The Great Core's Paradox

Horik had always been a giant, or at least as close to it as anyone ever got. His mother’d always said that, by the time he was a toddler, she’d worried that he’d accidentally tear her hand off every time he grabbed it - and even if that was a joke, it was still true that he’d always been bigger than normal people.

Stronger. Better. After his mana enhancements took their natural course - pushing towards even greater strength, as Horik had always known they would - Horik was only more certain of that. Even if people like Overseer Leo - former Overseer Leo - Horik reminded himself, sometimes tried to pretend he wasn’t.

Who’s better now, though?

It definitely wasn’t that thing that the former Overseer had become - and it wasn’t who he had been, either, considering the useless man had gotten himself in this situation in the first place. The failure plodded forward, shedding bits of black smoke with each and every step.

Horik chose to ignore him, confident that his Wind Barrier would deflect any attacks from a distance. For the same reason, he didn’t bother to attack the approaching enemies. Windspears’ attacks tended to fail in the face of Wind Barriers. Even low-charge ones could knock the attacks off course, deflecting them to the side.

He turned back towards his subordinates. Useless as they were, they could at least distract the other enemies while Horik dealt with the former Overseer. It was better than nothing.

Barely.

Horik fought back a scoff when he took them in; Adam was already hurt, blood rushing from a gash on his head. The boy - because he certainly wasn’t a man, the way he let a little bit of pain and blood affect him - was pale. Worried.

The others weren’t much better. Skies, Eli was trembling. Damn near looked like he was about to piss himself. Made Horik want to knock the scrawny idiot on his ass.

He’d have done it, too, if there was time. Could’ve put some real muscle into it, even. Might’ve snapped some of his bones, but if there was one thing Eli could do, it was heal.

Even if that was one of the few things he could do right, in Horik’s opinion. He certainly couldn’t fight worth a damn. A strong enough Wind Barrier could blow the weakling over.

Still, he was a body, and one that wouldn’t die at the slightest touch - even if it might break again and again. Once again, that was better than nothing.

Again, just barely.

“You lot,” Horik barked, projecting his voice above the sounds of the numerous active Wind Barriers. “Deal with them. I’ve got the…Overseer. Don’t die before I’m done with him.”

Before they could respond, Horik pushed forwards, the muscles in his legs propelling him towards his chosen opponent. It wasn’t as quick as someone with a speed-focused enhancement could’ve moved, but it was damn fast.

Fast enough that Horik caught the thing that’d been the Overseer before it could react. Forceful enough that he blew straight through the Wind Barrier that stood in his path, barely even noticing the way that it tried to block his path.

And then Horik was close enough. With a roar that burned at his throat, he punched with force strong enough to shatter the gems of a Rockjaw. A force more than strong enough to shatter the jaw of a human.

The thing that had once been the Overseer flew to the side and slammed into a nearby wall, a streamer of black smoke trailing him. And then, limp as a corpse, the thing hit ground with a clatter of metal. Horik could only laugh in disbelief. For all of his hidden worries, the thing had been easy. Weak. Slower to react than Overseer Leo would’ve been. Horik had sparred with the man enough to know that he should’ve dodged that blow.

But he hadn’t. It was almost disappointing. Horik walked forward to look at the body, idly throwing his Windspear at another of the things after noticing that it was getting the best of Eli. It wasn’t something normally done, but their Barriers were up. That was enough to block the Windspear’s thrust-extending enchantment.

It wasn’t enough to block a throw with the force that Horik could impart.

The spear sent the thing flying, and the scrawny guard whirled towards Horik with wide eyes and paled. Eli knew what that meant; Horik had long held the belief that, if he needed to save someone, they needed more training.

And for Eli, he didn’t have to hold back. Not as long as the near-skeletal guard had enough food in all those pouches of his to keep him going. He’d get back up. A little hungry, sure, but he’d do it. And then they’d start again.

Somehow, Eli had never gotten any better, though. Even with Horik’s generous help. A persistent mystery.

Finally, Horik reached the body of the former Overseer, pushing through the Wind Barrier that remained active around it. Its face was mangled, though he had trouble seeing past the inky wisps of smoke that the body continued to release. He leaned a little closer, narrowing his eyes.

They widened. The thing was healing. It was kind of like when Eli healed, the way it made the thing’s crumpled face twist and writhe, pulling itself back together. Except, rather than its body getting thinner the way that Eli did, it was the smoke that was thinning. There was no doubt about that. Horik was seeing through the wispy substance easier with every passing moment.

It seemed like Horik hadn’t won as quickly as he thought.

But, just like with Eli, there was a solution to the problem. The type of solution that Horik preferred, too. Beat the problem until it wasn’t a problem anymore.

Horik decided to do just that, his boot slamming into the former Overseer’s neck with a satisfying crack. The ground vibrated with the force of the stomp. The smoke thinned again, and the neck started to reform.

Horik raised his boot again, grinning.

It was good to be strong.

Horik had always been a giant, or at least as close to it as anyone ever got. His mother’d always said that, by the time he was a toddler, she’d worried that he’d accidentally tear her hand off every time he grabbed it - and even if that was a joke, it was still true that he’d always been bigger than normal people.

Stronger. Better. After his mana enhancements took their natural course - pushing towards even greater strength, as Horik had always known they would - Horik was only more certain of that. Even if people like Overseer Leo - former Overseer Leo - Horik reminded himself, sometimes tried to pretend he wasn’t.

Who’s better now, though?

It definitely wasn’t that thing that the former Overseer had become - and it wasn’t who he had been, either, considering the useless man had gotten himself in this situation in the first place. The failure plodded forward, shedding bits of black smoke with each and every step.

Horik chose to ignore him, confident that his Wind Barrier would deflect any attacks from a distance. For the same reason, he didn’t bother to attack the approaching enemies. Windspears’ attacks tended to fail in the face of Wind Barriers. Even low-charge ones could knock the attacks off course, deflecting them to the side.

He turned back towards his subordinates. Useless as they were, they could at least distract the other enemies while Horik dealt with the former Overseer. It was better than nothing.

Barely.

Horik fought back a scoff when he took them in; Adam was already hurt, blood rushing from a gash on his head. The boy - because he certainly wasn’t a man, the way he let a little bit of pain and blood affect him - was pale. Worried.

The others weren’t much better. Skies, Eli was trembling. Damn near looked like he was about to piss himself. Made Horik want to knock the scrawny idiot on his ass.

He’d have done it, too, if there was time. Could’ve put some real muscle into it, even. Might’ve snapped some of his bones, but if there was one thing Eli could do, it was heal.

Even if that was one of the few things he could do right, in Horik’s opinion. He certainly couldn’t fight worth a damn. A strong enough Wind Barrier could blow the weakling over.

Still, he was a body, and one that wouldn’t die at the slightest touch - even if it might break again and again. Once again, that was better than nothing.

Again, just barely.

“You lot,” Horik barked, projecting his voice above the sounds of the numerous active Wind Barriers. “Deal with them. I’ve got the…Overseer. Don’t die before I’m done with him.”

Before they could respond, Horik pushed forwards, the muscles in his legs propelling him towards his chosen opponent. It wasn’t as quick as someone with a speed-focused enhancement could’ve moved, but it was damn fast.

Fast enough that Horik caught the thing that’d been the Overseer before it could react. Forceful enough that he blew straight through the Wind Barrier that stood in his path, barely even noticing the way that it tried to block his path.

And then Horik was close enough. With a roar that burned at his throat, he punched with force strong enough to shatter the gems of a Rockjaw. A force more than strong enough to shatter the jaw of a human.

The thing that had once been the Overseer flew to the side and slammed into a nearby wall, a streamer of black smoke trailing him. And then, limp as a corpse, the thing hit ground with a clatter of metal. Horik could only laugh in disbelief. For all of his hidden worries, the thing had been easy. Weak. Slower to react than Overseer Leo would’ve been. Horik had sparred with the man enough to know that he should’ve dodged that blow.

But he hadn’t. It was almost disappointing. Horik walked forward to look at the body, idly throwing his Windspear at another of the things after noticing that it was getting the best of Eli. It wasn’t something normally done, but their Barriers were up. That was enough to block the Windspear’s thrust-extending enchantment.

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It wasn’t enough to block a throw with the force that Horik could impart.

The spear sent the thing flying, and the scrawny guard whirled towards Horik with wide eyes and paled. Eli knew what that meant; Horik had long held the belief that, if he needed to save someone, they needed more training.

And for Eli, he didn’t have to hold back. Not as long as the near-skeletal guard had enough food in all those pouches of his to keep him going. He’d get back up. A little hungry, sure, but he’d do it. And then they’d start again.

Somehow, Eli had never gotten any better, though. Even with Horik’s generous help. A persistent mystery.

Finally, Horik reached the body of the former Overseer, pushing through the Wind Barrier that remained active around it. Its face was mangled, though he had trouble seeing past the inky wisps of smoke that the body continued to release. He leaned a little closer, narrowing his eyes.

They widened. The thing was healing. It was kind of like when Eli healed, the way it made the thing’s crumpled face twist and writhe, pulling itself back together. Except, rather than its body getting thinner the way that Eli did, it was the smoke that was thinning. There was no doubt about that. Horik was seeing through the wispy substance easier with every passing moment.

It seemed like Horik hadn’t won as quickly as he thought.

But, just like with Eli, there was a solution to the problem. The type of solution that Horik preferred, too. Beat the problem until it wasn’t a problem anymore.

Horik decided to do just that, his boot slamming into the former Overseer’s neck with a satisfying crack. The ground vibrated with the force of the stomp. The smoke thinned again, and the neck started to reform.

Horik raised his boot again, grinning.

It was good to be strong.

===

I slipped through the stone, each of [The Golem’s Fading Heart]’s three parts working together to smooth the way. Above, I could sense the death essence of my undead moving, each one of them plucking at my senses like invisible threads, only distinguished by their varying strengths.

One thread was especially thick. It led to the strongest of my undead, and also one of the first. The once-leader of the blasphemers.

I could feel the way that his mind twitched and writhed in the dark in an unceasing struggle, desperate to break free from the sea of death essence that drowned him. It was almost impressive, how much effort he was putting into it. Most of the others had stopped trying.

Not this one - but it didn’t really matter.

He still did what he was told.

They all did.

The strands of death essence that filled their flesh rushed forward, marking their positions in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t see the Coreless that they were fighting, but it didn’t matter. Like my spore-puppets, I didn’t necessarily control every little motion of my undead. Which was good. Even as undead, with the vast majority of their minds shoved into the dark, they knew how to use their bodies better than I did. I wasn’t created with arms and legs, and I didn’t know how to best attack with the fangs of ore-flesh that they carried. Beyond sticking the enemy with the pointy end, at least.

That didn’t mean that I wasn’t paying attention to my undead, though. The death essence that they carried told its own story; I could see when they were injured, watch where they chose to move during the fight. I could see when their injuries healed, parts of the death essence that staved off their final death sacrificed in order to restore damaged flesh back to working order.

And through it all, I could guess at the locations of Coreless that they were facing, even when blinded by the stone that surrounded my body. But I didn’t face them directly. Not when I knew that the undead Coreless that I commanded would be more than enough to defeat them. Not when I remembered just how easily a surprise attack had defeated me earlier. Would have, if it hadn’t been for [Transient Reanimation] bringing me back. And I wasn’t sure whether I could do it again. Last time, the Coreless’ attacks had only nearly killed me. Technically, I had been the one to finish myself off. Would an attack that killed me before I could react be enough to stop [Transient Reanimation] from bringing me back?

Maybe. I wasn’t sure. I also wasn’t going to risk it.

I didn’t really need to.

The stone around me vibrated against my scale-flesh, rocked by an invisible blow from somewhere above. The thickest of my threads of death essence suddenly halved in size, and I felt, even in the midst of his struggles to resist me, a spike of pain erupt from the mind of the blasphemer’s once-leader.

He had just been injured. Terribly.

I slithered in his direction, [The Golem’s Fading Heart] smoothing my passage, collecting death essence all the while. Then, in a flash of motion and a powerful flex of [The Golem’s Fading Heart]

I saw the world outside again with my own eyes - and I saw the Coreless that had struck the strongest of my undead. He was a giant, even among the Coreless. Thick, with limbs that my entire length would fail to twine itself around. His leg was raised above my tattered undead’s throat, ready to finish him off.

But it didn’t matter. My reserves of mana were nearly full, all the time I had spent biting my own tail in between battles having done its job, [Mana Blood] and [Mana Restoration] once again proving themselves to be a powerful combination.

I had enough death essence at the ready to bring the once-leader back to perfect health - and far more. With a mental twitch, the undead Coreless’ mangled body reached towards me in a rapid motion that stressed its injured form, deactivating the power contained within its protective skin of ore-flesh for long enough that I could sink my fangs into its flesh.

Liquid death flowed through my fangs as fast as I could force it to go, faster than I would have normally attempted. There wasn’t time for anything else.

Instantly, the once-leader returned to his pre-battle state, death essence healing his wounds and refilling his body. But, in my haste, I had given him more than that - so death essence overflowed, spilling from my fangs in a torrent until the once-leader was all but invisible under the thick plumes of wispy black smoke that came off his flesh.

And then, just when I was about to stop and hide back underneath the ground, my reserves of death essence beginning to run low, something happened.

The connection between us deepened. Thickened. The thread of death essence that ran between us became less a strand, and more a bridge. One wide enough that I instinctively knew what I could finally do.

My mind slithered across it. It plunged into the sea of essence, diving into its murky depths. Something was there, thrashing about. Drowning.

I reached out and wrapped my coils around it.

My perspective split in two.

In one, I was a snake. Just as I had always been. In the other, I was - get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my hea - I squeezed my coils tighter, and finally finished the thought.

In the other, I was something else entirely.

I slipped through the stone, each of [The Golem’s Fading Heart]’s three parts working together to smooth the way. Above, I could sense the death essence of my undead moving, each one of them plucking at my senses like invisible threads, only distinguished by their varying strengths.

One thread was especially thick. It led to the strongest of my undead, and also one of the first. The once-leader of the blasphemers.

I could feel the way that his mind twitched and writhed in the dark in an unceasing struggle, desperate to break free from the sea of death essence that drowned him. It was almost impressive, how much effort he was putting into it. Most of the others had stopped trying.

Not this one - but it didn’t really matter.

He still did what he was told.

They all did.

The strands of death essence that filled their flesh rushed forward, marking their positions in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t see the Coreless that they were fighting, but it didn’t matter. Like my spore-puppets, I didn’t necessarily control every little motion of my undead. Which was good. Even as undead, with the vast majority of their minds shoved into the dark, they knew how to use their bodies better than I did. I wasn’t created with arms and legs, and I didn’t know how to best attack with the fangs of ore-flesh that they carried. Beyond sticking the enemy with the pointy end, at least.

That didn’t mean that I wasn’t paying attention to my undead, though. The death essence that they carried told its own story; I could see when they were injured, watch where they chose to move during the fight. I could see when their injuries healed, parts of the death essence that staved off their final death sacrificed in order to restore damaged flesh back to working order.

And through it all, I could guess at the locations of Coreless that they were facing, even when blinded by the stone that surrounded my body. But I didn’t face them directly. Not when I knew that the undead Coreless that I commanded would be more than enough to defeat them. Not when I remembered just how easily a surprise attack had defeated me earlier. Would have, if it hadn’t been for [Transient Reanimation] bringing me back. And I wasn’t sure whether I could do it again. Last time, the Coreless’ attacks had only nearly killed me. Technically, I had been the one to finish myself off. Would an attack that killed me before I could react be enough to stop [Transient Reanimation] from bringing me back?

Maybe. I wasn’t sure. I also wasn’t going to risk it.

I didn’t really need to.

The stone around me vibrated against my scale-flesh, rocked by an invisible blow from somewhere above. The thickest of my threads of death essence suddenly halved in size, and I felt, even in the midst of his struggles to resist me, a spike of pain erupt from the mind of the blasphemer’s once-leader.

He had just been injured. Terribly.

I slithered in his direction, [The Golem’s Fading Heart] smoothing my passage, collecting death essence all the while. Then, in a flash of motion and a powerful flex of [The Golem’s Fading Heart], the stone above me shifted.

I saw the world outside again with my own eyes - and I saw the Coreless that had struck the strongest of my undead. He was a giant, even among the Coreless. Thick, with limbs that my entire length would fail to twine itself around. His leg was raised above my tattered undead’s throat, ready to finish him off.

But it didn’t matter. My reserves of mana were nearly full, all the time I had spent biting my own tail in between battles having done its job, [Mana Blood] and [Mana Restoration] once again proving themselves to be a powerful combination.

I had enough death essence at the ready to bring the once-leader back to perfect health - and far more. With a mental twitch, the undead Coreless’ mangled body reached towards me in a rapid motion that stressed its injured form, deactivating the power contained within its protective skin of ore-flesh for long enough that I could sink my fangs into its flesh.

Liquid death flowed through my fangs as fast as I could force it to go, faster than I would have normally attempted. There wasn’t time for anything else.

Instantly, the once-leader returned to his pre-battle state, death essence healing his wounds and refilling his body. But, in my haste, I had given him more than that - so death essence overflowed, spilling from my fangs in a torrent until the once-leader was all but invisible under the thick plumes of wispy black smoke that came off his flesh.

And then, just when I was about to stop and hide back underneath the ground, my reserves of death essence beginning to run low, something happened.

The connection between us deepened. Thickened. The thread of death essence that ran between us became less a strand, and more a bridge. One wide enough that I instinctively knew what I could finally do.

My mind slithered across it. It plunged into the sea of essence, diving into its murky depths. Something was there, thrashing about. Drowning.

I reached out and wrapped my coils around it.

My perspective split in two.

In one, I was a snake. Just as I had always been. In the other, I was - get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my hea - I squeezed my coils tighter, and finally finished the thought.

In the other, I was something else entirely.