Nectar
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🕑 Added 2024-06-07 14:02:31 +0000 UTCChapter 22
Derrick straightened from his kneeling position, wiping dust off his hands. The pungent aroma from the concoction on the table had intensified, swirling around the strange assortment of ingredients. He gestured towards the diagram drawn on the floor in chalk, its lines glowing faintly with a luminescence.
“There you have it, my lord,” said Derrick. “The ritual circle is complete. All that’s left is the potion and your focus.”
Ethan had been observing Derrick’s meticulous work with fascination and apprehension, and now, he leaned forward. “So, these Constellations,” he began, “are they like gods? Beings we form pacts with?”
“No. Nothing like that. Constellations are not living beings, nor are they deities demanding offerings.”
“Then what are they?”
“We do not know.”
“Then why would you deny them being gods? They could be.” Ethan shrugged at Derrick’s silence.
“For now,” said Derrick. “Think of them as lighthouses, each with its unique signature and essence.”
“So, we tap into that energy?”
“Precisely. By forming a Connection with a specific Constellation, a [Mage] gains an [Affinity] for that particular type of magic. It allows them to manipulate and channel that energy in unique ways.”
“But how do we choose? What if I connect to, say, the wrong constellation?”
“The choice isn’t entirely yours, my lord. The Constellation itself plays a role. It chooses those who resonate with its essence. Its concept. The potion and the ritual act as a bridge, a way to open yourself to their influence. But fear not, the wrong Constellation won’t turn you into a toad or anything like that.” Derrick winked.
“That’s a relief,” Ethan said with a nervous chuckle. “But what if I don’t feel anything? What if no Constellation chooses me?”
“It’s a rare occurrence, but it’s possible. In that case, we can attempt the ritual again, perhaps with a stronger potion. Don’t worry, we’ll get you Connected.”
Ethan pondered this momentarily, then another question popped into his head. “These… [Familiars] you mentioned. What are those exactly?”
“They are a fascinating aspect of the [Mage]’s bond with a Constellation. Think of them as manifestations of the Constellation’s power. A magical companion that fights alongside you and aids you. They also give you different powers. We call them special abilities.” Derrick’s eyes gleamed with a touch of nostalgia. “There are stories of legendary [Mages] with awe-inspiring familiars—mighty griffins, dragons, phoenixes. It all depends on the Constellation you connect with.”
Ethan’s pulse quickened. A magical companion? That sounded incredible. “Is it like summoning a creature?”
“Similar, but more permanent. You form a deep Connection with your familiar, a shared consciousness almost. Although, not exactly. They are an extension of yourself, and you of them.”
“And how often can we… Connect with these Constellations?”
“A fascinating question, my lord. You can only form a Connection with one Constellation every 25 Levels of your Race. Each Formation, as we call it, grants you a familiar and unlocks the true potential of your magical [Affinity]. Special abilities, unique spells, the possibilities are endless!”
A spark of excitement ignited within Ethan. He glanced at the swirling concoction on the table—it was a dark, viscous liquid that bubbled ominously.
Derrick carefully picked up a vial filled with a shimmering, iridescent liquid. He poured it into the bubbling potion, and the room pulsed with a sudden burst of energy. The chalk lines on the ritual circle flared brightly, momentarily blinding Ethan. When his vision cleared, he saw Derrick holding out the vial, its contents now a clear, innocuous liquid.
“The potion is ready, my lord,” Derrick said, his voice solemn. “Are you?”
Ethan took a deep breath, a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration coursing through him. He looked at the vial. It was a doorway to a world of unimaginable power. This was it. The first step on his journey as a true [Mage].
“Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m ready.”
“Before we begin, then,” said Derrick, and his smile vanished, replaced by a seriousness that etched deep lines on his face. “The ritual, as I said, is merely a bridge. It allows us to tap into the Aether Realm, the dimension that lies between our world and the Constellations—they are far more complex. Beings of immense power, intelligence, and… chaos.”
“Didn’t you say they weren’t gods?”
“They are not gods, but they’re not without consciousness either. The Aether Realm is a reflection of chaos. It’s believed to be a swirling tempest of raw magic and primal energy. It is beautiful, yes, but also incredibly dangerous.”
Ethan swallowed hard. Beautiful and dangerous didn’t sound very reassuring.
“The ritual circle and the potion act as stabilizers,” Derrick continued. “They create a channel, a safe passage for you to reach out and attempt a Connection with a Constellation. However, stepping foot in the Aether without proper protection is akin to jumping into a churning sea during a hurricane.”
“What happens if…” he trailed off, unable to voice the question.
“If you lose control? The consequences are dire. Your mind can be fractured by the raw power, your body ripped apart by the chaotic energies. Worse, the whispers…”
Ethan felt a cold dread pool in his stomach. “Whispers?”
“The whispers are ever-present in the Aether,” Derrick explained. “They are seductive, alluring, promising power beyond imagination. They will play on your deepest desires, your darkest fears. They will show you visions, both beautiful and horrifying. Do not listen.”
“Can I resist?”
“Willpower, my lord. That is the key. You must remain focused. Remember, these are not benevolent beings. They feed on emotions, on chaos. They will offer you anything—knowledge, power, even dominion over others—all in exchange for a single thing: your very soul.”
Damn, these things are sounding more like the devil now... This was far more serious than he ever imagined.
“They offer deals, and they’re the most dangerous. They will offer solutions to your problems, answers to your deepest questions. They will tempt you with visions of a perfect life, a life free of pain or hardship. But these deals are lies, elaborate illusions woven from your own desires. The Constellations aren’t the ones talking, it’s yourself. The Aether Realm is doing it. It’s a test by the Constellations. The Aether will show you glimpses of your past, of regrets and mistakes. It will exploit those vulnerabilities, promising to set things right. But remember, my lord, the past cannot be changed. Giving in to their promises will only lead to your downfall—as it is not even the Constellations promising things.”
Ethan felt a lot of emotions pool in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. “How can I make a Connection with a Constellation?” He asked.
Derrick met his gaze. “The Connection is not something they bestow. It is a two-way street. You reach out with your will, with your desire to learn, to grow, to become a true [Mage]. If your will is strong enough, if your essence resonates with a particular Constellation, it will acknowledge you. That’s when the Connection forms.”
“And if I’m not strong enough?”
“The ritual will fail, at worst. You might experience some disorientation, but the potion and the circle will protect you. The key is to never, under any circumstances, look directly at a Constellation unless you feel its presence reaching out to you. And even then, never look into its eyes.”
“Eyes? You said they weren’t living beings.”
“They aren’t,” Derrick corrected, “but they exist on a plane of existence beyond our comprehension. Their true forms are beyond human perception. But if you manage to catch a glimpse, if you see their eyes… well, let’s just say the results are… unpredictable. At best, you’ll be driven mad. At worst…” he trailed off.
Ethan noticed a hint of regret in Derrick’s voice. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. So much for a straightforward path to becoming a [Mage].
Sensing his apprehension, Derrick placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be discouraged, my lord. The rewards are worth the risk. Imagine, wielding the power of a Constellation! The possibilities are endless. But remember, caution is paramount. Here, the potion. It’ll hurt. A lot. Bear it.”
Handing him the potion, Derrick backed off. Ethan stared down at the vial in his hand. The clear liquid shimmered faintly. He took a deep breath—anticipation and a tremor of fear gutting his intestines. With a resolute nod, he tipped the vial back and downed the potion in a single gulp. The liquid tasted faintly of ozone and metal.
Oh, he felt nothing.
He smacked his lips, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Hey, Derrick, I feel nothin—”
The world exploded.
One moment he was sitting in the chalk-drawn circle, the other he was drowning in a cacophony of sound and light. Blinding bolts of energy crisscrossed his vision, their colors shifting and morphing in a maddening dance. A deafening roar filled his ears, a sound that seemed to vibrate through his very bones. The ground beneath him buckled, threatening to swallow him whole. The walls closed in on him.
Panic surged through him—a primal fear clawed its way out of his mind and squeezed his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe! Ethan panicked, then squeezed his eyes shut, the pressure behind his lids threatening to burst them open. No long being able to hold it in, he screamed, but his scream died in his throat, choked off by the sheer intensity of the assault on his senses.
Then came the pain.
It wasn’t a localized ache, not a sharp stab or a dull throb.
It was a searing, all-encompassing agony that ripped through him with the ferocity of a thousand suns.
It felt like his very molecules were being ripped apart, then slammed back together in a chaotic jumble.
His bones seemed to melt; his muscles seemed to scream in protest.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but writhe on the floor like a broken puppet in the grip of an unseen tormentor.
His mind became a swirling vortex of fragmented memories and nonsensical images. Memories, fragmented and distorted, flooded his mind’s eye. His father was a boxer in his prime, he remembered how sweat dripped from his brow as he sparred with a partner. He remembered the sting on his own hand as his father, laughing, playfully punched him.
He remembered Legos. Building spaceships and castles with his small, chubby hands. How a sense of accomplishment would wash over him with every completed piece. Then, his mother’s smile, warm and genuine, as she ruffled his hair.
The flashbacks morphed, the edges blurring. His father lay in a hospital bed, pale and thin, his once-powerful legs replaced by sterile white casts. He remembered the forced smile, the brave voice as his father reassured him. Just a little setback, champ. We’ll be back in the ring in no time.
But he never did.
The years that followed were a slow descent—with his father becoming a shell of his former self, haunted by the accident that had stolen his dreams. The boxing gloves hung forgotten in the attic. His father would look at them, wondering what could have been.
Ethan saw himself at the funeral, the world a dull, grey void. His mother clung to him, her sobs slamming into the hollow ache in his own chest. There were no cheers, no applause, just a suffocating silence as the earth swallowed his father whole.
Then, he was in a new world.
He had no one.
With nothing. No Lego sets, no mother’s smile, no fatherly encouragement. Just him, and this new world.
Alone.
Why? Why? Why? The question echoed in the vast emptiness. Why was he alive? Why not buried beside his father, the pain finally gone? Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The word pounded in his head. He should be dead.
Then, there was a whisper. “{Do you want to return?}” A voice, seductive and insidious, slithered into the gaps between his screams. [Myriad Tongue] triggered full force. “{Do you want it all back?}”
What was that?
Ethan looked, he saw something, then squeezed his eyes shut, but the image burned behind his eyelids. Millions of eyes, swirling in the chaotic beauty of the Aether Realm. Order and chaos, black and white, all intertwined in a symphony of incomprehensible bullshit that threatened to skull-fuck him to death with the pressure alone.
And amidst the swirling madness, them.
The Constellations.
Beings. Different shapes. Incomprehensible Eldritch horrors with eyes that tore through him. He looked into their eyes.
Then he realized he shouldn’t have looked at all.
He should be dead. He’d dared look.
But… nothing happened. No searing pain, no soul-rending scream. Just… silence.
He didn’t die.
So, he growled with a sneer, “I refuse. Get the hell out of my head, you fucking bastards.”
He heard a laugh. A chuckle. A moan. A scream. Then the world exploded in a cacophony of sound merging into a single, horrifying roar. Ethan clutched his head, noticing his flesh tearing apart. This was not what he signed up for. This wasn’t the path to becoming a Mage. This was… this is a nightmare.
He gritted his teeth. White-hot pain skull-fucked any and every thought he had, but through the haze, he clung to Derrick’s warnings. No whispers. No deals. Focus.
Ethan focused on the image of the ritual circle in a desperate attempt to ground himself in the real world. He imagined the protective barrier of the chalk lines, Derrick’s salt-and-pepper beard. It was a flimsy shield at best, but it was all he had.
The sounds didn’t stop.
But he refused to give in. He gritted his teeth, the taste of blood metallic on his tongue. He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t kneel.
Then, from the swirling chaos, a single being emerged. A Constellation unlike any other. It shone with thousands of small stars within, and then the others quietened. They backed off, retreating. In reverence. In fear. In awe. In shock. The Constellation drew closer, only then did it speak, its voice a chorus of whispers that somehow resonated within him.
“You’ve done well, child.”
The whispers faded, the blinding light dimmed, the world slowly returned to a semblance of normalcy. The pain, though far from gone, was a dull ache compared to the inferno that had threatened to consume him. Sweat dripped from his brow, his body a mess of tremors and exhaustion.
But he was alive—
—and that, for now, was enough.
With a pulse, the agony subsided. Ethan lay on the floor, panting heavily, his body a trembling mess. He opened his eyes, blinking away tears of blood and the blurry afterimages. The world was still swirling around him, but the chaos had receded, replaced by a dull ache that throbbed throughout his entire being.
“You’re finally out, my lord!” Derrick said, and his voice pierced into his head. Ethan hissed, clutching his head. It took nearly half an hour for him to calm down, and when he did, he noticed all the notifications he’d gotten:
The [{Ritual Name}] has commenced!
You have entered the Aether Realm!
Congratulations! You have survived the Aether Realm! You have earned the title: Aether Forged.
Congratulations! You have been molded by Primal Chaos!
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 2 -> Lvl 3!
Your class, [Mage], has leveled up — Lvl 2 -> Lvl 3!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 4 -> Lvl 5!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 6 -> Lvl 7!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 7 -> Lvl 8!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 8 -> Lvl 9!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 9 -> Lvl 10!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 4 -> Lvl 5!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 6 -> Lvl 7!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 7 -> Lvl 8!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 8 -> Lvl 9!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 9 -> Lvl 10!
Congratulations! You have leveled up [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception] to level 10! The skills may now be merged!
Congratulations! You have gained the skill: [Arcane Awareness]!
Note: [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity] have been merged into [Arcane Awareness]!
Congratulations! You have survived staring at Constellations! You have earned the title: The Unveiled.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [True Perception]!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Psionic Resistance]!
Congratulations! You have gained innate ability: [Sever]
Reading through them all, Ethan’s pulse quickened, his heart hammering a wild rhythm against his ribs. Okay, calm down, holy fuck. What Constellation was it? Did I get a [Familiar]? What is it? Let me see. What Constellation, what [Familiar], had he bonded with? His gaze darted to the place where the system detailed his Constellation and [Familiar]... and then... he grew silent.
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AN: I'm sorry for ending it on a cliffhanger again 😭 This chapter is already 2700 words, and while I could give you what the Familiar/Constellation is here at the end, why should I burn an opportunity for a cliffhanger 😭
Anyway, I hope this all made sense. While it was supposed to be one chapter, It blew out of proportion and turned into 2 chapters--almost 3. (I mean, if we're talking work count alone, ch 21 and 22 are 6k words. Which is like typically 3 chapters. But eh 🤷♂️)
Comments
Tim Judge
If an author sees a cliff then hanging seems irresistible.
Kajek
Great chapter! I enjoyed it very much :) Oh the wait now ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
Potion
You forgot to add Lvl 6 -> Lvl 7 and Lvl 8 -> Lvl 9
IdolTrust
Chaos element ey. So a Jack of all elements. Familiar a squid because astral ink to write his runic symbols and texts. He can see past wards or the veils. Maybe to see hidden effects of every magic thing in the world.
Fortunis
Interesting.
Beeees!
Oh god, seems like myriad whispers mixed eith eldritch horrors is a bad conbo. But traumatizing amounts of nughtmare fuel does seem good for skill growth. As long as the cliff aint too long i dont mind
Nectar
What 🥲
Chase
You...
