The Wrong Kind of Immortality

Back on the island, Orestis went through the list of tasks he had been accumulating.

The plan was simple enough: clear out the smaller items first and be rid of them entirely, then move on to the ones that would take longer.

That way, he could focus on the more complex tasks without a dozen trivial ones lingering at the back of his mind the whole time.

Not that they would actually distract me. But it is rather annoying when the list insists on reminding me it exists.

He started with the simplest item on it: the pen for the Owl. Or rather, a pair of pens, since the man insisted on writing with both hands simultaneously.

I probably should not introduce ballpoint pens at this point since they require an entirely different formulation of ink to function properly.One technological leap at a time.

He decided on a pair of pens linked to an enchanted ink container that would continuously replenish their ink supply. The solution was simple enough that, for a moment, he wondered why the Owl had not thought of it himself.

Probably too settled into the routine to question it.

Having finished with that, Orestis moved on to the next item on his list: preparing documentation for Kestel on how he used mana crystals to power his gateway spells.

The problem with that particular task was that he was not actually using the mana crystals for anything. Yet. They were simply taking up space in his storage on the island.

However, he had also been hopping between three different cities often enough that the Consortium’s spies had almost certainly concluded he had devised a workable method—and reported as much to Kestel.

And if they don’t have spies, I will be very disappointed.

So. He needed a solution. A plausible one.

When he had agreed to document the process, his plan had been to build a device that consolidated and refined the mana from the crystals to Third Circle quality, then present that to Kestel.

Adjusted to the technological limitations of the current era, such a device would be roughly the size of a small carriage. It could probably be reduced to the size of a barrel—but that would still be possible only after several rounds of refinement. And only if he was particularly optimistic about the engineering.

So, realistically, it would have to be a carriage-sized apparatus this early in the supposed development phase.

The problem was that he had completely forgotten about it while travelling. He was fairly certain he had opened several gateways in public—without so much as a barrel-sized contraption anywhere nearby.

Which meant he would need to get creative.

This one was a bit trickier than the pens, since he did not want to appear to have invented an entirely new concept out of nowhere. He had already drawn far more attention from the Consortium than he cared for.

Pity I cannot simply credit someone else for—

Orestis smiled as an excellent idea occurred to him.

... Actually, that is not a bad idea.

He immediately withdrew a mana crystal and one of Varra’s life crystals from storage—she had given him several—and began experimenting.

Orestis wanted to see whether he could extract the mana from the crystals and use Varra’s lattice theory to consolidate it into a new mana crystal with Third Circle potency—or higher. His idea turned out to be surprisingly feasible.

Did she create her life crystals with this in mind?

Orestis took out the call-node paired with Varra’s and called her.

She answered with her usual nonsense. “You have reached the dread sovereign of inevitable demise.”

Inevitable, huh? If only.

“Did you design your life crystals so that their lattice principles could be applied to refining mana crystals and increasing their potency?” he asked without preamble.

“Oh, hey, that’s not a bad idea,” she replied, which, in itself, answered his question. Then she added, “No, but it should work. Although, I think the mana would destabilise around the level of the Sixth Circle. Possibly the Fifth.”

That was fairly accurate. Mana of that potency had trouble being confined to a crystallised form.

Varra hummed thoughtfully on the other end. “But, you know, I can think of several ways to improve the lattice structure—to make it more compatible with mana. Then we might be able to stably condense Sixth Circle mana.”

Suddenly excited, she exclaimed, “Orestis! Do you know what that means? We could use those crystals to cast forbidden spells!”

“You can already cast forbidden spells,” Orestis pointed out, deadpan. “You have access to divine power, remember?”

“Oh yeah, good point,” she replied, quickly losing interest. “So why are we discussing this again? I’ll have you know, I won’t normally need it either. I’m already at the Fifth Circle threshold—I should break through in a few weeks.”

Already?

“Wait, are you certain you want to advance so soon?” he asked. “Prioritising speed can compromise the structural integrity of your mana pathways.”

Varra let out a peal of delighted laughter.

“Are you worried about me? You’re worried about me, aren’t you? Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “As a powerful and evil lich, I don’t need to consider such physical limitations. I’ve long since integrated my mana network into my soul. Oh, and Aelia has too, after we realised the benefits. Turns out, both of us have extremely strong souls. Who knew, right?”

Orestis stared down at the call-node in silence. Despite Varra skipping over most of the details, he was familiar enough with both the body and the soul to understand what she was talking about—what she had done.

It could be called either madness or genius. The latter, in this case, since she had made it work without killing herself—or mangling her soul beyond recognition.

Then again, this was Varra. Brilliant had always been her default state.

Orestis was curious about the details of the process. Unfortunately, curiosity was not currently at the top of his to-do list.

Priorities. Let’s not get distracted.

“I would like to discuss that further. But later. I called about something else, actually,” he said.

Varra clicked her tongue. “Right. Of course. You never call unless you need something. Really, Orestis, what kind of friend are you?”

“The pragmatic kind,” he replied dryly. “I’m preparing a research paper for the Consortium. I want to credit you, since I have adapted your lattice theory for part of it.”

“That’s all? Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you certain? You have no issues with me revealing a few details related to your life crystals?” he asked, just to make sure she understood what he was asking. She would know exactly which details he was referring to from their discussion about the mana crystals.

“Meh. It’s just the life crystals,” she replied, completely unconcerned. “Those are simple constructs—not worth keeping secret. Anyone could come up with the theory easily enough.”

She was not wrong—though she was significantly overestimating the average mage. Given sufficient time, almost anyone could derive the theory; that did not mean they actually would.

Still, since she is fine with it, I can go ahead with my idea.

“Alright. Thanks. I’ll get back to my work.”

“Okay,” she replied. Then, because she was apparently incapable of ending a conversation normally, she adopted a sepulchral voice and added, “The chronicles of oblivion will not write themselves. I must depart.”

With that, she ended the call.

Predictably, his call-node rang again a second later. Orestis sighed and answered.

“What did you think of that?” Varra asked immediately. “I was trying something new. Did you understand from my words that I was going back to my research?”

He reminded himself that he had asked her for a favour. And that she had been gracious enough to grant it.

So he answered honestly: “Surprisingly… I did.”

“Yes! Success!” she cheered. “Okay, bye! No, wait.”

She cleared her throat, adopted her sepulchral voice once more, and intoned, “Despair responsibly.”

Then she cut the call.

Orestis stared at his call-node for a few seconds. Fortunately, she did not call back again this time.

Good. Because I have no idea what she meant by that last sentence.

And what kind of response does she even expect for something like that? A pleasant ‘you too’, perhaps?

He shook his head and focused back on his task—which was to first create a modified mana crystal at Third Circle quality. Any higher would be a bad idea; it would allow mediocre mages to wield spells that had previously been reserved for the so-called elite.

Orestis had no desire to overturn the existing balance of magical society just yet.

That, and I do not want a bunch of fools coming to bother me because I encroached on their inflated sense of importance.

More importantly, with an actual crystal in his possession, he could pretend he had been using it to power all his gateway spells. It was a considerably more believable explanation than claiming he had been carrying a carriage-sized apparatus around unnoticed.

Although... with sufficient use of gravity and invisibility spells, that might actually be possible.

A far more convenient explanation, then. It would also make for a much more convincing research paper.

Setting those idle thoughts aside, Orestis turned his attention to the actual design.

It took him about an hour to settle on a suitable configuration; one capable of refining mana to the Third Circle, yet difficult for the average mage to improve upon.

Satisfied, he created two of the modified crystals to keep on his person—with one slightly drained of energy, so that it would look like he had been using it. Obviously, people would assume the full one was a spare.

Disguise complete.

Orestis spent the next hour writing up the technical report. Research was enjoyable; documentation was not. He had forgotten how unnecessarily time-consuming it could be. Still, it was necessary in this case. And once it was done, he would be free of the simpler tasks.

The next item on his list was the soul-communication spell for Eirene. He was looking forward to finishing it. And, more importantly, handing it over.

After that, all that remained would be the curses and the divine power problem.

Which reminds me… I still haven’t thought of a proper name for the combined powers.

Right. Amendment to the list: ask everyone except Varra and the idiot for suggestions.