The Third Gate: Chapter Sixty-Two (Patreon)

Just as a quick reminder: Monday, December 16th to Sunday, December 29th, I will be taking off in order to spend time with family. Chapters will resume as normal on December 30th.
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“Ghosts,” I finally said. “I like the idea of being able to help people, lay things to rest. Learning skills and having eyes all over is useful too.” 

“A reasonable choice,” Orykson said. “As much as I believe that osteomancy provides the most power in the long run, I’m not certain you’d be able to make full use of that power.” 

He flicked his hand out, and three packets of bound papers appeared in midair, which he floated over to me. 

“Fitting all three in, alongside the coalheart, might be a little bit of a squeeze while you’re still in early third gate, but it shouldn’t be detrimental, especially due to the fact that you’re planning to dedicate most of your mid-third gate to raw mana and the Fungal Armor spell. A good choice, by the way – adaptive spells are rare, especially below fifth gate. I’m only aware of three hundred and fifty or so.” 

“That’s rare?” I asked skeptically. 

“Considering the innumerable number of spells in the world? Yes. Now read.”

I snagged the first packet and flipped through it. It had a complex breakdown of the spell array, but no actual description of what each one did, and I suspected this was some sort of test from Orykson. 

“Spirit Circle,” I read aloud, then studied the magic. 

It was large, clunky, taking up an absurd amount of space for the effect, more than three times the size of an Analyze spell. It was almost as if it was… 

Ah. 

“This was supposed to be a meta-spell, wasn’t it?” I asked. “But since Beast Mage’s Soul is taking up the second gate where Spirit Trap would normally go, I’ve got to contain the entire spell here?” 

“Correct,” Orykson said. “Still, you shouldn’t complain. Even this version is  much easier than my own. I have to layer significantly more enchantments to connect my own version of the spell.” 

I grunted my acknowledgement before skimming over Spirit Circle. It required me to physically draw out a quick circle, alongside some very simple ungated mana enchantments, the kind of thing even I could throw together in less than ten minutes. Then I’d cast this spell into the circle, creating a stable dome of death energy that blocked most spiritual entities from moving through it. 

It wasn’t a perfect block against all spirits. A fire elemental, for example, was a type of spirit, but not one that would easily be contained by the spell. But it should be capable of containing ghosts, shades, asomatous, several types of nature spirit, and some other things besides. 

Figuring out the ingrained effect was tricky, but I was fairly confident that it would help me increase my own internal resistance to spiritual attacks. I gave my analysis to Orykson who agreed, then expanded with some extra details. 

“There are different types of death mana aligned chalks that you can purchase or find, where the death of the creatures that make up chalk was especially influential, and they can be used to lay down longer lasting circles, or reduce the mana cost,” Orykson said. “There’s also a specific type of silver alloy, called boneshadow-steel, which can be used to create quasi-permanent circles.” 

“If it’s a type of silver, why is it called steel?” 

“The metallurgic alchemy used in creating the mineral involves bones, steel, and silver,” Orykson said. “As well as one of those earlier chalks, and some other things.” 

“I didn’t think you liked alchemy,” I said. “I vaguely recall you saying that it was inferior to enchantments and warding in almost every possible way, and that even permanent potions would be better served by simply having someone else make them.”  

Orykson’s lips twitched into a slight frown, though it seemed somewhat self-deprecating, rather than aimed at me.

“I underestimated the efficacy of battle alchemy,” he said. “As such, I’ve been attempting to catch up on the last several centuries of alchemical research.”

“I see.”

I flipped open the second packet. Its spell was also large, but it was distinctly more elegant – a large spell due to its complexity, rather than due to having to bend over backwards in order to do the bare minimum. 

The spell design reminded me of Capture Moment or Spatial Anchor, or even of what Dusk did when she claimed a guardian over a specific portal, investing magic into a person.

“Ghost Tether,” I read aloud, before giving my best shot at explaining it. “It allows you to place a sort of anchor – or tether, I suppose – that links me to the ghost and allows me to feed them mana?” 

“Indeed. It’s also capable of passing along some of your mana regeneration, which works well if you’ve got a specific ghost that frequently assists you in battle. It also serves as the base for a great deal of ectomancy. Its ingrained effect will improve all ghost related spells.” 

I had kind of assumed the last part, given that anchor spells all seemed to do that, then grabbed the third book. This spell was at least a more reasonable size – still larger than a combat spell, but smaller than something like an Analyze spell. The design was strange though, drawing on principles I wasn’t too familiar with.

“Now this is an interesting one,” I said, leaning forwards. It had some aspects of a meta spell that interacted with Analyze Death, but that wasn’t the primary part of the spell. Much like the Foxarmor spell seemed to offload a significant amount of its design into the ingrained effect, so too did this one. 

The primary part of this spell seemed to act as a relay of sorts, though I wasn’t entirely sure how or what. It was definitely still a sensory effect, but it reminded me of a diagram I’d seen in school of how communication mirrors bounced knowledge mana from spot to spot.

“Alright, I’m less sure here,” I said. “It’s some sort of relay. Given it’s a ghost spell, I assume it lets me link with my ghosts and… project power from them? Then it’s connected to Analyze Death, but that mostly seems ingrained, otherwise I think it would allow me to cast mana senses through them. Also this packet doesn’t even give me a name to work off of, which I think is cheating on your part.” 

“Not bad,” Orykson admitted, a note of grudging respect in his voice. “For all that you seem to detest sitting down and studying, you have a handle on spell design.” 

“Thanks! So what does it do?” 

“The spell is called Ghosteyes. It allows you to look through the eyes of linked ghosts, as well as gather some feedback from their mana senses. Not project your own, unfortunately, though I suspect your Runelight Lens will eventually give you a similar power. When ingrained, it improves your deathsense to help you pick up on lingering spirits.” 

“Useful,” I said. “I suppose I should begin at a graveyard, then.” 

Orykson paused, fishing his pocketwatch out and checking it. 

“Truthfully, you should be able to handle the rest of this yourself. Just go to a graveyard and speak with one of the ghosts to see if they need assistance,” he said. “You were already doing that. Now you just have spellcraft for it. I’ve got a little bit of time left, though, so it’s time to look at another part of combat.” 

“Oh?” I asked, tilting my head. 

“Resonance becomes increasingly important as you advance,” Orykson said. “Your resonance source improves many things. Using it to expand your abilities before Arcanist is extraordinarily difficult.” 

“What about Nascent Truths?” I asked. “Kene kept their heart beating manually using their Nascent Truth of Succor. I’ve amplified my ability to sense the Wind of Fortune with Benevolence.” 

“Nascent Truths are… Somewhat different,” Orykson said. “Some consider them to be the most powerful, due to their ability to flex and enact their will onto the world. Others consider them to be the least, because it makes it much harder to apply it in other ways. Though Kene’s use did genuinely surprise me. There are few enough people their age alive who can do something similar, and only two I know of who can do it consistently.” 

“I see,” I said, frowning. “Then what are we doing?” 

“Just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean it’s impossible. We’re going to begin with the simplest application. Have you ever had someone else’s senses forced inside of you? Not just a simple scan, but jamming their senses at you aggressively?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of uncomfortable. Like being hit in the face with a pillow, but in the spirit.”

“We’re going to use resonance to empower your mana senses directly, then attempt to break into one another’s spirits. Prepare yourself.” 

He flipped his hand up and I felt his mana senses rush into me. They were an overwhelming tide of power, slamming into me and sending my spirit into disorder until I blazed out with my own power and mana senses, throwing them up against his. 

As I did, I realized that he’d restricted his power down to early third gate, but I was outmatched. His power was focused directly on me, intense and meaningful. 

I slipped the Runelight Lens from my spirit to cast Placid Mind and Impel Senses. As his own attack sloughed off, I straightened and threw my own senses and mana down on him. My staff appeared in my hand, directing the power with its resonance. 

Benevolence added a trickle, but not much. Sure, the power I gained in training could be used for benevolent ends in the future, but that was a thin thread at best. 

Orykson and I clashed against one another, as I used Impel Senses to shove his mana sense away, and Placid Mind to focus and direct my own. 

“I’ve done this before,” I said. “A few times, actually.”

“Indeed,” Orykson said. “It’s not some secret technique, simply difficult to train, even as a spellbinder.” 

Orykson narrowed his eyes and broke through my Impel Senses, shoving it back onto me. I cast Sky Dragon’s Senses, Sense Directionality, and Analyze Space, Death, and Life. The power let me overwhelm Orykson, slamming my senses down on him instead. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Orykson said, flicking his hand and pushing through my wave of power. “You’re using your resonance to empower your spells. That’s fine in battle, but it’s holding you back in training.”

He stopped, lowering his hand. 

“Put on the sensory impelling glasses, and stop using your magic. You should rely only on your base senses and resonance.” 

I did as he said, putting on the sunglasses and gripping my staff. 

Again, Orykson and I clashed our senses against one another, and I had to stop myself from flaring my suite of sensory spells. They were powerful, yes, but they’d just help me grow in the normal sense, rather than 

Instead, I focused on my staff. I could feel it spinning around my spirit, making my spells stronger, helping me grow. I could feel my connection to Benevolence, the humming of the power to help and support others. It flowed with Fortune well, my first and most solid wind, but it offered little help here.

I thought I understood what Orykson meant, at least a little, about the different types of resonance.

Benevolence was doing nothing now, but if I was in a place where I needed to empower my mana senses to help save a life, it would come rushing in, the strength spiking upwards in a way the staff couldn’t.

The staff’s resonance was blank, by comparison. It wouldn’t push upwards, but nor would it drop randomly. It made attempting to flex it to this task difficult, but it still was easier than working with benevolence. 

If I’d had a domain weapon, which projected outward, this might be easier, but I had little enough doubt that there were inward projections that they’d struggle with. Roots enforced resonance, after all. 

Orykson and I clashed our spirits against one another for the next half hour or so, and there were a few times where my staff seemed to connect to my senses and they exploded outwards, but I wasn’t able to get it to steadily reinforce my mana senses, and as Orykson vanished, I added it to the list of things to practice.