Artorian's Archives Omnibus

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  The guards were at a loss for what to do about this bizarre cuckoo. Then the man clutched his chest, and collapsed, writhing on the ground in pain.

  “Huh.” Ragna turned his head to Gilna. “Maybe you’s right? Maybe some’un sent entertainment? Not much fun watchin’ an old geezer die on mah porch tho. Where’s the fun s’posed tah be?”

  Gilna raised his hands to make the ‘I don’t know’ pose, and that was the final straw for the tower. In a crashing heap of something that couldn’t even be called plywood, the entire construction fell to shambles, and twenty feet of the wall went down with it. They groaned in the heap, covered in splinters.

  “Gilna?”

  A pained groan was the only reply. *Nnh*?

  “I think we’z the joke.”

  A defeated groan followed. *nnnnH…*

  This had not gone according to plan. Artorian clutched his chest, and he clutched it hard. Jaw grit, he twitched and groaned on the ground, feeling like he was having something akin to a heart attack. It was as if some kind of barrier inside of his cultivation center had just… fizzled out.

  Heaving deep, spittle-coughed breaths, the old man wasn’t able to lift a finger as two raiders picked his convulsing form up. He was tossed over Gilna’s shoulder with the care of a rolled-up rug. The entire event of being carted through the camp only to be tossed into a hay bale next to some horses went entirely unnoticed. The pain wasn’t quite in his heart, but it may as well have been. Something was tearing through his psyche and soul.

  Vertigo crashed against his mind. An experience akin to being in a building full of water assailing him. Floors and foundations gave way as a colossal volume seeped through the ‘house’. What had once been behemoth, quality barriers were now the equivalent of soggy cardboard, and the pressure ripped right through it all when the D-rank nine cultivator hit the exact amount of Essence density needed to overburden the container.

  The sudden removal of barriers he’d not realized were even present wreaked havoc on the old man. A face full of hay was a minor inconvenience in comparison to the internal struggle. Occupants in the camp gave him a wide berth, waiting for his inevitable demise.

  Strange old men making wailing noises, especially old men that the guards dumped in a pile of hay, were generally neither lucrative nor pleasant. Some passing raiders glanced over their shoulders, but the great majority of fresh refugees still undergoing training ignored the sight entirely. They had tasks to complete.

  Two raiders paused in their stride, “What’s with twitchy wrinkles over there?”

  The female counterpart shook her head and kept walking, “Don’t know, don’t care. Looked like even Gilna was happy not to be carrying that old weirdo anymore. He’ll either be dead soon, or someone will help him get there. That’s not exactly quality prisoner material.”

  Both raiders passed, intending to return later. The spasming man got some looks as the sun set, but it wasn’t until he hadn’t moved or made noise for a good while that he was poked with a stick. “Is it dead? Dibs on the loot!”

  “Geezer doesn’t even have a string purse on him. What do you expect to loot… abyss!” Jumping several inches out of sheer surprise, the looting raider tumbled away. The old man had snapped his eyes wide open and was gazing into her face. It had made her heart leap right from her chest.

  “I… I failed?” Artorian was… confused. His voice was weak, his tone uncertain and distraught.

  The Raiders looked at one another, sharing a knowing glance before bolting away. They weren’t dealing with this. No way. An easy corpse to loot was one thing, but they wouldn’t be caught dead with the aftermath of stabbing this geezer when a superior hadn’t told them to do it.

  Artorian gasped quick short breaths. He tried to stop hyperventilating as he looked at his out of focus hay-covered hands. They became blurry, but that was only because his eyes watered. “I failed? But… I…”

  It didn’t make sense. He closed his eyes with a frown and fell back into the hay bales, thinking back to when he collapsed. He must have missed something. Flickers of the mental construct returned. A house flooded with water, yet only on the inside. He’d done nothing but gather and store Essence for a long time, and he’d been stuffed to the brim with what he’d been able to handle.

  Other flickers of thoughts interrupted his house. He’d left the mountain. A few days trekking south and east, and he’d encountered the raider camp as expected. They were setting up camp for the evening, and a palisade was being erected. He watched a while, but had become increasingly frustrated with how the guard tower had been built. He didn’t recall why he’d been frustrated, but it had been such an egregious slight that he’d stomped to the front gate and just started cursing at the guards to explain themselves.

  Those twin buffoons must have had a great time pretending not to understand him. His moustache had starch-straightened to either side in a moment of frustration, and he recalled starting his cultivation technique to calm down. The first beam of light that struck his center had done something odd. It had added a drop of power to a container that simply couldn’t handle any more, and something had burst.

  Oh, the pain. Artorian was whisked from the memory to hold his chest as phantom stabs still tingled about his upper chest. “Abyss these invisible barriers.”

  The sensation was akin to holding a breath underwater, and gasping a new one once you broke air. The barrier that ‘contained’ him in the D-ranks had collapsed. A similar energy barrier had followed suit. Yet, rather than expend itself and dissipate, the energy that had formed the barrier instead relocated itself, condensing into something visible. The energy took on a pearly appearance whilst his Essence reserves violently plummeted. His Aura felt like a wet rag that had just been twisted taut to squeeze every drop from it.

  The pressure had pushed on his heart, and he’d collapsed on the spot. Somewhere in that mess of an experience, he’d been tossed into some hay. The timeline in his head felt wonky, but it was not all that important given the circumstances. The pain was nearly unbearable, and Artorian hadn’t been able to speak a cohesive word as his body shook and spasmed; his system was entirely preoccupied by developing a new quasi-physical organ. Like a rich lathering of paint, the pearly substance coated his Chi-refining technique.

  Unlike a normal technique, his had some complexity to it. More of the pearlescent paint than normal was necessary, and it drew from his refined Essence reserves with the speed of a seasoned Dwarf chugging through a barrel of craft beer. When his entire technique was coated, the sun core turned rigid and immutable as the pearlescence hardened. It wasn’t physical, yet Artorian most certainly felt like his sun core took physical space inside his body.

  Luckily, the hexagonal beehive webway also went through similar treatment, so the core didn’t touch anything. Happily, it remained neatly contained behind his sternum, where otherwise a great emptiness took hold. Now, he was happy as a clam; complete with his very own pearl!

  Entering the C-ranks signaled the end of the changes and updates he’d be making to his refining technique. After all these years of fiddling with it... honestly. It was fine. Artorian wasn’t going to be making it any better than it was without decades of study, and even then… he was out of space.

  Heavens he was tired. Tired and… confused. C-rank zero, attained! So… why was nothing different? He snapped out of his stroll down memory lane and sat up in the hay. A horse clopped close to nibble some grass off his bald head, but Artorian didn’t budge. He was distraught.

  He’d seen Jiivra go through this process, and far faster than him. All she’d done over the years was gather up Essence until she was packed to the brim. Then she’d put in hard effort for months to break through, and she’d succeeded only to need immediate medical attention. At least that part was the same. However, the speed by which she was able to control her Essence had easily jumped tenfold. By her own words, Essence had felt ‘immediate’ like it was ‘just there’. Artorian squeezed the bridge of
his nose, moving some Essence between his hands.

  No difference. Nothing. Jiivra had also said her capacity to store Essence went up so significantly that she felt like a person two, if not three times her current size. Her ‘house’ was a ‘castle’. Crossing his legs meditatively, he took a breath in an attempt to steady himself. It didn’t help, but it was the attempt that counted?

  Starlight poured into his pearlescent sun core. The horses nearby snorted and made unsettled whinnies, only to relax a moment later as Artorian became part of the landscape. As far as their senses were concerned, he was a puddle. His Center took time to shift into motion. He noticed no difference from before, even now that it was somewhat physical. Wait… the influx was… faster? Yes! A notable improvement! The supposed increase in capacity however… nothing.

  He didn’t feel like he had any sort of castle, and if anything, it just felt like he’d lost a house and was now standing on a lake. Abyss, storing Essence had just become more difficult. Artorian remained still for a while, and had to refine extra Essence just so it would pour back into his Aura. Jiivra had said nothing about this, it had been easier for her to store Essence. If he had a hat to throw to the ground, he would have vigorously done so! No. He must have done something wrong.

  This just didn’t feel right. No additional space, no additional control, and Essence didn’t move any faster than it had? While he drew in his Essence at greater speed, now it needed a greater level of refinement before it could be stored. He moved some high-celestially tainted Essence into his Aura, and that seemed to work fine.

  What the… why was just the intermediate variant a problem? He held the sides of his head, grinding his palms into his temples as he gave himself a headache from the doubts, second guessing, and… oh, he was starving. That likely had something to do with the headache. Opening his hidden spatial pouch, he pulled out a triple-decker sandwich the size of his leg and started munching.

  He was ‘C-rank zero’, possibly, once his Essence had refilled. Currently, it was back to good old… he choked on his sandwich when he felt the result. *Hack, cough*!

  F-rank two? What!

  Striking himself on the chest to spit out a chunky piece of bread he’d choked on from trying to inhale too fast, he wiped the underside of his eyes dry with the back of his hand. Two? That was insane! Jiivra only dropped back down to D-rank three! F-two? His sun core was one hungry little monster, or had perhaps the webway been the culprit?

  What had that pearlescent stuff even been? Where did it come from? He tapped his lips with the sandwich and tore off another chunk to think about it. He dinged back up to F-rank three as his cultivation slurped up starlight.

  Now that he thought about it… the pearlescent pain had the same feeling as… *hmmm*.

  He could think of two instances. The space between the inside and outside, where his webway had been placed. Then the space he’d uncovered when Jiivra’s celestial Essence channel was damaged. While present, it was in some ‘between’ space. This was a project for later. The last of the sandwich vanished down his mouth.

  He was becoming quite the glutton; he still felt hungry. Hungry… and lost. Not for what he was here to do; that part was easy. Artorian was lost on his path of cultivation.

  Being the man who normally had the answers, he suddenly found himself in an empty room lacking clues. He didn’t know where to turn, or what to do. C-rank just… didn’t do for him what it had done for another. It weighed heavy on his conscience as he entered denial. “I didn’t fail. I just missed something… yes. Just missed… something.”

  Fretting was going to get him nowhere. He needed an immediate distraction from this fai… setback. Not failure. Setback. His attempt to jump to his feet ended with his butt back in the hay pile. He blinked at the sky. “Did I just lack the Essence to stand up?”

  He groaned, finding out that was the correct answer. F-rank three was so little Essence for his system that it was insufficient for basic operations. He sighed and motionlessly laid there a while to cultivate.

  Ding! F-rank four. Getting up? He did the appropriate wiggle. Still a no. The academic sighed again; this was being bedridden in the Fringe all over again. Once was enough! He gave up for the moment and flopped back, really letting his weight indent the hay. F-rank four… what could he do with F-rank four?

  Basic movement, sort of. Standing, no. Cycling Essence? Mmmmm, no. Moving Essence at all? Yes! Finally, something to work with.

  The amount was pitiful, but anything to keep his mind busy would do at this point. That or sleep, and he was too riled up to sleep. Actually… could he do something about that? He shifted the shape of his Aura to fit only against his body, preventing energy from escaping or affecting his surroundings. Time to make a new effect! Nothing like sleeping in the middle of an enemy camp… “Nope, ignore that for now, Artorian. Must sleep, passively cultivate, and wake up to destroy the raider camp.”

  He wasn’t at all distracting himself from his less-than-stellar ascension into the C-ranks, totally not. Gah! It hadn’t even felt like a ‘breaking’! Just a heart attack! Artorian supposed he should feel heartbroken about it? He waved it away and turned his mind to creating a sleep effect, and the philosopher mumbled to himself as he got to theory crafting. The stars in the sky currently acted as his only real companions.

  “Celestial for the soothing, obviously. Yet that alone won’t break through an Aura if someone has one going.” He collected five units, and found it was insufficient. It soothed, and his headache finally faded. It didn’t quite mend tired, though. He’d attempted adding identity twists on a mental level rather than a physical level only once or twice before. The results…? Meh.

  “Maybe dropping the air content around a person ever so slightly, easing the body into a sleep-like state which the celestial could piggy-back off?” Puzzling it out, he rubbed his fingers down his hay-filled beard. His Aura concentrated with six units of celestial Essence, and two units of air Essence to alter oxygen density. He felt… woozy, but the effect was not sustained. Odd, maybe his footing was off?

  He added one singular extra unit of celestial Essence.

  *Snore*!

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “I don’t believe it.” Astrea the Nightmare stood with her arms crossed next to stables that doubled as holding pens for prisoners. Or it was supposed to be a pen for them, if she could identify which were prisoners. The horses stepped over six dozen sleeping figures while trying to maneuver to the hay bales. Most camp workers looked like they had gotten too close to said bales, and just fell over; conking out on the spot.

  A few raiders even used the firewood logs they’d carried as head support, while others laid next to the objects of their delivery tasks as they loudly snored and snoozed the daylight away. The sun had been up for two hours. Why were these people still asleep?

  “I expect a report.” The young adult giving the pointed orders pierced the crowd with her emerald green eyes. Her brown hair had been curled in an artful single braid that hung against her embroidered cavalier shoulder cape. Unlike the double-necked goose the rest of the camp sported, the image of a single flat hand embossed the broad surface.

  The two Captains in her vicinity worriedly glanced at one another, clueless and without answers. They both swallowed as the younger, but considerably superior lady turned her burning gaze onto them. “We… erm… we don’t know, Your Grace. According to everyone we ask, all these people just… fell asleep.”

  Astrea’s disbelieving, mocking words mimicked the tone in which they spoke to her. “Just… fell asleep?”

  It didn’t take a learned man to sense how displeased she was by the explanation. Her attention wavered for a moment as one of the bodies in the stables sharply inhaled. It sounded like someone had awoken, yet no one stirred. Her eyes snapped back to the nervous duo. Something was off here; she could feel the tingling on the back of her neck. This was neither normal, nor an accident.

  Gilna and Ragna hobbled their way to
the stables. It looked like they’d either had a rough night, or had fallen from a high place. Given the stories around camp, the latter.

  “R… reporting!” Ragna wheezed, out of breath. His salute was a mixture of pathetic and insufficient. Gilna’s wasn’t much different.

  One of the Captains cleared their throat. “Ah, good! Explain what happened.”

  Gilna raised an arm, and it went *pop*. The guard winced, groaning from the pain before speaking. “It all started with the loony one at the gate. Ever since we threw that one in here, people all over the camp been fallin’. It’s not just ‘ere where there’s a snooze goin on. ‘Ole canteen fell asleep in their soup bowls. Just came from ‘ere.”

  Astrea shot the Captains a glare. This needed to be sorted before the ‘Royal Advisor’ started asking questions about why her palanquin wasn’t moving yet. She didn’t need that goose honking down her back. “Just… clean this up before someone sees it. Wake the sleeping, get the camp moving.”

  The Captains nodded at the orders from ‘The Nightmare’, and promptly got to carrying them out. Artorian was awoken by some violent shaking, and some firewood was shoved into his hands. He blinked, coming to his senses. There was an oddly large amount of bodies huddled close to him. The… sleep effect? No, he’d pulled that one in close to him using his Aura. It shouldn’t have affected anyone but him. A moment of concern passed across his face. Perhaps… well, C-rank had… messed with other things already.

  He took a moment to check. “Crackers and toast!”

  Having something in his hands this time, he threw the wood so hard at the ground that it stabbed and embedded several inches straight into the grass. His Aura was all over the place! Some of it was only loosely connected to him, and all of it bobbed like a bad oil-stain floating on a watery platform. Artorian literally pulled himself together, and felt much better about life.