If anything, I could lean into the rituals but on the opposite end. I laughed for a second as a realization popped into my head. Most ritualists would spend all of their ti mastering how to perfect rituals. They'd focus on guaranteeing their success for smooth sailing. I would tread a different path.
I would spend my ti learning how to break them.
Over the next few hours, I attempted many strategies using the rituals. I gained so competence over them, getting a feel for when, how, and where they'd explode. That required abandoning Targask's simple designs. They acted as fraworks for rituals more than the real thing, so it didn't take much to give them more oomph.
They carried slight variance, complexity, or even charm. They reeked of a textbook's stale, sterile outline, made only to teach and not use. Divorced from pragmatism, these incantations lacked any bite or punch. I fixed that. One step at a ti, I created volatile, vicious runic combinations.
I gave them a destructive output by basing them off Torix's grimoire creation ritual, which I'd done multiple tis. I even pulled out my obelisk from eons ago and referenced the library of texts Torix gave . Several ritual texts awaited my arrival and enlightened about my ignorance in their fields.
Coming from Torix, several of the books included risky and controversial runic combinations. They cranked up the potential of the rituals by using unsafe strategies. As if amassing a suicidal toolbelt, I incorporated many of these techniques, and the runic flares I unleashed exploded in ferocity. They oozed destructive potential, each of them like a teor piercing the skies.
I couldn't make them on the fly yet, but ti would be my greatest ally. Having already devoted several hours studying rituals, I returned to my cities to inspect them. All was well, and I spent several hours in a ho of my choosing. There, I ditated on my findings, trying to digest all of the information I was given. This retreat allowed to consider how my abilities could influence my new knowledge.
And influence they did. I learned that my origin mana could be converted into common animals which could make simple potions. While not revolutionary, it would give my soldiers the ans to heal more minor wounds or push past mana limits in a pinch. It left content. I may never be a true healer, but I could beco sothing like a pharmacy that gave out dicine.
As I studied all of this, I kept myself stationary, electing not to move my physical body. This let compress ti more. Instead of using my hands, I wielded telekinesis and gravitation to try out the potion formulas on the animals I spawned. Sothing about creating life and taking it so suddenly left numb, but I pushed past my unease. People may need these potions, and my discomfort wasn't an acceptable excuse to stop making progress here.
This wealth of ti let focus on developing a productive ditation as I tested the elixirs. I pulled out my elental furnaces and channeled enormous volus of mana into my runes, and my temporal compression furthered that radical production. In turn, my primordial rune bolstered my mind, body, and dinsional aura over ti.
This gave way to a positive feedback loop. The more I put into the ditation, the more I could focus. The more I focused, the more mana I put out. The more mana, the more my runes gave strength, and that process repeated ad infinitum. It ramped my growth to a discernable degree, my body becoming heavy and my mind becoming sharp.
At least sharper than before, which wasn't saying much.
Regardless, I left my room after several hours, heading back into the bright abyss of bones outside. I covered myself and studied the ritual runes. During that session, I devoted my ti to the cipher versions. Their dinsional implosions left their marks on the landscape, and the entire area devolved into a minefield for anyone approaching.
I put up several odd pillars to mark the space, and it beca a hellhole of epic proportions. One could die in a dozen ways when taking a single step there. The air itself turned into an insidious, whispering presence. The ground leaked poison from pits of the void, and the sky molded towards anything living. This left the expanse as a wasteland, one turned into a permanent killing field.
It reminded of nuclear fallout as I learned about the cipheric rituals. Their effects were permanent, converting the expanse into an uninhabitable and desolate place. Even the rainbow bones below inched away from here, the semi-sentient mass wanting an escape from the insidious squalor.
I winced at the lost land, the deleterious effects reaching the size of several city blocks within a few days. I kept pursuing the discipline as it carried a potential I hungered for. I needed so way of harming Valgus, and this was my best shot at doing that. I intended to limit his dinsional space, which could deconstruct the Old One's enchantnts over him.
I would unravel the laws governing his adamantine form, one page at a ti.
As I unwrote his perks, I didn't unwrite my own. My advantages remained no matter what space I occupied. If I had to guess, my dinsional immunity extended to these ruined areas, and I walked in this valley of death unperturbed. As was the case in my past, my ability to endure would beco my weapon.
At the sa ti, I kept heading back to the city each day. The rulers made rapid progress, with each finally freed from the many shackles binding them and their progress. While not absolute juggernauts, they learned to wield their minds and bodies in combat. That stopped them from being fodder against Elysium.
Other veins of progress opened. Many rulers shared magic, helping them survive the elental forces outside my city's barrier. These ventures tested their nerve, as many would explode if exposed. My golems enabled them, and we prevented any casualties during those expeditions. The rulers paired that with general physical conditioning that helped them beco more robust.
I didn't idle in the anti. My potions experints paid off, allowing to give each ruler several bottles of the new brews apiece. Targask pitched in, providing pointers and guidance over the process. Each ti I produced a creature from nothing, he marveled at the complexity of the creation.
Sitting beside the city's central pillar, we faced one another on chairs we made. I lifted my hand and created different creatures. Targask murmured, "That's a freakish ability you have there. I've never seen an origin mage make sothing like that in all my days."
I shrugged, "Oddly enough, it's easier to do this than make simpler stuff."
Targask's eyes narrowed, "With how disconnected that ability is, it's almost as if soone embedded it in you."
I frowned, rembering several forces that could be responsible for that. Etorhma funneled knowledge into my head about the cipher, and so did Eonoth. Who's to say they didn't funnel sothing else? Even Baldag-Ruhl's ritual could've caused this ability since I didn't understand its full repercussions to this day.
I might never know them, but I kept that to myself as Shalahora stepped up. The shadow coalesced into a bipedal creature, likely for our comfort, and he tilted his head at ,
"You seem perturbed."
I raised a hand, "I'm fine. What is it?"
Shalahora gave a bow, and I processed so awkwardness. The shadow oozed its words like dripping ink, "Elysium moves. They've amassed a large army of the privals, and Valgus appears to grow less and less stable daily. He is a mind unwrought, pulled apart at the loosened seams...Those threads have begun to fray."
I bristled at that since a wild, uncontrolled Valgus could level my settlents or kill everyone. I tapped my side, "Do you have any idea why Valgus is becoming less stable?"
Shalahora shook his head, "No. He grows weary of waiting, perhaps. Either that or Elysium is tampering with his mind, but I don't know with any certainty."
A nervous dread pooled in my chest, which didn't let up as I stood. I rolled my shoulders, "Then we'll do what we can. You've been keeping our own prival army stocked, right?"
"Of course."
"Then I'll stop by and give them their new minds later today."
Targask gawked at us, "You two talk about the most sinister topics as if they're an everyday thing. It's disgusting."
Shalahora peered through Targask, "It is necessary, or we will all die."
Targask scoffed, "But to what end? Living is one thing, and being alive is another."
Shalahora's eyes narrowed, "I would rather live in filth than die while clean."
Targask shrugged, "I suppose you could think of it like that. I'd rather have a reason to keep going. It helps keep my old mind from wandering to topics I'd rather not think about."
Shalahora murmured, "Then exist in the shadow we cast, one made by the thods you are unwilling to use."
Targask considered before shrugging, "Eh, why not? I'm not exactly a saint either."
A tense silence passed before Shalahora turned to , "I like this one. He has humility, a trait many rulers lack."
I crossed my arms, "Careful, Shalahora. If you start complaining, then Targask will be forced to one-up you. He has a reputation to keep."
Targask pointed at , "So you say. I just point out the obvious. It's not my fault the obvious is often scathing."
A slight grin grew on my lips, "Ah yeah, sure, sure."
I peered behind Targask. Several rulers lined up at a cafeteria that naturally ford near the town's center. Several wanted better food, so they used my origin magic to make different dishes. It complented the smithy congregating beside them where Alctua and Teraz helped rulers by making them any needed parts.
They installed a couple of electronics and even made so machinery for solid materials. The greatest gadget, a giant printer, pumped back and forth, laying thin sheets of graphene with other materials I didn't know the na of. These panels were used to help produce armor or weapons and were also effective semiconductors, wiring, and glass replacents.
It modernized the area, giving several rulers rudintary obelisks they used in the city's connected frawork. It imbibed life into the city, and I enjoyed watching the steady progress each day. For the first ti since arriving on Leviathan-7, it didn't seem so hellish. One could even call it comfortable. Perhaps cozy.
Well, for the mont. I continued studying with Targask, learning so magic but focusing on refining the new branches I was exposed to. I also honed in on the rituals, making steady progress with them. My ditations turned into full-blown channeling endeavors, and I fed the primordial rune across my body all the mana it could desire and then so.
Before I knew it, several weeks passed like this, and the lottery's end lood over us. We all wanted to head ho for survival's sake more than earning anything from this. We missed our guilds, and though we turned this place hospitable, it lacked our hos' charm. Those thoughts kept everyone motivated until the inevitable occurred.
While waiting for the news, I channeled mana into my primordial rune, the air rumbling and the ground trembling. The mana coursed as a plasma, funneling into my cipheric sigils from the furnaces. These visible flows wrapped around as if I fought a hydra gnawing with its many mouths.
Shalahora stepped in, the air blurred by the heat emanating from . The shadow sighed, "They've co."
I closed my eyes, allowing the energy to run its course. Once emptied, I cleared my mind for a few monts. I beca a sea of calm before viewing Shalahora and his shades. I frowned,
"Is Valgus here?"
"He and his armies march this way."
I stood,
"Then it's ti. Let's end this."
Reviews
All reviews (0)