After they finished greeting the Rohese crew and giving nods to the Geomancers, Lassim was struck by the Geomancer team’s imposing features—each man’s and woman’s forearms were encased in glowing crystals that ranged in hue from deep amethyst to vibrant sapphire. Their robust arms glistened and sparkled under the midday sun.
Hallen caught Lassim’s attention and pointed towards a nearby cliff section where several poles topped with glowing blue orbs formed a perimeter. "The geomancer team here," he began, gesturing towards the men and women, "start their work by growing the necessary crystals on solid ground in a mini-farm plot style."
One of the Geomancers, a large man with streaks of jade crystals embedded along his arms, overheard them and walked over. "That’s right," he said in a deep, gravely, rumbling voice. "We use these poles to create a field where the crystals can grow. The blue line you see connects the poles, setting the boundaries and enhancing the field’s mana concentration for our technique."
Lassim watched with fascination as two of the Geomancers began their work. They stood at opposite ends of the marked area, their hands moving through the air in intricate patterns, almost like dancers performing a slow, deliberate ballet.
As they moved, they sprinkled a fine powder into the soil, which sparkled briefly upon contact.
"The powders are a mix of ground minerals and condensed mana crystals. We call it crystal seeds," explained the jade-armored Geomancer. "Once the seeds are mixed with the soil and infused with our mana, our technique prompts the rapid growth of new crystals with the necessary strength, density, and mana pathways required for the floating arrays."
As if on cue, the ground within the marked area began to tremble slightly. Tiny points of light emerged, slowly at first, then quicker, as dozens of small crystals pushed their way up through the earth, reaching toward the sky like thirsty plants.
"Next comes the engraving," the Geomancer continued. He led Lassim to a table where another Geomancer was meticulously carving runes into a set of larger, already harvested crystals.
"These runes will grant buoyancy to the cliff. It’s delicate work—each rune must be perfectly aligned with the crystal’s natural lattice. What makes the timeline for this project so long is that not every crystal is viable for the technique. We have nearly a 90% failure rate on most of the crystals we grow, as they lack certain aspects during the quick growing process.
We can reduce it down to about a 40% failure rate if we slow down the process, so we have two teams working at once. For this job, we’ll have one smaller team manage a slow growth plot for the main crystals and then use the fast growing plot for the auxiliary crystals needed for the array."
Lassim watched at another area of the set up where a Geomancer’s hands moved with precision, the tip of a small chisel guided by years of expertise, as she worked on engraving a 3 meter long crystal laid on its side.
Each tap resonated a tiny hum of energy, the air around the forming rune line lit up with sparks with each time she chipped away at its surface.
"Once the crystals are prepared and the runes set, we will embed them at strategic points along the cliff’s base," said the foreman, joining their small group. Their current guide gave a nod before returning to their duties, passing off the tour explanations to the two bosses of the project; it was better for the heads to be chatting away instead of the employees anyways.
The Geomancer foreman was an older man, his forearms a tapestry of crystals and unique rune lines, evidence of a lifetime and depth in his craft. "The embedding process is critical. We use elemental nature magic to mold the land to integrate the crystals smoothly into the cliff face. We bend the soil out of the way, before locking it into place to ensure they won’t dislodge or crack under strain."
Lassim was impressed by the meticulous operation and the unique way of combining magical techniques into the building process. "And after that?" he asked, eager to understand the complete approach.
The foreman smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of pride. "Then we raise it. Slowly, carefully, making sure everything remains stable. At that stage, it takes about an entire month to ensure all is well. Once the cliff is aloft, we will then build bridges and platforms.
When that is all firmly secured and it’s in its proper position, your Rohese family will come in to do their part under the Prince and Princesses’ direction for design."
The explanation left Lassim amazed at the precision required and collaborative effort involved.
Lassim spent several more hours observing the Geomancers, their skilled hands deftly engraving runes into the burgeoning crystals. He bombarded them with questions about the process, eager to understand the intricacies of their engraving work.
However, the Geomancers held their secrets close, explaining that only those sworn to the kingdom with an affinity for the Nature element could delve deeper into their arts.
Lassim, bound neither to the kingdom nor blessed with the required elemental talent, accepted this with a mixture of resignation and respect.
That night, back at the residence gifted to them by the Aetheria Kingdom, the atmosphere was tinged with a quiet solemnity.
In the room he shared with Hallen, Lassim broke the silence. "I’ll leave tomorrow to begin my journey south," he said, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of parting.
Hallen looked at him, his expression a mix of pride and sadness. "You’ve grown on me much since we started this journey, Young Master. I’ve enjoyed our time together greatly. You’ll always be welcome in my caravan and I can’t wait to see the kind of warrior you’ll grow into after joining the Lightning Sect. Make sure to sleep well tonight, and we’ll send you off in the morning."
The dawn was breaking as Lassim stepped out the next morning, the early light casting long shadows on the road that lay ahead.
After bidding farewell to Hallen and the crew, he began his venture south.
The familiar paved roads of Etherys soon gave way to wilder paths as Lassim stepped off the merchant roads.
According to his map, he was able to cut across the plateau using shortcuts between the different roads through the untouched landscape. Thickets overgrown and untamed trails made it a challenge to cross, but he trudged through the nature.
As he walked, Lassim engaged in an inner dialogue with Mari and Zaphy to pass the time.
"Whelp, it’s just us now," he mused aloud, feeling their comforting presence in his mind. "But I’m glad I have you two to keep me company. I wonder how Lustria and Sirium are doing?"
Mari’s voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in his thoughts, "I’m certain they are doing well and have helped fully restore the academy by this point. I’m glad to have you as my kin as well, child."
Zaphy, ever the spirited one, added, "Hey now! We have just started! Let’s enjoy this adventure! There’s much to see and do—Like look at that weird plant over there! It’s wiggly around so creepily! Neat-o!
I wanna also see what’s so great about this lightning sect! Let’s not get all moody right at the beginning!"
With their words bolstering his spirits, Lassim continued his march.
Thinking ahead to his first upcoming major encounter, Lassim pulled out the book on the spider queen’s language he had been given by the cartographer.
As Lassim traversed the expansive network of bridges that crisscrossed the plateaus of Aetheria, he practiced the complex clicks and sibilant whispers of their tongue. Each phrase he uttered made him feel a step closer to eventually reaching the arachnid kingdom. He occasionally cross referenced that book with the general lexicon of all languages to see if there was additional information.
Luckily, it seemed the thicker, more intricate lexicon with the dial mechanism had tips for mastering the basic phonetic structures of the languages contained within and the section on the Spider Queen’s language was extensive.
As Lassim traversed the expansive plateaus of Aetheria with their network of bridges that crisscrossed and connected them together, he approached his next major checkpoint.
The landscape varied between the rugged cliffs that plummeted into deep, obscured depths and a mountain side that went downwards; much like the original journey up into the plateaus.
His goal was a bridge just a bit to the east of him in the distance, where he would then be able to make his way back down in elevation.
As he neared the cliff’s edge to gauge his path, a sudden, overwhelming spiritual pressure seized him.
Rooted to the spot, Lassim felt every instinct in his body scream for escape, but his limbs were shackled by an invisible force.
Paralyzed, he could only watch as a figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby crystalline tree.
The man was impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, an oddity in the wild, his presence as sharp as the elegantly dangerous miséricorde he brandished, gently swaying its tip up and down as he approached. The blade twisted with dark, void-like energy, matched the odd madness flickering in his eyes.
As the man greeted Lassim, his speech was fervent, bordering on maniacal.
"Oh, the Harbinger arrives, just as foretold!" he exclaimed with a disturbing zeal. "I’ve seen you, oh yes, watched, admired even! As you danced with the power of twin elements themselves! Oh how glorious you were, O’ Harbinger, at the martial tournament. Not just anyone can harness such power—oh no, it is a sign, a glorious sign!"
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The man ripped open his tuxedo jacket with a dramatic flourish, revealing a large, grotesque tattoo of a horned skull with eyes that swirled with a void’s darkness.
"I am Mercy, humble servant of the Dragal, the true saviors of our doomed Nexaria," he declared, his voice rising in pitch. "Come! Accept this mark as your own! It is not just ink; it is a covenant with the abyss, a sacred bond with the darkness with the true lords of this universe!"
Mercy stepped closer, his eyes wide with fanaticism. "Join us, oh mighty Harbinger! The Dragal is the salvation this pitiful world so desperately seeks. Why should the masses toil and suffer, their lives a meaningless scramble in the dirt? Why, oh why, must the youth be forced by some Elder Gods to fight against the true lords of the universe?
Why must Nexaria suffer for scraps of power when it is all meaningless? They need release, salvation from their endless, pathetic struggles. We offer that mercy—the mercy of eternal nothingness!"
His gestures grew more animated, the miséricorde slicing through the air as if conducting a symphony of madness. The tip of its blade touched the skin of Lassim neck, "Imagine the power at your fingertips O’ Harbinger! The lords shall grant you power not just to destroy this pitiful world but to unmake this horrid reality we’ve been thrust into!
With your abilities, under the Dragal’s enhancement of abyssal energies, you could tear down the old, usher in a new epoch! An era where you are king, where the lords reign supreme and the old, corrupt orders and laws of this world are swept away! We can join their great expansion and join their glorious empire!"
Mercy leaned in, his breath foul, almost as if his own insides were corrupted too, "This is not just an offer; it is destiny! YOUR DESTINY! Embrace it! Join the legion, and lead the abyss into this world and accept true power! Refuse, and watch as this world crumbles under the weight of its lofty ambitions and failure, its people crying out for the mercy you denied them!"
Lassim, still immobilized, listened with a mixture of horror and disbelief to Mercy’s ranting.
The madman’s words, laced with dark promises and apocalyptic visions, painted a chilling picture. He recalled Hallen’s warning about the supposed cult and now… suddenly… he was suppressed and threatened by one of its zealots.
His heart pounded…