ImmovableMage
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265 Splitting the Sun
🕑 Added 2025-11-01 00:00:05 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Setting Moon, Day 63 –
Terry listened to the reports quietly. There wasn’t anything new. Not really.
The funghouls of the Deadlands had moved, which was within expectations.
They, just like the sun elves, had abandoned any attempt to pursue Terry, the shroomans, or the expedition, which was hardly a surprise. For all the Sun’s unpolished mastery of space magic, their dimensional mages simply couldn’t keep up with Mia and Yorgos.
In the face of proper dimensional mages, numbers or fortifications became largely meaningless.
Largely, but not completely.
The funghouls are surrounding the Sun’s compound. No matter where we appear, we’ll have to face the Deadlands’ entire worth of cursed creatures led by cultists.
The compound itself is protected by the sun elf army. Their mages are completely focused on blocking teleportation inside and preventing any way to bypass their fortifications through the shadows. Even their countermeasures against the void-incorporating teleportation of the beetlefolk remains permanently active in the core area.
Behind the army, the cultists and the group of pseudo-avatars are waiting.
Getting to the tree will be complicated.
“We could take the time to bypass their seals,” suggested Khaled. “Given Terry’s abilities, it wouldn’t take much time as long as we get him close enough.”
Not a bad idea, but their spatial seals are localized.
“Not with their short range,” reminded Mia. “Their space magic is weak, but the shorter range works in their favor in this case.”
Terry nodded. They had gone over this before.
The outdated spellwork of this realm was not just more fragile, but also generally weaker than what the expedition knew from their own realm. Weaker for a sealed space meant a shorter range. While that would usually be considered a weakness, it was quite the opposite when considering the impact of Terry’s seal-breaking mana bursts.
Instead of having a single large lock, which Terry could tear down once and could obstruct from reestablishing, their pattern of seals limited the seal-breaking to a single tile in their pattern. To progress, Terry and a teleporter would have to advance tile by tile.
To make it worse, establishing a smaller seal took less time than a large one, so whatever opening Terry bought for their second teleporter wouldn’t last for long.
The same challenges would apply to Mia and Yorgos. They could overcome the seals. Not as fast as Terry, but they were more skilled than any individual mage within the Sun. The problem was they weren’t facing just a single individual. They were facing the entirety of the Sun’s mages.
“It’s the same problem we face with any attempt to directly assassinate their leaders,” said Mia with a frown.
“Or with infiltrating the compound,” added Khaled pensively.
Yeah, we can’t play the same trick as with the giants. They know we’re coming, so we can’t approach this like the Moon, either.
“We can attack the roots,” interjected William firmly. There was a hard glint in his eyes. “It just takes time.”
Time that we’ll have to deal with the army and funghouls.
“We don’t have to start that right away. We could also whittle them down as preparation for other plans,” suggested Tiana. “But then we’ll have to decide and commit to an approach. Either close or ranged. Close combat means quicker progress but we’ll have to worry about the curse spreading, which might mean distributing the same kind of protective injections we used in the expedition. Ranged means slower progress but we can keep our distance.”
Either way, that’s going to be a lot of lives lost, and not just the continued devastation of the curse on this realm.
Close combat is more risky for us, because it would immediately force us to face the funghouls.
Ranged would be workable with time, but… Terry sighed in frustration. His eyes wandered over Penelope as the representative of the Moon, over Razkiel as the War Chief of the giant tribes, to the Guildheads among the expedition.
Terry understood that the ranged assault would be the most effective if they targeted the sun elves instead of the funghouls. The voice echoing the Warlord’s writings in his mind was constantly reminding him of that.
And if I can think of that, surely, there would be others to point that out if we go that route.
Terry took a deep breath. He understood that the Sun was shielding the cultists threatening the realm. Getting to the cultists and their cursed tree meant getting through the Sun first.
‘Now, there will be blood.’
Terry recalled the hardened voice of wrath escaping from Weran’s lips when he called for vengeance upon Tiv’s saboteurs of Arcana’s barrier. There would be blood. Of this there was no doubt.
Still, Terry paused. He considered the vengeful Guildheads of Arcana a cautionary tale. After his experience with opposing Yorgos, Mercedes, and many of his impatient expedition members, Terry couldn’t see their actions any other way.
Just like the Lich Kingdoms, their approach appeared… if not short-sighted, then at least lazy.
Terry recalled his bloody escape from Whetstone City in Thanatos. He had compromised between his understanding of what the Warlord would have done and his desire to become something better. His aspiration to be like the Veilbinder.
Terry closed his eyes, and he saw the face of Harrison.
The face of his companion when they had assaulted a demon fortress together with Derek.
The face of his enemy when he had sided with Willow and threatened Terry’s whaka.
Terry had killed his former companion. He wasn’t sorry. They had both made their choices. Terry’s only regret was the fact he had been too weak to settle the matter differently.
Cycles had passed since then.
Had nothing changed?
Sure, Terry had grown stronger, but was he still too weak?
They were outnumbered.
Time was working against them.
‘I believe in choices.’
Ruminating on his past experiences, an idea formed in Terry’s mind. If he had to fight, so be it, but he had other strengths, too, so why not use them?
Perhaps he was still too weak for his aspirations to follow the Veilbinder, but he certainly wasn’t helpless.
“Terry?” Tiana could see that Terry had made up his mind about something. His honest face always betrayed what he thought of the different proposals. It was one of the things she had learned to appreciate about her friend. She could always read when her own plan made sense to him or not. It helped her learn to better express herself. Not to mention they both enjoyed getting feedback and building on each other’s ideas.
“Why don’t we combine all the plans?” said Terry. “Or rather prepare and adjust depending on the situation.” He could see the skepticism and lifted a hand to preempt any objections. “I don’t mean to just wait and see, but rather I suggest one additional component that might create an opening for one or more of the approaches.” He rubbed his eyes. “I believe this also benefits from what we’ve already achieved with the Moon and the giants…”
***
“This is insane.” A sun elf soldier grimaced.
“Any problems, soldier?” The commanding officer frowned.
“Yeah, I have a problem,” interjected another soldier. He gestured at the funghouls in their outer perimeter. “By the weeping sun, why in all the realms would we allow practically half the Deadlands to surround us? Is it just me?”
“No,” grumbled another soldier. “She’s right. This is insane. We’re supposed to fight these things? Why do we wait until it’s too late?”
The commander clenched her teeth. This was getting worse by the day. She shared these questions, but she had her orders. Actually, they were not supposed to fight them for reasons she couldn’t fathom.
“What if they start attacking us?”
“This makes no sense…”
“Seriously, we’re already outnumbered by these cursed creatures. Are we just waiting to die?”
“Curses, what the heck is going on?!”
The commander’s mind was racing. She knew she had to intervene quickly or risk her subordinates getting out of control. She just had to find the right words to handle them and—
Her attention was forced upwards into the sky.
Not just hers, either.
The large mana phenomenon in the sky was drawing the attention of everyone with even a shred of mana sight.
“What the…?”
The rapidly condensing mass of mana shaped itself into large clear symbols they couldn’t comprehend.
Not until the shapes snapped into focus and their intent sprang directly into their minds.
Their eyes were glued to the giant finger runes.
Their minds were spinning from the communicated intent their eyes touched on.
A message by the outsiders that had broken into their sacred ancestral garden.
A message that sprang up like mushrooms and repeated everywhere their mana sight could see.
A message of a curse woven to protect not just a strange folk but also their entire realm. Of a saint that had threatened a terrible fate on this realm to prevent something worse. A threat provoked by a cult hidden within the Sun.
A cult deliberately accepting the curse’s wrath in exchange for pursuing the agenda of their otherrealm masters.
A cult that had eventually learned to wield the curse’s victims for its own ends.
A rot that had spread throughout their midst. That had corrupted the life they held sacred. That threatened not just to eclipse the Sun, but to pervert it into the doom to cast this realm into the darkest shadows of death and subjugation.
A rot of cultist realm traitors that were attempting to sell their world to the False God coveting it.
A rot that required a choice.
A choice by each and every one of them.
The runes flared brightly and swiftly. They drew the attention of everyone with mana sight. Their intent was communicated before anyone within the Sun had any chance to react otherwise.
Before a single command could be barked, their sight was drawn to the largest dimensional gate the Sun had ever seen.
Behind the parting of space was the largest and strangest outside army to ever walk within the Sun’s borders.
An army of unlikely allies. Outsiders. Moon elves. Giants. Even the strange mushroom folk the heavens had written about.
In front of the army, more giant runes shaped up in the sky while all eyes were on them.
[We’re here to protect this realm. We’re here to calm the Wrath, to cleanse the curse by eradicating the rot provoking it. The funghouls and the cult coordinating them are our enemies, but you don’t have to be.]
Behind the runes, they saw the intense mana signature of the mage who had stormed their sacred garden. A mage whose deliberately exposed mana pulsed with every shift in the runes sending a message to their minds. A mage that was flanked not just by the expedition of outsiders, but by the three unlikely allies from the local folks.
The lone mage who had opposed the Moon’s hunt.
The Moon who had hunted the mushroom folk.
The giants who habitually ate elves like those from the Moon.
Outsiders and local factions were marching side by side. Enemies that had come together as allies to send a message. Messengers that had positioned themselves in clear opposition to the funghouls.
[Are you going to ally with these cursed creatures to join the realm traitors in selling out your own realm? Or are you going to ally with us to put a stop to their treachery? To join us and reclaim your realm from the rot threatening it?]
The commanding officer gulped even though her mouth felt dry.
[I believe in choices. I’ve made mine. We’ve all made ours. Now, you’ll have to make yours. Yours alone. No commander or uniform can take away that choice. Following orders is a choice, just like giving them. Choose!]
From the mage’s hands, an orange pole extended to unimaginable heights.
[We’ll meet each other in battle. As allies or enemies. Fighting to save your realm or fighting to doom it. The choice is yours.]
The heavens roared with furious thunder.
[But the fight won’t end until this realm’s fate has been settled.]
Lightning cracked loudly, and it blasted into the funghouls. A powerful opening, but just a small overture to the spells that followed fast from the ranks of the spread army.
The battle had started.
The soldiers and civilians of the Sun glanced at the people close to them. The expressions on the fellow elven faces mixed with the communicated intent still ringing in their minds.
There were choices to be made.
For each of them.
For all of them.
***
“That was something else,” muttered Yorgos. He had been skeptical of the plan, even though he had known that Terry was a prodigy in mana control and that the Guardian had pushed his range beyond reasonable limits.
Still, the reality was beyond his expectations. Yorgos was aware of finger runes, but he had never considered that, with enough range and intensity, the runes could be used like this.
Truth or not. This was the purest form of wielding propaganda in battle Yorgos had ever witnessed. Every opposing mage depended on their mana sense. As long as the sun elves observed the battlefield, they had the message pounded into their brain until nothing but doubt was left.
The fact that the funghouls were defending the Sun only served as cursed proof that there was truth in Terry’s ubiquitous and incessantly repeating message.
Freedom’s Guardian.
Yorgos couldn’t help but think there was something missing in that nickname for Terry. The man had earned his title while defending the Freedom Cooperative. If this plan worked out, then the defender had hidden some terrifying siege abilities.
It might not be the result of spellwork.
It might not be a proper attack.
But it might still be effective for the battle all the same.
Yorgos didn’t forget to release his empowered spatial blades to cleave through the horde of funghouls while he prepared a gate to return a barrage of long-range spells and spatial barriers to block the spreading spores until other mages could cleanse them.
Truth or not. The funghouls didn’t care. The downside of Terry’s combined plan was that they had to start the battle in close combat against the unthinking creatures. No matter how persuasive Terry’s message was, it fell on deaf ears with the zombie-like fungus-infested army.
Yorgos still harbored doubts about the plan until the moment he sensed them. New spells were added to the sky to assault the funghoul army. Spells fired from the Sun.
The sun elves had made their choice, and they weren’t united. Desertion, sabotage and in-fighting spread like wildfire within the Sun’s fortifications.
The tightly-formed pattern of spatial seals broke.
The shadows opened up.
Khaled, Patricia, and the rest of the infiltration force didn’t hesitate to use the opening.
Drum-like sounds welled up from the shroomans doing… whatever.
Yorgos opened new gates to re-position the forces within the scope now available to him. He could sense Terry’s mana directing him. He didn’t hesitate to follow the suggestions given by the Guardian.
Even Yorgos had to admit no one could sense the battlefield like the Guardian. Distinguishing friend from foe in this chaos and torrent of warring mana was a daunting task, but he knew the Guardian was confidently coordinating everyone, no matter if they were deep in the shadows or far along the battlefield.
Yorgos’s gates opened up.
Verecund and the other dungeon pioneers guided their battle constructs to move first and secure the perimeter to fortify the position of a group of allied sun elves and form a battleline against the hostile cultist-loyals.
Rafael rushed through another gate and unleashed the Heavenly Wolf into the back of the funghouls turning on the Sun deserters.
Deekin charged past his furry master. He stomped onto the puny fungus-infested elves while trusting the little master to protect him. Jorg did not disappoint their disciple and his barriers blocked all the rogue spells flying towards the giant from the hostile elves and funghouls.
Deekin gleefully broke the fungus-infested giants in half. His pride at defeating the taller opponents with his powerful bursts of mana pulsed even stronger than his mana.
Before any harm could come to the vanguard, a group of allied mages flooded the perimeter and cut off the funghouls with barriers and risen stone which Jorg’s imprinted wand swiftly turned immovable.
Penelope and her battalion from the Moon’s army arrived in their new position where they could reinforce the soldiers of the Sun rallying to their cause. They coordinated their spellwork to protect their temporary allies and tore into the realm traitors.
Razkiel led a group of giants through a gate where they began tearing down a protective wall of the compound that obstructed the area-of-effect spells unleashed by the moon elves.
Whenever Yorgos had some leeway in casting, he would hurl funghoul giants high above the sky to let them drop into the center of cultist-loyal sun elves.
His first priority was to reposition their forces according to the Guardian’s instructions, but that wasn’t all.
They had to make a spectacle.
Yorgos uncorked a mana potion to replenish the reserve inside his mana pool. One benefit of their expedition make-up was that they didn’t lack people capable of providing potions and pills of many kinds.
The drawback, of course, was that most of the researchers were quite useless in actual combat. Compared to a fresh trainee in the fragile spellwork of this realm, they would put up a good fight, one on one.
If they held their nerve, at least.
A big if, given that the researchers were not used to combat. Even if the Guardian and Yorgos managed to create situations where the numbers weren’t that bad, the chaos of group battles was very different from a duel. Even if the numbers matched, the situations were incomparable.
Yorgos had to respect that most of the researchers still decided to fight for the realm, but it also put pressure on him. He wondered how the Guardian was doing it.
Yorgos already felt tense just having to react to the Guardian’s orders, but actually giving them? In this chaos? Taking everything in and making decisions?
Yorgos didn’t realize when it had started, but a begrudging respect for the Guardian had festered inside him. He could only hope that Terry was right and that this would be the final fight to settle this realm’s curse. He honestly didn’t want to fight the Guardian anymore.
Yorgos took an opportunity to let another batch of funghoul giants rain from the sky. No matter how much it bit into his nerves to identify the right moment among all the other things he had to take care off. He had to do what he could to increase the chaos and draw attention from the enemies.
The battle was going incredibly well, but this wasn’t their plan. Improving their position for a prolonged battle was the first priority, but such a battle itself was only the fallback plan.
Yorgos knew the moment the Sun’s seals broke, Mia had sprung into action just like Khaled and himself.
While the battle was raging out in the open, infiltrators slipped through the cracks.
While the explosions thundered, assassins eliminated the cultist-loyal commanders and saboteurs destroyed fortifications.
Masked by the growing chaos, underneath the quiet earth, William set his mana sight on ominous roots at the edge of his casting range.
Not far from the Guildhead beginning his root poisoning, Mia, Tiana, Vess, and other defenders were hunkering down to prepare for the moment the pseudo-avatars would react.
***
Comments
JJR
This feels like approaching the climax of an epic. Very well done.
Sesharan
Absolutely fantastic. The mana runes that Terry learned so long ago, and which have come back in this very arc, reach their apex of awesomeness in a way that only Terry could achieve. The things he learned from Sigille have shaped him in more ways than just his morality— but it’s that morality that sits at the core of who he is, shining out brighter than the Warlord’s teachings that Terry’s been struggling with the value of all this time.
