Work Text:
529 Years Before the Turning
“Good morning, Vivisari!”
Vivisari Vexaria turned to the source of the noise, and saw that one Remian Voss had entered the library. With tousled raven hair and a wide, youthful smile, he didn’t look like one of the most powerful mages on the planet, but Vivisari knew him as such. Despite being a teenager, he was already Orichalcum, and would be sure to earn his Title soon enough.
She was returning a massive stack of books she had checked out prior at the moment, but she wasn’t at all surprised that the boy had come to find her. Vivisari had very few true peers when it came to talent, and Remian was one of the few people who could speak with her non-vacuously on magic of the highest echelons alongside possibly Lucorius, so they maintained some correspondence. The boy had asked where she was, presumably to receive her opinion on some matter. It helped that they were actually of relatively similar age, despite Vivisari’s far greater lifespan.
“Good morning, Remian,” she said politely.
“It’s been too long! You’re awful at writing letters, ya know that?” Remian elbowed her teasingly, and she masked her discomfort. She never was one for physical contact, but she had grown to expect these kinds of things from him. “I can’t believe I wrote you a three-paragraph request about what I’m researching and all you respond with is ‘Ok.’ You’re unbelievable!”
If it weren’t for the boy’s disarming smile, Vivisari would have thought he was legitimately offended, but thankfully Remian never really was one for taking things personally. And besides, he knew Vivisari, so he probably had expected her poor communication skills.
“What did you come to meet me for?” Vivisari asked, her voice devoid of any emotion. Had Remian not asked to meet her, she would have been in her room right now like she always was, experimenting or practicing on something or other. Venturing out always required alertness, which was exhausting to maintain. Yet, Remian had asked to see her here at the Keresi School for the Arcane, one of the most prominent magic academies in the demonic lands.
“See, I’m working on this pocket dimension ring, something to store stuff beyond your normal inventory. It’s always such a pain to pick and choose which things to carry around, since the mana they exude can interact with each other poorly, but my experiments on creating a suppressing effect throughout the pocket dimension was a partial failure. I wanted to ask you…”
Remian spoke animatedly about his project, and the conversation eventually degenerated into Remian rambling on and on about the minute specifics of pocket dimension creation. Most people would have found it boring, but Vivisari just listened in rapt attention, and by the time he had finished explaining, she had already theorized a solution.
Wordlessly, Vivisari retrieved a sketchbook and imbued about a hundred arcane glyphs into the book, one on each page in such intricate detail that no mortal hands could have replicated it. Then, she handed it to Remian, who flipped through it. His eyebrows rose and rose as each page passed.
“That’s genius,” he muttered. “But wait, wouldn’t that…? No, you accounted for… damn, that’s clever, I should have thought of that first…” Eventually, Remian snapped out of it. “Oh. My apologies, Vivisari. This is genius work! I don’t suppose you would be willing to travel back with me to the workshop? I could use a second opinion on everything I’ve been working on.”
Vivisari hesitated. A part of her really, really wanted to go home, to push away the stress of social interactions to just go read her books and practice her magecraft again. Yet, Remian’s work would no doubt be some of the most exotic and fascinating in the entire world. She could feel her curiosity growing…
“If it helps,” Remian offered with a knowing smile, “Lucorius is there at the moment.”
That sealed the deal. Lucorius, despite being a bit odd at times, was also a genius Vivisari very much respected, and it had been too long since they had spoken.
“Very well,” she said. “Can you warp us?” Indeed, [Lesser Warp] was a spell that should have been far above Remian’s paygrade, but the boy was both a genius and a specialist in spatial magic, so she knew he could cast it.
“[Lesser Warp],” Remian incanted, and the two vanished.
353 Years Before the Turning
“Good afternoon, Vivisari!”
Vivisari turned towards the noise at the mouth of the cave, and was unsurprised to see that it was once again Remian, frazzled black hair and all. She had moved here to distance herself from demonic politics in the last few years, so much so that she’d heard many people presumed her dead. Naturally, she’d warded this entire place against divinations… but of course Remian could break through them. He always was better at her than warding and anti-warding techniques.
“Remian,” she greeted. “Good to see you again.”
In truth, that was only partially true. She’d heard rumors of rather… unpleasant measures Remian had taken in his research, lately. Animal experimentation, predominantly, among other things. Not that she was going to lambast the man for his dedication, it just was something she herself wasn’t particularly comfortable with. Strange, perhaps, for a demon to be squeamish to violence, but that she was.
Reflexively, she [Inspect]ed the man. It had been years since they had last spoken, so she was eager to see how much progress he’d made.
***
Remian Voss
Level 1149 Human [Oraculum Altum]
***
“It’s been too long! You need to stop hiding yourself away.”
“No,” Vivisari replied firmly. “Demonic politics has hindered my growth for long enough.”
Remian squinted, then shrugged. “Eh, fair enough.”
“You look… well,” Vivisari said cautiously.
“Aye! Lucorius helped me extend my lifespan… you know, before…”
The two fell into silence at the mention of Lucorius. The Umbral Regent, they called him now, and he’d gone completely off the rails. It was difficult to cleanly detach herself from the amicable relationship they had had before, but years had gone by, and she’d eventually come to a decision.
“I’ve been training to kill him one day,” Vivisari admitted quietly.
Remian gave her a surprised look. “You don’t think he can be brought back to his senses?”
“No.”
“He’s Level 1200 now, you know,” Remian said, “and sure to grow. At this rate, he may exceed the Dragon King in a mere few centuries. I myself considered slaying him to seize his magic for myself… but I am not nearly as capable as he, and I could not possibly divine the location of his phylactery while also dealing with all of his minions.”
Indeed, the reason why Lucorius had not been killed yet was simply because the man was exceedingly powerful for a Level 1200. Even upper Titled like Archmage Osmian did not believe they could kill him.
“I know of a Rogue,” Vivisari commented vaguely. “An elf, whose level is similar to mine. Both of us are training hard. Though it may take us centuries to safely slay him, we will do it.”
“And I will laud you for that effort,” replied Remian. “In any case, that is not why I came here.”
“Oh?”
“I wanted to ask you to join me! I have done quite a lot of investigation into temporal acceleration, and I believe I could safely create a time dilation chamber. I have tested the chamber myself a handful of times, and I assure you it is quite effective! Inside, you could spend months studying magic, and outside, only a single day would pass.” He extended a friendly hand. “So? What say you?”
After a long silence of consideration, Vivisari spoke. “I apologize, Remian, but I’m going to have to decline. As of now, studying is not the biggest issue—levels are. I cannot level in the time dilation chamber.”
Remian nodded, as if he’d expected this all along. “Very well, I figured you might. Well, let me know if you change your mind! I could always use some company.”
As Vivisari waved goodbye to the boy, some deep-seated instinct of hers told her that she had dodged a bullet, but she didn’t know why.
It was only later, after three and a half centuries had passed, that the two would interact again.
Two Years Before the Turning
Vivisari, Rorik, Orion, Naia, and Axian strode into the Shattered Oracle’s workshop.
The Fourflame Amulet had done its job, smashing through the wards so carefully laid there as if they did not exist at all. Inside, legions of mindless minions—abominations ripped from across the fabric of time and space—charged them.
Axian the Gladiator swung his axe, and they were all cleaved in two.
The Party of Heroes continued forward.
This place was familiar enough to Vivisari. She had been here many times before and knew the layout well. However, spatial knowledge could be nothing but water when it came to tangling with the Shattered Oracle.
The difficulty of slaying the Sixth Cataclysm came not from the minions. No, it came from Remian himself, who had made his workshop into a dimension where he was a God incarnate. He held absolute control over this place in a way that even Vivisari struggled to comprehend. It would be difficult to put him down… but Vivisari was confident she could do it.
She had a secret weapon, after all.
As for the others…
Orion and Rorik were the most nervous. It made sense. As the Knight and the Monk, they had very little they could actually do to hurt the Shattered Oracle without placing themselves at enormous risk, in much the same way that Vivisari struggled to do all that much against the Reaper of the Lost Harvest.
Axian and Naia, on the other hand, were excited. For some reason. As Gladiator and Rogue, and thus, close-ranged fighters like the others, they, too, would be in enormous danger. But they were marginally more insane than Orion and Rorik, so they were excited anyway.
Soon, they reached the inner sanctum, and it was likely only thanks to the Oracle’s own allowance that they did so.
“Good evening, Vivisari.”
A raspy voice sounded from across the room. There, seated at an altar, his arms reaching through a crack in reality, was Remian Voss.
He was older than Vivisari remembered. Dressed in a pale white robe and with a great twisted staff of glass by his side, he was the picture of the word “oracle.” Yet in his gaze that did not point their way, there was a spark of madness unlike anything else on the planet.
Vivisari shifted, and [Inspect]ed the man.
***
Remian Voss
< Heretic of the Fractured Time >
Level 1975 Human [Oraculum Summum]
***
“So you have come to put me down,” he murmured. “As you have for Lucorius, and the other Four before me.”
“Your madness has consumed you, Remian,” Vivisari spat venomously, an uncharacteristic disgust on her face. “You have taken the gift of magic and desecrated it.”
“Desecrate it?!” The Shattered Oracle replied angrily. “I have seen what none of you have seen! I pity you, for your ignorance in the cave and refusal to acknowledge the beauty of violation!”
“There is nothing more to discuss. Surrender your life, and we will grant you a far more lenient death than you have inflicted.”
“Have those ultimatums of yours ever worked?” Remian asked mockingly. “You know I will be putting up a fight.”
“Have it your way.” Vivisari raised her staff, and, in an instant, painted together 2,431 runes, supercharged with nearly her entire mana pool. The product of nearly a year of labor and analysis formed in the air. Even Remian staggered backwards in complete shock, and he raised his hands to cast as well, but it was far too late. “[Reality Lock].”
Remian’s spell fizzled out into nothingness, and the Party of Heroes attacked.
A fundamentally impossible amount of time, forty three potions, and a few hundred pints of blood later, Remian Voss lay on the floor, bleeding from a dozen scarlet gashes all over his body and completely drained of mana. He hacked up a glob of gore to the side as the Party of Heroes stood over him, breathing heavily.
“Incredible,” the Shattered Oracle rasped. “Even in death, I must applaud you for your work, Vivisari. You anchored reality itself.”
“Remian Voss,” Vivisari said, her voice just a little softer than before. “Do you have any last words?”
“A last request,” he managed through gritted teeth. “For you, Vivisari. You may loathe my methods with a fire of a thousand suns. But I ask that you at least take the product for yourself. I became a monster for what I have done in pursuit of magic, but so too have I achieved much. You will need the progress, if you hope to slay the Monarch of Cataclysms. And more than that… if not I, someone must know the height of occultism. I hope that someone will be you.”
The Party of Heroes exchanged looks with each other, and eventually, Vivisari nodded, albeit slowly. “Very well. I shall. For you, old friend. Good night, Remian.”
“Good night, Vivisari.”
With that, Orion the Knight raised his sword and lopped off the Oracle’s head.
The Party of Heroes stood there for a while, breathing heavily and regathering their bearings, before all of them save the Sorceress erupted into cheers.
Vivisari, though, couldn’t help but feel a little regretful.
As her friends and peers hugged each other in triumph and the Grand System chattered in the background about level ups and new titles and such, Vivisari crouched down by Remian’s body. Delicately, she removed his robes and accessories and stored them in her inventory, leaving only the half-mad man, clothed in a t-shirt and shorts, behind.
“[Shape Earth],” she incanted. “[Conjure Stone].”
The ground around him slowly swallowed him whole, and then he was gone. A single, nondescript gray chunk of rock materialized in the air, then dropped onto the place where Remian had been swallowed.
A simple grave.
Because, despite everything, Remian deserved at least that much from her.
Vivisari Vexaria squashed the sickness in her stomach, stood up, and left the room.