Technomancer: Birth of a Goddess

Emily’s grip on The Clock finally relaxes as her arm drops to her side.

Her water dress evaporates, with no remaining mana to fuel it, leaving her naked as her gaze settles on Everette’s mangled body.

He was so weak. How did he reach fourth circle and still make the mistake of looking away from a lightning mage?

A bitter taste taints her victory, and it’s only worsened when her emotional core whispers about how the death would have fed Mensacus if she hadn’t lost him. She clicks her tongue in frustration before using the cold grip of machina to once again force all her emotions into the care of her emotional core, removing any lingering excitement from the battle.

Emily opens her progression tab and confirms that the only requirement remaining for her next ascension is reaching one hundred and eighty intelligence, before crouching and touching her knuckles to the corpse’s chest. Machina bursts from her hand, dancing across the body and discovering a single surviving enchanted amulet embedded into his flesh.

She rips away his tattered robes, covered in dull, broken runes, and sees the amulet in question, sunken into Everette’s sternum with fractured flesh and bone curled around it. Emily places The Clock between her teeth and pries the pendant out of its cavity, finding the dense silver metal coating it completely unharmed.

Buried in the centre of the casing, with a single opening to view it on the front, is a space crystal. There are small bands of runic engravings spreading out from the opening and twisting around to cover the metal with faintly glowing, purple lines.

Emily tears the pendant from its chain, which is similarly buried inside Everette, probing it with a small thread of mana in the process.

Well, that’s new. I haven’t seen at least half of these runes before. I see a few patterns already though. It shouldn’t take too long to decipher once I recharge.

Turning her focus to the other corpses while her mana continues to regenerate, she finds three more spatial storages, these ones all taking the forms of small bags and unprotected by owner locks.

Within, she finds several random items, including a few unknown potions and a small collection of assorted magic crystals. Emily retreats to her throne with her spoils, sorting through the bags and dropping several useless items on the damp sand surrounding the raised glass pedestal.

She skims through the potions with her system and finds four intended for healing. Scanning them with a spark of her machina, she selects the highest quality brew with the fewest impurities remaining and puts away the rest.

She pops the cork from the vial with her teeth and pours the glistening orange potion on her singed stump, aiding her natural regeneration by completely removing the damage from the battle.

Next, Emily slides a set of slightly too-large robes over her head and binds all three storage pouches at her right hip before sitting back down with Everette’s spatial amulet in her lap. She shuts her eyes and focuses on Technomancer’s Breath until her mana hits full again, before pouring part of the freshly generated power into the amulet to analyse its structure.

As one core calls on the Spellweave to help comprehend the unique runes, the other pokes at the enchantment’s core, smothering its attempted resistance and noting all of its reactions.

Within a few hours, she finds the right place to inject a violent pulse of spatial mana, breaking a small hole in the spell’s protections and erasing Everette’s magic signature in an instant, leaving the storage free to be rebound.

Emily opens her eyes without a flicker of expression and channels mana into the spatial crystal, binding the artefact to herself.

She scans through it, finding a sizable collection of assorted non-magical items, from fine silks to a few oil paintings. Sorting through and removing the useless chaff, Emily finds wind crystals, from greater to lesser, a small collection of meats that the system identifies as from purely wind-based species, and a small pile of gold and silver coins marked with the emblem of the Denrosi royalty.

The final item that draws Emily’s attention is a set of enchanted earrings, but they’re made from lesser wind crystals and only provide a small protective shield to prevent drowning, a function useless to her. Nevertheless, she hooks them into two holes in her lobes, running her fingers along the other empty holes in her ears, where all but the ring tucked inside her left ear were torn free when the mana vein exploded.

Her tongue finds the ring still in her lip as she pulls a set of decorative daggers from the storage amulet, casting Forgemaster to melt them down.

Time ticks by as Emily makes herself a set of temporary replacement jewellery, and soon the end of the dungeon approaches.

She rises from the throne as it pulses with mana, walking down the stairs and slowly moving towards the spatial fluctuation she can feel at its rear. As she steps around the corner, she sees a waterless oasis staring back at her.

She blinks in surprise, her eyes jumping to scan the edge of the image, where she sees reality fade seamlessly into the icy throne.

A perfect spatial door. How unsettling.

The lack of separation between one space and the next creates an odd twinge in her gut, but Emily steps through without hesitation, casting air walk to prevent herself from falling as she arrives in the open air above the oasis outpost that took her arm. The dungeon exit blinks closed behind her, and a system notification fills her view.

¯¯¯¯¯

Quest competed: Solidarity of the Betrayed

[Solidarity of the Betrayed]

[Rank:] B

[Description:] The Oasis felt your call and sings for your cause. It gathered you up, scraps and all, and now offers you a deal. Slay those who stomped on its hospitality and used it as a sacrifice, and claim the tainted fruits once offered in friendship.

Requirements:

-Guard the dungeon core for 3/3 days (Complete)

-Eliminate all intruders who reach the boss room before the dungeon closes (Complete) {Optional}

Rewards:

-{Ten aquacillis fruit}

-Various items recovered from spatial storages

-Quest: War-Machine

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[War-Machine]

[Rank:] B

[Description:] You joined this war with a goal that’s been met, but is that really enough? They targeted you, sacrificing people and resources to eliminate you because you posed a threat. Can you leave without ending what they started?

Requirements:

-Win the war for New Denntimo (Not Complete)

Rewards:

-Mechanic Knowledge: Basic Astrophysics

-Blueprint: Simple Nuclear Reactor

_____

“Win the war?” she mutters to herself, glancing from the waterless crater of blue glass below her to her empty left sleeve hanging loose at her side. “Sure, seems reasonable.”

She starts walking down to the ground, heading for the rubble remains of the outpost surrounding the dead oasis while searching for her physical rewards, which she finds placed inside the large storage amulet held in her pocket.

To her conflicting horror and relief, the first item she finds is Anna’s diary, with the destroyed picture of their family tucked into the inside cover.

The emotional storm in her head churns, threatening to overtake her again as choking guilt and grief claw at her throat. The mana around her quivers and bends in response to her outburst, so she quickly drops the diary back into the depths of the amulet.

She searches for something to less distressful and finds the scarf Jules gave her next, almost completely unharmed despite having no memory of putting it away in any spatial storages before falling unconscious.

Emily latches onto the distraction, pulling it out of the amulet and inspecting it closely. She finds one end of the fabric singed and blackened as if dipped in fire, but the spell woven into it persists, emanating an even stronger smell than before.

Emily pulls up the system window hoping for an explanation but only ends up more confused.

¯¯¯¯¯

[Broken First Love]

[Rank:] E

[Description:] A scarf made for, and given to, Emily Coldstone by Juliana Madonna in hopes of being remembered. Saved and repaired by nature’s hand.

[Effect:] Cleanses and scents the air around itself.

_____

She wraps the scarf around her neck, feeling the emotional maelstrom in her head calming a little as the scent of lilies fills her lungs, turning the singed fabric in her fingers and inspecting the runes spreading across it. They glow with a faint mixture of green and blue, and Emily can feel the unmistakable touch of the oasis.

“It saved my scarf for me… Why?”

Without anyone to answer her question, Emily forces herself to move on after a few moments of silence, browsing through the rest of her saved possessions.

She breathes another sigh of relief when she finds Mensacus sitting there safe and sound, and is nearly as pleased when she finds both the Whisper and Stream have survived.

Unfortunately, most of her other toys and tools are missing, including all her scouts: birds and spiders alike. The majority of her magic crystal and metal collections are missing, but the small part that remains almost fills the sizeable storage item.

“We can rebuild,” Emily mutters to herself, turning her attention to the ten aquacillis fruits sitting in the storage as well. “And I’ve completed the job too, despite the losses.”

Ice Petal, Whistler, and Sandman’s faces come to mind as guilty whispers lick at the back of her mind despite her lack of attachment to her fellow mercenaries.

You should have paid more attention to them.

She nods at the thought as she remembers Pretty Boy’s nervous fidgeting only hours before his betrayal.

There were signs.

She just didn’t care enough to take notice.

***

After leaving the empty outpost, Emily’s journey back to no-man’s-land is uncomfortably quiet.

She doesn't see a soul, even at the scout’s pit they had to creep past during their approach.

The only sounds to accompany her march are the howling desert winds, the crunching of her ill-fitted boots on the sand, and the whispers of self-loathing incessantly scratching at the back of her mind.

She cycles her cores, letting them sleep in pairs as she travels, as unwilling to bear the brunt of her chaotic emotional load as she is to release her hold on The Clock.

A few days after leaving the oasis, she detects faint signs of movement far ahead through Earthen Detection.

Emily doesn’t bother covering her advance, peeling back the scarf wrapped around her head and walking proudly to what should be a friendly defensive force, considering that she entered the detection range of their arrays half a day ago.

She doesn’t see anything, even as the area where she felt movement approaches, but the closer she gets, the more she starts to feel fluctuations in the mana around her.

They’re hiding?

The moment the thought strikes, the scenery before her changes and the empty desert is replaced by over thirty mercenaries, dug in around a set of heavy, armoured vehicles. They have guns and magical foci in hand, but they lower them at the same time as mana stops leaking from their trucks and their barrier falls.

The group’s leader steps out to greet her with his hand raised, a tan helmet and cloth wrap covering his identity.

“You’re Emily, right?” he inquires with an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes.” She nods in response. “I don’t have a Signature to prove it though.”

All the armed soldiers visibly tense at her words, their weapons pausing, ready to be raised again in an instant.

“Well, that’s a problem,” says the squad leader, hesitating for a moment as Emily’s eyes drift down to the badge on his chest rig that identifies him as a member of Black Fang. “We don’t have an identifying terminal with us. Would you be willing to wear magic suppressants until we get you scanned at our outpost?”

He pulls a set of twisted metal cuffs from a pouch at his waist, lined with engraved runes.

Emily almost laughs at their inability to hold her, both from her machina-assisted resistance to restraints of any kind, and her lack of a second wrist to clasp it to.

“That may be difficult,” she says, trying to keep the bitter bite out of her voice as she raises her stump and conjures a small gale to draw attention to the empty sleeve billowing from it.

She catches a few muted gasps of shock, and the man facing her visibly flinches.

“I-“ he starts, but Emily almost punches him when she hears his tone soften.

“I don’t need your pity,” she spits, irritation creasing her brow before she pauses and takes a breath, cycling her machina to force her emotions back once again, growing increasingly tired of their erratic, uncontrollable state. “I won’t attack you, but those aren’t going to work. If it helps though, there’s this.”

She raises her right arm, turning The Clock in her palm to the ground and pushing mana out of the back of her hand. She forms a small, crackling storm, with water and ice falling in streams and glistening arcs of lightning jumping between them. The miniature display flickers as a layer of rock bubbles up across her skin, cracking apart and erupting with fire that sweeps the storm away in a howling gale.

A few runes flicker to life amidst the display as a shell of metal encases it, shrinking down into a small marble that suddenly blinks from above her hand to below.

“I doubt many imposters could copy that.”

The group leader’s grip on his staff relaxes, though some of those following him remain tense, not understanding the full meaning of her small display.

“It’s highly unlikely,” he agrees, reaching up to pull the cloth from his face. “The name’s Oil Slick, B rank Black Fang merc. Sorry about the fanfare, but you guys created quite the stir blowing another vein so soon, so we’ve been on edge. Had the entire line reinforced in case of retaliation.”

Oil Slick waves a hand over his shoulder, and the formation breaks apart as several mercenaries start climbing into their trucks. He gestures with his head for Emily to follow as half their forces set out on foot, flanked by the trucks that start pouring mana into the ground again, covering their movement from prying eyes.

“That one wasn’t us,” Emily corrects, falling in step with her fellow third circle mage.

“Really? What happened?” Oil Slick asks before jumping to add: “If you can tell me that is.”

“We had a traitor,” she says, seeing no reason not to and ignoring his caution. “They knew we were coming and set our target to detonate when we got there. My squad died and I lost my arm to the traitor’s attack before the explosion, but I killed Everette Dennal on the way out, so I doubt they’ll be happy.”

“You what?!”

“Punched a hole through his stomach and crushed him beyond recognition.”

“Woah!” Oil Slick slaps her shoulder, forgetting his fear in an instant as he turns his head to the mercenaries following their lead. “Hey guys, you’ll never believe this. She killed Everette!”

“No way!”

“Seriously?”

Several doubtful exclamations echo through the gathering.

“That’s what the woman said!” Oil Slick chuckles, turning back to Emily. “Go on, tell them.”

She raises a brow at the strange reaction, but goes along with him nonetheless, turning her head to address the crowd.

“Everette Dennal came to confirm my death after we walked into a trap, so I drove my arm through his chest and crushed his body beyond recognition.”

Cheers spread the moment she stops speaking as some of the mercenaries toss their arms over their friends’ shoulders, with others shooting small, decorative spells into the air.

“The Pampered Prince is dead!” Emily hears several people cry with joy, sparking her curiosity.

Pampered Prince? The Covenant’s books didn’t mention much about his childhood, and they certainly never called him that.

“This is great,” Oil Slick says with a beaming grin, going to place his arm around Emily’s shoulder and waving apologetically when she lightly taps it away. “We need to get you a drink!”