Trinity of Magic [Progression Fantasy]

Today, Zeke had learned a lot about Soul Magic, surpassing the cumulative insights from all previous experiences. Yet, the lesson that resonated with him most was the realization that he had gravely, very, very gravely, misunderstood the very essence of this field of Magic.

The first time he had dabbled in the art, he had ended up consuming a Soul indiscriminately. This led him to believe that the practice was a crude field with little need for rules or precision. Yet, if anything, the opposite was true, and Zeke struggled to follow even the most basic tasks Akasha laid out for him. It was only now that he fully realized how clumsy his first attempt had been.

Soul Magic was supposed to be used like a scalpel, a tool of accuracy and foresight, and not like a butcher’s knife. No, that was still giving himself too much credit. He hadn’t even used it like a butcher’s knife. Instead, it would be more accurate to say that he had thrown the knife away altogether and charged in with his fists for an all-out brawl.

However, the fault for this misunderstanding could not be fully laid at his feet, as Soul Magic was the exact opposite of any other discipline he knew. A Fire Mage, for example, would only be able to create a weak flame until he improved his control. This was the same with any other form of Magic as well, where control and the size of your Core determined your maximum output.

Yet, Soul Magic spat in the face of this iron-clad rule. The less control you had, the more damage you would do. This went against the core teachings of Magic and everything Zeke knew. It felt like he had started out as an Exarch Soul Mage and had to temper his power slowly by increasing his control. It was a weird concept and had him fighting his very instincts.

Despite the hours that must have passed, here he was, endeavoring for the thousandth time to infiltrate the Archmage’s essence. His current endeavor wasn't focused on any specific action; instead, he sought only to exist within another soul.

The task sounded easy enough, and Zeke quickly managed to send a part of his Soul through the opening he had left for himself. Yet, that was where his troubles started. He quickly learned that it was not in the nature of a Soul to remain still. Neither his own nor the Soul of the Archmage would ever be truly motionless. After many failed attempts, he had to admit to himself that it was a fool’s errand to try and change that fact.

Instead, he found the most success in guiding the movements of his Soul to match the Soul of the other. As far as he could tell, that was the only way to remain completely undetected…. not that he had ever managed to do that for long.

Whenever he made the slightest mistake, his surroundings would turn hostile. More than once, Zeke had to abandon his probe, losing a few moment’s worth of memories in the process. Now that Akasha had pointed it out, he noticed the momentary feeling of discomfort that followed those instances. It seemed that Soul-Body-Mismatch was a real thing after all.

After what felt like the hundredth time of being ejected from the other’s soul, he found himself back in his own body with a slight nausea, the only thing to show for his efforts. He took a few deep breaths, clearing his mind and settling his stomach. With new determination, he started another attempt. He closed his eyes.

The location of the Archmage’s Soul was familiar to him now; it only took him a moment to locate it. In his Soul Sight, he did not perceive the environment like with his [Perfect Spatial Awareness], but he had an instinctive awareness of the part of his Soul he had bonded to the Archmage’s. He could always vaguely tell where it was, like a signal fire in a dark night.

A small tether stretched from Zeke to that distant place, reaching closer and closer until, eventually, it reached the beacon. It acted almost like a crack in the shell of the Archmage’s otherwise impenetrable defenses, allowing Zeke access if he aimed just right. He felt out the movement of the Soul, matching its undulations, before pouncing at the right moment.

Nothing much happened. The only thing that changed when he made contact was his awareness of this other being. He did not have access to any thoughts or memories, hovering at the edge like he was, but he had vague notions about the Archmage’s emotions. He did not try to do anything else for the moment. He merely hovered there, at the outskirts of the Soul, trying to find a state of equilibrium with his surroundings.

Zeke fell into a trance, mindlessly following the ebb and flow, becoming part of something larger. He was slowly getting used to this state of selflessness, where no introspection nor errant thoughts disturbed his being. Without him noticing, a long time passed. He was so immersed in this new state of being that he might have remained for days had it not been for Akasha’s gentle reminder.

With an effort of will, he gently retracted his probe, recovering all of his memories for the first time.

Zeke smiled at the monotonous delivery of what was surely meant as a heartfelt compliment. “What’s up, Akasha?”

Zeke snuck closer to the edges of his hideout and carefully peered up at the opening in the ceiling. It was as Akasha had said. The heavy metal bars were being lifted. Most likely, it was time for their first meal. He suspected that this would be a rude awakening for the Chimeroi down below, who had gathered eagerly.

After the grate was opened fully, the sound of a bell could be heard. It was a shrill and unpleasant noise.

“Feeding time!” a voice yelled. Zeke immediately recognized that particular brand of malicious glee. It was Ishaan.

In the next moment, a wagon load of edibles was unceremoniously dumped into the hole. It was a generous spread with a diverse assortment of foodstuffs. Meat, fruits, vegetables… even some cheeses. Zeke picked out one of the best-looking apples and a bit of dried jerky and teleported them into his cave from midair.

Zeke frowned at the jerky with a face full of suspicions. Could he trust this meat? He had no interest in being turned into a cannibal.

Zeke’s eyes softened, but a question remained. “That’s strange. I was certain there would be something wrong with the food. Was I overthinking things?”

Zeke looked down at the jubilant Slaves. They had somehow managed to get a fire going and were celebrating their first meal with abandon. It seemed that most had not yet realized that the food would not be able to satiate even half of them. Yet, he could already see several of the smarter ones glancing at the pile with a contemplative expression.

As Zeke observed the dancing figures, he realized that some of them had changed greatly over the last couple of hours. Their frames had expanded, and their eyes had gained a new air of confidence. This change was most pronounced in the five leaders, including numbers 17 and 23. They had clearly benefited greatly from the Mana breathing technique. However, just as pronounced as the successful cases were the failures, with over half of the gathered Chimeroi acting strangely.

Even at a glance, it was noticeable that something was off about them. They exuded a nervous energy that had not been present before. It seemed like they had entered a state of mania.

Could this be the side-effect of the breathing technique?

Zeke had experienced firsthand what happened to Chimeroi when they didn’t have enough food. They relied heavily on external nourishment to support their strong bodies, and they suffered accordingly when deprived of such a source. This situation was clearly engineered to pit them against each other.

It was a brilliant scheme.

The fear of starvation would force the Chimeroi to spend their time practicing the new Mana breathing technique. If they didn’t do so, the others would simply leave them behind. Even the ones who experienced severe side effects would have no choice but to keep going. What ensued was a culling of the weak.

When the time was up, only the strongest and most determined would be left. The cruelty of this method could hardly be overstated. Yet, Zeke could not deny that it would undoubtedly be effective. Just then, something unexpected happened. Instead of closing the opening to the hole, Ishaan dropped something else — five somethings.

Zeke’s eyes widened when he realized what it was. He had been wrong: the situation could indeed be crueler. In front of his wide-open eyes, five mangled bodies passed the opening of his hideout. He recognized them immediately. Those were the bodies of the slaves who had tried to go against the Archmage earlier.

At first glance, this seemed to be a simple warning: Do not forget your place.

Yet, Zeke could easily guess at the underlying intentions. At the end of the day, what Ishaan had just done was drop an additional load of meat into a pit of starving beasts. Zeke had no illusions about them holding onto any semblance of civility while starving to death.

No… that wasn’t all. If he was right, then this was an even more devious plan than that. Ishaan most likely wanted to instill a specific notion into the minds of these desperate Slaves: Everybody here is a source of food. This was just one more way to turn them against each other.

Zeke’s gaze turned complicated as he watched the dozens of figures gathering around the bodies of their dead comrades. For now, the Chimeroi were staring at them in confusion. Zeke had decided to stay out of their way completely. However, he had not expected to have to watch them literally eat each other in order to survive.

“Don’t get involved, whelp,” the Dragon said all of a sudden.

Zeke furrowed his brows in distaste.

The Dragon continued, “Survival of the fittest is the natural state of the world.”

Zeke remained silent for a moment. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

The Dragon chuckled. “I find it extremely distasteful that you pretend to care so much in the first place.”

“How could I not care?” Zeke asked. “I could save them if I wanted to.”

“So?”

Zeke was baffled. “How can you brush this off so easily?”

The Dragon scoffed. “Don’t bother putting on an act in front of me, whelp. The moment you kill the Archmage, they are going to die anyway. This has never been about saving them but about you facing the consequences of your actions.”

This time, Zeke didn’t know how to respond.

“Changing the world is a bloody affair. If you lack the stomach for it, you might as well go back to that little farming town of yours," the Dragon uttered before lapsing into silence once more.

For a long time, Zeke stayed at the edge of his hideout, quietly observing the escalating tension between the Slaves. Even though he knew that the Dragon was right, it wasn’t an easy thing to accept.

For all his life, Zeke had thought that he was a good person — that he was doing the right thing. Never once had he questioned that fact. However, watching this group of strangers, doubts began to creep in for the first time. They were desperately trying to live, doing whatever they had to. It didn’t matter; none of it did. Not one of them would live to see the outside world again.

…Because they were in his way.