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Chapter 177: Frayed
🕑 Added 2023-12-30 01:20:01 +0000 UTCChapter 177: Frayed
‘Yr’enzel,’ old Uunrahzil greeted him. ‘I see thou’st found a Truth?’
Mercury regarded his teacher and, frankly, friend. He smiled, then nodded. ‘I have.’
There was an undertone of thanks in what he thought at Uunrahzil. The old creature smiled, too, seeming elated with their student’s success. Whisperstar flitted across the sky, seemingly enamoured.
Things had changed in the dream. The dark, patchwork sky was more… complete now, perhaps. There were tiny cloud drifting across it, in small measure, some of them light and fluffy, others dark and full of fury. Most of them shed rain.
A thin misting of it pittered down onto the grass that covered the fields. It lightly doused the citadel of fire, eliciting small spouts of vapour. It slid down the tall spires and windows of the castle of glass. It rained onto the mountains, turning earth more muddy, and letting the grass encroach a little further.
The clouds drifted across the sky on tiny gusts of wind. It was strange to see them move, though, since the stars in Mercury’s dream were not true stars. The moon and silver sun, especially, hung in front of the clouds, shedding pale light onto the landscape below. The star that had once been the nexus stood close to the moon, too, lighting the clouds from below.
If Mercury focused, he could see the threads. Bits of the <Dreamweave>, connecting those celestial bodies up into the misty skies. The dream was becoming more real, and it could only do so because there was a foundation laid. Enough to make the world up there feel more alive.
Whisperstar sent happiness to Mercury. They danced through the wispy clouds, dispersing them, and through the darker clouds, briefly letting the rain shine in silver. Maybe, if they were brighter, they could cause a rainbow someday. Mercury enjoyed that thought.
Old Uunrahzil interrupted Mercury’s thoughts by speaking again. ‘I am proud of you,’ they thought, simply, and Mercury read that it was true. ‘Thou have truly outdone yourself. I do not know how much time has passed outside of here ever since we met, but it surely could not have been much. Yet, you managed to understand a part of yourself. I cannot say how proud that makes me.’
Mercury smiled. He knew old Uunrahzil’s words to be true, for he could read the old one’s intent. He lowered his head a little. ‘I could not have done it without you, teacher.’
His response elicited genuine happiness from old Uunrahzil. ‘My tri’ht. It is good to revel in your successes. But you must understand that this is simply the first step on a yet longer path.’
‘I know,’ Mercury said, and it was the truth. The very ability he got said so. It was <Rainfall (lowest)>. All of his ihn’ar on <Breath> was still in there, but this was now a new road to set out on.
‘It is good you do, Yr’enzel,’ old Dreamweaver thought with some amusement. ‘I am sure you will discover much more about this world as you go on.’
Mercury nodded. ‘I hope so,’ he thought sincerely. ‘It would be a shame if this was all there is to me.’
The last bit was supposed to be a joke, and Mercury even knew that Dreamweaver knew it was, yet they took the words seriously. ‘There is depth to each and every creature who thinks, young one. It is hard to ever truly understand yourself.’
That left a question open in Mercury’s mind. ‘Do you understand yourself, old Uunrahzil?’
Silence followed his inquiry.
If Mercury didn’t know better, he would have guessed that old Uunrahzil was offended at the question, but he did know better. He could tell that they were thinking. Truly thinking, too, sending small vibrations into the dream around themselves, that shook smaller threads loose for Mercury to briefly pick up on before they slotted themselves back into the weave.
The silence stretched on for a while. Seconds, first, then minutes. Mercury decided to simply wait, though he couldn’t just stand still and do nothing, so he set about one of the things he had not done in a while. Absorbing more mana.
With the dream being so much denser now, it seemed there was more mana in the air, too. Mercury split his mind. Gathering mana was always a good way to train his ystirs, and his second zeyjn was only able to support a few of them, compared to the 32 his first zeyjn could keep up.
Half his mind was thus set to absorbing mana, while the other half worked to understand more about this dream. His teacher was shaking loose threads, which then mended back together, into one cohesive whole. Still, he could see that disturbances were happening.
Thinking, by itself, shouldn’t be causing that kind of reaction. So what was?
Mercury focused, and tried to look closer. Naturally, almost like second nature, he slipped into ihn’ar, watching the first veil of gold break apart. The world looked clearer, and the threads more vibrant. He could now see dozens more, constantly spinning and moving around old Uunrahzil, like a cocoon being spun from the dream, then torn apart and put back together.
Then, Mercury looked closer. He glimpsed a little of things he already understood a bit. The threads of the <Dreamweave>, and behind them, the <Nothingness> they coiled around. Yet, when the threads parted, that <Nothingness> grew to fill that space, hungry and encroaching.
Somehow, it seemed to be both an anchor for dreams to exist, yet also willing to fill any space they didn’t. Like it was bound too tightly by the threads.
Mercury glimpsed into those gaps that appeared between the threads. Where the <Nothingness> was larger and less gentle, instead seeming hungry. And behind it, there was more of it.
An infinite expanse of it, so chock full of <Nothingness> it would have been absolutely suffocating.
So why was there something out there?
When Mercury noticed the things that were in the other space, old Uunrahzil stopped what they were doing. Their cocoon of threads rapidly collapsed, each bit of weave snapping back into the fabric of the dream, the nothingness suddenly tame and serving as a benevolent anchor again.
‘My tri’ht, Yr’enzel, thou should not look that far ahead yet,’ they thought, sadness tinging their tone.
Mercury swallowed heavily. His eyes felt dry, so he blinked, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Something about him felt… raw. Overstretched.
Actually, scratch that, everything about him felt like he had moved it a step too far. He couldn’t quite get his thoughts organised enough to formulate a reply.
‘Thou’st been staring into that darkness for over five hours now,’ old Dreamweaver explained, empathetically.
Ah. That explained why the amount of ystirs his split mind could command raised by a whole two. Five… full hours.
Fuck. His very existence felt… frayed at the edges.
‘When you peer outside, you expose your astral body to danger, Mercury. It will erode and unravel. That is what you experienced.’
Once again, Mercury couldn’t articulate much more than a simple ‘Ah.’ It made sense, then, that he felt like he wasn’t quite… there. His legs shook a little.
‘Do not worry overmuch. You will heal, soon. A day is all it should take,’ old Uunrahzil elaborated, and Mercury’s fear stopped growing. He breathed in deep, then out.
After another moment passed, he was able to gather enough thoughts to speak again. ‘What… did you do?’ His question was curious, but still slightly fearful. He did not manage to keep that out of his mind.
‘Hm. It is a little complicated. I called to the other pieces of myself for their understanding. It… involves reaching out beyond the lo-pac. I have gathered understanding of myself again, though some bits of myself seemed more unwilling to give it up than others.’
They said it so casually, but the meaning of those words was not lost on Mercury. Dreamweaver had essentially said that they had taken the essence of what it meant to be “old Uunrahzil” from other pieces of themselves, whether they gave it willingly or not.
‘In doing so, I have become more real again.’ Those thoughts were warm. The kind of happiness gained when finding company after long days of solitude, finding water after a trek through the desert. ‘But it has made my other pieces less.’ Those were cold, distant, regretful but with compassion. It was a necessary action.
‘How come they do not take from you?’ Mercury asked.
Uunrahzil grinned, conspiratorially. ‘That is, of course, because you and Whisperstar believe in me. My eyeun surpasses… ours.’
Mercury blinked. ‘What does that mean?’
There was a brief silence, this one much shorter than five hours, as Uunrahzil swayed left and right. ‘It is difficult to put into your language,’ they thought. ‘Cereth’bar. Apologies. I believe that there are no proper words for this. If I could approximate it… all thoughts on us shape our existence. Your thoughts shape our existence. We grow through another's lo-pac about us.’
‘I follow, so far,’ Mercury said.
‘And since thou, Yr’enzel, dream of this one, specifically, we grow more. That is the simple truth,’ Uunrahzil explained. Mercury could read a thin layer of regret at not being able to express themselves properly, but there was also a feeling that the idea had been conveyed rather decently.
Still, it left Mercury curious for more. ‘Is this something that only goes for you, or for your species?’
‘Only us. This one. We, I, the one before you right now. Our fragments eyeun when lagment. We… “exist when we are sought”? Not quite, but close. Yes.’ The old construct of stony veins bobbed once, as if to nod.
There was also some lamentation in their thoughts though. It took Mercury a moment to even read that far down, but then he realized why. It’s because Dreamweaver’s species was dead. All of them, gone and wiped out.
The pain of that still remained, a long since faded scar, but a scar nonetheless. Mercury sent them compassion, and received gratitude. Along that gratitude was a hint at a deeper pain, of not simply a species of loss, but personal loss. Yet, it carried the message that old Uunrahzil was not yet willing to speak of it, so Mercury did not ask.
Instead, the older Person continued the conversation. ‘Well, young Mercury, is there something else you wish to learn?’ they asked.
For a moment, Mercury couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I would not know what the next step is, old Uunrahzil.’
At that, there was some humor in the older one’s mind. ‘There is no decisive next step. You must dream a road into existence.’ Their words were slightly amused, but spoken true.
‘Well, I suppose the next thing I’m learning would be smithing,’ Mercury thought.
‘A good choice,’ Uunrahzil agreed, ‘and one which fits well within ihn’ar. You may learn more of fire or heat or tempering. I am sure you will find your path amongst there.’
Mercury smiled. ‘We will see. I do not know if I will grasp something so quick.’
‘And perhaps you will not. Perhaps you will learn to apply the knowledge you already have, or you will not and simply learn something new. Not all things need to be approached from the same angle,’ Uunrahzil explained.
Again, Mercury nodded. He felt his eyelids slowly grow heavy in the dream.
‘Ah, apologies, I have spoken too much. You may be a little tired after my recent actions. Cereth’bar. I hope you heal soon, and I must also find rest. We grow wa’hc, and so do you.’
Then, the dream ended.
- - -
Mercury woke up the same place he’d fallen asleep. In a sunny spot on his bed, close to Zyl. He was warm, comfortable, yet felt like he had slept an hour too little. Not rested properly.
He grumbled a bit, knowing it was the aftereffects of what he had seen in the dream. It would go away. Still, it was an annoying feeling. Kind of like pins and needles, except all across his fur.
With a slight bit of irritation, Mercury pushed himself off the bed, leaving Zyl still sleeping. <Veil> was good for that kinda stuff. It was funny how close the veil and <Veil> were, to him. After all, the golden veil was simply where his mind drew the border of what was reasonable. <Veil>, in essence, was to draw that border more narrowly around another’s mind, making them not able to even think you existed where you were.
It was a strange type of minor understanding alteration, but it was fitting for Mercury. Much more fitting than some of the more cat-like stealth Skills, though he still liked <Soft Steps> quite a bit. Definitely not just because it made almost all surfaces more comfortable to walk on, nope, surely not.
With reasonably fast motions, after having woken at sunrise, Mercury had some breakfast, then headed out onto the street.
Not too many people were around yet, though more than there would have been back on Earth. These people were still rebuilding the city, after all, and so they started early. It was quite cold outside, though, so honestly, they could probably have done to start a little later.
Of course, as he walked through the streets of Stormbraver, it wasn’t very long until he started hearing the rhythmic clanging of metal striking metal. He rounded a corner, and found Yasashiku outside, hammering… something on his anvil. Probably making tools. He seemed to currently be hammering a piece of metal into a long, flat shape… maybe a saw?
“Ah, Mercury-kun!” the old man greeted when he looked up from the piece, wiping sweat from his forehead. He wore a thick, woolen shirt under his leather apron, keeping the cold out.
“Good morning, Yasashiku-sensei. Are you not too warm?” he asked.
The old man laid down his hammer on the anvil, and wiped his gloves against one another. “Kuku, at my age you gotta be careful, you know? Cold gets to your bones fast. Can’t afford to get sick when a city needs rebuilding.”
Mercury resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Isn’t your vitality super high?” he asked instead.
“Oh, sure, yes,” Yasashiku answered.
“So you haven’t been sick in years?”
“No, no, I haven’t, of course not. I make sure to stay warm, after all,” Yasashiku remarked, grinning now.
“Uh-huh,” Mercury hummed noncommittally.
“Come now, Rainfall-kun! Let’s get you smithing! I heard that your rijn improved a lot since I last saw ya,” Yasashiku said, already heading off into his shed to grab some things. “Follow along, come on!” he called out from inside.
Mercury was, at the least, able to follow that request, so he hopped from the pavement of the road onto the slightly elevated, smooth stone that marked Yasashiku’s working space, then trotted after the old man.
Inside the shed, it was rather dim, though the low light didn’t give Mercury much trouble at all. Besides his Skill for seeing in darker spaces, his stats probably also improved his eyesight at least a bit.
After a few more seconds of rummaging, Yasashiku quickly turned around to the mopaaw with a somewhat gleeful smile. “A-ha! There we go. Found something for you to work.” He held out a ball of metal, because that is what it was. A ball of scrap.
“What is that?” Mercury asked.
“Trash is what it is. I get deliveries of broken nails, doorhinges, and everything else along those lines from local builders. They’d throw it out. I make them new building supplies from it for a lower price. Simple as,” Yasashiku explained, still holding the ball.
“And what would you like me to do with it?”
“Take it off my hands, first,” Yasashiku said, and Mercury obliged, holding the ball of scrap aloft with <Telekinesis>. It wasn’t all stuck together, he quickly noticed, as some bits and bobs almost fell out, but he quickly held it together. “I want you to purify it, and make it into workable iron. Then, you’re gonna practice forging some nails. Simple, right?”
The smile on the old man’s face told Mercury it wouldn’t be quite so simple, but he obliged with a nod. “Of course, Yasashiku-sensei.”
“All right,” the old man said, walking back out the shed and gesturing for Mercury to follow. “You’re free to use the entire workshop, outside and inside. Some of it is rusty,so you’ll have to take that through the whole blast furnace process. You see…”
It would be a long day.
- - -
Despite his fears in the beginning, Mercury enjoyed the process. He separated out the metals, first, using <Telekinesis> a whole bunch. He separated rusty metal and regular iron into two piles, then took the rusty stuff through the whole cleaning process. The stuff that wasn’t rusty could just be molten down by itself.
He extracted the iron from the rusty stuff, then melted that down in a normal furnace with the regular iron, and by the end, he was left with a large bar of pure iron. Well, calling it pure would be quite a stretch.
Over the whole process, Yasashiku had shown him how to control the temperature, and when it was hot enough, they had added coke to remove any more oxides. That raised the carbon amount in the iron, which was then too high, so they’d Heated it under heavy airflow, to blow away some of that carbon.
By the end of the day, the metal that was left over was, in essence, steel. If Yasashiku had used his Skills, the stuff they’d made would have been much better, but that wasn’t really the point. It was for Mercury to learn, and maybe level <Elementary Crafting> a bit, the Skill helping to guide him through the motions.
Once it was all done, Mercury went home, feeling satisfied about how it went, and almost excited to come back the next day. Before sleep, he practiced his ystirs some more, increasing his maximum MP further.
The next day, Mercury once again got up early, then headed for the workshop. The pins and needles he felt had mostly receded, though he still felt a small chill in his core, it was almost all gone.
Still, he enjoyed the warmth that was part of today’s process. Melting things down again for casting was nice, and forging meant working with hot metal. He could stand far away, since he would be using his rijn, but… well. Casting came first!
To that end, he first melted the metal down again, this time in a smaller crucible meant for pouring, which he then used <Telekinesis> to get the metal into the moulds. He didn’t spilly any, luckily, since he had a lot of practice with the Skill. Yasashiku had expected him to spill some.
Once the iron wasn’t liquid anymore, he was able to also use <Telekinesis> to get it out of the molds. The fact that he was able to move hot metal without touching it was a great boon, and it was also giving him a great deal more experience with the Skill.
It only took a bit of practice until he popped out a dozen bars, each one ready to be forged. They heated it up, and Mercury condensed his rijn into the shape of a hammer, bringing it down heavily on the metal. It deformed.
Soon, Mercury created his first nail. It was uneven, the tip not quite sharp. There was a bend in the middle of it. Yasashiku laughed, not in a mocking, but an understanding way. He put it with the scrap, then told Mercury to keep practicing. Because, from then on, it really was more a matter of time.
A few hours ticked by as Mercury made more failures, each one a bit closer to being acceptable. He learned quickly, his assorted Skills doing their trick. Each failure taught him more, rather than less.
By the time he was onto his twelfth nail, though, and the sun was beginning to hang lower in the sky, a disturbance came.
There was a low rumble. Mercury heard it early, as it passed over the city walls. Then, a cloud of dust was kicked up on the streets. A moment later, Mercury saw something appear in front of him.
A kid walked around the corner to the shop. It was quiet, for a moment, a lull in the air.
Suddenly, it was not.
Winds whipped across Mercury’s face, howling in his ear. The gusts knocked up so much dust that his world was reduced to him and the kid. A young boy, his eyes dark like little abysses. His voice, somehow, made it over the howling wind, even as it knocked Mercury’s nail off the anvil, and the piece fell soundlessly to the floor.
“Hello little storm. What are you doing in this city?” the boy asked.
