Universe's End

Chapter 258: Whispers of the Wind

Hearing the wind was one thing, the faintest whisper of an untold language.

Speaking it? Not nearly as easy.

While it took Rory ten days of meditation near the lower atmosphere's ceiling to hear anything, it took far longer to accomplish anything more than that.

Two months and fifteen days to be precise.

Having finally caught a whisper in the winds, Rory found that the atmosphere was far less quiet than originally expected. Whispers, some quiet, some loud, seemed to constantly ring out, in his mind somewhere between a cross of a tinging silver bell, and the world’s gentlest and most quiet trombone, a rather odd mix if he had to be honest.

Doing nothing but listening for several days, it was the better part of those two months and fifteen days that Rory spent just trying to respond. It wasn’t easy, but then Rory never really expected it to be. Even with his cognition, achieving skybound chanting had taken Miguel years if not decades, and Rory was attempting it just under three months.

Hearing the wind was one thing, but when he understood it the first time was another, sitting there listening to the quiet chorus of whispers hidden from the ears of all but a single person on the planet –well, two people now— that had been a special moment, a single sense of meaning from one of the random, slow, ringing whistles.

Direction.

Over time, Rory began finding meaning in more and more of the ‘sounds’ as he began to build his own vocabulary.

Direction. Speed. Fun. Flight. Slow. Fast. Up. Down.

More and more words slowly filled in his skybound lexicon, but even a tier eight eventually felt the call of something more powerful.

His stomach.

The environment, as gentle as it appeared, was not friendly, and Rory’s body had been sustaining itself by burning up his own reserves of energy, which had a slow accruing cost that eventually couldn’t be ignored.

Sighing, Rory slowly stood up, his legs surprisingly responsive even after being seated for nearly three months.

“Probably a good time to leave anyway,” Rory muttered. The agreed-upon deadline with Zoey was fast approaching, leaving him around a week to spare.

“Enough time to give a few lessons, and maybe test the new bad boy out,” Rory sighed.

Sky-honored Chanter

Rarity: Aberrant. Skill Level: Low

The way of the skybound chanter is already a skill few even know, requiring years of practice and dedication. Unlike most who would put themselves in one toe at a time, you have plunged directly into the deep end, exposing yourself to an environment not suitable for most, while keeping a mind open to words spoken of a language unknown. At high altitudes, senses not conducive to perceiving skybound chanting are muted, granting greater perception of skybound chanting.

It wasn’t quite the fancy version of Skybound Chanting as Miguel, but it was still a step above what the ‘regular’ version of Skybound Chanting would be. The bonus was nifty, if not entirely useful outside of special cases. If Rory understood it correctly, it was just that while really high up, he would be able to more easily add to his skybound chanting vocabulary, which would make the ‘debate’ phase of skybound chanting easier in the future, the larger his vocabulary was.

“Well, I enjoyed listening to you all,” Rory said, looking around at the ‘empty’ island. When he’d arrived here nearly three months prior, it really had seemed empty to Rory, but now to Rory it was as if even the air was a companion, neither alive nor conscious, yet somehow present with aspects that existed beyond even his comprehension, a world of understanding that he’d look more deeply into in the future.

Having said his goodbye, Rory stepped off the small island floating high in the sky, as he began to plummet. Falling feet first, the wind slipped by him with barely any turbulence as he cut through any resistance, thanks to the benefit of Seams Unseen that had been integrated into Eyes of the Architect.

If only anyone were actually around to see this.

He was showing off a little bit, but it felt at least a little deserved. Falling for some time, the air began to thicken as did the chorus of noise from the rest of the world, yet the underlying aethereal chatter never disappeared, like a distracting whisper nearly out of earshot.

Going to have to adjust to that.

Waiting until he could once more see the floating asteroid field, the entirety of Rory’s momentum vanished as he locked on and flickered, suddenly standing on an asteroid just large enough for him to dust himself off.

“Easy peasy,”

Having returned to the surface, or much closer to the surface, only a moment later, he was gliding with the aid of the glider he’d acquired from Zoey’s people.

“Interesting,” Rory muttered as the glider seemed to chatter just as much as anything else. It was odd how something that wasn’t consciousness or sentient in the least still seemed to have the ability to impress some version of intent.

Definitely worth researching in the future, but I can already tell that’s going to be some advanced shit.

Coasting through the air, it wasn’t hard to find his way back; the benefit of a Coordinate affinity was that it was hard to lose track of anyone he’d locked onto, like a homing beacon installed in his mind.

Assuming he remembered to ‘lock’ a coordinate in place first, but sometimes getting lost made things more interesting.

Closing in on the scattered village, Rory was surprised to find Miguel waiting for him, his arms crossed.

“You’ve returned,” The man said as Rory finally touched back down.

“I did,” Rory said, pointing out the obvious. “Surprised you sensed me coming, I was making a point of not blasting my aura outward.”

“I didn’t,” Miguel admitted. “I was informed another was on their way—someone who can hear the wind and the air and the sky. I’m glad to see you succeeded. Not just anyone could have withstood such a prolonged exposure up there.”

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Rory said with a shrug.

“I believe that is where you are mistaken,” Miguel answered with a sly smile. “The thin air was not the only danger up there.”

“Huh?” Rory questioned, suddenly confused. “Nothing seemed off.”

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“Perhaps for you,” Miguel chuckled. “I reckoned you would be alright, so I made a point of saying nothing. Part of the reason I said to keep your attention turned only to the sky, air, and wind, and not the flow of magic or other senses, was that you needed your witssharp. The words of the wind are not as gentle as they seem; lapses in attention, they turn hostile, for they do not like to be ignored, so high up where they hold the highest of courts. With each distraction, a blade through the mind, making it harder and harder to focus, until one is forced to leave. Even I, someone who has often prioritized cognition as my main attribute, and been gifted the knack for skybound chanting, cannot withstand listening for so long.”

“I just genuinely didn’t notice,” Rory said truthfully.

“Because you’ve trained your mind in a way that is likely hard to replicate,” Miguel said as if it were obvious. “Or so is my best theory. That aside, considering you spent so long up there, was the time fruitful?”

“Quite. I obtained the skill Sky-Honored Chanting.”

“Oh? Would you mind sharing?” Miguel asked.

“Sure thing, master.”

“Oh goodness, don’t tease my fragile heart,” Miguel snorted. “While the presence of a Founder is less overpowering on the psyche for me than most others, the jest still makes me uncomfortable as if I were committing a crime.”

Responding with a snort, Rory flicked over the skill as Miguel quickly read it.

“Interesting. Less profound than my own version, but itself special. My understanding is that anyone who could withstand the presence of the words of the wind for sufficiently long while also beginning to grasp what they have to say might gain such a skill as well.”

“Hey, your theory, not mine,” Rory said with a shrug.

“That aside, what are your plans now?”

“Well, I owe some lessons, and I have some tinkering I’d like to do on my own time, and then Zoey and I will be going magical spelunking.”

“Spelunking?”

“Caving,” Rory explained. “Except with what is probably a delve. Delving. Hmm, but delving and delving may get confused… Never mind, not important,” Rory sighed as his wandering thoughts wandered off completely.

“Well, would you like me to gather some people for your first lesson?”

“Yeah, perhaps have some people sent my way.”

“And where will that be?”

“Oh, you won’t be able to miss it,” Rory said with a grin. “Oh, also, one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How would you like to gain some apprentices?”

It had been a long time since Rory had last worked on whipping up a tome. In fact, it hadn’t been since he’d originally left Ehkorrus oh so many decades ago. There really hadn’t been much reason for him to make any after all, as Ehkorrus had more than enough established crafters at this point, and anything he wanted to teach, he could teach them directly or give lessons on that would permeate out. Sure, tomes made it easier, but they always had the potential danger that too much of himself injected into a tome could overwhelm a reader.

And then there was the entire thing with Viviann. Her death hadn’t been just from reading the tome, but either way, the tome had been the catalyst.

But that was then, and things had changed. It was clear to Rory just how much Miguel wanted to share skybound chanting with others. Given his own experience was rather limited, Rory figured it would actually be a perfect primer, not so much knowledge as to overwhelm a reader. He didn’t even bother with the actual vocabulary he’d picked up; he couldn’t see a good way to transfer that through the pages of the admittedly rather thin tome, even with his sense of the experiencing transferred magically through the words and intent behind the words.

After only a single day, Rory held up a thin packet, less tome and more introductory pamphlet. His experiences were few, and his presence injected into the pages was limited, but just maybe it would be enough to give a few the chance to even start on the path.

With that finished, Rory switched to his next project, given that he’d told Miguel that they’d be able to find him.

Hmm, something a little bombastic.

Nodding to himself, pillars began to rise up from the asteroid he stood upon, an eight-pointed octagon. They were each oddly shiny and reflective, as Rory had made a point of raising trace metals from the asteroid to act as reflective surfaces, all pointed to the same spot in the very center. From there, a red-crystal ‘box’ formed, his projection magic at play, anchored more heavily in reality than usual as he tugged at the ever-stubborn foundational quasi-affinity he’d grown more accustomed to coercing over the years.

Binding everything together with a rather quickly drawn-up bound circle beneath the pillars and the flash forge, Rory flipped several gems into the air, three per pillar, as they formed triangles that floated perfectly above them, channeling and intensifying the solar rays further.

Finally, Rory supplemented the center flash-forge with blood flames. While blood flames were generally less intense than regular flames per unit of pneuma used, they were also almost alchemical in nature, giving him finer-tuned control over the entire process.

With the entire overly grandiose setup thrown up in only a few minutes, Rory simply began adding ingots and ores into the forge, never rushing or feeling a need to do anything fancy when not needed. The pop-up flash forge was already ‘showing off,’ so there wasn’t a point in doing more than that.

As Rory expected, it wasn’t long until people began to appear, coming to watch in awe. They were primarily crafters from what Rory could glean at a glance, but even some people who looked like ordinary combat types showed up. Hell, even a few kids stared with wide eyes.

The entire time, Rory remained silent. He was working with gravite to start, heating, manipulating, cooling, and folding where necessary, eyes glowing as he worked, seeing everything there was to see.

Hmm, I wonder what would be a good item to choose.

At first, Rory was thinking of just a random weapon or such, but that seemed almost too mundane. Sure, he wasn’t explicitly doing anything over the top, not for what was basically just the most basic introduction course, but something they were all familiar with would be best.

Oh, wait, I know.

Idea in mind, Rory began to thin out the metal, shaping it into a scaffolding, hammering away on a regular old anvil he’d plopped out of his inventory alongside a regular workbench. As he worked, he began to whisper, though his lips never moved nor did his vocal cords even twitch. The whispered wind words were repetitive, partially because there were only three or four that Rory believed he could actually ‘speak’, but he kept it up, trying to convince the metal its place was in the sky by sheer scope of endless repetition.

“Speed. High. Float. Speed. High. Float.”

Perhaps it was because the work was being done in the sky, the floating asteroid field that Zoey’s people called home already so far above the ground below, or perhaps it was the artificial nature of gravite, but the gravite didn’t seem to bother resisting, like a child that could only nod in agreement.

Feeling like he’d ‘convinced’ the material as much as he could, Rory switched to precision work, carving runes through the material with a stylus specially designed for the sole purpose of rune work.

I should make a blood-bound stylus in hindsight… Ehh, I’ll add it to the list of things to do.

The gliders he’d seen, specifically his own that he’d been lent, had used inscriptions, but they were practical to the point of inefficacy; they got the job done, and that was about it.

In this case, Rory told a story within the runes, not just of basic functions, but of purpose, his own blood used in the inscription process just so he could jam that much more intent into each rune as he utilized Ghost Message within the blood. It was flowery inscription prose, even by his standards, but as he finished, the scaffold, which had sounded to Rory like it was quietly humming with the words of the wind, now felt as if it had even begun to murmur a word or two.

Interesting.

Next from his inventory appeared the corpses of some monsters he’d collected on his way here with Eia. Processing them took him only minutes as he wasn’t doing anything too fancy, primarily targeting the wings of flying monsters as he transformed the raw materials into workable leather, again whispering under his breath. The wings, unlike the gravite, seemed more opinionated, having their own hums and murmurs. Unsure how to deal with that, Rory didn’t even bother ‘changing’ their mind; instead, he just called it a win that, after enough of his own whispered words, the leather hummed a single extra word that he’d been prompting it.

The last few steps were, all in all, not all that interesting, just tightening of struts and sinewy fibers, until at last, Rory stopped, examining his creation.

Yes, that will do.

Skybound Stream Glider

Grade: Uncommon (+)

He hadn’t been setting out to fashion some master craft item, so an advanced, uncommon grade was quite good. Furthermore, given that every other glider he’d seen had maxed out at common grade, not even sub-grade uncommon, meant his first attempt at making a glider was already leagues above anything Zoey’s people had seen before.

They really need a better name than ‘Zoey’s people.’

Turning to the crowd that had gathered, Rory locked onto a single face that he instantly recognized, jerking his head to the side as Miguel got on to the cue and walked forward.

“Call it a small gift,” Rory said as he offered the glider to Miguel, as the raised constructs behind him began to seep back into the ground of the medium-sized asteroid. Then, turning to face the crowd, Rory projected his aura into his voice.

“If you’re curious, the glider will be on display for the rest of today-” A quick glance to the side showed Miguel nodding slightly, indicating that was fine with him. “If you’re more than curious, tomorrow begins the first of four proper sessions. Show up, or don’t.”

“Where?” A voice shouted out from the crowd.

Smiling, Rory was glad to be able to reuse the line he’d given to Miguel.

“You won’t be able to miss it.”