Chương 143: The Demiurge

The moment Ryland arrived, the air sizzled. Sparked. As if it had been barely stable in the presence of Rhel's strongest entity, and now, with the arrival of Ryland in the vicinity, it could no longer hold itself steady. Magic was volatile. Broken. On the verge of bursting out into a tempest. Especially in the presence of two such beings as them. Admittedly, appearing right in the centre of Infinity's Rest was probably one of the most unprecedented acts on all of Rhel. In fact, Ryland had never done it before.

Not during his last stay on Rhel, that was for certain. This time, however, Ryland had discarded his scruples. He had been pushed a little too far, and now, he had no recourse but to make himself as clear as possible to the highest authority in the land. It was almost funny if he thought about it in an abstract manner. Back on Vyrd, when he had been dealing with Arcoryx and whatever else had come his way, he felt as though he had been rather restrained when it came down to it.

He had purposefully held himself back, despite arguing against the philosophy of the notion with Alaric. Suppressing his manasoul to cause as few ripples and wobbles as possible, not really using the full breadth of his power unless really necessary, not seizing problems by the scruff of their neck and deleting them from existence as he probably could have. For, had he tackled that Living Mana invading Arcoryx City as soon as he had heard about it, the Incursion would never have even gotten close to his new home.

Instead, he had sat back. He had told himself that it wasn't his place to intrude, that allowing others to deal with it was the wiser option, up until his interference was absolutely necessary for the survival of others. Well, it seemed it was far easier to discard such ideas on Rhel. Though, he was going to blame that squarely on the shoulders of its leader. On the man seated on a throne before him, whose regard appeared cold but possessed an electric glint too.

Of course, Ryland couldn't just pop into the centre of the home of Rhel's most powerful personage just like that. Not without tripping a multitude of alarms and wards, not without warning the thousands he kept as his personal retainers and guards. Not without immediately making enemies of most of Rhel for the sheer disregard for procedure that Ryland had just displayed.

This was proven with the guards even now breaking in, with how every single person present in the throne room besides the ruler himself was aiming their magic for Ryland. And it wasn't just them. Alarms were blaring outside, signals were flashing all over, sirens were calling for reinforcements. One would think they had just been invaded. Which they had, technically speaking, Ryland supposed. Nothing new. Most of Rhellians aware of him already disliked him strongly. Almost hated him, really.

He had already seen evidence of it. The way the guards had behaved when he had first arrived at the Rhellian Institute, the way its students had dared to assault him, the way High Academ Zevo hadn't been able to restrain himself from opposing Ryland. It was hierarchical. Historical. So, since he was already something akin to a wanted man, why not make the most of it?

"Marionys Ryland," Kindly Mavar said, his words echoing just a little in the throne room, despite its enormity.

"The Recreator himself. You all may attend but stand down. Let us speak without disturbance." The last bit was directed at everyone else who had gathered, ready to throw themselves sacrificially if needed to protect their precious Demiurge. Because as soon as Ryland's name had been mentioned, as soon as his title had echoed through the room, everyone had tensed. Then their energy had redoubled. Their feelings regarding him really weren't subtle at all.

Arms were raised in violent protest, grips tightening on weapons with magic sparking and bursting with greater ferocity. It was only the Demiurge's earlier orders preventing them from doing anything stupid. Mavar didn't rise from his gleaming gold-and-silver throne. He appeared almost exactly as Ryland had last seen him a few centuries ago, minus the change in raiment. Tall, skin the shade of sand, eyes reminiscent of diamonds, hair whiter than salt.

His face appeared a tiny bit fuller, his body just slightly stockier and more well-built, but that was about it for differences.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Ryland?" he asked. Ryland wasn't intent on hiding anything, but he had come here to conduct this meeting on his terms. As such, he remained silent, right till the moment they all fidgeted. Mavar's patience was famously eternal, but eventually, even his brows gave the first hints of a frown. That was when he took out the Dreadlich's "heart" and threw it to the floor before the Demiurge.

"I'm here for that," Ryland said.

"What are you playing at, Mavar? Why try to create your own Calamity?" Naturally, there were shocked gasps and outraged yells at that. Most were directly accusing Ryland of disrespecting Mavar, of instigating conflict and fomenting fear, but the Demiurge raised a hand. They all fell silent as the dead at that.

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Ryland?" the Demiurge asked.

"Speak plainly, please. Throwing a random, if rather fascinating, hunk of meat on my palatial floors and going on to accuse me of such monstrous deeds is hardly going to cut it." He hadn't even bothered to look down at the heart. Ryland spoke of the disturbances, of the news that they no doubt had heard. It had hardly been any time at all since Pious had been defeated and the Crypts had sundered at their battle, but still. He knew how Mavar worked.

He knew the man was more than well-acquainted with the strictest forms of surveillance. All of which was besides the fact that he'd had a very direct hand in the killing of Order mage. That final enclosed region trapping Pious had been one of Mavar's favourite spells. Ryland had recognized it instantly.

"And so," Ryland said.

"It's rather obvious that you've been allowing the Vestige of a Calamity to rest within the Crypts. And it isn't the only one, is it? You have more there, hidden in various nooks and crannies, all tucked away in pocket Realms whose entrances you've secured in the mana-conducting material making up the entirety of the Crypts." It was Mavar's turn to play with the politics of the scene. To make Ryland wait so that the balance of power returned to where he thought it rightfully belonged—with the Demiurge.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"And what of it?" Mavar eventually asked.

"Even if I have done what you blatantly accuse me of, what of it?"

"What of it?" Ryland said, arching an eyebrow in surprise at his callousness.

"People could die. Did almost die. Mere students, the youth of your very nation, were in grave danger because of the fallout of your actions. Such recklessness will lead to disaster, eventually."

"Is that right?" It only took a few more seconds for Ryland to understand why and how he could so easily disregard anything of consequence despite the seriousness of what had occurred. The reason was staring Ryland right in the face, was evident on how, despite his revelation and Mavar's tacit acknowledgment of its existence, nothing had changed on the faces of his retainers and followers. Nothing had changed for his people. Their loyalty was blind, their belief absolute.

There was nothing that could tear them from the unshakeable faith they had put in their dear leader. Ryland's frown grew heavier. Alright, so there was one thing that had changed. Mavar's Soul Glyph of Unity had grown several times stronger over the vast years, suggesting that the Demiurge himself was several times his original prowess.

"How long are you going to tamper with their souls, Mavar?" Ryland asked.

"I know not what you mean," Mavar said with a sad shake of his head.

"You've done great things on Rhel once, Ryland, but it seems you've deluded yourself into thinking that there's some sort of conspiracy or subterfuge. You're mistakenly assuming this is still the old Rhel you helped bring about all those centuries ago before you betrayed us and our values. It isn't." There was a hardness, a livid harshness, to Mavar's voice at the very end there. Ryland had actual difficulty telling whether it was real or affected. Whichever it might be, it worked wonders on his followers.

Their rage doubled, their fury at Ryland daring to upend their carefully crafted order rekindling into an inferno barely restrained by the Demiurge's control. If given the slightest hint, they would lash out and land on Ryland like the starving wild dogs of the wastes, ripping and tearing into him with little regard for their own wellbeing so long as they could slake their bloodlust. Very ironic to think that it was Ryland who was fomenting anything here, when Mavar was the one instigating all this enraged energy.

"You truly believe you can manipulate me to take care of your problems," Ryland said.

"And yet, you have the gall to treat me in such a deplorable manner."

"How is one supposed to treat a home invader?" the Demiurge asked. Ryland admitted that Mavar wasn't entirely wrong there, though that was besides the point.

"How do you think the other Realms will take it when it becomes known that their visiting children and dignitaries were used as pawns for your plot? It isn't their fault you invited the Order to your doorstep only to lose control of them." Mavar was once again silent for a pointedly long time.

"I grow weary of this conversation, Ryland. You used to be fun, once. A visionary. One who could cut through all that ails us and plagues us to arrive at the heart of the matter, regardless of what stood in your way. Has old age made you dull? Have you grown… soft?" Ryland indicated the rapidly desiccating heart on the floor.

"I tore the Vestige from its old owner and in the process annihilated him."

"I will take that as a no, then. But I can tell." That glint in Mavar's eyes sharpened.

"You have grown sentimental."

"Where are you hiding the rest of the Order?"

"I know not what you speak of." Mavar was right about one thing. The conversation was turning wearisome. It wasn't entirely pointless, however. Ryland had learned quite a lot just from how Mavar had acted.

"You've changed too, Mavar," Ryland finally said.

"Have I?" The Demiurge just shook his head.

"I like to think I've only grown more myself. That I've concentrated my being into a greater form, self-actualized into who I should have been from the very beginning. It's a shame you've done the opposite, Ryland. It's what seems to be putting you at odds against me."

"Indeed. I'm glad to have grown the opposite of you, Mavar." They stared at each other for a moment, then they both simultaneously looked down at the Vestige of a Calamity lying on the ground. Mavar's intentions weren't fully clear yet, but Ryland had more or less surmised his plan. The Dreadlich wasn't merely the seedling of a newborn Calamity. The Crypts hadn't just been a prison for the dangerous and a conduit for the departed. The field trip to the Crypts certainly wasn't fully an educational experience. No.

Instead, a Vestige of a long-forgotten Calamity had been secreted away deep inside the incubator that the Rhellians were mistakenly assuming was the Crypts for their dead. Instead, it was merely a partial harvester of manasouls. An elaborate mechanism to further Mavar's personal ambitions. A way for him to integrate his Soul Glyph of Unity with a real Calamity, just as he had done with all the Rhellians. Ryland only needed to look around to see the danger such a goal posed. So much blind loyalty.

So much endless devotion. A belief that couldn't be shaken, that refused to be ruptured, that had no weakness to be exploited nor any ability to be reasoned with. A state of being that was synonymous with surrendering all control to Mavar himself. And a Calamity existing in such a state would be devastating. Even worse, Mavar wasn't about to be swayed from his goals. Despite making an effort to join the Accords, he had no intention of reining himself in. All that Ryland didn't understand just yet was why.

Why make an effort to join the Accorded Realms when they'd see his actions in the lowest of lights, when they'd denounce all of Rhel for the choices of their leader? What sort of disaster was he crafting? What did he really have in mind? Ryland sighed.

"Keep it." Mavar frowned just a bit.

"Truly? You want me to keep something you've killed to attain?"

"I've already found what I was seeking."

"The piece of yourself. Something that you have yet to thank me for."

"I would have, if it was a gift. But it was merely a lure."

"You wound me with such accusations, you know." Ryland shook his head. It was time to leave.

"If only those wounds left any real scar. Farewell, Mavar. Don't come to me when all you hope to achieve comes avalanching down upon you." Before the Demiurge of Rhel could bite back with yet another reply, Ryland's manasoul was already flaring." [Translocate]." He disappeared from the overstuffed throne room to appear on one of the intact mountains in the range over the Crypt. Now that he was free, he finally paid attention to the piece of him. He pulled it out with another [Translocate]. A gallbladder.

One that looked like it had been carved straight from coral. What an oddity. Ryland wondered just how Pious had come by it, for even he seemed unaware of what he possessed. He had a feeling Mavar had something to do with it too.

But for now, he absorbed it. [Achievement Recognized: Glyphic Might You have converted a piece of yourself, imbued with the power of ejection, into a Glyph now integrated with your manasoul. Rank up from Exalted [94] to Titan [1]. Reward: Glyph of Eruption. Imbued magic evolves Glyph to Tier [25].] Hmm. A strange Glyph. But not entirely unexpected. He could see uses for it as a Subglyph. But for now, he found that his mind wandered. It was calm here. Chilly.

The world flew by as though there hadn't been an apocalyptic battle between two overpowered entities just an hour or two ago. With how high Ryland had come, he didn't even see the chaos he and Pious had caused farther in the distance, thanks to the cloud cover. The atmosphere promoted solitary thought, which was why Ryland had appeared there. For a moment, he could forget everything tugging at his attention and simply think.

Deeply troubled as he was by Mavar's actions and choices, there was one silver lining through the whole business. He wasn't working with the Flourinus Order. Not really. The way he had betrayed Pious to allow Ryland to reach the Order mage was proof of that. But that suggested there might be more of the Order's operations on Rhel, which Ryland needed to end before it led to anything disastrous, just as he had done with the Dreadlich. Exactly what Mavar intended for him. Ryland sighed.

He did abhor it when doing the right thing meant playing into someone's hands for one reason or another. The recent incident with the Manabreak mine came to the fore in his mind, where the Prime Minister had specifically asked for Ryland to accompany him in order to cajole Ryland into taking care of the Manabreak. He tried not to scowl. It was almost as if these people were allergic to asking anything from Ryland. Of course, he had seen through the ruse and exacted a price from the leader of Androvia.

Ryland was to get one of his former pieces any day now. He wouldn't even need to check up on it. They were well aware that he could come and pay a visit whenever he wanted. That said, a reminder wouldn't hurt. Ryland sighed. It was time to head back. Whatever Mavar intended, he wouldn't want to destroy the work he had been performing for centuries now. He could trust that much, at least. The rest… Well, whatever happened, Ryland would ensure nothing he cared about was even touched.