Book 3: Chapter 10: Research

  The fire burned low, shadows stretching and bending across the circle of tired faces. Bandages glimmered pale in the flickering light. All of the surviving caravan members sat around the low campfire, taking in the defeat of the last fight.

  Alex sat on a log-bench, messing with the [Aether Siphon Plate], he had traded with Eric for so many weeks ago. It wasn’t as useful as he hoped it to be, as its potency and efficiency hadn’t kept up with his power growth. It barely managed to fill the mortal-grade aether gem slotted in his bracer. Now, in the middle stage of Adept Tier, it was basically a tiny spoon sized bucket trying to fill a swimming pool.

  He—along with Obby’s inputs—had come up with an idea for modifying and boosting the item, if not, just to construct a more powerful one whole-sale with his [Glyphcraft], along with help from Garret’s [Smithing] skill. But the plans were still in the infancy phase, ideas rattling around and slowly coalescing in his mind. He had time, for now, to come up with a truly great item.

  Holly sat on the log next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as he worked idly. Her own hands danced slowly in front of her, gusts of subtle wind shifting and moving about as she practiced using her aether element. Out of everyone in their team, it seemed Holly was the one that was touching on something close to free-form spell creation. It might simply be a result of her element, but Alex doubted that given that Eric, who had the Air attunement as well, wasn’t able to do the same things that she could.

  Eric also seemed to focus more on the lightning aspect of the air attunement, while Holly appeared more drawn to wind. There was a lot of nuance to every elemental attunement, and Alex wasn’t able to figure out the subtle differences, even when watching them both through his [Aether Sight] as they cast their spells or used their martial styles.

  Henry also seemed to be a special case of his own, his water attunement leaning heavily on Nature aspects in general. This attunement guiding him in the cultivation of his now impressive looking mobile garden, which he kept in his special dimensional item. An item that was yet another mystery Alex just couldn’t quite understand when he compared it to his bracelet, or the pouches they had scavenged.

  It feels like the more I figure out about how the magic of this world works, the less I truly understand. How the fuck is someone supposed to grow in power and prove themselves to the Heavenly System, when there doesn’t seem to be any rules like a real RPG?

  “That’s exactly what makes it balanced.” Obby said in his mind. “Even when two people, or a hundred people for that matter, have the same attuned element, none of those mages will be the same. The roads to the peak of power are as diverse as the sentience of the races themselves.”

  So there’s no right way? Feels like there sure as fuck is a wrong way. Alex felt his frustration rising.

  “Who’s to say? There are things to learn and methods to unlock for everyone. So no single person is limited, they all have a path that leads to the next tier, they just have to find it. Like Garret over there.”

  Alex turned to his friend, seeing him sitting closer to the fire than anyone else, his legs tucked under him in lotus pose. Even now, he was cultivating, trying to grow stronger, like the rest of them.

  What do you mean?

  “I’m willing to bet that you think, just as he does, that he could unlock some magma spells or abilities given his dual fire-earth attunement. And you are not wrong, I will say. But he has yet to do that so far. It’s not because he is dumb, it’s because he needs to find his own path towards those powers, if he makes it there at all and doesn’t end up veering off into something else, that is.”

  Oh. It had been strange to Alex that his friend hadn’t figured out any lava spells or magma armor martial arts yet. If he knew Garret at all, then he was certainly trying, but just as Obby had said, there were no fruit to yet pluck from that tree.

  Well, hopefully his [Smithing] helps him out in that in the future. It really would be nice to have a magma-tank on our side.

  Obby didn’t speak further, so Alex also let the topic die. Instead, he focused back on his glyphcrafting work and glanced periodically around the camp, noting most were still awake despite how late in the night they found themselves. Even Tom-Tom was still awake, the freaky little lizard man was sitting on the ground as well, set in his own sort of meditation pose with an arcane beast core in his clawed hand, licking it like a magical lollipop.

  Tom-Tom was easily the best candidate for the worldstrider team to give their share of the Basilisk cores. Along with the Gnasher core they had gotten. Gnashers and basilisks were, to no-ones surprise, earth-attuned beasts. Tom-Tom was also earth attuned, and was happily absorbing the cores to raise his cultivation.

  Alex left the little guy to his work, curious to see how long it would take him to finally reach Adept Tier with the rest of them.

  No one spoke for a long time, everyone sticking to their own thoughts, cultivation, or skills. That is, until Selka cleared her throat after stepping out of one of the covered wagons and pulled a thick, leather-bound tome from her pack.

  The thing looked older than half the people present—excluding the dwarf—its cover scarred and scored with years of rough travel. A faint shimmer ran over the book’s surface, a quiet enchantment holding it together despite the long abuse.

  Alex tucked away his tools into his bracelet and shot the rogue a pointed look.

  “Arcane Bestiary,” she said simply, flipping it open. “A collection of knowledge from adventurers and mercenaries long past, record for the prosperity of the next generation. We log what we see. Learn from the dead before we join ’em.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  They gathered closer around the woman who sat on the wagon’s wheel, the book balanced on her knees. Alex caught the scent of old parchment and… something faintly metallic, like the book had been written in ink with too many unpleasant ingredients, perhaps many made from things that he just didn’t want to know the truth about.

  “Alright, what do we know about our situation? What did everyone notice during the battle? Things that came up over the last weak, anything strange? I need as much information as possible.” She said.

  Selka ran her fingertips over the pages, traces of aether traveling from her hand into the rough parchment before worming its way through the many pages. It was an intriguing display under his [Aether Sight], but he didn’t ask any question about it.

  One by one, they all began throwing details into the air, each memory like a puzzle piece tossed onto a table to be fit into place.

  “The forest’s been empty for days,” Henry started, his voice low. “Not normal empty. Everything was running from something.”

  “The stone scales,” Rynel added, rubbing his arm unconsciously. “The ones we saw on the road. Basilisks shedding their skins right, it must have been.”

  “The statues pieces... the carvings,” Zach said. “We thought they were just broken carvings. But they weren’t shaped right... pieces of limbs… twisted.”

  Selka’s hand stilled over a detailed illustration of a squat, many-legged serpent. “Victims,” she confirmed. “Petrified slowly to hold still, surrounded by the adolescents. Then eaten.”

  Alex leaned forward to get a look at the bestiary’s page, remembering the deep, half-healed grooves in the Gnasher’s hide. “And the boar. Those weren’t just random claw marks. They were bites, from these things, but their venom didn’t work against its rocky hide. The only reason it survived was because it was already stone on the outside, instead of flesh.”

  The air around the fire seemed to grow heavier, each bit of the last few days all become obvious now. The truth slid into place with a kind of dreadful inevitability, everything they’d seen for days had been breadcrumbs, leading to the same ugly conclusion.

  This wasn’t just a one-off encounter. They were in the middle of a basilisk nest. Selka closed the bestiary with a dull thunk, her fingers tapping against the cover. “Here’s the part you’re not gonna like,” she said, glancing around the group. “Those things we fought today? Not even adolescents. Newly hatched, wyrmlings.”

  The words sat in the air for a long, quiet second before Garret muttered, “Wyrmling? Like babies? Well. That’s… great. That’s just great.”

  “It means there’s a mother nearby,” Selka continued. “And you don’t want to meet her unless you’ve got a death wish… or a real bad gambling problem.” A couple of the mercenaries chuckled darkly, but most faces stayed pale.

  “Basilisks,” Selka went on, “all have venom that petrifies, we’ve seen that, even the babies. The difference is in what the adults can do. For one, they’re bigger. A lot bigger. And they grow more legs with age, four front, four back. It makes them faster than anything that size, and extra maneuverable.”

  Alex frowned. “And the gaze? That’s the part we’ve been avoiding, right? The babies didn’t seem to have that part. We’ve all heard the tales, a Basilisk’s gaze it… it… kills you?”

  Selka actually laughed at that—short and sharp—and so did a few of the other mercs. “If only. Death would be kinder.”

  The worldstriders all exchanged looks, more confused than reassured.

  “An adult basilisk,” Selka said, leaning forward so the firelight caught her eyes, “can control the extra eyelid they have in front of their eyes. They choose when to use their Gaze ability by opening or closing that eyelid. And it doesn’t just turn your body to stone like the venom.” She paused, letting the silence stretch, as if giving the idea room to sink in. “It petrifies the mind.”

  Alex shuddered at that, and he felt Holly’s hand worm its way into his own. He squeezed her fingers with all the fake reassurance her could muster.

  “It doesn’t happen that fast. At least, not all at once,” she added, “its a slow effect. Bit by bit. It eats your memories first, the ones that make you who you are. Names and faces of family and loved ones. Nights out with the crew. Your final birthday gathering at your home town before you set out to adventure. Your own sister’s name. Then... it takes the rest. Personality, sense of self, until you’re still breathing, but you’re not you anymore.”

  The fire popped, sending a curl of sparks into the air, and for a moment no one said anything at all. Alex realized Holly was gripping his hand hard enough for his knuckles to ache. This wasn’t just another dangerous beast, potential death was one thing. They had faced that before, conquered that fear a long time ago. No, this was the kind of predator that didn’t just kill you, it rewrote you into nothing. Chipping off pieces until you were ghost of your former self.

  Myrae finally broke the tense silence. “It goes without saying but, loosing your memories, even just a few of them, it… changes you,” she said, not looking at anyone, her eyes fixed on the camp fire. It wasn’t a dramatic statement. It wasn’t even loud, closer to a whisper than a yell. But it hit the entire camp like a thrown stone. And like all thrown stones do, it left behind ripples.

  Kate sat with her elbows on her knees, hands pressed together under her chin, staring into the fire as though it might blink first. The orange light caught on the sharp line of her cheekbones, but her eyes looked shadowed, deep. Zach leaned back against a log, eyes closed, his mouth drawn into that tight line one only gets when they are keeping the worst thoughts locked firmly away. Lance had his arms wrapped across his chest, not defensive exactly, more like a man trying to keep all his pieces in place.

  The rest had similar expressions as Alex looked over them all. Peter and Henry whispered faintly off to his left, Devon had stopped the work of repairing his arcane rifle, and instead was absently digging in the dirt with his glyph stylus. Eric and Garret simply looked at each other, not saying anything.

  Alex could feel it, the unspoken shift in the air. Some were already thinking it. And the truth was, he was too. What memories would I want to get rid of?

  There were things he could lose and never miss, that came to mind. Flashes of smoke and blood from the Terraxum warfront. Faces of people he couldn’t save. Conversations and events from his childhood, or life on earth that still played in his head like broken records at three in the morning. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to let some of those dark memories slip quietly into the dark forever.

  “You’re thinking it,” Obby’s voice slid into his mind like a whisper of wind under a barn door.

  Alex didn’t bother denying it, but he still deflected. So are some of the others.

  “I’m not saying it’s a good idea,” Obby continued, tone as smooth as oil slick. Which was, of course, exactly was what type of thing he said whenever he thought something was a good idea. “But it’s an option. Strip away the rot without touching the foundation.”

  Or take the whole house with it, Alex countered.

  Peter’s voice drifted from the other side of the fire as he talked with Henry, barely louder than the hiss of a settling log. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing. To forget some of it.”

  That sentence landed like a gravity well being dropped at the center of the caravan, the weight pulling everyone down a little.

  No one answered Peter’s statement, and no one argued. They just sat there, staring into the fire or into the dark beyond, each locked in their own quiet reckoning. The firelight made them look older, or maybe just more worn, the lines of their faces etched deeper by things they hadn’t even said out loud yet.

  But, they didn’t need to speak for everyone to realize what the others were thinking. The basilisk might be a curse. But it might also be mercy. And Alex wasn’t sure which was more terrifying.

  The camp had been quiet for maybe ten whole minutes, long enough for the first quiet notes of sleep to start playing its song through the group.

  Then the forest tore them apart.