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50. At Last
🕑 Added 2024-01-15 16:00:09 +0000 UTCStone rumbled. The chamber trembled.
“At last… someone figured it out! Gods, I thought it was too easy, but the number of idiots who failed such a basic test… even before she made me visible, it was exhausting watching them totally flop such a simple puzzle.”
Oz let out a sigh of relief. “You had me going for a minute, there.”
“Didn’t I? You should probably check on your girlfriend. She’s probably halfway to the second floor by now,” Fenrir chuckled, amused at himself.
“Linnea isn’t my girlfriend, and she can figure it out herself,” Oz said.
Fenrir snorted. His chains jangled, but he said nothing.
As they spoke, the stone walls receded into the floor. From behind them, shelves rolled forward, only visible where Fenrir’s circle cast a glow on the wall. The walls clunked into place, the shelves locked with a click, and the torches relit themselves in a cheery, warm glow this time, the flames no longer the icy cold blue they had been before. All kinds of dark tomes lined the walls. Some dripped darkness, or whispered macabre secrets to themselves. Strange, skin-tone leather clad one near Oz, and another bore a face on its front that appeared to cry tears of blood, though the tears never left the page. Most of them sat there quietly, inert, no more terrifying than any tome on the upper shelves.
Oz took a deep breath. Reading all these is going to be a true mental trial. Compared to simply needing enough room in my mind and enough time to read the ordinary books, I’m going to have to fight mental corruption to read these.
Right now, though, I don’t need to worry about that too much. What I want isn’t a dangerous technique that tries to lure me down a dark path, or the kind of backlash technique that burns potential for power like Sachairi mentioned. I just want a simple, straightforward possession technique. That’s all I need right now.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t suppose Madame Saoirse organized these books, did she?”
“She read them all and knew where she put them,” Fenrir replied.
“Yeah… yeah. That’s what I thought.” He took a deep breath. In other words, there’s no organization whatsoever. No hope for quickly or easily finding a possession technique, then.
What did Linnea say? Spider demons aren’t suited for possession techniques. Then isn’t it likely I’ll find a possession technique in the tome of a demon that is suited for possession? Something like a ghost or ghoul, if those exist, or… hmm. He turned. “Linnea!”
“You’re not dead?” Linnea asked, stepping out of the hallway.
“No. Look. It worked!” Oz gestured around him at the shelves.
“Oh.” Linnea crept back into the room, nodding around them. She bit her lip. “Some of these are a bit…”
“A bit dark?” Oz cast a look at the tome dripping some kind of shadowy fluid.
Linnea grimaced. She nodded.
“Yeah, I’m going to avoid dark magic. I’ve read enough tomes upstairs to know that stuff is bad news. It can give me a temporary boost in return for my future, or give me a technique right now, in return for causing a severe drawback later in my cultivation. I don’t want to mess with that stuff until I’m a little more experienced as a mage.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Linnea agreed.
“Yeah. Which leaves, what, demonic and fey magic? Hey, Linnea. What kind of demon is suited to possession techniques? What kind of tome would they make?”
She tapped her chin, thinking. “Possession techniques… hags, black cats, ghosts, shades, spirits, dark pixies, um… they’re pretty common, anyways. Putting aside the strongly-physical demons like myself and Fenrir…” she cast a nervous glance at the jotunn, quickly looking away before he could catch her eyes. “…many demons, and even fey, have possession techniques. Ah—when it comes to fey, you humans generally classify their techniques as dark magic or wild magic, even though they’re considered overall benign.”
“Why?” Oz asked, frowning.
Linnea shrugged. “It may be more self-preservation than anything. Few humans are suited to fey or demon techniques, and fey techniques often involve… for lack of a better word, wild magic.”
“Wild magic?”
“Fey walk a razor’s edge, shaping raw environmental qi with every spell they cast. They draw upon more qi than they can call into themselves, and rely on the flow of nature, the shape of their tools, and even the world around them to corral that qi into a spell. When they succeed, they cast spells humans at an equivalent level could only dream of. When they fail, they risk death, the poisoning of a land, or a loss yet more precious. Fey choose to live that way, but humans consider it too dangerous, and hence, few dare to learn or teach fey magic,” Linnea explained.
“Oh, I see,” Oz said. It’s a tradeoff. Fey utilize more qi at a lower level, and hence can cast more powerful spells, but in return, their spells are more temperamental and dangerous. Even if their techniques are not in of themselves harmful, I can understand not wanting them easily available to young mages. It’s somewhat equivalent to handing someone a live grenade. Sure, a trained technician can deal with it, but if you handed me a grenade, the only thing I’m going to do is lob it away from me as quickly as I can. And if you suggested handing out live grenades to young mages…
The children from Sielver Academy flashed before his eyes. Oz shook his head. Yeah, I think it’s a good idea to lock fey techniques up with black magic. Sounds reasonable to me.
Oz looked over at Fenrir. “Have people come down here before? You mentioned being invisible.”
Fenrir nodded. “Occasionally, Madame Saoirse’s students would sneak down. Well. ‘Sneak.’ She knew all about it, naturally, but she liked to be… hands-off when it came to her students.”
Grimacing, Oz touched the corner of his eye. The ridge of a small scar met his fingertip. “No kidding.”
Catching his gesture, Fenrir smiled, just an inch. “She made my part of the cave look like a natural protuberance so they wouldn’t notice me. I wasn’t allowed to interact with the students at all, not that I wanted to. Most of them were boring.”
“Boring?” Oz asked.
“Boring,” Fenrir confirmed.
Guess that’s all I’m getting on that.
Oz took a deep breath. He stood back, surveying the shelves. What I don’t need right now is another setback. The poison in my hand is enough for me, thanks. Which is to say, I don’t need to pick up any more problems by taking on some troublesome dark magic technique.
Pinching his chin, he pursed his lips. “I want a good, clean, simple possession technique. Is that too much to ask for?”
Fenrir burst out laughing. Even in the depths of her terror toward the jotunn, Linnea couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Oz, did you just ask for a good, clean dark magic technique?”
“Well… I mean, yes,” Oz said, shrugging.
Fenrir shook his head. “You won’t find much good, clean dark magic.”
“What about demonic magic? Isn’t it just magic cast by you guys?” Oz asked, looking around.
Linnea licked her lips. “I’ve mentioned it, but demonic magic strongly calls on one’s bloodline. Like how I’m not suited to possession, but other demons are. Humans can learn some demonic magic, yes. Without difficulty and danger? That’s… a big ask.”
“What do you mean?” Oz asked, frowning. How could our magic be so different? It’s all about using qi in a certain way, right? How different can it get?
“Well, how do you feel about shaping qi with your spinneret?”
Oz opened his mouth, then closed it. She’s got a point.After a moment, he frowned again. “Possession doesn’t seem like it draws on a physical characteristic.”
“No, but…” Linnea gestured vaguely. “That was merely an example. Demonic manuals usually guide the reader to draw on their inborn senses and abilities, then morph those into more complex techniques. Humans, on the other hand, start from raw qi and do their best to shape that, without any instincts to guide them.”
“Ah. So it’s hard to work with demonic manuals as a human, without instincts or abilities to guide you,” Oz surmised.
Linnea nodded. “Hence why demonic manuals are considered ‘dark magic.’ Akin to fey magic, it’s easy to make a mistake without demonic instincts to guide you. Human cultivators who try to follow demonic manuals often end up facing qi deviations.”
“Like Sachairi,” Oz muttered to himself.
Linnea looked up sharply. After a moment, she shook her head. “There’s… no.”
“No?” That’s what he told me.
“Sachairi… was injured, during a personal quarrel. Grievously. At the time, the Mage’s Quarter was fighting off a wave of those dangerous demons from the Northern Wastes, and couldn’t spare a single fighter. Sachairi, injured as he was, could still fight. At fifth realm, after all, he’s one of the strongest mages in the Mages’ Quarter. He was sent to the front line, and there, his injury progressed from grievous to crippling… or so I heard,” Linnea summarized.
“They were so pressed they sent an injured man to the front lines?” Oz asked, confused. They couldn’t even let him rest to heal? And injured, from a personal quarrel? Sachairi certainly isn’t a restrained person, but would he fight to the point of permanent injury over some personal affair? That doesn’t sound right to me. He’s too strategic. It would have to be something truly extraordinary. Something that made him lose his mind.
Linnea shook her head. “Like I said before, you should really ask the man himself. It’s not my story to tell.”
And Linnea always flinching some detail… there’s something she doesn’t want me to know. I’ll have to ask Sachairi about it later. Oz sighed. “If demonic techniques are no good, fey magic is too wild, and dark magic carries hidden danger, what’s left?”
“You, taking a risk,” Fenrir grumbled.
Linnea bit her lip, then nodded. “Those who fail to seize upon risks fall behind in advancing.”
“No pain, no gain, huh?” Oz muttered to himself. He took a deep breath. Dark magic, demonic magic, fey magic. Which do I pursue?
