He tried to move, to simply evade these clumsy thoughtforms rather than waste effort and precious real-time milliseconds subduing them, but found his legs ensnared, monstrous serpents made of iron sand wrapped around them, biting his thighs.
At that moment, he felt her presence, and the next moment, saw her thoughtform. It was identical to her real appearance, lacking even an iota of self-perception-induced changes. That alone was proof in Third's mind that he was dealing with an equal.
He tried to speak, but found himself choking out a voiceless wheeze. The very air was forming a maw and clamping down on his neck. With a mental effort he willed sound to come out of his mouth regardless: "I am impressed-"
His voice was carried away on a blast of pressure that accompanied Her words as she interrupted him: "I CAN'T SAY THE SAME. HARVESTING MORTALS - SERIOUSLY? IS THAT THE LOWNESS OF THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE US?"
Another presence loomed. Third knew this one, too. The Primordial Self. He grinned, thinking that she must have been drawing on it for power and that her control must have slipped when she reacted to his intrusion.
Then, it appeared, right behind the Thinking Self; not a monstrosity, but a primitive, naked, skull-masked version of the Newman Elder's physical body. An uncanny intelligence burned in its eyes, one that absolutely did not belong there.
"YOU DARE TO INTRUDE? WHAT A FOOL," came a booming voice full of amusement and derision, pressing down on him from all directions. "WATCH. WATCH THE ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY WITH WHICH I REIGN OVER THE VAST EMPIRE THAT IS I. SHOULD I WILL IT, YOUR AVATAR IN THIS PLACE WILL SIMPLY CEASE TO BE; I CAN ERASE YOU WITH A WORD."
The thoughtform of Zelsys Newman's Thinking Self spread her arms, and at once, the desert became a vast plain of bronze and iron. Rivers of molten magma flowed through it, and spires of glass stretched to the storm-cast heavens. With a snap of her fingers, the mindscape shifted once again, this time to a bitterly cold plain of glacierglass with no discernible landmarks in sight. Another snap, and it was back to the desert. The entire time, Third exerted every iota of mental power he could in an effort to reach something, anything in Newman's mind, but no matter how he tried, it was like running in place. This was impossible, he couldn't have fallen into a mental trap like some amateur. There had to be some secret technique at play.
His shock, in a lapse of self-control, showed through on his thoughtform. Third instantly regained his composure, but Newman had already noticed.
"You think there's a trick. I will disappoint you, and you will think that I am lying: There is none. Every muscle, every memory, every cell, every thought, I rule myself in full. You doomed yourself the moment you stepped into my domain," she said, this time speaking through her Thinking Self's thoughtform.
Despite no longer bellowing at him, her words still pressed down on him, carrying an overpowering sense of superiority.
In an instant, Third saw before him a tower, vast and monumental. Its heights stretched beyond the clouds, and it stood within a bottomless pit. Its surface of black iron looked to be wrought of countless fragments, and glyphs of inlaid bronze sprawled over each of its facets, shifting in perpetuity. They described everything from surface thoughts to personality impulses. He knew what the obelisk was; the metaphysical spindle around which one's mind and very soul were wound. A thoughtform representation of one's spiritual and mental core, the Seat of the Self.
Violence. All of it was tinged with violence. If he didn't know any better, he would have feared that the obelisk would upturn itself and run him through. This... This wasn't a Pseudo-Truth. It was just a Truth, in full. This monstrous woman had attained a Truth of Violence. No... Not quite. There was something more, something animalistic and primal, but Third couldn't comprehend it, in no small part because he focus wasn't on trying to comprehend his foe's Truth. He already had his own, it was a fool's errand.
She had willingly brought him here, arrogantly meaning to mock him by placing her greatest vulnerability within sight but out of reach, but he didn't need to be able to move to attack. He just needed to see it with his mind's eye, to find a fault, and Third had learned to find faults in even the most monolithic of selves.
Only... Wherever Third looked, the monolith's surface turned to a perfect smoothness with neither a crack nor a scratch. Before he could find a weakness, certainly in the last second before his victory, it was snatched away from him and Third found himself brought back to where he started. He raised his arms, forming a glyph using them as well as his fingers, intending to carry out a suicide attack to at least ensure that his foe would end up in a worse state that he would. Newman's Thinking Self raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, Third's arms turned into serpents. He knew this feeling, this was the nature of her aura acting on his thoughtform. Beyond the bizarre effects, Third couldn't understand how exactly she could just impose it upon him. He didn't feel it pushing against him, his defences never once clashed with it, there was no conflict at all. It made no sense.
Yet more thoughtforms made themselves manifest in rapid succession. The dunes behind Zelsys Newman shifted and out of them arose a giant snake with a body of sand and a skull of gleaming iron. It lashed out at him, only to freeze in time at the raising of Newman's hand. She brought out her blade, seemingly summoning it out of nowhere, only to let it go. It twisted into a monstrous, long-tailed woman made of metal. In the same manner, she pointed her left hand up and pulled the lever on that ridiculous gun of hers, firing a bolt of lightning into the heavens. A bolt descended in response, and a man made of exquisitely carved armour took form, the only flesh upon his countenance being the upper half of his head. A stern, hard face, with steely, green eyes and slicked-back blonde hair. A long coat and peaked cap made of lightning took form around him.
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
He tried to move, to simply evade these clumsy thoughtforms rather than waste effort and precious real-time milliseconds subduing them, but found his legs ensnared, monstrous serpents made of iron sand wrapped around them, biting his thighs.
At that moment, he felt her presence, and the next moment, saw her thoughtform. It was identical to her real appearance, lacking even an iota of self-perception-induced changes. That alone was proof in Third's mind that he was dealing with an equal.
He tried to speak, but found himself choking out a voiceless wheeze. The very air was forming a maw and clamping down on his neck. With a mental effort he willed sound to come out of his mouth regardless: "I am impressed-"
His voice was carried away on a blast of pressure that accompanied Her words as she interrupted him: "I CAN'T SAY THE SAME. HARVESTING MORTALS - SERIOUSLY? IS THAT THE LOWNESS OF THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE US?"
Another presence loomed. Third knew this one, too. The Primordial Self. He grinned, thinking that she must have been drawing on it for power and that her control must have slipped when she reacted to his intrusion.
Then, it appeared, right behind the Thinking Self; not a monstrosity, but a primitive, naked, skull-masked version of the Newman Elder's physical body. An uncanny intelligence burned in its eyes, one that absolutely did not belong there.
"YOU DARE TO INTRUDE? WHAT A FOOL," came a booming voice full of amusement and derision, pressing down on him from all directions. "WATCH. WATCH THE ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY WITH WHICH I REIGN OVER THE VAST EMPIRE THAT IS I. SHOULD I WILL IT, YOUR AVATAR IN THIS PLACE WILL SIMPLY CEASE TO BE; I CAN ERASE YOU WITH A WORD."
The thoughtform of Zelsys Newman's Thinking Self spread her arms, and at once, the desert became a vast plain of bronze and iron. Rivers of molten magma flowed through it, and spires of glass stretched to the storm-cast heavens. With a snap of her fingers, the mindscape shifted once again, this time to a bitterly cold plain of glacierglass with no discernible landmarks in sight. Another snap, and it was back to the desert. The entire time, Third exerted every iota of mental power he could in an effort to reach something, anything in Newman's mind, but no matter how he tried, it was like running in place. This was impossible, he couldn't have fallen into a mental trap like some amateur. There had to be some secret technique at play.
His shock, in a lapse of self-control, showed through on his thoughtform. Third instantly regained his composure, but Newman had already noticed.
"You think there's a trick. I will disappoint you, and you will think that I am lying: There is none. Every muscle, every memory, every cell, every thought, I rule myself in full. You doomed yourself the moment you stepped into my domain," she said, this time speaking through her Thinking Self's thoughtform.
Despite no longer bellowing at him, her words still pressed down on him, carrying an overpowering sense of superiority.
In an instant, Third saw before him a tower, vast and monumental. Its heights stretched beyond the clouds, and it stood within a bottomless pit. Its surface of black iron looked to be wrought of countless fragments, and glyphs of inlaid bronze sprawled over each of its facets, shifting in perpetuity. They described everything from surface thoughts to personality impulses. He knew what the obelisk was; the metaphysical spindle around which one's mind and very soul were wound. A thoughtform representation of one's spiritual and mental core, the Seat of the Self.
Violence. All of it was tinged with violence. If he didn't know any better, he would have feared that the obelisk would upturn itself and run him through. This... This wasn't a Pseudo-Truth. It was just a Truth, in full. This monstrous woman had attained a Truth of Violence. No... Not quite. There was something more, something animalistic and primal, but Third couldn't comprehend it, in no small part because he focus wasn't on trying to comprehend his foe's Truth. He already had his own, it was a fool's errand.
She had willingly brought him here, arrogantly meaning to mock him by placing her greatest vulnerability within sight but out of reach, but he didn't need to be able to move to attack. He just needed to see it with his mind's eye, to find a fault, and Third had learned to find faults in even the most monolithic of selves.
Only... Wherever Third looked, the monolith's surface turned to a perfect smoothness with neither a crack nor a scratch. Before he could find a weakness, certainly in the last second before his victory, it was snatched away from him and Third found himself brought back to where he started. He raised his arms, forming a glyph using them as well as his fingers, intending to carry out a suicide attack to at least ensure that his foe would end up in a worse state that he would. Newman's Thinking Self raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, Third's arms turned into serpents. He knew this feeling, this was the nature of her aura acting on his thoughtform. Beyond the bizarre effects, Third couldn't understand how exactly she could just impose it upon him. He didn't feel it pushing against him, his defences never once clashed with it, there was no conflict at all. It made no sense.
Yet more thoughtforms made themselves manifest in rapid succession. The dunes behind Zelsys Newman shifted and out of them arose a giant snake with a body of sand and a skull of gleaming iron. It lashed out at him, only to freeze in time at the raising of Newman's hand. She brought out her blade, seemingly summoning it out of nowhere, only to let it go. It twisted into a monstrous, long-tailed woman made of metal. In the same manner, she pointed her left hand up and pulled the lever on that ridiculous gun of hers, firing a bolt of lightning into the heavens. A bolt descended in response, and a man made of exquisitely carved armour took form, the only flesh upon his countenance being the upper half of his head. A stern, hard face, with steely, green eyes and slicked-back blonde hair. A long coat and peaked cap made of lightning took form around him.
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
