The great cores paradox.., p.25
The Great Cores Paradox 2: Book 2, page 25
They weren’t, so I just had to imagine it.
It was nice.
Coran couldn’t pull his eyes away. It was the same as how one hand couldn’t seem to leave his jaw. There was just something wrong, something that didn’t make sense. He remembered the way it had shattered to a pulp with a single heavy punch, one that defied his understanding of the human body’s strength. One that just didn’t make sense.
Is this really Elara?
True, he hadn’t known her all that well. But he knew her well enough to be confused. She didn’t even seem like the same person anymore. She walked differently, talked differently, and she sure as Skies punched differently. He shivered, rubbing at his jaw again.
“Where are the others?” the Seeker—Rowan, he said his name was—asked her after a moment of silence. The man’s spear, cradled against his side, matched his brightly-shining armor. And wasn’t that a thing. A Seeker. That she fought. That she somehow beat.
Well, her and the weird healing snake.
As if that were the one thing that would allow his stare to waver, Coran found his gaze inexorably pulled to the anomaly in their midst. An Ascended monster they were just… carrying around.
It hissed, flicking out a tongue, and Elara scratched at its scales. For some reason, Coran couldn’t help feeling that the strange monster felt proud of itself. He wasn’t sure why.
“Haven’t found them yet. You’re the first. They’re out there somewhere, though.”
The Seeker cursed under his breath, one hand brushing through his hair. A few of the spores, now gray and lifeless, shook loose. Coran tried not to pay attention to that. Even dead, the thought of the spores made him uncomfortable.
“Lucky me, I guess,” Rowan said, letting out a sigh. He looked around before pulling a necklace out from underneath his armor. Just like the one Elara had, it was shaped to look like the Ascended they carried around. The magical necklace twitched, pulling itself to the left for a brief second before it fell. “Well, at least we know which way is home, I suppose.”
Coran finally tore his eyes away from the Seeker, Elara, and their weird snake, looking at one thing he’d been trying to avoid thinking about.
Green spores floated around them in a near-perfect circle, cutting off every possible escape. Sometimes he thought he could see dark figures forming in the mist, only to wisp away when he blinked. He pushed down the urge to vomit.
Even if they somehow know where to go… How are we supposed to get out?
The spores didn’t give a response, and Coran was glad for that. He wasn’t sure he would have liked the answer.
Coran’s hand pressed against his jaw again, and he forced himself to look away.
Chapter 52
Starting the Path
“What’s going on with the little guy’s scales, anyway? They look different,” the male disciple said, pointing at my scales and peering closer. I preened, knowing he was admiring my ingenious use of [Spore Puppeteer] to defeat the Lesser Core. Unfortunately, his [Little Guardian’s Totem] was pressed up against the outside of his ore-flesh, so I wasn’t able to bask in the waves of [admiration]. “The color’s off. Is that…?”
He trailed off, overcome by the beauty of my accomplishment. I sent out a thought-hiss to the spores that infected my body, causing me to turn upon myself until I could see my own scale-flesh.
Though they were always pleasing to the eye, designed and developed by the Great Core and its blessings as they were, there was something satisfying about the way that gold and blue interwove through the shiny black created by [Illusion Spark].
If it hadn’t been for the way every action forced me to mentally command my spores before I could do it, I might have even wanted to keep it. Another thought-hiss pulled me away again, and I looked back to the Coreless.
“Did he grow spores inside himself as protection against the mist? That’s…” the Coreless said, still peering closely at my scale-flesh. One of his brows was raised to the point it was nearly floating off his face. Just when I thought it couldn’t rise any higher, it somehow did.
The Coreless was so impressed, he’d lost control of his own brows.
I wasn’t surprised, since I was very impressive.
“A bit gross,” he finished, having gathered himself enough to sing my praises. “Still, I guess if you’re going to have horrific plant abominations grow under your skin either way, it’s better to have ones that aren’t going to turn you green and against everyone you know and love.”
“Everyone you know and love, huh?” the Grateful One said, oddly [amused]. She’d placed her [Little Guardian’s Totem] in its proper place after the other Coreless finished healing. “This is all just a little too fast for me, Rowan. I feel like we’ve only just met!” One of her hands came up, waving at the air and fanning her face.
The male Coreless snorted loudly, almost choking on air, and placed one hand against his chest. It brushed against his [Little Guardian’s Totem]. There was a flux of new emotions as the connection reestablished; [amusement], a bit of [worry], and the remnants of a slowly-decreasing [fear].
“Guess I walked right into that one,” he said, moving his hand away and wiping at one of his eyes.
When he finally stopped laughing, the Grateful One leaned in and made a few more noises. They were laced with [concern], quiet enough that I doubted the other once-corrupted could hear it. “Seriously, though. Are you alright, Rowan? I know it wasn’t for long, but you were captured by those things. Speaking from experience, it’s not very easy to handle. If I wasn’t immune to them like I am now…”
There was a brief tremor, like a shudder aborted before it could become more than the smallest of vibrations. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t perched on her shoulder. Even then, I barely did. The tiny flash of [anguish] in the Grateful One’s [Little Guardian’s Totem] was far more obvious, though it disappeared in a flash. Just as vulnerable to the Grateful One’s strange abilities as anything else.
The male Coreless bared his teeth lightly, the edges brittle and a slump at the corners. “Maybe not quite as alright as I’m pretending to be, but there’ll be time for all that later. The jokes do help though, so thanks for that. Keeps things feeling more normal. That’s important, when you deal with the things we Seekers do.”
“Of course,” she hissed softly, the sound barely brushing past her lips.
Before they could make any more noises, one of the once-corrupted Coreless chimed in. Her voice was wavering and tremulous, nervous—as if part of her thought the mist was still there, ready and waiting to swallow the sound whole.
“Exc-excuse me,” she said, making me wish there was a [Little Guardian’s Totem] around her neck so I would have a better method of interpreting the noises. “Do you have a way out? I don’t… We don’t want to stay here anymore.” The female once-corrupted drew in a ragged breath, and one of the others—the one that kept rubbing at his jaw, as if trying to reassure himself that it was still there—wrapped his arms around her. They must have been very moved by their newfound knowledge of the Great Core to wrap their arms around each other like that. The Coreless mostly seemed to do that during times of high emotion. I’d seen it quite a few times.
My two Coreless looked at one another, some sort of silent conversation held within their eyes. I didn’t catch any of it, though I made sure to add my own gaze to the mix in a show of support.
“Not right now,” the male Coreless said, the noises calm and even. “Elara here can resist its effects, and should be able to clear a way out if given enough time. Unfortunately, she’ll have to do what you already saw. Find and destroy the sources of the spores. That can take some time, and there are other Seekers trapped in the mists as well that still need to be found.”
I sent out a thought-hiss, forcing my body to look around while the Coreless spoke. The other once-corrupted had begun to gather, hoping to hear what the Great Core’s Coreless had to say. All five of the once-corrupted, excluding the male-disciple-who-was-stolen, were gaunt and bedraggled; their cheeks sunken, their skin covered in grime. There were places where mana-water had recently washed the grime away in their hurry to drink, forming trails that dripped down their flesh.
They didn’t look good, even for a creature as poorly designed as a Coreless.
“There’s really no way for us to leave now?” one of them asked, the noise reedy and weak.
“Not unless you want spores of a different color,” the male disciple answered, motioning toward me. I gave another hiss, sending a few more thought-hisses to pull my body slightly higher in response. “And uh… I don’t think you want that.”
“You mean…” the once-corrupted squinted at me. His skin turned the color of bone, and his throat constricted in an audible swallow. “Uh… no. I’d rather not have to go through that again. I’ll wait. But, uh, you’ll protect us, right? That’s what you do. You’re a Seeker. You fight monsters.”
“Yeah, kid. I’ll protect you while we wait,” the male disciple said, letting out a heavy breath and knocking the darkwood rod he carried against the ground in a muffled thump. “I’m stuck here, too.”
The gathered Coreless made more noises at one another for a time. Eventually, the Grateful One put a hand to her [Little Guardian’s Totem], forcing it to tug toward the [Little Guardian’s Focus] hidden away from view. She turned in its direction.
“I should get going. I’ll move in the direction of the Guardian Statue while I search for the others. Hopefully I’ll manage to destroy some of the sources while I do it. Might as well start on clearing a path out of here for everyone at the same time.”
“You won’t get lost?”
“I’ll make sure to dig my tracks deep enough that I can find them again. As long as I don’t take too long, it shouldn’t be too hard to follow them back. Best case scenario, I’ll be able to clear enough of the mist that it doesn’t even matter.”
The Grateful One started to walk, waving a hand at the other Coreless.
“I’ll try to be back soon, everyone. Rowan will keep you safe, make sure to stay close by.”
There was a chorus of varied sounds, cutting out with a disturbing immediacy the moment we stepped into the spore-mist. The Grateful One murmured something, her feet digging deeply into the mass of spore-flesh below.
“Now, where are you hiding?”
Chapter 53
A Shield in the Snow
My jaws opened wide, eager to usher in yet another satisfying mouthful. The soft-flesh tore underneath my fangs, two lines tracing their way down its surface as the newest offering found its way to my gullet.
Level 17 Little Puppeteer Consumed.
Transferred to Core.
Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 8/20.
A hand scratched against my head-scales. Just like the air around us, it was coated in overwhelming hues of green. Yet, moment by moment, both of those began to change. The spores began to die out and, with no new motes of spore-flesh to replace them, the mist dissipated.
Even with [Spore Puppeteer] ensuring my safety, there was something reassuring about the way the air cleared.
The scratching fingers began to slowly become paler, the lines of green and black that crisscrossed its surface beaten back yet again by the healing of [Little Guardian’s Focus]. Not that it really seemed to matter. The Grateful One was as resistant as ever.
A new thought-hiss turned my head around, letting me check the surrounding mist. It had fallen back many slithers, but I was disappointed to see there was still a barrier of mist between us and the once-corrupted that had been left behind.
We must have missed one of the Little Puppeteers somewhere. They were fairly hard to find. By the sheer volume of the spore-mist, we might have missed more than one.
I let out a hiss to voice my disappointment, exulting in the way my tongue touched clean air. That, at least, was a welcome improvement. Even as safe from the spore-mist as I was, it hadn’t become any less horrid to feel. Like little bits and pieces of a Lesser Core’s influence crawling and dragging against my flesh.
Disgusting. I wasn’t sure how the Grateful One was keeping herself from vomiting with those things inside of her. She must have had an abnormally strong stomach to withstand it.
She chewed on her lower lip, eyes fixed on the barrier of mist.
“Should we go back and try to find the ones we missed or keep going?” Her sounds were low enough that it could almost be called a hiss if I was being particularly charitable. “What do you think?”
Unsure what she was trying to say, I just hissed, hoping to urge her onward.
“Right, right. I have no idea what you’re saying, so I’ll just pretend you told me to pick something,” she muttered to herself. At least, I assumed it was to herself. She wasn’t even looking at me anymore.
With nothing else to do, I turned my attention to the [Little Guardian’s Totem]s I could sense around me. It was unsurprisingly easy to find two of them. The Grateful One was still with me. Of course, her [Little Guardian’s Totem] was as well. While the male disciple we’d left with the once-corrupted had hardly moved.
Just in case, I let my perspective shift to his for a brief moment, making sure the gathered once-corrupted hadn’t been reclaimed by the Lesser Core while we were gone. I’d put in effort to free them from its influence. They were mine now and they would stay that way.
Fortunately, they were doing fine. A few of the once-corrupted were pacing back and forth, possibly nervous or worried, but they never strayed very far from where the disciple kept watch.
Two of the other connections were basically bundled together, all but resting atop one another in their sheer proximity, while another seemed as if it were roaming farther and farther away.
The final stolen disciple was moving closer, the tether between their [Little Guardian’s Totem] and I growing ever-shorter. I flexed my will, throwing my perspective into the corrupted Coreless’ own. My vision shifted once again.
Erik’s lungs pumped, a puff of spore-laden air bursting from his lips. The world was a flurry of constant motion. Slow whorls and spirals that were almost hypnotic in their continuous dance. If it hadn’t been for the danger they posed, he might have called the sight fascinating.
His father, well-traveled man that he was, once picked up a book that told of something called ‘weather’ in the world above. When humanity built their cities under the open sky, before everything went wrong. To a young boy who’d never known anything like it, the idea was something unimaginable. Rain; water that fell from the sky, one day gentle and another filled with wrath. Thunder; a sound louder than the largest of monsters’ roars, formed despite the lack of a throat to shape the noise. Snow; falling flakes of white that rippled and eddied in the air, painting the world in their hues.
It was all something so difficult to imagine. Akin to describing color for someone with no eyes to see. They might come to understand the basis of the idea, given enough effort, but they would never truly see it for themselves. They would never know it in whole, instead forced to live with a knowledge that had split itself into more easily manageable pieces, with others forever lost. A puzzle that couldn’t quite manage to come together.
The spore-mist’s ripples and eddies, the way it filled the air and coated the ground in its colors, came as close to snow as Erik would ever see.
That, for all the terrors it contained, made it something worth seeing.
Breathing it in, on the other hand… I could have gone without.
It was a constant challenge to keep his emotions steady. Letting himself lapse into fanciful thoughts of rain and snow was a way to ignore the helplessness the spore-mist enforced. Even knowing Elara was immune to the mist, that there was a path to freedom… The utter lack of that very same freedom rankled.
His legs moved on regardless.
Erik had done what he could after falling into the mist. Held his breath, hoped against hope he would somehow manage to stumble out before falling under its influence, putting one foot in front of the other until his limbs wouldn’t listen anymore.
He hadn’t quite made it, but took solace in the fact he moved far enough that he wasn’t an immediate danger when Elara fell. She would have to fight him eventually. At the very least clear out the mist around him so the [Little Guardian’s Totem] could finally free him. He hoped the extra time he managed to buy her helped.
His legs pulled him farther and farther into the snow-like mist. It had been a while since they’d turned him around, trudging through the ever-present clusters of dead and dying spores. That, at least, was okay. The trail that was left behind Erik would make him easier to track.
His hands had long since found their way to his weapon and shield. He’d hoped the spores wouldn’t have the intelligence for that, but they forced him to move and react to his surroundings somehow. It probably shouldn’t have been surprising that they could do more than that, even if it couldn’t exactly manage everything.
The grip was off, hands not finding the exact places they should.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. That was a good thing. It meant Elara, assuming she found him, would have an easier time beating him. The spores that had stolen his body hadn’t stolen his skills, even if they tried their best to form a close approximation. But it bothered him all the same.
Years of training screamed at him to fix the awkward grip. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched or a thought that wouldn’t complete. Unsatisfying. Bothersome. Wrong.
It didn’t matter.
The grip stayed off and his legs kept moving.
