Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Shiuluka arrives at a balcony at the remote lair she and her father reside at. A thick fog looms over the ever-dark woodlands around the ancient, secluded palace. She can hear the long, threatening clash of roars deep in the distant wilderness of a couple of monsters confronting each other, which is a common occurrence in this place. Most living things avoid the palace, though, including plant life, which has long since fallen into a state of petrification that seems to have locked the scenery in time.
The berserker she left behind should still be causing havoc for the squatters within the Citadel fancying themselves an Empire, but her job was simply to deliver him. She was given the leeway to determine the best target to deposit the berserker on, but after that, even her father would be unable to control the feral, rampaging beast.
She can’t feel its mana anymore, but most likely, the Fievegal has employed their anti-magic rounds, which they’ll be disappointed to learn are no more effective than the standard bullets.
She returns the sightglass to her father’s study, stretching with a yawn.
“You’re late, Child,” growls the metalized voice she knows all too well, and which startles a rippling shiver up her spine.
“F-Father!? I… I can explain!” She whirls to face his proxy, which is a semi-round golem with a dome-shaped head as it walks in from one of many secret entrances in the room. The study is somewhat organized and contains volume after volume of research data on hundreds of shelves. Though, to call it a library would assume it is meant for anyone other than the master of the palace himself. Even Shiuluka can’t simply approach the shelves and take a book without running the risk of being afflicted with a nasty curse that only the patriarch of her life could remove.
The golem approaches the desk and places down a new set of scrolls, each likely with the results of her father’s research, and a second one approaches from behind one of the bookshelves to take a seat. It immediately begins copying the contents of the individual scrolls to a volume that will be added to the shelves once complete.
The second golem speaks in the same voice, tethered to her father along with all the others milling around the palace that serve his purposes. “Your explanation is unnecessary, Child. Your detour was predictable and inconsequential. The problem is your studies.”
A third golem approaches from her back right, walking up to a different desk meant for her as it drops three heavy grimoires and two historical books onto its surface. It gestures at the seat, and his voice comes from this third golem seamlessly. “You are still behind where you need to be.”
“Father! I can kill a rampaging berserker in less than an hour.”
“Then you will be slain in seconds,” retorts the voice bluntly and a little irritably.
“What?” asks the young woman with surprise. Her eye twitches, and the colors shift as her vision kicks into its polarized state briefly before she calms herself enough to listen.
“The berserker is already dead. And, it seems Sayrdarralouche is finally truly dead as well.”
Shiuluka is stunned, and a fourth golem catches her off guard when it approaches and pushes her towards her desk. “F-Father!?”
“I have chosen the spells you will need to master if you wish to have hope of surviving such power, and in the meantime, I will be developing another proxy. The puppetteers have taken nearly as much damage as we have, but one of their Mendicants now has control of a Heavensent. I believe she is the one who killed Sayrdarralouche.”
“I don’t understand, Father…” objects Shiuluka in confusion as she is somewhat forcibly pushed into her chair with the third golem already opening one of the grimoires. “The berserkers can withstand magic-nullification, can’t they?”
“They can. Rather, they are able to layer their magic in a way abominations can not, sacrificing one layer for the use of another. That is but one of the steps you will need to master.”
“Father…”
“Hush, Child, and begin reading in preparation for your practical usage later. If you become lax about preparation, you will fail.”
“Father, how can I fail if I am never given a chance to fight?”
“Strength is not where you fall short, Shiuluka. Sayrdarralouche was strong. And, the Moonlit Haunter captured him until the Heavensent vaporized his skull.”
“I thought you said one of the Mendicants has control of her, now, though.”
“Yes, but do not mistake our assistance with their movements as allying with them. Those who serve the Ancient One are trying to free their god from the void in which it is imprisoned. If she is allowed to roam this world once more, it will mark the end of us.”
“Alright…” murmurs the skeptical young woman as she finds the starting place in the grimoire. “Then, I don’t understand why we help them at all…”
“Because, Child, the power of the Ancient One is attainable. The mana you know so far is but one color of paint on the palette of Creation and Destruction. The Ancient One seeks destruction, and she has mastered many more paints than you or I. That said, we need not allow her to be freed of her prison. We only need a drop or two of her blood.” The golems all chuckle deviously in unison, since they are all directly tied to her Father’s mind.
Shiuluka scoffs. She does appreciate that her Father has granted her so much power, both physically and through the knowledge he has gathered over his long life. He has lived longer than she can imagine, and he has seen more than even most of the living elves, who are few in number at this point.
“Father, was it someone specific that defeated the berserker?”
“No. That is why you must become stronger,” replies the second golem’s mouth as it continues its work copying text and drawings. The others disperse like purpose-driven hive insects, though they are the culmination of his ability to split his focus and multitask, time-hardened over the millenia. “The Fievegal is making use of their strengths behind the Harbinger’s weapons. The only one who can compete with your mana capacity is the feldrok child, but she has not yet overtaken the Devourer. The Harbinger himself is weak, but if you force his hand, either he or his allies will assuredly destroy us.”
“E-... Even you, Father?”
“Yes. I am old, Child. Time has granted me power, but it has also made me weak as well.”
She looks behind her desk where mana-conductivity piping disappears behind the seemingly solid wall. Somewhere deep within the palace is her Father’s true body, where he protects the palace from being discovered using his immense magic power. But, it is a balancing act. Because he is so powerful, if he tries too hard to hide them, he may actually draw more attention to the location, since the Moonlit Haunter is specifically looking for him as well. If he does not shield the whole palace, on the other hand, then the monsters may draw attention as they try to break in and attack the living beings within the palace other than herself and her Father.
They may not qualify as living beings in the most normal sense, but their existence is enough to draw other monsters if the seclusion spells are lifted.
“Interesting…” remarks her Father suddenly.
“What is it?” She was just starting to read the grimoire, which is written in the way he narrates his research.
And, that is to say that it is very dry.
“It seems the Harbinger not only takes, but he gives as well.”
She stares at his golem expectantly, but she is suddenly whacked in the head by a lightweight, padded ‘clapper’, which is made of the semi-hard leaves of one of the plants that grows deeper in the forest. She yelps, clutching her head and facing the grimoire as the golem that swiftly snuck up behind her scolds, as always, with her Father’s voice. “
should be focused on your studies. But, I will grant you the answer to your one
curiosity for the day. The key to perfecting upon your physical existence is being carried by one of the rejects from long ago… You will indeed need more to prepare…” The golem with the clapper walks away, returning with two more grimoires, which causes her to scowl at the golem. Normally, she has to read through her quota
to being able to go out again. Her Father continues, from above, seemingly scanning the shelves for more books. “Do not interfere with the Harbinger’s efforts for the time being. We must allow the embryos to grow a little further, and because of who is carrying them, it will be easy to lure them out to where we want them.”
“Your mind betrays everything I have been trying to teach you, Shiuluka,” scolds the golem right next to her. It paces in front of her desk, continuing, “I have all of the mana-borne I could ever make use of. But, a pure human and his offspring?” The golem flexes its large, metallic hand and rolls each finger in until it becomes a fist. It looks at the young woman, stating coldly, “There is a reason that the feldroks are all but extinct, and humans are not.”
Shiuluka can feel her short, sharp claws scratching the surface of her desk. Humans are weak, especially in terms of magic, while she has been forged to be a perfect being. She has mana to rival a true feldrok, and the ability to absorb more. She can change forms, but her true form is the one seated at the desk; humanoid, rather than draconic, in spite of her ability to breathe fire and superior strength. She doesn’t typically ponder her own appearance, since she is fairly unique, but it does always cause a moment of irritation when her Father reminds her of her similarity to one of the weakest races in the world.
Worse, he seems to be implying that they are higher in the evolutionary chain than even the feldroks and the dragons.
“They are more fluid in the realm of existence,” replies the deep voice, as if reading her thoughts. Given how powerful he is, he very well might be. “Magic is what makes this world possible, and as a control, the Harbinger is perfect
he defies the logic of our world. Or, at least did. Now study. A window of opportunity will open soon, and you must be ready.” He slaps the clapper down on one of the books on the desk, and Shiuluka sighs.
“Yes, Father.” She puts her cheek against a fist to prop herself up and pages through the grimoire to read it.
“You could try to make these more interesting, though…”
“The secrets of magic
interesting, child. Your impatience makes you blind, when you have ten thousand years of knowledge surrounding you.”
“Much of it is repetitive…” grumbles the young woman under her breath, though the golem looming over her walks away without reprimanding her. She makes these complaints fairly regularly, since he would make her read every sentence of that ‘ten thousand years of knowledge’, and it would take twenty thousand years to read it all, by the size of the study.
“Someday, you will live without me to guide you, and you will thank me, Shiuluka.” The voice comes from all around her this time, and it doesn’t have the metallic flanging of the golems, and it reaches deeper into her soul through her ears and even her skin. She looks again in the direction the magic power of the palace comes from. She isn’t afraid, so much as curious, as always, why he so rarely shows his majestic true form. Just his breath alone could subjugate kings, yet he lingers deep in a forgotten palace in a nearly impassible valley.
“If that day comes, I will simply revive you, Father.”
His deep voice chuckles, filling the room both from his omnipresent-seeming projection, as well as the golems which make it sound a bit like a chorus.
“You, too, will learn in time, dear Child, why I did not make you immortal.”
She pouts, but her gaze is drawn to the desk golem as it taps the desk pointedly. She sighs and resumes her studying, since understanding the way mana flows and how spells are formed can be as important to using magic. Especially when battling other mages of talent or skill.
The spell is complex for layering magic in a way that can protect a spell with another one in order to allow the use of magic under magic nullification. And, even then, if the berserker was defeated, she’ll have to be skilled at weaving multiples of this spell.
In time, she’ll conquer the Citadel and grant it to its rightful owner, her Father.
And, if he is so insistent on these additional spells, then she will gain nothing from continuing to resist.
***
Magnir carries the Uhl’tall Archpriestess of the Demon Hegemony towards the large, wheeled horn that the remnant of their army is slowly and wearily gathering around. Some are afraid to get close, since the landscape was cratered on a seemingly impossible scale, beyond even what a powerful explosion spell could destroy, and others are likely rightfully concerned that it could be a trap of the dragon that attacked from the sky.
Little do they know, he is simply walking into their midst at the moment.
Mourva is walking at a steady pace, though she is weary from the adrenaline crash of being overwhelmed so thoroughly.
“Archpriestess!” call out some of the soldiers. “What happened!?”
“Are you injured!?”
“Are we retreating!?”
The trio are rushed by soldiers, but Mourva quickly calls out, “Stay back! All of you!”
The soldiers of various demon-kin and beast-kin races pause in shock, since they are simply worried about their commander.
Mourva clarifies, “This man is not our ally. We are surrendering to him.”
“Wh-What?”
“Commander!?”
“Mourva speaks the truth!” calls out Djihnlierr the Archpriestess. She shifts in Magnir’s arms, requesting softly, “Sir Magnir, if I may…?”
He nods once, setting her down on her feet. Though they are still technically enemies, he does ensure she is stable on her feet so that she can speak with more authority and confidence. Her legs wobble, so Magnir keeps his left arm positioned so she can hold onto him for stability.
“The fight is lost,” states Djihnlierr loudly and confidently. “Please, send some people to tend to the other sorcerers. But, we will surrender, or the Fievegal will show us no quarter.”
As the other demon-kin start to stir, Magnir keeps Serenity subtly in hand. Mourva and Djihnlierr are cooperating, and they seem to believe his threat. Their siege force was already crippled, and the Archpriestess was making one last desperate killer blow that he managed to interrupt.
She clarifies, “I understand your hesitations at these words, but I only stand here at this moment because I have already surrendered. I believe Sir Magnir when he says all of this…” She gestures broadly at the chaotic battlefield. It is littered with around half of their remaining forces
the death ray summoned by the white dragon. Thousands were erased in seconds, and Djihnlierr
have retreated immediately, even if it would have been embarrassing to get turned away even faster than the reports suggest the Empire was.
They were prepared to deal with the dragons and even to attempt to deal with anti-magic, but no one could have prepared them for an eruption of the very ground summoned from the sky.
“Sir Magnir is the Messenger of Calamity, and I have chosen to heed his message. Gather all of our officers, and…”
“And be exterminated!?” exclaims someone a few rows back.
“It’s obvious this was all a trap!”
“Clear the area before they launch that spell again, and begin deploying barriers!”
“Listen to me!” screams Djihnlierr. “If you do not cooperate, the slaughter will resume.”
“Then let us flee, your Holiness! Take who we can, and…”
“No! I have assurances that we will be spared if we surrender. The fact that I am standing here before you should be…”
“You’re a traitor!”
“Traitor!”
“Coward!”
Just as accusations of Djihnlierr turning coat are ramping up, an elaborate quick-chant spell circle appears, forming a miniaturized version of the explosion spell, drowned out by the uproar. Magnir sweeps his hand across Djihnlierr’s chest and launches her back, snapping Tranquility up at the same time to aim at the incoming spell. He felt like mana was returning, meaning the anti-magic effects of the short-halflife bullets and chaff from the bombs has already started to fade due to the intense combined magical power of all of the mages and other naturally-gifted demon-kin present.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Magnir fires into the heart of the spell just as it’s streaking towards him. If there’s even a shred of anti-magic negation remaining in his bullets, then it might weaken or disrupt the spell.
The latter doesn’t occur, and Magnir is hit by a detonation just in front of him that he does his best to block his vitals from. The force slams him across the ground, as if he were just slammed by a full-sized dragon’s tail. He doesn’t really
the tumble until he’s jolting to a stop in the dirt. Everything is muffled, and he coughs, feeling pain in his arm, neck, shoulders, and wings. His tail also burns, though he is in no real condition to try to fully assess his injuries. He just hopes he still has all of his limbs.
The blue dragon forces a breath into his lungs, in spite of the aches it causes, and he rolls over as best as he can, realizing quickly that he is being pounced on by demon-kin trying to turn the tables.
Fire erupts around him as he breathes his ignityal-produced flames directly below himself. Screams and cries of surprise and fear drive his enemies back, and he notices one of them with Tranquility, trying to aim it at him. Magnir sweeps flames in a big arc, ducking into the fire to dash close.
Dragons have fairly unique pupils that polarize for when they breathe fire, comparable only to the feldroks, drakes, and faormyrs that can breathe intense ignityal-fueled fire as well.
The rest of the demon-kin are not so lucky.
By the time the oni that stole Tranquility can even see Magnir’s shadow bursting forth from the flames, Serenity is already aimed at him.
And, the Jomsviking has had at least
practice with the revolvers.
The oni topples, and Magnir ducks low to the ground, nearly on his belly, in order to dodge a spray of attack spells raining down around him. He exhales another surge of fire, mainly using it as a screen more than trying to ignite the landscape, since it would be moot for him to continue doing damage to Fievegal land.
Magnir fires twice more where at least some of the spells came from, though the handgun’s report is plenty to cause psychological damage. He uses a feat of strength and acrobatics to stay low and dart across the ground to retrieve Tranquility, rolling onto his back. His wings and tail hurt, but he experienced worse both times he nearly died, as well as living under Morthybargaron when he was caught relaxing with Roeta.
He’ll need to reload Tranquility, and Serenity isn’t full either, which Daniel warned him will be a drawback with the heavy revolvers the goblins call ‘Lifestealers’. Individual bullets can be reloaded rather easily, but reloading both cylinders of the two guns is virtually impossible without holstering one.
A large cambion casts a ground spell that launches particulated sand and gravel, creating a small pathway for him to dash through some of Magnir’s lingering flames.
The demon spots the dragon and lowers into a bullrush. Magnir aims Serenity, but a large being like a cambion will likely be able to plow through the pain long enough to reach the Einherjar.
Just when Magnir squeezes the trigger, and before the brawler can reach him, a barrier appears. The bullet ricochets with a shrieking whistle that startles him, while the cambion slams into the barrier and bounces off, landing on his backside.
Djihnlierr walks calmly and gracefully into the fray, followed by Mourva who darts to the blue dragon. “Sir Magnir! Are you alright!?”
The dragon instinctively aimed Tranquility at the Uhl’tall Archpriestess, but she doesn’t look at him. Instead, she has her gaze fixedly locked onto the cambion.
“I gave the order to stop.”
“But, your Holiness…!”
She casts a spell, and dark mana surrounds the cambion in his seated position, causing him to plead, “No! No, your Holiness, please! No!” He screams as the spell spears into him, and he begins writing on the ground. She then casts a noise isolation spell with relative ease, letting him suffer in silence from the dark spell.
Magnir doesn’t lower his weapon, even as the dattakorien fusses over him to undoubtedly appease him. “Please forgive us, Sir Magnir. The acts of the few do not reflect the will of the rest of us.”
The dragon glances at the feline woman, who begins casting healing magic on his injured tail, which is indeed bent in a way it wasn’t meant to, with his flesh peeking through his scales where his skin nearly burst and tore. He can feel the magic alleviating his pain, but he keeps up his brinkmanship. As a Jomsviking and, if he’s really lucky, a future brother to the strange otherworlder who made it all possible, shattering the established order of the world and breathing new life into the weak like Magnir.
Djihnlierr adds loudly, “The next one to jeopardize everyone else will die, not just suffer woundless pain. Because, if I do not kill you myself, then the Fievegal will not only resume their defense, but change to a hunt and exterminate us. If Magnir alone hadn’t defeated me and the other sorcerers, I would be as skeptical as everyone else here. But,... More important than our mission is to survive. Until the time when the Fievegal is trying to exterminate us, which they could already do, I intend to survive. More foolish than knowing when to surrender is to erase our history by fighting to the last. So please… Stand down. Spread the word. No further blood needs to be spilled.”
There is a long moment of grim quiet. The cambion that charged Magnir is still writhing on the ground, but he is losing strength. If what she said is true, she’s using a psychological spell, rather than physical pain. Regardless, for him, it’s real pain, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it so long as she holds the spell.
The dragon is wary that the same could be employed against him, as could hypnosis magic. But, hypnosis is easier with physical contact, and much more difficult to detect.
“What of the Hegemon?” asks someone nearby.
The Archpriestess releases the cambion from the spells, and he pants for a moment before fainting.
Magnir is the one to reply before the Uhl’tall woman can, “The Hegemon of the Demon Hegemony ordered an attack on the Citadel. If it’s war he wants, it’s war he’ll get. You should consider yourselves lucky. Now that you’re our prisoners, you won’t be trampled as we snuff out the Hegemony’s leadership once and for all.”
Magnir gunspins his revolvers for show and stows them in his holsters, saying, “Start treating your wounded, but do not attempt to fight. Our soldiers will be coming to sort you by groups. As Archpriestess Djihnlierr stated, you have been warned for the final time. Any trouble, and we move to extermination.”
The demon-kin and beast-kin forces reluctantly surrender to Magnir, and he gives a flashlight signal to Roetta on the wall, receiving a reply in the form of a blinking light in turn. He’ll have to keep control of the situation on the ground until everyone is organized and restrained, but he is thankful the Empresses gave him the time to…
states Reignleif’s voice via telepathy.
replies the thankful Jomsviking without speaking aloud.
states Geirahoel’s voice bluntly.
The blue dragon can’t help but laugh uneasily. The orange dragon Empress is the most haughty, and her words can be quite stinging. But, he doubts she would actually do it. If anything, his goal is to make sure that she has only great things to say.
Magnir smiles and speaks idly with Mourva while Djihnlierr gives out orders for the higher ranking demon-kin to spread amongst the troops. Not everyone is willing to go quietly, but the others do manage to keep them in line.
Compared to the battle itself, and the devastation that was unleashed in a short amount of time to try to deter the incessant attacks that keep coming, the aftermath seems to be a slow slog.
***
Daniel studies the glowing core of the Citadel as he walks into the secure chamber deep within the magic fortress. He has almost everyone tasked to capacity, and Fal has thankfully accepted Ryuogriar after waking up hungry again, meaning Daniel can at least carry out other tasks in the meantime.
Senn approaches him quietly, but she taps her heels enough that he knows she’s coming. She hasn’t shown her physical body yet, but Daniel knows that Xyreko can see and hear him just fine, since the ‘golems’ themselves reside in the core as bound souls.
“Do you know when the Citadel was built?” asks Daniel without looking. Xyreko is a fraction as old as Senn. He’s fairly certain she’s around a thousand years old, while the elven sage is at least several millennia. He is obviously polite enough not to poke fun about it, but she has probably forgotten more in her life than the combined knowledge of Daniel and his forefathers on both sides for several generations back.
“It existed before myself or either of my parents,” replies the elf. “There are only a couple of feldroks that were alive at the time it was built that survived into my lifetime.” She stops beside Daniel, looking up at the core as well.
The mechanic looks at her, and she matches his gaze, smiling at him. She has been spending a great deal of time with Serrentuk since he was revived, and they’ll soon be ready to remove his contract, truly freeing him so that he can leave the anti-magic cell.
“Something that has raised questions for me is how the Citadel obtains mana other than absorbing mana from people who die or mana donations.”
“Are you thinking the core acts like a living being?” asks the sage, realizing that he must have come here for a reason.
“I thought that at first. After all, it’s full of the souls of formerly-living people who chose to donate themselves to the Citadel.”
“That’s correct,” replies Xyreko’s voice. “Though, I don’t know where the trickle mana comes from, other than there is always
mana coming in. There’s a cap, and it has drifted over time, but if I do nothing, I will eventually restore about twenty five percent of the peak mana I had when we met in a couple of months. Assuming minimal usage, of course.”
Daniel nods. “I think that confirmed what I was thinking.” Daniel holds out his hand, revealing a black stone-like material. Xyreko’s body appears, along with Ucahote and Balamae, who are prominent golems that Daniel trusts as well as the chief Caretaker.
Senn is the first to take the proffered stone, inspecting it. “This appears to be nothing more than coal.” She smirks, teasing as she hands it over to Xyreko, “Wenlianna will be upset if you reveal how you’re going to turn this into fuel.”
“We’ve discussed it,” replies Daniel with a soft smirk. He’s deep in thought, but he isn’t so distracted as to miss good humor. “Coal burning is functional, but without an ESP, fly ash would be more of a problem than I want to pioneer right now.”
Senn jokes to Xyreko, “I feel like I should be writing this down.”
“The fact that you know about how to use it as fuel would probably irk our Brunette Empress a bit.”
The two snicker, and Daniel rolls his eyes. “Point is,...”
“Daniel-Mukori!” exclaims the brunette in question as she appears in a teleport.
“Apologies, Daniel,” states Xyreko. “She asked me to retrieve her if you start to develop something new.”
Daniel smiles, replying to Wenlianna, “Mukori…” She blushes as she jogs closer, straightening her posture.
“I hear tell you started speaking of coal.” With this, the young woman quick-draws her pencil and notebook.
Daniel gestures for the chunk of coal, handing it over. “Can you tell me anything about this?” asks the mechanic.
Confused, the brunette gingerly takes it, and Senn offers, “If it’s not something steam or fire powered, what could you have in mind?”
“Something that has to do with the Citadel core, it seems,” adds Xyreko.
“This… isn’t like the graphite we made,” remarks Wenlianna as she gingerly squeezes and turns it over with her fingers. “Ow!” she flinches and drops it to the floor. The small chunk taps the floor, but doesn’t bounce as much as one would associate with a more solid material like coal or even graphite of similar size, which would also have some chance of cracking or breaking on impact.
“Sorry, Mukori, but that confirmed my suspicions a bit.”
“What happened?” asks Senn, while Daniel takes the magic artisan’s hand to inspect it carefully.
“I-It felt like it stung me!” whines Wenlianna. “Daniel, you better start explaining soon, because I don’t like not knowing things, and you hurt my fingers.”
The mechanic smirks at her, asking, “Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”
“Ye-... Wait, wha-...?”
Before she can really process what he teased, he kisses her thumb, which she’s nursing, and her face turns bright pink. He jokes afterwords, “Why so bashful, Mukori? We’ve done far worse. I’d think you were related to Geira, not Reina.”
“I… I… Explain! Now!” She snatches her hand away and sheepishly shies away for a moment.
The earthling picks up the chunk of dark material and says, “Grendel Six discovered it, and they had to go back to retrieve more of it. Upon investigation, a shell of coal was wrapped around this. And, though it was a very new substance when I was on earth, I had the privilege of reading about it during one of my rabbit-hole sessions.”
“Rabbit… hole…” murmurs Wenlianna as she writes as fast as she can, still favoring her thumb a little, but never failing to gather information. “Wait… Grendel Six? You mean the goblin soldiers right?”
“Mm-hmm. Specifically, the ones who challenged Kernuules.” Daniel holds up the chunk again, saying, “If I’m not mistaken, this is still carbon, just like graphite and diamonds. But, as with diamonds and graphite, the structure of the carbon atoms very much redefines the material. And, in this case, because it has a slightly… spongy texture, but sharp fibers like fiberglass, I’m pretty sure it’s a gigantic mass of carbon nanotubes.”
Everyone stares at him, and he nods, knowing that even the true similarity between diamonds, graphite, and coal are still difficult for them to fully understand. Diamond was easy enough because most of them could understand that glass is made from materials that aren’t clear on their own, at least in their recognizable forms. But, without a 21st century high power microscope, Daniel would likely be unable to confirm his theory.
The problem is, it feeds directly into why he suspects it’s the unique, complex material formed of carbon atoms.
“I’ll try to explain the atomic side of things later, but the point is, it’s a material that we had only started to make small patches of and find practical uses for them, which includes unique electronic equipment and even structural materials. Here on Zenkon, carbon has a property that we didn’t have on Earth.”
“Magic!” replies Wenlianna, figuring it out almost instantly.
“Magic…? Then… Kernuules… and the Citadel…?” thinks Senn aloud. “You think these… nando-tubes are mana storage pools?”
“No…” thinks Wenlianna in contrast. “If Zenkon is similar to Earth, then it could go deeper, right, Mukori? What if the carbon tubes can actually convert mana from natural to refined, the way a living being does. And, if it becomes intense enough, like an intense stagnation…”
“It could form sorceranium…” finishes Xyreko.
Daniel nods with a smile, though again, it’s one with a great weight on his soul. “So, I’m not crazy to think so.”
“Not at all!” exclaims Wenlianna. “In fact, I’m glad you brought me into this, Xyreko.” She bunches her shirt up to use it as a makeshift buffer so she can pick up the CNT piece from Daniel, who is wearing his usual gloves to give him the ability to operate magic equipment. “If this truly is a non-living material capable of not only storing some mana, but converting it… You want to tap into it?”
“Well, there are six partially damaged columns ten feet thick and almost three hundred feet long buried in a forest near here, and if I’ve pieced everything together correctly, they were the power source to Kernuules, with the feldrok as a core similar to that…” Daniel points to the mystical core of the magic fortress he came to be the master of through a strange twist of fate.
“That sounds like quite the undertaking to dig them up and move them here,” replies Senn. “And, if I understand your train of thought, you are assuming the Citadel already has its own.”
“I’m almost certain of it,” replies Daniel. “But, I doubt the feldroks themselves created Kernuules. The cruelty that would take…” The mechanic trails off with pain in his expression as he clenches his fist. He couldn’t help Kernuules, and Fal barely escaped a similar fate, most likely. The Devourer also appears to have been a good person long ago, but shattered at the destruction of his race, or his family.
It is a line that Hekate is leaning over at any given time whether she wants to or not, given her nature as a feldrok and no guiding hands of her own people to ensure she does not cross that line prematurely.
“I want to collect them regardless. The ritual circles have been destroyed, so Kernuules shouldn’t be able to respawn, even if I retrieve his or her core. But, we also don’t know enough about strange mana.”
“If this material can absorb natural mana, are you hoping it can absorb strange mana as well?” asks the brunette magic artisan.
“Yes. Because we don’t know what kind of damage it does to even me, let alone those who it does noticeably affect, we may need to make a containment zone for Fal to try to draw off the strange mana he can produce long enough to calm him down. So far, singing to him calms him down, and Ochibenara says the cultists contained him within a scalding hotspring, which could keep him calm as well. Or, unconscious, at least. Regardless, he’s a baby, and we don’t have anyone who is familiar with raising feldrok infants. Even Hekate somehow reached her teens in relative secret.”
“Morthybargaron was certainly not a caretaker,” replies Senn. “He was more likely to have tried to kill her.”
“Another problem that needs dealing with. But, Morthybargaron is dead, so I’m not particularly worried about removing her contract just yet. As soon as we have enough resources and time, which should be no more than a couple of days, we’ll focus on freeing Serrentuk.”
Senn nods with a happy smile. “You should get used to calling him ‘Father-in-law’,” teases the elven sage.
Wenlianna flinches, and the ethereal woman giggles warmly. “Worry not, dear Wenlianna. I will only play at being a Fievegal Empress for now. But, to serve my needs, I will need Daniel to play along.”
“I… mmm…” Wenlianna avoids eye contact, not wishing to address the situation itself if she can help it. She instead decides to clear her throat and focus on the revelation. “Back to this; do you mind if I keep this piece, D-...” She glances at Senn for a moment, emphasizing, “Mukori?” She presses closer to Daniel, leaning her moderate chest against Daniel as she looks up at him.
The mechanic knows what she’s doing and why, but he doesn’t tease anyone about the harem situation except explicitly when it’s the Hekate game, which has a time and place.
“Of course. Do you have a plan already, Mukori?” asks the mechanic warmly.
Wenlianna glances at Senn a little suspiciously, though the elf also refrains from exacerbating the moment of jealousy. “I want to see if I can identify how it interacts with natural and refined mana, and when we’re ready, I want to test it with strange mana to see how it moves or absorbs mana.” She backs away from Daniel for a moment, still holding his sleeve gingerly. “Also… I do have… a strange request.”
“If it’s in my power, I’ll make it happen,” replies Daniel.
Wenlianna smiles. “Thank you.” She takes a breath and says seriously, “I want to compare this material to one of Hekate’s hairs.”
Daniel’s expression drains a bit. Hekate won’t refuse. That’s not the issue. He’ll be a fool to make the request if Doephluev is anywhere nearby, because Hekate is looking for more and more ways to speedrun her youth. Hekate alone is too innocent to think in quid pro quo. Doephluev can barely view any situation without some form of quid pro quo.
He’s hoping he’s worrying for nothing, but it does give him pause.
The wayward mechanic finally nods in agreement. “I hadn’t thought of that, but that’s a good point. I’ll try to find some…”
“The fresher the better,” points out Wenlianna. “I can compare how her mana dissipates once it’s separated from her to the carbon tubes. It might help us understand how feldroks absorb mana and become stronger, as well as why Fal produces strange mana. I worry…”
“Depending on his actual age in his semi-petrified state, whether or not his body contains sorceranium,” remarks Senn.
Wenlianna bobs her head in agreement.
Daniel has no objections, since it’s certainly a good point, and it would be better than isolating Fal in a room to simply strip him of excess mana. But, before they can get that far, Daniel will have to figure out how to cut a feldrok’s fur or hair. He knows Hekate sheds similar to a human losing their own hairs, rather than more dramatically like an earth canid, such as foxes or dogs, in spite of her almost disproportionately large tail, particularly. If he wants to cut them, he knows she instinctively puts her tail between herself and incoming harm if she panics, indicating that it’s possibly the toughest part of her body.
This would make sense if it’s armored with layers of CNTs.
And, if it truly is a naturally-forming material that Earth had to go out of the way for, in the way that a certain faormyr is armored with near-invincible flexible sharmelkolle scales, Hekate could be far stronger and tougher than even Daniel allows himself to believe.
Before he decides to go find his feldrok Empress, though, Daniel turns to Xyreko. “One last question. I know this pre-dates you, but…” He looks at the core next, asking, “How much of the Citadel is actually crucial to the existence of the core and the golems?”
Xyreko, Senn, and Wenlianna cock their heads, noticing that both of the other two each did the same, and they share a brief glance.
“Are you planning on moving the most magically and technologically advanced fortress in all of history?” asks Senn a bit dryly, though with an edge of skepticism and doubt in her voice.
“No,” replies Daniel politely. He looks at all three of them and says seriously, “I want to plan to destroy it.”
***