Immovable Mage

– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Rising Moon, Day 92 –

Terry let Shroomling down, so that they could all take a break. They had crossed a long distance by letting him run without taking any through the night. The tiny specks on the horizon had already turned into sizable mountains.

These mountains were exactly what Terry wanted to reach.

Goblinoid giants…

Terry could have gone on for longer, but unless both Bugsby and he were mistaken, Shroomling needed an occasional rest period. Both for her to stretch her little limbs and to do… whatever she was doing to get an idea of where they were in the realm.

Terry had given up trying to understand exactly how the shroomans' abilities worked. Every time he had tried to pry into their secrets, he had run into a wall. Not because they were unwilling to share, but between their different way of perceiving the world and having to rely on a translator, it simply led nowhere.

Neither Terry nor Bugsby had any good idea how to replicate smelling mana or mixing into the scent. The beetlefolk could at least relate somewhat, given that his kind had an exquisite sense of smell as well, but that was still the difference between speaking a language and speaking the same language.

While Shroomling rolled around the earth happily, Terry instructed Oz to scout the shadows. Before the slime left, Terry told it to leave its satellite slime behind.

During their run, Terry had used finger runes to communicate with Bugsby and get the command down for having Oz form its coreless extension.

Terry observed the liquification of mana closely while also paying attention to the mana activity in Oz's bonded secondary core. He was pretty sure this was not normal slime behavior. At least, he had never heard of dungeon slimes creating clusters of multiple cores, nor of coreless proxy blobs.

Add it to the list of questions I want answered…

No matter how much food Terry offered the gelatinous glutton, Oz would only create a single satellite slime, which led Terry to suspect it was an inherent limit of whatever the slime was doing.

One satellite per bonded core?

Add it to the list…

Terry quickly scribbled in one of his notebook and then returned to the more important matters. He had given up on understanding the shroomans' abilities. He had also given up on prodding them for a historic account of the realm before, but given recent developments, he was ready to give it another headache-inducing attempt.

The difficulty was in trying to establish facts without having any way to establish that they were talking about the same entities. It would have been so easy if Terry could just ask about the Veilbinder or the Ungodly Angel and get a straight answer.

But even if Terry could express his intent for those individuals with finger runes, Bugsby wouldn't know how to interpret it.

Even if Terry explained who those heroes of the past were, their past was centered in Terry's realm, which didn't mean anything to the shroomans.

The Veilbinder definitely traveled through the realms, but most of the history that Terry could reference was what the heroes meant for his own realm. The only reference he had for the shroomans' realm was his hunch about the spore powder helping to defeat the invading ruler of their shadow plane.

Unfortunately, the shroomans didn't pay attention to who was sampling their spore powder. Nor could they match any of Terry's descriptions. Their eyesight was horrible and Terry didn't remember any history book mentioning how their heroes had smelled.

To the shroomans there was no perceivable difference between humans and elves. They couldn't see the pointy ears. As far as Terry could tell from his questioning, there was no equivalent 'tell' in smell.

If the shroomans talked about interacting with any of the bigger folks, that's how they referred to them. Bigger folks. At least that was how Bugsby translated it. What they conveyed was closer to 'bigger source of scents', but Terry agreed that bigger folks sounded… better.

Sounds less stinky.

Terry could get the shroomans to talk about 'bigger friends', but with no overlap in information as reference, it just led to another big dead end. It was made worse, because the time-frame Terry needed to reference was vast and the shroomans didn't exactly keep a written record or regular calendar.

To them, Terry was one of the bigger friends, which was nice to hear, but also meant Terry had no way to tell if the other 'bigger friends' they talked about might include figures as significant as the Veilbinder and Thuzar, or if they were just like Terry – random folks with a nosy conscience or short-term relation to the shroomans.

Terry had given up on trying to disentangle if the friend that smelled like rosewood might have been the Ungodly Angel or if the friend that smelled like power and pain might have been the Veilbinder. He got the feeling that continuing to work his way through what might be nothing but coincidental resemblance was a path to nothing but madness.

Are you calling yourself sane? Don't flatter yourself.

Terry rubbed his eyes and tried another approach. In the end, the thing he had to figure out was the curse. He was still missing too many pieces to puzzle together the relation to the heroes of his realm.

[You called the realm 'unhealthy' before.] Terry observed Bugsby. [And the shroomans keep talking about the realm's happiness and health.] He searched for the right way to phrase it and carry his intent across the different language barriers. [Are you talking about the mana curse?]

[Yes…]

Terry released a breath he didn't know he had held. If the shroomans were working some magic to contain the curse, then that might explain why it looked like they were related to it.

[…and no,] finished Bugsby after convening with Shroomling.

Damn it.

Terry bemoaned that it could never be easy. [Isn't it the curse that's making this realm 'sick'?]

Bugsby exchanged a range of chirps and pheromones with Shroomling before turning back to Terry. [Curse is a symptom.]

Terry frowned. That didn't fit his understanding of mana curses. Mana curses were designed by curse mages. They didn't spring up as a spontaneous symptom of 'sickness' in a realm.

He couldn't help but feel skeptical. [How do you know? How do you know it's not the curse that's making the realm sick?]

[Teachings…] Bugsby signed before looking surprised and confirming with Shoomling to make sure he understood correctly. [Old teachings. Sickness comes first. Curse is just a symptom. A warning.]

Bugsby turned to catch Terry's gaze. [She said that's why they have to work hard, especially since there are less and less shroomans around.]

Terry narrowed his eyes. [Teachings?]

When Bugsby translated, Shroomling squeezed her body vertically, which Terry understood to be affirmative, even before Bugsby confirmed his understanding.

[Whose?]

[Old friend. Bigger friend.]

Terry clicked his tongue. [Bigger friend that smelled like rosewood?]

I thought we weren't going to continue guessing. Path to madness, remember?

[Yes.]

Okay then…

Terry gritted his teeth before adding a few written lines to his notebook. Shroomling's understanding of the curse didn't make much sense to him. It defied what he knew about the nature of mana curses.

Granted, Terry wasn't an expert. He would love to get Mercedes's or Khaled's opinion, but the former currently saw him as an enemy, which probably had the latter's hands tied up with internecine bullshit right now.

The reason Terry gritted his teeth was simple. The understanding of the shroomans didn't make any sense, but the order of events might. There was a simple explanation for cautionary teachings existing before a curse took root.

The only problem with that explanation was that Terry didn't like it.

The only one who could confidently play prophet with a curse is its creator.

Terry wrote his thoughts onto paper, so that he didn't have to dwell on them any longer. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere by revisiting the historical accounts by the local elves that placed the blame for the curse on the Ungodly Angel.

Terry might be willing to consider that Thuzar had a hand in the curse's creation, but only if he found a motive that would fit with his understanding of the Faithless Saint.

I can think of one, only I haven't seen any evidence of it being true.

Terry couldn't help but recall the accursed tree channeling otherrealm magic and leading the funghoul army, which just made him remember the apparent contradiction between the idea of the Ungodly Angel creating the curse to fight a False God, only for it to be wielded by a channeling plant.

No point…

Terry moved his gaze to the horizon and waited for Shroomling and Bugsby to confirm they were still on the right trajectory.

***

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"Keep an eye on her," said Terry.

[Of course,] acknowledged Bugsby.

Terry would have liked to keep Bugsby with him during his first interaction with the giants, but he also didn't want to be forced into another situation where he had to protect the two in a fight. The giants didn't have a great reputation in this realm.

Neither do I.

Terry didn't exactly trust the sources of that bad reputation, but he was still wary of them. According to Patricia, the goblinoid giants of this realm speak a dialect of the ancient elven tongue. He could only hope that the language impartation scrolls that had been used on him as a kid would cover the difference.

Otherwise, I'll just have to get Bugsby after all.

Terry tried making himself seem as unthreatening as possible… which he could only admit, might have been a mistake, when he saw the pair of giants raising their clubs and gleefully shouting to 'squish the bug'.

The good news was that Terry could communicate with them.

The bad news was that the only language they seemed to accept was violence.

Terry swiftly disarmed them. He knocked them around. He tied them up with rope and immovable objects. He threatened them, but…

They were just too damn stubborn and arrogant.

Ugh. The only thing missing is them threatening me with their sect and I would be ready to believe that martialists are descended from goblins.

Terry got nothing out of them but insults. He sighed. "If you call me 'bug' one more time, I'm going to poke a spear where you won't like it."

"Shut up, food! I'll squish you!"

"Really?" Terry rolled his eyes.

"Once we get out, you're dead meat, little bug."

"Tasty meat."

Wait…

"You eat folks?" growled Terry. He was greeted with two repulsive grins.

"Elves are tasty. Even better than horses."

Okay that settles it.

"I might not be an elf, but that crosses the line for me," said Terry. The king spear pierced their nostrils and unleashed a lightning blast right into their brains.

"Eww…" Terry grimaced at the state of his spear. "Giant snot." He had forgotten that part from the folded space.

Too busy fighting, I guess.

Terry began having second thoughts about his trip to the giant territory, but before he could seriously entertain the idea of changing direction, his mana sense picked up something else in the distance.

How? That's in the opposite direction of where he was supposed to go.

***

"Who are you calling 'bug', you oversized goblin! You want to eat me? You're all barely enough for me to sharpen my teeth!"

The ambient mana resonated and a white wolf roared forth to tear into the pack of giants.

Rafael can understand them? Does the felan realm have language impartation scrolls for ancient elven? Or where did he get it from? From the expedition?

[What the Wastes are you doing here, Rafael?] Terry transmitted his thoughts using his communication talisman.

[Brother! Come and join the fun!]

Why am I not surprised that Rafael is having the time of his life here?

[What do you mean, what am I doing here? These excessively large numbskulls have been picking fights with me for weeks. Bah! These weaklings challenge the great me just because they're a bit tall. They truly have eyes but cannot see!]

Terry sped up and flung a divine hammer to help out his martial brother. [Can we try to capture them alive. I have a few questions for them I need answered.]

As unlikely as they might be willing to answer them.

[Boring, but fine,] replied Rafael while dodging a boulder hurled by a giant.

[And I meant what are you doing here in general. Not now specifically. Why are you in this location?] Terry rotated a plane of immovable objects into the path of the giants to make them stumble and impale themselves.

[What do you mean?] Rafael's claws began to glow and he cut deep gorges into a giant arm. [I was looking for you. I'm glad I finally reached you, brother! It hasn't been the same without you.]

Terry used a divine barrier to deflect an enormous club and redirect it into the face of a second giant. [You didn't reach me, brother. I reached you. You're completely lost, aren't you?]

"Bah!" Rafael scoffed loudly. [The great me is never lost! You're here, aren't you? The great me is always where I want to be.]

Sure. The great you wanted to be imprisoned in Thanatos. Sure, buddy.

The fight wrapped up quickly, which somewhat surprised Terry. It took a moment to realize why exactly.

The giants don't have any accumulated mana.

Terry thought back to the giants in the folded space, but that seemed like a misguided reference point. The funghoul infection was based on mana, so of course there was mana to be sensed in those giants.

Doesn't mean that they accumulated mana before being infected. Do they not have mana users?

They're strong even without, but without the kind of supporting army like in the folded space, they seem a lot less threatening…

"What do you want from them?" The leopard-spotted felan creased his brows. "They're utter idiots. Trust me. No matter how much I beat them up, they still spout shit. They're all having some kind of superiority complex because of their size. A superiority complex that's completely resistant against reality."

Sounds familiar.

Terry refrained from commenting on the resemblance between the description of giants and martialists. "I'll explain later." He called over Bugsby and Shroomling using finger runes.

"What the heck is that?!" Rafael stared at the little mushroom folk who had immediately proceeded to rub herself over the ground. "Or that?!" He pointed at Bugsby. "Those eyes are—"

"Behave yourself, please, Rafael," groaned Terry. "That's Bugsby, and he can understand what you're saying."

[Hello,] signed Bugsby.

"And that's Shroomling," continued Terry. "She cannot understand our speech, but Bugsby can interpret for her."

"She's smelly," whined Rafael with a grimace. "What's she doing? Can she stop that?"

"She's figuring out where we are in the realm, so that we don't get lost on our way to the giants," explained Terry.

"How does that help knowing where we are?" Rafael pointed at Shroomling's butt rubbing and wiggling. "Why would we even need that? I can show you around. And what do you mean giants? We're already here. They're around. They've been pestering me for weeks. These overgrown peanut-brains."

[Overgrown what?] interjected Bugsby curiously.

Great. Now Rafael is teaching him insults.

[Peanut-brain. Peanut-sized brain.] Terry signed while speaking the words.

"What are you doing?" interjected Rafael with a raised eyebrow.

"Nevermind all this nonsense," groaned Terry. "I need to speak to some giants that aren't just looking to take a bite out of me."

"Good luck with that," quipped Rafael skeptically. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. The only ones I've seen giants talk to properly were other giants."

"Anyway…" Terry stressed the word loudly to move on with the topic. [Rafael, Bugsby. Bugsby, Rafael. And that's Shroomling. Now that we all know each other, I want to get our questions out of the way.]

"And you're sure their folks?" asked Rafael. "These critters? Really? They're so tiny. I mean, no offense, brother, I know you're from a family of dwarves, but still… Are you sure?"

"Yes, and please stop talking," groaned Terry.

It's like every word out of your mouth is making it worse…

Terry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Where did you learn ancient elven?"

Rafael scrunched up his face. "From some old scroll in a small sect I passed through in the Union. Why?"

Union? Really?

"I thought language impartation scrolls were extremely expensive in the Free Factions Union," said Terry with narrowed eyes.

Rafael shrugged, and the teeth-displaying grin of the sticky-fingered felan told Terry all he needed to know.

***

After roaming around and attempting to get any worthwhile intelligence from the giants, Terry had to admit that Rafael had a point.

The giants were absolutely obnoxious.

Even so, they're folks. Terry constantly had to remind himself.

Terry had gotten nowhere in interrogating them. Trying to get these goblinoid giants to have a proper conversation seemed about as likely as teaching manners and common sense to a martialist.

"So, where to next?" asked Rafael as if he didn't have a care in the world. "My claws are getting itchy. I can feel there are more around. Let's get to it."

Case in point…

"Give me a second," said Terry softly. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his mana perception. After a while, he called Oz back from the shadow plane.

"You always come with the strangest things," muttered Rafael while wrinkling his nose towards the shadow slime. "Just to be clear, that one isn't folk?"

"No, this one is my tamed slime," said Terry. Not for the first time.

"But that one is folk?" Rafael pointed his thumb back towards Shroomling, who was rubbing her butt on the ground while being engaged in a conversation with Bugsby that consisted of huffs and wiggles for her part.

"Yes," insisted Terry. "Stop asking."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it." Rafael shrugged.

"I think I'm sensing a large group of giants further there." Terry pointed. "Or at least I believe it's a larger group. Among the giants I can sense in the front, there are some that are much taller with denser muscles. Probably a lot stronger than those we've encountered. They're spread out farther, which makes me believe they're guarding something and that there are probably more beyond my range."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh…" Rafael acknowledged Terry's loud thinking half-heartedly.

"Over there I sense a battle," continued Terry. "Elves and giants."

"Ugh, I'd rather not meet the creepy fuckers again," groaned Rafael.

Didn't he just say he wants to— Oh. He means the local elves.

"Was the Sun Faction particularly creepy?" asked Terry curiously. He didn't recall Patricia mentioning anything in that regard. He also found it hard to believe they could be worse than the skull-helmet-wearing moon elves.

"Very," insisted Rafael with a sneer. "Always fuzzing about the stupidest shit. Oh no, don't step on the bug! Don't trample on the flower! Don't touch our artifacts!"

Terry glared at Rafael. "That doesn't sound too bad."

Particularly the last part. The other parts might be excessive but the Sun supposedly worships life, so make sense, I guess?

But how does a refusal to kill bugs or flowers fit together with their hunts? Particularly with their large scale shrooman hunts that even involved specifically trained hunting beasts?

And how does this fit together with their current confrontation with the giants? I mean, I'm not judging them for not volunteering to be eaten, but unless I sensed that wrong, the sun elves were the ones who started the confrontation with an ambush.

"Oh, but it was bad," insisted Rafael. "The creepy fucks never leave you alone. There's always someone watching. It made my skin crawl."

I mean, we're strangers from another realm.

Not to forget that the last stranger unleashed a horrific curse here… Allegedly.

Terry frowned when he caught himself thinking in a way that displayed his acceptance of the accusation against the Ungodly Angel.

"So where to?" pressed Rafael. He wiggled his fingers with extended claws. "Itchy."

"I want to see what's going on with the elves," said Terry.

"Damn it," cursed Rafael. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

The pair darted forward while Bugsby and Shroomling stayed further behind.

The closer they came, the more Terry's brow furrowed. Something was off in this confrontation.

Why are the giants beating up one of their own while fighting?

That giant seems… more passive? Less aggressive. Hesitant. Defensive gestures.

He's also shorter than the others. The runt of the litter? Are they bullying him?

Wait…

Terry squinted and compressed his mana touch to get a better resolution and sensitivity. He subconsciously sped up while Rafael kept the pace without asking questions. The leopard-spotted felan trusted his martial brother.

No wonder he's the runt. He's passively cultivating mana. It's weak but it's there. The mana slowed down his bodily aging.

When Terry's mana-enhanced ears could finally perceive the whining of the giant runt, his pleading for both elves and giants to stop attacking him, Terry's mind was made up.

[We're siding with the shortest giant,] said Terry.

[Huh? Really?] Rafael's surprised voice entered Terry's mind. [The elves were creepy and I gladly beat them up when they blocked me from leaving, but side with the giants? Are you sure?]

[Yes.] Terry's mental voice was firm. [But we're not siding with giants. Just with that giant.]

Let's hope the runt has some sense. Sense enough to talk properly.

[But let's avoid killing if we can,] reminded Terry.

Let's hope Rafael has enough sense to not escalate unnecessarily…

***