Immovable Mage

– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Rising Sun, Day 2 –

Terry was panting heavily while whirling around with frantic eyes and searching for the next enemy to face. He clenched his king and barrier spears tightly. Defiant madness haunted his look with every heavy breath that unleashed another wave of pain through his battered body.

It took a moment until Terry realized that there would be no other enemy. The remaining undead stood perfectly still. Their wills had been entirely subjugated by allied whispers that aided the defense. They had slain all enemy death whisperers. They had eradicated all undead hellspawn that could not be conquered by the whisper style of Thiago.

There was no remaining enemy in sight.

They had won.

They had repelled the undead horde and the city-state of the Freedom Cooperative was still standing.

Terry flinched with distrusting eyes. He was already dumping his mana to set up a proper mana detection field and double-check. He knew that his body needed the mana to recover and persevere through his injuries, but he would not feel at ease before checking every inch of the area with mana touch. He activated soulsight and looked around with bloodshot eyes.

Slowly, the adrenaline faded.

Slowly, he calmed down.

Finally, Terry allowed himself to fall backwards with his spears still grasped tightly. For a few breaths, he simply laid on his back and stared while focusing on his breathing. The beautiful blue sky above was like a soothing medicine to push away the mad desperation that lingered in his mind.

His mind was a mess. He had a lot of thoughts to sort through, but for this moment, he allowed himself to stare and think nothing.

His body was an aching torment, but there was little he could do about it, even now with no enemy in sight. He had used whatever healing items he had bought. He had honestly already played loose with the permitted dosage. He still remembered the last time he had chugged too many potions at once and given his current state, the aftermath this time would be much worse, especially, since he had not had access to quality as high as the ones his accepted father had made.

A sharp pain sprang up at Terry’s left wrist and a moment later, he saw the contents from his storage bracelet spill onto the ground next to him. Terry numbly accepted the destruction of his storage item and only made a mental note that he had underestimated the damage the bracelet had taken. Nothing he could do about it.

Terry subconsciously began placing the spilled items into his remaining storage bracelet. He mostly kept the cheap and replaceable items in the bracelets – tertium slabs, throwing needles, throwaway spears and swords, and the like. He curiously noted that his oscillating items remained missing.

He had sometimes wondered what would happen to an item aspected with oscillated mana when the storage dimension broke down without someone naturalizing the mana to take it out. It seemed like a pointlessly wasteful experiment to conduct intentionally, but now, life had shown him just like that.

His inner Academy student just pushed the question further and wondered what happened really to the oscillating items. Did they collapse with the storage dimension? Were they now trapped in some kind of inter-dimensional limbo for all eternity?

Who knows? Perhaps I can ask Instructor Ser if I ever meet him again…

Terry returned his spears into his dimensional bag and rubbed his forehead.

More importantly, perhaps I should reconsider placing my most precious items into oscillating containers. It’s nice that even the best pickpockets cannot take them out without my permission, but the risk of losing everything when the storage gets destroyed is…

Terry placed his hands on his face and took deep breaths. He didn’t want to think about those things now. He just wanted to rest. He moved his hands downwards until they rested on his chest. He wanted to rest and look at the blue sky above.

Just a bit longer.

“We can get you a replacement.” A male voice arrived.

Terry’s mana touch told him that there was a dwarf standing and pointing.

“We can also repair your equipment. For free, of course.”

Terry finally moved his eyes from the sky to the group that had arrived. More and more people were crowding around him. He recognized the dwarf that had spoken as well as the two tall humans next to him. The dwarf was one of the most famous crafters in the city and the ones next to him were his personal bodyguards. A reliable smith, but expensive beyond belief.

“I’m sorry for refusing your business before.” The dwarf spoke sincerely. “The Dungeon Cooperative can go fuck themselves. We all saw what you did. While many of them just turned tail, you fought. Fought for our city.”

Terry felt healing spells activate on himself. He sat up on the ground and saw the casters. Hunters. City guards. Channelers of the Bright Lady. Even a few Guildheads and knights. To his surprise, he even saw manaless people roaming around and distributing what looked like healing supplies from the crafting district.

“I’m going to ignore that,” barked a broad-shouldered human woman. “You make it sound like our cooperative just abandoned the city. Some of us fought just like everyone else!”

“Not like him,” retorted the dwarven smith and pointed with his chin at Terry. “And your cooperative was the first to ban business with the Flower Protector.”

“That…” The human woman glared at the dwarf. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? We have other problems.”

“More than you realize.” Edmund stepped onto the scene with even more people behind him.

Terry recognized a few martialists, Intira and Hector from the hunters, and even the small group of Thanatos soldiers. Ruby was looking at him in an odd manner he couldn’t interpret.

“What do you mean? More than we realize?”

“That wasn’t just a random attack,” said Edmund gravely.

Terry nodded slightly. He continued listening but he had already come to the same conclusion. Vampire death whisperers. Undead hellspawn. The previous incident during the masquerade ball. Soulrot. Perhaps even the new drugs that had arrived long ago in the city-state.

“This isn’t just a cultist coven,” concluded Edmund in a grave tone. “This is the Lich Kingdoms. Has to be.”

Some of the channelers frowned when they heard the city guard use the word ‘cultist’ but none of them said anything. Whatever personal offense they took at the choice of words was overshadowed by the gravity of the conclusion.

“We haven’t received any formal declaration of war!” A woman wearing the characteristic wide-brimmed hat of the Knights of Labor protested.

Ruby and some of her Thanatos soldiers rolled their eyes.

“Probably got lost in the mail,” snarked Intira. “You should send them a strongly-worded letter to remind them.”

“Everyone knows that the Lich Kingdoms are expanding again,” said an elderly martialist in grey-blue combat robes.

From the looks on people’s faces, it was clear that less than half of the people had actually harbored such suspicions. Most of the ones with unsurprised faces were the traveling martialists. Ruby and her soldiers were nodding as well.

“What kind of backwater place is this?” exclaimed another martialist. “Haven’t you heard the reports of the fall of the mighty Soaring Mountain Sect?”

“Who gives a damn?” interrupted a woman wearing a bloodied martialist uniform. “If it’s the Lich Kingdoms, then they will be back. What do we do?”

“We have bought ourselves some time,” said Edmund. “As far as we know, none of the enemies escaped.” He could not help but glance at Terry who had marked every suspicious signature for them during the cleanup. “We can—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, pipsqueak,” barked the martialist woman. She looked at Terry. “I was asking him.”

Terry blinked flusteredly and then furrowed his brow.

A grim-faced hunter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, if I have to listen to anyone. I want to listen to the one that tossed that teeth-ridden monster into the volcano. The wimps can shut up.”

Terry could not help but note that this grizzled hunter would even tower over Tiana and her brother Chadwick. It felt weird to have such a giant look at him with admiration.

A human woman from the city guard was stepping forward with an angry flush in her face. “Listen you—” But she was held back by Edmund.

“We have defended the city for longer than anyone!” protested another city guard.

“Who gives a damn?!” hissed the martialist. “I didn’t see you charging that army alone.”

“Because it was a completely stupid move to engage them behind the defensive line!”

“Was it?” demanded the martialist with a challenging look in her eyes. “As I saw it, he stopped the whole army alone and allowed your little defensive line to stand strong with ranged attacks. If you dare call him stupid one more time, I’ll slap your head off.”

“I wasn’t calling him stupid, I was calling—”

“Save it.” Edmund tried to calm his guards down. He had his own reservations but he was reading the mood.

“That’s right, puppy. Save it!” The martialist scoffed and turned her head to look expectantly at Terry again. “What do we do?”

Terry knew that he was currently under the influence of several healing spells but somehow, his headache was getting worse. He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. This was new.

What in the Wastes are you looking at me for?

How in all the hells am I supposed to know what to do?

I was about to leave, for mana’s sake! If I had left earlier, I would not even know about this…

Terry sighed and thought back to how he had first read about the villages overrun by undead hellspawn in the Guild. It had caused his gut to clench, but it still felt distant. Now he was in the thick of it. Worse even. Apparently, he had been dragged into the precipice of a war. He knew nothing about war. He had read a bit, sure, but he really knew nothing. He hated politics. He even hated being stuck in this city. How in all the Wastes were those people now looking at him for answers?

Didn’t they see that he didn’t have a clue? He was honestly surprised that he was still breathing. He felt in no position to advise anyone on anything. He never thought that he would wish back for the time when a bunch of martialists had scoffed at his mad dungeon theories and only followed him due to bribes or because he had been the maddest of them all in that lunatic asylum.

Terry exhaled a sharp sigh. “Alright…” He resolved himself to resurrect one of his earliest mental mantras in life. A mantra at the core of his inner Academy Student.

If you don’t know, ask.

Terry turned to Edmund. “You and your city guards probably know the state of the city better than anyone. What do you suggest?”

Edmund was momentarily taken off-guard by the direct question, but quickly recomposed himself. An appreciative smile flickered across his face before he spoke firmly in a forced calm and professional tone. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

“I can figure that out,” said Intira from the hunters. “We can send a few scouts to get early warning.”

“They arrived here from the shadows,” added Hector. “That won’t happen again. Not without us noticing.”

“Doesn’t this place have an army?” asked Terry.

“Not much left of it,” said the woman from the Knights of Labor. “The bulk fled with the royal family of Bloodborne.”

Great. Just great.

Terry sighed inwardly and returned his attention to Edmund.

“If we all coordinate together, we might be able to prepare a caravan large enough to evacuate, but…” Edmund’s voice trailed off. He was reading the mood again and the looks told him that this was not the suggestion they were looking to hear.

A human man was grimacing at him. The man was holding a damned rake. From the head of the farmer’s tool dangled the rotting eyeball of a zombie. “This is our home…”

“Damn right, it is!” Thiago slapped the man on the shoulder. He had been herding the last of the undead into secure storage facilities used by the hunters and then came over together with Jasmine. “And we’ll fight for it.”

Jasmine gasped when she saw the state Terry was in. She rushed over but was blocked by martialists. She stared at them with offense and confusion. “Is he…” She looked Terry in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

“She’s a friend,” said Terry and glanced at the martialists with irritation. He imagined that Thiago and some of the hunters were ready to slit their throats if the martialists continued to act like this in front of them. He could only hope that the looming doom from the Lich Kingdoms would be enough to force them into acting like sane adults, but he was not willing to bet on it.

Terry shrugged off Jasmine’s question and asked: “How are the others? Is everyone…?”

“They’re okay,” said Jasmine, who was now getting closer to inspect Terry’s wounds. “A few runners got near the Flower House, but we managed. Everyone is fine.” She shook her head while retrieving some alcohol and disinfecting his wounds. “You shouldn’t let the wounds close like that. What if foreign objects made it inside?”

Terry involuntarily remembered how his dwarven friend Gellath had always fussed about them before he was willing to use his Curing Waters spell. That felt like forever ago. He didn’t really remember the last time he had paid attention to such details. He barely ever had the leeway for such things.

Truthfully, he rarely felt the need either. His mana compensated for a lot of his reckless idiocy. Any manaless acting as careless as he would probably die a very early death.

“Daisy is still looking for Alexander though,” muttered Jasmine. “The poor girl was expecting his arrival any second but…”

The female Knight of Labor overheard their conversation and scoffed with derision. “That cowardly bastard is probably long over the hills. He was supposed to deliver a message but I saw him running in the opposite direction soon after. That shit excuse for a man didn’t even stop to protect a child from a shade.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised…” cursed Jasmine with a scowl.

“What chances do we have of defending the city?” Terry asked Edmund straight. “How would you prepare?”

“I’m surprised that you are still here.” Jasmine whispered to Terry, who just shrugged.

“Against another horde like that?” Edmund thought it over. “We have defensive constructs.”

“Not enough.” A female dwarf in crimson uniform interjected. Ruby winked at Terry before continuing. “And they’re all stationary, aren’t they?”

Edmund glared at her. “I’m not sure I’d like to discuss that with a soldier of the Mad Empire.”

“Hey now, I was fighting just like the rest of you,” protested Ruby. “This isn’t my home, but perhaps it will be in the future. It would be a shame if the Lich Kingdoms conquered these lands before Thanatos.”

“How about I let my boot conquer your arse, you little shit,” snarled Hector and some of the hunters placed their hands on their weapons.

“Please,” hissed Terry, whose headache had gotten worse. To his surprise, everyone listened.

“Thanatos has his sights on this place, why should we trust your help?” demanded Edmund.

“Two reasons.” Ruby grinned. “First, it is not in Thanatos’s best interest to let these lands go to the Lich Kingdoms. Second, I’m not helping you, I’m helping him.” She pointed with her chin towards Terry and winked.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Terry furrowed his brow.

If Edmund didn’t see the sincere expression of bewilderment on the man’s face, he might have suspected something afoot in how the Flower Protector had miraculously managed to push through the battle and repel the horde. However, given everything, he decided to trust the man for now. He looked at Ruby. “What’s your point?”

“Unless you’re able to lock the shadows, you will be shit out of luck,” said Ruby. “There is a reason why Thanatos has strict rules about that.”

“Locking down the shadows?” exclaimed a hunter in outrage. “Are you mad?”

“Look, whatever shady thing you have going that requires a good shadow step now and then is none of my business.” Ruby smirked. “But is that business really worth your city? Your defensive constructs are not bad but their number is laughable, especially when they are spread out.”

“Which they have to be when we don’t know from where the attack is going to come from,” said Edmund and placed a hand on his forehead.

“We can start inscribing more, but we don’t have enough material for a lot,” added a man whom Terry had seen in the Guild before.

“We could settle for the non-magic variety,” suggested the dwarven smith. “We only need regular materials and willing hands.”

“Lots of regular materials and many willing hands,” stressed another dwarf next to the smith. “Catapults and trebuchets might be enough to squash the runners, but if we want to squish the juggernauts, we’re going to need something with more oomph.”

“We can build oomph,” insisted the dwarven smith. “We just need to scale. We have plenty of manaless hands in the city that we can put to use. Some good materials at core locations and we can scale it up without sacrificing mobility completely.”

“Now wait a second,” interrupted the Guildhead. “I can imagine what kind of materials you mean, but we need those if we want to properly inscribe the magic constructs. We have to manage the recoil and—”

“I might have an idea.” Terry heard himself say. He suddenly became very aware of the number of hopeful gazes on him. It was decidedly uncomfortable. He forced himself to focus and think of the situation like a theoretical problem that someone else had to deal with. He looked at the crafters. “If you didn’t have to worry about recoil or the constructs having to be stable or sturdy enough? What could you do?”

After a short back and forth, the crafters were staring at Terry with a healthy amount of skepticism.

“We would need a lot,” stressed the dwarven smith.

“I can do that,” said Terry. I think. Wishful thinking.

“You have to rest,” warned Jasmine. “Look at yourself.”

“I can do that while resting,” said Terry. He added in a quieter tone. “And I don’t have any other ideas.”

“No, you rest,” insisted Edmund. “I’ll have you checked out properly. You have done enough for today.” He nodded at some of the channelers of the Bright Lady. “Make sure he recovers.”

“We would need more than just imprints, we’ll need proper wands,” stressed the Guildhead crafter. He ignored the fuss about Terry’s recovery and instead continued the previous conversation.

“He can do that,” hissed Jasmine and presented the wand that Terry had given her as a farewell gift. “Now let him be, you git.”

“...” The man looked skeptically at Terry. “...we need a lot.”

“I’ve already sent word out, Senior.” A martialist elder in grey-blue robes stepped forward and next to Terry.

That ‘Senior’ stuff again. Terry was too tired to even frown. “What word?”

“To allies,” replied the elder. “Friends of the sect. The sects that owe you a debt from the tomb of trials. The sects that have a debt to settle with the Lich Kingdoms. If this is where you intend to make a stand, then we’ll stand with you.”

Terry was not sure if he should laugh or cry. He had city guards and government knights offering him potions to drink. He had cultists of the Bright Lady fussing over him with healing abilities. He had protective hunters watching the cultists warily for every sign of mistreatment. He had Thanatos soldiers supporting him for some strange reason. Now he had crazy martialists hanging at his every word and gearing up for war.

Sending word…

Terry could not help but sigh when he recalled that the only people he truly wanted to call still remained out of his reach. None of the people present appeared to have the ability to contact his whaka. There was no local Guardian outpost. The local Guild did not keep connections with other empires. The Thanatos soldiers might have a way, but Terry doubted their support would extend that far. The people managing the dimensional portal had fled and there was still the forbidden zone in the way of letting any of the martialists act as a messenger to Arcana.

No helping it. Even with all of these potential allies, Terry still felt alone. He could feel the shy glances from all the working manaless and the less frequent but more fervent gazes from the stronger ones. The expectation and hope in their eyes felt suffocating.

Terry took a deep breath and then he stood up. Perhaps walking and some fresh air would help clear his head. The rotting corpses and lightning-burned remains certainly didn’t help.

***