44: The Beast (Patreon)

‘Yolnet, the Beast, was born to a poor family and had little prospects,’ Kleos continued, Nicolai sitting and listening quietly to the story. ‘But even so, he yearned to be a Cultivator. He diligently practised at clearing his Nodes, working to reach the Foundation stage. Alas, it was not easy. It is never easy. Hard work can only go so far, and without the necessary resources he made little progress.

‘All the while, he saw the sons and daughters of the richer families power through with plentiful Oma crystals and access to the areas of richest energy, until they reached the Foundation stage. From there they were fed elixirs, Oma fruits, the flesh of spirit beasts, and they advanced ever forwards.’

Nicolai half-opened his mouth, curious about all of these things, but then closed it again. It would be rude to interrupt and he didn’t want to disrupt the flow of Kleos’ words. As he listened, Nicolai studied how Kleos told the story. He enjoyed learning things and being good at them. There was little tactical reason to be good at telling stories, but even so he was irritated with his lack of skill and found himself wanting to improve, studying Kleos as an example of something to aspire to.

‘Meanwhile, his parents died and he was left to care for himself and his sister on his own. He worked as a hunter, and on the rare occasion he managed to fell a spirit beast, through trickery and cunning, he was able to eat very little of the prize, instead having to sell the flesh to pay their landlord.

‘And so, he stagnated, and perhaps he would have continued like this, eking out a living, just about surviving. Only, his sister was very beautiful.’

Nicolai chuckled, immediately seeing where this was going, and Kleos quirked a lopsided smile at him before continuing.

‘One day, he returned from another unsuccessful hunt to a scene of chaos. The son of a clan elder had spied his sister from a distance and decided she would be his. She was not willing, but what could she, or her brother, do? He tried to fight but lasted only a moment against the Cultivator’s Symbiotes, and he was left in the dirt, bleeding and broken.

‘Those around merely looked on because those with power do as they wish, those without stay out of their way, and hope to not be noticed. None even came to take him from the street, and he had to crawl back to his home where he managed to bind his wounds before losing consciousness.

‘After that, he was unable to hunt, forced to spend months recuperating from his injuries, and he’d yet to recover when he fell behind on the rent and the landlord forced him out.

‘Without a place to live and unable to contribute, he was considered a vagrant and the clan forced him out. So, Yolnet went to wander through the forest, living like the lowest of animals, a scavenger who ate the remains of beasts slain by predators, who scrounged for nuts and berries.

‘But, as time passed, his body healed, his strength returned, and once more he was able to use his bow. He learned to live in the forest, and found it was better than in the clan. Now he ate everything he hunted, now he kept any crystals he found, now he had more time to sit and Cultivate the natural energies of the world.

‘He focused on becoming stronger, and in time he finished clearing his Nodes, and reached the Foundation stage. Alas, on the day he succeeded, he was found by Cultivators from the clan. He was hunting and gathering near to their territory, and they saw his activities as stealing.

‘They chased him through the forest, and he used every trick he had learned to elude them, but they had Symbiotes and he had nothing. Just as it seemed he was to be slain, a gigantic spirit boar came running out of the forest, a mad creature with dark fire in its eyes. It killed one Cultivator then another, and Yolnet watched the fight from a distance. In the end, the boar was slain, but it had in turn killed all but one of the Cultivators, who was gravely wounded and fled back to the clan.

‘Yolnet emerged from hiding, full of joy as he looted Symbiotes, Imbued items and clothing, and cut out Nodes. Then he approached the bleeding corpse of the boar. It was clearly a powerful spirit beast, and consuming its flesh would be of great benefit to him.

‘As soon as he drew close, the corpse jerked in sudden movement and before he could get away, it had bit him on his leg, and Yolnet felt a terrible pain. Falling back, he saw a black stain spreading beneath his skin around the bite.

‘He made it back to his hideout, and there he suffered for days. But when he recovered, he found himself stronger. His Cultivation had advanced, and it continued to do so with little effort on his part. On top of that, his body had changed and he possessed claws, and wings, and vision in the night.

‘That first day he killed a powerful spirit beast and ate its flesh. But, it did not satisfy him. His body hungered for something more. It was only as he was travelling around, that he smelt something. Seeking the source, he found a young woman. His hunger made him descend upon her, and he ripped her apart and drank her blood, and it sated him.

‘As he grew in power, wandering the forests, he remembered his sister. He was strong, now. He could rescue her.

‘So in the night, he snuck inside, killing the guards on the wall and drinking their blood. He found the compound belonging to the family of the Cultivator who had taken his sister, and he moved through it like a wraith, killing and killing until he found the Cultivator.

‘After a great battle, he was moments from striking the Cultivator down. That was when he heard a scream, and someone ran out. It was a woman, one of the Cultivators wives, and he killed her, and he killed the Cultivator.

‘It was only later, while searching for her, that he realised the woman he’d killed had been his sister. Unbeknownst to him, behind closed doors the Cultivator showed another side, and had won his sister over in time.

‘The black blood had turned him into something else, something that no longer cared. He told himself she had betrayed him. She’d gotten what she deserved. That night he slew the entire clan, and drank their blood, and grew greater and more terrible than ever. After that he left, and carved a bloody path through the Spines, before he was taken down.’

There was a moment of silence, as Nicolai considered Kleos’ story. ‘So, this black blood made him stronger?’ he asked.

Kleos sighed. ‘It did,’ said the head.

‘Is it a real thing?’

‘It is said that the black blood fell from a great Outsider, struck down in the chaos of long ago, when this reality was forming.’

Something rare which I am unlikely to find, then, Nicolai noted. ‘And Yolnet, the Beast—how was he defeated?’

Kleos raised its eyebrows. ‘That’s an interesting story, actually. It is said that an Angel descended from above, come to deal with him.’

‘An Angel?’ Nicolai stared at the head, surprised to hear it use the word. ‘Such things exist?’ He frowned. Angels were religious things, tied to Christianity. What would the head, or this new universe, know of them? Were he and Kleos even talking of the same thing? ‘What would an Angel look like, to your mind?’ he asked.

‘They are agents of Heaven. This one, so the story goes, appeared as a winged man. A Quorn, a member of my species. The Angel fought the Beast… and the Angel was struck down.’

Nicolai blinked, surprised. ‘The Beast defeated it?’

Kleos made an undecided expression. ‘In a way. But it was the Beast who lost that day.’ Kleos’ tone of voice shifted, and Nicolai settled back into his seat, recognising that the story had resumed.

‘The Angel came upon the Beast when he was searching for a treasure at the bottom of a lake. This treasure was a Symbiote of Change. Rare, and very valuable. Such Symbiotes can do many, many things. The Angel attacked immediately, and the Beast fought back. The two fought above the water, exchanging savage blows. It was an even fight. Both were injured, and both fell. But there in the water, the Beast got close, and it savaged the Angel. It broke the Angels wings and its bones and it tore its flesh open. It seemed that it would finish the Angel, and that would be that.

‘But during the fight, the Symbiote of Change had shown itself; for it was indeed lurking in the lake and their fight disturbed it. As the Angel lay dying its golden blood soaked into the lake, turning the water white-gold, blessed. The Angel reached for the Symbiote, and the Symbiote came. At this moment, something strange happened.

‘The Angel used the Symbiote which reacted in some way, and the white-gold water reached into the Beast. The Angel pulled his black blood out of him, and though the Beast screamed and thrashed, he could not resist. The blood came out, and it went through the water, and it changed. The black was turned white, and the blood fed back into the Beast.

‘Finally, the Angel died, the Symbiote was used, and the Beast… the Beast was no longer the Beast. Yolnet lay there, but he was not the same. Now, he had white wings, and golden eyes, and his form was pure and perfect. An Angel.’

‘What?’ Nicolai gaped at the head, utterly confused. ‘Seriously? He turned into an Angel?’

Kleos did a weird little shrug with its eyelids. ‘So the story goes.’

‘So what happened then?’ he asked, leaning forward.

‘Well… I don’t know. Yolnet was never seen again. I guess he was taken by Heaven.’

Nicolai could only shake his head as he sat back, not at all sure what to think. An interesting story, with an unexpected twist, he decided, but, unlikely to ever be relevant to me. Best to move on.

He recalled some of the details Kleos had mentioned in the earlier parts of the story, when Yolnet had been struggling in the village. They seemed more relevant to his current state. ‘You mentioned the Foundation stage. Is that where I’m at? Do I also need to consume Oma and such to get to the next level?’

Kleos snorted. ‘You’ve got a long ways to go. The story was quite condensed. As to where you are, now… if you weren’t what you are, but something more normal, then I’d put you at the Clearing stage, needing to clear out your Nodes to reach Foundation. As it is, finish your Seed and we’ll see what happens when you do.’

For whatever reason, Kleos seemed a little put out, oddly grumpy. Still, Nicolai figured it had been worthwhile for them to share stories with one another. He turned away from the head and continued reading the books.

Nicolai quickly became a fan of Useful Rituals, which had clearly been written by someone who preferred simplicity and functionality. Reading through how to perform the listed rituals, he found his understanding of how to create the Soul Trap growing as he discarded several unnecessary steps from the process which the Soul Rituals book had vaguely mentioned without clarifying. He also discovered that the manner he intended to perform rituals, that of carving runes then powering the ritual with an Oma crystal, was the least efficient and most difficult manner of doing so.

It mentioned that there were ways to perform rituals far more easily, but they required corresponding Imbued, Symbiotes or Artifacts. He also learned that compared to these tools of magic, rituals were minor, lacking, and more a manner of assisting what he was beginning to think of as the “real magic” that the other items could generate.

The torch turned off when he was partway through the book, but Nicolai just started the fire and kept reading, sucked into the process and unwilling to stop. Since he didn’t intend to leave his safe place the next morning or even over the next few days, he didn’t mind sleeping in.

###

The next day Nicolai performed as much of his morning routine as he was capable of, mainly leg and core stretches and exercises, then some left handed practise with the rapier.

Throughout all of this he attempted to connect to his Seed, and when successful he would spread its Soul Sense tendrils while continuing to exercise his body and practise with the sword. He was eager to improve his grasp of the Seed, each session leading to a slight shortening of the time it took to connect to it and a reduction of how much mental focus he required to connect, to hold the connection, and to utilise the Soul Sense. It was harder to perform the stretches and exercises and other tasks with this distraction, especially when he first started, but he was markedly improving over time which pleased him.

He followed the routine with a meal of another section of sustaining fruit and water from the bottle, as well as a quick check on his wound which was improving at a noticeable rate.

Finally, he engaged in some busywork tidying his room. Growing up, he’d had the motto “a clean room is a clean mind” beaten into him, and despite the unpleasant memories he’d always found it good advice. Keeping his surroundings tidy and orderly helped him to maintain a calm state of mind and was one of his strategies for controlling himself and keeping the dark at bay.

After he’d ordered his possessions on a second table he’d dragged from one of the other rooms, taken the clay jar he relieved himself in to dump its contents in the crypt, and finally chopped up some of the more useless furniture to restock his firewood, Nicolai settled into the chair beside the table Kleos rested on and spread out the things he would need for his attempts at creating a Soul Trap. At this point he retracted his Seed’s Soul Sense and cut the connection, wanting his full focus available for this task.

The helmets formed a neat line along the far edge of the table. The knife he’d picked out for scratching the runes rested on his left side, and the two books, Soul Rituals and Useful Rituals, were on his right.

After checking the relevant passages from the two books, Nicolai began his first attempt.

He took the knife and began to scratch the first symbol onto the forehead of the helmet, working one-handed. It was a circular symbol with a snake-like wiggle in the centre. The books called this an anchoring rune, which would rest at the nexus of the pattern he needed to draw. Once he’d carved it as best he could, he drew linkages that formed into a repeating pattern of runes which spilled onwards to wrap around the edge of the helmet.

It took quite some time, and Nicolai relaxed into the process.

Some time later Nicolai examined the helmet. Runes now curved around it, one after the other all the way until they rejoined the anchoring rune from the other side.

That done, Nicolai began to carve a network that led upwards, to the crown of the helmet, where he would eventually draw a siphoning rune, which would suck Oma from a source placed atop it.

Minutes ticked by, the only sound that of his quiet breathing and the squeaky scritch-scratch of knife on metal.

He completed the task by adding a secondary network of supporting runes between it all, then finally Nicolai turned the completed helmet in his hands for inspection.

Objectively speaking, he’d done a terrible job. It wasn’t easy, scratching runes into metal one-handed, and he’d never formed these shapes before.

‘What do you think?’ he asked Kleos, showing it the helmet.

It gave the collection of spider-scrawl symbols covering the helmet a critical glance. ‘The linkages are going the wrong way and you’ve done the repeat pattern the wrong way around, too, actually… everything is the wrong way around.’

‘Oh,’ said Nicolai. ‘I though you didn’t know how to do a Soul Trap?’

‘Nope, but I know the basics of runes.’

‘This is how it was shown in the book,’ said Nicolai, now entirely confused.

‘Then most likely, in the version shown in the book they did the pattern on the inside of the object, not the outside.’

‘Oh. Right.’ He felt like an idiot. If it was all on the inside that would also help protect the carvings from outside damage. However, he was already finding it hard enough carving one handed just on the outside, doing it on the inside would be doubly difficult.

The helmet was rounded and would be trying to roll around on the table while he scratched at it, and his bad arm’s healing would be hindered if he used it to hold the helmet steady. It would also mean he would need to put the powering Oma crystal inside, which wouldn’t be ideal when he intended to wield the helmet as a scoop, catching the lights that emerged from undead skulls.

Nicolai put the failed helmet aside, picked up a fresh one, and began again. Time ticked on, counted out in the scritch-scratch of his carvings. He wasn’t sure whether he enjoyed the process or not. On the one hand, he enjoyed learning new skills and there was an underlying logic to the runes that interested him. On the other, he found the process itself repetitive and boring. This time as he worked, he showed it to Kleos after each checkpoint, and the head confirmed he was now drawing the runes the right way around.

Over an hour later, he and Kleos regarded the newly completed helmet critically.

‘I think it’s fine in broad-principle,’ said Kleos in a careful tone of voice.

Meaning: your chicken-scratch carvings are shit and it is not going to work. Nicolai couldn’t argue with that. He was improving a bit, but it just wasn’t at all easy to accurately carve into the metal with one hand, considering the force required to mark it. He’d been unable to find anything the right shape that wasn’t made of metal or too large.

He placed an Oma crystal against the siphoning rune.

Nothing happened, which told him he had failed. The runes were not carved well enough. He began again.