blueteamnovel Chapter 78: Port Bellgrave
Chapter 78: Port Bellgrave
Chapter 78: Port Bellgrave
The lanky man whose mouth Orodan had a hand upon was on the younger side, less a man and more a boy, possibly a few years younger than Orodan’s own biological age. Tall for a young boy too, made it easy to mistake him for a grown man at first glance. And he looked exceedingly wary and more than a bit intimidated, his hand gripping the small gun on his belt. He was dressed in some sort of gray coat whose original color wasn’t meant to be so worn. And the strings and twine were practically coming off, with plenty of patchwork quilts and repairs made throughout.
Orodan could sense a strange bit of power coursing through these patchwork bits of quilt in the boy’s coat, yet for now he didn’t pry. Though he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he’d seen this young lad somewhere in an earlier loop of his.
And while he was merely covering the boy’s mouth, it didn’t help matters that Orodan’s hand was the size of his head. Couldn’t blame him for being intimidated.
“Now, I know how this must look, but I assure you we come in peace,” Orodan declared. “You’re free to go and won’t be harmed.”
“If you delivered that with less of an unsettling smile on your face, it might help the matter,” Talricto said.
Orodan took the insincere attempt at a reassuring smile off his face, and their not-captive grumbled something inaudible.
“Hmm... maybe you should try smiling again. I forget how antagonistic your regular face is.”
“My face is not antagonistic...”
And even if it was, she could blame his mother for passing it onto him.
“Alright, if I let go you won’t scream, will you?” Orodan asked, and the young man, a laborer from the looks of it, shook his head in affirmation.
His hand came off, and while it would’ve been comedic if the boy immediately yelled, that wasn’t the case. Instead, he simply stared at Orodan for a while.
“Yes, yes, he’s exactly as idiotic as he looks,” Talricto remarked. “No need to stare.”
“Who the ‘ell are you nutters?” the young laborer finally asked. “Here I was, just wrapping up the labor they put me on, and then I hear a crash loud as thunder when the storm ain’t even started! Now the roof’s all broken and the foreman will have me head...”
Right, the destruction of the roof was somewhat rude he supposed.
“Apologies, my entry was as unplanned as the destruction of your roof was,” Orodan said, casting a quick Time Reversal to restore it. “There, all better now.”
The boy stared at the chronomancy for an extra second before shaking his head.
“Bloody mages... right then, off you go. Quit bugging me and let me work in peace,” the young man said, going back to picking up the pile of rifles Orodan had landed upon.
“...that’s it?” he asked, perplexed. “You’re not going to call for help or alert the guards?”
“What guards? We’re in scrap town, no guards ‘round these parts save the constables accompanying the foreman. Just poor sods like me and good-for-nothing sorts hiding from the law,” he replied, giving Orodan the side eye as he uttered the subtle accusation. “Get going before I get caught up in yer’ business.”
“That’s just the thing... I don’t think I have any business you’d get caught up in.”
That he knew of at least. Who knew what his presence upon the tapestry of fate might bring?
“Well that’s well and good, but I don’t see why I should care. Not like this toil’s going to get done any faster,” he said. “Now leave me be. Got too many damned things to do.”
They were within a dilapidated building. The pipes on the walls were rusting, some were even broken and out of order entirely. Where Orodan gracefully landed was a pile of rifles on a rack which the lad was putting back into place. Simple-looking but well-made enough, capable of withstanding his fall without breaking. There was a singular window, revealing an outside landscape of rusting buildings, a depressing sight. It really was a scrap town, with the buildings made of recycled metal and cheap refuse. Absurd as it was to say, Ogdenborough looked better than this place!
It was dark out, with the beginnings of a thunderstorm brewing too.
Within the workshop, besides rifles were all manner of smaller handheld guns, larger hand cannons and spherical metallic balls with some sort of clockwork gear at the top. Orodan was fairly certain those were explosives. A forge in the corner, equipped with a variety of tools and devices, was hooked up to a set of pipes, and another forge lay defunct in the corner, connected to the broken pipes.
No spot for coal or any other fuel at all.
Orodan had been to Lonvoron before. He had an inkling what powered everything in this building.
“A steam-powered forge... an intriguing machine,” he remarked.
“What else you power a forge with? Wood? We’re not in the olden days,” the laborer said, stacking the rifles up on the racks. “You’re not from around these parts are you? Hail from some backwater village in the bog islands do you?”
Orodan began helping him stack the rifles onto the racks. The laborer stopped to take that in for a second, nodded, and then simply carried on with his own tasks.
“What gave you that idea?” he asked.
“I’d say them weapons you got look like they were nicked from some fancy museum; you look familiar with them though. Only bog islanders use old weapons like that. Seen those prissy military officers carry swords... but ain’t never seen a man carry a shield before,” the laborer said, and then pointed to Orodan’s clothes. “Got some odd clothes there too. Paid to see a wandering band of starving actors wear somethin’ like that once. Drunk gits weren’t worth half the coin I spent that night...”
“Your clothes are of a unique sort too,” Orodan said. “Whoever weaved them did a good job.”
“Oi! Me mum patched this coat for me!”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic, it really is good work. Whoever weaved it must be a fair hand at the trade, the coat’s almost... magical.”
“N-now what gave you that nutty idea?” the boy asked, clearly defensive. “This is a normal coat and that’s that. What’s your business anyhow? Not seen tunics of that style worn by any regular folk.”
He could keep his secrets then.
“Well, you’re not wrong, I’m from another world.”
“Subtlety and stealth... utterly lost on you.”
“Right, and I’m King of the Blackworth Collective. Now, if you’re going to help, there’s more to do. Grab those boxes of grenades and bring them to the back. They’re getting past expiry and need to be given away to the ships of the line. Let some poor penal sod blow their hand off fighting the plague, not my concern,” the laborer said and then turned to Talricto. “And if you’re going to stand around and crowd up me workspace, you can help too. Never seen a spider that can talk...”
“I believe I’ve had just about enough of this unrefined peasant. I shall see you another time, my hardworking student,” Talricto said before vanishing. Orodan knew that the spider was quite capable of finding him whenever he wanted to, so he wasn’t worried.
Orodan however was happy to work. He began moving boxes of the spherical balls known as grenades, and also assisted the young worker in cleaning the dirty corners of the shop.
As they continued, the boy frowned at him
“What do you want?” he asked.
“You’re looking at it,” Orodan replied. “Some honest labor is good for the soul.”
“I wasn’t expecting you’d actually help...” he muttered. “You smash into the smithy and now you want to help me? What an odd fellow you are...”
“I’d say you’re the odder one, just accepting my help and story without a word of complaint. Bit young to be accepting things so easily, aren’t you?”
“Grew up rough. Seen enough odd folk come around this way, plenty of ‘em fleeing from the law. No sense in raising a fuss or questioning what’s beyond my station. You didn’t kill me, I’m still breathing, and that means there’s work to be done; foreman will give me the cane if I’m not finished by the morrow,” the boy said. “...Fenton Penny’s me name. Friends call me Fen, or little Penny.”
A rough upbringing. Much like Orodan’s own.
“Orodan Wainwright,” he introduced himself. “You can just call me Orodan.”
“Orodan Wainwright? You a mainlander, Mister Orodan? Never heard that name before,” Fenton said. “Hmm, maybe you’ve got some islander blood in you. Those arms are pretty solid, never seen a westerman quite so big.”
He dropped a stack of crates in the back gently.
“Are they not eating enough in the mainland?” Orodan asked. “Why would they be small?”
“That’s just the issue; them mainlanders eat a little too much and do a whole lot of nothing. And they shun us islanders for our way of living,” Fenton said. “All too happy to hire us when they need laborers and seafarers though. Fat and soft the lot of them, never known a day of honest toil in their lives.”
“You’re an islander then, is that where we are?” Orodan asked.
“You really aren’t from around these parts, huh? Well, not my place to question what your problems are and why you’re here,” Fenton muttered. “I won’t ask where you came from, but you’re in Port Bellgrave now, part of the Ironhaven Isles. Lady luck must like you though, landing smack dab in the middle of scrap town. Not even the hired guns like coming about here, and the royals certainly don’t like sending their navy ‘round these choppy waters. Long as the islands pay their tithe to help the Collective’s war machine, they leave us alone and stay in that posh fort of theirs. Whoever’s after you might have a hard time finding you here.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Orodan said, recalling that the entire tapestry of fate was in utter flux thanks to him.
“There isn’t much for someone like you in town. Bellgrave’s got little besides mercenary ships, passing merchants running deliveries, some soldiers guarding the fort and gunsmithies crewed by feckless idiots like me who signed their lives away,” Fenton explained. “As you can see, this here’s some rough work, and I’d best meet my quota or else.”
“Rough work? All we’ve done is lift crates and assort things so far. Where’s the hard labor in that?” Orodan questioned.
“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet Mister Orodan. Still got to scrub the pipes and clean the forge, and then, got to prepare the ingots so that the gunsmith can work uninterrupted,” Fenton Penny explained. “If you help scrub the pipes, I can get started on smelting the ingots.”
“Shamelessly asking me for help now, are you?”
“If you’re going to loiter about like a vagrant, you might as well make yourself useful.”
Fair enough, straight to business then. The boy had an industrious nature and a no-nonsense attitude; Orodan took a liking to him.
Orodan began scrubbing the pipes. With his physical strength though, it was a trivial task. And soon enough he wordlessly stood next to Fenton, helping dump ore into the steam-powered kiln.
“Damn... what do they feed you? The whole farm? I suppose those muscles are good for something,” Fenton said. “Might actually finish ahead of time too.”
“You said you signed your life away; what did you mean by that?” Orodan asked. “A contract of service?”
“Contract of service? You must come from someplace nice wanderer, take me and me mum back there with you,” Fenton said with a bitter laugh lacking all warmth. “Nay, I’m one of them folk who the haughty and well-dressed genteels in the fort won’t look at, an indentured servant. Signed a dotted line the moment they considered me grown, all so I could save my ailing mother’s life. Turns out the medicine they gave her only relieves the symptoms, won’t cure the disease. Now I’m stuck doing this drudgery; the medicine’s keeping her alive and I can’t leave either.”
Orodan frowned.
“You’re being forced to work?” he asked. “Let me have a word with this foreman of yours...”
“No, none of that nonsense. Next thing the soldiers from the fort will get involved, the chaos will delay me mum getting her dose, and they’ll send a whole bunch of those big ones against you,” Fenton spat. “Seen a mercenary captain and his crew take on a steam knight once. Poor buggers didn’t last more than three seconds ‘fore they were carved apart. I don’t want you getting into trouble on my behalf.”
Thing was... Orodan enjoyed getting into trouble.
Still, for now he shelved the conversation and simply worked.
[Smelting 6 → Smelting 7]
The steam-powered kiln was an interesting device. It certainly melted the ore down faster and more efficiently than any regular non-enchanted kiln he’d seen on Alastaia. Just looking at it gave Orodan some ideas about how heat could affect metal. Furthermore, it wasn’t regular steam... but magical.
“Nice kiln... used wood and coal-fired ones before, not steam though,” Orodan remarked. “I don’t sense any enchantments on the device, just the main pipeline supplying the steam.”
“Enchantments? Have you seen where we are? You think anything in this shanty town is enchanted?” Fenton asked pointedly. “The steam’s got some magical power to it though, comes straight from the main pipeline and boiler of the fort.”
Considering Orodan could sense the clear enchantments upon the gun Fenton had holstered, he would have to doubt the claim that there was nothing enchanted around here.
“I can see that... no wonder it stays hot despite the distance...”
It was an entirely new device he was viewing. Yes, he’d seen the weapons and war machines of Lonvoron before but hadn’t actually considered how the technology worked; mainly because he didn’t have the Engineering and Artificing skills or the correct perspective at the time, nor did he have the leisure time to focus on crafts. Now though, looking at the steam, and the pipes, he could only respect the civilization of the Blackworth Collective.
On Alastaia, heating was done via firewood or coal and handled by the individual household. At most, a higher-end building might have magical heating which was done via enchantments, with the power perhaps drawing from a mana battery. Here, most of the shanty buildings had some sort of steam pipe connecting to them. Funnelling a substance through pipes while retaining its energy was hard work, and to then have pipes running to each building? A true engineering feat he had to respect.
Based off the temperature of natural steam, Orodan felt it could perhaps remain hot for a good mile if traveling down a pipe. And even then, off the top of his head there were so many factors to consider such as ensuring there was no pressure loss, the inevitable condensation build up, perhaps even the formation of sediment which would impede the pipes due to the natural dissolving of solids in the water.
Though, the fort in the distance which was at least fifteen miles away, had to use some sort of magical method to ensure the steam remained hot over great distances. It was impressive.
Their work continued, with Orodan gaining two more levels in Smelting by the time all the ingots were prepared.
“They build you island men different huh? Mum says I’ll grow big too... maybe not as much as you though,” Fenton muttered. “We finished ahead of time. Don’t know what to do with myself now...”
“How about we fix this place up a bit then?” Orodan suggested. “Maybe we can do something about these broken pipes and that non-functional forge?”
“Well bugger... wish I could, but I don’t know the regular way of going about repairin’ the pipes and casting the right alloy for them. Even though I’m a quick study, the gunsmith’s not too keen on teaching me welding or casting until I’ve got a year on the job,” Fenton said. “Also got to consider that steam’s some strong stuff. Pipes which aren’t treated for it will get chewed right through.”
“I think I could take a shot at it. The pipes are broken already, so what’s the worst we can do?” Orodan asked.
He was a decent enough blacksmith and had passable knowledge of working with metal by now. Creating an alloy wasn’t a hard task when example of it were laying all about the smithy.
Fenton didn’t seem to disagree either. The work they’d done together thus far had established a bit of good will with the young man.
“Hmm... I suppose the gunsmith won’t notice if a bit of ore’s skimmed off the supply. Especially if her old forge is working again.”
Orodan drew some ore from the crates and put it into the kiln. A Draconic Fireball then formed in his hand as he heated the rock down into usable metal.
“You’re a pyromancer too? Why didn’t you do that earlier then?!”
“And devalue the honest labor you were putting in?” Orodan asked with a smirk. “I think not.”
How else would the youth learn without the joy of hard work? It built character.
Fenton grumbled a bit but shut his mouth as Orodan cast the metal into the exact specifications of the pipes he needed to repair.
“Yer’ a blacksmith too? Rather multi-talented for a wanderer... your sort’s usually good for killin’ and not much else.”
“A warrior must keep their mind and body balanced. Swinging a sword is pointless if the mind of the one wielding it is weak.”
“A warrior? You with the crown’s army then?” Fenton asked. “Always wanted to join the army’s engineering college...”
“No crown in my home nation. We’re a Republic where I come from,” Orodan clarified.
“A Republic? Sounds like a load of bollocks to me... unless... you really are one of those travellers from other worlds?”
Orodan simply smiled, and Fenton remained quiet for a while after that. Perhaps the thought of a functional Republic was simply too diabolical for Fenton, and the lad finally believed Orodan’s claims of being from another world.
He finished the steel by giving it a little coat via heating the metal to high temperature and funnelling steam directly inside as well. The resultant reaction gave the pipe parts a protective coat, helpful against steam and corrosion.
“The pipes are ready to be attached, but you say this magical steam’s rather corrosive?” Orodan asked and Fenton nodded. “I don’t think the coating process will be enough then.”
It might’ve been good enough for natural steam, but this magical steam the people of Lonvoron used was a notch hotter.
“Right, some fine steel you’ve made but it won’t hold up once the valve’s turned. I think the gunsmith’s got a bit of solution for treating the metal- oi! What’re you doing over there?!”
Orodan’s hand turned the valve. It was rusty and practically stuck in place from being unused for so long, but his hand caused it to move with a horrible screech. And with that groan of metal, the hissing of magically hot steam erupted...
...right into Orodan’s waiting hand.
“Hmm, rather potent stuff. I can see how everything might be powered by this.”
Definitely hotter than regular steam.
“You’ll burn your hand! You... eh?” Fenton stopped his protests, noticing how Orodan was fine. “You one of them steam mages now too? What can’t you do?”
“No, not a steam mage. This temperature simply isn’t enough to scorch me,” Orodan said, gauging exactly how hot the steam was and then shutting the valve off. Though steam magic did seem interesting. “Any alchemical supplies around here?”
The boy had a hard time believing Orodan was unscorched, but the question snapped him out of it.
“We’re in a shanty little gunsmithy... of course we have no alchemical supplies,” Fenton answered. “All we got is some of the solution the smith uses to coat the pipes sometimes. Usually, one of them engineers with their tall hats is scheduled to come by and do it, but been a while since the one in the fort hasn’t been busy.”
Orodan took the solution from Fenton’s hand and closely examined it.
Identify was used.
[Name: Bottle of Mineral Coating Solution
Description: A bottle of solution used to coat metals for proofing against rust and corrosion. Ninety-percent purity
Tier: Initiate]
What in the seven hells was this garbage?
“Who sold you this? In the context of an Initiate-level solution, ninety-percent purity is pathetic,” Orodan said. “This is obviously diluted too...”
He could see the ingredients clearly enough. Mineral oils for protection, a substance to aid the solution in sticking to the pipe and another ingredient to prevent the solution drying and forming lumps too quickly. Still, it was cheap and shoddy work, likely produced en masse focusing on quantity over quality.
Little wonder there were so many empty bottles of the solution lying about the shop. A good protective solution would last a longer time. Yet, this shoddy protective substance wore out and needed to be replaced frequently. Must’ve been what caused the other forge to become defunct too. He could imagine a steam pipe exploding easily enough if the inner protective coating eroded.
“Not many options in Port Bellgrave. There’s two alchemists in town, and one of them’s holed up in the fort doing who knows what,” Fenton said. “Our alchemic products come from the foreman, Elwin Clemmings; he imports the solution cheaply from a merchant who sells in bulk. Moneygrubbing shark would sell his own kin if it got him a good deal.”
And the merchant selling the shoddy solution must’ve sold it so cheap for a reason. In any case, a problem which was easily solved as Orodan had now managed to understand how this substance worked. While he wasn’t a prodigy by any means, his Alchemy skill was on the cusp of the Elite-level.
“Got any plants around here? Or wood?” Orodan asked, stepping just outside the workshop and into the shanty town.
It was nighttime, the moon was completely obscured by the heavy clouds overhead, and those too were beginning to weep, causing the cheap metallic roof of the workshop to echo with the pitter-patter of rainfall. To the naked eye, Port Bellgrave’s scrap town was quite dark. The veil of night illuminated only by flickering lanterns hanging outside the occasional shack.
Vision of Purity let him see the entire picture, but even then, most people were asleep or cooking humble fare within their homes. A scant few like Fenton though, were toiling away through the night.
There really wasn’t much vegetation upon the rocky ground outside. This place was quite barren, and it didn’t look like Port Bellgrave would be having a strong farming economy anytime soon. Still, there were some lichens and short grasses growing even upon such tough rock, and Orodan yanked these up along with the few twigs, branches and other bits of wood he could find. There was a halfway decent tree nearby, and Orodan uprooted that too, bringing it back and throwing it upon the shop floor.
He took one of the ore chunks and used his Celestial skill to draw out the trace minerals that he would need from the rock. Following this, he made a set of vats via Earthen Construct and began the process of extracting the oils from the plants and the sticky resin from the wood.
Once all the materials were prepared, he then began the process of mixing the minerals with the extracted oils and sticky resin from the wood.
“By King Alstatyn’s shiny boot... what craft don’t you know, Mister Orodan? You really don’t strike me as one of them greasy nutcases who works with potions, you look too er... sane, for that.”
He ignored Zaessythra’s snide remarks about his sanity.
“It’s nothing special; the solution is just mineral oil with an agent to help it flow easy and not clump together. The resin is to help it stick to the inside of the pipes,” Orodan explained. “I don’t have any particular proclivity for Alchemy; any third-rate alchemist from my world should be capable of this.”
Fenton looked on, interest obvious, as Orodan finished up with the large vat of solution. Throughout it all, he made sure to keep all the ingredients utterly clean. He then prepared one of the used bottles scattered about and filled it with his own product.
[Identify 5 → Identify 6]
[Name: Bottle of Mineral Coating Solution
Description: A bottle of solution used to coat metals for proofing against rust and corrosion. One-hundred percent purity
Tier: Apprentice]
Sometimes hundred-percent purity caused an item to jump a tier, other times it would leap two. It all depended on the product itself. For something which didn’t have any magical amplification to it, a tier increase was the best it could hope for.
Empowering it with too much mana might cause the pipes to explode too, thus, sometimes mundane methods were the sort best suited to a task.
“Damn... this stuff looks a lot stronger than whatever greedy Clemmings buys,” Fenton said, a frown on his face. “Something tells me he won’t be happy about you undercutting him.”
“He won’t be happy about a lot of things today,” Orodan said ominously.
Before his new friend could ask what he meant by that, Orodan began attaching the pieces of pipe he’d made to the existing broken ones. A swift cast of Candleflame got the new product and the old hot enough to weld together at the right points. And then, he picked the giant vat of coating solution up.
“The maintenance hatch is at the top of...” Fenton’s words were cut off as Orodan threw the liquid up the pipe, a cast of Galewind following behind it, guiding it along to coat the insides thoroughly. “...that works too I suppose.”
[Galewind 28 → Galewind 29]
Throwing the solution up the pipes and then guiding it via Galewind was good training. It got Orodan idly wondering if there were any more broken pipes around the place.
Unfortunately, there was only one more shattered pipe, and his toss of solution upwards and the subsequent cast of Galewind didn’t net him any level gain for it.
The pipe was now done, Orodan simply hooked it up to the receiving port on the defunct steam forge. And with a twist, the valve was turned on once more.
Vision of Purity watched closely as the magical steam began flowing down the pipe. He estimated that his own coating would last perhaps six months before needing re-application. A significant improvement over the bi-weekly applications of solution needed when using this Elwin Clemmings’ shoddy product.
With a sputter of magical steam, the other forge in the shop roared to life.
“There, it should be working now. Two forges instead of one,” Orodan remarked.
“I refuse to be surprised anymore, Mister Orodan... you’re just showing off one trade after another, like them wanderin’ parlor magicians pulling rabbits out of their hats,” Fenton muttered. “You some sort of master tradesman from your world? Which one you from anyways? Can’t be any in our local star system, never heard of folk wearing clothes and weapons like yours from nearby.”
“As I said I’m a warrior. Though, picking up a trade or two helps center the mind, and who knows what you might tangentially learn that helps in the midst of battle,” Orodan said, thinking of how Weaving and Recycling helped him quite a bit recently.
“If you’re that good a hand at being an artisan, then I hope not to see what you’re like when in a brawl.”
“It’s simply a matter of time and dedication,” Orodan encouraged. “You mentioned other worlds though? Are otherworlders a common sight?”
“In the mainland and their fancy capital maybe; certainly not for a destitute rube like me to behold,” Fenton said. “I know you said it enough times... but are you really not from Lonvoron?”
“I really am not.”
“Well, damn... who would’ve thought poor little Penny would get to see a traveller of the stars. What’s it like out there? Are those bright flashes in the night really ships of the void like the blue bloods claim?” Fenton asked.
“I haven’t been around these parts much, but I have seen the Blackworth Collective’s void craft in battle, let me tell you about them...”
And while Orodan finished repairing the other pipes, fixing the heater and a device meant for welding, they spoke. He told young and wide-eyed Fenton about the worlds outside Lonvoron, and in turn he too learned about Port Bellgrave and the Ironhaven Isles.
For starters, Port Bellgrave was both the name of this settlement, and the small island they were upon. It was part of the island chain known as the Ironhaven Isles. In the distant past, the territory of privateers and pirates. In the current day, a set of islands with a bountiful mining economy which fuelled the war machine of the Collective.
The island was tiny enough that the locals hadn’t bothered having a separate name for it, instead opting to simply call it Port Bellgrave. The port town proper was in the center, with a military fort overlooking everything from the high ground on the north end of the island. Scrap town, which was a shanty assortment of cheap buildings for housing the indentured servants, was on the south end near the mines.
If anything, Fenton was lucky, to have enough talent in gunsmithing and a good enough head on his shoulders that the foreman had handpicked him for service in the gunsmithy. Other unfortunate folks caught up in the chains of indentured servitude, the unskilled sort, were sent to the mines for hard labor.
The overseers kept those poor folk fed and healthy enough, and the System’s existence meant that the acquisition of enough levels to eventually get out by proving their usefulness was a possibility... but a lot of the miners died to subterranean monsters before they could do any of that. It was gruelling and dangerous work, and Fenton was glad to not be stuck doing that.
And above all else, as Orodan had seen the last time he was here... Lonvoron was a world under siege by the Eldritch. Three entire plague worlds to be exact. Alas, that battle was far away from Port Bellgrave. The front lines and the perimeter established by the Collective’s military was for now holding against the Eldritch. But that didn’t mean the war for existential survival wasn’t felt everywhere.
The average man like Fenton Penny knew not what the Eldritch truly was. His only experience being the rare visit by inquisitors from the crown, doing inspections with strange devices which tested ‘corruption’. To them, the Collective’s military was battling to stop ‘the plague’ far away from here, and every city, town, village and port on Lonvoron had to contribute their due.
Whether it was through mining ore in hazardous conditions or helping make guns and other weapons to send off to the front lines... all had to contribute.
“What a day... I can scarcely believe everything you’ve told me. Other galaxies? Crystals the size of star systems out to kill you? Sounds loony enough to make an honest man go mental. Are all otherworlders like you?” Fenton asked.
“Not many, I suspect.”
“I suppose I’ll take your word for it then. Most wanderers ‘round Port Bellgrave are usually fugitives fleeing the long arm of the law. Draft-dodgers, thieves and murderers; rough characters best avoided,” Fenton said. “An actual otherworlder here? First time I ever seen somethin’ like this. The stories make you lot out to be larger-than-life, more like the big-headed highborns in the fort than us little folk. You don’t look like such a bad sort though.”
“Heh! Well I’m the farthest thing from a noble,” Orodan said with a chuckle. “I grew up a street rat and an orphan in my world. We’re not too dissimilar, you and I, had a hard life much like you.”
“Well, can’t say I grew up a street rat or an orphan... but my old man promised he’d come back and take us someplace better one day... that was over a decade ago before my mother’s sickness really set in,” Fenton said.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Orodan said. “Do you know how and where he died?”
“That’s just the thing... I don’t know if he even passed. Went out to serve on the front lines of the dead zone and never been back since,” Fenton explained and then shook his head. “But that’s enough about my woes. What’re you after on our plague-stricken world? Mind you, I’m glad we met, but you otherworlders usually congregate at the capital and meet with the King. Though, I could’ve swore I heard some ship captain say they closed the travel between worlds recently...”
“How recently?”
“A day ago, I think. Was big news when certain imports couldn’t reach the capital because of that.”
In other words, at the beginning of his loop. The previous looper had likely noticed either the tapestry’s sudden mess, or something about the start of the loops themselves. Not surprising, given how the Boundless One at the heart of the System must’ve been thrashing about, panicked at losing control over the time loop. And the shadowy power behind Lonvoron was already dealing with the Prophet and the Eldritch, seeing this additional chaos must’ve spooked them further.
“Such a shame then, that the wealthy folk of the capital aren’t getting their exotic resources from other worlds,” Orodan remarked.
“I won’t be sheddin’ no tears over them blue bloods of the mainland, but it does beg the question of how you got here if they shut down the arrays,” Fenton said. “I won’t have to look forward to a fleet from the crown showin’ up here will I? That’s a load of trouble, which means medicine doses and payments gettin’ delayed.”
“In truth, I know not whether my entry was detected, so I can’t promise a fleet or two won’t show up looking for me,” Orodan admitted. “But I’m not about to drag anyone else into my fights if they do. So you can rest easy.”
“The mess will affect us whether we want it or not,” he replied and then sighed. “Not like I can do nothin’ about it anyway.”
“While I have a penchant for causing a mess, I hope to avoid that this time,” Orodan stated. Hoped to avoid much of a mess at least. “Me landing here was quite fortuitous I must say.”
“What do you mean, Mister Orodan?”
“Not only did I land someplace with the least amount of monitoring, but I also happened to land right in a gunsmith’s workshop. Good place to pick up a trick or two. That spider must’ve known what it was doing when it threw me down here...” Orodan muttered and then looked at Fenton. “You’re a gunsmith, right?”
“Er... I’m assistant to a gunsmith. Can’t say I’m a proper gunsmith meself,” Fenton corrected. “You want to learn how to make guns? Afraid I can’t openly be seen helping you with that... foreman’s real particular about who comes into scrap town. Been that way since a few too many rough characters slippin’ the law tried sheltering here,” Fenton said. “Nothin’ personal Mister Orodan, but if somebody sees you with me I’ll have to cry shark and say I had naught to do with you.”
“No offense taken. Do what you have to do. Is this foreman coming by anytime soon?” Orodan asked.
“Aye, he’s due to visit within the hour. Listen... you seem to be a good fellow, and I’d rather not see you stir the hornet’s nest and rouse the ire of the fort,” Fenton said. “Mother and I live a block down; the sun’s due to come up soon and it’s change of shift for the watch then. My home’s got three withered shrubs in front of it, and an old woman inside. Tell my mum that Fen sent you.”
Orodan’s eyes softened.
“You just met me and you’re agreeing to harbor me? Why put yourself and your mother at risk?” Orodan asked.
“Well... been a real long time since anyone’s done Fenton Penny a good turn,” the young man said, looking away. “Can’t let a gent like you be clapped in irons by the watch and thrown into a pit in the fort.”
“The offer is appreciated, truly it is. But that won’t be necessary,” Orodan replied. “I intend to meet with the foreman anyways. Now then, you say I’ve done you a good turn? Wouldn’t mind you showing me some of these guns you work on before the man gets here.”
Fenton tried protesting that. Not the part about showing Orodan guns, but about him meeting the foreman. The gunsmith assistant swore up and down that nothing good would come of it but eventually relented and seemed to wash his hands of the matter.
Thus, the lad started showing him the weapons used on Lonvoron.
And immediately, Orodan noticed the first glaring difference. He’d seen it before, yes, but at the time he hadn’t had the skill to appreciate the technological contrast.
“These are powered by steam...” Orodan muttered, looking at a firearm which was markedly different from the designs he was familiar with upon Alastaia. “How does the gun survive magical steam of that power? The metal isn’t insulated either...”
For starters, the drum to the right of the rifle seemed to be a storage for steam. Something a black powder firearm didn’t have. And the majority of the gun was made of metal, with only a basic lining of wooden insulation on the grip. Great swathes of the metal were plain and smooth too, these spots, Orodan surmised, were meant to be enchanted.
There were clockwork gears at certain points, meant to move valves and allow entry of steam into the barrel for propelling the shot. Aesthetically, it looked quite clock-themed with all the gears and cogs.
“Of course it’s powered by steam, what else would we use? Heard stories about how the old guns and cannons of yore would use black powder, but we moved past that long ago. Way too many steam mages and enchanters around nowadays to not use the stuff,” Fenton explained. “As for this gun surviving the steam, it won’t.”
“Then... it’s incomplete. Meant to be enchanted?”
“Good eye, right you are. It’s not done yet, meant to be shipped to the fort where their enchanters will put the finishing touches on it. You didn’t think they let us little folk have the completed weapons, did you?” Fenton asked sarcastically. “No... for us, we’ll be lucky to get a little eight-shooter like the one I have. Made it myself!”
Fenton seemed quite proud of that too.
“You’re an enchanter as well?” Orodan asked. “How are you stuck here?”
“N-not so loud! Don’t let anyone in town hear you say that! They’ll send me off to the fort if they hear,” Fenton hissed. “I picked it up from lookin’ at the weapons of the hired guns they have guarding the mine.”
What ridiculous talent was that? Most people learned enchanting through a regular education; Orodan certainly had. Hells, it would be remarkable if someone learned it from watching an enchanter work. But Fenton just picked it up by closely looking at enchanted guns?
“How long have you been Enchanting for?” Orodan asked.
“Er... maybe a few months? Only cracked the Elite-level recently...” Fenton muttered
Utterly absurd... a reminder that the cosmos was big and Orodan Wainwright wasn’t the only one talented in things. Fenton Penny was a true monster of Enchanting with a learning speed which was beyond Orodan’s own. Elite-level in months? Nobody he’d seen on Alastaia could match that. Now this was true talent.
On his home world the young man would’ve been kidnapped and developed into a national asset rather quickly.
“Any other work of yours that you’ve done?” Orodan asked, prompting the boy to nod and go to the back room, bringing something out from a cubby hole.
It was an enchanted armor plate, and Fenton looked quite proud of it too.
“An inscription of explosion? Quite well-made, but better suited to a weapon or projectile, is it not?” Orodan asked. “Directional explosion too? Can’t see the purpose of this on armor unless...”
“Right you are, ser, but imagine a rough blow hitting this piece and the plate exploding outwards! Spent a whole month workin’ on this design!”
Suddenly, a memory came unbidden to him.
“Defense, achieved through offense. I concur,” Orodan said as he examined the enchantment closely with Vision of Purity. He wasn’t as good an enchanter as this young boy, but he could perhaps provide a fine eye where this boy hadn’t looked. “The incoming warhammer which is simply taken directly on the shield will break the shoulder... yet when the shield is angled and swung outwards to meet the strike... the attack is prevented. In line with this philosophy, one can also apply this to armor. In fact... the only thing wrong with your design is the purity.”
Orodan now recalled where he’d seen Fenton before. In the long loop where he’d travelled to Lonvoron for the first time. And as Orodan considered the boy’s story of an ailing mother, a frown appeared on his face. He surmised how the young boy might come to be pressed into military service in roughly a few months’ time.
“I’m sorry for your loss...” Orodan muttered.
“What’s that mister Orodan?”
“It won’t happen again if I can help it,” Orodan promised.
“What won’t?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Now then, it’s plain to see that you’re a true genius. If your mother’s sick, why are you not revealing your skill? This world is different to my own, but an Elite-level enchanter must be a valued commodity, no?” Orodan asked. “The curing of your mother’s disease would be a small price to pay if it meant securing you.”
“Thing is Mister Orodan, I want to... I really do... but my mum won’t let me.”
“...why?”
“Us indentured servants are bound by contract to be assigned as the contract owner sees fit. My post at the gunsmithy? The result of me showing too much of a knack for this line of work. And if I showed them I can enchant? I’ll be sent to the fort and forced to apprentice under their Master enchanter and maybe even pressed into service. Easier work and far less rough labor,” Fenton said. “And while that doesn’t sound bad at a glance, the issue is that whatever I make will be crown property, with barely a pittance entering my own pocket. Long as my mum’s taken care of, money’s not what I’m after; I want to do it. But my mother insists my ambitions be higher than that. Demanding woman wants me to hide my love for enchanting until the contract’s paid off, and then I can start my own trade in a city.”
Orodan supposed that would be the winning long-term strategy. Of course, having met his own mother recently, he could understand how no son would want to see their mother suffer, even if she insisted upon it, for long-term gain.
“A tough quandary,” Orodan said, making a note to resolve the matter for him. “Back to the gun though... even with enchantments, does the wooden insulation not burn up? All that magically hot steam can’t be good if it leaks or gets hit in the middle of combat.”
“Heh... you’re a funny one Mister Orodan. The well-crafted gear made with good materials and safeguards ain’t meant for us little folk or the chaff soldiers of the line. Enough cases of steam scalding to keep the healers employed, and most of the soldiers comin’ back with the scars don’t got enough coin to heal them properly either,” Fenton explained. “This here’s what we got. It’s what the soldiers of the line use on the front lines and they’ll have to make do with it. Twelve-shot, lever-action, steam-powered magazine. Pinnacle of lethality; usually fatal for all but the biggest game... and if unlucky, sometimes the soldier too.”
Lever-action?
The guns he designed were single-shot, with a reload of perhaps a few seconds in-between depending on the skill of the gunner. And while he knew that the dwarves of Alastaia had repeating rifles, he’d never really perused any of their rifles after acquiring his Gunsmithing and Engineering skills.
Over the next thirty minutes, Orodan carefully studied all the guns Fenton showed him. Provided the barrel of the gun could tolerate the stress, a repeating firearm was a great improvement over any single-shot design. As he studied the weapons he discussed their designs with Fenton, and he came to learn that the assistant gunsmith was quite the talented man when it came to firearms design.
If anything, this predatory contract of service seemed a waste of the young man’s talents. Fenton was a wellspring of innovative ideas, and the boy possessed a natural knack for Engineering and creative ideas involving firearms. Orodan was certain he would do quite well at Bluefire in Alastaia if given the opportunity.
And by quite well, he meant getting kidnapped and pressed into service for his ridiculous talents.
“You know, for a lad stuck as an indentured servant you’re quite knowledgeable about guns. Where’d you learn all this?” Orodan asked.
“Eh... you pick up a trick or two when you take the things apart enough times. Always wanted to apply for one of the colleges of military engineering and artificing,” Fenton said and then sighed. “But I suppose life and me mum’s sickness got in the way.”
Orodan said nothing else after that.
Soon after, he sensed three figures approaching despite the thunderstorm. The sun was up now, yet it did little to detract from the gloomy atmosphere outside.
“Three men approaching. Two of them armed with guns, and the third who looks like he eats a bit much without any corresponding exercise.”
Being girthy but strong was one thing, it meant one at least put in the work to hone their might. But being flabby and weak was another. This foreman seemed to be of the latter sort.
“Damn... you should really get goin’ before the foreman shows up Mister Orodan,” Fenton said. “I don’t doubt you can handle that blade, but they’ll sound the alarm and soon the entire watch and the fort’s soldiers will come running. And have I told you about those dreadful steam knights? Ain’t ever seen a man stand against one of those.”
“It’s alright Fenton,” Orodan said. “I’ll be fine.”
The boy wanted to protest, but the opportunity for that was taken from him as three figures entered the workshop.
Two of them, rough-looking men in long dark coats and small hats. They looked to be the equivalent of the county militia back home. If anything, Orodan would favor any man or woman of the militia over these two in a brawl. Perhaps it was the over-reliance on firearms, or it was that a culture which focused on them would be less proficient in physicality than his own where melee combat and one’s bodily might was quite important. Whatever it was, they, like the people he’d seen on Lonvoron thus far, were smaller in stature and built less sturdy than his own people of Alastaia.
Stolen novel; please report.
The third, a greasy-looking man with a perpetual sneer on his face and a patchy mustache on his lip.
Upon the sight of Orodan, the two men, bodyguards of a sort, became wary and their hands reached for their waists to the handheld guns therein.
“Who the bloody hell are you? Fenton! Who’s this man?” the greasy foreman demanded.
“I... I don’t know Mister Elwin! Just waltzed in and surprised me much as he did you ser!”
“You must be Elwin Clemmings,” Orodan remarked. “You the foreman here?”
“I am, what of it? I don’t know who you are though. Unauthorized persons and individuals of unknown identity aren’t allowed ‘round these premises. These dwellings are property of the crown,” the foreman said, face red and spittle flying out. The man vaguely reminded him of Sergeant Woodgard.
The senior of the two watchmen stepped forth, looking exceedingly wary of Orodan, who towered over everyone present. A singular spectacle upon the watchman’s left eye, briefly shone and Orodan felt the Observe skill shooting out from there.
“Right, don’t know where you stole that sword and shield from, but tomb robbers aren’t welcome in Port Bellgrave,” the senior watchman said, hand still on his gun. “An apprentice... wainwright?”
“...ser?” the other watchman asked. “What’s the monocle say?”
“An Apprentice Wainwright and a Weaver? I didn’t know Wainwrights even had titles...” the watchman muttered.
“Why aren’t we arresting him ser? This man’s clearly violating the law.”
“Hold your engines boy, let’s not be hasty. Man has a dangerous bearing to him...” the older watchman murmured. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are ser, but you’re violating the laws of the Blackworth Collective and his Majesty by remaining here. Collective law, article twelve, subsection nine also makes it illegal to obscure, misrepresent or otherwise hide your Status from all lawful officers of the peace within crown domain. Please come with us that we might sort the matter out peacefully.”
The watchmen looked as though they wanted to arrest him, but the senior of the two was exceedingly wary of Orodan. He’d sized him up, head-to-toe, and must not have liked his chances from what he saw. A fair assessment, given how Orodan stood two heads taller and was more than twice as wide and made of muscle.
“It seems we’re at an impasse then, for I have no intentions of going along with you. I do have some questions for this man though,” Orodan said, looking at Elwin Clemmings, the foreman. “This ‘indentured servitude’ I hear about, why can’t Fenton here leave it?”
The fort commander, whose head now hung from a chain off the front gate, was both the warning and the symbol of what atrocities could occur under such a system. The contracted servants were originally supposed to serve as laborers unloading and loading cargo onto merchant vessels that came and went.
Such a job would’ve been honest labor and nothing back-breaking or dangerous. Of course, the residents of the port town itself objected to this; having such lowborns in the town itself. The mines with their dangerous working conditions were short of willing workers. And most importantly, the fort commander’s pockets were looking thin as the man had hoped to reach the Grandmaster-level but lacked the talent and required expensive resources to do so.
Hence, the numerous letters arrayed on the table which detailed the former commander’s interactions with certain unsavory characters beyond the isles. Debt sellers to be precise. Their debts were purchased at a low sum, and the indentured servants shipped out to Port Bellgrave in order to work the mines for a disgraceful pittance while the fort commander pocketed the difference.
The Collective’s war machine more than received their tithe from the island, hence the crown never bothered looking too closely at the affair. All at the expense of the workers who suffered and occasionally died.
A set of four sharp, chitin-covered legs threw the papers he was staring at off the table.
“I was using that...”
“For what? A blinking contest? Staring any harder at a dead man’s correspondence won’t solve your problems,” Talricto remarked. “As it is, the perpetrator’s head hangs off the gate in a rather barbaric display. And this petrified woman you’ve pressed into your service through violence doesn’t appear all too keen on helping either.”
The lieutenant who’d fought him at the gates of the port town was sitting in a chair before him. Her entire body language was tense.
“The eight-legged gentleman does not speak falsely. You barged in, assaulted multiple soldiers of the King, destroyed much crown property and executed a sworn fort commander of the Blackworth Collective. I am... appreciative of you sparing my life, but honor dictates I cannot aid you,” she said, her hand remaining on her sword. “And... you also knocked me senseless!”
“It wasn’t even a hard punch...” Orodan muttered. A quick knockout blow to the chin was considered utterly merciful by Alastaian standards! “And if you don’t wish to help me that’s entirely fine. You simply need to take over as the acting fort commander as your duty dictates. Can’t be any worse than the crooked man I executed at least...”
“That is... acceptable. As long as I’m doing my duty, I suppose I won’t be betraying King and country. But that duty still involves arresting you for your crimes!”
“You won’t have to worry about that soon,” Orodan replied and then looked to Talricto. “How long do we have left till the Living Crystal arrives?”
“L-living Crystal?! Those things are myths from the darkest corners of the void! And you say one’s coming this way?” the lieutenant asked, clearly horrified at the thought. “No wonder the responding fleet has slowed their approach just out in the waters... the astrologers must sense its approach.”
“In less than six hours it will breach the galactic veil which typically restricts Embodiers from entering and notifies Administrators,” Talricto said. “After that, arriving unto Lonvoron shan’t be too long; perhaps seven hours in total.”
“Rather daring of it to disregard the threat of the Administrators, is it not?” Orodan asked.
“It normally would be... if someone hadn’t thrown the entire tapestry into utter disarray. You might not be aware of this, being the simpleton you are, but a lot of monitoring and information gathering across the cosmos is done through the tapestry. Particularly for cosmic beings of great power. Embodiers often use the tapestry to avoid the Administrators and one another, and they in turn use the tapestry to track them as needed. With it gone... a response might be rather delayed.”
Little wonder the System and the Administrators had so much difficulty tracking him, even with his fate re-inserted into the tapestry. He was causing the equivalent of a planetary tidal storm across the entire thing, utterly ruining the ability of most beings to get a proper read on things.
Most importantly... he was causing enough mayhem that predatory beings outside the galaxy could potentially use the chance to enter one.
This loop was a bust, and the following attempts would continue to be the same until he trained Fate Disconnect to an appropriate level where he no longer caused such a ruckus. He was simply too powerful. His soul and potential too vast, capable of empowering the time loop to affect all reality. Of course, the tapestry would be in utter mayhem due to his existence upon it.
“Tch... of course. This entire debacle has only reinforced to me the need to train my stealth-related skills,” Orodan said. “And my ability to restrain the effects I have on the tapestry of fate.”
“Your one stealth-related skill you mean?”
Zaessythra had no faith in him. Disguise was perfectly adequate, and Orodan resolved to begin training it once more from the next loop.
“I will not directly help you... but Lady Luetta Treadway resides in the north tower. Your situation is both horrifying and imminent enough that she might be willing to help,” the lieutenant said. “She’s the fort’s resident fate reader. Graduated from the magical university in Storven too.”
Orodan made note of that for the coming loops as well. From what he’d heard, the fort had a reclusive steam mage who worked in the boiler chamber, an enchanter and an alchemist too. All excellent sources of knowledge in the coming loops.
“Appreciated. But I’m not sure if the fate reader will appreciate me barging in and demanding help after all I’ve done in town,” Orodan said. “For now... I think I’ll be training with my teacher here.”
“Well, shall we get to using the remaining few hours we have?” Talricto asked. “Your Dimensionalism is still quite pitiful... even the hatchlings among my kind could maneuver dimensions around you with impunity.”
“By all means, mighty Talricto. There’s work to do.”
#
[Dimensionalism 69 → Dimensionalism 70]
[New Title → Dimensional Elite]
The dimensional boundary around Orodan wobbled, and his attempt at using Dimensional Step failed. His power was limited of course, down to Talricto’s level, but it was in this contest of equalized power that gains could be made...
...and his utter inadequacy in comparison to a dimensional phase spider could be exposed.
“All that work with Dimensionalism, and I still can’t match you on even ground...” Orodan muttered with a pleased smile. It was good training, and he enjoyed the feeling of a real challenge.
“An admirable effort, but we dimensional phase spiders are the pinnacle of the art. Attempting to match me on a purely skilled basis will end poorly for you,” the spider haughtily declared. “I’m also one of the greatest of my kind.”
Orodan didn’t disagree that Talricto was better and outright made for the skill of Dimensionalism. His kind were naturals after all; from what the spider had said even the hatchlings started off with natural insights into Dimensionalism which were at the Master-level. Innate to them like breathing was for a newborn babe.
“That’s precisely why I intend to do this every loop... until I can best you.”
His teacher looked startled but not displeased by the declaration.
“A hopeless endeavor... but one I cannot disapprove of. I shall await the loop then, my headstrong student.”
For the past six hours he’d futilely floundered against Talricto’s superior skill in Dimensionalism. It was like an untrained man attempting to beat a fish at swimming, or an eagle at flying. His own Dimensional Step was hijacked and the destination altered with laughable ease. And Talricto’s Dimensionalism allowed the spider to go wherever he wanted while Orodan couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Of course, in a real fight, raw power or chronomancy could overpower the wandering spider, but Orodan refused to rely on those.
And while he hadn’t exactly gained much besides three levels in Dimensional Step and the recent level in Dimensionalism, it did leave Orodan with a fresh perspective on how to go about tackling other skills of his. Particularly, his repeat attempts at brute forcing a certain Embodiment-level spatial spider who kept intruding upon his efforts to enter Lonvoron.
With thirty minutes left till the descent of the Living Crystal, many of the stars in the distant sky had been blotted out by its size. The fleet surrounding Port Bellgrave was now truly gigantic, the size of a true armada. And it didn’t consist of just seafaring military vessels of the Collective but flying void craft too.
It seemed Ur-Vah’sahn the Harmonious was coming directly for Port Bellgrave, specifically Orodan... and the Blackworth Collective sensed it too. They hadn’t approached the island yet, but the seas surrounding the Ironhaven Isles were entirely blockaded, and Orodan was thankful that Fenton and the workers had managed to begin sailing and get out in time before the encirclement completed.
With him causing such commotion and the descent of a Living Crystal imminent, the workers shouldn’t have been pursued by anyone either.
“Talricto... you should go now,” Orodan said.
“I suppose this is farewell then. I know you say you come back and all... but do take of yourself, you hard-headed fool. While you have little skill...” Talricto trailed off. “Or talent...”
“Thank you for the encouragement,” Orodan dryly remarked.
“...you’re also possessed of a work ethic most admirable. See you in the next one, my untalented student.”
That was probably the nicest the spider had ever been to him. Sentimental little bug.
Talricto phased out of the material plane soon after, his silly little hat still upon his head as he waved a front leg in a farewell gesture, leaving just Orodan.
The fort and everyone upon the island had been evacuated too. Better they leave than be caught up in the battle about to occur. Yes, everyone came back thanks to the time loops, but that was a wicked mentality to lean into and could quickly lead to him butchering millions on a whim.
Just him and the Embodiment-level Living Crystal coming his way.
With fifteen minutes left, the Crystal became rather shockingly visible, gigantic, the size of an entire star system. Massive and luminous in a way which could make any sane person have an existential crisis as it took up the entire horizon.
And it was then that the ships and fleet of the Blackworth Collective began to act. Titanic salvos of fire erupted, but not the kind Orodan expected.
Rather, it was mana, cannons firing pure and utterly concentrated amounts of mana, filling the very air with it. And with that mana... came hundreds... no, thousands of spatiomancers. Leading them all, was a figure with a shimmering illusory image surrounding them. This figure, Orodan had seen them before, and still knew nothing of their identity. They began manipulating the gigantic amounts of mana in the air alongside a robe they wore which allowed for the easy channelling of System energy.
Orodan’s Vision of Purity had grown stronger, but he still couldn’t quite see past their veil, for so pure was the magic they cast. And before he could have any thoughts of switching his perspective, to see all mana as impure, the other part of the equation entered the fray.
If the previous time looper and the forces of Lonvoron were now here... then it begged the question of how unmanned the dead zone was.
A question which was now answered as space shook, and three spatial rifts threatened to appear. Leading directly to three plague worlds.
An infection and outbreak on this part of Lonvoron, unprepared as it was, would be catastrophic. Yet, the Eldritch plague worlds weren’t what concerned him. It was the appearance of a certain book-wielding Administrator.
The Prophet had arrived, and he was looking directly at the previous time looper and the mantle they carried with covetous eyes.
But that was fine, all a part of Orodan’s plan.
For as they seemed preoccupied with one another...
...Orodan’s broom came out and pointed towards the three spatial rifts.
When he’d done this last time, he hadn’t even been a Grandmaster. And even then, he’d eventually won.
Now though?
As the previous time looper and the Prophet began clashing...
...as the spatial rifts to the plague worlds threatened to spew forth...
...as a Living Crystal threatened to devour Lonvoron...
...the broom of Orodan Wainwright targeted not just the Eldritch plague worlds past the spatial rifts, but the Eldritch, and the very System energy everywhere past the dimensional boundaries too.
Soul energy spilled forth in an act which was one of the greatest feats he’d managed without outright dying, and he felt the briefest tinge of the madness of Infinity threaten to consume him before he gripped it tight with his unrelenting will.
In the divine dimension and the material plane both.
[Dimensionalism 70 → Dimensionalism 72]
[Incipience of Infinity 125 → Incipience of Infinity 127]
[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 147 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 148]
It began with the purple-grayish tinge and haze that could be seen in the air. It was a sign that something had changed when it vanished entirely.
The spatial rifts leading to the plague worlds too suddenly became quite inert. Whatever was on the other side of them had decided to stop spewing Eldritch altogether.
Moreover, in the divine dimension, even if Orodan couldn’t see it... he felt that every bit of Eldritch had been entirely purged.
And most importantly, he’d been so concerned about how easily he’d been getting discovered and causing a ruckus via the tapestry of fate. Who would’ve thought that simply destroying it outright was the solution?
The Custodian had warned him that his steps would be hounded as he neared the peak of Transcendance in his Celestial skill. The combination of such a grand feat, and Domain of Perfect Cleaning going from 147 to 148 must have been too much for the canvas to bear. The connections, the calculations, whatever the tapestry of fate was made of, it simply couldn’t tolerate what he’d done and tore entirely.
Now nobody had a fate. No connections, no calculations, no possible outcomes to be read.
Perhaps, Orodan mused, that was a better outcome.
“You... you tore apart the tapestry...”
Those were the first words out of the previous looper’s mouth, shock and disbelief audible even through the disguised voice.
Even the Living Crystal bent on landing seemed surprised, frozen in place at what had just occurred.
The Prophet though... its face was the definition of pure murder and rage.
“Billions of years of work, undone in an instant. All the grace of our savior, the lifeblood of provenance disseminated throughout the cosmos, all gone...” it whispered dangerously. “You shall never reach Embodiment, failed aspirant that you are. Here and now, you shall die.”
The beam of light coming for him was practically unavoidable in how fast it reached. Even if he did notice a beam of System energy attempting to counteract it before it ended him.
Vaguely, he also sensed the arrival of more Administrators through the dimensional cracks, but it was simply too late.
Before the beam hit and the darkness took him, Orodan realized that achieving Embodiment would involve a lot of trouble.
And that perhaps breaking fate wasn’t such a bad thing.
#
A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.
“If every gain in Domain of Perfect Cleaning is going to cause such a ruckus... then you clearly need to train your ability to minimize your impacts on the tapestry.”
Orodan agreed with her...
...though the thought of destroying the tapestry and perhaps even rebuilding it, sounded like good training.
Still, that could come later. For if the tapestry was destroyed, how would he have his fair fight against the Prophet where it could read his fate to scry his abilities?
To that end, Orodan had quite some work cut out for him.
His usual ongoing goals of training spatiomancy and dimensionalism would continue, as would his battles against Alagameth and that arrogant Living Crystal. Though, Orodan intended on making it onto Lonvoron under his own power and not because something had taken pity on him.
He had three main goals for the upcoming loops.
First, to train his Fate Disconnect that he might stop destroying the tapestry of fate outright and causing mayhem to erupt across the cosmos. The diviners of Inuan and perhaps Guzuhar might help with that. But he already knew the methods used by these places on his home world. To that end the fate reader on Lonvoron’s Port Bellgrave might be worth looking into. A fresh look at fate reading, through the lens of another world’s tradition, might help make unexpected gains.
Second, he’d seen some interesting architecture in Port Bellgrave. Perhaps he could give construction another shot in one of these loops before he made for Lonvoron. And the steam technology used by those folks was quite intriguing too. He hoped to get a better idea of engineering and artificing through the understanding of that. A better understanding of Engineering and Artificing would allow him to get closer to rebuilding the ancient machine the right way.
And third...
...perhaps it was time to take up training Disguise once more.
A dirty cloth was pulled out from a nearby drawer in his hovel and two symbolic eye holes were poked in it.
Perhaps it was time to wrap his head around the problem...
...or wrap a rag around his head once more.
It had also been a while since he truly viewed his Status. And with a thought, he pulled it up.
Name: Orodan Wainwright
Age: 17
Title 1: Wainwrighting Apprentice
Title 2: Weaving Apprentice
Available Titles:
Bearer Of A Celestial Skill
World Conqueror
World Gate Delver
Avatar Slayer
Wielder Of A Mythical Skill
One Who Has Experienced Death
God Slayer
Transcendent Slayer
Celestial Transcendent
Perfect Cleaning Transcendent
Cleaning Transcendent
Soul Transcendent
Infinity Transcendent
Combat Transcendent
Unarmed Combat Master
Physical Master
Shield Master
Sword Master
Space Master
Time Master
Wrestling Elite
Enchanting Elite
Woodworking Elite
Dimensionalism Elite
Alchemy Adept
Halberd Adept
Blacksmithing Adept
Pathfinding Adept
Teaching Adept
Fire Magic Adept
Laboring Adept
Gathering Apprentice
Cooking Apprentice
Construction Apprentice
Engineering Apprentice
Fate Apprentice
Wainwrighting Apprentice
Weaving Apprentice
Skills:
Domain Of Perfect Cleaning 148 (Transcendent - Celestial)
Incipience of Infinity 127 (Transcendent - Celestial)
Warrior’s Reciprocity 90 (Master - Mythical)
Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 80 (Elite - Mythical)
Eldritch Resistance 68 (Adept - Mythical)
Divine Resistance 58 (Adept - Mythical)
Reality Alteration 57 (Adept - Mythical)
Dimensional Resistance 20 (Initiate - Mythical)
Absolute Body Composition 10 (Initiate - Mythical)
Harmony of Vitality 100 (Grandmaster - Legendary)
Endless Blitz 97 (Master - Legendary)
Unassailable Fortress 94 (Master - Legendary)
Bulwark Physical Resistance 87 (Elite - Legendary)
Time Reversal 86 (Elite - Legendary)
Draconic Fireball 74 (Elite - Legendary)
Body Tempering 71 (Elite - Legendary)
Vision of Purity 70 (Elite - Legendary)
Wood Communion 66 (Adept - Legendary)
Mana Resistance 65 (Adept - Legendary)
Fate Disconnect 57 (Adept - Legendary)
Dimensional Step 17 (Initiate - Legendary)
Iron Body 90 (Master - Exquisite)
Time Mastery 90 (Master - Exquisite)
Psionic Resistance 79 (Elite - Exquisite)
Dimensionalism 72 (Elite - Exquisite)
Draconic Mana Channelling 68 (Adept - Exquisite)
Vitality Destruction 61 (Adept - Exquisite)
Fire Resistance 53 (Adept - Exquisite)
Lightning Resistance 48 (Apprentice - Exquisite)
Wind Resistance 41 (Apprentice - Exquisite)
Water Resistance 39 (Apprentice - Exquisite)
Ice Resistance 38 (Apprentice - Exquisite)
Spatial Shift 13 (Initiate - Exquisite)
Curse Resistance 9 (Initiate - Exquisite)
Space Mastery 96 (Master - Rare)
Teleportation 89 (Elite - Rare)
War Cry 43 (Apprentice - Rare)
Acid Resistance 37 (Apprentice - Rare)
Fate Mastery 30 (Apprentice - Rare)
Gourmand 16 (Initiate - Rare)
Spatial Fold 88 (Elite - Uncommon)
Shield Intent 80 (Elite - Uncommon)
Shield Throw 75 (Elite - Uncommon)
Mana Manipulation 62 (Adept - Uncommon)
Fate Reading 57 (Adept - Uncommon)
Halberd Throw 51 (Adept - Uncommon)
Wainwrighting 30 (Apprentice - Uncommon)
Earthen Construct 29 (Initiate - Uncommon)
Flash Freeze 26 (Initiate - Uncommon)
Lightning Bolt 24 (Initiate - Uncommon)
Gunsmithing 22 (Initiate - Uncommon)
Waterstream 20 (Initiate - Uncommon)
Combat Mastery 109 (Transcendent)
Shield Mastery 98 (Master)
Unarmed Combat Mastery 98 (Master)
Physical Fitness 95 (Master)
Sword Mastery 95 (Master)
Enchanting 87 (Elite)
Wrestling 86 (Elite)
Woodworking 84 (Elite)
Tool Mastery 75 (Elite)
Alchemy 69 (Adept)
Flare 64 (Adept)
Blacksmithing 61 (Adept)
Teaching 59 (Adept)
Pathfinding 58 (Adept)
Halberd Mastery 56 (Adept)
Jewelcrafting 54 (Adept)
Fire Magic Mastery 50 (Adept)
Laboring 50 (Adept)
Surprise Attack 46 (Apprentice)
Artificing 40 (Apprentice)
Engineering 40 (Apprentice)
Sprinting 39 (Apprentice)
Construction 38 (Apprentice)
Maintenance 35 (Apprentice)
Gathering 32 (Apprentice)
Cooking 32 (Apprentice)
Weaving 31 (Apprentice)
Galewind 29 (Initiate)
Candleflame 28 (Initiate)
Intimidation 28 (Initiate)
Logistics 26 (Initiate)
Repair 23 (Initiate)
Mining 21 (Initiate)
Magical Rituals 18 (Initiate)
Observe 17 (Initiate)
Club Mastery 15 (Initiate)
Butchering 14 (Initiate)
Disguise 12 (Initiate)
Skinning 11 (Initiate)
Lumberjacking 14 (Initiate)
Parkour 11 (Initiate)
Stealth 9 (Initiate)
Smelting 9 (Initiate)
Thievery 6 (Initiate)
Recycling 5 (Initiate)
Identify 6 (Initiate)
Deception 4 (Initiate)
Lightning Magic Mastery 3 (Initiate)
Decent, but he still had a long way to go. His enemies were mighty, and he would only be adding more to that list as he grew stronger. He couldn’t even beat that oversized Living Crystal yet, let alone the Prophet who could instantly kill him at an angry whim.
He needed to grow stronger. He needed proper training.
For his end goals with Lonvoron which involved acquiring and studying the two Administrator’s Mantles were important, but secondary to his primary goal...
...which was uncovering any information he could on true soul genesis.
Whatever it took, he would bring Zaessythra back.