SSD 4.58 - Heritage + Announcement

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Okay, so I'm not always functioning the best, but I have been able to get some limited access to my medication. So, I am going to supplement that with a bit of social pressure from all of you. I'm getting really close to the end of book one, and I am going to be putting out a chapter a week from now on. It will be up by each Friday, including another one this week by then.

Once book one is finished, I am going to be editing all of it, but I am committing to get through at least 10 chapters each week. I expect my main changes to happen within Arcs 2 and 3. I am aiming, not so much for plot changes, but instead to elucidate and also add to Caden's motivations.

I sometimes listen to the Writing Excuses podcast, as well as some of Brandon Sanderson's other stuff, and I think I know how to create a better driving force due to the goals and fears of the characters as a result.

And now for what everyone was waiting for:

“Stupidity has killed more adventurers than anything else. It doesn’t get listed as the cause of death, that dubious honor goes to monsters or traps. However, in the end, stupidity is the root cause.”

-Ohesidge, Veteran Adventurer and Guild Trainer

==Zidaun==

“No,” Tarrae said, shaking his head, “I didn’t mention Gurek to anyone.”

I don’t have to kill Gurek.

Weighed against everything else, I still felt guilty for my relief, but I still felt it.

I let out a sigh, sat down on the bench next to Tarrae, and slumped down against the wall.

The bench, the walls, the door, each showed only blank polished stone, except the ceiling, where an embedded crystal glowed brightly.

I hadn’t foreseen the need for a prison, and technically, this still wouldn’t work properly as one. Without restraints, rituals, or other methods of suppressing power, it was just a set of sturdy stone rooms. The doors didn’t even have proper locks, just bars of stone that could be slid into place from the outside.

Not surprising, since I had made it myself. It had only taken moments, the stone responding to me like never before. Still, it was mostly just stone, the core of the walls notwithstanding.

Honestly, with a little bit of effort, Tarrae could probably cut his way out by melting sections of the wall.

Somehow, I didn’t think that was going to happen.

Even if there weren’t guards outside, Tarrae seemed just as shaken as I was.

Even more than that, I was exhausted.

My rage, my fear, my burning conviction that an injury had been done against me, and my people… Even without any additional effects, that would have been enough to completely wipe me out.

However, there were additional effects, and my thoughts focused into the past.

=~An hour previous=

My rage mounted, even as I waited for the others, until the The System spoke to me.

Due to facing a threat you both: believe could cause harm to your linked dungeon, and believe you have the capacity to help or ameliorate, you have unlocked the hidden skill of your racial sub-type: Ancient One

Unlocked: Dungeon Incarnation (Ancient One – Unique Racial Skill)

• This skill does not level, instead scaling off both your own power and that of your linked dungeon.

• Incarnating can only be entered freely when you both: believe there is a legitimate threat to the dungeon, and you are within its aura. Incarnation can be maintained even past the point where the threat has ended. In contrast, incarnation cannot be dismissed, once activated, if you believe the threat remains.

• Even though you draw power from your linked dungeon, this skill cannot be halted or controlled by the dungeon. However, at the dungeon’s direction, you can enter incarnation when no threat is present. If this done, the available duration and mana is consumed at twice the speed, and the debuffs, restrictions, and cooldowns are doubled when the skill ends.

• Incarnation cannot occur when two dungeon’s come into direct contact and initiate conflict. A preexisting incarnation will also end immediately if such occurs.

• Incarnation ends automatically after (3) hours, regardless of whether the threat has been dealt with or not.

• You cannot leave the dungeon of your own volition while incarnated. Should you be made to leave your dungeon anyway, you will lose access to the additional mana reservoir, and the additional capacities granted by being incarnated will diminish with both time and distance from your dungeon.

• While incarnated:

  • You have access to an (3) times your maximum mana pool, which is replenished each hour, which acts as an addition to your normal mana pool and regeneration, drawn directly from the ambient mana of the dungeon. If the ambient mana is completely depleted, then this aspect of incarnation will cease to function.

  • You can use the dungeon’s skills as though they were your own, assuming you know what they are. However, unlike a dungeon, you are not limited by the presence of other sapients.

• After being incarnated:

  • You cannot incarnate again until sufficient time has passed. (53-159 hours)

  • Your mana will not regenerate, and you cannot incarnate again, until all mana drawn from the additional pool while incarnated is paid back. This mana is naturally drawn from your mana regeneration.

    • The dungeon can choose to pay this mana cost for you, at a rate of (53) for every mana spent.

  • You suffer various debuffs relative to your use of mana, time spent incarnated, and the difference in your level relative to the dungeon. The debuffs will diminish or grow afterwards, as though they had been acquired naturally.

• Indicated (values), will change as you and the dungeon grow in power.

At any other time, it would have been a cause for celebration.

I had tapped into my heritage, and in doing so, become more capable of helping both the dungeon, and my people.

As it was, the first thing I dealt with was the consequences of the skill itself.

My view expanded massively; the tiny area I could see and feel with my body only barely managed to anchor me against the vast flood of information.

It wasn’t just sight, or sounds, I could feel every stress in the stone, I could feet a million tiny footsteps as humans, monsters, insects, and other beings continued the simple business of being alive.

And the sensations went on and on.

I wrestled with it, the sheer scope of it beyond my comprehension.

If I hadn’t already had experience tapping into a dungeon’s aura, it would have taken me far longer to focus back to just myself. Even then, I knew that my touch was only the barest emulation, but now I truly knew how shallowly my previous use of its aura had actually been.

Caden, Exsan…

I shook my head.

Their power was unbelievable. Just the slight power I had borrowed was enough to further ignite my devotion.

I contemplated the power waiting at my hands.

The power of gods.

Even without fully tapping into it, I could feel it. The lines of aura were crisply detailed, and far more intricate than I had imagined, each layer of intricacy only serving as the foundation for another layer, in an endless repeating pattern.

And mana rushed through the aura like winds gushing through a forest, making the delicate hooks and lines of gossamer webbing tremble like leaves.

I was at the center of that effect, a maelstrom of mana flowing through me and then pouring out again, ready to be used at any moment. I was at the center of a loop of potential, the power simply waiting for direction.

At any other time, I might have used it to help my people, to raise up buildings, to find or create resources, or any of a thousand other uses.

I detected others entering my expanded aura, and my thoughts flickered back toward my purpose.

Two of the higher level Adar arrived while I was waiting, their gazes reflecting an echo of my own worship as they detected my surging power.

They didn’t say anything, simply bowing after they entered.

“You, over there,” I pointed at one of them and gestured to one side of the room, then pointed at the other and indicted the other side of the room. “You, there.”

“Yes, Ancient One,” they responded reverently.

Some residual discomfort protested the full title, but I squashed it ruthlessly.

Right now, I am an Ancient One.

My team arrived only a minute or two later, following Izradi into the building. The proximity of our housing had facilitated a quick arrival. Izradi ushered them into the room moments later, entering himself after a gesture from me.

Whatever expression my face carried, it was enough to give my group pause.

Firi was the first to speak.

“Zidaun, what’s wrong?”

I settled myself, doing my best to calm the rage that wanted to lash out, to demand answers.

I held up a hand, “One moment.”

For the first time, I reached out to use the power I held.

Mana crystals grew unseen within the walls, filling with power as they did so.

They didn’t obscure my sight right now, but they would have before. And the contained power would obfuscate other forms of detection, as well. Layers of metal grew afterwards, containing bubbles of air and water, meant to obfuscate vibrations. I thought of what I wanted, thinking back to how the dungeon constantly shaped its environment. With that thought, something else imposed itself over the boundaries of the room, as well. A stillness settled into place, blocking sound, damping down heat, limiting motion.

The room was as secure as I could make it.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I had done at the end, save that some aspect of the dungeon’s capabilities had responded to my need.

If someone could listen in through this, then there was nothing more I could do about it.

I’m not sure how much the others could detect of what I had done, but both Firi and Inda were looking at the walls, their brows wearing matching furrows.

Gurek, on the other hand, was looking at me, his eyes just a touch too wide.

Deep inside, I felt a small bit of me wither. He hadn’t said anything, but I knew.

“Gurek,” I said softly, “what did you do?”

==The Present==

Gurek had done quite enough, as it had turned out, just with some talk and managing to give away the artifact.

Enough to spill a secret, even if he wasn’t likely to bear the consequences.

I had ordered Izradi and the guards to say nothing of Gurek’s confession, my fear for Gurek sufficient to amplify my own rage at his carelessness.

A rage that carried me through into making this prison, the stone leaping up eagerly under my direction, the power effortlessly moving at my direction, and costing practically nothing. Even the safeguards built into the walls, to reduce the odds of eavesdropping, were a minor cost.

Once I had Tarrae in a cell, however, I let the incarnation fall away. I had felt the approach of the next hour, instinctively knowing that I would have to pay back the hour in full, if I allowed it to arrive.

And the threat, well, the threat was not really a threat anymore. It had never been a real threat to begin with. My fear that the artifact somehow completely let Gurek disregard his oath, that he could communicate through it without restrictions…

My only choice would have been to kill him, to extinguish the threat.

And, even though Gurek was able to assuage my concerns in that regard… if Tarrae had told anyone of his involvement…

I still would have ended up killing him, though this time it would have been borne out of a different necessity.

I despised that necessity. The need to protect our secrets was great enough to drive me, but not enough to overcome my disgust. The disgust at myself, that I would need to kill a good man, for a stupid mistake.

As in an echo of my thoughts, Tarrae broke the silence.

“What comes next?”

I sighed, which somehow only made my exhaustion worse, before I replied.

“Now? Now I arrange for an announcement… and an execution.”

My tone wasn’t angry anymore, it was just tired and sad, and I continued after a moment.

“Your decision wasn’t political, your country played no part in it.” I paused with a sigh. “Tsary is safe.”

That much, at least, I could offer on my own. Even if some of the others ended up disagreeing. Unless I had completely misread the situation and evidence came to light of some complicity, it wouldn’t be necessary to kill millions.

Tarrae swallowed, and shakily nodded his head, tears making silent tracks down his face.

“Right,” he said, before continuing with a slight tremor to his voice. “And, what about my family?”

“I’ll spare as many as I can,” I replied, a tear surprising me as it fell and hit one of my hands. I reached up to feel that my own face was streaked with tears. “None of the children will die. I’ll spare anyone who didn’t do anything public, even if they helped. The people who reached out to others, and anyone your family convinced to spread it… they will end up dying. Anyone who obviously and publicly flouted our secret.”

Tarrae slumped further into himself.

“I… didn’t think.”

For a moment, I felt a flash of my previous rage, roaring up like a fire, but it soon crumbled back to ash. It served no purpose now.

What use is castigating a condemned man?

Instead, I let myself fill with compassion, and reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder.

“I know,” I said, before repeating it again with another sigh. “I know.”

For moment, there was only silence between us, the stone carrying nothing more than the echoes of slightly stuttered breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Tarrae said, finally. “What you said before… I’m sorry to make you do this. It’s,” he stuttered for a moment, before continuing, “it’s okay.”

He turned and looked me in the eyes, his own eyes red, with silvery wet lines catching the light. His jaw firmed for a moment before he continued.

“This was my fault. Don’t blame yourself for doing what you have to. I forgive you, you are just… I killed myself.”

There was a brief pause before Tarrae chuckled. There was no mirth to it, only the rhythmic sound that echoed back hollowly from the walls.

“My family was always worried about me becoming an adventurer, you know?” he said, looking at me. “They thought I would die, that some monster would get me, or a trap…” he trailed off for a moment. “Nope, instead it was my own stupidity…”

His words trailed off, and Tarrae laughed before breaking down into heaving sobs.

There was little I could do for him, but I offered what peace I could.

“I forgive you, too,” I said, my voice voice barely more than a whisper, as I squeezed his shoulder.

The only sign he heard me was the momentary increase in his sobs intensity, and the hand he used to grab my wrist, squeezing tightly.

I stayed there with him for long moments, his hand clutching at my arm with the desperation of a drowning man.