Ends of Magic

Khachi growled with frustration at Brox’s question. “Our parents shaped our Paths, as is true for all. But we are not defined by them. We seek goals beyond Gemore.”

The wolfman’s voice was low and guttural. As he continued speaking, his words picked up some of the reverb that happened when the [Divine Justicar] was praying or otherwise invoking the shard of divinity he’d taken in. “You launch questions as from a bow, doubting our dedication. But what of your own? You come to fight Giantsrest, to engage in righteous battle against our oppressors.”

Khachi stepped towards Brox, intangible power rippling off him as if from a hot stove. He stood defiantly before the Questor. “Will you fight with all you have? Or is this as a game to you - are you here as a master of the mountain, to dispense wisdom and leap from the mountaintop when it suits you?”

The air itself vibrated with Khachi’s question, and it felt like he’d woken a force larger than any magic or monster. Divine mana emerged from the fabric of Davrar itself, spilling forth around the Heirs and waiting to judge the Questor’s next words. It felt... expectant.

What is going on? Divine mana has emotions, but it’s usually simple. This feels like more. It feels like the mana has been summoned, and waits to pass judgement.

Brox laughed, long and loud. It was the deep belly laugh of a man finding something truly unexpected but completely welcome. The divine pressure intensified in response, unhappy that it was being mocked. The feeling was oppressive, like being crushed by a giant. But it was also fragile, as if the giant was pressing on them with a sheet of thin plastic that would soon rip.

The Questor’s face calmed, and he addressed Khachi seriously, with a ritualistic cadence. “By Deiman’s hammer, I will fight Badud to the death in this battle. He has earned his end three hundred times and three. I am committed to your cause in spirit, heart and blade.” His hands moved from his forehead to his chest and finally to the hilts of his swords as he spoke.

The words resonated with the power surrounding them, and Nathan shivered as more divine mana came into being, slipping out of the fabric of the world. It seemed drawn by the Questor's words, and there was a vast sense of approval.

Nathan pulled in his aura as tightly as he could, trying very hard not to disrupt the developing ritual. More and more divine mana permeated the air, until there was enough present to vaporize the ground for a hundred feet in every direction if it decided it was the right thing to do.

Nowhere was the mana denser than around Khachi, and it manifested visibly as a diffuse golden aura that blazed forth from the wolfman, especially in a halo around his head. He stared with a shocked expression at Brox, clearly at a loss for words and unsure to handle the ocean of power that only theoretically answered to him.

We’ve started a ritual of some kind, and the mana is waiting for the next part. But Khachi doesn’t know what to do. He’s a priest without a holy book, a man operating heavy weaponry without a manual.

Magical Intuition 5 achieved!

Brox wore a sad smile on his face, and he spoke quietly to Khachi, giving instruction. “This ritual isn’t a working of Kalis. The feeling is more important than the words, you need to bless the war that is to come. Vow on the principles of Deiman that all present shall dedicate themselves to righteous combat because it is necessary to prevent greater harm.”

The power grew even denser around them, tendrils of divine mana sparking in the air like impatient eels. But Khachi didn’t immediately follow Brox’s direction, instead concentrating and thinking deeply for a moment.

After several seconds of intensifying pressure, the wolfman spoke. His voice thrummed with power and the divine mana quivered audibly and became visible as rippling waves in the air. “This war will be a Righteous one. As comrades we shall be victorious through worthy battle, and we will cast down the evil of our foes. With our virtue we shall crush our foes on the field, for that is the proper way to face the enemy!”

With his magical sense, Nathan could feel the shard of divinity inside his friend resonate in tune with the dense field of mana that surrounded them all. The divine power radiated a sense of satisfaction and benevolent pride before allowing the wolfman to take control of it.

Khachi flexed his hands as he mastered the power with hands beyond the physical. He trembled, simultaneously resolute and fragile in the face of so much energy. “By my power the worthy will be blessed.”

Brox seemed a bit surprised at the exact wording of Khachi’s blessing, but he simply closed his eyes and accepted the divine mana as it sank into his bones. The Questor almost seemed to be luxuriating in the sensation. “The blessing of Deiman. It’s been an age since I’ve felt it.” He snorted and cracked an eye at Khachi. “Though it isn’t truly a blessing of Deiman, is it?”

Magical Perception 7 achieved!

Meanwhile, Nathan was fighting a losing battle. He was trying to pull his antimagic back, to expose himself for the blessing. But it didn’t want to stick, and it wasn’t just Nathan’s antimagic A sense of resolute strength spread through Nathan wherever the divine power touched him - but then it recoiled away.

Am I too inherently antimagic for this? Or does the divinity disapprove of what I’ve done to fight Giantsrest? Or is it Khachi, consciously or subconsciously judging me unworthy of his blessing?

Each of the Heirs let out a sigh of relief as the magic settled into them, but Nathan only felt frustration as the blessing dissipated without becoming part of him.

Brox gave him a lopsided smile, seeming to detect his distress. “Your Talent’s a vault of Solace, but such a thing has its drawbacks.” Then the Questor breathed out deeply, a more peaceful expression on his face than at any other time Nathan had seen. “A divine miracle with no god involved. Just a young cleric following a new Path. I'd thought the wonders of the divine forever lost.”

The Questor’s eyes opened, and his gaze panned to Stella, Aarl and Sarah. “It was my desire to accompany Nathan, and his team was incidental. But if this is the Path of your healer, I look forward to learning what flame burns inside each of you.”

Stella’s expression brightened, but both Sarah and Aarl’s eyebrows drew down in identical frowns.

The Questor rolled his eyes. “Trust my word, your Insights are safe. I enjoy meeting warriors who blaze their own paths, and that describes all of you.”

He spun back to Nathan with an intense grin. “A worthy team to slay a Giant.”

—

They camped within sight of the pass, having mostly avoided further intense conversation. Stella had let slip that she had eight different mana types, but the other Heirs had quickly changed the topic and Brox let it drop with a patronizing smile.

Nathan had been wondering if the Questor was going to camp with them. With his speed he could probably run back to Halsmet to sleep in a nice bed before returning in the morning. Or he could do whatever Questors did to travel huge distances. But the man had just set up a small and heavily enchanted tent that faded into the background.

That thing’s almost as heavily enchanted as the Kalis tower that nearly turned me into a goat. Bigger inside, feels almost indestructible. I should probably stay away unless I want a very angry Questor. But I could probably pick up a few Insights breaking down the magic inside.

Setting up camp was a more involved affair than it had been. They’d lost some of their gear when Badud had kidnapped them, and Nathan had broken pieces to give himself enough Stamina to run to Halsmet in a single day. They’d replaced some of the gear and gotten some replacements from the Guardians, but Aarl was going to have to cook with a nonmagical cooking pot.

Which means I might have to finally do dishes for once. Boo.

Brox answered the questioning glances shot his way as they divided up chores. “Act as if I wasn’t present. I’ll manage myself, but I desire to see you Adventure.”

Aarl sent a confused look his way. “What does that mean?”

The Questor rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, as if to a young child. “I want to know how you act in all ways.”

Still an ass. Just a complicated one. With a fancy magic tent. At least it’s camouflaged.

—

They ascended the rest of the way up the pass the next day, finding the narrowest point of the pass - and the Fortress of the Face.

These kinds of dungeons were relatively common across Davrar, though less was known about their origins than most dungeons. They invariably consisted of an enormous human face carved into a mountain or cliff face, with eyes, nostrils and mouth providing access to the of the fortifications carved behind them. Usually there was a road built up into mouth, and you’d have to fly into any of the other entrances. The exact face covered the entire range of humanity, from babies to bearded ancients, beautiful to ugly.

Each one held a single powerful enchantment that spanned the entire fortification. The only purpose of that enchantment was to draw in and saturate the insides with an immense amount of a single kind of mana. The running theory in the Adventurer’s Guild was that whatever society had built them used an Insight that let people gain a mana type by spending time in an environment saturated with that mana.

Unfortunately no clues as to their builders remained behind. Instead, each Fortress of the Face was always inhabited by something drawn to the strong magic. Sometimes it was a monster, or a colony of them. that absorbed the free mana and gained corresponding abilities. Other times it was something stranger, like a mobile and aggressive forest, or intelligent and self-replicating elementals. During training they’d heard about one Fortress of the Face inhabited by replicating self-mobile halberds.

Nathan surveyed the pass, examining the five-hundred-foot-tall face of a beautiful woman carved out of the mountain. Sculpted hair framed a strong nose and delicate cheekbones, while enormous gouts of yellow-red flame surged into the sky from each eye. The roar of flame was audible from even this distance, and the open mouth rippled with forge-heat between plump lips. The pass looked baked and scorched for hundreds of feet in all direction.

Brox walked up next to him, looking out at the pass and the magic show on the other side. “Now that’s a deed for the making, isn’t it?”

Nathan grimaced, his eyes playing over the rest of the broad pass below them. “It’s impressive. But we’re just here to prevent anybody from Giantsrest getting through. If anything it'll help cordon off that side of the pass. I doubt the mages want to get any closer than I do.”

The Questor just shook his head and sighted in exasperation at Nathan's lack of bravado.

They’d climbed partway up the steep slope across from the Fortress of the Face, where Stella was working to flatten a portion of the mountainside to pitch their camp. It was hidden from the ground below by the slope, but you could easily look out over the pass from the ledge without being silhouetted against the sky.

Nathan turned to address the Questor as they watched Stella use her earth magic to make a ledge that would be a good vantage point. “Who built the Fortresses of the Face? What are they for?”

“Join me in vanquishing it, and I’ll give you a hint.” Brox reached out and capped Nathan on the shoulder, chuckling. The force of his presence redoubled, and Nathan felt like he was sitting next to a blazing beacon of authority and influence.

Rolling his eyes, Nathan sat on the ground. “Not a good enough reward. That place looks like it’s incredibly hazardous to even approach. It also offers no real danger to Halsmet. The Giantsrest notes said it was passive, and I don't want to change that.”

There was a pregnant pause, then Brox’s muscled form settled down close beside Nathan. “The challenge of its existence is not reason enough?”

“Nope. It’s an unnecessary risk.” Nathan replied. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of necessary risks for Adventurers to level from. If we went around challenging every dungeon, Gemore would be wiped out within the decade.”

“Surely the Heirs are enough to conquer this dungeon quickly and without danger.” Brox’s tone was teasing. seemingly trying to challenge Nathan’s pride.

For a moment Nathan wanted to agree to the plan, to impress Brox with his abilities. His antimagic probably could neutralize whatever was in there.

Maybe, maybe not. And even if we beat whatever's in there, there still might be fallout for Halsmet - and for our mission of preventing anybody from getting through.

He reigned in the impulse, deciding it wasn’t worth responding to the Questor’s comment.

Mental Fortress 4 achieved!

After a moment of silence Brox picked the conversation back up, his voice serious and faintly contemptuous. “If you are so focused on avoiding risk, why do you not teach your antimagic? By the blade of Olita it surprised me to learn that you were not spreading that Insight. It is such an edge to hold against Giantsrest. It would also aid with such dungeons.” He gestured across the pass towards the magical fire streaming into the sky.

Nathan pursed his lips, trying to decide how to answer.

But Brox wasn’t done. “The way Gemore hoards Insights, it is a prophecy of both power and death. Gemore Adventurers have so many different Paths, no foe can triumph over them all. More Insights are discovered here than in the halls of the conclave. But the cost is that few of those Insights spread, and many are lost entirely.”

The Questor finally turned to regard Nathan, his gaze curious. “You do not strike me as a hoarder of Insights. Why do you not spread such power to defy your foest? By Edes, do me the favor of answering with verified truth.”

Nathan clicked his tongue while he thought. “I can’t teach it.” He shrugged, turning to meet the purple eyes weighing him. “I don’t know how to replicate the conditions that gave me the Talent. There wasn’t much of an Insight involved. It was dependent on external factors outside of my control.”

Brox didn’t answer for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “There is always a way to spread an Insight. Can you remember the exact words of Davrar when you were granted the Talent?”

“Yes.” Nathan reached back in his memory skill, recalling one of the first messages he’d ever gotten after his abduction from Earth.

Your body has no magic inside it, and magic-resistant alchemical ingredients permeate your bones and brain, making you difficult to affect with magic.

He didn’t share it with his companion, simply ruminating on the meaning of the sentence.

I’ve been focused on the magic-resistant alchemical ingredients. I haven’t found or heard of any any alchemy ingredients known to resist magic. But the other half of the message was that my body has no magic inside of it. That’s something I can now replicate. I just need to saturate somebody in my aura for a while.

Brox let the silence stretch as Nathan considered the idea, seemingly content to wait.

Eventually, Nathan shrugged. “I might be able to do it halfway.”

The Questor’s eyebrows rose, looking pleased. “What tier was the Talent when you first gained it?”

“High-tier.”

Now Brox definitely looked smug, and he nodded as if accepting praise. “Then you can convey the Talent at mid or low tier. Experimentation would be advised…” he trailed off as he saw Nathan’s expression.

I really can teach my antimagic? That… might be more important than this patrol.

Nathan rocked back, blown away by the realization. He darted a look backwards, where the Heirs were finishing setting up camp and chatting amongst themselves. Khachi was watching Brox and Nathan talk.

Something about Nathan’s expression alarmed the wolfman, and he approached, studying Nathan and darting a wary glance at the Questor. “What occurs?”

Brox tilted his head, indicating that Nathan should speak.

“I think I know how to pass on my antimagic Talent.”

Khachi’s eyebrows rose quickly. “Clear as polished gems?”

Nathan nodded back minutely. “Should we go back to Halsmet? There are a bunch of freed slaves training to fight Giantsrest who could probably use the Talent, even if I can only teach it at low- or mid-tier.

Brox scoffed. “By the oaths of Edes. We were given this mission, and we shall complete it. Sudraiel demands no less.” He spoke with a faintly mocking expression. “Besides, a worthy dungeon is right there.” He gestured.

“Not part of the plan.” Nathan said, rolling his eyes once more. He waved over the rest of the Heirs and they approached the edge of the overlook.

Brox gave out an irritated growl, but didn’t speak up as Stella approached.

“Giantsrest?” the mage said as she examined the pass below.

Nathan shook his head. “Nope. Something Brox said. I think I can pass on antimagic now. Do you think it’s worth going back to Halsmet, to teach the Talent to the volunteers?”

Brox’s eyes narrowed, seemingly frustrated his opinion hadn’t automatically carried the discussion.

Stella glanced at him, anxiety clear in her voice. “Stay?” Brox gave a minute nod of approval. “Stay.”

Dammit.

Aarl nodded along. “Can your Talent be learned so quickly? These volunteers won’t weigh the scales of the upcoming battle much. This will be a battle of giants. Fresh trainees’ll be like goats to a castlebear. We would destroy the future for nothing.”

“It means the Talent won’t be lost.” Nathan said quietly.

Brox huffed out a breath and shook his head. He stood from his spot next to Nathan. “Plan for victory, not defeat. Should you fall, Halsmet will too. You will destroy Giantsrest with your own hands, not with your students.” He said the last word like it was a curse.

I suppose Brox doesn’t like teaching.

“We have [Message]. Ask Sudraiel.” Sarah’s voice was patient. She tapped Stella on the shoulder. “That’s your target.”

The mage shook herself, giving Brox another glance. “Yeah, ok. I’ll ask.” She walked away to the other side of the camp, as far as she could get from Brox while still staying on the flat ground of their campsite.

Brox cracked his neck from side to side as he watched the mage before turning his gaze back to Sarah. “By Solace, you don’t have much trust.” He radiated disappointment like an almost physical force, the aura prompting everybody around him that it was their duty to address his concerns.

The siblings shared a glance and stepped back a few paces, minute expressions conveying complex thoughts. After a moment Sarah responded “Sudraiel sees light we cannot. She’ll decide if there’s another team that can replace us.” She clenched her jaw thereafter, avoiding saying anything more.

“Hmph.” Brox said, his skill continuing at full blast. Sweat beaded on Sarah and Aarl’s foreheads, and Stella shot a worried look across the campsite but snapped her head away quickly.

“Patience is part of a virtuous battle. We will meet the army when it comes.” Khachi’s hand settled companionably on Brox’s shoulder, and the golden blessing within them both flared. “That is our true task.”

The pressure of the skill faded as Brox smiled back at the wolfman. “Yes, it is.” He shrugged apologetically. “Pardon my… zeal.”

Khachi nodded his head minutely, dispensing forgiveness.

What’s all that about? It wasn’t manipulation, more like a priest talking to somebody in his flock.

Stella walked delicately back across the courtyard, trying to make herself as small as possible. “No teams available. That might change if somebody comes back from a scouting mission early, but we’re to hold here for now.” She seemed ready to hunker down if Brox shot so much as a frown in her direction.

Nathan sighed, nodding. Now that he’d had a second chance to think about it he’d realized he also would need to teach the [Regeneration] Insight to any would-be antimages. They couldn’t be healed magically, after all.

“So we stay.” The Questor sounded a bit resigned, but no longer annoyed.

—

After nightfall, Nathan was scrubbing the cookpot in the dark. He just had a bit of water splashed in from a dimensional bag, a rag and a scrap of soap. He could barely see the grease he needed to get out. He managed not to complain. it was definitely time he did dishes, and light would make their hidden campsite obvious.

Dinner had been delicious. Brox had gone and caught some Nindine, effortlessly grabbing one of the oldest members of a far-off herd. He’d quickly and efficiently prepared steaks from the magical gazelle-like creature, explaining the ones most steeped in magic had the most tender meat because of their reliance on magic for movement.

They also can fly at arrow-like speeds and stab you with sharpened horns. Learned that one the hard way.

The meat had certainly been saturated with air magic, and it had been a weird sensation for Nathan to taste the meat with more than a single sense and digest it in more than one way.

Now Khachi and Aarl were talking quietly about the fighting in Halsmet as Stella practiced with tiny amounts of plasma mana, occasionally asking Nathan a question that he answered in low tones. She seemed to be close to implementing a tube-shaped mirror that would let her make a laser, but it wasn’t quite a finished spell.

Brox sat cross-legged on a blanket behind them. He hadn’t moved a muscle since dinner, and Nathan wasn’t sure if he was meditating, asleep or had taken Khachi’s invocation of the blessing to heart.

“It’s really hard to make a good mirror with my magic, but reflecting light mana is easier. Do you think I can try to make the plasma emit light mana instead of just light, then bounce that back and forth and stimulate it to release light?” Stella asked, frowning at an awkward spell construct in her hands that occasionally flashed a reddish light into the stones at their feet.

Nathan frowned. “Maybe? Sounds like the hard part of that idea is to make the plasma generate light mana instead of magical light. Maybe if you use your class skill to blur the line between magic and nature you can get something that’s still magical enough to work with.”

Stella frowned at the magic a bit more, tweaking the construct. She opened her mouth with another idea.

“Movement.” Sarah’s voice was low, but its sharpness carried across the camp. “Group of twenty moving through the pass.”

Status of Nathan Lark:

Permanent Talent 1: Aura of Antimagic 6

Permanent Talent 2: Perfected Body 7

Talent 3: High-tier Slow Fall 10

Class: Implacable Antimage level 210

Deepened Stamina: 6458/6600

Antimage’s Impassivity

Antimagic Momentum

Raging Thrill

Implacable Inertia

Unarmored Resilience

Improved Antimagic

Strenuous Agility

Hand-to-hand Expertise

Class: Assassin of Gemore level76

Regenerative Focus: 860/860

Catastrophic Blows

Stealthy Movement

Infiltration

Forgettable

Unsuspecting Strike

Utility skills:

Battle Meditation 8

Leadership 6

High-tier Sprinting 7

Magical Perception 7

High-tier Notice 10

Magical Intuition 5

High-tier Dodging Footwork 9

Mental Fortress 4

High-tier Lecturing 5

High-tier Tumbling 7

Mid-tier Noticeability 7

Low-tier Quiet Movement 4

Low-tier Disguise 4

Mid-tier Battle Cry 1