Unfortunately, the enjoynt and freedom of spreading my body as far as it would go did not last. Upon reaching the ocean and the storm it carried along, I pulled myself into my smallest form. In the body of a falcon, I shrink in on myself as much as I can while still being able to lift my spear. The only way to avoid the pouring rains is to lower how much of my fire it can touch. Of course, it’s still not perfect. Despite the water vaporising before reaching my white flas, it still drains of energy the longer I remain in the wet.
Without Grímr, I can’t exactly hide away in my outfit. I’ve no choice but to face down this storm with the greatest heat I can output.
Yalun, flying beside , faces much of the sa problem. Her flas are hotter than my own and burn away more of the water before it reaches her, but with so little, her experience in this weather is equally horrible.
It is just the two of us flying to the island. Into the heart of the Monolith Anatla.
We stopped by the Agglorate after descending the Alps, then what might as well be called a forward operating base built upon one of the ancient cube vessels. The grand elders that remained so far out on the ocean, watching for any changes with the island, were more than willing to jump into another attempt on the island, but we decided it better for the two of us to go in alone, lest they attract the Titan.
It’s not like they’ll be able to help if what Yalun has told about the Anatla’s influence spread rate is true.
Instead, they’ll wait behind, ready to race in if we give the signal… or I give the signal. I’m the only one who can output enough energy for them to notice from such a distance.
What I was surprised to see, was the boats the grand elders used to get closer to the island without expelling the energy needed to fly upon thrust. Energy that would be like spotlights for the Titan. Really, I’ve seen the boats and ships of other races, but never did I think we would have our own. Compared to the ones I saw in New Vetus, they are simplistic. Constructed from the skin of colossal worms and a tal base, our boats look more like ger than any ship the ursu might use.
Surprisingly — or maybe not at all — they are incredibly effective at keeping out water. That is about all they are good for, though. They are slow, and face the threat of capsizing with each gigantic wave crashing outward from the island, but just keeping the áed within safe against the onslaught of the ocean is all they need to accomplish.
Really, I’m more shocked they are willing to use sothing as precious as tal to make these deathtraps.
Through the obscuring storm, the tinge of ethereal green appears long before the island itself. As soon as I notice it, the Anatla does the sa. Its eye rolls down from the top of the island to glare my way, piercing through rain and mist as if they don’t exist. The massive, horizon-spanning eye is far more fractured than I rember, many sections completely missing, and yet the being through the window appears unaffected.
The power of the Anatla is too much for the machinery that holds it, and only by that very power does it remain whole. Such is proven as the Island cos into sight. Yalun wasn’t kidding: the grand elders really made an attempt. Only so of the upper section is visible through the storm, but what is visible might as well be a wall of water. Geysers are so frequent on the upper half of the island that the only place untouched is the Anatla’s inscription itself.
Just staring at what remains fills with dread. I’ve been holding it off almost entirely because of my new state of being, but this is crazy. Do I truly dare take on such an existence? One that has influence over so much water?
The sight of what I would need to traverse if I want to destroy the inscription we believe connects the Anatla to our realm is dismal. Achieving success… no, simply surviving is impossible. Not if I stick to the current plan.
Yalun beside must co to the sa conclusion. I can see the pain in her eyes.
“Solvei, I’m sorry. This is pointless, we should-”
“No, it’s alright. We have the second option,” I say, waving the cube key in my taloned foot.
I’d taken it from Ignatia when we stopped by the Agglorate. She’d been unsuccessful deciphering the inscriptions of the cube other than it was a sort of key, which we already knew.
“Are you certain you want to try this?” she asks. “I won’t be able to help.”
My head bobs despite my fears. “I’m the only one that can do sothing, right? I can’t do nothing.”
Yalun cringes at my words. “If that’s your reason… If you are doing this because you think you have to, know that we can quit. There’s no reason to put yourself in so much danger.”
I shake my head at her. She misunderstood my intention. “No, I want to do this. I have just as much reason to protect the wasteland as anyone else… even if I’d rather not stay confined to it.”
As far as we can tell, this cubic key should work as a replacent to the broken one within the Island. The very reason we originally went to collect it was so the grand elders could use it on an invasion inside. An option that was quickly determined to be impossible because of the imnse flow of water, even if they’d gained the help of a stronger water mage than Leal.
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What changes now, is that I might have a way inside.
With the massive eye still glaring down on us, we approach one of the very few dry docks remaining. We steer clear of the opening. For all we know, the Anatla might be just waiting for us to stand in the wrong spot before it opens the floodgates.
Thankfully, that doesn’t happen as we land in an indent, both out of sight of the eye and out of the rain. Already changed, I take a step toward the closest tal wall before halting abruptly. I stare down at my spear for a mont, before passing it to Yalun, wordlessly asking her to watch over it.
I place my hand on the thick slab of tal. Whether this will work or not depends entirely on this. I’ve not tested this aspect of passing the threshold yet, but there’s no reason it shouldn’t be possible.
My flas — I — spread into the wall. The ethereal fire I’d achieved back in the fight against Kalma and her rminea slaves moves through the solid tal. It’s like pushing through viscous molten rock with the slight anatla corruption pushing back, but I succeed. I spread into the outer wall of the Island without issue.
Slowly, I search for a path that doesn’t take my fire across either the cooling system ingrained through most of the tal or any hidden water-filled vents. It is just as much a labyrinth as what I would face above, but this doesn’t threaten to kill with a single mistake.
The outer wall is thicker than expected. Vents and inscriptions weave through it in incomprehensible patterns, but ignoring those, there are ten tres of tal before it opens into the first space. A space filled with water. After jerking my fire away from the pressurised pool, I spread myself out, looking for any paths deeper.
“Is everything alright?” Yalun asks the part of my body still touching the wall from outside.
I guess from her perspective, it might just look like I’ve touched the tal surface and done nothing afterwards. In the hand of my body that remains outside, the cube key still sits. Unfortunately, I can’t just bring that through the fire with like I can with my outfit.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just looking for a path through.”
I’m not only spreading out in one direction. Wherever I can, my flas search for spaces to expand. While the furthest strands of myself dig through walls they’ve found leading deeper, the rest of spreads through the thick wall beside my physical body.
The cooling aspect of the wall isn’t activating against my fire, but I’m sure that’s only because I’m not actively heating the tal. If what the grand elders faced when frying the upper side of this place, then my relatively pitiful heat won’t be able to match the Anatla boosted cooling chanism. No, I need to be smart with my approach. So my flas spread through every unmarred section of tal around , looking for any weaknesses to exploit.
The longer it takes to spread myself through the island, the more nervous I beco. With how its gaze pinned to on our way in, I simply can’t imagine the Anatla staying this inactive. I’d expected the flood of influence to push back against my fire. What I face isn’t an active opposition. The green corruption in the walls isn’t fighting , and that terrifies .
Eventually, after my first three paths lead nowhere, I find a way through to a space with dry air. It’s about a hundred tres deep within the island, and while I’d love to push through the tal until I reach where I need to be, the growing strength of the Anatla’s corruption with each tre makes it much more ti consuming. I’ll have to settle with walking whenever I can, as dangerous as that is.
My fire forms into a second body in the room I found. Eyes, ears, everything is identical… well, except my outfit, so I don’t bother controlling the fire of my skin. It’s quite strange to double up on the body I’ve always had, but thankfully my control and focus are good enough that I have no problem controlling both simultaneously.
It is a large room I find myself in. Despite the size, there is almost no free space between the many bookshelf-like tal slabs that hold unknown inscriptions. The appearance is nearly identical to what we saw in the central inverted tower when we last made our way through.
My presence doesn’t trigger any traps as I step down on the ground, thankfully, so I start on my plan to transfer the cube key from one body to the other. My body on the outside disconnects from the fire inside the wall. The feeling of separation is instantaneous. My thoughts split, and I falter. While still technically the sa, my mind is no longer one. I know what the other half is thinking, but it is delayed. A trickle seeping through a thin connection.
While my mind was once entirely held within my body, it now follows any part of my fire. Like almost every other change, it is strange. It’s not like I get a second of , but more like my mind splits in half, taking half my focus with it.
I step away and the thoughts beco less clear, slower to transfer between split portions. As cool as this is, and despite the opportunity this allows to be in two places at once, I find I really don’t like being separate like this. It’s not too bad this close, but the urge to rejoin with myself is there. The further I split from myself will beco increasingly uncomfortable.
Not wanting to prolong this separation, I rush over to the side of a dock opening. On the side is a section that contains so sort of clamp or joint, but the chanics of how it works don’t matter. What matters is that there is less of that cooling system around it. It’s still well covered, sure, but this is the best place to make my entry.
I touch the wall, reconnecting with myself. Imdiately, a small circle in the joint lts away, just large enough to fit the cube. A mont of bated breath passes, before I let out a sigh and shove the key into the wall. Whether by luck or my analysis of the wall was better than I thought, the freezing defence doesn’t initiate.
What does change, is the growing influence of the Anatla in the surrounding walls. I’ve spent a while trying to path my way now, and the Anatla apparently hasn’t forgotten us. I don’t know why its corruption is less intense down here, but that won’t last. Not with the active intent I feel spreading through the walls.
In a way, it’s actually slightly relieving. I can see it’s actually trying to hold back, while before there was no indication of what it was planning. Such a strong being couldn’t possibly allow to gain the upper hand without trying sothing, right? It reveals another aspect that boosts my confidence; it doesn’t have full control over the island.
If it simply activated the cooling system, that would be it. I’d have no way into the island. But here we are, my flas ever so slowly pushing the key through a path of molten steel that weaves around all detection.
It’s enough to make grin in anticipation.
Our guess is right: if I can deactivate the water generation, then the Anatla — Monolith or not — can do nothing.
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