Last Life

Book 8: Chapter 6

SURE ENOUGH, I STARTED working on figuring things out almost immediately — as soon as I was able to think clearly again.

The first thing I did was run a thorough, unhurried scan of my energy system. I found several surprises waiting for me right away.

The first (and most important) was that my reservoir had grown by about 25%. Besides the increase in size, its color spectrum had become deeper and richer, and its exterior layer was thicker. I would no longer need to fear what a sudden increase in energy load might do to my system’s core. Like the one that had happened the previous night, for example.

As I examined my new reservoir, I couldn’t quite keep my emotions bottled up, and from time to time I let out a soft stream of curses under my breath. Those creatures, or spirits, from my dream had a point when they referred to me as a savage who had allowed his gift to transform his energy system without any guidance or control.

As I analyzed the situation, I eventually realized that an instantaneous increase in my reservoir’s volume, like the one I had survived that night, could easily have destroyed the physical shell holding the energy system in place. Basically, I got lucky: because I had only been living in my new world for a relatively short time, my energy system hadn’t fully “settled” into Max’s body, which meant that my connection to his body was simply severed. Had I been born in that body, and failed to prepare my system for a sudden burst of energy as badly as I had in Max’s body, it would definitely have killed me.

Having realized that, I just had to find out where the whole experience had transported me to. I didn’t really believe that it had actually been a dream. The place felt far too realistic. And the lunari confirmed this suspicion for me soon enough — she said it had felt like I wasn’t really there with her in the room. Only thanks to my connection with her had she been able to reach me at all. And that was with Selina working at the absolute limits of her strength.

Most likely, it was something like my meeting with Vadoma, who had managed to reach out to me from another world (and warn me of approaching danger) thanks to the mark that she bore. True, this situation was a little bit different.

Questioning the lunari didn’t yield any clues. Selina had never encountered anything like this before. That wasn’t too surprising, of course, given that by first-born standards she was barely past adolescence. An older “lunar spirit” (to use the term I had heard my vision) could probably have told me more. At that point, I made a mental note to arrange a meeting with some of Selina’s relatives.

As for the sudden increase in my reservoir’s volume and the equally-sudden energy burst, though... Well, I felt like the answer was pretty obvious. The dozen bruts I had fed to my parasite right before going to bed might have contained enough mana to push my system up to the next level. The energy from the bruts might have been the catalyst that launched the whole transformative process...

The next surprise was that my golden parasite, who was apparently satisfied with the new size of my reservoir, had already gotten to work transforming the energy node next to my heart.

This node was undoubtedly one of the most important in my whole energy system, but I knew that it wasn’t the one to transform first. Put simply, the parasite was acting like a mindless computer program, and as a result it had blindly started strengthening the node nearest the reservoir. Furthermore, it had used up all my remaining mana in doing so, without any corresponding strengthening or widening of the energy channels that connected this node to my reservoir. Sure, the velocity of the mana flow was manageable for the time being, but any significant increase might mean dire consequences. Up to and including ruptures.

Also, my parasite was suddenly demanding a lot more mana than before — that was yet another surprise. And definitely not a pleasant one...

I knew I would have to do something soon, or else I would simply run out of bruts and end up with a one-sided energy system. I already knew, of course, that trying to befriend the parasite was a fool’s errand. But switching to more aggressive actions, which (even if successful) would be accompanied by grave risks and horrible pain, wasn’t really an option either.

All things considered, then, the moment seemed to have arrived — a moment I had simultaneously been longing for and dreading for some time. First, though, I would have to prepare myself. And above all else, that meant giving my physical body some decent rest...

At first, things felt pretty bearable, despite the restless night and its bizarre “dream.” I mean, sure, my entire body ached... But I still managed to stand up, and even eat a big breakfast. After just a few hours, however, a wave of intense weakness swept over me, and soon it was taking every ounce of strength I possessed just to stay awake.

As soon as I had a coherent plan of action in mind, I made my way laboriously back to my bed and passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next two days passed in what, for me, was a very unusual fashion indeed. I just slept, without waking up once, and without a single dream. Previously, four hours of sleep would have been more than enough for me to recover, but this time I felt like an absolute wreck. I felt like I couldn’t even open my eyes.

After two days, though, the situation had changed a little bit. My sleep became a little more intermittent. I would wake up from time to time, albeit only to answer the call of nature, drink a little water, eat whatever I could manage, and devour a new batch of bruts from the supply that the lunari kept restocking on the nightstand next to my bed.

During my brief periods of wakefulness, I would switch to true vision and watch the metamorphoses taking place in my body. Whenever I did this, though, it still felt like I was watching from a distance, as a sort of detached observer.

Just as I suspected, the golden parasite was focusing all its attention directly and bluntly in a single direction, requiring more and more mana all the time.

In the end, seven days passed in this way until, by the start of the next week, I finally managed to get up from my bed and start doing physical exercise again.

At first, my whole body felt pretty stiff and rigid, but after another week I had adapted somewhat to the new circumstances, and I felt ready to take the next step...

* * *

Before me on the table lay a black brut, whose heavy, oppressive emanations of death magic were distinctly palpable even from several feet away. The longer I stared at it, the more keenly I sensed the presence of bottomless emptiness and the chill of the grave. It seemed like the crystal was devouring all the light around it. And this was actually the smallest of the black bruts in my stock.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh as I tried to calm my mind. Soon, any superfluous doubts and fears were gone. I had made my decision. It was time to see it through to the end.

Selina was with me, but I had ordered her to sit a little further away from the table. I didn’t want any stray streams of mana to hurt her in case of a sudden energy splash. The lunari’s presence filled me with confidence and helped me focus on what I was about to do. The first-born had always been with me at my most difficult moments, and I knew that her help would be especially important in what I was about to do.

“Are you sure?” She asked quietly.

“Yes,” I replied confidently. “I don’t see any other option. I have to regain the initiative, and that’s just not possible with normal bruts.”

“Be careful,” she said in a hushed, anxious whisper.

“You don’t take any risks yourself either,” I replied sternly. “Remember — that’s an order.”

As I tried to shut out the first-born’s emotions, I switched to true vision and bent down over the black crystal.

The golden parasite, which I hadn’t fed once since early morning, had already tried to force me into action a few times using its favorite, tried-and-true method. Namely, periodic waves of burning pain. But I stayed firm.

And once I showed the beast its new target, it settled right down, like a predator who had sensed the presence of prey nearby. Seeing it behave this way gave me further reason to hope. I recalled my previous encounter with black mana — how the golden parasite had behaved cautiously, instead of plunging headlong into battle like it normally did. And as I stood there, leaning over the black brut on the table, I felt the same instinctive feeling of superiority that I had felt while treating the Duke de Clairmont’s wound.

“Let’s get started,” I mouthed silently to myself. With that, I stretched a hand out toward the crystal.

But I didn’t even get the chance to touch it. The parasite beat me to it. The golden tentacle that suddenly burst out from my palm dug itself greedily into the crystal. I also noticed that the tentacle looked a lot denser and larger than the ones the parasite had used before. And the concentration of energy inside it was noticeably higher.

The strange mana’s attack caused the black stone to shake. The power sleeping inside the crystal suddenly woke up. After that, I felt the dark energy start to penetrate slowly — almost reluctantly — into my energy system.

When the black mana came into contact with my energy system, I felt a brutal mixture of cold and heaviness enter my body, almost as if my energy channels were filling with partially-frozen liquid instead of mana. At a certain point, a wave of fear suddenly wrapped itself around my heart. Through sheer force of will, however, I managed to regain my composure, drive away the onset of panic, and wrench the initiative back into my own hands.

To my surprise, and despite its hunger, the golden parasite was behaving calmly, even confidently. Like some sort of bizarre squid, it was crushing the black brut in its tentacles, as if trying to physically squeeze out all the energy inside it.

The contrast between the golden and black mana was incredibly striking. The golden energy was bright and lively as it slammed into the heavy, gloomy darkness of the black energy. It was like a battle between two ancient forces, each of which was striving to sate itself and survive.

For the first few seconds, I watched the confrontation with a frozen heart, ready at any moment to throw the black crystal away from me. With every passing instant, however, I felt more and more certain of final victory.

My parasite was obviously winning the fight. As it devoured the black energy, it was continuously transforming it into golden energy. If it had been a living creature, I’m sure I would have heard some kind of satisfied grunting sound as it devoured its prey.

Golden mana was flowing through my energy channels, strengthening and stabilizing them in the process. It reminded me of a building project, wherein every separate element eventually takes its place to create a new construction, sturdier than the sum of its parts.

Eventually, the discomfort I had initially felt at the touch of the foreign energy began to subside. Slowly but surely, I could see my reservoir filling with power. I hadn’t seen so much golden mana in one place for a very long time. Even healing the Duke de Clairmont hadn’t provided me with such a huge influx. And this was only the beginning.

The black energy tried to overpower the golden energy a few more times, but it failed. Finally, when the last little morsel of black mana was devoured, I let out a huge sigh of relief. My reservoir was filled to the brim, and, like a bear after a big honey binge, my eternally-hungry parasite was finally at rest.

For the first time in a long time, I could sense that the big glutton was genuinely sated. The bountiful supply of golden energy gave me a feeling of confidence and stability. It was something like the feeling of being freed from someone else’s shackles and finally regaining control of one’s own body. The golden parasite, which had so recently felt almost like an invader inside my own body, now felt like something of an ally (albeit a very temporary one).

When I looked down at the black brut, what I saw made my eyebrows rise a little bit. Not only had it failed to crumble to dust, like spent bruts usually did — its external appearance hadn’t actually changed at all. A careful scan revealed that I had only devoured about 20% of its total volume.

That, of course, opened some new possibilities for me. As long as my reservoir was full, and the parasite was stuffed, I could spend a little time transforming my energy nodes and energy channels in peace. I knew that the supply wouldn’t keep the parasite satisfied for very long, and that it would definitely try to retake control of the whole process, so I would have to prepare for a new confrontation in the near future.

I opened my eyes and saw Selina’s face in front of me, already shining with a big, happy smile. We understood one another without words: this was a victory. Our first victory, to be sure, but a very important victory. I had taken the risk, and come out on top...

* * *

Vestonia

Herouxville

The north wing of the Royal Palace

The small foyer of the Royal Palace greeted André de Châtillon with silence and half-lit gloom. The Viscount knew perfectly well that His Majesty had a multitude of small meeting halls like this in the north wing of his palace. And that they were meant for receiving guests of relatively low social status.

Not so long before, being received this way would have filled the former companion of Prince Heinrich with rage. Much had happened since then, however. Whenever André thought about those times, they felt distant and unfamiliar, almost like an episode remembered from a previous life.

The old André de Châtillon, that impulsive duellist and bully, was dead. He had been reborn as a stern, cool-headed fighter. An intelligent and calculating commander. And, thanks to the military campaign in Bergonia, he was now a nobleman with a sizable amount of wealth at his disposal. André had no doubts about who he had to thank for this miraculous rebirth.

Almost a month had passed since the day he had returned to the capital and asked for an audience at His Majesty’s secretariat. The high-placed officials who had accompanied the Viscount de Châtillon on his journey to Herouxville had warned him that he would have to wait quite a long time for an audience. And naturally, despite all the Viscount’s achievements in Bergonia, he wouldn’t have a prayer of being allowed to actually see the King in person. Especially since the latter probably wasn’t even in the capital at the time. The Viscount’s petition would probably be handled by some nondescript court secretary — that, at least, is what his traveling companions had thought, and what André himself had initially assumed.

Maximillian, however, had a different opinion on that matter... The Margrave de Valier was confident that the Viscount de Châtillon would be of interest not only to the lesser secretaries, but to some considerably larger fish as well. And in the end, he was right... The previous evening, André had received an invitation bearing the signature of His Majesty’s head secretary. So there he was — standing in the palace.

As he waited to be called in, thoughts about the state of affairs in Vestonia’s capital began to drift through André de Châtillon’s mind. In particular, he began to think about how monstrously unjust the world could be.

Several days before, in Moneychangers’ Square, the Viscount de Châtillon had caught sight of someone he really hadn’t been expecting to see ever again. André was returning from the merchants’ district of the old capital, which (thanks to the Margrave de Valier’s efforts) was slowly transforming from a half-dead, run-down part of the city into a lively area with brand-new buildings and streets.

With Maximillian’s recommendation in hand, André had no trouble finding quarters for his men and securing one of the nicest rooms at the local hotel for himself. One of the Margrave’s own people, by the name of Lucas, was in charge of the place.

The quality of the room was frankly amazing to André. He had never before spent a night at such a hotel. It had a beautiful view of the river outside, expensive furniture, soft carpets, fresh white linens, a toilet, separate bath and changing room — long story short, it was the kind of room that most Counts, and even many Dukes, couldn’t find anything in their homes to compare with.

The ground floor was home to a restaurant, each of whose tables was covered with a clean white tablecloth. The servers, in their neat, identical aprons, hustled and bustled to and fro with perfect decorum as they served delicious-smelling food to their patrons, while a small group of musicians serenaded them all from a small stage in the corner.

After strolling around the neighborhood for a bit, André de Châtillon found himself pleasantly surprised by the peaceful atmosphere of the place; in fact, he had begun to think seriously about buying an apartment with a view of the square and its central fountain. After all, things like this were possible for a man of means.

It was in this blissful frame of mind that the Viscount de Châtillon eventually made his way to Moneychangers’ Square. Once there, he noticed a carriage parked outside the entrance to the Craonne banking house, with the sigil of the Dukes de Hangest on its doors.

At the sight of his enemies, the blood in André’s veins instinctively began to boil, but he calmed himself down almost immediately. He remembered the Margrave de Valier’s admonition on the subject: the time was not yet ripe for an open confrontation with the Duke de Hangest, who seemed to have decided to pay a personal visit to his creditors. André’s initial surprise, however, paled in comparison to his shock when he saw Marquis Louis de Hangest and his brother Olivier step out of the carriage along with Gaspard Craonne.

André actually blinked a few times, just to make sure his eyes weren’t somehow deceiving him. As far as he knew, Louis de Hangest was supposed to be in the Gray Tower, where André himself had so recently been locked up to await his fate. Instead, the Marquis de Hangest was a free man, who looked perfectly happy with himself and his life as he strutted out of his carriage in brand-new clothes. Apparently, his daddy the Duke had somehow managed to procure his little boy’s freedom.

As he gritted his teeth and muttered a stream of curses under his breath, André turned away from the self-satisfied trio and continued on his way... Let them live in peace for now, he thought... Their bill will come due soon enough...

Before long, the sound of a door opening distracted the Viscount from his morose recollections. He looked up and saw a tall, well-dressed footman.

“Your Worship,” the latter greeted him with a slight bow as he stepped aside and opened the door.

André exhaled, driving the last remnants of his negative thoughts out of his mind. Focusing his attention on the door as though it were his next opponent in battle, he stepped decisively forward.

By the time he crossed the threshold, André was fully concentrated and prepared for the coming battle of words. When he finally found himself inside the small office and saw who was waiting for him, however, his decisive visage cracked for just a second.

“Ah, our hero’s come home for a visit!” The office’s sole occupant hailed him in a cheerful voice as a big smile, full of crooked teeth, spread across his makeup-smeared face.