Bog Standard Isekai

A barrage of spells and Skills fired off at the same instant that Fowler attacked, and the [Pirate] positioned himself so that the majority of them struck Brin's armor. They proved that his armor was still incredibly strong and that it was Fowler's saber that was just unfair, because none of it broke through. Unfortunately, Ares' lightning still locked up his muscles as Cinda's water jet knocked him across the room, so there was no chance at retaliating.

Fowler ran free, and tossed Brin's hand over his shoulder before fading away towards the west.

“Get down there! Get to the Gallery!” Brin shouted as soon as his locked-up lungs left him free enough to speak. He already had a split mind in a Mirror Man who was running down the stairs, and the movement spurred many of the others to action.

Bia took five steps towards the stairs before pausing and looking back at him, but he nodded and said, “Go. You too, Marksi!”

Brin could feel the anguish Marksi had for his wound, but he was more than eager to dart down the stairs and go after the goal rather than sit here helplessly watching his favorite human drip blood onto the floor.

Brin was already using the glass on his gauntlet to bring it back to himself. Maybe he could use glass to reattach it? The barrage of spells had dismissed his illusion, so he wasn't hiding his armor any more. He used his Iron Man program to take off everything above the belt so it wouldn't be in his way while he worked.

“If any of you Life Track fellows have healing Skills, I could use your assistance,” said Brin.

Bedelia clamped her hand on his shoulder, giving him an uncharacteristically severe expression.

“Sorry, Bedelia. I meant to say, can someone give me a hand?” Brin laughed at his own joke, which was a mistake, because he nearly puked. The pain was making him nauseous. He was dizzy, and shivering, and trying really hard not to think about how much it hurt or the strange, empty feeling.

“Use your Healing potion, idiot!” she said.

“If I have to. I just want to see if this will work, first.” Brin took a bracing breath, and then stuck his severed forearm back where it went. He thought he'd be good at this, because he'd had a lot of practice putting broken vases back together, but this wasn't like that at all. He'd sort of hoped that he could make sure the bone went to the right place and that the rest of it would work itself out, but his hand was slippery and he couldn't see if it was in the right spot at all. The pain was making this impossible. He just didn't have the concentration for it.

“Sion. Do you--”

Sion pressed a potion, a pill, and a paper talisman in his hand. “For shock. For blood. For pain, in that order.

Brin downed the potion and immediately stopped shivering. He dry-swallowed the pill, and felt a burning in his stomach. He didn't know what to do with the paper talisman.

Sion plucked it out of his hand and slapped it on his forehead. The pain disappeared. Maybe too much, because now he couldn't feel anything at all.

A [Leaf Cutter] man in mage’s rode made his way to Brin’s side and said, “I have a Skill to enhance your natural healing, but–”

“That’s good. My natural healing rate is extremely fast,” said Brin.

“Move aside,” [Grand Magus] Cinda ordered, and the remaining mages stepped back.

Most of the group Brin had assembled were running towards Fowler, who’d opened the door to the Gallery and rushed inside, but a few had stayed behind. Sancha, because she was a clear non-combatant, and Bedelia, probably because she was Hogg’s eye on Brin.

“Speak these words of Language. <I Accept Intrusion, Freely Inviting Power>,” Cinda ordered. “Pay special attention to the use of <Accept>. We’re using the version of this word that stands at the intersection of <Jhent> and <Le>. Mathematically, it’s geometrically symmetrical, and it’s color aspect–”

“I can hear it,” said Brin. He could feel what those words were trying to do–they would loosen his authority and let her cast spells that moved elements inside of his body. He didn’t truly have the depth of knowledge to get all the meaning from the words that Cinda would probably like, but he could make up the difference with his mastery of the Wyrd.

“<I Accept Intrusion, Freely Inviting Power>,” said Brin.

Cinda immediately pushed a tiny jet of water into the bleeding wound where he was pressing his severed limb against the stump. “Yes, that will do.”

He couldn’t feel anything after Sion had hit him with that painkiller talisman, but he could feel her power in the Wyrd. She was moving her water into his blood, using it to keep it all in his veins. She aligned muscles and tendons, and set the bones back in place. It would only hold as long as she maintained the spell, but that was fine. His healing was really fast. It would start scarring immediately. He didn’t have any illusions that he would be able to fight again today, but with this, he’d probably be able to keep it attached.

He used glass to supplement her water. He summoned a glass cover over his bones where they were now safely reattached. He put little glass clamps straight through his muscles to hold them in place. There were so many of them, and several had a natural tension that made them snap back when cut; he definitely wouldn’t have found them all on his own. Then he used staples on his skin to hold the outsides together. He didn’t know if it would all fall apart when Cinda released her power. Hopefully she’d be able to hold him like this until his natural healing could bind most of the pieces.

While they worked, his other mind raced towards Fowler. He piloted a Mirror Man made form his Morphic Shield and the best of his crafted glass that he’d taken with him, and chock-full of Brin’s Mana, he felt as powerful like this as he did in his armor.

He ran with his feet only out of reflex, because it was pure magic pushing him forward, and every step covered ten feet.

He’d separated this mind as much as possible from his main consciousness so that he wouldn’t be distracted by the state of his injury. It had the double benefit of protecting his main consciousness from mental manipulation, and there was a lot of it.

In the entryway was a sculpture of a kneeling angel, so fine and marvelous that he immediately wept to look upon it, even before his mind could register the emotional impact of the beauty of it. He snapped his eyes shut, and then since his eyes were fake, he turned off the sight from his Invisible Eyes that were piloting him. He used an echolocation spell from his Lightmind to keep going.

That was nearly his undoing, because there was a self-playing harp in the far corner with all the alluring power of a siren, luring him to sleep beneath the waves. He felt a shock to his mental resistances, and it took all his power to shrug off the effect and seal it with a barrier of sound.

When he finally freed his mind, he found himself kneeling on the ground, with no idea of how long he’d been there. He snapped to his feet and started running again. Even with the effect cancelled, he still felt the urge to go to that harp and listen to the rest of the song.

It was a good thing they weren’t on the ocean. If he’d found that thing on the sea, he definitely would’ve drowned. People really shouldn’t come in here without high mental resistances.

He cancelled all the Directed Threads that were using Invisible Eyes up here. All of them had been lured away by the various artworks and they were at risk of contaminating his consciousness. He summoned new ones, using echolocation, and looked for the entry to Chaos’ rooms, Fowler, if he was even in this reality.

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He was. Brin found Fowler near that same harp that had enchanted Brin. When he’d muffled the sound of it, he’d freed Fowler as well. Brin hurried to undo the barrier of sound, but it was too late; Fowler tossed the thing in his enchanted bag and then kept running.

“Let’s go!” Brin shouted, but already a good half of the assembled forces had fallen into the various artworks. Sometimes literally; Brin saw an [Mage of Air] literally step inside a painting.

Rhun, Bia, Marksi, and Vitor had all shrugged off the effects, but most of the others were lost. He’d have to come back for them. He was not going to miss his shot at Fowler.

He ran, ignoring the pull of all the incredible artworks on the walls. Even blinded, there was a weight to them, a pull. He couldn’t even see them, but just the faint whispers of them was enough to tell him that even if he stared at each one for an entire day it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to come back here when he had more time, but didn’t know if he should. Would this much beauty darken the rest of the world by comparison?

He saw Fowler making a beeline to a certain painting in the back of the room. It was completely ordinary compared to the rest. No strange pull, no weight in the Wyrd, and Value Sense actually gave him a number rather than telling him it was priceless. That had to be a clue. Knowing Chaos, that was the painting that he’d put a secret passage from his rooms to come and see.

When Rhun started to lag, getting distracted by the overwhelming weight of the gallery, Brin put blinders on him, blocking his sight of everything except the path in front of him. Then he did the same for his other friends, and they increased their speed.

Fowler hadn’t found the secret passage by the time they reached him. Brin loosened his block on all their senses, including his own. He could resist the power of the art around him for a minute, and he needed everything he could get for this fight.

He flew in, glass spear trailing light and power. Fowler parried it, blocked Brin’s quick follow-up strikes from rapidly-shifting weapons, then cartwheeled behind a giant wooden ceremonial mask to avoid a barrage of magical javelins. That put him straight into Vitor’s path, and the [Pirate] snapped his eyes shut when Vitor started sucking all the moisture out of him. Even blinded, Fowler exchanged a serious series of blows. Vitor’s sword miraculously held up against Fowler’s saber, but he wasn’t able to gain any ground.

A vicious slash sent Vitor stumbling, and he probably would’ve died right there if not for Rhun arriving just in time to block it. The blow put a rent in Rhun’s tower shield, but it gave them time for Bia to arrive.

She [Kicked] him, cancelling his Skills, and pushing him into a painting on the wall. Hands grew out of the painting to hold him in place, and Brin rushed to capitalize, using a spear that was now molted glass. Fowler used [Dodge] to avoid it, and Brin stabbed the painting instead.

He saw a woman in an ancient ballgown who turned and gave him a glare of extreme offense. But the painting wasn’t harmed by the slash, nor did it repel it. It accepted and integrated the damage, in a way that only good art can.

Brin turned and swiped again. His molten spear splashed around Fowler’s saber when he tried to parry and the drops burned against his leather coat. Brin had chains already forming a net around him. Fowler’s first slash in response didn’t even break Brin’s glass. That meant that Bia’s kick had reset his counter from [Senseless Battery]. He had the advantage. This was it. He pressed in.

Fowler fought wildly, and his saber was a blur, only visible by the sparks against Brin’s glass or Rhun’s armor. He pushed Rhun, Vitor and Bia back whenever they got close, but Brin was relentless. He didn’t pause when Fowler delivered wounds; he simply reformed the glass where it had broken and kept pressing forward. He shifted his weapon between spear, sword and axes to fit the moment. He sent globs of sticky molten glass and bullets of quick, hard glass. He tightened the net of chains, reforming it on the fly when Fowler slashed through.

Despite everything, Fowler dodged, ducked and parried everything Brin threw at him. Marksi fought too, and was able to get in Fowler’s guard long enough for a bite or a slash with his claws, but he couldn’t penetrate Fowler’s coat before the [Pirate] shook him off.

Brin pulled his chain net in, and cutting through that slowed Fowler long enough to get a good grip with a molten shackle around his leg. The [Pirate] used [Kick] with his other leg, and cut Brin’s connection to his magic.

He reconnected a moment later, but it was too late. Fowler had shifted out of sight with the Easterlings’ strange power. When he reappeared, he was behind Vitor, saber swinging at his neck.

Vitor’s defensive sand blocked it. “Now, Calixtum!”

Red with rage, Calixtum exploded from Vitor’s back, and a meaty fist hit Fowler straight in the nose, blasting him back into a suit of armor.

Unfortunately, the armor was the key. Fowler blew through it, and then broke through the wall behind it. There was a staircase behind the false wall, leading up.

Fowler drew a pulsing yellow orb from his back and tossed it casually behind him. Brin didn’t like the looks of it, so he threw himself on top of it to shield his friends. It exploded, and for the second time, Brin’s consciousness was ejected from the Mirror Man.

When the memories hit his main consciousness, he growled in frustration. He’d been so close!

So far, all of their engagements with Fowler had been sneak attacks. Brin had really thought that if he got Fowler into a fair fight, he’d be able to take him down. And why couldn’t he? He was good with the spear. He was good in melee even compared to other [Knights]. He was one of the best in his Lance, even without his magic.

Well, back then he had been. They’d all been practicing every day for the past year. They were probably all better than him now. And Fowler wasn’t just above average. He was utterly exceptional. Brin was never going to beat him like this.

And why should he try? He wasn’t a [Knight]. He was a [Mage]. It was time to start acting like one.

He sent one thread with an Invisible Eye to go check on his friends and start recovering his glass. By then, Fowler had reached the next floor.

The Master’s private chambers were surprisingly spartan, at least the entry way. It was just a domed white room with a single pillow in the middle of the floor. Fowler must’ve seen something that spooked him, because the moment he arrived, he turned and ran. He ran straight towards the wall to the west, but right before he hit it, he traveled into that strange, in-between world and faded from sight.

Brin’s friends followed, cautiously. Fowler would be back. He'd appear from nowhere, and second now. Brin needed to be ready for him.

He wouldn't make the same mistakes next round. No, he was going to do this right this time. Brin lifted his staff with his magic and let it settle into his left hand. He shifted the spearhead back into an orb.

The crux of his strategy this time would be [Commune with the Elements]. As long as his physical body stayed where he was at the top of the Tower, he could regenerate his Mana in moments. Then, with his improvement to [Summon Light through Glass], he could cast anywhere inside the Tower as long as someone he considered an "ally" was nearby. That was basically everywhere.

Just to hedge his bets, he decided to prepare something to utilize [Amplified Casting]. Not only did it reduce the cost of maintaining illusions to near nothing, it also absorbed light to power the illusions and give a little bit of Mana back. Normally that wasn't a big deal because illusions were cheap and the Mana returned was proportionally little. But that was only if he created regular-sized illusions. He could just make something big. He normally avoided making his illusions too big to avoid giving himself away, but what did that matter now? It was time to spread his wings.

Channeling through the staff, he pulled on power and then cast the largest illusion he’d ever made. From the edges of the Tower, he created two gigantic white wings, proportionate to the size of the Tower itself. It held for a beautiful moment until a stray beam of energy cut through his wing, collapsing the spell.

Alright, that had been a lesson learned. He let them both go. That had taken way too much Mana to summon, and the returns from [Amplified Casting] weren't enough to fully replace the Mana he spent. The Mana return wasn't immediate, since this was a [Delusionist] Skill it had a Wyrd element to it. The longer an illusion maintained it's Wyrdic purpose, the stronger it would get. He needed something with a clearer purpose than just showing off.

For his next attempt, he created a huge ring of clouds around the top of the Tower. Rather than just using one big spell, he created several conscious threads, and had them create hundreds of directed threads, each governing a single little white puff. All the nodes merged together in one amorphous mass, creating the bigger picture of a ring of clouds spreading out from the pinnacle of the Tower like the rings of Saturn. Managing so many different threads was a headache, but the effect was worth it. This time, when someone launched another attack of some sort, it only destroyed a few of the clouds in a line, and he assigned the threads to reform them.

The initial Mana cost to summon that much light was enormous, but [Amplified Casting] kicked in and it reduced to a trickle. That would improve over time until it was giving Mana back, and given the scale, when that happened it would be quite a lot. Very useful if he ever needed to leave the top of the Tower with his regular body.

The last thing he needed was to refine his argument in the Wyrd. Along with blocking anyone from seeing him physically, he had the Wyrd obscure him as well. This is just a cloud. Nothing exciting is happening up here. Look below; the Tower Festival is happening today!

The attacks against his clouds ceased. He could feel the presence of Light magic now, other Invisible Eyes. [Illusionists] were watching. Him, the clouds, and his friends as they entered the strange white chamber in the Master’s suite.

Just to check one last thing, he checked in with his physical body, and tried to make a fist with his right hand. His fingers twitched, but he couldn’t get them to close. Cinda snapped at him to stop. Bedelia glared at him again. He nodded and then ignored them both.

Brin smiled, reveling in the thrum of the magic. Yeah. Let Fowler come back again. This time was going to be different.