Chương 162: 4.31 Carving

Irwyn's idea of effective time management came to blows with a simple yet - in hindsight - obvious reality. Neither Desir nor Alice would miss on watching him carve the Concept. Even if Flame might not necessarily align with them, it was still a learning experience. That being said Desir actually had things to add once the specifics of Irwyn's situation had been explained to him.

"I would heavily not recommend cutting into your liver," he gave Irwyn a very unimpressed stare.

"It is significantly less important than the heart," he shrugged.

"Not much smarter though," Desir sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Good thing you found me when you did. The carving will probably stick, which means you might be left with permanent liver damage with your 'plan'."

"It needs to be carved somewhere that is important though," Irwyn argued.

"I assumed it has to be a major organ for the Concept to actually transfer onto my soul."

"And you are half right - it would probably even work," Desir nodded.

"But it's the worst of both words compared to the obvious alternative."

"You just have a better way ready on the spot?" Elizabeth doubted.

"Well, you will have to admit that it's rather apparent," Desir shrugged.

"If you are looking for the best spot to connect with the Soul, it will be the spots where your Funnel delivers the most mana. Now, sure, some of those spots are probably your organs, but you should be able to find several places in your body that are a lot less dangerous to physically interfere with." That put Irwyn to thought. Doctor Johnson had found through his research that Irwyn, technically speaking, didn't have a Funnel as most mages understood it.

Instead, his mana was channeling from his Soul through the sheer brute force of its potency rather than a magical organ, somehow bypassing the "egg" surrounding it. But that did not fundamentally disprove Desir's suggestion. There was a distinction between 'technically' and 'practically' after all. If his condition had been obvious when using magic, Irwyn would have noticed it much sooner himself rather than needing to be told.

His body still accepted and distributed magic in a way very similar to a normal mage's Funnel, including those spots that more was channeled through. In fact, his Empyrean blood spell quite literally worked in significant part to make that process smoother and faster.

"I can attempt it first," Irwyn surrendered with a nod.

"After organs, it would probably be arteries. Those might actually kill me faster than a liver though."

"Not with some healing," Desir shook his head with a grin.

"A bit of blood loss is easier to graft than organ mutilation - as surprising as you seem to find that. I would go with the Radial artery."

"Which is?" Irwyn asked, having no idea himself.

"Give me your hand and let me highlight it for you," Desir approached closer, raising his arm. After a moment of hesitation, Irwyn acceded, letting the man grab his own and channel a bit of magic into an area beneath his left wrist. A moment later Irwyn began to feel the outline of a specific thick bloodvessel. It began just beneath his elbow, going into his palm where it bent around and traced back its way along his arm.

"This is strange," he frowned at the experience, almost like a new sense - Irwyn could feel the artery with unnatural precision. He could have mostly guessed where it would be by the flow of his magic but this was the difference between halfblind fumbling and having precision tools. The effect was already slowly fading, so it would likely only last minutes.

"Is it helpful though?" Desir grinned with some smugness.

"Probably," Irwyn admitted. It was certainly much faster than a full lecture on anatomy.

"But there is still a major problem you had pointed out: If the carving physically remains in the spot, won't it quite literally cut through an artery afterwards?"

"It is a good thing you have a Life mage in company then," Desir's smile only deepened.

"Because while my skill might be limited, creating a bypass for a blood vessel would be somewhat simple."

"Which would defeat the whole purpose of Carving the Concept there," Elizabeth pointed out. She and Alice had been mostly silent, not having much to contribute. Waylan had already disappeared, likely trying to find something to entertain himself with - difficult, since they were still in the middle of nowhere at the edge of a field.

"No, the point should be to let it transfer to my Soul," Irwyn realized immediately.

"It will not be completed right away… but I should be able to feel something like that when it finally happens. And the shift probably wouldn't occur in just seconds either. If I can just not bleed out for a few minutes I think it will work."

"With a lot of potion spent in the process," she pointed out.

"Thankfully we have plenty," Irwyn shrugged.

"We are not exactly abundant on healing supplies, actually," Elizabeth reluctantly admitted with a sigh.

"Not anymore, at least."

"I would think you would have packed more than enough," Alice said with a frown and Irwyn had to admit he was also quite surprised.

"Plenty for the occasional injury from battle," she nodded.

"But I did not know that Irwyn would spend days in repeated self-mutilation before carving his Concepts in a similar manner. Frankly, we will likely not have enough just to carve all nine, not to mention any of the mergings or actual injuries."

"Not to repeat myself," Desir chimed in.

"But I am a capable enough as a Life mage. Healing this much is within my ability."

"How would you graft enough blood for what Irwyn intends?" she immediately questioned though.

"I don't believe you can properly prevent rejection of foreign blood at your level. His constitution is not exactly normal either, that will make it exponentially more difficult."

"Which would be a valid concern, if I was trying to open the door with a battering ram like you suggest," Desir shot back immediately.

"We are not talking about combat healing here but a preplanned procedure in a controlled environment. I can manifest illusory blood with stitching."

"Which will be a massive problem if any false Stitched blood gets into his body and spontaneously disappears later," Elizabeth kept pushing.

"Something I intend to carefully manage," Desir was not put off his footing though.

"The only tricky part is managing the oxygen flow to prevent damage to the limb itself, and even if that somehow comes to pass it is fixable with one dose of your potions."

"I think this will work fine," Irwyn interrupted before they could break into a genuine argument.

"If Desir says he can manage I will trust him on something like this. The potions are a sufficient fallback even if you don't, Elizabeth." If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Fine, I will accede," she surrendered.

"Are you feeling a pull towards a specific place?"

"Nothing like you clearly had," Irwyn shook his head.

"You have not had a chance to rest after the battle and chase," Alice also spoke up.

"I feel perfectly fresh," Irwyn disagreed.

"Stimulated, in fact. That spell in the city was perhaps my largest-scale magic yet. My mind had the time to rest since but some of that thrill and closeness to my magic still lingers."

"We should at least find you someplace more fire-aligned," Elizabeth suggested.

"Is a Lich's grave not significant enough of a place?" Irwyn shrugged.

"If we are looking for austerity that will suffice. No, I will do it right here." What Irwyn did not mention was that he had been running out of patience. He had been ready since before the undead attack and it was all driving him a tad bit mad. The effect of a more appropriate environment, if one could even be found nearby, would not be significant enough to warrant more delays. Neither could rest, really. It had been a long day but he was not feeling tired.

The surging tide of anticipation had dragged any sign of drowsiness into the furthest depths of his Soul. There could be no respite he would afford himself before the Concept was carved.

"Then we can at least make a bonfire," Elizabeth sighed, staring at the nearby trees.

"A few more minutes. You can prepare yourself mentally in the meantime."

"And not any longer." Irwyn sat down in the dirt. He did not have that feeling of mania Elizabeth had displayed before her own breakthrough, but the anticipation was no less intense for it. He reviewed his plans for the last time, knowing deep down they were right. Burn, incinerate, melt, conflagrate, shape, control, magic, strengthen, and empower. Nine intentions, forming into a pattern in his head. That it was geometrically impossible mattered very little. The shape was perfect.

There existed no better way to combine those nine intentions into a Concept, Irwyn was certain of it - not for him at least. He must have tried thousands of iterations, guided by his sheer affinity until achieving the undisputable best form. He felt slight heat rising in front of him, realizing he must have been dazed for several minutes while his companions had erected a truly massive pyre. It was just being set ablaze with a bit of Elizabeth's help. There was no reason to hesitate further.

No point in delaying the next step. The knife of pure Flame Irwyn manifested was not held in his hand. It appeared already within his flesh, not far beneath his left elbow. Exactly at the point he felt the most magic surging from within his Soul, right within the artery. It was not paining him yet – he did not burn – but all that was needed was a shift in its purpose from harming to changing. Then the last of his anxiety reared its ugly head.

He had spent weeks, perhaps even months convincing himself it would not be the case, but one threat still stood before him. That oath from a life past and perhaps not even his own. Despite every belief of why or how it would not prevent him from carving a Concept, a part of him still feared it might. That it would stop him at that crucial boundary, stuck - perhaps forever. So, he took the doubt and flooded it with the ironclad belief that he would not be stopped. He remembered the terms; nothing new …

but some things of magic were exempt. And so would be Concepts. They had to be. With the fervency and zest, he molded his mind until all that remained was certainty. He would not afford hesitation nor doubt, merely the fact he would succeed. Then he finally began to alter his flesh. The surge of pain was immediate and brutal, not something anyone could ever get used to. Yet Irwyn had been ready for it with a workaround.

He had practiced obsessively to get over this hurdle, and found success in a particular loophole. How would he avoid being distracted by pain? By focusing the totality of his mind solely on the process of carving. Which was of course not easy to actually achieve. Despite all he had tried he would not be able to do it for most actions. But when he put his mind towards magic the mental capacity would always multiply exponentially.

That led to reason that there was a fundamental difference in his willpower between when he was focused on magic and when on a mundane task. Irwyn did not have a real understanding about the technicalities of it, but he had managed to essentially channel all of his thoughts into the magical kind of will. In other words, he was forcing himself to be so focused on just magic there was simply no part of him left that could perceive anything else. Not sight, touch, nor pain.

It had been a bit tricky to leave just enough behind that he actually kept breathing but that had all been figured out and tested back before the attack. All that was left was to put it to action. The first line was so easy it would have caught Irwyn off guard. A long slice cut through sheer instinct across technically impossible angles and it was done. There had been no resistance. No real strain. If Irwyn had any part of his mind capable of thinking, he would have been worried if that was a good sign.

He would have considered the distinct possibility that this meant he had misunderstood how to carve the Concept into flesh and let it transfer onto the soul. There was no fragment of his consciousness left for that evaluation. All that remained was the carving. Precise slices, intertwined lines that would make no sense to the naked eye, angles that did not add up. None of it mattered. Irwyn knew exactly what he was trying to bring forth.

The difference between impossible and trivial was bridged by sheer affinity and instinct. After the sixth intention, there was a first sign of resistance. Of strain. Like… not rejection but refusal. The unwillingness of reality to let its boundaries be passed so easily. A challenge as Fate demanded its pound of flesh before it let the inevitable happen. It pushed against Irwyn's perfection, trying to sway his grasp of the unheld blade. And that resistance was crushed by a dedicated mind and tidal waves of mana.

Irwyn barely registered how much magic was acutely leaking from his body – for he had become like a broken dam. Because it did not matter. There would always be enough. Incomprehensibly many times more than that. The resistance returned as he began his work on the seventh line and stood no chance again him. Irwyn did not have any wits left to doubt or hesitate, which made him obliterate any obstacles with the bluntness of a cudgel. The world began pushing back more urgently, demanding greater struggle, more strain!

During the eight intention's carving the pushback multiplied every moment. Were Irwyn a common mage it would have been overwhelming - such force doing everything it could to make him slow down. To stretch out the moment of difficulty. It would have been likely wise to follow the demand and slow, but to escape the pain Irwyn had abandoned anything approaching wisdom. Had he been carving directly onto his Soul, the counter-pressure would have probably succeeded in that goal.

But by doing the alteration to his flesh, everything became more physical. That meant he could just pour more and more magic onto the problem. While Fate exerted pressure it was not as much as the raging ocean of his mana did. The ninth intention was thus the final battlefield. Irwyn barely registered that but the world certainly did. And it tried all it could to take its due. Dirty and abnormal, reaching for tricks. Like the counter-force itself began to gain a semblance of will.

It raged against the defilement of natural order. Carving a Concept was a trial. Be it the greatest prodigy or a desperate fool. It was a mettle of planning and competence, just like the Aspects had intended. It had to be gradual, it had to be a struggle. To defy the rules was an insult against the very creators. It could not stand. IT WOULD NOT STAND. Greater powers still woke. Not to consciousness or understanding but to a call. Some forces underlied reality as rules that would not bend.

Even the most minor held a fraction of the pride of their original creators. So one such law struck back with fury. The vast control holding the knife was forced to stumble and slow. The unerring certainty of a dedicated mind was clouded by doubts. Pain was amplified beyond any reason as it tried to gnaw even at a consciousness that could not feel. The ocean of mana dried up against all probability or possibility. And in that moment created an unintentional opening.

A single second in which there was no mana pouring from within Irwyn Soul. But that did not mean it had removed the channel that much magic had opened. In the same instant the flow of magic was broken, the forces of the world had, metaphorically, a direct line of sight into Irwyn's Soul. And there, they glimpsed what he was. IGNIS LUMEN The forces of the world fled. The ninth line of Flame was completed and the Concept was born.

Irwyn would take a while to parse that knowledge as his mind gradually started returning to normal, mostly because it had no task left to focus on. But that process was slow so he did not even realize the tiredness as his consciousness began fading. What he did glimpse was something much more interesting - though it would take until he awoke to internalize it. For in that moment, Irwyn felt the outer edges of something other, tugging his mind into a Dream not fully his own.