Arcanist In Another World
Chapter 113: A Way

Valens froze against the woman’s face, finding it hard to put his thoughts into words since he was being accused by a past he knew so little about. A storm churned inside his head, doubts resurfacing and making him think. Making him consider the implications of it.

The Surgemasters created the system?

That wasn’t anything surprising, considering they were the ones who wove Spiritum from the frequencies. Valens had suspected it could be the case, even if he couldn’t comprehend the sheer work it must’ve taken for them to realize this feat.

But what this woman accused him of was something else.

She had said it was from the Surgemasters the Shadow hailed. What did this mean? Were those twisted creatures and the horrors a product of this mastermind? Were the Surgemasters—

How could I be sure that she’s speaking the truth?

Valens scowled out into the eyes of the woman and saw in their depths a burning hatred. Scarcely you’d find words spoken with such conviction handing you the whole truth. Scarcely you’d find cohesion in sentences wrung out through an emotional outburst.

For all he knew, she could be lying just to mess with his mind. Certainly she had the motivations for it. They were here, under the Golden Cathedral, trying to stop her from opening this Gate. Only ones who stood between her and Trial. Couldn’t blame a woman for trying everything in this case.

Couldn’t blame her at all even if she had no reason to interfere.

We’re terribly outnumbered.

Lenora’s blood continued spilling into the gate below, the frequencies rising as the sacrifice fed into them. Nine spheres in total, and they were gleaming, the gate slowly opening, screams and screeches resounding across the hall.

Pitiful effort through all of it, Valens thought when he saw the glimpses of Nomad and Garran battling in the din. Mindless work, indeed, now he thought about it. Blood and sacrifice wasn’t the answer they needed.

He stepped forth as he took in the sight of the woman. He couldn’t see her level, nor her class, but could hear the songs of her being. A brittle young woman, she was, if perhaps a touch fortunate to have the fog as her veil. It wavered around her like an obedient child, yearning to make itself useful, waiting for a chance to prove its endless potential.

She is similar to me, isn’t she? That means I can work my way into that little head if I try just enough.

“You keep speaking about this Mother of yours,” Valens said, taking another step toward the woman. “The Endless Mist, right? A most terrifying existence, I suppose, considering the implications of its name. Yet I feel a certain pull there. A certain conviction that feels strangely familiar, which is why I find myself wondering whether it comes from you, or the stories you’ve been told.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at him, the fog wavering hesitantly around her, but slowly that strange smile blossomed once again on her lips. “You think these are mere stories? You think you can deny the truth?”

“Oh, I have no intention to deny anything,” Valens said, shaking his head.

“Then accept it!” the woman said, eyes growing fierce.

“What is your name?” Valens asked. “I like to learn the name of the woman who forced me to go through all of this.”

The woman paused for a second as the fog around her shifted. “Eliza,” came the answer after a while, which seemed to be the result of a long consideration whether lending him her name had any merit in this situation.

I don’t blame her. That head of hers must be full of fog.

“Eliza,” Valens nodded. “It’s a good name, if a bit simpler than what I expected. Now tell me, Eliza, if what you’ve said is true and you’ve been a good girl to your Mother for all these years, why did you go around and make a deal with some lesser son of a puny Divine? Couldn’t she have made this world your playground? Surely a mighty Ancient needs not the help of a lost son and his underlings?”

The woman’s scowl deepened at the words while Valens put his hands to his back, taking a step to the side. Through his sound vision he felt the Ancient Riftshards pulsing with mana further back.

It’s too late to do something about those Riftshards. They already provided enough mana for the ritual. I could try and cut those invisible lines feeding into Lenora, but I certainly doubt this woman would watch me do it, let alone her army of shadows.

They were stirring, those shadows, the more Nomad and his group worked their way deeper to the dais. Screams of Shriekers exploded by their ears, the golden armor of Garran smeared with an ungodly amount of dark blood. Three men fought a losing war against the tide, and the Gate was still opening.

I don’t have much choice.

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“So?” Valens probed right away, seeing that the woman kept her silence. “Why play with the little humans, at all? You even brought the Wretched Mother into this against her will, isn’t that right? Even fooled that Weeping Horror with the promise of a reunion. Planted your spies into this city. Took hold of thousands of people’s minds with your fog. I must confess that these acts seem decisively evil for a woman who claims the true evil is here, right across from her, shaped in the body of a man who tries to do exactly the opposite.”

“You have the nerve to speak when your past—”

“I know nothing of this past, nor am I in the mood to care a damn about it,” Valens said, frowning at her. “You accusing me of things that my so-called Forefathers did means shit when I have no recollection of anything. Beyond that, if the words of the Wretched Mother were to be believed, I was imprisoned in a faraway world by my own ancestors, forced to live a life of lies and deceit, with a man who I saw as a Father who might have something to do with all of this. Yet you don’t see me going around and killing people for it, do you?”

Valens sucked in a deep breath, heart pounding against his chest, fingers of his hands tingling with unease. He had his own troubles with this world. Own past and a future. His search to understand the truth, but that didn’t mean throwing tantrums like a little child.

There was a proper way of doing this.

Looking back, he did make some bad decisions while trying to understand his new reality. He’d been a headstrong fool thinking the Templars and their religion were beneath him, but still, he helped those in need when they came knocking on his door. He scorched monsters and creatures wicked beyond remedy, and helped the ones who weren’t too lost in the dark.

He’d been doing what he was taught one way or another after coming to this world, and it hadn’t been always easy. He saw it for himself how simple things could get when you throw fire and blood in the mix. Easy to deal with everything when you muted your mind against the cries.

Yet he cast away the Apathy and embraced his own doubts. This woman, on the other hand, reminded him of his old self.

“Your ignorance is not an excuse for the rivers of blood spilled in the name of your line,” Eliza said, her voice steady now. “You speak of restraint as if it makes you different. It doesn’t. Not to those who lived through what your kind built.”

Valens didn’t respond.

“You want to know why I took their minds?” she continued. “Why I let the fog in? Because they were already broken. Already shaped by the system your ancestors put in place. I didn’t force them into cages. I only… rearranged the walls.”

He raised a brow. “And did you care to ask them, at all?”

“They were hurting for too long,” she said simply. “You think this was some grand plan for conquest? No. It’s control, yes, but not for glory. Once I’m done claiming what’s mine, I will let them go, and when the Ancients return, people will understand the truth. They will thank me for it.”

“As much as I want to believe you, I can’t seem to convince myself that some grand mist resting across the space would care much for the fate of humanity,” Valens said, shaking his head.

“I’m not here to convince you,” Eliza said sharply.

“Good.” Valens nodded, shoulders sagging with relief. “Because as far as this matter goes, both you, your Mother, and my ancestors can go eat shit for all I care. I’m going to put an end to this, then learn myself the truth of it. How’s that sound?”

“You can try,” Eliza said, the fog growing restless around her. “But your time has long since passed, Surgemaster.”

“So be it,” Valens shrugged. “Something’s been trying to kill me every week anyway.”

He didn't wait for the fog to close in.

The instant it surged, he spun to the left and thrust his palm downward, Inferno flaring with a crack that sent ripples through the air. The heat carved a temporary barrier, flames catching the first wave of mist and forcing it to recoil with a hiss. Still, it came again, slipping around edges, through crevices, searching for his skin, his breath, his thoughts.

He moved, one step back, two to the side, never lingering in the same place, never letting the fog settle into a pattern. His ears were alive with the pulse of its frequencies now, high-pitched, whisper-thin. It was as material as it was slippery, and was trying to worm a way across him.

Not happening.

With a Gale, he sent the fast-approaching tendrils scattering, rupturing the nearest cluster of mist, blasting through them with his heart hammering in his chest. Hands and fingers reached for him. The air grew heavy as the shadows swarmed unified against him.

“That’s rude,” Valens mumbled, dodging barely a stray claw ripping at his face, watching it burn as the Inferno’s flames cuddled him tight to save him from a terrifying fate. The dark skin of the Hollow popped and hissed against it, the creature phasing back away from the flames in a hurry.

I’m going to die here.

It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t dealt a great deal of choices to choose from, anyway. He supposed he could’ve gone away rather than throwing himself into the Golden Cathedral’s depths, but he was rather tired of this Trial and wanted to end it.

If that meant taking a swarm of shadows and a crazy woman at the same time, then he might as well try his chances.

When shielding himself with his own flames proved a touch insufficient, he used the same trick he did against Belgrave’s residents and quested for the Gravitating Earth. Mana was aplenty in the air, but it stayed silent to his probes. Good thing the woman brought some Riftshards for him to suck about.

He moved toward the dais, one step at a time. He felt the icy touch of the fog trying to seep in. Voices exploded in his head, speaking, whispering, but he held himself close. A Resonant Healer’s mind was strong, Master Eldras had once told him, and it turned out that fact held true even without the Apathy’s steely net.

“Coward!” the woman hissed. “You can’t get away!”

I need more shields. More fucking shields.

He caught scent of Nomad and the others further deep into the swarm. The three Warriors found themselves in a puzzle since all the shadows had turned toward Valens and left them alone. It was either they were going to help Valens or try to stop Lenora from bleeding away.

Garran and Dain chose the latter.

There was one man still out to save his life, though.

Can’t do it without me, can you?

It was Nomad bounding across the shadows with chest ripped wide open with the claws. His Heartstone was visible underneath the tears, thumping a loud beat over the Resonance, strong and steady as he forced a way open, never tore his eyes from Valens even for a second.

“Coward!” the woman hissed behind Valens, her fog tailing him like a stubborn beast.

Valens didn’t look away. Breath rasped in his throat as he used a Light Feet to cut into the distance. For now, he could hold himself against the swarm, but the moment the little mana pool in his chest drained away, he would find himself bare and weak against dozens of monsters with their Mistress at their side.

I can’t let that happen.

Which meant he had to find a way to those Riftshards before it got too late.

……