Osamaru Ta
patreon
Book 1 - Lesson 61: "The right door needs the right key."
🕑 Added 2023-09-06 23:18:02 +0000 UTCAlpha was attacked twice more before the order was restored. Some hadn’t heard in time, while recent events had conditioned others to lash out at anything strange. Kallik breathed easier once the two groups were content with staring each other down instead of trying to kill one another.
It helped that Alpha’s charge had sown some chaos in the already not-too-bright undead ranks. The commotion had also drawn the attention of the patrolling elementals, and now the undead hoard was being pressed from the side, relieving some of the pressure on the humans. The situation improved further when Jīshí snapped her fingers, and several thick stone walls rose, sealing the several chokepoints through which the undead had been assaulting them.
When the last of the undead in the courtyard fell, many of the Guardians collapsed on the spot, too tired to even celebrate. Those that could, began moving among the fallen, treating injuries or moving companions as the need arose. None knew how long this small moment of rest would last, but they were all soldiers and knew how to make the most of it while it did.
Juatan, Ulagan, Ganbaatar, and Yutu approached a moment later, the latter bowing at the hip. Zolzaya was still attending to several wounded Guardians but watched the gathering from the side, guarded by Munkh. Ulagan was the first to break the awkward stalemate. He turned and spoke, “Lord Protector. I am glad to see your timing is just as good as always. It seems appearing out of nowhere to save the day is becoming a habit of yours. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
The comment drew a slight chuckle from the gathered Slatewalkers, while Alpha turned and waved back in “Lord Protector” mode. A hard-faced Artemis wasn’t so easily amused. She folded her arms and frowned up at the metal war machine that outweighed her a two hundred times over. “So this is the fool who let my sister get kidnapped. What have you to say for yourself, ‘Lord Protector’?” she said. As she stared at Alpha, several of the elite Akh’lut appeared behind her.
Alpha slowly turned to stare at the woman. He pointed toward her, but a different voice cut him off before he could speak. “A fool he may be, but the young pup would do well to distinguish friends from foe.” Jīshí pushed her way out of the TAWP’s front and smiled down at the Akh’lut woman.
Artemis froze, her eyes wide. Artemis had noticed the woman when she’d blocked her attack, but only now was she getting a good look at her. The blood drained from her face, and the Akh’lut woman knelt down to one knee, followed by the rest of the Akh’lut.
Her eyes on the ground, Artemis stuttered out, “This one greets the Prima!”
—————————
Ganbaatar wasn’t ashamed to admit he barely knew what was happening anymore.
Only a few short weeks ago, he’d been an apprentice trapper with broken dreams of being a Guardian. Now, he stood on a battlefield surrounded by elites, fighting a war that could very well decide the fate of the entire Radian Sea, if not beyond.
Despite that, he knew he was where he needed to be in the end, even if it was not where he thought he should be. He stood by what he’d told Zolzaya; this wasn’t a fight in which they could stick their hands without consequence. Yet she and Yutu were determined to see this through, so he would stand by them for as long as possible.
That said, the whiplash of it all was getting to him. This latest revelation was just another drop in the bucket. He’d heard of the Prima, of course. Who hadn’t?
The Prima.
The Sovereigns of Nature.
The First Elementals.
They were four beings of that stood at the top of the Prima Temple. Despite the temple’s claim otherwise, many worshiped them as deities. Even the Slatewalker village had a small shrine dedicated to them.
They were also said not to have been seen by mortal eyes for… well, centuries. The only “evidence” they were even still around was the word of the high clergy, who claimed to speak for them, and the occasional rumored blessed.
Ganbaatar would have thought Artemis was simply mistaken, were the Akh’lut woman anyone else.
The stone woman labeled as a Prima pulled herself out of Lord Protector and sat cross-legged on one of his metal horns. That the Lord Protector even allowed this only added further weight to the claim. After all, not even the Lord Protector could stand against a god, right?
Artemis fell to both knees and placed her head against the ground before speaking. “Lady Prima! I implore you! A foul enemy has invaded your city, slain your people, and stands poised to complete their dark plans! Your power could be all that sta—”
“Nope. No can do,” the Prima spoke, cutting the warrior off.
Artemis lifted her eyes to stare at the Prima, the Akh’lut woman’s voice cracking as she asked, “I… I don’t understand, my Lady. Surely you could—”
Again, the Prima cut her off with a raised hand. Frowning, she rested her head in her free hand and said, “I’ll stop you right there and clear up a misunderstanding. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I physically can’t. This is a third-generation incarnation and linked to the city’s walls. I’m already cut off from most of the city. The enemy might not have known about me, but they knew enough about the systems in place to ensure none of it could be used against them.”
Artemis stared back, eyes wide and speechless. Ganbaatar turned to Yutu and asked, “Third-generation incarnation?”
Yutu shrugged. That wasn’t part of the information he’d been given. Instead, it was someone else who spoke up. A strange person spoke beside Ganbaatar. “It means she’s a clone of a clone.” Ganbaatar jumped and turned to the mysterious figure who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The adventurer leathers they wore seemed plain enough, but the bone-white, featureless mask that hid their face instantly drew one’s attention.
Ganbaatar didn’t know who this stranger was, but he recognized them as the one who had been slaughtering the cultists only moments before the Lord Protector had arrived. The masked figure turned their gaze to Ganbaatar, and the young man shivered, an icy chill running down their spine.
The mysterious figure spoke again. “Elemental reproduction is complicated. Most assume they naturally appear in places with high Spirit energy. But the truth is something different. All elementals have the ability to… split themselves. With enough raw materials and Spirit energy, they can create an exact replica of themselves for one purpose or another. Thus, all elementals, in one shape or form, are copies of the original four, the Prima.”
Ganbaatar furrowed his brow, frowned, and said, “That doesn’t make any sense. Are you telling me that her—” Ganbaatar gestured to the woman sitting on the Lord Protector, “and that… thing—” he gestured to one of the gargantuan walking rubble piles visible over the courtyard walls, “are the same?”
The masked figure turned and looked at the giant elemental in the distance, then looked back at Ganbaatar. “Nope. Two totally different beings,” he said.
Ganbaatar’s frown deepened. “But you just said…”
The masked figure signed and continued, “Look, I said it was… complicated. When an elemental splits, lots of things can happen. If there are insufficient materials or Spirit energy, or something disrupts the process, the ‘Bud’ can come out… wrong in ways. For those closer to the Prima, this might manifest as a drift in personality or a decrease in power. But the further and further the generations grow apart, the more these ‘drifts’ accumulate. Eventually, you get those things.”
The figure gestured to the elementals in the city. “Lesser beings with no true will or even real sapience. As for Jīshí… your friend isn’t wrong, per se, to call her Prima. The first few generations are typically so similar that they are identical, to the point that the ‘True’ Prima can use them as body doubles, hopping between them at will. It’s like splitting your mind into different parts so you can focus on new things.”
They pointed to the city wall in the distance. “The problem is that. Being only third generation, this particular bud is about as close to the true Prima as it could physically be. But they were made to manage the city’s wall, not act as a mouthpiece for the Prima. While mentally and even spiritually, they are essentially the same, she wields only the barest fraction of her true power.”
Yutu was the one to ask the next question. Ganbaatar turned to see the young man had never taken his eyes off the stone woman as he spoke. “So elementals create copies of themselves to perform a duty. But sometimes, that process goes wrong and creates variance. Those variants then create other copies, and the process repeats itself until eventually, the copy is so different from the original that it’s no longer even the same being?”
The masked figure paused but nodded and answered, “Yes, that’s one way to think of it. However, it doesn’t have to be that way, either. Theoretically, under perfect conditions, a copy can continue to replicate perfectly with little to no drift, into infinity. At the same time, a Prima can purposefully choose to create an entirely different being, even from the second generation. The Forgeking, Elemental Lord of Flames and Smoke, is said to have hundreds of nearly identical buds, all working on various projects, allowing the Prima to be in many places at once. In contrast, the Herald of Storms, Elemental Lord of Storm and Sky, has never once made a true copy. Every one of his buds has been distinct individuals by design.”
They turned and stared back at the Prima while the others talked, then continued, “As for Jīshí… even among the Prima, the Queen of the Underworld has always been more… reclusive. She keeps her cards close to her chest. I can’t honestly say I know how she does things, but I question why a third generation has been left alone for so long…”
Ganbaatar turned and looked at the others and asked, “Do you think we can trust her, then?”
He glanced at the figure out of the side of his eye. The irony of asking that of someone he didn’t even know the name of wasn’t lost on the young Slatewalker.
The masked figure laughed. “Do we have any other choice?”
—————————
Alpha was frustrated. The leaders of the human group were busy arguing about their next step while their soldiers rested and recuperated. His own plan of “charging through the enemy lines and making a break for the center of the city” had been unanimously shot down. Alpha had thought it was a good plan, personally. With him leading the charge and Jīshí’s guns taking out the larger threats, the humans could easily guard their flanks, especially with their numbers.
But issues of -Cultivation levels- had been brought up. Most of the soldiers could only deal with some of the stronger creatures currently roaming the city by working in teams. Their stronger fighters, including Alpha, would be spread too thin to risk a fast march. The danger would only increase the closer they got to the city’s center and the storm. More so with the black-clad ‘cultists’ running loose.
Alpha had long suspected some form of power scaling among the local’s abilities but hadn’t had the chance to investigate yet. Until now, straight-up asking would have risked blowing his cover, while he hadn’t had time to ask Jīshí herself any details. He questioned if keeping his cover was even worth it at this point or if it had all been a symptom of the supposed ‘soul damage’ magnifying his paranoia.
Either way, questions could wait for a later time.
He would wait while they devised a plan for now, but it was boring. He’d entertained himself for a short while by chasing a familiar face around with a [Wasp]. The pale-faced man in flashy armor had taken one look at the drone and paled even further. He then dropped the large mace he was carrying and ran away, screaming, much to the confusion of those around him.
That only lasted long enough for Jīshí to slap Alpha’s chassis and frown at him. The AI tsked and dissolved the drone. The armored man collapsed into a fetal position and shivered. Alpha didn’t miss the slight smirk on the young Zolzaya’s face as she calmly walked over to “treat” the man.
After nearly half an hour of fruitless planning, one of the young men he’d saved prior, Yutu, approached wearily.
The young man stopped in front of him and bowed, though his next words weren’t for Alpha but for Jīshí. “Lady Prima. I have a message for you, from… well… yourself.” The group paused and turned their attention to Yutu.
Jīshí raised a brow, then leaned down from atop Alpha and cupped the young man’s chin. Two pairs of matching concentric ringed eyes stared into each other, and she smiled at him. “A message important enough to bless you for. Interesting. What do you have for me, young man?’”
Yutu stepped back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Instead of speaking, however, he stretched out his hand. The air pulsed, causing several gathered to reach for their weapons, though Jīshí’s calm demeanor eased any worries.
Then, slowly, something pushed its way out of the young man’s chest, causing space to ripple slightly, like water. At first, it was just a point of stone, then more and more of the object pushed itself out until a miniature obelisk appeared. It righted itself and moved to float over Yutu’s outstretched hand, slowly spinning. The miniature obelisk was made of the same black material as the larger one behind them, but only a hand’s length tall.
Jīshí’s eyes widened, and she stood straight. “Oh? Ohhhhhh!” she explained before grinning ear to ear and crooking her finger toward herself.
The miniature obelisk flew out of Yutu’s hand and floated to Jīshí, who stared at it like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Then she laughed. A musical, cascading thing that drew every eye.
When she spoke, everyone listened. “Well, isn’t this great? Maybe the fates truly are helping us if they brought us this.”
Kallik was the one to ask, “What is it?”
Jīshí turned to the Grassreader and said, still grinning, “A key.”
