Chapter 152. Messeras (Patreon)

I decide to try experimenting with the bats to pass the time. I take out a bit of bread from my void storage and hold it up to the bat just above me. It extends its wings half-way and warbles, then darts forward and nearly takes off my fingers as it snaps up the morsel. Almost immediately it spits the food onto my head.

Grimacing, I swipe the food away and give the bat a disparaging look. It clacks its beak and me and flaps its wings, batting its neighbors to gather their attention. Now I have three bats looking at me with interest.

I have a feeling they might be more receptive to another kind of food.

I spot a dead lemur on the forest floor with my vital vision. Its corpse is fresh and its skull dented in, suggesting that it died by falling poorly. I bring it up through the trees, weaving it around branches and a pair of startled lemurs until it's hovering just before me. I use my practice to peel a section of its stomach away, tentatively offering the flesh to the center bat for inspection.

It seems unfazed by the levitating meat, ducking forward and snatching it up in its jaws before swallowing it nearly whole. Its neighbors cry out in jealousy before I suspend other pieces of meat in front of them. After they finish eating, their eyes lock on the dead corpse of the lemur with desire, but seem wary of my presence.

As I contemplate methods to gain the bats’ tentative trust, I sense a figure rapidly approaching my location.

I take a deep breath in and fall forward off the branch, catching myself in the air and falling nimbly to the forest floor. I have no idea who this ascendant is or what they want: If we end up in a confrontation, I’d prefer not to be defenseless. The heart of the jungle–surrounded by plants and animals I can use for my defense–is where I’ll make my stand.

If I do end up in a fight, I’ll be at a serious disadvantage after I die. The jungle’s vitality is a finite resource. If I extract vitality and then die before converting it into soul gems, I imagine it’ll dissipate. And if I create soul gems, they’ll fall to the ground after my death, unprotected from my opponent. Not to mention my clothes and armor, I realize with a grimace. I’ll lose my leviathan soul gem.

I wondered why Holiday carried around a sarcastic snake, but now I realize that the companion can watch over Holiday’s rings (and boots) if he falls. I didn’t see the snake exhibit any combat capabilities, but I imagine it isn’t helpless.

The ascendant arrives moments later, falling through the canopy and landing on the ground with a crunch, a fallen branch pulverized under foot. It’s a well-built man with long, auburn hair and narrow eyes, a short beard framing lips curved into a slight frown. He’s wearing a blue-green coat that blends in with the shadowed undergrowth and a pair of brown trousers with boots up to mid-shin.

Unsure how ascendants normally greet one another, I decide to wait and let him make the first move.

He cocks his head slightly to the right. “Who are you, where did you come from, and why are you playing with my bats?”

I’m caught by sudden indecision. I forgot to consider how I’d call myself in this world. The Skai’aren...is a title of my previous world. Raiser of man. I know Euryphel gave me the title because he hoped it would be something I would grow into, that I would help people...but he gave it to me before we knew the full extent of what was to come.

I know that my enemies called me calamity, and while it was for the wrong reasons...they weren’t too off-base. I don’t feel personally responsible for my role in the end of my world–I didn’t invent the Infinity Loop technology, and even worked to destroy it–but my rise still marks the beginning of a glorious, fiery finale of power and conflict.

Those are all just justifications for why you should change your name, I realize. I’m no closer to thinking of a new one, and the ascendant is starting to look at me funny.

“I’m going to answer in reverse order,” I say. “The bats noticed me and seemed intelligent, so I decided to follow them. And to your second question, I came from Vizier’s Crown; are you familiar?”

The ascendant shakes his head softly. “I never see people passing through from there.”

“Makes sense: It’s a wasteland, devoid of all energy.”

The ascendant blinks. I can tell he’s starting to relax a bit, and I sense myself calming down as well. “Why were you there? Looking for something?”

I chuckle softly. “Looking for an exit, mostly, and I found this place.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Name?”

Right. “Ian.” It won’t matter what I tell the ascendant in the long run, especially since I’ll probably never see him again if he’s staying in this place long-term. I shouldn’t have worried so much about it.

“Short.”

I shrug. “What’s yours?”

“Messeras. Why don’t you come back with me and we can talk? It’s been months since someone has come this way.”

Sensing no ill will and having no reason to refuse, I nod. “Lead the way.”

—

Messeras pours me a glass of clear fluid. We’re sitting in a bungalow nested in the boughs of a tree. The main room has a stone floor covered by a woven carpet with wood and leather furniture, giving the abode an earthy, hunting-lodge feel.

“How did you end up in Vizier’s crown?” he asks, sitting back in his tall wooden chair.

The glass is a bright yellow goblet curved like a rosebud, sweeping petals grooved into its exterior. I raise it up to my lips, scenting the mixture, but smell nothing distinct. It might as well be water for all I know.

I’m unsure how much to give away about myself. Should I reveal the fact that I’m a new ascendant? Messeras doesn’t seem like he has cause to take advantage of my naivete, but appearances can be deceiving.

If only I were a Regret practitioner like Eury, I think in silent lamentation.

“I offended someone and was sent there as punishment,” I finally admit. “It’s just inconvenient.”

“Mind if I ask who you offended?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have a specific name for you.”

This seems to increase his curiosity, his pulse quickening slightly. “Hmm. And where are you going? Have a destination in mind?”

“Perhaps you can assist me,” I demur. “I’m trying to find someone. I’m unfamiliar with this area, so if you could point me towards a relevant adjacent plane, I’d appreciate it.”

He sips his drink. “If you can actually give me a name, I might be able to lend a hand.”

I have no idea how well-known Achemiss is in Eternity. By all metrics he’s a fairly recent ascendant, only a few hundred years old. I don’t even know how people in a decentralized place like this share information; how would someone like Messeras learn of ascendants on the rise?

I put the drink to my lips, the taste of lemon water with a hint of what might be mint and cardamom flowing over my tongue. I set the glass down, then smile politely, channeling Mother’s manners. “I have business with Ascendant Achemiss.”

The man doesn’t show any outward reaction. “Do you know where he lives?”

The question is almost hilarious because of how pitifully little I know. “No idea. He’s part of the reason I was sent here in the first place; I want to find him and get some answers.”

“...And the person who brought you to Vizier’s Crown, they didn’t say anything about this Achemiss’ location?”

I definitely would have noted if Holiday mentioned more details. The ascendant may have given me a compass, but perhaps I should have insisted on getting a copy of his map. I’m not sure what I was expecting, that I would suddenly find my way to Achemiss by leaving Vizier’s Crown?

Perhaps Messeras sees something in my eyes, but he pushes his drink away and narrows his eyes in puzzlement. “You’re new.”

Y’jeni, at least I tried. “What gave me away?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You clearly don’t know anything. How new?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “What should I know?”

He rubs at his jaw. “Well, you should know that you’re lucky you found me. You know what sometimes happens to new ascendants? They’re immediately picked up by opportunists. Soon all they’re doing is gathering reagents and participating in campaigns on their benefactor’s behalf, aware that they’ve been suckered into a willing, but unfortunate arrangement.”

He speaks with a bit too much passion. “Did this happen to you?”

He nods once. “It did. I spent five-hundred years working for an ascendant named Lurine Cedranna, commonly referred to as the Wrath of Morinkel. She’s thousands of years old and hae over twenty other ascendants following her and doing her bidding.”

“What did she offer you for you to join her side?”

“She rightly said that I know nothing, and that with her, I could see Eternity. She said that she’d guarantee my safety: If I was ever captured or trapped with no way to escape, she’d come for me, at least eventually. She’d teach me how to use ascendant energy. Finally, she said that five-hundred years of servitude would fly by in a heartbeat.

“Perhaps for her that’s true. But five-hundred years...it passed slowly. The first decade was filled with excitement: Cedranna kept her word, taking me with her across Eternity and teaching me what she knew. But after I got the hang of things, I wanted to explore on my own, gain power for myself. Instead I spent four-hundred and ninety years strengthening her while I stagnated.” He leaned back and shook his head, taking a swig from his goblet, beads of liquid wicking on his mustache. “That’s not why anyone ascends.”

“No, it’s not.” I turn to the side, peering out at the jungle beyond the bungalow. Dusk casts the environment in shades of auburn, answering one unasked question of many regarding the length and cycle of days. “You come here to be free.”

He grunts in agreement. “There are ways to make yourself look younger in Eternity. Spend enough time here and you’ll naturally recover your youth. But you...you look genuinely young.” He takes another sip from his goblet. “Do you have a Life affinity?”

It’s a good guess. If a non-Life practitioner like Maria can use Life practitioners to prolong her youth with regular vitality infusions, a peak Life practitioner can do far more to preserve themselves. I could be decades older than I look.

“Death,” I reply. “I’m slightly older than I look.”

“You’re too young,” Messeras observes. From his increasingly furrowed brow, going from new to young is down additional downgrade.

“I’m almost thirty,” I add. I suppose it’s cheating to count the time spent in the Infinity Loop in my actual age, but I’m starting to feel self-conscious. “Thirty isn’t that young.” Some of the other peak practitioners at the Fassari Summit were around my age; and while I might be the youngest ascendant from my world, I’m certainly not the youngest that’s ever entered Eternity.

He frowns. “Too young.”

“You must have met others–”

“I have. They ascended in waking dreams; coming here was just moving from one dream to another. Their simulated worlds revolved around them, and they became ignorant and selfish.” He takes a sip of drink.

“They came from worlds on the brink of ruin, didn’t they?” I ask.

“I have no idea. They didn’t seem to care about where they came from so long as they were able to live.” He pauses to collect his thoughts, his brows furrowing. “They’re broken when they arrive. Usually it’s time that degrades us into impersonal, distant monsters...but they’re already halfway there. And in a place like this that values violence and loneliness, they’ll only grow more twisted, nor will they ever die.”

I shudder. “They never get better?”

The man smiles, the gesture not reaching his eyes. “This place doesn’t usually make people better.”

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