Chapter 365. His First Teacher (Patreon)

Ian and Euryphel stood within the rib cage of the bone wyrm. Euryphel’s elementalism kept the wind still in the chamber, ensuring that their hair and clothes remained unruffled.

“Much easier this time around,” Ian murmured, staring blankly at the approaching coastline. Euryphel had the foresight to get both their vital signatures whitelisted to the defenses.

Euryphel glanced his way, then laughed. “Maria really was a terror. The only way to breach her stronghold was to die. How crazy is that?” He sighed. “Meanwhile, I just play with the wind.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Your End is nearly as strong as hers was. What’s your excuse?”

Euryphel gasped in mock hurt, then shrugged. “My own patience, maybe. Selejo’s arrays are the work of decades. I’ve been planning a network of End arrays to span the whole Federation, though–bigger and better than Maria’s ever were.”

Ian smiled. “Have you shown your designs to her?”

“No. I probably should.”

The levity of the moment fell away as they crossed the coast. They’d flown stupidly high in the air for most of the trip to avoid Achemiss’s constructs, if there were any in the Bay of Ramsay. They only descended now, when Selejo was at hand.

At first, Ian hadn’t understood why Maria had gone to Cunabulus, which was on the opposite side of Selejo country from its southwestern shore in Valia. She could have crossed over the Bay of Ramsay and entered Zukal’iss just as easily.

But thinking about it with his Beginning affinity, he thought he understood. Achemiss was trying to intercept her. Even though the Bay of Ramsay was now fully contained by the Selejo Imperial Federation, it wasn’t policed; Achemiss wouldn’t have any difficulty entering the bay from the ocean and lying in wait to ambush her. Ian wouldn’t be surprised if Achemiss had constructs dormant in the waters just outside the capital, Zukal’iss, since the ascendant would be a fool if he didn’t at least suspect it as a place where the real Ian Dunai was staying.

Ultimately, Maria going to Zukal’iss was too predictable. Cunabulus was also not the most surprising place to go, but at least Selejo was protected by a system of End arrays and other perimeter defenses that had been recently reinforced specifically to deal with a peak Death practitioner threat–ironically, Ian himself.

Some of Maria’s End arrays had been destroyed when Ari cleaved them during her descent, and they’d been deactivated once she ascended, but she wasn’t the only End practitioner in Selejo. Zilverna’s End affinity wasn’t potent enough to control them at this point, but someone (or maybe even several people) had inevitably been appointed to repair the damaged arrays and preside over them.

If Achemiss paid Selejo a visit in person, Ian doubted the arrays would stop him–but just sending his constructs, even if they were powerful ones boosted by ascendant energy?

He wouldn’t find it easy to send them into the Selejan continent.

Ian came into Selejo this time with a completely different mindset than before. During the war–and even before it, when he’d escaped from Pardin–Selejo had been hostile territory. He’d thought of it in terms of threats and hidden dangers. Now... it was the land of his partner, Maria. He’d seen inside her mind–seen parts of her history, here. Growing up in the Cuna, under the exacting gaze of the Sezakuin, forced to use the subtle, insidious power of End to control a land formerly cowed by the Sezakuin’s displays of overwhelming earth elementalist might.

As the wyrm passed high over Selejo’s cities, Ian saw more than shiny glass facades and industry. He saw the future Maria had been trying to build. He saw her idealism in the hovergloss lines that crisscrossed the country’s mountains, plains, and deserts, all filled with cars that glimmered like pale drops of dew in the sun.

Or at least he tried to see all these things. He hoped that before ascending again, Maria would be able to show him herself.

Finally, the earthen city of Cunabulus came into view. Courtesy of Zilverna, Kaiwen Chowicz knew to expect them. As they neared, Ian collapsed the bone wyrm and sent its bones into a void storage. He and Euryphel descended outside the city limits.

A trio of Selejan practitioners approached them barely more than seconds later, garbed in military uniforms and wearing severe expressions, their heads bowed. Euryphel was still wearing his disguise–brown eyes and makeup that contoured his face–and Ian wore the margarita cap, his bangs partly covering his eyes. They weren’t easily recognizable, so the group’s deference was likely due to whatever Kaiwen had told them.

Ian guessed that they were all at least in the high eighties in terms of Mountain affinity. They were all clearly well-trained, as well, possessing strong mental defenses.

“Follow us,” a man with leathery skin and a scar over his eye said. As he spoke, his companions, a tanned man and an elderly, white-haired woman, collapsed a hole in the ground, then jumped into it.

Ian peered into the opening, feeling the space it connected to with his vital perception. It joined with a larger tunnel that extended toward the city.

The scarred man looked at them as though trying to gauge their reactions. Ian just stepped into the hole, falling with nonchalance. Euryphel was right behind him, and the wind cushioned their descent. Ian didn’t even need to control his own body with decemancy to land safely.

The scarred escort jumped down after closing the hole behind them, leaving the tunnel in complete darkness. Sandwiched between the three Selejans, they proceeded into the city.

Eventually the earth elementalists led them out of the dark tunnel into a red earthen courtyard, the iconic color of the Cuna and the desert state of Vermuth. Kaiwen Chowicz was waiting for them.

The Regret and Moon practitioner wore a slightly relieved look as she beheld them. “You made good time.” She turned to their escorts. “Return to your posts. I’ll take it from here.”

They saluted, then departed, leaving Ian and Eury with Maria’s right hand woman. Chowicz motioned with her hand and walked into the Cuna. Ian didn’t bother wondering how she led them through the palace while somehow avoiding every person within it–he knew better than to question the power of peak Regret.

They came to a dead end when they reached a small room. It was simple, with bare walls and a neatly-made bed with stark linens. The only noteworthy element was a small rug, worn and well-loved.

Ian recognized the place from Maria’s thoughts. It was her room. He suddenly had the impulse to sit on the bed and just... exist in the space that had been hers for so many years.

He pushed down the urge as Kaiwen activated an array in the wall to reveal a passage. Ian figured it would only activate for a small number of people, probably just Maria, her son, and her most trusted guards.

They descended down the lift and soon found themselves in a tiny, windowless chamber. Maria was crouching in the corner, working on an End array. Zilverna knelt next to her, his eyes following her fingers as they pointed to different aspects of the array.

They both turned as Ian and Euryphel entered.

Ian’s attention was immediately drawn to the bizarre construct half obscured by Maria and Zilverna. It was uncanny because it clearly looked like someone had made a statue of him, then shattered it and smushed the pieces back together. How lovely.

“Ian, Eury,” Maria said, smiling. “Welcome to the Cuna.” She chuckled. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Eurypel gave her an unconvinced look. “And I thought the basement of Ichormai was soul-killing in its simple decor. And it used to be a dungeon. What was this room originally, a solitary confinement cell?”

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s always been a safe room.” She shook her head and walked to Ian, squeezing his arm. “We’ve been working on an array to keep Achemiss’s construct fully constrained and his soul anchored to the vessel.”

Ian paused. “His soul?”

“See for yourself.”

“Should I be worried about ruining the arrays?”

“They’re singed into the earth–you won’t ruin them just by walking.”

Ian nodded, then approached the ruined construct. He closed his eyes and placed his hands upon it, then shuddered.

“Maria,” he said, eyes still closed, “how did you constrain his soul, preventing him from leaving the necromantic construct?”

“I confess that I researched many types of soul-related arrays while in Eternity, in the hopes of finding a way to reverse or at least halt the damage done to your soul when you gained your third affinity. I thought this particular array might serve another purpose, and it seems I was right.”

“And you just–inscribed the array on each individual piece of the necromantic construct, with fire, while flying and fighting?”

He could perceive her smiling with his vital perception. “Are you surprised?”

Ian’s lips curled. “No. Just proud.”

He didn’t miss the mock barfing expression Zilverna made off to the side, nor the disapproving look that Maria shot her son. But he soon let all those distractions fall away.

Achemiss was, unexpectedly, in his grasp. Ian knew he wouldn’t be able to seriously injure the necromancer ascendant just by attacking the part of the soul in the construct–Achemiss would never be so negligent–but there was much he could learn.

In particular, Ian wanted to know how Achemiss could project his soul over such long distances to control constructs directly. With that power at his disposal, Ian could potentially control multiple clones of himself. On his own, controlling more than one body at a time–really controlling them, like Achemiss controlled his false Ian body–would be difficult. But with a Beginning affinity...

Perhaps Ian could send intelligent clones of himself, all connected to his main body, to each of the new rifts that Achemiss had been given. It would be a far better solution than relying on autonomous decemantic constructs.

“Euryphel,” Ian said with Remorse, “please run some scenarios for me.”

“Ian.”

“Will you make me ask Chowicz?”

Not even a second later, the former prince was jamming memories from a scenario into Ian’s brain.

In the scenario, he’d sent a tendril of ethereal energy into the construct’s body. Then, he’d nearly been sent unconscious by a vicious soul attack.

“Aren’t you glad I did this first in a scenario?” Ian said. “Again.”

The construct was a tough nut to crack. Whenever Ian thought he’d found a new approach to the man’s embedded soul, there was some countermeasure that impeded his progress. With Achemiss’s real body, the man had been somewhat constrained in what he could do, mostly relying on an extraordinarily viscous ethereal body protecting the soul within. But with a construct, Achemiss’s creativity had many more outlets. The ascendant had created numerous necromantic sigils, all of them invested with meaning forged from stolen souls. Achemiss must have used hundreds of souls to fashion the body, with several baked into each piece of the construct. It was artistry on a level he’d never seen, not even when Achemiss had briefly toured him through his workshop.

There were similarities in technique between Achemiss and Soolemar, but only on a basic level. Ian had seen some of the ascendant Death practitioner Krath Mandur’s practice during the white faction’s tournament, but not enough to get a solid handle on his techniques.

Isn’t it ironic, Achemiss? Ian mused. You were the one who set me upon this path. You gave me the ability to see souls and told me to seek out a teacher in Soolemar. And even now, when you wish to destroy me, I steal your secrets by deconstructing your construct in scenarios.

It was a shame. If Achemiss wasn’t such a selfish, reclusive, paranoid, apathetic old monster, he might really be a good teacher.

Unfortunately, he was all those terrible things and more. So Ian would take everything he could from him, then end him.

With the way their plans had been going... those no longer felt like aspirational words. If Ian felt that way, Achemiss must also feel his paths to victory closing off.

And a desperate Achemiss was the foe that Ian feared most.