Scourge of Chaos: Savage Healer

Sunday once again fell silent, his desire for self-preservation battling against the weight of being given a second chance at life only to be some sort of a grand hero and save the world from actual Gods. It was a preposterous thought. Why him? Thousands died on Earth every day and, while he struggled to accept it, there were good people among them. Better people. Those with the potential to be heroes and do good.

Perhaps people who knew how to build some good old guns and speed run this bullshit…

It was not a revelation that had completely shattered his views of the situation. He had his suspicions about the big picture and it was all a giant mess no matter what angle he looked at it from. However, hearing it from someone else – someone who could squash him like a bug – gave the thoughts credibility. Like when you thought you were stupid and someone called you stupid.

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for that,” he finally said.

Mera seemed unbothered. “You’ve been given this chance for a reason, and whatever has guided your journey here, knows best what it is.”

“I’m not the ‘hero’ type, you know? I’m struggling with saving myself.”

“There are no ‘heroes’, Sunday, there are those who do what needs to be done despite the odds. You’ve been forced into this situation, and your path will be dark and bloody. Loss is inevitable, and I won’t sit here and convince you of things that are untrue. You’ve been brought here to kill and that’s what you’ll excel at as you grow into your new self.”

Sunday shook his head, “The very fact that there are records of what you told me means that there were others like me some time ago. I don’t see them walking around, but I see the brainwashed bastards almost constantly.”

“Nothing in this life is guaranteed. Victory or failure, all we have left is to keep struggling. And perhaps it is as you say and those before you have failed, but I assure you that without them we wouldn’t be enjoying even the fragile peace we have now. Remnants of their wills remain even today and once you outgrow this city, and that will happen, you will understand that.”

Sunday leaned back on the iron chair and flinched as something stabbed at his side. Were the fancy chairs made of iron supposed to be another metaphor? Symbolism perhaps? This all was getting too complicated, but a small part of him found joy in being important. It felt good and it scared him. Knowing his place in the world had always been an asset because once you knew what you were, you could change and grow and pretend. You could use it. This didn’t feel that way.

“I understand you’re confused and possibly overwhelmed. If what the records say is true, and you’re truly not of this world… I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like,” Mera said. There was sympathy in her voice. He hated that.

Sunday looked up and in the next moment, he saw her flinch. The steel reflected that, but most of the irregularity was lost in the constant undulation of where it covered her skin. It was a minute movement, but it drew his attention like a light in the darkest night. If nothing else, he was observant. He looked toward Riya and held her eyes for a moment before his gaze drifted toward her burn scars.

So perhaps that’s how it is. Time to put it all on the table.

“Is your soul hurt?” Sunday asked, looking at Mera.

For the first time surprise flashed in the woman’s eyes and she too, looked at Riya, who shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

It took the steel woman only a second to regain her composure. “A fusion between two things so fundamentally different is not something stable or normal. As I said, living for so long is already a miracle. My ‘soul’ or what it has become is degrading, yes, and that process cannot be reversed no matter what. That is a certainty. However, it is made worse by a piece of soul damage I suffered long ago when I overexerted myself. It is… strange of you to notice that.”

Ah, so that’s why Riya asked me about healing soul damage. She wasn’t asking for herself.

“I’ll be forward. I don’t know if the one method I have can help you. I’ve tested it on myself and the weird ass thing made of spine and guts that attacked Vyn and me. It didn’t like it at all.”

Mera nodded. “I won’t ask that of you, and I am not in a hurry to experiment. Even if it healed my soul, it wouldn’t prevent my weakening nor would it return to me the ability to walk the world. Perhaps it would give me a few more years and some strength.”

“You can’t go out?”

“I can, but it is painful and daylight weakens and eats at the Mesmer Steel that makes up most of what I am. I also have an agreement with the Arcanum to stay out of their way in return for them staying out of mine. That is part of the reason the Wayward Rat is the place it is. Most of those old and strong enough to know me, know that while I always seek peaceful resolutions, I was made with one thing in mind.”

“And what is that?”

“War. And it is my greatest joy and purpose.”

Mera’s timbre changed slightly during the answer and Sunday shuddered at the obvious show of desire. As if the cordial and nice being before him was hungry for war. Perhaps she felt something similar to his disgust with all things Divine and monstrous.

He couldn’t decide if it made him feel better for his own feelings about the whole ‘hero’ business, or scared him of the situation he had found himself in. He was virtually at their mercy. Perhaps it had been so since he had taken that first step into the Wayward Rat. However, Chaotic Step brought him to Vyn, and Vyn brought him here. This had to be the reason or at least a large part of it. An ancient weapon of war that was willing to help him in the quest he was reborn for? It sounded awesome, even if he didn’t want anything to do with wars and killing gods.

“There will be a lot of time for questions and stories, but I think we should get to something practical since you’re pretty busy,” Mera spoke again as if sensing the heavy atmosphere her words had created, “We have to speak of the art you’ve so graciously offered to share with us. Its origin doesn’t matter. I do have a few awakening arts and even a couple of soul-forging ones, but they are the bare minimum and unworthy of consideration for one such as you. I’m a spell-fused and magi stray from us, so whatever I’ve managed to collect has been due to opportunity and blind luck.”

“We already agreed on a price,” Sunday said. Although if I knew there would be someone ancient, I’d have asked for more. I wonder if…

“I know. But to show you my sincerity, I’ll add something else to the deal.”

Sunday liked the sound of that. If there was a way to his heart, then it was riches. At least it had been once. While the thought of mountains of gold still tickled his fancy, there was something he wanted more than he imagined possible.

The wall suddenly flowed as if it the was made of tiny red living beings. The earth and stone lost their color and shifted into an endless symphony of Mesmer Steel as if their previous state had been just an illusion. A terrifying thought entered his mind and he tried not to show his fear. What if the whole hall was made of it? What if everything was just an illusion created by Mera, and rather than a hall it was an extension of her body and currently he, Riya, and Kallus were in something akin to the stomach of a terrifying eldritch beast? Was the woman before him just bait?

Sunday remembered the empty gazes of the locked villagers and wondered what Mera’s attacks would look like and what Mesmer Steel actually did. He didn’t want to find out himself. In another situation, he would’ve loved sparring with someone strong, even if that meant getting his ass kicked. If they were friendly, and it was safe, losing didn’t matter, only gaining experience. But this… she was too scary.

The opening before them was wide enough for all of them to pass shoulder to shoulder and led to a ledge in an even larger cave. Below laid something like large pools carved in the stone, each filled with different things ranging from plants, strange trees that seemed vibrant and alive despite being underground and planted in stone, small pools, and even sandpits. There were about six or seven he could freely see, but there was another layer that was separated from the rest and a net of Mesmer Steel hung to obscure it from view.

Sunday swallowed heavily.

“My spells,” Mera said, confirming all of his wishes and dreams. “It is difficult for a spell-fused to catch a spell. They are afraid of us, just like you as a mage sense an instinctive fear of my presence. And so would regular humans, since it is their form that is profaned so. However, living as long as I have, and having the resources I have, has given me a few opportunities.”

Sunday nodded. If she gives me something awesome then I don’t care if she’s a monster or a liar.

“Riya told me,” Mera began again and instantly got his attention. “That you’ve asked about dying spells. A tool spell, to be precise.”

Sunday hesitated but ultimately decided to tell the truth. If she was going to give him an awesome spell then there was no reason to concern himself with the Arcanum. Perhaps he would just see what they would offer to get a better idea, and then get contribution points instead. The practice room could speed up his progress a lot.

“One of my spells seems to be slowly wearing out. I want to replace it sooner rather than later. I don’t know if you know how to preserve it…?”

“Preserving a spell is typically done by creating a habitat. Higher-ranked magi can do that in their very souls and have inactive spells rest there, without them taking the space of the active ones. That requires yet another different type of art though – one I don’t have. I’m sure the Arcanum does since it is a type of art that greatly benefits magi and resolves the issue of having only a limited selection.”

This sounds amazing! The meeting with Mera was worth all the headaches that Riya and Kallus had caused. Not that he blamed Riya that much anymore. She was just good at what she did.

“What you can see here are some spells that I’ve kept throughout the years. Some bought, some found, some left by friends who are no longer among us,” Mera explained. She fell silent for a few moments as if reminiscing, and then a red stairway formed from thin air as Mesmer Steel simply appeared.

What are her limits?

They walked slowly down and Sunday could sense the essence of the spells. He saw a strange orb of water resting on top of the pool as if refusing to sink, but then it simply melted and disappeared from view as it seemed to sense the attention.

Then he saw a small yellow light that reminded him of the Lampirya spell, but as they stepped closer, he felt a strange warm breeze. The habitat was just a few dunes and nothing more. There was also a small crystal that reeked of essence tucked in the sands.

He also noticed one in the green habitat where a piece of bark on one of the trees was shining softly with light he was pretty sure only he could see.

“Those you see here are what I’ve gathered for my… disciples. It’s a funny word to call anyone that since I have very little to teach. However, they will go to Riya when she awakens and thanks to your art, we might do that sooner, rather than later. She is almost ready.”

Sunday looked back and saw the excitement on Riya’s face. Kallus remained silent and in thought, cradling his slapped cheek. Sunday opted to ignore him and turned to observe the spells. He wondered if his situation would’ve been the same or better than Riya’s if not for Chaotic Step’s interference. He was still dubbed ‘Missing’ by his status page.

“Those,” Mera said lowering her voice as they approached the fence of Mesmer Steel, “Are ones I won’t allow Riya to use. I only know details about one of them.”

She turned toward Sunday and suddenly closed the distance in a burst of movement that made whatever hairs he had on his body, imaginary or not, stand straight up. Her arm rested on his shoulder and he didn’t dare move away. There had been no time to react, but it was much different than the wight’s movements. It was just speed without any tricks. Mesmer Steel flowed like a wave and suddenly there was a wall that separated the two of them from Riya and the oddly silent Kallus, who had both stood a bit behind.

Mera spoke in a low voice and her dull eyes seemed to desire the blood of the world. “I’ll allow you to come and go and take the few I’ve enclosed here as you progress as a mage if you deem them fit for you. All I want in return is for you to make the mad gods suffer. It is your path, so I’ve no doubts that they will come for you… and when they do I want you to be ready. Will you do that? Will you fight?”

What sort of question is that? Sunday met her eyes and grinned, finally finding some of his usual apathy in the face of adversity.

“Lady, I’ll melt faces and slap brain-washed grannies dead if it comes down to choosing between myself and them. I don’t want any of this but I’ll die sooner than lose against a bunch of worthless bastards.”

Mera smiled. “That’s good enough for me.”

The net disappeared in a puff to reveal three very strange habitats.

“If you leave the dying one here, I’ll see what I can do, but your best bet is either advancing fast enough or leaving it with the Arcanum,” Mera said, before turning to look at the spells as well. “One is a tool spell that belonged to a dear friend. I know what that one does. One is a supposed augmentation spell that I know very little about. And the last one… I don’t understand. It was found buried in a fallen land.”

Sunday stared at the three spells before him in awe and excitement.

Loot was the best! And he hadn’t had to kill anyone for it this time around. Not yet.