The Great Core's Paradox

As I shattered another swath of mana beneath my will, forcing it into the shape I needed, I couldn’t help but think about the difference I had found between the essences of life and death. Between the way I coaxed one into shape and brutalized the other, the formation of the opposing essences requiring similarly opposing viewpoints.

There was a part of me that was willing to admit my perceptions were skewed; off-kilter, twisted to the side like a broken neck. Turned away from its natural place by an irresistible force. There was another part of me that didn’t care.

Maybe there was another way that [Mana-Death Conversion] could have worked; maybe someone - or something - else could have done things differently. To them, its bitter cold might have held an element of peace; the chill that it gave off something to fall into, a sort of languid torpor. There might have even been a sort of comfort in it, in the relaxation that came with that chilling touch. An acceptance of the end, or of whatever might be.

But, just like my perspective, my relationship with death was skewed. Off-kilter. Twisted. It couldn’t be peace, because it was just the symbol that my struggles were to begin anew. It couldn’t be calm, because death was failure, and there was nothing calming about that. It couldn’t be the end, because the Great Core could always ensure that it wasn’t.

Maybe that was why I could only use [Mana-Death Conversion] in the way that I did; like a claw or a fang, meant to mangle mana’s ‘flesh’ until death took its place. Or maybe it was just that, after being under the thrall of a Lesser Core that controlled death, I couldn’t let myself form it unless I was sure that it was under my dominion.

Under my control.

Broken.

Just a cold, bitter tool - but an effective one. Stronger than my venom, and - with [Mana Restoration] to sustain it, far more plentiful.

And yet, it was the combination of venom and death that gave the greatest results. I had always called the most dangerous of my two venoms death-venom. Giving it that name seemed wrong now. Death-venom - or, rather, [Death - Venom] - was something different. Something better.

It wasn’t quite the same as its less-effective variant, [Mana Venom]. [Mana Venom] could be used to boost the strength of my venom for as long as I had mana to infuse it with. My entire store of mana could dry itself out before any issues appeared.

[Death - Venom], while stronger, was different in that respect. Mostly due to the death essence itself. It just…wasn’t safe.

Then again, death never really was.

It crept across my mana channels with a horrible viscosity, a thick and frozen solidity, painful and jagged. Bitter-cold needles cut through my flesh. Horrible tingles urged my length to twitch and writhe. And through it all, the death essence that I had created, that I had inflicted on myself, inched along. Found its way to my stores of venom. Infected them with its touch. I knew, from seeing it earlier, that the infected venom shifted black as the essence itself. I knew, from feeling it earlier, that it had a greater weight to it - not physically, but in some way that was visible despite that.

Some way that just was.

And, when the [Death - Venom] grew too cold to contain, and when my mana channels couldn’t handle any more of the death essence’s touch, I was able to let it go.

Down into the flesh of the Darkweaver beside me.

Lesser Core Skill: [Death - Venom III] Increased.

[Death - Venom IV] Acquired.

Experience Gained!

Then, before its kin could avenge the fallen Darkweaver, I plunged back into the earth. [The Golem’s Fading Heart]’s first aspect, [Sodden Earth], pushed the stone aside like mana-water, my growing experience and the remnants of The Golem’s memories letting me use the ability faster than I once could. A leg scythed its way through the slick mud left in my wake, glancing off of the ore-flesh that I had managed to keep in this life. Another aspect of [The Golem’s Fading Heart], [Clay Crucible], forced the mud around the leg to freeze in place. Trapped it beside me.

Gave me time to pull myself around. Reach my tail. Bite down.

My scale-flesh tingled, scrapes and bruises and battered channels beginning to heal as [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail] worked its magic. Repairing the damage that had been done to me, and the damage that I had done to myself. The same thing that it had always done.

But there was something else there now. A jolt. A spark.

[Mana Restoration] taking root in my core.

It wasn’t an instant thing; it couldn’t compete with the speed of consuming mana-water, much like [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail] couldn’t compete with the healing that life essence could spur. My mana didn’t immediately fill itself. It wasn’t an ever-running river. The ability had its limits.

But it could do a lot.

When [The Golem’s Fading Heart]’s third aspect, [Tremor Touch], broke a small section of the trapped leg free again, I had already regained more than enough.

I bit down.

Below the surface, with the light of my ore-flesh radiating off my victim’s flesh, it was easy to see [Death - Venom]’s effects. The odd way that it sent wisps of smoke-like essence drifting from the gaps in my mouth, leaving chill and decay in its wake, lines of damaged mouth-flesh that marked its path. The way that the leg I infected twitched and shuddered, speeding up before it became slow, the chill and rot that withered its flesh leading to ever-weakening struggles. The smoke-like wisps appeared there, too, bursting forth from the wounds in the bad-thing’s flesh.

Until it fell still.

Experience Gained!

A bit of vitality dropped from my fangs, healing the little damage that had been inflicted. Less than last time; I was learning where the boundaries were. Testing what was safe, like learning when to slither and when to stop. How much death was too much, and when that too muchwas worth it to endure.

Unfortunately, every group of bad-things would be different. But, for the Darkweavers, I was beginning to figure it out. The initial ambush hadn’t gone as well for me as I’d hoped; it had been a floundering thing, a fight where I had done as much damage to myself as I had done to my enemies. If I hadn’t had a way to hide and bring myself back to health, if I hadn’t had armor to defend myself, if I hadn’t had knowledge from fighting Darkweavers through multiple false-lives…

I might not have made it. I almost didn’t anyway.

Still, there were some perks to my overuse of death essence - mostly in that it let me realize what happened if I really let loose. Namely, my flesh started to fall apart.

Then again, so did my enemies’. And, as long as I was careful, and I gave the death essence time to seep out of what remained, that was more than enough to make up for my lack of [Size].

Corpses were far easier to devour when they fell apart in your mouth.

[Ambusher’s Vision] was mine again, and the first step to defeating the Lesser Core was already well on its way - and that first step, the defeat of the Darkweavers, was coming far easier than before.

I had learned from my false-lives. Learned how the Darkweavers thought. Learned where they lived.

And, most importantly, learned new ways to fight. Being forced to hide from the Lesser Core’s undead had reminded me of the beauty of ambushes and remaining hidden. Of my oldest form of battle, one that I had started to forget as I grew more powerful.

Down in my cage of stone, I laid still, mouth clamped down on tail. I focused. And, as the Darkweavers scurried above me, I watched. [Verdure Parasite] created a map in my mind, the tiny spores that I had tagged a large number of the nest with more than enough to let me make out the nest’s overall shape.

The many-legged bad-things above me moved, scurrying back and forth, legs scratching against the stone that stood between us. Some stepped upwards, climbing stone-spikes or waiting threads, while others continued to creep on the ground, the jittering of their many legs betraying their fear and confusion.

They weren’t used to being the prey.

A spore-tagged Darkweaver passed over me and I lunged upwards again, breaking free of the earth. A clod of mud stripped itself from my scale-flesh, thrown violently away as I reached open air. A black underside greeted me, with thick and bristled hairs and all too many legs.

I bit down, [Death - Venom] scouring my flesh in passing. The Darkweaver collapsed into a crumpled heap and a flicker of the thought-light, and I let [The Golem’s Fading Heart] pull me back under the earth again. The other spores, and the bad-things they had attached to, scurried about in a maddened frenzy again.

And little by little, I brought the nest to ruin. By the time I was forced to slither free from the stone floor’s protection entirely, there was hardly anything left to defeat. Just a few stragglers, easily dealt with.

Even the strongest of the bunch were disappointing, their flesh easily breaking down under the assault of multiple inflictions of overcharged [Death - Venom]. It wasn’t pleasant, and I was forced to heal myself between each one, but it was effective.

I did what I could to devour the remains. It was absolutely disgusting, and some of the bodies had become more liquid than solid, but it needed to be done. A chance to strengthen [Ambusher’s Vision] wasn’t something that I was willing to pass up. Some of the ruined corpses were still too large to swallow, and I was forced to leave those behind. Still, by the time I was ready to leave, I had managed to get enough to be satisfied.

Blooded Trait: [Ambusher’s Vision II] Increased.

[Ambusher’s Vision III] Acquired.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 5/40.

With that done, I happily slithered in the direction of the leviathans. The second step in the plan to conquer the Lesser Core, and one of the most important. I wasn’t planning on making any thread-traps to capture the leviathans in this life. I had killed too many of the Darkweavers for that; I only had a few many-legged spore-puppets under my control, and they had all been captured on my way to the nest itself, and left to wait at this life’s [Little Guardian’s Focus] while I handled the ones at the nest. There weren’t many. Enough to create a thread-trap to catch bad-things in the much-thinner river, but nothing more than that.

I - hopefully - wouldn't need more than that. By the time I encountered the Lesser Core again, my mastery of both [Life Essence Manipulation] and [Death Essence Manipulation] needed to be powerful enough to keep me safe. Taking the leviathans on more directly would be a good test of that. Between [Mana Restoration], the mana-water itself, and a few other ideas I had, I was confident that I could get there.