The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

[Fate Mastery 30 → Fate Mastery 31]

He felt the barest sensation of someone attempting to read his fate. Although it was quite odd, as though it was being parsed from the inside out and the very tapestry was working to aid the intruder in the process. The very canvas seemed to warp, and other threads of fate bent and shifted to accommodate the reader

Fate Mastery wasn’t a skill which made gains very often, but then again, not many people attempted to insidiously read his fate by cleverly bypassing the shield he had up.

A flash of inspiration struck, and he very briefly opened the shield, throwing out waves of force and making the tapestry around him momentarily shake. It had the desired effect of disturbing the canvas. Not so much that it would be detected as anything out of the norm, but enough that it threw the infiltrator’s reading attempt off.

[Fate Disconnect 71 → Fate Disconnect 72]

“I get a headache every time you do that…”

“I apologize, but I’ll have to trouble you with more headaches in the coming days then. This is a good regimen. Haven’t met a fate reader with a skill capable of giving my shield trouble,” Orodan praised. “The entire tapestry seems to help you whenever you’re set on reading someone’s fate.”

“It’s a Bloodline actually. The Treadways have always been favored by the tapestry of fate. Where others have to work hard and parse each possibility, for us, the threads simply speak to us and mold around our desires,” the woman explained. “Even so it’s a little disconcerting when someone can just wildly shake the tapestry at will… how profound must your fate be in order to do that?”

Little wonder no other fate reader had been able to give his shield so much trouble. A Grandmaster with a Bloodline aiding the practice of fate reading was doubtlessly effective at the job.

“I’m told I have a habit of causing a ruckus wherever I go,” Orodan said. “My fate follows the same principles.”

“Just as direct and brutish as you are… I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t kick my door down yet again.”

“You fired a bullet at my head…”

“And you decided to break into my residence after knocking out the tower guard. What’s a lady to think when a brutish thug waltzes into her home? Highly irresponsible of you to drag that poor boy into your mess too,” Luetta Treadway chided, her folding fan flicking out to catch another pebble Orodan had thrown. “What if he’d gotten caught up in the crossfire?”

“He’s a tough lad. I was watching closely for his safety in any case,” Orodan replied. “And that coat of his is sturdier than you think.”

“A ragged trench coat with a bunch of patchwork quilts sewn in doesn’t make for good protection,” Luetta countered.

“The quilts are what makes the difference I suspect,” Orodan said.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you mean, keep your secrets, world-travelling time looper that you are. You realize the crown will spare no expense in hunting you down should the information leak, yes? It is an open secret among the upper echelons of the Collective that King Alstatyn has a time looper in his employ as well. It was why your story, while a surprise, was not entirely far-fetched,” Luetta remarked. “They won’t stop hounding you once they find out.”

“Then it’s a good thing I approached one of the few high-level individuals not connected to the crown,” Orodan said. “I get the feeling you’re not thrilled with the leadership of the Blackworth Collective either.”

Orodan had been called stupid often enough, but he wasn’t entirely brainless. Telling Fenton Penny and his mother about being a time looper was one thing, they had no spells cast upon them that he could see. But he had to watch who else he spoke to about it, especially among higher-level individuals. The value of a long loop upon Lonvoron was simply too high for him to risk detection just yet.

“Common sense and caution from Orodan Wainwright? I’m shocked!” Zaessythra quipped.

“Unbelievable as it must sound, I can in fact learn a lesson from time to time.”

On his very first visit to Lonvoron, he’d noticed how almost every Transcendent and many Grandmasters had these restrictions ensorcelled upon their minds and souls. A fail-safe so that they wouldn’t say anything they weren’t supposed to. Not every single person had them, certainly not the common folk, but high-level beings, certainly did. Especially every Transcendent he’d seen besides King Alstatyn.

It was good then, to find a high-level individual who seemed to be free of the previous looper’s paranoid track covering. It was why he’d approached this Luetta Treadway in the first place. Still, just because she had no traces of magic or detection spells upon her didn’t mean she bore no traces of mind tampering whatsoever.

“Your mind bears the tell-tale traces of a memory wipe,” Orodan said. “Your former employer must have been quite cautious. I suppose leaving the Crown’s employ might have exit procedures.”

He could sense patches of memory which were not only blank, but had timeline protections and spells which would alert the caster if anyone tried restoring her memories. There was also a minor compulsion to not dig into the matter too deeply. The spellcraft was incredibly well-woven; Orodan saw no method of tracing it back to caster. The previous looper, as always, covered their tracks well.

Luetta frowned, as though a particularly bitter memory had been brought up.

“I left due to my disagreement with some of the Crown’s methods. Wasn’t willing to undergo an entire litany of restrictive spells and magic all to ensure my secrecy. I don’t recall how or why they purged certain sections of my memory, but my departure was allowed gracefully enough in exchange; I have come to terms with it,” Luetta explained. “My life is here now, acting the mercenary, wandering from place to place. Dwelling on this matter will not bring my memories back.”

“And what if I could bring them back?” Orodan offered.

“Worry yourself not about this,” Luetta said.

Orodan could see the compulsion activating and nudging her towards avoiding any talk of recovering her memories. Perhaps it could be reversed and the spellcraft affecting her mind and memories erased if he had enough time and exposure to study it. He noted and filed it away in his mind for later, choosing to shelve the conversation for now lest he trigger some sort of reaction by pushing the matter too hard.

“Fair enough,” Orodan agreed, letting his Fate Disconnect down enough that it allowed her to read his fate. He then chucked another pebble at her. Easily deflected via folding fan. “Let’s return to me ineffectually chucking rocks at you. I’ll get you one of these times.”

“This exercise is one of futility. You don’t really believe you can counter my fate reading, do you?” she asked. “At least have your shield up. Allowing me to read your fate while you throw rocks at me is the definition of insanity.”

“No. It would defeat the purpose of what I’m aiming for,” Orodan corrected. “Even if you can read my fate perfectly, I intend on learning how to counter you fate readers.”

“…you are a madman.”

He took that as a compliment.

Orodan frowned and threw another one at her, and as before, her fan was in the right place at the right time before the pebble even left his hand. He’d tried feinting a time or two, to fake her out and make Luetta guard the wrong way, yet all the same she intercepted his projectiles.

“The tapestry of fate is but a canvas of possibilities; nothing is set in stone,” Orodan said. “How is it that you can deflect my attacks so unerringly?”

“You’re correct, Mister Wainwright. The tapestry is indeed but a canvas of possibilities, probabilities and potential outcomes,” Luetta conceded. “Yet not everyone is equally proficient at reading fate.”

“I fail to see how more skill in fate reading allows you to so unerringly make the right choice amidst a sea of possibilities every time.”

“Think about it Mister Wainwright. The average fate reader might look into the tapestry and see only a few possible threads; two or three of the most likely potential outcomes at most. For them, this is the extent of what they can parse,” Luetta Treadway elaborated, and then her eyes took on a subtle sheen of gold. “But to more advanced fate readers like myself, each possibility is layered with numerous branching paths, and sometimes these original roots resonate just a bit brighter on certain branching paths than others. Take for example your pebble throwing.”

Orodan flicked another one at her which was casually deflected.

“What about it?”

“You’re choosing to throw them at a certain angle while carefully moderating your strength.”

“Well yes, I wouldn’t want to destroy Port Bellgrave and create a gaping hole in the sea floor. The resulting ocean storm would drown all of the Ironhaven Isles in water,” Orodan answered. “With my strength, I have to be careful lest I shatter planets.”

“That much is easy enough to surmise, but beyond even that… you’re intentionally choosing angles which are easy for me to reach,” she said, and Orodan had to take a moment to consider that. He supposed he was in fact holding back. “And now the fate threads related to you not wanting to hurt me are getting dimmer as we speak. In fact, the next one could come either here or- gah!”

Instead of throwing it at her above the table, Orodan instead reached under the table and hurled it below, kneecapping her with a solid thwack of rock upon bone.

“Did the tapestry reflect that change?” Orodan asked with a smile at her irritated glare as she clutched her knee.

“You…!” she exclaimed but then calmed herself with a sigh. “I suppose I brought that one upon myself. And yes, it was reflected upon the threads, but only at the very last moment. How was I meant to react to that?”

“You weren’t,” Orodan replied.

Good to know fate reading still faced the limitations of reaction time. What benefit was there in knowing a sword would end your life if you weren’t fast enough to stop it?

Still, thanks to this experiment Orodan now understood better what the tapestry of fate itself was. It basically provided feedback onto the canvas in the form of shifting threads which either glowed or dimmed with his every thought and action. Even the mere act of thinking about doing something would cause the particular threads of fate associated with that outcome to change.

Previously, being the anointed time looper selected by the System and Boundless One had caused his fate to become quite mangled, like an ouroboros, a coiling dragon eating its own tail. This what the Favored of Ilyatana had noticed very early on in the time loops. Aside from her and Alastaia’s Goddess of Fate, nobody had really been able to read his fate at all. In fact, Orodan wondered if his presence in Ogdenborough, where no priests or diviners lurked was just as intended as his parents’ death. After all, the loops selected him upon birth, and who knew how troublesome they would’ve become if some diviner discovered his mangled fate early in childhood?

However, the old version of the time loops were still a part of the System and consequently, the old Orodan’s fate, even if mangled, had still been a part of the tapestry. When he had the old System, and wasn’t part of the time loops, any decent fate reader would be capable of reading his fate and noticing the coiled mess if he let Fate Disconnect up.

But that had all changed when the foreign Boundless One outside the System had wiped all traces of the Eldritch and the old framework from his soul. The destruction of the old System within him had changed things.

In possession of his own System and having a soul with nary a trace of Eldritch, he was an outsider to System space and the tapestry of fate. Furthermore, it was Orodan Wainwright who now empowered the time loops. As a result, he truly had no metaphysical connection to the cosmos he dwelled within. Consequently, he had to manually insert himself and immerse his soul into the tapestry at the start of each loop.

Forcibly adding himself into the tapestry of fate as an outsider involved dipping his very soul into the canvas. This in turn meant that his mind and its thoughts were reflected upon the threads of fate. Which essentially meant that any thoughts or stray plans he had were very apparent to a skilled fate reader.

On a world like Alastaia, Grandmaster Fate Readers were exceedingly rare and not possessed of much power. Here on Lonvoron though, civilization was far older than that of his home world and had existed for a long time. This meant that the Blackworth Collective had technology, Transcendents and techniques honed over the centuries for reading fate to a scarily proficient degree.

From what Luetta had explained, she wasn’t even the mightiest of the Treadways, akin to an exile. She was but a Grandmaster, with the strongest of her family being Transcendents. Orodan would have to take care to strengthen his fate shielding skills and the ability to counter fate reading if he meant to fight them and avoid having his identity revealed. After all, an otherworlder’s fate was quite noticeable from that of a Lonvoron native.

He had intentionally taken on a handicap that added an additional means through which he could be detected, but that was just a good challenge and all a part of his ethos of seeking effective training.

Already he had the idle thought of whether structuring his intent and feeling in certain ways might severely stifle any hostile fate readers.

“You are insufferable, Orodan Wainwright. The only thing keeping me from throwing you out are all the things your magnificent friend has brought me,” Luetta said, twirling a powerful enchanted ring around her finger. It was one of the many things Talricto had acquired for her, and this particular ring allowed her to peer even deeper into the tapestry of fate.

“The things he stole you mean?” Orodan asked with a smirk. “I suppose having that thieving spider use his talents for good isn’t the worst idea. He helps you and you help me. Benefits for us all.”

Although he did hope Talricto wasn’t stealing from poor orphans and other folk down on their luck. Though, given the value of the enchanted items the spider pilfered, Orodan didn’t think so.

“You needn’t paint me out to be a selfish witch who’s aiding you for the chance to have shiny trinkets alone. The boy, Fenton, his potential is quite ridiculous… I still can’t believe someone like him just happened to be on this island all along,” Luetta remarked. “It’s most suspicious… for someone as monstrously talented as him to be a simple indentured servant.”

“Is it? I was just an orphaned street rat who clawed his way to the county militia of the poorest town of my world,” Orodan said. “Nothing out of the ordinary with that.”

Luetta gave him an incredulous look, as though she thought he was joking.

“Your sarcasm is ill-fitting for the topic at hand. If you’re being serious, then I must say you lack perspective. You ended up being selected for the time loops. Do you truly think you’re ordinary?” Luetta asked. “Young Fenton Penny is the same in that he has much potential, with the possibility of a Celestial-rarity skill of his own. I find it quite odd that he was simply living as an indentured servant until you found him. And for that matter, that it was you, a bearer of not one, but two Celestial skills who found him. Many things which are seen as fate are mere superstition… but you Mister Wainwright, are the first person I’ve met who would attribute actual fate to the mundane explanation of happenstance.”

Was Orodan truly so blind? He admitted that Fenton was a talented young man; humble and with an excellent drive to work hard. The lad also had a rather unfortunate upbringing and a miserable set of circumstances hounding him.

If anything, Fenton reminded Orodan a lot of himself.

What was wrong with that?

“By the time loops… you cannot be this dense.”

“What? Explain yourself Zaessythra.”

“Orodan… the boy’s mother suffers from a curse with power equivalent to that of an Administrator. His father’s gone, most likely dead. And he’s almost impossibly talented at Enchanting… which just happens to be a very relevant talent for potentially fixing the System.”

Was Fenton a time looper?

“No you idiot! He clearly isn’t but that doesn’t rule out looking into his situation further. You of all people should be questioning the factors surrounding a lad whose unfortunate circumstances seem orchestrated by forces beyond his understanding.”

Orodan now understood what she meant. His parents’ death had been orchestrated by the System, he was monstrously talented at cleaning, and he was thus anointed as the time looper. So too had Fenton’s father vanished, and his mother been corrupted by an illogically powerful curse.

Perhaps the situation did bear further investigation.

He would also need to track down Alagameth. One loop, the spatial spider he’d fought in the void between galaxies had hurled Orodan down to Port Bellgrave specifically. Luetta’s fate reading wasn’t strong enough to see any connections between Orodan and Fenton… but she was only a Grandmaster. The spatial spider he’d fought was a Transcendent of Fate and would be of more help.

Why exactly had it sent Orodan to Port Bellgrave? Had it seen something in the tapestry? A question worth pursuing.

Though finding Alagameth would involve going through the Conclave’s branch in this galaxy. Which meant that once Orodan was done with Port Bellgrave, he had more trails to follow elsewhere on Lonvoron.

“I see I’ve caused you to deeply ruminate on the matter,” Luetta remarked. “It’s simply too much of a coincidence is all. I find it deeply suspicious. Especially if you say the lad’s mother was afflicted with the Withering. An exceedingly rare curse with no known cure and a guaranteed death which can only be delayed.”

Orodan shook his head and sighed. Now that both Luetta and Zaessythra had drawn his attention to it, he had yet another matter of mystery in his hands.

“I’ve never been one for intrigues and conspiracies. I function best with an enemy in front of me, not a puzzle!” he declared. “I see what you’re saying, and the lad’s situation is definitely worth a deeper look. That being said, I can do nothing else right now lest I risk detection by the very people I’m trying to find.”

Brazenly going back through time was likely to see Orodan running into timeline protections aplenty. Whether they be placed by the previous looper, or if Fenton truly was related to the System and its time loops… the Boundless One and Administrators themselves. He planned on doing all of this, but not right this moment when he had the majority of a long loop ahead of him, skills to learn and the identity of the previous looper to uncover.

Zaessythra was also counting on him to uncover some leads about the matter of true soul genesis. She had been far too patient with him; if anything, it was Orodan who was impatient on her behalf.

All this was to say that some of these long-term leads he had were best pursued methodically. He’d been brash and impetuous once upon a time, even in long loops. And while that facet of his character had never truly left, Orodan now knew the value in caution. Particularly when others were counting on him to succeed.

“I suppose it’s nearing the time for young Fenton’s shift at the west tower. As his sponsor, I suppose I should go pay a visit, no?” Luetta asked with a sly smirk. “I do quite enjoy bullying pretentious fools. Good opportunity to officially introduce you as my assistant too.”

“Sounds like a plan. Better than sitting here dwelling on things I can’t immediately address,” Orodan agreed.

On the way out of the north tower, the unfortunate guard he’d knocked out cold stiffened at his approach but relaxed upon seeing Luetta. The man had been compensated somewhat generously for the trouble Orodan had caused earlier, and a quick explanation that he was Lady Treadway’s assistant on a clandestine mission put the matter to rest when the officers of the fort had come demanding answers.

Being nobility had its perks, one of the unfortunate similarities between Alastaia and Lonvoron.

They walked out the north tower and through the courtyard where many people got to see him for the first time.

“Isn’t that the man who knocked Emerson out cold? Heard he works for Lady Treadway…”

“Real rough lookin’ man that one is… remind me not to start trouble with him.”

“How’s he so bloody big? Ate the whole farmhouse did he?”

“What’s the gentle lady doing associating with such a base looking knave? Clothes are all dirty and scuffed like he’s been in a row at the alehouse!”

Which wasn’t incorrect as Orodan had in fact been fighting Talricto throughout the night. Unsuccessfully of course, but eventually Orodan would win their little game.

Per the recommendation of Luetta and the unanimous agreement of everyone else, Orodan had for once put his familiar tunic of the county militia away in his dimensional ring and was now donning a large black overcoat beneath which his weapons lay.

Much as he disliked being out of his familiar wear, he had to admit that openly wearing clothes from his own world would have people getting quite suspicious. Claiming to be Luetta’s assistant was one thing; claiming to be so while donning the clothes of an otherworlder was another. The fort’s soldiers and officers could only tolerate so much, and Luetta’s pull only went so far. Questions would arise as to why the Lady Treadway had an assistant who was donning an entirely foreign wardrobe when inter-worldly travel was barred.

Still, Orodan missed his uniform of the Volarbury County Militia… even if it was often destroyed and he fought bare skinned for most of his truly intense battles.

He ignored the comments and chatter, walking past the hustle and bustle of the fort’s courtyard where soldiers were engaged in firing and bayonet drills or training their combat-relevant skills. Even on another world the regular life of a soldier wasn’t all too different. Just like Orodan had pre-shift training and spars, these soldiers too honed themselves and then went on to serve at their assigned posts for the day.

At the door to the west tower where the engineers worked, a pair of soldiers, a man and a woman, barred the way.

“L-lady Treadway…? Madam, I’m afraid Sir Clyburn has ordered the prohibition of any non-engineering and non-enchanting staff,” the soldier said, sounding quite nervous. Luetta must have been important. “I’m terribly sorry, but I simply cannot allow you entry. Er… could you perhaps tell your acquaintance to take a step back my lady?”

The other half of the guard pair, a stocky woman, looked up at Orodan, appearing quite nervous at having such a large individual close to her. Orodan realized he was unintentionally being threatening then took a step back.

“Mister Wainwright, there’s no need to loom over soldiers doing their job,” Luetta said.

“I wasn’t even looming…” Orodan muttered. “How is it my fault I’m tall?”

People on Alastaia were bigger on average than Lonvoron. And if he stood out on Alastaia already… to the people here he was like a giant.

“My assistant’s lack of manners aside, are you truly sure we cannot gain entry? I’ve come to see Fenton Penny and perhaps read Sir Clyburn’s fate. It would be such a shame if he heard he missed the opportunity… well… I’m sure he would understand his loyal guards doing their jobs to the letter,” Luetta said in a sickly-sweet voice and then gave the two a salacious wink.

Even if his heart hadn’t belonged to another, she would’ve been far too frilly, frail and pretentious for his tastes. The guards were of a different opinion though and seemed to eat the gesture right up. The woman turned red, and the man stuttered, tripping over his own words to form a reply.

“M-madam! Please be reasonable!”

“But is it I who is being unreasonable… or you? Think about it? I could even read your fate for you…” she trailed off most suggestively.

The two guards looked at one another, resigned looks on their faces. A nod of understanding was exchanged between them.

“It appears we were forcibly pushed past, isn’t that right?” one guard asked, looking at the other.

“That’s right. And we can’t physically intervene against a ranking noble of Lady Luetta’s stature either… the sergeant will have to get involved, but who knows where he is?”

The message between the lines was clear enough and Luetta strode into the tower, Orodan following behind her.

The first floor of the tower was a mess, just like the last time he’d been here. Though the floors were spotlessly clean and unable to get dirty thanks to his Celestial skill. Wordlessly he began picking items up and putting them back in their proper spots.

Fenton’s employer, Clyburn Anderthorn was also on the first floor, working on a particular component which seemed to require careful assembly.

“Sir Clyburn… the alchemists are too busy rushing to meet the production quota for alkahest… they can’t provide us the lubricants and solutions we need.”

“Gods above Eliezer! Is there anything you’re good at besides bringing me bad news? Go make yourself useful somehow!” the lead engineer barked, practically inside of a large component he was working upon. “Incompetent buffoon… now where are my tools when I need them?”

“Need a hand?” Orodan asked, walking up.

“Why yes. Hand me the wrench, would you?” Clyburn Anderthorn asked, hand outstretched towards Orodan and unfocused on anything outside of his work.

“Of course,” Orodan said, grabbing a nearby wrench and putting it in his hands.

“The sprocket too.”

“Aye,” Orodan said, handing the lead engineer his component. “You’ve neglected to tighten the screw here though, might cause undue stress on this other joint right there…”

“Why, I hadn’t even noticed! Good eye! Now then… perhaps something to further distribute the load…?”

“The metal seems a bit unsuited to take the stress this component expects… something thicker is called for. How about a load-bearing ball-joint? It seems if you just shifted this three inches to the right and punched a hole here you could insert one.”

[Engineering 40 → Engineering 41]

The level gain was in Engineering, but it was Orodan’s Blacksmithing knowledge that allowed him to identify that the metal wouldn’t hold up. These people were doubtlessly good at Engineering and Artificing, but the skillset of plain old Blacksmithing would always remain relevant.

“Why that’s a novel thought! Who are you again?” the man asked, not sparing even a glance as his head was buried inside the component seeking to alter it already.

He heard the familiar set of footsteps as it came down the stairs.

“Mister Orodan!” Fenton exclaimed!

“Fenton, I see you’re hard at work.”

Only then did Clyburn Anderthorn turn around at the sound of the commotion. The man had no clue who Orodan was, but his eyes did widen at the sight of the other guest.

“L-luetta?!” the lead engineer exclaimed.

“Why hello my sweet Clyburn, how’ve you been?” she asked with a smile.

“Y-you…! Who allowed you inside?! This is a top-secret project! I’ll have those incompetent guards disciplined for-”

“Oh do put a lid on it Cly,” Luetta chastised, shutting the man up. “Even the drunks in the portside tavern have heard about your secret project on behalf of his Majesty. Half of Port Bellgrave knows with how often you bark about it.”

“Hrm… well, that is…”

“A cry for help if I’ve ever heard one. The deadline for you showing results is in three months is it not?” she asked. “I’ve come to offer my aid.”

“Your aid? If you mean this overly large fellow here, he’s been surprisingly helpful. Want a job?” Clyburn asked, looking up at Orodan.

“I’m afraid she’s hired me already. But am I willing to help? Certainly,” Orodan said. “I and someone else you’ve been overlooking.”

Fenton practically shrivelled into himself, trying to hide in the corner. Orodan walked over and dragged him out by the collar like a mangy alley cat.

“The boy? He’s a fair hand at repair and maintenance I’ll admit, but how can he-”

“Fenton, list all the problems present in this device.”

Orodan’s words were stern and demanding, leaving no room for argument. He must’ve seemed harsh in the moment, but sometimes someone needed a shove to recognize their own greatness.

“Right! The entire flow of mana’s a little skewed ser, the purpose of it’s to drain a particular sort ‘o energy right out the air, yeah? If the purpose is drainin’, then the mana doesn’t align the right way for it,” Fenton explained. “Been readin’ about the plague, and you can’t let even a little bit get loose or else it’ll turn into a right mess. The design of this enchantment’s not going to keep it contained after sucking it dry. And even when it comes to that… the inscriptions feel a little off.”

Clyburn frowned, and behind him Eliezer Brackenshaw, the senior assistant engineer who Orodan had immediately disliked, turned pale and had an angry look on his face.

“I’m not an enchanter, your words had best be backed up with some proof boy. And what do you mean that the inscriptions for draining feel off?”

“Well ser, it should be draining the plague, not cycling it back into the funnelling function constantly, right? Like the difference ‘tween a fan and a vacuum,” Fenton explained. “The device will fall apart in less than a half hour if it runs as it is.”

“We should never have allowed a low-born inside this tower! Look how he speaks utter nonsense Sir Clyburn!” Eliezer barked, the man’s face red. “Do you know how much work has gone into this device you little rascal? Do not think to comment on the doings of your betters!”

Luetta certainly noticed, and Orodan could tell she was reading the senior assistant engineer’s fate as he spoke.

“How about he proves it then?” Orodan suggested. “Bring out random enchantments… and Fenton here shall accurately describe what they do.”

“He could simply use Identify and cheat!” Eliezer brought up.

“A little embarrassing that a tower full of engineers has no way of blocking or at least detecting the usage of the Identify spell, isn’t it?” Luetta scathingly added.

“This disrespect towards the-”

“Shut up and make yourself useful Eliezer,” Clyburn silenced. “Bring the chest near my desk down here.”

The angry and humiliated man swallowed his pride and did as asked. Soon enough a chest full of enchanted items and jewelry was brought down.

“Alright boy, I’ll bring each item out, and you have ten minutes to tell me what enchantment they have.”

Orodan however was having none of it.

“Ten minutes? Are we here to sip tea or accomplish a task?” he rhetorically asked. “No. I have faith in Fenton and his talent. There’s no need for ten minutes, not even ten seconds. I’ll throw each enchanted item into the air… and Fenton will accurately tell everyone what it does before it falls back into the palm of my hand.”

Fenton looked utterly aghast at the insane difficulty increase that was suggested. Orodan’s deranged grin also caused everyone in the room to take a step or two back.

“M-mister Orodan…! I don’t think I can do that!” Fenton declared.

“You absolutely can and will,” he said and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Will you settle for being mediocre, for being average? So what if you’re talented? Talent means nothing without the guts, grit and willingness to take that beyond what anyone else would dare.”

“But I… I…”

“Tell me Fenton… if I hadn’t come along, would you have let your mother die due to your hesitation?” Orodan coldly asked. “Would you have toiled away in that gunsmithy forever while your she slowly withered away?”

His words were harsh, cruel almost. He liked the lad, and Orodan felt slightly bad for having to say them, but the cosmos was cold and unfeeling. Better for Orodan to say a harsh word now than for fate to cruelly teach Fenton the lesson instead.

“I… I…! To hell with you Mister Orodan!” Fenton roared, fire in his eyes.

[Teaching 66 → Teaching 67]

“Good, good! Now take that fire in your heart and prove to yourself that you’re capable of rising to the challenge!”

Orodan immediately snatched the first thing from the chest, an enchanted ring capable of amplifying the power of a pyromancer’s flames.

Up into the air it went.

“Fire amplification. Useful for a pyromancer. Inefficient enchantment path, likely to shatter. Won’t last more than four more casts.”

The first floor of the west tower went silent.

The ring had barely left Orodan’s hand!

“He… he’s right,” Clyburn muttered, eyes wide. “That ring is garbage.”

Not only had the lad identified the enchantment, but Fenton had also surmised what the inefficiencies within it. Even Orodan was shocked… and more than a bit excited as he had a manic grin on his face.

Even Fenton, mood previously sour, was now realizing what he was capable of and had an determined look on his face.

Orodan pulled an amulet and threw it next.

“Magic barrier. Decently made, draws too much mana from the wearer, might cause any mage below Adept-level to faint from overdrawing.”

Eliezer was looking paler by the second, and Luetta had a pleased smile on her face.

“You could draw out the latent talent in a cockroach,” Zaessythra praised. “Nicely done.”

Orodan personally thought that this was all Fenton. The lad had always had this in him.

A dagger then came forth, and Orodan used the Time Compression aspect of his Smite of Abrupt Deliverance to make the flight even faster than normal.

“Space magic. It can teleport when thrown! No problems with it!”

Sure, Orodan could think and react far faster, but the relative number of thoughts and time Fenton took to identify each enchantment was beyond what Orodan could ever hope to achieve.

“He’s right…” Clyburn muttered, increasingly in awe.

Finally, Orodan did something they might consider cheating… but when faced with such an astute judge of enchanting, couldn’t resist.

His dimensional storage ring came off and was thrown into the air.

“Hey! I know what that does already Mister Orodan,” Fenton complained, yet the lad answered all the same. “Storage ring, not spatial but in-between the ‘other’ places… whatever the word for it is. Has a set of clothes, some gold, bunch of materials too. Craftsmanship’s pretty good, but it’s vulnerable to somebody else playin’ with the place it leads to.”

His ring had no protection against attempts at manipulation from other dimensionalists? How could he have overlooked such a thing? Better to secure it before that covetous spider got any ideas.

“Now then, I could go throwing the rest of the things in this chest… but given the looks on all of your faces, am I wrong to say you lot are suitably convinced?” Orodan asked

“He cheated!” Eliezer barked. “The boy must have snuck a look into the chest beforehand! And the ring at the end was-”

“Eliezer,” Clyburn said, voice all too calm as he gave the senior assistant engineer an assessing look. “You may leave early for the day.”

The calm tone was outside of how Clyburn Anderthorn normally spoke, and it seemed to convince Eliezer of the gravity of the situation. He slunk away without saying another word.

The following silence was then broken by a pair of hands clapping. Luetta Treadway seemed mighty pleased.

“As you can see Clyburn, we’ve brought some actual help. And possibly helped rid you of a rather irksome pest in your ranks,” Luetta said. “Believe us now?”

Clyburn looked around, glaring at the other engineers in the room.

“What’s this? A circus? Back to work! We have deadlines to meet!” the lead engineer barked and then turned to the fate reader. “Come with me, all three of you.”

They scaled the tower, passing the various floors hosting other sections of the pillar, until they finally arrived at the top floor where Clyburn Anderthorn’s office and desk were. The office was a bit of a mess, and the sleeping bag in the corner made it evident that the man spent more time in the tower than usual.

Clyburn Anderthorn collapsed into his seat, looking exceptionally weary. The lead engineer had a lot of weight on his shoulders it seemed.

“If I’d known you were having such a difficult time with this project Cly, I would’ve approached you myself,” Luetta said. “That man down there was clearly a saboteur.”

“Do you think me a fool Luetta? I knew that. I knew right from the start that many forces were arrayed against me, hoping to see my downfall…” Clyburn muttered.

“Then why not ask me for help? I don’t normally work for free, yet if an old friend asked I’d certainly have made an exception. Especially given the circumstances,” the fate reader replied. “Don’t tell me it’s something as simple and stupid as manly pride.”

“Feh! Arrogance and pride have no room in my heart when the outcome of this project is at stake. Do you not see the sleeping bag? I haven’t left this tower in months. Months! Whether I’m actually on Port Bellgrave or not is a wildly discussed rumor outside the fort!” Clyburn exclaimed. “I did not ask you, because I could not. When I first came here, the fort commander gave me some engineers to supplement the ones who came with me from my guild, yet from the get-go it was evident that many of them were out to sabotage the project. At first, I got rid of a few, and then the progress of the work slowed as the commander could provide me no more hands. Finally, I decided what better way to monitor my enemies than to keep their spies close? Eliezer’s continued presence is the result of that.”

“I knew you had rivals, but is it that serious?” Luetta asked.

“That wretch Lord Morvale means to see me humbled. Ever since I pioneered the current model of sharpshooter rifle capable of taking down Transcendents and upstaged him, the petty cur has held a grudge against me. Doesn’t like seeing us engineers prove ourselves better than his enchanters,” Clyburn explained. “Now, if I leave I’m certain the project will fall apart.”

“But what exactly will fall apart that you can’t just rebuild?” Orodan asked. “This device, it’s a combination of Enchanting and Engineering yes?”

“Correct. But my real problem lays in the fact that all the other enchanters here are under Lord Morvale’s employ and affiliated with his guild. I have one professional enchanter, and the man is a contracted freelancer, coming by once a week from port town to do whatever he can. That greedy shark knows I’m pressed against a wall and charges atrocious rates which I cannot help but agree to lest my competition steals him out from under me,” Clyburn answered. “This device wasn’t merely assembled here. The initial enchanting work on it was performed in Castle Ironpeak, and then I was forced to have it shipped here due to a lack of resources and my rival stealing my workspace through bureaucratic tape. If I leave, the critical initial enchantments might be sabotaged and then I’ll be set back by many more months!”

Orodan had to admit, this unfortunate man was caught in a losing situation. Not only did Clyburn have rivals interfering with his work, but he had a severe lack of qualified enchanters who could finish the work on the device. Furthermore, as Fenton had identified, some of the enchanting work was done quite shoddily. This combined with the steady drain on his funds due to the atrocious rates charged by the freelance enchanter meant it was only a matter of time before the man sank.

“Where are you even getting your money from Clyburn? Surely by now you’ve run through the allotment granted to you by the crown?” Luetta asked. “Your guild was already doing poorly last I heard…”

“Countess Primrose Lawson’s agreed to sponsor me further; long as I credit her thoroughly for the aid. But I fear her generosity will have its limits and she already acts as though she’s placed a bet on a losing carriage.”

“You mentioned having a deadline of three months, is that right?” Orodan asked.

“I don’t recall saying that to you, but yes.”

Well, that wasn’t wrong. Orodan had been invisible to the man thanks to Incipience of Infinity at the time.

“Well then you need not worry. I doubt you’ll need even half that time between Fenton and I aiding in your work. In fact, you might as well get rid of all the engineers you suspect of being problematic,” Orodan said.

“Luetta… who is this man?” Clyburn asked, more than a little taken aback.

“Ah, Mister Wainwright here is an assistant of mine. He works for me,” she smoothly replied. “Helps to have a bodyguard and handyman who can get things done.”

“Given the size of him I could certainly see him being a bodyguard, but an enchanter and an engineer too? A rather multi-talented man I see…” Clyburn muttered. “Even if these two have your backing Luetta, you’re asking me to place a lot of faith in people I’ve known for less than two days. The boy has some talent in quick identification of enchantments, and this man seems to have some knowledge of engineering himself… but will they suffice for such a complex work?”

“Well, if it helps you trust in my capabilities a little easier…” Orodan said, taking his cloak off and revealing his sword and shield. “I’m not of this world. And I have some extensive experience in dealing with this plague you’re trying to cure.”

“An otherworlder…? Yes, yes, this could very well work in that case!” Clyburn muttered taking the revelation in stride. “The biggest weakness of our research has been our lack of research materials and information regarding the plague!”

“But I would certainly appreciate it if you could keep your mouth shut about Mister Wainwright’s otherworldly nature,” Luetta reminded.

“Of course! I’m not one to look a gift train in the engine! Now my only question is… when can you start?”

Orodan picked up a wrench and looked closely at the pillar.

What better time to start than now?

“And another thing,” Luetta said. “I’ll be buying the lad’s contract out.”

#

[Teaching 67 → Teaching 68]

Fenton collapsed upon the ground, almost entirely spent.

“Gods above I can’t even move… you’re a cruel taskmaster Mister Orodan.”

“A teacher who doesn’t push you hard enough is a teacher who doesn’t care,” Orodan replied, dragging the boy to his feet. “Another lap with the cart, go on now. I can see you’re not at the point of total muscular failure just yet.”

It was overtraining, to a dangerous extent too. Or it would’ve been if Orodan wasn’t using Vision of Purity to closely monitor every cell to ensure maximal exertion and muscular destruction. The meal he’d prepared afterwards would lead to rapid recovery and consequently make Fenton’s body far stronger.

It had only been two days, yet Orodan could already see the benefits showing themselves. The lad looked slightly less lanky, the muscles more defined and the posture just a bit straighter. Regular physical training couldn’t produce such results so quickly. Hells, even Orodan had needed a lifetime of hard labor, training and constant fights throughout his upbringing to achieve his natural physique. Certainly, he had the predisposition and ancestry for it thanks to his mother, but the tough muscle, bull-like definition and wide frame had only been achieved at the expense of a lot of blood and sweat.

In Fenton’s case though, having someone dive into the ocean every day to secure high-level ingredients loaded with vitality and nutrients was quite the boon. The meals Orodan cooked with said ingredients were akin to a high-level recovery potion. Eating good food in combination with training to a dangerous level of muscular failure and overexertion meant the gains were quite rapid.

Orodan returned to sitting upon a raised rock in the backyard of the guest house Clyburn had provided for the Penny family. In his hands were manuals of engineering, steam mechanics and the enchantments necessary to make the entire thing work. Lonvoron’s enchanting language was also three-dimensional, so studying it helped broaden his base of knowledge further.

And as he read, he periodically threw pebbles towards Fenton from behind.

The boy swiftly shifted to the side while still pushing the cart. Orodan hummed in approval.

The next pebble flew faster and scored a good hit on the back of the boy’s knee.

“Argh! How am I s’posed to push the cart if you hamstring me?!” Fenton protested.

“By gritting your teeth and soldiering on anyways. Or getting better at detecting things through that Mana Sense skill of yours,” Orodan casually replied while reading. “You identified quite a few problems with Clyburn’s device today, didn’t you? Explain them to me.”

Fenton looked aghast at the suggestion that he spend the precious breath in his lungs explaining something technical while already nearing utter collapse. Still, to the boy’s credit he frowned and did so anyways.

“The core of the enchantment ain’t done wrong, even if it’s a little inefficient,” Fenton said, inhaling great gulps of air while pushing the heavy cart laden with rocks. “But the outer layers are built wrong. It’ll disperse the plague inwards in an endless cycle towards the core rather than containing it in the compartment meant for storage. Device’ll wear out real quick.”

“Tell me, do you suspect sabotage then?” Orodan asked. “What’s your opinion on it Fenton?”

“Me? Wasn’t aware my thoughts on these treacherous affairs mattered Mister Orodan,” Fenton said, dodging another pebble hurled at his ear. “That sort o’ thing’s beyond my station, isn’t it?”

“A passive viewpoint to hold. You live here; it’s your world, isn’t it? Who else’s opinion matters more than yours? Certainly not mine, I’m not even from around here,” Orodan said. “I’ll break the passivity out of you yet. Now tell me your honest thoughts and recommend what I should do about it.”

“Well… I do think the outer layer of the enchantment’s real dodgy ser. It’s done decently enough that I’ve got no doubts about the enchanter’s skill… which makes the design flaws seem like naught but intentional subversion,” Fenton said. “As for what to do… maybe the freelance enchanter could answer that?”

That certainly made sense. Who else besides the enchanter working on the device would know the truth? Fenton’s opinion when it came to Enchanting was quite reliable, if the boy thought sabotage was the likely explanation, then sabotage it was.

Orodan hurled another pebble at Fenton, striking him squarely in the hand and making his grip on the cart he was pushing loosen. The young man had grown used to the pain and simply gave Orodan a look of defiance and continued pushing.

“Good idea. Maybe I should kidnap and interrogate this enchanter then?” Orodan suggested.

“Kidnap? Won’t that draw trouble your way? Won’t say I ain’t seen folk get shot dead, just how life is around these parts,” Fenton said. “But spiritin’ someone away might do you more harm than good Mister Orodan. Why not just follow them and skulk about a bit to see what they’re up to?”

Now that wasn’t the worst idea. Further opportunity for stealth training too.

Orodan spent three more minutes rewarding Fenton for his excellent idea with more pebbles, until at last the boy began violently trembling, barely able to move.

Fenton tried pushing the cart further, only for Orodan to scoop the lad up in the crook of his arm like a sack of flour.

“Good work, but any further and you might actually faint and die if not treated,” Orodan said. Even if he could then resurrect the boy, stressing poor Fanny Penny out wasn’t his aim. “Time for some food and rest. Growth requires stress and recovery in equal measure.”

“Aye, aye ser…” Fenton quietly muttered, unable to muster the energy to even argue. “I was wonderin’ though… how’s this to help with me enchantin’?”

“One’s mana pool and the quality of the mana circuits within the body are influenced by Physical Fitness. I understand that people on Lonvoron have long neglected the skill, but it’s quite important,” Orodan explained. “With a larger mana pool you can enchant something all the way through without taking breaks, which in turn will improve the enchantment’s quality. Helps with your ability to concentrate without getting a headache too.”

Fenton seemed to understand the benefits.

Orodan deposited him in his chair, the boy’s mother serving the roasted assortment of aquatic monster meat that Orodan had prepared prior.

Of course, soon as the boy managed to bite down on the first forkful, the vital energies immediately rejuvenated him.

Fanny was also tearing into her plate with gusto, as was Talricto.

“I even made the syrup from sap and added nectar into the sauce. Kept you in mind this time,” Orodan explained. From what he’d read, Talricto’s species weren’t entirely carnivorous, and they could consume trace amounts of sap and nectar in order to get by. Studying Talricto’s body closely and then seeking compatible aquatic plants was a chore. But the effort had earned him another level in Cooking at least. “Now you can savor the full course too.”

Talricto didn’t even reply. The spider was far too busy stuffing his mouth with copious amounts of meat seasoned and glazed with sap-derived syrup and nectar. Well, Orodan was glad to see he liked it.

He lifted a large and juicy piece of meat up and shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

[Gourmand 18 → Gourmand 19]

The flavor wasn’t bad, but his breakfast stew yesterday had been done better. Still, he welcomed the improvement to himself, even if it was very minute.

They ate in relative silence, with Orodan occasionally throwing a pebble at Fenton in order to keep his Mana Sense skill sharp. The boy had it for a while, something which aided him in understanding enchantments. Of course, he didn’t know the right way of developing it, something Orodan was all too happy to help with.

The total mana pool someone possessed wasn’t just influenced by how strong their body was, but also by the usage of skills which used mana. Woodworkers, Lumberjacks and those who engaged in physical labor had well-developed bodies used to toil. They made for good soldiers. Similarly, mana was like a muscle that could be grown through constant use. The more Fenton used mana, the better at using it in other skills he would become.

To that end he planned on teaching Fenton magic as well. Basic spells to start, but the focus would be on their mana cost; the costlier the better.

“Don’t slack, keep reading the manual as you eat,” Orodan encouraged. “You aren’t able to read books in minutes like I can, so you can’t be wasting time.”

If anything, Orodan faced the opposite problem of reading a book and then having to sit there and ruminate on it. Spell tomes, technical manuals and instructional books on various subjects related to engineering, steam technology and enchanting; Orodan had read dozens. Of course, reading something and then grasping the concept were two different things, so he was forced to meditate and think upon the contents even a day later.

The genius lad though, was quite capable of understanding a book and comprehending it on the first read through.

“I still don’t understand how a Candleflame works Mister Orodan…” Fenton muttered. “Guh!”

Orodan’s flicked pebble had found its mark upon the lad’s forehead.

“You haven’t even finished the tome and you’re complaining?” Orodan queried. “Geniuses… always jumping two steps ahead.”

Then again, who the hells was he to complain? He’d driven half his mentors insane by doing the same. He was certain Adeltaj or Arvayne would be laughing at him if they saw and had the memories of what Orodan had put them through once upon a time.

“Takes one to teach one. Hard to find a better teacher for a prodigy than one himself.”

He supposed his insistence on good training wouldn’t waste young Fenton’s potential at least.

Talricto soon left, Fenton tucked in for a good night’s sleep and finally it was just Orodan and Fanny Penny sitting at the table. Her hands were working on a pretty quilt, and Orodan’s eye was sharply drawn to it.

“That’s not the work of an amateur weaver,” Orodan remarked.

“I wasn’t always a bedridden widow raising a son by herself Mister Wainwright,” Fanny replied “Once upon a time I used to work in Storven, the capital itself. Part of a big guild servicing the crown I was.”

Guild?

“Is that where those magical stitches in Fenton’s coat come from?”

“Right you are. Had to sell our more valued possessions as the years went on and my illness worsened, but even with my failing hands I hoped to keep my boy safe,” she said. “His coat should stop a few bullets at least.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“He’s incorporated your weaving techniques into his Enchanting. Your son is going to be at the center of quite some trouble when people start discovering it,” Orodan admitted. “You know of his proclivity for the trade?”

“I was not aware of the extent of it until recently, but I do. Realized he had a gift when some noblewoman’s defective ring was good-as-new after he reached out to grab her finger with his little hands. He was but a babe then too…” Fanny explained. “Last thing I wanted was to be accused of witchcraft or have my baby boy taken from me by the inquisitors so I left town and never let him near anything magical until he was a few years older and I could explain the risks of revealing his skill.”

“Exceptional talents revealed at a young age often draw covetous eyes,” Orodan agreed.

Fanny suddenly looked pensive, her hands wringing together and the nervousness apparent on her face.

“Listen, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Mister Wainwright, but my son’s well-being is more important to me than even my own life,” she suddenly informed. “You’ll keep him safe, won’t you?”

The worry of a protective mother. How could Orodan dismiss it when he’d seen with his own eyes how his own had been concerned for him?

“That’s partly why I’m pushing the lad so hard. By the time I’m done with him, he should be capable of keeping himself safe,” Orodan answered. “And anyone attempting to strongarm Fenton will have to deal with me.”

She breathed easy, as though a large weight had been taken off her shoulders.

“Thank you…” she quietly said. “You rescued us from a life of misery, I’ll always be grateful to you for that Mister Wainwright. The crown would have us think otherworlders are all monsters, not to be trusted lest they steal everything from you. But… if the rest of them are anything like you, I suppose they can’t all be bad.”

Orodan had an amused look on his face.

“You call me an otherworlder, but to me, everyone here is an otherworlder. I come from a world called Alastaia. We don’t have steam, guns or metal machines, but winged lizards, warriors and mages aplenty. Our battles are fought not by formations of massed rifles supported by cannons, but ranks of swords, spears and shields backed by arrows and mages,” Orodan said. “We’re not all that different. Your son and I are quite similar in fact. I grew up poor and had to struggle for everything just as he does.”

“A world of magic and swords? How fascinating…” she muttered. “Well… I suppose it’s reassuring to hear the folk from your world aren’t eating children or roasting innocents over a pyre like the crown says.”

“Oh they are,” Orodan said, making the woman pale. “But it’s an incredibly small minority of criminals; cultists in fact. The Cathedral’s always on the hunt for them, and recently they’ve had a setback so I wouldn’t bother worrying.”

“I… I see. This Cathedral of yours sounds an awful lot like the inquisitors we have in how they pursue no-good sorts,” she said. ‘These nasty cultists you speak of have been arrested by them I hope?”

“No. I just killed them all.”

She paled a bit but had gotten used to Orodan and his blunt ways a bit over the two days.

“I suppose congratulations are in order for keeping your world safe. Little wonder my son can’t stop talking about you, Mister Wainwright,” Fanny admitted. “It’s been two days, and he’s barely had a moment to rest with how hard you’ve been pushing him… but for the first time he actually likes going in to work and tells me about his day in an excited manner. I think he looks up to you.”

“There are better people he could emulate… if he wants a long and lengthy life at least. But I suppose there are also worse role models,” Orodan remarked. “He’s got a good work ethic. It’ll take him far if he manages to avoid misfortune and has a dash of luck.”

“I certainly hope so, Mister Wainwright. I cannot abide the thought of losing my son. Then again, I could not bear the thought of slowly withering away and leaving little Fen an indentured servant without any family either. I know I’ve said this once but thank you. If there’s ever anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Well now that you mention it… I’m something of a weaver myself,” Orodan replied, pulling some twine out of his dimensional ring and twirling it around to start laying rope. “Not on your level though. Will you teach me?”

“You travel worlds and slay monsters… and you want Fanny Penny, the mother of a lowborn boy, to teach you Weaving?” the woman asked, bewildered and taken aback by the request.

“Absolutely. Weaving was a critical contributor to saving my hide in the most recent battle I had; to disrespect it would be the height of arrogance.”

“…”

“Is that a yes?”

She sighed.

“Can’t believe I’m teaching an otherworlder the ways of weaving…” she muttered and then looked at the twine. “Rope laying? Purely by hand too, not bad at all. One of the ideal foundations a weaver should have and what they’ll try to start you off with in colleges and universities affiliated with the guild.”

“Colleges and universities, these are the academies of your world, right?” he asked, and Fanny nodded. “Guild affiliated, not familiar with that term though. Like, an adventurer’s guild?”

Even on Alastaia, adventuring guilds with their differentiated ranks and bubbly mission-dispensing staff at the desk were a thing of history and children’s tales. Not since civilization had suitably advanced since the Cataclysm caused by the Void Horror’s ascent and the Departments of Monster Management had cropped up across all three human nations of Inuan.

“An adventurer’s guild? What’s that?” she asked confused. “I mean the weaver’s guilds Mister Wainwright. Professional associations of those in our trade who band together for common profit. Storven has at least three major weaving guilds with a few smaller ones across the islands. They like to affiliate themselves with respectable colleges and universities, poaching talent as they graduate. Quite competitive and cutthroat it is; with all of them vying to become the royal sponsored guild every decade. In fact, next one’s coming up soon too.”

That sounded interesting.

“Fascinating, but I’ve about had my fill of academies for the time being. Perhaps Fenton can be admitted into one though,” Orodan said. “Now about Weaving…”

“First, you’re doing it in a really clumsy manner. There’s a lot of theory on weaving and while I respect that you’ve started the proper way, without some lessons on the fundamentals you’ll be seriously hamstringing yourself. Now to start, the first concept of…”

Who knew Weaving had so many intricacies? No matter how many star systems he shook, when it came to crafting, Orodan was still but a small fish in a big pond.

#

“We need those supplies!” a bedraggled junior engineer barked. “Let me in to speak with the alchemists.”

“Look, you top hats need to learn to take no for an answer. I’ve told you three times now that nobody besides the alchemists are allowed to enter the south tower, and for the last ten minutes you’ve been givin’ me a bloody headache.”

“This is outrageous! How will Sir Clyburn’s work get done if he isn’t supplied with adequate materials and alchemical products?”

“Not. My. Problem. Bloody hell, I’m tryin’ real hard not to be a prick but you can’t seem to take a hint. I can’t let you through, and that’s that. Go take it up with commander Westerlin if you want to dispute standing orders.”

The engineer shook his head and stormed off, passing by Orodan yet not even paying attention.

Of course, Orodan walked on and approached the guards.

“Not another one… I’m so over havin’ to tell people from the west tower to get lost… you there, south tower’s off-limits to all save the fort’s alchemists. Dangerous experiments goin’ on down there. A single whiff of that alkahest and you won’t have lungs to breathe with.”

The other guard seemed to recognize Orodan however.

“Wait a minute, aren’t you Lady Treadway’s new assistant? They said you’d be coming by… let him pass, commander’s orders.”

“So all this time I turn away every fop who’s come to bother me, and now we just let this man in?” the guard asked, bewildered. “Bah! Don’t mind me ser, just go on inside. Been havin’ a real rotten day today is all.”

Orodan gave the soldiers a nod and walked on. Truly, guard duty was a thankless and irritation-filled task.

The south tower’s top floors were all storage; it was also the tower furthest from the keep, sequestered away somewhat. Soon, Orodan came to understand why.

As he approached, a burning tinge could be smelt in the air. Furthermore, alchemists wearing some very heavy, sealed protective suits were clumsily walking about. Some of them turned to look at him, confused. A few even made to stop him but he walked faster than they could in their overly bulky clothes.

Past a heavily warded door, he saw why the upper floors were storage alone. The basement of the south tower consisted of alchemical workshops, emitting some of the most noxious and foul fumes Orodan had ever seen produced by alchemy. The fumes even caused his skin to feel hot.

What in the hells were these people even concocting?

A haggard looking junior alchemist was being berated by her superior. Both of them in clunky suits which looked designed to keep air out.

“We’re behind on production already and you’re telling me you’ve run out of mana? What sort of third-rate wastrel are you?”

“But sir… we’ve been working for an entire day.”

“Excuses! The crown requires alkahest for the front lines and all you can do is sit there and deflect the blame? Chug more recovery elixir and get to work!”

“Sir! The west tower’s been requesting their supplies again!”

“They’ll get their damned supplies when this bloody quota is met!”

“We’re running out of containers to store the acid base in…”

“Go plunder some empty tankards of ale from the tavern then!”

The lead alchemist seemed at his wits’ end, and the man’s underlings seemed quite overworked.

Thirty tables with equipment, all being most furiously used, almost like the alchemy classroom at Bluefire Academy. Except, this was no environment of learning but one of mass production. Alchemists wearing bulky protective suits slaved away over hissing containers of deadly liquid, various apparatus aiding them.

There was a whole lot of mana being used throughout the process as well, with alchemists having tubes connected to their ventilated helmets which funnelled a recovery elixir into their mouths. And given how mana intensive the work was… the liquid was being chugged quite often. And at the top of the room, the lead alchemist was fussing over what looked like a magic circle, an array. It seemed to almost guide the intent of the acid from what Orodan could see.

He could feel the prickle on his skin via the fumes, and Orodan wasn’t even touching it yet!

[Acid Resistance 37 → Acid Resistance 38]

He had to admit to some surprise. He’d seen alkahest deployed by the forces of the Blackworth Collective before but hadn’t really gotten close to or had a chance to interact with it. Now though, being in a room full of lethal gas, he was intimately exposed to it. Acid worked by breaking things down, yet the last time he’d encountered a powerful user of it, they’d failed to affect him much due to his Absolute Body Composition and how each cell was a thing in and of itself.

To be capable of breaking down even his cells? He looked closely and realized that his cells were being erased to nothingness outright.

This acid was most profound! An opportunity for good training.

He leaned over a hissing cauldron, frightening the alchemist working on it and took a deep breath, savouring the fumes.

“Wait! You’ll die!”

Absolute Body Composition’s restructuring of his form meant he had no lungs, but the fumes still found their way in-between his cells and gave them a good sizzle. He was being dissolved from the inside out.

[Acid Resistance 38 → Acid Resistance 39]

This was some good training!

He even cupped some of the alkahest in his hand to take a sip, even as the skin on his palm slid off and dissolved.

[Acid Resistance 39 → Acid Resistance 40]

His mouth began dissolving and acid began leaking out through the holes being created. Yet Harmony of Vitality kept repairing the damage, and Orodan swirled the drink around in his mouth like a fine wine, savouring the taste.

A little sweet, perhaps almost metallic. Not the worst flavor profile though he’d have to neutralize it a bit before serving it to any guests.

It took three seconds of his mouth getting ravaged, but the alkahest eventually lost power and became a regular liquid with a slight sting to it.

“Good heavens! Who allowed this suicidal man into the tower?!” the lead alchemist barked. “Get him out and to the healers! His lungs must be gone!”

Yet, as the seconds ticked on and Orodan didn’t look as though he was dead or dissolving, the alchemists around him looked on in shock.

He took a sip. Yet even as his mouth dissolved yet again…

[Acid Resistance 40 → Acid Resistance 41

…gains were made.

“It doesn’t taste too bad,” Orodan remarked.

“Who… who are you?” the alchemist asked.

“Luetta Treadway’s assistant. I’m told you’re expecting my arrival.”

The alchemist looked baffle behind the visor of his sealed suit.

“Hold on, we’re skipping ahead too far. What I actually mean is, how in the blasted damnation are you still alive and not a pile of empty clothing?” the man asked.

“Why would I be a pile of empty clothing?”

In response to Orodan’s question, the man pulled out a warded and sealed box. He unlocked the magical seal and opened it, to reveal an onion.

An onion which immediately hissed and disintegrated into utter nothingness within a quarter of a second of exposure to the gaseous room.

“As you can see, the array we use to guide the alkahest’s behavior is unchanged. It’s meant to target organic material alone,” the man explained. “Which begs the question of who the hell you are and how you’re still in one piece.”

“I’ve already told you who I am. As for how, I have Acid Resistance and a regeneration skill,” Orodan explained.

“A Bloodline?”

“No, trained through exposure to copious amounts of acid.”

“Utterly impossible. The sheer amount of acid exposure required for that would be fatal and kill you many times over.”

Orodan simply gave the man a knowing smile in response. It had in fact killed him plenty of times, against the very first foe he’d ever death looped against too.

“Believe or disbelieve my words if you wish. I’ve come to check in on the supplies due for Clyburn Anderthorn. What’s the situation?”

“Lady Treadway mentioned her assistant would be coming to help us with the production of alkahest, not make further demands of our already pressed schedules. We cannot produce the supplies for Sir Clyburn because we have a strict quota of alkahest to meet, and we’re already fallen behind on its production. Make me enough alkahest, and I can deign to think of aiding in your request.”

“Then let’s get to making it shall we? Show me the formula and process and I’ll start helping.”

“Mister Orodan Wainwright is it? What level of alchemist are you? I see you’re an Apprentice Weaver and… a Wainwrighting Apprentice? I’ve never heard of such a title before, and your Status is akin to a practical joke.”

Orodan adjusted his Status, adding the relevant title for Alchemy to it.

“Try again, I’m near-Elite at Alchemy.”

The head alchemist re-cast the Observe and gave an imperceptible nod.

“Barely meeting the qualifications to work in this lab, but I suppose you’re acceptable enough. My problem still remains; you’re but one man and I do not see how you’re meant to alleviate our rush to meet this quota when I have a team of thirty trained alchemists working already. I would have to waste time bringing you up to speed,” the man remarked with a frown. ‘Unless you have the ability to bring another thirty alchemists out of thin air, this is pointless. We’re also limited by the quantity of the apparatus we have.”

“Explain. Show me the crafting process from start to finish,” Orodan demanded. “I can’t see why making a potent acid would take long.”

“You don’t even know how to make alkahest? Which university did you-” the man cut himself off and sighed. “Ah, self taught are you? Low of me to look down on one from humble roots, I can respect that. Now then, as you can see the acid base is concocted through the burning of…”

Orodan intently listened to the man’s explanation. He knew how to make acids and poisons, virtually all educated alchemists on Alastaia did. The difference between the acids of his home world and this exceedingly volatile and deadly alkahest though, was that it didn’t simply break things down but instead caused their utter disintegration into nothingness.

Furthermore, there was a process of actually guiding the alkahest and defining its targeting. Which was what the array was for as the lead alchemist wasn’t just proficient in alchemy but also a Master-level poison mage. This array defined what the alkahest should or shouldn’t target upon creation. Supposedly this could be altered in the field too but was a more difficult process.

In any case, for the purpose of fighting the Eldritch, having an all-consuming substance which ate through organic material leaving nothing behind was the ideal. Though the process of creating an alchemical substance which could be guided via magical ritual was new to him. He’d heard of advanced products which did that, even on Alastaia, but that was the purview of Master-level alchemy and above.

The acid base, after concoction, went through a period of concentration and mana empowerment in specially sealed vats. This empowerment phase lasted about six hours on average. This was the real bottleneck and what was causing the alchemists’ quota to suffer. They simply didn’t have enough vats and the evolving situation on the front lines had caused a rush order for more alkahest to come in.

“I see… so it’s not just the concoction of the acid which is taking all this time, but the empowerment and concentration process,” Orodan muttered. “The acid, or alkahest as you call it… its malleability in what it can target is one its big features and part of why it takes so long to manufacture, isn’t it?”

“Right, now do you see why we’re so swamped? There’s simply no way to speed the process up without adding far more equipment; I only have ten amplification vats. I have more than enough acid base ready to pour into them, to the point that I’m running out of containers to fill. Yet without more enchanted vats which perform the actual transformation of acid to alkahest, my hands are tied.”

Orodan cracked his knuckles and walked up to the vats.

“I have two questions for you. First, do you have any need for the alkahest to be more potent?” he asked. “And second… if the process in the vats were to be sped up, how many containers do you think you could make?”

“An odd question Mister Wainwright… the alkahest is already potent enough, but I suppose the guild is always seeking further methods of making it even stronger. Some of the deadlier plague forms the army faces in the dead zone could certainly use a more potent dose. And this question is a little pointless as the crown will gladly pay extra for each pound of alkahest we can provide.”

“In that case, I think we can help one another.”

Orodan’s hand whipped forward, and the Time Compression aspect of his Smite of Abrupt Deliverance shot out. Furthermore, he laid a hand upon one of the vats, enveloping it with his soul and considering it and the acid within as his weapon.

As he’d done long ago in Bluefire… Orodan Wainwright began empowering the solution with copious amounts of mana while holding tight control over it with his soul energy, ensuring not a single unwanted change occurred. At the same time, he used this in tandem with Time Compression, to shorten the required six hours.

[Time Mastery 90 → Time Mastery 91]

It was certainly costlier than he’d expected too. The vats containing the acid and transforming it were some intricately enchanted devices which consumed mana greedily. Compressing time for a regular container with nothing else involved was one thing. Doing so for these magical devices which had costly ongoing processes of their own was another. The greater the energy of the target, the costlier chronomancy was. A large world core’s worth of power, energy reserves included, would have been drained in an instant if this was attempted by anyone else. Good thing he had Incipience of Infinity, though there was no hiding the sheen of white soul energy coming off his form.

He was capable of far grander feats, yet the strain was decent as the alkahest hungrily absorbed all the power he could feed it. The mental stress was far greater than the soul energy consumption, as Orodan had to focus to prevent it from spiralling out of control. Soul energy rolled off his body like wispy streaks of ethereal light.

Six hours compressed into a singular second, enough energy consumed that a planet and a half would be drained dry. The ten large vats containing acid, slowly undergoing the empowerment and concentration process of turning to alkahest… suddenly went haywire. A loud alarm suddenly went off and the indicator on the vat blurred in a most surreal manner due to the compression of time.

And the one vat Orodan was personally empowering beyond what the enchantments could provide, it was glowing with power, looking to be on the verge of explosion.

“L-let’s step back, shall we?”

“Did he break the machine…?”

“He’s some sort of mage!”

“Shut it!” the lead alchemist silenced. “Mister Wainwright, what are you doing? The indicators and readings we’re getting are off the charts!”

“I empowered it,” Orodan said, a droplet of sweat rolling down his forehead as he focused on retaining control over this one vat that it could safely cool down without exploding.

Even though the process had concluded, the substance within was simply too volatile and full of energy.

“Let me check-”

“No. In fact, you need to find the strongest container you have, ideally one with a perfect seal. And you need to do it now,” Orodan ordered as he immediately produced his broom in his free hand.

Truly, whoever had designed the original formula for this substance had done an excellent job. Most other things Orodan empowered had an upper limit to how much they could scale via energy empowerment. He hadn’t expected the alkahest to so greedily absorb whatever power Orodan offered.

And Orodan had also perhaps gone a little overboard too. Something which was now coming back to bite him in the rear.

The problem was that the vats weren’t perfectly airtight. And neither were the overly bulky protective suits the alchemists had on or the warded workshop itself. However they were airtight enough, with the margin for error being acceptable by the standards of what they were working with.

The rare alkahest particle, by the time it got through the air filters, lost most of its potency.

That was…

…for regular alkahest.

This monstrous concoction Orodan had empowered beyond the bounds of reason however, was an entirely different beast.

Three glowing particles of Orodan’s modified alkahest, rumbling with barely contained power, wafted out the vat, finding their way through the imperfect seal. Orodan drew all three of them towards himself via Domain of Perfect Cleaning.

And immediately, his body paid the price.

[Acid Resistance 41 → Acid Resistance 44]

A gaping hole in his torso appeared as the flesh dissolved instantly and immediately. Harmony of Vitality worked to repair the damage almost instantly, and yet… there were two more particles.

He constantly drew these towards himself, and his body was ravaged. His flesh evaporated, consigned to non-existence. Domain of Perfect Cleaning could manipulate the particles towards himself easily enough, but Orodan had to pay close attention and draw them towards himself in a manner where the damage didn’t cause his hand to lose contact with the vat.

If he lost control of this vat… Port Bellgrave and possibly all of the Ironhaven Isles would die. The surrounding thousand miles would be devoid of life before this modified monstrosity he’d created lost potency.

Thankfully, Domain of Perfect Cleaning managed to keep the remainder of the concoction within the vat while the lead alchemist rushed to get something.

All the while, over the thirty seconds that the man took to return, Orodan gained five more levels in Acid Resistance as his body was disintegrated by the stupidly strong substance.

“Out of the way! Sealant coming through!” the lead alchemist shouted.

A strange and gelatinous substance was thrown onto the vat. The goopy material adhered to the vat, sealing all the minute openings in, and only then did Orodan feel safe knowing that the container was entirely and perfectly airtight.

The remaining three particles ravaging Orodan slowed and gradually lost their power over the course a minute. Until finally, the damage he suffered slowed as a message came.

[Acid Resistance 49 → Acid Resistance 50]

With their power bled off, Orodan felt safe using his broom to see them as dirty. And instead of the acid purging him, he eradicated the three stray acid particles from existence outright.

“By the King’s grace… Mister Wainwright… what was that?” the lead alchemist asked, too terrified to step near the vat himself.

Even a majority of the other alchemists had since fled the room.

A mad grin was upon Orodan’s face.

“Alkahest. A very, very potent version of it. Best not let it get loose lest it destroy all of the Ironhaven Isles.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the gravity of what Orodan had made. Immediately his face turned serious as he whipped his hand out.

“You! You and you! You three are now on permanent guard duty for the array! Nobody touches it, anyone comes close, you shoot them on sight!”

“But we’re not soldiers sir…”

‘You are if you want to live! Do you understand what will happen if the array is modified so that the alkahest dissolves inorganic material as well? We’re all going to die,” the leader of the south tower explained coldly. “News of what’s happened here isn’t to leave the tower, are we clear? I’ll have anyone disobeying this order shot for treason.”

The assistant alchemists looked frightened but nodded.

The man then walked to the side and produced a communications pendant, sending out a message.

“Sergeant. An order of secrecy is hereby invoked for the south tower. Nobody is to enter or leave. Double the watch and shoot anyone attempting to exit until we’ve sorted the matter out, inform the fort commander as well,” the man said and then walked over to a hand-sized magic formation on the wall which he activated. Orodan felt an anti-communications ward emerge upon its activation. “There, no concern of word leaking to pesky uninvolved parties now.”

A lot of failsafes and layers of information security.

“It need not be that serious,” Orodan assuaged, and then put his hand out to calm the man when he seemed outraged at the insinuation that this wasn’t an important matter. “Not to say this concoction isn’t dangerous, it certainly is; keep its existence secret if you must. But I wouldn’t let any hairs turn gray over the activation of the array which directs what materials the alkahest should dissolve. The substance contains energy enough that the array you have shouldn’t be capable of directing it.”

In other words, the lead alchemist was also a Master-level poison mage who could use the array to instead the alkahest to dissolve metal or inorganic things. Orodan’s modified alkahest though was simply too strong for such a basic array to affect. Unless somebody else with titanic power reserves came along, the array wasn’t the risk here.

“Hmm… I suppose that takes some of the worry off my shoulders,” the man said and then gestured for Orodan to step to the side where the junior alchemists wouldn’t hear their conversation. He then frowned while jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “This entire mess is your fault.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that,” Orodan replied. “But this is what you wanted, right?”

“That… I did. I just wasn’t expecting a weapon of mass destruction to be created by someone with the power of a Transcendent. Lady Treadway, while a renowned fate reader and among the most powerful of her level… is but a Grandmaster,” the alchemist said. “You’re not really her assistant, are you?”

“If I wasn’t would you go raising a fuss about it?”

“The sword and shield beneath your cloak tell me Alchemy isn’t your main occupation. I have a sense of self-preservation and will choose to watch my mouth accordingly,” the man said. “Now then… how do we wrap up this mess?”

“Isn’t the answer simple? We continue working. I did say I’d help you meet your quota, did I not?”

“You… want to work at a time like this?”

“What better time to work? I’ll hold off on making a modified alkahest until we can solve the issue of storage, and you have nine vats of regular alkahest already do you not?” Orodan asked.

Plus, with this alkahest production out of the way, the south tower could then focus on getting Clyburn the supplies he needed.

And more importantly…

…what if Orodan took a bath in this modified alkahest? The possibilities for training were endless.

Hells, perhaps he could even take some with him for training purposes.

#

The first floor of the west tower was a little less populated than it was the last time Orodan had visited.

Compared to the fourteen engineers he’d seen working then, now, only thirteen remained. One particular saboteur had been put out of service. These thirteen though, were working with gusto; affiliated with Clyburn’s engineering guild and loyal to the man. And even Clyburn Anderthorn himself seemed far less stressed, which undoubtedly contributed to the improved morale of his underlings.

A large slab of metal went flying across the room, landing upon an empty table with a bang.

“Component ready,” he called out

“Thanks Mister Orodan!” Fenton cried back.

“Could you stop throwing things around like a cretin? You’re a large oaf with big muscles, we get it,” Luetta scolded, her eyes glowing a subtle sheen of gold as she focused on trying to scry Orodan’s fate. “It’s distracting.”

“Learning to work through distractions is part of any well-rounded training regimen.”

He then flexed the spinning shield of soul energy he had around his fate, causing the canvas around Orodan to briefly shake.

[Fate Disconnect 72 → Fate Disconnect 73]

And he heard a soft grunt in response. Insidious infiltration and unwanted fate reading thwarted yet again.

“Despite the headaches, I admit this is causing me to gain levels in my Bloodline skill relatively quickly,” Luetta said. “Quite the multitasker you are.”

“No sense in wasting time doing things one-by-one. Gathering everything here and working in tandem is the most efficient course of action,” Orodan said.

He then poured himself a cup of alkahest, throwing it back quickly as the horrid acid slightly dissolved the cells of his mouth but didn’t cause enough damage for it to leak out.

[Acid Resistance 50 → Acid Resistance 51]

Getting past the Adept-level in the skill had done wonders for his ability to withstand acid. Of course, this was the normal alkahest he was drinking and not his cataclysmic modified version. Orodan was reckless on a good day, but even he had some sense of responsibility to not risk bringing that lethal tonic out near others.

After the ruckus he had caused, the south tower naturally went under lockdown. The fort commander had arrived, eyed him suspiciously and looked at the lead alchemist rather obviously covering for him even more suspiciously. Still, alongside Luetta Treadway and Clyburn Anderthorn vouching for him, the woman wasn’t impractical enough to start casting too much suspicion on a good thing.

He had exceeded the alchemists’ quota six times over, limited only by their lack of ability to store more alkahest. This in turn had led to the happy man gladly oversupplying the west tower and Clyburn with whatever was needed. Happy alchemist, happy engineer, happy fate reader. Commander Westerlin was a pragmatic woman and had simply shaken her head and walked away after giving him one last appraising look of doubt.

Now, progress on Clyburn Anderthorn’s project was proceeding at a decent clip.

The clang of his fist hitting a metal part echoed through the tower, his other hand underneath it, heating the metal.

[Blacksmithing 61 → Blacksmithing 62]

Orodan then pressed the component into perfect shape. It was forged well, far stronger an alloy than any he’d seen here.

It wasn’t that Lonvoron had bad metallurgy; the steam knights and metallic vehicles were certainly sturdy enough. But their durability came from enchantment and not raw material strength. Metallurgy here was of a more industrial bent, produced through steam forges and heavy machinery, lacking the touch of a skilled artisan. He couldn’t recall meeting a singular blacksmith here across any of his loops.

Alastaian metalworking was far superior. This in turn meant that unlike many of the other crafts upon this world, in this case it was Orodan who had much to offer.

Fenton was a genius at Enchanting and had a devious mind for Engineering too, but the honest work of sweating over metal was something the lad had no particular knack for. Orodan, even with his sub-par talent in the skill, was already showing the people of the fort what a skilled blacksmith could do.

Many of the metallic components had been a little inadequate. Orodan had taken to reforging the outer parts of the pillar and doing them entirely anew. This had the benefit of making the device sturdier, but it also made Fenton’s job of Enchanting it smoother.

“I still think you should let me disassemble the core of the pillar and reforge it anew,” Orodan said.

“I respect you Mister Wainwright, but absolutely not. The core enchantments are simply too valuable to lose until I have some form of backup,” Clyburn said. “Fenton has certainly proved his worth, but I still will not risk something good enough for the unsecured possibility of a better product. Not when we have but three months.”

Orodan wouldn’t force the man. But in the back of his mind he thought that nothing stopped him and Fenton from simply building a brand-new pillar from the ground up.

The Pillar of Purification, it was called. Orodan initially hadn’t paid enough attention to the tall metallic structure running from the tower’s first floor all the way to the top. Being from Alastaia and having seen a similar concept, he’d assumed that the pillar was one part of a relay meant to drain the Eldritch.

Orodan had assumed incorrectly.

Instead, and quite impressively, the pillar was an entirely self-contained device which when activated was meant to drain Eldritch from a hundred mile area. Lonvoron’s battle against the plague would reverse course immediately if such a thing was successfully deployed. The real struggle during land battles against a plague world was the absolute horde of lesser corrupted creatures they sent out. The land, animals and very trees became corrupted over time.

Alkahest was a scorched earth weapon, rendering the ground lifeless. It couldn’t be used to deal with the Eldritch en masse and was even toxic for the wielder if used too gratuitously. Masses of guns and artillery, while effective, couldn’t stopper such a tide indefinitely.

The Pillar of Purification then would be Lonvoron and the Blackworth Collective’s savior. And most importantly, it provided Orodan an excellent method of dealing with the Eldritch without having to expose his Celestial skill and prematurely end the loop.

He drew a pebble from his dimensional ring and chucked it at Fenton’s head.

The boy moved his head to the side with nary a thought, turning back with a pleased grin.

Orodan’s follow-up pebble knee-capped him.

“Eyes open and stay light on your feet. No sense in having Mana Sense if your legs are rooted and you’re not ready to dodge with them,” Orodan reminded as the lad clutched his knee but recovered without any complaints. Good lad. “How’s the progress on that component going?”

“It’s goin’ good ser! One more pass and it’ll be ready for tackin’ on to the rest o’ the pillar,” Fenton answered, focusing on freeform enchanting the metal plate in front of him.

“Good. Continue focusing and pushing each pass as far as you can, even if you feel like you’re going to faint. It’s a good method of expanding your mana pool. I’ll wake you up if you do collapse, it’s a good learning experience and teaches you the exact limits of your body,” Orodan instructed.

“Aye ser!”

“That can’t be safe…” Luetta muttered.

“Draining the mana pool all the way to the bottom won’t kill him,” Orodan retorted.

“But it might cause harm if he does it too many times.”

“Ordinarily, yes. But he’s on a special diet and I’m monitoring his health closely,” Orodan said and then turned to Clyburn, passing him an exceptionally well-forged sprocket. “Try that one instead.”

“This…! The reinforcement of the joint would be…!”

“Yes, yes, just slot it in and be excited afterwards,” Orodan urged. Someone he’d been keeping tabs on at the expense of a constant headache was approaching. “Hmm… I thought you got rid of that worm.”

“What worm?” Clyburn asked.

“The one called Eliezer. I see he’s stalking back here, two people in tow,” Orodan said identifying them through the walls via Vision of Purity.

After Fenton and Orodan had proven their worth, the chief engineer of the Ironhaven Isles had gotten rid of Eliezer as part of his slimming down of the useless workforce he’d had prior. The man had gone all-in on siding with Luetta and the assistance her two associated helpers provided.

Clyburn was confused, yet the door to the west tower opened all the same, revealing three figures. Behind them, a pair of intimidated guards who looked rather helpless and unable to stop these guests from entering.

One, the former assistant engineer who Orodan decidedly didn’t like. The other, a well-dressed old man in extravagant finery wearing all manner of enchanted items. He was without a doubt rich. And the third, a middle-aged man who was rather non-descript.

“Lord Morvale…” Clyburn muttered, unwilling to meet the old man’s eyes. However, the resentment and hatred in his tone was evident.

“Clyburn! It does my old heart well to see you dear boy! I was just thinking about you and hoped it not too impudent to pay a visit,” the old man, Lord Morvale, said. There was something insincere and weasel-like about his tone of voice. “And if it isn’t little Luetta, your parents were just speaking to me the other day about you.”

The fate reader’s face turned red; hostility evident upon it.

“What are you here for?” she curtly asked. “Has Castle Ironpeak bored you, my lord.”

“Such a rude tone to take with your elders but speak as you wish girl. I’ve merely come to check in on dear Clyburn here once I heard he’d slashed half his research team. Was it frustration at a lack of results? Poor financial management catching up? I simply wished to ensure he was alright with my own eyes,” Lord Morvale said. “Of course… there was also the radical thought that Lady Luetta Treadway had secured aid for him. The strangest rumor reached my ear, that an indentured servant capable of enchanting has entered your employ. Would that be true?”

“If it is, I do not see how that’s any business of yours Lord Morvale,” Luetta spoke up.

“Oh but it very much is my business. Particularly when dear Clyburn owes me a debt of a three-thousand crown pieces and under the debt-repayment plan he’s agreed to, allows me to appropriate certain assets of his; indentured servants among them,” Lord Morvale said, looking at Fenton. “Come lad, you’ll be treated far better in my employ than a fort like this can provide. You must be talented, working with Clyburn at your age. Castle Ironpeak has resources the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

“I’m sorry ser… but I can’t. My place is here with Misters Orodan and Clyburn,” Fenton resolutely said.

“I’m a lord boy, not a sir. I see you haven’t learned your manners as of yet. No matter, that can be rectified through discipline once you’re at the castle,” Lord Morvale threatened. “In any case, the matter isn’t for you to decide. Your contract will soon belong to me and-”

“Except, it doesn’t. Because the contract no longer belongs to Clyburn… or anyone for that matter,” Luetta said, producing a parchment and practically throwing it at the old man. “Fenton’s contract was bought out and paid for in full by me.”

Lord Morvale’s eyes narrowed as he read the fine print.

“Hmm... dated for yesterday morning too. It seems the legal order I’d drafted will be refused at the registrar. Clever of you to get involved so early, well played Luetta,” Lord Morvale admitted. “So it seems the boy’s not an indentured servant any longer, but that’s irrelevant in the face of the legal trouble I can drag you through.”

“You have no legal axe to hang above my head, Lord Morvale,” Luetta reminded. “What are you on about?”

“Not you… but dear Clyburn here. And not me, but the employees he has so unjustly terminated without due cause.”

“…what?! My employment contracts have always had exit clauses upon my discretion!” Clyburn yelled and then glared at Eliezer and the other man accompanying Lord Morvale. “You! I hired you as a freelance enchanter and then ended the contract, what game are you playing at attempting to drag me into a legal battle?”

“I can’t say Sir Clyburn… I feel I’ve been wronged is all,” the man said, sweating a bit, the lie evident.

“This is outrageous! I’ve never once run afoul of the law in my life! Your case will be thrown out the moment it reaches the judge!” Clyburn declared.

“Perhaps… but can you afford the lawyer fees such a thing will incur? Especially when you’re already in such dire straits? I hear your guild is in deep waters financially and a failure here could well jeopardize your position as chief engineer for the isles,” Lord Morvale reminded in a disingenuously friendly tone. “It could all go away if you simply agreed to my offer.”

“I’m not providing you the blueprints for my version of the pillar!” Clyburn shouted. “You fear the possibility of my success, which is why you stifle me at every turn. Even if I agreed to your proposal what’s to stop you from seeing me fired and my guild disbanded out of spite afterwards?”

“And who has kept you afloat all this time while you gambled with ventures above your talent?” the old man reminded. “If you didn’t want to be put into debt, you shouldn’t have exhausted your funds trying to compete for the Crown’s open order for a plague-killing device. In any case, you can hope to see my legal team soon.”

“No, Lord Morvale,” a woman called out, walking into the tower from behind him. “I believe it shall be you meeting my legal team.”

The old man’s face took on a dirty frown as he turned around.

“Countess Primrose… happened to be paying a visit, did you?”

“Indeed. And then I happened to overhear the leader of the Ironhaven enchanter’s guild threatening to drag my beneficiary through a costly legal battle. I cannot have that, can I?” the elegantly dressed woman, Countess Primrose said. “You’ll find that I have no worries about bearing the costs of a legal battle. I have on-retainer, people well-trained in legalese within my estate.”

“I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome and the purpose of our visit has been rendered moot,” Lord Morvale said, walking out and beckoning his two tagalongs to follow. “We shall meet again dear Clyburn. And Primrose… I hope we don’t meet again.”

The arrogant noble and his two paid cronies left, the room silent for a few moments afterward.

“What a prick…” Fenton muttered.

“Vulgar words, but I concur,” Countess Primrose said. “Clyburn. I see this place is looking a lot better than it was the last time I paid a visit. It seems the rumors I heard weren’t inaccurate. Solicited an industrious little prodigy have you?”

“Er, yes my lady. Young Fenton, and of course, Mister Orodan here as well.”

“Fenton and who? Come, don’t speak nonsense,” she said.

Clyburn and Luetta looked rather bewildered at the woman’s response, but it was Fenton who caught on and realized what was occurring.

“Right, thank you miss Primrose,” Fenton said, trying to shift the topic elsewhere. “Bit crowded in here ain’t it? How’s about we chat in Mister Clyburn’s office?”

“Oh how adorable! It’s been so long since anyone’s called me miss, come Clyburn, you must tell me of all that’s been going on and how you met this little sweetling…”

Fenton and Clyburn left, with the boy giving Orodan a look which conveyed that the lad would try to keep his secret under wraps. Orodan appreciated it, but it wouldn’t be necessary. Incipience of Infinity would cause any affected by it to get angry at the insistence that they question it. And Orodan didn’t plan on keeping it active upon Primrose Lawson for long anyways.

“You’ve learned. It seems having half the galaxy coming after you was a good lesson.”

That, Orodan would agree with. Not that he feared half the galaxy or even the entire universe coming after him but remaining clandestine was important during this long loop. The less people saying the name Orodan Wainwright, the better. Those he had a mutually beneficial arrangement with? Not an issue. They’d only be shooting themselves in the foot by ratting him out. Nobles and unaffiliated parties though? Orodan knew that they had large information networks and methods of getting word to spread quickly.

The last thing he needed was for the previous looper to catch wind of him before he could discover their identity. It was why he’d used Incipience of Infinity upon the three guests and Primrose Lawson.

Luetta however was suspicious.

“I must profess some surprise that neither Lord Morvale nor the Countess Primrose paid you any mind, Mister Wainwright. Your heft is a bit eye-catching,” Luetta remarked.

[Incipience of Infinity 135 → Incipience of Infinity 136]

“Hmm, perhaps he was too scared to look,” Orodan replied.

Luetta rolled her eyes at what she thought was boasting, but really, Orodan had Incipience of Infinity active upon two of the three men as soon as they’d neared the tower. And for Eliezer… Orodan had been suffering a persistent headache but had it active ever since the man left Clyburn’s service. It was good training, and thankfully the former assistant engineer had never left Port Bellgrave else Orodan would’ve lost him. The island and perhaps a few miles out, seemed to be the upper limit of Orodan’s range to applying the disguise and intimidation aspects of Incipience of Infinity. So far at least.

Why had he done it? Good training aside, Orodan wasn’t blind to the fact that he was a threatening man. Eliezer would certainly report his existence to his backers, and word would travel, and soon enough odds were an inquisitor or investigation would come by; especially if the crown suspected an undocumented otherworlder.

If this Lord Morvale sought to cause Clyburn trouble in regard to Fenton, then the man would almost certainly do the same by trying to look deeper into Orodan’s identity.

“Anyhow, I’ll return in a few hours but need to head out for now,” Orodan said.

“Well, I trust you shan’t get lost. Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Going for a little swim.”

A swim to a nearby island that was. Now that Lord Morvale and Eliezer had failed to cause trouble, they would be returning to their base of operations.

Castle Ironpeak.

Eliezer had tried sabotaging Clyburn’s Pillar of Purification on Lord Morvale’s behalf; a nefarious act. But… sabotage and subterfuge were games which went both ways. The old man had come to cause trouble but instead would now find out what it felt like to be on the receiving end of it.

Perhaps it was time to see how much sabotage Orodan could get up to.

#

[New Skill → Swimming 16]

It wasn’t too difficult. Orodan had swam before and fought things in the water, but Lonvoron was the longest period of time he’d spent swimming. Naturally, his existing understanding of his physical form and body mechanics was high. Thus, like Halberd Mastery, it came as no surprise that Orodan started off with a decent level in it.

He cut through the water like a fish, his casual arm strokes causing giant tidal waves on the ocean surface. Sea life fled at the sight of this weird creature alien to the sea causing such turbulence.

Until finally, he caught up with the boat he’d allowed to gain a bit of distance. Orodan swam beneath it, hanging onto the underside as it sailed onwards, belching steam as it rived through the water. He didn’t need to breathe, and this was an easier way of approaching Castle Ironpeak than directly swimming to it.

Even from beneath the water’s surface, his hearing allowed him to pick up on what the inhabitants were saying.

“Hmm? Cap’n, sensor’s showing something clinging to the keel.”

“Eh? Probably just a bottom feeder, a little big for it… or a shark riding the current, let the thing catch a break. The sea will get angry at us if we bother the life within it.”

The sailors aboard the vessel agreed that it was nothing out of the ordinary. Aquatic creatures often rode the undercarriages of seafaring vessels. And while something larger might’ve been seen as a threat, a human hanging on wouldn’t be considered a problem. Not when the ship’s sensors thought him a fish.

The sailors weren’t the only ones chattering however. The inhabitants of the luxury cabin, Orodan’s targets, were in the midst of a conversation of their own.

“Did you manage to get a look at the pillar? Any changes?”

“Yes Lord Morvale… I don’t know how he’s done it, but the entire outer layer of enchantments is gone,” the swindling freelance enchanter said. “I tried to make the design as flawed as I could right from when he hired me, but I saw no evidence of my work at all. Clyburn Anderthorn appears to have started from square one once more, maintaining only the core enchantments he came to Port Bellgrave with.”

“His team of engineers are incompetent; they simply will not get things done in an appreciable amount of time. With only three months left there is simply no way the man produces a functional product,” Eliezer Brackenshaw said. “At least all those months spent stifling his work weren’t for nothing. My lord? You look concerned…”

“Clyburn Anderthorn is a genius, but without the appropriate support and logistics, he cannot succeed. Yet… in my long life as a Grandmaster-level enchanter never have I seen enchantments of such astonishing quality. Who is his backer? It cannot be that wretched Primrose, she has no connection to any of the enchanting guilds,” Lord Morvale said. “Unless… unless…”

“The boy?” Eliezer finished. “He’s but a base-born rat from scrap town. How can-”

“Some of the greatest talents of the Collective have come from low origins. Underestimate them at your own peril if you must, but knowing how to harness them has always brought prosperity to the wise,” the old noble lectured. “Still, that boy seems firmly in Clyburn’s camp. Feh! If only that fool had taken me up on my offer, he could have had it all!”

“We still have our own bid at the Pillars of Purification project my lord. Our teams have been making some progress on building the arrays, and with just seven pillars we estimate the ability to drain over a third of the plague from any given area of fifty miles. A massive boon for the crown’s armies fighting in the dead zone! Surely the King will reward your house and guild for such an achievement!”

Pillars? Seven of them? By the hells, no wonder Lord Morvale was so concerned about Clyburn Anderthorn. What the man’s device could potentially achieve with a singular pillar, this rival bid could only match for a third with seven of their own devices. An ambitious device that was doomed to failure without the aid of Orodan and Fenton… but with them, who knew what could be achieved?

“Once we’re back to Castle Ironpeak, tell the enchanters and engineers that their funding is being doubled. Whatever the cost we must outperform Clyburn and his ragtag band. The future of the Ironhaven enchanter’s guild relies on it,” the noble said. “If we provide a good showing… the path to the capital may even open for us.”

Orodan hung onto the underside of the ship as it cut through the water.

Soon enough, Castle Ironpeak was in view.

“Hanger on’s been hitchin’ a ride with us the whole time eh?”

“Heh! Maybe it just wanted to pay the castle a visit, leave the fish be. My uncle always said hanger ons are a sign of good luck. Keeps the other predators away.”

Which was right, insofar as everything else for a mile had frantically swum for the deep sea trenches upon seeing him. It was possibly the safest sea journey in all Lonvoron.

Castle Ironpeak. It was the largest military installation upon the Ironhaven Isles and a center for trade, military activity and civilian traffic. It wasn’t inaccurate to say that the majority of sea and air traffic passing through the Isles made its way here.

Unlike Port Bellgrave, the island was far larger and had its own name, Bexon Island. Of course, nobody bothered using the name, instead colloquially referring to the destination as Castle Ironpeak.

Lord Morvale’s ship hissed, belching steam as it began the process of docking. Castle Ironpeak had a connected city, a hub of trade, tourism and civilian traffic. Yet it wasn’t the civilian docks in the city that this ship had docked at, but the castle-side docks themselves which were meant only for military ships and approved nobility.

The noble and his two cronies disembarked, and as they did, Orodan pushed off the undercarriage of the boat yet remained underwater.

He didn’t need visual line of sight to see, Vision of Purity worked just fine even while he was hidden beneath the water’s surface. Of course, immediately Orodan felt the pulse of a magical sensor washing over him, and he instinctively reacted by temporarily slipping into the pores of the dimensional boundary as the pulse washed over where he was in the material plane.

[Dimensional Step 22 → Dimensional Step 23]

[Dimensionalism 74 → Dimensionalism 75]

Good thing he’d been training with Talricto and had gotten into the mindset of such movements. Dimensional Step in particular was good for not just travel but avoiding attacks and scans.

Most importantly though, Orodan had seen and felt where that pulse had come from. Atop the tallest tower of Castle Ironpeak, was a woman wielding a somewhat comically oversized rifle. Her eyes were hawk-like, scanning the horizon like a predatory bird of prey. Nothing appeared to escape her gaze, and it was her sending out periodic pulses meant to detect things in the surroundings.

A Transcendent rifle-wielder. A lethal deterrent for any would-be attackers, and Orodan had heard whispers that this gray-haired sharpshooter was a famous figure responsible for many contributions towards ending the historic age of piracy.

Fighting and besting her wasn’t the issue. Getting into the castle stealthily while avoiding her notice was. And Orodan was too stubborn to miss the opportunity for Stealth training by knocking her out or using Incipience of Infinity.

Multiple mechanical birds hovered the air too. This truly would have to be a ghostly entry, with no soldiers being knocked out lest the overwatching Transcendent discover it.

Orodan’s first order of business then, was to get as close to the walls as possible, preferably near a spot where the overwatching sharpshooter was blind, and then scale them.

He swam about, reaching the north section of the wall with the steepest climb, before he surfaced his head. He was on the side of the keep obscured to her, and it was a good spot to climb if he could somehow distract the Elite-level sentry keeping watch over the waters on this side.

The skies were clear, lightning would have been suspicious and the Transcendent on overwatch seemed like a no-nonsense woman likely to jump to alarm. No birds in the air either, the fort must have shot them down or driven them away. Well…

…no living birds at least.

[Commandment of War 38 → Commandment of War 39]

The steam-powered mechanical birds flying about weren’t exactly manipulable with the skill; they had no real desire to go towards him after all. But the winds however, they certainly existed. And a powerful enough gust could manipulate one of the birds to hit something.

Orodan’s mind worked to calculate all the little factors, angles and trajectories, and as the bird neared the top of the keep… he commanded the winds to converge towards it in such a way that it was nudged slightly off-course.

Just enough that it hit a loose rock on the keep’s roof, which then skipped down…

…right onto the Elite sentry’s head.

“Ow! What the…?”

Orodan immediately began his climb, using the two seconds of distraction to swiftly scale the steep wall of the keep and enter through an open window.

[Stealth 29 → Stealth 30]

[New Title → Stealth Apprentice]

Entry successful.

His ears were sharp, and he could hear people speaking all across Castle Ironpeak. Most importantly though, the Transcendent sharpshooter at the very top.

“Report soldier, what was that sound?” the old woman asked.

“Just a loose rock the damned bird dislodged madam. Landed right on my head.”

“Hmm…”

Immediately, three swift pulses meant to scan the surroundings shot out one after the other. The mana went through walls, landscape and the water, seeking to find anything amiss. And it was only the timely and deft usage of three rapid Dimensional Steps which allowed Orodan to avoid them.

[Dimensional Step 23 → Dimensional Step 24]

“…I suppose everything appears fine. Eyes back to the water, stay sharp. Stupid mechanical birds, back in my day we just scouted raw, as real soldiers should. None of these dumb toys…”

An acute sense of hearing too. Orodan would have to take care to remain silent as well.

On the bright side, he was inside the castle, and there wasn’t a lot of security within. Most of the detection measures relied upon the sentries and lookouts with the Transcendent-level overwatch and her detection skill sweeping the area once every minute.

He snuck past the odd soldier or castle staff on the interior and made his way further inwards until he reached what was the designated wing of the castle for crafters. The door was guarded by two menacing steam knights, a superior model in comparison to the standard one. And even if the two steam-powered automatons didn’t have much intelligence or perception, the guards standing alongside them however did.

“Inquisitor? You’re here to do an inspection ser?”

“Yes, let me through. I bear the badge of the High Inquisitor himself,” the man wearing a long dark trench coat adorned with multiple guns said. The guards let him pass.

This man was one of the Blackworth Collective’s inquisitors. Specialized agents trained to ferret out Eldritch.

Except, Orodan frowned. He looked closer, and there was simply no mistaking it. It wasn’t apparent at first, quite subtle, but…

“Eldritch… ironic that an inquisitor would be corrupted so,” Zaessythra said.

Indeed. He’d entered Castle Ironpeak for the purpose of sabotaging Lord Morvale, but to now encounter an Eldritch-infected inquisitor here too? The matter merited further investigation.

Still, while the inquisitor was allowed in, Orodan certainly wasn’t. Getting in without some form of magic wouldn’t be easy when steam knights and guards were present. Of course, he refused to shirk the challenge.

Supplies were being carried back and forth through the entryway. Crates of weapons, boxes of components, vats of alchemical solutions. They had to come and go from somewhere.

He peered around the corner, a large materials room for the storage and assessment of whatever went into or out of the crafters’ wing.

“Careful with that vat, it’s alkahest, load it onto the carriers’ back. Gently or else they’ll never find our corpses! Lazy bastards forgot to top this vat off completely and it doesn’t meet regulations, it needs to be sent back to the alchemists.”

The workers gently placed a large man-sized vat of alkahest into the arms of a metallic golem. It was of a similar construction to a steam knight but built for manual labor and the movement of items.

There was his chance!

Orodan took advantage of the moment when the automaton carrier was away from any prying eyes to open the lid and hop in.

[Acid Resistance 51 → Acid Resistance 52]

A most pleasant bath and an accompanying skill level too. Even if his skin flaked and prickled at the full body immersion into such an acidic substance. Furthermore, Orodan went a step further and began using Commandment of War to direct the concoction to thoroughly soak him.

Good way to gain skill levels, however ordinary alkahest was beginning to grow ineffective against him.

The steam carrier however was unaware of what had entered the container it was carrying. The automaton mindlessly marched onwards, approaching the entrance to the crafters’ wing of Ironpeak.

“Again? That’s the third vat old Silas sent back today… those greasy loons are really trying to cheat the crown, aren’t they?”

“None of our business, let it through already. Just wish this damn shift would end… time’s been dragging all day today. Nothing’s happened at all!”

“Careful what you wish for,” Orodan thought.

A minute of minor sizzling and a quick Dimensional Step to avoid a scanning pulse later, he was put down in an alchemists’ workshop.

“Again?! That blasted supply master…!”

“Sir please… calm down. You’ll tear the lab apart again if you-”

“Port bloody Bellgrave somehow provides six times their quota and now the rest of us are suddenly expected to keep up just so we can make Lord Morvale look good?! Damn it all! We don’t have the equipment, and I can’t make the time on these vats go any faster!”

Orodan left the frustrated alchemist and his scared underling to themselves as he slipped out the vat and exited the laboratory. He wasn’t here to sabotage everything, only the people who’d tried targeting Fenton. The alchemists had done him no wrong.

The enchanters’ guild under the leadership of Morvale however, had. Orodan rounded another corner to enter their workshop.

It was quite the large department, far larger than the alchemists’ laboratory. There were several departments within too. One for the efficient and mass enchantment of all the firearms produced by the gunsmithy. Another for the manufacture of steam knights. And yet one more for items of high value.

The prior two departments had junior enchanters working them as the products to be enchanted weren’t as critical. The third however were where all the Elite-level and higher enchanters were working. Rows upon rows of enchanted guns, rifles and trinkets. Valuable items all, meant to be sold to wealthy clientele or perhaps even custom made for an exorbitant price.

“Ser inquisitor? An honor to have one of your order here, but are there any concerns?” an overseer asked.

“Quite. This device for purification you have, I need to see it,” the infected inquisitor asked.

“Ser? Does Lord Morvale’s project have anything to do with inquisitorial affairs?” the overseer asked.

“It concerns the destruction of the plague, does it not? Of course it has much to do with the inquisition. Take me to see it.”

The overseer and inquisitor went deeper inwards, leaving him behind.

Was that why Orodan had never seen these devices used during his first loop on Lonvoron? Had the Prophet and it corrupted agents managed to sabotage every project? In a sense, the inquisitor was here to do the same thing Orodan was… which was the sabotage of Lord Morvale’s work. Of course, Orodan believed in pushing Fenton to his best, thus he had never planned on destroying this rival project, if only so that Fenton could display his talent and beat it fair and square.

Yet now that he knew the Eldritch wanted it gone, Orodan was even more determined to prevent it out of spite. If there was one thing he detested above all, it was the particular brand of infectious Eldritch tied to the Prophet. They and their ‘truth’ could go burn in the hells.

He spotted a nearby unworn coat - its wearer taking a break and sobbing in the corner from being overworked - and threw it on. Of course, with it being at least two sizes smaller the sight was a comical one, and he was sure to be discovered quickly if he didn’t act with the element of surprise.

But how could he avoid standing out, especially when he was twice the size of some of these scrawny enchanters?

By causing a bigger distraction.

“Damn… I can’t get a handle on this enchantment at all…”

“Look, you’re doing it wrong, just add a line here and it’ll work out. Might be a little explosive though,” Orodan said, helping the girl.

“E-explosive? Hey wait, what’re you-”

The rifle caught on fire, spreading to the wooden table as Orodan modified the enchantment to produce a little too much heat for boiling the steam. He quickly slipped away to the corner of the room immediately after.

[Stealth 30 → Stealth 31]

“Stupid apprentice! Did you try modifying the enchantment?! Someone turn on the sprinkler!”

A few veteran enchanters came by to look, and amidst the confusion Orodan snuck into the area in which they were working, acting though he was one of them. He threw the hood of the enchanter’s jacket over his face too, simply so it took them longer to realize something was amiss.

It was time for some sabotage.

He quickly walked across, his hands glowing with mana as he began performing freeform enchanting upon the items, adding failures to as many works as he could. Swords with enchantments of sharpness were rendered dull, handcrafted rifles meant for wealthy clientele and elite mercenaries had the steam-powering enchantments set to cool rather than heat, and jewelry had the enchantments outright scrambled.

He wasn’t as good or fast as Fenton was at the craft, but Orodan could cause a decent bit of malicious damage quite quickly if he so chose. The enchanters of Lonvoron used magical pens and quills to enchant, similar to those of Alastaia. This meant that Orodan waving his hands around the works wasn’t immediately noticed as tampering with them.

After ruining over two-thirds of the completed works, someone frowned.

“Who’s that? Is he… one of ours? Never seen him…”

“Assessing the completed works? Is he an overseer? Why is he wearing a hood? It’s far too small for him too.”

“Hey, he’s headed towards the project room. Maybe he’s involved with that? Let’s call Lord Morvale to verify…”

Orodan knew when to leave well enough alone. Enough subtle damage had been inflicted that he was satisfied. A decent enchanter would recognize that these pieces were flawed, but for the pieces that weren’t identified as having issues… Lord Morvale’s reputation would be severely damaged. In any case, a recall and the delay of sale was expected at minimum, which would be a huge setback.

He quickly entered the open door leading to the project room where the inquisitor and overseer were. He gently shut the door behind him so nobody would see what was going on inside from the workshop. The overseer turned back to see who’d closed it, but Orodan had already snuck behind a pillar to hide.

The man shrugged and continued on, assuming someone from outside had closed the door.

It was a large room with seven decently sized pillars spread out surrounding an array. At a glance Orodan realized these devices were of inferior make to Clyburn’s singular pillar. The enchantments on them were basic and nothing to write home about either. The array followed a similar concept to what he’d seen on his home world where Novar’s Peak had drained the Eldritch. The pillars pulled the corruption in, and it would then be stored within an array.

Of course, the problem lay in the fact that this design hadn’t accounted for the Eldritch’s volatile nature. A mere array would not be able to contain it. Good steel and sturdy construction would be needed, which was what Clyburn’s version did better.

“Inquisitor, the seven pillars are designed to pull the plague inwards, and from there… it can be sealed in a magical array to be released in a controlled manner where we can burn it with alkahest over time,” the overseer explained. “Surely such a thing would be a great boon in territories your organization is attempting to purge?”

“Quite so, quite so. Come, show me the control mechanism for this array.”

“Ah yes, that would be in Lord Morvale’s office. He worked on the enchantments himself, if you shall follow me…”

Orodan crept behind them, however the ruckus in the enchanters’ area had been quite audible. Particularly for the keen ears of a certain Transcendent-level sharpshooter on overwatch.

Immediately, a dozen scanning pulses came forth.

[Dimensional Step 24 → Dimensional Step 25]

[Dimensionalism 75 → Dimensionalism 76]

It was a close thing, and Orodan was pushed to the limits of his ability to finely manipulate the dimensional forces, but he managed to skip himself in and out of the material plane in repeated succession in the narrow windows between each pulse.

His spars against Talricto were paying off. The dimensional phase spider had forced him to adopt a mindset of fine dexterity and finesse rather than simple brute force.

Of course, he could have taken the easy way out of stepping away altogether and returning when the coast was clear… but that would have been weak.

Still, the scans were but the first part of the paranoia he’d now aroused in Castle Ironpeak’s mightiest dweller.

“First the rock and now this? I’m going to go check on it, stay here and maintain watch.”

Orodan heard her speaking from the top of the castle. He didn’t have much time left.

“This must be the control array for the pillars, yes?” the inquisitor asked, his voice taking on a barely concealed and predatory tone.

“Er… yes? It’s not to be touched, Lord Morvale was quite adamant about that.”

“Truly? Such a shame then… for the spread of the truth cannot be halted.”

“T-truth? Wait you’re…!”

Just as the familiar purple-gray power of the Eldritch began to envelop the inquisitor’s fingers, a fist came down and knocked the frightened enchanter out cold.

The infected inquisitor, surprised at the sight of the overseer being knocked out, turned to get a look at the attacker. Twisting just in time to get a good view of a large palm enveloping his vision.

“Plague-ridden pest,” Orodan said, covering the infected mole’s face entirely so that he and by extension the Eldritch plague world core controlling him, couldn’t see Orodan’s face.

Thankfully, it seemed there was no active connection between this infected agent and any infected world core, else the disappearance would have been noticed right away and Orodan would’ve been forced to do things a different way.

Immediately, the corrupted agent fought back. Purplish-gray veins erupted on the man’s neck, his strength growing tremendously. Two plague-corrupted hands wrapped around Orodan’s neck…

…only for them to be casually slapped away by his free hand. A follow-up punch to the gut knocked the infected man out cleanly.

Yes, the Eldritch could grant great strength. But Orodan’s honest battles and toils around the cosmos had made him superior to such cheap methods of empowerment. Hard work would make one stronger than the Eldritch any day.

Now to see just how the infection had set in for this man…

“A foul power he’s drawing upon.”

Orodan looked up, ready to either attack or hide himself in-line with his mission…

…only to see a familiar eight-legged irritant hanging from the ceiling. One with a brand-new pocket watch and cane.

“…”

“What?”

“Talricto… dare I even ask the questions of how and why?” Orodan flatly queried.

“The how is obvious enough. Such a castle has trinkets aplenty, and I saw you trundling about like a brute and decided to join in. As for why? What better opportunity to secure even more treasures than when my simple-minded student is causing a distraction of his own? I wouldn’t bother searching the office safe if I were you, there were some nice pieces in there which now belong to me,” Talricto answered. “On another note, I pronounce your ostentatious avoidance of that detection pulse to be… adequate. Good work.”

“While I’m glad for the rare praise you’ve graciously bestowed, let’s focus on the matter at hand. This inquisitor… his plague wasn’t acquired naturally,” Orodan said. “It looks as though it came from within… from…”

“Another dimension. Yes, I can sense there’s a pathway to a greater place he draws strength from. Much like a fire elemental might draw from a plane of fire.”

That source was the Eldritch, obviously. But how had this man been infected? Orodan was struggling for an answer, when suddenly he recalled what had occurred during the battle for Alastaia when the Prophet had showed up.

A dimension of light, corrupted in an instant so that all who drew power from it became infected. The Conclave had all immediately fallen the moment the Prophet had played its hand back then.

The enchanted items on the man’s body, geared towards supporting light magic, added credence to Orodan’s assumptions.

“The inquisitor is a light mage…” Orodan muttered. “Of course. I knew it all along, but that must be how Eldritch agents have managed to infiltrate areas outside of the dead zone.”

Silestor Lumenarin and high-level Alastaian light mages, the knights and paladins of the Conclave, and now the inquisitors of Lonvoron… did all users of light magic eventually end up drawing from this elemental plane of light connected to the Prophet? The people of Lonvoron didn’t even know that the elemental plane of light that their mages drew from was corrupted. What a mess!

And a massive security breach too. Orodan wasn’t sure if even the previous looper was aware, or if the Prophet had successfully hidden this trump card. After all, it had only openly corrupted everything during the Battle for Alastaia when the crisis surrounding the time loop had reached its apex.

“You seem stressed, Orodan,” Talricto said, actually sounding somewhat concerned.

“Stressed isn’t quite the word. I know what I have to do… the only problem is that it’ll bring matters to a head and cause the descent of some powerful foes upon me. The question is whether I can achieve my goals and delay things from reaching that point until I can find what I came to Lonvoron for.”

Which was the identity of the previous looper and the secrets of true soul genesis. Access to the two Administrators’s Mantles would be nice, but not nearly as critical as the first two things.

Not only would Orodan have to avoid detection, but he would also have to find some way of helping the people of Lonvoron deal with this corrupted plane of light without tipping off the Prophet that he was aware about its existence. If that occurred there was a chance the Administrator would tip its hand early and just corrupt every high-level user of light magic across the galaxy.

In any case, for now he’d done what he needed to within Castle Ironpeak.

“Shall we depart?” Talricto asked.

“Yes… but did you really just come here to steal things?”

“Why not? This nice-looking pocket watch and cane make me look quite dapper, do they not?”

Orodan looked the spider up and down.

Most begrudgingly and quite unwillingly… he had to admit the watch and cane rounded the aesthetic out.

“I suppose. Now let’s go before we’re caught. The Transcendent monitoring the fort is headed this way, and it’ll be best if we’re gone before then lest our descriptions be popularized,” Orodan said. “Try not to steal anything else on the way out. Knowing you, it wouldn’t surprise me if you stole the clothes right off my back.”

A barely perceptible ripple of the dimensional boundary - more similar to Talricto’s than it had been a few days ago - and Orodan winked out of Castle Ironpeak. Right before the Transcendent sharpshooter barged into Lord Morvale’s office too.

Though, Orodan could’ve swore he saw a twinkle in Talricto’s beady little eyes as he said his last words before escaping.

#

Orodan could only sigh in resignation.

Truly, he had brought this upon himself and deserved it. Unfortunately, he’d not heeded Fenton’s warning in time, too preoccupied with the various skills and trades he was dabbling in over the course of the day.

“That’s at least four sizes too big for you.”

“Correct, but the satisfaction of wearing it cannot be described with words,” Talricto said. “Here, let me try the corresponding impression on too!”

“Ugh… don’t-”

“I am Orodan Wainwright, and I shall menacingly stare at you while I tell you about the fact that I’m a time looper,” Talricto put on. “What? You want me to do things the normal way? Impossible! I know only the path of brutish simplicity. Why yes, hit me some more! More I say! It’s simply good training and not a barely concealed liking of pain! Here, let me also drink this delicious cup of acid while you’re at it!”

“The impression isn’t exactly incorrect…” Zaessythra muttered, choking back a laugh.

“The both of you are idiots.”

Orodan buried his face in the palm of his hand, unable and unwilling to look upon Talricto wearing his tunic of the county militia any longer. He was rather large even by Alastaian standards, and the dimensional spider was on the smaller size; otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked. Talricto practically fit into it like a sack, two of his forelegs coming out the arm sockets while his beady little eyes stared out the neck opening of the tunic.

It could almost be considered cute if it wasn’t so dumb.

“If you’re quite done donning my clothes.”

“Hmm, I suppose it does have a rather thuggish demeanor to it, even if its spotlessly clean,” the spider said, sliding out of Orodan’s clothes and casually manipulating the dimensional boundary to throw them into the storage ring for him. “Let that be a lesson to keep your belongings better secured. Dimensional storage rings, while rare, aren’t completely unseen across the cosmos, yet none of their owners seem to take securing them against hostile dimensionalism seriously.”

Lesson certainly learned.

“I don’t think the owners of such treasures count on facing thieves possessed of your level of skill,” Orodan shot back. “Aren’t you outside the norm for your kind?”

“Quite! The legendary Talricto the Wanderer is famous across many galaxies!”

“More like infamous if you go around stealing things the way you did back there,” Orodan replied. “Knowing my luck, we’ll have a fleet showing up here to capture you.”

“W-what? Don’t be ridiculous!” the spider quickly stammered. “You lack faith in me Orodan. Did we not make a most daring escape from the treacherous Castle Ironpeak? Did you not serve as my most noble aide?”

Orodan wasn’t sure if he served as anything besides amusement for Talricto, but whatever kept the spider happy he supposed.

Ahead of him lay much training with Luetta Treadway, ensuring Fenton himself kept up his, and working together with them all on Clyburn’s Pillar of Purification. On the side he planned to practice his Weaving with Fanny Penny and his Dimensionalism with Talricto. And as much as Orodan was intent on teaching Fenton, with the pace the boy was learning at… he had no doubts that it would be him learning from the lad soon enough.

There would be some problems too. He doubted Lord Morvale would be happy about today’s events, and the fort commander of Port Bellgrave did seem to have a level of suspicion towards him too. Chiefly though, the Eldritch intrusion into the Collective’s society was going to be a problem.

Still, he would handle these things as they came, and all things considered Orodan was having a decently productive loop thus far.

Three months until the deadline for Clyburn Anderthorn’s project, something he planned on getting done well before then.

But really, it was going to be three months of training.

And from there, who knew where the winds took him?

Likely a test of the completed device upon the front lines of the dead zone.