The Apprentice of Ouroboros [Monster Evo LitRPG Adventure]

Arivol Institute of Arcanology

Two years before the Sundering…

When one spoke of the classes surrounded by the greatest air of mystery and wariness, it was the witch class that garnered the most intrigue…and the most undue suspicion.

Poorly understood by most and mastered by even fewer, records of the witch class had been present since the era of the great class expansion. Some surveys dated the first witch to the earliest foundations of civilization, and even within the primal hunter-gatherer tribes. Arguably, they were one of the first classes to emerge from the great Interface. Witches possessed the knowledge of the old world and the flow of mana through it; each component in a ritual became a clue to unravel the mystery of the past, predict the future, and control the flow of nature and fate itself.

Witches were often associated with preventing catastrophes spawned by the greed and hatred of men. Yet they did not receive recognition for their efforts for generations, instead going to warriors and kings, not the arcanists who carried out patient research and worked diligently for the betterment of all.

Indeed, the reputation of a witch was not always desirable. Commoners still spoke of night hags with hair sprouting from moles and disfigured, waxy faces who stole children in the middle of the night, using their ground bones for occult rituals, or kidnapped men to mate, then ate them at the conclusion of the transaction.

Others said witches floated in water. Or melted in water, depending on who you believed. They said they gathered in covens, offering dark blessings to their familiars and painted their nude bodies with runes to summon demons.

Risha Aksen had heard every one of these silly superstitions by now and found the ignorance of the majority an affront to education. None of these things was true except for the part about familiars.

Instead of offering dark rituals, she offered a dead mouse to her familiar. “C’mon, Pas, I know you're mad at me. I've been busy in the laboratory.”

A resigned hiss echoed from the other side of her desk as Pas pretended he didn’t want a snack. He flicked his head away and continued to browse Risha's current journal. The displayed pages included historical research of the Umbral Shoal.

She was currently stuck: it was more theory than substance, even with a couple of years of on-and-off research. “Oh, come on, I was working. I can’t take you everywhere, you know. There are some places with rules about pets, familiars, and slithery friends.”

[Foo. You just needed an excuse to see that strapping young man with the green eyes.]

Risha narrowed her eyes at that playful and slightly jealous internal voice of her familiar. Just like the ranger class, druids and their variants, a witch could bond with a familiar. They were normally a mundane animal given intelligence and magical powers, but Pas was a little different, and distinctly magical since she gained his presence. She could hear the soulspeak of her serpentine companion, with an intelligence not quite at a human level, but close.

“Alright, fine, it was a working date,” she conceded. “Pas, we’re so close to understanding the Umbral Shoal. It’s the last great unmapped frontier. It’s the border between life and the next evolution of our soul as we pass beyond this mortal veil.”

She glanced at her current work, studying a shard of Ceruli crystal. So far, she’d been able to discern, or more likely, rediscover the potency of these purple rocks that people were more prone to use as gemstones or lighting for arcane flames.

The most valuable power of this material was that it carried memories, actual snapshots of thoughts and images of people's minds. Theoretically, they carried fragments of souls that were bound to Galwein. Life might be finite, but in death, rebirth and life again were an unending cycle, in alignment with the design of Ouroboros. Just as nutrients and minerals nourished the earth again from the rot of the living, souls, too, had their cycles.

Trying to understand such a massive concept in one lifetime would be difficult, even for a team of researchers studying the subject. Risha did it simply because of the challenge, to sate her own curiosity and to tackle something difficult. She wanted to understand the connection between the Interface, the Umbral shoal, and the return of souls to the world. Somewhere in there, the Divines perpetuated the cycle of life, unseen and far from fully understood.

People claimed they spoke to them all the time. Risha scoffed at that; sure, some classes had a connection to the Divines; her studies of the Third Age suggested the massive Beasts physically roamed the world for a period of time in a power feud between one another, and the nature of the conflict was unknown. Historical records were scant from that period. And unreliable, more folktale than fact.

She figured most people didn't actually talk to the Divines; those who did, likely remained silent about their discussion.

There had been a lengthy debate that the world suffered a calamity in the ancient past that wiped it clean, save for a few survivors who became the nomadic tribes, stripped of their tech and resources. A few claimed Ouroboros himself caused the disaster, and ended the world to restart anew.

Calamity, yes. Ice ages and volcanic eruptions of sufficient magnitude could change the course of the world, potentially shattering civilization and ushering in unprecedented change. But she was quite skeptical of a creature so large that it could devour and rebirth a world. What would it eat when there weren't worlds up for snacking on?

The indication she had was that Ouroboros was far, far smaller and far less surly.

Maybe the Divines from people's beliefs were exaggerated, nothing more than extraordinary monsters, and given a larger-than-life mythos.

But the Umbral Shoal had enough evidence behind it to propose that its existence was a certifiable fact. Her research on the Ceruli crystals indicated they had been used to capture memories before a soul passed, then returned to the soul as it completed its loop through rebirth, reinforcing the soul with knowledge and accumulated power.

Unfortunately for her, this particular shard was far more mundane. All she’d gotten from it was a woman’s shopping list. The device must have degraded over the years.

Pas cared for none of her interest in souls or Divine Beasts or ancient shopping lists. Instead, he was more interested in earning a few head scratches and returned to studying her book. She poked him to get his attention, and he hissed, annoyed at the prodding.

[Mood. I’m reading.]

“Sure you are,” Risha chuckled. "I know, it’s all a little complicated. But these Ceruli crystals are our only means of studying a soul’s connection to the Umbral Shoal without…you know, volunteering people to die in the name of arcane science.”

The snake cocked their head to the side, and Risha raised a brow. “No. That would be quite unethical, asking a dying person for permission to study them to see if we can trace a path to the Shoal, in a metaphysical sense. I daresay the reason I’ve been having no success is that maybe we’re not meant to understand it.”

Pas cocked his head again. [Have you considered that the Divines don’t like people encroaching on their domain? Maybe it’s their home, and we’re rudely knocking on it when the picket fence has a sign that says ‘no solicitors’.]

She didn’t like to admit it, but the snake had a point. Maybe the Shoal and all its intricacies would never be fully understood. Or, the Divines wouldn't let them.

“Well, we can start with this. If we can store memories on these things, maybe we can store other things in here. Something to isolate out the connection to the interface.”

She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Huh. I wonder if it would work like a willow branch being replanted. That might be a side-step to the information I want, but… it could be interesting.”

Pas looked at her, shaking his head. [Whatever idea you’ve got, it’s either mad, or terrible, or possibly both.]

Risha grinned proudly. “Nonsense. We’ve proven that we can place memories into the crystals. We know that our mana cores house our very essence. Perhaps the two are related. Maybe, if we take a teeny, tiny piece, we can…release it into the wild, and observe results, in a controlled setting?”

[And where is this teeny, tiny fragment coming from? I am not volunteering.] Pas shook his head vigorously and also let out a yawning hiss.

Risha pouted. “I’m disappointed you’d think I’d take it out of someone else. It’ll just have to come from me.”

Pas might not have had eyelids, yet his eyes were alight with panic, regardless. [This is a terrible idea that will not end well for you. Please do not.]

She gave him a dismissive wave. “What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve proven we can snip memories without any harm to an individual. This is just an extra step!”

[This is your soul you're talking about! We don’t know what will happen! Are you even sure you can do this?]

She smiled proudly. “There is a mana trace within the memories, very faint. My ritual diagnostics can follow it. What I’ll need are a few things and a few backup options. I might have to bring in Nidus, though. In case something does go wrong.”

A chime rang in the background. Someone was at the door. “Just a moment,” she called out over her shoulder, and put a cloth over the Ceruli crystal sample and her tools. It was still late afternoon; most people should be finishing up for the day, not arriving.

She moved toward the magitech door that opened with the gentlest pneumatic actuation on her approach. She was surprised to see who was there.

A tall man stood at the frame, clad in ceremonial vanguard armor, the metal painted in the dull green and blue of the state. It was ornate yet effective in battle, though the man bore no helmet, only a shortsword and a magitech projectile device. This man was a bodyguard reporting to the palace staff; he was well-trained and reliable. “Miss Aksen, evening. I’d like to introduce–”

She stood, stunned, as King Lachmir rounded the corner, smiling politely. The king wore only a simple metal circlet and well-maintained and pressed plainclothes. He was quite low-profile for a man who ruled the enlightened empire of Arivol. He had short black hair, clean facial features, a sharp chin, and pale grey eyes, all of which gave the impression of a man with discipline in his mind.

Honorifics and courtesy replaced her normally sardonic wit and willingness to speak her mind, regardless of the audience. “King Lachmir, this is an unexpected honor. Please forgive the appearance of the laboratory, had I known–”

He waved his hand, chuckling softly. “It’s quite all right, Miss Aksen. I came here to witness our academic and cultural exchanges with Rivilat and the kingdom of Valos as a whole; it's my understanding you’re here for a rotation?”

“Just for the summer, but I carried my work with me. Little side project,” she answered. Her normal work was alchemy and ritual specialization, though her hexes still were as potent as ever. It amazed her how behind Valos was ritual work, but they also had a distinct advantage in magical chemicals as precursors for mass industrialization.

“Really? Just a side project? I was told you had working knowledge of the Interface and were studying Ceruli crystals.”

“Trying to.” She gestured to the desk where the crystal sat under a cloth. “The Dardani Republic, the precursor to Valos, had a large investment in studying the crystals for more than just memory storage. I read journals from archives that indicated they could house souls. But souls dissipate after the body expires. Even with all the classes available, it's like trying to catch smoke. You can't properly study or contain it. The knowledge is either lost, or those journals were exaggerations. Fully replicating it has been...challenging."

“And, regarding souls within the Umbral Shoal?” He moved the cloth to reveal the housed purple crystal, examining the finger-sized faceted rock in curiosity.

“People know even less. It's speculation, for the most part. We know souls leave, pieces of people come back, but tracking them? It's impossible. Interacting with that place? Even more so.”

It wasn't impossible. Just difficult. And dangerous. “Miss Aksen, are you aware of what we fought four years ago?” Lachmir asked after considering her words.

“A mana plague. I read about it in academic journals. A colleague of mine sent instructions to quarantine the afflicted and proposed injections of alchemical suppressants to dry up people's internal mana reserves. Without internal mana, the infection starved out.”

Lachmir sighed softly. “Correct. From an academic standpoint. I vowed to eliminate the disease.”

Because it took your son. She didn't say it aloud, but she understood why. He was a father first and a king second, and she could see in that distant look and sad eyes that he still grieved for his son, even as he put on the face of the leader of a great nation.

“It truly is regrettable. No one has determined the disease's origin. There is speculation that such virulent plagues have their origins in the Interface: a natural culling, with no rhyme or reason. Many cases had no known exposure. No one could determine who patient zero was. But I get this feeling this conversation isn’t about the mana plague.”

“It is not. Zan, a moment of privacy,” Lachmir stated.

The man nodded softly and walked out of the laboratory before latching the entrance door closed.

Lachmir let out a soft sigh. His face showed an instant onset of fatigue. Now present was a man who spent long nights with little sleep, and even less comfort in the waking hours. “I want your opinion on something. Do you believe the Umbral Shoal is real, and not folklore from ages past?”

“I believe it exists. I also believe it is the domain of the Divines. One we should not encroach upon,” she answered calmly. Just say no. For your own academic drive, yes. For him? Be careful of persuasive men with good intentions.

That advice had gotten her far. But caution could leave the greatest discoveries untapped, forever unexplored.

Lachmir considered her words. “Professor Aksen…I will be blunt. Do you think it is possible to traverse the Umbral Shoal intact? And…to return with something?"

“That is truly impossible,” she said adamantly. “One does not traverse the Umbral Shoal. There is a divide between the living and the cycle that resets between death and life. I know of no ritual, no means by which to come close to achieving such a thing.”

“I could make it worth your time to perform a study,” he proposed. “A year, here, with unlimited resources. All you have to do is ask. I wouldn’t offer coin; I think a woman of your principles would be offended at such a suggestion."

“I would, yes,” she murmured. “But why me? Surely you have academics you can rely on in-house. Professor Mathicus of the Arivolian Institute of Arcane Science could find someone with more talent than I.”

“But you have a unique circumstance,” he said, with a glance at Pas.

Don’t tell him. He doesn’t know anything. Pas gave a resigned shrug of his serpentine body and coiled up on Risha’s desk.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Your Majesty. I studied well, and put my witch class to work over these past eight years. But to think I could crack open the Shoal? I shudder to think what we might find, were it even possible. Knowing it is one thing, but manipulating it? Terrible decisions could be made if we could."

“You have something more. A connection to a Divine,” he pressed.

“I wouldn’t be so bold as to say I’ve been a pen pal with a Divine Beast. Most of them couldn’t hold a pen,” she jested. But King Lachmir didn’t laugh in turn. Instead, his face was calm, composed.

Too calm. “Help me, and I can help you. I have it on good authority that–”

“Don’t.” The single word was little more than a growl. “Don’t offer me something I know I can never have. You think I haven’t tried?”

“To find a solution to your own predicament? One that magical healing cannot alleviate?” He spoke calmly and rehearsed, knowing far too much about her. Saying he knew exactly what afflicted her without spelling it out.

[Risha, please…you have friends and peers who respect you. Don’t throw it all away for this man. You know he can’t be trusted.]

She didn't need Pas' input to realize this could be risky. She knew the rumors. None of them were good. People were disappearing. She'd heard stories of patrols of guards conducting 'investigations' and bringing people in for questioning, only for them to never be heard from again. The baker just across from her apartment had had to replace two of her workers after they were brought in.

You didn't need to put bags over people's heads to bring them in for 'questioning,' as the baker said in a dark tone.

Risha had also heard of a secret wing of the royal guard that made problems and people disappear. Dissidents found dead in their homes, poisoned or strangled by their spouses. Crime lords found dead, their coffers raided and unaccounted for. Maybe it was paranoia; the empire had old enemies, many who did not let go of prior grievances. They desired nothing more than to corrupt and rot the empire from within, patiently and with all the speed of a dripping tap, slowly eroding it away.

Or maybe it was something worse.

Yet she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to exchange knowledge with their institution. It was why she signed up for the summer scholarly rotation, along with Professor Serkin. “King Lachmir, please don’t ask me to do something you know can’t be done.”

“But it can. And you believe it,” he stated candidly. “You believe you can navigate the aether, to find the Shoal, and bring something back with you. You already have the right vessel: Ceruli crystal. Soul shards. You’ve helped rediscover ancient magitech for the benefit of all with your ritual work. Now imagine if death itself could be defeated.”

“Death can’t be defeated. It can be delayed, denied, redirected, but our bodies expire all the same. From swords, to a slip on a wet floor, to old age.” She let out a quiet breath, shaking her head. "I know what that loss feels like. The gnawing on your soul from a thousand sharp-toothed regrets. It'll eat you alive if you let it."

"I just need death delayed for five minutes to say goodbye. Something I never got to do.” Lachmir’s arms were slack at his side, his face weary. “Getting closure…even if it can’t be done, it would at least give me some peace that I tried and did something.”

"That might be...more doable." She frowned at this; a passive interaction with the Shoal might be possible, to be an observer only, or perhaps establish a brief connection. "But pinpointing one person in this place, if it's even possible...could be next to impossible."

She regarded the king and saw the face on display: not a king, but a grieving father. Getting closure, a catharsis of a last reconciliation with his son, might be to the betterment of the kingdom, and reverse the troubling course she'd seen hints of.

"Will you try, at least?"

“Alright, Your Majesty. I’ve got a few theories.”