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Chapter 133 - Deep Root, SC
🕑 Added 2024-11-09 23:43:21 +0000 UTC“Are you sure?” Sunday asked.
His mind was a whirlwind. There were only two options before him. Either Pearl had lied, which she had no reason to do, or someone had swapped the vial while Sunday hadn’t paid attention. The latter was much more plausible. But who would do that, and why?
Trust was a likely candidate. Any of the wights could probably make a world-class thief if they so desired, but he doubted it was Kallus. Elora or one of the magi? No, they were not capable of that, unless a very sneaky spell was involved. Something he hadn’t sensed like the one Jishu had used to stay alive.
Mera could’ve done this but… why would she? And Sunday was sure he would at least feel the essence of a cast. Parts of it. He hadn’t focused on the arts he had all that much, as everything came a bit naturally, but he had enough competence for that. The vial of inferni blood was kept with him most of the time, wrapped in a cloth to prevent it from breaking, and stuffed in one of his many inner pockets, which made the swap all that weirder.
No question it was not Savia. She was a thug through and through, but she was an honorable one. He was inclined to trust her above most even if he didn’t know all that much about her situation.
“Of course! I’ve drank more blood than you can imagine, man.” Vesper exclaimed with laughter. Did he not care how serious this was, or did he not understand? “There’s been tough times for me too if you can imagine, when the ruby red lifeblood of young maidens smitten by love was but a pipe dream, and all I had were the rats running through the dark sewers. It was a confusing time you see, right after one of the greatest wars the world has seen. Ah, I remember that fated night when the skies shone with stars and—”
“Vesper,” Nysandra said, making the vampire shut up.
“Do you know anything about this?” Sunday asked, turning toward Mera.
Maybe the Baron? He was fast enough, but… no. He didn’t know about it.
“Yes.”
Sunday’s eyes shot wide open. So it was Mera of all people? Or… There was only one other person who could’ve somehow gotten it from him, and she was not present right now. In fact, the two hadn’t spent much time together after that fateful night Sunday and had realized being undead didn’t mean all body functions were lost.
“Riya…?”
Mera grimaced but then nodded. “We meant no harm. It’s for her sake, and for your sake too. I didn’t know the child would appear here.”
“What did you do?”
Is she turning herself into a spell-fused?! This can’t be. Mera cares about Riya and Kallus a lot. I doubt she would be wishing this fate on her!
“It might have to do with the ritual underground,” Nysandra said with a shrug. Mera instantly turned toward her, Mesmer Steel shifting frantically around. “What? You can’t expect me to make sure you’re not plotting anything untoward.”
“What ritual?!” Sunday asked. He felt as if he was growing crazy.
Mera sighed, “Riya has always had the potential to become a mage, but I forced her to wait. There are ways for one to awaken to more power than usual… inferni blood, as you may know, is an ingredient to rituals long lost to the world. When the gods roamed this plane, so did the true devils, and power contracts were a common thing.”
Nysandra nodded along as if she had been in on it. “There are no devils now, but there are inferni, and then there are the outsiders. To borrow another’s strength is a tale as old as time and we have a living example in the face of the ghoul we are holding captive. He did it by spell, and only furthered his own gifts, however. You are doing something else,” Nysandra smiled mischievously and all warmth ran out the door of the hall. Not that there was much to begin with. “I applaud your ability to adapt to the situation. Most who are as old as you refuse to bend their understandings to such an extent. I’m quite curious as to what will become of the mage below. I warn you that if she so much as thinks she can take any of his gifts she will die a most gruesome death. It might not even be me that delivers it.”
“I applaud you for your knowledge and awareness. Sunday, trust me, we mean no harm. Riya will become a mage unlike any other, but only to help you! She will be very useful to you and your cause!”
“What the fuck are you on about?!” Sunday screamed.
Are they taking me for a fool again?
Mera sighed, then waved her hand. The floor shifted, becoming translucent and pure like glass, and below he saw a wide room. Riya was laid naked on the stone floor, a complicated circle of salt and what appeared to be blood surrounding her form. Candles burned with ethereal light—some sort of elemental essence. Each flame was of a different color.
In the center of it all, floating just above Riya’s body, was a drop of blood, and a piece of hair. They floated as if held by an invisible hand, undulating, and Sunday could clearly feel a connection. Was this his hair? What sort of disgusting thing were these people doing?!
“Stop this,” he hissed.
Essence churned inside him. Even the people of the Arcanum hadn’t been as deceitful, and Sunday had fully expected it from the vampire. Mera and Riya of all people… this hurt.
“If she does, the girl will die,” Nysandra said. “I don’t mind either way. If you want, I can kill them right now. End this farce.”
Sunday paused. She was offering just like that? Did she not care? No. Of course she didn’t. She was just like the rest, playing games with him, making use of his weird situation and all the issues he was preoccupied with to sow the seed of her usefulness. Of how trustworthy she was.
All of them were users. All of them. He took a deep breath, stopping his hand from trembling, and sat back down.
“What will become of her?”
Mera shook her head. “Something more. Something for you. The details are lost on me.”
“And yet you still perform this sick ritual?”
Nysandra stepped forward casually, taking a seat as well and crossing her legs as if the world was not messed up and they were about to enjoy a cup of coffee in the afternoon.
“She will quite possibly be unable to go against you. A forced subservience in a way, for the gift of borrowing some power at times. That’s the best case. If she turns into a monster she dies, with or without your permission. If she tries to possess you or steal a talent you have, she dies. As for you,” she pointed toward Mera. “I can cut your soul away from the spell wrapped around it, and torture you in ways you cannot imagine. There’s a particular flavor of death only I can offer to the deserving. May this be your first and last deception.”
Mera nodded, and silence descended upon the group.
Sunday still struggled to wrap his head around all that was going on. Was he that stupid and blind? He had come confident and uncaring. After all, what could scare someone who had just died? Now though he suddenly drowning in issues.
“I’m going out,” he said and stood up. “I need to get my spells first.”
“Vesper will follow. I’ll take care here,” Nysandra said.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“The Divine won’t take this lying down, but he will be enough of a deterrent to save this city from a disaster. They can’t manifest too much power this far out. Be smart.”
Stop lecturing me, bitch. Sunday grumbled as he nodded and walked out. Vesper followed along soundlessly. For once the vampire was not yapping away.
“I need to grab a spell, and see if I can fix my arm.”
“Sure thing. I had a one-armed cousin, sorry bastard. Vampires have little going on, you know? We’re all limbs and teeth and of course charm. Alas, the latter doesn’t come naturally to some. So this cousin—,”
Sunday did his best to tune the vampire out as they walked up toward the city. A spell appeared on his open hand—a translucent plate of essence. It was as easy as taking off jewelry. Essence Shield was very useful, but for now, he would part with it. It was either Flowing Flesh or that spell that was mentioned. Sunday wondered which one it was that carried such a name— The Deep Root Nysandra had called it. He had only the spells from the Bazaar and a few others. He had gotten most on a whim, but the spirit bear was a good summon when coupled with the Berserk Moon.
What else was there? Icy Ground was worthless, and so was the Swim like a Fish spell. That left Shovel. They could theoretically be very useful in specific situations but that was only if his slots grew. As of now his Omen of Duality, Phantasmal Fall, Vision of the Berserk Moon, and the newly added Key of Divinity were non-negotiable. It sucked that the new spell would take one of his slots without being useful, but taking it out was out of the question.
That left him with one slot, and Mirrored Soul to master so he could eventually carry the rest of his collection.
The room with the spells was above ground, and the two of them reached it easily. Vesper seemed hellbent on telling his stories and that was just fine. Sunday found it easy to forget the vampire was there. He had too much on his mind. Some part of him felt… hurt. Most of him found it reasonable. It was not a lie he didn’t use people. That was actually his main means of survival back on Earth.
It still felt bad for everyone to look at him as if he was the golden goose.
The hall filled with habitats holding the spells prepared for Riya was the same as before, with one additional cage where his beloved Smash Ball seemed to be thriving. Sunday couldn’t recognize the essence burning from the stones littered on the ground around the spell, but it was looking decent.
That was a relief. The spell was a favorite to use. Mera had come through on that, and perhaps there was a price to pay. Frankly, losing a drop of blood even if it was magical was nothing in comparison to all he had received. It was just… frustrating. The way it had been taken from him… Couldn’t they have just asked?!
His other spells were safely stored in the quasi-spell cubes most spells were kept in. Mera had made pedestals of them. Without taking even a look at the creepy Flowing Flesh – it reminded him too much of what had happened with the Divine— Sunday took the so-called Shovel and equipped it.
A quick look toward the Golden Page told him that Deep Root was indeed its true name. Why the confusion, then? Roots did dig but…
Ah, fuck it. He barely left the room with the spells when he forced essence into the Deep Root. Then he forced more and more, and the spell seemed to instinctively manifest in the place of his missing arm. Roots grew out of his skin shifting and intertwining until he had a new limb. The plan-like growth easily sank into the stone ground. It burrowed deep and slow as if the stone was soft soil.
This could be handy. I wonder what the limits are… maybe I can shape it?
Sunday pulled it out, and after playing around a bit the wood shifted. Soon enough a new hand made of roots had taken the place of his old one. It was slower and stiffer, and possibly quite weaker in comparison, but if he ever decided to just burrow underground and abandon all this bullshit, it was perfect.
“That looks painful. Is it?” the vampire asked as he watched from the side.
“It will have to do. Come now, Vesper. I need you to help me with some vampires. There’s one I want you to pay particular attention to…”
