New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live

“Like I said, magic is the lifeblood of the world we live in. And like every entity in the universe, if it has blood, the blood flows through channels. People have veins, and the world has the same, but with a different name and nature.

“We call them Ley lines. They carry the energy of the world. But the Ley lines aren’t something of physical nature. They are more of an intangible thing. And they traverse the world, under its surface, reaching the highest of heights, and the deepest of depths, feeding it with the life energy it needs to sustain itself.”

Astaroth listened with rapt attention. He may not be much of a thinker, but there was nothing in the world he liked more than learning new things.

Unfortunately for him, what Aravelle was saying to him was such a foreign concept to him he was having a hard time understanding the implications.

“Wait…” he interrupted the Elf.

“If it feeds the world, then wouldn’t tapping into these lay lines be safe for anyone? Don’t they carry mana around?”

The interruption didn’t anger Aravelle. He had mentored many mages over his millennia of life, after all.

This wasn’t the first time he was asked this question, or the first time he would answer it.

“The Ley lines don’t carry mana, young one. They carry an energy much purer, and much more powerful than mana.”

Astaroth looked at him with his head tilted slightly.

“So, Aether?” he asked.

Aravelle looked at Astaroth and frowned.

“How do you know of Aether? This isn’t something a fledgling like you should know of.”

Astaroth’s lips pulled into a cocky smile.

He then imbued the Ad Astra with Aether, just to show his ability to use it.

Aravelle looked at the blade coated in Aether and became silent.

He got up and started spinning around Astaroth, staring at the blade.

“Although very crude, this application of Aether is unerringly efficient, for someone your age… I wonder what the world is thinking, letting a youngster like you tap into its most precious resource…”

Astaroth raised an eyebrow.

“Uh… I’m not tapping into the world’s Aether, Aravelle. I’m using my own…”

Aravelle’s steps stopped abruptly, as he looked at Astaroth like he was the most incredulous thing he had ever seen.

“Your own? I don’t sense a shred of Aether from you, boy. How could you use a resource you do not have access to?”

“By… purifying it?” he responded, unsure how someone of Aravelle calibre in magic didn’t know this.

Aravelle stepped in front of him.

Astaroth felt a powerful and invasive wave of Aether wash through him, scrutinizing every nook and cranny of his being. He felt slightly peeved at the invasiveness of the scan.

“Wow… You really left nothing up to your imagination, did you?” he commented, making an angry pout.

“You don’t have an Aetheric Seed, young man. Are you lying to me?”

Aravelle’s face was turning into one of anger. He couldn’t believe what Astaroth was claiming.

“I’m not lying, though. I really just purify the mana, and compress it back into Aether… Is that such a difficult thing to believe?”

“Young man. The level of mana perception one would need to purify mana goes beyond masterful. You would need a perception of mana on a fundamental level. A point that no one has ever reached. Are you meaning to tell me you have reached this?”

Astaroth was unsure of how to respond.

He had the skill of perfect mana sense ever since he had developed an ability for magic. That hadn’t been something he needed to develop.

“I’m not sure what you want me to respond, Aravelle. I can see the mana particles very well, and sense them inside me perfectly. That’s how I started purifying the mana back into Aether. The cost is astronomical, though. Wasteful, if you want my opinion.”

Astaroth felt the hair on his neck suddenly stand, and he activated Thousand Thoughts.

As he did, he saw a needle of quasi-invisible mana fly toward him. It was aimed at his head.

He wouldn’t even call it an attack, as it was incredibly weak. But he could feel like it wasn’t meant to damage his body.

The flavour was more of the psychic variety.

Astaroth pulsed his mana outward, ordering the ambient mana in the room to deviate the needle away from him, and it obeyed. The deviation was ever so slight, barely moving far enough so it wouldn’t hit him, but it was more than enough.

Aravelle looked at him with wide eyes.

He could see mana, just as much as Astaroth, and decipher its nature as well. But there was something about how Astaroth reacted that baffled him.

“How did you know to push it away? And why with the ambient mana?” he asked.

“I saw it was a psychic attack. I assumed it was locked on my mana signature, given you aimed it at my head, so it wouldn’t react to my mana. So I coaxed the ambient mana into doing it for me. But why did you attack me?”

The move confused Astaroth. If Aravelle was trying to teach him about a higher concept of magic, then why suddenly attack him?

“Boy. Psychic magic is barely visible on the magic scale. It is why psychics are a mage’s bane. You say you saw the attack?”

“Yeah. It was shaped like a thin but long needle. It was hardly visible, though. Like a needle of glass, in a basin of water.”

Aravelle looked at him, dumbstruck.

“So you weren’t lying. This is unheard of… Why has the world gifted someone with the ability to sense its lifeblood so precisely? Just how bad is the impeding future?” Aravelle muttered as he started pacing around the room.

“Um… Aravelle? You good, man?” Astaroth asked, watching the man pace pensively.

Aravelle didn’t stop his pacing, muttering to himself. Nothing ever happened for nothing in the world.

If the world had suddenly gifted a person with the equivalent of the holy grail of magic abilities, it was a terrible omen.

“I knew the demons were trying to come back… But this… This means it’s going to be far worse… Are our efforts going to be in vain?” Aravelle whispered to himself, as he circled the sofas.

‘What now?’ Astaroth wondered.