ImmovableMage
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200 Old Tricks Scaled to New Heights
🕑 Added 2024-08-03 00:00:01 +0000 UTC– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Rising Sun, Day 3 –
“...one more thing.” Edmund turned around at the main entrance to the Flower House’s reception hall. He looked at Terry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notebook in front of him and with countless metal rods around himself. “That magic you used to push away the behemoth, that was the divine hammer wasn’t it?”
Terry nodded without lifting his eyes. He could feel some of the channelers that were currently treating him flinch at his answer, but he had no mind to wonder why.
“Hm…” Edmund blinked slowly and nodded. “I heard the Divine Hammer died a few years ago. Were you related?”
“She was my aunt,” replied Terry while closing his eyes to better concentrate on his mana.
Edmund tilted his head. “I always thought the Divine Hammer was a dwarf.”
“She was.” Terry looked up after he had finished the next round of priming in the metal rods. “Whaka Sigille was the sister of my ma.”
Edmund’s eyes opened wider when he heard the traditional dwarven term from the human man. He thought about saying something but then only nodded. “See you soon.” He left without another word.
“I know who you are!” One of the channelers stepped back and stopped his healing ability. “Sigille, the Divine Hammer. Matteo, the Elemental Fury. Amelia, the Spellcrusher. Dargones, the Magebane. Palmer, the Demonpalm. You. You’re the Arcanian that was involved with killing Bright Willow!”
Terry did not care to answer. He closed his eyes to focus on his next round of parallel priming for the spell imprints.
“Glimmer Georg, return to your duties!” ordered the elven woman at the center of the channelers.
“But Bright Akemi, they killed Bright! He is responsible—”
“Responsible for saving this city and all the people in it!” interrupted Akemi. She continued in a stern and somber voice: “The Bright Lady teaches that resentment is poison for the soul. It is giving more power to those that have wronged you and it only inflicts suffering on yourself. Do not let your soul be consumed by hatred, Glimmer Georg. That is not the path of the Bright Lady.”
“But he…”
“Our rank means nothing if we abandon the Lady’s teachings, Glimmer Georg,” chided Akemi. “No matter if you’re a Bright, a Glimmer, or unranked. It is not the title, but the truthfulness to her teachings that defines us.” She glanced at Terry, who still did not show any care for their squabble. “Even a Bright might be led astray and force the Bright Lady to correct her path. Sometimes the instrument of her will comes in unexpected forms. Our goddess works in mysterious ways. We have to follow our duty.”
Terry could feel yet another batch of people approach the Flower House. He was expecting the first group, but the next individual was someone whom he really didn’t want to deal with. He opened his eyes and subconsciously rubbed his palms that were itching.
His palms, just like the rest of his body, were still showing visible blood vessels from damaged mana channels. Such damage was harder to heal than physical wounds, which was why he was still constantly surrounded by healers.
His hands were itchy because his other scars were still healing. He had instructed his healers to focus on his mana channels instead of physical wounds that were not threatening. He needed his mana channels to work. He needed to prepare.
The healers warned him that some of his scars would not heal completely that way. Especially the fern-like scars he had invited with his last heaven’s fury combination. Terry had honestly been surprised when he saw himself after the battle. He knew that it had been bad, but he must have been numbed by all the pain before the attack because he did not remember being that ravaged by lightning.
His current scars were much worse than when they had rescued Tiana from lightning elementals.
A crafter Guildhead and several manaless stepped through the entrance. “What’s the status?”
“Done,” said Terry. “Each with a dozen pre-charged primers. They can check the primer recovery rate themselves when they get used to it. I can increase the maximum number of primers further if you give me a few more minutes.”
The Guildhead glanced at the large number of wands. His eyes glowed brightly from switching to mana sight. He stared speechlessly at the way Terry remotely imprinted so many wands in parallel. The spell imprints were small, stable, and crystal clear. They were perfect. That quality and considering the time required per single item, it was just ridiculous. His eyes drifted to the perfectly etched directional lines when he blurted: “Wait, did you carve those without a tool?”
Terry scribbled in his notebook and replied absentmindedly. “I guess I did. I had not thought about that.” It was true though. When he had started, he had not felt the need to use his mana-crafting tools. He was able to compress his mana sufficiently to reach the required intensity with his mana control alone.
For shielding, he would still augment his skills with the tools, but for plain directional lines, there was no further benefit and only a cost. When relying on the tools, he was limited to his single pair of hands. Without the tools, he was free to craft as much as his mana control allowed.
Luckily, Terry did not have to shield those wands. His task was quantity and accessibility, not perfection for direct combat. A large number of Immovable Object wands that would be usable by even the least-proficient mana users. That was his part in the preparation. At least, until they could think of a better idea.
“I think I can do more in the next batch,” declared Terry confidently.
“I think not!” hissed Akemi. “Do you have any idea about the state of your mana channels?”
“Yes, they’re mine,” replied Terry tiredly. “I can feel them. They hurt.”
“Then stop overburdening them!” protested Akemi. “You’re injured. You have to slow down and allow yourself to recover before you push yourself again!”
“If we’re right, then it won’t be long before the Lich Kingdoms make their next move,” retorted Terry and already began imprinting the next batch of wands.
The Guildhead evidently did not want to get into the middle of that conversation. He and his assistants quickly packed up the finished wands and got out.
“They will eventually investigate,” continued Terry. “Even if we manage to hunt down all their scouts, they will not stay idle forever. Not if they want to conquer this place.”
“All the more reason for you to rest and recover properly!” stressed Akemi with a flushed face.
“I agree.” Terry’s words took Akemi off-guard. However, he didn’t leave it at that. “If it was just me. But it’s not, is it?”
He was painfully aware of the looks that every visitor was giving him. Looks of hope. Not everyone was as obvious as the lunatic martialists that insisted on addressing him as ‘Senior’ or ‘Venerable Elder’ but all of them were looking at him as if he was the one to have all the answers.
He honestly didn’t and it drove him mad.
“There is a whole city of manaless and weak mana users that refuse to leave their home,” continued Terry tiredly. “I’m still surprised that the city is still standing.” And that I’m still breathing. “We got lucky. I don’t like counting on getting lucky again. If another horde is coming, we need to do better. We. That means everyone.” He shook his head with a scowl. “I can’t do shit.”
I got lucky and I still nearly managed to get myself killed.
Terry’s outburst had taken the channelers aback. That man had saved a city. That man had stopped a whole horde of undead hellspawn with a single spear. That man had flung a gigantic monstrosity all the way into the forbidden zone’s volcanic thunder. How did that man manage to look so unsatisfied when recounting the story?
“A man in the image of the Bright Lady,” whispered one of the channelers in a barely audible voice.
Terry did not pay attention to their mutterings and their exchanged glances. He took a deep breath and finished: “I can either prepare for it or damage my body when trying to deal with it unprepared.” He gestured at the increased number of would-be-wands on the floor. “This is preparation. I’m not ready to face another horde like that unprepared.”
Akemi sighed as well. “There is a limit to what we can do if you’re pushing beyond what we allow.” She bit her lips and then spoke up again with a hopeful tone. “We could do more if you directly accepted the mana of our goddess.”
“Fat chance,” scoffed Terry. “I’d rather kiss the next undead behemoth on one of its rotating maws than opening my mind to otherrealm influence.”
“Infidel!”
“Glimmer Georg, pay attention to your duties,” barked Bright Akemi.
“But Bright, you have heard how he—”
“Not everyone follows our faith,” stressed Akemi. “Forgive them for they don’t know what they are saying. Their words can’t hurt us, nor does our goddess need us to defend her.” She frowned at Terry. “Although I would truly appreciate it if you would choose your words more politely.”
“...sorry,” muttered Terry. He did agree with his aunt Sigille on the principle and he had his fair share of bad experiences with channelers like Bright Willow or Vicious. However, he had also met kind-hearted faithful like Cadence. He worried that his time spent with martialists had rubbed off too much on him. He disagreed with their choice to open their minds and accept a channeling anchor, but that was no excuse to be rude to the people healing him.
He would not do it again.
He was sorry.
Even so. “But still no. My answer won’t change.”
“Then I’ll have to ask you to be reasonable,” nagged Akemi.
Terry shrugged. He did not decrease the number of wands he imprinted in parallel. “The alchemists wanted to send over a better potion anyway. I’ll see afterwards.”
Akemi swallowed a grumble and refused to continue wasting her time with trying to persuade a stubborn rock of a man.
Terry was glad that the channelers didn’t press the issue anymore. He took another deep breath and finally mustered the nerve to turn to his next visitor. He could not imagine what the old grouch would possibly want with him now. “What do you want?”
“I…” Tamsin walked in slowly and slightly hunched over.
Behind Tamsin, Jasmine and Daisy had walked in as well. Both were sending curious glances at the elderly woman.
Tamsin cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Guess old dogs can learn new tricks after all,” interjected Jasmine with a raised eyebrow. She turned to Terry. “I told Thiago to come over later like you asked. He’ll bring what’s required.”
“Thanks.” Terry moved his eyes to Tamsin and raised an eyebrow. “Apologize? What for? Specifically?” If the old grouch just wanted to spit a martialist-style non-apology, he was done with this conversation.
“For questioning the wisdom of hiring you as a bodyguard,” said Tamsin slowly. “I thought a foreigner like you would just abandon this place, but I can see now that I was mistaken. You’re not a foreigner.” She spoke in a solemn voice. “You have proven that this is your home just like it is mine.”
Terry creased his brows and tilted his head while examining the strange old woman. “No. I think you’re still mistaken. My home is elsewhere. I’m just passing through.”
Tamsin was visibly confused by his statement and opened her mouth several times without saying anything.
“Thanks though, I guess…” Terry shrugged and closed his eyes to better concentrate on his parallel imprinting again.
Not far from Tamsin, Daisy observed Terry while biting her lips. Her gaze wandered from Terry’s face, to his injuries that were still visible, and to the metal rods. She was not able to see the mana but she knew that those rods were for defending the city. In her eyes, Terry’s actions appeared to run counter to his words. She blinked her eyes in quick succession and rushed to her room.
Terry had not observed Daisy’s expression but he noted her unusually quick departure. He opened his eyes and looked inquisitively at Jasmine.
“She’s a bit on edge,” whispered Jasmine. “No word from Alexander. Or rather not the right words.” She shrugged helplessly. “No word for her. Some of the people that returned saw him continue to distance himself from the city.” She clicked her tongue. “It’s one thing if he doesn’t believe the city can hold, but it’s another that he doesn’t even look back.” She shook her head and then took a deep breath. “Iris said she wanted to talk about tattoos with you. Apparently, some of the shops have approached her to see if you want anything.”
Terry nodded and focused again on his mana crafting. It was strange how quickly everything had changed. Not that long ago, he had still been turning over every silver twice and tried to live frugally to save enough for the portal fee. Then he had gone on a shopping spree with the aim of converting every single copper of the local currency into something he could use. Now the shops were coming to him to offer their services and goods for free.
It was surreal.
It didn’t end there either.
The hunters had once tried to ambush him during his early morning jobs. Then they had caused him to be banned from any shop connected to the Import-Export Cooperative. Now, they were reporting to him anything their scouts had discovered. A few of them even hung around the Flower House at all times. Even though most of them had probably been ordered here by Thiago to protect Jasmine, a few of them always kept an eye on the channelers that were healing Terry.
During his time in the Freedom Cooperative, Terry had clashed multiple times with the city guards. Now, Edmund personally brought reports and aligned with him. Sometimes, he even brought government representatives with him. Barely a day had gone by and Terry had already been greeted by more politicians and cooperative leaders than in all the preceding months combined.
Terry didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t believe he was qualified to comment on even a fraction of what they brought to him. He was no politician or ruler. He had no clue about running or protecting a city. Every single one of the people coming to him for advice knew more about the city than he did. Literally.
In Terry’s opinion, he was probably the worst person to ask on practically all of the topics brought to him. And yet…
Regardless of what Terry thought, people always seemed to leave with more confidence after talking to him, even when he hadn’t added so much as a single sentence to the conversation. Somehow, there was something. Something that made them come back again and again. Even for topics he was ill-prepared for and even if he stated as much.
Terry found it strange, but he decided not to care. There were a vast number of things he couldn’t do. So he decided to focus on the things he could do.
Like mana-crafting wands with charged Immovable Object spells.
When Terry had finished his current batch, he proceeded right to the next. Before he started, he clicked his tongue and added two more rods than before.
“I saw that,” hissed Akemi through gritted teeth.
Terry smiled sheepishly. “That reminds me. I think Thiago is coming over now.”
“The Whisperer?” Akemi crossed her arms with a bad premonition. “What for?” She eyed Terry suspiciously.
Terry scratched his nose and cleared his throat. “Well, our main opponents seem to be necromancers and death whisperers. So I thought he would be the person to ask about what I have in mind.”
Akemi’s eyes narrowed into slits. “And what would that be?”
Terry blinked sheepishly. “Resistance training?”
Akemi stared at Terry in silence.
“I nearly had my head blown up by my own blood,” added Terry hurriedly. Never again. “I know there are circulation techniques for the aspects of the core system. There must be equivalents for the lower system.” Never again. “I’m also getting tired of having my skin peel off after being doused in darkwater.”
Akemi’s stare turned into a chiding glare. “You want to practice resistance circulation when your mana channels are in such a state?!”
Terry shrugged and felt a bit cheeky. “It would have been better if I had started earlier, I agree, but now is the earliest I can manage.”
Akemi inhaled deeply and she put a hand to her forehead. “Please tell me the Whisperer is not also bringing any death executioners with him.”
Terry averted his gaze. That woman is way too quick on the uptake.
“You—” Akemi looked like she was having a stroke. “Are you suicidal or just insane?!”
Terry chose not to answer and pointedly closed his eyes and tried to ignore the continued glare he felt with his mana touch.
***
“We want to join you, Guardian,” declared a martialist in black combat robes. She led a group of a dozen martialists, who all looked to be on the younger side and who were all wearing the same uniform.
There it was again.
Guardian.
At some point after the battle, strangers had started calling him that. Terry blamed the elven receptionist from the Guild, because he did not recall any other person knowing that he had registered with a Guardian card as identification.
Apparently, his role in the recent battle combined with the fact that he was the only Guardian in the country, invited people to gossip. It got so prevalent that even completely new arrivals were addressing him as such.
Terry had a good idea of which sect these new arrivals were from. He had seen that cultivation style before. It was, regrettably, not a pleasant memory. “You’re from the Soaring Mountain Sect?”
“Yes, we are, Guardian,” confirmed the martialist bitterly. “Our sect grounds were torn apart by those undead menaces.” Her face contorted with disgust. “Our vassal sects and allies refuse to step up, but we will avenge our Soaring Mountain. If you are making a stand against the Lich Kingdoms, then we want to join.”
Terry felt like shrugging. He didn't even know why these people were talking to him. Someone. There must be someone. Whenever a new group arrived, there must be someone that was pointing them to him. For some reason.
Only, Terry knew that it was not a single someone. He was well aware of the different groups approaching the city. He felt the unfamiliar signatures entering the territory of the city-state. He felt them all somehow choosing the path that led directly to him. They were walking by the guard towers, by the hunters’ new building, by the adventurer’s guild, by the palace – as if none of those were any of their concern. No, their first stop somehow always appeared to be the Flower House or wherever Terry was currently.
“Sure, go there.” Terry pointed. “Find Edmund, Intira, or Thiago. Whoever is currently barking orders.”
The disciples from the Soaring Mountain Sect nodded and departed.
Nearly two weeks had passed since the undead horde had attacked the Freedom Cooperative. Terry was right in the middle of preparing for whatever was coming next, but he found the task increasingly difficult and for an entirely unexpected reason: People refused to leave him alone to focus on his mana-crafting, training, and experiments.
An increasing number of ragtag arrivals were interrupting his preparations with requests to join up. Why they felt the need to ask, he didn’t know. Why they felt the need to ask him specifically, was even more of a mystery.
Scattered members of martial sects had been the first to arrive. Later, there were a few army squads of fallen kingdoms and eventually, there were all kinds of groups pouring in.
Terry’s biggest surprise was the increasing number of manaless that arrived, because they arrived with absolute fire in their eyes. Not the kind of expression that Terry associated with refugees looking for shelter. No, those were eyes looking for a fight and just as intense as those from the disciples of the Soaring Mountain Sect.
Terry had learned that those manaless were survivors of surrounding villages and cities. People that had lost everything. Their families. Their homes. Lost everything but their lives. He had also learned that somehow word had spread not only about the city’s victory against the horde but also about their defensive preparations that recruited large numbers of people even if they were manaless.
Terry pointed a channeler from the Vigilant and the Virtuous to Edmund. Then a group of knights in dented golden armor. A pair of manaless women. A martialist that addressed him as ‘Honorable Elder’, which was honestly even worse than ‘Guardian’. A group of channelers of a faith he didn’t recognize…
Terry barely got a few breaths of focused crafting in before a new arrival interrupted him without addressing him by his name. He was half considering seeking shelter in the sky again, just to get some peace.
Terry furrowed his brow when he sensed another group of familiar cultivation styles. Please don’t be a scion. Please don’t be a scion. Please don’t be—
“Are you the Returnee?” demanded a man in the red robes of the Blazing Sun Sect.
Have I heard that title before? Terry scrunched up his face. “I don’t think so. What?”
That reply was obviously not expected and the man looked equally confused. “You’re… not? Are you not the wielder of the legendary Third Staff of the Monkey King? The commander that repelled the cursed in the tomb of trials? The Arcanian Returnee that managed to return after the third flash of the tomb’s moons and rescued countless others?”
That does not sound like me at all. Terry’s eye twitched. “I’m Terry.”
“Ah, so you are.” The man still looked taken aback but he managed to recover. “We’re here to help. Orders of the Crow’s Reincarnation.”
The what now? Terry narrowed his eyes and then puffed his cheeks before sharply exhaling without mustering a reply.
“We are just the first,” continued the martialist. “He said he’ll send more as soon as possible.”
Terry suppressed the desire to shrug and then simply pointed them to the area where Edmund was organizing the city defense. While the group was departing, another member covertly leaned to Terry and she whispered into his ear. “A mutual friend suggested I warn you in advance before the Crow’s Ghost will proceed with the cleansing among our ranks.”
The what now? Terry was already growing tired of having to deal with so many martialists again.
“A battle is a good opportunity for a dead person to haunt some hidden enemies.” The woman winked while emphasizing the word ‘dead’. “I’m supposed to tell you that an equivalent exchange demands them to lend a hand. The spirits of the dead are vengeful these days.”
Without further explanation, the woman left and left behind a Terry whose face was scrunched up to reflect his growing confusion and headache. He could piece together that it had something to do with the siblings from the Blazing Sun Sect – Annabelle and Peter – whom he had met in the dungeon’s folded space.
Terry didn’t like the word ‘cleansing’ that the woman had used, but from what he understood, it was probably some internal squabble in their sect and he didn’t really want to concern himself with that. He honestly had enough crap to deal with as it was.
In the back of his mind, his thoughts were racing about the implications of having his name spread among martialist circles again. It was understandable that the fervent elders who mistook him for some powerful senior with a secret plan were quick to arrive. Their sects had been watching him closely.
The fact that the Blazing Sun Sect was only a short step behind caused him to wonder… How many familiar faces and names were going to converge on this troubled city state? Which purpose would they have in mind?
From the back of his mind, another headache was beginning to spread.
***
“I’m still not sure I like this idea,” said Edmund while looking at the growing field of boulders and stone cubes from the nearby quarry.
He had initially agreed to the idea because it was a good way to keep even the manaless busy. A way to use their muscles for the city’s defense and to give a focus to their restlessness. He knew how dangerous it was for the hands of troubled minds to remain idle.
The Guardian’s idea was a way to make sure the desperate citizens and vengeful visitors could feel productive instead of remaining idle. However, the more he thought into it, the more he questioned the wisdom of his original agreement.
“Well, I support it,” interjected a dwarven woman in crimson Thanatos uniform. “It’s rare to see someone voluntarily assume the role of the trailbreaker. Battling behind enemy lines during crossfire is the worst.” Ruby smirked at Terry and pointed at the large boulders. “That’s how you managed your third man scheme in Whetstone, isn’t it? How you got everyone looking for an attacker that didn’t exist? How you made them side with you?”
Ruby chortled shortly and then looked back over the cultivated rock garden. “But even if the locals manage to limit the possible area by locking the shadows and building fortifications, ground is not the only thing to cover. The real problem is time…” She leaned closer to Terry and raised an eyebrow. “They can’t bring all those things up quickly, so you’ll have to keep them up there for an unknown amount of time. We don’t know when the next attack will come. Are you sure you’re…?”
Terry rolled his eyes. “I know you are fishing for intel, soldier.” He sighed wearily. “No need to be coy.” He declared confidently: “Yes, I can.” He pointed at the casting molds and rope nets that were being prepared as well. “It’s going to be easier with those but if it comes down to it, I should be able to manage even without…”
Terry stopped talking because he got the distinct impression someone was glaring holes into the back of his head. He turned around to find the familiar brown curls of the elven woman who was channeling healing abilities on him.
“Those spells of yours have to be constantly active…” Akemi glowered at Terry in the tone of a doctor chastising a patient that refused to take their medicine. “When exactly do you plan to sleep properly?”
“On week-ends,” quipped Terry jokingly. He knew better than to answer that question truthfully. He wouldn’t hear the end of it. He still hated lying. A deflecting joke was the best option he could come up with. Even if that joke made the channeler’s eyes twitch. Even if her glare of disapproval had an eerie resemblance to his mother Isille.
Terry sorely missed his family.
***
Comments
Storyhunter
Agreed
Storyhunter
Note the poem is definitely a rough draft. If you wanted I could polish it up. But as a comment and to communicate how I see the situation unfolding. It felt sufficient. Would likely rewrite the first section. Add in bits about who came to his aid in the battle and who is coming to his aid in the campaign to save the city. .... A second song would be about the next large battle. But a proper bard would likely be around then to create a proper ballad or a historian to write a chronicle. All ideas for use are up to you.
Storyhunter
A call to arms. ( Poem about the incident so far) Many saw him walking there, When the darkened veil fell, The hoards of deathless fodder, Driven by the whispered call, While the city fled, streaming back, The guardian strode towards death, Hells own legion staring him back, Before the gate he stopped the dead. The charge breaking at his lone stand. Look to the wonderer, see the flower keeper. Will you not fight with him and stand. Against the dead, fight here and deliver. To the legion the death they seek. The behemoths brought to ash. Vampire whispers make them reek. Of fear as they turn to ash at last. Send out the call to those who will fight. Those who willing to stand with the light. Calling magic, martial and manaless might. For the rage, the rage against the dying of our light. If the immovable want the poem feel free to use however you wish. Also writing a song isn't what's needed for the impression of one. A lyric. Or a couple of lines about the content and feel of a song+ a bit about a possible related genre could bring out the sense. The manaless can't give Terry much. The can improve his reputation+ make him a legend though. Songs, poems and tall tails are all things normal people use for courage and to call others to action. This seems to me like a point where songs / other art would be popping up un asked for.
BeauZoe
I'm 30 and this is deep.
Storyhunter
I know this might not be in your wheel house but. After this attack and our immovable mage Terry's defense of the town. + So many non combatants coming around. ...... The stories are going to start becoming a little wild. But Also ministerial and bard types are going to become interested in this incident. A good song can help raise the spirits of the living + be a rememberance for the dead defenders. While a full written song is likely unneeded. Twisting a version of an existing our world song with lyrics from this this setting could be an interesting exercise.
Aurora1325
yes
ImmovableMage
The mix-up was that RR's chapter 192 had the content of chapter 200 at first, i.e. it was supposed to be 192. The patreon is always 4 chapters ahead of RR, i.e. patron was at 196 when the mix-up happened. Today, the patreon regularly reached chapter 200. I'm currently writing the first draft of arc 8 but I generally have one arc/book scheduled as buffer while writing, so that I can edit the whole arc start-to-end once before the first chapter is released to readers.
Galenorla
I joined the patron today as it said there were four extra chapters to read, but I only see three. This chapter was one that was released early by accident a few weeks back. Have more chapters not been written since then?
roxurio10003
I need for him to get his moment to rest and heal with his family
Sesharan
Who puts more expectations on Terry— the people around him, or Terry himself?
themainmememan
The Immovable Mage -> The Immovable Guardian :D
Aurora1325
honestly the guardian is such a good name for terry
![[ ʜʏᴇɴᴀ ʙᴇᴡɪʟᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ] from gumroad](https://fapscommunity.com/kistorage/110963.jpg)
