The Wrong Kind of Immortality

Orestis returned to his island research facility after inspecting the Valdren shrine.

The visit itself had been thoroughly uneventful, and he had not really learned anything new. Yet. But the possibility was now there. In that regard, at least, the trip had been worth it.

The structure had been identical to the one in Aethera, down to the layout and the proportions. The symbols, however, had been different. Not completely—he recognised most of them. However, they were arranged in a different order than he remembered.

Orestis assumed that was because of the differences in the curses themselves. If the symbols functioned like a script, he was probably looking at the same letters arranged into different words. Perhaps now, with two sets to compare, he might finally be able to decipher what those symbols actually meant.

If the writing described the curses in any way—how they worked, or why they had been made—then translating it would answer a lot of questions. Maybe even help solve the curses.

Of course, I don’t really expect an instruction manual. But anything new would be welcome.

Still, that was for later. Right now, his next task was to create the stabilisation matrix for his mind and body. And to do that, he first needed a complete baseline scan of his physical and mental state while he was still stable.

Well, stable enough. At this point, I very much doubt my own sanity.

Regardless, the first subtask was creating the equipment necessary for those scans. It shouldn’t take too long. The common materials, he could simply buy. The rare ones, he could collect himself—though, even that had largely been taken care of already.

Since the moment he struck a deal with Varra, he had been slowly gathering the necessary components. His intention had always been to build an updated set of research equipment for both himself and Varra at the same time.

Why? Because there was no way he was going to accept working on equipment that was outdated by a thousand years—not when it came to his personal research. The difference in performance was simply too significant to ignore.

So, building his own was the solution. And since none of his equipment would ever leave this island—and none of Varra’s would leave her hideouts, either—there should be no problem with creating and using technology well ahead of the era.

Although, I should probably add a self-destruct sequence to everything—just in case they leave the proximity of our bases.

Then Orestis thought about it for a moment. He should probably add another in case someone tried to dismantle the equipment.

Or if someone attempted to tamper with the internal workings. Or run diagnostics to inspect the formations. Or cast duplication spells. Or store them inside a dimensional pocket space.

Let’s also make it so that if anyone disables three self-destruct sequences in succession, the fourth activates immediately.

... I should also make the explosion size adjustable. Varra will have preferences.

Decisions made, he got to work. He took the materials out from storage and began the process of measurement, assembly, and enchantment. As usual, he quickly lost track of time. What eventually pulled him out of it was hunger.

Right. Mortal body. Forgot about that.

He sighed and decided to pause his work. Then he teleported to his house in Orthessa and went to get some food. After eating, he would cast rejuvenation and stimulation spells on himself so he could continue working without unreasonable interruptions.

Eirene was not at the house—which was expected. She had also left a note letting him know that she was in Nomyra, helping Aelia with the research.

Orestis went to the kitchen and ‘refuelled’, then packed some food for later—just in case he had to work longer than his spells could reasonably sustain him without side-effects.

With my current body, I can’t push myself too hard with artificial enhancements.

Before leaving, he wrote a note of his own and left it on the dining table beside Eirene’s. He kept the contents simple: he would be away for a couple of days, creating equipment for his research, and could be reached by call-node if needed.

Then he went back to work.

He worked through the night and finished everything. Once that was done, he called Varra, confirmed she was in her hideout, and sent her share of the equipment through a gateway.

Varra was thrilled. By the second delivery, she was already announcing what each machine would be named.

Of course she is.

Orestis chose to tune it all out.

Rather than explain how everything worked, he sent her the instructions through a memory transfer—the same way he had given her the information about her lich body previously. It was much less of a hassle than explaining everything by mouth, or writing manuals for her to peruse.

Orestis closed the gateway soon after, leaving Varra to sort through her equipment and decide which went where. As for him, he went to get himself scanned—the first requirement before he could design his stabilisation spell matrices.

Going by priority, he started with the mental matrix. He intended for it to constantly monitor his brain chemistry. Should any reading exceed acceptable tolerance levels, it would forcibly restore his mind to the state he just scanned.

It would not cure his trauma, obviously. But it would at least prevent him from becoming lost in the memories if something similar happened again. It would also log the fluctuations, as well as a visual record of his surroundings at the time, so that he could review them later at his leisure.

That should let me identify the precise conditions that trigger the episodes. From there, I can begin correcting whatever is wrong with me.

Maybe it would never be needed. Or maybe it would. That didn’t matter—there was no acceptable substitute for preparation.

Once the mental one was done, he started on the physical one. Same principles as the mental one: a recorded baseline, a monitoring working, and a corrective function that would hold his body’s responses steady no matter what his mind decided to do.

Then, after that—just to be thorough—he created one for the soul as well.

And with that, he was finally done. Satisfied, Orestis stretched, then checked the time. And blinked.

I’ve been working for four days straight?

He did remember eating and drinking from his stash from time to time. And he had been maintaining a spell to stave off sleep so that he could continue without pause. He just hadn’t thought about how much time all of that amounted to. Which, as it turned out, was much longer than he had realised.

And no one thought to bother—er, check in on me in all that time?

Eirene, he could understand—he had left her a note, after all; she would guess that he simply got too absorbed in his work. But for even his mother to not call him? After what happened at Theramon? That was unusual.

And then there was Eleuthera, who never needed a reason to pop in when he was working—especially if he was working. Well, there was a small possibility that Lyse had prevented her friend from interrupting him.

Oh wait. That might be it.

Orestis sent a mental message to Lyse. ‘Did you tell everyone not to bother me?’

‘Yes,’ she sent back. ‘I let them know you were working, that you were fine, and that I was keeping an eye on you.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate that,’ he sent.

It was good to know that no one had spent the past few days worrying.

‘It was nothing,’ Lyse sent. ‘Besides, watching you work was a pleasure. I value precision and thoroughness.’

Then, after a pause, she added, ‘That being said—are you sure you want to keep that spell matrix over your soul?’

‘Well, obviously,’ he sent back. Why else would he have created it?

Although, since Lyse would not ask such a question without reason, Orestis took another look at his work, inspecting it again for mistakes or errors. He found nothing wrong with it.

Of course, he was not so foolish as to think he was better than a goddess of souls when it came to this. So he asked her if he might have missed something.

‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ Lyse sent back. ‘That spell matrix is just somewhat… bulky.’

Ah. That. Orestis could somewhat understand what she was talking about.

The soul stabilisation matrix was not like the mental and physical ones. Because of how the soul worked, this spell construct had to be ‘worn’ over his soul, like a sheath—or a layer of clothing.

When he was designing it, his main priorities had always been functionality and efficiency. Aesthetics had never been part of the equation.

Sure, it didn’t look that pleasing to the eyes—or rather, to soul sight, to be more accurate. But he had no complaints. It could do what it was designed for, and it was not as if he could feel the weight of it on his soul, either.

He mentioned as much to the goddess.

‘As long as you are certain,’ Lyse sent, then went silent.

Orestis took another look at himself through his soul sight.

Alright, perhaps he could make it look a bit better. But it was good enough for now. Size notwithstanding, at least he had ensured that everything was symmetrical.

And it’s not like I’m on the demon continent now; no one here has soul affinity high enough to see it.

Putting that aside, he set his mind to the next task: talking to his mother.

No point in delaying this any longer.

Orestis teleported to his house in Theramon.