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This was, hands down, the hardest image I've ever made. Capturing all the individual parts was nearly impossible. Fortunately, Flux-2 let me break the tasks into segment. Thus, I was able to create a Sylvia statue and a troll statue independently before assembling them and adding a background.
Sadly, it's not quite there. There's a few parts of this statue's description that simply aren't met. However, I burnt a whole month of AI tokens making this happens. Thus, it'll stay like this until a better version of Flux is released.
That said, it was a fun experience. AI has come a long way since I made my first images. It's just that the large jump are no longer one of core quality, but rather in completeness of function.
-oOo- Chapter 63-oOo-
Pastel pink eyes studied a collection of buckets. Held within them was an array of mysterious solids, essences of various flavors, each with their own impact and effect. To choose between them was difficult. The wrong substance would stain this moment for centuries.
Such a heavy weight to bear on her tiny shoulder.
“Two scoops of the strawberry ice cream for my darling Sylvia,” Esmeralda chimed in, her voice the intervention of a devil.
Dully, Sylvia turned her eyes up. How? How could Emmy just bungle forward, ruining the entire plot? Sylvia let out a sigh then addressed the obvious.
“Please tell me you didn’t pick strawberry because it’s pink.”
Esmeralda wore a delightful smile. There was no girlish giggle, but Sylvia could see the teasing light shimmering in twin nebulae of umbral green.
“Sylvia, my dear, you will never go wrong with pink,” the emerald-haired woman declared with great authority.
Sylvia stared.
“With my hair and complexion, you know I look better in black,” Sylvia replied, words as bland as they were ruthless. The silver-haired witch turned to the man behind the booth. “Based on our selection criteria, Emmy wants a cone of mint chocolate chip.”
Amused by their play, the vendor placed two lumps of ‘strawberry ice cream’ in Sylvia’s cone.
Of course, this wasn’t ice cream as the mortals on Earth knew it. To start, the Cloud Island Wilderness didn’t have strawberries. In fact, there was no equivalent to the strawberry in all the netherworld. A great loss to be sure. Therefore, to create this strawberry flavor, three berries had been cooked and blended to create a color and taste were similar to the original.
Milk, fortunately, was a substance the netherworld had in abundance. Phantasmal beast often echoed the creatures of Earth and mammals had been around for millions of years. Though there were no cows native to the Cloud Island Wilderness they had imported several.
With these two ingredients, the right skills, and a lot of trial and error the chef had successfully created Nether Frost.
Sylvia took her cone, ki flowing into the frozen scoops to sooth the fragile essence. Experimentally, the petite witch extended her pink tongue. A rich, creamy flavor combined with a sweet tartness. There was a subtle wrongness to the ‘strawberry’, but not an unpleasant one.
“You are so adorable,” Emmy praised, accepting her own cone. “And there can be no doubt, green is very much my color.”
Playfully, the emeraldette span on a toe. The witch’s skirt fluttered, ruffles of green underneath the white.
Today, Sylvia and Emmy were wearing matching outfits.
The body of their dresses was white, accented with frills, laces, and trimming from one of two colors. Pink for Sylvia. Green for Esmeralda. Beneath their skirts they wore elegantly embroidered stockings paired with slingback heels, all cutely adorned with bows and ribbons.
Such an outfit wasn’t complete without a hat. And a witch’s hat, Esmeralda had provided. The wide brim was white with a proud cone. Around the base was wrapped a colored bow, complemented by a puff of flowers. All this was planned by Emmy. When the emeraldette suggested the idea, Sylvia had thought the clothes would be stately instead of cute.
She should’ve known better. Esmeralda shared Emily’s predisposition, which was to always choose the outfit for Sylvia first and herself second.
“That’ll cost you one ‘sylvia’, ladies,” the vendor reminded, looking rather smug.
Sylvia glowered. Face hidden behind her hand, Emmy tittered, her sweet laugh like bells. Smiling, the emerald-haired woman placed a silver coin on the counter.
The official imagery for Cloud Cash had been decided. On the back of every coin were the branches of Yaalon cast over Pyrinas. The four poles were rotated forty-five degrees, placing Starlight in the upper left. On each coin’s front was a face, the Cloud Island Wilderness’s official motto scrawled underneath: Semper Quaerite Utopia – forever seek utopia. The slogan had been picked by Lucifer. The Devil was a madman obsessed with idea of paradise.
But Sylvia didn’t reject the idea. Though the source of their slogan was questionable, the resolve behind it was admirable. Decay was the natural state of the universe. If one did not strive for a better world, what they’d see was a nation made ever worse.
Her problem was the faces. Or to be specific, a face.
On the gold was imprinted Nithe’s fearsome mug. Which was fitting. What fantasy world didn’t use gold dragons? A world without any aesthetic sense. If Sylvia’s fellow gamers had missed the opportunity, she would’ve berated them for centuries.
The copper broke convention, playfully stamped with a cartoon cloud. Yes. That’s right. It was Cloudy McCloudface. The two time winner of the currency naming poll had made his epic return. Secretly, Sylvia found the smiling ball of fluff hilarious. Her fellow gamers, however, were sure she was infuriated. Which was why they’d spent several months flashing copper coins in her face whenever she walked passed.
Which would’ve been annoying, if Sylvia rage wasn’t reserved for the silver.
Thanks to her dango fanboy lunatics, her cute visage had won the race. And to think, she’d foolishly ignored their madness. Never again. The next time they dreamed up some cheesecake insanity, she was going to throw all her weight against it.
Seriously, what was wrong with those idiots? Sylvia wasn’t just a witch, she was the corrupt governor of the plane. A tyrant shouldn’t be so popular. Was the problem, as Emmy insisted, that Sylvia was too, too cute? Then again, the root of the issue might be the gamers on Earth. None of those fools knew better.
Regardless, the damage was done. Sylvia was now forced to grit her teeth when items were priced in ‘sylvias’.
B-dring.
A little bell rang as the ladies slipped out of Nether Frost.
“How does it taste?” Emmy questioned with a teasing smile.
Sylvia was tempted to say ‘pink’, but as a connoisseur of the delicious arts, she’d never sink so low.
“The strawberry isn’t strawberry,” Sylvia explained. “The flavor is almost there, but retains an artificial undertone while lacking the foundational texture. They would’ve wiser to take strawberry as an inspiration before emphasizing the sweetness of the actual fruits.”
Esmeralda blinked. Then she shyly looked at her untouched cone.
Sylvia smirked. “How’s yours?”
“Mmm,” Emmy hummed.
An impish smile crossed the lady’s lips. Without hesitation, she took a large bite from the frozen cream. Then Esmeralda stepped close, kissing Sylvia straight on the lips.
Cold cream stood suspended between their warm tongues. Then, the rich, sweet flavor melted into her mouth. Left behind was the chilling freshness of mint and a dark flavor that hinted at chocolate.
“How about you tell me?” Lady Vallenfelt challenged huskily as she drew back.
Sylvia took a moment to settle the quivering trill of her crystal heart.
“I think... yours might be better than mine,” Sylvia answered, a little breathless. Then her eyes sharpened. Her mouth curved into a devilish smile. “But first, let's remove all the variables that might’ve thrown off my judgment.”
“A wise decision,” Emmy replied with enticing sweetness. “The truth cannot be known until the every possible error is controlled.”
Oh, Emmy wanted to play too? In that case, Sylvia took a bite from her own cone then kissed the emerald-haired beauty. Their tongues entangled, bodies close enough for a warm embrace. Lips parted, a warm glow adorning Esmeralda’s elegant cheeks.
Time stood still. Then Emmy’s gaze veered, her expression turning cold.
“We best move on,” she said forcefully. “Our public affection has drawn eyes.”
Sylvia shot an annoyed look at the gathering crowd. Men and women were staring. Some gave a simple glance, walking by with a joyful smile. Others stared with curious interest, wondering at the event or compiling the latest gossip. A few, slimier individuals wore broad smirks. Laughing, they joked and leered at the hot chicks.
The vilest, however, were those who watched with an expression of disgust. Perhaps a couple of those just hated public displays of affection, but the rest….
Bigotry was an aspect of human nature. Society could amplify or weaken the proclivity, but to eliminate it entirely was impossible. Like theft, rape, and murder, this darkness lurked in the human heart.
And as long is it stayed in that heart, Sylvia had no choice but to endure. Because people couldn’t decide their own feelings.
But should they let that monster out, spewing foul hate on the streets or forums? Then Sylvia would remind them that she was an evil witch by cursing them to weeks of misery using fated request. What? She should be the bigger woman? Banana pudding. Morality was a two-way street. If that scum dreamed of a predatory society where they could feel strong by stomping on a person’s face, then Sylvia would ‘kindly’ grant their wish with all the malice of a monkey’s paw.
Soft fingers intertwined with Sylvia’s dainty hand, drawing her from dark thoughts. Head held high, Lady Vallenfelt strutted past the scattered crowd. Pastel pink eyes, as cold as the distant universe within, gave a final glance to their watchers.
Sylvia licked of her ice cream cone. “Is Nether Frost one of yours?”
A golden speckle hung on the horizon, the sun half hidden by the hills to the south of Axis. The dying rays shimmered like a blanket of gold cast over the Viridian River. Sylvia and Emmy walked beside this riveting image, their high heels clicking on the stone path.
“I cannot say,” Emmy answered, nibbling at her cone. “Recently, I’ve been divesting specific enterprises and folding my shares into a holding company. Given our influence on the industry, it is likely I have some degree of control, but without studying the financial statements, I do not know for sure.”
“How very organized,” Sylvia commented blandly.
“Organization lends itself to efficiency,” Emmy chided. “We are far too busy as ladies to refrain from such.”
Ain’t that the truth. Sylvia knew her investments had suffered from her chaotic approach. The silver-haired witch had been happily throwing capital hither and fro, dreaming of tasty treats rising like flowers from her randomly scattered seeds.
Still, she had no intention of changing her wild ways.
“As long as we have restaurants, I consider my money well spent,” Sylvia defended. “Swift Brooms and Wells and Swallow are where I earn my income.”
The two crested a bridge.
Arched stone crossed over the Viridian River, the deep blue-green water flowing beneath. The sun had settled, the last ember of gold having seconds of life. Emmy turned, hands behind her back. The fading orange-red light shimmered off a wave of emeralds, highlighting the brown hidden in Esmeralda’s glimmering locks.
Sylvia’s heart lurched, remembering the brunette. Wistful nostalgia made Lady Vallenfelt all the more beautiful.
A universe of fractal pink gazed into gorgeous, umbral eyes. Sylvia’s mouth went dry. Words hung like a lump in her throat. She could feel the phantom of her human heart pounding as she quietly summoned a tiny, black box.
“Sometimes, I can’t help but to be stunned by how beautiful you’ve become,” Emmy said softly.
“I’ll never be as beautiful as you,” Sylvia returned, just as gentle.
She gulped, struggling to make real the words in her heart.
“For me, you’ve always been more beautiful,” Emmy said, her sweet voice filled with love. She paused, just for the briefest moment. “Sylvia Swallows, will you marry me?”
Ah….
Mouth open, Sylvia stood frozen in place, her right hand extended. A black box rested in her palm. For an eternal second, everything seemed to stop. Then the sun’s last flicker died. A shadow fell upon the world. Under this dark shroud, Emmy’s giggle was like celestial illumination, the sound forever carved into Sylvia’s heart.
“Sylvia, you shouldn’t make a lady wait,” the emeraldette chided, a small pink box cupped near her chest.
Half choking and tongue thick, Sylvia found the words seconds late.
“Esmeralda Vallenfelt,” Sylvia managed. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes. A thousand times yes,” Emmy said happily, eyes shimmering with watery light. Her angelic voice was teasing. “And you? Won’t you give me your answer?”
Wasn’t her question an answer in and of itself?
“Of course I’ll marry you,” Sylvia replied with a wry smile.
Feeling incredibly awkward, she presented her ring. The thin, delicate band was white gold with an emerald green stone at the center. The color had been chosen to match Esmeralda’s eyes and her hair.
“Should I kneel?” Sylvia questioned uncomfortably. What were the rules in a case like this?
“The lady does not kneel,” Esmeralda chided. “And we’ll wear these same rings on our wedding. So hold out your hand, my dear. We shall put them on together.”
Nervously, the silver-haired witch waited. Lady Vallenfelt delicately lifted a ring before slipping the cool band over the fourth finger of Sylvia’s left hand. Dizzy and heart trembling, she returned the favor. Ceremony complete, she drew the ring’s essence into her soul before projecting its shadow.
Sylvia let out a nervous breath. It was amazing how an action so simple could hold so much tension.
“Go ahead,” Emmy encouraged. “You can take a peek.”
“We designed them together,” Sylvia reminded.
The silliness of it helped settle her heart. Still, it wouldn’t be too bad to glimpse the final product.
Observe Item.
Ding!
Equipment: Esmeralda’s Love
Type: Bound AccessoryWeight: 10.9 dromsValue: 1,790,000 soli
Effects:* Slippery Soul* Death Magic* Digital Cognition* Linked Souls
A beautiful engagement ring that symbolizes Esmeralda Vallenfelt’s love. To leave no doubt of her feelings, Esmeralda carved the words: ‘For my beloved Sylvia’ into the inner bound, using the beautiful script of her homeland.
Forged from lucidite and aetheric gold, this accessory serves as both a slip ring and a cognition jar. The pink stone is a powerful dream source, refined from the finest crystal produced by Yaalon. For the final forging, the psychic essence of Sylvia Swallows was added, along with 20,000 experience points drawn from the lovers.
Due to the personal essences used in this ring’s creation, it will have drastically reduced effects when worn by anyone other than Sylvia Swallows.
Slippery Soul * Resistance: 30% to 90%
While wearing this ring, the owner’s soul is made resistant to virtually all soul capturing methods. This effect will defeat all common spells and soul lamps. More advanced tools, however, may only see their capabilities reduced in half. Strategic tools, like soul beacons, will also have their draw weakened by a third.
Death Magic* Stored Mp: 85* Recovery: 24 hours
This ring stores a flicker of pure mana within its crystal. As the energy is perfectly aligned with the owner’s soul and intent, it can be used directly without mixing. The real value of this feature, however, is that this energy can be used even after death.
Expended mana will regenerate over 24 hours. This process can be accelerated by using the body’s mana, but the conversion has a 10:1 loss ratio.
Digital Cognition * Death Cognition: Moderate* Duration: 5 minutes/day
When wearing this ring, Sylvia Swallows will retain greater awareness and intellectual capacity after death. The preserved mental function will be similar to that of an individual who is groggy, drunk, or has been sleep derived for days.
In addition, once per day, the psychic energies in the ring can be tapped. This will allow up to 5 minutes of full intellectual ability. This period must be expended in 1 minute chunks.
Linked Souls
If worn by Sylvia Swallows or Esmeralda Vallenfelt, this item will link to its companion ring: ‘Sylvia’s Commitment’. System based communication is possible through this connection at a slow, 256 baud rate. Like a mirror pad, the communication works by sending spiritual waves through Unus Mundus, making it highly discreet as well as interplanar and interdimensional in nature.
…
Sylvia’s Commitment? Her gaze darkened. Was the Devil trying to ruin her marriage? Hey, System! Rename the other ring to Sylvia’s Love immediately!
Fuming, she took note of another important point.
“You made it pink,” Sylvia accused, deadpanned.
“Does it bother you?” Emmy sounded out, nervous.
The girlish jewel twinkled in the looming dark. Sylvia let her teasing words die. From Esmeralda expression, the lady might worry that Sylvia’s complaint was real.
“It doesn’t. Not anymore. Pink suits me,” she admitted. She hesitated before adding. “I even, kind of like it. I also like the cute and frilly dresses you make me wear.”
With her embarrassing confession, heated blood spread in her cheeks. Emmy took her hand, their fingers winding together. Their slow clop resumed, bringing them across the bridge and onto the eastern side of Viridian City.
“Thank you. It eases my heart to hear it,” Esmeralda said. “When I look back on my younger self, I oft fear I was too forceful. Just as how I look at my older self and think, perhaps, I was too sure and too cold. I try to hold back and give you space, but I cannot help but love watching you blossom.”
The city on the river’s left bank was poorer than on the right. The stores near the shore, at least, were welcoming. The warehouses less so, though the structures were kept to code. Half a block further east, however, was a collection of ramshackle huts. The slums. It wasn’t just a sneering label Sylvia conjured. It was the name gifted by the players themselves.
On Earth, a pair of young and beautiful girls would definitely avoid such a worrisome place. Neither Emmy nor Sylvia had any fear. To the silver-haired witch, these cobbled together homes only added to the flavor of the city.
“Sometimes it was too much,” Sylvia replied, her heart open. “But I think I needed the push. It was only through experience that I found those parts of myself.”
Most who faced gender issues had a decade or longer to learn about themselves. Every day they were forced to sit at a table then eat a meal they hated. When an arrogant outsider came up and said: maybe you should try it one more time, the words were an insult. Did those idiots think they hadn’t tried? Did they believe going against society was easy?
Sylvia’s situation was different.
Before the Starlight Nether Witch Academy, Sylvia had never imagined wearing a dress. The entire feminine experience was a void. So while Kyna, Ingrid, Emily and Lady Vallenfelt had forced her, their actions had served to fill in that hole.
Perhaps, if Sylvia had truly been Eric, her heart wouldn’t have been moved.
But Sylvia wasn’t Eric. The second the nether code took root in her soul, Eric had started a journey. He had become someone new, akin to how puberty turned children into young adults. Awakening was the nail in the coffin. It had finished the process.
Esmeralda came to a sudden halt, ending Sylvia’s internal musings.
“Who would dare make something so vile?” the emerald-haired woman said, aghast.
Vile?
Did Emmy misspeak? Surely she meant: magnificent.
In the small, cobble square in front of them was a stone podium. On that podium stood the statue of a witch. The petite figure was carved from white stone, mystic robes draped over marble shoulders. On the statue’s head was a pointed hat, its crook no higher than Sylvia’s cone. The stone figure gazed forward, eyes on the rectangular object clutched in her dainty hands.
The real beauty, however, was what lurked behind her.
At the statute’s feet spread a wedge of black stone, an image akin to inky shadow. A pool of darkness from which emerged a three-headed troll. The hideous, obsidian figure loomed over the dainty, marble figure, every face wearing a ghastly expression.
The first gazed forward, its visage filled with repulsive mockery. In two clawed hands, it clutched a smartphone like the one held by the stone girl. The second head looked left, its expression twisted by furious frenzy. Another pair of arms extended in the same direction, poised over a keyboard. Sylvia could almost see the troll glaring at an invisible monitor, every tap of its talons spewing putrid hate. The final face was turned right. Its odious countenance sneered down at a collection of puppets. Crossbars were clutched in its corrupted claws, as though the troll were manipulating marionettes.
Sylvia Swallows Founder of the Cloud Island WildernessAnd the System forum’s greatest troll
“It’s perfect,” Sylvia breathed dreamily.
“We should destroy it immediately,” Emmy countered.
“No way,” Sylvia refused. With a wild grin the silver-haired witch skipped up to statue. “Just look at this magnum opus. Not only did they catch the beauty of my body, they captured the beauty of my soul.”
Emmy glowered. Sylvia had rarely seen the emeraldette so furious. She could tell, at a glance, that Esmeralda was trying to find the polite words needed to bridge her own emotions and Sylvia’s joy. The sight made her heart leap.
“Come on, take a picture of me standing beside it.”
Shamelessly, Sylvia threw an arm over her stone twin. Lady Vallenfelt stared, umbral eyes conveying her displeasure. Then, with a sigh, Emmy conjured the invisible System camera.
What is love? This was love.
“Just so you know, my dear,” Emmy said as she walked closer. “Your soul is far, far more alluring.”
“If you have the guts to say that, you haven’t spent enough time on the System forums,” Sylvia noted blandly.
After holding her pose for a moment, the silver-haired witch jumped into the sky. With faerie-like grace, Sylvia delicately landed on one of the troll’s shoulders. With a teasing smirk, she reached across the vile heads to pat an arm opposite.
Esmeralda’s nose wrinkled, wary of the face that’d be leering straight at her skirt. Then, despite her reluctance, she elegantly stepped off air before settling down beside Sylvia.
“For this, I will have you wearing something exceptionally cute when we wed,” Emmy said, nose raised.
Sylvia leaned over the troll heads then kissed the emeraldette on her lips.
“I’ll wear anything you want,” Sylvia allowed. “Even if it’s pink.”
“Now you indulge me,” Lady Vallenfelt whispered. Esmeralda’s expression turned serious. “On this matter, I have a personal request. I would like to delay the formal ceremony until after you’ve stepped down as governor.”
Sylvia frowned. She didn’t have strong opinions, but her pastel pink eyes remained questioning. “Why?”
“As the daughter of a count, I was raised expecting my wedding to be a grand affair,” Emmy explained. “And I must admit, I was rather jealous of the celebrations of those ladies ranked above me. I know this is a big request, but the plane is too small for the ceremony I imagine.”
“It’s fine,” Sylvia waved off. She flashed the pink stone on her finger. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re already married.”
“I promise I won’t ask too much,” Esmeralda added. The little lady took a deep breath, her face slowly turning red. “There is a second matter to discuss. Belkis has spoken to me of the physicality of love. My heart is ready. Just… do not expect me to be skilled in this endeavor.”
Sylvia’s breath stilled. She could feel the fire in her veins rising all the way to her ears. Emmy’s vulnerability echoed her own, even as blazing desire made her heart tremble. She gulped. Lady Vallenfelt wasn’t the only girl without experience.
Though, Sylvia probably had more… ‘indirect instruction’.
“Tonight,” Emmy promised, infinitely sweet. “And do not let me run from it.”
“I won’t,” Sylvia said, gaze intense.
The emerald-haired woman placed a finger on Sylvia’s lips, cutting off any words that might follow.
“There is one final topic to discuss. One that plays heavily on our future. Transcendence.”
Who was it again, who claimed: ‘a lady does not tease’?
“What about it?” Sylvia said, giving the emeraldette a look.
Esmeralda’s umbral eyes studied the silver-haired witch. “How deeply have you considered the topic?”
“I haven’t thought much about Transcendence at all,” she admitted.
Sylvia figured she’d be in the fourth consolidation for years, so why hurry?
“I thought as much,” Emmy replied. “Then I shall introduce it to you. Transcendence is, most often, considered the opposite of Awakening. Whereas to Awaken, one resolves the divergence between their mortal and immortal selves, to Transcend is to step away from mortal origin in the pursuit of an ideal.”
Sylvia nodded. “I’ve heard as much.”
Witches can become warlocks during Awakening, or rarely, during birth. Almost without exception, those warlocks were direct bloodline descendants of witches who had a male soul before Awakening. However, no warlock had ever been born from the bloodline of a Transcended witch.
Why?
Because to Transcend was to cut away the last vestige of mortality.
“It is a common belief that to Transcend is to sever,” Emmy continued. “That is not entirely correct. To Transcend is to pursue the ideal. Which often means transforming the parts of yourself you see as flawed, be it cowardice, laziness, greed, guilt, or ambition.”
Sylvia frowned. “You’re saying Transcendence effects personality.”
“Precisely,” Esmeralda answered. “And since we are to wed, you can understand my concern. Now, none of this is absolutely necessary. It depends on your ideal and how that ideal contrasts with your current being. If you see no fault in your personality, then naturally nothing need be changed. But, if you do find fault there, be aware that outcomes are affected by approach. Flaws need not be carved out. They simply need to be... reimagined.”
“I see,” Sylvia murmured, eyes sharp.
Esmeralda brought up this subject because she was intent on marrying Sylvia and not an idealized replacement thereof. In a way, it was a mirror of her own fear when Emily and Esmeralda merged into one.
“How long until you reach the fourth consolidation?” Emmy questioned.
Rather than answer, she flicked her status screen in Esmeralda’s direction.
Name: Sylvia Swallows Class: ♥Magical Girl Sylvia♥Lv: 858+144 Exp: 2261 / 8590Hp: 1754 / 1754 Mp: 4370 / 4370Str: 65 Mag: 240Vit: 65 Spr: 242Agl: 130 Wit: 260
“More than a year, but less than two if we press,” Emmy concluded. “In the future, please join me on my weekend hunts.”
Sylvia grimaced. “How many years before we can make a substitute for astral amber?”
Having four spiritual cores, she could digest as much as 3000 experience points per day. Currently, she was consuming two-thirds of that. Not for any reason of merit. She was, quite simply, dragging her feet. Grinding monsters got tiresome in games. It was much worse in real life where hunts could turn into multi-hour affairs, to be repeated every week for years on end.
“I, too, know the burden,” Esmeralda consoled. “I even look forward to consuming that vile concoction once more. But the labor will be lighter if done together.”
Sylvia sighed. “I suppose we can treat it like a date,” she said, flashing a grin.
“A lovely idea,” Emmy chimed, suddenly enthusiastic. “We should bring a blanket so we can picnic halfway through.”
And now the grind almost sounded pleasant.
“But we have diverged from the main topic,” Esmeralda said. “I have long prepared for my Transcendence. Therefore, I will cross this boundary shortly after entering the fourth consolidation.
“As for you, my dear, your greatest obstacle will be grasping your ideal. I hope you consider this carefully. I have come to love you grandly. Even your flaws, many as they are. So I ask, when you chase your better self, do not cast away the Sylvia I adore.”
Sylvia let out a heavy breath, her pastel pink eyes turning grim. “And what about you?”
“I intend to embrace the insight granted by my Awakening,” Emmy answered. “I long for the freedom of Emily’s heart, even as I cling to Esmeralda’s clarity. I do not think this will be a large change. Rather, I think of this as a hastening of my resolve.”
During Awakening, every fey, angel, and demon received a unique trait. Esmeralda’s was the wisdom of innocence, a product of her mortal longing to go back to the day before everything went wrong. The effect was to amplify the cleansing brought by transmigration.
Once Sylvia had learned of it, she immediately understood why Lady Vallenfelt had dared to divide her soul.
The silver-haired girl reached across the statue’s hideous heads to squeeze the emeraldette’s hand. Her eyes gazed into wisps of gorgeous green which hung inside a dark galaxy.
“Follow your heart, Emmy,” Sylvia said. “I love you. I love Emily. And I love Esmeralda Vallenfelt.”
“You are so sweet,” Emmy whispered, blinking the shimmer from her eyes.
“You keep talking about the self,” Sylvia stated. “I want to hear about your providence.”
Transcendence formed the foundation of what would later become an immortal’s providence. This aspect would be forged from a trait which already existed. As for which one, there were many perspectives. Some believed the unique trait created during Awakening was closest to the soul and thus should always be taken. Others focused on paths that were already proven. A few chased personal whimsy, seeing happiness as more important than power.
“When I made the asteri bloodline, I selected traits so that I might grasp the greatest breadth of magic,” Emmy answered. “A core aligned with chaos. Eyes that peered into esoteric secrets. Refined mana that is easily controlled. This is my path. Not power, but the ability to grasp every magic in every form.
“Therefore, my goal during Transcendence is to build a bridge between these elements, forming a union. Then, with the control of my bloodline granted after becoming a great witch, I will grab the missing domain of life. Finally, during Apotheosis, I will complete the forging, obtaining authority over the domain of magecraft.”
A bold ambition.
It was well known that the greater the providence, the more difficult it was to complete Apotheosis. This was because Apotheosis demanded taking a part of the world into the self, and if the self could not accommodate, the soul would rupture.
Sylvia might’ve warned Emmy against this, but she knew words were useless. This was a dream that extended all the way back to Esmeralda’s mortal life. Further, there was no need. Though Emmy’s goal was bold, if it proved too much her foundation, she could chase a lesser version of her ambition.
“And you? Have you given it a thought?”
Sylvia groaned. “You know I haven’t.”
What types of magic did Sylvia love most? Creation and destruction.
She’d always relished the spells of war, but she found equal thrill in construction. To build and to conquer were competing faces of the masculine ideal. If Sylvia used her elemental palaces to create her providence, she could emphasize both. She could become a witch of the abyss, nature, sky, calamity, or even of all of the primordial elements at once.
But this wasn’t the only path.
Sylvia could take her core as her bedrock, claiming mastery over chaos. She could use silken mana and deep reservoir to become an endless font of well-controlled power.
And, of course, there was digitized soul.
“Consider it well, my dear. I shan’t say more than that,” Esmeralda said. “Transcendence must be the pursuit of your ideal and that of no one else. If clear, firm will is not behind your action, Transcendence will fail with harsh backlash on your soul. Remember this. For those with talent, Transcendence is the easiest grand mutation. But it is also the one most likely to invoke your ruin.”
The petite emeraldette stood, hovering at the height of the troll’s arm.
“Now, my dear, I have ruined our date with seriousness talk long enough.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Sylvia said. The silver-haired witch rose beside her paramour, hand extended and sly grin on her lips. “In fact, if I remember right, I once promised an adorable girl that’d I’d dance with her in the starry sky.”
“How charming,” Emmy said.
The lady smiled as she took Sylvia’s hand. Soon petals swirled in the night. In the heavens above, two witches danced, their silhouettes caught by the plane’s large, blue moon.
-oOo-
“Provide 300 millidroms of fluid to the specimen,” Sylvia ordered. “A 3:2 mix of blood and psychic.”
The silver-haired witch leaned back in her chair, an enlarged video screen projected overhead. On an illusionary display was shown a small seed in a glass tube, purple liquid bubbling around it.
Clink.
Glass touched glass. Across the lab, Jennifer Ross used a pipette to draw red juice from a flask. The blue-haired asteri carefully mixed the fluid with the pale blue liquid already in the tube, preventing evaporation with her ki. The liquids came from a blood and psychic fruit. Esmeralda’s process to extract the juice was an important contribution to Sylvia’s study, allowing efficient and precise experimentation.
“The anima isn’t dense enough,” Glenda Fischer insisted. “That’s why the seed refuses to germinate.”
“What’s your decision, Miss Swallows?” Jennifer questioned, test tube in hand.
Jennifer Ross was a Starlight Academy graduate from a generation nearly a decade before Sylvia’s arrival. After the migration to the Cloud Island Wilderness, the blue-haired witch had worked under Esmeralda Vallenfelt for a number of years. Recently, the she had passed into Sylvia’s employment, serving as a lab assistant.
Sylvia considered for a moment, her digitized soul rapidly reading through the scroll of data.
“Seven percent,” she decided.
Jennifer nodded, crossing the room to place the test tube in a chamber. Once the door was closed, the box’s enchantment took hold. Two disks of cabalistic copper worked to catalyze the elements of blood and psychic into to their advanced cousin, anima.
The room fell into silence while they waited.
To collect data and to ensure the repeatability of their test, every action taken in the laboratory was recorded. Initially, Sylvia had used the System camera, but this instrument didn’t capture enough detail. Causality magics were better, but they interacted with the specimen, which was an issue in and of itself.
After many trials and errors, Sylvia made use of a spell she’d recently invented, prying eye.
Prying eye wasn’t designed for laboratory work. Rather, the spell was a recreation of a famous clairvoyance known as: all seeing eye. Like its inspiration, prying eye could project the caster’s sense over a vast distance, peering down on the target of the Sylvia’s choice. The biggest deviation was that Sylvia’s magic routed the information through her System API, whereas ‘all seeing eye’ dumped the resulting data directly into the diviner’s brain.
Most divination spells were annoying like that.
Which made hers better.
This wasn’t the only new spell Sylvia was working on. She’d given up on finding grimoires with high magics. And why did she need them? Sylvia was plenty skilled in magecraft and she had Runeworks Studio. So why not roll her own?
Jennifer removed the tube from the box. After confirming the contents, the witch carefully dispensed the fluid.
Liquid bubbled. Seconds passed.
“Ke,” Glenda noised. “The anima still isn’t enough. Should’ve gone for fifteen.”
“No,” Sylvia countered, eyes narrowed and hands steepled like an evil scientist. “We’ve succeeded.”
Slowly, subtly, and with growing speed, the small seed consumed the energies of life. A wild smile grew on the witch’s lips. The seed itself was not important. It was merely a vessel. What had value was the pulsating nether code within.
“Ke, ke, ke, ke!” Laughing like a madwoman, Glenda Fischer stood. “It’s alive! It’s alive!”
Cackling, the blonde witch spread her arms wide, head thrown back as though in defiance to the divine. Sylvia’s eye twitched. Jennifer grimaced.
Yeah, that was a little over the top.
“We’ll need to see if the seed fully germinates over the next twenty-four hours,” Sylvia warned, putting a damper on the celebration. “After that, we’ll crack it open and check the nether code inside.”
Glenda Fischer, previously Professor Fischer, was the plane’s third most accomplished alchemist.
Compared to Sylvia, Glenda lacked a broad technical foundation. As for Esmeralda, she stood at the pinnacle. Which was natural, given how Emmy had taken it upon herself to solve the world’s alchemical woes. But, if one were to look at biological alchemy in specific, Glenda’s ranking would jump to second while Esmeralda would fall to a narrow third.
This had to do with Miss Fischer’s hobby.
The woman was fascinated by phantasmal life. Many of the plane’s poor phantasms had been vivisected by the mad witch. Some had even been spliced together to create various abominations. Even more horrifying, Glenda had convinced a few gamers to volunteer for her experiments. Sylvia had seen the disturbing pictures posted in a sick corner of the forums.
She often wondered, who was more disturbed? Glenda Fischer? Or Glenda’s followers?
Wait! She knew the answer to this question. It was those funnel cakes from her fan club!
The door creaked open.
“Hello?” A voice called. A freckled blonde leaned in through the gap. “Is Sylvia here? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“You’re in luck, we just finished,” Sylvia answered. Her eyes flashed to her minions. “Glenda, keep an eye on the seed. Jennifer, take a break. I’ll want you here tonight, ready to respond to any unexpected changes.”
Jennifer looked a little unhappy at the overtime, but she accepted it with grace. “I’ll make it happen, Miss Swallows.”
“Ke ke ke, show me the secrets of life,” Glenda whispered. The witch leaned close to the glass tube, gazing at the seed with her wicked, blue eyes.
…
“What brings you to Starport?” Sylvia asked, ignoring her former professor.
Riley stepped fully into the room, bag in hand.
Their lab was in the basement of the Astral Observatory. The room was fully stocked. They had equipment from Tartarus along with beakers and glassware created right here in the Cloud Island Wilderness. Despite her best efforts, there was still a noticeable difference in quality. It’d take a decade before they could match netherworld’s exacting standards.
And not for a lack of process, but rather for a lack of smiths.
All of this had been prepared for the quest: A Perfect Core. Sylvia’s target was the first two objectives:
Create a core that can provide System support for 5000 Users. Create a core that can handle 10000 creatures of 3 different types.
For this initiative, Sylvia had taken charge of a research team. Emmy was providing support, which mostly meant helping with the theoretical work. Glenda and Jennifer were acting as lab assistants, with Miss Fischer having the greatest expertise and Miss Ross aiming for a stake in this major quest.
Riley offered the sack.
“Luna wants to see the Moonlight Academy,” she said. “And since we were passing through, I decided to drop off the beast cores on behalf of the Blades.”
Bag in hand, Sylvia took a look inside, nodding at the collection of rigid organs. There were seventeen cores in total, coming from a wide selection of phantasmal beasts. The array included: black spinners, wet feather dodos, fester flies, cloud island eagles, rattle cobras, and three sister rocs. Sylvia had put in an order with the Viridian Blades for three cores from every creature in the Cloud Island Wilderness, none with an age of less than ten years.
Henry must’ve put in some effort.
As well he should. Sylvia hadn’t only turned the task into a quest, she’d offered personal funding to sweeten the deal.
“The squirt’s in Starport?” she questioned, setting the sack on a table. The phantasmal cores would be useful, but only after they’d seeded a real dungeon. “How did you separate her from the wasps? Or did you pay the gate fees for the four of you?”
“You know I don’t have that kind of money,” Riley replied. “Lenape brought us.”
Right, right. How many coliseum shares did Riley own again? Sylvia shot a suspicious look. Riley returned a half-lidded expression.
“How is the turtle?” she asked after a moment. “Last time we met, he was hauling a chunk of land toward the outer ring of the harbor.”
“Lamenting the days when he could frolic in the water with nothing important to do,” Riley answered. “But for all he complains, Lenape is happy to have so many books. And what about you? Are you close to a breakthrough?”
“Very,” Sylvia answered seriously, holding her finger and thumb a tiny bit apart. “If this pans out, we’ll try a full scale dungeon core this week.”
A good while back, Sylvia had completed her reading list. Eleven skill books had been imprinted in her mind, including: Encyclopedia of Runes I to IV, Math II and III, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced and Theoretic Alchemy, then Bloodline Codes part 2 and part 3. The sheer breadth of knowledge rivaled any specialist. In fact, Sylvia felt she was ready to challenge the Collegium Magicae test and become a magister.
And with this undertaking complete, she was contemplating her next big use of merit points.
Buying a psychic fruit was high on that list. She was also considering the benefits of learning Chimeric Synthesis – authored by Glenda Fischer, then Phantasmal Engineering. These books would tackle the manipulation of life from the top down instead of the bottom up.
Then there were the Runic Errata, because a witch could never study too deeply into that subject. And with the math requirements out of the way, Sylvia was also interested in polishing her spell theory or picking up another text on Rune Logic.
Finally, there was Sylvia’s favorite topic: battle magic and combat arts. The mirrored lake sutra wasn’t going to learn itself!
“How about we head out?” Sylvia said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll take the squirt on a tour.”
“I’m game with that,” Riley accepted. Then her green eyes flicked to the lab assistants. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”
“Don’t worry, I have an eye on everything,” Sylvia joked, tone bland.
Opening the door, Sylvia gestured Riley through. The pair entered a stone hall, ether lights filling the Astral Observatory's basement with a sterile glow. There were five labs on this level along with a storage closet. Dense stone walls stood between them, in case something went horribly wrong. At the tower’s center was a thick, central column. This hollow space carried ether channels to the tower’s peak.
Not that the tower was finished. The exterior stone was set all the way up to the seventh floor, but the interior and the core enchantments were incomplete. They would have to wait until Emmy and Sylvia had the time to wrangle the complex rune sequences required.
“So…,” Riley drawled teasingly. “I hear your infinite merit point hack finally ran out.”
Sylvia gave the freckled blonde a friendly glower.
The two climbed a set of spiral stairs to the first floor to enter an awkward space. While the spiral continued up, there was no ceiling. Not before the tower’s roof, which ended thirty meters up.
“It has,” she said through gritted teeth.
Every day, Sylvia collected a trickle of merit points as gamers purchased her skill books. The most basic of these books, the Lesser Codex, How to Fast Cast and Basic Combat Magic had the greatest demand.
All three had run dry. That’s right, the Devil had cut her off.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re not earning any sympathy from me, you cheating cheater who cheats,” Riley returned.
Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, had decided a blank skill book would never return more than the thousand merit points it cost in the first place. After, purchases would yield a single, pitiful silver coin. For a girl earning 30 gold a month, that was effectively nothing.
“I still have the Great Codex and the others,” Sylvia grumbled, trying to console her wounded heart.
Which would hold for a decade. After that, her passive merit would all but halt. The later the book in the series, the more esoteric the knowledge. The Lesser Codex was a must-have. Indeed, the Moonlight Academy now asked all mages to show runic proficiency before enrollment. And the easiest way to get it was to buy Sylvia’s skill book.
The two of them left the tower.
Bright, morning sun fell on the white walls of the Astral Observatory. The land outside the door was a curated field, with flowers, trees, and bushes adding a welcoming feel. Behind the tower and to the south, the territory turned to wild grass, the trees and dense jungle beaten back.
Her nose nudging a flower, was a qilin.
At a glance, Luna Lorelei looked somewhat like a doe. Big eyes. Thin, frail legs. But this image quickly fell away on closer examination. Instead of a fine coat of fur, Luna had a layer of white scales tinted with a touch of blue. Rather than hooves, her four feet sported sharp claws, the blades hidden beneath a puff of hair.
And even more distinct, was the long serpentine tail extending from the qilin’s back.
Being a one-year-old child, Luna lacked the majestic horns of her species. Which was why Sylvia slyly lifted her two curly tails. Ki ran through the silken tresses, hardening the hair even as parts branched out into a series of complex spikes.
Riley gave her now-antlered friend a sidelong look. Her intense, green eyes seemed to say: If you dare bully Luna, we’ll have words.
Sylvia smirked. “So I hear you’re interested in the Academy, squirt.”
The doe’s gaze rose, kindly blue eyes sweeping past the witch’s face to see the magnificent crown over Sylvia’s head. The qilin suddenly leapt, prancing excitedly around the silver-haired witch. Being so young, the little thing barely reached the petite witch’s waist.
“They’re beautiful,” Luna gushed. The doe looked at the freckled blonde. “Why doesn’t your hair do that?”
“Because it’s too short,” Riley responded.
Sylvia gave the tomboy a shameless, mocking smile. This wasn’t the reaction she’d been fishing for, but it was good enough.
Though Luna was young, it was hard to gauge her maturity. Qilins weren’t humans. They didn’t develop as humans did. In Luna’s case, this challenge was made greater because she had inherited fragments of knowledge from both Yaalon and the System. Knowledge that had been forged into understanding, thanks to the thirteen psychic fruit the squirt had eaten in her first year.
If Sylvia were to judge by education, Luna was akin to a fresh college graduate. But if Sylvia were, instead, to look at the squirt’s emotions and experience, the qilin was still very much a child.
A child ranked C-V/Mid.
The players were lucky that qilins were known for their good character.
“Why is your hair short?” Luna asked, big blue eyes filled with curiosity.
“Because I like it that way,” Riley replied.
Motioning for the little doe to follow, they headed across the road toward the Moonlight Academy. A few gamers pointed, watching the spectacle. All kept their distance out of respect. Respect, of course, for the two giant wasps buzzing alongside them.
Sure, Luna had a good nature. Her guard, however, did not. Nor did these wasps have anything which even faintly resembled human morality.
The little doe’s head quirked to the side. “But why.”
“Well, you see,” Sylvia drawled, her tone utterly bland. “Riley is a type of creature known as a ‘tomboy’. Tomboys are girls who prefer boyish things, like rolling in the mud and sports.”
“I hate mud, actually,” Riley corrected. “I’ve never liked it in fact. But I do prefer wearing comfortable clothes. And I love competitive sports. Unlike ‘Princess Sylvia’ over there, who never wears anything but dresses and high heels. I keep my hair short for the same reason, I don’t like it when it gets in the way.”
Oy. Oy. Sylvia glowered. There was no reason to bring the P-word into this.
“Sylvia’s a princess?” Luna asked, voice rising in excitement.
The doe’s next steps came with a bounce. What nonsense was stuck in this qilin’s head? Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes were suspicious. Had Riley been showing the squirt the wrong kind of movies? Children needed a steady diet of guns, explosions, and violence in their media. It was the American way.
“No. I am not,” Sylvia said, enunciating each word clearly.
“We’re teasing each other,” Riley explained gently.
“People aren’t pegs to be slipped into a single, rightly-shaped hole,” Sylvia added. “Just because Riley is a bit boyish, doesn’t make her a boy. And even if I’m a bit girly, I’m in no way, shape, or form a princess.”
Sylvia sneered the last, glaring dramatically at her friend.
“Oh, you finally admit you’re girly,” Riley returned. Her bright green eyes returned to the qilin. “Don’t take the boy girl thing too seriously. People are complicated and everyone is different. It’s normal to have both male and female characteristics. In fact, it’s hard to say what traits are masculine or feminine in the first place.”
Luna looked confused. “Then why do those words exist?”
“Because without words we cannot speak,” Sylvia answered casually. With strange nostalgia, Sylvia remembered her days working for an ad company. “Labels are a way of categorizing the world. Reducing observations into categories, then using those categories to make predictions is the foundation of reason. How often those predictions are correct is what determines whether your labels are useful or misleading.”
The blue walled Moonlight Academy stood ahead of them, stone path and stairs leading up to the main doors. In front of the school was a fountain and a statue. For once, the stone image depicted Esmeralda Vallenfelt instead of Sylvia Swallows. Beneath was a plaque recalling the Starlight Nether Witch Academy and Emmy’s role within it.
Compared to the Astral Observatory, the population here was much denser. Students played and bustled. Many stopped, eyes drawn by the wasps and qilin. Or perhaps, to Sylvia’s magnificent antlers. Definitely the antlers. Sylvia knew because far too many of the cameras were pointed directly at her.
Tch. How remiss. Sylvia should’ve made her post first!
The group entered the building. Sylvia was forced to duck through the door, hair swaying back to let her through. This drew a muffled laugh from Riley.
“What classes interest you most?” the freckled blonde asked.
“I want to cast spells and fly!” the little doe said, claws clicking as she excitedly danced.
Shk. Shk. Shk.
Sylvia quickly snapped a chain of photos. Then, with her digitized soul, she generated a forum topic: Touring the Academy with my baby fawn. Perfect. Now Sylvia didn’t have to worry that her fan club would control the narrative.
“Sorry, but Swift Brooms doesn’t make staves for qilins,” Sylvia said ruthlessly.
Luna looked up, her adorable blue eyes full of disdain.
“I don’t want a broom. I want pretty wings,” Luna retorted, her voice lacking any doubt. “And you are not my mother.”
…
In her mind, Sylvia pulled up the topic she’d just posted. Then her eyes turned to the freckled blonde beside her.
“You let her have the internet,” Sylvia said, tone grim.
“I didn’t ‘let’ her have anything,” Riley said in retort. “She was born with the internet in her skull.”
…
“This world is doomed.”
“What’s a waifu?” Luna asked a moment later. “And why does HaremGod have so many pictures of you?”
Yep. Time to burn it all down and start over from scratch.
-oOo-
Potions, Talismans, and Dust
Magical Potions
A magical potion is a volatile substance which contains a spell. This is distinct from alchemical potions, such as mana potions, which have an essence useful for the body or the soul. By common convention, most potions are liquid. They can, however, take the form of a solid or a gas.
All magical potions are constructed using three components: a base, a primer, and a stabilizer. In some cases, a single material may serve multiple roles. In rarer cases, a potion might have several bases, primers, or stabilizers, which may be added during different parts of the brewing process.
To create a potion, the brewer always begins with a base. The next step is to bind the spell or add a stabilizer. To bind a spell, the magic is chanted over the cauldron, willfully deprived of the necessary energy. The runes and intent are then stirred or folded into liquid. Generally speaking, the spell should be cast thirteen times for every dose of effect.
After that, the remaining ingredients are added. The stabilizer is used to reduce the volatility of the potion, helping to hold the spell and prevent evaporation of the essence. The primer is the fuel. This serves to drive the contained magic.
All potions decay. Specialized potion bottles are, therefore, used to prevent or slow this process.
Talisman
A talisman is any stable object that contains a spell. The main distinction between potions and talismans is their volatility. To be considered a talisman, the object must endure for at least a month without any specialized containment mechanism.
The most common way to produce a talisman is to first brew a potion, then to absorb that potion in a phantasmal substance. Most often, this is achieved with ‘talisman paper’. However, talismans are not limited to paper. They can also take the form of gems, statues, seeds or other objects.
The invitation letters sent by the Starlight Nether Witch Academy were talismans. First, sheets of talisman paper were dipped in various potions. Then these sheets were forged together into a collective unit.
Elemental Dust
Elemental dusts are generic, consumable ether sources. Though not a potion, elemental dust is likewise a volatile substance which is often stored in potion bottles. This ether can be accessed by opening the bottle, or by drawing it from a specialized container using the mage’s mana.
Dusts are incredibly easy to create. Simply place a common, elemental material in a powerful furnace then expose it to intense ether. This will cause the essence to supersaturate then disintegrate into a simpler structure. The challenge lies after. Ordinary furnaces cannot contain dust. As a result, the substance rapidly evaporates into ether.
Thus, dusts can only be produced in an alchemical furnace.
Almost all the dusts sold are for the elements: space, causality, soul, and psychic. For primordial ethers, the relative cost compared to a source just isn’t worth it. Therefore, primordial dusts are only used by the military. Similarly, advanced element materials are typically too precious to render into dust.
As for the elements blood and void? They have their own obstacles. Blood element dusts generally aren’t produced because the blood of high class phantasms is not only easy to obtain, but easier to transport. As for void dust, it has a nasty tendency to phase straight through any bottle or furnace. The need for highly specialized equipment, therefore, makes it rare and expensive.