Mage Tank

“Is something the matter?” asked Avarice.

“No, far from it,” I said. “One moment, please.”

“Grotto, do we still have all the vines from the overgrown Dominion Ivy Plant?”

[There has not exactly been time for raking.]

“Have you checked on them? Made sure they’re still, y’know, dead?”

[... One moment, please.]

Grotto disappeared. Avarice raised an eyebrow but kept silent. My familiar returned a moment later.

[The plant appears to be quite resilient. I have assigned the lower half of the obelisk room to inventory slots. The ivy should be contained so long as it remains in stasis.]

I brought up my inventory screen, willing it to the plant, and found two different stacks of items.

Immature Dominion Ivy Plant of the Endless x12

I selected one of the immature plants and pulled it out, holding it up for Avarice to inspect.

“Does this interest you?”

“May I?” she asked, holding out a hand. I passed it to her. She held it up, looking it over and running her fingers across the vine’s small leaves. “Yes, this is quite novel. Do you have any more?”

“I do,” I said. I was briefly curious why Avarice would need more than one flesh-eating ivy plant that could expand endlessly into the fourth dimension, but then I remembered who I was negotiating with. Why settle for infinite growth, when you can have infinite growth times two? “I can be persuaded to part with some.”

“I will trade one Holy Water per plant,” she said.

Infinite growth times two was amateur hour for Avarice. She didn’t get out of bed for anything less than six times infinite growth. I was lucky she was even willing to deal with my impoverished self, who only possessed a low double-digit number of infinitely scalable items.

Or maybe I was unlucky, she was robbing me blind, and presenting items blessed by Yara was a calculated play to encourage this exact scenario.

“I can make that happen,” I said. “And the tears?”

“Those are much harder to come by, now that Tyranny is locked away.”

She had a point. Really, since the plants could expand beyond the bounds of the perceivable universe, they weren’t all that rare when their mass was averaged out across reality. The one Yara had cut out of the Closet might still be somewhere in the beyond. It would only have to consume one cosmic entity of immeasurable size to produce more cubic meters of Dominion Ivy than the number of hydrogen atoms that existed. Normal spatial measurements were kind of meaningless in this hypothetical, but it was still fun to think about.

More fun than thinking about the godlike expression of cupidity manifested in front of me, whose only barrier to turning me into a sentient telephone was that I might produce more value in the future.

It was also more fun than thinking about my friends and allies being tortured or killed while I did some shopping.

“Then what’s your price?” I asked.

Avarice twirled the plant between her fingers as she thought.

“Your party will retrieve something for me in the future.”

I was hesitant to let Avarice dig her nails any further into the party.

“That’s too open-ended,” I said. “I can’t agree to that.”

“I will guarantee that retrieving the item will not violate your morals, nor those of any other member of your party. Retrieving the item will also result in a great boon to your growth, and will be found in an area rich in valuable resources. You will be permitted to keep all that you find, save for the item you are sent to retrieve.”

I controlled my expression as she anticipated most of my objections and laid out entirely reasonable terms to address each of them. I doubted I could hide my reactions while negotiating with her, even if I’d been made of marble, so it was a pointless exercise. But it was still good practice.

“What about timing?”

“It will require you to defeat a significant number of Grade 30 enemies, so it shouldn’t be any time soon,” she said. “You will have a one-year deadline from the time I have deemed you capable of completing the task and notified you of such. That way, it shouldn’t interfere with any of your ongoing activities. This deadline can be amended, at my reasonable discretion, if good cause is shown for delay.”

I was beginning to worry she was picking language right out of my head.

“And why do you need us to get it?” I asked. “You shouldn’t have a problem with a few measly Grade 30s, right?”

“I would not,” she said. “However, there are some places I will not go for one reason or another.”

“I see.”

“Well?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have, like, 200 poison essences?”

“No, thank you. However, I can sweeten the deal with anotherorb of the tears.”

I forced myself to think for a few seconds, trying to avoid making an impulse buy. A deific-grade AoE illusion-and-stealth counter was a hell of a nice thing to have in my back pocket. Having two of them? Even better. There were no stat or level limits, so it would be usable for as long as we kept it around. The only downside was that it was consumable, and with the way the orbs were constructed, it looked like each one was a single use.

“What’s the range on those things? It says it’s an AoE, but doesn’t list a radius.”

“It is unknown, but very large. The exact bounds are difficult to measure, since the gas is imperceptible through most means, and it is too valuable to experiment with.”

As I wrestled with the decision, Avarice clicked her tongue.

“What’s something else you need?” she asked.

“A second brain,” I said, half-jokingly. Avarice might have one, who knew?

“Why?”

“The most immediate reason is that there’s a lot to keep up with in fights.”

My Intelligence and Wisdom already provided a heavy multiplier to tracking and processing my surroundings, but when a half dozen people were moving at supersonic speeds, things could still fall through the cracks.

“Hmm. I’m not willing to part with any of my spare brains, but I have this.” She produced another item.

Focus Trinket

Requirements: WIS 20

You can focus on 1 additional thing at a time.

The item was simple, but it was exceptionally useful. Focus was a keyword and channeling Explosion! required it. With the trinket, I’d be able to channel Explosion! while also doing just about anything else simultaneously. That, or I could pat my head and rub my tummy. At the same time!

“Okay,” I said. “So that’s six immature ivy plants for the six Holy Waters, and a fetch quest for two orbs of the tears and this focus trinket.”

“That’s the offer,” she said.

It wasn’t a difficult choice. While owing Avarice a favor would increase the number of interactions we’d have with the avatar down the line–which was dangerous–it also made her more invested in keeping us alive. She was already here dishing out wisdom and making trades because she wanted to get the chance to cash in on her Dread Star questions one day. Now, the whole party would be involved with helping her retrieve something that was presumably a lot more valuable than two deific-grade consumables. That disincentivized killing us and incentivized providing us with some level of aid, so long as the expense didn’t outpace the potential profit.

“Alright, I’ll take it,” I said. “Hopefully, no one in the party is too mad about this.”

“I’m sure they won’t complain once you’ve saved their lives.”

We didn’t shake on the deal. Instead, Avarice snapped her fingers, and five more of the plants disappeared from my inventory, while the vials and orbs stored themselves away on a dedicated page. I also felt a weight settle on my soul, as the contract to carry out Avarice’s task took hold.

With our business done, I turned back toward my bedroom, finding that Fortune had vanished. Turning around again, Avarice was gone as well.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Alright,” I said, slapping on my bascinet. “Next stop, nobody knows.”

I placed one of the Holy Waters in my mouth, vial and all, and held it between my molars, ready to bite down the moment we arrived. I walked up to the teleport sigil with Grotto at my side, and fed it Dimensional mana until it activated.

Pop!

The thing about teleports… is that they’re weird.

Usually, a teleport felt instantaneous, regardless of the distance traveled. When we’d left Deijin’s Descent on the moon, we were back in the Littan fortress in the blink of an eye. That was a non-trivial distance when measured at the speed of light, and a quick trip from the moon to Arzia while moving at the universal physical constant of c should have taken about one second.

Either our trip had been faster than light–which would have implications–or our subjective experience was affected by moving at relativistic speeds. That is, it felt shorter for us because we were going really honkin’ fast.

Now, which was it? I didn’t know. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it had been FTL travel, and I honestly had no good way of knowing whether the underlying physics of Arzia’s universe were a match to the physics of Earth’s universe. Teleports weren’t even the only magic the party had access to that might operate at faster-than-light speeds.

Grotto’s PSA evolution allowed him to communicate with anyone he’d ever met “across any distance as though [he] were standing next to them.” What if they were on the other side of the universe? In another dimension?

“Hey, Grotto. Are you able to use your PSA ability to speak with Shog?”

[Yes. However, I believe there are other things that should concern us at the moment.]

“Like the purgatorial void we’re currently trapped within? Eh, I’m kind of over it.”

Teleports didn’t always feel instant. The portal into The Cage had been a rollercoaster, as had the portal into Deijin’s Descent. In both of those cases, an external entity had been interfering with the portal’s normal function. The Delve Core, Cage, had nearly killed us by trying to collapse the portal while we were midstream, and the Dread Star had also nearly killed us by pulling us over for a quick peek-a-boo. I only had a couple of data points, but it seemed like teleports with experienced travel time were dangerous and unhappy occurrences.

We were currently experiencing a portal with substantial travel time. The world was pure black, and the only part of myself that I could see was my soul.

“So there are a few types of portals that I've noticed, and they all act a bit differently.”

[Is this line of thought likely to improve our current circumstances?]

“No idea. Anyway, there’s straight teleportation, like what we just used, where you cast a spell or activate a weave and it hits you with a teleport. Single instance, limited targets, one-directional migration.”

[Indeed.]

“Then there’s stable portals that you touch. Those are permanent and usually have a portal at point A and point B, but not always. They’re similar to teleportation since they instantly transfer you to somewhere else. Slap the portal, and you disappear.”

[Correct.]

“Then there are stable portals that you walk through, like the entrance to the Closet. Those are more like bridges that connect two spaces. There’s no teleportation at all.”

[Yes.]

“Alright. But why, though?”

[Your question is too imprecise to merit a response.]

“Why is the Closet a walk-through portal, when most other portals I interact with are touch or spell-based?”

[Single-use teleportation is the most efficient for moving a small number of entities over a vast distance but requires frequent reconstruction and adjustment. A permanent portal node allows for additional stability when bound to a specific location with a Reality Anchor and reduces the chances of a user error. They operate on similar principles as the teleport weave we just activated but are significantly more advanced.

[Tunnel or bridge-type portals primarily involve creating access to a location that is not spatially distant, but which is normally inaccessible, regardless of proximity.]

“Then the Closet isn’t in some weird, far-off location. It’s always close to me, but normally unreachable?”

[I am not wholly aware of the specific mechanics that govern the Closet, but I believe it is a demi-plane anchored to your soul. The entrance is always exactly where you are. While inside, the exit becomes temporarily bound to the last physical location you occupied as you opened the main entrance. It is normally inaccessible because it extrudes from the ‘edges’ of the physical universe, connected to your location via a singular point that acts as a tether.]

“Okay. Then if you have a single-use teleport weave built inside the Closet, you’re essentially teleporting someone from a location that’s very close to the Littan fortress in Eschendur. That’s the last place I opened the primary entrance.”

[Your assessment is overly simplistic, but I agree with it in principle. The Closet is, technically, closer to the Littan fortress than anywhere else on Arzia at the present moment. The next ‘closest’ locations would be your Checkpoint destinations.]

“Then let’s say I’m inside the Closet, and take a teleport to a location outside of the Closet. I do this through some means other than my own portals, such as the weave we just used.”

[Very well.]

“That teleport would take me outside of the Closet.”

[Yes, as you said.]

“Once I’m outside of the Closet, the entrance to the Closet begins to move with me.”

[It may retain some connection to its previously bound location until the entrance is used again. Perhaps via a similar method as one of your Checkpoints… Still, if the entrance is tethered to your soul, then it would always be ‘closest’ to wherever you are while outside of the Closet.]

“Does the teleport weave take a snapshot of my current location when I activate it? Or does it serve as an ongoing anchor for the duration of the portal travel?”

Grotto considered that for a moment.

[You believe that we are stuck in a feedback loop, wherein the origin weave is continually moving along with us since it is inside the Closet, and unable to properly connect with the endpoint weave because its location is constantly changing?]

“Not only is the weave’s origin location constantly changing relative to the endpoint, but its relative proximity to me is remaining constant.”

[I do not believe that would be a problem. Advanced portal theory addresses many potential pitfalls of teleportation magicks, including ones such as you are proposing. Any half-competent teleportation weave should compensate for these kinds of variables.]

“Right. But what if it wasn’t a half-competent teleportation weave? What if it was, for example, a hastily constructed teleportation weave put into place by a hostile actor with a rudimentary understanding of how the Closet functions?

“And, what if this–completely hypothetical–hostile actor even designed the weave to intentionally fail under a variety of circumstances, such as those that are typically safeguarded against?”

[That… is potentially a concern.]

“What if I opened the Closet right now?”

[I cannot predict how that would interact with our current situation, but I doubt that it would be beneficial.]

“How about I–”

[Just wait. Do not touch anything.]

There… wasn’t anything to touch.

I tried to look over at Grotto but was met with more absolute darkness. Either light did not exist here, or my eyeballs could no longer perceive it. I could just barely make out the edges of Grotto’s soul. It stretched out into an endless line either behind or ahead of us. There were no indicators as to which direction we were traveling, or if we were even moving at all.

Several minutes went by, and I could feel Grotto beginning to seethe through our connection.

“Are you okay?”

[What an infuriating creature. I am amazed his diminutive frame can support a head that large.]

“Uhh… talking to Umi-Doo?”

[Yes. Getting his assistance was like neutering a ghost. Cold, evasive, and with a great deal more wailing than necessary.]

“What an oddly specific simile. Did he have a solution?”

[He spent most of the time calling us stupid in seventeen unique ways and in six different languages.]

“Sounds needlessly repetitive.”

[Each one was more creative than the last!]

“Still rude, though.”

[His suggestion is that we turn it off and back on again. After that, he terminated the connection.]

“The Director of Central just gave you basic IT hotline advice?”

[I could dive into your mind to acquire the context for what you just said, but I won’t. He believes the intervention of another teleportation function will interrupt the looping coordinate failure and force the weave to recalibrate itself.]

“He wants me to use Shortcut? Does it matter how far I go?”

[He did not say.]

“Will that… break anything? What happens when you teleport while already teleporting?”

[I imagine it varies. We may not even be moving, but rather oscillating in and out of some intermediary between the physical plane and the nonspace where the Closet has demanifested.]

“Hmm. We’ll start small, then. If it doesn’t work, we’ll ramp up. I’d rather not have the spell on cooldown from making a big jump. Or accidentally scatter my atoms across the solar system.”

[I wonder if that would destroy the Littan fortress, or if the blast would be contained elsewhere…]

I picked a random point 160 feet away and cast Shortcut.

I appeared behind myself, an instant before I cast Shortcut and appeared behind myself, an instant before I cast Shortcut and appeared behind myself. I turned to find myself turning to find myself. There was still no light, but my soul was a streak across the darkness, compounding and folding an exponentially growing number of times as more of me continued to teleport ahead and appear from behind.

There was a blinding light, a flash of atomic fire, and then…

Pop!

I landed on my feet, the smell of ozone wafting off my beard. I felt a tentacle wrap around my shoulder as Grotto stabilized himself. The new space was also pitch black, but my darkvision allowed me to make out vague outlines in the distance. There was some light bouncing around, but not much.

I bit down on the vial of Holy Water and checked my status while I spat out the glass. I hadn’t lost any health, despite the scorching heat at the end of… whatever had happened. I tried not to think about it.

You have resisted Dominate!

You have resisted Mesmerize!

You have resisted Paranoia!

You have resisted Psychosis!

The messages continued to repeat, as something in the dark made a dozen mental attacks against me every second. It was like an entire army of controllers were hiding just out of sight. The room was deathly silent, except for one sound.

A single pair of boots slowly clomped toward me.

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