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Nero Walker, Book 4 Ch.42 (273)
🕑 Added 2024-12-27 23:30:01 +0000 UTCSeeing another mage from the group next to him disconnect from the shield spell, Merrick began to question whether or not he should as well. As more and more kobalds were throwing themselves into the rapidly growing melee style free-for-all, there were fewer and fewer ranged attacks coming down on them. So, he’d probably be of more use doing something else. The problem was Merrick had no idea what that ‘else’ should be.
He knew that it was just a matter of luck that he’d found himself inside one of the few remaining pockets of resistance that still had melee fighters defending its edges. Since the formation had begun to fail, the fighting had become nothing but chaos. But, for the moment, he and a few of his fellow mages, a few healers, and multiple wounded were relatively safe. The same could not be said for everyone else. They all looked like they were fighting for their lives.
As he continued to mentally debate whether it was worth it to continue to maintain his connection to the shield spell, he saw that the group of kobald grunts assaulting them was about to be reinforced. Gasping in horror, he watched as thirty or forty more came rushing forward from the edges of the chamber. He could see that the melee fighters weren’t going to be able to hold.
Realizing that he’d be in the thick of the fighting soon enough, he quickly tried to recall every lesson and seminar he’d ever participated in during his time at the academy. Now, more than ever, he regretted having not mastered the trick of combat casting. He understood the principle, and he could form his essence shield, but he’d never managed the trick of isolating his essence from the ambient ether when it was under tension. At least not well enough for him to ever consider himself competent at it.
Cutting himself off from the essence flows felt too unnatural.
Knowing he was almost out of time, he released his connection to the shield spell hovering overhead and considered how he should prepare.
The moment he did, he felt the two other mages alongside him do so as well. He could feel their essence in the ether, their presence reassuring him that despite how bad the situation was, at least he was not alone.
Reticent, but determined, he firmed his will and forcefully pulled on his essence field. It hurt, just like he knew it would. His sense of connection with his fellow vassals of House Walker immediately vanished. Suddenly, he was all alone in the middle of a battle surrounded by blood and death. He could already feel the panic bearing down on him. Something primal in his guts was screaming at him to give up and just run for the exits.
Ignoring his instincts, he used his essence field to connect with as much essence as he could before beginning to wrap it around himself. Like he’d been trained, he formed the container, trapping the essence within the thin film of his center. The sense of isolation was almost overpowering.
With extensive and harsh training, some people were able to maintain their connection to the ether while building their essence shields. However, he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t a war wizard. He was just a working-class mage like countless others. He was well aware of that. Always had been.
In the back of his mind, doubts about whether he would survive and whether or not he should have ever come here began building. But, confronted with the reality of the kobalds pushing through the line of combat and running past the melee fighters, he knew now wasn’t the time for second thoughts.
Pulling deeply from his center, he began carving a ‘flame bolt’ spell form between his hands. It was the most familiar spell he could think of, and one he’d cast numerous times before. His mind held the shape as his fingers danced through the air while he used his center to bring it into being. As the spell form began to take shape, its indistinct mass of essence mirrored the pattern he’d spent countless hours memorizing. When it was completed, he felt it. It felt right. It was ready.
Through the connection he had with his spell form, he willed it to feed off his essence shield, knowing that the ether and its essence flows were currently unavailable to it.
He felt the pull immediately. The drain was substantial and would probably be enough to ruin his shield after a single cast. But, he’d succeeded. His spell form was charged.
He filled it with more center, feeling himself diminish, and brought a small ball of fire into existence. Cupping it between his hands, he narrowed his eyes in concentration before looking up to choose a target. Picking the first kobald he saw, he released it.
Just as the spell’s name implied, a bolt of fire shot forth from his hands off towards the kobald. It slammed into its chest and exploded into a ball of fire providing enough force to send it hurtling back into the crowd of kobalds behind it.
A success. His target was dead.
Unfortunately, there were plenty more coming. They’d broken through the line and were now being physically held back by the healers.
Panting in exhaustion after having worked so hard to cast a single spell, he clenched his fists in rage. His concentration faltered and he felt the essence signatures he’d cut himself off from come slamming back into his mind. The now familiar presences of the soldiers he’d been fighting alongside were once again a part of him. Their fear and panic forced him to feel it as well.
“Screw it,” he muttered before drawing the daggers he’d brought along from the belt under his outer robes.
Knowing that he wasn’t going to win this fight with magic, he joined them all in melee, all the while screaming in hate at the little monsters who’d come here to destroy his city.
—--
So much about the chamber had changed since the last time he’d opened his eyes, but Nero knew he didn’t have time to look around. The pause in the fighting was too large of an opportunity to pass up.
If the kobald casters could make use of all that potential as well as he could, then who knew what kind of damage they would do. So, with little time for experimenting, he went with what he knew.
While shoving kobald bodies away, he stood up on the pile of corpses and began casting his spells. Unlike the last time he’d messed with a portal, the ether now felt stronger than ever. There was so much essence floating around that it took effort to ignore it. However, that worked out well for him, because he had no trouble collecting a ton of it in short order.
His mage armor was up in less than a second, his brain now almost instinctively setting aside a portion of its processing power to maintain it.
Over his shoulders both the sticky flame spell form along with the spell shell chucker he’d developed stamped themselves into existence, no longer even needing to be carved.
Whether it was his familiarity with the spells or his intense concentration, he was ready for war by the time he’d crawled to his feet.
Standing at a height of about 10 feet off the main floor, he was still somewhat near the base of the massive pile of kobald corpses. But, he could easily imagine himself as a lone human standing tall on a pile of dead kobalds. Unfortunately, nobody was around to see him. Instead, every kobald nearby was still staring blankly at the missing portal which had disappeared. They didn’t get a chance to appreciate how awesome he probably looked.
Drawing his sword unconsciously as he prepared himself for the violence he was about to unleash, Nero looked around to quickly begin picking his targets.
As his eyes darted around, part of his mind was focused on connecting with as much soul stuff as he could get a hold of. Some of it he funneled into his mage armor to charge it, the rest of it he began preparing to use for his spells, filtering it through his center.
By the time he was ready, the chamber had largely begun realizing that they were still in the middle of a battle. The fighting quickly began starting up again, as quick-thinking kobalds and humans began taking advantage of the ones who hadn’t managed to recover from their confusion.
From his position on the pile of sacrificed kobalds, Nero began firing off thick lines of fire that arced down like hose fire onto the smaller kobalds below. There were no humans around, so he had free reign to cover the entire area in his own personal version of a fiery hellscape.
But that was not his main focus. Instead, the majority of his attention remained on the center of the chamber where the larger ‘true’ kobalds were, specifically those who’d successfully made their way through the portal. They were all still grouped together, waiting for their turn at the humans. That’s where he began sending his spell shells.
Knowing that they were probably much stronger than the clones and the weaker kobalds he’d been used to dealing with, he decided not to take any chances. Each shell was filled with plenty of soul stuff and imbued with as much speed as he could impart. On the plus side, it had his shells getting there so fast that they barely lost any height during their flight. The negative of course was that the first one erupted before he’d even finished forming his second.
Not that it mattered, as he wasn’t likely to be interrupted any time soon. The kobalds, all of the kobalds, were too preoccupied with trying to understand what was happening to pay attention to how amazing he was.
Nero was feeling pretty good about himself as he saw how many kobalds below him were being lit up like candles as his fires spewed out like a firehose from the stage of a festival concert. And the background of ‘true’ kobald bodies exploding in ten-foot balls of multi-colored essence blooms made sure that this would probably end up being one of… if not his fondest memory.
There was so much soul stuff in the ether, or unaccounted for potential, that he didn’t know what to do with it. If he’d known any better spells or was capable of better multi-casting, he knew he could probably have come up with something really crazy. But, alas, he hadn’t much time to experiment or learn spells. So, he was stuck doing what he could.
He quickly fell into a rhythm, finding it surprising how often he had to replenish the supply of essence he’d collected from the ether. With how much soul stuff he was pumping into his spells, they were taking increasing amounts of essence to fuel themselves.
Frowning in confusion, Nero didn’t understand why that could be. He’d thought that the amount of essence infused in a spell was a separate variable from how much center or potential he’d imbued it with.
Sighing to himself, he realized it was just another mystery topic he’d eventually have to look into if he ever managed to find the time to actually study magic.
But, it wasn’t all bad, as despite not having all that impressive of a repertoire, his spells were pretty effective.
From his perch, he was able to decimate the true kobalds before they even knew what was happening. Even with many of them trying to set up defensive shields, eerily mimicking how the humans fought, Nero’s spells were charged with so much soul stuff that they had no problem shattering them.
In the face of overwhelming power, they had no chance to defend themselves. With the sustained amount of fire he was able to put out, any semblance of coordination or formation they had was obliterated.
So much soul stuff was flowing through him, that he was beginning to lose track of it. Some was being filtered through his center for his spells, some to his mage armor, and other bits he was just collecting and preparing for his upcoming spells. As the seconds passed, the more he felt like a conduit for the magic than an actual human being.
Right as he began to run out of targets that were far enough away from the fighting line, Nero realized he might have pushed himself a little further than he probably should have.
His center felt like it was on fire. Or more accurately, like it was burning.
Dropping to his knee, he clutched his chest like he was suffering an acid reflux attack after having too many Jabenero Hot Wings. Unable to keep channeling soul stuff, he paused his attack.
Nero honestly had no idea what was going on. He’d overstressed his center before, but he’d never felt anything quite like this. He felt like he was bursting, burning, and breaking apart all at the same time.
Even worse, his mind was beginning to wander. His concentration was slipping. And if it weren’t for the fact that the entire area around the pile of kobald corpses he was standing on was covered in fifty or sixty feet of solid fire, he’d probably have been swarmed by kobalds without being able to do anything to stop it.
Shaking his head back and forth to try and clear his head, he began muttering, “What the fuck is going on…”
Collapsing into unconsciousness, Nero inadvertently retook his hiding place among the kobald bodies as just another body on the pile.
Without even making the decision to do so, he found himself arriving within his soul space. The transition was so jarring that for a moment he’d been teleported somewhere. Yet, at the same time, he also immediately recognized where he was.
Looking around, he was immediately caught off guard by how many balls of memories were floating all around him. There were so many, that he couldn’t even see the forest he assumed would most likely still be out there somewhere behind them. He couldn’t see the sky or even the path under his feet. If it weren’t for the familiar sense of where he was, he wouldn’t have believed that this was really his soul.
Still feeling the pain in his chest, Nero wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was running out of time. There was just something about the situation that he found himself in that screamed danger to him. In fact, the sense of impending doom was so strong that he found himself instinctively distrusting it.
He’d recently learned that he didn’t really feel the same kind of fear that he used to. After seeing and experiencing people being healed through any number of horrific injuries and even death, Nero had come to realize that there was nothing he needed to be concerned about. Without the threat of consequences, why should he fear anything?
But, whatever threat to his well-being that he was currently facing, whatever was going on, he couldn’t stop himself from shivering in panic at the prevailing sense of danger. Somehow he just ‘knew’ that if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to die… permanently.
With nothing else obvious, he reached out to the first bit of memory that he could see and brought it out of the cloud around him.
His mind was instantly assaulted by the feeling of being a stone. Not just any stone, he was a stone mined from the cliffs of Yeeooch, a name he only knew about do the kobald miners who’d removed him once mentioning it. He might not have recognized the term or even paid attention, but the small part of his mind that was still Nero made note of it.
He’d come into existence after the great upheaval of the third age when the sky burned and the seas boiled. Before that, he was just another piece of ground well below the earth. His life regardless of his form was one of pressure and perseverance. He didn’t endure, he existed. There was no other thought in his mind, or concern about anything. He was a rock, and that’s all he was. While other things around him changed, he did not. He’d been pushed to the surface, ripped from his mountain, dragged, carved, and walked over, but he always remained a rock. That was until he’d been placed… then he was a paving stone. But he was still who he was… a rock. Well, he was until he wasn’t.
Snapping out of it, Nero gasped in shock and dropped to his knees while panting so hard he felt like he was going to pass out.
“What in the everliving fuck was that!” he shouted his question out into the silence.
Looking up at the cloud of ‘memories’ in front of him, Nero’s mind scrambled to understand what was going on. The memory he’d just incorporated into his center felt like it had done more harm than good. It had invaded the core of his identity and begun tearing down his perception of reality. Who he ‘was’ was suddenly ‘lesser’ than it was before. He felt… tainted.
The only saving grace of the situation was that the rock’s life he’d incomprehensibly experienced was ultimately rather dull. He couldn’t imagine how screwed up his sense of self would have been if he’d tried and done that with the identity of something sentient or more complex. Experiencing the life of an animal or a person would have probably driven him crazy.
In panic, he couldn’t stop himself from staring in fear at the all-encompassing cloud around him. How many ‘lives’ were out there, just waiting for him to see? Where had they come from? What the hell was going on?
Nero fought against the pain in his chest, realizing that it was, impossibly, his soul that was suffering. Whatever was going on wasn’t something physical, but spiritual. Instinctively growling at the ridiculousness of the situation he’d found himself in, Nero began trying to piece together how this could have happened.
The only thing he could think of was that he’d somehow acquired the memories of the things that had come apart on the other side of the portal when he’d destroyed it. How that might have happened, he could only guess.
Most likely, the cloud of what he’d thought was soul stuff, hadn’t actually been soul stuff from people… but from everything. It was the ethereal manifestation of some of the foreign essence that he might have, accidentally, stolen from the other plane.
When he’d used soul stuff before, he’d come to somewhat understand it. Going by how he understood things worked, it made a bit of sense that the souls that passed onto the other planes were the only actual ‘souls’ that he’d actually been dealing with. The ‘potential’ as he’d come to refer to it, was likely just the essence borrowed from the world which had been given an identity by the soul.
So, when a soul died, it left whatever hadn’t been fully incorporated into it behind. Everything else like rocks, and possibly plants and such probably worked the same way… but without a soul. Their identities were there, just not actualized.
When the portal had tied realities together, the meaning of what things were was split between them. While he didn’t understand how it all worked together exactly, it was obvious that the bits of essence that this reality had ‘acquired’ from the other side included some of their material plane’s which had been forcefully turned back into free-floating potential with an unrealized identity.
And he’d stupidly been using it to power his spells. Even worse, he’d somehow allowed some of it to infect his soul with their original identities.
If he wasn’t able to overcome them with his own sense of ‘Nero’, turning it into his own identity, then he’d end up getting diluted.
Maybe that’s what essence flows were, just concepts that weren’t given form. A flow of rock essence was rock… but not any rock in particular. Center was just human essence with the particular flavor of Nero. Potential, or experience, reinforced things and made them more real. That’s why spells needed center to exist, otherwise, they were just essence flows.
Looking around at all the already imbued essence filling his soul space, he couldn’t help but gulp in fear.
“I was wrong… this is NOT going to be good,” he said to himself.
*Chapter Title: I'm sure it will be fine.
*Spoiler: I don't remember who said it, but some smart dude sometime had a great quote. It was something about the things that you do not know are the things that are most important... or something like that. I don't particularly feel like looking it up at the moment. But it was a good quote. Or maybe it was something like, "You never know what you don't know". Whatever, it doesn't really matter. My point is, you can never know everything. All you can do is do your best with the information you have available at the time. Of course, no matter how much people want to believe reality is a matter of opinion, facts are facts and gravity still exists even if you don't know about it. I find the idea of a 'spiritual reality' which the main character doesn't understand pretty cool. Things in the story always work the same way, but Nero's understanding of it will only grow with time. Until then, he's bound to make a few inaccurate conclusions.
Scientists are only scientists because they don't know everything yet. If they did, they'd be historians.
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Allan Miller
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