Trapped in Another World With No Magic

Chapter 250: Breaking Ground Against the End of the World

The deep, rumbling roar of the mana extractor is distant from the upper weather deck of the airship, where Baeka is meditating on her wiuben summon. The small bird is weaving through the embers of the mana fire as she does her best to try to survey the mana fire for any weaknesses. Naturally, it’s difficult, because the embers are so highly concentrated, but she has already lost one summon to an ember, and her semi-solid elemental creations simply ‘pop’ like a bubble. It stings Baeka’s body through the backlash on her mana, but with the wiuben’s, specifically, it’s no worse than an ember spell’s burn-worth of pain. She can summon quite a few wiubens in a single day, though they have limited uses.

That said, she has a pretty good idea why she is being approached by the trio formed by Vaergraes the Uhl’tall Archpriestess, Djihnlierr, her replacement within the Hegemony, and Arachne, the Death Knight summoned as a combined effort between Vaergraes and Hekate who became sapient seemingly as a result of Daniel assigning her a name. Baeka turns to face the three, and she bows to Vaergraes specifically, greeting her as she always had, “A pleasure to see you, your Grace. Your Highness.”

“No need for that,” replies the former Queen of the Demon Covenant. “You’re practically the same rank as me, now.” Vaergraes winks, and the dattakorien Mikadresselle gives a soft smile. She spent a fair amount of time away from the Citadel after learning Daniel captured it for the purpose of rallying as many dattakoriens as she could to help jumpstart the Fievegal –and get in on the ground floor while they’re at it–.

She found Daniel fascinating, much like the others, and she feels overwhelming gratitude for what he did by confidently insisting on something that his world found simple, but was weaponized against her people by the dragons. Or, more specifically, the three greater male dragon tyrants that ruled over Shiaulvolgarro’s Hoard after the fall of the feldroks, which happened long before she was born.

And then, he slayed the second of the dragon tyrants simply because he was going to extort or punish the dattakoriens for the death of Mulmonbargonaed, which was Daniel’s doing.

Arachne says with her somewhat mechanical tone, which masks whatever emotions she might be intending, “Mother, I do not mind being addressed formally as a Princess.”

Vaergraes smiles at the rather massive summoned warrior, knowing it must be playful or sarcastic. In spite of having the intelligence and maturity of an adult, Arachne is technically only a few months older than Jieka and Tekten, making her the eldest Princess of the Fievegal, though Jieka was formally named Crown Princess because Arachne has no interest in being royalty, not least of which is because of her massive size making it challenging and intimidating for her to serve as a gentle, nurturing presence in diplomatic or celebratory functions, palace organization, and even simply having maids and servants wait on her.

Regardless, Arachne is a gentle –albeit stoic– soul… so long as one is not an enemy of the Fievegal.

“What brings you up here?” asks the dattakorien respectfully. The Stalvaltan soldiers and riflemen are keeping watch, ready to intercept magical attacks, defend against monsters, and provide additional eyes to make sure nothing goes wrong.

“We’re going to summon some new minions,” replies Arachne seriously and without a single thought.

“Wh-What?” The irony of who the declaration comes from, and the confidence with which she says it is a bit shocking. Baeka often pondered her own summons when she was younger, and how they might view her if they could speak and think for themselves. Arachne says the words “mother” and “father”, but Vaergraes is her summoner, closer to a creator like a goddess, rather than a simple bearer of life that carried her forth to birth.

“Y-You would… You can summon soldiers?” asks Baeka. Realizing the question could be insensitive, she quickly adds, “Y-Your Highness.”

Arachne tilts her head back slightly, though her expression is still stoic and unreadable. “I would. Father gave me my soul by granting me a name. Particularly when my aura was still stabilizing from the combined power of my two mothers.” The strange Death Knight cups her cheek, a gesture that Ryuogriar often makes to tease Daniel, but again, her expression remains as calm and cool as a mountain lake. “Even if Mother Hekate gets embarrassed when I say it.”

Vaergraes explains more seriously, “We’re hoping to try and siphon off even more energy by forcibly using the excess mana radiating off of the fire. It doesn’t seem like the mana extractor is doing much, but at the very least, if we can make stable summons without their own souls, we can use them for more dangerous tasks without risking our usual soldiers.”

“Will… that work?” asks Baeka.

“Yes, it should,” replies the more senior Uhl’tall woman. “We may have to replenish their magic at regular intervals and if they are injured if we wish for them to be sustained, but it was Arachne’s name that seems to have helped her be granted a soul, and Daniel’s excursion to the Selkethian island that granted her true stability and life as we know it.”

“I shall name my first child,” declares Arachne with confidence, causing both Uhl’tall to look at her. Arachne replies, “Since I will be summoning this child, I do not have the obstacles of her Greatness Hekate. And, it is only my filial duty to grant my Mothers and Father a grandchild.”

The others are speechless, and without further ado, Arachne steps up confidently. She reaches out towards the bow of the airship, ahead of which looms the glowing pool of starlight that threatens the entire world if it isn’t stopped.

Arachne begins casting her spell, and there’s a startling spark ahead of her. This spark is quickly flooded with incoming mana, as if it’s a singularity spell. It’s just like the day Arachne was summoned, and her own vassal being starts to take shape.

Unlike Arachne, who is a giant compared to most races of Zenkon, her conjuration appears to be taking a form much closer to a gatonine’s or dattakorien’s physique and stature.

During the solidification of the being’s mana-form into matter, Arachne continues moving her hands in strange, puppeteering-like motions, as if she’s crafting the being herself. Baeka has heard of it being possible, but it’s extremely difficult to focus on the spell while also crafting the features of the summon. The only one Baeka knows of who probably could is Vaergraes, Senn, and maybe her own grandmother, who taught Baeka. And, in the case of her ancestor, she would be limited to a small summon while doing so.

Regardless, the being takes on a humanoid form, more so than the drider-like Death Knights that Arachne belongs to. She has a similar, but less prominent crest on her head that forms a sort of partial halo with four points extending a little further, and a silk-like shroud drapes over her shoulders and down her back, forming a gossamer sort of dress that resembles Reignleif’s. Her skin is more of a porcelain-white color, in direct contrast with Arachne’s dark black exoskeleton. But, like her creator, she has what appears to be chitinous armor plating around her legs and arms, in addition to the crest that crowns her head.

Once the being’s feet touch down on the surface of the airship, the mana fades around it with a flutter of the outfit that was summoned alongside the vassal warrior. Strangely, unlike Arachne, who has size, strength, and blade-like legs, this being doesn’t overtly seem capable of combat in the same way.

Regardless, Baeka can feel the overwhelming power condensed into the summoned being’s form.

Vaergraes is the only one who is able to summon her composure, even after being similarly stunned by the feat. “A-Arachne, if you go through with this, we can’t treat her as expendable…”

“I was granted my mind and responsibilities by my father,” replies Arachne. “But, all of my creators care for my life, for which I am truly grateful. I will extend this same care to my child.” She looks at the summoned being, saying with her hand outstretched, “Hear this, my precious child. I hereby name you… Silence, in honor of your grandfather’s power, as well as…” Arachne lowers her voice a bit, and even though her tone remains the same, it’s almost as if she’s slightly embarrassed. “A character in Father’s own stories.”

Again, the others are speechless. And, for her part, Silence twitches slightly. Baeka watches in wonder as something changes in her face, specifically her eyes. They go from the typical hazy blue eyes of a summon to distinctly focused eyes. A dark spot forms in the center of each iris as the color shifts to a dark color; brown specifically. The eyes scan around briefly before looking up at Arachne.

Arachne states at her normal volume, loud enough to overcome the noise of the mana extractor below them. “Yes, Silence. I am Arachne, but you would flatter me by calling me Mother.”

“Mother… What… would… you… have… me… do…?” Baeka watches in astonishment. Summons never speak. At least, not typically. Arachne was a strange exception until now.

“You will aid me to protect our friends and family. And, our first mission is that…” Arachne points, and Silence turns to look. Arachne adds, “We are not alone, but if we can spare Father from using his final weapon, we will be most filial.”

“Does… she actually care about that?” whispers Djihnlierr. “I didn’t think… a summon would…”

Vaergraes is similarly at a loss for words. The two of them face the Uhl’tall Archpriestesses and the dattakorien Mikadresselle. “Silence, meet your Grandmother, Vaergraes, as well as Djihnlierr and Baeka. Mother, Djihnlierr, Baeka; please welcome my precious child, Silence.” Arachne’s cool and level tone sounds sarcastic when she speaks, but she simply lacks most inflection. Baeka heard that she actually does inflect more when Daniel is present, and Daniel being Daniel, she could very easily become a spoiled princess if she simply desires it.

Silence bows respectfully, somehow possessing impeccable etiquette. “Grand…Mother…”

Arachne then says, “You will be unique, Silence. You will help me command my other summons. Do you accept the tasks I wish you to aid me with?”

“Yes. Silence… Accepts.” The newest summon’s slow speech is filled with the same stoic confidence her creator exudes, and Arachne turns back to the fire.

“Let us begin, then.” She immediately begins casting the summoning spell once more, gathering mana.

And then, Arachne does the unthinkable.

She begins using her secondary pair of arms to begin casting a second summoning spell at the same time as a ghostly doppelganger of her own body appears.

Arachne looks over her shoulder, and Silence does the same to study the others. “Mother, I do not mind summoning the entire army myself, but to achieve an effective test, I believe it will take all of us.”

Vaergraes, Baeka, and Djihnlierr are all dumbfounded for just a moment longer, and they glance at each other. Vaergraes laughs, saying, “I see you have surpassed me already, my dear daughter. And, a pleasure to meet you, my grandchild. I hope we will be together for a very long time.”

“Yes…” is Silence’s soft and stoic reply.

Vaergraes then instructs, “Baeka, we intend to summon more Death Knights, with Aramellianna’s permission, of course. If we can make an army of them, it’ll be helpful to the stability of the Fievegal. Djihnlierr, I hope you accept your role as well, unless you wish to become our enemies.”

“I will summon lower-tier soldiers,” replies Djihnlierr as she steps up. “It will be faster, and there should be no worries if my loyalties come into question.” She begins chanting, casting the spell as quickly as she can for speed. It will be a little less effective for consuming mana from the fire, but given how Arachne is having no hindrance to her summoning, even with the mana extractor right below them, it’s very likely they’re gaining no ground on the fire, but like the extractor, simply making practical use of the abundant mana radiating around them.

Once two more of Arachne’s unique summons touch down, these ones retain stoic and unthinking faces without names. She then says, “Silence, please report below to the woman known as Wenlianna that… No… You there, Guardsman Halkadon.”

“Y-Yes, uh, Princess!?” replies Resken as he jogs over. He has one of the Dragonslayer rifles, but for the moment, there is no need for the two trained riflemen of the Stalvaltan Guardsmen to continue standing around at the moment. Not with so many powerful mages and Death Knights suddenly appearing.

“Please inform her Grace Wenlianna that summoning is ineffective against the fire. Also, I may be able to condense this mana into sorceranium, but we will need containment devices if I do so.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Summoning ineffective; sorceranium if she can provide containers. Understood, your Highness.” Resken gives some hand signals to his partner, Halkadon, and he jogs for the access hatch to the weather deck.

Baeka watches while she casts, doing as the others are doing. They’re intentionally gathering more external mana, since it’s abundant enough even for the dattakorien to feel it washing across her from the fire. She can’t summon Death Knights, but she is capable of summoning loyal wyverns, and as long as she doesn’t name them, apparently, they will remain little different than her normal ones, except they will be more like their true living counterparts.

I can’t believe that’s all it took. Though, I guess, like they said, a name is one part of a person’s sense of self. And, contract magic relies on one’s name quite heavily.

Baeka considers it for a moment as her first wyvern appears, and rather than a ghostly figure, it looks like a colorful, but living wyvern.

I wonder if I’ll have to feed them, assuming their plan actually works.

Realizing that this is still an experimental plan, Baeka decides against naming them, for now. If Arachne truly can create the solidified mana known as sorceranium, as she mentioned, then Baeka can hopefully request even a single one to try to create a named summon as well. It is a bit of a heavy responsibility that she isn’t quite ready for, yet.

Their army grows quickly thanks to the sorceresses working tirelessly to convert the powerful mana into soldiers to serve them without risk to their living allies. Silence keeps watch, observing closely as Arachne uses the dual-mind spell that Senn and Serrentuk use, thanks to Senn taking some time to teach her, apparently.

Baeka can tell that using the radiated mana is significantly more efficient, which is fairly obvious. Though, she does wonder if Arachne will be able to continue the dual-casting the way she is.

Thankfully, the first of many steps is taking place. And, Baeka will do all she can to help save the world.

***

Magnir flies in his true form in the windstream Neith is creating with both his larger size and wind magic. The gray Jomsviking has far more magical stamina to spare than his blue subordinate, and Magnir is fine with it. He used to curse his birth for being a lesser dragon, limited in mana and weaker than his greater masters.

And then Daniel killed them and named the dragons his allies, not his slaves. Neith is far stronger, but his strength comes with burdens and responsibilities that far exceed what Magnir could stomach.

Magnir was there after Fort Twilight had been annihilated, after all. He sometimes wonders why a dragon as strong as Neith serves Daniel and the Dragon Empresses, since Neith could defeat them all if he chose, and Daniel already freed him long ago.

But, instead, Neith seems to be following the human Emperor not out of necessity, but adventure. His loyalty and reverent language are shows of friendly respect, but ultimately, Daniel spares no expense keeping Neith safe or recovering him if something happens.

“We’re diving, Magnir. You may continue on if you wish.” Neith’s voice reaches Magnir easily, though the intense mana coming from the brightly glowing blaze ahead does interfere somewhat, even with them being more than a mile out.

It’ll likely be the same as when Daniel’s teleporter pack was contaminated with sorceranium the closer they get to the fire, where telepathy will be completely drowned out. Daniel has some of the apprentice magic artisans of the Fievegal studying a transcribed copy of what he calls his “Little Black Book”, which is a collection of formulas, basic designs, and principles for all sorts of machinery of modern Earth, establishing the fundamentals. Because his phone is able to store ‘digital versions’ of documents, which Magnir still has trouble wrapping his head around, Daniel’s collection of notes combines everything from his schooling, his military service (‘the unclassified stuff’, in his words), and even some of the “quick fixes” for machines he worked on before being summoned to Zenkon.

The apprentices have the task of mostly self-teaching and experimenting to understand the electrical principles and try to make radio systems and other more advanced electronics, if they can. Magic does bridge some of the gap, but if they can achieve actual electronic radios, the Fievegal will leap yet another step ahead of the rest of the world.

If anti-magic isn’t stronger than their enemies, then sorceranium can be tried. And, if they use something that has nothing to do with magic, they can keep military communications wide-scale, but undetectable for now.

Just under two years, and Daniel has already shaken this world. I wonder where we’ll be in another two. Or twenty. Long live the Emperor.

“I’m going on ahead!” calls out Magnir, and Neith nods his head, tucking back in just before beginning his descent.

Magnir keeps his wings tucked in for his slipstream glide. Because lift was granted to him by Neith’s draft, the smaller blue dragon just needed to minimize his “outer drag” and make sure he remained in the wind magic currents pushing them both.

As soon as Neith makes a sharp angle dive, Serrentuk waves at the blue dragon. Magnir passes over them with his same momentum, but he does give a subtle salute with his foreclaw. His own altitude is dropping now that his source of lift is gone, and he’s on a slowly decaying glide.

Once clear of any and all turbulence of Neith’s break of formation and Magnir’s subsequent deceleration, the blue Jomsviking spreads his wings and sweeps them through the sky, regaining his natural soaring pace.

As the fire looms ahead, and the mana gets more and more intense, Magnir braces himself. I can do this. I am a dragon. I am a Jomsviking of the Fievegal. Most important task… Don’t end up in the fire.

Magnir nods his own resolve into existence, and he begins his descent towards the leading edge of the fire. There are a handful of mages from Mornistae doing ride-by spells using buckrokhs. It seems the consensus is to try void spells, given the dark energy being dumped into the fire. But, if anything is making a difference, it’s not particularly noticeable.

It’s impressive that humans, gatonines, shenwulves, boruans, and dwarves can bring themselves to approach such a monumental monolith of imposing light that annihilates everything it touches. The mana radiation makes it difficult to get in range of casting spells to begin with, and they are gritting their teeth and managing it. Morthybargaron always said the human-kin were nothing more than insects that flee in the face of a dragon. And yet, even in Magnir’s limited experience, it was rare they would flee if their backs were against the wall. True, all wars have deserters, but plenty of unsung heroes stand strong against impossible odds and terrifying creatures so that their families back home can remain safe.

Never has Magnir appreciated that fact more than now.

The odds aren’t impossible. If I fail, there is Neith. If Neith fails, there is Senn and Serrentuk. If they fail… If we all fail… There is the Harbinger of Calamity. We will stop this fire.

Magnir gives a deep roar to draw attention to his presence. He knows it’s going to put them on guard, but he hopes they’ll hold back long enough to observe him trying to help him. Better Magnir than Neith, anyways. While he has no intention to die, Magnir is a slightly more disposable asset to the Fievegal, and Neith would ensure Roetta and her hatchling-to-be are protected and taken care of after the fact.

Regardless, even Magnir would be difficult for the exhausted and nauseated mages of Mornistae to kill, and he just wants to make sure they don’t try to get in his way.

With a deep inhale, he can taste an ominous, unnatural flavor to the air that can only sensibly be the excessive mana pouring off of the mana fire. There are poisons and other vapors dragons can’t detect with their powerful olfactory senses, but it’s pretty typical that if a substance can’t be smelled, and then fills the air with a potent taste, it may be a very dangerous substance indeed.

As if to purge the unnerving taste from his mouth, Magnir lets fly his most powerful fire breath that he can manage, sparking his teeth in the process. He can hear the mages call out panicked shouts. “Dragon!”

“Dragon attacking!”

“Take cover!”

“Water! Get water over here!”

“Wait…! Look!”

The tide of panicked shouts shifts as buckrokhs low urgently and try to clear the area. Dragons are the apex predators of the skies, and all living beings have an instinctual fear of being caught in their gaze and becoming their prey. Magnir’s eyes have naturally restricted down to help reduce the intense light of his fire breath, as well as the mana fire, and he can see the embers stirring as the flames penetrate into the mana inferno’s threshold.

Magnir sweeps the flame across the ground that’s burning, and he makes an important discovery.

The embers are being pulled by the draft, and for the briefest of moments, the flames flicker where his dragonbreath displaces both the embers and the actual active spell converting or “burning” matter into condensed mana embers.

Magnir touches down on the ground, mindful to keep his distance as the flame continues to advance. He inhales deeply once more, but it’s not for a fire breath this time.

Instead, Magnir uses his wings and his full breath, as well as what mana he has, to create a massive magically-fueled cyclone that whirls around upon itself. While relatively small, the dragon is doing his best to test a theory. The human-kin mages of Mornistae can create similar whirlwinds, but Magnir’s wings give him a far larger span. It may not be as fast-spinning, but speed isn’t the goal. He’s not trying to scatter the embers further, but see if one specific thing takes place.

The gust passes across the boundary, and just as Magnir hoped, white, star-like particles are scooped up into the swirling gust, and the black-hearted flames of the spell are split for the briefest moment as the wind carves through it.

It’s not that wind can put out the flame, and Magnir doubts a simple breeze is enough to push back the false conflagration itself, or the human-kin mages would already have this information.

The small trench that formed at the base of the dragon’s small, summoned tornado simply proved the fact that the mana fire is a surface-level destruction that continues to annihilate the surface. The trench is quickly reclaimed by the flames around it, but it’s proof that the mystical conflagration is not truly an unstoppable force. A mere lesser dragon was able to scratch the surface, even briefly.

Magnir feels a little proud at that thought, though he does need to retreat back from the fire.

His turn to escape the relentless spell is briefly halted with an instinctive flinch. The mages priming spells aimed at him is one thing, but his heart nearly stops at the proven weapon for dragon slayers.

Firearms.

The blue dragon swallows nervously, realizing he did so only after the fact. His heart is racing, since he knows first hand what a simple mundane weapon can do. He is carrying two of them himself, after all.

In his mind, he knows he can probably survive Mornistae’s firearms, since they are an archaic form, according to Daniel. Neith proved this when he swooped in to the rescue of Daniel and the Empresses at the Peace Conference, but Magnir isn’t confident his scales are as durable as the greater dragon.

Still, one of the officers orders, “H-Hold fire!”

Magnir nods, and he crawls swiftly across the ground, careful of his tail to avoid it catching an ember inadvertently. He doesn’t want to be the first to find out whether or not mana fire is painful, since he doubts dragons are spared just because of their inherent resistance –not immunity– to fire. Neith lands just behind the line of Mornistae mages and soldiers, and they call out, “D-Dragon! Second dragon!”

“Please be at ease,” calls out Neith. “I’m here to help on orders of his Majesty Daniel kos Lawson of the Fievegal. Sir Magnir, you seem to have information.”

“Yes, General,” replies the blue dragon, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t lose track of the dangerous magic. “Wind magic is capable of influencing the embers, and if the surface is stripped away with the mana flames, the fire can be pushed back, if only locally.”

“And, your fire breath?” asks Neith.

“Minimal effect, General. But, naturally, my strongest pales in comparison to yours.”

Neith nods. “You did well. Do you have mana remaining?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Demonstrate what you did to make your discovery. I’ll try to ramp it up in power.”

“Um… D-... Lord Dragons?”

Both dragons look at the speaker, who is little more than a mouse before an elephant with their respective sizes. Magnir can feel the mana radiation against his wings, but thankfully, his upgraded armor is blocking the bulk of it from making him feel nauseous, at least for now.

The human-kin soldiers are all trembling, though some are undoubtedly unstable from the mana radiation more than the fear.

The officer who called out to them swallows his own fear, asking, “Is… there any way to stop this fire? How can we help?”

Neith glances at Magnir, who watches him expectantly. The blue dragon is obviously the weaker of the two, but he did gather a bit more information simply by acting right away. “I believe we may be able to make a concentrated effort. Though, I don’t know if there’s any way for us to drive something this large back. Even if it works with all of us, I don’t think we have enough mana.”

“That doesn’t matter,” replies the grey dragon. “If we can scale it up, our job is to confirm that and report it to our superiors. That’s one of the best advantages of being a subordinate.” Though they’re both wearing helmets that protect their faces when not breathing fire, Magnir can tell from the way Neith’s head shifts that the larger male dragon is giving an amused smirk.

I see… He does… have a point. Daniel and the Empresses don’t ever snap at us to make decisions for ourselves, and then get angry at the outcome if we do. If there is a figurehead to be hated, it’s Daniel, but he also makes it worth protecting him. And, we benefit because Daniel asks for help. He doesn’t demand absolute obedience. Am I… Am I in basically the perfect position?

Magnir gives a light chuckle. He then turns to the task at hand, explaining loudly for the benefit of the knights and mages of Mornistae. “The spell that made some difference is pretty simply a cyclone, but I added as much force as I could with my wings. If we can coordinate one large cyclone, we may be able to carve a path through for now.”

“Let’s do it,” replies Neith. “I can handle a few more mana potations. Probably.”

Magnir scoffs. While they can take potations in their dragon forms, and the alcohol content would be small compared to their size, it works both ways. To get adequate mana recovery for a dragon, they would have to take quite a few. Unlike the revival potations, which act as a “spark of life” to restore a being’s connection to their soul, in simple terms, mana potions replenish the pool of magic stamina more directly. Senn and Serrentuk would have to take similar amounts, and it would almost certainly kill them if they needed to replenish their full mana pool.

It’s unclear if Hekate would survive trying to replenish a fraction of her own mana pool, though it’s not truly known how much mana the feldrok teen actually has. Just by being present to absorb the spiritual essence of so many powerful monsters, she has surpassed virtually everyone in capacity, but can’t make efficient use of that capacity.

Either way, like Neith said, they just need to try. If they’re lucky, the mighty dragons will be able to band together and handle it.

And if they can’t, they have their final ace up their sleeves, though it’s certainly not a secret.

And that would be the Harbinger of Calamity.

***