The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

The attention of the presence Ori had sensed deep within the labyrinth had never left him, not even after he had stepped outside the cave. Now, as he re-entered, he could feel its amusement, as if his ability to teleport using a domain, or the fact he could use a domain at all, was a novel trick akin to a rat that had learned to speak.

If he had to guess, this was another artefact will, similar to Crucible or the Maker of Saint Donna. Revealing his domain had been a gamble, but it had not been done without calculation. Just as it had done so with Crucible, provoking the interest of whatever governed this area might grant him better results or expedite whatever trial the environment was designed to deliver.

It also came with immense risk.

"But when your worth isn't determined by what you can do, but rather by what can be extracted from you, you become a resource rather than a being. A commodity to be exploited rather than something to be respected. So, let us just say that, at least for now, if it were not for the fact that I, the magnanimous entity that I am, hold a vested interest in your survival and possess no concern for your... affinities, we would be having a very different conversation. Or more accurately, no conversation at all."

Ori's thoughts spun as he retraced the path alone. He dismissed his go-to approach, a direct challenge to the spirit controlling this area as unsuitable here. The spirit's nature from what little Ori could gather, appeared malevolent and likely further twisted by the extreme concentration of Aether. Meanwhile, he racked his mind, as he had done so recently too many times before, searching for a way to shield against curses, a ward that could defend him autonomously, but he knew too little. He needed a deeper well of knowledge, a wider bank of runes and enchantments. He needed the wisdom and experience of someone far older than himself.

As he approached the familiar fork in the passage, he felt the corrupted Grace swell and twist. It was as if the entity behind the labyrinth was following a preset pattern or set of rules, and now that Ori had reached a predetermined marker, it could begin its torments in earnest.

He braced himself. And then the curse struck swiftly and without mercy.

You have been afflicted with Boiling Blood. This hemorrhagic curse will boil your blood until dispelled.

His blood began to seethe beneath his skin. There was no resistance, no inner struggle, only pain as his life force started to drain faster than even his enhanced regeneration could recover.

Light Field, Law of Radiance, Mind over Magic.

Surrounded by a galaxy of light, Ori banished the lethal affliction. Boiling Blood, a curse he judged to be at the lower end of Sovereign rank, evaporated leaving behind a ruined body.

It took him several minutes to heal, and even then, he was left wondering at the purpose of such an ordeal. Was it simply a generalised test of ability? Without Law of Radiance and his nascent-rank constitution, he would have died.

He stepped through the split and entered a narrow hall. At its centre stood a stone plinth, atop which rested a parchment inscribed in mana. Ori activated Vision of the Progenitor and began to scan its contents.

It was a small journal detailing the work of a curse inventor, a Black Magi. With almost no formal foundation in the use of curses, much of the first half made little sense to Ori. The structure, terminology, and assumptions were foreign, stitched together from a worldview alien to him. However, when he reached the second half, where the author outlined a link between mana and Grace, Ori's interest sharpened.

The latter entries described hundreds of years of brute-force trial and error, leading to minor discoveries and, eventually, a functional rune construct. It was used to bind the target and intent of a basic haemorrhagic curse no more than Greater rank to a mana-based enchantment. In this case, the construct was paired with Boil Water, and through it, elevated the curse to a higher rank of effectiveness.

From this single tome, Ori made significant progress. He added to his library of enchantments and, more importantly, gained his first solid clue on the path to true mana supremacy.

Yet as he closed the journal, the reality of his situation settled in once more.

This was a reward, a prize for surviving the first trial, one that had already pushed him to the edge of his capabilities. The implication was clear, the next would be worse.

Ori paused, deeply considering whether he should press on.

His life was not a game. The entity beyond him was no fair adjudicator, it was powerful, watchful, and very likely evil. The affinity that saturated the labyrinth, Underworld, carried with it the weight of neutral evil. And despite the natural counterposed by his harmonic affinities, Ori had little direct experience with such a force.

Still, he pressed forward. Cautious, apprehensive, yet certain that if he wished to grow truly stronger, then the only way forward was through.

Another split in the maze of passages. This time, Ori was prepared. He cast Light Field, Law of Radiance, and Mind over Magic. Though far from being a proper shield, Ori considered the idea of having the cure to whatever affliction might strike already active and in place as a potential countermeasure. As he stepped through the next passage, hundreds of tiny orbs of light swirled behind him, trailing his movements.

You have been afflicted with Flesh to Iron. This physical curse will increase your body's mass tenfold, making movement sluggish for twenty-four hours or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Echo of Doubt. This spiritual curse will cause repeated hallucinations of failure and betrayal, lowering morale and suppressing breath-based abilities for two days or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Infernal Tether. This metaphysical curse will prevent teleportation, domain travel, or dimensional displacement for four hours or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Black Bloom. This necrotic curse will spread decay from any open wound, reducing the effectiveness of healing and regeneration by 70% for twelve hours or until dispelled.

Passage after passage, the curses grew in both complexity and strength. His earlier prudence paid off; while curses still took hold, some of the worst mana-based afflictions were dispelled quickly enough to prevent his magic from being disabled.

Ori paused at intervals to inspect scattered journals and scraps of parchment, slowly building his understanding of the curses that had recently been inflicted upon him.

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The deeper Ori went, the more he recognised patterns in the curses. They were not random afflictions, but structured tests, each targeting a specific part of his being, body, mind, or soul. There was intent behind them, as if the labyrinth itself sought to measure or reshape him.

Flesh to Iron had revealed more than brute transmutation. It altered the way his body interacted with motion, not just by increasing weight but by distorting acceleration, as if his mass resisted movement through something thicker than air. The underlying enchantment seemed tied to gravitational resonance, a detail Ori filed away for future work on inertia manipulation.

Echo of Doubt had drawn its hallucinations from his memories, magnified and distorted by fragments of corrupted Grace. It targeted his will directly, with a particular focus on disrupting his coordination between Split Minds. In analysing the aftermath, Ori recognised that without his pre-emptive spellwork dispelling it swiftly, the curse would likely have been far beyond his capacity to manage.

Infernal Tether carried a signature he now recognised. Rather than blocking spells outright, it anchored his soul to a fixed point in space, preventing teleportation or dimensional movement. Ori had already begun outlining countermeasures, including the use of domain anchors that might allow him to bypass conventional spatial constraints entirely.

Each curse, though agonising, left behind fragments of knowledge and an increasingly refined arsenal of enchantments. To Ori, this insight was invaluable, and more than enough to justify pressing forward.

But progress ground to a halt as the pattern abruptly shifted.

Five curses struck at once.

You have been afflicted with Curse of Multiplication. This meta-curse will duplicate all existing afflictions received every ten minutes. This effect will persist for one day or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Splintered Focus. This cognitive curse will reduce your casting speed and clarity of thought, causing spells to misfire or collapse under stress for three days or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Grave Convergence. This intensification curse will double the potency and damage of all active curses currently affecting you. This effect lasts for six hours or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Mind Fracture. This mental curse will turn your conscious thoughts into competing threads, reducing coordination between split minds and increasing the chance of spell collapse for three days or until dispelled.

You have been afflicted with Heartglass. This hemorrhagic curse will crystallise your blood and organs, causing internal laceration and eventual organ failure over the next six hours or until dispelled.

Ori's Light Field collapsed the instant the curses struck. Two of the five afflictions dimmed. Grave Convergence and Splintered Focus weakened just enough to keep him from losing his mind outright, but the damage had already begun.

Pain forced him to the ground. His breath hitched, and his senses screamed. Heartglass had begun its bloody work, crystallising his blood into jagged splinters that erupted through skin and snapped bone. His limbs locked. Focus shattered as Mind Fracture took hold, and for the first time since acquiring the transmogrification, Split Mind failed him.

His minds clashed and tore at one another. The curses multiplied and intensified with every passing minute. His body collapsed faster than ever before, far worse than anything he had endured since Ghigrerchiax or during any previous collapse. Pain consumed him. His vision swam. He had no clarity, no focus, no strength to shape magic. He was dying.

Then the curses changed.

Heartglass began to mutate, The surrounding Aether surged, feeding the transformation. What had started as a physical affliction grew into something far more dangerous. It sank past flesh, reaching for the soul.

It did not seek to merely corrupt flesh. It sought to consume, to erase all he had become. To twist his identity into something monstrous, something that would threaten those he held most dear.

A chime echoed from the core of the Bondweaver. His traits Bondweaver and Invariant Bonds triggered.

A spark of incandescent rage ignited within him. It flared into brilliance, a beacon amidst the storm. From that light, Ori forged a bastion around his soul, a defence anchored in something deeper than himself, something Fate could not undo.

He was the Bondweaver.

His bonds were invariant, transcendent, and beyond the reach of these afflictions. Drawing on Mind over Magic, he infused his traits, Invariant Bonds and Bondweaver as enchantments into Mind over Mind. What had once served as support now formed the foundation of his resistance.

Even as his body warped into jagged crystal, his core remained a bastion built upon an impenetrable foundation.

Time passed.

His body continued to fail, his soul battered under relentless pressure. But piece by piece, he reclaimed control. His Aether stabilised, directed by Aethermancy through his Progenitor aspect. The White Mage followed, restoring control over body and mind with Channel Restoration and his battered spirit using his soul crafting and millions of unspent Peritia. Through them, the Duælist rallied what remained of his fragmented self into unified resistance. Once stability returned, the Wandsmith came to the forefront.

Mind over Mind began drawing mana and Aether instinctively, accelerating his thoughts to levels he had never reached. It was like being strapped to a rocket. His mind became a synthesis of instinct and knowledge driven by his Will. Every curse became a diagram to analyse and dismantle.

Hour by hour, Ori transitioned from surviving to learning. With sharpened mana sensitivity, he pulled apart the structure of each curse, tracing the threads of corrupted Grace and stolen Peritia woven within.

When at last the worst had passed, Ori lay still on the cold stone floor. His body trembled from the memory of the pain. His mind and spirit were once more his own. He was exhausted, shaken, and scarred, but alive.

Only the meta-curses remained. Curse of Multiplication and Grave Convergence still tested his resilience and attempted to distort even his divine curse.

But with his heightened mental state, Ori paused, as just beyond reach glimmered an insight he was certain would change everything.

The High Human moved through the labyrinth. His steps were firm, his path direct and unyielding, as ghasts screamed from the stone walls. Instead of relying on his pseudo-domain, Mind over Magic combined with Prismatic Weapon and Law of Radiance, he layered sharpness and light onto his prototype array. The multispectrum attack was effective, melting through the non-corporeal entities at the upper reaches of the Sovereign rank. Even as Ori, still enlightened, waged war within his mind, he continued to contain and unravel curses, learning the enchantments embedded within. With each turn in the maze and each new curse faced, Ori was rewarded with written fragments of knowledge from the curse's creator, a single man whose name had been redacted from every page it had once appeared on.

Eventually, after taking a turn through a mist-filled passageway, blue light spilt into the cave. It grew steadily brighter until he reached a hallway the size of a tennis court. At its centre was the fissure, this region's Aether Rift—and between him and it stood the ghost of something that may once have been human.

It stood motionless, its bone-white form translucent beneath the blue Aether light, though its features were clear. A gaunt face, twisted by a vicious smile that was far too wide. A wide-mouthed, toothless grin that promised only cruelty and amusement, with hollowed eye sockets blackened by the same darkness. Beyond it lay a power Ori could scarcely comprehend. It was dangerous, yes, but not in the same way the fallen god had been, nor like the Overseer might have been. Yet, should it choose to act, a mere snap of its fingers would be enough to remove Ori as cleanly as its name, which Ori now realised, had been erased from fate itself.

"For a White Mage to become my inheritor. What a joke. The fates are certainly hilarious," the creature said, its voice acidic, laced with wry amusement. "Come then. Let's get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Ori asked, tensing, readying himself for a fight.

"Come here," it commanded.

Ori's vision blurred, dimmed, and before he could understand what had happened, the ghost's palm was already pressed to his forehead.

"Had you been just a fingernail less talented, I would have eaten you, chewed you up, and spat you out, you arrogant brat. So when I say come, you come. I say sit, you sit. This is my grave you tread upon and you do so at my amusement. Understand?"

Ori nodded, his heart hammering as he considered his options. Part of him wanted to fight, to lash out before the entity could act, but another part knew the truth. He had succeeded, and this was just the whining of an old man dissatisfied with the nature of his inheritor. For Ori to have reached this point could only mean one thing.

The ghost sighed in resignation. "For my life's work to be perverted in such a fashion. You wretched little beast. You are the antithesis of everything I have strived for. Yet even I am not so proud as to deny the truth of what you are. No. It cannot be helped.

"With this, you will awaken it from slumber. As such, you will have but a few months to survive. But so be it.

"Here, my ignoble heir. Take it. Take it!" it raged, as a pulse of black magic surged through its palm and into Ori's skull.

"Take it, and become the bane of my former colleague. Take it, and become my final revenge. My curse upon fate itself."