Tyler looked at Seshka, who just shrugged while shaking her head. She obviously didn’t care about this old man and would have been happy just leaving him alone to his own vices. Tyler, on the other hand, was more intrigued and tried to wake him with little success — just the odd mumble still coming from him as he sat unconscious.
The old man was clean — immaculately clean, in fact. He wore a red and green tunic that looked like it had cost a fair penny in its day, but its colours were now faded with the age of time. He also wore a metal chest plate and bracers. They were clean, undamaged by combat, but had a patina of age about them. They had been cared for, but by someone who lacked the expertise to keep them pristine.
Using Insight on the old man, Tyler saw:
Name: Malek Krest
Race: Vey (Rank F)
Class: Spellbreaker — Level 9
Profession: Mana Theorist — Level ???
Title: Curator of the Unending Accord
Buff: Umbra’s Intoxication, Duration 03:05:21
“He’s always here. He has nowhere to go. Paths don’t go his way.” Al said in Tyler’s mind, he sounded slightly subdued.
For a moment Tyler was going to respond, but he still was unsure why the ai had gone quiet, was it him nearly dying, his own life at risk. Or had it been the violent action he had taken against Rafe. If it was the latter, he really had no excuse and didn’t much feel like explaining himself so instead he ignored the ai and focused on the information he had just gotten
This was new. He had not seen anyone with a title yet, and he wasn’t sure if it was significant, or even if the title he held was any good. What was also good to know was that he could clearly see the man’s class level — nine. He had not made it to ten. But his profession level, a Mana Theorist, was hidden from him. Did that make him a much higher level?
He also noted the buff. Three hours — it looked like he was going to be out for a while. Most likely from the effects of eating the mushrooms, which he had still managed to hold onto without spilling any of it, even though he was comatose.
“I don’t think he’s going to wake up anytime soon,” Tyler said to Seshka, who frankly looked disgusted at the old man just sitting there, out of his mind. “I’m going to have a look around, see if there’s a place I can get cleaned up.”
Tyler indicated to his filthy appearance, leant his bag up against the tent, and headed through the opening. Seshka rolled her eyes and, after a moment, followed Tyler into the tent, shaking her head as she went.
Tyler had been expecting something cramped, something makeshift. Maybe a camping bed, a few tables erected here and there, a couple of chairs. A place where the old man could work and sleep. But instead, he stepped into a space that felt grand, yet tired.
It reminded him of one of those hotels built at the turn of the twentieth century. All wood and stone, with high ceilings and ornate fixtures. Somewhere royalty would frequent. Well, the bones of it were still there, but they had been left to rot. Left to time. Nothing was damaged or ruined, in a sense — it was just all faded and used, as if the place was slowly fading out of existence.
A few rooms branched off from the sides, doorways without doors. They were lit slightly, and he could make out a bedroom, a storeroom, a library, a washroom… and was that a kitchen with a stove?
Seshka let out a quiet noise behind him, somewhere between irritation and reluctant surprise.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
Tyler didn’t answer. He was too busy looking at the state of himself as his reflection stared back at him from a long, tarnished mirror leaning against one of the walls.
A man in a torn T-shirt and jacket, both ripped and stained beyond saving. Jeans caked with dirt and dried blood — not all of it his. Dark smears of spider gore clung to the fabric, stiff and foul-smelling. One boot was split along the sole, the rubber partly dissolved from his fight with the Aggregant he had fought when first appearing in his lab.
“Hey, give me fifteen, will you?” Tyler said. “Looks like there’s a place through there to get cleaned up. Don’t think I can handle this smell anymore. I imagine it’s worse for you.”
As he spoke, he had the odd notion that if this was the first time Seshka had met a human, did she just think they all smelled this bad normally?
“Let’s be quick, if you don’t mind,” she replied. “We have no idea how this might or might not affect our paths.”
He nodded and moved deeper into the tent and into the washroom. It was a tiled room, with water suspended up top in a metal trough. A cork was stopping the water from coming out, and with a little pull it came loose. Cold but not freezing, it trickled out at a steady rate.
Tyler didn’t hesitate as he stripped off his ruined jacket and T-shirt, the fabric falling apart in his hands. He let it drop to the floor. He scrubbed his arms, face, and hair, watching dark streaks mix with the water and drain off to a grate to the left of where he stood. He used a thick bristle brush that sat on a shelf and scrubbed at his jeans, removing the worst of the filth.
He plugged the hole back up with the cork once he felt he was as clean as he was going to get and stood there for a moment, letting the water drip from him. Realising he was now bare-chested, he scanned the room and found some clothes hanging on a rack. A black shirt — plain, long-sleeved — seemed a good fit, and he decided to ask forgiveness instead of permission, taking it and pulling it on.
His jeans were wet and clung to his skin. His boots were not much better. But clean, and with a dry shirt on, he felt a lot more like himself than he had in quite a while.
He returned to the main chamber to see Seshka in the same place he had left her. She hadn’t moved an inch, just waiting for him — and waiting to leave.
He smiled at her, displaying his clean self by pointing to himself as his hands ran the length of his body. He hoped for a sign of confirmation, or a that’s better, but instead she kept her stony face and turned toward the door.
“Shall we be leaving, then? Let the old duster to his madness and foolishness?”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped slightly. Seshka was definitely not the warm type, and he didn’t want to leave just yet. He wanted to have a look in the main chamber, where it looked like the old duster’s work was well underway.
“A few more minutes,” Tyler said as he walked over to a long metal table filled with glowing lights and cables. It reminded him a bit of his lab in the early days, when it was more rush-and-get-it-working than controlled, clean, and safe.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Nine metal boxes sat arranged in a wide arc on the table, each one made from dull grey metal with perfectly clear walls. Some kind of energy shimmered faintly across the surfaces, subtle enough that he almost missed it at first. A containment field of some type? Two of the boxes were empty, but in the others was an arrangement of small, mundane items that had no connection to one another.
A rough stone. A wilted flower. A ceramic cup. A length of twisted wire. A coin. A wooden block. A scrap of cloth.
They all looked faint, as if they were reflected holograms — as if their form was reflected off several mirrors to give the impression of something real.
Cables ran from each container to a large piece of machinery behind them — a mess of coils, dials, and humming components that looked like it had been rebuilt a dozen times over. Tyler could relate. There was always refactoring to do with any experiment.
Tyler moved closer and used Insight on some of the boxes:
Mana Construct: Unstable
Duration Remaining: 06:12:44
He frowned and moved to the next.
Mana Construct: Unstable
Duration Remaining: 08:03:19
Each one was different. The durations weren’t counting down in sync. They weren’t increasing either. Just… holding, slowly bleeding away.
“Interesting,” Tyler murmured. These look like his different attempts to stabilise a construct. I wonder how far he’s gotten. Not much, probably, if, as Seshka says, he’s still here after all.
Seshka hovered near the edge of the room, arms folded, clearly uncomfortable.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I’m not,” he lied mildly. Is using Insight actually touching, after all?
Behind the machinery sat a stack of small blue cubes, each about the size of his palm. One of them was slotted into the device itself, faintly glowing.
He picked up one of the loose cubes. It felt oddly heavy in his hand, as if made from a dense material. He used Insight on it without even realising.
Mana Battery
Charge: 100%
Affinities:
Earth — 17.000%
Fire — 0.258%
Water — 14.772%
Air — 12.411%
Arcane — 31.059%
Light — 9.000%
Shadow — 15.500%
Before he even understood what he was looking at, he let out some of his mana in the hand holding the cube. He had gotten a little better at controlling it, playing with it as he’d walked with Seshka. Not amazingly better, but he could now direct it to whichever finger or thumb he chose — and control which one it left from.
He let the mana flow from his fingers. Not much, just enough to cover the bottom of the cube. His mana started entering as Tyler fixated on it, its colour changing from blue to an almost silver hue.
“And what the hell do you heathens think you are doing in my residence!”
The old man shouted, standing in the doorway of the tent, his bowl of mushrooms tightly held in his arm.
Tyler jumped slightly, dropping the cube and looking up sheepishly at the old man. Seshka just clicked her tongue, then sighed, looking at the old man as if he were nothing more than an irritation.
“Hi, yeah, sorry,” Tyler said as he gathered himself. “We met out front and you, well… you decided to go for a nap.”
“You were drugged out of your old mind, you pathetic mana chaser,” Seshka interrupted, showing not the single shred of respect for the old man.
Tyler quickly jumped back in. “Like I said, you decided to have a nap. I was in need of freshening up, as you yourself must have noticed when we first met. I borrowed a shirt — I hope that’s okay. Nice setup you have here.”
The old man had looked suspicious until Tyler mentioned his setup. He gave a side glance to Seshka and replied,
“We are not mana chasers. We, the Unending Accord, are in search of sustainment in all forms. And of course, I am always willing to aid another member of the Unending Accord.”
“We would rather die than join that stupid cult. You lot are all deranged.”
“We are not members of the Unending Accord. Unfortunately, I have just heard about its existence. But I must admit, I do find myself interested in what you have going on in here,” Tyler said as he picked up another blue cube off the table.
“We would never accept someone with such a closed mind as yourself,” the old man said to Seshka as he turned his attention back to Tyler. “I am Malek Krest, a Curator of the Unending Accord, and I can see a hopeful new recruit. Please put that down, it’s very—”
Malek started coughing, followed by a few hiccups, as he placed his bowl on the side and grabbed a cup, drinking heavily.
“Dry mouth, duster. Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”
“This is very interesting,” Tyler said, gently tossing the cube up in the air and catching it again. “This is a battery — what you use to power this setup.”
“Of course,” Malek said, getting his coughing fit under control, all the while staring at Seshka with piercing eyes.
Seshka clicked her tongue again at the old man’s stare. “It’s what they fund their research with. I’ll give them that — they make the best batteries you can buy.”
The old man puffed his chest up at that, a small victory against the onslaught of abuse he was receiving. “Indeed they are.”
“Why don’t people just make their own? Can’t be that hard.”
“Oh boy. It has taken the Unending Accord a millennium and more, through stringent testing, to find the right balance of affinities to produce what you hold in your hand. Yes, others might say they can, but really they are just cheap imitations. When you want reliability, you come to us.”
“You mean a side effect from your endless pursuit of the unattainable. Don’t fool us. You’re all the same — crazy, with a double dose of madness.”
“Oh, it looks to me like… I don’t know… about 0.258% fire affinity, maybe 14.772% water affinity. About—” Tyler paused as he put the cube down and walked back toward the experiment Malek was running. “But I’m more interested in this. What are you trying to do here — stabilise different mana configurations?”
Malek froze for a second on hearing such precise numbers. He looked between Seshka and Tyler, then made his way over to his experiment, his voice a bit colder and a lot clearer.
“I would be careful. The Unending Accord protect their investments quite stringently and do not take kindly to pompous, untrained, unaffiliated riftraft.”
“Let’s go. Leave the old fool to his crazy. From the looks of things, he’s been in here too long anyway.”
Tyler moved his hand to one of the empty cubes on the top and slowly released his mana, trying to create a small ball no bigger than the tip of his finger and push it inside, matching the other mundane objects.
“I didn’t mean to overstep — just making an observation. Of course, I wouldn’t know about any other affinities in there, and I bet that’s where the true skill comes from.”
Tyler felt Al giggle in his head, making him feel a bit better that the AI was starting to come out of his funk, so to speak.
“Indeed, that is where the true skill is. Knowing a rough estimate of the affinities in here would not help. Even being out by 0.001 percent can lead the power source to complete failure. And forty-seven years, if you want the exact number, my dear. We from the Unending Accord do not fear putting the work in. I take it you are a zealot of the gods at heart.”
“I will wait outside. I do not want to spend another moment with this crazed old man, and I suggest you do the same,” Seshka said, turning and storming out of the tent. Malek smiled as she went.
At the same time, Tyler let go of the small ball he was creating, and it gently floated to the centre of the cube. A slight pulse flashed across the sides as containment formed, holding the object in place.
“I would distance yourself from people like her, a young man early on his path. They believe in gods and faith — stories so small and large they frighten children and start wars. There is no—”
Alarm bells started going off at the station where Tyler was standing. Malek blinked once and rushed over, knocking his bowl of mushrooms onto the floor.
“What did you do? What did you—?”
Malek started looking at a readout on a small screen, then at the new small item in chamber eight.
“That’s… that’s not possible. Wait. 1.37 seconds. Stabilisation confirmed. What configuration did you put into that container?”
Malek was serious, clear, and intense as he spoke to Tyler, turning dials and reading new information as his display panel shot out.
“Oh, that’s an old way to do it. I agree — much better!” Al said cheerfully.
“I just followed your example and placed a small mana construct inside the containment cube,” Tyler responded, not sure if he had ruined or helped Malek’s experiment.
Malek froze for a second, then cursed.
“Shit, shit — not now. Wait, wait. I haven’t soulbinded—”
He ran toward the room with the bed in it, shouting to Tyler as he went.
“What was your name again?”
“Tyler Vane.”
“Where is it, where is it?” he shouted, coming back out of the room looking flustered. He went to turn, and in the next second he vanished.
There was no explosion or pop.
He simply disappeared without a word.
