Right, so how do I fix this? Shielding myself would require me to sacrifice a steady stream of power. Forming a gravity lens could work but would be immensely wasteful in terms of energy. Maybe a physical barrier? My clothes seem to be doing fine. Can't I just let the radiation pass through?
I’m about to start automating a solution search when it hits me. I slap my face. How did I not try this before?
Concentrating on my blank braincore, and I start willing a glass marble into existence. Instead of a natural marble, I think of it like a visual special effect, singling out the refraction. The reflective surface fades, leaving only a sphere that warps whatever is behind itself, a perfect lens.
I pour out some qi and the result is immediate. I feel that some qi is being used up in the refraction process, but that is just a fraction of the total annihilation that happened before. The qi used to vanish all at once, fading like a ghost. Now a small portion is being consumed at the edges of my qi cloud where the light is being bent.
I try to lower the refractive index of my braincore and it helps a bit. Leaving it with no refraction does not work, as the light starts eating at all my external qi at once again. I do some more tests and find the optimal spot at halfway in between water and air, an index of around one point fifteen.
The image of a faint globe of water fixed in my braincore, I scan the entire floor. Turns out, even with Lola’s help it would have taken several hours to walk to the exit. My slowly fading net of spiritual sense tells me that I’m inside a maze, the shortest route towards the stairs downward a couple kilometres away. I think the walls go upwards forever but that might be an illusion or a bit of bent space. The paths themselves are ten metres wide, the walls ten thick.
I punch the closest wall with my full physical force, but only manage to hurt my hand. Pumping my braincore qi through my blood vessels, I punch again, a small sonic boom blowing Lola away. A single flake of white wall falls to the ground. I think that broke a finger.
I rub the aching digit and start running towards the exit, my braincore still a transparent sphere. Lola speeds by, pushing off against my shoulder as she jumps forwards. “Okay, lets race!”
The next level is a flat floor, solid despite the heat wafting from its molten appearance. Lola surrounds herself in swathes of fire, so I try to do the same. Instead of protecting me, the fire overheats me instantly. Sensing the air with augur once again, I feel a ridiculously large amount of infrared light around me.
I jump back into the doorway when this steady stream of radiating heat in combination with my improvised fire cloak starts burning my clothes. I look at my reddened skin, frowning at the forming first-degree burns.
Lola just wiggles her nose at me as she hops around in the supercharged oven. I think for a bit before changing my braincore into a perfectly reflective surface. I step outside while clad in a layer of qi and barely feel a thing, all the heat bouncing off of me.
Another dozen kilometre sprint later and I find myself looking at a confusing mass of shiny trees. The jungle in front of me would be normal were it not for the fact that each and every plant is made from metal.
Then a branch falls off one tree and my head jerks back. I pluck the metal ball from my forehead and study it, rubbing the slightly sore spot in the meantime. Lola then comes running back, screeching her little head off. I can see a hole in her ear, a perfectly round gap where fluff-covered skin used to be. Looking ahead, I see many smoking holes in the shining foliage that weren’t there before.
Ambush forest with tree guns?
Lethal metal jungle with bullet barrages?
I grin. I like this; these levels are starting to get interesting.
⁂
I regret what I said about liking these levels and how interesting they were getting. I’m about to enter level two hundred twenty-seven, and I’m getting tired. The metal jungle was interesting, forcing me to build a rather complex sensor net and hardwired reflex reactions. That level helped me find new ways to facilitate heart and braincore cooperation.
Previously, I was using them apart from each other. The metal projectiles were shot with such force that the small delay was too costly, so I shaped my braincore into a signalling cable that integrated directly with my heartcore.
Lola also learned from the level, leaving many trees destroyed - either frozen and shattered, heated and molten, or completely mangled with massive cracks from a combo attack - in her wake of revenge for her damaged ear.
What followed was a series of increasingly convoluted challenges. The separation of physical enemies and crushing mana pressure disappeared at level one hundred seventy-five, each level after that one being filled with ridiculous amounts of power and fierce monsters.
Ss if that wasn’t enough, levels with more than one element started appearing at level two hundred. I thought that dodging a barrage of hundreds of hypervelocity projectiles a second in a metal jungle was tough. In level two hundred and five I learned that dodging four times that amount of superheated molten metal bullets made the other level look like a cakewalk. And the combination of metal and fire has been one of the more straightforward ones.
Metal and air might sound like a fairly innocent combination, but what I experienced showed me that nothing could be further from the truth, on level two hundred and twelve. Not being able to touch anything without receiving a massive electrical shock, in combination with wind speeds that could rip mortals apart, had me stumped for quite some time.
I tried changing my braincore into rubber, but the electricity just powered through. I ended up just bearing the jarring shocks that managed to reach me while my qi acted like a faraday cage, my braincore in the most vivid model of a superconductor I could imagine.
Then environmental traps, monsters, mana pressure, and multiple elements were combined from level two hundred and twenty-five onwards. It’s a fucking nightmare. Lola keeps biting me and pulling me back up the stairs. She looks pretty battered, now missing half an ear and some patches of fur. I don't look much better, pieces of my hair and beard are gone while every single scrap of cloth on my body is charred, bloodstained or shredded.
Surely this dungeon can't be much deeper, right? “Come on Lola, level two twenty-seven. It can’t be that bad right?”
I pick her up and walk down the last part of the stairs. Peering through the opening, I see a large stretch of space filled with spatial cracks. White and black edges randomly appear in the void, opening like a mouth before folding into a line again. I can see the fabric of reality being torn to shreds each time a crack opens. One of those things opening up inside me will split me in half.
“Right, can’t be that bad...”
chapter forty-four
Repudiation
I stare at the rabbit on my shoulder. “You first?”
She stares back, hops down and curls up. Seconds later, the little bundle of fluff is snoring softly. I nudge her with my foot but she only snuggles up tighter.
Shit.
I look at the random mess of spatial tears again. The air is absolutely drenched with light and darkness mana, of the dim and bright variety. I grab hold of the air, changing my braincore into a perfect replica of one of Rhea’s wings. I lift off the ground, the air now a lot easier to boss around, and start floating towards the black and white cacophony that keeps hurting my eyes.
This place has been great training, not just for my students but also for me. I’d thought that after having spent a thousand years in the cultivation world, I’d have little left to learn about using my resources efficiently. I spent a large portion of that millennium on the run and low on resources, after all.
Changing my braincore’s blank state into the endless amount of possible forms has led me to reach new heights of power thriftiness. I’m such a power scrooge now, I refuse to spend any qi when I don't have to, and my core allows me to be extremely efficient with everything I do.
I’ve been down here for what I estimate to be four days. Back when I ent
ered, I could change my braincore, no problem. It took me multiple seconds to change the blank template into a solid-enough image to actually produce an effect on my cultivation base. Now, I can change it into ten extremely distinct images per second.
I was afraid that training a quick-switch feature would eat up power, but that’s when I remembered Bord’s little lesson. I simply refused to let it cost any power. I wanted my core to change quickly, and I wanted to do it without any additional qi overhead. Any other option is simply not something I believed in.
I’ve not yet checked whether or not this is true; I’ll do that when I’m no longer in such a dangerous place. Those black and white rips seem rather dangerous after all. I float closer to the confusing mess and start studying the phenomenon.
The initial lines appear - for as far as I can discern - randomly. They then form into a circle rather quickly, after which they turn into a line at a ninety degree angle from their initial position. The direction of this second line is always perpendicular, but its rotational orientation seems random.
I toy with a few ideas, letting some processes explore possibilities. Designating a sphere that encompasses the entire line will only leave small gaps that I won’t fit through. The scary things appear and vanish in a single second and leave an average of one metre of space between them and their neighbours.
Instead, I close my eyes and visualize myself going through them. I get chopped in half after passing a hundred of the moving razorblades.
Then I try to feel the natural laws at work here. Mana seems to be a rather convoluted way to perform magic, not suited for use by mortals at all. The rough and brute force way magic manifests in this world and the crystal skulls are proof enough of that. I end up studying the phenomenon for at least an hour, and I learn very little.
The spatial fractures act like portals going nowhere. Scanning what happens with augur lets me observe that any atoms in the fracture’s path are shoved aside instead of getting chopped in half. They do separate electrons from nucleus though, which might explain the constant crackle of electricity that surrounds the relatively slow-changing tears.
Still pondering how to solve this one, I feel something settle on my shoulder. Lola looks up at me, winks and starts hopping through the air, right between the lethal corridor of dimensional razorblades. She forms a thin sheet of ice beneath her feet just as I’m about to lose sight of her and starts pawing at her ear.
I’m still processing that the little hussy winked at me and fail to react to her obvious taunt. She just sits there, constructs of black and white cleaving the universe in half, not millimetres away from her mortal coil, without giving a shit.
Well, hell! If she’s brave enough to laugh decapitation in the face, so am I! I can’t be left behind by my pet rabbit, after all.
I take a deep breath, clear my mind, and jump. I feel my heartcore lurch as I somehow reach Lola with all my limbs attached. I’m not a hundred percent sure how I got here safely, having left everything to instinct, but I’ve joined Lola on her ice platform and lived to tell the tale.
“Now what?” I casually ask, refusing to let any fear enter my voice. Lola does not hop away, instead, she jumps softly. I feel a heavy impact on the top of my head and the world goes black and white. The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a stairwell.
I look upwards and see the same mass of twisting space. I also see two bunny ears. Lola is sitting on top of my head still and has this incredibly smug look on her face. I stare at her in suspicion, not really sure what just happened. I decide to comb through my memories later. I start petting her while I walk down the stairs.
I refuse to jinx myself again, so I avoid thinking that things can’t get any worse than a dimensional meat grinder…
⁂
Fredon is depressed. All his years of influencing people, manipulating them just so, learning their tells, and ins and outs, it’s all useless now. Everyone can now live for a long time without having to fear being turned into skull-shaped formation food. There’s free access to the greatest depository of information Fredon has ever seen. He morosely stares up at Tree, eyeing the qi-empowered place with a heavy heart.
The collective mages, a good ten thousand mana powered individuals, had all been gathered on the Mana Island by the time it all went wrong. It was a bit cramped, sure, and the food was running out at an alarming rate, but his fellow earth mages were building multi-storied structures that were rapidly relieving the overpopulation problem.
Fredon is pretty sure he could have managed to endure another month of only eating bland fish and vegetables before he would have snapped. But now, food is available aplenty, there is enough room, and the mages even have access to a limited part of this Tree dimension every single interloper has been raving about.
This has all been preceded by the near-death experience of the mages. The sudden appearance of the dragon , the blue girl taming waves that could topple cities, and the relatively small but incredibly powerful invasive force that followed had caused quite a few heart attacks in the older mana wielders. The strange magics of these intruders had prevented any deaths, and the small healing core had even delighted in having wounded to heal.
The massive woven cloth that seemed harder than mana-forged steel was another unexplained wonder. And the steel-manufacturing mages had all started drooling as soon as they saw the effect that the weirdly made mana cannons had on the encroaching monsters. As if a large portion of mages suddenly forgot what the United Mage Isles had done for them, most of the younger generation jumped ship. They applied to become students, immediately forswearing any and all other allegiances.
Plans had formed in Fredon’s mind, ways to weave himself into this new faction’s power structure. He had started looking for ways to climb up the social ladder in this so-called school. If only he had known better.
There is no power structure to climb. Something like the many layers of ancient tradition used to keep fresh mana wielders compliant is nowhere to be found. Instead, Fredon keeps finding chaos everywhere he looks. There are no structured hierarchy and no orderly formed command chains. Instead, every single student seems to be doing whatever the hell pleases him.
Fredon went through a small bout of madness that ended up with him being this down mood. There was a faction he felt an affinity to, though. Despite the fact that it was made from a majority of slave races, the way that old beastkin keeps her subordinates in line is exemplary, even to the seasoned political warrior.
It’s just a shame all the actually powerful people consider her to be a mere ant. Personal power, that’s literally the only measuring stick used here to determine if someone is worth listening to. It’s a bit more nuanced, as the uniqueness and effectiveness of someone's powerbase seemed to factor in greatly, but it’s the most consistent way to measure rank Fredon has found. A lot of the smartest minds have little power to themselves, only bothering to gather this qi energy because it allows them to stay awake longer. Others have skills that allow them to punch above the power rank in social circles.
It infuriates the man that so many people are happily doing their own thing without really caring about the greater picture. The Mana Dungeon is still under constant attack but these students act like it’s a normal thing.
“Maybe you should leave. I really appreciate what you did for me before, but you are simply an incredibly bad person. I can feel your resentful and spiteful thoughts from over here. So, please stop influencing everyone else in a negative manner. I’m going back to my plants.”
Resentment and a powerless-helpless fury briefly overpower his dark mood. He watches as his previous protege, the antisocial powerless cretin Valerius, floats upwards, carried by long tendrils of prehensile dirt, his droning voice still resounding through Fredon’s mind.
Looking around at the bustling activity that fills the white streets, he sees mages that were meek believers in the mage system only days before. New mages are forbidden from showing any emotion except the ones t
hey practice mana control in. To see a promising fire seed - a guaranteed crystal skull in fifty years - now smiling happily while chatting breaks Fredon’s heart. That young girl was top of the fire class, her hate and anxiety so fierce it could call up a sizable stream of fire.
Fredon recognises the young man that’s now sparring with a yellow-skinned savage as another promising journeymage. He had reported beginning headaches and would have started forming a crystal core within weeks, his face now lacking any of the previously permanent loathing disgust it bore.
“Why are you jealous?”
Shaken from his resentful musings, Fredon looks down at a small boy that’s pulling on his brown robes. The kid’s cheeks sport a ruddy, healthy glow, and he’s brimming with youthful vigour and vitality.
“No Corl, stop. Didn’t mean fo’ you to do that...” A little girl, skin black as coal with pointy ears, pulls on the boy’s clothing in turn.
“But you heard pain again! I don’t want other people to make you feel pain. Mister, why are you so jealous you hurt Willa?”
“She heard what?” asks Fredon dumbfounded.
“Ah, look, she got these awesome ears! She can find the best stuff. She even helped me find beasties I could beat. They only chopped off my arm a few times, but the red-haired healing missy got really angry so we aren't allowed to go there anymore. Now we’re earning points by helping people! She can hear so good that she hears stuff we can’t.” The boy emphatically shows off the blushing girl’s ears, smiles widely, and nods for emphasis.
“Go away, kid.” The mage already has enough problems to cope with. the rambling delusions of some snot nosed brat is the last thing he needs.
“Nuh, uh. You’re hurting her, so you go away or you stop being mean. What’s it gonna be?” Crossing his arms, the kid stares Fredon straight in the eyes.
“Fuck off.” Who does this kid think he is? How dare he think he holds any sway over mage Fredon, member of the shadow council and manipulator of fates? Fredon prepares to physically strike the kid, already using the secret techniques of internal mana circulation to make his strike hit like a massive weight of earth.
The Dao of Magic: Book 3: A Western Cultivation Series Page 38
