085 - Resonance

Outside in the skies grim storm clouds gathered, blowing in from over the mountains to the east. Sun moving from its midday perch, the world took on a twilight tone, heavy humid air settling on every creature. Inside the shallow cave sat Magnus, his silhouette almost lost in the afternoon gloom. Around him were the several green stones, the woods-for-trees formation re-infused.

The more Magnus explored of the memories of the Alchemists and the others, the more a single word came to his mind.

Disgusting.

The tyranny of the Alchemists . . the ways that the Martial Courts and the Seers conducted business . .

A tiny town like Kloster, hells, even the entire planet - the whole bloody star system, it existed purely for the Alchemists convenience. Dozens of worlds, thousands of nations - billions of people - just in the local cluster, all under the Alchemists mandate; it wasn't even a secret - they never even tried to keep it hidden. All the lords and nobles and kings knew of it - they were all a part of it, working with the Alchemists - desperate to be permitted entrance into the Revolving Tower.

What he'd lived through in Kloster - Festus' experiment - pitting the giants against the black skins - that exact sort of situation had been repeated countless times, countless young Alchemists in countless towns and villages conducting all kinds of brutal and careless experiments on people, testing all kinds of potions and pills and techniques . . .

Like cattle - less than human - these worlds under the Alchemists mandate were seen as nothing more than farms, neat little gardens full of creatures and minerals and resources; full of plenty of experimental subjects. Young Alchemists were recruited from the world's too - the sons and daughters of the elite, the offspring of old Alchemists who'd chosen to retire to a life of luxury on one of the many worlds.

Magnus . .

What of Festus? He was one of Pontius students! A coincidence? From all the Alchemists that could have come to the Sleeping Forest . . Pontius Magister Preater - a grand teacher, specialized in the Ether and Celestial studies. Festus was a prime student; a genius - the techniques he had been experimenting with were to try to replicate the effects of an ancient Martial Court technique that could allow a cultivator to grow to enormous size - Septima had been similarly attempting to replicate a cultivation technique, some sort of iron skin.

Worthless. Bloody worthless . . for this . . for a student's experiment, that was what Kloster and Doohama had been utterly devastated over - that was what all my family, all my friends had died for. And I wanted to be a bloody giant . . .

Hey, Magnus!

What? What! Ouch! Bloody ouch!

Whilst Magnus sat and let his mind go a-wandering his fist had closed ever tighter around the hilt of the Heart Sword, now - with his mind full of fury, he'd unwittingly squeezed a little too hard, his fingers crushing the steel blade into fragments.

Of course, due to the nature of the Heart Sword, merely breaking the blade did nothing to diminish the curse; the pieces had a life of their own, each metal shard viciously stabbing into Magnus' flesh and attempting to burrow their way beneath his skin to his heart - this was the very nature of the curse. The Heart Sword would never stop - night and day for all eternity, until it drank the blood of its targets curse dry.

Son of a . . . ahh!

Magnus tore a shard from the flesh of his upper arm, throwing it to the ground. In an instant it came to life, flying through the air - he blocked with the struggling blade - in a clang of metal the piece was absorbed back into the Heart Sword.

Damn. Damn damn damn . . what in the seven hells do I do with this? I can't keep holding on to it . . every one of the Alchemists means to break the curse are too damn specific - where am I gonna get an ampule of ionized carp reticules? No . . there had to be another way. Hmm . . yeah . . a particular method did come to mind - something to deal with the Heart Sword specifically.

In the memories Magnus searched for every reference of the Heart Sword and Martial Courts and the Segye Imperial Palace - anything that might contain a clue how to put an end to the curse. Amongst Valerius memories was a single book on the subject - not quite a manual, but a book of stories - tales of adventure about heroic Martial Court Cultivators from history, children's tales really - something that Valerius read between his studies.

One of the stories in particular caught Magnus' notice; the story of Seong Seok, Demonic Wanderer from the wild heretical courts. The story dealt with Seong Seok's massacre of an entire family of cultivators in the midst of a wedding festival - before Seok could cut her down, the bride-to-be curse him, plunging her sword into her own heart. This sword took on a life of its own, fighting against Seong Seok in a mighty battle lasting many moon, until eventually Soek managed to placate it, sacrificing his left arm to act as its sheath.

Even though the curse was never given a name in the story, it bore remarkable similarities to the Heart Sword curse. Worth a try, right? Well . . no need to go so far as to sacrifice an arm . . hmm . .

With the blade held firmly in one hand, Magnus tore the tattered leather jacket from his back, wrapping it tightly around the blade, using several strips of fabric to hold it in place. The jacket had been soaked in his blood and stained with all kinds of filth - but it seemed to have an effect - the sword calming its struggles.

No good!

In a matter of moments the blood on the fabric dried, disappearing into the Heart Sword, the blade grinding against the leather sheath and nearly cutting it open.

More blood! What good would that do? Even if you poured in buckets of blood the blade would just drink it up and keep coming . . . ok . . what about an arm? No? What about . . yeah, well - better than an arm! Something only a Celestial could do, right?

Magnus formed a thread of Vigour, wrapping it around the rough sheath, binding it tight as he could. Vigour - the living thread, the life line - everyone had one - would it work? Well, Seong Seok had fooled the sword that chased him with an arm . . .

As soon as he finished threading the strand of Vigour around the sheath, Magnus pinched his fingers, cutting it from himself and letting it sink into the leather. Carefully, keeping both eyes on the sword, he lowered it to the ground, setting it down.

Success! The Heart Sword lay still and silent within the ragged sheath. Hahaha! I win!

. . .

Now what?

Back to the Ether? Magnus looked at the candle that Sif had delivered - a greasy mess burnt almost all the way down to its stump. Thats right! What about Kujata! What had happened to her? She . . and Dong-Geun!

In a single breath Magnus readied himself to plunge back into the Ether -

Hold it!

Hob?

Yeah, who else? Listen, before you go back in - a quick word . . what do you think of Celestials, Magnus?

Celestial? You talking about Kujata? Or . . well, they are really powerful creatures and . . and what are you getting at?

I mean, what do you think about being a Celestial - have you given it much thought? Hells, I don't need to ask that, I know you ain't. What are your thoughts on being a Celestial?

It's all a bit . . rubbish, ain't it just? I mean, up till now . . . I mean . . I'm still Magnus right? I dunno, I just don't feel like some sort of . . of monster . .

Right.

And now all of a sudden I'm some sort of powerful god like creature? Some sort of beast feared throughout the stars, hunted by Alchemists and all sorts of other twats?

Right.

Fuck off. Fuck right off with all that shite. It's rubbish, ain't it?

Ahaha . . . right, right. More than a bit rubbish, its a load of shit that's been dumped on yer head. Poor little Magnus, all innocent and wanting to be a giant with his mate. Poor little Magnus, killed by some experiment and come back from the grave. It is a steaming heap of crap, is what it is!

I mean . .

Poor little Magnus, wandering and wandering and finding a useless bloody teacher who wants to send you to your death. Remember? She saw you and she stomped ya flat.

Kujata? She ain't that bad, I mean . . she did . . but . . ah hells . .

Stomp stomp stomp, caved your chest in, right? And she has said, time and again - she'll teach ya, and your part in it is to go and raise hell in the tower. What'll you think will happen there, right?

Yeah . . but . .

You think she can be trusted?

I . . yeah . . but . . I dunno . .

Who can you trust?

. . .

The answer is pretty obvious Magnus - there is but one person you can trust in this life.

Yeah? Who's that then?

Yourself!