Orphan at the Edge of the World 122 Crawling Chaos 20

As Orison came to, he was greeted with a voice he hadn't expected to hear for a long time if ever. "Gods and Lords of the Abyss both but you are one greedy f***!"

Opening his eyes, the young mage looked around. What greeted him was a blasted and scorched land of ashes, blood and gore. Closing his eyes again, Orison quickly tried to verify what was going on internally to see nothing, just a cavernous maw of darkness. There was no sub-mind, just a soul so compressed it was not noticeably bigger than the core itself. Even his aura was pressed so tightly against him naturally that there was no discernible difference to his skin.

Muttering to himself, Orison said, "What am I going to do about my plane and summons? There's literally nothing left."

Venito voice cut through the mental fog. "You turn moon touched or something? No hug, no hi, not even a f*** you?"

Belatedly, it dawned on him that some rather impossible things must have happened while he was possibly on the verge of absolute oblivion. Orison opened his eyes again and took in his brother. The man was dressed in some fancy but completely out of place robes complete with slippers.

Orison snickered at the absurdity of it and said, "You look like you're dressed for a Chinese period drama, maybe one of those seventies martial arts movies."

Sighing Venito realized that Orison wasn't completely in control of his mental facilities yet.

Snatching him up in a customary punishment hug, Venito said, "I'm glad you're alright. I really started getting worried when the floating ghost v*gina you were in started eating lightning bolts. Then again, it ate the ugly floating maggot monster, a few a**holes who don't know how to mind their own business and even some of my tribulation blessing... As if the f***ing dead air around here wasn't snatching enough as it was. Luckily, this world's just as greedy as you are and sucked more down like a hungry wh*re."

Beating his brother's back more for release than affection, Orison wheezed, "Have some class. By now, I'm sure you've learned that everyone's a people at the end of the day. No one's really better than....Screw it. I give up. Just let go and I promise to keep the lecture to myself."

Venito said, "No. In the Northland, brothers are allowed to hug for thirty breaths a year that they are separated. You've got ninety more to go."

Orison managed to squeak through protesting ribs, "It's been four years!? At least let up a little or I won't be breathing AT ALL!"

Loosening his grip just enough to keep Orison from passing out, Venito said, "You really snatched my chestnuts out of the fire this time, baby brother. Then again, I think I returned the favor."

Venito filled Orison in on his version of events while the young mage was released to put his clothes back on. Beyond the pseudo-omniscience Orison briefly felt being connected to so many people, a few things happened that he didn't catch. The anomaly Orison was temporarily in had eaten the entirety of a freshly killed mad god, a good deal of Venito's tribulation lightning and a part of the blessing afterwards. It also took in some secret society members of one kind or another that had shot their mouths off at the wrong person and were bodily thrown into it after being beaten to different degrees of dead or dying.

When the mustard seed bracelet notified Venito of the ring trying to escape, the man had kicked it into the void hole with a force that broke the sound barrier. Orison thanked whatever beings were looking out for him that he hadn't started forming back up again or he would have survived all of that only to die from a hole the size of a tank piercing round going through him.

With an odd kind of realization, Orison knew his summons weren't dead. The hollowness inside of him was so immense that he wasn't spiritually strong enough to call them back. The ring was shredded however. It's final act of betrayal had earned it oblivion but it had held on long enough for its contents to clear the hurdle of turbulent void into a calmer part beyond Orison's current ability to reach.

Orison barely got through inviting Venito to take a car ride to a spot he had found the day before when his brother started fading from view. "If I thought I had the time to go out drinking and chasing tail with you, do you think I'd have hugged your senseless a** while you were naked? I'm afraid we might not ever see each other again, baby brother. If you make it...my kids for me!"

Looking at the spot where Venito disappeared, Orison said, "Never say never, big brother. Cultivators might 'climb' differently and that might take you far away but I have a feeling things just might get more narrow closer to the top."

On the ride back to Neil's apartment, only four hours past midday, Orison went through every ability and quirky part of himself that he'd once had. There was no glamour but his will was honed to a scary degree. He couldn't call forth devouring intent but his whole body could become a hole for fractions of seconds at a time that left him feeling like he ran a marathon. After the second time he did it, there was a faint, far away protest from the elementals. They weren't scared, just mildly upset, like Orison had given them a lot of work to do.

As much as he wanted to, it seemed like a bad idea to try magic. His current feeling was no different than when he felt like he only had fumes left but had no idea how long it would take to fill whatever reserve he currently had. He felt like it would take a very long time.

Before turning to matters of his current reality, Orison mulled over the nearly natal-like memory of a place that could only be described as a maelstrom. It was a constantly swirling, violent chaos. All of everything was little more than a minuscule bubble, an eye in the storm that was the boundary between something and nothing at all. At least, that's the way it felt but Orison knew that there were plenty of 'somethings' within the 'nothing at all'.

That's where the outsiders came from and the Maelstrom is where they spawned their nonsensical offspring to die or survive and return to the outside. The young mage knew it couldn't be that simple but that's all he could get from the vague impressions and fragments embedded in the core of his soul. A soul core that gleamed with multicolored winks within the bright whiteness of a state no different than a condensed eternium spark but with extrdimensional deepness.

With a gust of desert wind, Ignatius appeared in Orison's passenger seat. "I have wondered. Out of the mysteries that you represent, why have you not sought to raise women up to stand beside you? Your formidable brother voiced the same thought. He worries about your future happiness more than you do, I think."

Orison shrugged. "Who has time to think about the future when the present is filled with so much uncertainty... Not that it's anybody's business but the reason for not investing in women is fairly simple, if a little contradictory to my own deeper desires... For the women I grow fond of, I don't want to be responsible for exposing them to the dangers of this life. For ones I might be attracted to but hold no real feelings about, I simply don't feel I have ever had the resources to waste on 'landscaping'."

Ignatius looked at him in confusion. "Landscaping?"

Orison chuckled. "Landscaping or gardening, take your pick. I don't feel like throwing precious resources just to improve my surroundings with beauty or any other kind of vanity save comfort. The men I've raised were in camaraderie or to improve my chances of survival... It might be a little screwed up, maybe even a little misogynist but I raise soldiers to fight by my side and catch shrapnel in front of me. To balance that out, over time I care more and try to value their lives as much as I can.

"I don't know if I could do that to a woman. The more I find out about greater reality, the more reticent I become to do it to or for anyone. In the long run, it doesn't even feel like I'm really doing them any favors. I'm just giving them different problems, ones they might not be up to solving.

"For instance, my best friend is apparently dead but getting revived. My first student is now residing in my stag pin, hoping I can find a way to help him come back and my second student is aimlessly drowning himself in hedonism waiting for me to magically show up and help him find direction I'm struggling to find for myself."

Ignatius looked at him appraisingly, "For all that you've undergone and discovered in the last few hours, you're awfully collected."

Orison said, "I'm not. I'm actually pretty messed up. There seems to be a new dimmer switch installed for emergency emotional trauma and I'm using it."

Ignatius replied, "I'm familiar. It's not good to rely on such things overly much or you'll lose your emotional color. It makes life very dull."

The young mage smiled weakly. "I figured as much but in this instance, I'd just be overreacting anyway. Once I'm over the hump, I'll ease it off... Morbid curiosity here. How long does it take to become a tier four on average, as far as you know."

Ignatius chuckled. "That's a loaded question. For a person with the depth of whatever family you have behind you, it depends on your legacy and how they want you to become one but it's almost a guarantee. Short answer is there isn't a real answer. I'm not that informed on the issue but from the little I know, a few hundred years isn't considered slow for a human. Considering how few even do become tier four, making it in the span of a single human lifetime would be considered fast and the person would be seen as either a talent or a waste depending on how much potential they have left.

Thoughtful but somewhat disbelieving, Orison said, "It doesn't make sense. It seems pretty easy to become a 'climber'. Becoming step four only seems like a matter of time as long as a person doesn't die. Why is it so hard to become a tier four? From what I can figure out, steps seem more important to 'climbing' than tier anyway."

Ignatius' attempt to hold back jealous rage was visibly notable. "This is the difference in background. I was born tier three and have had very little progress because I've never had access to any good resources or guidance. It took me over eight thousand years to get where I am. You're, what, less than half a century old and could catch up to me in just a few years, shooting straight past."

"No matter what path is taken, they all have some common needs. The two most important are talent and resources. A certain amount of determination and guidance is needed as well. Not having one of those four makes it a struggle. Not having two of those four and it's nearly impossible. Only having one is worse than none at all."

In an effort to unruffle feathers, Orison said, "Well, I have no doubts you possess talent and from here on out you have a way to collect resources. Catching up to you might not prove so easy, you know. Don't think I'm not going to try, though."

Neither pride nor inborn arrogance could refute Orison, even if the ifrit knew better.

With a complicated look, Ignatius said, "Just how big is your family's pull? I've only seen a handful of cultivators over the expanse of my years. How did they send one to you for protection?"

Orison shrugged and conversation died until they reached Neil's office.

Zora was waiting on them and after seeing through some of Orison's changes, she said, "Good job, pretty boy. Now is less distracting.... Trading in small wagon for big one while only having same horse may not have been good for you right now. This, I think must be said."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, her words weren't wrong. The ability he had on a daily basis to replace what free essence he lost or used could barely keep up with maintaining himself. Until he had some momentum, he'd be in danger of cannibalizing his progress to make up the difference.

Zora nodded in satisfaction to see that Orison understood. "Alright. Here is plan, pretty boy. Neil was investigating art dealer. One artist and two patrons have gone missing. Possible others may be linked. The lady is named Muriel but it rings with untruth.

"She is known in art circle for two things. She loves sculptures, especially ones of Greek heroes and gods. She also likes strong men and pretty boys... Guess what I want you to do."

Orison sighed. "Go into the art gallery. Make some fawning appreciation over whatever is there and hope I've got enough of what she likes to grab her attention."

Zora smiled. "You also play smart but poor student. Make to be someone interesting but easily overlooked if you went missing... Do you know trick to hide power?"

Orison nodded and Zora asked him to demonstrate. With an effort of concentration, Orison pulled his extra realness in til he looked much the same as anyone else. Combined with the state of his tightly drawn aura, he blended in well. Due to the ever constant pressure of inert essence, weaker auras would naturally compress, making people with strong spirits and supernaturals stand out to one another.

After a thorough briefing to cover a variety of small details and an impromptu visit to a secondhand shop, Orison was sporting a clean and serviceable 'starving artist' outfit. Looking in the dressing room mirror, he sighed at himself, slightly depressed. The young mage was grateful to be blessed with what advantages he did but fate and circumstance seemed bent on denying him the full masculine charm he knew a touch of maturity would give him.

As he walked to the downtown area, Orison muttered to himself, "Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky, this humble person is grateful for the bounty of your gifts but would it be possible to be a little less forever seventeen and a little more forever twenty-one?"

Nearly a half hour later, Orison reached the art gallery in question. Passing through the glass front doors, he pretended to struggle internally as he pulled out the outrageous five dollar entrance fee to place in the box as a sympathetic man in a top brand set of artsy leisure clothes handed him a ticket stub.

Subtly evaluating Orison, the man said, "I can only think of two reasons why a struggling young man such as yourself would be in a place like this. Are you an art student looking for connections or are you looking for a modeling gig?... No need to feel bad about either as long as you're not pushy. We all had to start somewhere."

Borrowing against the slightly embarrassing situation and the natural guilt associated with telling a complete lie of a sob story, Orison forced some redness into his ears as he said shyly, "Unless you want to count the art of saving lives, I'm afraid it's the second one. One of my fellow Pre-Med friends said that modeling might get me by while I look for a scholarship but didn't know enough about it. Truthfully, I don't think he likes me much but he's one of the few people I know around here... If I knew how hard coming to the big city to go to school would be, I might have looked at other options but I'm committed now."

Putting on a sad face, Orison finished, "It's not like I have anything to go back for anyway," As if he was forcing himself to be chipper, he added, "But a lot can happen in two weeks, right?"

Puzzled, the man took the bait. "What happens in two weeks?"

Looking troubled, Orison said, "I took off the summer to earn money but I have to look for more permanent residence and it would take a good deal of what I've earned to do that... My whole reason for being here is to attend a good school. If I have to spend tuition on rent..."

Evaluating Orison with a different, colder set of eyes, the man said, "There are a couple of patrons that might be interested in... taking you in. Depending on how much, er, compassion you could make them feel-"

The young mage glared at the man. "I might be willing to show a little skin for the sake of something as respectable as art but that's my bottom line!... For the sake of pursuing my original goal, let's pretend that never happened, alright?"

The man took in Orison's combination of anger, fear and barely checked desperation before visibly defrosting. "Sorry about that. Some unsavory types have tried to use the gallery as a way to reach more wealthy clientele. We obviously would have no interest in being associated with such a thing... Truly, I'm not trying to make things difficult for you but we have a reputation to maintain."

Putting on a facade of relief, Orison said, "I-I can see your perspective."

During their conversation, the young mage's few seconds of slightly raised volume had attracted the attention of a couple of patrons who were touring the paintings nearby. He'd also managed to draw the attention of two artists who looked at the man beside Orison with a quizzical expression.

The man turned to Orison and said, "Well, you've paid the money. You might as well look around. It might help your future prospects if you had some idea of what kind of poses and such you might be asked to hold for long periods of time. Draw some sense of it from the paintings and sculptures. See if it's something you can do... In the meantime, I can drop a whisper to the director and see if any of her artists are searching."

Orison flashed his best smile and said, "I'd really appreciate that!"

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Chapter end