HTG - Chapter 192

Kalon

Chapter One-Hundred-Ninety-Two: Sha - Part Two

Planet: Etheria

Dargo’s hands move in a blur of movement that causes the winds to stir around us. Runes drawn with deft hands appear in the air all around Arkon. The swell of Etheric maka trembles as it pulls from the very air we breathe and moves to his will.

His control of maka is… incredible. His expression is calm despite his task. In between movements he provides instructions, “Adana’s seventh is arguably the best rune set for keeping Netheric forces from an Etheric body, it slows the rate of absorption of static Netheric mana by nearly fifty percent.” His hand traces a new pattern, “It is a staple to use in these situations, however given his condition that will only slow the inevitable. We need to create a great influx of pure Etheric mana into his body, which,” he gives an eye to me, “unlike yours will readily exchange the imbalanced amount of Netheric for Etheric.”

Most of this, besides the runes, I already knew from the Sage. He taught Arrum and me that mana in the body has its own balance it desires. Using too much Etheric for a normal person causes the balance to inverse, with the normally low levels of Netheric becoming the majority it changes the polarity of attraction.

“Explain what I am saying,” he says, moving his hand to form more complex rune sets that seem to interact with each other strangely.

“You wish to infuse a large amount of Etheric mana to change the polarity back before he begins the changing.”

“Yes. Unlike normal bounders, those in the higher bounds have more difficulty switching back, and they change into Krothaspawn faster.”

Interesting, I didn’t know that, but it makes sense.

“How much faster?”

He wipes his brow, his expression becoming strained, “The higher you go, the faster it happens. For Arkon, maybe a few hours at most.”

Arkon groans, red light paints one of his irises. Fast indeed.

“He’s lucky we’re on a world that’s extremely saturated with Etherium. If we were on the surface of your home world for example, he’d likely already be too far gone.”

“Why didn’t we notice sooner?” I ask, looking at his armor, “Does this hide mana?”

He nods, “That is Ulatar, an extremely impractical amount in my opinion, however it seems to have helped protect him and Kotina from the blast.”

“What is so special about it?”

He wipes his brow again, “It is the only substance in existence that can negate Etherium and Netherium. Given enough velocity and the right shape and potency, both Etherium and Netherium can pierce the hull of any ship in the galaxy.”

“Which would mean they could pierce any armor except this?”

“Correct. This one acts in the same way as regular shards with the single distinction that it is inert. It doesn’t hold energy, so it disperses it instead.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, watching his next set begin to glitter and float towards the ground around us.

“Imagine mana as a stream of water that wants to constantly be in motion. Most things in the universe are like sponges for it, especially living things which actively attract it with their souls. Ulatar is like a metal plate that water moves around, in some cases, it can even store water under pressure, like you see with Etherium and Netherium. Though the bond is always different with each shard, some lean more Etheric and some Netheric. A skilled person can even destabilize the fluctuations of shards and…” he looks at me strangely for a second, “Best not to give you ideas for blowing things up,” he turns to look at the broken landscape, “You’re already proficient enough in that. Anyway, it doesn’t absorb mana of either type. Therefore, in a fight with refined and properly smithed Etherium and Netherium weapons, it is incredibly useful in small quantities. Thin armor meshes to prevent shrapnel and cuts in vital spots, or even bullets that are tipped with it. Though those are usually made with crude Netherium. Prone to shattering on impact for maximum disbursement and difficulty in extraction.”

“I have witnessed those,” I say, recalling when Dallus tried to subdue Luna with weapons like that, “But you are wrong about Ulatar, old man.”

Dargo is sweating profusely as he wipes his brow again, he must be low on Etheric maka. Given that he tried to protect me earlier during the blast. He looks at me with a weary expression, “Wrong?”

“It can hold mana.”

“Yes, I said it can in shards.”

“You said it can’t absorb mana of either type.”

“It can’t,” his brow furrows, “It’s complicated. But it’s why you can’t combine shards physically. Each shard is unique and slightly different in its composition. The amount of Etheric mana it will hold before shattering into smaller shards and dispersing the excess mana, or the amount of Netherium it can hold inversely before shattering.”

I blink at him, “I created a shard using the black dust that you call Ulatar.”

His brow furrows, a look of confusion streaking across it, “You… what?”

There isn’t the same disbelief in his eyes from before he saw my body break down the shard. There is skepticism, but not true disbelief.

“Also, old man,” I say, placing a hand on Arkon’s shoulder, “I don’t need your fancy runes to rebalance him.”

Existence pulses as I press my will outward and call to all the fractured shards of Etherium around us. Every small piece, even the ones that the eye cannot perceive. All of them answer the call of Sha, the feeling from the Legacy that Amon showed me is ripe in my mind as I converge it all towards my palm. Becoming the conduit for the Etheric maka to flow and press into Arkon’s Netheric body.

His body drinks the Etheric readily giving back the Netheric… but the depth is more than I expected. He is like an endless ocean. Everything I pull is taken in but the bottom never shifts to Etheric.

I can’t fix him… his well of maka is too deep.

“Interesting,” Dargo says, plucking one of the tiny shards out of the air, he looks at me struggling, so weary he barely hides his smirk, “You were saying?”

My brow furrows, how much maka does Arkon normally possess?

A figure steps into my perception, it is Amon. His face looks more tired than Dargo’s. He pauses to look at Dargo for a moment before he looks away. His words find my mind.

You are needed in the Soul Realm… whatever you are doing here can wait. Ask Dargo to come as well, we need all the help we can get.

I squint at him, “Why?”

It is easier to show you. Trust me when I say, you do not have the luxury of time. Whatever is happening, it will become catastrophic soon enough. We need your help to stabilize it.

Looking at Arkon then back to Amon, I say, “Now is not a good time, how long do I have?”

He blinks at me, shaking his head.

You do not have long.

“I feel fine though,” I say, confused as I ponder it more, “I feel better than I have ever felt.”

Dargo looks at me then shifts his gaze around, unable to see Amon as I do.

“Who are you talking to?” Dargo asks.

“Amon.”

His expression changes but words do not find his tongue.

Tell Dargo that your soul is destabilizing the reality of your soul realm.

“He says to tell you that my soul is destabilizing the reality of my soul realm.”

Dargo’s expression remains strange, like he is lost for words, after a moment he manages to ask, “He can speak?”

“Yes, old man, better than you even. Less riddles.”

“But how?” he whispers, then suddenly he shakes his head, “Destabilizing you said?”

I nod.

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking at Arkon then back to me, “Ask him how serious it is.”

Amon’s voice tremors in my thoughts.

Tell him worse than Ganard the Peerless after he tried to double bound.

“Worse than someone named Ganard.”

Dargo swallows, shaking his head again like he’s been pulled from a dream, his eyes blink fast, “Well, shit. I can’t help both of you.”

Arkon’s hand grips Dargo, his eyes opening slowly to reveal the red glow, his voice is distorted as he growls, “Do not let him die…”

Dargo exhales a shaky breath and nods. Standing slowly and whipping a few runes into place, “We can try to patch your soul and then come back to him.” He breathes out, “Master if you’re here and you can hear me, some assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

“Master?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “Focus, boy, we need to set up a soul circle. One that will allow you to let me into your realm so that I can at least attempt to stop your soul from shattering. He grumbles more, “I told you there might be consequences for your rapid ascent.”

There is apprehension in me, Arkon does not look well, and I feel perfectly fine. There is trust between Amon and I, but I do not know Dargo well. I am wary to let him into my soul realm. Already having had my fill of Krotha and her minions polluting it.

“I think you should help Arkon first, then we can figure out what is wrong with me.”

“Boy, this is not a debate.”

Amon echoes the sentiment.

If you do not address this now, everything you have suffered will have been for naught. Do not linger here, this is urgent. Without the soul, the body withers and dies.

Vek.

The wind strikes my face again, blowing my matted black hair in thick strands. Why are there so few moments of peace in my tumultuous life? Why can’t I just embrace the slow breeze and reminisce with those I hold dear? Why does everything always feel so hard fought?

My eyes lower, watching Dargo trace a circle that feels strangely familiar. The Sage used to draw those in ink and dirt with Arrum and me. He said it was an old religious thing, but that it served little purpose… strange how similar it is. The similarity reminds me of words he spoke to me as a boy.

There is a time and a place to feel sorry for oneself.

When I asked him when, he said… never.

Resolve builds in me as I hollow out all self pity and focus myself for what I must do.

I sit across from Dargo and close my eyes. The faster we do this, the faster he can help Arkon. Me resisting will only hurt Luna’s father. I will not be the reason for his death. She does not deserve to lose anyone else.

“Let’s do this, old man.”

Time flexes in my perception as I find the place in my mind’s eye that leads to the Realm of Dreams.

***

Realm of Dreams

***

Pressure… unbelievable pressure saturates the air. Heat that cuts with frigid cold. It is chaos in every sense of the word. Even gravity ebbs and flows in different directions. Red and blue light fracture the sky in an array of angry hues that battle one another but never mix into purple.

The waters of the dream realm are like mountainous waves that rise past the clouds and crash against each other.

It’s so disorienting that it takes me a few minutes to find my bearing. The waves crash against me, pushing me deep beneath the waters.

It is madness. Sound howls as a portal of light opens above me and I see Dargo falling from it. He crashes into the waves near me, swimming to the surface with wide eyes as he stares into the sky that tremors with rage.

Water falls upwards and down.

Ice hardens the waves and moments later they shatter and boil away.

Riding the motion of the wave, I pivot myself to glide toward Dargo.

Dargo wipes the water from his eyes like it will help him find truth and utters, “What the hells…”