Mana Mirror: Chapter Fifty-One (Patreon)

As Aerde, the Knowledge Elemental that Orykson had bound when he’d advanced to spellbinder, broke down everything that his heir project had done, he found himself… dissatisfied.

Not with the boy’s growth. That was good. Admirable, even. The infuriating woman, Meadow, may be slowing him down in the short term with her prattling about efficiencies, but even he couldn’t deny that he would have eventually done the same – he simply would have waited until the boy had broken into the third gate.

But the boy had no spine at all. Using restrained tactics against a troll, a wild slipshark, and an enemy?

If it was only against the werewolf, he would understand. Killing sapient beings was always harder in this day and age, even for him, and he wasn’t sure the boy could have killed her regardless. Even the mercy he’d shown the slipshark was… acceptable – after all, it was part of his job to contain, not exterminate, and remaining in good standing with the Wyldwatch would be good for his future.

But the troll? Trolls were no good to anyone, and leaving one alive while you plundered its cave was a needless risk. Though knocking it out with the method he had was relatively safe, it was far from ideal. That would have been the perfect time to get actual experience with killing on Malachi’s hands.

But no, Malachi hadn’t killed the troll. Or the slipshark. Or the werewolf.

Perhaps…

Something smaller. Something to harden him up a bit first. It was easy to forget just how removed the modern age was from killing. Malachi may simply need something to push him, to make him tougher, and then Orykson would be able to work him up to killing.

Yes, that would do well.

But what could he use?

Ivy and Alvaro were both out immediately.

The dragon had immense potential and power, and was likely to be useful in upcoming events, and he’d need Ivy and Malachi to cooperate when they came to pass.

The librarian was under the protection of the public library, and Orykson wasn’t going to cross that faction lightly. Besides, the child didn’t have the disposition to be a good rival.

The witch’s grandchild…

Orykson and Aerde debated for a moment. It was a risky play, since Kene’s seal was already beginning to come loose, and if that broke, Malachi and Kene would both almost certainly die.

He supposed he could give the old crone the resources to reinforce the seal, but there were even odds that she’d use or sell them to try and reclaim herself, and simply risk his wrath. Her mind was too far gone to be entirely predictable.

His lips twitched up into a smile at that. Potions of immortality, peaches of immortality, perfect golden apples from the silver branch… All of them paled in comparisons to his immortalities.

But gloating was unbecoming of him. No, Kene was too much of a risk, to say nothing of the fact that he was turning out to be a surprisingly adequate tool for Malachi’s advancement.

Who, then?

Aerde hummed as he sorted the data.

Qwin’s aura tattoos could serve as a good warning to Malachi, and even present a potential path to immense power as a Spellbinder, though if he accepted them, he’d be worthless and Orykson would terminate the contract early.

But she was too strong already, and had no vendetta.

But her teammate, Mallory?

Aerde pulled up more information on her, and Orykson let out a sharp laugh. She was perfect. Middle of the road second gate, with a few mastered spells but no ingrained. She’d leaned heavily into her werewolf mana composite, rather than learning to expand into more diverse spells, which meant she’d be predictable, but powerful.

The more he learned, the more perfect she became.

With a thought, he smashed through the wards and teleported to the Nightheart Guild-master’s office.

To the dragon’s credit, he unleashed a stream of cavern dragon’s breath enforced by a nascent truth of breath attacks the moment he felt a flicker of spatial magic force its way into his office.

Though, perhaps giving the dragon credit was too far. A nascent truth wasn’t inherently an awful way to advance, though he always found them the least appealing, but to simply have a nascent truth of breath attacks? One spell, perhaps three or four could be reinforced with that.

Orykson let the attack rip through his body, shredding his torso completely.

Then he reformed it, his spell connecting himself back together, and his enchanted suits threads restitching themselves. In the time it took to blink, he was whole and healthy again, and arching an eyebrow at the cavern dragon arcanist.

The Guild-master stared at Orykson, shock written across his face.

“Who the Primes are you?” he demanded. “An assassin?”

Orykson could feel the Arcanist gathering power to unleash a series of powerful spells as he spoke.

“No,” Orykson said, unleashing a strand of seventh gate mana, and holding up the official seal of a Darkwatch in personal service of Mossford’s Chancellor.

The Guild-master’s eyes widened, and he extended his hands.

“May I…?” he asked. “Not that I don’t believe you, honored Occultist, but… Chancellor Brannigan’s personal seal?”

It amused Orykson that the man thought he worked for the Chancellor, but these sorts of charades were necessary to keep the world in balance and running with the modernity that he so enjoyed.

“Of course,” Orykson said, handing it over. The dragon looked it over, then handed it back and bowed.

“I apologize for striking you,” the Guild-master said. “I had… No idea. When the wards broke, I thought it was an attack.”

“Think nothing of it,” Orykson said dismissively. “Now, onto business. I’m going to recruit Mallory Cromwell into this guild. I will be providing you with two extra idyll-flume passes, and one of them will be hers. You’re going to make her work for it, and she is fully to believe that she has earned it on her own merit, and trust me, she will be engaged hard to work for it. The other pass is yours to do with as you see fit, as compensation for your cooperation.”

“Mallory Cromwell…” the dragon said thoughtfully. “She applied for a position here, but we didn’t let her in due to a lack of experience, and we didn’t want to take her in so soon after her mother’s embezzlement charges. Yes, I’d say enough time has passed for public opinion to have moved on, and she’s been working for the Watches. Actually, she should have a letter of recommendation coming in soon, if I recall right.”

“She won’t, but that’s a non-issue. She will remain a member of this guild until at least the idyll-flume is over.”

“Understood,” the dragon said, nodding. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“No,” Orykson said. “Some Lightwatch members will likely be over sooner or latter to help take care of the paperwork.”

With that, he teleported into the hall next to Mallory’s bedroom. The Cromwell’s might have been disgraced after the embezzlement charges, but their personal wealth was still considerable for the common man, and their inner-city flat was luxurious.

Ostentatious, even.

Orykson sneered as he knocked on the door. After a few moments, the young werewolf opened the door and glared at him.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He held up his Darkwatch identification badge.

“Mallory Cromwell,” he said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. You may call me Agent Dhar. May I speak with you?”

To her credit, she didn’t flinch, scrape, or bow the way the Guild-master had. Then again, he hadn’t unleashed any mana on her, so perhaps he was giving her more credit than was due.

“If you’re wanting me to sell out my mom, you can take your fancy tie and–”

Orykson decided to cut her off before she had a chance to tell him what exactly he could do with the tie. The way that the richest and poorest members of society could both act so similar rather grated him…

“No. I’m here to offer you the chance to join the Nightheart guild.”

She stopped speaking immediately and sniffed the air curiously.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “We were impressed with your decisive action under pressure, and upon reviewing your records, we believe that this would be the perfect start to redeeming your family name. We’re willing to pull a few strings and get you to enter the guild, if you’re willing to help us out a bit in return.”

“What do I need to do?” she asked eagerly.

“On the fourth of Frost-Creep, there will be a competition for several of the most promising youths in the nation and our allied nations, but it’s only open for those who haven’t advanced to Spellbinder yet. You’re ready to advance any day now, so you’re at the peak of how much power you can express, but you’ve still got more spells to master, and ingraining them never hurts. The top ten guilds in the nation have each been given three passes to this competition.”

She nodded eagerly.

“Then I have six months to push myself to the very peak of second gate?” she asked.

“Precisely,” he said, smiling in a broad, fake manner that many government officials used. “Before and during the competition… Do you remember Malachi? The boy who stopped you from putting down the slipshark?”

“Yes,” she said rigidly.

She really needed to learn to master her emotions if she wanted to get far in any sort of business or politics.

“He’s become… Of note to us. His mentor is a dangerous individual with sociopathic tendencies, and we believe that he could present a potential risk to public safety. You’ve already formed a connection to him. We would like you to keep an eye on him when you can and interfere with his missions, though that’s hardly needed, as we’re watching him. The primary goal you should have above all is to enter the competition, and should he enter as well, we would like you to do what is necessary to stop him from winning. Even if it means you lose, so long as he does too, you’ll be compensated greatly for it.”

She looked at him seriously and nodded.

“I understand, Agent Dhar. I’ll make sure that he doesn’t win, and I’ll do what I can to interfere with his missions when I can.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Keep the performance up, and there may be more rewards than simply getting accepted into the guild.”

With that, he teleported to the palace of the Lady of the Sunscorched Desert, satisfied with himself. Even if Mallory didn’t act until the idyll-flume opened, her actions during that period should be plenty to ensure that she pushed Malachi.

And then the sky tore apart.

His body was shredded too completely for him to be able to regenerate from it.

Orykson’s soul snapped back to his phylactery, and he took control of a combat body and teleported back to Suntorch.

He arrived to see the Lady of the Sunscortched Desert unleashing her own phoenix magic to counter the burning radiance of the Sun Queen.

“Oooorrrryyyyksoooon!” the Sun Queen shouted, her voice causing the air to tremble with rage.

Wherever the Sun Queen went, her wife and fellow Magi, the Moon Queen was sure to follow.

His knowledge spirit began to access his battle plans for fighting the Sun and Moon Queens and he teleported a few feet to the left as the Moon Queen’s magic drove a spike of ice into where he’d been a moment before.

“You have prolonged the existence of Vivian,” the Moon Queen said, “as well as killed a prospective Occultist before he could form a Title.”

Her voice was cold and calm, befitting her title. She sounded like an executioner declaring a death sentence.

The Lady of the Sunscorched Desert soared up to float next to Orykson, ready to assist him in battle against the Sun and Moon Queens.

“Vivian is a plague on Ddeaer,” the Sun Queen said. “One that you shaped, and have allowed out of your control.”

“True,” Orykson acknowledged. “Her time will come, though. She’s fought her fate hard to simply survive as long as she has. Why should I be punished for turning a profit for my lands while I can?”

As he spoke, his spatial mana was reaching out, tapping into hundreds of contingencies and stored spells, each one sealed in their own private space. Attacks from a dozens of dead Arcanists, Occultists, and even Magi. Defensive spells and enchantments. Even Experiment AM-DL-29.

He wasn’t going to be able to win this fight, he wasn’t too prideful to admit that. Against either one alone, certainly, but together? No.

But he would survive.

The Moon Queen was gone from both his sight and Aerde’s divinations, so he simply readied his attacks for nine different spots where they predicted she’d appear.

“It was well within my Magi’s rights to do what he did,” the Lady of the Sunscorched Desert said.

“That is debatable at best,” the Moon Queen whispered from nowhere. “But it was not right.”

As she spoke, both of the Queens unleashed their attacks. The air thundered with purple fire that could injure both flesh and soul from the Sun Queen, and the air filled with a thousand spinning shards of ice, each one infused with a curse that would cripple his access to his mana, courtesy of the Moon Queen.

Orykson’s vassal Occultist, the Lady of the Sunscorched Desert, released her phoenix magic in a wave. In a circle around Orykson and herself, the cursed ice began to break apart, melting away to harmless water. The Lady wasn’t strong enough to counter the Moon Queen’s magic completely, even in her home desert, but it was enough.

He teleported in front of her and took the soul rending flames head-on, his own soul defenses and battle form able to withstand the blows.

“Morals are what the world decides,” Orykson said contemptuously, as he unleashed his own counters. Entrances to pocket worlds opened, and a wave of attacks struck at the married couple. Light, stone, fire, shadow, ice, water, lightning, and a dozen other elements lit up the sky in a chaotic blend of color.

The Queens joined their might, and a shell of creation and desolation formed a two-layer defense that ate through the attack’s power, then blocked what was left.

Orykson used the time to rip a tear in space that would take him and his vassal across the world to a location he’d set up several centuries ago in the unclaimed territories.

“Enough,” the Space King said as she appeared next to them all. “This childish squabbling can be sensed all the way in my tower.”

“Agreed,” the Knowledge King said as they appeared. “This fight benefits no one. Orykson, you should have consulted with the other world powers before you killed those adventurers. Atsila and Ama, you should not have tried to take justice into your own hands… Again.”

Vivian’s body of black bones appeared from the shadows underneath them and floated up.

“I think Orykson was within his rights, as much as I dislike him.”

An avatar of the Storm King appeared, formed of clouds and crackling lightning, and the Space King waved her hand to summon Tom and Meadow.

“Since we are all here,” the Knowledge King said, their smile calming the entire world around them, “We should host a conclave. The world is changing, the Cult of the Primes is moving again, and we need to address the issue of Orykson saving Vivian, as well as taking on a new apprentice.”

Orykson disconnected from his folds in space, and updated the situation in his mind. This wasn’t Ama and Atsila attacking him out of a sense of justice. It had just been a ploy to set up a conclave.

He gestured to the Lady of the Sunscorched Desert, and she descended to her palace. She was strong, but she was only an Occultist. This was a matter for Magi, and even then, none of the servant Magi like Ikki would be allowed to attend, only the true world powers

“Good idea,” Meadow said, her face wrinkling in a smile, “I will represent Kijani in addition to my usual standing as representative of the unbound and wandering mages for the purposes of this meeting.”

“Agreed,” Orykson said.

“Yes,” Ama and Atsila said in unison.

“Fine,” Tom said, sounding bored.

“Agreed,” Vivian echoed.

“Aye,” the Space King said, her eyes rolling.

“Indeed,” the Storm King crackled.

“Then allow the eleventh world conclave begin,” the Knowledge King said, clapping their hands.