Chương 168: Chapter 243 - A Surprise Visit

It didn't take long to figure out that one of the relics in the first Vault could be used to shape stone. The device was incredibly mana efficient, allowing an apprentice to move about a ton of stone per hour. Unfortunately, that rate couldn't be accelerated, but it was still a useful tool. The second crystal growing relic was a real prize.

If Mirian could find a third one in the Vaults, her calculations suggested she could bring down the amount of time it would take to create the conduit crystals she'd need for a full-scale leyline regulator from a full year to perhaps as little as four months. In the second Vault, one of the devices proved to be the cousin of the heat-absorbing material and electricity-absorbing material uncovered in other vaults. This one absorbed magnetic fields.

That left five Elder relics that, even with dozens of professors poking and prodding at them with every conceivable idea, were still mysteries. As the 1st of Merisheth approached again, Mirian considered her options. She would continue to proceed with the assumption that the number of time loops were limited. She still had no evidence that was the case, but it was logically consistent with arcane physics; all spells required mana. The time loop must require energy or mana of some sort, and thus, it must be finite.

Her best indication of the amount of time left was the number of temporal needles that had returned to the Ominian. That there were only two still suggested they still had a great deal of time. She'd had her father start working with the priests and historians in town. Together, they were digging through historical records from Bainrose, the temples, and ones she'd had the Syndicate pilfer from Cairnmouth.

Hopefully, they could figure out a range of time each previous Prophet had spent in their respective time loops, as well as get an idea of the length of the loop and the number of times they'd gone through it. With that information, they might be able to estimate how much time they had. Of course, if the loop was 'number of cycles' rather than 'total time,' they had an entirely different problem. Still, Mirian couldn't bring herself to believe that someone like the First Prophet had gone through 238 loops.

His loops had, at a minimum, taken years, given when he was declared Prophet. There was no way he had lasted thousands of years in the loop and stayed sane. They were assumptions, but they were what she had to go off of. Though she also couldn't shake the feeling that extending the loops was important. Did it take more energy to send someone farther back in time? If it did, how did the cost of energy relate to how far back the Prophet was being sent? Mirian related it to picking up a boulder with lift object.

There was a minimum cost of mana that was high; that went into shaping the spell and vertically lifting the boulder. Once it was lifted, though, a relatively smaller amount of energy went into moving it horizontally. If she was right, longer loops would be more efficient and therefore they'd have more time overall. Unless, of course, there was a strict quantity of time they were allotted. She kept going back and forth on how it must work, unable to make up her mind.

Eventually, she had to scold herself for trying to figure out a system with insufficient evidence. Either way, she would continue to proceed with extending the loops and maximizing the progress they were making towards stopping moonfall, and right now, it seemed the most important thing to do was figure out what was going on with Zhighua. Gabriel had still made no progress, other than apparently getting himself eaten again.

On the 239th loop, Mirian sent Gabriel a letter by zephyr falcon that she'd join him in Alatishad and help him push into the Jiandzhi on the 241st loop. She requested he advise her on what sort of preparations she should make. Gabriel sent her a list of wine vintages he wanted and suspiciously precise information about where in Baracuel to acquire them. Mirian went north of town and practiced unleashing full power spells for an hour, turning what had been a hill and a patch of forest into a smoldering crater.

She felt much better afterward, and then was able to respond to Gabriel's letter in a firm yet polite way, instead of ripping her nib through the paper like with her first attempt. In the meantime, Mirian continued her Gulwenen lessons with Jei and Torres and discussed the Jiandzhi with someone who had both been there and was helpful.

"You're taking the Sanctuary Road, right?" her father asked. That was the long old road that snaked through the Land of Spires, using a long series of caves, canyons and small fortresses to avoid the nastiest myrvites. It was a well-trod trade road, and usually safe. Safe-ish. Safe compared to the other routes, at least.

"Gabriel says he's been attacked and killed several times while on Sanctuary Road. Probably leyline disruptions sending the myrvites into a frenzy. I've seen the same sort of phenomenon up north."

"How much have I told you about the myrvites of the Jiandzhi?" her father asked.

"A bit. Mostly how deadly they are, and how you gave up doing research in the area even though you'd made some fascinating discoveries."

"But you'll be going? What am I saying, of course you'll be going. It's just… I want my little lotus to be safe. Even though, rationally, I know you will be because of the time loop." Mirian smiled. He'd expressed the sentiment before, but she couldn't help but get a fuzzy feeling from it. She gave him a hug, and he returned it.

"The more you teach me about the creatures there, the safer I'll be." For a while, neither of them broke the hug. Then he finally said, "Well, alright. Where's this Selkus Viridian fellow? You said he had scrolls—sorry, books on myrvites, right?"

"Dozens. And if he doesn't, Bainrose library will, or I can always send Nicolus down to raid one of the Cairnmouth archives…" They broke the hug, then left Torrian Tower and began to wander over to the Myrvite Studies building. Then, Mirian noticed something was off. One of the Torrviol guards—she was pretty sure it was Roland, though it had been some years since she'd had any significant interaction with him—was walking fast enough he was almost running. A crowd was forming around someone behind him.

Mirian caught a glimpse of a familiar face, but it took her brain a moment to realize who it was. It seemed wrong seeing him here, so far removed from context. That was Ibrahim. Walking casually over to her. Mirian froze, then cast a remote whisper spell and spoke quickly.

"That's Ibrahim, the Persaman Prophet. As far as he knows, I'm just making deals with you to train me and assist in research. You must treat me as an ally. Understood?" He gave the slightest of nods. She'd briefed her father on the basics of what was going on with the other Prophets each cycle, but she'd grown lax in how they interacted in Torrviol. She hadn't expected to see Ibrahim here of all places. What in the five hells is he doing? She strode forward, hiding her discomposure.

The guard running up to her said, "Prophet Mirian, this man just arrived by train and—""Yes, thank you Roland. I know who this is." Louder, she said, "Prophet Ibrahim. You've been a hard man to find." The crowd around him parted. Ibrahim shrugged. Then he saw Gaius and Mirian was pleased to see a his projection of nonchalance vanish for just a moment. He quickly recovered and continued toward her.

"I see you're keeping fine company." He spoke in Adamic, though he'd understood her Friian well enough.

"He has magic I need, and we both benefit from the world continuing." Ibrahim smirked.

"That's not all you offered him, though."

"Of course not. But that's not why you're here. What brings you to Torrviol?"

"I wanted to see it," he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Mirian tried to keep her incredulity out of her voice.

"Is that what you've been doing? Seeing places?"

"More or less." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Well, there's no sense missing this opportunity, Mirian thought, so she said, "Then let me show you around." She ignored the gathered crowd and addressed Gaius.

"Professor Xidi, can you ensure the research progresses? We can discuss the Jiandzhi later."

"Of course," her father said coldly. He was good at masking his emotions. Maybe having less flesh and no blood made it easier to do so.

"The Jiandzhi?" Ibrahim asked.

"Gabriel is having trouble getting into Zhighua. There's leviathans by sea, and beasts by land. Even Sanctuary Road appears to have myrvite attacks." The dervish snorted.

"Of course he is. You know you can't trust that snake, right?" Mirian knew that already.

"Gabriel is helping our efforts. I'll accept any aid from any source, as long as it saves Enteria." They continued walking.

"This is Torrian Tower. It uses pre-Cataclysm architecture styles. That's Bainrose Castle, once the bastion that the town hid in during myrvite incursions and invasions, now just a library. Over there is the Kiroscent Dome where ceremonies are performed. It was the first place I died." Ibrahim walked with his hands clasped behind his back, gait slow but confident, gaze measured but alert. When he saw the Artificer's Tower, he said, "I didn't expect Persaman influence on the architecture. How did that happen?"

It was Mirian's turn to shrug.

"I think it had to do with the collapse of the Triarchy. All of a sudden, a lot of well-educated Persaman scholars had a good reason to go anywhere but Persama." They turned north, walking through the gardens, then cutting over to the Myrvite Studies building.

"Now there's a strange building."

"It used to be a fighting arena, but when the new arena got built, it was turned into another Academy building. Would you like to see inside?"

"Sure." Mirian normally just levitated over the top to get to the central area, but she took Ibrahim through the halls. They passed through the door where one of the Akanan spies had broken in so many times before and into the area with the cages and the greenhouses. Xipuatl and Viridian were hard at work, along with dozens of apprentices they'd helped train. Ibrahim closed his eyes as they entered one the greenhouses, holding a hand up close to some of the plants.

With her own soul sight, Mirian could see his hand pass through some of the places where the myrvite plants' auras were bound to each other.

"What's this?"

"Our own attempt at spirit constructs from Tlaxhuaco. The Prophet Xecatl is there, working on her own spirit research and attempting to locate a possible Elder Gate down there." Again, Mirian saw a flicker of surprise in Ibrahim's reaction before he hid it again.

"Curious."

"Have you learned any arcane magic since we last talked?"

"A little." No elaboration. Ibrahim reminded Mirian of Nikoline, the agent who went by Specter. He liked to say very little, and preferred other people to do the talking. What is his purpose? she wondered. Is he scouting out Torrviol so he better knows how to assault it? Or is he scouting out all of Baracuel? She lapsed into silence.

"This might be useful," Ibrahim said. Mirian scoffed. The warlord seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent.

"Could you instruct me on them?"

"I could. What will you trade for it?" Ibrahim seemed puzzled.

"Trade?"

"A new invention, so I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. I give you something, say, the foundations of how spirit magic works, so you give me something in return. Say, instruction on a dervish stance I haven't heard of. Since you're clearly unwilling to act as an ally, perhaps you can act as a trading partner." The dervish was silent. He clasped his hand behind his back again.

"You're used to taking. You're not used to giving. When we first met, you made it clear you'd follow your own path. So be it. But when I invited you into the Council, the first thing you did was kill one of the people who is helping me, wasting several weeks of my time because I had to go down south and catch him up. Now, you're doing that thing that people like Gabriel like to do—intelligence operatives. They try to get as much information as they can out of someone, then leave them with nothing.

So I'll just tell you: if you're not here to help, you should leave. I'm busy." This time, it wasn't surprise, but a flash of rage that played over Ibrahim's face. He was good at suppressing his emotions, but he wasn't good at preventing them from seizing him in the first place.

"You'd dare lump me in with that traitorous wretch?"

"What did you and Liuan talk about when I left? Did you strike a bargain? Carving Baracuel in half, perhaps?"

"I like Liuan. She's honest. In the end, there will be war, and she knows it. An age of Prophets is an age of change. It is the nature of organized societies to expand, and thus, it is the nature of man to go to war. Even the half-breed scum Gabriel would admit that. You're the only one who pretends otherwise." Mirian shook her head, suddenly very tired.

"There doesn't have to be a war," she said sadly.

"Together, we could prevent one."

"I really did want to see Torrviol. But I also want to know your plan. I know Liuan's, even if she thinks she can hide it. I even know Gabriel's, because I know how his sick mind works. Tlaxhuaco is in no position to break out of their island prison, a Prophet there is irrelevant. Zhighua is beset by conquerors and internal strife, and will be torn apart. What's your plan for the war?"

"You think I want to rule the world because you do? What in the five hells would I do with it? It sounds excruciating. You know I'm not Baracueli, right?"

"You're not Persaman, either."

"No, I'm not. I'm something in between. One of the stolen children from Falijmali," she lied, though it was close to the truth. Then, more truthfully, she said, "I have no loyalty to either. Instead, I'm loyal to the village I grew up in. I'm loyal to Torrviol, where my friends live. I'm loyal to Xecatl, whose dealings with me have been honest, and because she also seeks to save Enteria with no eyes on some future of domination. I'm loyal to the Ominian, who has said nothing of war.

I'm loyal to Enteria, because this world is beautiful. And I'll see it saved."

"Hmph."

"It will take all of us to save this place. It will take all of us to stop the conflicts that are waiting to erupt in every corner of the world. But I've been talking to Atrah Xidi—Atroxcidi. If only one side of a conflict wants peace, there will be war. If there is a war, I'll be ready to fight. But if that's your decision, you won't like how it ends." With that, she turned to leave. She started walking north, just outside of town. Ibrahim followed her, stride still casual.

"And who will you fight for?"

"The people worth fighting for." Ibrahim brightened.

"You've read the poet-philosopher Yashai!"

"I have no idea who that is."

"Oh." He frowned.

"Liuan says you can't be trusted."

"She was betrayed by Troytin—Sulvorath, that is. She and I both have trust issues from that. So does Jherica. Do you know about Scebur?"

"Companion to the false Prophet of the—""Someone going by that name now. Another Prophet, hiding around in Akana. Doing things that don't make any sense." The warlord frowned again.

"This is why I'd like you to join our network of zephyr falcons, by the way, so that we can both tell each other important new developments." She glanced at him. He was still acting stoic, but she could tell he was listening.

"I have a theory. What if, in the other loops, there were multiple Prophets too, but they all fought each other? What if that's why they failed? And they did fail—it can only be through failure that humanity has been brought to this precipice."

"I tried to walk the path of peace once. That's what Dawn's Peace was, in the beginning. Peace no matter what they did to us. But as you said, it takes two to prevent a war, and Baracuel wanted war. Well, they'll get one."

"Fate couldn't be changed until the time loop. Now it can be. Otherwise, why would the Ominian have bothered? War was inevitable. No longer." She continued walking north. Ibrahim took a look at the forest.

"I don't like all these trees. Too many places things can hide. Too much shade. And this much green is just garish. Where are we going?"

"I had Professor Torres build me a special tri-point meter. Then I broke it, so I had her build me another one. I've been using it to get benchmarks on my progress on several spells." Mirian was surprised to see the Persaman man smile. His smile was slightly terrifying, and only a little unhinged looking. When they got to the clearing, she was pleased to see that Ibrahim froze momentarily before recovering.

"Practice," he said, raising an eyebrow. The clearing was full of burnt tree stumps, charcoal and cracked rocks. The air smelled bitter and ashy.

"Practice," Mirian said.

"Now stand back." She stood next to the tri-point meter, summoning her spellbook to her hand. She cast suppress sound and suppress light spells, then a weak ground lightning in front of Ibrahim, holding onto them as she prepared her greater lightning. She flexed her right hand, then began to draw in her aura. As it coalesced, she added in the soul energy, then took the piece of fury and frustration that simmered in her, always burning, and used it to fuel her new dervish form—The Burning Tempest Sunders the Sky.

As her soul flared and burned, she cast. Lightning erupted like a concentrated storm, melting the ground into molten glass as the electricity cascaded out. Several bolts escaped into the sky as others smashed into the surrounding forest. Mirian released the spell, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. The burn on her soul reminded her of the burn she felt in her lungs and legs after a nice run. It was pain she could savor.

Ibrahim's eyes were wide, and he'd assumed a dervish form she didn't recognize, but was similar to the Sinister Hand of Shadow—the spell resistance stance. He looked on as the trees around the crater burned and thunder continued to echo off the mountains. Another tree toppled over, trunk shattered, and smashed into the clearing. Then a second one fell, then a third. The dervish glanced down, and noticed several burn marks on his arm where ricocheting lightning had spilled out past the lightning ward and hit him.

Mirian leaned over and looked at the reading on the tripoint meter.

"Hmm—162 myr. I've got Archmage Solvir beat by a good bit now. It's really only Atrah Xidi I need to beat now. Would you believe he can go higher than that?" He could only go higher than that if he'd collected a bunch of souls first, but she didn't mention that part. Turning to the other Prophet, Mirian said, "So, Ibrahim, do you still want to fight me?" Ibrahim threw back his head and laughed.

"I think I will accompany you to the Jiandzhi," he said.