Halcyon pulled Zelia close, her arm sliding under both of Zelia’s as the orca mom picked her up, princess-carrying her for the moment. Zelia didn’t say a word of complaint, as with her still-impeccable kimono on, she looked like a little royal when carried. It made her smile, just a touch.
Artorian yelled something up at them, but the Jotun duo needed it repeated to understand since they’d been distracted. Cy turned her head and queried. “What did he say?”
Yuki turned and reiterated the message while thinking over a possible answer. Karakum and Surtur were stumped. They just didn’t have the regional knowledge. “He asked, ‘Where are the largest mountain-sized wind chimes?’ We will be training on top of those instead.”
Zelia smiled, and winked back in response. Her lay of the land knowledge was both immense and impeccable. Playing the secretary was definitely a role she could fulfill. “Oh, I know just the ones.”
Chapter Eleven
In the Jotunheim cold, where colossal wind-chimes formed a line between the mountains, Artorian *thunked* the tips of his toes against metal. They rang against the newly added surface of a now not-remotely-as-loud wind chime. Shame to tune them down like that, but what good was a cylinder with an open hole at the top when it came to a place to stand on?
He peered over to the next one, and saw that Surtur and Karakum had just turned their wind chime cylinder sideways, having attached the other end to a pole equally as high as the one their chime was originally chained to. It made for a nice platform that gently swung in the breeze.
Artorian slapped his forehead, and closed the administrative menu that let him change objects. Their method was smarter, and far less costly. They’d nicked the chain from another chime to do it, and that chime was being pried apart to form a flattened platform by Cy and Yuki.
“Know what? I’ll just leave it.” He clearly didn’t know best here, to the great pleasure of the four chosen. They were all smirking when just out of sight. The quick win over a Dreamer meant something to them, and that good cheer was a necessity.
Artorian hopped off the rim and onto the side of the large support pole, latching onto it with a hand as he slowly slid down to the next chime down. He found his foot made an excellent speedbreak during the downward slide.
Descending to get a second look at the contraption Cy and Yuki were putting together, he scratched his head at what they were doing. They’d made their platform, and were now folding the edges in beneath it. Creating a cavity under that flattened floor as they installed the dome in the mountainside. He didn’t follow why they were doing this until Cy began to draw. Ah! It was a combat ring! “I really should have seen that coming.”
Now that he thought about it… why was he slipping up so often lately? That was unnatural. Artorian rubbed at his eyes, and felt tired. Not physically tired, but like he needed a severe, extended nap.
Was he feeling the effects of being awake too long already? Surely not. It hadn’t been that long. Granted, he had entirely lost count. His current tally was likely counted in years. A handful of those caused a transfer interruption that was this noticeable? He felt terrible for Minya. The awful abyss she must have gone through.
Considering this taxing malady helped him better understand the breakdown of Bob. If this disconnect was noticeable at a handful of years, then the mental discordancy must have become truly unbearable as the eons dragged on.
Artorian mentally tallied his remaining time. A few more months to a year. That’s what he had before his nap. He needed to snap out of it. “No more reminiscing, old boy. Pay attention to the now.”
Since the chosen were doing so much better than him at arena-crafting, he checked in to the senate to attend to other matters for a moment. Artorian knocked on Chandra’s forum door, and it swung open in a hurry.
The old man smiled at the fresh breath of positivity in her voice. Whatever Chandra’s needs were, they would come with some kind of good news based on the tune alone. His reply was thus fruitfully chipper.
Chandra laughed pridefully, her amusement rising with her good mood and pleasant cheer.
Artorian *mhm’d* mentally.
Chandra’s responses slowed at his mention, turning pensive.
That was a surprising tidbit of news, but the academic saw no reason not to increase pleasant company.
Chandra laughed out loud, but the words sounded as if spoken through the hollow of a tree. She caught herself and stuck to human vocal chords.
The private connection closed, since Artorian had no further response.
He felt bewilderment. What did Chandra mean with ‘your chosen wiped the floor with Brianna?’ He had gotten trounced, with four chosen as backup. How had Zelia, by herself, raised the abyss in Niflheim? Who else could it have been? The card pile was empty and there were no draws left to make. It had to have been Zelia. He’d bring it up if he had an opportunity.
“First things first.” He cleared his throat, and winked his celestine mote into the senate.
To his surprise, Tatum, Dawn, and Cal were present and conversing. Strange. He hadn’t heard them? Actually, even though he was in the shared space and could feel and see their motes blink as if they were speaking, he was completely unable to overhear them at all. Was this something new? He shrugged it off, and spoke to the senate as normal.
Brianna’s mote, to Artorian’s continued surprise, misted in for just a moment. She yelled at him before winking out. “Abyss eat you!”
The celestine mote quietly bobbed as the senate populated with the other motes, who had overheard that particular angry snap. Cal, Dawn, and Tatum turned to see the commotion, but chose to wink out and go elsewhere as they were dealing with Incarnate-only problems. Henry wobbled close, and well-meaningly bumped into the celestine orb.
Marie’s mote drop-kicked Henry out of the way with a *smash* from above. The human King’s orb went bouncing around the senate space, and Marie’s mote pressed her coruscating glory against that of the celestine. Like she was pressing her face against Artorian’s without any regard for personal space.
Artorian did the equivalent of shooting his arms up into the air.
The glare didn’t abate, but Marie did return his personal space as she backed off an inch to catch a mid-flight Henry when his bounces whizzed him by. The poor lad was very out of sorts once caught, dizzy and wobbling with unnatural sway.
Marie pulled him in by the lapels.
Henry tried to weakly de
flect.
She glared holes into his mote.
Henry copied Artorian’s pose, mental arms shooting into the air so it appeared they were both surrendering to a bandit’s hold-up. Artorian gently leaned his mote to the side. If whispering existed here, he would have done it.
Marie pulsed hot red.
Artorian’s mote ran away to the other side of the senate, and Marie’s burning glow chased him all about the three-dimensional space while he quickly rambled through the message he wanted to deliver.
Marie had shaped her mote so it carried a toothpick-sized sword, and she’d swung it at the Administrator’s rear. Scraping him ever so barely. It was enough for him to feel the threat of the sharp stabby thing was very much real, and he winked out of the senate before she had a chance to skewer him. He didn’t care if she was just venting, or joking. Not taking that risk! “Good luck Henry!”
*Fuff*!
Artorian opened his eyes, body still standing on the rim of the oversized wind chime. He drew a deep, chilly breath from the crisp mountain air. Then coughed it out when a very angry ‘Artoriaa~a~a~n!’ rang through the mountains in a distinctively Marie tone from the direction of his teleportation beacon. Oh come on! He couldn’t have possibly made her that mad from such a tiny comment. “Uh… girls? I think I need to… go. Back in a pop.”
The old man vanished, and Karakum threw his hands up in defiance. “Girls? Do I look like a lady? Get back here, you codger! I am first on the training block. I am going to skewer you with my rapier until… ow!”
Yuki *splatched* the back of Karakum’s head with a frozen ball. Half made of sleet, and half of snow. She tossed a second one into the air just to catch it, her expression cold and pointed. “Pincers off our Dreamer.”
Karakum turned, shooting her a venomous look as he drew his rapier, zipping it through the air in a cutting form to sign the letter ‘K’. Then he pointed the tip straight at the snow lady. “En garde! You molten icicle!”
Another sleet ball *splatched* him in the face. He steamed hot, wildly slashing his sword up in the air. Turned out he couldn’t fly, thus becoming subject to endless pelting from the unamused snow lady who could. Enraged, he took to cutting the projectiles, but then developed a clever idea. Striking with the side of the blade, he coated the projectile in venomous fire Mana and batted it right back at her. “Ha!”
Cy and Surtur watched them go at it as streaks of light cut through the sky. They didn’t know why their Dreamer was being chased by another, angrier Dreamer. Though it didn’t seem like he was fighting back as the attacks of scintillating Glory kept streaking towards him. So they didn’t respond to it. Instead, they just had a chat as Cy verbalized a thought. “Technically, this… counts? As practice, I mean.”
Surtur sighed, and had to agree. “It does. Karakum couldn’t do that projectile returning trick before today. I suppose we should just… join the combative festivities? I was expecting a classroom setting. Not a super smash melee free-for-all.”
Halcyon shrugged, pulling her trident from her back to give it a twirl. “I mean, I would not mind learning how to use this thing better. The Valkyries have a very strict, single style in which they use it. Which honestly doesn’t work for me since I don’t have arms in my Orca form, and dive bombs are… eh.”
Surtur pulled her own spear free, the tip ever-burning. “I know a thing or two. Want to just spar for a bit and share pointers? I haven’t fought anything that counted as an actual threat in so long that I’m not certain if I am any good with stabby here. All the enemies I used to fight are now allies.”
They shared a grin, and joined the festivities as their weapons struck one another. Sparks flew as Surtur’s fire met the trident’s inherent electricity. Such was the scene that Chandra walked into when she appeared on the beacon. Several chosen from the other realms were all aimlessly standing around, completely uncertain of what to do while watching the free-for-all.
Henry was chasing Marie. Marie was chasing the Administrator. Aiden just gawked, but turned and walked back to the beacon, winking out. “Forget it. I’m not doing this.”
Chandra blinked, and nearly dropped her cake when Odin appeared in the beacon space behind her. “What is the commotion ab—A fight! Oh great mountains above! Now that is my kind of get-together! Come, my chosen! Haul the mead and open the casks! Revelry awaits us today. To battle! To battle!”
The Asgardian war cries made the cringing nature Mage close her eyes, inhale deep, and belt out a truly inhuman sound that forced the entire gathering to cover their ears. “You will all come and share this meal, and you can play as children after you have eaten. Provide me a table this instant! Or I will make the mountain get up to detain you.”
Odin stumbled mid-air, tripped over nothing, and pouted. His hands motioning to the fight. “Awww… but… Fun!”
Yuki cleared her throat at him, and when he noticed who it was from at a glance, he flew full tilt back down to prepare the feast table. “At least make that abyss-blasted rock squirrel not be here!”
Laughter and good cheer broke the awkward pause. With Chandra’s motherly outburst to pull them all back down to reality, the impromptu get-together turned into a feast! One of Pleasure House-quality food, and the best of Asgardian mead.
Halcyon shed tears when she ate, actively weeping through consuming entire mouthfuls of the scrumptious, edible works of art. Chandra considered it a great honor, keeping their plates burdened and full. Only after the feast, that accidentally lasted a week, did the true classes begin. They couldn’t help it. Chandra’s cooking was magic.
Chapter Twelve
When festivities came to a close, a full month of active cultivation needed to happen just so they would have some reserves to work with, proving that they were all horribly behind. They managed this while they all meditated in a mini ley line array. Something Odin designed to keep fresh energy flooding their direction, and didn’t at all steal from Cal’s records. Or so he claimed.
While those who needed to gather Mana worked, those who didn’t operated in the background. Zelia, as example, decided a brand-new clothing line for the whole gathering was now a necessity. Which, at the end of the month, she was proud to have ready.
“There. Matching outfits for everyone.” Zelia clapped her hands together, wiping them off on a cloth rag. Or what counted for one in the spider’s line up of exquisite crafts. Even that supposed rag was fit to be a queen’s handkerchief.
Odin made a sour face as he pulled at the yellow ginkgo-leaf attire. “Do we have to?”
His prime Valkyrie glared at him, so he conceded swiftly as his chosen quipped in an adopted icy tone. “Look at that, growth!”
Valhalla, the Valkyrie chosen, was a kind soul. She didn’t match the fury of her sisters, but in recompense possessed a truly uncanny ability to adapt and learn. Yuki had provided Valhalla many great lessons which had bolstered and influenced her early growth. Following her first teacher’s example, she fluttered her wings, and made Odin get back to concentrating.
Together, the large group brushed up on a plethora of cultivation needs. Though not without a new set of difficulties that needed to be addressed.
Passive cultivation didn’t work so well in Cal’s Soul Space. Even with tweaking, it was the space itself that drew Essence and Mana out of them. The Mana bodies Cal had cobbled together for superviso
rs were decently efficient, but not without loss. Only Odin, who had an elemental air channel, Artorian, who had been a dirty cheater, and their S-rankers who were not in attendance had Mana stores that could be measured in a state other than ‘laughable.’
Their cultivation situation didn’t look stellar.
The reliance on Cal’s forms was making them oblivious to the self-control necessary to uphold their own, original forms. Had these been their own Mana bodies, some of them would have suffered burnout just from being here.
Cal had given them a boon and a malus all in one. Due to the inherent rigidity of these forms, the gathered supervisors couldn’t try to control them better. They didn’t even know where to start where their physical beings were concerned. With the entire matter out of their hands, all they could do was work on techniques, or Aura control.
As an A-ranker, Chandra had it the best of them. Yet lecture without being able to put progress into practice was only getting them so far. Artorian quickly learned that this rowdy bunch was not the theorizing sort. How he forgot that being academically inclined was the… uncommon, path. Better to have power that could be applied, according to the others.
Once they were all at minimum B-rank one in terms of available Mana, they could start practicing methods of control. Starting with D- to C-ranked techniques with a focus on minimizing loss, rather than maximizing output. The latter was easy for a Mage, just throw more *oomph* at it! So the former became the main focus.
Artorian struggled with good explanations, but encountered an epiphany. He snapped his fingers. “Why don’t we use the Pylon forms? The bracket speech. Since the system is sort of busted, one of us could get a hyper-efficient version we could all try to copy. Then get a feel for what a good, cost-effective method feels like.”
“My system functions very well. Thank you.” Deverash’s eight-sided die menacingly hovered behind him. Though the ex-Gnome slowly changed his tune. “I will show the spells, and explain them. I don’t want half of Vanaheim’s Beneath shattered because a few zealous Mages wanted to try something.”
Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6) Page 9
