Ritualist (The Completionist Chronicles Book 1)

by Dakota Krout

  Then the third circle began to draw mana. Blood erupted from Joe’s mouth as he was unable to contain the flow of mana within his channels. Watching his mana decrease at almost double the previous rate, Joe turned to Cel to give him the signal to start drinking… only to see that his potion bottle was already empty. Cel could see only horror in Joe’s eyes as he looked at the little moron. At five percent mana, the ritual switched targets and Cel screamed. Mana seemed to tear out of him in arcing bolts of energy, and his eyes and mouth had coronas of blue light shining from them. He struggled and failed to control himself, doing everything he could to keep the mana flowing in an orderly fashion.

  Joe could see the moment that the boosted mana regeneration ended for Cel. He seemed to shrink, almost shrivel, as his power was pulled from him. Joe grabbed the final potion and chugged it just as Cel collapsed. Instantly back to three-quarters full, Joe braced himself and guided his mana along the channels. He wasn’t going to make it. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes as he watched his mana bar trickle toward the halfway point. He gasped and fell as the power draw suddenly vanished, the ritual completing.

  What? How had it completed? Their vitality should have been drained as their mana ran out! Joe went over the calculations in his head once again; it should have needed nineteen hundred mana! What was he missing… spell efficiency! Mana manipulation and coalescence together added… seventeen percent efficiency! The mana cost had dropped to fifteen hundred and seventy seven! If he had used the potions himself, he wouldn’t even have needed to use all three! Why did he keep forgetting to account for spell efficiency? He almost screamed aloud about the wasted resources! Notifications interrupted his fury.

  Skill increase: Mana Manipulation (Beginner V). Congratulations! The forced draining and refilling of your mana has torn open pathways that should have been given weeks to open safely! For reaching the beginner ranks of this skill, an additional effect has been generated based on your usage of the skill to this point! Effect: Add 10% stability to magic that costs more than 30% of your total mana pool to activate. Since I’m sure you don’t understand thanks to your non-existent magical education, spell stability is the statistic that determines how easy it is to keep your mana in the proper channels. Tearing apart your body for greater power is definitely the way to go. Go you! Intelligence +2. Wisdom +3. Constitution -1.

  Joe began to wheeze as his body deflated. His constitution had dropped below ten again, and flesh began to drip off of his body like wax from a melting candle. As it touched the ground, it vaporized into sparkling light. Soon he was again looking down at a wasted form, and standing upright became difficult. A bit hunched over, Joe retrieved his scepter. There was no noticeable effect on it from the ritual’s activation. In fact, the taglock seemed almost unnaturally still. Putting it into his storage ring, he shuffled over to Cel and slapped him.

  Zero damage!

  Joe growled at the reaffirmation of his destroyed physical stats. He tried again with the same message appearing. A kick, the same. Finally he just reached into his ring and pulled out a bit of rotten-smelling intestinal meat. Holding that under Cel’s nose, he waited as the man began to twitch and groan.

  “What happened?” Cel mumbled, holding his head. He looked at his now wet hand; it had come away covered in blood.

  “What happened is that you almost killed yourself because you cannot seem to believe that someone else knows better!” Joe barked at him. His voice sounded rough and dry.

  “What are you?” Cel looked into Joe’s skeletal face and backed away in horror.

  “I’m a guy that accidentally tore open his mana channels and had his constitution dropped below ten points.” Joe glared at Cel as he turned white; the young mage seemed ready to puke.

  “Disgusting! I can’t believe that could happen!” His eyes were wide and appalled. “Now it makes sense why we need to keep our mana pool so high.”

  Joe spat to the side. “There is a terrible bias against taking risks. The rewards can be great. We are always told to play it safe so that everyone else can optimize covering their own butt. The price for me might seem high, but I only lost one point of constitution while gaining two points of intelligence and three of wisdom. Not to mention ten percent spell stability.”

  “What?” Cel gasped in shock. “Impossible! All you get for overloading your mana channels is a step into your grave! Everyone knows that-”

  “Hold up.” Joe put his hand in front of Cel’s face. “This ‘everyone’ you speak of. They wouldn’t happen to be the same ‘everyone’ that are forcing us into signing away our freedom in a few hours? The same people that have lied to you your entire career as a mage?” Cel had no way to respond to that.

  “I’m betting that there is a whole bunch of information you are missing or have been lied to about. Get ready to go; we don’t have long until the mages show up.” Joe walked over to the ritual containing Cel, reaching out with his mind and deactivating its effects. Cel had no idea it was off of course and simply stood there looking troubled. “Ritual is off. Let’s get going. We can wait outside.”

  They moved to the entrance, and after stepping into the open, Joe locked the door and turned around. Five mages as well as several guards and crossbowmen stood waiting for them. A mage coughed delicately, then arched a brow. “Going somewhere?”

  Joe nodded, keeping his body as straight as possible. “We are. You are the escort to the college?”

  “Indeed.” The mage was in a strange purple robe. “You are going to be ‘silenced’ until you sign The Accords. You will both be unable to cast spells or speak unless I or the Archmage ask you a direct question. Is that clear?”

  Both Cel and Joe nodded grimly. The mage looked between them. “Anything else to say before we go?”

  “Moist ointment in rural pulp,” Joe enunciated each word clearly. A few of the gathered people looked at him strangely, cringing a bit. The mage made a ‘what the heck” gesture, making Joe shrug. “I just didn’t want to be the only one feeling uncomfortable.”

  “Goal achieved, you weirdo. Silence.” Joe’s throat seemed to fill with phlegm, forcing him to cough wetly. He tried to speak, but as expected, he was unable to. He tried to gather the shadows into a spike, but they ignored his will. He tried to use a healing spell, and to everyone’s surprise, a ball of water splashed into the mage’s shocked face.

  “How did-” the mage yowled like a wet cat, stopping as he realized that he felt pretty good. “Healing spell? Non arcane… ah yes, you did claim to be a cleric, didn’t you? Divine magic is unimpeded? I’ll have to update the magical fair usage committee.”

  Joe snorted at that comment, and the mage seemed to remember he existed. “Ah, that’s right. You two are going for a double signing today, aren’t you? This young, of course you don’t think The Accords are designed for fair usage. Back before The Accords, mages could freely experiment and shape their powers in non-recommended ways. Some mages of the same generation were able to outclass their peers, becoming far more powerful than the others. They could sometimes even specialize into non-mage classes! Imagine a mage turning into an arcane druid! Well, that doesn’t happen anymore. Now The Accords ensure that the entire generation moves at the same pace, and specializations are chosen for each mage via committee approval. All is fair.”

  Joe wanted to speak up, really wanted to explain how this man must be a weak idiot if he thought that was a good system. Sadly, the spell of silence was still in effect. Equality of outcome was tyrannical. Forcing people into specializations for the good of the college? Making the strong or gifted wait for what must be decades to better themselves while the others caught up? If he had any doubt that the Archmage was a dictator in his own right, this proved the point perfectly.

  The mage spoke the entire time they were walking toward the college, waxing eloquent about the college and the ‘good’ it did for the Kingdom. How they would be ‘bettering’ themselves by signing. Joe rolled his eyes so many times that he
was surprised he didn’t get dizzy. Several times during the walk, people approached to see what was going on. Each time, the guards around the small group drew weapons and their path was instantly cleared. They had gone farther east in the city than Joe had ever ventured before, and it seemed they were moving toward a looming tower. The tower was about half the width of the royal palace, perfectly circular, and about fifty feet tall. Its color was hard to pinpoint because it changed every minute or so.

  The mage escorting them chuckled as he saw the confusion on Joe’s face. “You’ve never seen this? There is quite a fun explanation; it’s a game! Each class of magic wants to be the one representing the college. The entire tower will change color to match whatever type of spell is used on it most recently, so–see there! Purple! My students must have joined in the fun.”

  ~ Chapter Thirty-six ~

  The group walked through the defensive wall which encircled the tower, and the entirety of the building was revealed. Beyond towering above them, the college was incredibly… boring. No plants could be seen, no art, and the only form of self-expression seemed to be limited to painting the tower with a spell every once in a while. Since it had first turned purple, the tower had briefly flicked to blue before becoming purple again. Now Joe could see why. A fireball appeared in the hand of a laughing mage in red robes, but before it left his hand, a purple-robed mage pointed at him, and the fireball vanished.

  “The school of silence dominates this game,” their escort smugly told them. “Cel knows how it is. Really hard for any other school to impede the others without damage. It is also good for the other mages to learn from a young age that they can’t defeat our policing forces.”

  Joe and Cel locked eyes, and Cel seemed to be exasperated. It seemed even this game was rigged. Their escort’s voice suddenly rang through the area, “Good morning students! There will be an assembly today for the promotion of apprentice fire mage Cel! Today will be his second signing of The Accords, and he will step into his position as a journeyman mage! Be there at noon for the ceremony!”

  Cheers rang through the yard as dozens of people yelled out their support for the captured young man. Tears filled his eyes, mistaken by the others as pride or some other emotion of jubilation. Their escort leaned in, whispering to Joe. “Of course, before the promotion we will be having a trial. When you are found guilty of conspiring against us, I’ll make sure that you specialize into something extra special. Maybe your class ability will be to clean toilets extra easily.”

  Joe and Cel were both shocked at this. Why were they surprised though? He had just told them that the college chose how their members ranked up. They were led into the tower and walked along oddly stunted and winding corridors. Stepping through a door, Joe saw the most bizarre room he had ever laid eyes on. The room was a spherical shape with the bottom half covered in benches for spectators. The room was far too massive to fit into the building, and must have been given extra area with the assistance of spatial magics. Another series of what appeared to be more comfortable seats could be seen on a platform in the middle of the room, one of the chairs larger and grander than the others. It could even be considered a throne. All of these details were secondary to the centerpiece of the room.

  A gigantic glass tube extended from both the ceiling and floor, shrinking down and becoming narrow like an hourglass in the center. Where the glass would have met, a book was suspended in midair. Though airborne, it may as well have been concrete on the ground for how much it moved. Colored lights moved through the tubes, condensing into tiny beams of energy that shot into–and were apparently absorbed by–the book. Mana? How much power was required for The Accords that such a grand mana collecting and focusing setup was needed? The only reasonable explanation was that the contract used mana constantly to control the people who had signed it.

  “About time. The rogue mage and his captured pet have finally arrived.” A terribly obese man stood from the grandiose chair on the platform, raising his jiggling arms to the side so that his multi colored robes flared out and slowly settled around him. “I will leave it to the council to decide their fate.” He sat back down with a great sigh. After such an ostentatious display to grab their attention, Joe was a bit annoyed that the Archmage hadn’t said anything else.

  “Their cases have already been discussed.” Another mage–this one’s robes a deep blue–stood and spoke. “In the case of apprentice Cel versus the college, he has been found… not guilty. He was captured and tortured. According to mana devoted to The Accords, only recently has he been slipping from his dedicated path. After a period of re-education yet to be determined and with a second signing of The Accords today, Cel will be moved to the journeyman rankings and gain a specialization befitting his new status.”

  The mage who had escorted them in seemed like he was about to say something; his face turned red, and he appeared furious. The blue-robed councilor ended his speech by glaring at him darkly, and no other words were spoken.

  The Archmage tapped his chin, pretending to think on the matter. “I find this acceptable, though there will need to be punishment. He did slip from his teachings under torture and it took less than three days for him to have a decade of dedication fail him. During his re-education, Cel will spend eight hours a day devoting his mana to The Accords. This will last no less than one full month. If he doesn't die or go insane from the strain, he will be welcomed back as a full member of the college.”

  A few quiet gasps could be heard from the chairs around the Archmage, and their escort seemed greatly pleased, even going so far as to smirk at the mage on the council. Joe looked at Cel, noting how pale he had become. Obviously, this was a terrible punishment, but he had no point of reference for just how bad it would be. When another council mage stood, Joe gulped as his eyes were met.

  “In the case of ‘Joe’ versus the college,” the mage snorted derisively, “we find him guilty of attacking the college, torture of a member, and practicing magic without a license. As punishment, we recommend no less than six months devoting his mana to The Accords for twelve hours a day. During this time, he will have someone reading him a copy of The Accords and extolling its virtues for six hours each day. We also recommend that at the end of this time frame, as he is a traveler, we send him to respawn until he reaches level one. At that point, we will bind his mana pool so that he can never again cast arcane magics.”

  Joe would have fallen to his knees if he hadn’t been roughly grabbed by a guard standing near him. All of that for holding a mage that was trying to kill him for… what? Two days? The Archmage nodded along as his sentence was decided. “That is lenient, but I expect nothing less from you. If it were possible, I’d say you’ve gone soft!” The Archmage’s wheezing laugh echoed around the otherwise silent room. Only now was it apparent how upset the other mages on the platform looked. A few squirmed, but the light around The Accords dimmed a bit and they became still.

  “You, boy, will serve as an example for the college. It has been quite a few years since someone dared test us. Now we will once again teach the Kingdom why it is the last thing they ever want to do.” His cruel, piggy eyes were on Joe as he spoke. “That said, at the end of this process, you will likely have raised your stolen skill of mana manipulation to great heights. You will make a decent healer at that point, able to continuously heal for days at a time. When you are finished with your punishment, you will go serve the Kingdom as a healer until you have earned enough to repay us for those skills. We’ll say ten thousand gold total. It should only take you a decade or so. How does that sound?”

  You have been offered a quest. Punishment for your crimes! Serve your sentence with the Mage’s College by spending 12 hours a day for six months refilling the mana of The Accords and pay ten thousand gold to the college! This quest is mandatory if you have signed The Accords as it has been offered by the Archmage. Rewards: You will not be hunted by the college. Failure: You will be hunted by the college. Accept? Yes / No

  Not a cha
nce. Joe declined the quest so quickly that he was able to see the tiny smirk that fluttered across the Archmage’s face. “Oh? Not accepting willingly, hmm? I thought that you had learned your lesson! Don’t worry, we will adjust the quest accordingly once you have signed The Accords.” Joe wanted to spit when he heard that terrible attempt at a pun. You can’t just say the same thing twice and call it a joke!

  “Well, we have a few hours until noon; why don’t we get started charging The Accords while we wait? Cel, this will count toward your punishment. Joe… not so much.” The piggy eyes were mirthful as the captured men were frog-marched to the glass tubing on the dais. Their wrists were gripped and their hands shoved against the glowing surface. A seizure rocked them, and their muscles locked as if they had grabbed an electric wire. Mana instantly began to be torn out of their quaking bodies.

  The power draw wasn’t at all like using a ritual; for some reason, it felt like this process was designed to be painful. Joe bent his mind to manipulating the mana and keeping it contained within his channels. Though an imperfect solution, the pain dropped to a dull roar. His channels had been shaped to handle large quantities of mana moving through him at once, and he was using this fact to lessen the pain inflicted on him. Cel was having far more issues, and he cried out every few seconds as his mana ran out and tried to regenerate.

  Joe lasted twice as long as Cel, but his mana also ran dry. He still couldn’t pull his hands away from the tube, but each time mana appeared in his body, the painful shock came again. This was an extraordinarily efficient form of torture as it didn’t directly harm the body, but Joe was determined not to be a victim. He turned his mind inward, and with each suctioning current, he did his best to use his mana channels as if this act was second nature. An hour passed, and yet there was no end in sight. They had been escorted here at the crack of dawn and were not going to be signing The Accords until noon. Another hour of time slowly trickled by, and still, Joe refused to break. Shock after shock rocked his system; but at least now that his channels were custom-made for the force, there was no pain from the mana being pulled from his body.