B3 Chapter 392: A Cycle; an End, Finale

Under the guidance of an alien will, Kaius cycled. Together with the rest of his team, he’d suffered under the discomfort of his Authority being overruled.

There was a holiness in the air that offset some of the unease, instinctively crawling up his spine. As the Ascendant herself had said, it was an ancient rite, and Kaius could feel the weight of tradition deep in his bones. A mirror, to the halls of a long dead people they sat in.

It was bittersweet — to have the unvarnished truth of Ascendancy thrust so blatantly into their faces. How would it feel, he wondered, to outlast everything you had ever lived and loved?

The building was grand, but it was empty — almost desolate. He assumed the temple had been designed for tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands.

Now there was only them, sat in a meditative circle under the brightest point of light that shone down from the ceiling fire above. The silence was broken only by their breathing, and an arrhythmic hum from Xenanra bored its way through flesh and bone to settle on the soul itself.

It was hypnotic, lulling him into a strange juxtaposition between focus and fugue. Within that haze, he delved deep within himself — guiding his essence in a cycle as Xenanra showed him the way.

It was like she was right there, side by side in the soul-space alongside him.

“You must use your intent and your will,” she had said. “Much like you split and guide your mana when inscribing, or how you have infused your soul to form your bonds in the past. Think of this as similar, albeit with a different purpose. Rather than a pool, imagine there is only your ever-dissipating regeneration. You must keep it steady; wrap it in a firm hand.”

That step alone had been difficult for him, for how new he was to wielding his Authority. Under her guidance, he flared his aspects bright and sought the mote in their center. It sparked and tingled in his grip — he could taste it with the same synesthesia he felt for mana. Yet rather than notes of war and battle, or life and growth, there was only the knowledge and the sense that it was his, encapsulating all that he was.

Setting it in a steady grip, he followed his teacher.

“Remember the wheel,” she said, “from outside to in. First the rim, then the spokes, then the center. Body, mind, soul, then suffuse through the self. Guide your essence to Corporus.”

It had been almost impossible — the multitasking required to flare his aspects, wrap his essence in Authority, apply enough pressure that it couldn’t dissipate, and then infuse it into Corporus? It was demanding enough that, even with his Glass Mind, he slipped and faltered.

The mote flickered, threatened to disperse and be regenerated once more.

Each time, Kaius had to swallow his revulsion as Xenanra’s grip settled over him — oil sliding between his very pores to force his movements just so, stabilising it once more.

Then the essence hit his Aspect, and he felt it wash through his pillar — his body; his actions and drive. He remembered every aching wound and burning heave all at once.

Caught off guard, his grip on his Authority trembled as his essence vanished into Corporus.

Had he done it right? Did the essence fill it that utterly?

The briefest of moments passed, and he noticed the mote reappear — now suspended directly above his first Aspect.

He gasped at the titanic effort of it, wondering how anyone was ever supposed to do more than just this. Even with an Ascendant’s guidance, he struggled. This could take days

Xenanra plucked something within him — a pinch to his soul that felt like getting slapped on the back of the head. She tisked at him audibly.

“You are a fool,” she had said. “The speed with which all of you progress is remarkable — not the fastest I have ever seen — that would be impressive, given how little resources and knowledge is present on your world — but still in the upper reaches. I’ve taught people who took weeks just to suffuse their first pillar, even with my guidance. There have been many more who failed to flare their fire. We move on. You can do it.”

He did as she willed. Under her guidance, Kaius directed his essence mote counterclockwise until it rushed in through the peak of his Pillar Mentis.

As it filled the construct, he was flooded with indecision — a thousand choices, of every moment of impulse, every lesson learned, and every desire he’d ever had to strive and succeed. In that whirling moment, he grappled with this Authority.

Xenanra held him steady, until he firmed his will once more.

His essence shifted again — drenching Animus, where he was flooded with the joy and exaltation of life; of the richness of meat after slaving over a burning fire for hours; of the sweetness of wine drunk at the end of a hard day; of the singing blood during the hardest of battles. Every challenge and every triumph, every moment he remembered why he pushed so hard and found the satisfaction that he did.

From there, he floundered. The last step was the self — but what did that mean? As far as he knew his pillars were him.

Xenanra showed him the way, guiding his vision inwards, down below his pillars, to the flame of the soul — a twin to the fire of his aspects.

“The self,” she said reverently. “Guide your essence down. Let it dissipate through the heat of your being, utterly — and when it is fully dispersed, create the channel through which it will flow back to the outer edge of the wheel.”

With a steady hand, she firmed his resolve and led him on. His essence moved through the two perpendicular rings of his skill-shards, through his class construct — a weave created from what he now assumed to be something akin to essence — and then to his deepest self.

Wrapping his authority around his central flame, his essence dispersed and fuelled the fire. His soul surged white and hot.

There was no vision, no sense of impressions — only the surety of knowledge of who he was; what he wanted, and how he would get it.

Following his teacher, he spun his authority into a funnel around his soul. As dispersed flakes of essence rose like embers, they were caught — directed upwards into the flame of his Aspects. Stoked and tempered by the movement, it gathered once more, a mote hovering in wait.

A cycle.

And so they continued. With every revolution, Xenanra’s influence softened and retreated, only prodding him when he faltered; reminding him of what to do when he hesitated.

Again and again he cycled, awash in a moment of sensation and revelation.

Until, all at once, he was doing it alone and unguided.

As his grip grew weary and his authority strained, he saw very little change within him for the effort. His aspects were unchanged, and his soul looked as it ever had.

He persisted, knowing that the benefits would come in the future, until the exertion finally grew too much and his grip slipped entirely.

A chime sounded in his mind, and Kaius snapped his eyes open with a gasp, seeing the notification that sprawled across his vision.

**Ding! Significant Feat of Strength performed under Observation. You have been awarded an Honour: The Wheel Turns**

An honour.

Kaius grinned, though he didn’t dive into its description immediately. Wanting to check on his team, he looked around. Their circle was still silent and steady, the very air weighed down by the presence of Xenanra’s authority as she hummed that hypnotic note endlessly.

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Porkchop and Kenva still sat with their eyes closed, focused frowns on their faces — but Ianmus watched him from across their circle, a wide grin spilling across his face.

Kaius scowled good naturedly, narrowing his eyes at the man. The mage had come first — bastard had probably gotten the bonus.

It wasn’t too much of a shock — Ianmus always had been the most experienced with energy weaving of all of them. While his glyphs were complex and dense, his casting style was one focused on form, the runes themselves shaping the intent needed. Ianmus’s free-casting, sorcery, and key-seals relied much more on a similar style of control to what they’d used to cycle.

“I won.” Ianmus mouthed. His lips were easy to read, thanks to enhanced senses and quick cognition.

Kaius cocked his brow, giving the mage a look. “Bonus?” he questioned.

Ianmus nodded, grinning wildly. “First in your cohort. Check it out.”

The Wheel Turns:

Honour

Junior: if you wish to Ascend, you MUST dare.

Awarded to those who successfully learn to cycle. Provides a Minute increase to control of Authority. +5 all stats, +3% all stats.

Kaius withheld his desire to whistle. The additional stats were nice, and he could only assume that more control over Authority was a good thing — Ianmus had made off handsomely.

Still, what most impressed him was that the Honour was available to anyone who learnt cycling. The more of that kind they discovered, the more they could encourage others to pursue them — and nurture exactly the kind of path takers that would help the world survive the integration.