The great cores paradox.., p.23
The Great Cores Paradox 2: Book 2, page 23
Elara let a hand press against her companion’s head, scratching lightly while her feet kept moving through the mists. He’d started to bite at his tail, doing something that was forcing the spores that infected him to die. Probably something similar to how he could make things that cleansed the spores from everyone else. Elara couldn’t be sure.
She didn’t have magic snake powers, just a weird Seeker one.
Normally, Elara would’ve had to trust he’d be okay, since she couldn’t just take him out of the spore-mists temporarily. With the way the mist swallowed sound and twisted about, she had long since lost all sense of direction. The necklace around her neck, however, always knew the way home. Elara could feel it tug against her when she thought hard about the Guardian Statue it was connected to.
An evaluating glance toward the snake at her shoulder, still biting his tail, told her she still had time before needing to leave. Though the spores and their awful roots were occasionally appearing on his scales, they seemed to be doing so much slower than before, as if he was getting better at fighting against it than he had been at the start.
He might not be able to hold out forever, but she was fairly certain he’d be able to do so long enough so she could find and destroy a few sources of the spores, thinning out the mist.
Elara gave him another few scratches, feeling a spike of pride and more than a little bit of spite when she easily quashed the attempt to turn those innocent scratches into something more dangerous. Her fingers didn’t even twitch, the battle beneath the surface of her skin easily won.
Focused eyes scanned the ground, searching for signs of as-yet unseen dangers. Of which the other Seekers were now a part. The ground was covered in a thick coating of dead spores, gray like ash but without the warmth. Moment by moment, more bits and pieces fell, adding their own corpses to the growing mountains.
Elara tramped through them mercilessly, casting the mountains aside in plumes of dust-like motes—and so, too, would have anyone else’s.
It wasn’t long before she found a trail, a single set of shambling tracks that pushed farther through the mist.
She followed it, the mist swallowing what little sound she made.
Lesser Core Skill: [Life—Vitality I] Increased.
[Life—Vitality II] Acquired.
Another few drops of vitality dripped down my fangs, this time without any drops of vigor to go along with it. There was an immediate difference in effect. It seemed to be more effective than [Life—Invigorating Bite] would have been at the same level, despite both of the abilities being created from the same initial drop of life essence. Vitality alone was much more powerful than I’d expected.
Out of curiosity, I followed it with a drop of vigor. The healing of vitality instantly decreased, even as my scale-flesh itself became empowered by vigor. The two aspects that formed life essence didn’t go together quite as perfectly as I might have thought. They didn’t even come close to canceling one another out, but they were still weaker in the other’s presence.
If I wanted the greatest effect, I could only use one at a time. Otherwise, I might as well just use the older [Life—Invigorating Bite XV] to take advantage of its higher level. Using the two aspects together would be the same as reverting to the strength of my initial [Life—Invigorating Bite]. Pointless.
I caught myself before I let out a hiss of annoyance. More spores in my flesh could only make the situation worse.
Then I had a thought, one which might let me use both of my newest abilities at their highest potency. More drops of life essence split in two. After using them a few times, I was able to quickly separate vigor and vitality from one another, sending them where they needed to be.
Drops of vitality dripped from my fangs, doing exactly what they’d done before, wiping away as many spores as possible. In this case, I needed to wipe away all of them. Clean out my flesh entirely, even if it was only temporary.
I wouldn’t be able to heal myself like I had been forever. Eventually, I would run dry. The spores would take root, and I would be forced to wait for my mana to slowly accumulate so I could fight against them again. I needed to try something different.
With that in mind, the drops of vigor went elsewhere, accumulating in a separate portion of my body, and hopefully, achieving the sought goal.
When the thought-light flickered, I nearly hissed in glee.
Gained The Lesser Core Skill: [Life—Vigorous Spores I]
The hidden membrane within my mouth-flesh moved, releasing the set of vigor-infused spores. They took root with a simple thought-hiss, spreading outward through my own flesh. With the vigor that infused them, they grew thicker and stronger than they ever had before, their large tendrils worming through my flesh in its entirety.
After all, if I couldn’t afford to heal away the Lesser Core’s spores forever, it was better to take away any room they had to grow. If they tried to take root anyway, my spores would be strong enough to fight them off.
I wouldn’t be able to use any drops of vitality without damaging my own spores, but it was a worthwhile tradeoff.
These spores, at least, would listen to my commands.
They would serve the Great Core as they were meant to.
Chapter 48
The Stolen Spear
A thought-hiss pulled my head up, allowing me to take note of the mists around me, unhindered for the first time since we’d fallen from the bridge. Every so often, a cluster of spores tried to push their way through my mouth or nostrils; more often than not, they failed to take root.
The few times they did manage, things hardly went better for them. Led by my persistent thought-hisses and [Spore Puppeteer], any attempts at growth by the encroaching spores were crushed mercilessly.
It was an oddly freeing sensation. Odd in that I was both free of the Lesser Core’s influence and simultaneously the most physically constricted I’d ever been. Even if I wanted it to, my scale-flesh would no longer coil without my spores’ influence. It made all my movements just a little bit slower, a little unsteadier, as I adjusted to the change.
With the vigor-infused spores infecting my body, it was almost like when I lost myself within the [Little Guardian’s Totem] of one of my Spore Puppets. Physical reflexes became nonexistent. No more did I absentmindedly adjust my coils to maintain a grip, or automatically flick out a tongue to taste the air. Everything took more thought.
More accurately, a thought-hiss.
Now that I was no longer focused on protecting myself from the Lesser Core’s corruption, I noted that the Grateful One had traveled through the mists at a decent pace. If it hadn’t been for my awareness of the [Little Guardian’s Totem] she was closing in on, I might not have noticed. The spore-mist was thick and cloying, forebodingly so.
Even if I hadn’t been able to simply taste it in the air, it would have been easy to see that this section of the many-nest was steeped in the Lesser Core’s power.
I dove into the refuge that was my mind-nest, leaving a few more thought-hisses for the spores that infested my body. From there, it was a simple matter to find the particular thread that I needed, tracing it from end to end.
My vision shifted.
I was walking through the mists, limping. Shambling. One of my legs—again, proving their inferiority to a proper tail—wasn’t working right. Injured, I supposed. My vision bobbled about as it nearly buckled time and time again. Still, it seemed to be getting better. The [Little Guardian’s Focus] was healing the Coreless, though the process was slower than normal. Slowed by the innumerable spore-roots infesting the body.
The constant shards of [PAIN] that appeared with every new step was a good indication that it hadn’t been entirely fixed. I did my best to ignore the [RAGE] and [HELPLESSNESS] as well. I couldn’t fix those. Not right now. Still, it was good to see that the Great Core’s disciples were only lost in body and not in mind. Their faith held firm.
One hand was held before me, clinging to a long rod of darkwood that ended with a tip clad in ore-flesh. Mana-light spread from that tip, filtering through the mote-like spores and creating a corona of bluish-green around itself. The rod skidded across the ground and planted itself down heavily.
That was enough to know the perspective I was riding, the one that the Grateful One was moving toward.
The Coreless’ view shifted, turning to the side as his head cocked, showing a Little Puppeteer. I hadn’t seen a live one before. Even then, I’d never seen one quite like this. It was obvious that my guess was right. The Little Puppeteers in this area were stronger than what had come before, mutated by their increased level. Its outer flesh seemed to twist in the same way the mist-spores themselves were, forming temporary shapes that could almost be mistaken for various figures.
Every few seconds, it pulsed, with each pulse sending out a great puff of spores into the surrounding area.
A pool of mana-water rested beside it, the mana-light it gave off almost entirely hidden behind a thick film of dead spores, floating plant-flesh, and debris.
Nearby the constantly-pulsing Little Puppeteer, a number of other Coreless shambled about. Unlike my own Coreless, these ones were thin and emaciated, appearing closer to skeletons than anything else. All but dead.
As if to confirm that fact, the mist swirled, and I noticed a second Little Puppeteer that had sprouted from a nearby corpse of a Coreless.
I pulled myself back before I became mired too deeply. A brief wave of mental fatigue swept in, forcing me to take a few moments to reorient myself. Once it passed, I checked on the [Little Guardian’s Totem]s of the other Coreless.
Thankfully, none were near enough to interfere.
The Grateful One walked ever closer to the stolen Coreless only a short while away.
I let my tongue flick out in anticipation, exulting in the Lesser Core’s inability to punish me for it.
My spore-roots had crushed the attempt.
Pain lanced through Rowan’s leg, yet it never even twitched. The broken and traitorous limb just stood stock-still, waiting for the rest of his body to move again. He wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t let him. It was all tied up, the muscles constricted between the uncaring tendrils that itched beneath the surface of his skin.
It was enough to make him go mad. If it weren’t for the chance of rescue.
The [Little Guardian’s Totem] around his neck was a warming touch, a comforting balm that helped to soothe that madness. Something that whispered sweet assurances with every pulse against his skin.
Even so, the sheer rage was getting to him. Rowan didn’t like this feeling of helplessness, of having his autonomy stolen whole. Not one bit.
His equally traitorous hand moved, planting the butt of his spear securely against the ground. It was surprising how securely it was planted. Like his body remembered how to hold a spear, even when it wasn’t Rowan himself controlling it.
He would have preferred that it didn’t. Yet another pulse of pain, followed by another of warmth, sent him forward again.
His head turned, view shifting with the motion, and he caught sight of his captor. It sat on the edge of a deep fountain, one that had seen far better days. It was hard to say what the sculpture that burst from the center was meant to represent. Between the ever-present spores and general degradation, it could have been anything.
His captor pulsed, spewing another wave of enslaving spores and water vapor. Rowan’s body breathed them in, though it hardly mattered anymore. He hadn’t even managed a twitch in minutes, let alone any sort of real resistance.
Still, he tried, furiously attempting to dash forward, or throw his spear, or just do something he’d chosen to do.
He did nothing. Just stared blankly at the source of his current nightmare. When the mist swirled and revealed another, his stolen body still did nothing.
It stood there, one of many guards for his enslaver.
Until, when it eventually swirled to reveal a determined-looking Elara, it finally moved.
Rowan’s spear whistled as it cut through the air with surprising speed, the motion almost what it might have been if he’d chosen to do it himself. That gap between his own skill and his captive body was enough for Elara to turn what might have been a fierce impalement into a near-miss, letting the spear thrust into the space between arm and body.
She clamped her arm down and latched on tight, trying to twist the spear out of his grip before his body could fully retrieve it. Then another captive rushed her. The girl let go and danced away, moving with preternatural grace.
Recovered, his spear thrust again, its glowing tip stopping mere inches away from the snake on her shoulder.
The snake hissed, the sound stabbing itself into Rowan’s ears.
Chapter 49
An Imperfect World
It was weird, having to send out a thought-hiss in order to actually hiss. Still, I did it. In a fight, there were certain things that were necessary. Taunting was among them. It was important to aim for loss of morale. In a perfect world, that loss would lead a lesser creation to understand its origins, gratefully accepting the opportunity to serve the Great Core instead.
Sadly, the world was far from perfect.
Even with [Sound Shaping] pushing the hiss to what should have been debilitating levels, the spore-mist swallowed the brunt of my taunt. The corrupted Coreless’ ears bled, but he didn’t stagger. The spores within him forced the Coreless to attack again, still choosing to serve their Lesser Core.
It was a shame, but not an unexpected one.
The Grateful One twisted in a forceful spin as another corrupted Coreless, this one attacking with nothing but teeth and nail, barged in. Her hand met its back as it moved past, pressing the momentum of her spin into a push that sent the corrupted tumbling. A great burst of dead spore-flesh puffed upward, hiding the momentarily-defeated Coreless.
Others were there to take its place, and the Grateful One met each in turn. Her ore-flesh fangs stayed latched to her sides, strapped tight enough that they didn’t inhibit any motion. It didn’t seem to matter. With the unnatural way the Grateful One could move, the corrupted couldn’t seem to touch her.
She slipped around strikes and bites, always just a scale’s breadth away from disaster. A disaster that never came. Her feet met theirs midmotion, punishing the attacking Coreless for their dependence on inferior legs and sending them toppling. Her hands pushed and pulled, always using the enemy’s momentum against them in a dangerous dance.
It was beautiful. A feat worthy of one of the Great Core’s disciples. I was sure she had been blessed, made something better as a reward for her faith. The only thing holding her back now was the hideousness of her Coreless form, all gangly arms and unwieldy legs.
The male Coreless’ ore-flesh came for us again. The Grateful One dipped underneath it, throwing herself backward with a spine-cracking jerk that sent her farther than a Coreless should have been capable of. A quick use of [Clinging Grasp] held me firm enough that I was able to send a set of thought-hissed instructions; the spore-roots that infested me twitched, forcing my fangs to sink through the Grateful One’s flesh. A drop of vitality dripped down my fangs. I may not have been able to heal myself, but the same restriction didn’t apply to the Grateful One. She didn’t need [Spore Puppeteer] to keep herself under control. She somehow resisted the Lesser Core’s control on her own. It was yet another sign of the Great Core’s favor. The other Coreless weren’t so lucky.
My Coreless came back up before the healing even finished, throwing herself upward and lashing out with a handful of dead spore-flesh that soared toward the nearest corrupted’s face. She must have understood the necessity of a good taunt as well, mocking the spores that controlled the other Coreless by assaulting them with the corpses of their own brethren.
It was surprisingly effective. The corrupted Coreless balked, eyes blinking furiously. The Grateful One took the advantage, one foot lashing out to meet the taunted Coreless’ knee. It shattered with a crack, and a flash of both [pain] and [apology] came from the Grateful One’s connection before it disappeared.
The corrupted fell in a great puff of dead spore-flesh that obscured my vision.
She burst through it, jumping over the hobbled Coreless and landing atop one that had been waiting behind. Her weight brought it down, and she rolled across her snake-free shoulder to keep her momentum going.
I wasn’t ready for that and got spore carcass in my mouth.
Once, when she was smaller, Elara had fallen from the roof of her family’s house. Okay, she hadn’t fallen. She jumped. A bunch of boys told her she couldn’t do it. She proved them wrong, broke her ankle, then she told her parents that she fell. Off a roof she had no reason to be on. It didn’t work out as well as she’d hoped.
The point was, Elara had spent a while falling, and in that moment, the fall seemed to last far longer than it should have. Also, the lecture that followed lasted far longer than it should have, but that was for a different reason.
During the fall, time stretched beyond comprehension. What had really only been a brief moment seemed far longer, and she had more than enough time to realize exactly why jumping—falling—had been a terrible idea. Her mind had felt like it was on overdrive, drinking in information faster than it had any right to. Seeing the ground come closer, noting the way her legs were not in the correct position to meet it, comprehending how badly things had been about to go for her. It all came in the blink of an eye, only reverting back to normal once she hit the ground.
Still, even after that, her heart had continued to race.
A plume of dead spores burst in Elara’s vision, spreading through the air in slow motion as time continued its plodding crawl. Only, this time, Elara wasn’t falling.
She was in control, pulling the strings to force the same effect. Her heart raced, pumping and pumping and pumping, playing to a rhythm that filled her chest to bursting until Elara shut off those sensations. It was unhealthy, dangerous, even, but she could still feel the remnants of whatever the Little Guardian had done to her. She was healing faster than she was hurting herself.
