Chapter 25 (Patreon)

1

Lyn tapped the icon on the altar of the dungeon when they were fully equipped, and a grey portal opened in front of them. She led the way, waving her allies to follow her.

They appeared on the same grassy slopes outside of the dungeon. Looking back, Lyn couldn’t see any trace of the ruins that had let her go into the dungeon. Dungeon core claimed. She grinned. No one else could get that dungeon core until she died. Sure, there could be other earth  elementalism users out there; doubtless there were many. But the vibrant brown color of that dungeon core told her that it was powerful.

In terms of tiers of power, she estimated the Destroyer core as the strongest. Followed by the Paragon core. Then, the other hero cores. Dungeon cores would be right behind the hero cores – if not, then her Scout core would have been subsumed by the higher power cores. She shouldered the two bags as she contemplated her options.

“Vael, Gael, I want your input.”

The twins were still using their spears as walking staves, and limping from their injuries. “Yes?” Vael asked.

“Do you want to return the way we came? Or get there directly?”

The twins looked to each other. “Quickly would be better,” Gael stated.

“Good. I agree. Remember, when we get back, treat me with deference as the Destroyer. Only when we are alone, you may drop the act. Are we clear?”

“Clear as a calm lake,” Vael replied.

Lyn walked to the mountain and held her hand up. She felt the rumbling of her mana core. Still flaming hot, but tempered heat that she had full control over. It had submitted to her entirely upon her declaration of intent to rule the world. The personality shift must be finished, she thought. All things considered, it didn’t change me too much. She had seen some of the other heroes shift much more dramatically as their hero core didn’t match their existing personality as well as the Scout core did to her.

Maybe it was destiny or fate, she thought. She pushed that thought aside and focused her will, feeling the mana bubble along her mana channel. “Thalion min / caratho rath trî i gaear / i echado i amarth an ledhad / a panno han bo nin / sui denid na rath.”

A hole, ten feet in diameter, appeared in the mountain in front of her. She walked forward, and the hole continued. “Stay behind me, close behind,” Lyn told the twins, and they complied. After she had traversed fifteen feet into the mountain, the tunnel sealed behind her. “I estimate a few hours to reach the Valley interior,” Lyn stated. “Time to teach you two Elenthir…”

2

Misty knocked on Thomas’ door. She heard the mumble behind the door and opened it slowly. The former Knowledge hero sat upright in the bed, back against the worked stone, and stared blankly into space. She had waited a few days so his body fully recovered, and then told him about Hector. She made sure to keep all alcohol away from the man…but she knew he was broken.

His eyes were glazed over. Streaks of tears coursed a path down his face for his lost animal companion. His emotional support. This must be torture, she thought, as she, too, experienced the traumas of the past when she wasn’t busy teaching her students. He needs therapy. The closest thing she could think of was Trisha. But Misty could do something in the meantime. She raised her hand and whispered a complicated, multi-verse spell. "Losto hain an garad na fân / hain rhaw na hegdha / hain inath left nan loth / nan melon theled / a ananno iath nedh / an hain aear na thano na adwen / ir den ú-dol / a bartho hain na ennas / anui sui en gohenad / sedh thoron an naid thîr / a bartho hain rhaw lacha ned gwanno ennas."

Thomas fell asleep. The spell would keep him in a coma-like state, where he would dream only good, happy dreams. It would give him a chance to recover mentally while she fetched Trisha. His body would sustain itself using its mana – a rare function of the inner power that Misty had uncovered in her testing.

She hadn’t slept in years. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything save for the flavor in years. That is how she kept the nightmares away; she prevented them from happening in the first place. That’s why she hated remembering the other heroes, and interacting with them. Forget the past and it will never haunt you.

But the internal spell she had developed was dangerous – careful moderation of mana had to be accounted for. And the user had to have a large enough reservoir of mana from a dungeon core or greater.

Thomas’ body had none of that. He had a basic mana core; the same type every person on Ghomar was born with. If he was up and active, his mana would be expended too rapidly, and he would still have to eat and sleep. But Misty had such a powerful mana core – she presumed second in strength to the Paragon core – that she could sustain it indefinitely as long as she didn’t need the mana for something else.

Leaving the room, she returned to the top of the tower and placed her hand on the inscribed pillar. Visualizing Trisha, she focused the mana to flow into the inscription. “Trisha, it’s Misty.”

The voice replied almost immediately, as if Misty was standing right next to her, “Oh, Misty! It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I need you to come to Vharthos.”

“Oh, I can’t. I just had my daughter a few days ago.”

Misty’s heart melted a little bit at that. Kids had always been one of her weaknesses. She loved babies. Never wanted any of her own, but who didn’t love kids? “That’s terrific. Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Ginavieve. After Gina. You know, the usual thing where Ben and I honor the memory of the fallen.”

Misty nodded, “It is a good name. Well, if you cannot travel, perhaps you can help me from a distance. Brainstorm, if you will.”

“Oh yes, what do you need?”

“Thomas died.” There was silence for a few moments as Misty waited for a response. The voice that came back was…relieved?

“That’s sad. How did he die?”

“James killed him.”

Another lengthy pause. “Then Thomas lied to us. He said he was going to investigate the Destroyer’s return, and then come back to us before going to see the statue of Aelor.”

“Yeah, well, he went to see James, told James the plan, and the fucker killed him. Thomas did destroy the statue. Turns out the hero cores were stored inside of it. God-knows where they are now.”

Trisha sighed, and the tone confirmed to Misty her earlier supposition, “That…well, we are alive and still have our hero cores. I was panicking over that. Thank God we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Misty shook her head. She knew that Trisha was more mama-bear now than ever before. She had always been the class mom; having extra food at lunch that she often gave to Lyn, since she knew how fucked up her home life was. She was always protective of people who were hurt, physically or emotionally. Yeah, you were probably going to kill him if he told you about the statue. Being a real mother reinforced those values. The last time Misty had traveled to see them five years prior, it was obvious. Trisha would do anything to protect her family. Just like James had done something heinous to protect himself and his family. Their happiness drove her off. I would have had that happiness with Lyn. She shook her head. No, she wasn’t into me. Just stick to the present.

“Wait a second,” Trisha muttered as curiosity took over her tone. “You talked to Thomas? Like, death undeath sub-type spells?”

“More than that…I brought him back.”

3

Lyn’s lesson finished as they exited the cavern. She had started out with the alphabet of Elenthir. It would take some time, but Vael and Gael were eager students.

“Why can’t you make inscriptions?” Gael asked. “You’re so learned in Elenthir, surely you could make wonderous inscribed items?”

Lyn nodded, “I could. But they would fade quickly. Inscribing items is an art, and it requires a deep understanding of the material you are working with. A smith, for instance, who knows metallurgy inside and out would be able to inscribed metal items with ease. But he could not inscribe spells upon a wooden board.”

“Then what of scrolls?” Vael asked. “That’s just writing the language, isn’t it?”

“Sort of? The difference between an inscription and written Elenthir is the intent when it is created. That scroll I gave Vehenna? I did not write those verses with the intent of it being used as an inscription. If I had, then she would not have had to speak the verses, simply channel her mana into the object.”

“Then why do inscribed scrolls burn up upon use?” Gael asked.

“The durability of the material determines how many times the inscription may be used. Scrolls are cheap and easy to make. If I wanted to, I could spend hours creating dozens of simple inscribed spell scrolls for all manner of effects. But using them in battle? I’d be sorting through a pile of papers as my enemies charged at me.” She held up a finger and manifested a sphere of lava by just letting her mana run out of her hand and into her palm. “And, the more detailed the verse, and therefore, the more potent or refined it is, the more mana required to use it.”

What I could do is spend a few days creating inscribed scrolls for simple healing spells. Something we can distribute to the military until we find more skilled artisans. Eventually, she planned to have enough artificers – those who were adept in crafting and Elenthir inscription – to outfit her whole army with inscribed weaponry, armor, and bracers that could allow them to heal one another. Long term plans. If Remora was anything to go by, not many can read and write – let alone do it in Elenthir.

Wanting a change of subject, Lyn asked the twins to go into detail about the Conclave and how the Duskari worked as a civilization. To her reasoning, it would be sensible to fully learn everything she could about her new people.

Whilst all Ari lived in Conclaves, Duskari were the most insular. Their groups never exceeded one-thousand members, and they were very, very specific about determining best-matches for breeding to ensure no negative hereditary traits were passed on. They would sometimes trade a group of Duskari with another Conclave, taking a risky journey to do so, to ensure the gene pool didn’t get too intercrossed.

Duskari did not have children often. Ten children per one hundred Duskari was the average rate Lyn was able to determine from the description. As such, they were tight knit from the get-go. Lyn focused some of her questions on how they viewed sex and intercourse, seeing as they were so liberal in sharing what they had tried on her in the bedroom.

“Well,” Vael said. “We experiment with those around our own age outside of our family or with several degrees of separation. It’s not taboo like in the other cultures. And as part of our close bond with each other, we are used to sharing intimate knowledge.”

Gael chuckled, “Yes, we often compared notes as to what brought the most pleasure to our partner.”

“Good to know,” Lyn replied. The darkness of the tunnel – ten feet in front, ten feet behind – that slowly and silently shut behind them was the perfect environment for these types of intimate questions. “Next question; how old are you both?”

“We’re ninety-five,” Vael stated.

“And what’s the comparative point to Human lifespan?”

Gael cocked his head sideways for a few moments. “I don’t know.”

“Then let’s compare…”

Several minutes were spent describing the age and various changes that the two races went through. By the end, Lyn had figured out the gist of the age comparison between Duskari – and therefore, most likely, all Ari – and Humans. Their children became adults when they were fifty and were considered elders once they survived to one thousand. According to Vael’s recollection and what she learned, Duskari didn’t die from age. Only complications due to age.

The description she provided made Lyn think of cancer symptoms. Their bodies age and cells eventually fuck up because of how old they are. That meant, if she could use this regeneration, she could live forever; provided she worded the spell precisely. That brought a smile to her face. I should get Misty to help me design it. She’s probably figured out immortality by now. That was one of Misty’s goals she had stated post Demonic Dragon defeat. Lyn recalled the conversation quite clearly.

They were sitting together at a bar, getting quite drunk after clearing a dungeon. Their celebration was cut short by someone at the bar having a heart attack. Misty ran over and tried to help – but she wasn’t able to put together the words in time. Fixing something like that would require a very precise incantation; and they had only been on Ghomar for a year by then. “It’s okay,” Lyn had said as she patted Misty’s back and walked her upstairs to the rooms.

Misty hadn’t shown emotion, just shrugging. “People die.” She looked up at Lyn, her dark, hazel eyes gleaming with the inkling of an idea. Lyn was familiar with that look of hers; the same look she had whenever she wanted to start a new art project and abandon an old one. “But I won’t. I’m going to figure out how to keep this power forever.”

Lyn smiled in the present. Seeing her should be on my priority list, she thought. After I reinforce the Valley.

The tunnel finally opened to gorgeous, green woodland. The interior of the Valley of the Volcano. Lyn turned as her allies left the tunnel, before letting go of the spell as the tunnel sealed behind them. “How long to the dread fortress?”

Gael looked at the mountains behind them, “Far Eastern side? I’d say three hours.”

Lyn nodded, “And are the Newen still primarily in the Southern forests?”

“Yes,” Vael said. “They’re not hostile to us, but they keep their distance. The respect is still there, but it’s a fear-respect.”

“Then we will change that. Or rather, I will.” She turned South, “You two head to Lynhold. Get healed up. I’m going to forge an alliance.”

The twins nodded, “Be careful, Lyn,” Vael said.

“I will be,” Lyn replied as she strode into the thicket.

Next Chapter >