《Rules to a Successful Multi-versal Adventure.》 Prologue- The Somewhat Sad Life of John John sat atop of the small flight of concrete stairs gazing in bemused consternation at the new wrinkle life had thrown his way. On some level, he wasn¡¯t even surprised. Over the last few years nothing had gone the way he¡¯d planned. Even the smallest of goals had gone awry in spectacular fashion. He once had wanted to make his parents, stern but loving academics, proud of him. To that extent, though he found clarity and joy in physical labor and creation, he only allowed a fraction of histime to small crafts and enough exercise maintain health, focusing instead on a strong foundation in logic, the sciences, and a smattering of the humanities. While he found little pleasure in it, John at least had a talent for numbers and patterns, and he felt surges of worth and warmth when his father gave him that small nod and smile of his for John¡¯s high grades or debate victories. Before it all went pear-shaped, he¡¯d even managed a perfect SAT at the end of his sophomore year, which he had heard his mother crowing over to the small group she welcomed once a week for their booze¡­ er book club. Those successes made the car accident that took their lives and left him comatose for two weeks that summer all the more crushing: for it not only removed his loved ones and sense of stability, but also his direction and the drive that had sustained it. John, while slightly introverted, had been an open and friendly guy, and he thought he had a good share of friends. The few friends that came to visit him were sympathetic, but John¡¯s pain and loss seemed too much of a burden for them, or so it seemed. Conversation was stilted and awkward. They¡¯d all led very sheltered lives, never confronting tragedy or loss in any meaningful way, a loss of a distant relative or a family pet. John learned to hide the rawness, the tears, and the growing sense of isolation and betrayal, but it didn¡¯t really help. By the time he left the hospital and entered foster care no one was really reaching out to him. John didn¡¯t have any relatives who could take him in, but his parents had been moderately wealthy, owning their own house outright and with very little debt. After a frank discussion with the lawyer that was executing the will and his new guardians, he decided to get his GED and emancipate so that he could return to his home. He had inherited funds sufficient to live frugally on interest alone, and he was almost 18 anyway.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. He was living on his own by November. The winter passed in a blur- he made no extravagant purchases, the only ones of note were to fully outfit a room with exercise equipment and to make a small workshop in the garage. He didn¡¯t know what he wanted, nor where he was going, but he had found that pushing his body to its limits had the remarkable ability to shut his brain and feelings off, and let him just¡­ be. The other object of his focus was wood crafts: learning to carve, join and inlay. He made little wooden cages, small boxes, and geometric patterns, losing himself in the precision just as he would try to lose himself in labor. Spring came, and with it a restlessness that no amount of weights or running could soothe, an itch in his mind that books and carving did not scratch. He needed¡­. something. He was lonely- but it wasn¡¯t that, he didn¡¯t really trust the world enough to try connecting on anything but a superficial level. John prowled through the house like a caged animal, trying to think of something when, in a moment of serendipity, he brushed by a small stack of books, knocking them to the ground. As John cursed and grumbled he bent to pick up the mess, only to freeze for just a moment. He let out a rueful chuckle, then neatly stacked the books on the small side table they¡¯d tumbled from. John took a deep breath, then smiled, the tension in his body vanishing as if it never was. With quick steps he grabbed a notebook and went off to catalogue what he had and what he¡¯d need, leaving the study where a small shaft of evening light was falling upon the book that he¡¯d left on top of the stack, the one that had given him such a marvelous idea: On the Road. A flurry of activity and planning, figuring out what would fit in the car, what was needed, what was not, where to go, what to look for, the etiquette of transients, planning a budget, securing the house, getting licensed and insured- all told he was ready by the end of May, a week after his 18th birthday. This brought him to today, where John came down the stairs for his great adventure; to find himself, his purpose¡­ ¡­ Only to see that, once again, he¡¯d have to change his plans. Rule #1Plans are a great way to pretend you are in control. Don''t let yourself believe in them. Chapter 1- One Small Step ¡°What the fuck¡­¡± John muttered to himself in shock as he sank to sit on the basement stairs. The passenger head light assembly and a nice chunk of the engine block, along with a part of his workbench, were completely severed from their respective wholes, lying on the ground in a pool of oil and other fluids. The reason was clear, as they had been bisected by the shimmering black oval that that now occupied several meters of his parking space, the cut so smooth the metal and wood both shone with a glossy finish. ¡°Well, that explains the sound I heard in the shower, just a random portal slicing through my stuff¡­. Heh heh.¡± John trailed off into only mildly hysterical chuckles. After calming down a little, and realizing that staring blankly at the phenomenon wasn¡¯t having any real effect, John cautiously explored the portal. Holding his hand a few inches from its surface he felt¡­ nothing. He grabbed a broom and walked to the edges and peered at it from the backside. It was a perfect plane that cut through space, as far as John could tell. Edge on it completely disappeared from view, and the back, while still black, was more matte and seemed to lack the minute undulations that rippled across the front side. John poked it with the stick. It bounced off with a dull thudding, like he was prodding a carpeted floor. Walking back to the front, he swung his instrument at the edge, only to lose his balance lightly as the weight in his hand suddenly lightened. The neatly severed broom handle fell to the floor with a clatter, and John ran his finger across the smooth edge of the cut with a shaky whistle. ¡°Note to self, do not lean on side of portal.¡± Getting another, longer dowel from his wood box, John made sure to hold it only loosely, and took a deep breath as he gently slid the piece into the portal, ready to let go at a moments notice. The wood slid into the gently undulating abyss like¡­ a stick sinking into a gently undulating abyss. He gently moved his probe around, feeling a hard contact when he angled it to just below the floor level from his own perspective. Then, he gently tried to pull it back, and with no fuss it rematerialized from the inky depths.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The wood was a little cool to touch, and the end he¡¯d tapped on the other side had a smudge of dust on it. ¡°Hope I didn¡¯t just bring back Super-Aids on a stick.¡± Having exhausted the scientific uses of long pieces of wood, John took out his phone and, 45 seconds and one strip of duct tape later, inserted his high tech recording probe into the dark veil. Acting out his long sublimated fantasy of being a boom mike operator, John brought his phone back over after a minute or so, turned the record function and flashlight off, then settled back on the steps as he pressed play. The view was shaky, and there was a burst of pixelated static when it passed through the gate. All at once the static cleared and a well-lit room came into focus, multiple light sources and a window full of glare. A tiered dais led down from the gate, and on the floor were countless geometric figures and some sort of curlicue writing in concentric circles. To the left was a large pillar of some sort of crystal, the left was a broken stub, where John assumed a similar one would stand. There was an iron banded double door across the hall on the same wall that held the window, so that was probably the way outside. Another, smaller opening could be seen to the far left, presumably deeper into this facility that broke the laws of physics over its knee. John watched the clip several times, and on the last play through he had made a few conclusions. There was an air of neglect to whole thing, with the broken pillar and the dusty floor. It was colder there, he assumed an atmosphere of similar pressure and make up as he wasn¡¯t sucked in or pushed back by the portal or asphyxiating. Also, the portal wasn¡¯t going to be permanent, if his guess was correct. Firstly there was damage in the facility and no operators, so it was probably running a pre-programmed sequence of some kind. Which left John with a question. Did he want to make a possible one-way trip to a place he might likely die futilely, or take some video, call the car insurance and postpone his trip. Truly a deep and serious issue that would need lots of time to.... "Oh who am I kidding. Of course I''m going through the damn thing." And with those immortal words John stepped into history as the first man dumb enough to jump through a portal without checking for oxygen. Rule #2 Don¡¯t poke Mystical Phenomena with your finger: Use a stick. For Science. Chapter 2- Final Countdown Space stretched endlessly into an eternal angstrom as John exploded into compression so tight he broke the strong nuclear force and spun inside out in a brilliant flash of darkness as a thousand thousand bees jammed their stingers into his nerve endings and he screamed a symphony of blue and bitter. And then John missed his step as the floor was about two inches lower than where he started. Gracelessly, John fell down the tasteful granite flags inscribed with lightly glowing silver runes, coming to rest in a dusty heap of sweaty twitching meat, struggling just to breathe. All at once he gave a final spasm then cried out in a long scream of denial as he braced his hands to defend himself, only to suddenly realize where he was and let out a sob of painful relief. For just a second the disorientation and loss of control made John think he was back in the crash. Patting himself down grabbing the tattered shreds of his dignity he limped to his feet and took in the chamber. The air had the chill of autumn to it, and while it wasn¡¯t stale, there was a heaviness that spoke of doors long shut, a feeling shouldered up by the thick cloud of dust he¡¯d stirred into the air. With a cough John turned to examine the portal. The portal wasn¡¯t free standing here, but framed by shining metal arches, supported on the right by snaking bands around the blue-white shining crystal pillar, and coming to a sudden blackened end on the left. Scattered along the back left corner of the atrium was a pile of twisted metal and shattered crystals that answered the question of what became of the second pillar. A change in the light drew Johns attentions as he saw a pattern of crystals embedded under the portal, all lit up¡­ no two were dark and the change that had caught his eye was that the next in sequence had started to flicker like a flame in the wind. As he watched it too turned dim and dark. Then the next crystal started to flicker and dim. He timed the cycle, and then counted the remaining stones. If it remained consistent he had a little over 3 hours left to decide which end of the portal he wanted to be on when it closed. ¡°I mean, clearly some sort of magi-tech going on here, no other reason for runic inlays unless it¡¯s a Zardoz hustlle¡­¡± John muttered excitedly to himself. His face stretched in a manic grin as he strode into the dim corridor to the side of the hall, where he promptly shrieked like a little girl when he ran right into a pile of skeletal remains that had settled on the ground there. After stepping out of the scattered ribs and cloth, John used his keen logic to intuit that the rusty and pitted knife wedged into some vertebrae might have held a key to the mystery of this person¡¯s demise. ¡°Looks human enough, so this side has that going for it. Not sure how I feel about the Assassins Creed element I¡¯m sensing though. Sorry about this fella¡­¡± John began to check the remains for anything useful, but other than tattered and rotted clothes, a small tarnished silver chain and the dagger, there was nothing. John pocketed the chain and dutifully noted the ¡°Grave robber¡± achievement. then made his way cautiously towards to the three doors that lined the hall, two on the right and one at the end. The two side chambers were set up like dorms, two beds, a dresser and a small alcove that must have functioned as a privy or washroom somehow. ¡®A sort of temporary Hostel after the¡­ fun of portal travel perhaps?¡¯ Both were empty of any loot or mysterious tomes, so John made his way to the last door. Unlike the previous two this one was ajar and the whole frame looked oddly warped, with a bulge in the lower panel of the door. It was a bit jammed, but after some forceful tugging it sluggishly skidded open, allowing the bottom half of another skeleton to clatter into the hall. John bravely ran away, then came back to investigate.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The door was charred black and studded with blackened fragments of what John could only assume were the remnants of this fellows torso. Whatever had done this had pretty much vaporized the guy. Checking the remains yielded a small brace of pitted knives in a moldy leather sheath, which led John to conclude he had found his assassin. Turning from the door to inspect the room, he found what would have been a small but tastefully appointed office if not for the sparkling ivory skeleton sitting in a meditative pose on a cushion behind the low desk. Unlike the other remains he had found, this one seemed almost posed, and rested with a quiet dignity in colorful and unstained robes. Which was odd as the natural decay of this body should have completely ruined both the cushoun and the clothes, but they both looked, while a little dusty and worn, not like a persons biomass had saturated them while liquefying into a putrid sludge before desicatting and scattering into the dust¡­ ¡°Oh god, I¡¯m BREATHING DEAD PEOPLE!¡± John exclaimed with a retch and pulled up his collar over his nose to make an improvised breathing filter. When he recovered from his horror over inhaling exhumed asassin and victim parts, he once again used his meager detective skills to put the pieces together. Closer examination of the posed skeleton showed several tears In the silk in the abdomen, and a few pitted knives similar to the rest were rusting under the desk. The surface of the desk was clear save for a crystal disk cupped in the skeleton¡¯s hands, and there were two drawers that where jammed shut. Behind the skeleton was small cubby with scroll cases. ¡°Jackpot.¡± John pulled out one of the cases and unfurled a lightly faded map, hand drawn on some sort of animal skin in meticulous calligraphy. The writing was similar to but, somehow not the same as the writing by the portal¡­ but either way John couldn¡¯t read it. It showed, making some rough guesses of scale, an area of some 500 miles he would guess, based on the geographic features of mountain ranges and forests. It¡¯s rare to find a full mountain chain shorter than that, and it seemed to go off the page. The finer details were indistinguishable to john without some sort of key, so he rolled it up and put it back in the stack. Then, John crossed back to his garage. It was just as unpleasant as the first time, but knowing what to expect let him cross without falling and twitching like an electrocuted rat. Two bottles of water, a trip to the toilet and a proper facemask later, John made his third portal crossing carrying a crowbar and hand sledge.. A quick check of the blinking crystals showed a liner progression that matched his previous guess, and then John was off to bust some shit up. Gently sliding the cushioned skeleton and arranging its hands in its lap respectfully, letting the disk fall to the desk for now, John chiseled in the front of drawers, then did his best Archimedes impression and moved the world. Pop, Pop, went the drawers, and drop drop went John¡¯s jaw as he saw row after row of small golden and silver bars, a number of gem stones, strings of coins, and what he assumed were either bank notes or receipts in the first drawer. In the second was metal box filled with glowing crystals which John assumed had some value in this culture but for the life of him he had no idea what they were. They gave off a strange numbing heat, and John sensibly slapped the case closed just as a caution should they hold some radioactive property. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve sorted any money troubles if I decide to stay, but¡­ tech seems on the primitive side even if this guy could blow his assassin up after the fact. On the other hand, fireball magic confirmed¡­ but man it would be a bummer to be stuck in magic land and have no affinity. I think I¡¯d rather road trip if that¡¯s a possibility. Now, what was this doohickey for, some kind of emblem?¡± John picked up the crystal disk off the desk and examined it. It looked like a strange circular punch card, with threads of silver and gold etched into it and flowing in odd patterns from gap to gap. He raised it to eye level, and thought he saw flash of green rush through it. Leaning in closer the edge of the disk touched his brow, and then all he saw was darkness. Rule #3 Don¡¯t attempt to blood bond with every artifact you encounter. You will get tetanus. Chapter 3 Part 1- Deus ex h?reditatem A moment of total complete isolation, completely void of even the sensation of having a body, the pulse of blood, the involuntary muscle contractions that you¡¯re always feeling but tuning out. Everything. Gone. Then there was an emerald flash and John existed again, the light spreading and dissolving into a white mist that suffused eternity, from which a older but still attractive woman materialized, wearing the distinctive robes that adorned the remains he¡¯d just shuffled aside for treasure. She was standing in aloof hauteur, and when sure of his attention, gave a cold snort, then swung out her sleeve to expose a delicate hand held out flat, as if holding Yorrik¡¯s skull and began to declaim¡­ well, a whole bunch of gibberish as far as John was concerned. After a few moments she came to a triumphant finish and turned her palm down to gesture at John and spoke imperiously and gestured at the floor in front of John in what he could only assume was a demand that he kneel or bow down before her. John tilted his head to the side, and then succinctly said ¡°I have no idea what any of that was about, but I don¡¯t see any reason to bow to dead woman.¡± The woman looked shocked for a moment, and then seemed to deflate as she mouthed his words, shaking her head in confusion. The clouds of mist vanished and the until now unnoticed illumination that had been shining out of her melted away as she pouted and marched right up to John, muttered something under her breath and poked his forehead before he could even respond. ¡°Ow!¡± He cried out. ¡°That hurt! Why¡¯d you go and do that?¡¯ He grumbled as a wave of dizziness ran over him and he massaged his forehead. ¡°Because I¡¯d been planning that inheritance speech ever since I reached Magus and you ruined it with your total ignorance and lack of tact.¡± The woman snarled in an Oxford English accent. ¡°And I wasted too much of this fragment¡¯s power setting it up to spare you a little pain to make sure we can communicate. You were supposed to kneel in respect, declare me teacher, there would have been flower blossoms and dragons¡­ it was marvelous¡­¡± Her eyes had grown misty and distant, then her eyes narrowed and she poked him again. In the exact same spot!Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡®Vicious¡¯ John could not help but think, but before he could get a good head of steam on his anger, a piece of his mind caught up to what she had been saying. ¡°You want to leave me your legacy? I have potential to learn magic?¡± His explosion of eagerness managed to distract the shade from her disappointment for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­ yess..¡± She seemed taken aback at this explosion of YOUTH! John had displayed. ¡°The Inheritance plaque wouldn¡¯t activate if you weren¡¯t at least partially compatible with the meditation technique I developed, and everyone can learn¡­.how do you know so little?¡± ¡°Not important!¡± John exclaimed as he fell into a ridiculously heavy kowtow. ¡°Honor to teacher, she will be as my second mother and her path is my path til the end of my days!¡± John spouted nonsense that sounded straight out of Wuxia.com while chanting in his head, ¡®Make with the magic, woman!¡¯ The remnant, now looking decidedly uneasy about the young man bashing his head on the spiritual void, sighed and thought glumly to herself. ¡°At least he¡¯s eager. Which is odd, most men don¡¯t want to cultivate the Pure Spirit branches. Oh well, at least whoever sent those assassins didn¡¯t manage to shatter our legacy.¡¯ She straightened her shoulders and declaimed to her new disciple, ¡°I accept your piety, disciple John Campos, and pass on to you the lineage of the Pure Spirit School. Do not pass our knowledge to the unworthy, nor attempt to forge your own path til you have reached the rank of Magus. The inheritance disk will bond to you with a drop of blood, and all my knowledge will be yours. Make your teacher proud and should other remnants of the school survive, you will offer them aid. I, Magus Ningyum Arima, declare it! And with one last triumphant smile, at John, the darkness shattered as he fell over on his ass, back in the study. ¡°Alright, I kind of regret missing her show now, that was pretty inspiring. But fuuuuck¡­ my head STILL hurts¡­ meh. Magic get.¡± John, having a sense of propriety despite his nonchalant attitude clasped his hands and bowed to his teacher¡¯s remains, before stabbing his finger on a splinter and smearing some blood on the disk. John watched in wonder as the blood ran into the grooves of the inheritance disk, then felt a strange shudder through his being, like he¡¯d licked a nine volt battery with his brain, and then¡­ then the knowledge was there! It was like he had put a memory beside his head, a memory distant but perfectly clear. And¡­ and he couldn¡¯t understand ANY of it. Chapter 3 Part 2- Hermit Style Not a word. A vast wealth of information, and he couldn¡¯t parse a single bit¡­ oh wait, there, at the silty depths of the sea of symbols, a tiny post-it note in English appeared. ¡°Dear Disciple, as you lack any civilized language, you will need to pull literacy training out of the library. The filing code is deu8n8wopenfaw325. Just think this command firmly and the memories of an illiterate steppes herder who joined the School as a savage, very much like you. This will aid you in learning the Vulgar Arcane that enlightened society has used for millennia. From there you will be able to find appropriate course work in the index, it¡¯s labeled clearly and I¡¯m assured this format is idiot proof, which is perfect for you I imagine.¡± And then the sounds of a chiming laugh. No seriously, she attached a mocking laugh to a textual memory, which made for a nasty case of synesthesia as he read her laughter. The backlash made John taste blue again. ¡°Teacher is unique¡­ and apparently wants to be buried in a sack in my garden. I must honor her wishes.¡± John concluded as his hands twitched convulsively. Suddenly, his phone started beeping, shocking him from his thoughts on how to murder the dead. The portal would close in less than a half hour! It was decision time. There was almost certainly no magic on Earth. The resources he would need to follow his teacher¡¯s path were most likely only available here. John had already packed for a lengthy trip, and everything was in the garage already. He could toss extra things through the gate and turn the portal chamber into a command outpost, or immortals cave if he was feeling whimsical, then travel out into the world with power and wealth¡­ or he could snatch everything here back over, see how far he could get with magic without resources, and live a life of sybaritic luxury from the small fortune in gold and silver he had unearthed. It was an easy decision in the end. ¡°Man I¡¯m going to miss the internet.¡± John moaned to himself as he threw the entire contents of his house through the dark and glimmering hole. To make sure he wouldn¡¯t get stranded he had given himself only 16 minutes to grab what he could. After emptying the car and tossing some tools, bulk paper goods and chemicals from the garage John had ran to the library and grabbed books for a solid 5 minutes, then reams of paper and pens from the study. His phone and laptop, along with solar charger and 1 gig of ¡°Taxes 2017¡± had already passed through. He grabbed the knife block and a large cutting board from the kitchen, every can of food and jug of liquid, then filled up a huge plastic tub with water and dragged it through the portal with 47 seconds to spare on top of the three minutes he had shaved off to make sure he made it.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡¯Or¡­¡¯ John thought, watching the portal waver and vanish into oblivion 6 seconds later ¡®¡­ right on time, as it were.¡¯ For a second, just a moment, John felt a sense of vertigo and overpowering loss. He would probably never see his home again. That safe and comfortable life was lost for him forever. But then he turned to the family photo he¡¯d wrapped in towels and tossed through, and spent a moment contemplating his parents¡¯ smiling faces. And, in the end, John decided that they would want him to pursue risks and challenges, to be a pioneer, and most of all, to follow his dreams. And right now, John dreamt of magic. But first, he needed to clean this place up and take stock. He had packed several days worth of drinks and calorie dense foods for his long drive, and had about 12 gallons of potables in one form or another, or just under a months¡¯ worth. The basin he had planning to use for hygiene purposes, a little water and sanitizer gel would last a long time on that front, even if it would dry the hell out of his skin. He noticed that a full bottle of bleach and detergent made the trip, so he could keep those whites white for a little while. Or dispose of blood evidence. John had just bought a jumbo pack of paper towels and toilet paper, so he didn¡¯t need to go as a savage for a while. Most of the clothes he¡¯d packed were for warmer weather, but all his cold gear was in a plastic tub he had remembered to snag. His mattress was too heavy to move quickly but he had several sets of bedding and blankets to work with. Electronics and books he put as far from the food and water as possible to avoid a twilight zone rant on fairness. Fortunately John didn¡¯t wear glasses or need any medication. His mom had kept a staggering amount of cold medication and NSAIDs in the linen closet, and enough bandages for a hospital outpost, which he¡¯d snagged with the towels. He¡¯d tossed all his hand tools and the wood bin through before dragging over the water, so when his camp stove ran out of propane he could still have something to burn without scavenging, and of course he could still whittle for fun when he wasn¡¯t cramming a new language. A month of full mental immersion should be plenty of time to get the language down, and then he could probably start looking for what passed for civilization around here. John finished organizing his supplies, ransacked his teacher¡¯s office, then grabbed a broom and got hard to work pushing all the dust and grime into the first of the old hostel rooms. It took the better part of the day, but when he was done he had a large studio apartment laid out, his teacher was laid to rest in her office, covered by a spare sheet, and he¡¯d found the privy hole in the second room was cavernously deep. John gave himself the first of many sponge baths, had jerky and nuts for dinner, then curled up safe and exhausted in his nest of blankets. Tomorrow he had a language to learn, and a world to explore. Rule #4- When leaving any industrial technology plane, buy toilet paper in bulk. You¡¯re Welcome. Chapter 4- Like a Good Neighbor. John woke up and tried to rise from his nest of blankets. Then he discovered the reason why people did stretches before resting after a day of strenuous activity: he could hardly stand. Every major muscle group, and most of the minor, was cramped and painful. After a cringing morning of ginger calishthenics and some instant oatmeal, John was ready to start learning the Vulgar Arcane language. First he reached out for that mental space the Pure Spirit inheritance library was resting. Then he concentrated on the gibberish call number that had been impressed into his teacher¡¯s final communique. At first, nothing happened, but as he focused harder he could feel¡­ a sort of resonance.that was responding to his focus. The harder he thought the call number, the clearer the associated file¡¯s location became. Soon he had found the memory, a brief written synopsis, the call number, and then a large chunk that John was somewhat unsure of how to access. He kept turning it and poking it with his thoughts, until he thought he felt a channel that his consciousness could catch hold of and then¡­ ¡°Oof.¡± John grunted as her thin legs jarred against a thin rug over a stone floor, looking up to see a tired looking man turn and face her, a series of figures displayed on the slate board behind him. He first gestured to her ears, then to the first of the squiggles on the slate with a rod, clearing his throat as he exagerattedly sounded ¡°Ohhh.¡± She just stared at him confusedly as he repeated the gesture, then flinched as his rod swung out, stopping just shy of her jaw. He prodded it a few times meaningfully, then pointed at the board again. ¡°Ah!¡± She said, then flushed and repeated his intonation. He handed her a slate and some chalk, and pointed at the figure, rolling his eyes as she repeated the sound again and this time the rod poked her fingers. She drew the squiggle, repeating the sound just in case. He nodded approvingly, then pointed to the next in the sequence, which was similar but had a new shape in front. ¡°Bohh.¡± Another slight chinge: ¡°Poh.¡± This time the change was under the original squiggle: ¡°Moh¡± On it went until all the consonant sounds had been paired with the ¡°oh¡¯ sound, then the sequence repeated, gaining speed, then the teacher changed things up, altering the sequence, and she fell apart, earning a firm rap on her shoulder¡­. ¡­dislodging John from the memory, and allowing him to double check his tackle to be sure of no lingering effects. He tried to recreate the symbols he had seen, and when he had fully plumbed his recall, began the lesson again. His life fell into this routine for the next week: Calisthenics in the morning and a light breakfast, a break at midday to do a little exercise, and some reading or carving before stretching, washing up, and dreaming of syllabary. When he wasn¡¯t engaging the inheritance, he was practicing on the samples of writing he had collected. As he did he began to notice the differences in how the more formal documents, like the maps or the two or three sparkly ones with fancy seals held subtle variations that probably settled for fancy fonts, where the personal missives were a little looser, forming a kind of cursive or short hand that was REALLY FUCKING HARD for John to puzzle out, which was frustrating as he knew that would probably be the most common style, as it was more expedient. But he kept at it, and 8 days later he could sound out the texts fluidly, the syllabary completely internalized, Now he just needed a vocabulary and some basic syntax!If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Progress here was much slower, but as the weeks collected John¡¯s meager vocabulary took shape as the very tired teacher, long turned to dust, imparted the essential 400 words to which a developing language user would hang their hats. The most important phrase of all, of course, being ¡°How do you say that?¡± followed swiftly by, ¡°Could you repeat that?¡± But with his supplies dwindling John knew it was time to survey his surroundings, With sufficient mastery to ape out a caveman style dialogue, John felt confident that if he had to negotiate a conversation with a local he¡¯d be ok. After reaching this resolution he proceeded to procrastinate by tidying everything up and packing up an overnight bag. So intent on his preperations was John that he did not notice the strange shadows that played across the wall from the high window by the door. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m all set! Adventure, Hooo!¡± John cried out as he flung the door bar up, turned the still locking mechanism, then kicked open the heavy double doors as hard as he could. A decision he immediately regretted when he felt the wood crunch into someones nose before jarring his knee, causing John to stumble back, his cursing keeping synchronicity with the man whose nose he¡¯d just broken. John trailed off into silence as he took in the 4 silhouettes outlined by the evening sun, with a fifth sitting on the broken flagstones clutching his face, John mustered a weak smile and said, in his best Vulgar Arcane. ¡°Hello! You¡¯re trespassing. What do you want?¡± --------------------- Auriean could hardly believe their luck. In this manaless flyspeck of a city-state they''d found an Old Imperium way station! The signs were obvious now, but until they''d come within the last 50 rods he was sure they''d been chasing a wild vere. "Those doors are solid Void Steel!" Garrus chortled beside him, "And look! the crystal window is netted with it. No wonder it was undiscovered all these years! No matter how dense the mana in the building not a trace would leak out. That prick of a city lord, Jealan, didn''t even know that tattered map in his study hinted at such a treasure! Really takes the sting out the past few days, doesn''t it, Kerris?" Kerris didn''t even try to hide her smug grin from Garrus. Jealan had been her senior at the sect, and had tried to court her once. He clearly carried a grudge for being turned down, and had fined her and her company 5 whole bars of silver for, "disturbing the peace of the city," for resisting when his dogs of a militia had tried to steal their valuable beast skins as ''trade tarriffs.'' When they tried to fight back he had surpressed them all with his higher apprentice level cultivation, and once again tried to pressure her into bed. Little did he know that while Jealan was showing off his wealth, Alikir would by chance see the old symbol for Imperial property marked in the Empty Hills. She turned to Millat, who had been quietly scouting for sentry wards or signs of beasts. Millat gave the all clear with a grin. "Well, what are you waiting for man! Pop that door open and lets see what we''ve found!" "Yes, Captain!" He pulled his probes from his belt case and approached the door. They gathered a few feet back to give Millat room and light. As he leaned into examine the lock, Garrus suddenly flinched and took a stance, calling urgently, "Millat! Wai-" The door bounded open with a crash and the sound of broken cartilage and cursing. A youth limped back from the door rubbing his leg. He was tall, almost 3.5 rods, and moved with a sense of solidity that spoke of muscles under his strange and thick garb. He had a pack on his back, and smiled wryly at us, ignoring Millat''s groaning form.He seemed to thinkfor a second, then spoke, saying. "Greetings and Salutations. Tresspassingly yous, What do want you?" Rule#5- Always approach natives of your new plane with confidence, gentleness, and respect. That Slavering Tentacle Beast is just as scared of you as you are of it. Probably. Chapter 5- Trade Language Alikir burst into giggles almost immediately, the strange mix of high court formality blended with idiot level grammar cutting through the tension of the moment like a knife. Captain Kerris sighed before sending a cantrip reinforced fist to her side, which turned Alikir¡¯s giggles to a soft groan. Garrus had snatched Millat as soon as he saw the youth wasn¡¯t preparing a follow up attack, and, judging by the strained whine Millat started to emit through clenched teeth, had just re-set the broken nose. All the while the youth had simply stood in the entrance, calmly and curiously examining their team. Kerris signaled Auriean to waste a little mana in speeding Millat¡¯s healing. There was no sense of hostility from the boy, and she¡¯d disband the team and start turning tricks dockside if the five of them couldn¡¯t defend themselves from one unarmed stranger. She smiled confidently at the lad and decided to answer his question in simple words. It was clear, for whatever reason, that he had only a limited command of Imperial Arcane. That detail made her pause though. Everyone for thousands of miles in each direction learned the language in childhood, even the small tribes had their people learn it after their milk tongue was firmly planted. Shaking her questions aside, she shifted slightly to the right so as to examine the way station while they spoke. ¡°Greetings and salutations. We did not mean to trespass. I am Kerris Shraye, Captain of the Striker Company. We came to exca¡­ see this outpost. We thought it was aban... we thought no one was here. What is your honorable name? What do you want?¡± Keriss kept her tone warm and her pace slow, stressing the small changes to the words he had used so he could hear the correct usage. She used simple and formal language, and kept any reaction she felt to seeing the giant pillar of fused manstone connected to an intact spatial array! As she waited for the boy to parse out her meaning and reply, she subtly shook her head as Millat, now recovered from his embarrassing meeting with the door (and oh, how he would be teased over this later over drinks) gestured to the side facing away from the stranger, which held his wicked curved knife. She had her principles. For good or ill the boy had first claim, but there was so much wealth in what she just saw that she could understand Millat¡¯s intentions. Still, the youth couldn¡¯t possibly think he could monopolize such a treasure, he must either have powerful backing or be looking for allies. And Striker company would be happy to be those allies¡­ for a price. ------- John gazed in frank curiosity at the five men and women clustered outside his door. They were dressed in tasteful furs and leathers over what looked like linen tunics, giving them a sort of barbarian chic. The strange dissonance that made him think of cos-play was chased away as he took in the obvious weapons they all carried oh-so-comfortably. His eyes strayed to the sledge hammer and the hand axe that were a mere 15 paces to his right, concealed from this angle. While he was unsure if he could bar the door in time if they charged him, he could at least arm himself before¡­ dying horribly? He let loose an internal sigh when the short haired woman started laughing at the way he talked, breaking the tension of the moment for the rest of the group it seemed. At last, the other woman took a step forward and spoke. ¡°Hello. We__not____tresspass. I ____ Kerris shiny feather ____ of ______ _____. We look ____. We think no person exist. What is your honorable name? What do you want? Ah, good it seemed they wanted a friendly negotiation. This was ideal. John didn¡¯t catch most of what she said, but he was savvy enough to figure out she was the leader of this group that had come to do as he had done and loot the outpost. John would need to rely on their sense of fair play if he tried to claim everything here, which would likely end poorly for him. He needed interlocutors, guides, and help getting set up in this new world. Running into them actually saved him a lot of legwork, and if they weren¡¯t scum, which, judging by the way the nice leader, Kerris Shiny Feather, just told the man whose nose he¡¯d broken NOT to just murder hobo him, seemed likely. Still, best to negotiate for the best deal. ______________________ The man considered her words, then once again ran his eyes over the group. She admired him his calm, and could see a keen intellect at work as he gave a decisive nod and stepped out of the door way, pulling it lightly closed behind him after resting his pack on the ground as an impromptu chair. He gestured at her team to settle in, then spoke. ¡°My name was John Campos. Place now home my. All things own here. Find lot things. Some keeping I want. Most jubilant trade, sell.¡± Here he paused, considering his next words carefully. ¡°World hard is. People¡­many wanting, take and wanting¡­ Some of clock people together job. Others not so. I think together job good. Not know all I find. You seem have data points many have. I also have skills, thnkings. Together job both have wealth, learning. This I want. Is good? What discrete item you want? What data points you want?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Kerris smiled broadly as she parsed through his broken speech. The gist was obvious- he knew he wasn¡¯t able to devour this site on his own, and had opted for a pragmatic approach, while still staking a claim. He would work with them to make an agreement. He had specialized knowledge and tools and first right of the loot. He acknowledged they had expertise and that the world was full of greedy and petty people and that by working together they both profited. Then she let out a gusty sigh and took out some tools to help pantomime their desires. This was going to be cumbersome. _______ John rubbed at his eyes, taking in the setting sun and the growing cold, before turning back to observe the hushed discussion taking place among the mercenaries. None seemed to have any strong objections to the terms. Through a series of charades, interpretive dance and scrambled language, he and the Shiny Feather brigade had come to agreements. Kerris was a shrewd and able negotiator, but John was quickly able to tell that the main focus for her was the portal assembly and, surprisingly, his front door. Her second focus was squeezing as much wealth out of him as possible for the contract they had worked out. The terms they had proposed were simple and, as far as John was concerned, overwhelmingly in his favor. He kept the crystals and currency, they could examine books and scrolls and would pay in equivalent information or services for copies. The metal in the window and doors was extremely valuable for some reason, and he would split it 30/70 as partial payment for contracting their team. The rest of their payment was studying the portal and 4 gold ingots. The reason he had to give up so much of the door was because he refused to let them dismantle the portal. It had led to his home world at one point, and once he had reached attainments in magic he was sure he would be able to return. In return the group would act as body guards, cultural teachers and market contacts, while filling in the voids in his common sense. The contract would last for¡­ well he thought they agreed for close to 5 months, but that really depends on how their lunar cycle worked. He was silly for assuming they even had a moon, but it seemed that they did have a satellite that waxed and waned in the cycle he had mimed. Of course, John knew he was overpaying. Some of her crew had terrible poker faces. However, he didn¡¯t care. He was just happy he wasn¡¯t being robbed and cast out naked into the mountains, or murdered in his sleep. Well, that last one wasn¡¯t a given yet, but he was going to be staying inside and they would be camping out here for the time being, and his door had a lock. Coming back from his ruminations John stood up, stretched, and, making the universal sign for ¡®wait¡¯ went inside to start tidying up and hiding away the things he didn¡¯t want to show them yet, certain scrolls and valuables, as well as things that immediately gave away his extra planar origins. He¡¯d let them in a few at a time to use the privy and take a quick look around before going to bed. ------------- Kerris was mentally exhausted and slightly embarrassed by the things she had done to communicate. Judging by the snickers she had heard during negotiations, she had looked just as dumb as she felt. ¡°Well, while you slackers were laughing and surveying the area, I just made us stupidly wealthy, gained us employment for the entire slow season, established opportunities to advance the magical knowledge of those interested, and, most importantly, make an ally out of a newly bonded inheritor.¡± The other four all sucked in their breath at that. While not the most diligent of cultivators or scholars, they were all well into the late novice stage in mystic or martial mana cultivation. That said, if they had stumbled onto a lineage inheritance none of them would have hesitated to waste their development and start over from scratch if they resonated with the inheritance. Ever since the fall of the Mage Empire and the dark ages that followed, this world had struggled to raise high level mages. Even the most powerful schools and sects in the greater kingdoms would have only a few ancient adepts or archmages, while most of their strength was at the apprentice and magus levels. During the Empire even the most common magus would have access to resources those old monsters would kill for, and while a magus of that era may not have treasured the knowledge highly, they had put in place countermeasures when passing inheritances so that not just anyone could steal their personal and school secrets. The most important and relevant of these was that once bonded, the talisman would never function for another owner. Only the spiritual sense of the bonded could access the inheritance, and there were sophisticated protections that could recognize duress and compulsion. The only way to get anything out of an inheritor was to work with them. Which is why she didn''t question when John didn''ttry to hide the token and revealed it casually while pretending to get comfortable during the long session. Really, Kerris had to admire the way he had used that to undercut her more absurd initial bargaining position. He had still overpaid, but it was with the thoughtless easeof a young noble that had spent little time in the market, rather than a case of foolishness. What he paid had litlle value to him, so why bother to haggle? Only the more experienced and wiley nobles knew the value of squeezing amber from stonewood. ¡°While it seems we missed the best opportunity, he claims to have been here a few tendays, and due to his circumstances decided to solidify his gains here instead of looking to the city or towns. If he hadn¡¯t we may have only found an empty ruin. I hope you guys take this to heart, and try to stifle greedy impulses. We may have had greater short term gains for a little knife work, but we would have been chopping the fruit tree for fire today. Who knows what we may be able to gain from this boy in the future? His inheritance could hold keys that could help us bybass the apprentice bottleneck, and bring our potential to the point that we can finally leave this empty kingdom for the midlands.¡± Kerris stopped to for a moment¡­ then decided to voice one of the conclusions she had reached. ¡°Also¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure the reason he speaks with such hilarious ineptitude is because that grand gate is still partially functional.¡± Rule Six- Normally, the best trade is one where both sides feel like they took advantage of the other. The actual best trade is one where I get everything and then loot the bodies. Chapter 6- Making friends and influencing people. John put his most conspicuous wealth in the bottom of his day pack for safe keeping along with that old map for if he decided to go exploring and needed a reference, then put a small selection of currency in his inner jacket pocket. Two of his new mercenaries, and wasn¡¯t that a weird thought to have, would be heading out tomorrow to grab some rations from a small market in the suburbs of the local city-state. He was looking forward to some greens if he could get them, he was living on starches, jerky and tuna for proteins, and the odd can of soup or fruit. He also had a jumbo sack of hard candies he had planned to suck his way through while driving... refined sugars and chemical flavorings would probably be of interest to his new employees, he¡¯d pass some out when he was done. Turning from his shrinking food stores he considered his water supply, which hadn¡¯t lasted as long as he¡¯d thought it would. It was rather arid here, and he had lost a large chunk of his cleaning water to evaporation. He had about 8 days of drinking water left, the two water cooler bottles almost empty with miscellaneous sports drinks and a case of spring water all that remained. He¡¯d noticed the five had traveled light, and would ask what their plans for water were. John took another long look around his squat, taking in all the labels and industrial goods, then sighed. He was going ot have to cop to using that portal. They were smart people; there were no vehicles or animals here, no tracks, yet still a strange man who didn¡¯t have the language down with 100¡¯s of pounds of goods that would be entirely foreign. Unless he covered all his things in blankets and acted super suspiciously, there was no hiding his mysterious origins. Well¡­ I¡¯ll cross that bridge when we have to. Lets go bribe those barbarians with candy! --------------- Inheritor Campos poked his head out just as the basic camp was laid out. Tents were up and small area was cleared with a ad hoc fire circle and a heap of scrounged tinder. Auriean had set a trip ward over the narrow ledge that lead to the escarpment and was walking back to the group to see Alikir practically vibrating with excitement. Apparantly, they were going to get a chance to scope out the way station tonight. Personally, Auriean wasn¡¯t too fussed. He never discovered any talent for spatial magics like Alikir had, and he wasn¡¯t a scholarly type like the captain. His focus had always been survival, which is why he had delved into healing and subtle sorceries of the senses when he was discovered to be mana sensitive. He saw a similar mild interest on Garrus¡¯s face, and Millat seemed to be sulking a bit, but gave a shy conciliatory smile when John came right to him with a mangled apology, popped something in his own mouth to show its safety, then handed a few small things to Millat before offering one to each of them in turn, making an exaggerated sucking sound to show how to eat it. Auriean held it up to the dying light and saw it was like a sticky red crystal with a sweet, strange scent. He had confidence in his healing skill if it was some kind of double bluff betrayal, which didn¡¯t seem likely at this point but you never know, and popped it in his mouth.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Alikir was about to try hers when she say Auriean¡¯s eyes pop comically wide, and she asked. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± Auriean made to answer; then, seeing no one else had tried theirs, put on a stern face and said. ¡°It¡¯s a bitter medicinal, tastes awful but is mildly good for you. The taste will never go away, you all should just give me yours and spare yourselves this agony.¡± He had a good face for lying, but the eager slurp of saliva that rang out during this speech tipped Alikir off that she had some good stuff. She gave him a sneer and a rude gesture before popping hers into her mouth as well. She left out a soft moan which made every man in camp shift uncomfortably, then turned to Kerris. ¡°Remember those sap candies that they had in Red Leaf, during the harvest festival?¡± ¡°The ones you blew half your pay to stockpile then cried bitter tears over when you ran out?¡± "Yes, those.. I mean, Uh, no that never happened of course, but yes I see you recall. ¡° Alikir¡¯s face was a little red as she continue, and Kerris felt the healing that only cute-little-sis Alikir could bring.¡±¡­ anywy those are vere shit to this. Its like the memory of fruit and distilled sweetness. But as important as candy is, LETS GO CHECK THIS RUIN OUT!¡± Everyone enjoyed their sweets while they followed John into the way station. ------- John showed them the small outpost, figuring it was faster to just let them see for themselves that there wasn¡¯t anything too special about the place other than the gate room. He pointed out the trash room and the jakes, which got him a grateful look from an awkwardly shifting Garrus, which culminated in a discrete exodus from the room where his teacher was laid to rest, whom he introduced by pointing andsaying, ¡°My teacher, Magus Ningyum Arima.¡± John was pleased that they offered a respectful bow to the remains, and seeing there were no more sights, they filed back into the main hall and while most went to their camp with a wave, Alikir was scurrying around the array like a caffeinated squirrel, excitedly gibbering at Kerris over such and such selection of runes. This was endearing but also showed little sign of stopping, and John needed to do his exercises and practice his writing before kipping out. With a sigh he dug into his collection of papers until he uncovered the fruit of almost four hours bent over the floor, complete rubbings of the entire circle. He rolled the thick wad into a cylinder than used it to bop Alikir on her head. When she turned indignantly to chew him out, he handed her the rubbings. As she zoned into the shuffling pages he bodily turned her around and gently pushed her out the door, waving good night to Kerris who watched the interplay with a fond smile, and locked the door behind them. The sun was almost set, and he had a few hours of work left if he was to keep his routine. John did not know that as he went about his practice he also was wearing a small smile. Rule#7 Adventures are meant to be shared. Chapter 7- Magics Price John wiped sweat from his eyes as he gasped for breath at the summit, drinking sparingly from his last bottle of electrolyte and sugary boosted goodness. With a groan of relief he unstrapped the crude weights onhis limbs and torso, then did some limbering stretches. He shivered a bit in the bite of the wind and quickly toweled off before heading inside to change and freshen up. John stripped out of his track shorts and t-shirt, then sponged off the worst of his funk. He unabashedly admired his cut and toned figure in the small mirror he¡¯d taped to the wall next to his ¡®dresser¡¯ (a pile of luggage on a block of wood). The rationing and targeted exercises had melted what little baby fat he¡¯d had left, and the body resistance exercises left corded and rippled muscle standing starkly under his skin. It had been just over two months since he¡¯d traveled through the portal, and one lunar cycle into his deal with the Striker Company. John chuckled to himself, as he always did when he thought that name: though he had learned the proper words, he still thought of them as the Shiny Feather Brigade in his head, which was surprisingly accurate considering how distractible some of them were. Alikir was only the most conspicuously scatterbrained, Garrus and Auriean had their moments too. It had been a month where John had stretched himself to the limits both scholastically and physically, and the gains were impressive. He was able to speak the modern deviation of Arcane fluently with, what he was told anyway, was a very stuffy accent and choice of words. Of course, by fluently John mostly meant that his grammar no longer reduced the mercenaries to tears. There were still gargantuan vocabulary gaps, but since he had centuries of memories and written accounts around his neck and, by now, a complete mastery of the syllabary, he could always sound out a word he didn¡¯t know to his hapless language tutors. Still, while it had been a grueling month of effort, it had also been one of wonder and magic. John had learned so much about the strange new world of mana and cultivation just by the casual way that it was manifested in his companions'' every day actions. Thirsty? No worries, just a small cantrip will fill a water skin. Need a fire started? No firebow or striker needed, another cantrip summoned a few seconds of some flammable hot burning fuel into existence. Not strong enough to move that boulder that has offended your gaze? Why haven¡¯t you been fusing mana to your muscles, transforming your flesh and blood into strength like unto steel and stone? Hot? Summon a breeze, or use your preternatural control of your body to literally force the heat out of your skin. John saw a thousand miricals a day, and then was told he was looking at the lowest levels of magic. Speaking of the company, they had decamped yesterday to meet with a trader contact of Kerris¡¯. While the gate and assembly were impressive finds, if they weren¡¯t going to part it for pieces it had reached the end of its usefulness to novice mana cultivators. One thing that had troubled John was the question of if the door and window were taken out, how would the gate facility remain protected and undiscovered? Kerris easily answered this worry by showing him a series of runes by the crystal timer, mentioning it controlled the part of the array that was causing it to gather mana. Without that effect the depleted manastone pillar wouldn¡¯t register to even an Adept¡¯s senses unless they were atop the plateau themselves. And why would they be here? This place was considered almost barren by advanced cultivators, and the loss of access to the rarified mana of the middle and far kingdoms made it doubly unlikely that anyone with real talent would venture there. That she and her team had already siphoned all of the remaining wisps of free mana that had accompanied the gate discharge went unspoken. Now that he had the basics down, he could ¡®thumb¡¯ through his mental index, and there, in bright flashes of bolded letters were the words START HERE. When he focused on the letters with his mental energy he was greeted by a simple preface, ¡°Foundations of the Unsullied Soul School.¡± What followed was the very basics of the cosmology of the cultivators who had risen in the Empire of Arcane.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Much of it was similar to what he already knew of the universe, and in some places their chemistry and physics wasn¡¯t as unified or as developed as what he had known, but the additional element of mana had significant changes. Mana was a multi-phase substance that seemed to, much like the photon existed as a wave and a particle, interact with the physical and spiritual worlds. The philosophers of the empire had a profound advantage over those of Earth in that they indeed had a way by which to measure the soul. Over the millennia they had found that the more mana that a living being could house, the stronger its vitality; but there were caveats to this rule. Mana was strongly mutagenic, not only to the flesh, but the mind and soul itself. This is where cultivators entered the field. Through discipline and specific imagery and techniques, they were able to shape the raw mana, polluted by interactions with countless psyches and the instincts of plants and beasts, and in this process found that the changes mana wrought could be guided. Furthermore, they discovered that there was a proto-imagery that mana was supremely sensitive too, which became the basis of the common language of the Arcane Empire, to better shape the people¡¯s development and nurture talented mana-sensitives passively. But where does the mana come from? Why were some deposits seemingly hostile or inimical towards sentient life? Why were their manaless lands or places that acted as natural mana siphons, weakening those who wandered into such a sink unprepared? These were questions still being probed by the sages, but recently great strides had been made in answering the first. With the rise of the spatial magicians and the network of gates, the Empire had cataloged phenomenon from a thousand worlds, and one thing was always true. Where space was weakened, mana flourished and intruded, where the web of realms was tightly woven, mana faded. What connection did this have to the void steel and other rare minerals that inhabited the space beyond the planes and their profound ability to negate or shape mana? Perhaps none. Of, course; these thoughts were just John¡¯s synthesis of the pedantic monotony of whatever researcher had written this overview. Seriously, to express ideas that could be summed in minutes over a day¡¯s worth of reading, it made John wonder if these scholars were paid by the word! But after all that tedium John¡¯s heart started to race as he found what he¡¯d been looking for. The cultivation method honed from over twenty thousand years of trial and error, a perfect path to magus and then framework to advance beyond archmage, and it all began here. ¡°Life is chaos, and mana reflects life in this way. To have mastery over one¡¯s self is to have mastery over the world. The Unsullied Spirit School tempers the mind and body to not passively gorge on mana, but to winnow out the influence of the world. Those who would learn this method must meet stringent criteria and suffer some hardships in their early path, because only through tempering and careful measure can the dross of the world be loosened, and consumed in the refining flame. First, Sever the heart. Mana links all things, and all souls long to touch and be touched. Deny this to yourself that you may become yourself. Cut all ties that bind you, even within the school, save those with your master who will guard you from outside interference. Abstain from mana: the less mana that has integrated into your soul and body, the faster you will be able to clear the intentions you¡¯d unknowingly absorbed. As you gain mastery of yourself and mana these restrictions will loosen, as our purpose is to grow within the world, not apart from it. However it is vitally important to avoid deviation from one tenet until the soul¡¯s foundation is unshakable. Abstain from sex. Even those fools that deem it as ¡®casual¡¯ and ¡®without strings¡¯ do in this way sow their own soul with a thousand seeds that will later grow to hinder them. Such mingling of the soul is anathema to the mana forms that are the heart of this technique. Go elsewhere if you cannot rise above physical pleasures and devote yourself to nurturing your perfect self.¡± What followed was a meditation and technique and a series of glyph patterns the new initiate was to form inside their consciousness. But John had not made it there as he was screaming in horror that¡­ ¡°I¡¯M GONNA DIE A VIRGIN IN THIS STRANGE MAGIC WORLD!¡± Rule #8- The greater the treasure the higher the cost. Chapter 8- Baby Steps Achieving the Novice level of Mana Cultivation Using the Unsullied Soul Path: A soon to be deleted narrative by John Campos. There are three stages, the first is achieving a state of purity, This particular school denotes purity not in any moral sense, but as a rarified sense of self purged of all the layered attachments and influences that society has imprinted on them. Depending on your point of view this is either remarkably well thought out or proof of the originator of this method¡¯s sociopathy. Based on the impressionability of mana and the mutability of persona, flesh and even soul under its influence I¡¯m going just have faith that it is the latter. This is the most time consuming part of the process, and ideally would be begun during early adolescence, but my unique circumstance puts me at pretty much even footing with those hypothetical tweens, in fact in some ways I am the ideal inheritor. I¡¯m an orphaned virgin (forever!11) that has been attuned to mana by portal hops (an odd fact that came up in the preliminary reading, frequent portalling has a similar affect to the electron aligning a cat scan could impart, passing through the transition space, even for the tiniest of moments, bombards the passenger with mana as they pass through the void, the alignment caused by resistance of passing through the medium. Why yes, there ARE negative side-affects, however did you guess? Fortunately it takes more than 5 such trips for the chance of terrible lingering death to creep up on non-cultivators.) but have absorbed almost none. So what is usually a year or so of painstaking self analysis over the reason that one feels a certain way while forcing any trace of mana out through the purity glyphs, then back inside to help dredge all the remnants of psychic residue out of one¡¯s cultivation space, will probably only take me a few hours, a day at most. Here, John saved the file and closed the laptop, confident that no one would ever be able to read it without his help. Hoping that he was correct in his assessment about how long this would take, John once again compared the circle of Higher Arcane runes that surrounded the cushions where he would be meditating until his body gave out or he succeeded. Even brushed on smooth stone with mundane paint, the impact they had on the small traces of latent mana was clear as they had started to brighten ever so slightly since they were painted. They would channel any mana inside that circle away and back out into the rest of the room. This served two purposes, it helped him attain a pure state without getting contaminated by the unprocessed mana of the world, and also taught him to cycle power quickly without radiating it or it would be lost to the suction of this formation. Most who reached this stage would have a small dense collection of mana whose only attribute was ¡®me-ness¡¯ when done. John expected to have a fine helping of nothing, but was willing to be surprised. John then settled himself onto the cushion and proceeded to write the glyph for purity on the backs of his hands, which he knew were working when they abruptly faded to almost translucence. He let out a sigh of relief. When the marks faded completely, he¡¯d be ready for the next stage. John was no expert at formal meditation, but what he did know about was getting into the zone, that perfect level of concentration where every part of his mind was consumed with the task at hand. And with that state as his goal John focused as hard as he could on the only thing that mattered in the world: Himself. He asked himself the questions suggested by his inheritance, which he had renamed the ¡°The Purity Test,¡± in a fit of whimsy. Questions designed not only to make him confront his values, but the reason that he had them. And with every question he would continue his cycle of rhythmic breaths, and imagine that he could feel the energy cycling through his body, out one hand and into the other. As he mastered the two tasks he imagined he could feel the little motes of mana in the air around them as they quickly passed out of the circle. As he setteled deeper into the circulation it almost felt like he was scratching a deep itching and clotted furrow under his skin, tossing the dirt and blood out and letting fresh water rinse it clean. Hours passed with no change, but eventually John must have developed the knack for it, as, unknown to the him lost in pondering his navel and circulating his limited trickle of mana over and over, the runes on his hands lightened and slowely faded to nothing. When John finally opened his eyes and began to move to answer the many complaints of his still mortal form, he gave an small laugh of childish delight that the marks were gone, which was soon replaced by a complete lack of dignity as he flopped around trying to rub the feeling back into his legs and buttocks. Taking stock after recovering and a quick trick to the bathroom. John returned to his laptop. By articulating his actions in writing he was able to crystallize his own thoughts and channel his small worries and doubts before each step. After the long and ardous journey of 5 hours and 36 minutes the student of the Unsullied Soul will then turn to prevention, setting up the framework by which he will absorb unnatured mana into his soul, and from there to his body and mind. This is a relatively quick process in comparison (for anyone but the author anyway), and relies on the student to create a visualization of a vast and empty space within themselves, and build balanced three dimensional figure of the purity glyph feeding into a fractal geometric shape. From here its all about mana storage. The mana flows into the purity glyph were it is filtered just as it was during the journey to a pure state, which is then guided inward to the visualized storage shape. When the mana reaches a critical mass it will force itself out of the imagined image, and then the last stage of the pre-novice will begin. Any shape can be used, but for ease of visualization a pyramid is recommended. When cultivating in a mana-poor region, like this one, the use of manastones of any tier is recommended. Which, thankfully, I have in relative abundance from this way station¡¯s treasury.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Rather than stop here as he had before, John went on to describe the third and final stage, as there would be no time for an intermission when he reached it. When the mana is sieved and compressed in the cultivation space, (which though entirely visualized somehow exists on the soul level, or is made to exist by the presence of the mana perhaps?) the mana then bridges the gap between soul and body, starting the first mana baptism. If left unguided the stray subconscious impulses of the image of myself I¡¯ve been focusing on will come to fore; heighten certain senses, improving the appearance, enhancing strength, all in an adhoc fashion. Many schools allow this to happen, but the Unsullied Soul School deems this a valuable opportunity. After so much meditation on one¡¯s self and goals, the cultivator has an opportunity to lay a pattern for future growth by carving a formation into ones very being that is self-reinforcing. Thus a glyph and a bodily location or system would be selected and meticulously meditated over so that the wave of mana would be condensed without conscious thought. Going slightly out of order, out of the countless thousands of ideas left in my inheritance, I have chosen to focus on the ideal of movement, isolated on the major joints. The path that I¡¯ve decided to travel is of course towards the ideal of mastering portals, and this glyph is the fifth most common in appearance on the mandala surrounding the gate, and, most importantly, the easiest for me to understand as completely as possible. There is also the benefit that this arrangement will make my actions graceful and increase both speed and accuracy, though perhaps not as far as someone focusing on those ideals exclusively, mine encompasses them and thus still yields the effect. Without any spells, by channeling the mana that will then be inherent to by body, I¡¯ll simply be superhumanly ¡®better¡¯ at moving. Here John paused, and began the incredibly boring process of creating both the required visualizations on sheet after sheet of drafting paper. Then he went to sleep, trying to dream about the shape and the desired path of the mana. In the morning he woke and did his exercises, forcing his mind to return to the shapes and the circulatory path over and over again, until finally, four days later and one before the expected return of his mercenaries, John found that it would require effort NOT to think of them. And so John opened the box of crystals, fell into a comfortable pose, and tried to cultivate. In the beginning, he felt like he was just wanking around. He could feel the gentle radiation from the crystals in front of him, and he tried to pull that sensation deep into the purity glyph he had burned into his mind. As more and more time passed he became sure that he was actually doing something, as he felt a pressure on his cultivation space, trying to just bypass the glyph for the vacuum in the pyramid below. John drew confidence from this resistance, and thus reassured that he was gaining traction, bore down on the belief that the mana would behave in the manner he had meditated, traveling from the mouth of the glyph to its exit, shedding psychic resonance to the small barbs and channels that filled the internal space of the glyph that injected his sense of self into the mana. Then the first drops began to enter the pyramid, and his entire mindscape shuddered under the new pressure. John grit his teeth and focused, the pyramid was unbreakable, the mana would be contained. John shook with the strain at first, but the longer the image held, the easier it became. Instead of relaxing, John reached his newly developing spiritual sense out in front of himself, trying to contain and funnel the radiant mana, and when he felt that was meekly obeying his will, tried to tap a crystal. John could feel it giving way to him like cold gelatin, but when his senses touched the condensed mana within he only felt PAIN! The tendril of his spirit dissipated and the mana bloomed in all directions. Some was siphoned to his cultivation, but the greatest part of it spread out like dye in the ocean and was lost to his senses. John struggled to keep the cycle going as his mind reeled from the shocking pain, but it slowed to a mere trickle compared to steady stream he had earlier been controlling. John just let it be, letting the mana slowly purify and condense while he recovered. There was no reason to be hasty. Quick was good, but waste was abhorrent. He needed to nurture every resource as if it was his last. While he had excellent mental focus, eventually he had to stop. The mental fatigue was too great to continue and still keep the mana wrapped up tightly in its pyramid, which he guessed to be about a third of the way full. John let his total focus relax, then blinked his eyes and moved to flip the lid back over the crystals, clucking in rueful shame at the broken and dark shards amidst the steadily glowing nest. The mana pulsed in his conscuosness, but his cultivation space was firm. John felt confident that he would be able to easily hold it until the babtism. John dreamed of pyramidal crystals budding and filling with power. Rule #9- Never try to swallow an energy source larger than your head. Also, plagiarizing an entire cosmos of great thinkers no one else has access too will make you look pretty fucking awesome.