PreCursive
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Chapter 127 - Burn-Out
🕑 Added 2024-01-05 18:00:07 +0000 UTCAfter exiting the cellar where I had gotten a history lesson from an old Elf, Grey and I walked in silence for a while. Fade had raced on ahead in the direction of the town, leaving us behind. I guess he wanted to get back to the fire and whatever scraps everyone had left and could beg for.
I didn’t blame him. I was kinda hungry myself.
Eventually, I turned to face my mentor, never stopping my stride.
“So…” I trailed off.
Grey turned to face me with a raised eyebrow. “So?”
“So, what’s your take on all that?” I asked him. I wasn’t going to lie, I had been relieved when Grey had popped up, there at the end. This way, I didn’t have to explain everything that Alveron had said to me later.
The whole thing was kind of a clusterfuck.
“Well…,” Grey scratched his chin. “It was an interesting insight into some historical matters that I was unaware of. Of particular interest is the fact that ancient, pre-Initialization Precursors had some form of proto-Status that presented them with a ‘Quest’. It implies that the System existed in some form before the coming of the Initialization. I would dearly love to see the treatises that the Elder found that information in.”
I snorted, smiling despite myself. “Oh yeah? No thoughts on the fact that your ‘Elder’ is some kind of ancient Elven Prince? Or hell, that he wants us to ride out and slay a damn God?”
“Oh, I knew that ‘Alveron’, not that he ever presented his name, was quite, quite old,” Grey said, unphased. “My understanding is that the man, or rather Elf, is one of the few remaining Paragons on the face of Vereden. I was introduced to him many, many years ago. By my own mentor, in point of fact.”
I nodded to show my understanding. That would have been after Grey had stopped his life of piracy, and before his mentor had died against a Calamity. “What’s a Paragon? Is it just a word for a really, really old guy? Does that make you a Paragon then?” I said teasingly.
Grey rolled his eyes at me, but shook his head. “No, Paragon is the term for someone that has achieved the level cap of one thousand. However, from his own mouth, the Elder is experiencing the slow death of Core Collapse and is thus diminished in strength. Even if his absolute level is higher than mine by now, he is likely weaker than I am at my peak. Which I’m happy to say, that the battle at Caer Drarrow helped push me towards. I’m nearly fully recovered from my branding by this point.”
“Is Core Collapse a disease or something?” I asked him, feeling a little relieved. It was nice to hear that Grey was nearly back to full power. I paused. “Is it…something I have to worry about catching?”
“No,” Grey immediately shook his head. “Core Collapse is merely the inevitability of age, when it comes to those of us further along the Path. Your very soul begins to weaken, and collapse under the weight and strain of maintaining your power. You gradually weaken, and then pass one day in a somewhat…spectacular way, unique to the individual. For one such as the Elder, I suspect he could birth an entirely new forest of similar size to this one, when his day comes.”
I glanced around at the massive forest surrounding us on all sides and stretching out into the distance. I blinked.
Huh.
“I, thankfully, have no need to worry about the possibility for some time. I might begin exhibiting symptoms sometime in the next few centuries, but nothing until then,” Grey continued casually, as if he wasn’t talking about his inevitable death by apparent explosion.
“All right,” I said slowly. “And…about us killing the Mad God?”
Grey stopped in place then, causing me to do the same. Turning around to face him, I saw that Grey had an unusually serious look on his face. “It would be a noble thing to do, certainly,” He said somberly. “But…I’m unsure if it’s the best idea.”
Somewhere, deep inside me, a cowardly part of my heart sighed in relief. “Why, though?” I said, still curious. “I mean, Alveron apparently did it plenty of times before he became too weak. You’re still in your prime, and I can get stronger. I mean, if nothing else, think of how much level Aether a damned God would be worth.”
Look at me, thinking of killing a God in terms of how many levels it would get me. I was practically going native.
“Possibly,” Grey acknowledged. “However, I am likely nowhere near as strong as the Elder was at the peak of his power. I-” He cut himself off, looking embarrassed before he cleared his throat. “Nathan, I have a…confession to make. I know that you consider myself, and even Honoka to a degree, as being extremely powerful. In comparison to the rest of Vereden, this might even be the case. However…in truth, I’m considered something of a burn-out.”
I blinked rapidly before gaping at my mentor.
What?
“How?” I said weakly. “You said your level was in the seven-hundreds! You’re the leader of a paramilitary force, and the Headmaster of the only school for Mages and Cultivators on the face of the planet! I mean, goddamn! You created an entire sentient species! How are you considered a burn-out?!”
“Thank you, Nathan, for that condensation of nine centuries of effort,” Grey said wryly, smiling at me. I flushed slightly, aware that I had raised my voice. Still, Grey sighed. “But, as someone non-native to Vereden, this reaches back to cultural ideas about achievement and expectation that you are yet to understand. Come, I’ll explain along the way.” He started walking again towards the town.
I followed.
“I became the Headmaster of the Academy some four centuries ago,” Grey started, strolling leisurely by my side with a far-off look on his face. “At the time, it was a mess. Academic standards were embarrassingly lax, and course quality was even worse in my opinion. It took me decades of effort and scouting to assemble the staff that I possess, including Honoka. When I assumed the post, I was in the five hundred level range. This caught the attention of the populace, as it is a rare achievement to breach that level with the Aether density of Vereden. There hadn’t been a Paragon among humanity for some time at that point, and hopes began to rise that I would become the next. And I did try to reach that level, I assure you. However, over time I began to realize that I didn’t prize the endless grind for strength as much as I did some things that were…intangible. Rather than lusting after raw strength, I began to hunger for knowledge. I desired to experiment and push the boundaries of Mysticalilty and spread the results far and wide. As a result, my gain in levels stagnated, before falling off completely. I didn’t care, but I can’t say the same for the rest of Herztalian society.”
Grey gazed off into the distance, a far-off look in his eye.
“I made this decision shortly after the end of a pointless conflict with the Principality. It was far from my first war, but by that point I was very tired of it. If needless bloodshed was to be my reward after striving for ever greater heights, I wished no more part of it,” Grey flickered his eyes my way, and gave me a wry smile. “I’m aware of the irony of that statement, when we’re currently in the middle of a civil war. However, I did try to resolve matters involving the Sculpted in as peaceful a manner as possible. Alas, simple human greed won the day, and thus I find myself embroiled in another war, so easily avoided.”
Grey sighed, falling silent. For a moment, my mentor very much appeared to be a tired old man.
Hmm. It struck me then, what it must be like to live for centuries like Grey had. I’d heard the saying before that history didn’t so much repeat itself as it rhymed. With the coming of new generations, humanity, and I guess sapient beings in general, had a tendency to echo past mistakes. Wealth, land, status, honor and law and glory and the endless quest for them.
I wonder just how much weight Grey put on things like that.
Considering he used to be a pirate, I’m guessing not much.
Tentatively, I reached out to lay a hand on Grey’s shoulder. My movement startled him slightly, causing him to blink rapidly at my hand. He smiled, however, and patted my hand in thanks. He cleared his throat somewhat embarrassedly, and I removed my hand.
“In any case, that explanation was to say that I’m unlikely to be as capable as the Elder was at his own peak,” Grey said, moving on. “While he was able to slay the Mad God multiple times, I have doubts as to my capabilities to do so even once. I would need to resume my quest for strength in earnest before we could attempt such an undertaking. When I made the decision to stop seeking Levels, I ceased my expeditions into the zones of higher Aether Density on Vereden and Indiqua. There aren’t many of them on both planets, but they exist. If I wanted to resume them, I’d need to convince Honoka and perhaps some other fellows from the Academy to accompany me. In any case, you would need to have at least passed the fifth breakpoint before I even considered the possibility of allowing you to attempt deicide. That will likely be decades, if not centuries from now. I will…give the matter some thought.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, relieved. I had no problem putting off a possible fight with a god.
That was future Nathan’s problem.
Grey and I reached the guest hall with no further problems. Nobody inside gave us much of a second glance from our little trip with the Elder. Well, nobody but Honoka. The old woman gave two of us a suspicious glance and then snorted in our direction.
Grey just smirked at his old friend, causing her to start ignoring him in favor of Sylvia again.
Shortly after that, we had a late meal and then promptly went to sleep for the night. We had a big day tomorrow, after all.
Still, I slept pretty good. I almost wanted to steal one of these cots. They were better than even the ones we’d had on the drive to Marrowmist.
I was woken up pretty early by a smug Azarus, who promptly started shoving me out the door before I could even fully wake up. Outside, Tarus had yet to even rise over the horizon. My dwarven friend had woken me before even the green period.
I glowered at him.
“Gotta get the carts ready for the civvies,” Azarus said with a smirk, unphased. “Ya know what to do with ‘em, and I’m not gonna bother askin’ a bunch of nobs and kids to help. Only this time, we need to prep three of them.”
Azarus led me around the back of the guest hall by now, where the Agent from the other day had told us he’d stashed the horses and carriages. Sure enough, they were there. The horses were sleeping in a…surprisingly normal looking stable. Well, if you ignored the fact that it looked to have been grown from green tree roots, and not built out of honest lumber. I audibly groaned when I saw that there were a total of twelve horses, causing Azarus to chortle at me. It had already been a pain to ready just four from my experience. That wasn’t even counting the fact that these carts were as shoddy as Weston had told us they’d be. They were big enough for everyone we’d be hauling, but even to my neophyte eyes, it looked like it would be a bumpy ride.
I sighed, and got to work.
The green period came and went by the time that Azarus and I were done waking up, feeding, brushing, and harnessing all twelve equines. I was starting to hear the rustling of people through the bark walls of the guest hall as we were attaching them to the carriages. The two of us led the three wagons along to the front of the hall, where Grey was already waiting on us with a mug of something hot in hand. He sipped it, eyeing the carriages dubiously. Behind him through the open door, I could see Woodrick gathering the former prisoners together and organizing them. Azarus slipped past me into the hall, and then returned carrying the massive, still comatose form of Venix. The Antium still hadn’t awoken, and was wrapped tightly in linen cloth. I was starting to get a bit worried for him, actually.
Honoka, who was just stepping out of the hall herself, must have seen the worried gaze I was sending him. “He’ll be fine,” She said, unexpectedly gentle. At my startled look, she nodded at me. “I think I’ve figured out what that crunchy fool did to himself. His soul is strained and weakened. Possibly from some kind of desperation move. He’ll keep until we can get him to a Gyreite Preceptor, and they’ll get him on the path to recovery. Until then, the sword slinger will just be taking a nap.” She clapped me on the back, causing me to stumble from the unexpected force of the blow.
She had already moved over to help with the carriages by the time I had gotten my feet under me. Well, all right then. I followed after her. It didn’t take us long to get everyone settled into the carts. Grey and Honoka were driving the front wagon, while I was in the middle with Azarus next to me. Surprisingly, Renauld had volunteered to drive the last wagon, with Richard Everfield next to him. Apparently, both of them had experience in driving a cart.
With a crack of his reigns, Grey got us underway. I did the same, getting my cart moving as well.
As we drove our train through the understandably still empty path out of Alveron’s Haven, I spotted the old Elf watching us from a high platform. For the first time, I was able to see another resident of Ealáindeall, standing right next to him and watching us as well. I suppose this must be another Elf that had been freed from the clutches of the Mad God.
Dressed much the same as the Elder in a cloak and mask, they surprisingly had their hood down. Their long, unbound, honey-blond hair was blowing in the morning breeze. But more importantly, their long, tapered ears were visible in the morning light. Whoever this was, it wasn’t hard to tell that they were a woman. Partly, it was because their mask didn't have the antlers that Alveron's did. Her's was of a doe, instead of a stag.
Both Elves were watching us silently. I think the only reason that I saw them at all was because the Elder was letting me. The rest of the wagon train didn’t seem to notice the two of them at all.
Well, except for one person.
Azarus followed my gaze and did a double take. He gaped at the long, exposed ears of the female Elf before turning to face me. I just raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.
Azarus blinked, before shaking his head. “Nope,” He said, crossing his arms. “Ain’t touchin’ that one.”
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Comments
Ammad asgher
Damn imagine him killing a god and then stealing its abilities.
