Savage Awakening 528. Pure Yang

Noughtfire’s study planet was just as Zane remembered. Chill, quiet as the dawn, and blanketed in a film of fog. He always felt like he was stepping into a painting when he came here. There was something a little mystical-feeling about those distant lines of mountains and their hints of pale color.

The few times he’d tried checking them out, he never really got close. He’d Stormfire Step for a minute or two, and the horizon would seem just as far away.

This time he made his way straight up the spiraling stone steps, munching yet another chunk of dreamsteel as he went.

He found Noughtfire out in the garden. The old Sage was in leathers, down in the dirt. Noughtfire was doing some gardening—planting seeds and pulling weeds, by the looks of it. He had a spade and clippers and everything. His gloves were dirty.

Zane had never actually seen the old fellow without his scholar’s robes. It was a bit jarring. He had to do a double-take to make sure it really was Noughtfire.

Noughtfire was busy shoveling dirt into a hole, but Zane knew the old fellow had clocked him. He waited patiently for him to finish.

Then Noughtfire sank the spade into the ground and began slowly removing his gloves. He seemed quite pleased. It was hard to tell exactly, since his expression gave little away. It was just the impression Zane got from him—weary, but pleased.

“Good morning, disciple,” said Noughtfire, as though he always greeted Zane like this.

“Hey there,” said Zane, waving. “Nice turnips.”

“Why, thank you. They’re not turnips.”

“What brought this on?”

“Well,” said Noughtfire, looking a little amused, “in old age, one must have hobbies. What else would one do with the time?”

Zane would bet everything he owned that Noughtfire wasn’t just planting seeds for fun. But he figured, as with most things the old Sage did, if there was a reason, it’d show itself eventually.

“You look a bit tired.”

“It’s not from the planting, I assure you,” said the Sage dryly. He started pinching off tea leaves. “I’ve been—” he snapped off a leaf, “making a few journeys to the lower levels of the Superdungeon. Checking up on some old friends… there comes a time in the Chaos Cycle when it’s no longer feasible to sit back in one’s study. There’s no avoiding getting one’s hands dirty, I’m afraid… there we are.”

He’d finished his collecting. He made his way back to Zane, hands behind his back. “Well then! Shall we, disciple?”

*** 

It took just a few minutes for Noughtfire to prep the tea, change into his usual robes, and then pour them both a cup. Again Zane let the old fellow take his time with it. 

Noughtfire took a sip. “Not bad.”

Zane tried it too. It was quite bitter at the start, but the more it lingered, the sweeter it grew.

He was just pleased to see the old fellow again, honestly.

“So,” he began. “How’d that Superdungeon trip go?”

“Well enough! My aim was to visit the cells of the Prime Endbringers, also known as the Elder Endbringers. Noughtfire’s most trusted lieutenants, and the true generals in the coming war. The most dangerous of them yet remain in chains, though more break free by the decade… you remember Gilgoroth.”

Zane nodded. The thing that had tried to kill him in the Superdungeon. Back then it could only wield a tiny fraction of its strength, and it’d still swamped floors with its presence.

“Elder Nightmare Dragon. The strongest and most ancient of its race… and yet, among the class of Elder Endbringers, it is by quite some margin the weakest. It’s still enough of a nuisance to harangue Great Factions. If the stronger Elders wake…” Noughtfire paused. “Trouble.” 

“These are Monsters I’ll be fighting, then? If I’m on the front lines when the End hits.”

“Indeed. And each poses a new kind of threat.” 

“…And they’re all waking.” 

“Slowly. But inevitably, I’m afraid.” Noughtfire took a sip of tea. “I made that trip to assess the extent of the damage. There is one curious case—a Monster far more dangerous than its raw firepower: Hreinn the Unkillable. Not undying, mind you. Not immortal. Those nicknames would give him far too much credit. Unkillable—for many, many have tried. But he always manages, somehow, to slip away.”

Zane blinked. “I know that guy, actually.”

“Do you, now?”

Zane explained how the Faceless One had used this technique he was studying to catch Hreinn once upon a time.

“Small world, I suppose. Hreinn’s a schemer. He’s cleverer than Malzareth and makes sure to grovel and massage his master’s ego, and so they’ve kept up quite the fruitful business relationship over the ages… I found his cell empty, save for a trap he left. He attempted to inundate me in an infinite recurrence of spacetime. It took a fair share of Destruction to get out—far more than I’ve summoned this era.” 

“Were you wounded?” said Zane. He did look quite tired. 

“Just my pride,” said Noughtfire wryly. “We play these games, you see, across the ages. Neither of us can quite kill the other. But that doesn’t stop us from setting traps. This time I was… careless, I’m afraid. I was made to expend an embarrassing amount of Destruction. I’m certain he’s enjoying himself somewhere in the lower levels.” 

“I didn’t know there was a Monster that could match you,” he said, a tad surprised. 

“Let’s not get carried away, disciple,” snorted Noughtfire. “Our record remains 9,128 to 744. …Though that certainly does make his victories sting all the more.” 

Zane nodded. They both took another sip. “This really is some good tea.”

“Single-origin, with notes of stone fruit,” said Noughtfire. “The seeds were planted some seven millennia ago. The first flush was only last week. Gardening is rather a game of patience. That, and careful planning... at no individual point is it strenuous, that is the curious thing. Yet the results often surprise you.”

Zane got the odd feeling he wasn’t really talking about gardening. He remembered the traps Noughtfire had set first for Gilgoroth, then Malzareth. When he asked about it, though—

“No, no,” snorted Noughtfire. “These are merely gardening tips. Give me some credit, disciple. I wouldn’t make so obvious a metaphor.” 

“…Sure.”

Now he was starting to wonder if Noughtfire’s whole ‘getting down in the dirt and planting seeds’ thing was all an elaborate metaphor too. 

Probably not. Though Zane wouldn’t put it past the old fellow. He did have quite a dramatic streak. 

“So!” Noughtfire set down his cup. “The Ruins run went well, I take it. And now you’ve got a fight coming up.”

“Pretty much. It’s just like you said, actually. Haxorax challenged me as soon as I got out.”

“I won’t bother briefing you on the fight,” said Noughtfire, waving. “I doubt you’ll need it. The one thing you ought to know is that the First Prince is rather… cracked, perhaps, is the term for it. That ritual will prove a curse as well as a blessing. One can never be too confident against a creature like that. But you should like your chances.” 

“You think I’ll win, then.”

He was pretty sure only Reina thought that. And maybe Evan. Avery would still cheer for him, but she was also prepping a stretcher, just in case.

“It’d be rather difficult not to,” said Noughtfire dryly. “Given the circumstances. I expect it’ll go rather like a dream.”

He wasn’t all that surprised the old fellow had clocked what he was up to.

“In the event you do win,” said Noughtfire, “head back here, and I’ll give you your final incentive prize.”

The final prize to the incentive list Noughtfire had drawn up way back when Zane had first joined the Faction—with beating Haxorax as the highest goal. 

“…Just what is that prize, by the way?”

“It’s the key to your third Red Giant Concept.”

Noughtfire steepled his fingers. “The third Red Giant Concept is... perhaps the rarest. To achieve it, you’ll need to journey to a land very close to the core of the Dragonspire Galaxy—a place known to the ancients as the Pure Yang Continent, a land at the dawn of the ages, where Destruction and Creation gather in some of their most potent forms, creating geysers, even.”

Zane perked up. He was always looking to get more Destruction.

“It is impossible to get there in modern times. The only way there now is with certain treasures that transcend time… I speak, of course, of Astra. Astra can grant you a gateway. Your last incentive prize, then, is a Galaxy Gear. It is a one-time-use treasure and the one thing capable of taking you there.”

“In the Pure Yang Continent, you’ll find some of the purest flames this Galaxy has ever known. Those flames are called starfire, also known as pure yang flame in the Old Tongue—the flame that, in time, will become the foundation of the Supernova Law. It is without a doubt the most critical of the Red Giant Concepts. Fires that forged the Heavens… Go there, and seize them for your own.”

“Alright,” said Zane. “I’m sold.” Noughtfire always knew how to hype a power-up.

“Do be warned, disciple. ‘You must be this strong to enter’ might well be nailed to the gate! There you’ll also find creatures that have fed on those purest of fires over the ages… it is, more than anything else, an Empyrean testing ground.”

Noughtfire paused. “There is one more thing. You did still keep that ‘Jack’ disguise, I hope?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just making certain of it,” said Noughtfire casually. “You may find it useful when you get there. You may not be the only one seeking that Concept.”

“Who else might be there?”

Noughtfire shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Fair enough.” Though Zane did get the feeling—maybe it was just in the old fellow’s expression—that he knew more than he let on. 

“One final reason to go, if you need one,” said Noughtfire. “The Pure Yang Continent will be a great boon for your Destruction. With two Concepts, there’s a limit to how much of it your Red Giant can take. I’d estimate it at about a dozen shards, give or take.” 

That was the first time Zane had heard of a limit. 

“It’s simply the nature of the Red Giant Flame,” explained the Sage. “Destruction is an incredibly fundamental Law. It takes a flame of great stature to hold more… you can’t simply stack all thousand-plus shards of Destruction in Stormfire, after all. That flame could not take it.”

“Makes sense.”

“The greater the Law, the more Destruction it can take. A Pure Yang Red Giant ought to be able to wield thirty-two shards.” The Sage considered him. “This limit has been entirely theoretical, until now. No one has ever been in a position to push it, disciple… all I’ll say is this. Even for you, gaining thirty-two shards of Destruction before you break through to True God would be quite something.”

He smiled dryly. “A stretch goal, perhaps.” 

Zane nodded. Lots to reflect on here, he felt.