All Colors at Once

The mana conductivity kept nagging at Nettle long after the initial excitement over the coat's visual effect had settled into something calmer, more curious.

Mithril was practically a superconductor for mana, that much she already knew, the same property that made it so prized for enchanted equipment across every kingdom. But the woven coat had only ever been tested with a single guild member's ordinary spellcasting, one generic type of channeled, shaped energy running through the fabric without any real variation.

"...What happens with different kinds of mana," she murmured to herself, studying the coat's silvery weave. "Not spells. Not the finished effect. Just the raw energy itself, before it's shaped into anything specific."

She started with what she had easiest access to, her own demon-attuned mana, channeling a slow, careful trickle directly into the fabric rather than shaping it into any particular spell.

The coat responded immediately, a faint, warm reddish glow spreading through the weave, the same liquid-light effect from earlier now tinted with something considerably more intense, pulsing gently in time with her own controlled breathing.

"...Interesting," she said, watching the glow settle into a steady, warm rhythm. "Demon mana runs warm. Visually, at least."

She made careful notes, then set off toward the Dwarven Republic: not for Gorthruk's strand production this time, but because she knew, from two years of collaborative projects, exactly where to find both dwarven and elven mana in close proximity. The elves who tended the Republic's shared orchard groves worked steadily alongside dwarven smiths most days, an arrangement that had grown naturally out of years of cooperative trade.

She found Gorthruk first, and asked, somewhat sheepishly, if he'd be willing to channel a small amount of raw dwarven mana into the coat, purely for testing purposes.

Gorthruk considered the unusual request, then obliged, placing a broad palm against the fabric and channeling a slow, measured trickle of his own attunement.

The coat's glow shifted immediately, the warm red fading, replaced by something deeper, steadier, a rich amber-gold that pulsed with none of the earlier urgency, slow and patient, like the glow of a properly banked forge fire.

"...Dwarven mana runs steady," Nettle noted, delighted. "Slower pulse. Warmer, but grounded, somehow."

She found one of the elven groundskeepers nearby next, explaining the experiment with genuine, infectious curiosity that quickly won over any initial hesitation. The elf channeled a careful trickle of nature-attuned mana into the coat, and this time the glow shifted entirely, a soft, verdant green, rippling in slow, organic waves across the weave, considerably gentler than either previous test, almost breathing in its rhythm.

"...Nature mana looks alive," Nettle murmured, entranced. "It actually moves like something growing, instead of just glowing."

She catalogued each result carefully, the pattern becoming genuinely fascinating the more variations she gathered, every type of mana producing its own distinct color, its own distinct rhythm, the woven mithril translating raw magical energy into something visibly, beautifully readable.

Demon mana: warm red, urgent pulse. Dwarven mana: amber-gold, slow and steady. Elven nature mana: soft green, organic, breathing waves.

She sat with her notes a long while, already anticipating the next test, the old restless curiosity fully engaged now in a way that had nothing to do with merchandise sales or business strategy at all.

"...Celestials next," she murmured, already planning the trip, genuinely eager to see what an entirely different plane's mana might look like rippling through her own woven creation. "If demon, dwarf, and elf all look this different, I can't even imagine what Celestial mana's going to do."

Nettle quickly discovered that reaching a Celestial willing to test her theory wasn't nearly as simple as her previous three visits had been.

The Celestial Realm had never been properly connected to the rest of the world the way the Demon Realm, the Human Kingdom, or the Elven Court all linked together through established roads and eventual railway lines. Arista's original breakthrough, cutting through the cloud barrier with her Damascus pickaxe, had opened a passage, but only ever a narrow one, accessible from a single point.

The Dwarven Republic's tallest peak, the same mountain range that had once hosted her fifty-meter railgun, rose high enough that its summit brushed directly against the underside of the cloud barrier itself.

"...You want to climb that," one of Nettle's own guild members said, staring up at the distant, snow-capped peak with open skepticism, "just to test what color mana comes out of a coat."

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"When you say it like that, it sounds excessive."

"It is excessive."

"I never claimed otherwise," Nettle said, already packing proper climbing gear, genuinely undeterred. "Nobody's built any kind of transportation up there. No lift, no railway extension, nothing. If I want to reach the Celestials without wings, I'm climbing, same as anyone else would have to."

The ascent took the better part of three days, spread across several logged sessions rather than one continuous push, considerably more grueling than any of her previous expeditions had prepared her for, steep, treacherous terrain, thinning air the higher she climbed, the temperature dropping steadily until her breath fogged visibly with every exhale.

"...I did not think this through properly," she admitted, roughly halfway up, pausing to catch her breath against a jagged outcropping.

She pressed on regardless, guild members she'd brought along less for gear than for actual moral support and basic safety, someone nearby to catch her at the trickiest sections. Death itself wouldn't be permanent, a respawn timer existed for exactly that reason, but redoing three full days of this particular climb from scratch was a risk she had absolutely no interest in actually testing. The peak grew steadily closer as the terrain grew steadily more brutal.

By the time she finally reached the summit, the cloud barrier stretched directly overhead, close enough to touch, the same faint, resistant haze Arista had once described cutting through with her very first Damascus pickaxe.

A narrow, carved passage remained where that original breakthrough had happened: considerably widened since, worn smooth by two years of Celestial and demon traffic passing carefully between realms, but still narrow enough that only foot traffic, not machinery, could reasonably pass through.

Nettle climbed through, emerging into open sky on the other side, and found herself standing, for the first time, on genuine Celestial ground.

A Celestial guard noticed her almost immediately, wings folding as they approached, curious rather than hostile.

"...A visitor," they said, studying her climbing gear with mild surprise. "Few make this journey without wings of their own."

"I had a good reason," Nettle said, still catching her breath from the final stretch of the climb. "I'm hoping to ask a favor. Nothing dangerous, nothing that requires much of your time. I've made a garment woven from mithril thread, and I'm curious what happens if someone channels Celestial mana through it."

The guard considered the request, genuine curiosity flickering across their expression. "...An unusual request. What have other mana types shown, thus far?"

"Demon runs warm red. Dwarven's steady amber-gold. Elven nature mana moves like something alive, soft green, breathing waves." Nettle held out the coat, still faintly gleaming even in the pale, high-altitude light. "I'd genuinely love to know what Celestial energy looks like against the same fabric."

The guard studied her a moment longer, then extended a hand toward the offered coat.

"...I confess, I am curious myself," they admitted, something like a small smile crossing their features. "Very well. Let us see."

Nettle held the coat steady, breath held despite the exhaustion of the climb, watching intently as the Celestial's palm settled against the woven mithril, a slow, careful trickle of entirely unfamiliar energy beginning to flow.

For the first few seconds, nothing happened at all.

No glow. No movement. No color.

Nettle leaned in slightly closer, genuinely intrigued despite the apparent lack of response. "...Interesting."

Then it began.

Not in the threads themselves.

In the spaces between them.

The liquid silver waves that normally rippled across the surface vanished entirely. The mithril grew so clear it seemed almost transparent, as though the fabric had stopped reflecting light and started holding it instead.

No red. No gold. No green.

White.

Not the white of paint, or stone.

More as though every color existed simultaneously, perfectly blended into something the eye struggled to properly categorize at all.

Nettle stared, breath caught somewhere in her chest. "...That's not glowing. That's not the same thing the other mana types did at all."

"Celestial energy does not manifest as a singular color," the representative said, studying the effect with quiet, patient interest of their own. "It is closer to the source from which all distinct energies eventually differentiate. What you're seeing is not one color chosen among many, but the sum of them, before separation ever occurs."

"...That's genuinely beautiful," Nettle breathed, watching the fabric hold its strange, perfect white light, the effect settling into something steady, almost serene compared to the warm urgency of demon mana or the organic breathing of elven energy. "And completely different from anything I've seen so far."

She reached out carefully, running a finger along the fabric's now nearly transparent surface, watching the white light shift subtly with the motion, still holding, still perfectly, impossibly blended.

"...Demon mana runs warm. Dwarven's steady. Elven feels alive." She was already reaching for her notebook, hands slightly unsteady with genuine excitement despite the exhausting climb that had gotten her here. "And Celestial mana looks like everything, all at once, before it's decided what it wants to become."

The representative watched her scribble notes with visible, gentle amusement. "You climbed an entire mountain range for this observation."

"I climbed an entire mountain range," Nettle confirmed, still staring at the impossibly perfect white light rippling faintly across her coat, "and I would absolutely do it again."

She held the fabric a moment longer, watching the strange, unified light finally begin to fade as the representative's channeled energy ran its course, the mithril slowly returning to its ordinary, silvery shimmer.

"...Thank you," she said, genuine, meaning it fully. "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like that."

"Few outside our realm ever do," the representative said, something quietly pleased in their tone. "I confess, I found the experiment interesting myself. It is not often our own nature is reflected back to us in quite so tangible a form."

Nettle carefully folded the coat away, already imagining the four distinct results laid out side by side, warm red, steady gold, breathing green, and now this, impossible, perfect white, already composing, in her head, exactly how she might one day weave all four into a single, extraordinary garment.

"...I think I might be building something considerably bigger than a coat," she murmured, mostly to herself, already turning back toward the long, difficult climb down. "Worth every step to find that out."