Okay, let's calm down and try to figure out what the hell just happened. A weird weapon-thing ca flying at , I grabbed it, and then I was suddenly disembodied. That never happened before… unless I manually initiated it with a phantom limb, that is.
A cursory glance told that I was in the vague not-dark not-room. Or rather, 'a' not-dark not-room, as while this one was about as fluid and nondescript as the one I'd seen in the past, with the star people and their cryptic conversations and everything, it was also subtly different in ways I couldn't put into words.
Well, that didn't shed much light onto the situation, so I moved on to my next observation, naly that I was lacking a body at the mont. Normally that would've been an alarming discovery, but I was already used to it, so after making a note of it, I moved on to greener pastures.
Speaking of which, could I move? Normally just thinking about that would've made all of space and ti shift around , yet for so reason, the not-dark not-room remained stubbornly unshifty.
"Well, that's a pickle," I uttered, and the words caused the scenery to ripple and wave like I just dropped a stone into a reflection on a still lake.
"It is."
Alard, I glanced around in the elusive space in search of the source of the familiar voice, and after tracing back the waves, I found a dark void within the fabric of the not-dark not-room. Looking at it gave all kinds of vertigo, but none of the weird stellar imagery the ambiguous humanoid star-people elicited from , aning this was sothing altogether new.
"Erm… Who are you?"
"I'm , blockhead," the hole in unreality answered, its words causing the weave of space-ti around us to undulate even harder.
"You're you, but what are you?"
"I'm not you, I'm… actually, I am, technically speaking…" the smooth and extrely familiar baritone voice mumbled as if it was unsure of itself, but then it stated, "Listen. My ego is currently in an upheaval due to new mories being forcefully injected into my consciousness, so as a defence chanism, I separated myself from myself, but then I sohow ended up visualizing a part of myself as a separate entity to have this conversation."
That made no sense and yet way too much sense at the sa ti.
"Oooh… Does that an that you're the part of my brain that seems to know everything?"
"Do I look omniscient? Also, as I already explained, I'm , and you're also . We are ."
"You just called a 'you' though," I pointed out, and the in the form of a hole in reality let out a groan.
"Stop trying to argue with myself using restrictive language constructs!"
"Well, I'm not the one who's being obnoxiously unhelpful," I grumbled, and if a hole in the canvas of reality could roll its eyes, then other was definitely doing that right now.
"I'm such an asshole."
"I said it, not … Wait, now even I'm doing it! Can we at least switch the pronouns to make this more intuitive?"
"Shut up for a mont and let talk," black-hole- reprimanded and let out a protracted groan. "I have to return to my body. Now."
"I'm not going to argue with that."
"No, I don't understand it. We are currently disassociating from the identity of Leonard S. Dunning."
"And that's bad."
"Obviously," I scoffed. I an, the that wasn't scoffed. We scoffed. Ugh. This was giving a headache. "Every second I spend disassociated here, the chances of them discovering rise exponentially."
"Them? You an those four star-people?"
"Why do I insist on asking questions of myself I already know?"
"Then can you tell who they are?"
"How the hell should I know when I don't know it either!?"
"But you know things I don't know!" I protested, earning another scoff.
"And you/ know things that I/ don't know. So what?" hole-in-reality exhaled another groan that made the not-dark not-room vibrate so hard I was afraid it would fall apart at any mont. "This whole monologue is pointless! Just return to my body already!"
"And how do I do that?"
"How should I know? I'm just a visualized fignt of my own personality! You/ is the one who should know how to do it!"
"But I don't!"
Then, just as my argunt with myself reached its boiling point, the whole not-dark not-room cracked, like a pane of glass, and shattered, leaving stranded in the inky tiless lack of space I often experienced whenever I tried to look for the star-people on my own volition and failed.
"What now?" I asked, but before black-hole- could respond, a sudden light filled the endless void.
In the near-infinite distance, a strange scene unfolded before my eyes. A huge red sun linked to a smaller yellow star by a crown of ethereal black tendrils, like an enormous tree holding one in its roots and another between its branches. They were infinitely far apart, yet at the sa ti, it was as if they were one and the sa. However, before I could take a closer look, the lack of space itself shook, a wave that caused imaginary numbers and self-referential paradoxes to pop into existence for just an infinitesimal mont before lding back into the lack of existence.
The wave crashed into both s, and before I could even respond, I felt myself implode into a singularity and get ejected from the immaterial darkness, streaking across ti and space like a shooting star. On my way, I could hear strange echoes of familiar voices, tatters of words carrying fragntary anings and fractions of emotions.
"I can't trace him!" the voice of sulfuric wind roared in my ear.
"What kind of joke is this? It's like he's everywhere!" ruby oceans churned with tumultuous disbelief.
"He hid his tracks well! I told you he's good!" orbital rings turned to the tune of birdsong.
"I don't even know what's going on anymore!" a barren moon moaned and whimpered quietly.
And then, as if all of that was just a bad dream, I was suddenly back in the underground shrine with the altar and the Mana Well and all that. Needless to say, the sudden whiplash caused by the abrupt change in the scenery would've made my head hurt, if I had any at the mont. Contrary to my expectations, I wasn't back in my body yet, but floating above the scene in a disembodied form. Even stranger was the fact that my actual body was being enveloped in a glowing cocoon of semi-transparent mana, as if I was frozen inside a big ice sculpture.
It didn't take long to realize that wasn't quite the case; the six-winged Celestial frozen mid-motion while trying to rise from the ground made it quite obvious. At the mont, ti was at a complete standstill. Has this ever happened before, I pondered for a mont? I had a feeling I experienced sothing similar when I got skewered by one of Snowy's ice spears, but due to the shock and the adrenaline, the whole event beca kind of fuzzy in retrospect.
Was this so kind of defence chanism? Was I in mortal peril? Again?
Whatever the case was, I couldn't do anything about it in my current state, so after steeling my nerves, I cautiously floated over to my body, passed through the mana-cocoon surrounding , and very carefully lded into my own head, which resulted…
"Aw, fuck !"
The mother of all headaches. Yes, I know I kept complaining about headaches all the ti, but this was in a league of its own. The closest thing I could cite was the head-splitting tornt I experienced on the first day of school, but sohow worse.
"{Statent: mory transfer initialized.}"
"Wait, what?" I blurted out in response to the flat, chanical voice that jolted out of my pain-induced stupor and glanced at my hand.
In it, the weirdly proportioned blade was emitting light, both the vanilla and magical variety, and I could sense a stream of mana forcefully crawling its way up my arm. Reasonably alard by this developnt, I did the first rational thing that ca to mind, and tried to let go of the weird dagger. Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to control my fingers (or the rest of my body, if we were at that), which was even more alarming.
Thankfully my paralysis only applied to my corporeal limbs, and so I used my phantom limbs to cut off the stream of mana climbing my arm.
"{Report: mory transfer interrupted. Reinitializing.}"
"No, don't do that, you piece of—!" I began, but then my voice rose an octave when I noticed sothing else and exclaid, "I have another one!?"
No, not just one. I've gained multiple new phantom limbs, and after a quick count, it all added up to…
"Eight? What am I, an octopus?"
"{Statent: mory transfer initialized.}"
Before I knew it, the stream of foreign mana started climbing up my arm again, so I cut it off with extre prejudice once more.
"You! Stupid weird knife thing! Explain!" I growled at the item in my hand, sothing I probably wouldn't have even considered if I wasn't already used to annoying weapons talking in my head, and to my pleasant surprise, it actually stopped trying to invade my body and gave an answer.
"{Answering Query: You are currently receiving your stored mories. Please stand by until the process is complete, Polemos.}"
"What the hell's a 'polemos'?"
"{Answering Query: You are.}"
"Well, I'm not, so stop it."
"{Responding to Orders: Negative. Once the process is initiated, it cannot be terminated.}"
"Great. Another uncooperative piece of sharpened tal," I griped as I cut off the mana stream coming at and considered my options.
First things first, I tried the most obvious solution, even though I didn't exactly have high hopes for it. Extending one of my many Phantom Limbs, I tried touching the weapon in my outstretched hand, but the mont it ca in contact with it, it reeled back like I was touching a hot stove, with a corner of my mind imdiately yelling at to stop.
"You are such an asshole, other !" I complained just to let so steam out, but I naturally got no response whatsoever. "Fine. So the knife is the plot-devicest plot device that ever plot deviced in the history of plot devices. Aweso. Just what I needed."
After so further grumbling, I looked for alternatives. The first thing that ca to mind was the cocoon of swirling mana surrounding . Now that it was in motion, it looked very reminiscent of the bubble the stupid knife was encased in before it decided to fly at , and I figured at breaking it should've had so effect on the procedure. Alas, I was mistaken.
"God freaking damn it, other ! This one too!?"
The annoying corner of my mind once again remained silent, but the mont I tried to raise my phantom limbs against the bubble enclosing , it threw a tantrum. Bloody hell.
"Okay, plan C," I muttered, and got ready to Phase away, but then I paused halfway through the process. I was still holding onto the stupid body-snatching knife. Since it was in direct contact with my body, just like my clothes, it would be automatically carried over as well. In other words, Phasing away was mostly pointless. "Plan D? Does anyone have a plan D?"
Other didn't even make as much noise as a mouse's farts, the ponce, so I was left alone with only my own thoughts.
Let's look at this objectively. I was in a bind, but I wasn't in direct danger. At least not yet. Sure, I had to periodically cut off the mana stream coming my way, but so long as I did that, everything would be stuck at a stalemate. I didn't need to sleep, and so long as my attention didn't wane, I could keep this up indefinitely.
That sounded nice, except it wasn't a plan. It was just stalling.
What else could I do? Both the knife and the barrier around were plot devices, so my usual swiss-army-knife phantom limbs were useless. Hell, they were actually super-plot-devices I couldn't even touch! Things would've been sooo much easier if I at least knew why, or if I could even just peek at the enchantnts, but the knowledgeable asshole in the dark recesses of my mind remained tight-lipped, so I was left to speculate.
So, what did I know about Plot Devices? In short, they were important to the Narrative, and I couldn't manipulate them with my Phantom Limbs, which ant… Actually, what did that an?
I have destroyed plot devices before. I broke the curse on mom-in-law's old wound, and I replaced the stupid dragon-slaying spear and destroyed the original using Xiao's dragon fire. Other didn't throw a tantrum during either of those, so what was the difference? My phantom limbs, of course.
Maybe because it was an out-of-context power, using it on certain plot-relevant things would've been bad, in a way other never explained yet was very adamant about. Conversely, breaking plot devices using loopholes and in-context ans was perfectly fine. So, looking at the current situation from an out-of-the-box perspective, the only question was how I could deal with this situation without using my phantom limbs on either the weapon on the cocoon.
Let's turn it around and look at it from the other way: on which things could I still use my phantom limbs?
Before I even finished that thought, I already activated my Leoforr and was suddenly encased in a copy of my Lion Knight armour. The newly materialized gauntlet made my fingers move a little, yet they remained still firmly clamped around the long hilt of the knife, despite my best effort to move them.
Okay, so this didn't work. Next idea: could I put this thing into my storage?
Regrettably, this was a stillborn idea for multiple reasons; I would've not only needed to take Cal out to make space for the other blade, but doing so required to physically move my hand to retrieve and store items, which I still couldn't do. I really wished I could manipulate the armor with my phantom limbs to make it move, but it had no such functions, and implenting sothing like that into the enchantnts without external tools and while keeping an eye on the mana stream climbing up my arm would've taken ages for a plan I wasn't even sure could work.
Yet, just as I was considering that, a new idea raised its pretty head in my mind. Sure, I couldn't interact with the knife or the cocoon, but my phantom limbs could clearly cut the mana stream off without any trouble. Wouldn't that an that, unlike the rest, it wasn't actually a plot device?
It made sense too. After all, the mana stream was just the dium that was, supposedly, transferring whatever mories were hidden away in this idiotic blade. In other words, while I could not disrupt the enchantnt itself, I figured I might be able to trick it into thinking that the transfer was complete and then undo the paralysis by itself. In other words, I just had to commit magical wire fraud!
That sounded remarkably feasible, so once the knife re-initialized the transfer process, I very gingerly reached out with my phantom limb, without the intent to disrupt the flow. It took a couple of tries, but where I lacked in talent, I made it up with stubbornness, and so after lots and lots of trial and error, I was finally able to visualize what was going on.
To put it into layman's terms, I had always likened a human soul to a giant ball of yarn. This stream of mana was, in essence, a single such thread, designed to be tied onto a loose end, get wound around the target yarn ball, and then blend into it in the process. It wasn't the most elegant way to do things, but I imagined it should've worked, except for one thing: apparently, I had no such 'loose ends', and so the process was stalled at the initialization phase. Not only that, but every single ti I interrupted it with my phantom limbs, it would start from the beginning all over again.
In other words, I was currently the equivalent of a computer stuck on a blue screen because an update failed, and the operating system kept trying to install it, crash in the process, and then start over.
Analogies aside, now that I had a rudintary understanding of the process, there was only one thing left to do: trick the system into thinking that the installation was successful so that we could get to the desktop and then Ctrl Alt Delete the whole installer package.
I've had all the ti in the world to co up with a plan, and it took a while indeed. It was a little tricky and quite frustrating to execute, but it was better than being stuck in this loop. Step one was fairly simple: using the Oath-receptacle as a template, I created a fake 'loose end' for the mory transfer process to latch onto. Then, I guided this newly ford yarn string and wound it around an equally fake 'soul' I emulated using the experiences I had with Saahira's remote control enchantnt. It didn't have any functions whatsoever, but so long as the knife accepted it as 'my soul', it was good enough.
Of course, this wasn't without any risks. In particular, for all of this to work, I had to guide the 'string' through one of the Oath-receptacles, which put it in direct contact with my 'soul', and consequently, my consciousness. This carried the risk of so of the mories 'rubbing off on ' during the process, which wasn't ideal, but so long as was able to recognize them as foreign elents, I figured I would be all right. Of course, this was based on pretty much nothing but just educated guesses and lots of elbow grease, but when I considered that the alternative was being stuck in this limbo until I died of old age. Or thirst. Probably the latter.
Speaking of which, I wasn't entirely sure how much ti had passed. My rumbling gut told it was at least a couple of hours, but considering how much ti I'd spent in and out of the non-Euclidian enchantnt-space to set everything up, it would've been stranger if I didn't lose my sense of ti in the process. Success was paramount; everything else was secondary, including ti.
Then the mont arrived, at last. With a deep breath, I carefully connected the stream of mana and the strand of mory-yarn inside it to the enchantnt-contraption I hamred together over the past couple of subjective aeons, and the mont it happened, the knife in my hand finally changed its tune.
"{Announcent: mory transfer in progress.}"
What followed was… peculiar, and sowhat unpleasant. I ntally prepared myself for it, but the process still made feel light-headed and a little nauseous.
How should I put this…? I was an ocean, and the mories trying to enter my mind were a river. As it reached my coastline, I used my bulk to send large waves its way. It changed the direction of the river, so that it would flow into a giant, empty lakebed I prepared beforehand. Yet, water was still water, and no matter how much I pushed, the mixing of the two was unavoidable.
There were images in my mind of places I'd never been to, impressions of people I'd never t, and the scents of flowers I'd never heard of. It was uncanny and idiosyncratic and disquieting and nauseating and mostly harmless and it all lasted altogether way too long. Then, just as I was about to get impatient, my mind was invaded by a loud ping.
"{Announcent: mory transfer complete.}"
A breath of relief escaped my chest, and at the sa ti, my outstretched hand went limp and fell to my side, completely numb. I didn't care though, but instead focused on myself. Was I still ? Well, I felt like myself, so that was a start, though I probably would've felt even more like myself if my head wasn't throbbing like crazy and let organize my thoughts in peace.
Anyhow, once I was clear on that, I imdiately cut the bridge between myself and the fake soul where I dumped the mory-string, and it all disintegrated back into unstructured mana. Good. At least that was out of my hair. Now, I just had to deal with this barrier and the weapon in my hand, and then I could finally go ho and take a hot shower before I would…
"{Greeting: Welco back, Archon Polemos.}"
My train of thought was pushed off the rails by the chanical voice of the blade in my hand, and while my first reaction was to throw it against the wall while loudly complaining about not knowing what a 'Polemos' was again, I was completely and quite abruptly stopped in my tracks by the realization that I actually did know. It wasn't a title; it was a na.
Alard, I paged through the fragntary mories swirling in my mind, and the more I gathered, the more I could feel the blood draining from my face. These weren't the mories of Leonard Dunning. Hell, these weren't even the mories of a human!
However, before I could try to create any kind of order or organization inside my head, I noticed that the cocoon of semi-transparent swirling mana around was starting to slow down and gradually dissipate.
"Shit! What do I do now?" I hissed through clenched teeth, still busy shifting through the bits and pieces of mories and impressions that stuck to like a burr to a dog, but I was too slow, and before I could co to a decision, the barrier around fully unravelled, revealing a bunch of Celestial bigwigs, along with a few new faces thrown into the mix. All in all, there were about thirty people cramd into the shrine, keeping their distance from both and the Mana Well, and the mont I ca out of my shell (no pun intended), everyone froze in shock and awe.
It was only then that I realized that I was still in my Lion Knight getup, and after locking eyes with the expectant gaze of the Celestial representative who led in here, one of the only people who were still in their ceremonial togas, I gave in and plunged a phantom limb into my Leoforr. Using a fragnt of a piece of a hint of a mory as a basis, I changed the outwards look of my gear, replacing the black tal plates with shiny brass, the gambeson with a white tunic, the lion motifs with a facsimile of the crest I'd seen on the banners when I arrived to the Elysium, and the closed helt to a white circlet with a laurel crown.
As if sensing the change in my appearance, the weapon still in my numb hand heated up, both the blade and the hilt growing in length until I was looking at a decently sized spear with a long, gently curved blade, shined to a mirror finish and adorned with delicate golden filigree.
It also got heavier in the process, but I ignored how weak my arm felt and raised it before planting the butt of the spear on the ground for support. As if the sound was serving as so kind of signal, the Celestials in the back shuddered and fell to their knees, soon followed by the purple-togaed man in front of descending as well.
"I greet Archon Polemos!" He exclaid with his head down, and his words were echoed by the onlookers. "Glory to the Second True Archon! Glory to Deus!"
…
"Great. Judy's either going to kill for this, or make fun of until the day I die for walking into this one," I silently concluded with a rising sense of trepidation. I didn't let it show on my face though, as I was already in full-blown 'Refuge in Audacity' mode once again, because when life gives you lemons, you're obligated to drown life in lemonade.
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