Leveling up the World

An otherworlder that helps the Star pull whole cities into the wilderness—that was the sign that would mark the end of the world yet again. At least according to the nymph prophecy. The dwarf was adamant that it would happen, and so had isolated himself in a place he thought would withstand the inevitable cataclysm. Dallion had taken the whole thing quite badly at the time. Back then, he feared that the poison plague would cause the end of the world, and that he had caused it. He had even tried making Harp tell him more about the prophecy, but the nymph had remained evasive in the best of cases.

Things made a lot more sense now. The prophecy wasn’t a true prophecy—even high level awakened and mages didn’t have such powers. If anyone had to guess, it probably was a series of instructions about what not to do in order not to end up like the previous races. A pity that the first rule wasn’t to stay away from the Star. Or maybe the Star had been the solution? Having as little knowledge as he did, Dallion had no way of telling which was the cause of which. It was just as possible that the Star corrupted everything in order to shield the world from the aetherbird.

Ready for another one, Harp? Dallion asked.

Both his arms were shaking. That meant that he had strength for three or four serious spark attacks at most.

The split in Aether’s realm ended, but Dallion didn’t set foot on the bottom of it. Instead, he continued forward along it in the direction of the heart. Taking a deep breath, he performed a spark infused point attack. The strike ripped through the ever changing surface on the side, drilling a tunnel deeper in.

Dallion expected the whole realm to tremble, but it didn’t, as if the aetherbird didn’t even feel the pain. What was really bothersome was the lack of any real obstacles. Even with the Aether’s focus on the Star, he more than had the power to prevent Dallion’s progress. A few echoes should have appeared at the very least.

Why are you letting me continue? Dallion wondered, as Lux took him along the tunnel. Instinct made Dallion split into three instances, ready to react should the unexpected happen. Nothing of the sort did.

Chisels appeared all over the tunnel, including the floor. This had to be the second offer the aetherbird was giving him. Quite perceptive—it was the only skill, other than spellcraft, that Dallion didn’t have.

“You can always offer me spellcraft,” Dallion said loudly.

Within seconds, the chisels disappeared.

“I guess you don’t handle rejection well.” Being a Moon’s familiar, it was all but natural.

Based on what Dallion knew about firebird anatomy, the “heart” was its left eye, while the right was the brain. In normal circumstances, those would be easy to get, but there were exceptions. When a firebird turned into a ball of flames, as they usually did in battle, they shifted the location of their eyes deep within them. One floated to the central part of the body and the other to the base of the neck. Provided that the aetherbird shared a lot of similarities with a common firebird, language included, it was safe to assume this was the case here as well.

If Dallion’s calculations were right, his target was at the end of the tunnel. He definitely hoped that was the case.

“You’re playing with fire,” an echo emerged ten feet from Dallion.

It was obvious that something was up. From what Dallion had seen, Aether wasn’t one to waste time with warnings or idle conversation. If he had wanted to attack, he would have done so right away. For whatever reason, he chose not to, or something was preventing him.

“Everything you’ve seen so far or a fight.”

Focusing, Dallion tried to find any emotion within the echo or the surrounding tunnel. There was none. It was different from the void or the blocker items—he could feel just enough to know that there was something, even if it was nondescript, like white noise.

“You said you can’t trust me,” Dallion said.

“You’re a smart kid. The offer comes with a quick ejection from my realm. A pity too. You played your cards well. A bit sloppy bringing the Star in here, though that could end up being a net positive. So, what will it be?”

“Not afraid I’ll use music on you?”

“If you thought it'd work, you’d be using it. Same as me. If I could fight you straight off, I wouldn’t be offering bribes.”

“Can’t you side with me? Let’s—”

“Get rid of the Star? And then what? Will you leave my realm just like that? If yes, then why don’t you leave now? I’ll take care of the Star once it’s the two of us.”

It was a very good question. As much as Dallion wanted to fool himself that he would leave once the Star was gone, he knew he wouldn't. Even if he didn’t fear the aetherbird would bring to another end of the world, he’d still have tried to go through with it. He was only human, and the temptation was just too great.

“I thought so.” The aetherbird flapped its wings.

Before Dallion could answer, the creature vanished in an outline of purple flames. A split second later, so did the tunnel itself. The realm disappeared, along with the purple sky surrounding it. Only Dallion remained, alone in an endless blackness, surrounded by Lux’ blue flames.

Enduring the ever-increasing headache, he split into six instances, then moved about so as to look in every direction.

At first, there was nothing to be seen. It was as if he had been cast into an abyss. Soon enough, though, he spotted it—the faintest of dots in the distance. Like a single purple firefly, the dot appeared, then disappeared. The very next moment a spider web of lightning fell upon Dallion. Four of his instances were instantly reduced to particles. The remaining two managed to evade the lethal net, only just.

“Lux!” Dallion ordered, splitting again. This was it—the real fight had begun.

Tapping the blade of his harpsisword against his shoe, Dallion thrust directly at the purple dot. The speed was on the verge of what could be tolerated. Within a fraction of a second, he arrived next to the aetherburd, only to see it effectively teleport several miles away once more. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t teleportation—Dallion had acquired enough knowledge to be aware of the aether lines that didn’t follow the standard concepts of space and distance. That didn’t make it any better.

“Keep at him, Lux!” Dallion shouted. Nox, can you come out now?

Yes, the puma purred. But I can’t fly.

I’ll make sure you don’t have to.

Flashes of blue and purple filled the darkness as Aether and Dallion moved from place to place. Every ten seconds or so, they’d remain in the vicinity of one another for long enough to exchange a few attacks. The aetherbird would take the opportunity to cast a spell, while Dallion would do his best to interrupt the process while also attacking with a vibrating hapsisword.

Purple rectangles would stack up, displaying Dallion’s loss of health and the subsequent restoration.

It took two strikes for Dallion to find that common vibration attacks were useless. The blade would simply pass through, causing no damage whatsoever. Only spark attacks had an effect, and they were getting more and more difficult to maintain.

Nil, how can I see the health of a magical creature?

This one? No idea.

How about remaining magic?

The magic trait isn’t a measurement of health, dear boy. It merely indicates possible spell strength. The rest is up to stamina.

While intriguing, the answer wasn’t particularly helpful. Quite the opposite. In order for the aetherbird to grow tired of casting spells, Dallion had to let it cast as many as possible. So far, Dallion had only witnessed one mega spell. Given that the Star was nowhere to be seen, potentially a few more had been used. Based on the damage such spells caused, one could say they were roughly equivalent to a point attack combined with a spark. That suggested that if the aetherbird was as strong as Dallion, it had stamina for close to a dozen more.

Circles of patterns formed round the aetherbird, its wings moving so fast that Dallion could barely see the afterimage. This was markedly different from the start of the battle. Aether had to have used magic to increase his reaction trait.

That’s a good thing, Nil said.

How? Dallion attempted another point attack, but all he managed was to scorch off the tip of the aethbird’s left wing.

Magic is the art of exceptions, but it cannot create. It just transforms one thing into another. If the aetherbird has tripled its reaction trait, the difference had to be taken from all the rest, it might well be a one hit target.

I doubt it. He’s not stupid.

Who said stupid? It’s all a matter of strategy. Why increase your defense if your opponent can never hit you?

Memories of Dallion’s childhood flashed back. When playing video games back on Earth, there had been a constant argument, which was better: someone strong who could flatten enemies with one blow, or someone fast who could evade any attack. In a way, this was a reenactment of that mental argument. If Nil was right, Dallion was now the strong one. The difference was that he only had two, maybe three, strikes left.

The magic circle burst, dispersing fragments of light all around Dallion. Like a kaleidoscope they went through a quick series of merging and breaking apart, then darted at him. Three of Dallion’s instances were riddled with holes, suffering almost immediate death. The remaining three received large amounts of damage, over half a dozen purple rectangles stacking up in front of each.

Faced with a bad series of choices, Dallion chose the instance that had him lose sixty present health, then split again. Lux immediately boosted him away from the area. However, the particles followed. Moments later, a new set cut through his instances with similar effects. Thankfully, by then Dallion’s health had restored.

“Using Star magic to heal,” Aether said with a hint of disgust. “Quite a nasty cheat.”

“Isn’t magic a cheat?” Dallion asked, doing another point attack in the direction of the aetherbird. The distance between the two was only a hundred feet, but once again, Aether evaded the blow. On cue, the glowing fragments faded away.

Dallion’s arms were almost completely numb now. They had stopped the attack, but brought Dallion to his last one.

“Magic is versatility. Star powers are the corruption of principles. People never change. They look at the advantages without thinking of the consequences. You’ve enjoyed the healing, but never considered where it comes from.”

“I know where it comes from.”

“So, you know each time your firebird heals you, it harms itself?” Aether asked. “Just like you know that in order to heal your crackling must hurt others?”

Dallion didn’t answer. He wasn’t aware of either of those facts. He was generally aware that cracklings grew as the cracks in objects and domains did, but he’d never think it was so literal. So, each time Nox had harmed or destroyed an object he had healed? No wonder he was always healthy.

Lux, is that true? Dallion asked.

Yep, it’s true, boss!

Why didn’t you tell me?! More important, why hadn’t Dallion seen any rectangles? They usually appeared when any of his familiars got wounded.

It’s all fine, boss. The firebird chirped happily. Almost nothing can hurt me. And I get better after some rest.

Damnit!

All the times Dallion had asked Lux to heal him or someone else, he’d taken it for granted, treating him as an infinite healing potion. This was not just a matter of getting tired. The familiar sacrificed his own health for Dallion.

“You get it now, don’t you?” Aether began casting a new spell. Judging by the number of patterns, it was going to be a big one. “Now you see why Star powers have no place in the world.”