Chapter 45: Activating the Core

The Collector found itself sitting waist deep in the murky waters of the assassin bugbrute's swampy territory.

Rings of water shimmered in slow, gentle waves around surface of the water hugging it, and each ring shone with a faint white luminescence that defied the light absorbent properties of the darkwood trees around the pond.

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it sensed the purple skinned specimen kneeling atop the broad length of its armored back.

It had retracted its wings fully into its carapace and bent forward, its mandibles almost touching the glowing water's surface to provide the specimen space to work with.

According to the specimen, there were three primary steps to opening the core. Core Divination, as the process was called.

The first step was called Priming, and the specimen was performing this now. It involved feeling for the Collector's roots and core and then gently stimulating minute flows of mana from them.

The second step was Revelation, and it involved causing the Collector's mana to show its 'affinity'.

The third and final step was Molding. The Collector would form a magical Trigger in this stage, a specific collection of emotions and feelings it harbored most strongly, emotions that were tied to its 'affinity', and 'mold' it to its core, allowing it to channel this trigger to activate or close the core.

"I had thought you unable to utilize magic, and yet, I have come to correlate light that defies the unique light draining nature of the trees surrounding this area with magic. If I am not mistaken, this light emanates from you," said the Collector.

'No, this light is from you,' corrected the female daemon specimen.

The light in the water cleared out any impurities – corpses of small bugs and clods of dirt and sticks and other scum –, leaving a pure and reflective surface from which the Collector could see the purple skinned specimen closing her eyes and furrowing her brows in strain.

'I…I cannot use magic I want to, though. I miss the feeling. Burn on my head stops me. Makes it hurt too much when I use mana.

But what I'm doing now doesn't require me to use my own mana,' said the specimen. She breathed in and out deeply, her splayed palm pressed hard atop a shard of the Collector's back carapace. 'It uses the mana already in you.

Unlocks it just a little bit. Then all I do is direct its flow in place of your sleeping core.'

"Curious." The Collector clicked its mandibles, seeing the light infusing the water around it. Light that supposedly came from it. It could feel familiar warmth rising from within its chest where its heart was located.

'You have spirit roots, and a core,' said the specimen. 'They're just sleeping. I'm…I'm having a little trouble with you, though. You…you're very different.

When I helped Thorian with Core Divination, the people I felt all had the same structure. This is…I don't know.

Confusing.'

The specimen shifted her hand around and then settled on a new spot further up on the Collector's back. Points of light began to shine from the contact point between her purple hand and carapace.

'But…but I can manage.

I learn fast, Thorian always told me. This…this much, I can do.' The Collector watched through the reflective water as the specimen opened her eyes wide. 'Your core beats fast.

Very, very fast.'

The Collector sensed its heartrate. It was even, optimized to a point to conserve physical energy while it remained unmoving.

Further corroboration that though this 'core' had a physical manifestation in the form of the heart and the 'spirit roots' with blood vessels and nerves, there was a distinctive intangible factor governing the functions of either magical system.

"The beating you sense, does it convey a sense of irregularity?" asked the Collector.

'No…just different. And now that I listen better…,' The purple skinned specimen closed her eyes and sunk her hand harder into the Collector's back. 'It's not that it's fast, it's…there are many.

Lots and lots and lots of different beats, all of them merging into one. I…I don't know anything about this, I've never read anything about it-,'

"Does it indicate irregularity that conveys harm to this form?" said the Collector, directing the female daemon's thoughts to what it truly wished to know: danger to itself.

The specimen shook her head. 'No…it shouldn't, I don't think so. If you had an irregular core, or maybe if your body couldn't handle an opening, or if someone had damaged your core or roots, then I would feel something wrong.

Lots of heat. Burning heat. Or lots of cold. Freezing cold.

Depends on the type of emotions you're compatible with.

But…you seem normal, just warm.' She nodded. 'Safe to go to the Revelation stage now.'

The Collector clicked its mandibles as it felt the specimen put more pressure with her hand on the Collector now. She scrunched up her face in exertion, a bead of sweat starting to form from her pale forehead, and the white light infusing the water around the Collector changed.

From a silvery white reminiscent of moonlight to a deep red. It almost looked like it was humanoid blood, not water that flowed around the Collector, and the shine from it was intense, almost blinding to the average human's ocular systems.

The Collector could feel the warmth in its heart leap by several degrees, though not as strongly as it did after it had consumed the goblin champion.

Yet close, though it could not approximate accurately as this sensation was not physical – it was not equipped to make calculations regarding this foreign feeling.

'Red…,' said the specimen. 'You are compatible with the Origin of Chaos.'

"Explain further," said the Collector.

'There are five Origin Gates,' said the specimen, this time in her tone of recitation, remembering from another documentation of information she had memorized.

'Unity. Origin of all that creates.

Chaos. Origin of all that destroys.

Flow. Origin of all direction whether that builds or breaks or remains stable.

Root. Origin of the space that all stand upon, where reality itself is affixed.

Void. Origin of mystery.

These are five fundamental forces that mana can color itself into, and these forces, though called gates, far predate the Convergence and the dawn of the gods. These are primordial powers that have likely existed since the beginning of the world itself when the Alltree sprouted and took root, perhaps even before.

Origin Gates are impossible for the average mortal or monster to directly link to for their power is undiluted and vast.

Among the gods, five known as the Gatekeepers link to these primordial forces, and the twelve high gods of the Protectorate link to the Gatekeepers and create additional gates.

These gates are fashioned from concepts derived from the Origin Gates. Thus, there are gates for the elements and concepts familiar to mortals.

Unity becomes the gate of Water.

Chaos becomes the gate of Fire.

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Flow becomes the gate of Wind.

Root becomes the gate of Earth.

Void becomes the gate of Paths.

And more.

Gates such as that of War, Smithing, Love, Hate, and even Life and Death itself are all also divisions of the five Origins.' The specimen stopped, then paused in thought before deciding to recite another text, her tone shifting.

It was evident she was more familiar with these concepts, having worked directly with them before in core divination or other relevant procedures.

'During Revelation, make sure the subject is relaxed. Don't want any struggling or, gods forbid, some kind of magi-psychosis.

Now, if you're using water as a medium, as you should as a beginner - water truly is malleable and easy to work with- then watch the color of the water.

Blue means compatibility to Unity.

Red to Chaos.

Green to Flow.

Yellow to Root.

Black to Void, though this is so rare you might as well forget about seeing it.

Once you've confirmed the subject's Origin affinity, you can figure out not only which gates they're compatible with, but also what color the water should stay as they mold their trigger.

If they're molding a trigger that isn't right for them, then the color of the water will flicker.

Immediately stop the divination process if this happens unless you want to pay reparations for the family of a braindead sorcerer or adventurer to be.'

The Collector clicked its mandibles in understanding. The entire process of this 'magic' was in essence founded by a series of connections.

First, there were the Origins linked down to gods known as Gatekeepers and then these were linked down to other gods embodying Gates which then linked down to the lowly humanoids in service to them.

Each successive link eased the burden of accessing power where with the humanoids, even the most pathetic and weak of them could manifest capabilities that defied natural laws.

Yet, the Origins themselves were a power independent of these 'gods' and seemed to be the most fundamental and primary way in which magic divided itself: the true sources of power comprising magic.

"Where do these internal manifestations of magic, this 'body strengthening', 'primal magic', and 'ethera' fall under this dichotomy?" said the Collector.

'Your affinity to an Origin will greatly color your mana and how it expresses itself. Everything you listed is just another way to use mana. Except using your body instead of a gate as a vessel, so they're all tied to the Origins.'

The daemon cocked her head.

'I guess examples are better.

Fighters that have Chaos Origins will be better at breaking things down, smashing, tearing, and so on.

Monsters using primal magic or people using Ethera with a Chaos origin will probably have things like flame breath, things meant to destroy.' The specimen halted her breathing for a moment, strain apparent on her face.

'This…this is tiring for me. You have…a lot more mana than I thought, and so much of it flows so strangely…hard to keep up with. I'm sorry, very sorry, but…need to finish this fast.'

"Proceed," said the Collector.

'Now…we are going into Molding. I…am not sure you can do this. You shouldn't be able to. But…I believe in you,' said the daemon.

"Explain further," said the Collector.

'For Molding, you have to first enter a state of nothingness,' said the daemon. 'It's…hard to explain.

You don't feel anything. Don't think about anything.'

"It is done," said the Collector as it regulated its mental and hormonal processes, limiting them into a state of nigh-inactivity. Utilized the same methods it wielded to enter into states of hibernation. A simple process.

'Wow…,' muttered the specimen. 'Most…most people need to meditate a month, maybe even more than that to do that.

But…but I had a feeling you could. You are special. Strong.'

"The control I possess over my bodily functions is at a level that utterly escapes the grasp of you biologically backwards tinkerers. This much is easily within the means of my processing power," said the Collector.

The daemon nodded. She closed her eyes again and focused as she put strength back into her palm.

'Now then…to form the Trigger. This is very, very important.

The Trigger is a feeling. A very strong feeling, the strongest emotion in your heart, the one that speaks the most to your soul, and what is driving the heat you feel right now.

I am going to try and have your roots flow as much mana as possible, and you bring this feeling very close to your heart.

Feel it very strongly. Your core and roots will remember this, mold to it, learn to open and close to it.

Afterwards, your core will be open, and you might feel some strangeness. It is natural. Opposite emotions to your trigger will flow into you for a bit. Let them in and out, and you'll be fine.'

'Proceed," said the Collector.

It processed the risks the specimen warned it about but found it could not adequately calculate them. It did not know what it meant to feel the opposite of what it was programmed to feel. Yet, mere emotions alone would not harm its physical structure, so it assessed the risk low.

Logically, the opposite of the battle lust it felt would be something akin to fear, and yet, though it understood what fear was, it was incapable of truly feeling it.

It was simply something absent in its programming.

A vestigial emotion incised away from it due to its tendency for inefficiency.

The daemon took in a deep breath as she began to press down with her palm. 'Okay. Here I go.'

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