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395. Cooking up Mana
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 14:00:10 +0000 UTCOn and on they went. Ike got increasingly creative with how he lit the puppets on fire, practicing technique after technique so he could take some time and simply refine them. Any technique he could come up with that seemed likely to light them on fire, he tried. Even some that didn’t seem likely to light any puppets up, he still tried, just to waste mana. The puppets combined had a near infinite mana pool, so there was no need to hold back. He went off, practicing techniques on the puppets, on the wall, on everything he could reach. Ike stayed away from Mag, but the rest of the army was fair game.
When they finished this level of the puppets, Wisp threaded them up to the next shelf. Ike glanced up, half-expecting Brightbriar to descend and stop them, but there was no sign of the man yet. So, shrugging, he carried on.
They had just about finished that shelf when a burst of energy flashed out from below, and a black-and-white-scaled bird flapped after them. “Where’d you guys go? Aren’t you supposed to stand guard when someone’s Ranking up?” Mag demanded.
“No one told me that rule,” Ike deadpanned.
“I’m not standing guard for a bird,” Wisp added.
He landed on the ground in front of them and hopped angrily at them. “You! Savages! Worthless! If you had eggs, you wouldn’t sit on them, that’s how useless you are!”
“You were fine!” Ike pointed out.
“We were—we are in enemy territory!” Mag argued.
“And you were fine!”
“I could have died!”
“Perfectly fine!”
Wisp giggled.
Mag rounded on her. “I won’t guard your nest! I won’t!”
“I wouldn’t want you to! I’m the only one who gets to eat my eggs. I don’t want some bird eating my precious eggs. And don’t drag me into this, bird!” Wisp responded, hopping onto Ike’s shoulder to gain a few extra feet on Mag.
“Get off,” Ike complained, shaking Wisp off his shoulder. “And you, stop complaining.”
“Stop complaining?” Mag asked, aghast. “My life was in danger!”
“Our lives are all in danger all the time. Stop whining.” Ike looked around him, at all the burning puppets, then shrugged. “So… have we done enough here? Time to move on?”
“I think we could do a little more,” Wisp said.
“I think we should keep talking about how you guys are not very good mage friends,” Mag grumbled.
Ike put his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m the boss, so let’s keep moving.”
“Right you are, bossman,” Wisp said with a salute.
Mag pursed his lips and hopped in frustration, but stopped talking and followed as Ike and Wisp headed upwards. All three of them were fully topped up on mana, and even Shawn blinked awake and started looking around as the thick dark clouds gathered at the tiered ceilings of the layered basements. There was so much mana in the air that Ike almost felt it was a waste he wasn’t using the King’s scepter, except that he had no one to use it on.
We can fix that real quick. Ike kicked off the ground, bounding from layer to layer upward toward the one solid ceiling high overhead. Mag and Wisp followed after him, fluttering or shooting spider thread after him. A round porthole was tightly closed in the rock overhead. Ike pulled back his fist.
Before he could punch the porthole open, a loud hum sounded, and daylight spilled down, blinding him. Ike blinked rapidly, lowering his arm to shield his eyes instead.
A too-familiar figure appeared in the light. Brightbriar descended from the ceiling, a smile on his face and his hands spread wide. “Come, my child. There’s no need for all this.”
He waved his hand. Before Ike or anyone could react, the fires vanished, and the clouds of mana slowly dissipated.
“Hey! We worked hard on that,” Wisp complained.
“Instead of sabotaging your own future, why not see what awaits instead?” Brigthbriar asked, gesturing for them to come up to his level.
“Sabotaging my future? I’m sabotaging your future, not mine,” Ike snapped, not amused. He pointed the Hungry Sword at Brightbriar. “You’re thinking of the greater being, not me.”
“You are the greater being,” Brightbriar said patiently.
“I am not.”
Brightbriar nodded slowly. “In denial?”
“I’m not in denial. I know everything. In fact, I probably understand things better than you, ya damned old-ass obsessive.” Ike narrowed his eyes. “Go pick up model trains or something instead, geezer. Fits your age better, and you’re more likely to succeed.”
Brightbriar tutted. “If you won’t listen to reason, then there’s no point talking. You aren’t the only one who can absorb other fragments. My attempts to raise several children at once bore a surprising harvest. I wonder if competition is good for your soul?”
“As if you know me,” Ike growled.
“But I do. I know you better than you know yourself,” Brightbriar said mysteriously. He swept his arms past one another. As they crossed in front of one another, in the space where they crossed, a coffin appeared, pitch black as the night and deeply ominous. Brightbriar backed away, and the coffin hovered there in space, between him and Ike.
Ike eyed the coffin with trepidation. He backed away a bit, giving himself a little more room. Whatever Brightbriar had brought out, it couldn’t be good.
The lid dropped away. A pale figure laid in the coffin, instantly recognizable from his shock of green hair. Llewyn. He was skinnier than Ike remembered, his arms crossed across his chest, hands cupped past his shoulders, feet twined together. Ike stared, then touched his own head. Come to think of it, Accais and Llewyn both had funny hair colors. Why didn’t he?
They’re puppets, the Prince murmured in his ear.
Ike’s eyes widened, and he nodded. They’d probably had normal hair colors in life, then had their normal hair replaced by strange colors by Brightbriar when he puppetized them. Odd he hadn’t done it to the Prince, but then, maybe the Prince’s puppet was made before these puppets. That, and the Prince’s puppet had had its own unique traits, like its beast companion and deathlessness.
“So you remade Llewyn? I thrashed him the first time, in case you didn’t remember. Just didn’t know I could absorb him back then, or he’d be gone for good,” Ike said, unimpressed.
Brightbriar smiled silently.
Within the coffin, Llewyn’s eyes flashed open. They burned green, bright as twin stars. A massive, terrifying aura burst up from his pale body. He unfolded his arms, one after another, after another, after another, two arms hanging from each shoulder joint.
“Ike, what did I tell you? Spider superiority!” Wisp cheered, excited.
“He’s only got six limbs. Insect superiority,” Ike argued.
“Spiders eat insects, checkmate, spider superiority.”
Brightbriar laughed. “I’m glad to see my son has a sense of humor.”
“You’ll enjoy it even more when I—”
Llewyn burst from the coffin. Faster than even Ike could track, he closed the distance, caught up Ike in a grapple, and charged through the entire puppet army to slam Ike against the far wall. He gripped Ike by the face and pulled, and for the first time, Ike felt what it was like to be on the other side of the absorption.
“Foolish child. You, who has experienced so little of this world… you die here,” Llewyn hissed.
