A lot of Pathbearers will tell you that trying to take a gate, a city, or even a town while the local Lord is still alive is probably the most miserable experience you can have in war. I beg to differ. I think the most miserable experience you can have is taking the gate, only to find that the locals still hate you.

A quick crash course for all you new Pathbearers out there: taking a gate or city or town or anything that comes with a mana core usually results in a complicated, messy process under the title of Synchronization.

What is Synchronization? Well, since a location’s mana core typically doesn’t start awakened and can’t guide its own development, it usually needs to latch on to a Lord, one person, one Pathbearer to shape its growth and concentrate its mana. And mana cores often output a hell of a lot more power than any individual Pathbearer does. So you can imagine how miserable trying to take a location is when the local mana core is constantly smashing you with an earthquake, a tornado, and a tsunami of flesh-eating eels all at the same time.

Connected to the term Synchronization is the term Desynchronization. This frequently happens when everyone within the core stops thinking of the local Lord as actually being the Lord. The easy way to do this is simply by killing all the people aside from the Lord, or enough of them that morale completely collapses.

It sounds simple, but functionally, it’s not that easy to do since, well, you have to push all the way into the core. That usually results in 10-to-1 attritional losses, favoring the defender.

The other easy way is to simply destroy the local Lord’s good name, to make him seem weak or incompetent or unable to protect them. Understand this: people shape a location and its skills, and if at any point all the people collectively decide that their current Lord isn’t up to the task, he or she will start experiencing Desynchronization. As in, the mana binding them to the core will withdraw and the mana core will turn to an unattuned state. If left there, the mana core will then proceed to the next stage, mana decay, in which all the skills it has accrued and all facilities, environments, and other developments it achieved will collapse.

So back to the problem at hand: you’ve taken a place, and now you’re trying to anoint a new Lord. But if there are any survivors left over, they might not consider the one you appoint to be the new Lord, so it doesn’t work. So you have to get rid of all of them first and move in your people, except that usually completely cripples the city because there’s not nearly enough people, not enough population, not enough history, not enough development, not enough changes. The core enters a state of decay as well. Remember if it has mana, it’s shaped by legends, feats, achievements, and struggles just like a Pathbearer. And when you stop being able to surpass your previous struggles, well, you start decaying.

So, weirdly enough, the most dangerous time to be a Lord is right after you kill the previous one. Of course, this isn’t a problem if you just intend to destroy the place and leave. After all, if your only intention is to deny a location to your enemy, things become a lot more simple.

–Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage

81 (I)

Core

Adam drove his Wings of the Starhawk into the last raven’s face. The spy screamed as intense heat seared into his eyes, and that was enough to distract him from the struggle—enough for Adam to form a final set of hydrokinetic hands and drive his curved stellarite saber through the man’s throat.

As the raven gurgled, Adam took a step back, out of breath, and shot the dying bastard three more times with his Veilpiercers. And then he shot the raven’s corpse again and spat on him for good measure. “Felling rat bastard thought he was going to sneak up on me,” Adam muttered.

Skybearer’s Strength (Adept) > 61

Tactical Overseer > 79

Eight. They had eight snipers in the area, all firing at him with Ascendants knew what kind of weapon. Adam stared down at the not-ballista the agent had been using. It was long-barreled, but it also didn’t seem to have any arrows anywhere. No bolts either. It had something of a large box connected to its underside that fell out during the fighting, and it ended up spilling small metallic fillings all over the ground. The overall mechanics remained a mystery to him, but what he could tell, however, was that it had a trigger, and its scope offered a variety of zooming options. It didn’t exactly have a Farsight Enchantment like his Spellstring did, but it worked to a similar—albeit lesser—degree.

And for the umpteenth time, Adam wished that he had Shiv’s Cloak. “Damn System-favorite Deathless bastard gets everything,” he grumbled. From nearby, there came a whimper, and he noticed that the room the raven had set up as his firing perch still had people inside. People huddled against the wall, a well-dressed man wearing a waistcoat with what looked like two slaves by his side. Adam regarded them for a moment, and then he fired two shots.

All three cried out, but the slave collars shattered, as did the walls behind them. Dust blew through the air, and as it cleared, they stared at the Young Lord, all with their eyes wide, mouths open.

“You two,” he said, pointing at the slaves. “Run! Find a safe place! You,” he pointed at the man, “face down on the ground, and think about what you’ve done.”

“Me?” the well-dressed man whimpered.

“Yes, you. You’re a Pathbearer, no? Or Pathless?”

The man looked confused. “I’m a P-Pathbearer.”

“Then what are you doing with slaves? Why are you debasing your own skills, disfiguring your own struggle?” Adam spat on the ground, and glared at the man with disgust. “I’m not going to kill you, but you sicken me. This entire place sickens me.” And then he paused. “But that’s fine. Because soon, it won’t be my problem anymore. And you won’t be Compact’s people either.”

“What?” the man muttered.

“Gate Lord Confriga is going to die soon,” Adam sneered. “Tell everyone you know that. Spread the word through the building. Gate Theborn is under new management.”

The Young Lord nocked an arrow. But on an impulse, he shaped two more hydrokinetic limbs and snatched the strange weapon the raven had been using. As he fired at the inverted obsidian tower some four kilometers away, a rift opened, granting him access to a dimensional gateway—one that he promptly flew across. All without ever blowing through the walls or windows of the building.

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And there was a point of pride for Adam. Unlike Shiv, he didn’t need to break everything to get the job done. He was neat, he was effective, and once more, he was about to complete a critical objective. But before that, his heart hardened. He needed to see if Valor was… well, alive might not be the right word for Valor.

Yet, as soon as Adam emerged from the other rift, he found himself surprised. There, he found Valor dragging the Graven Cage behind him with a corrosive leash. Valor had retrieved the Necromantic construct from Adam’s dimensional pathway before the Young Lord even got back. More importantly, Valor wasn’t dead. Relief washed through Adam, though he still examined the Legendary Pathbearer. There was a deep smear along the back of Valor’s skull, but it seemed to be residue leftover from the projectile more than anything.

“Valor!” Adam cried out. He flew towards his so-called mentor.

“I’m fine,” Valor shouted. He sounded more annoyed than usual. Adam squinted, using his Seer of Horizons on Valor’s wound. Just a smudge after all.

“I’m fine,” he reiterated. “My body is made of harder materials than most in this world, and my Toughness is Adept right now. And it wasn’t a direct hit. Now, focus. We still have a deed to finish.”

As he touched down, the Young Lord realized something. Valor was embarrassed. He was embarrassed about getting shot in the back of the head. Adam laughed. He had ammunition to use against Valor now. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re all right. It would be a very sorrowful thing if a powerful Pathbearer like yourself was brought low by an act of devious subterfuge, at the hands of Adepts—well, maybe Low Masters at best.”

“Adam,” Valor said. There was a low growl in the old Pathbearer’s voice. “Don’t.”

“I’m just expressing my worry,” Adam said, raising his hands innocently.

Valor positioned the cage right next to the elevator’s adamantine shaft again.

“It would have been such a pity to tell everyone you died after plunging into the molten rivers,” Adam moaned dramatically.

Valor looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Adam, you’ve been spending too much time with Shiv. You sound like him.”

The Young Lord grimaced. Valor knew exactly what to say to make even mocking him unpalatable.

Despite the banter, Adam’s paranoia was still burning hot. Immediately, he pulled out his rapier, and its edge flashed with gleaming light. As the brightness faded, a clone of Adam appeared, followed by another, followed by another, and soon a small contingent of Adams were holding the perimeter, watching, distracting, their armor serving as a bulwark against any potential snipers.

“Now, let’s start,” Adam said.

The spatial magic he layered over the shaft earlier had completely dissipated in the meantime. That meant he needed to start over. As he did, though, he constantly summoned new clones of himself to replace the ones that faded, and they helped him set up his Dimensionality spells faster. Valor hummed with approval, and Adam simply shrugged. “I should have thought about that earlier. I do that a lot with the rapier…”

Adam and his clones shaped a series of spells. A new bubble of shadow layered in distortions coated the upper section of the elevator shaft, and as it grew thick enough, Adam prepared a Veilpiercer. He judged the position of the Graven Cage and made a gesture using a hydrokinetic hand, pointing downward. “Valor, lower it slightly. We’re going to have to intercept the Animancy Core when the platform shoots by.”

“Correct,” Valor said. “But we just need to get the cage nearby. It will snap over the core when it gets close enough.”

Adam paused, and he did something that he was trying to practice more: he thought ahead. When the platform descended, it was likely going to be made of adamantium. As such, he could get below it and fire multiple Veilpiercers at the bottom of the falling elevator. If nothing else, it would slow the plunging elevator and keep the Animancy Core from immediately crossing over into Lord Scorn’s world. It also wouldn’t completely rely on his Reflexes.

Adam relayed his thoughts, and the Legendary Pathbearer simply nodded in approval. “Good, good. Likely unnecessary, considering the capabilities of the cage…” Valor regarded his creation. “But still, good. It is important to come up with as many redundancies as possible for your plans.”

“Alright then,” Adam said, letting out a breath. He still felt nervous and didn’t stop summoning more clones of himself, but so far, no one had taken a shot at him. That didn’t mean his paranoia went away, however. He knew there were still Aviary agents sulking about. The mana bombs had stopped going off. If he had to guess, his killing of the snipers made the others go to ground. They were hiding. They couldn’t all be dead. Especially with how frequent the bombs were going off just a few moments ago.

He summoned a corrosive fissure using his vambrace, and then he dipped the tip of his Veilpiercer, infusing it with Necromantic energy. He drew in a long breath to still his beating heart, and then he waited. Waited for his hand to stabilize and his mind to focus. It was all going to be in the timing, even with everything he had planned.

The Young Lord fired.

A rift tore open right in front of him.

His dimensional arrow sailed, carving a corroded pathway across the planes of existence.

The shot finally splashed into the spatial distortions he had layered over the shaft, and they were immediately contaminated. A splash of green, corroding energy consumed the elevator. Adamantine was practically unbreakable for anyone without Heroic Physicality, but Necromancy was a different kind of power altogether. It dissolved the matter, ruining it, eating through the dense, powerful material, turning it into dust thereafter.

As soon as that happened, his Wings of the Starhawk flared brighter as he sped through the air. Valor was already flinging the Graven Cage forward using his lash. It sailed, tumbling toward the space where the elevator was certain to fall. Adam arrived immediately below the shaft, a mere five meters between him and the third gateway leading to the Vulteg home world. He saw the bottom of the elevator barreling towards him. Immediately he fired three Veilpiercers at once, followed by another, followed by another, multiple clones aiding him.

A series of impacts hammered the platform’s underside. It slowed, no longer threatening to crush Adam and giving Valor just enough time to maneuver the Graven Cage into position.

They continued firing as the platform lowered and lowered, and finally, as it cleared the shroud of crackling corrosive energy that melted through the elevator shaft, Adam laid eyes on the Animancy Core for the first time. The underside of Gate Theborn lit up; it was like a bright, brilliant-blue star flaring over the molten rivers that crisscrossed the expanse below. It was so bright, Adam had a hard time focusing on it, but more than that, its radiance pierced his very soul, and it seemed to wash through him.

His skills began to jumble, notifications appeared before his eyes as some of his levels began to jump and then flicker. An unnatural dread washed through Adam, but there was also a sense of wonder, a sense that he was witnessing something at the crux of all Integrated reality.

But then the light faded as the cage smashed down over the core. The Graven Cage expanded, the skulls opening their jaws wide as they unfolded like the petals of some undying flower carved from groping limbs and pale bones. The crackling power of Necromancy immediately washed over the blinding brilliance of Animancy, and the cage closed around the Animancy Core as the platform kept falling. A clash resulted, with the core’s blinding radiance warring against the eerie green of Necromancy. There were a few pulses of power, but finally, the corrosive, festering magic that lit the open sockets and mouths of the cage’s skulls faded to a faint, bluish glow.

Each of the protruding limbs staking out from the Graven Cage ignited. A net formed—a net of complicated Necromantic sigils, spell patterns that circulated and jumped from the point of each extended limb. Adam wasn’t sure what he was witnessing, but it was an incredibly complicated spell pattern. And judging from how both the cage and the Animancy Core seemed to stabilize, he guessed it was some kind of mana equalization mechanism.

The empty platform plunged through the third gate. Adam barely got out of the way in time. But in the air, the Animancy Core hovered, and Valor let out a breath.

“Well done, Hero Adam,” Valor said.

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