Venturing out to the very border of System space wasn’t as simple a prospect as just taking a hike. Not only was the deep void between galaxies treacherous, but a blazing beacon such as himself deciding to chain a few Spatial Folds and Dimensional Steps together would draw a lot of attention.

Both Alagameth and Talricto—respective experts of spatiomancy and dimensionalism—had openly told him that the longer the distance of travel with each cast, the greater the odds of drawing unwanted attention.

Orodan had of course not seen any problem with this at all. He was stronger than the Prophet, he had argued.

And Almyra and Alagameth then informed him that monsters within System space weren’t the issue. It was the Invaders beyond it.

With so many breaches in the barrier between System space and the grand cosmos beyond it, his gigantic Spatial Folds and extreme-distance crossing Dimensional Steps would blaze like a beacon. Like a brazier lit within a patchy tent, it would be quite visible.

Predators or beings of interest who had thus far felt neutral about the prospect of entering System space might be more tempted if they saw power of his scale being thrown around from within it. The one time he’d been hurled outside System space he remembered the sheer number of hungry and curious things which had been drawn to him, thus Orodan had to grudgingly agree with that line of thought.

Given all the issues he’d caused already, attracting more Invaders wasn’t an option.

That being said, just because he couldn’t travel there swiftly didn’t mean the alliance’s hands were tied. The grand array they’d been using could easily be re-tuned to aim for a relatively safe spot near the edge. Almyra and Alagameth, who were a lot more knowledgeable of the wider factions of System space, told him that there were mercenary worlds which specifically accepted wanderers, freelancers and the like to aid the Administrators in their fight against Invaders.

Something which answered the question of how the hells five Administrators—one of whom was actively hateful of the System—were supposed to defend a border that big.

The planned invasion of Narictus would continue as usual… without Orodan or any of the allied Embodiers physically present. Which in turn would leave the Hegemony’s ancient Embodiment-level dragon no excuse to interfere and violate cosmic rules around Embodier interference to begin with.

All this was to say, he had time on his hands until the grand array was ready. And he couldn’t exactly death loop right off the bat without also ruining the loops for all the others who were along with him.

Which was fine by him as he needed to consolidate a number of his skills and further his training.

“Hold it straight you rockhead!” came the demand of his favorite foreman.

Orodan had long since learned, even before the loops, that attempting to argue that he was holding it straight was futile. If anything, Old Man Hannegan was always unerringly right in whatever he found fault with. A fact some of the other specialists and craftsfolk hadn’t caught onto fully. Their mistakes following that only rubbed salt in their decision to doubt the grumpy supervisor.

Thus he stoically shifted the citadel-sized support beam atop his finger.

[Laboring 68 → Laboring 69]

“Hmm… acceptable. Now keep it there and don’t move it a hair’s width,” Old Man Hannegan instructed. “I won’t accept your spell training as an excuse for failure either.”

Said spell training made itself known as the lightning bolt coming off his middle finger came awfully close to jumping from his planned arc towards the target dummy to the support beam instead.

Casting near a support beam made of pure metal which naturally drew lightning was a rather novel way of training the element, not that the Celestial foreman approved in the slightest.

“Watch it! If your little casting session damages that beam I’ll have you shoveling gravel until-” Old Man Hannegan’s threat cut off with a sigh and a shake of the head. “Feh! You’d probably enjoy that… just, watch it.”

“That… is the intention,” he replied as he cast simultaneous lightning bolts from each fingertip.

[Lightning Bolt 61 → Lightning Bolt 62]

All five dummies had black scorch marks burned onto them, dead center too. That would’ve been a success for anyone else.

“Again,” Destartes calmly ordered. “The scorch marks are of uneven coloration. I expect each bolt to be absolutely perfect and uniform. The middle finger arc also bent unacceptably much towards me.”

“That was intentional,” Orodan replied with a strained smile.

The old mage simply rolled his eyes and shot a tiny lightning bolt right at his middle finger which was in the midst of casting another Lightning Bolt.

The spell wasn’t quick compared to his reflexes, but having to block an incoming spell of pure lightning with one of his own composed of mana-fueled lightning was tricky. Particularly when he had four other spells mid-cast and was also holding a colossal support beam above his head.

[Lightning Magic Mastery 36 → Lightning Magic Mastery 38]

His lightning bolt shot out and intercepted Destartes’s spell, and his other bolts hit their targets.

“A juvenile jest, Mister Wainwright. And also, again. Your fifth bolt did not even leave your finger and only four out of the five targets were struck.”

Anyone else would have protested about how they were meant to strike a target while also blocking an incoming lightning bolt, but knowing Destartes the old mage probably wanted him to block with the uncast spell before even firing.

“Orodan! You moved the beam again! Get it straight!”

And of course, any effort could not come without Old Man Hannegan simultaneously barking about labor.

All in all, Orodan was under a lot of pressure. Not exactly the physical sort, nor the mental sort where each and every cell was dying as he tried to think. But the sort of fine and delicate pressure which came with maintaining absolutely perfect control while still being forced to expend effort in sudden and odd directions.

It was… exactly the sort of good training he loved. It was what he needed if he was to succeed in besting the oncoming Invaders, repairing the breaches in the System’s boundary and achieving his grand ambition.

“My lady did not exaggerate… I see your manic enjoyment of such mad training regimens with my own eyes now,” General Vaelrosaan of Vylrystia muttered. “Now, Burst Cast. You will vaporize only the orb I throw. I will accept no collateral. Cause not even a blade of grass to sway.”

The half-dragon general threw an orb into the air and Orodan’s mana pool trembled as he forcibly clamped his will down upon it, stilling it entirely like a puddle of water frozen over in the deep winter.

From a state of perfect stillness… lightning exploded out of his finger.

[Lightning Bolt 62 → Lightning Bolt 63]

[Burst Casting 76 → Burst Casting 77]

The orb utterly vaporized.

And the entire field of grass outside Vylrystia’s capital citadel swayed as though a gale roared through it.

“Damn…”

“Again. The arc of that bolt was dissatisfactory.”

“Perhaps you mistook my instructions my lord?” General Vaelrosaan asked. “I meant for you to avoid causing any grass to sway. Not that you should shake the entire valley.”

“Straighten the beam! The jewelcrafters can’t measure things right if you don’t keep it aligned!”

And so Orodan’s day went, getting bullied into repeating insane feats of control over and over again.

He had been pulped down to single cells under extreme physical pressure. He had nearly killed himself by attempting to account for an insane number of things mentally. But to explode with force while still retaining perfect physical and mental control?

Strenuous in a way he wasn’t used to.

The unassuming monk they brought in from the Eastern Kingdoms of Alastaia didn’t lessen the intensity of the demands either. A philosopher, or so he was told. Alongside him, a few others who pursued the same academic discipline. A few were fighters and mages in their own right, but the monk before him was neither. A non-combatant who dabbled in studying scrolls rather than blades or spells.

“My lord, what is lightning?”

Firing spells from the fingertips of his free hand, doing Burst Casts in-between that, and having to hold a support beam perfectly straight with occasional movements as Old Man Hannegan demanded was not relaxing. Adding an academic discussion on lightning to that mix wasn’t conducive to critical thought.

“The natural power borne of friction within the sky itself.”

“Not the mana channeled within you which then comes out as the spells you are casting?” the monk asked.

“No? Why would that be? Lightning has existed long before I ever began casting lightning bolts.”

“Then you do not cast lightning, but an imitation of it. Is this true?” the eastern philosopher asked.

“No… that is not necessarily true. Yes in this case, because I fuel my lightning with mana and not the soul, but I have fought creatures who naturally are born attuned to an element. Theirs is no imitation,” Orodan replied.

“But these creatures too were not born before lightning naturally fell from the skies. Are they not imitations of the natural, true lightning?”

“No. Is a dragon hatchling who imitates its sire’s fire breath a mere imitation of its forebears? Is a child who imitates their father’s walk merely imitating walking? Of course not, we say the dragon when grown is simply breathing flame. Or the child is now simply walking.”

“But are we not all products of our environment and mere imitations of what came before us?” a half-dragon philosopher asked, remaining entirely unperturbed as Orodan shot out more lightning bolts and adjusted the beam he was holding up after some yelling from Old Man Hannegan. “In fact, are the skills we acquire not just imitations of someone who founded them for the first time somewhere?”

“If we are mere imitations, then there would be no innovation. Even at the same skill level, two people can have varying insights and outputs when all else is the same. Your argument is also invalidated by Celestial skills, even the System cannot quantify those properly. It is new ground.”

[Stubborn Persuasion 15 → Stubborn Persuasion 18]

As usual, the skill gain only came after he had some logical ground in his argument to stand on. Arguing something logically unsound wouldn’t have done anything for it.

“Then perhaps, Orodan, you should not just see yourself as casting lightning,” Destartes finished.

He was casting Lightning Bolts, but he shouldn’t see it as casting lightning? That was… an intriguing way of seeing things.

“Why are you so insistent I focus on lightning anyhow?” Orodan asked.

“Why should you not? If you are so monstrously powerful by just adding flames to your Elemental Living Enchantment, then there is no excuse for not studying more,” Destartes explained. “As per estimates, your total lifespan mentally would not even be a thousand years. You are young, Orodan. Youthful in mental age even by the standards of a Grandmaster. Which is not to say you haven’t seen more battle or death than any of us. But your mentality of study, of training and the approach to mastery is still very… Adept-like. And the fact that you were thrown into a time loop also does not help matters.”

“Adept-like?”

“Yes, Adept-like. Full of vim, vigor and ferocity; as though every hour is his last. You train like a furious young man on a revenge-driven quest. It shows in how you push yourself, your study, all of it. Do not mistake me, these are exceptional qualities which have brought you to where you are. In fact, I will never have another student of your caliber, nor will anyone else who has ever had the pleasure of teaching you. But it does not erase the fact that you are young, and it shows in your approach to bettering yourself. This confuses, you, yes? Then allow me to pose a question… tell me, what are the different melting points of each metal upon Alastaia and how quickly can your lightning bring them to said melting points?”

Orodan was… entirely clueless about that question.

“They didn’t exactly teach me that at Bluefire.”

“Nor would they. Such a thing isn’t exactly laid out in textbooks so cleanly, not for first years. The melting points of the metals, perhaps. But the standard time needed for a lightning mage to bring them to that threshold? Those are only in fourth year-courses meant for those near graduation from the school of electromancy. And even then, the calibration and regular testing of each mage’s lightning is left to themselves. A constant crucible of testing and experimenting in the path towards true mastery.”

“My education is incomplete then? Perhaps I should return to the Academy and finish out my years. If it’s higher year texts I require…”

“Partially. Reading is always good. But to truly show you what I mean, consider some other questions: what are the different temperatures produced by lightning in varying conditions? What materials would conduct your lightning best? Which substances in the air would benefit your lightning flowing through? Which would hinder it? Which metals would cause the most alteration of your lightning arcs? Why? What adjustments must you make for each one and what is the pivotal factor you need to control?”

Orodan’s head spun a bit as he considered all these questions. Even with every cell thinking… he had no comprehensive answers for each one. His experience with lightning was shallow.

“See now what I mean? You are a frightening prodigy of hard work. Even things you have abysmal talent in will come to you far faster than they would for the average learner through simple virtue of grit and obsessive work ethic. But your approach to training is that of a hot-headed young man who chases the greatest insights one after another, leaping from mountain peak to mountain peak without ever exploring the troughs and valleys down beneath,” the old mage clarified. “This is good, do not lose your obsessive drive and that ferocity… but you must also begin to shore up your comprehensive foundations like a true master. You are already on the right path with your rejection of the System’s crutch, but merely training with an obsession to seek the next breakthrough insight will not do.”

“In other words. Old Arvayne, or perhaps I should say Agathor, did not help by turning your time at Bluefire into a weapon-sharpening session designed to create a blade capable of fighting the Eldritch Avatar.” The voice was not Destartes’s but that of Adeltaj Simarji. The old halberdier seemed in slightly better spirits than the last time Orodan had seen him. “Regular brutal sparring is well and good. But nobody has truly sat you down and forced you to confront philosophy, thought and the absolute intricacies of things in a setting which was not a mid-battle breakthrough under pressure. Much of these things you’ve done yourself naturally over the course of training, but not with some time dedicated it specifically.”

“You sound like the cultivators,” Orodan remarked.

“As we should. You of all people know well that whether it is cultivation, warrior martial philosophy or magic spells, true mastery must be acquired the same way. Through study, effort, experience and insight. From what I read of the cultivators, we are not so different,” Adeltaj spoke. “At root, their halberd cultivators are no different from me wielding and meditating on my own.”

“You deserve credit for all you’ve done. What you’ve achieved in the short time you have is what countless Grandmasters have been aspiring to since time immemorial. The time loops went to the right person, none other could replicate your results to the extent that you have. You stand as an Embodier in a timeframe where others would still be Masters, and yet… your journey has taken you in a straight path towards whatever brings you more power. It has not allowed your mentality to round out and grow in the way a Grandmaster or even a Master’s should, let alone Transcendents and Embodiers. You, Orodan, have not truly lived the requisite time someone of your power should. And it has led to a lot of foundational weaknesses which must be amended through more than just harsh training.”

The two of them were not wrong. When laid out to him in such a way, he was forced to see it. Leaving aside his fueling of the time loop mechanism and his battle against Cleanliness and Infinity, he really hadn’t experienced much normal life across all his loops.

In the early loop days the most prodigious Master he knew aside from himself had been Yarostov Iron-Bear. The man had reached Master by the age of eighty.

Eighty years to reach the Master-level.

Compared to Orodan’s progress in the time loops that might as well have been a snail measured against a lightning bolt.

Masters and Grandmasters not only studied across centuries and milennia, but they also lived. They had societies built around them, research which not only they were a part of, but the preceding and following generations too. A Grandmaster lived life and then slowly advanced their craft through study drawn from not just themselves but the insights of their peers, research centers such as the Academies and even a thing or two they might see a talented member of the younger generation do.

They did not advance anywhere near as quick as he did. But they had knowledge, theories and an understanding of history which far surpassed his own. A breadth of knowledge and cross-referencing ability which Orodan did not have a fraction of.

Yes, he had fought in battle across the cosmos and slain thousands. He had seen things far beyond his years lived and fought foes which even Embodiers were terrified of. He had climbed the cosmic ladder very high up. But if put in a room with other warrior Embodiers, he might be able to relay his own experiences… but what more? Each of them likely had ten-thousand stories for each of his.

The actual lived time he had experienced, was less than a century. Embodiers, even the talented ones… were millions of years old.

Which meant millions upon millions of spars, millions of events and ancient battles they had witnessed or studied about. Treatises, manuals and scrolls on a near-endless number of techniques, skills and martial forms which he had no reference for since he was mostly self-taught and forged through the fire of the loops and endless battle.

The ancient Alagameth who was one of the founding ancestors of the Conclave? Millions of years old, and possibly someone who knew the Prophet before that zealot became as maddened as it was.

Even Almyra, the time looper before him, was in the range of tens of thousands of years. That she’d reached Embodiment in that time was nothing short of astounding and a testament to her own talent, genius and capabilities. But even she had oceans’ worth of knowledge and more life lived than he did despite herself being incredibly young for an Embodier.

And him? He had reached the Embodiment-level in not just one skill, but two. In a time period of less than two-thousand years total, of which he was only conscious for less than a century.

Orodan’s training which was ongoing, was interrupted just before General Vaelrosaan could throw another orb. The person who interrupted it was the previous looper herself.

“Almyra,” he greeted.

“Orodan Wainwright. I see you have much to think about,” she spoke. “Have you recognized now the gulf in knowledge and experience between you and your peers which you bridge through monstrous talent alone?”

“I do. Yet it seems I cannot simply lean upon my work ethic and talent as a crutch.”

She smiled.

“Yes. But if I’ve come to learn something… it is that the conventional way of doing things does not apply to you. And we would not be where we are if you had gone about things the normal way,” she said, taking the target orb General Vaelrosaan was about to throw and shattering it in her palm. “It is good to live and experience life… but that should also come with not forgetting what got you to where you are.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“It is good that you are taking the words of Adeltaj and Destartes seriously. But, I find you grow best under pressure,” she said, and then smiled in a way which Orodan felt ominous. “I notice you have been failing that and unable to grasp the half-dragons’ attempts to teach you counterforce and control over your gigantic energy pool. It is time to rectify that. Prepare a Lightning Bolt, Burst Cast. Ten percent of your total reserves. Not a single blade of grass should move from collateral shock.”

What? That was frankly the height of lunacy, even by Orodan’s standards. Not only was he being told to pour a tenth of his entire power into the Burst Cast, but also that he could not cause any shockwave to leave his cast at all.

Worst of all, even without amplifications via Eidolon of Violence, Elemental Living Enchantment and the Smite of Abrupt Deliverance, he was a true calamity. Ten percent of Orodan Wainwright’s power put into a Burst Cast Lightning Bolt, even just mana-fueled, could obliterate a planet and perhaps more.

Thus, Orodan found himself saying something he never thought he would.

“This is madness. I cannot just gamble the lives of the innocents around me for the sake of training.”

It was not Vaelrosaan who did anything. Nor Destartes or Adeltaj. Instead, it was Almyra who stepped up, staring at him holding the beam.

“Orodan Wainwright. I see you do not wish to risk the lives of innocents in your training. A noble goal, a lofty ideal,” she said with a mirthless smile, and something in him didn’t like her tone in the slightest. “But such notions are but hot air without the strength to enforce them. Or in your case, the control.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I am in no place to lecture you, but you destroyed numerous star systems in your battle against Kharadun Voidfortress. And you also slew your own friends when breaking Anomaly #3’s wicked influence upon them. Neither situation was directly your fault, but they highlight the weakness in your lack of preventing collateral destruction,” she spoke. “Forgive me, but as I said, I find you learn best under pressure. You want to protect everyone? You wish to avoid gambling their lives? Then show you have the control to save them.”

He felt something very powerful leave a dimensional storage space of hers. He had seen this before, it was…

“Embodier’s Sacrifice…!” someone exclaimed.

It was slow to Orodan’s reflexes, but his left hand held aloft a citadel-sized support beam upon which several craftsfolk were working. And the lightning bolt in his right hand was already mid-channel. There was frankly, no time to do anything else for the conniving Almyra had chosen her moment well.

The Embodier’s Sacrifice would annihilate both Vylrystia and Alastaia. It was a single-use star-system destroying weapon.

Which meant that he had no choice but to throw at least ten percent of his power into a Lightning Bolt via Burst Casting. And he would have to contain the collateral or everyone around him would die.

Time Reversal was not on his mind. Preventing the tragedy was.

Soul energy flared as he strengthened his body much as he could to hasten his perception. Every split moment where he could think and plan mattered.

And just as the weapon was about to detonate, his mana pool exploded outward, with an equal and opposite force produced to contain the collateral shockwave of his cast.

[Burst Casting 77 → Burst Casting 79]

[Lightning Bolt 63 → Lightning Bolt 65]

[New Skill → Internal Counterforce 7 (Legendary)]

The Embodier’s Sacrifice utterly vaporized due to the sheer power of the lightning bolt he sent.

The sheath of rebounding energy he wrapped all around the spell prevented any collateral damage from leaking out either. Enough so that eerily enough… not even Orodan’s clothes were ruffled.

The gigantic support beam above his head remained held by his finger. His free hand crackled with lingering electricity.

And a baleful gaze landed upon Almyra.

But before he could think about how he would intensify her training, one more voice came through demanding his attention.

“Straighten the damned beam! That’s it! You’re on gravel shoveling duty!”

#

If there had been one benefit to all of that, it was that the shoveling of all that gravel had made him a Laboring Elite.

And the other benefit had been the very effective training regimen he’d put Almyra through. It was the least he could have done after the woman got him a new skill and helped cement the notion that he worked best under the pressure of a crucible.

Not that it spared him from having to do things the way Adeltaj and Destartes wanted of course.

“-Elydia’s Phoenix Anthems: Volume IX, Uthoryn’s Research Compendium On The Nature Of Lightning: Version IV and er… On Fire & Certainty by Baron Viglas Argon.”

“Quite the reading list,” Orodan remarked, not displeased. “There was a time where I would dread the thought of reading a book. But then I actually entered an academy and saw that they aren’t so bad.”

“For you perhaps, Mister Wainwright,” Kalemar replied as he put the list away. “Not everyone can read a book in seconds like you can with the unfair thought-speed you possess.”

“Thought-speed and reflexes are two different things. I see fast but my mind is no quicker than anyone else’s,” he corrected. “Equalize a scholar’s reflex speed with my own and they shall outthink me every time. I can swat bullets and spells out of the air quicker than they can, that’s my only advantage. Something which gives me ample time to think on things line-by-line in a short time.”

Alongside Incipience of Infinity and his naturally prodigious strength and control of soul. Mind mages, but particularly soul mages, were known for having perfect memory. Orodan was no exception to that; a natural consequence once the soul got strong enough and forgetting things ceased to occur.

“An unfair advantage which students across all the academies would kill for, though it is good that we needn’t waste time sitting for hours while you peruse books,” Kalemar spoke. “But I suppose Lord Talricto’s demands of you would render that impossible anyhow.”

“As it should. We were supposed to venture out together last loop before that gigantic mess occurred, and I shan’t see it put off for a moment longer,” the dimensional spider declared imperiously. “Come, disciple. We step beyond the dimensional veil today! For the first time you shall bear witness to the splendor and life of your teacher, the great Talricto the Wanderer. Yes, yes. You are welcome for the honor.”

Orodan allowed the eight-legged dimensionalist its eccentricities. Talricto didn’t really ever ask him for anything, which made any request by the spider to accompany it far more important than any ask from someone else.

Tegin and Eldarion had expressed their concerns about Orodan essentially gallivanting into unknown parts of the cosmos, especially when Talricto did not even wish to disclose exactly where they were going. Even Almyra and Alagameth had spoken up in disapproval of this, so close to their planned venture towards the border of System space.

But in the face of all of them, Orodan had stood his ground and refused to budge. Talricto had taught him, helped him grow and aided in defeating some of his worst enemies. The dimensional spider was prickly, seemingly impatient and an all-round irksome pest.

But the spider was also his teacher, his ally, his friend. And Orodan Wainwright did not let debts go unpaid.

So what if there might be danger? Orodan had not forged himself through the fires of endless battle and the time loops to be cowed by risk. Before he had brought all these people along notions of risk did not factor into his calculation.

If Talricto wished to go somewhere and had explicitly requested Orodan accompany it, then he would. And that was the end of it no matter what anyone else grumbled about risk.

“I suppose I should speak on behalf of Almyra and reiterate that neither of us are entirely comfortable with you venturing past the dimensional boundary to places unknown… but it would be remiss of me to worry when you’ve shouldered the burden of being the pillar for everyone by yourself all this time,” King Alstatyn of the Collective spoke. “Almyra would have come herself if she wasn’t still recovering from training.”

“It was just a few spars and some weight training… those things can only be good for a mage,” Orodan replied, recalling how he drove the previous looper into the dirt. “She won’t be complaining about the improved ability to circulate mana at higher levels of Physical Fitness.”

It was a bottleneck Destartes of all people was starting to understand, especially since the old mage now had the Eternal Soul Reactor skill. The old wizard’s energy output was high, but too much wore the body out. Thus, that old spellcaster never complained whenever Orodan put him through rigorous drills and conditioning.

Still, the subject of training could be shelved until they returned.

“Do be safe, yes? It would be irritating to be pulled from my own projects just because you died,” Zaessythra said, brushing the top of his hand with her own in a tender gesture. “Though… I suppose waking up next to you allows for a rematch, hmm?”

“You-!” Orodan exclaimed, heating up before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, refusing to play her game. This half-dragon was entirely shameless. “I can’t promise I won’t die, but it’s Talricto who asked. Since when does my most vexatious teacher of the dimensional arts ask for anything?”

“Perhaps I should ration out my requests then, make them more impactful,” said dimensional spider muttered. “Worry not, dragon. I shall have your preferred plaything back in one piece. There shan’t be anything of the sort which he cannot handle.”

“You telling us where you are going would help ease some of our concerns,” Alstatyn spoke up.

To that, the spider had only one thing to say.

“No.”

Orodan shrugged.

“Well, you have your answer.”

In the face of such a concise and final reply none present could say anything else, and he would not allow anyone to force an answer out of the spider either. Forcibly prying answers from an ally was a line he refused to cross even on a bad day, and Talricto had done too much for them all to not have earned their trust.

“Then shall we, my favorite disciple?”

And thus, the two of them set off.

Orodan tried casting a Dimensional Step, but it was Talricto who took over, highlighting that no matter how good Orodan got at Dimensionalism he would likely never be the spider’s equal now that it was in the loops too. In power perhaps, but in skill? His teacher’s rate of growth for the art was as absurd as his own talent for Cleaning.

A gelatinous bubble comprised of multiple separate dimensional pockets linked together formed around the both of them. Simultaneously, waves of scrambling force went out causing the gaze of Alstatyn, Zaessythra and Kalemar to lose focus, as though they could no longer see the departing duo.

And lastly, the entire dimensional boundary around Alastaia briefly and almost imperceptibly rippled. At first he didn’t understand why, until he realized that every single tracking mechanism or method of reading where they might go had now been scrambled.

And before Orodan could even remark about how impressed he was as the thoroughness of covering their tracks, the bubble shifted sideways and along the boundary for a while, like a boat skimming the surface of the ocean. And after a few passes, they finally crossed, traveling through at least four different intermediary dimensions before finally arriving.

The bubble around them vanished, and he felt as though his intuitive understanding of Dimensionalism had increased by a step through just watching all that.

“If you were trying to show off, you’ve succeeded. I didn’t understand even half of that, and I’m not exactly a fledgling in Dimensionalism.”

“Hmmph… do not get ahead of yourself. If you were not taken by that tyrant of yours the clan matriarchs would certainly try to arrange a match between you and some promising princess. As it stands, they may still try, though I shall warn them against the rudeness and danger of that.”

“Still may? Where are we Talricto?”

It was… a place vaguely similar to that dimension of utter nonexistence that he and the Prophet had had their recent battle in a few loops ago. And though Orodan was no scholar of these things, if there were degrees to nonexistence, this place would be lesser on the scale than the place he’d done battle in.

“Orodan,” Talricto began, sounding more serious than the spider had in a while. Its forelegs were entirely still too. “I did not mask and scramble our tracks for no reason. I also brought you along not just because you are… useful in your brutishness, but also because I… I trust you. If I tell you not to tell anyone where we have gone, would you abide by that?”

“Consider it done,” he replied almost immediately.

“Good, good. It would have been quite uncomfortable if you had said no after we came all this way,” the spider said, sounding rather nervous now. “We make for my birthplace.”

Ah, that explained the secrecy then.

Orodan had traveled System space enough now to know that dimensional phase spiders were incredibly elusive and rare, yes, to the point that even on Alastaia they were considered a myth. But he also knew that the creatures were found not just on his home world but also beyond it.

The hells, the lands of the cultivators, even the records of X2 mentioned historical incidents of the spiders phasing in, realizing there was nothing to eat, and then leaving.

Yet, for all those records and incidents, nobody had ever quite discovered where these elusive planeswalkers actually resided. Save for one recorded incident in a distant galaxy, nobody had found a way into the pocket planes of these spiders. Even Almyra for all her efforts and meetings with them had failed.

Worst of all, even when the spiders were on rare occasions captured and had their minds and souls opened up for reading, the trail was useless since the entrance was ever changing. Frankly, even the one instance of explorers finding one of the pocket planes of the dimensional spiders was by sheer luck and statistical improbability, or so the head expeditionary themselves had claimed after returning with half of her five-hundred strong party dead.

“From all I’ve heard, your folk are very secretive and not fond of being found,” he spoke, noting the spider’s anxiety visible in the soul. “Even if you know the way, will they take kindly to meeting me?”

“Well… that is just the thing. They will not. And for another, I do not know the way entirely.”

“…then how are we to get there?”

“Simple, my illustrious disciple. You see, the location of the plane itself is ever-shifting, but I remember enough of the way that at this time of this millennia, it should be drifting somewhere in the nearby few star systems’ worth of space,” Talricto spoke, acting as though it wasn’t an entirely mad endeavor. Like finding a specific grain of sand in a desert, but amplified to cosmic scale. “The plan then is a simple one. I will guide you, you shall hold the entirety of the dimensional boundary for the designated area… still, by force. And you will then use your improved Vision of Purity to comb through the area.”

“Hah! A worthy endeavor,” Orodan said, relishing the thought of the challenge. “It shall be good training.”

“I knew you would say that… now, let us begin.”

[Incipience of Infinity 179 → Incipience of Infinity 180]

Soul energy wafted off him in a deluge, causing the very nonexistence of the dimension they were in to slowly unravel as something very existent suddenly flooded it.

He had performed feats requiring far more power; this was nothing in comparison. He reached out, and with his iron will channeled into the skill, used Dimensionalism to spread his reach out across the entirety of the dimensional boundary for this plane… and grasped it it all.

Through the force of his will and the expenditure of his bottomless well of soul energy, the boundary first slowed, and then still entirely.

But right away he could see the boundary, despite being held still by force, was trembling under the collateral of being gripped by that much energy and will. If a dragon were to lift a citadel, it would protest at the point of grasp, the pressure there extreme.

“Minor miscalculation… the boundary may tear before our plan can be enacted,” Talricto spoke, doing his best to continually smooth and repair the spots which were under the greatest strain.

But for Orodan, this was exactly what he needed. Rather, it was exactly what his latest skill was for. His time training with the half-dragons of Vylrystia and being lectured about Counterforce over and over had not been for nothing. A learning process which had finally hit a milestone when Almyra had hurled an Embodier’s Sacrifice at him.

[Internal Counterforce 7 → Internal Counterforce 10]

Orodan’s mind was focused on not just the grasp he had on the dimensional boundary, but on producing a secondary and internal counterforce to negate the excess of his own grip.

It was a skill shockingly similar in principle to Balance Maker, to the point where Orodan wondered if they were part of the same umbrella. Then again, with Balance Maker already in his toolset, perhaps it was what colored his thoughts on what he began to do.

The Internal Counterforce flared and began easing the excess power in his grasp over the boundary. Bit by bit.

Like a swinging pendulum slowly approaching rest, the internal and opposing energy he flared began to eventually bring his grasp to a point where the boundary was no longer strained.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but it works. Keep at it!” Talricto declared, helping guide his grip to ease in certain portions before any tears could occur. “Now my disciple, use your eyes!”

And so started the second part of this monumental endeavor: actually finding the pocket plane.

[Vision of Purity 101 → Vision of Purity 103]

Orodan’s cells began dying as Vision of Purity extended as far out as it could and then some. It was… excellent training, and also some horrid strain upon his mind as he was attempting to not only manage the brute force work of pushing his perception past its limits, but also maintain a delicate Internal Counterforce while keeping an open eye for any pocket planes.

He would’ve liked to say it was his relentless drive which led to success. But after thirty minutes what finally caused a change was an imperceptible ripple in the dimensional boundary he was holding still.

Imperceptible for him, but not for Talricto.

“I have it, come,” the spider immediately spoke. “Not so difficult to spot the elder city shifter’s moves when the entire boundary is held still like ice. Be ready, disciple, they will hurl some foul things our way.”

Orodan saw it too now, a tiny, cell-sized pocket plane. He would have never noticed it at all. In fact, Vision of Purity, even at the Transcendent-level, would have failed to pick out anything about it since it was as pure as it got and blended in perfectly with the dimensional boundary of the plane they were in.

No wonder nothing had ever found these creatures’ abode save for one recorded instance. And even then who knew if that was them willingly showing up to send a message for once?

Talricto yanked the both of them right towards their target destination via a quick Dimensional Step, and it was there that Orodan understood why the dimensional phase spider had brought him along.

It was as though a grain of sand suddenly decided to grow claws. No combatants came out, but attacks certainly did. Reaving and cutting scythes, the edges of dimensional rifts sharp enough to cut right through Transcendents and harm even Embodiers.

Unfortunately, such a retaliatory strike wasn’t designed to deal with him. Rift edges which could slice anything in half by closing upon them instead found themselves fizzling and then imploding as they failed to close upon him due to the sheer amount of soul energy.

“Hold, disciple! I am in the process of cracking the outer defenses and then we can be in!”

Orodan had to wonder, that if they were encountering this much resistance already, then what would be waiting for them inside? He wasn’t threatened by this, but the possibility of innocent dimensional spiders dying in the crossfire was decent.

More came. Spells meant to immediately sever the link between soul and body, a form of instantaneous death magic. All manner of elemental barrages, soul curses, mind magic. And even, interestingly enough, a form of reality alteration which tried to erase his very existence.

Of course, the instant death magic, the mind magic, the curses and the reality alteration all ran into the same impassable problem. He was simply too much. And the elemental barrage wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to harm him.

The response took on a more panicked note from there, and Talricto’s progress in unraveling the defenses didn’t help.

He felt it before seeing it, the use of some single-use treasures and weapons, incredibly expensive no doubt. But they certainly hit a lot harder. One of them even hit with the force of an Embodier, which he ended up taking on the shield.

But it was all to no avail. As fortified as this pocket-plane was, as many tricks as it had, it was being assailed by the single worst combo of brute force and dimensional finesse in all System space. Talricto knew how to get in, but wouldn’t have managed it without alerting them and drawing their retribution which the spider wasn’t suited for taking. And he would have been stuck scrambling for ages without having ever found the pocket-dimension in the first place.

But together? A horrid prospect for any foe to face.

Whoever was directing the defenses of the pocket-plane seemed to now understand this as well, but by now it was a little too late. Perhaps they had gotten complacent with so long spent never being discovered. Mayhap they were unused to fights they didn’t utterly dominate due to their ability to pick and choose. But only now did the option of retreat enter the calculus, and it was one Talricto had accounted for.

The cell-sized dimension tried escaping via a fluid dimensional maneuver which would have absolutely flummoxed and eluded Orodan himself. But it did not fool the dimensional phase spider with him.

The attempt at escape was instead met by a clever tether which the spider had placed at the start of the battle. And in attempting to flee, the yank of that tether caused multiple defenses on the their target to unravel.

“In!” Talricto sharply instructed, more as a courtesy really, as the spider shifted Orodan alongside.

His first footfall upon solid ground was met by every possible element he could think of lancing up through the ground and attempting to eradicate him.

He ignored it, and the brief moment’s lull in the assault allowed him to get a clear view of where they were.

Orodan had traversed plenty of dimensions. The hells, the elemental planes, the various planes where he and his opponents had been dragged into to do battle for the sake of avoiding collateral. Furthermore, he’d also seen pocket dimensions before. They were a part of his training when learning dimensionalism for the first time via an orb that continually emitted decaying dimensional bubbles.

The internal size of those was nothing too special. A bubble the size of an apple would have double or triple the space inside. It was certainly wondrous when seen for the first time, but by his standards now, nothing out-of-the-ordinary.

But this? This was.

His physical sight finally caught up to what Vision of Purity was telling him.

It was a world the size of Xian, which itself was many times the size of Alastaia or Vylrystia… and it was all contained within a stable pocket-plane the size of a cell of his.

Not unoccupied either.

Towering and majestic spires of gilded gold, glittering silver and sparkling jewels of colors enough to make the head spin. From these spires hung webs and silks of the finest make and intricacy, some of them even had precious metal threaded alongside them, those webs were nearer to the highest spires though.

But even the lower spires housed all manner of opulent trinkets, things taken from the various civilizations of System space. And a common theme of… socks? Odd.

The entryway they were standing upon was meant to be a receiving point. However it was surrounded by an unfriendly ring of defensive spires from which thick webs were hanging. And upon those webs were spiders.

A lot of them. None of whom were happy.

Yet interestingly enough, they were even less happy to see the dimensional phase spider, one of their own, accompanying him.

“The exile! Warn the matriarch! Her traitor sister’s misbegotten spawn returns!”

“Aberration! You would turn from outcast to traitor out of spite? Decided to join your mother have you? You would lead an enemy Embodier to the heart of our clan world?”

The spiders didn’t look as though they were interested in talking. Furthermore, they were quite wary of him, yes, but they had identified who the weak link in actual combat was.

Which meant Talricto was now in far greater danger than he.

“Hide as close to me as you can,” he calmly spoke, and the dimensional spider obliged, narrowing itself down to the size of a cell and tucking into Orodan’s hair atop his head.

“Embodier, just what has this exile promised you for your aid? We shall double it, nay… triple it! Whatever wealth and treasures you seek shall be yours! But if you do not retreat, know that we have strong ties to certain powerful parties.”

Orodan simply hummed.

“I shall not be dishonest. I… have absolutely no idea why I am here.”

His declaration caused the murmurs to give way to a profound and shocked silence.

Even Talricto was rendered speechless!

“What?! Then all this conflict! All this hostility! You engaged in it on a whim? Have you come to assault the matriarch and lay claim to our treasures?!” an angered phase spider demanded. It was decked in enchanted gear meant to bolster its natural abilities in combat.

“No. I came for none of those things,” he replied loudly. “I came… because my teacher wanted me to. As a favor; as student repaying master. Now, if Talricto wants me to give you all a beating? I shall. Short of anything dishonorable, I have come here to do as my teacher asks.”

Talricto, having finally regained its speech, finally spoke up.

“No you buffoon! I did not come here to hurt anyone!” the spider insisted, and then spoke towards the defenders surrounding them. “I was exiled for something I had no hand in. I shan’t complain, it is the way of the clan. But as exile there was no way for me to reach here, thus I have entered the way I have. Pardon my… impoliteness, but I simply came to retrieve my mother’s silks, and I have brought much in the way of payment for the right to do so.”

It was the most subdued and polite he had ever seen the eight-legged wanderer. Certainly, Talricto would sooner give up all its treasures than speak so respectfully and deferentially to Orodan himself.

“It is forbidden! The traitor’s silks are kept in the cursed vault! The stain of dishonor can never be erased! We should-”

“Qalricen. Lower your ire.”

“But shifter! We cannot-”

“Quiet, hatchling. The order comes from the matriarch herself,” the senior spider spoke. A shifter, from what the other had said. Its beady eyes focused not on Talricto, but him. “You… Embodier. You are Orodan Wainwright, are you not? Our matriarch wishes to speak with you.”

“And will that involve Talricto getting what we came here for? Its mother’s ashes?” he asked calmly.

“It? The last daughter of a traitor house and she never introduced herself as such?” the shifter spider asked, causing Talricto to stiffen. “

She? For so long he'd been referring to his teacher as it. Perhaps an occasional slip of he... but... she?

“Daughter?" Orodan asked. "I am no expert in spider anatomy so it makes little difference to me.”

Though now that he thought about it, during all those spars whenever Talricto had shifted…

…he still had absolutely no clue what her gender was. Even in hindsight.

How was he supposed to know what a spider’s gender was? They had eight legs and that was that.

A soft warning thump hit the top of his head where she was hiding, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. The less he thought about such things the better.

“As for your… request. The matriarch has conditionally approved of it, as long as Orodan Wainwright meets with her.”

Orodan yet remained on-guard, not quite trusting these spiders. It was less out of worry for himself and more out of a concern that they might try to assassinate Talricto. Though, with him already inside their clan world it made sense that they would try to avoid further hostilities when their strongest defenses had failed already.

“Well? I’m here for you, not the other way around. I’ll only meet with them if you agree,” he spoke.

For a moment, the spider atop his head stilled, anxiety coursing through her. But then, he sensed the currents of determination going through her soul.

She gave her assent, and the duo were led further into the winding planet-sized city of spire-dwelling spiders who had a love for the trinkets and things of other civilizations.

The warrior’s instinct within him noted several good spots for ambushes which had plenty of defenders emplaced. Not that any of it would matter against him. Even the strongest dimensional phase spiders here were Transcendents.

Still, the tense atmosphere aside, he hadn’t actually killed anyone, even if this was a historically significant event for these beings. Supposedly, no foreigner had ever set foot here.

The lower spires were full of curious observers, hatchlings too. And the upper spires had guards hanging off webs with curious and opulently dressed eight-legs watching. There was a definite social difference between those on the upper spires and those on the lower. That being said, there didn’t seem to be any poor spiders or orphans at least, which was a plus point in their favor.

Plenty of homes had trinkets which he recognized too. A cultivator’s flying sword, a Blackworth Collective rifle, a Conclave warhorse’s barding and more.

It even had him looking on agape when he saw an Exerston County militia outfit on one of the spire’s webs.

Ridiculous. These things really did get everywhere.

Soon enough, past the first block of spires, there was a prepared meeting ground of sorts. No seating or furnite for bipedal beings such as him of course, indicative of the fact that they’d never expected anyone to set foot on their world let alone here. But they did have a ceremonial space for him to stand. Which was about as good as it would get.

The matriarch—and he knew it was her based off the strength of her soul and the fact that he got the vague feeling of a peak-Transcendent—was dressed in a gaudy manner. Ornaments and jewelry hanging off of each of her arachnoid eight legs in a display Orodan felt would not have looked out of place in an Alastaian noble salon. She was not the biggest either, but two particularly powerful-feeling spiders to each side of her indicated her importance.

There were also Demonic Berserkers held in place with dimensional seals.

Not the undead sort, but actual Demonic Berserkers. Transcendents too, likely captured at some point. Unfortunately, the handlers for those practically shrank when the demons met his gaze and shrank away from looking at him.

He had slaughtered far worse.

“Orodan Wainwright. Embodiment of Cleaning and Embodiment of Infinity. A dual-Embodier… one of seven in all System space. Yet I have not heard of you until a few days ago when you slew a critical Invader and caused the bounty upon it to go inert,” the matriarch spoke. “I am Matriarch Valtarcto, spiritual leader and reigning brood mother of our clan world. An elder weaver of our kind across the cosmos.”

“You know of me?”

“Our clan often trades with Embodiers. The Identifier among them. That one is always watching; especially when a notorious Invader is slain. And no amount of defense against Identify will stop it. A favor here, a call there…”

“And what? They come running to help you?” Orodan asked. “Where are your Embodiers now?”

The spiders bristled at his tone, but he cared little. Something about the way they were treating Talricto had him… displeased.

“Present, and available to answer any calls, even if at great expense. Make no mistake, Embodier. Upon my death, an automated call can be sent out to one of the mightiest in all System space below the Administrators. The King of Kings among dwarvenkind. Kharadun Voidfortress himself.”

The dwarf?

“Strong, but I have his measure. I don’t mind the thought of fighting him again,” he replied with a hungry smile.

Whatever internal calculus the matriarch held, Orodan could see it shattering in her multiple beady eyes as he uttered that.

“That is… a bold claim. I have never heard of you until a few days ago.”

“And I hadn’t heard of you until a few minutes ago,” he cut sharply. “Why did you want to meet me?”

“Your words are terse and unfriendly… does this one’s fate bother you? Certain humans among you disfavor punishing the brood for the actions of the mother. But it is not so… permanent a thing, to be an exile. Especially if her friendship with you leads to friendship between us,” the leader of the clan spoke. “And she has grown… prodigious. Outmaneuvering the elder shifter himself, quite some talent in our ways.”

The nearby spiders hearing this were shocked into stiffness. It was as though the notion of allowing an exile back in was utterly unfathomable to them. But power had a way of rewriting social convention, especially when said power was capable of turning star systems to ash.

Orodan already held a poor first impression of this society based upon the implication that Talricto had been punished for her mother’s deeds. But to now hear that slimy political tone? He liked her even less.

He could feel the fear and dread rolling off Talricto in waves too. It caused something angry to coil up in him, as though this was not the right state of things.

His teacher was supposed to be arrogant, flippant and haughty. Not meek, afraid and subdued.

“My mother’s silks, the remnants of her web… that is all we come for. Orodan Wainwright will not divulge the location or method of reaching the clan world, this I promise.”

“Is that truly all you came for? To recover a traitor’s webbing from her accursed and abandoned spire?” the matriarch asked, and then regarded Orodan once more. “Embodier. We watch through the boundary what you and your kind have been doing in the Athranos Galaxy. The sudden mobilization, the existence of two other Embodiers alongside you. Would we make such bad allies? The places we could lead you to, the things you could do if you had us as your allies. Will you not consider it?”

Adding a world of dimensional phase spiders to the alliance would certainly be a great boon. Uneducated about politics as he was, even he could see that.

Truly, it was a good deal. Get Talricto reinstated, get her mother’s webbing back, get new allies.

But the answer was made for him already.

For he had been paying close attention to how his eight-legged teacher’s soul spiked with dread and anger whenever the notion of returning here was brought up.

“No.”

#

“Hold it! Hold it! Good! Right there!” Old Man Hannegan encouraged.

[Laboring 71 → Laboring 72]

Orodan’s finger maintained the gigantic support beam above his head still.

It was the same one he’d been holding in place before departing too. It was the centerpiece of the grand array, though with a far larger support beam than the one last loop. Mainly because this would be the piece that bore the brunt of the energy backlash when a pathway was opened up to near the edge of System space.

For once, his handlers and training assistants were away, giving him a reprieve. Not that he needed it, and he would normally be training something or the other.

But it was hard to when an irate spider was fitfully pacing near his feet as though particularly offended by his existence.

“You are the biggest oaf I know. A true uncivilized brute with no manners and decorum who is not fit to even grace a hut with his barbaric presence.”

“I prefer a hovel anyhow.”

“Do not jest with me! Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Accompanied you while you retrieved your mother’s webbing and belongings from her spire?” he suggested.

“No! I mean yes! But no!” she angrily stated. “You turned down the possibility of having the entire clan-world as allies! Imagine what could have been done if they were with us?”

The matriarch of the dimensional phase spider clan world hadn’t been pleased by his answer. But there was no other option he would have taken anyhow. Even then, his refusal hadn’t suddenly caused them to go hostile and start fighting. They weren’t stupid.

They simply allowed Talricto to grab her mother’s webbing and belongings after paying some token compensation which was of an amount far lower than the spider herself had budgeted for.

It explained why the irksome thief went around stealing anything and everything of gaudy value

“It would have involved you returning there. You didn’t seem overly pleased about that prospect.”

“Who are you to-! You should have taken-”

“And be bereft of my Dimensionalism teacher? I think not,” he replied. “Now, if you’re done fielding protests about my decision, clear the way so I can practice something. Or better yet, stand right there so I can use you as a mobile target for my Lightning Bolts.”

“Brute! Let us see if you can land even a single bolt against a true talent of Dimensionalism!”

And so the rest of the array’s construction went, with Orodan trying his best to zap Talricto while she continually confounded and confused his lightning bolts with her deceptive tricks using the planar veil.

It was the least the irritating spider could do if she was going to be this clingy from now on.

For once this array was built, it would be time for a foray…

…to the edge of System space.