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Netherwitch - 50
🕑 Added 2025-10-14 16:00:09 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 49 | Table of Contents | Chapter 51 >>
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Chapter 50
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Shimmering stars were like a great curtain draped over the world. Sylvia stood behind the wheel of the Utrecht, a stool beneath her feet so her eyes could peer over the helm. The astralship swam through the starry void, so deep that even the black pit of emptiness above had been drowned in glimmering lights.
It was the Friday of the fourth week of Men-Mors. The month of death was soon to be followed by the month of darkness, Men-Tenebris. When came Men-Stella then the Festival of Light, Sylvia would’ve been wandering these planes for six years.
But for now, it’d only been five.
Her time as Eric faded into memory. Sylvia owned a larger and larger portion of her life.
“… then I saw a fighter fly by on a broom. Can you believe it?” Emmy huffed. “A big, ugly, muscle-covered man, on a broom.”
To Sylvia’s right hung a bright blue window, standing in sharp contrast to the dark world. There, on that flattened image, Emmy nattered.
“Yes. Men on brooms. A travesty,” Sylvia commented blandly.
The witch’s eyes tracked her ghostly crew. Three phantasmal sailors moved across the deck with precision, readying the ship for their arrival at port. Isabella had taken a position near the bow, directing two men through a series of drills with Belkis and Brianna watching. Most of the spectral crew was below deck. Josephine and Silas were making sure the cargo was ready and everything was packed for transport.
Wheel steady in her hands, Sylvia gripped the ascent lever with her fluffy right tress. With a heavy pull, she shifted the rod back, easing the Utrecht into the higher void. A glance at the fate compass showed neutral on opportunity, with the bead favoring safety and stability. The witch frowned. With the Utrecht so close to Tartarus’s shores, she’d think those two factors would lean far stronger.
Though, it was never wise to place too much stock in a fate compass. Fate was hard to discern in the best of times, and broad divinations were unreliable even before counter magics were applied.
“I am well aware of your Earth culture,” Emmy said, her graceful manner disguising her snootiness. “But it’s an eyesore. Brooms are tools for ladies, Sylvia. Ladies. It’s no different than watching a man prance around in a dress.”
Sylvia’s frown turned back into a smile.
On the blue screen, Esmeralda’s image showed her disdain. The elegant woman didn’t puff her cheeks cutely like Emily. Instead, her irritation was revealed by the shift of her hips and the angle of her umbral eyes. Sylvia missed the little girl’s adorable reactions, but she’d learned to read the same feelings in this emeraldette.
“Funny,” Sylvia commented, giving the screen a sidelong look. “You never hesitated to shove me into a dress.”
Emmy’s polished demeanor was broken by a giggle.
“That’s because you’re adorable,” she justified sweetly.
Sylvia’s cheeks warmed a touch. At first, the emerald-haired witch had tried to hide her girlish reactions. These days, Esmeralda relaxed in Sylvia’s presence, revealing Emily’s heart.
“I’ll have you know, Swift Brooms believes in equality between men and women,” the silver-haired witch returned smoothly, hiding her heart’s flutter. “Specifically, Swift Brooms believes men and women should equally consume our product.”
Emmy’s retort took on the high tones of an aristocrat. “If your business does not consider image and fashion, then I fear Charm Club has failed you.”
Tch. These were the days of Model T fame. Everyone was going to buy a broom in whatever color Sylvia offered and they were going to like it that way!
“How much further now?” Esmeralda asked, redirected the conversation.
“If my astrogation isn’t rusty, we should be coming up on Tartarus in a couple of hours.”
The hazy, ash-filled skies of the Asphodel Meadows had yet to show on the horizon, but it wouldn’t be long before they did.
“Mmm,” Emmy hummed. “If you have the spare time and the funds, buy some magma imp cores for me. I wish to make more gargoyles.”
“I thought we were going to put in guardian dungeons instead?” Sylvia questioned.
The common dungeon was a place of adventure. A location gamers could dive into, fight through hordes of phantasms to collect materials and experience points. Beasts produced by these cores would be hostile. The dungeon would continue generating phantasms after reaching the limit of its control, letting them flood the halls or even flow out into the world beyond.
Guardian dungeons, by contrast, were supportive.
Instead of letting its monsters run free, the phantasms would be tightly controlled then used as guards or assistants. Not only did these dungeons provide protection, but they also offered up excess phantasms as tamed beasts or mounts. This made guardian dungeons extremely valuable, albeit in a different way than their common brethren.
According to their plan, Sylvia and Emmy would add a guardian dungeon to every major city. And five would be built along the astral coast of Starlight.
“In the future, my dear,” Esmeralda answered. “But before then we need to protect our critical infrastructure. I do not trust these gamers. Many fail to comprehend they live in a second reality. Dissuasion from the System alone is not enough.”
Touché.
“How many cores are you looking for then,” Sylvia said. Her lips quirked. “A hundred?”
Emmy’s visage turned soft. “Only if you are willing to aid me. Otherwise, I fear you’ll exhaust me to death. For now, thirty will do.”
“You know, I’d be happy to help,” Sylvia said. Her expression was apologetic. “But it’s hard to find the time.”
Time was something both women lacked. Esmeralda’s retainers had done a lot to free Sylvia from the drudgery of government, but there were a dozen new labors ready to replace the old. And being the second most skilled witch on the plane meant many of these tasks could only be done by her.
“It would be lovely to spend more time together,” Emmy agreed. “But our shared labors are better spent on the quest, A Perfect Core.”
Grrk. Sylvia winced at the reminder.
A Perfect Core and Ten-Thousand Dungeon Domain had stalled out after Sylvia had built ten flawed dungeons. The silver-haired witch had hoped Esmeralda’s expertise would suffice. Alas, phantasmal biology of this complexity was beyond Emmy, too.
The bloodline of the starlight witch was a grand accomplishment, but it was closer to a splicing of magissa codes than a raw synthesis.
Right now, the only way forward required years of simulation and skill books. Sylvia figured she needed eleven books in total. Four for runes, two for math, one for arithmancy, then two more for both alchemy and bloodline codes specifically. Only after this would Sylvia have the foundation to complete the research.
Until then, she dared not risk the fruits born by Yaalon.
Or, to be more specific, Sylvia wasn’t willing to risk her own merit points!
“With all the gamers flooding in, I should have enough merit points in two years,” Sylvia stated.
Every time a player bought Sylvia’s skill books, the witch received a single merit point. This hadn’t been much at the start, but as the plane’s population swelled, her sales increased exponentially. In the last few years, well over three hundred copies of The Lesser Codex had been bought. How to Fast Cast and Basic Combat Magic trailed behind, being the closest competitors.
Most of Sylvia’s books were magical in nature. Right now, the Cloud Island Wilderness had a population just north of two thousand. Five hundred of which were mages.
“It would be remiss to rely on sales alone,” Esmeralda warned.
“I’m well aware of that fact,” Sylvia replied.
The Devil wasn’t so kind as to allow her a billion merit from her skill book monopoly. Sooner or later, Lucifer would cut her profits short. The only question, in Sylvia’s mind, was where stood the Devil’s threshold.
“How’s Starport?” Sylvia asked. “I expect you’re getting a good number of players now that the gate is working.”
The first link in Gateway Express had been completed a month before Sylvia left. With this, there was finally a way for players to travel between Viridian City and Starport without an expert’s intervention.
“Tourists mostly,” Emmy said with a tinge of disappointment. “I put Chloe in charge of external affairs. She’s doing a lovely job designing quests and programs to entice players into staying. I believe we can reach a population of seven hundred before the year’s end. I hope for a thousand before the end of the next.”
Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes narrowed into points. “You didn’t add taxes to Viridian City, did you?”
“Sylvia, you know I would never – ”
“Because that’s what I would’ve done,” Sylvia said shamelessly.
Emmy tittered. “Sylvia, you are terrible.”
The distant presence of the emeraldette was a balm to Sylvia’s soul. If only Emmy was here, with her in person. Then they could sit together on the rail of the ship, gazing out into the seas of stars. Shoulder to shoulder. Hand in hand.
A warmth filled her crystal core. This beautiful lady, Sylvia loved her.
“Speaking of government matters, I have a few papers that require your approval,” Esmeralda continued. “I’ve already sent them to your box. Only two are marked priority. The rest can be addressed whenever you can spare the time.”
In the last year, Dianna Sable and Zoe Marshall had been placed in charge of the Beginner’s Village and Viridian City respectively. Both had proven to be hands more deft than Sylvia’s own. Natalie Ward, that ambitious woman, had moved to Viridian chasing after a higher position. Willow now headed the Guild Hall in Natalie’s place.
As for Riley, Henry had brought the blonde witch into the Viridian Blades. Riley was currently working as a beast tamer, having fallen in love with the creatures after flirting with blood sport. It turned out that, while Riley liked sports, she wasn’t fond of watching players murder phantasms.
She still owned a stake in the arena, though. It was hard to say no to money.
Before she left, Sylvia had teasingly warned her friend against selling flying mounts. Riley had given her a grouchy-eyed look which said: could you at least pretend not to be corrupt?
“I’ll look them over when I have a chance.”
“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call,” Esmeralda reminded.
“I’ll call every day.”
Emmy huffed, her umbral eyes showing their darkness. “You were not so diligent with your letters.”
Yes, because letters are letters. Who wanted to write letters? Not Sylvia, that was for sure.
Looking into the blue screen beside her, Sylvia drew a nervous breath. “I love you.”
Esmeralda’s expression melted. Sylvia’s heart thumped.
“I love you too.”
The light blinked out. A deep, aching emptiness was left behind. One day, Emmy would be on this ship with her. Then they’d explore the whole netherworld together.
But for now, both of them were bound by so many duties.
Gazing out into the stars, Sylvia calculated her position. Tartarus had drawn closer during the call. The asteri turned the wheel, aiming for the distant port. After half an hour of sailing, a gray haze appeared on the horizon. As they ascended in the void, the sky turned into a pit of black. The empty void stood above while the starlit world lingered below.
“Land ahoy!” the snow-haired witch – Brianna – shouted, standing on the ship’s bow.
Sylvia smiled. With her right tress, the witch pushed the ascent lever, smoothing the angle of the ship. Slowly, the cliffs of Tartarus wavered into view.
“Trim the catch, you scallywags!” Sylvia roared. “All hands on deck and make ready for port!”
Sylvia could only pity her lack of a pirate costume. Instead of casting the dashing image of a capt’n, the silver-haired girl was wearing the pink atrocity. Though, calling it an ‘atrocity’ was more than a little exaggerated these days.
The garment was Sylvia’s new armor.
The bottom was a pink, puffed-out skirt, the layers of glossy silk ended in a hem of pink ruffles followed by dark lace. A black halter top hugged her waist, the tight fabric making clear the curve of her tiny torso. At the back was a giant bow, the knot adorned with a pink flower. Finally, a thin silk band wrapped her delicate neck, adding to the fragile allure.
This dress had neither sleeves nor stockings. Instead, Sylvia’s arms and shoulders were left bare to the world, pale skin glowing with healthy light. Her shoes were heeled pumps, the patent leather shiny and black. A pink ribbon wound around her calves, each tied in cute bows.
Best of all was her witch’s hat. The cone crooked, proud and pink, a black ribbon wrapping the base. From the peak hung a dark tassel.
Style was sugar and gothic. Emmy had named her creation Spring Blossom, preempting the System. Secretly, Sylvia thought the dress was cute. Since Awakening, she’d found herself increasingly fascinated by the idea of being pretty.
A vile corruption stemming from Emmy’s relentless brainwashing, no doubt.
The attributes were quite good.
Equipment: Spring Blossom
Weight: 58.6 droms
Type: Armor/Mystic
Value: 334,000 soliCharacteristics:
Defense: 49
Barrier: 450 hp
Mp Drain: 110/hour
Ki Burden: MediumEffects:
* Safety GlassSpring Blossom is the last work of Emily Clark, carrying her dearest wish to transform her beloved Sylvia into an adorable, pink, magical girl. However, Emily never saw the dress come to fruition, as Sylvia had outgrown her creation before it could be finished. It was only years later, with access to improved tools and resources, that Esmeralda Vallenfelt completed the dress.
Spring Blossom is a mystic armor that combines martial concepts with a magical barrier. For this reason, the wearer can imbue their physical integrity into their magical defense, lending the barrier additional hardness against strikes. However, as a consequence, blows received by the wearer will draw on the mage’s ki, eventually leading to physical exhaustion.
This armor’s barrier is permeable to the wearer’s ki, allowing easy grip and function. If destroyed, the runic frame will regenerate the barrier after 15 minutes. If this is not sufficient, the barrier can be forcefully restored at the cost of 225 mp after a 15 second cooldown.
Safety Glass (Passive)
* 200% Defense
* 20% DRWhen the barrier breaks, the fracturing magic will allow an instant of increased protection. This will grant increased damage resistance against the triggering hit and any that follow in the next quarter of a second. Furthermore, the wearer’s ki will be energized, allowing the innate toughness to be applied a second time.
“What in the world is a scallywag?
…
Belkis stood near the helm, having left the deck. Brianna and the two gamers Sylvia had borrowed from the Viridian Blades stood near the bow, watching Tartarus grow in the distance.
“A scamp or a rascal,” Sylvia answered, digitized soul perusing a dictionary. Her lack of understanding must’ve muddled her spirit speech. The witch paused. “Or a brave hero, apparently.”
Arg, ye mateys. She be talking like a pirate. There ain’t be no more meaning than that.
Sylvia really needed a pirate hat. And an eyepatch. If she was going to dress up in cute costumes, then she may as well fit the theme while she was doing it.
Now, how was she going to sucker Emmy into making her a good pirate outfit?
Tch. It’d be easy. She’d just have to tell her they’d go sailing together as capt’n and first mate. The emeraldette wouldn’t be able to resist. The real trick was convincing Emmy to make an actual pirate outfit and not some pirate-themed magical girl outfit.
A snowball’s chance in Hell seemed an appropriate phrase.
So…, take her to Helheim then?
“Did Emmy have anything to say?”
Sylvia nodded. “She wants us to pick up magma imp cores. Thirty. Though, it’d probably be better to grab fifty.”
“High quality cores are expensive,” Belkis said. “To get one good enough for a soul stone, you have to catch the phantasm alive then extract it. The beast has to be of a reasonable age too, usually over ten years old. Magma imps are C-II/High beasts. Cores from creatures like that go for ten thousand soli each, maybe even twenty thousand.”
Sylvia winced.
“Better stick with thirty then.”
“Even thirty is going to be hard to source,” Belkis noted. “They’re a pretty niche commodity. We’ll probably have to hit a few dozen stores to find that many.”
“Tch,” Sylvia noised. “I’ll just make Josephine and Silas do the shopping.”
What else were they here for? A few years back, Silas Wells had joined Sylvia’s business empire. The man had impressed her with his skill and effort. For this reason, Sylvia had made him CEO of her construction company, Wells and Swallow.
When preparing for this trip to Tartarus, she’d run the idea by him. Silas was very interested in doing market research on another plane. As for Sylvia, the words ‘market research’ had given her the willies. So, clearly, Silas was more appropriate for the task than her.
A heavy sigh escaped Belkis’s lips.
“I’m not supposed to call Emmy, master,” Belkis murmured. “I suppose soon will come the day I can’t call you little sis.”
“Of course you can’t,” Sylvia sneered, sounding affronted. “You recently transmigrated, which obviously makes you the younger sister.”
Belkis smirked, molten eyes dancing. “I think it’s obvious which sister is big and which sister is little.”
Belkis had grown taller over the years, surpassing Sylvia in height in spite of the kitten heels the elemental witch favored. By maturity, though, she still showed her youth. If Sylvia were to judge by appearance, she’d put the prisma at an age of fourteen or fifteen.
Where, oh where, had her adorable little sister gone?
Also, Belkis was just a sliver taller. If Sylvia put on some higher – Abort! Abort! Abort! Whew. Luckily, Sylvia killed the traitorous thought in the cradle, otherwise she’d have to kill herself to cleanse the stain left on her soul.
“How does it feel?” Sylvia questioned. She gestured in the direction of the rising cliffs. “To see Tartarus again after all these years?”
The dark-skinned woman turned, leaning on the rail that overlooked the deck. While they spoke, Josephine and Silas had emerged to witness the approaching plane, taking in the wonder. Belkis’s expression was more somber, eyes of heated iron gazing out into the growing gray, nostalgic.
“It’s hard to say. Part of me wants to head to Iacchus and figure out who screwed me all those years ago. I figure it had to be Fiia or Pheobe, though I haven’t ruled out Rauno yet.” Her expression showed a flash of fury. “But it’s Malik who I really want to pay, and I know he’s untouchable.”
For a moment, the dark-skinned witch stood silent. Then she continued.
“Mostly, though, it feels weird. Back when Esmeralda left, I wanted to stand on my own. To prove to her, I was a worthy apprentice. I did enjoy it. The dives into the caves. Fighting phantasms. Exploring the depths. I was so sure of myself. Emmy, I love her, but her dream of creating an Academy and raising a new generation of witches never rang inside my heart. It sounded slow and boring.”
“Did you regret staying?” Sylvia asked.
“As the years passed, I did,” Belkis said. “Part of me came to realize I could’ve been doing all of those things beside her. I could’ve gone to the Timeless Beryl Wilderness and showed her everything I’d accomplished. Instead, I was left with this gnawing fear that she’d forgotten me. That I was a disappointment.
“I came real close to leaving when I became a devil. But I hesitated for too long. Esmeralda’s letters were always welcoming, but you know how hard it is to tell polite promises from fictions.”
Belkis turned around, back against the rail. Irises of iron gazed into a universe of fractal pink. She flashed a smile.
“You grew up too fast, little sis, so I don’t think you understand what it means to have a master. I started my life as an apprentice to the circle. That’s what they called us, the witches raised by the coven.”
The prisma scoffed.
“They may as well have called us street rats. We didn’t belong to anyone. We’d get a few lessons here and there, and ratty old books to learn off of. If you didn’t get picked by one of the witches in ten years, they’d shoo you out the door. If you were lucky, you’d find acceptance in another circle. Otherwise, you had to make your way as a hedge witch. Some of us even ended up taking a contract with a wealthy patron.”
Sylvia frowned. Service contracts were better than slavery, but they could come pretty damn close.
“When Esmeralda chose me, it was the brightest day of my life,” Belkis said, her voice thick with nostalgia. “I didn’t care that she was a young witch with no accomplishments to her name. She was willing to teach me. To guide me. To take care of me. She bought me new robes and a new staff. When I was in trouble, she lent a hand. When I was confused, she provided the answers. When I cried, she shared her shoulder and listened.
“A master is a mountain,” Belkis explained. “A giant, stable presence you can count on.”
“She was like a mother.”
Not a parent as Eric had known them, but rather the parents he’d seen caring for the kids at school. The kind that left little Eric lonely and confused, knowing he was missing something important but not understanding what it was.
“Maybe, that’s what she was,” Belkis mused. “I’ll admit, I don’t really understand what it means to have a mother. Most demons don’t. When you lose your mortal memory, you lose your mortal comprehension. All I know is, I love her. That’s why I’m so happy she has you, little sis. But at the same time, I’m worried where I’ll fit in.”
There were no children in the netherworld. The deep relationship between master and apprentice was the closest thing to it. Mother wasn’t the right word either, Sylvia realized. To Belkis, Esmeralda’s presence was akin to an older sister, a beloved teacher, and a parent in a single package.
A merging of complicated positions and emotions.
“Obviously, you’ll be my little sister,” Sylvia expounded.
The prisma laughed. “Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t told you Esmeralda liked girls.”
“I would’ve been a lot more shocked when Emily kissed me.”
Also, she wouldn’t have spent the months prior teasing the emeraldette. Emily was so fun to tease. Emmy just didn’t have the same joyful reactions. Sylvia had to work harder to get the same thrill.
“She kissed you?” Belkis asked, a strange gleam in her eye. “When did this happen? Where? You have to give me the details, little sis. Emmy insisted you were the one who kissed her.”
Sylvia was, but only because Emmy, technically, wasn’t Emily.
“It was on Faded Star, right before we turned it over to the System,” Sylvia said. “Emily told me she liked me. I thought she was joking, so she leaned forward and kissed me. Right on the lips.”
“I never knew Emmy could be so forward,” Belkis said excitedly. “What happened next?”
“Emily was always an imp,” Sylvia scoffed. A soft, nostalgic smile grew on her lips. Emmy was a cunning, old devil by comparison. “And nothing happened after that. Not until I met Emmy.” Her pastel pink eyes were firm and her words manly. “Then, I kissed her.”
In retrospect, it was clear Emily had been aiming for her from the very start. Sylvia didn’t deserve the woman. But she was an evil witch, so Sylvia was going to keep her nonetheless!
“Take good care of her, little sis.”
Sylvia nodded. “I will.”
The great cliffs of Tartarus loomed large.
-oOo-
Kakós Lófos was a city of four hundred thousand built onto a slope. Here, the cliffs of Tartarus had collapsed, leaving behind a series of rising hills. The ragged, pockmarked landscape looked as though it had been gouged out by an artillery barrage, the broken rubble falling into the starry void below.
It was this characteristic that made the city a perfect astral port.
Underneath the void was a shallow lip of primordial stone. Smaller ships could sail directly over this ledge and into the shielded piers. The Utrecht was already tied to one such jetty, the phantasmal sailors carrying boxes out from the hold before stacking them on the deck.
Isabella had taken a small group of gamers into the city already. She was head of the security team. Once the goods were placed in a warehouse, it’d be her job to watch over them, leaving this moment their only chance to sightsee and explore. Silas remained onboard, checking the cargo. Nearby, a giant snake coiled around the crates. This was a tamed rattle cobra brought from the Cloud Island Wilderness.
A second serpent slept in the hold.
Belkis had ventured out for another reason. Banking. The Cloud Island Wilderness was short on soli. Much of it, in fact, had been rendered down into raw metal then used to forge tools, weapons, armor, or space bags. They did have a pipeline producing soul-space silver now, but the overall cost was around two-and-a-half soli for every soli worth of material generated.
Tartarus exchanged goods with soli exclusively. For this reason, Belkis planned to access her account then siphon off the rest of Emmy’s. After, the money would be transferred into anonymous keyed accounts. This would make it easier for future traders from the Cloud Island Wilderness to operate under false identities.
And for the Cloud Island government to insert spies into the various Hell planes.
“We also need information on ships. Astral and air,” Sylvia said. “The more, the better. Books and manuals would be fine, but it’d be better if you could find an excuse to tour one and drop a lot of observes.”
Sylvia was speaking to Josephine. The brown-haired witch had a frozen, doll-like face. Her eyes were like chips of void – deep, fathomless with faint sparks shimmering in the darkness.
“Yes, Miss Swallows,” Josephine replied, her voice soft and mild.
Sylvia nodded. Then she paused before probing. “Will you be fine working with Silas?”
Sylvia had paired the two for the business end of this trip. The big face-to-face deals would be handled by herself and Belkis. It had to be that way, Hell only respected the powerful. Sylvia was an apprentice to a baroness while Belkis was a devil.
Thus, Silas and Josephine would be responsible for sourcing minor items of interest. This would save Sylvia the hassle of rushing around between all the shops in Pyrkagiás.
At the top of her list were books and information. She wanted spells, skills, and arts for manufacturing and war. Just after knowledge in the priority list came cores. Golem cores, in particular, were needed. Sylvia wanted a dozen kinds for research. The Cloud Island Wilderness was short on labor. Nemesis needed more hands as did the lumber yards on the eastern coast. The players weren’t suitable for these tasks. The noobs might put up with it for a year, but then they were out.
This was why Hell raised beast-kin and hogmin. Low potential bloodlines had no hope but to serve as an underclass. Slave labor made for cheaper labor. And every business woman loved cheaper labor. Sadly, golems would be more expensive than hogmin, but that was the price of ending slavery. Clearly her class title had polluted her mind.
These weren’t the only type of core Sylvia wanted. She was looking for all manner of phantasmal beasts. Useful critters to be introduced to the Cloud Island Wilderness by way of dungeons. For war, adventure, and also for materials.
After the cores followed crops. Particularly, the tasty kind, but also those needed for cultivation. Then came tools and equipment. Finally, raw materials that could be used for advanced forging and enchantment.
Some things, though, like information on ship construction, took large leaps on the queue should an opportunity present itself.
“I can carry out my tasks as instructed,” Josephine answered, her placid voice showing a rare hint of irritation.
Sylvia nodded. “Brianna will remain here with the Utrecht, while Isabella will transport the cargo to a warehouse in Pyrkagiás.”
The fighters from the Viridian Blades would be split between locations, along with the snakes. This would provide a reasonable level of security.
Gate would be the path of choice. Most of the large cities in the netherworld were linked by way of a planar gate network. These could be used to transport goods and people. The cost was rather affordable at two soli a drom. Of course, if Sylvia were transporting low value bulk goods, gates would suck up all the profit.
For finished goods, however, this was only a tiny fraction of the cost. Thus, it was much safer to transport high value materials by way of gate.
The Utrecht’s cargo consisted of two hundred and fifty brooms along with five tons of white jade. White jade was a law oriented material found on Nemesis. It was great for enchanting, particularly when creating wards. The reserves were also absurdly abundant.
So Emmy and Sylvia had decided to add a chunk of the refined stone to the hold. Sylvia was hoping it’d sell easier than the brooms.
By raw value, they were carrying 18 million soli in goods. The goal was wholesale, not retail, so they’d lose a margin. In addition, there would be taxes and fees. Sylvia hoped to make 12 million in the transaction. She was willing to accept 10 million.
Less than six and she’d be in trouble. The government contract Sylvia had written for herself demanded at least that much in useful goods be redeemed. The System allowed for a fair bit of corrupt self-dealing, but it also had a bottom line.
A subtle something shifted. Sylvia’s gaze turned, her eyes tightening.
“Magic,” she spat.
A spell fell over the ship like a curtain. Chaos. Her starlight eyes revealed the elements, a complex interplay between law and fate. This was serious magic. Judging by the nature, it was an anti-divination ward.
“Warn Wells,” Sylvia ordered. “I’ll take the lead.”
Josephine nodded, hurrying down to meet the oblivious shadow hunter. White wings fluttered overhead. An ersetu storm gull landed on the cabin’s roof. With a smooth, unnatural motion, the bird folded a wing in front of its chest then bowed.
“A familiar,” Sylvia noted, recognizing the creature was controlled. “Should I assume you’re here to talk?”
“You are astute, Lady Swallows.”
Storm gulls were Class II phantasmal creatures with an innate affinity for wind. The bird stood as tall as a man, its wingspan dwarfing human scale. These beasts were not native to Tartarus, but nevertheless they could be found all throughout the planes, brought to distant shores by millennia of war.
This was because the ersetu storm gull had a rare and valuable feature, they could fly through sky or starry void alike.
Though, by no means, could these phantasms cross between planes without help.
“I am Magister Moswen,” the bird introduced, speaking with the voice of a man. “Vizier to Viscount Potami. We met prior during your purchase of the Utrecht.”
Suddenly, Sylvia remembered where she’d last heard that voice. The asteri quickly dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“Forgive me for my rudeness, Magister Moswen,” Sylvia said with ladylike charm. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“It is I who should be honored,” Moswen rejected. The gull’s gaze turned. “Are your subordinates trusted with His name?”
Ice ran through her veins.
Sugar plums.
“■■■ ■■■■ ■■■.”
Nearly two hundred runes were wound into a boundary of law. Private booth was a spell of Sylvia’s creation. The magic would ensure no information could escape the bubble. When finished, it would go one step further, erasing the threads of causality left behind.
“Law magic, directly catalyzed by your core. An anti-divination of sorts. Judging by the runic structure, it shouldn’t interfere with my protections,” Moswen observed. The gull bowed again. “Then allow me to extend my most profound greetings to your eminence, the Apostle of Fire.”
Sugar plums? No, this was chocolate covered crud muffins.
Her eyes flickered in every direction. No sign of an ambush. She forced herself to relax. Not so much out of trust as cold, hard realization. Viscount Potami was a C-VIII/Mid demon. Never mind his physical strength, Drugi’s wealth alone was enough to squash her a hundred times over.
A third consolidation witch was strong, but not invincible. Even in a small city like Kakós Lófos there were a hundred who could match her. If forced to face great societies or powerful men, Sylvia was a candle easily snuffed by the wind.
“There is no need to fear, Lady Swallows. Only Lord Potami and I are aware of the truth,” Moswen explained. “Indeed, it is because of this matter that I have come.”
Sylvia’s expression remained grim. Those two were already two too many.
“If you’re asking something of me, you have the wrong woman,” Sylvia said firmly, granting no succor to the accusation.
“I would never presume, your eminence,” Moswen said with a second bow. The gull ruffled its feathers before settling back onto its perch. “I have come bearing a warning and a gift. When you last set foot on this world, the whole netherworld shook. Inquisitors of Heaven have been stirred, even now they slink through the Asphodel Meadows searching for clues leading to your existence. Lord Azazel himself has arrived, hunting for the Thirteenth Piece. For now, the Emperor stands silent, watching for opportunities of his own.
“In the wake cast by your actions, the followers of the flame were inspired to spread His glorious light. Others, wiser, made moves so as to drown out your spark. But this too attracts scrutiny.”
…
Eyes of fractal pink narrowed.
“I see. Lord Potami serves the fire. That’s why he could never rise above the rank of viscount.”
“My lord believes in the Great Work,” Moswen confirmed. “This is known to many. He has foes who oppose his allegiance, but also allies who wish to restore the golden dream and with it, true utopia.”
“What makes you think I’m the apostle?” Sylvia interjected.
The gull’s eyes gleamed. “You are unaware?”
…
Sylvia just stared.
“After you purchased the Utrecht, every fate compass in the netherworld moved one notch toward discord. I confirmed it myself. The source of the echo was the marina where you were docked,” Moswen said. “And seeing as how your eminence has already reached the third consolidation, any lingering doubt in my heart has been vanquished.”
Oh. Oh, crud. Sylvia could feel the hairs on the back of her arm rise, carrying with them a shivering sense of terror. She’d deeply misunderstood the severity when Moswen said Sylvia had ‘stirred the Inquisition’.
“At the behest of my lord, I cleansed all signs of your presence. Heaven has only narrowed the ripple of fate to the first layers of Tartarus. But their search since has been most thorough. By now, every person who crossed paths with the flame has been put on a list. The strange disappearance of your master’s Academy has surely placed you higher.”
Sylvia took a shuddering breath.
“How did you know my consolidation?”
The storm gull’s eyes glinted. “The tool you are using is acceptable, but it was made for a different soul. What’s more, it was never designed to withstand the scrutiny of a master.”
Another mistake.
Sylvia was carrying Emily’s anti-divination accessory, Clouded Face. This item could hide her strength, making her appear less powerful than she was. She thought it would be enough. Clouded Face had fooled the System’s Observe Opponent, so she figured it’d be good enough to fool others as well.
She should’ve known Lucifer’s cheap version of observe would just return garbage.
Now, she was in a dangerous situation. Heaven was searching for the apostle. She was already on their list. If the wrong person saw the truth…. Well, a fey of the third consolidation less than ten years old was a major anomaly. It’d be well worth the risk to disappear her to a black site. Just in case.
“Thank you, Magister Moswen,” Sylvia said with a small curtsy. She took in a breath. “We’ll leave immediately.”
She paused. Sugar. Belkis was visiting the bank. They’d practically announced their presence.
“No. That would be remiss. You should carry out your business as intended,” Moswen rejected. “To flee as soon as you arrived would only attract greater interest. Here, within Hell’s domain, the Inquisition’s power is limited. In the starry void, no power holds authority. It is far too easy to make a ship vanish.”
Her hand quivered. Sylvia did her best to stifle her fear.
“When the time comes, the flame will create an opportunity,” Moswen stated, as though reading her worry. “Until then, you must act as though my warning was never given. This is the safest course.”
Calming herself, Sylvia mustered a third curtsy.
The gull nodded. Then the creature lowered its beak, gripping in its mouth a pendant. With a twitch of its neck, it threw the item toward the witch. Sylvia snatched it out of the air. Out of habit, she hit it with a spell. Observe Item. Causality touched metal then beaded off it as though it were water, providing no clue as to the item’s purpose.
“The second reason I came was to deliver this,” Moswen said.
The silver-haired girl turned the medallion in hand. The disk was made of black metal. On the front was a pentacle engraved in gold. The face of Baphomet, the first minister of Hell, was set in the center, his eyes burning embers. On the back were the words: wisdom demands courage.
No way. Shocked, Sylvia looked up at the bird in confusion.
“The medallion is an ancient artifact that once served as the sigil of the Dark Parliament. It is known as – ”
“Anbaht,” Sylvia interrupted.
“Your eminence has heard of it.”
“Of course I have. Seventy-two fateless medallions named Anbaht were forged during the Blood Crusade to protect the representatives of Hell’s government,” Sylvia answered. “It has the power to deceive fate, making the wearer untraceable by any means. The enchantment was unbeatable for the entirety of the second great war and remained so for a hundred years after.”
Even then, Anbaht’s protection was only broken after a medallion fell into the hands of a traitor. It was Hell itself who developed a work-around in a desperate bid to hunt the thief. Rumors said, that despite their efforts, the traitor was never found.
Anbaht was a genuine, legendary artifact. It belonged in a museum.
In fact, most of the medallions were in a museum. And for good reason. The Anbaht medallions couldn’t be used.
“Seven traitors,” Moswen corrected. “Or so they claimed. This medallion and the others were willfully gifted to the followers of the flame by those who feared that the golden dream would be forgotten.”
How interesting. Sylvia had learned a piece of hidden history.
“Anbaht can only be inherited,” Sylvia reminded. “To be used, it must first be transferred by way of a ritual.”
This was a famous fact. Anbaht could be gifted only by the current owner or with the help of forty-nine independent holders. It was through this means that the Dark Parliament had protected itself from infiltrators during the Blood Crusade. The problem was, there were only around two dozen medallions with formal owners in modern times. The rest were, quite literally, inoperable junk.
“The current owner stands ready to complete the ritual at this very moment,” Moswen said. “All that is required from you is your soul essence. Once the medallion has been primed, I will give word and the transfer will begin.”
Sylvia studied the bird for a long moment. Anbaht was not an item to be gifted lightly. For Moswen to offer this tool showed nothing short of absolute faith. Not only by him, but by this Anbaht’s current owner.
Lord Potami must have powerful connections to lay his hands on this item.
“I’m unworthy of this generosity.”
Sylvia gave a deep curtsy, which Moswen answered with a bow.
“It is only our duty,” Moswen replied. “Shall we begin?”
Sylvia nodded. From her soul, the witch pulled 100 points of experience. The essence was pressed against the metal. A minute later, the golden pentacle glowed with crimson fire. She felt a piece of herself drawn in. Anbaht quivered. It felt warm. Alive. Eager. Like a curious child reaching out to its new master.
Observe Item.
Causality magic rippled over the medallion. At first, it was resisted, then Anbaht itself opened up and drank the spell. Magic explored every nook and cranny.
Ding!
Equipment: Anbaht (Modified)
Weight: 28.9 droms
Type: Legendary Accessory
Value: Priceless
Mp Drain: 30/hourEffects:
* Fateless
* Shapeless
* TorchlightAn ancient tool created during the height of the Unification War. Anbaht served as both proof of authority and protection to Hell’s hidden government during its darkest era. To ensure the medallion’s enchantments could not be broken, the creator and every demon involved erased their memories after completing the tool’s forging.
Until the end of the second great war, Anbaht’s defense remained unbeatable. Even in modern times, this accessory renders the wearer immune to virtually all forms of divination. Though modern magics can pierce this protection, the enchantments are thorough. Thus, information collected will be dramatically reduced.
Due to the accumulated history, this accessory has risen to the level of an artifact. Because of this, the defense provided by the item has greater strength and breadth than would otherwise be expected. Furthermore, the medallion has a proto-consciousness, allowing it to adapt to magics that pierce its veil.
Fateless (Passive)
“Walk through the world, leaving not a single ripple in the still waters of fate.”The wearer is completely immune to all common methods of divination, this includes magics of both the causality and fate element. Some spells can bypass this effect, but due to meticulous enchantments of this accessory along with its accumulated history even these will be resisted, offering far less information than expected.
Divinations will not draw a blank. Instead, those who attempt to gather information about the wearer will find a reasonable answer which fits with what they wish, but is nevertheless not harmful to the wielder’s interests. The astute and the studious, however, will eventually realize their divinations aren’t working at all.
This aspect is very thorough. Anbaht will scrub all traces of the wearer’s influence on the world, except those the wielder wishes to share. Even mana and blood essence will be stripped of identifying characteristics. Actions that move fate will be silenced, leaving nary a ripple. Even divinations targeting persons, places, actions, or objects that might lead to the wielder won’t work.
Shapeless (Active)
This medallion can transform into any shape the owner can imagine, the only limit being size. Anbaht cannot be made smaller than a marble or have more than thrice the volume of the medallion itself. The medallion’s proto-consciousness will aid the owner when changing shape, making it very easy to resume exact replications of prior forms.
Torchlight (Passive/Active)
* Mp Drain: 1 to 1000/hourOriginally, the Anbaht medallion could resonate with any of its seventy-one brothers. This medallion has been modified so it can only commune with the seven Anbaht medallions gifted to the followers of the flame. With this ability, the accessory can light a beacon, sharing its general location with the other owners. Lighting this beacon is an active effect, while receiving the resonance is passive. Depending on how much mana is placed within, the range of influence will grow from a city to an entire plane.
The echoes of information flowing through her digitized soul left Sylvia assured that Anbaht left nothing hidden. Sylvia’s event log scrolled. In a moment of pure beauty, the System showered her with its infinite love.
Reward: +121 pts – Nether code: Bound Havocite
Reward: +88 pts – Nether code: Weavecrystal
Reward: +147 pts – Nether code: Maelstral
Reward: +108 pts – Enchantment code: Fateless
Reward: +17 pts – Enchantment code: Shapeless
Reward: +21 pts – Enchantment code: Torchlight
After admiring the list for a moment, Sylvia slipped the accessory into her soul. The witch immediately felt that bloated feeling which came when her inventory was overly full.
To free up space, the asteri ejected a white marble. This was Clouded Face, Emily’s old anti-divination accessory. She’d hand it over to Belkis when the prisma returned.
They’d need anti-divination tools for the rest of the group too. Fortunately, any information about the System was automatically censored and everyone had been warned not to reveal too much. Once Sylvia had a chance to confer with Belkis, she’d talk with the others.
“Is there anything else, Magister Moswen?” Sylvia asked.
“One final word before I go, your eminence,” the storm gull said. “Be wary of Lord Azazel. The Inquisition’s power is greater, but they are hampered by the laws of Hell. Laws that an archdemon can readily ignore.”
Lord Azazel, huh. She’d never heard of him. In the future, Sylvia would have to look him up.
Foof!
The bird burst into fire, flames eating through blood and feathers. Grimacing, Sylvia projected Anbaht’s shadow. The medallion’s shape swam on her chest, transforming into a dark teardrop which hung over her breasts.
“Why couldn’t things be nice and easy?”
With a sigh, the witch snapped her fingers. Private booth imploded around her, overwriting the threads of causality and returning them to origin. Moswen’s shroud of magic faded shortly after.
-oOo-
New Equipment
White Heaven
Type: Weapon/Magical
Weight: 78.3 droms
Value: 6,100,000 soli
Attributes:
Attack: 130%
Penetration: 50
Ether: 550 / Penta-elemental: Sky, Lightning, Ice, Wind, Water
Charge: 350%
Potency: 160%
A staff forged from the wooden core of a powerful nether beast. White Heaven is a sky elemental staff oriented in the direction of ice. The ether within can be exchanged between five elements, missing only fire from the components of sky. With this staff, the caster may directly catalyze the element sky with no intervening steps.
This staff is especially adapted to the concept of cold. When using spells of the ice element or sky elemental magics that have a cold nature, the energy cost will be reduced by 10%. Furthermore, spells of this nature will have a 5% boost to their power and area of effect.
White Heaven was lent to Sylvia Swallows by Esmeralda Vallenfelt.
Clouded Face
Weight: 13.8 droms
Type: Accessory/Magical
Value: 47,000 soli
Mp Drain: 15/hour
A small, milky marble filled with clouds. This tool passively resists most causality divinations and some fate-based divinations. The effect is similar to the combined spells Anonymous Presence and Misplaced Guilt, though the intensity of the effect is much weaker.
Compared to most anti-divination accessories, clouded face is special in that it puts forward a false visage. This causes information collecting spells to return data according to the ‘background’ placed within the marble. The distortion effect is more powerful the closer to the truth the stored story is.
Clouded Face was used by Emily Clark during her stay at the Starlight Nether Witch Academy to disguise the fact that Emily was actually Esmeralda’s clone.
Rarely Seen Windows
Merit Points
Current: 1,393
Lifetime: 33,493
Traits
True Cosmic Core, Pure Starlight Eyes, Silken Mana, Improved Elemental Palace (Ice), Improved Elemental Palace (Lightning), Deep Reservoir I, Ether Affinity II, Digitized Soul, Ether Resonance
System Features
Observe Opponent, Observe Item, Observe Terrain, Observe Resources, Track Target, Networked Grimoire, Map Collection, Forum Access, System Camera, System Microphone, Architectural Overlay, Share Window, Phone Service, Video Conferencing, Augmented Reception, Stealthy Transmission, Runeworks Studio, Virtual Cauldron, System Library (common, music, fiction)
Consumed Skill Books (33 books in total)
- (Not in the library)
- Epic
Academic Magical Skills
The Lesser Codex, The Great Codex I to IV, Fundamentals of Arithmancy, Intermediate Arithmancy, Spell Theory 101 & 201, Bloodline Codes part 1, Rune Logic I & II
Lifestyle Skills
(Basics of Cultivation), (Gate Construction and Enchantment), Basic Astrogation, Introduction to Magical Construction, Elementary Alchemy, Smelting - an ethersmith’s guide, Foundations of Enchantment, The Enchanter’s Bible
Magical Combat Skills
(All About Wind Blade), How to Fast Cast, (More on Fast Casting), Basic Combat Magics, Advanced Combat Magics, (Magical Combat I & II), Gesture Magic, The Dual Casting Duelist, (The Dual Casting Master)
Arts and Techniques
Waltz of Flowers, The Breath of Ether, Hawk Eyes
Carried Equipment
Current: 225.0 droms
Max Load: 236.0 droms
Ki Load: Medium
White Heaven (78.3), Spring Blossom (58.6), Slip Ring (12.8), Sparkling Starpack (7.3), Stella Iecit – Gold (16.6), Void Raven’s Vestments (20.4), Anbaht (28.9), Mirror Pad (2.1)
Comments
verified-patron
The merit points were almost the juicier reward than the legendary artifact itself. Almost. It's good that Sylvia got a kick in the rear. No lazing around for this magical girl!
Lijwent
It Hell itself who developed a work-around -> it was Hell
StapleLizard
Gosh Silvia and Emmy are too cute! Can’t wait to real more!
