat.”

How could he have missed the cat?!

It wasn’t a Heart. That’s how he had missed it.

Back when this was a stable neighborhood, it had a population of 3,100 people, and one ‘cat’. This particular neighborhood was on a 1-week cycle routine, and it was very strict about its routine for many centuries. Then a ‘cat’ moved in.

That cat had been a stone elemental that had snuck into the place and rapidly decided it liked it there. It liked sitting on a particular bench on a particular sky road, most of all. Since it was an elemental, it did nothing else, and no one bothered it either, since the cat didn’t interact with anyone and no one interacted with the cat. This was rather abnormal for an elemental, but it did happen from time to time.

The particular bench the cat rested upon was just for looks, while the other two benches were used in the week-long routine of the neighborhood. The first bench was used by a pair of men who ate there every day and spoke of the weather, with a particular sandwich and particular conversation for each day of the week, while the third bench had a girl come by every week and throw away the rejection letter of her boyfriend over the railing.

Around the time the cat moved in, the general store owner got a weird addition to his usual shipment. The guy had a routine of selling several things to several people over every single day, but he got a stonefish paperweight in his deliveries one time and he didn’t correct the vendor, so he kept getting the same stonefish paperweight every single week.

Then around 560 years ago, about 50 years after the cat moved in, the paperweights were piling up.

The vendor decided to add something to his routine.

He decided to give the cat the stonefish paperweight.

And every single day, for the next 560 years, the general store owner set down that grey, stonefish paperweight on the other side of the bench where the stone elemental housecat lay. He set the paperweight down in the morning. In the afternoon, the housecat ate the paperweight. A few hours later, and the cat flicked his tail and sent a bit of extra stone off the side of the bridge.

The falling of that stone was a routine on another neighborhood way down below.

And now, as Erick looked…

The housecat was not there, but the Heart that floated where the housecat should have sat…

The Heart had a certain kinda glow around it, like the beginnings of an image surrounding and encasing the Heart. The altogether ephemeral image was that of a cat, loafing on the stone, his tail hanging off the edge of the bench, idly swishing back and forth, as the cat stared at the sky, and the clouds. The cat was kinda white and gold, but only in flashes, and Erick easily could have imagined it. He dare not actually mana sense or read the past to find out what he had actually seen, for mana sensing was to ‘become one with the mana’, and that sort of observation on the mana disrupted the effect of this Heart Ritual.

They had found out about mana sense’s problematic nature on this Heart Ritual rather rapidly, at the beginning of this whole thing, though it was anyone’s guess if ‘the observer effect’ was real. Solomon and Erick both thought it was, and the other people involved in the project were rapidly won over. Therefore, the only one allowed to mana sense anything at all down there were the people who lived down there, who mana sensed everything all the time, just because that’s how old wrought operated.

Solomon and Erick suspected that when personally-involved people mana sensed their Hearts then that sort of Observer Effect was good for the Heart, but when know-nothings tried it, that was bad.

The people down there were the ones doing the ritual; Solomon had just provided the parts—

Erick’s heart skipped a beat, because the image of the cat looked over to the little stonefish paperweight that sat on the other side of the bench.

It ignored the stonefish for now.

It would eat it later.

Erick had not imagined that. He had definitely seen that happen.

Meanwhile, Tasar was staring at the Heart that floated on a main bridge. The Heart of the gardener didn’t visibly do anything, but leaves fell down on a nearby bush, as if plucked off at their stems, and then those leaves gathered around the base of the bush, where they would decay and cycle back into the bush’s growth, eventually.

Sengaralo, sitting upon Tasar’s shoulders, chittered quietly as Tasar’s emotions rose.

She saw it.

Tasar whispered, “The gardener. Oh Rozeta. It might actually work.”

Erick gazed down into the land ahead, and watched, as he said, “It’ll be hard to transcribe this methodology to anyone else besides the wrought, for only Rozeta kept good records of what the Routine looks like in this land.”

Tasar pulled her head out of the clouds and came back to the moment, saying, “There are so many complications to this that I would struggle to name them all in a lecture smaller than ten hours.” She looked at Erick. “The primary problem is one of legitimacy. There is a clear and broken line between the life and Sundering/Erasure death for the people here. I didn’t even notice the gardener…” She looked back to the neighborhood. “… The cat might be just another elemental. Stone elementals can be quite common among these sorts of neighborhoods if they’re quiet and small and stay out of the way.”

She was leaving the question of the gardener to another day, which was fair. The Heart there didn’t even have an outline. The cat was much ‘further along’, if that’s how this worked at all.

Erick said, “If that cat gets up and moves around like a different elemental then we’ll know this didn’t work, but it might have worked. Solomon put a lot of worldline ideology into his magic; into gathering up the stray parts of mana that might make up what was originally there.” Erick said, “Sundering leaves that mana in the manasphere, so it is theoretically possible to gather all of that which remains.”

What ‘sundering’ did was to completely erase all the originality of the mana in the air, though, meaning that mana could then be moved on into new lives, for people to take up and become one with themselves. So the fact that they could ‘gather the old soul’ like this at all was amazing.

It was a major breakthrough…

If it worked.

“Theoretically this could work.” Tasar said, “I would stress that word more than you are stressing it.”

Erick nodded. “The only real issue is with Erasure. Where does that mana go? Yggdrasil says that Erasure is Sundering people for personal profit, but more so than that. Even he doesn’t know exactly what is going on there, because like all high-level combat and capabilities, it’s all kinda Wizardly.”

Tasar scrunched her face as she stared across the open air, down at a cat that was not a cat. “Do you think Solomon can actually do this? That these people are real people?”

“That’s the thing, Tasar,” Erick said, “Magic has a way of working better if you believe in it.”

A soft wind kicked up for a moment.

Tasar decided, “This will be easier to believe when we have real results.”

- - - -

A week later, the cat was fully stone, looking white with some gold spots on it, just like the stratagold upon which it sat. Just how the cat had originally looked. The grocery owner, who was the main interactor of the cat, left a tiny grey stonefish paperweight on the other side of the cat’s bench, like normal. Like he did every day. Later, the cat stood up for the first time, like normal, and it went over and ate the stone fish.

Without doing anything else the cat went back to its seat and sat.

Hours later, the white-and-gold cat’s tail had a little grey tip. The stonefish had been grey, and it had passed through the entire stone elemental without being altered, only to end up at the tip of the tail. With a lazy sort of swish, the cat flicked the very tip of its tail over the edge of the sky bridge, where the grey stone hit the ground seven kilometers down.

The ‘normal’ strike zone was one of a hundred usual locations.

It landed in a normal location, right in the middle of the standard distribution model of all the previous centuries of cat-poop-tossing that Rozeta had recorded, because the wrought had recorded it and Rozeta had recorded the wrought.

Copper Human Neighborhood 27’s gardener picked up the grey lump of stone like it was the most joyous day of his life. He held the grey stone for a long moment, in his pale green hands. And then tears of liquid copper, bright as burnished gold, formed and fell from his deeply green eyes, as he cast a tiny bit of Destruction Magic on the ‘offensive’ bit of garbage, eradicating it, turning the remains of the fish into bits of mana and nothing else.

That night there was a small celebration in the command center of the project.

A week after that, the stone elemental cat still didn’t move except to eat its once-a-day stonefish treat.

This was met with incredible enthusiasm, but not as much as the other things that people were seeing in the decimated wrought neighborhood.

The gardener for Neighborhood 97, which had been a simple floating Heart, had changed. Now he had a green sort of tint to the air around his heart, forming the general shape of himself. Five other instances of maybe-successes operated all throughout the rest of Human Copper Neighborhood 97, ranging from the boy who handed the girl a love rejection letter, to the old woman who knitted on her porch. The boy who wrote the rejection letter was a particularly prominent occurrence, almost looking like a full person, if made of illusions. The girl who threw the letter away was even able to take an illusion of the letter from the man, and then toss it over the bridge. Erick imagined that the tears that girl shed as she tossed the illusionary letter away were particularly strong that particular day.

And then Rozeta confirmed that the cat’s elemental soul was 98% the same as her records of the neighborhood showed.

It was good enough for the [Resurrection] laws to consider the two cats to be the same.

The party that night was a massive affair, and yet it was still subdued and hidden.

This was a big event, with many unforeseen happenings, and everyone wanted to keep it as quiet as they could.

It was still a big party.

- - - -

The day after the party, Erick got a request for a talk from Yggdrasil.

And so, on the shores of Yggdrasil’s Cavern at Stratagold, in that massive water-filled land littered with skyscraper-sized white crystals that were dwarfed by Yggdrasil himself, Erick stood with his son’s avatar. The water lapped at the stony beach and the air felt more brisk than cold, because everything was bright light and open and beautiful.

Yggdrasil had seen the beauty a lot, though, and he was focused on something else entirely.

“I need to stress to you, father,” Yggdrasil said, “We didn’t think it was possible to undo Sundering, or Erasure. Otherwise I would have helped you with this.”

Erick smiled softly, feeling great. “You could have helped me finish off that keg of Wizard Wine last night.”

Yggdrasil gave his father a Look.

Erick guffawed.

Yggdrasil said, “This is a big deal, father. Even if you’ve only brought people back in small ways through specific sunderings, it’s still a big deal.”

Erick reeled in his mirth, and got down to business. “Two things: Maybe Malevolence made us believe it was impossible. And also…” He guessed, “Someone from Margleknot wishes to join this winning side?”

Yggdrasil considered Erick’s first point, and then he said, “No, father, to the first point. This is a major change in the universe. In all universes.”

Erick simply smiled.

“And yes to the second point.” Yggdrasil said, “Your neighbor from the Old Dragon District wants to help. We’re going to call him Tom. I can support him for a while on my roots, but he can’t come out further than that, and he can’t come here during the war. We have to win, father, and then he can come and help to ensure that this anti-Sundering magic truly works well.”

Lionshard wanted to come out here?

The Fate Mage? The guy who ran all of Margleknot’s cleansing and universal anti-corruption programs?

Awesome!

“Fuck yeah!” Erick said, laughing. “Bring him on over— Wait? Can he come here? Like… Can his magic fit here? What about the Curse of Power?”

Yggdrasil paused, as though he didn’t understand the problem. And then he went, “Ah.” Yggdrasil elaborated, “We need to win, and then I’ll plant on Fenrir, and he can be there. He won’t actually come to Veird. I can protect him easier there.”

Erick said, “Then we need to win.” He asked, “Can ‘Tom’ help before that? With the time dilation going on, and all?”

“Yes. That’s what I really wanted to talk to you about.” Yggdrasil said, “You’re hard to track and prognosticate around, and the time dilation here is massive, but this conversation here was considered. He has created some preset assistance-packages for me to trigger. If you veer too far away from accepting his help or asking for something far outside of his idea of what you want and need, then he might need months of Veird time to come up with something else.”

For every minute that passed on Margleknot, a month passed here on Veird. The angels who had left a few months ago had only just arrived at the Celestial Observatory…

Erick turned his attention back to the moment, and asked, “What are my options?”

“Aside from the direct murder of Nothanganathor, pretty much anything is possible.” Yggdrasil said, “You just have to ask for something specific— or even in general.”

Erick went over a few things in his mind.

Yggdrasil had already provided Veird with a dossier on Nothanganathor’s usual magics months ago, and those had helped out immensely with figuring out some plans, but all of those plans broke down next to the Big Lizard himself. All of Erick’s valkyries would be successful if they managed to simply stay alive and Siphon as much of Nothanganathor’s power as possible, making more and more of themselves, without getting splatted.

That was just a plan, though, and Erick expected that plan to fail at some point in the process.

The other plan was to make enough mana to eventually turn the tide in the entire Veird system from Red to anything else. That was the battle-of-attrition plan, and which was a much more workable strategy than relying wholly on the valkyries.

In order to realize that strategy, the [Silver Heart]s were already heavily deployed all across Veird, but mostly in the Core. This was giving Veird a bunch more mana generation, without causing hallucinations everywhere, like an unshielded/modified Heart was prone to do. From Erick’s understanding, Melemizargo had a Heart in every single dungeon, too. There were even some free-floating [Silver Heart]s out there, with most of them on the Silver Surface, under the silver-leaf canopies of the eternal stonewood trees. They survived rather well up there in that endless forest of kilometer-tall trees, where slimes and small monsters spread. The Hearts liked being observed and generative and Koyabez had taken a very large liking to them, so he kept them around and made them his.

All deployments inside cities and public places were met with people complaining about hallucinations that didn’t do anything for them, so city-deployments were nixed. The Hearts found forever-homes inside artist homes, though, and anywhere else where people wanted to make things. Some people had even taken to turning [Silver Heart] into [Heart Charm], making little charm spells that they carried around on their wrists, which did everything that the normal [Silver Heart]s did but individually, instead of atmospherically. Now those spells were seeing rather widespread deployment.

Point was, that Veird’s mana concerns were rapidly becoming non-concerns, and for the first time in forever Rozeta was counting out a massive surplus of mana in the manasphere.

Except for that mana which some people were eating.

Erick’s [Endless] aura was being used rather extensively among the Paradoxed dragons of Ar’Cosmos, but not in many other places. Instead of taking months or years to accrete a core, some of the dragons, like Redflame, were popping out a thousand cores a day, which were all getting enchanted in order to stabilize Fairy against Nothanganathor, in case people had to fall back from the real world.

[Silver Heart]s were also everywhere in Fairy, meaning that Fairy was no longer a bunch of disconnected continental-sized islands in the mist, made solid by Redflame’s and other dragons’ concentration of that Gate Space to solidity. Ar’Cosmos and the various cities of other dragons were already a second world, but [Silver Heart]s expanded that land many, many times over. It was like how Erick could [Duplicate] matter into planets, and now, Fairy was able to fully expand into the Shells above the Old Surface.

And thinking of expansion…

… Hmm.

More Spheres of Veird? More land? More dungeons? It could work?

And yet...

Erick pulled back a bit.

No need to go making new layers of Spheres. There were already 11 layers, and most of it was still barely inhabited by anything other than scattered monsters or weak dungeons… Which was true for all the rest of Veird, too, Erick supposed. More Spheres could come later, though, and they probably would need to, if the ‘Eat Nothanganathor Back’ plan was to work.

But what did Veird need besides more time to prepare?

That was pretty easy to answer, actually.

Veird had warriors, generals, military structure, and gods.

But there was only one True Wizard.

Erick said to Yggdrasil, “We put up the Shelter because we needed time to prepare, but all the prep we have isn’t enough. We need some more True Wizards; people who can actually fight against Nothanganathor and not be bowled over by Wizardry.”

Yggdrasil nodded. “Pick someone, and Tom will make a Fateful guide to help them to Ascend. He can only do one person at a time for Veird due to Script limitations, and probably not Solomon or Destiny. They’re already too far along on their own paths. You should pick someone who isn’t a Wizard at all.” Yggdrasil added, “He has guides ready to go for Jane, Evan, Kiri, Kromolok, Illustrious Moon, Sitnakov, Killzone, Burhendurur, Lynkari, Shivraa, and Ezekiel. He had a guide for Avandrasolaro, but that angel is now a god, so that path is clipped.”

Erick was a little stunned at those options.

He thought them through.

Jane and Evan were both right out of the running; Erick doubted either of them would even allow Erick to help them become Wizards.

Kiri was comfortable as Gatemaster, so she was a low option.

Kromolok? Well… Would Rozeta’s High Inquisitor want to be a Wizard? Probably not, actually. Though he had likely never had the chance to even think in that direction… Maybe Erick would ask him?

Illustrious Moon and many other dragons were already trying to become Wizards, ever since Solomon proved it was possible. Burhendurur, Erick’s Overseer of Enforcement for House Benevolence, was also trying for that, but in a much less active way. Honestly, Erick had not spent enough time with either of them to truly understand where their inclinations lay right now. Erick decided he should do that.

Killzone and Sitnakov. Now there was a duo of tangled webs. Sitnakov was rather solid in his current life path, though, and he was currently dating Jane, and good friends with Abigail, though both of Erick’s daughters liked to pretend that wasn’t happening when they were around Erick. Jane outright lied about dating Sitnakov, and they had both known she was lying about not dating him… Which was fine.

Killzone was aimless right now, as far as Erick knew. He was a participant in the Blue Corps, and his skills as a warrior were highly valued against the Red… Hmm.

Killzone was on the top of the list, then.

Lynkari, who had been Erick’s go-between to Demon King Dinnamoth for several years, was currently enjoying a month-long orgy that Erick had been invited to 3 separate times so far. All the demons were celebrating the ‘demise and rise’ of the Angels; the transition to Avandrasolaro being the Crown of the Host. Avandrasolaro had attended some of those parties, according to some of those invitations…

Lynkari was probably at the bottom of the list, and yet, she would be a good candidate for getting the Demons fully integrated with the Blue Corps.

Lynkari was second on the list, then.

Erick trusted Shivraa a lot, ever since he rescued her from Slaver’s Den and she proved herself as both a great secretary and as the captain of the Valkyrie Squadron. She also knew resonwork a lot better than others. Combining that with how in-tune she was with the valkyries, would mean that her Ascension to Wizard and then True Wizard would greatly strengthen the Valkyries…

And then there was her familiarity with so many different sources of power. Mana, resons, and other small powers out there, would make her Ascension easy… probably.

Shivraa went on the shortlist, too. Probably first, actually. With her as a Valkyrie Wizard, that would make the Valkyrie Squadron a lot stronger.

Honestly, the only reason not to pick Shivraa would be because Erick had only known her for a few months on Margleknot and a few months here on Veird, but she was fitting in really well with everyone…

Hmm.

And then there was Ezekiel.

Erick’s first repro was currently in Charme, in a house north of that Sovereign City, along with Gnowmi, the fae of gems and crafts. Erick had purposefully stayed away from him, but he knew that Ezekiel was working on a small empire of crafting and magics, and he was one of the first to widely craft [Silver Heart] into [Heart Charm]s. Those trinkets were proliferating in the theater districts of the Sovereign Cities most of all, because they were making people accomplished actors, if the rumors were to be believed.

… Ezekiel was walking his own Path already, right? No need to get him a premade Path from Lionshard.

… Right?

Erick asked Yggdrasil, “Do you know how Ezekiel is doing?”

“He’s on his own Path, as far as I know.” Yggdrasil added, “And he’s vehemently against being a bigger part of the war. He’s diverged rather far from you. If things go bad, he’s planning on escaping to Margleknot with Gnowmi. If he were to leave now then Tom wouldn’t need to do a Fateful plan with him; he could do the plan on Margleknot.”

Erick felt some relief at that. “Good. I’m glad he’s just living a life. He can do what he wants.” Erick decided, “The shortlist is Shivraa, Killzone, and then Lynkari. Got any thoughts?”

“Shivraa’s timeframe for Wizard ignition is a few years of hard work. Killzone could either be a month or two, or decades; hard to say. Lynkari is measured in centuries.”

“… Ah.” Erick asked, “Who has the shortest ascension to Wizardry?”

“Killzone, then Shivraa. No other person’s ascension is measured in time frames smaller than years. But if Killzone manages it, then Sitnakov is only months behind.” Yggdrasil added, “And that’s about as much as Tom was able to foresee.”

Erick thought for a moment.

… Killzone was on the level of a Shade —right there with Sitnakov— which was basically a Wizard but without the actual Authority-power of a Wizard. They were both archwarriors. Could they be Warrior Wizards? If Killzone was listless right now, and if Sitnakov would follow him to Wizardry…

“Say…” Erick glanced over to the far end of Yggdrasil’s cavern, where the Local Area Gate Network held by the tunnel entrance to Stratagold’s embassy. And then he looked back to Yggdrasil, asking, “Do you know why Killzone and the royal family of Stratagold completely avoid each other, all the time? They’re literally the only adamantium orcols that exist, and if Killzone and Sitnakov can rise together then I need to know if whatever happened there is going to be a problem, or a whetstone.”

“I’ve overheard some things involving the Second Prince Chernom who was murdered in an attack on the city by Melemizargo and the Shades something like 350 years ago. There’s a decade or three missing there, but Killzone showed up at Spur after that.” Yggdrasil said, “Other than that, the whole event was kept out of the records and no one talks about it, so your guess is as good as mine.”

Erick decided, “Well. Whatever. I don’t really need to know, but I do need two more True Wizards, and they both fit that bill, so that’s my decision. Make it happen for Killzone.”

Yggdrasil’s eyes glittered with unseen resons, and then he said, “Done. You should go say ‘hi’ to Killzone, and then step away.”

Erick went.

- - - -

Killzone rose from his tub, gathering his body back to his normal shape, because someone was in his living room—

Erick was in his living room.

Right down there, several meters away, stood the Apparent King, the Wizard of Benevolence. Erick Flatt.

Killzone had not always been intimidated by Erick. Back when the guy was making rainstorms in Spur, before Last Shadow’s Feast, Erick and Jane had been a valuable archmage asset and a fantastic soldier. They were both a lot more than that these days. Erick had done what Killzone had never thought possible; he had ended the threat of Shades. And then he had gone a step beyond, and turned them into… Allies.

Though they would never be allies to Killzone. Not really.

And yet, Al was a Shade now, and Al had been a friend for many centuries. Though Al had needed to adopt several different guises to remain in Spur, he had done it well enough. And now Al was a piece of slag… And also a Shade. A slagging Shade.

Everything was different.

Everything was wrong.

Killzone had wanted to kill the Shades for… for too many reasons to count. He was mostly past that anger, though. Now, he was just listless. Sure, the Blue Corps had been able to take him in, but now what? Erick had solved the problem of the Red, too… for now. There weren’t even any more Claws to fight.

And now, the real war was beyond Killzone. Way too far beyond.

… Killzone got out of his tub anyway and then headed downstairs, taking his time.

He entered his own living room, saying, “Hello, Erick.”

Erick smiled like he usually did, but he had those Melemizargo-horns out and he was every bit as tall as Killzone was right now, so his smile was not nearly as kindly as he imagined it to be. “Hello, Killzone.” And then his smile faltered. “Why are you living in this tiny apartment at the edge of Anhelia’s Kendrithyst?”

Killzone looked around. He had a house at the top of a spire, yes, at the edge of ‘Queen’ Anhelia’s Kendrithyst, yes, and though it was small, it was actually prime territory. The walls were opaque with some minor spellwork and the windows opened out on a vast vista of bright red and purple kendrithyst crystal towers. Killzone had five whole rooms here in the city. That was a lot? It was a lot.

Not as much as some, but Killzone was far, far beyond the need for opulence.

Killzone leveled his eyebrows at Erick, saying, “It’s better than Forward Base. I like it?”

Erick paused.

Killzone waited.

And then Erick said, “Well! I just came by to say hello, and now I’m stepping away.”

And then he did exactly that.

Poof!

Gone!

Killzone stood in his living room for a long while, wondering what that was all about.

It wasn’t like Killzone had other things to do, so he could take some time to just think for a while.

Hours later, Killzone still couldn’t figure out what Erick had been on about—

Anger suddenly crept in to Killzone’s mind like an unwelcome guest, knocking over thoughts and dirtying the carpets with their feet, and showing Killzone how bad he had let the place become.

Killzone sighed, muttering, “I used to be involved in ten thousand plots and never had time to think like this at all.” … And then he was really angry. He furrowed his brow, and looked down at his empty hands. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Where did his fire go?

He had had a goal, and then Erick had taken that away from him, and now Erick took away his peace and quiet?

What the fuck?

And now Killzone was angry.

The first thing he did was check his [Ward]s, and yeah, they were all still intact. Even the anti-[Gate] [Ward]s and runic webs were still fully functional. Of course Erick could just slip though those without anyone being able to tell him otherwise! Fucking Wizards, fuck.

Killzone stormed out of his house, took to the sky, and stepped all the way into Spur.

He landed in Silverite’s office just in time to catch her walking in the door.

Silverite paused in the doorway. She was carrying papers. “What occurs?”

“Erick was in my house today.”

Silverite paused longer. And then she shut the door and activated the protections of her office, sealing them and their words inside, and preventing all [Scry]ing. They were the same protections as inside Killzone’s house, so a slag lot of good they’d do her if Erick was looking this way. If the Blue Corps were looking this way these protections also wouldn’t do shit. Those [Infinite Imaging] tables were… Well. They were amazing. Killzone wished he would have had one centuries ago…

And now Killzone’s thoughts were multiplying like they used to, back when he actually had things to think about.

Silverite set down her papers on her desk and asked, “Okay?”

Killzone frowned. “Just ‘okay’? What’s he up to, Silverite?”

“I have several guesses. Do you want to know my largest one? It has to do with Stratagold.”

Killzone almost walked out of the room. Instead, he solidified himself. “Tell me.”

Silverite said, “Solomon and those [Silver Heart] charms are only part of the real work that Erick and his repro are doing, and that work is happening in Stratagold. It doesn’t have an official name that I know of, but we’ve gotten leaks here and there, mostly from Anhelia. There are a lot of rumors in the Knowledge Mage circles. A lot of them are calling it the Un-Sundering Project…”

Killzone felt his entire being vibrate as he listened to Silverite speak of the impossible.

For the first time in centuries, his memories of Chernom felt in a way other than regret.

He felt hope.

- - - -

Erick had no real idea what he had done, exactly, when he saw Killzone rush out of his house and head right to Silverite. The big guy disappeared into a Privacy bubble with the Mayor, and after a while, he went back to Kendrithyst and directly through the Geode Gate Network located by the Blue Corps. He went down to Stratagold.

Killzone never went to Stratagold.

What had happened there? No idea. Erick had some guesses. He left those guesses for other people to work out, because Killzone went right to the Anti-Red Project —which was going by many names these days— and he met with Solomon, and they settled in for a long talk.

Erick went to the archive room of House Benevolence.

According to some paperwork on powerful people that the House kept around, and which Erick had another, deeper look at, Killzone had been mostly listless, exactly as Erick had known him to be, but a few of the deeper, different reports had labeled him as ‘completely without direction at all’. That was a mite more serious than ‘listless’. Erick dug deep into the backlogs of that happening, to see a few different letters from Silverite, when she had invited him to various gatherings here and there, and how he had needed to forgo some of those for this or that reason. In two of those letters, she had specifically named Killzone as looking forward to seeing him… but Erick recalled one of those gatherings, and the guy had been distant the whole time.

… Had Erick been too busy —or too deep in the throes of [Onward]— to notice a brewing problem? To notice a friend who had needed help?

Yes, he had.

Shit.

And now Killzone was rapidly on the move, due to some Fate Magic cast by someone far outside of Veird, using powers that were beyond the Script... Wait. No. That was wrong. Those Ultimate Quests in the Core, which Nothanganathor had claimed credit for, were Fate Magic.

Rozeta had erased those Quests and rewrote them a while ago, calling upon the full weight of the Relevant Entities to rewrite them with her. And then she did that.

But the original ones had had no Red in them at all. Which was weird. Nothanganathor was either lying about making those Ultimate Quests, or he had claimed credit in a distant sort of way, or he was capable of doing things outside of Malevolence. Erick believed all three options were true, in their own way.

As for current-day Fate Magics, Phagar was doing Fate Magics to ensure Veird’s future, and he had even invited Erick over to learn some of that. Erick’s Lightning Path was already Fateful, and it had been enough to let him ignore actual Fate Magics for a while, but now Lionshard had worked Fate Magic on Veird from far, far away...

Hmm.

Erick put the archives back together, slipping reports and otherwise back under Privacy magics.

It was time to learn more about Fate Magic; to understand it himself from a godly perspective, and to also understand how such outside forces could possibly work such deep magics on a land that should have been protected.

It was a… relatively easy thing to accept that someone as Ascended as Lionshard could work magics on the entirety of Veird, from so far away and removed. It was also easy to accept that Nothanganathor could work Fate Magic at the beginning of the Script.

But could Nothanganathor work Fate Magic on Veird right now?

Erick imagined that answer as ‘Yes’ simply due to how Malevolence had been eating side realities, and yet, he hoped he was wrong about that.

- - - -

“Yes; Nothanganathor is working Fate upon Veird, purely due to acting from a larger realm; that’s how all the strongest Fate Magic is done, but that is not the whole story at all.” Phagar continued, “We’re still alive, and the future is looking better than it was. If there was a worrying development, I would have alerted people. As it is, for right now, Nothanganathor is looking at us, and waiting. From his perspective, he has already won.”

Erick had stopped in at the Grand Unified Church in Candlepoint, and gone to the Hall of Gods in the back. He wasn’t one step into the hallway before he found the hallway changing, and the space ahead transforming into a fractal geometry, with the floor made of stained glass. It was still the Hall of Gods, but it was not that place at all. As Erick stepped fully into the godly domain he left the church behind, and now he was here, with Phagar, in the God of the End and Time’s domain. Phagar, as always, looked like the person who he was talking with, which was Erick in this case, but a bit greyer around his shadows.

Erick took in what Phagar said, thought for a moment, then he furrowed his brow, and said, “He’s fattening us up for something.” Erick connected a few very distant dots, making extrapolations along the way, “It’s like when he claimed to ‘let me continue’ after we made Yggdrasil… He wants to become an ultimate god, taking everything everyone makes and claiming it for his own power, in order to spread that power outward and grab even more power. He’s not in any rush, but he will try to crush us if we go outside of his parameters, and yet, of course we can go out of his parameters, and we do that all the time. So what specific thing is he fattening us up for?” Erick looked to Phagar. “The reverse-Sundering magics that Solomon is pioneering?”

Phagar waved a hand to the side, and the fractal Hall of Gods shifted into ten thousand different reflections of Elsewhere, and of here, in this changing Veird.

It was a tapestry of possibility.

In one image lay Veird, hovering in the expanse of space with several bite-like crunches taken out of its shells, carving all the way through to the Old Surface and the Underworld to the Core, which was gone. The planet looked dead, and yet, as the image shifted, it revealed the land of Fenrir behind Veird, and Fenrir was awash in light and life and blue water and green land and so many different sunlights, like moons, spinning around the outside of Fenrir. The dead husk of Veird was just one planet in a gridwork of sunlights that surrounded the entire surface of Fenrir. Erick imagined being a person on the surface of Fenrir, looking out at the stars, and up at Veird’s onion-like corpse up there in the heavens, instead of the usual sunlights that roamed the land.

In other images Veird survived, whole and intact, and Fenrir was broken and falling apart, but people from Veird went out all the time to salvage what remained and fix what they could. It was a slow process. Fenrir was already looking inhabited in several locations, though, like motes of color on wide, black expanses, so they were having some success.

Other images had Red forests growing everywhere, both on Veird and inside Fenrir, to gaze upon the Shadowed Sun, where Nothanganathor’s body almost fully enveloped the entire surface. He was a backlit snake wrapping the entire illuminated thing; much larger than he was right now.

Those Red images were most of the images.

There was only one image where the sun inside Fenrir was Full Dark, and looked more like a black hole than anything else. In that space, in that place, there lay a Gate into the Dark Universe. The light surrounding that black hole was iridescent white, and that light shone down on the inside of Fenrir, on lands filled with people. Cities and forests and oceans stretched everywhere. It was the most beautiful thing that Erick had ever seen.

Phagar spoke, “In the majority of futures, Nothanganathor wins. He has too many ways to win and we have too few major resources. And yet… There are ways for us to win. Most recently —as in today— one truly good future has appeared.”

Phagar expanded the fractal vision of the Perfect Outcome of this war, and Erick saw a remade Grand Wizard’s Tower at the very center upon which all the rest came next. He saw himself seated at a round table, and over there was Solomon and Destiny, their chairs closer together than the rest. The other people in the other seats were less clear.

But in one chair, Erick saw something… weird.

Killzone sat in that chair, and yet, he did not. The image flickered. The image solidified. When it solidified, it did so in parts, with bits of the big black orcol-shaped man’s body stitching into place, like someone was taking a platinum needle and platinum thread and sticking the man down. Killzone spoke in his southern drawl, all happy about whatever it was they were discussing. Erick couldn’t tell what the discussion was about, and sometimes Killzone almost wiffed away, like a tattered bit of cloth not able to hang on anymore. When that Killzone vanished, platinum Fate Magic stuck him back down into place before he could fully escape this Fate.

Erick saw what was happening, and he said to Phagar, “We’re not supposed to say his name, otherwise he will Ascend to godhood, and that’s not nearly as nice here as it is in the Painted Cosmology.”

Phagar looked at Erick, judging his words. He found those words acceptable. He nodded. “Very well, then I’ll keep this Fated Future to myself.” He turned back to the fractal image of the Grand Wizard’s Tower conclave. “This is where ‘Tom’ is putting his Fate Magic to work. Do you understand what is happening here?”

“Rather sure it’s about forcing an effect that is so far distant that it might not even happen, in a version of Veird that is accessible to outsiders.” Erick said, “That has implications about the sanctity of the Script and other things… Too many to take them all at face value, I think.”

“That’s the gist of it.” Phagar said, “You can’t see it in this small picture, but if we expand our glance…”

Phagar expanded the picture, and Erick witnessed a version of Veird wreathed in platinum glows. The Grand Wizard’s Tower was stitched onto the world through platinum workings. The entire world spun around the axis of Yggdrasil, who had platinum roots connecting to his different bodies, located on different parts of the planet. Here and there, upon Fenrir’s much larger surface, Platinum lines glinted in the deepest of oceans, and inside the strongest of storms.

Lionshard’s spellwork wrapped the entire Good Path of Veird and Fenrir.

‘Stitching’ Killzone into place in a seat at the Grand Wizard’s Tower was just one small aspect of the much greater magic happening all around.

“Holy shit,” Erick muttered.

“Yes. You can see that ‘Tom’s magic is much, much larger than just Killzone.” Phagar said, “That friend you made in Margleknot is some friend, Erick, and yet I get the impression that this is just something that he is doing on a whim. Or at least the magics he’s guiding upon this section of Infinity are not nearly as tight as they could be. It’s all very loose.”

Phagar expanded the image again, this time into a few different side realities.

Those platinum threads on the bigger picture extended out into side realities, where they met ruinous Red magics... and kinda just hung there. The Red tried to eat at the Platinum, but it got nowhere at all.

Lionshard’s image of the Good Path remained strong.

And yet, if Lionshard wanted, he could have stitched a whole Good Path between the current Veird and that other Veird, couldn’t he? The fact that Erick could only see bare threads instead of a full tapestry-road on the Good Veird leading outward meant that… Yeah. The Good End lay there, but it was not fully present.

That was…

That was good, actually. Self determination was important.

Erick smiled at that, feeling his heart soar in his chest. “Tom’s a good guy— Technically neutral, I think. But overall good.” Erick scanned the fractal images. “So how does the current Veird connect to this one?”

“There is no proper road. We have to get there ourselves.” Phagar moved the images around, bringing up an image of a Ruined Red Veird on the left, and the Platinum Veird on the right. Erick’s stomach dropped as he saw that comparison, and a moment later, Phagar confirmed Erick’s fears, saying, “Our current Path is on the left.”

“… That’s some distance between the two, isn’t it.”

“And that’s where we come in.” Phagar dismissed the images, and they were back in the fractal Hall of Gods, but there was a nice little bench sitting to the side, in a spot of sunlight, on a riverside. The river glittered in front of the bench, filled with possibilities, and Phagar gestured to the sitting spot. “Let’s talk about the best ways to use Fate Magic, and compare them to what you currently do with your Lightning Path.”

Erick had come here for a Fate Magic lesson, so he sat down on the bench beside Phagar, and listened.

Phagar said, “The first thing to learn about proper Fate Magic is not to get hung up on the details. What Tom is doing is setting a distant, achievable goal. What your Lightning Path does is help you make the best decisions for the near future. Tom directs the river itself. You direct a boat upon the river.

“As a boat, you can see rather far ahead, and you can even direct your own path.”

The riverside turned into a small boat, with Erick sitting in the driver’s seat, looking ahead, as the river expanded from horizon to horizon. Red Rapids curled here and there on the world-wide river, and Erick saw his Lightning Path curl around the danger. He moved the wheel of the boat left, and avoided a rock he hadn’t seen until it was right there in front of him. The rock hadn’t been Red, but it had still been there.

Phagar sat in the passenger’s seat, saying, “Most people only get life rafts.”

Erick saw as Killzone, Jane, Solomon, and others, appeared on the horizon-spanning river, all of them clinging on to floating logs, or wooden rings, or an inflatable pool chair with a tiny oar in his hands, in Solomon’s case. All of them made it through their own Red Rapids okay, though wetter than they had been before they went through the Red, sputtering and clambering to stay afloat. Some of the others, the people Erick did not know, got swallowed by the Red Rapids.

Mog, the Guildmaster of Spur, vanished under the Red.

She was not the only one lost to the River of Time.

Erick felt his heart go out to her. He asked, “Could we pluck her out, this way? I am a Paradox Wizard, after all.”

“This is simply one incorrect representation of the world, so it’s not close enough to a true oversight to allow you to pluck someone out of time. Some people have found success with this sort of visualization of time, though I find it rather too simple to get anything real done.” Phagar said, “Also, you’re a boat right now, but you could be so much more than that.” Phagar waved a hand. “You could learn to travel through Time itself.”

The boat grew wings and the river-ocean dropped away, becoming so much more than that.

Erick could move the boat all around the river, moving backward, against the flow, if he wanted.

Each ribbon of water passing through the river was a person, an individual worldline, all flowing together toward the uncertain future. Each worldline began from the eddies and flows of other worldlines, and ended in a dispersion, into the creations of others. If they were lucky, they caused a lot of ripples and tangles and creations, but sometimes people dropped away into the Red, leaving a rip at the fabric of the ocean. Sometimes a worldline flowed from the beginning to the end of the river-ocean, avoiding all the Red, or other, simpler ends; those were the immortals, tangling with other worldlines and adjusting the river-ocean in small movements here and there.

Most worldlines were relatively short.

Phagar said, “This scenario is useful for seeing the future that Tom envisioned, and the current Path that Nothanganathor has carved for us.”

Far ahead, in the future, the river-ocean changed.

Erick saw a Platinum ocean over there, beyond the horizon. All the ocean was threaded with platinum Fate.

But between here and that platinum horizon lay mountains of Red Lightning, jutting up from the ocean. The ocean died when it reached those mountains, and that which did not die, went around. Some of the worldlines in the water ate away at the Red, but there was too much Red to ever fully erode.

The boat sailed in the sky over the worldlines of Veird, and Erick watched it all flow by. He did not see where this current ocean connected to the platinum horizon at all. The Platinum Horizon lay beyond a crescent of Red.

Erick said, “Nothanganathor is determining the flow of the river itself, just like Tom, but differently.”

Phagar began, “Time Magic and Fate Magic have a way of getting complicated, fast, and rapidly flowing out of control, therefore forging an end-goal is just as important as threading all current difficulties. For some, forging an end-goal is like making a light on the distant horizon. This is what your friend Tom did. This creates the most variable sort of future, and is by far the hardest to counter. That is why, even though the river is diverted by the Red, the Platinum Horizon is still out there.”

Erick suddenly connected a few disparate points. “Nothanganathor is just like me; working on the near-future— Or I’m just like him, for Benevolence goes wide and counteracts a great deal. He doesn’t have a Malevolent Sky, does he? He’s a leviathan. He has a Malevolent Ocean.”

Phagar smiled. “I believe so.”

Less sure, Erick continued, “And he can’t do end-goal forging?”

“Hmm… There’s some nuance to that, but broadly, yes.” Phagar said, “When you made Benevolence, you worked it to point toward endless good horizons, so your Lightning Path can alter on a whim and aim at a different good horizon. This is how Benevolence works for you, and for other accomplished users of that Element. Bad ends are easily navigated for Benevolence.

“When Nothanganathor made Malevolence, he aimed at a horizon that led him toward becoming God of Dark Magic, so while he could move around as he wanted on the ocean, he only ever had one direction to aim for. He’s spent ten thousand years going after this goal, Erick. He’s close, and he even has control over the space of this final battle. That territorial control —that Authority— is why he is able to direct Veird so well. There is still hope, but it’s a difficult path ahead.” Phagar looked to the Platinum Horizon, past the Red Tidal Mountains… And then he looked further. “But many paths simply end in Red.”

Far, far beyond the Platinum Horizon lay the end of the ocean, where everything turned to Red.

Erick realized, “Ah. We can’t sit back and build and build until we think we’re ready. We have to act now, because he’s also growing stronger with every passing minute.”

“We have some time, but not an eternity.” Phagar looked to Erick. “Time enough to decide on a Fate for Veird. Do you want to accept the fate that Tom has written for us? Or shall we forge our own?”

Erick found his answer truly easy to say, “I’m fine with Tom’s image of the future. The problem is that we can’t head directly in that direction, because the Red has trapped that way forward, so we need to have enough True Wizards to burst through those Red Mountains. The reverse-Sundering magics will help a lot. Figuring out ways to make individuals immune to being wiped away by the Red, and taking the fight to Nothanganathor himself, will do more.” Erick said, “What I want most from Fate Magic is to figure out how to send out a soldier and know that they’ll be able to come back home. Can we do that?”

Phagar said, “There are ways to ensure that a person dies on a certain date. If you set that date far, far in the future, then causality warps to ensure that happens. That is the extreme case, though, and such a magic would not work well against Nothanganathor due to him seeing those enchantments. He would subvert such people with Frozen Time, or other such maladies.” Phagar said, “Simple plans often fail in the face of overwhelming and correct strategy.”

Erick tensed. He chuckled nervously. “Ah... ha…” And then he added, “We need to focus on making people immune to him, and to learn how to fight as True Wizards to have a chance against him. Let’s fill out those seats of that Grand Wizard’s Tower. Killzone is one. Sitnakov could be another, according to what I heard.” Erick began, “I’m not sure about Kiri, but she could be...”

They spoke for a few hours.

When Erick left, he did not leave with so much of a plan, but he did have a rather well-rounded strategy, and a new appreciation for Fate Magic.

- - - -

Solomon sat down across from Leeanne Fieldfallow, who had the professional designation of ‘Knowledge Mage #Charme-B-789’. She had been looked at simply because her official Knowledge Mage number was the same as Veird’s Layer number, and now she was here, because some things were almost like Fate, it seemed.

Leeanne was a mousy woman, of brown hair and brown eyes. Those brown eyes went wide as she looked at Solomon, in the flesh, recognizing what was happening even before Solomon said anything. She gaped, and then tears started rolling.

Leeanne whispered, “This is a real thing. I’m really getting approved.”

“Yes, this is happening, and yes, you got approved,” Solomon said, spreading papers across the table between them.

Leeanne sobbed hard for a good half a minute before she came back to herself.

Solomon nodded, then he continued, “I know you’ve been kicked around by all the vetting processes, but I’m going to kick you around some more, so you know what you’re in for. This is a finicky process. It works better if you can make it work. That means people heading into the process with full knowledge of what is happening, and full knowledge of how to make it happen better, make it work better. You’ve gone through the interviews and the vettings and we think you have the capability.”

Leeanne wiped away tears.

And then Solomon set a silver bracelet onto the table between them. It was a solid working of magic; it was not a bracelet at all. Leeanne stared at the bracelet, not knowing what it was. But then she glanced at Solomon’s black tattoo around his wrist that was not a tattoo at all.

She realized something deep, in that moment.

Solomon explained anyway, “This is a [Shackle of Memory and History]. It is a magic of the Mind and [Silver Heart]s and even more than that. When I walk out of the room and shut the door and turn on the Privacy magics, that little green light over the door will turn on—” He pointed at the light, which was currently dark. “When the light is on, you will put the bracelet on, and it will meld with your very soul. It will resonate with you. In that moment, you must think of what has been taken by the Red; your husband, Perry. When you have a lock on his memories, then if he wasn’t Fully Taken, then you will begin to hallucinate him in your life.

“You will speak to shadows. You will make breakfast for two. You will find a warm spot on the side of your bed that wasn’t actually warm at all.

“And maybe, in a month or longer, if the person is capable of coming back, they will.”

Leeanne shuddered, her gaze locked upon that bracelet. And then her eyes flicked up to Solomon. “Have you actually had… personal success?”

As a Knowledge Mage, Leeanne would have known about Solomon’s ‘disappeared daughter’, Debby. She did not ask about her, though. She was kinder, in that way, but she was also ruthlessly protecting herself.

Solomon smiled softly. “We brought back a cat, and several wrought. You’re our first non-wrought trial. It doesn’t work so well for people who are moving around a lot, and if the connection is already heavily disrupted. I’ve tried to get Debby back, but it didn’t take. I’ll try again with the next round of improvements.”

Leeanne breathed deep. And then she got up and bowed. “Thank you, King Solomon of the Black Gate.”

Solomon rose. “Good luck. When you put on the bracelet it will be difficult. When you’re ready, come on out. We’ll be monitoring you from afar after that. Use your mana senses on the illusionary person you see, and keep them real in your heart, Leeanne. That is the only way this works. When you doubt, when you falter, you will lose them. You will have to start over, and you might not be able to make yourself start over.”

Solomon left.

He shut the door behind him and did not mana sense whatever Leeanne did in the room. Soon, soft crying filtered out from beyond the door. Leeanne came out minutes later. Pretty fast, really.

Killzone had taken a full week to come out of that room.

- - - -

Erick held onto a [Shackle of Memory and History] in his left hand as he reclined in his chair in his office at the House.

In his right hand he held his Lightning Path.

In his mind, he held an image of a Fate he desired.

He thought of Guildmaster Mogarithag Moggargal; Mog. She was a tall, muscular orcol. Some would call her overly muscular. She had short black hair and brown eyes, and she liked her magic to be colored grey, or clear, but it was red when she was too busy to Alter her mana signature. She had been flirty when Erick had first met her, and she maintained that disposition long after Erick had sort of… not gone that way. She had even implied one time that she would like a three-way with Al, but only because her words had been clumsy.

Erick recalled that time.

Mog had been wearing a bright red dress and Erick had been on a ‘date’ with Al, at some tournament games that Spur would hold north of the city, in temporary tournament grounds that Al had helped [Stoneshape] out of the sands. Mog had blushed when Erick had implied her implication, and then she blipped away.

Erick smiled at that—

His Lightning Path flickered.

His Path bade him not to put on the bracelet, but to instead…

Erick took his Lightning-filled hand, and gently pulled at the shadows of the room, the light of brilliant white claws easily finding purchase on his target.

From the shadows, Erick dragged Al into the world.

Al almost fought against the dragging, but then he steeled himself and stood before Erick, his eyes glittering white. He said nothing. He looked as he used to look, but different. Same black-and-pinstripe sultan/gangster suit. Same dad bod. Same massive arms and lower fangs jutting up from his jaw.

His countenance was full of shadows, though.

Erick placed the [Shackle of Memory and History] on his desk, closer to Al. “Hello, Al. I have a present for you. I’m not sure who it will work on, though. On Mog, the woman you loved, but refused to be with because you had already had a bad experience with someone just like her, years ago. Or on Savral, your son given to you by the woman who came before Mog, who was killed by Dragon Stalkers when she gave birth to a dragonkin. I don’t know of any other people in your life who were Erased, but the attack on Spur was extensive. Maybe someone else will come out of Memory.”

A long moment passed.

Al breathed, and then he sat down in a chair. “I have come to understand that you believe we used to be friends. This is not how I remember it at all. My life before the Claw attack on Spur and the life afterward was vastly different, according to my comrades in the Church.”

It was anyone’s guess where this particular Al came from, but Erick was pretty sure he was still the Al who first taught Erick about magic. He didn’t seem to think so, but that was fine. His memories were pretty faulty.

Erick nodded. “I heard something about that. A lot of people have memories that aren’t wholly true, because a lot of people who are here aren’t from here. Others were affected by the Red. Some, like you, were a confluence of both, with the full story lost to the Red.” Erick said, “Sorry, Al. If I could have come back sooner, I would have.”

Al let some of his mask drop, huffing a disbelieving huff. “In my mind, Mog was my wife. She was Savral’s stepmother, too. We were a loving family, and yes, we had lies, but… It was a good life. I have learned a few different stories about this world I exist within since that attack. The world I remember, though, is me taking you into my home and you getting Savral killed in that Red Dot attack. You spoke to Messalina about that, and I got Savral back for a time... Things devolved from there. I haven’t actually heard from you since you Benevolence’d me, trying to make things right.” Al stopped. There was more story there, but he stopped talking.

Erick said, “And now you’re a Shade, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

Al sighed. “I’m not avoiding you now.”

Erick asked, “Want a beer? We can talk about getting you set up with this [Shackle of Memory and History]. It might not work if you try it too hard. It will work better if Silverite will let you back into the city, into the Sewerhouse. I will talk to her about that, if you wish.”

Al’s eyes glittered with a little bit of hope. “… Sure. I’ll take a beer.”

They talked for a while.

It was tense.

It was nice.

- - - -

Erick stepped into the fractal Hall of Gods again.

Phagar stood there, like a shadowy mirror of himself. “Have you made a decision about Fate?”

“I have,” Erick said. And then he made a vow, “I’m going to get back absolutely everything, Phagar; for me, for others, for Veird. Let us bend Fate to that ultimate goal. Let us fully populate that Grand Wizard’s Tower.”

- - - -

Erick was a 3.5 kilometer big black dragon, sitting on the empty lands of Sphere One, above Candlepoint. The land up here was rather untamed and wild with only a few outposts from House Benevolence here and there, just because they needed to know what was happening in the Sphere above the city.

Today was training day.

A few of the previous days had been training days, too, so this was all going rather well.

Valkyries swarmed, and Erick attempted to catch them with aura-made claws. It was a simple training system which had taken a while to actually happen, because no one wanted to actually ‘spar’ with Erick at all. And yet, they all needed the practice. Even Erick was getting some use out of this.

Shivraa was a speck of ice-blue gold-black, dancing on the wind around Erick, swords flashing at Erick’s small attempts to grab her with his aura. Erick wasn’t doing much right now, and Shivraa wasn’t doing much to attack, either, but to an outside observer, it might look that way.

She was in her full valkyrie form, which Rozeta had kindly turned into an Ability and Class. ‘Valkyrie’ was based on Polymage, but with one key magic that would unlock whenever a Valkyrie was outside of the Script, or facing the Red; a built in ability to link to a [Spellsurge Weaver] that Rozeta had also set up, which would allow a Valkyrie to connect to all other Valkyries connected to the same squad. Rozeta could even supply them all with mana from Veird, and they could Siphon mana back to Veird, for [Benevolent Cleanse]ing, to make sure it wasn’t Red—

Shivraa blinked from one side of the sky to the other, her swords and wings slicing at phantom images of Erick’s claws that tried to surround and contain her.

Erick grabbed her with his aura and held her, using maybe a single percent of his concentration. Even that much was too much for her; she could not escape.

Which is when Killzone barreled through the space like a black meteor and punched Erick’s phantom claws to pieces. Shivraa instantly repositioned, moving fast, and Killzone mostly dodged a trio of claws reaching through the sky, trying to pin him between them.

Killzone was taking up maybe 2% of his concentration.

Erick wasn’t trying very hard. If he actually tried, he would just lock down the space all around them with a Domain and a smidgen of Authority, and then he would sort of… flex. The only ones who were somewhat able to escape that incredible amount of destruction were Killzone, and the other black orcol wrought in the area.

Twenty other valkyries, taking up another 8% of Erick’s collective concentration, worked their Siphons against Erick’s aura, trying as hard as they could to suck away his power. They weren’t doing very well. Erick pinned every single one of them between claws, one right after the other.

That’s when Sitnakov came in and broke Erick’s Domain in tiny ways, to free the trapped Valkyries.

With a broken smile full of hate, Sitnakov yelled out at Killzone, “What’s the matter! Can only save one comrade at a time?!”

Erick didn’t appreciate the distraction to the work, so he said, “Killing Claw,” and worked his auric claws to grab and trap four Valkyries, ripping them to—

Killzone, Sitnakov, and Shivraa, all three came to the rescue of their comrades, moving much faster than before, each of them scanning the area to see where Erick was attacking, and then rushing to the aid of their comrades. Sitnakov’s dual swords cleaved apart Erick’s claws to save one Valkyrie. Shivraa saved one person by freezing Erick’s auric claws. Killzone saved another by punching a pair of claws apart.

And the last Valkyrie knew they weren’t getting saved, so he did exactly what Erick wanted him to do; he saw Erick’s claws forming in the air around him, coming in for the kill, and he turned soft and slippery. With a twist of power and a bit of resonwork, the Valkyrie slipped out of Erick’s grasp, becoming a leaf on the wind.

Erick smiled, and said, “Very good! Just like that.”

The Valkyrie grinned, their massive red body flexing and twisting from Erick’s secondary grab. The guy was a minotaur from the minotaur lands, from those who had come from the House Benevolence of another Veird. A lot of those minotaurs —and even some of the minotaurs that Hollowsaur had made— had signed up for this Valkyrie program in the last few months. Those people were all remarkably adaptable to physical alterations, and easily able to take to the Valkyrie Class and power.

Erick had about 56,000 Valkyries.

Erick was only working with 250 of them right now… And also Killzone and Sitnakov.

The Valkyries tried to dart in, to stab at his scales while attempting to Siphon off his magic all the while. It was good training for everyone all around, really, and occasionally some of the Valks figured out how to instinctively use resons to escape Erick’s grasp. Every single one of these 250 had Domains, and every single one of them was an extremely powerful warrior in their own right.

But even after living here on Veird for 9 months, and with the Un-Sundering project working well, and with all the plans and ideas they had all put forth… Would it be enough?

Erick softly said, “Big Killing Claw.”

People tried to react.

It didn’t save them.

Erick turned every single Valkyrie into mush and pierced Killzone and Sitnakov through ten times over, from ten different directions. Killzone and Sitnakov gasped and tried to reform, to get out of the pin, but Erick had pinned them well, using resons to do it.

Erick had billions of resources to spare for this sort of thing; there was no danger of ever running out in these sorts of trainings.

The Valkyries rapidly reformed from pools of blood scattered all over the area. Only Shivraa managed to reform in any quick amount of time.

Erick let Killzone and Sitnakov go, pulling his auric claws back, dropping their mangled bodies onto the ground with some big thunks, and then he cast healing magics on them. Soon, they were right as rain, though they were still gasping heavily. That much deep damage caused a lot of pain, and that pain lingered well past the wounds healing.

And yet, Killzone soon rolled over onto his back, to stare at the sky. He was in pain, but it was distant.

Sitnakov dry-heaved onto the ground while his broken swords lay around him in pieces. He was in pain, and it was all-consuming.

Erick turned back into a person and stood with the General of Spur’s Army, and the Second Prince Stratagold. “Take ten and let’s go again.”

Killzone breathed out, his black eyes staring at the false sky overhead. And then he rose to his feet. He huffed, and then he laughed once, and spoke in his characteristic ‘southern’ twang, “That was a good scuffle. Seems I gotta do a mighty lot of moving to shake off the slag.”

Erick smiled at that. Killzone looked better than he had in years.

Sitnakov heaved again, and then he got up, though he wasn’t moving easily at all. He tried. His swords melted into his body and then reformed in his hands. He glared at Killzone for a moment, and then he said to Erick, “You’re holding back too much and striking too fast and deep. I’m getting no experience learning how to break your Domain.”

Killzone said, “Again.”

Erick nodded, then said, “Then I’ll go slower and we can try some of that.” He said to everyone, “We’re going again! Any Valkyries who want to switch out, raise a hand!” When no one raised a hand because they were all too stubborn to realize they were tired as fuck, Erick commanded, “Then I guess I gotta beat some sense into you.”

And then he was a giant dragon again.

The training resumed.

Erick went slower with his attacks, but sometimes he simply splatted the most tired Valkyries with his tail, telling them that they needed to go rest. People rotated in and out of the battlezone. Gradually, and then in rapid improvements now and again, the Valkyries improved, because when one of them improved in a meaningful way, all of them seemed to understand how to better escape Erick’s grasp. Individuals still fell to a tail whip when Erick saw them lagging, though.

Killzone and Sitnakov rapidly got better and better, and they even teamed up to ‘fight’ Erick now and then, when the opportunity presented itself. Erick was surprised to see that, but he didn’t say anything. Killzone and Sitnakov were ‘fighting’ with each other right now, and Erick didn’t want to disturb that.

Killzone wasn’t anywhere near Igniting his Wizardry, and no one talked about that at all, but he was improving fast. Very fast. Killzone’s entire kit was all about punching harder and moving faster, and he seemed to be casually speeding up with every hour of work. His seriousness had already dropped away, showing himself as the unserious-serious danger that Erick had recognized him for when Erick first got to Veird, and saw the giant black orcol as the General of Spur’s Army in Ar’Kendrithyst.

And then Sitnakov got splatted by Erick’s tail, his swords flying away through the air—

Killzone slowed down enough to tease the man, “I reckon you lost sight of the giant tail, eh, Sitty!”

Sitnakov came back together, chuckling. He reached for his swords, but his swords were way too far away, and yet the air rippled with resons. Suddenly, his swords were in his hands again, and he was woundless, saying, “It’s a lot different than fighting Melemizargo.”

Killzone barked out a laugh—

Neither Sitnakov or Killzone had recognized that Sitnakov had instinctively used resons. They were joking just a bit too much.

Erick went in with his tail to clip Killzone, to get his head back in the game, but the guy reacted without reacting. The very fabric of reality warped around the big black man as Killzone slipped out of the way of the strike, moving in the air like a leaf on the wind. Suddenly, he was on the other side of the sky.

Killzone’s smile was wide. “That’s how you do it!”

Huh!

Good for them.

Erick only had 5% of his focus on the two of them, but he spared a bit more because they were getting cocky. His next claw grab shoved Killzone right into a tail slap, but even then Erick only managed to clip his legs. Of course, a simple clip of a kilometer long tail with 30-meter-long sharp spikes was still enough to remove Killzone’s lower half. It took Killzone a moment to put himself back together, and he had to retreat to do that.

Sitnakov laughed at him, saying, “That’s the fastest you can heal yourself, eh!”

All around Erick, the Valkyries fought to strip him of his power, Erick solidified his own aura and Domain to prevent that, and he plucked at anyone who got too close, or who managed to draw too hard upon him and actually take some Mana, or Resons, or Psyche. Different Valkyries were better at taking different resources from him, and though that sort of theft wasn’t something that should be encouraged —because to focus on Erick’s resources was the wrong sort of focus, for Nothanganathor would certainly have different powers— it was still nice to see them all finding their places, and finding their power.

Erick guided their efforts with his Lightning Path, focusing on whoever needed the focus. Killzone and Sitnakov had demanded his focus for a brief period, but now they were back to the background, for Erick had helped them as much as he should.

A few hours of training later and the entire assault of Valkyries was able to get into his inner defenses, and actually take mana from him. Erick called out another Big Killing Claw and wiped the board.

As people regathered themselves, Erick called for a switch.

A different series of 250 Valkyries came forward…

Along with Jane and Candice.

Erick’s stomach dropped.

And then Jane said, “Just watching, dad.”

“Oh, good!” Erick said, “That’s good!”

Candice said, “Just watching you beat up her boyfriend, she means.”

If Sitnakov was capable of showing a blush, he might have done so.

Jane just laughed, and said, “The big guy needs a beat down every now and then.”

Sitnakov improved much faster with Jane watching.

Killzone was doing a lot more improvement than Sitnakov, though, and though Erick knew that Killzone was not interested in Jane, and Jane was not interested in him, Killzone entered some sort of reson-trance zone for about an hour of battle, just by having Jane there, cheering on Sitnakov. There was some sort of forlorn-ness in Killzone's eyes sometimes. The [Bracelet of Memory and History] he had embedded into his left wrist even showed on his black, adamantium wrist now and then, like a thin tangle of a silver tattoo.

Erick had some probably-correct guesses as to what was happening between Killzone and Sitnakov and the absent and obviously-Sundered Third Prince of Stratagold, Chernom. The fact that Erick was shaped like Melemizargo, and Killzone and Sitnakov were both fighting him at the same time, was obviously a powerful part of a memory for both of them. Erick was pretty sure he saw a shadowy, silvery Memory flitting around the battlefield right alongside both of them, when they both truly got into the flow.

Whatever was happening between the ‘Stratagold-royalty-shaped’ wrought, and the ‘actual Stratagold royalty’ wrought, was something for them to figure out—

Killzone flashed platinum, his eyes focused on Erick’s face, and then he barreled through five of Erick’s gripping attacks, ignoring them all in a way he had not been able to ignore before. His punch took Erick in the jaw, like a gnat striking a giant, but this gnat went right through Erick’s scales and bone and body, and then out of the bottom of his face.

It was rather superficial damage, even if it did look bad.

When Killzone came out the other side of Erick’s dragon face Killzone had a silver aura around him, and he continued in a straight line like an unstoppable meteor, right into the ground, like a line of light.

The fight stopped because everyone had seen that happen. Erick fixed his jaw and turned back into a person.

Floating above Killzone’s crater, Erick waited for Killzone to pull himself out of the ground.

When the man unearthed himself, he was still the same big black adamantium orcol-shaped man as always, but his eyes were platinum, and a ghost of himself came out of the ground with him. Killzone blinked at the copy of himself, and the copy smiled.

“Oh,” Killzone said, to the copy. “Hello.”

The copy silently said something.

Killzone said, “Okay.” And then Killzone looked up at Erick, floating a few tens of meters away. “Thanks for the training, Erick and all y’all. I’ll be back.” And then he stepped away in a platinum flash, that was clearly not any sort of normal Elemental Stepping magic.

The ethereal copy went with him.

Erick smiled at that.

Sitnakov frowned as he floated next to Erick. “What just happened?”

Erick saw his Lightning Path connect rather strongly to the moment, so he let it guide his next words, “Looks like Killzone just ignited as a Wizard. That’s the first wizard wrought ever, right?”

Sitnakov breathed deep, shuddering. “… I need to go. Thanks for the… uh. Thanks.”

Erick nodded.

Jane came over to Erick, asking, “So Killzone is a Wizard?”

“Genesis Wizard, I think,” Erick said, “Yup.”

Jane and Candice both went, “Huh.”

Erick turned to Jane, and directly asked, “Are you dating Sitnakov, now? For real?”

Candice laughed loud.

Jane blushed. She didn’t lie this time. “… Maybe.”