Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (31/?) Revised Version (Patreon)

Hey everyone! There's been some major revisions done this time around so I suggest that everyone check out the revised chapter! :D I've made some major changes to the middle part of the chapter, primarily to the scene involving Sorecar giving Emma the workshop card. I decided to change that as I realized that there's another better opportunity down the line to approach that, and the current setup allows for a cleaner transition to a plotline I have planned out already. This is one of the few instances I need to make a bit of a change to my established timeline and storyline that I have mapped out, and I do apologize for this change! I really hope you guys enjoy the revised version of this chapter, and again I'm honestly super sorry for this change! As always, the revised sections are underlined! :D

We both spent the next few seconds staring intently at the only victim of collateral damage from that very brief, and very one-sided exchange.

An exchange which involved 25 very fast bois, and one very well-protected, hand-crafted suit of enchanted armor.

A suit of armor who was an innocent victim in all of this, whose only offense was simply being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It was an offense that had led to a hailstorm of bullets creating an unsightly hole where a beefy neck-guard had once been.

This surprising turn of events had resulted in a very perplexed Sorecar, who seemed to be unable to make heads or tails of all of this.

The man’s gaze remained completely transfixed on what could only be described as a clean, textbook-example of a shot-grouping made possible by a tried and proven weapon with centuries of refinement under its belt. The thumb-sized hole that had manifested on a particularly heavily-reinforced part of the armor looked almost surreal given the otherwise immaculate state of the suit. It looked almost intentional, almost mockingly so, and would’ve more than likely been immediately attributed to a great many forms of mana-fueled shenanigans, rather than the unassuming mana-less brick that was my pistol.

After a few more moments of silence, punctuated only by an awkward shuffle as the man knelt down to get a closer look at the damage, he eventually turned to face me again with a clenched fist and a single thumb pointed back towards the hole in question. “So… mana-less?” He asked with a genuine display of disbelief, as if needing to hear me say it one last time to douse what few embers remained of his lingering skepticism.

A skepticism which I only had one response for: that being a confident nod and a sheepish smile. “Yup, mana-less!”

A sharp ‘sigh’ soon followed, as the man wiggled his hands in place for a few seconds, causing two back-to-back upticks in mana-radiation.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 230% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

And an object suddenly appeared in the armorer’s formerly empty hands. An object which bore a remarkable similarity to a flashlight, if you were to replace the butt of it with a dull pulsating orb of light encased in a spinning disc of crystals.

It looked like something you’d find in an end-game dungeon, despite its sole purpose being identical to that of your common requisitions-office-grade flashlight.

The purpose of this device, and the sudden dimming of the workshop’s lights, was soon made clear to me as he pointed the light through the hole in the armor… only for it to emerge on the other side seamlessly.

“Because you’ve left me with not just one hole to worry about, but two. And as a result, left me with double the questions, double the perplexity, and double the mystery… as to how a mana-less projectile was able to make it through enchanted armor, not just once, but twice.” The man reinforced his sheer and utter disbelief by rapidly flicking the bottom of the magical flashlight with his fingers, causing the light to turn on and off in rapid succession. A very apt metaphor for how the man was currently feeling at this point.

“The armor, despite being enchanted, is still just steel, correct?” I responded with a straightforward question.

“Mana-steel, yes, but I’ll assume your point still stands.” The armorer responded curtly.

“And I’m assuming there’s no additional funny business involved? No enchantments that can repel projectiles, no shields that slows down incoming blows, or anything like that?” I continued further.

“Not this particular piece, no. It’s a commission from the same person who commissioned the polearm. All he wanted, and all he was allowed, was a series of complex enchants designed to strengthen the mana-steel. Resilience, durability, and other such assorted enchantments.” The armorer listed off in rapid succession.

With it being confirmed that all I was dealing with, was just a super-strengthened piece of metal, I was confident in leading into my final point.

“Well theoretically speaking then, even with enchantments, anything with enough mass, traveling with enough speed, could pierce an object, correct?”

The armorer made a point to cock his head to the other side, and if he still had eyes, I bet they’d be staring at me with all sorts of emotions right about now. “The speeds an object would need to achieve to pierce a piece of enchanted armor, not once, but twice, would be impossible to accomplish without the aid of the direct manipulation of mana, or the construction of an artifice using mana.” The armorer stated plainly, with a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “No known mana-less mechanism would be able to accomplish a similar end. This is not to mention that the object in question would have to be shaped with the explicit purpose to pierce mana-steel, and would have to be forged out of a material with properties comparable to mana-steel, if not exceeding it.”

The man paused after that spiel for a few seconds, his whole body going completely still as he began mumbling to himself. “A smart smith would have to weigh the cost and benefit of the velocity versus the weight of the projectile, and the energy capable of being transferred at the point of impact, moreover, different shapes designed to pierce certain armors, and the properties of the metals involved would also come into play. Which, given the back and forth nature of arms and defense, all of this would imply-” His mumbles stopped as he rapidly cocked his head towards the hole yet again, then towards me.

“Just how far has your realm come, where your people have found it necessary to develop projectiles capable of piercing materials comparable to enchanted mana-steel, Emma Booker?” The armorer spoke with nothing but shock and disbelief in his voice.

“Far enough.” I spoke vaguely, as I knew I had to tread the line between discretion and answers like a thread through a needle.

The armorer let out a sharp humph at my answer before continuing. “I shouldn’t be surprised though. I should’ve expected as much, given how that small weapon of yours was capable of containing a chain of consecutive explosions.” The armorer spoke in no uncertain terms, as I felt my heart practically skipping a beat. “That’s what it was, wasn’t it? That dreadful sound? I’ve dabbled in my fair share of explosive weaponry, I know the sound of a contained explosion when I hear one.”

I paused, trying to wrap my head around an acceptable answer as I landed on a plausible, middling response. “I’m-”

Only to be cut off by the armorer before I could go anywhere with that. “Actually, don’t answer that question.” He urged sharply, as he craned his head towards several aspects of the room, before landing on the entryway to the workshop.

It was the same tone he’d used when he’d hurriedly approved my weapon and prematurely ended the weapons inspection right before Ilunor’s prank. It was that same, almost hushed sort of self-conscious intonation that felt just a bit off from the endlessly-curious tone he usually spoke in.

“It would be rude of me to intrude and to blindly ask for something that might well be a trade-secret of another smithy or armory after all.” He quickly added, clearly attempting to justify that abrupt halt in his curious train of thought by giving me an answer that was just convincing enough, but still left me with a certain sense of unease.

Another awkward silence soon descended on us. Something was clearly going through the armorer’s head. Something that the man clearly didn’t want to say or mention out loud. The way the man stood there, just glancing back and forth between me and the hole-ridden suit of armor, made me think there was more to this sudden stop in the flow of the conversation, and more to the abrupt cutoff man’s naturally curious tendencies. “Don’t interpret this the wrong way, Emma Booker.” He suddenly spoke up. “I want nothing more than to dive deeper into the inner workings of such a fascinating weapon. However, I believe it’s best if certain things were left unspoken. I wouldn’t want to rescind my earlier approval of that weapon after all.” The man spoke with a ‘wink’, or, what could be interpreted as a wink as he tilted his helmet back and forth enough to generate that same effect.

That one statement alone was evidence enough to prove to me that the armorer was actively trying to help.

There were a thousand and one ways this could’ve played out, and a hundred thousand more scenarios where he could’ve just taken the pistol away.

Yet this was one of those outcomes where that wasn’t the case.

Perhaps the hearts and minds aspect of this whole mission was already starting to pay off?

“Either way, I believe it’s about time you took your leave, Emma Booker. I said it before, but I’ll say it again: I’ve taken enough of your time as is.” The man spoke with a grandfatherly warmth. “And unlike myself, I know there’s a fleshy body inside of that armor that needs its sleep.”

It didn’t feel right to just leave it at that though. I felt like I had to clear the air somewhat, especially with how things had panned out, and especially after all of the acts of good will Sorecar had risked his own skin just to put forward.

“Listen, Sorecar. I’m sorry about how things turned out tonight.”

“Oh? Whatever do you mean by that, Emma Booker?” The man spoke with his signature head-tilt. The way he spoke was completely devoid of any duplicity or sarcasm, but instead, a genuine sense of confusion.

“It’s just… well… first of all, I’m sorry for this entire mess.” I gestured at the room. Though to be fair, the mess I was referring to was almost completely gone now as whatever magic was responsible for cleaning everything up had made short work of the disaster Ilunor had left behind.

“First off, none of this was your mess to begin with, Emma Booker.” The armorer replied with absolutely no hesitation. “And second, it’s a relatively trivial matter for a caster of my caliber to deal with. As you see-” He gestured towards the scant few objects that were slowly making their way back to their rightful places. “-the workshop’s practically as good as new now!”

“Well, I most certainly can’t argue with that.” I responded with a sigh. “But I still feel somewhat responsible for the damage.” I gestured towards the hole-ridden suit of armor in question. “If I hadn’t used my weapon on that fake-creature, then-”

“You can’t feel mana-fields underneath all that mana-resistant metal, can you, Emma Booker?” The armorer interjected with a question.

“No, not really, at least not as I understand how most Nexians can-”

“Well then you’re not at fault.” The armorer stated in no uncertain terms. “The projection you saw was as accurate as could be, down to the finest physical details, and even took up physical space. However, it was its mana-field that gave it away. It wasn’t that it was undetectable, but rather, it was a rough approximation that was simply incongruent with the creature it was purporting to be. Given what you’ve told me, that you’re from a realm without mana, belonging to a species without a mana-field? It would’ve been all but impossible for you to have distinguished that beastly projection from its real counterpart. Come to think of it, even a peasant with the ability to detect mana wouldn’t have been able to detect the finer details of its falsehood. As the field it projected was there, but just not right.”

If that’s the case… then that might explain why the sensors were fooled. It wasn’t that it was a hologram, it was an actual physical thing. Which again, brings up the uncomfortable question of just how Ilunor was able to capture the null’s likeness down to a t.

“The ability to feel and see mana-fields sounds almost like an extra sense.” I pondered outloud.

“That it is, Emma Booker. Or rather, it’s a sense that’s found in all living things in the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. I wouldn’t want to sound presumptuous, but considering you are unable to sense it at all, you technically are the exception to the rule… Apologies if that was in any way offensive.” The armorer responded sheepishly.

“No offense taken, Sorecar.” I promptly dismissed the man’s concerns, and reassured him with a firm nod.

There was a lot to unpack and uncover here.

And a heck of a lot more things to learn.

But for now, I needed to wrap things up. There would be time to delve deeper into the finer details of mana, into whatever Sorecar seemed to be paranoid of, and into Ilunor’s conspiracy. Probably not in that order, but still. There would be a time and place for them. For now, the primary concern was to finally bring this questline to an end, before shifting my entire focus back on resuming the hunt for the crate.

“I’m not too great at goodbyes so… I guess this is it, at least until we inevitably bump into each other again. I do have a whole year to spend here after all.” I spoke under an exasperated breath.

“Indeed, and several more years following that to boot! So fret not young cadet, for we will soon cross paths yet again! I just know it!” Sorecar replied cheerfully. “Oh, and before I forget.” The man outstretched a hand towards the general direction of the damaged suit of armor-

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 270% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

-and telekinetically pulled out what seemed to be a collection of bits of metal deep from within the stone wall behind it.

“Here are your projectiles back.” He spoke giddily, as he clinked the bits and pieces of metal around in his gloved palms. "Such fascinating specimens…” Before reluctantly pouring all of them back onto my awaiting hands. “Please send my regards to Dr. Alisson Cooper and Dr. Richard Li for the invention and or refinement of such novel constructs!”

Another sharp shiver ran down my spine as the armorer spoke of the two long-dead engineers, clearly working off of the assumptions from my purposefully-vague explanation of the gun from earlier.

“I’ll see what I can do about that, the pair are erm, quite preeoccupied!”

“Dr. Cooper, Dr. Li, please don’t haunt my dreams for this… I did what I had to.” I whispered internally to myself, and to the long-departed spirits of the two world-renowned engineers who were more than likely now waiting for me with rolled-up newspapers for when it was my turn to join them in the afterlife.

“And thank you.” I said as I pocketed the bullets, or what was left of them, back into one of my many pouches.

It was at this point that Sorecar began ushering me towards the double-doors, but continued talking as he accompanied me out. “You’re more than welcome to return to the workshop at any point, Emma Booker. However, there are a few caveats you must be aware of. As you might have overheard from our confrontation with the Vunerian, the workshop is generally off-limits to students. This means that you would normally have to go through the faculty to request an audience with me. However I would request that you actively avoid the conventional channels should you wish to return. You can instead approach the workshop directly, though you must first inform one of my many golems that line the hallway first. They will inform me of your presence and we can proceed from there” The man paused, placing a hand on my shoulder just as we reached the double doors. “Make sure that you address the golems, and not the gargoyles.” He quickly added.

“Will do, Sorecar.” I nodded cautiously, and soon after left the workshop in almost the same way I entered: without much fanfare, and with dread looming ahead of me.

However, as I turned back towards the doors one final time, waving the man yet another goodbye, that sense of dread lifted somewhat.

My time with Sorecar had exposed a revelation far more vital than the intel I’d managed to gather on the offensive capabilities and the industrial potential of the Nexus.

It’d exposed something that should’ve been obvious from the beginning, but that I now had more evidence for.

It’d demonstrated the fact that the Academy, and perhaps by extension the Nexus, wasn’t just a monolithic faceless threat.

Because as with any institution, it was composed of people, and people tended to vary wildly in possibly every possible metric.

As evidenced by Sorecar himself.

I’d arrived at the workshop believing I was in for an uphill battle, believing that the armorer would be yet another Nexus-shill.

Yet the man I encountered was anything but.

As I was instead faced with a near-broken man, who perhaps suffered just as much as any under the system he served.

My interactions with Sorecar were forcing me to rethink my current presumptions over the Academy.

It gave me some hope that there was good here, underneath what would otherwise be a gilded world in name alone.

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 0300 Hours.

Emma Booker

They say that you don’t really notice how tired you are until you finally reach the finish line.

Well, whoever they are, they’re right.

I wanted nothing more than to drop dead. I desired sleep, I craved rest, my body screamed at me to just lie where I stood as I entered through those double-doors and back into the sanctuary that was the dorm.

Yet rest would not come for me that easy. Indeed, I knew that my night had only just begun, at least when it came to the long laundry list that came with the setup of the tent.

Looking at the top-right hand corner of the HUD, I physically shuddered when I saw the looming horror that came second only to the null with the level of primal dread it instilled within me.

It was a feeling that was well known within the ranks of anyone trained in expeditionary warfare, a sense of inevitability that would’ve made even the most hardened of veterans quake in their boots.

For this was an enemy that you couldn’t just dispatch with, at least not with a bullet, a laser beam, or a bolt of plasma.

It was an enemy that you could only deal with using a squad of auto-assembly drones, and a lot of troubleshooting.

It was the dreaded checklist.

In front of my eyes, superimposed in front of the dark and silent room like the specter of a freshly-minted sapper, was the monster of a checklist that grew larger and larger in size the longer my pupils remained fixated on it.

ONGOING TASKS [TENT]:

BASIC SETUP [72%]

INTERMEDIATE SETUP [34%]

ADVANCED SETUP [23%]

SETUP OF INTERNAL FACILITIES [N/A]

SETUP OF EXTERNAL PERIMETER EQUIPMENT [10%]

Eventually, the text came to dominate the majority of my vision, not out of some quirk of the interface, but because it was necessary for what was to come.

[MENU EXPANSION Y/N?]

Because within those categories, was nestled a collapsible menu that held an endless stream of sub-categories.

And within those, were the individual tasks arranged in order of priority, color-coded with its prerequisite equipment and materials, and further married with a series of a hundred different bits and pieces that were by themselves fine, but when put together looked like an info-logger had thrown up on my HUD.

Because in expeditionary warfare, the only ones responsible for your bed, your shower, your facilities, is you.

I began  recalling some of my aunt’s many warnings about heading voluntarily into expeditionary training and certification.

That’s why I joined TSEC, proper. All you need to worry about is your kit, your weapons, the insertion, and killing anything outlined in red. Everything else is not my problem. Join the LREF if you want to spend half of your time training how to prepare for a hypothetical alien war, on a hypothetical alien world, by not-hypothetically assembling bases from the ground up over and over again. Join the army if you want to roll the dice on whether or not you plan on doing the same thing the LREF does, just with less prestige, or end up being stuck on-base for the entirety of your service.

If only she could see what I’d gotten myself into now.

I sighed, and began looking around for any signs of life. All I could see however was a room with only the crackling fireplace as its sole source of light.

It was quiet, somewhat eerie, but very peaceful.

I kinda liked that.

Some peace after a day of nonstop action was nice.

At least, that’s what I thought, until I heard the tell-tale signs of life from within Thalmin and Ilunor’s room.

A series of loud thumps grew in rapid succession, as if someone was purposefully stomping on either the floors, or even the walls given how erratic things sounded from this side of the wall.

I knew it wasn’t my business to involve myself in other peoples’ business…

But heck, I couldn’t help myself.

So I took a few tentative steps towards the room, which was more than enough for me to hear bits and pieces of the vitriolic arguments brewing within.

“-I’m not going to ask again. Where the heck were you, lizard?!” I heard a very distinct voice growl out. Thalmin’s voice no doubt, as the EVI began filtering the audio, amplifying it, and assigning names to the voices for good measure.

“Where I was is none of your concern, lupinor. I find your obsessive interests over my actions to be quite telling, mercenary prince. You don’t seem to have much in the way of your own business to attend to now, do you? Perhaps you find it more engaging to live vicariously through another’s eyes? Is that what it is?”

The small thing was just as smarmy as ever…

“You know damn well that’s not what this is about. Now stop skirting my questions. You expect to arrive back here, enter our room, without even giving me the common courtesy of an explanation why you left in the first place? Is that how manners go in your Kingdom?”

“I will be having none of this! Not tonight, not- wait... Just a moment-”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Any and all sounds from within the room suddenly stopped after that burst of mana.

I could only assume that the lizard had more than likely pulled up another privacy barrier.

“Good luck Thalmin, you’re going to need it.” I whispered silently into my helmet as I left the wolf to his fate, and silently trudged back towards my room.

I’d done everything in my power to delay the inevitable.

Now, it was time to face the music.

Opening the door to the room, I was met with silence.

Not the dull droning of the generators, nor the vacuum-like whirring of the MREDD, but just… silence.

Taking more tentative steps towards the tent, it soon became clear just why things were this silent.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Thacea had clearly accounted for the noise, and decided to preemptively deal with it before I even got back.

My suspicions were confirmed as I looked up towards the second floor lofts, and noticed that one of the beds was already occupied.

Thank you Thacea, you really are a lifesaver.

I thought to myself with a smile, as I prodded my way over to what looked to be a massive food cart just randomly placed in a corner of the room.

It was only when I got close did I realize what it was.

And it was only then that a huge pang of hunger finally hit me.

It was the to-go order I’d requested earlier this morning at breakfast.

I completely forgot about it with everything else that had happened over the course of the day. From the spy drone to the revelation of the null, to the library and the subsequent fight that ensued in the gardens, to the discussions of the gun to both Thacea and Thalmin, and then the whole night spent at the armorer’s workshop… the food cart had been all but been ejected from my mind.

Looking at the massive cart, I noticed a small letter, written in handwriting that looked as if it’d come straight off of a table of a master calligrapher.

The EVI and the translation suites made quick work of the text, as I began reading it.

Emma,

You will find that the food is still in the same condition as it was this morning, as the Academy utilizes a spell to ensure the freshness of the dishes.

Please find the time to eat something.

Your lack of appetite is starting to worry me.

With Sincerest Regards,

Thacea D.

I couldn’t help but to feel a certain pang of something at the end of that letter. I couldn’t quite place it, but it just felt… nice.

Though as I stared at the still-fresh food, I quickly realized that it could only help so much, given that I’d forgotten to put it in the MREDD earlier in the day.

And since the machine hadn’t yet been tested, and needed several samples to calibrate, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing any of these dishes inside the tent… at least until sometime tomorrow.

With that being said, I needed to put something in there now if I wanted to see results.

So I took a few staple foods that were of similar densities, that being some bread and what looked to be pancakes, and tossed those into the MREDD’s external-facing compartment.

With that out of the way, I turned to the rest of the equipment still tucked away in the crates. I stared at them for a few solid minutes, my fingers gliding across my tablet as I finally landed on something that satisfied both the checklist, and my own selfish desires.

It was going to be a longshot, but I knew I could do it.

This would be something I would need if I was going to stand any chance at resuming my quest to retrieve the crate, starting with an unscheduled visit to a hopefully lucid apprentice.

[START SETUP: HYGIENE MODULE Y/N?]

I was going to take a warm shower tonight, if it was the last thing I do.