"That was a slog," Olrica bends her spine backwards, stretching her arms, "We better not need to fight the Nightmare again."

"I'd hope not," I agree with her, forcing through my disgust to pick up the torc, "Let's go check on Windy."

I leave my flamberge propped against the wall now that it no longer comfortably fits into its scabbard, and pull off my helmet. The Failed Mage's Monocle is in one of the small bags I left with Angelus, itself starting to run out of durability. After I finish off the remainder of the items left with us by our business associates, I'll need to put an end to my Appraisal services until I can figure out a way to fix it up.

I'm not entirely sure who would be a good bet to bring it to for repairs. Glasswork is one of those ancillary professions that straddles the line between the common archetypes, in this case between Carpenter and Alchemist, along a similar vein as Sculptor for Carpenter and Architect. But it's also a magical Legacy Item, so certain branches of Enchanter can...

Never mind, I'll worry about it when I'm down to the last uses of its ability.

"Are you alright?" I ask Windy, squatting down to meet her at eye level. She's a lot calmer now, and meets my concern with a simple nod.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Windy sighs, "Don't know what came over me. Didn't feel like it was me talking back there, either."

"Like, ghost possession or some shit?" Jade questions, offering her some water.

Windy shrugs, "Kinda. Maybe. Whatever, what did it drop?"

"Hell if I know," Olrica holds out a swirling wisp of grey light, "Feel weird holding it though."

"What is it?" Karin, at the head of the others, strolls over.

"Ball of magic stuff?" Oil proffers weakly.

Holding out my hand, Olrica passes it over. I get the same weird emotional response she mentioned, like I want to recall a cherished memory but can't identify what it is.

Standing up, I turn to Angelus, "Can you turn around a moment? I need to fish my monocle out of the bags."

"Sure."

It takes a few tries, but I inspect he torc first.

Certainly, a powerful accessory if you only looked at the positives. And being honest, the downsides aren't really a big deal at this Level range since mental interference is a rarity rather than my unfortunate norm.

But a Cursed item is, at the end of the day, still a Cursed item. There's no telling what other problems are inherent to this thing. I can't use it, of course, and I'm not going to inflict it on one of my colleagues, but it might be useful to someone who isn't averse to a bit of risk-taking, so selling it isn't out of the question.

"This seems like prime Berserker gear," Reit comments after I reveal the information.

Olrica laughs, "Prime unga-bunga material, yeah."

"I can probably wear it but, I don't think it's really a great idea to attach a debuff vulnerability to a tank," Windy concludes, "Especially not after just now. Can't think of anyone who can use it 'cept you, boss, Level requirement aside."

I shake my head, setting the torc aside, "No way am I putting on a Cursed item without good reason."

Next.

 

I grin subconsciously, "Well, now. Jackpot."

Jade's ears prick up, "What is it?"

"Hard to explain," I chuckle, "But to cut a long story short-"

"An item capable of cleansing certain kinds of Corruption," finally joining the group, Zomn Klaeriss interrupts, staring at the wisp of magic, "If I am not mistaken, Anh-Elret?"

"Yes," I confirm, "You're familiar, of course."

"I am. Such items are quite uncommon, but ever in demand within the Pioneers' Alliance," she explains gravely, "As such, I'd like to know if you'd be willing to sell it to us for fair price?"

Considering it for a moment, I probe for more details, "Besides this torc, Truthseekers is in possession of a few Cursed items that this is likely to correspond with. I'd be willing to negotiate a price afterwards if you are still interested in a diminished Purcath."

"Diminished or not, it is still valuable for what uses it has," Zomn Klaeriss asserts, "Naturally the price offered would be lower."

"Then we will need to talk about this another day," I smile politely, "And it would be in poor form for me not to extend the Empire of Stone the same opportunity should we decide to sell it."

The Zomn frowns, but finds no cause to object vocally, merely bowing her head in acceptance of my decision.

"So, you can remove the curse from that necklace, then?" Angelus asks curiously.

"Potentially."

All but guaranteed under the circumstances, but let's not jinx ourselves by saying it aloud.

Exactly how I'm supposed to 'use' the Feeble Memory of Independence isn't immediately clear. Simply touching them together doesn't do anything, and neither does focusing my will to that end. At a loss, I turn to the Zomn for advice.

"For this variety of Purcath, I believe you need to match the emotional state," she mentions off-handedly, "Or else by circulating one's own magical energies into the artefact in question, for a more generic solution to similar problems. At your Level, that might prove difficult to achieve, given that you are also no maehjoult."

"Granted," I mutter, then think of a workaround that Silva players occasionally found themselves forced to use, "However, I am Silva. I can improvise."

"So you are," Zomn Klaeriss nods after being briefly confused, "Though that may have unintended consequences to you."

"It's not an issue," I pull off one of my gloves, "Olrica, can I borrow one of your knives?"

"...Sure."

I prick my thumb and squeeze a droplet of grey-blue-ish blood onto the mote of light. It fizzles and vanishes, the luminescence increasing, stretching towards the torc, getting brighter, encapsulating it in a sphere. What emerges a few seconds later is a beautiful, multicoloured string-bound necklace.

 

Such is the result. An excellent accessory, more for the attached active ability than the stat bonus, which is far less appealing. The torc obviously has a very specific intended niche, which is to counter mental subversion. If it were a higher Level piece of gear, that might be a lot more usable, but, as I've made clear, situations where it can shine aren't common.

Still, free 40 Willpower is not bad. Not bad at all.

"I think this would be best kept with me for the time being, since I'm the only person who meets the requirements," I announce my decision, "And I'll hand it over to Morn or Windy after, since the two of you will benefit the most."

Morn blinks - surprised she's even being considered, "Understood."

"Sure. My Willpower is definitely not as high as it probably ought to be," Windy smiles guiltily, "Obvs."

Angelus clears his throat, "So, what now? We're running on fumes, so a break would be a good plan to start with."

"Yeah," Karin plants herself on the floor, "I'm pooped. Just one boss left, right?"

"We shouldn't need to fight it," Morn posits, "Our job was to simply escort you as close to the Pool of Desire as was feasible, wasn't it, Zomn?"

The Zomn inclines her head, serious, "Correct. Though I can perform the task from here if I know the location of the Vector, it would be far less taxing and more likely to succeed if I were to go to the immediate periphery. Entering the Vector's chamber is not a necessity, and the guardian mentioned in the report on the Reminiscence is unlikely to recognise the threat or attempt to leave the vicinity of its charge without cause."

"There you have it," I remove my old Charisma necklace and swap it with the, frankly, uncomfortable torc, but I'll get used to the feel of it before long, "Hm. I can't quite recall if we have any Charisma-based class users other than myself."

"I use it, and Morn does as well," Angelus replies helpfully.

Morn tilts her head, "I believe it would only truly matter to me if I knew any Spells that scaled primarily off of Charisma, and I don't have a very strong understanding of our roster."

"Don't think we have any Bards or whatever," Windy hums, "I don't think? Pretty sure there wasn't any that joined with Jericho."

I hand it over to the Beacon, "Well, in that case, here you go Angelus. Poor consolation for your lack of gear upgrades recently, I know, but..."

He takes it with a smile, "I know, don't worry. So far I can't say I've really needed it. Spell diversity has done way more for my efficacy - and come to think of it, I don't suppose you have anything else you'd be willing to part with, Zomn?"

"Nothing you haven't already seen or purchased," the Pioneer shakes her head imperceptibly, "However, when we have completed this task, I can send out a request to our compound in Lushmoss City. The Alliance stores a number of Spell tomes for redemption at our Library there, for internal members and valued partners."

"Does that make Truthseekers a valued partner, then?" I smile wryly.

"No. However, it is not for me to decide, I can only ask on your behalf out of consideration for your work here today," the old spellcaster snorts, "If I do that, however, do not expect any further generosity - as important as this is for our operations in the region, you are being employed by the Empire of Stone, and not the Pioneers' Alliance. Compensation is not our responsibility."

Her severity of tone is cutting, "That would be appreciated, thank you. There is a rather unfortunate lack of support for nascent spellcasters in the Southern Provinces. You might consider suggesting setting up an official storefront to accommodate the rising tide of Newborn Hedge Mages."

The Zomn's sharp gaze softens thoughtfully, "Perhaps. Far more likely that a Merchant organisation will seize the opportunity, however. The Alliance has to observe certain agreements when it comes to our influence in nations foreign to Panopla. As I have said, however, it is not my decision to make."

"If you require a partnered business in the area to assist, please consider our Meteor Manufactory," I request politely, smelling the sweet lucre.

Morn flashes an approving smile my way, and we all settle in for a brief respite.

---

 

Abandoned Stone Nest, Liggit Mine

Hand over my chest, I grunt from discomfort, "It should be just up ahead, Zomn. The aura of grasping malice is palpable."

The old woman holds a scented handkerchief to her nose, "Yes, the pustulant atmosphere has reached a peak. I fear I might vomit if I were to cast even a simple cantrip in the thick of this sewage-coated ambient mana. How is it you can all stomach this wretchedness?"

"I mean it feels gross," Jade replies, voice low, "But it's more on the level of a bad hangover."

Olrica shudders, "Feels worse than that to me. Like walking through cold rancid custard while a bunch o' pervy old men leer at me."

"Same," Oil agrees, adding fresh fuel to the lamp he's carrying, "Or, I mean, bit of both. It feels...wrong somehow down here. Tried using one of my Class Skills a minute ago...not a good idea, still feel queasy."

"You are an Elementalist?" Zomn Klaeriss mentions rhetorically, "Then it is likely you are sensing the Corruption of the Elemental mana present. Left to fester as long as this Vector has been, this can be said to be a foetid wound in the world itself."

"...Sounds dramatic."

"Let's leave it at that," the Zomn's eyes narrow dangerously so I intervene before she launches into a superstition-laden lecture or the like, "Zomn, would this be close enough for your purposes?"

"Hmpf," she turns away from the insensitive Oil and stares into the distance, "Hrn! Yes. This is...close enough."

"Are you alright?" Karin questions immediately.

The Zomn lets out a long breath of shaky air, "Yes, child. Now, if you would gather together...ten steps or so behind me, I need space and silence to focus on the trial ahead. Come what may, your part in this Quest is complete."

"That's a flag..." Angelus mutters to himself, earning him a smack on the arm and glare from Morn.

"Flag?"

"Don't worry about it," Reit coughs, "So, can't we just like...leave? Not trying to be rude, but if this is as risky as you're making it out to be, I don't know if we wanna be this close to the epicentre."

Zomn Klaeriss scowls, "Pfah, as if you could retreat fast enough for the gesture to be meaningful, boy. I question how such a coward could be an immortal warrior."

"...Reit, just leave it at that, whatever happens, happens," I sigh, playing peacekeeper, "Have some faith in the Zomn, this is not the first time she has attempted this feat."

"As your leader says," the Zomn scoffs, "If you are so insecure, I can spare you a smidgeon of the excess power at my disposal to encase you in a barrier, if token gestures of consideration are enough to stop your mewling."

"I-" Reit tries to retort, but shuts up under the combined condemnation of everyone present, "...Please, and thank you."

I've only just recently convinced Jade to stop being so argumentative, I'm not eager for a repeat. Best to keep an eye on him, since I recall he quarreled frequently with that other guide on our expedition.

Complying with her instructions, I shepherd the party back and into a huddle on the floor. Manifesting her spellbook, the Zomn encases us in a transparent, filmy dome of force I vaguely identify as a Grade 4 barrier Spell, but don't recall which one it is. Not that it matters.

From her intraspatial storage, the Zomn retrieves a wide variety of paraphernalia I suppose must be necessary in some fashion. I only somewhat recognise the tools she's taking out, but most recognisable would be a pile of those presumed 'anchors' from our jaunt to Liggit Mine.

To begin with, she starts opening several bottles of fluid and drinking the contents, save for one tiny one she tucks into her sleeve, possibly an emergency healing potion of some kind. Next, she draws her wand out of its holster and raises a superbly manufactured, triangular crystal with patterns woven across in green, runescript covered metal in her other hand.

The focus slowly levitates from her grasp turning in the air as it moves ahead and settles. A holographic screen appears between it and its owner, providing a great deal of illumination to the dank tunnel while the Zomn mutters something inaudible under her breath.

Using her wand as a makeshift pointer, she starts inputting data into the interface that connects to each 'anchor' in turn, then shuts it off, flicking the wand at each of the stones to float them into the air, forming a circular pattern. The other materials follow suit, entwining, coating and piercing each of them at random.

I can more or less intuit what she's doing, but I haven't any real understanding of the spellcraft on display. Completely out of my wheelhouse. Thirty years of experience or not, I actually rarely had the need or chance to try fighting any spellcasters directly - magic generally has to fight magic, and all I have is this sword, so...

Each to their own Path.

"I have...no fucking idea what I'm looking at," Olrica complains quietly, "What's she doing?"

"Looks like she was programming those stones?" Jade speculates, baffled, "Are mages just, like, software devs?"

"Sometimes," I whisper back, "Magic is, by definition, an esoteric field of study. This isn't exactly an unusual method on Merrow, but different archetypes tend to operate by different conventions - and some disciplines requires a pretty insane degree of calculative ability, so pseudo-computers like that are a sometimes necessary convenience."

"Interesting," Angelus' eyes sparkle with fascination, "Magic-based computer science, huh?"

"Fingers are itching to take a look under the hood of that thing," Jade echoes his fervent curiosity, staring hungrily at the spellcasting focus as it's returned to the Zomn's storage space.

"Jade, no," Windy warns her off, "No sticky-fingers around the nice lady who can fold physical reality into a pretzel."

She smiles innocently at her best friend, "Whatever are you talkin' about Win?"

"If you want to try anything don't drag us into it," Reit grumbles, "Hey, d'you guys...feel like it's getting real hard to breathe all of a sudden?"

"Whatever she's doing it must be starting," Morn observes, staring intently at the Zomn's back, the old mage's Presence flaring to life.

"Be quiet, now," I instruct them seriously, "Don't distract her."

The pressure she gives off is sharp, focused and not directed at us. The anchors pause their - probably largely aesthetic - mid-air rotation, and one by one, shoot off in a streak of light, piercing the walls, the floor and the ceiling, each headed to their pre-determined destinations. The leftover objects are shredded, liquified and moulded into a palm-sized disc that slams down into...something intangible. I can't see what it is, but I felt a wave of vertigo the instant of impact.

Raising her wand, the Zomn teases a wisp of the disc's material from its centre, forming a glowing bead. It hisses smoke, then disintegrates into nothing. Inserting the tip of the wand into the hole left behind the Zomn twists it firmly, like a crank, or a lock and key.

The air shudders and my vision blurs.

"Grasp the world, feel the seam. Exile the unclean, never again to be seen," Zomn Klaeriss recites what sounds like a poem, "Compress, cleave and divest!"

And just like that, the 'space' ahead vanishes in less than an eye's blink. My brain is telling me that, logically speaking, something exists there, but to my senses, it's like...it's like...

I can't describe it succinctly, the words are just not there. Past that single, floating disc of an unknown compound, there is simply 'nothing' in the purest conceptual expression of it I've seen in years. Not an inky black void, or blank white, just...an absence of sensory feedback.

"That is...unsettling," I mutter subconsciously, recalling some unpleasant experiences.

The Zomn, overcome by the exertion, crumples to her knees, breathing heavily but otherwise fine, "'tis done. Glad am I that the scale of this infestation is lower than the first desperate seal I cast..."

Wagging her finger, the wand ejects itself at speed from the 'seal' and returns to her belt. With a glance our way, the barrier containing us for our own safety dissipates, "Now, we return. Once we reach the surface, I will open a portal once again to bring us back to Meteo Town. Thank you for your assistance."

"That is what partners are for," I answer politically, "Protecting our shared interests is a given. Do you need some time to rest, or a shoulder to lean on, Zomn?"

"I may be old and tired, but I'm not useless," she pushes herself back to her feet without difficulty, "A short walk is simple enough compared to what I've just accomplished."