58 – Ritualism

Draw the necessary energy from the island itself.

She could maybe manage that. But of the major magical disciplines, ritualism was by far her weakest—and certainly her worst among the three fields Osmian was testing her on. Vivisari had been an accomplished spellcaster for obvious reasons: her adventures against the Cataclysms had forged her into such. Likewise, a decade of campaigns had given her plenty of rare materials and experience in enchanting by constantly making legendary gear for herself and her teammates.

But rituals? Vivisari had never concerned herself with rituals. She had more experience dealing with their catastrophic fallout than creating ones herself. At least a few of the Cataclysms had spawned from rituals gone wrong—or right, depending on perspective. The Umbral Regent’s ascension into Lichhood, for example, but also some of the more grotesque of the Flesh-Weaver’s work, and, of course, the Shattered Oracle’s glimpse into the unknowable and his subsequent madness. Vivi wouldn’t be surprised if the Colossus and the Maw were results of rituals themselves, though it was conceivable they were simply ancient mega-fauna. The game’s lore had never concretely defined their origin.

“Fuel the enchantments using the flora of the island,” Vivi said, “but without killing anything, I assume?”

Osmian snorted. “Yes, the orbital enchantment should persist indefinitely. That was implied.”

Vivi didn’t think he needed to be snarky about it, but she knew by now that this man wasn’t very pleasant. She wouldn’t stoop to his level and return the attitude.

“I expect that will be outside of my capabilities, then,” she admitted.

Osmian paused, then blinked at her. “Truly?” he asked quizzically. “You say so definitively?”

“I know very little of ritualism. The basics, yes, and I could compose the structural elements of the ritual, but when it comes to the conceptual, the decisions and guidance there…no. I don’t have much confidence.”

“Conceptual elements?” Saffra asked. “What does that mean?”

Osmian shot an annoyed glance at the catgirl, and Vivi summoned and raised her staff in a vaguely threatening manner. The ghostly archmage wisely chose to let the interruption pass, though Saffra colored, probably not having meant to interject—she was just curious.

“Rituals are considerably less ordered than enchantments and spell circles,” Vivi answered. “You haven’t taken a class on them? They aren’t in the curriculum?”

“Higher up, but not for the early years, no. They weren’t even talked about in general terms.”

“I would hope not,” Osmian huffed. “Ritualistic magic carries far greater potential for catastrophe than ordered magic. Even a low-level mage could call down ruin, with nothing but basic knowledge. It’s well-guarded for a reason.” Lifting his chin, he continued, “That said, the potential for any working of wonder is greater—those of noble purpose, too. Merely look at the Institute: no mage could lift an island and keep it afloat for more than a millennium with their own mana.”

Saffra hesitated at his words, then shared a look with Vivi. Vivi could intuit what she was thinking—could Vivi do such a thing?

Probably not. Not in a single cast. A millennium was a long time, and the Institute’s campus quite large. Even she had a limited mana pool.

Answering Saffra’s question, Vivi said, “Creating the framework of a ritual requires familiarity with spell design and the runic language of High Arcana—that’s what the ‘ordered’ half of a ritual is. But in the best of cases, those designs are just a skeleton; the instructions might not be strictly obeyed, like with spell casting and enchantments.”

Osmian snorted. “By an amateur’s perspective, perhaps.”

Vivi almost sniped something back, because the man’s smug attitude was getting on her nerves, but she reined herself in and considered. Osmian genuinely might be one of the most capable—non-insane, non-cultist—ritualists in history. In this domain, his arrogance had been earned.

She gestured for him to expand, and he paused, grimaced, and did so. Though with an impatient tone, he quickly explained the basics:

“There is the ordered design, yes, written in High Arcana. But there are also the conceptual elements that guide the ritual’s effect, and arguably more so. Foremost: all rituals are invoked with a sacrifice. This sacrifice must have weight, and will influence how the ritual manifests. This is why so many cultists use blood sacrifices.” He wrinkled his nose. “A shortcut, but an effective one. Life is heavy and in all cases provides ample fuel. In any sacrifice, you must have conceptual dominion over your target, what you are drawing energy from. Dominion over, for example, a man strapped to an altar with your knife at his throat is easy to understand: control cannot be questioned. Such a sacrifice will always be accepted. Though there are more conceptual dominions to claim than the bloody ones preferred by cultists.”

A sudden realization hit Vivi. “Like that of a founder of an institution and the sworn mages within.”

Osmian paused, then turned and eyed her. “Indeed. That is certainly a dominion of sorts.”

“This trial obviously mirrors your lifting of the Institute,” Vivi explained. “I was wondering how you fuel those enchantments. You want me to drain the plant life on the island…you drain the mages of the Institute, don’t you? That’s where the ongoing power comes from.”

Saffra’s eyes widened, and she looked nervously at Osmian.

Osmian scoffed. “You think it some nefarious plot? The ritual only targets full Magi or higher, girl, and siphons those idling with nearly full mana pools. They are aware of it. Or should be.”

Vivi was impressed. “That’s a sophisticated ritual, if it targets so precisely and never goes astray.” And, knowing how magic went astray, that meant draining unsuspecting mages to a husk in the best of cases.

“By the standards of an amateur, perhaps,” he sniffed. Then he cleared his throat and shifted in place. “Well, no, it was a significant working even for me—one of my crowning achievements. Nevertheless. Such a thing is more than possible; rituals are only unpredictable to the unpracticed.”

Vivi worked hard not to roll her eyes. “I see. We were discussing dominion…?”

Osmian glared at her. “I’m glad you’re using my limited lifespan to provide a lecture on basic ritualism.” But he continued nonetheless. “Dominion. You may sacrifice anything you have conceptual control, or dominance, over, though the less distinct and undeniable that control, the more likely something will go wrong. Rituals are fundamentally wild magic. All magic is, but as your master indicated, some forms less so. You may establish a complex framework in High Arcana if you desire, but in the end, a ritual’s design may be as simple as this.”

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He traced his finger into the air, and a rune appeared.

Summon.

“Fuel that with sufficient power, and make a sacrifice and proper invocation, and a ritual would succeed—it would even vaguely align to your mental intent, regardless of formal instructions. Though what form it might take exactly, I shudder to imagine. I would advise against giving such free rein to magic,” he said dryly. “Magic is not evil. Neither is it good. It is wondrous. And what is wondrous to man is often horrible beyond comprehension.”

He waved his hand, dispelling the glowing symbol.

“In the best of cases, the guiding framework you lay down is a suggestion. A [Fireball] will always produce a fireball, and of roughly predictable size, velocity, and power. A mage’s self-formed mana is the most docile version of magical energy to work with, hence the inherent stability of spell casting—and the stability of the Institute’s ritual, for that matter, since it intentionally uses mana as fuel.” He smiled. “Stealing a living being’s life force is far more unwieldy. Plants, lacking a mind, less so…but still, vital energy is many, many times more prone to rampage. A trial is not supposed to be easy, is it?

“Now, enough wasting my time,” Osmian said. “Begin.”