Sacrifice Mage

I was kind of miffed when the trains stopped working. It had now become an easy means of travel from Ring Four all the way to Ring Two, where I could just drop off a station and reach Kalnislaw estate in ten minutes of regular walking. There was something to be said about taking such a mundane route instead of just flying all the way over there or something.

Not that I wasn’t familiar with delays and disruptions. There might have been a fault in the line or an accident of sorts. These things happened.

Sadly, it turned out that it wasn’t a one-off issue that would be resolved in time.

Claderov, who still held the overall control of trains despite them being located in Zairgon now, had decided to suspend operations for the foreseeable future. They were angry.

Apparently, one of their nobles had just been murdered.

The news was probably shocking in the right quarters. No doubt, it had Ring Two alarmed and in uproar, as one of their very own had been accused of the crime. But, like with the delays and disruptions, these things happened. Especially where Uralivanth was involved.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so coldly callous about it. Maybe I should have paid more attention because it was… a very interesting development in current circumstances, to say the least.

But I couldn’t care less. I might have told Gushal Uralivanth that I was taking my heat off his family, but that didn’t mean I needed to concern myself about their wellbeing.

So, I focused on my own business instead.

The vineyards were coming along nicely. With how the light and heat from the Starlamps were much easier to control than my original uses of Protostar, the Anymphea were able to regulate the conditions within their greenhouses way better. In fact, one time I visited them, they were having an honest-to-goodness rainfall in there.

“Wow,” I said, letting my hands inside just enough to feel the pitter patter of the drops on my skin. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt rain on my hand.”

The Anymphea around me were all smiling in a strangely satisfied way, which I eventually realized was mirroring my own expression. The feeling of rain on my hand was… something else. It triggered a sense of calmness, of rightness, that I hadn’t even known I was missing. So I was grateful to them.

Especially since the trees were growing big and strong.

“They’ll begin flowering soon,” Ascelkos said. “Isn’t that right?”

He had aimed the last question to an older Anymphea man with leaves for hair, who nodded with a rustle.

“Yes, my lord,” the elderly fellow said. “We should be seeing the first bloom within a week or two. I imagine they will look marvellous, in which case, I highly, highly recommend that you pay a visit with all your friends and family, Lord Moreland.”

“I will.” I imagined Sreketh watching the rain, smelling the flowers. I thought about the Scarthralls marvelling at the way life could be grown from the soil. I could almost see Aqrea calculating the profits that could be earned from the grapes and the wine just from seeing how much of the plants we had here. “I think they’ll enjoy it too.”

It was kind of crazy to realize how long farming took in general. I was getting addicted to fast progress and achievements whenever I looked at anything to do with the Weave.

But it was a completely different ballpark when it came to growing a vineyard for winemaking. I needed to be patient. I needed to not get the wrong expectation of growth from one side of my life and incorrectly apply it to another. That would lead to silly disappointment.

I visited Sreketh again. She was recovering well, almost ready to resume her classes. The only reason I approved of it was because the perpetrators were still suspended.

“But my friends, Ross,” she said. “I don’t want them suspended too.”

I was sad for them too. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do much about them. Best suggestion I’ve got is sending them your notes and such to make sure they don’t miss much.”

“Alright.” She didn’t seem very satisfied with that. “It’s the least I can do, after all.” Then she perked up. “I’ll send them some of my Paintings! Myra always loves them.”

I smiled, happy to see that she was more cheerful.

Someone who wasn’t cheerful, though, was Revayne.

“He’s withdrawn into himself,” she said when we met up again a couple of days later. “Understandable, given the severe allegations that he doesn’t have much to do with. But it… surprisingly hurts to see him so despondent.”

“The wonders of discovering romantic empathy,” I said.

Revayne almost flushed. Almost. But it vanished as soon as it appeared, likely drained away by her book. “It is odd to have to be a source of comfort for someone. I don’t find myself minding it. What really feels disheartening is the ineffectuality of my efforts.” She paused, sounding contrite when she spoke next. “Especially because I’m contributing to the stress.”

Right. In accordance with the demands from Claderov, the City Guards of Zairgon had started an official investigation into House Uralivanth. Well, another one for the accused murder. There was already the ongoing one for monster trafficking and all the complaints.

I was trying to retract the latter, but it was a slow process.

“I’d keep a close eye on him if I were you,” I said.

Revayne frowned at me. “He isn’t above suspicion, but at the same time, I am not about to unduly suspect him of anything without strong evidence.”

“No, of course not. It’s just a matter of keeping him separate from this whole business, because I like to think he isn’t involved either. But there’s nothing suggesting the rest of Uralivanth wouldn’t implicate him as well.”

“Well, they do seem to care for each other, if nothing else.”

“That’s good to know, I suppose.”

The guards had discovered the poorly-hidden body the other day. While all members of House Uralivanth, from their patriarch down to their servants, denied any wrongdoing or involvement in the matter, the damning evidence of a corpse couldn’t just be brushed aside.

As such, the guards were looking for clues. The only reason they hadn’t involved Thefris and already gotten to the bottom of the mystery was because Revayne and the other nobles were pressing on taking things in a slower, more measured way. Essentially, they were stalling. Ring Two adamantly refused to let one of their own be implicated in such a manner.

Especially after how House Uralivanth was already beleaguered by all the things I had brought up.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Ironic. Having seen how quickly House Kalnislaw had been abandoned by the vast majority of Ring Two as soon as their position had been judged irrecoverable, their support of Uralivanth felt shallow too. But it was none of my concern.

“In truth, I am much more worried about the wider implications,” Revayne said. “Claderov is becoming more and more demanding the longer this goes on.”

I could feel my own expression darkening. “Are they thinking of escalating this somehow?”

“Well, you can already see one escalation.”

We both looked left, where the train track lay forlorn and forgotten. Usually, there would be one running past every half-an hour or so. But not so now.

There wasn’t much to talk about afterwards. Revayne said she had no idea if the Councillors would eventually step in to force their hands or if they’d present a defiant front against Claderov. I wasn’t sure either. Maybe I could hit up Se-Vigilance, but she had roped in another Councillor to leave on yet another Nether Vein expedition.

Wargrog then, maybe. I wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. They had to be caught in a pickle and it was unlikely they’d have any straight answers.

The only thing I was sure of was Se-Vigilance’s warning that Claderov had ulterior motives in the city that weren’t transparent yet. Motives that might be related to me, what with the attention I had garnered from that lord I had fought against at the magic festival, Yulien or whatever.

There wasn’t much I could do about it, though, so I decided to just prepare for now. By training, of course.

I had finally discovered the difference between Photonic Compression and Starburst. Well, the main difference aside from the fact that the former was best paired with my new Spirit Augmentation—Mana Conversion—while the latter was still better off with mana I manifested directly.

But for Starburst, I found that I always needed to cross a big threshold of total Aspected mana output before I could use it. That wasn’t unexpected. Starburst was basically an expression of enormous power compressed to a single point before it was unleashed as, well, a burst.

It needed to be big, flashy, and powerful. Those were baked-in properties of the Compound Aspect I couldn’t avoid.

On the other hand, Photonic Compression didn’t need me to release a geyser of energy. I could modify it such that I compressed just enough absorbed energy to send out a pinkie-finger-sized beam. Or a hair-thin one. Or whatever other size I considered appropriate. It was endlessly flexible.

Where Starburst was a finishing move, Photonic Compression could be used at any point, provided I had accumulated enough energy.

Which I could do pretty easily. Just absorbing ambient heat for around two to three minutes with Absorption was enough to fire off a toothpick-wide laser with my newest Affix. Was it powerful? Not really. Would it help during fights? Sure. I could already imagine all sorts of distractions and annoyances I could create with Photonic Compression.

The other thing I was training with was the new Power Augmentation I wanted to manifest. I hadn’t hit Opal with it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t prepare for it, like I had with Spirit.

“You’re getting better,” Gutran said, after a break in our sparring.

With him no longer holding back, I was getting my ass handed to me, despite being Gold-ranked just like him. The problem wasn’t just his experience. I had a decent amount of that now too. It was the fact that his entire build revolved around close-quarters, up-front combat.

I, on the other hand, was a hybrid mage. Calling myself a spell blade didn’t feel quite right. Especially since the stronger I grew, the more I focused on amping up my magic.

Gutran’s thick scales and high Vitality shrugged off most of my blows. His nictitating membranes were immune to any flashes of light I tried distracting him with. Heat from bursts of Flare basically did nothing. All I managed was pegging him down with Gravity, but even then, he bullishly burst out of my traps with supreme Power.

And then his own blows were so empowered, I had a very difficult time just defending myself. It was a good thing the sword he was using to whack me was blunted. Otherwise, I had a feeling I’d have been nursing a lot more injuries after every bout.

“How are you that strong?” I asked, plainly frustrated at still being a step behind. “You’re Gold-ranked, just like me. And I know you’re built more towards fighting up front than I am, but still.”

“You’re underestimating a veteran of war, Ross.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean it as some sort of disrespect. I’m genuinely curious about what you’ve got in the Weave and such that makes you so strong.”

“You can already guess.”

“Some combination of Affixes and Augmentations, obviously. But the specifics…” He wasn’t answering, clearly waiting for me to try and figure at least some of it out. “You’re using an Augmentation that clearly empowers you the longer you fight. There’s another Affix or something that transfers your weapon’s ability to your fists.”

“Good catches,” Gutran said with a bit of pride. “The first is an Augmentation for my Endurance Attribute called Enduring Might. The next is an Affix for my Aspect of Warmastery called Weapon Affinity.”

Those sounded tremendously intriguing. Just went to show how much of Gutran’s capabilities were geared towards his front-line combat capabilities.

I persevered, though. Even if I could have instated a big gap between me and Gutran, where I could then pelt him with all my Aspects from afar—like a real, Pits-cursed mage, finally—I didn’t resort to that option. Gutran was, and had always been, my physical Attribute and close-quarters combat trainer. Beating him at his own game was my last personal test.

Kind of like the masterwork that Aurier needed to advance in his Path.

So I kept at it, losing to him way too many times, but always coming back for more. By losing, I meant being beaten back or pausing at a very specific instant where Gutran pointed out just how he could have killed me if he committed. Very annoying.

I did make progress over the next couple of days, though. Not just in slowly eking out openings where I managed to land blows—often aided by tricky little Aspect uses such as messing with his weight or letting off a Flare burst at a surprising moment—but also in rank-ups for the Weave.

[ Rank Up!

Your Power Attribute has risen by one Rank.

Your Flare Aspect has risen by one Rank.

Power: Gold X

Flare: Gold II ]

I had a feeling the only reason I had finally gained a rank in Flare after so long was because I had trained some in it. Having kind of neglected it for a while now, I had gained a new way of thinking about it instead of just limiting it to applications of heat.

A helpful tip during a meeting with the other cults had me considering a whole new direction.

“Your Flare,” said Durica, the old leader of the wind cult. “Is perfect for a mage like you, isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Well, what are mages if not people with the most flare, if you will.”

I blinked. Then realized how stupid I had been to not consider that angle. “You really think the Weave will recognize an alternate definition of the word like that?”

Durica shrugged his stooped shoulders. “Can’t hurt to try. Worst comes to worst, you’ll just need to figure something else out.”

And so, I had gone on to try being a bit more… bombastic. It felt really odd. I didn’t want to make unnecessary motions and exaggerate what I was capable of, potential to gain a new Affix or not. Yet at the same time, there was an inherent flare about a lot of things I was capable of.

After all, I just needed to think back to some of my battles. At some of the ways I had used my powers over the months.

Bombarding the Blight Swarm with a landslide of floating debris, discovering Starburst against that overpowered Blightbringer, fighting the impossible threats within the Nether Vein like the Steelflame Tyrant and the Bonestrider. Weren’t those flare, in a sense?

The problem was that I didn’t know what exactly I was supposed to get by considering Flare in that direction. An Affix called Showmanship sounded ridiculous. What would it do? Give me a buff depending on how much I had acted with flare? It wasn’t bad, especially if I could just gain the buff by just doing what I normally did, but still. I needed a clearer picture in my head.

My considerations for my new Flare Affix had to take a back seat, though. A few nights later, a curious sight made me freeze.

Thanks to Sacrifice, I didn’t usually need as much sleep as I used to. This afforded me the ability to stay up well past when most other people had gone to bed. On that fine night, I was sticking to my usual haunt on top of the temple’s roof, when a lightshow burst into being in the distance.

It was higher up the mountain, clearly in Ring Two. What made me frown, though, was the direction.

That was… very close to the Kalnislaw estate. Even for me, someone who tended to get lost too often and had a terrible sense of direction, I was more or less certain. My heart stuttered in anticipatory fear. Was this Uralivanth finally hitting back at me? Or was it something worse?

Not wasting a second longer, I quickly woke Lujean and told him to mind the temple before heading off.