ARTHUR LEYWIN
'Alright, I'm done absorbing all this aether. Are you sure I can have three?' Regis implores.
I promised. I'm not going to take that back. I don't need any more aether right now. I just didn't think that the aether beam I got hit with would have gone even faster than I could have anticipated.
'You getting caught off guard is worrying. I know it wasn't you being complacent, so it's just a testimony to how fast that thing is."
It obviously has something to do with the speed of aether. I can slow it down to an extent, but it's reasonable to assume that's exclusive to me. It doesn't seem like other creatures that use aether can control that. None of the Djinn in the desert zone had the ability to do an aetheric blast.
'That's true. It must be some kind of constant... like light or something. It's food for thought."
You pull decent ideas out of nowhere sometimes, and I don't know what to think about it. Be smart or be stupid. You can't have both.
'If you can do all these impossibilities, then I can too. Don't argue with me defying logic when you're a walking paradox."
Touché.
After I finish our mental conversation, I find Cecilia digging through the 'carcass' of these Gargoyles. By now she has them segmented by limb and removed their 'core.'
"Here. Take these," Cecilia calls out as she tosses the four orbs toward me. "I think they're similar to beast cores, but they're obviously not full of mana."
Aether beast cores? That could be revolutionary.
"Huh... I can think of two possibilities. First, the beast cores can store aether or second -and the more exciting possibility- they contain beast wills," I guess.
"They what?" Regis asks as he trots over to us. "I absorbed all of the aether from those big bastards, so it's one of those. Do you want me to go into them and see if there's a consciousness in there?"
"I forgot you could do that. Yeah, give it a shot," I reply, holding out the orbs toward him.
Regis reverts to his wisp form and fuses with the orb before rapidly exiting. "AHHHH. What the actual fuck? There's definitely something in there, but it's fucking crazy. This is worse than the Elderwood Guardian."
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"The best I can explain it is that they're um... violent? I got my immaterial ass beat in there. The soul of at least that one is definitely in there. As to if it can work as a beat will? Who the hell knows," he answers.
"Okay then... mind trying with the other three?" I ask.
Regis' immaterial eyes narrow at my question as he sizes me up. "You just want me to get my ass beat again."
"While that's enticing, I want to know if all of the 'wills' survived, or if it's possible that both of my hypotheses are correct," I answer.
Regis keeps his eyes narrowed as he scoffs and reluctantly enters the second of the four cores. It takes him only a few seconds before he reemerges with more shouts. The same process continues for the other two.
"So all of them are in there?" I mutter. "What do we do with them?"
"The lances? I'm not sure if they're compatible, but it's worth a shot. There are only three lances, so the fourth is questionable. If I had to guess, it would be a similar relationship to what you and Regis have," Cecilia answers.
"Noted. Now let's keep going. You can't tell, but the trails of aether are channeling toward that very eerie and ominous black tower over there. Fortunately for me, this one isn't pulsating and ripping the aether out of me," I comment. Cecilia turns her head up at my remark but leaves it be.
"Let's get going," she replies.
As I stand, Regis begins to trot alongside me through the streets of this eerie black-stone city. The tower we're headed to stands a little over 300 feet tall and is roughly 60 feet wide. It dominates the surrounding landscape as a soft purplish-blue color emanates from the few exposed windows and doorways. Other than those large Gargoyles that acted as sentinels, there doesn't seem to be any people here.
These 'ancient' roads are lined with dozens of intricate carvings or inlaid pathways of some kind of aetheric liquid. It begs the question: What the hell the Djinn were doing in here, but even more so, what happened? Was this some procedurally generated zone according to the will of aether, or is this a settlement that people lived in for generations?
Fuck this is a lot to wrap my mind around.
'Just cool your jets, princess. We can figure that all out later. Under the assumption that aether is now just an extension of your own will, we'll find a solution to it. Just ask,' Regis chides.
I hate when you're right.
'I'm always right,' Regis replies while turning to me and giving a toothy vulpine grin.
"Hey Art, is there any aether emanating from that building?" Cecilia asks, pulling me from the mental conversation I was having with Regis. We're about a hundred feet from the base by now.
Glancing at the tower, it's absolutely filled to the brim with aether. It's an even higher concentration than the tower I absorbed from that gave me the second layer of my aether core.
"Yeah... like an exorbitant amount. How did you know?" I ask.
"There's no more ambient mana in this area. It's like there's a forcefield," she answers.
I push aether into my eyes and nape to activate Realmheart to find exactly as she explained. There's a dead zone for a little over a hundred-foot radius from the outer wall of the tower.
"That's... ominous. Have you tried forcing some into it?" I ask.
"I did. It did enter the zone, but it just vanished from my sight immediately. I think the aether is eating it," she answers.
"It is. The mana enters but doesn't come out. I can see ambient aether consuming the mana. I was wondering why it was moving oddly, but I chalked it up to the tower's presence," I explain.
"Can we please just go in this tower already?" Regis asks, clearly annoyed that we're still talking about the tower and not personally investigating yet.
"That's probably a good idea," I answer as I jog up to the dais and inspect the huge bronze door.
I give a quick push to the door, but to my surprise, it effortlessly opens without a single squeak. These doors probably weigh in the range of ten tons each, but they just glide open.
'That's mildly concerning while being simultaneously really fucking impressive,' Regis comments.
As the door sweeps open, it reveals the source of the dim glow. Residing in the center of the tower is a single crystal that extends from the base all the way to the precipice of the tower in a beautiful column of amethyst.
"Woah," Cecilia gasps.
"That must be the aether I was sensing," I mutter.
"Hey, Regis, scale the tower real quick. I'm going to search around here," I order.
"You can literally teleport, but you want me to go up there. Cecilia can fly too," he grumbles.
"Fair point. Fine then, you scope out this bottom section. I'll be at the top," I reply as I connect aetheric pathways to the top floor of this tower.
The top is a smooth black-stone surface with battlements on the rim. The open-air design gives a rather telling view of the now dilapidated Djinn city. The purple crystal that extends from the very bottom of the pillar juts out about twenty feet higher, completely uninterrupted. Circling around the pillar is a sight I was not expecting.
Umm... Regis... I got something...
'You sound nervous, are you alright?' Regis asks, genuinely concerned.
I'm okay. Just get up here. Both of you.
He hums affirmatively as I take a knee.
Encased in a crystal of aether is a body -something I never considered. Within this crystal sits a pink-haired woman wearing dark leather armor. Her body shows no sign of decomposition or aging, but this encasing was for a purpose it seems. Lodged firmly in her abdomen is a deep black sword, akin to the ones that the Gargoyles wielded.
"Hey, Arthur, what's the bi- AHHH" Regis shouts as he tiredly finishes walking up the hundreds of spiral stairs. "What the fuck is that?"
"I think the better question is 'who,' but I can't answer that either," I answer.
"So what do you do with that?" Cecilia asks as she flies up to the top of the tower and gently lands at my side.
"If I can help it, I'll absorb the aether, pull out the sword, and use Aroa's Requiem to heal the wound," I answer. "That's the optimal situation."
"Aren't you overlooking something here, Arthur?" Regis asks as he nudges the crystal with his nose. "Look at her neck."
I bring my face closer to the edge of the crystal and observe her neck. Around it, is a single golden locket. I don't know how long it's been since it was used, but there are remnants of runes on it that keep the user in stasis if they're dealt a fatal blow.
"It's like the phoenix wyrm pendants in a way. This should mean she's alive. Regis, we'll both absorb the crystal. It'll be faster that way," I say as I place my hand on the smooth surface.
"Delicious tasty aether... mmmm. Come to papa," he replies while placing a paw on the opposite side.
We both begin to leach way at the aether for a few minutes as the crystal slowly melts like ice, leaving a tiny lair akin to a bubble left around the body to prevent decay. As soon as that final layer melts, the woman gasps to life and then writhes in agony from the sword. "AAGH. Aether, it hurts."
"Just stay still. I'll remove the sword. I'm a healer," I gingerly say, trying to calm the situation.
Before I place my hand on the blade, she seems to have more to say, "Who the fuck are you? Where's the Sentinel?"
"I'm your doctor. Let me explain after you're not fatally wounded. You've got about two minutes before you bleed out. Let me help you," I answer, letting a slight amount of intent leak out to signify my seriousness.
Her expression turns to shock as her mouth snaps shut. I place a hand on the sword and rip it out like a bandage, immediately covering it back up with my left hand. I place my right hand a few inches above my left and start pumping aether into my palms to activate Aroa's Requiem. As I turn counterclockwise, I can feel the wound slowly sealing. It's mildly unsettling.
Turning to the woman, her shocked expression has faded, only to be replaced with one of intrigue. Her head tilts a little as she grimaces slightly from the remaining pain. "How the hell did you do that?"
"It's Aroa's Requiem. It started as an aevum-based godrune, but now it's evolved to be more vivum-based," I explain as the wound finishes healing.
"I- Thank you," she replies as she sits up and places a hand over the place her wound used to be. She takes a glance at the sword that was in her abdomen just moments ago. "What are you doing here?"
I'm not entirely sure how to answer that question, but I guess I'll go with the literal answer.
"I'm here to find the solution to a problem. The will of aether led me here. I asked, and it responded," I answer deadpan. Her face of intrigue turns to a deep smile as she breaks out into a fit of laughter.
"Haha! Sure you did, kid. Sure you did. So seriously, why are you here?" she asks again.
My expression remains unchanged, and she begins to second-guess herself. She takes a quick glance at Cecilia and then Regis to find them with equally emotionless expressions. "You fucking what? You spoke to aether?"
"Yes. Now, while I'm enjoying myself here, I think it's time for an introduction. I'm Arthur, and these are my companions, Cecilia and Regis," I answer.
The woman brings a hand to her face and shakes her head in disbelief. "Okay then. Nice to meet you three, I'm Xena, from clan Draseus. I see your blood is manifested. What clan are you from?"
"I'm not from any clan. I'm a human with a dragon body and Djinn ancestry from Dicathen. Now I have a question for you, where can I learn a rune here? I need something likely in the Vivum branch, something concerning creation specifically," I answer.
Her hand gently drops from her face as she pulls herself to her feet. "Couldn't you ask someone el-" Xena turns and looks out over the edge of the tower to discover the ruins of this city. "It's... gone. They're... all gone."
My heart drops a little at her words. I know this is how every Elf feels. Everyone she ever knew and loved is gone and dead. Dead so long that they're decomposed completely, leaving not even dust from their bones. Her silent sobs as she leans on the battlements and lets her tears drip down the length of the tower only drive the point home even harder.
"I'm sorry. I was going to tell you, but I hadn't gotten there yet. We slew four large black-stone constructs when we entered this zone," I comment, hoping to quell the situation. My words don't seem to reach her as I can hear her muttering with my hypersensitive hearing.
"Nadia, Hana, Antel, Veer, Brit, Massec... all of them... gone." She takes a deep breath and attempts to collect herself as she wipes her tears and turns to us. "I'll take you to the vault that houses the Drasea clan aether arts. It seems aether did lead you to the right place. Our clan specialized in creation arts. I fashioned this locket myself. Others had them, but I guess they were no use because they were in places that the Sentinels could reach."
Tears continue to drip down her face infrequently, but her composure is mostly restored.
"Please do," I reply as she begins to head down the spiral staircase.
Xena takes us all the way to the bottom of the tower to that lobby-like space where the crystal begins. She places a hand on the dais that the crystal sits in and manipulates aether slightly to form a rune that I don't recognize on the surface of the floor. Not even a second later, the floor surrounding the crystal begins to drop down in intervals, creating another spiral staircase.
"What was that rune?" I ask.
"It's my signature. It's how I'd write my name on official documents. Each Drasea clan member had one," Xena answers, causing her face to return to its depressed state.
'Nice going, princess. You're gonna make her cry again,' Regis jabs.
Piss off. My curiosity got the better of me. I couldn't have known.
'You keep telling yourself that.'
We descend the staircase another fifty or so feet to reveal a trademark black-stone chamber. The walls are lined with sconces with light artifacts on them to emit a sufficient amount of purple-tinted light.
"This place never ceases to amaze me," I mutter.
"It's the pride and joy of my people. Of course it doesn't disappoint. We put decades into the construction of this zone after we had to flee into the Relictombs. Our clan boxed ourselves in here, and after roughly a century, things were great. That was until we created something we couldn't control. A true Icarus tale. Those Sentinels were meant to be weapons to guard the four gates that were planning to be reopened. As you can see, they went on a rampage," Xena explains.
"What a tragedy," Cecilia mumbles.
"I wish I could have joined them in death. I don't know what to do now," Xena replies. "Here we are."
Before us is a familiar set of tall brass doors. Xena pushes with little to no effort as the doors glide open. Inside is a starkly contrasting solid white room lined with what I could only liken to a bank vault full of safety-deposit boxes.
"This is the vault of the Drasea clan. To the right and left are relics, but it seems they're inert now. At the back on those pillars are keystones we used to teach our clan art, Divine Fabrication," she explains. She steps aside and waves her hand to direct us toward the back of the room.
I can tell she wasn't lying about the relics. Each locked box does contain an item, but the aether has long left them. I'll check them out later and see if Aroa's Requiem can work some magic.
"How long should the process take with the keystone?" I ask as I approach one of the four white pillars.
"That's up to the wielder. I've seen some take years, but prodigies usually need around three weeks," Xena answers.
As I pick up one of the keystones I can feel the weight of the art it holds. Creation arts lead to a myriad of possibilities. It allows you to make an assortment of relics to replicate the effects of other aether arts.
"Should I start now?" I ask.
"Start whenever you wish. It won't matter. The time will pass differently for you. You won't be ejected like other keystones. You'll merely experience extreme time dilation. A minute at the most will pass for us," she replies.
I nod as I sit against the wall and enter a meditative position. "Time me, Cecil."
She grins and holds all ten fingers out, "Got it."
I push aether into the keystone and let my consciousness follow.
"Greetings, friend. It's been a while since my last apprentice," a deep, scruffy voice groans.
I look up from my meditative state to find a mountain of a man. His shoulders are probably twice as broad as mine and his muscles threaten to burst from his clothes. Speaking of clothes, he's wearing only pants and suspenders that are lazily draped against his legs. He casually paces around in the pitch-black expanse of the inner landscape of the keystone.
"Really? What's the time dilation in here?" I ask.
"If the keystone is still working properly, it should be around a million to one.
"H- how much? That's egregious," I stutter.
"It's the most effective strategy, kid. It works like a charm," he replies.
"So... you've been in here for an insane amount of time..." I mutter.
"Check the clock," he says while pointing behind me. Plastered on the 'wall' is a digital-style clock that is slowly counting up. And I mean slowly. It would take a million seconds for that second mark to turn, and written on the wall is just under 220 years.
"You've managed to hold it together for 220 million years?" I ask as I turn around in amazement.
"As a Remnant, there's no perception of time for me. It's all an illusion. When you're not in here, I look up, and a month will pass by. Then I'll look up again for what feels like a second, but it's actually been a decade. Crazy stuff," he answers.
"Aether is a hell of a thing. So what's your name then, teacher?" I ask as I walk over and offer my hand.
"Name's Crawn. I'll be your instructor in the study of Divine Fabrication," he says with a huge toothy grin.