I’ll need to take action before things to get to that point
[I’m going to get cracking on a new spell. Try to buy me a little time!]
The others redouble their efforts as I begin to focus within myself, turning over control of my body to the sub-brains. The main mind dips into the well of power that still remains largely untapped during this extended battle: the Gravity Mana Gland. I used it for a domain a while back, but that’s far from enough to drain this thing. I gave it several mutations upgrading the capacity, and it holds a bum-load of mana. My core might be low on energy, but I still have this reserve to make use of.
My brains are largely fried, though. The extended period of concentration and effort required to weave those spells is migraine-inducing. Of all my brains, only the main one is in any state to cast. So, as I reach within and summon up the dark purple mana, I know I’m going to be running solo on this one.
My body continues to duck, weave, and fight as my other brains pick up the slack, which is an odd sensation, to say the least, but it’s a comfort. If I sat still, I’d be dead pretty damn quickly in this scenario.
There’s only a limited number of things I can do with Gravity Mana without the specific spell constructs gained from the dedicated Skill. Most of those won’t be useful, so I have no choice but to weave the only thing that will have an impact. Time for the Gravity Bomb.
Now, is that dangerous? Could it do more harm than good? Absolutely! But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Another thing to keep in mind is that I don’t have to dump all of my mana into a single Gravity Bomb. I was able to cast a much weaker version of the spell immediately after gaining the gland, after all. My mental powers and mana-handling Skills have grown in leaps and bounds since then. If I want to fire off a mini-bomb, I should be more than capable!
Under the potent guidance of my main mind, the mana leaps to my command, compressing and twisting in on itself as I begin to condense it over and over again. It doesn’t take long for the ball of mana to coalesce into the sphere that I now recognise as the weakest form of the Gravity Bomb. I pump a little more into it before I tie off the spell and prepare to launch it.
[Crinis! Invidia! Prepare for a blast!]
My two pets begin to retreat from that front, and after a beat, I let the bomb fly.
It howls into existence in a much-reduced form to what I’ve become used to. The sphere is so much smaller, its intimidating aura so much weaker, but it’s good enough for the job at hand. The bomb impacts against the leading termites and enlarges into the swirling mass of death I’ve come to know and love… and fear.
The termites are obviously less than happy with this development. Many are pulled into the black sphere, but the power of the bomb isn’t enough to crush them instantly. These monsters are tougher than the centipedes who were the first victim of the Gravity Bomb. Despite the bomb, the termites are still able to push on, creeping around the edges and hugging the walls to avoid the pull.
That’s fine. The second one is almost ready to go.
147. Born of the Tree
The Grove Keeper did not have a name, none of the bruan’chii did. Not in the sense of the sapient races, or even the Colony, it would seem. They lacked many things that others had. No first or family name, no gender, no homeland, or indeed, any real history. They possessed no spoken language, little industry or cultural artefacts, no religion or relics or anything outsiders might think was essential to bind them together.
And yet, no people on Pangera were more united than they. The reason for this was simple, and impossible for any other group to replicate: they were of one soul.
The Keeper could remember being born. A splinter of Mother Tree had broken away, not her physical form, but her very spirit, and been cupped in her loving hands. Embraced by the Mother, that shard had begun to grow. Ideas, thoughts, and emotions coalesced slowly inside that timeless realm within the Tree as the Keeper had been nurtured by its sole parent. Over time, that tiny shard had grown into a bright, burning spirit of its own, a fully grown entity, ready to be unleashed on the world.
Yet that had not been the way. Rather than being sent out into the world, the Keeper was kept close to the Mother, released from her hands and allowed to mingle with the other spirits she’d raised.
How to describe that world? The Keeper didn’t have the words to paint an accurate picture. There was warmth, and comfort, and safety. More than those things, there was community. Thousands upon thousands of bruan’chii frolicked there, held within the Soul Home. In that place, they experienced a wordless joy as they enjoyed the company of quite literal kindred spirits. Of one soul, they had no need to communicate, able to share thoughts and emotions on a primal level that transcended physical reality.
The Keeper had spent most of its life in the Soul Home, beyond time, beyond the individual, held in the embrace of the Mother.
Now, though, the Keeper felt the push.
It was not a command, or a directive. The Mother Tree did not interact with her children in that way. Instead, it was a gentle suggestion, but one that not a single bruan’chii had ever refused. As the Keeper’s spirit began to move, so too did many that were close, all of them shifting with increasing speed as they departed their home and entered the wider network that was the Mother and her roots.
Through twisting paths and coiled branches, they flew, each radiating happiness as they revelled in the journey and each other’s company. The Keeper felt a deep satisfaction. This was what it meant to be bruan’chii, this togetherness and unity of purpose that couldn’t be found anywhere else.
When they finally arrived at their destination, they found the Mother had prepared their vessels, as she always did, and they leapt into them like children into a burbling stream. It was always a strange shift of perspective, when they joined with a body. They transitioned from beings of pure light that existed only within the Mother to creatures of mundane reality, with senses and limbs. There was sadness in the loss of freedom, but also excitement of a different kind. In their physical bodies, they could effect change on behalf of the Mother, and lift each other up.
The Keeper experienced a quiet, dream-like state as the body prepared by the Mother continued to gestate. A steady flow of Life Mana poured in, and in response, the Keeper grew. Powerful, trunk-like arms swelled with strength as the bark-coating thickened and hardened.
On the edges of awareness, the Keeper could sense the others growing alongside them. So many… clearly the Mother had great plans for them.
In time, the process was complete, and the Keeper stirred for the first time in this new form. Wood creaked and snapped as the giant form broke free of the root on which it had been formed, the Keeper stretching their limbs and opening their eyes.
Nearby, thousands more emerged. Keepers and regular bruan’chii alike shook their new bodies as they connected with each other via their wordless bond.
As one, they felt the presence of their mother descend. Her mind, so enormous and powerful that it dwarfed their flickering selves, lay a gentle hand on them, and through that, they knew their purpose.
The Keeper turned to the others of its kind, and they quickly organised themselves, gathering together with their kindred and setting off through the tunnels. They had been formed close to the main roots, but their steps quickly ate up the ground as they proceeded through the winding tunnels.