Metaworld Chronicles

The moment the thrilling demand left Gwen's lips, a part of her that wasn't press-moulded by necessity in this world of monster and magic demanded to know if her request could be considered cruel and demented. Together with her chilling realisation, a vision of Evee's disapproval cooled her head and quailed her purring pride.

Not far, "Zippy" stared at the middle distance between itself and her Devourer self, as mute as a munted punter after a few too many coins at the local pokies.

To cleanly butcher the creature was one thing.

But to make it dig a grave, then lie in it, all the while demanding that it should thank her magnanimous display, was as damaging to its mental health as it was to her moral wellbeing.

"Cali, Ariel," she commanded her creatures through her Empathic Link, realising that a part of her motivation had come from the shared emotions between herself and her hooting Familiars. "Shut up for a minute."

"SHAA—!" Caliban protested with the utmost stubbornness it could manage.

"Ee…" Comparatively, Ariel digested her ethical dilemma and quietened itself.

Gwen's beasties then snapped and snipped at one another like disgruntled kittens until she demanded their silence.

Eventually, despite the residual unwillingness from both, the mewling quelled.

Golos mocked her with a snicker. If the Dragon Turtle's senior was their prisoner, he might have shown some compassion for a near-equal. Gwen knew, however, that lesser Dragon-kin such as these were as to Golos fodder for his Essence growth, unworthy of taxing the Wyvern's unenthused brain cells.

"Gogo," she told the Thunder Wyvern, feeling that the brute was a bad influence on her measure of normality. "Go get Dede. Make sure he's alright."

The Wyvern swivelled away with a shrug.

Gwen rested her eyes to recollect her wits, ensuring all excess mana had cleared from her conduits. Be it Lightning or Void, neither offered rapport for sanity.

"Zippy." She hovered closer, but not close enough to negate a quick Dimension Door. Besides her, Lulan shadowed her movements, spreading her blades so that Gwen's figure stood at the centre of a blooming iron lotus. "You will not be spared. I am without the illusion that as a guard to Shyvaphyr, you have eaten my kin and ravaged my home in the past—thereby, my only mercy is that the end you choose shall be dignified—assuming you cooperate. "

Before she could finish, Richard floated into view.

"—Gwen," her cousin interjected by hovering between the pair. "Not to protest your decision, but before you continue, may I have a word to share some thoughts?"

In front of them, the Dragon Turtle possessed no discernable reactions.

"Alright." She respected Richard's uncanny scent for profiteering. "In private, or…?"

"Here and now is fine." Richard gestured toward their battle spoil. "I thought since we've repelled the Shoal, we should carefully consider the rewards from our Quest. With Wellington safe, we are in a strong position to haggle. One is the Core in Shyvaphyr's head, which would certainly be a boon to the city's rebuilding efforts, and the other is Zitusphyr here, whose Core is less valuable. As a leased War Mage, you can mark a part of the spoils as your fee, with the better part going to the Tower, correct?"

"Aye." Gwen glanced between the turtle and herself, wondering if live-auditing Zippy's worth could be construed as cruel and unusual punishment.

"I can see you're in a mood." Richard's lips curled into a smirk. "So why not let your cousin shoulder your burden, eh? How about this...?"

The Water Mage pointed to the length of the still-twitching neck in Caliban's claws.

"We'll organise for that Core to be auctioned at Mayuree's— maybe try to trade for a Lightning Draconic Core from the Chinese."

"EE—!" Ariel immediately snuggled up to Richard but was swatted away by a pouting Lea.

"As for Zitusphyr. My first thought was likewise Soul Tapping the bugger and make him another Garp, but as Golos said, that might be more trouble than it's worth. Essence Tap, in essence, is Necromancy—when dealing with Draconic scions, let's not pretend to be a Soul Flayer when you're not. Still—I think we can maximise benefits from Zippy's body regardless. Would you mind if I asked you to keep him around for a while?"

"Why?" Gwen cocked her head. "I can repay the cost of the Core out of my private funds if nothing else, AND I am sure we'll find more Cores in the future, especially as this new South Sea conflict goes on. What's the benefit of keeping a monster as dangerous as a Dragon Turtle around if I am not going to Tap it?"

"Well." Richard rubbed his thumb and fingers together suggestively. "If we find the right buyer for Zitusphyr, not only does he get to live, which eases your conscience, but you're going to get goodwill from whoever gets him as a Draconic Steam Spirit."

Gwen raised both brows. "Goodwill, eh?"

"A shitload of goodwill." Richard cleared his throat. "I know you're not into the bloke, but for what's to come—this global climate thing you've been telling us—wouldn't it be interesting if the Militant-Nobles owed you a favour they cannot refuse or readily repay?"

Gwen pursed her lips to think. "You don't mean?"

"Well, you didn't think Benny was such a bad bloke, no? The heir apparent is certainly heads and shoulders better than Poins. If you can sell brother eldest a favour as important as this, not only would your dispute with the Exeters be resolved, they wouldn't have the face to oppose your future endeavours, especially if the seas start to warm up or cool down in unexpected but catastrophic ways, as you said."

Benedict Thomas Holland, Gwen finally noted at which tree Richard was barking. As her cousin inferred, the lad was alright: a congenial, skilled, and polite heir apparent to Henry V's Golden Blood. She recalled that the Steam Mage was running with an incorporeal Spirit, one more affiliated to mist than steam. Doubtlessly, Zitusphyr, if tameable, would be a substantial upgrade, reducing Thomas' Affinity but gifting both Draconic resilience and "shell" attributes well-suited to Thomas' unique magic of steam "bombs".

Transporting the Dragon Turtle to London was out of the realm of possibilities—but a simple Long Range Message could probably compel her prior competitor to rush across international borders, even if the man was shipped halfway to Greenland.

At the same time, she knew with certainty that the Militant Faction had significant footholds in Melbourne and Brisbane, not to mention parts of Auckland's Mages were bound to fall under their sway. If she could hold them to terms, then the recovery of Wellington and the defence of Auckland itself should be much smoother.

"That…" The calculations of the pros and cons flashed through her eyes instantly. "Is a wicked idea, Dick."

"Thank you." Richard feigned a bow. "As you were, Duck."

Gwen's attention once more fell on the Dragon Turtle. Her mind was made up. "Well, that's how it is, Zippy. I was going to Soul Tap your Core and make you my pet, but no more. Your choices are to remain here and submit to a future Master of my choosing—meaning you'll be free to contest their will and not mine—and if you win, it isn't my problem. Or you can perish here and gift me your unshattered Core."

"Great Kin…" the Dragon Turtle's speech was slow and ponderous. "Zitusphyr obeys."

Whatever Zitusphyr meant, Gwen knew that the turtle would abide by the superior Dragon's whim. Lulu affirmed her suspicions, from whom she was reminded of Ruxin's casual gift of the twin Naga Cores. Both had been perfectly preserved—an impossible feat for human hunters. Only through existential dominion—an evolutionary legacy from the primordial days when thunderous lizards stalked a young Terra ripe with elemental instabilities—was such an outcome possible.

And if she should be defeated by a Dragon-kin, Gwen felt suddenly queasy; would she obey the same fate? If she should refuse, what would it mean? If she should expect obedience from her defeated foes, was it not fair that they too enjoyed the exact terms of the grand gambit?

"Alright, stay with Golos and obey his command." Uncomfortable with her conjecture, she chooses not to dwell on the matter. Thankfully, in the next second, a Message spell visibly bloomed beside Richard.

Ding! Hers activated a second later.

"Gwen," Petra's voice imprinted itself upon their minds. "The Divination Chamber reports that the Shoal has gone into the deep sea. Magister Kawhena wants to know what you've done and what to expect."

"Ah, we're doing alright." Gwen drily chuckled as she surveyed her Familiars and companions, feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest. Lulan was looking worse for wear but was otherwise fierce and fine. Richard was aglow with confidence thanks to her taking his advice, with his eyes forming two smiling slits of self-congratulation. "Let's talk when we meet face to face, but you can begin cleanup Purges in Wellington. There won't be anything else coming up from the Shoal for the foreseeable future, short of a new one branching off and swimming down from Auckland."

There was a pause in the Message spell.

"Kawhena of WETA here." The voice of the Magister bloomed orange and green beside their ears. "Magister Song, do you mean to say you've dispersed the Shoal?"

Gwen made sure by double-checking the waters below.

Her hundred-odd lampreys, each the size of oarfishes with the circumference of great whites, writhed and danced, snipping and nipping at one another in search of vitality. As before, there was no dismissing her summons, and nature would have to take its course by wearing them down through the entropic decay of Void Mana. It was a shame, for there was so much vitality she could not harvest for dire reasons—one for the limitations of her human body and the other for Caliban, whose vital vessel was bursting at the seams.

"If you do not mind, Magister Song—I would like to see for myself." Magister Kawhena was a very careful Magister. The man's disbelief was entirely acceptable for Gwen, who could imagine her shock if she had sent Richard out on an errand for the day and her cousin returned within the hour with all boxes ticked. That and Petra had succeeded in tapping into Wellington's Divination Array and linked up their Dwarf-tinkered communication devices with the ageing system used by WETA. Without knowing Petra's skill, the probability that she might have confounded the spectrometric system was a likelier outcome than the Devourer eating her way through an entire Shoal.

"Sending you our markers now." Gwen nodded to Richard, who faxed off their Divination signatures. "Petra should be able to Teleport you over in a jiffy."

"… Very well," Magister Kawhena answered. "Magus Kuznetsova? If you could?"

"Gwen. Spread out and standby for transfer. I am inviting the Magister into the Teleportation Circle now. Three—Two—One—"

A flare of silvery Conjuration mana materialised not far from Gwen. The long-range Teleportation Circle could only function as an approximation without a circle on the receiving end. It was a method with rigid limitations, for a Mage being shunted by a poorly aimed spell would imply injury—while an NoM might be reduced to giblets if shunted through solid rock.

The Magister, as expected, was a Maori elder in his late forties, perhaps fifties. Sporting the usual Ta Moko of his people, the clean-shaven man was otherwise dressed in a battle garb of enchanted cloth made to look like a well-fitted suit.

Still orientating his bearings, the Magister drifted toward Gwen and her trio.

A second later, he saw the idling, defeated Dragon Turtle in the midst of questioning its future. Across several breaths, the Magister appeared to doubt himself until he saw Ariel and Caliban in the flesh.

"…Are those both yours?" Kawhena was incredibly calm, Gwen noted, even after seeing a Kirin that could lay waste to half the harbour if left alone. Likewise, against Caliban's gore-soaked Lovecraftian visage holding the severed end of a wheezing Dragon's head, Zippy might as well appear a common Pokémon.

"G'day, Sir." Gwen bowed from the waist. "Thank you for defending Wellington as well as you have."

The man shook his head. "I was holed up in a fort, Magister Song. It's you and the brave militia that's responsible…"

The Magister wanted to continue but grew silent again when, from below the party, an oppressive vision of Golos arrived, clutching a struggling Dede in one of its claws. Her duck, Gwen noted, was undoubtedly in the process of restoring itself. Unfortunately, its humble origins meant its ability to mend broken bones was nowhere near the fast healing demonstrated by the Dragon Turtles.

Kawhena stared at Dede and Golos for several moments, trying to process a sight that made the Shoal seem routine.

"Shall we head back?" Kawhena quickly grew accustomed to her aberrant band and appeared to possess no doubt that the Shoal had gone a merry way away from Wellington. As to whether that was because he could spy no Shoal or that Gwen's collection of creatures had shaken the man's sanity, she couldn't guess.

"Yes," Gwen spoke with sympathy for the flabbergasted Magister, her heart already fleeing from the thrill of the hunt toward the meeting of familiar faces. "Let us return. I am eager to see how Magus Yue has fared."

"Jonas! Taj! Paul! Billy!" Gwen called out each of the crimson-faced figures as they emerged from the ruined harbour, her voice trembling from the electrifying nostalgia. "Miss me?"

"Oh my God! It's really her! It's Gwen!" Billy was halfway out of formation before Jonas dragged him back.

"Idiot! She's Magister Song now!" The Healer snapped at the youthful Diviner; an observation Gwen immediately corrected when she saw Billy's goatee.

When they had first met, Billy was in his mid-twenties, meaning nowadays, her once-companion to Sufina's island was likely in his late twenties or even thirty. Likewise, it was insane to think that Jonas, who she recalled to be in his late thirties, was now a forty-something oldie. From what she'd picked up from Yue, the feller never relented on his one-sided love for Alesia, meaning he was still a bachelor. Comparatively, Paul and Taj found spouses, with Taj already playing father to a boy and a girl.

"Let's not bother with titles." Gwen felt her face grow hot. After all, when they'd first met, she'd been butt-naked and had freshly escaped from Edmund, no more potent as a Mage than a newborn, mewling babe.

"She's right, you nitwits," an unmistakable voice next announced herself. "Why would Gwennie ever throw rank around us? We're not her subordinates! Ha! At least not yet, anyway—and if she does, I'll knock some bloody sense into her!"

"YUNNIE!" Gwen rushed forward to embrace her oldest friend.

Behind her, Lulan and Richard took up positions on either side, one shocked to witness such a juvenile side of her commander, while the other appeared appreciative and relaxed.

As for her menagerie of pets, Golos had wanted to keep feeding, so Gwen had sent away the Wyvern to keep an eye on Zippy. As for Dede, the Dragon Turtle's natural superiority had shaken it so jarringly that it chose not to extort the Mages it met but instead flew around Wellington's outskirts, going on a walkabout to digest its defeat.

As the two friends embraced, Gwen felt her slim figure slotting into Yue's grooves like a glove.

"I know it hasn't been that long," Gwen said with a sign, barely suppressing her riotous emotions. "But it feels like I haven't seen you for a decade."

"Nah-yeah, short partings are the worst," Yue agreed in iconic Aussie fashion. "Well, well, look at you, eh? Magister Song. Big Wig Song! And here I am, crawling my way to a mere Captaincy with the swiftness of a crippled Orc."

"It's provisional-Magister," Gwen joked. "We all know I've got a long way to go. There's Auckland to come as well, and so much more to do before returning to London and wearing my new spell mantle. Did Alesia tell you about my suspicions regarding Mount Erebus? It's a long slog from here on out, and the Shoal's just the beginning."

Yue patted her arms, giving Gwen's cheek a pinch before pulling herself away. "How's Evee?"

Though off-topic, the question felt to Gwen as natural as she and Yue sharing a bowl of Mrs Bai's dumplings.

"Evee's doing super well in her Ordo," Gwen confessed to as much knowledge of Elvia as she could. "We haven't had a chance to catch up, but you know how busy she is after Shalkar. Her Ordo is taking the opportunity to set up a forward operating fortress, working closely with the Centaurs and my Rat-kin. As Evee's one of the co-liberators of the region, she'll be worked to the bone, I bet."

"Strewth, Big Wig Evee too." Yue scratched the rank lapels of her military fatigues. "I should get Master to open some backdoors before your footmen accost me at the entrance."

Gwen chuckled. "That won't happen!"

"Because you'll slap them with your Magister's mantle?" Yue mock-laughed.

The girls shared another minute of small talk and then mutually introduced their team members. Reuniting with Richard and Petra, Yue shook their hands, bantered for a bit, then whistled when Richard told her that Gwen was marching ever closer to the goal of gaining her Tower and making Henry's dream come true.

"Jesus Christ. You really made it, eh?" The Fire Mage said to her cousin. "I remember when we first met. You said you'd stick to Gwen like a bad smell. That's paid out well."

"Yunnie!" Gwen pulled her friend back, aghast at Yue's frankness. "Richard has been nothing but helpful."

"Just stating the facts." Yue's skin was hot to the touch, speaking loudly of her present Affinity for Elemental Fire. "No shame in being a practical bloke who knows what he wants. I am just awed that this guy managed to stick with you through thick and thin for five years across three countries. I am a bit jealous, considering Evee and I couldn't do that, even though we promised in the gym, after the Royal National."

Gwen wanted to say that those had been genuinely wishful words from children's mouths but hadn't the heart to stifle Yue's recollection.

"We'll be together again in the future," Gwen hinted at one of her motivations. "This time, it'll be in my Tower, and nothing will keep us apart."

And that—Gwen noted for herself—was the promise from an adult and a Magister.

"Ha!" her friend gave her shoulder a playful punch that jarred her Da-peng armour. Without the magic circuits active, the Peng-suit was merely stylish Big Bird cosplay. "I'll hold you to that."

"Alright—" Gwen extended her finger, and the two made a pinky promise. "So, it's over for now?"

Below, the city's initial recovery would take at least a month before rebuilding could occur. As useful as Magister Kawhena's protective earth-shifting Mandala could be, the magic was not conducive to the continued function of mana-fed conduit lines, sewerage pipes, and the foundations the coastal city sat upon.

"What's your plan from here, Yunnie?"

"Back to Auckland, of course. I am here until the capital's safe or Master calls me back." Yue's eyes measured her up and down as she spoke, making Gwen conscious of the promise she had just made. "You heading back to London or staying?"

"We'll be chumming for a long while this time," Gwen said with a happy smile. "Saving Wellington wasn't even my main mission."

"Is Auckland?"

"Nah." Gwen took a deep breath. "It's a long story."

She tapped into her Message Device. "Pats, can we Teleport back to Auckland?"

"Not safely, no. The Ley-line is not stable enough," Petra informed them. "We can get within three hundred kilometres, though."

"That's enough. I'll drop off what supplies I can spare," Gwen gave the order. "Then we can move up. Are you coming with us, Yunnie? We should fly up together."

"You're flying up at night?" Yue directed her eyes upward toward a gloomy sky the colour of steel. "Auckland Tower is up and mobile, and we'll be blind as a bat trying to find it unless you can see several kilometres in the dark."

"I've got this." Gwen produced the Omni-orb for a moment. Without prompting, the orb drifted toward the direction of what she assumed to be Auckland Tower.

Yue nodded. "Sure, we'll fly and talk. Let's see Magister Kawhena first. We need to leave behind equipment for the survivors as well."

When the girls once more located the Magister of WETA, the man was knee-deep in the logistics of undoing what he had done to alter Wellington's landscape. Unfortunately, a city wasn't like a napkin that could be uncrinkled and flattened. Likewise, Mermen still lurked within the city's underground utilities, parking garages, and the flooded sewers cut off by the Mandala.

"Very well." Kawhena did not comment on their hasty exit but bowed from the waist. "Please give my thanks to the Shard, and for you, Magus Yue, please inform Magus De Botton and Lord Shultz that Wellington will forever remain their ally."

"I shall," Yue replied.

"And I'll return when the rebuilding begins," Gwen promised. "I am happy to say that I've had a hand in several major reconstruction projects in the last few years."

"We would very much like that." The Magister was so polite Gwen wondered if she should clarify that she oversaw both Tonglv and the Isle of Dogs and presumably knew more about the workflow of demolition and reconstruction than any Mage still residing in Wellington.

Feeling her calling, however, she left the appropriate diplomacy to her companions from Cambridge, exiting via WETA's storeroom, where she unloaded a dozen pallets of meal rations, medical supplies and diluted potions suitable for NoMs from her Storage Ring.

In the spacious gloom of the warehouses, Gwen found herself greeted by the familiar face of Rongo Winiata, one of Yue and Whetu's companions during the IIUC. Once more smitten with sentimentality, Gwen invited the man to take a quick coffee break. When she asked him how the others in the team had faired, Rongo gave her a weary sigh.

"Rona, our Captain, has journeyed to Hawaiki, atop the great Pohutukawa Tree. Tua, as well, if you remember the man, is also gone from the Prime Material."

"Christ." Gwen felt her throat grow sore.

"Aye, there was an influx of Fire Elementals at Mount Ruapehu a month back. Rona and Tua's Combat Flight went to extract the miners who couldn't get out."

Gwen recalled the Captain, the mix-blooded Halfling Mage. The bloke was a good leader and a strategist, an Illusionist by trade. As for Tua, she vaguely recalled the man being a Sand Mage of sorts. Unhappily, thanks to her prior trauma from Faceless, she had entirely avoided engaging with Tua.

"I am… sorry to hear that." She felt sympathy for Rongo but had nothing substantial to say other than wanting to satisfy her curiosity about this great tree Rongo had mentioned.

"They died fighting," Rongo replied as a matter of fact.

So they did, Gwen thought as she sipped her coffee, happy only in the selfish knowledge that thus far, no news had arrived that any of her teammates had died.

When she mentioned the fact to Rongo, the man gave her a strange look.

Gwen then felt suddenly cold, for finally, she recalled the spiteful, pleading eyes of Kitty Liang, dying without the dignity of peace, reduced to swiss cheese by her Void, and then rendered into nothing, not even a respectful memory.