AN: Yeah, it's going to be a bit before we get to more combat chapters. Just as well, people are enjoying the social focused ones, much to my surprise. Apparently I don't suck at writing character interactions.
Figuring out Sorcery took me less than an hour.
Arrogant of me to say, I know, but it's the truth. The reputation DnD Sorcerers have of getting everything handed to them while DnD Wizards have to work their asses off just to cast cantrips? Entirely justified.
From the few instinctive spells I've cast and the experiments I've run, it's clear that spell slots exist. But they're not tied to energy reserves so much as personal limits. It's a balancing act of mental and spiritual strain: How many times can I channel magic before I strain myself too much?
Normally, DnD magic flows from the Weave. But aside from the faint, almost imperceptible touch of the Weave I can see when casting my spells, I haven't seen any evidence of its influence on this plane. My best guess? The Weave is here, but it's… distant, so to speak. Unlikely to have any real influence beyond my own spells.
The cantrips I have access to are pretty much what I would have chosen if I was making a build, being mostly non-combat spells. Prestidigitation, Mage Hand, Mending, and Sacred Flame. Things that I can use to make my life easy, with one combat spell.
For leveled spells, I can reliably cast Comprehend Languages and Magic Missile. Useful spells, but nothing immediately outrageous.
Fortunately for me, the efficiency bonus my eyes grant me in casting magic still matters for Weave Sorcery. Casting spells feels smooth, like the spell is filtered through some kind of high-performance lens. The result? I can cast far more spells than a standard level-one Sorcerer before hitting my limit. I'd wager I can fire off ten level-one spells before needing a 'long rest' to recuperate. That's a serious edge, one I don't plan on wasting.
What's harder to measure is how my charisma factors into my sorcerous powers. I'm no tabletop character with conveniently quantified stats, but one thing's obvious: I'm not exactly dripping with charm. Hopefully It doesn't handicap me too much.
Advancing my sorcery, I suspect, won't come from study. It feels like something that will grow naturally, in the background, as I continue casting and pushing my limits. If D&D rules apply, combat might be the fastest path to progression, forcing quick bursts of growth in the heat of the moment.
As for Weave Wizardry? Forget it. Learning to manipulate the Weave like a Wizard would take too much time, even with Six Eyes. I already have Sorcery, and it works. Maybe one day, when I'm the strongest alive, I'll indulge in that kind of intellectual exercise. But for now? I have more productive ways to spend my time.
The Last City hums with distant activity as I stand in the Midtown Crucible arena, the afternoon light filtering through the skyline. Across from me, Joxer and Druis wait.
I booked the arena for a few hours. No Crucible matches are scheduled, so it's ours for now; perfect for my purposes.
Joxer, a Titan through and through, stands like an immovable wall. His green Gambit-themed armor clinks faintly with his subtle movements, his helmet hiding his features. Next to him, Druis is a sharp contrast. The Awoken Warlock practically radiates cheerful energy, her slate-blue skin and dark hair contrasting well with her Black Armory robes. She's got a grin like she's waiting for something entertaining to happen.
They've been pairing up a lot lately, the two of them. Ever since that raid in the Botza District, they've been attached at the hip, tackling Vanguard operations and Gambit matches for weapon enchantments and bragging rights. From watching their banter, it's clear they've settled into a good rhythm. Friends, even.
But we're not here for them to relax. I'm paying them to cast supers: ones I haven't yet figured out myself. My eyes, ever so helpful, let me see how they mold their Light, tracing not just the energy but the emotions behind it. I've gotten good at recreating what I observe, even if it takes a few tries. It's all energy manipulation in the end.
The flaming Hammer of Sol in my hand crackles as I give it a couple of experimental swings. Solar Light bends and roars in my grip, bright and unyielding. I let the hammer flicker away in a burst of embers, the super dispelling with a faint hiss.
Joxer crosses his arms. "Ridiculous. First the shield, now the hammer? Are you sure you haven't already learned how to do this before?" His voice holds the faintest edge of jealousy.
"Nah." I say, shrugging. "I'm just a quick learner. I don't call myself a Wizard for nothing, you know?" I grin, then turn to Druis.
She beams back at me, clapping Joxer on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Stoneface. We're getting free weapon enchantments for this, after all." Her violet eyes shift to me, a little gleam of mischief there. "My turn, yeah?"
I nod. "Go for it."
The moment the words leave my mouth, her grin sharpens into something hungrier. Her posture straightens, her playful energy simmering down into something focused and deliberate. I see the Void Light suffusing her body like ink seeping into water, a dark radiance gathering around her.
She breathes in deeply… and then she blinks.
It's not the usual blink of a Warlock's movement. This one is heavier, more. She phases out, her body briefly caught between material and immaterial, and when she reappears in the same spot, something's changed. Gravity bends around her. She hovers a few feet above the road, her form half-untethered from reality, as if physics can't quite decide how to treat her anymore.
Ah. That's how it's done.
{Cast Sentinel Shield +50 points
Cast Hammer of Sol +50 points
Rolling…
Making - Child Rearing 101 - Fate/Legends: Garden of Avalon (200 points)
Roll Success. Current stockpile: 350 Points.
Purchase Child Rearing 101?}
Child Rearing 101
Children are ever so precious, especially when they make such perfect tools to turn against your foes. You have the knowledge of the strange processes used to create homunculi children and, beyond the norm for this kind of magic, you can do so as long as you have even a single sample from the body of your target, such as blood or a strand of hair, instead of needing semen. The homunculi can be carried to term within a artificial womb that has been properly prepared or within a woman, it makes little difference. The child will be a true descendant of the sample it was made from, possessing similar appearance and many of the same abilities and talents as their parent, though they are still beginners. Unlike their parent however, they will rapidly reach adulthood in just a year, quickly mastering their born advantages. So long as you created them, you are also able to effortlessly mould your homunculi into pursuing a purpose of your choice. They may try, through your mistakes or the influence of others, to take their own path in life but they will find that destiny agrees with you and be unnaturally forced towards the goal you decided for them. They can break free but it will be an epic task.
Yeah, I'm not touching that perk. Way too squicky and time consuming for my tastes. I'll have my kids the old fashioned way, thank you very much.
Druis keeps herself in a perpetual state of partial blink, Void Light draining continuously to fuel the super. I watch closely as she phases and reappears, warping through the air in rapid bursts of movement. After a few passes, she stops, Void energy pooling between her hands. It churns, dense and heavy, and then, she unleashes it.
A blast erupts from her palms, a compact singularity exploding outwards with a force that shakes the ground. It's weaker and smaller than a standard Nova Bomb, but it's enough to twist the air and scatter faint debris across the arena.
She lands gracefully, dust settling around her boots. Her hands go to her hips, her grin triumphant. "Well? Wow me, magic man."
I roll my shoulders. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you, now would I?"
Closing my eyes, I start to weave Void Light into myself, focusing on that state of in-between Druis just demonstrated. It feels like a chain reaction, Void Light building to a critical mass in a metaphorical mimicry of nuclear fission as I slip between the material and something… other. My body blinks, heavier than normal, and I feel the world lose its grip on me.
Gravity bends around me as I reappear, my form hovering above the arena floor. I blink several paces clear of Druis and Joxer, then hold out my hands, drawing off some of the fissioning Void energy inside me. The power builds between my palms, denser and denser, a miniature singularity of entropic force.
Once it grows strong enough, I release it.
The eruption that follows is devastating. Void energy bursts outwards in a pulse that obliterates the air around me, distorting the space past my shield and spreading cracks across the ground. Sections of the road shift into obsidian-like material, molecules completely rearranged.
When I land, Druis gives an excited clap, her face glowing with delight. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Joxer, meanwhile, shakes his head, muttering words I can't hear.
I force the chain reaction in my body to stop, my Light stabilizing as I settle back onto solid ground.
"You're not planning on participating in any Gambit matches, are you?" Joxer deadpans. "Because if so, I'm taking that day off."
Druis elbows him with a grin. "Aw, you scared of the Wizard? Afraid he'll ruin our win streak?"
"Yes." Joxer answers without hesitation. "It took me years to learn to summon my hammer without access to the Burning Forge, and he did it in less than an hour. Whoever he fights? They're screwed."
I can't help but laugh. "Relax. I doubt I'll ever join Crucible or Gambit. It just wouldn't be fair."
Joxer lets out a relieved sigh. "Good. So…" He hesitates for a second, then powers on. "Is it true what they're saying? About your student?"
I pause, my smile fading. "About his identity?"
He nods. "He's really Uldren, then?"
My expression hardens. "Was. He's a different person now, a much kinder one."
Joxer shrugs. "Whatever you say. I never understood the hatred for the prince. Cayde was a funny guy, sure, but plenty of Guardians have been permakilled. You don't see everyone avenging them."
Druis pats him on the shoulder. "Cayde was charismatic. People liked him. He felt like the first truly friendly face in the Vanguard: someone everybody could consider a friend. Not everyone's lucky enough to have a Fireteam, so some took his loss pretty badly." She turns to me, curious. "Speaking of Crow, where is he? I thought you'd keep a close eye on him."
"Sora's giving him a tour of the City. Last I heard, they were eating their way through her favorite food spots. Nobody's attacked them yet, at least."
Joxer scoffs. "Of course they haven't. Sora's the Hero of the Red War. Nobody wants to screw with the woman who saved the City. The only reason they haven't forced her to take Cayde's job is because they'd lose her as a field agent."
The Tower armory hums with quiet activity as I stand alone at my workbench, surrounded by scattered tools, glowing crystals, and half-empty crates of requisitioned materials. It's been hours since I started testing, the faint scent of scorched metal and myriad arcane energies lingering in the air, but my patience is starting to pay off.
I lift one of the shards; small, jagged, and pulsing with faint, unnatural light. A Dark Fragment. The energy radiating from it is unmistakable: remnants of the Dreaming City's corruption, concentrated into crystal form. I turn it over in my fingers, watching the dark light shimmer across its facets.
"Well, I'll be damned." I mutter to myself. Out of all the materials I requisitioned for this project, only these fragments work.
Turns out, the Darkness itself is a viable candidate. Perhaps it's the connection to memory and thought, similar in function to Deepsight crafting.
It'll take more study to unravel exactly why it works, but for now? It works. That's good enough.
I push the crystal back onto the workbench and jot down a few notes, sketching rough diagrams for the enchantment ritual. I'll write up the instructions in full later, but there's something else demanding my attention.
My gaze shifts to the center of the bench, where a broken hand cannon rests in pieces.
Hawkmoon.
Its shattered remains lie like a puzzle waiting to be solved, accompanied by half-sketched diagrams of missing parts sprawled across several sheets of paper. A small cluster of luminous feathers sits nearby, practically glowing with the Light they still carry. I hum absentmindedly as I trace one of the sketches, my mind already chewing on the next problem.
The feathers will empower the final product, of that I'm certain. But I need a material that can actually contain that Light. Something durable enough to withstand the recoil of a hand cannon and resilient enough to hold magic of this magnitude.
"Hadium." I muse aloud.
It's the obvious choice; one of the best metals for containing energy. Oryx's blade was reforged with it, and the stuff's sturdy as hell when properly tempered. The only problem? Supply.
Hadium flakes are scarce, scattered across Oryx's Dreadnaught. With no real reason to visit the old Hive warship since the aftermath of the Taken War, it's been all but forgotten. Still, I'll need a decent haul to repair Hawkmoon and a healthy stockpile for my own projects.
I smile faintly at the thought. Maybe I'll finally get around to crafting a proper wizard's staff. Though, I might need another crafting perk to really make it powerful. I can only stretch my supernatural gunsmithing skills so far.
The sudden knock at the door breaks my train of thought. Frowning, I flick a switch on a nearby holomonitor, watching as the door slides open with a quiet hiss.
A Tower guard strides in, his grey uniform catching the light as he carries a metal box in both hands. "The Vanguard Commander told me to bring this to you. Said you asked for it."
I nod and take the box from him without ceremony. "Thanks."
The guard gives a curt nod and exits, leaving me alone. I set the box down on the workbench and carefully undo the latches, my fingers steady despite the sudden thrum of anticipation in my chest.
The Speaker's mask.
I lift it from the box, turning it in my hands. The surface is smooth and pale, marred by cracks that someone attempted to repair with gold; kintsugi. A symbolic effort, no doubt. But while it's a beautiful attempt at restoration, it's clear they didn't understand what the mask truly was. How could they? The Speaker kept its secrets close, even from the Vanguard.
My thumb brushes the pale material, and I feel it faintly: Light. Dormant, but lingering, like an echo. Properly repaired, this mask amplifies a Speaker's gift, allowing them to receive dreams and visions from the Traveler even at its weakest.
The Consensus and humanity itself will learn of my new role soon enough. I have a few days left before the announcement, before the eyes of the City turn to me completely.
"Time to craft myself a set of armor." I say softly, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips.
I have to look my best, after all.
Sora POV:
The bar hums with life, the kind of steady, comfortable buzz that only a place full of Guardians can achieve. Laughter echoes from the far corner, the unmistakable sound of Titans clanging mugs together in some sort of impromptu drinking contest. A group of Warlocks argue philosophy at the counter, their voices rising and falling with the kind of fervor usually reserved for politics or the Crucible. A scant few Hunters lounge against walls and perch on stools like they own the place, sharp eyes watching everything and everyone. On the dance floor, several Guardians are all dancing to some techno beat, with so many different moves that don't mix at all.
Ah, I love this place.
I lean back in my chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, watching Crow out of the corner of my eye. He's smiling; genuinely, warmly; as he pushes his empty plate away and reaches for the glass in front of him.
"This place is nice." He says, turning toward me. "I mean, I know Guardians have a reputation for being strange, but they definitely know how to relax."
"Yeah, they're people too." I reply, smirking. "Give or take a few loose screws."
He laughs softly, a sound I don't hear nearly enough. For a moment, Crow looks completely at ease, his shoulders loose, his dark hair falling carelessly across his forehead. It's a good look on him. I take a sip of my drink, the warmth spreading through me, and allow myself to think, Maybe things aren't as bad as Mav thought.
Then they walk in.
Two Hunters, all swagger and sharp grins, their cloaks cut just short enough to show off their Gambit weaponry. I know the type before they even look at us; brash, cocky, the kind of Guardians who spend too much time talking about their Crucible kill counts and not enough time actually fighting humanity's enemies.
It doesn't take them long to notice us. Or, more accurately, to notice him.
"Well, well, look who it is." One of them drawls, his voice loud enough to carry across the bar. His friend smirks, nudging him with an elbow, and they both start walking toward our table.
I glance at Crow. His smile falters just a fraction, but he doesn't look away. I can see the tension creeping back into his posture already. Damn it.
"Crow." I say softly, warning him, but he just shakes his head slightly. Letting them see it bothers him would only make it worse. He knows it. I know it. Still doesn't stop me from wishing I could throw something at them before they open their mouths.
The first Hunter, a tall human with a sharp face and a wolf insignia etched into his pauldron, plants a hand on the table, leaning down just enough to be obnoxious. "Didn't expect to see you here, Prince Charming. Shouldn't you be skulking around the Reef or something? Thought the Queen kept you on a leash."
Crow's jaw tightens, and I see his hand flex under the table. I set my glass down with a sharp clink.
"Move along." I say, my voice flat. It's not a threat yet, but it's close.
The second Hunter snorts, cocking his head like I've said something funny. "Easy there, Sora. Didn't mean to upset you. We just wanted to say hi to the prince. Maybe get an autograph."
The first one chuckles, his gaze never leaving Crow. "Or, y'know, ask what murder's like."
Crow stiffens, and I can practically feel the shift in his mood. The warmth from earlier is gone, like someone snuffed it out with a bucket of cold water. I don't give them a chance to say another word. I stand up slowly, my chair scraping across the floor. The two Hunters straighten instinctively, the smug confidence faltering for just a second. Good.
I step forward, close enough that they have to tilt their heads to look at me. I'm not tall, not in the way Titans are, but I've never needed to be. The way they take a half-step back tells me I've already won.
"You think you're clever?" I say softly. The noise in the bar feels distant now, a low rumble behind the quiet edge of my words. "You think no one sees you running your mouth like a couple of dicks?"
The second Hunter starts to respond, but I don't let him.
"Let me be very clear." I continue, voice dropping lower as my finger's brush over my hand cannon's grip. "If you want to test me, go ahead. I dare you. But you won't like how it ends."
The first Hunter's grin is gone now, replaced by a tight-lipped frown. He opens his mouth, probably to make some kind of excuse, but his friend tugs at his arm, muttering something. They both hesitate, then step back.
"Whatever." the first one mutters, like a sulking kid. "Wasn't worth the trouble anyway."
"Didn't think so." I reply coolly, watching as they turn and slink toward the door.
I don't sit back down until they're gone, the door sliding shut behind them. When I do, I glance at Crow. He's staring at the table, hands clasped tightly together, his expression carefully blank. Too blank.
"Hey." I say gently, trying to catch his eye.
"Thanks for that." he mutters, finally looking up at me. There's a ghost of a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I didn't want to ruin your day."
"My day?" I laugh softly. "Idiot. Don't worry about me, Crow. I'm used to dealing with dicks like that."
He nods, but the moment is already gone. The lightness from earlier has vanished, and the quiet that settles between us feels heavy. I don't like it.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, and take a breath before I speak.
"Crow." I say carefully. "Do you know who killed Uldren?"
His head snaps up, surprise flickering across his face. "What?"
"It was me." I admit softly. "I pulled the trigger. I ended him."
Crow stares at me, his mouth slightly open, but he doesn't say anything. I push forward, my voice steady.
"You're nothing like him. I need you to know that. Whatever anyone says, whatever they try to make you believe… you are not Uldren Sov. You're better. Kinder. If I can see that, then everyone else will too. Eventually."
Crow blinks, his expression softening as the words settle in. For a moment, he looks like he might argue, but instead, he just exhales, something heavy lifting from his shoulders.
"Thanks, Sora." He says quietly. And when he smiles this time, it feels real again. Small, fragile, but real.
CHAPTER 16 END
AN: The majority of Guardians understand that Crow isn't Uldren, but as with every group of people there's always a few assholes. Realistically, most of the Guardians Crow encountered before meeting Mavriel were the ones who ignored Vanguard orders to hunt Uldren down, so naturally they were also the ones most likely to kill him on sight. In other news, I'll be moving in the next week or so, so that may slow down my uploads. Next chapter should be the Consensus meeting, which may or may not take up the entire chapter.
No new perks acquired this chapter.