Die. Respawn. Repeat.

Chapter 174: Book 3: All-Seeing Eye

Abstractions, I'm told, are the product of another Talent. It's a counterpart to my ability to Anchor, in a way—an Anchor changes an aspect of reality and grounds it into the world, and an Abstraction takes an aspect of reality and rips it out, giving it life and shape and presence beyond what it should have.

The problem with Abstraction? There's no way to control what's created. It's an incredibly dangerous Talent that more often than not kills the people that unlock it, in large part because they aren't usually Abstracting concepts that are safe to be around.

Part of that is the nature of the Trials. Anyone that unlocks that particular Talent is usually in the midst of combat, which rather predictably causes them to accidentally Abstract concepts of Violence, War, or Death.

Unfortunately for those Trialgoers, none of those concepts are particularly amenable to the whole idea of life.

The good news is that you can outlast an Abstraction. They don't and can't stick around forever. Eventually, they get pulled back into the fold of the universe, their presence and power fading.

The bad news is... Well, people don't generally live long enough to see that happen. More often than not, unless there's a fifth-layer practitioner around to handle them, they tear through all life in their general vicinity.

So that's fun. Third-layer practitioner or not, I've been told in no uncertain terms that the power I've gathered so far won't be enough to deal with this.

Which brings up the question of why the Interface is throwing it at me. Without Integrator interference, it's never given me challenges that are outright impossible—not unless I lead myself into them.

"We do not have time for this," the Knight reminds me.

Abstractions are almost impossible to fight directly. There's a weight and presence to higher-level Firmament that can affect them—that's the reason fifth-level practitioners and above can deal with them. Anything less and the practitioner's Firmament just isn't enough to make an impact.

But it's a little more involved than that, the Knight explains. There's a sort of rock-paper-scissors element to it. An Abstraction is more easily affected by Firmament of a type that opposes them, regardless of its level; Firmament type is, apparently, in large part created by fragments of abstracted concepts that lie within it.

Try as I might, I can't quite break apart my Firmament sense enough to find these fragments that the Knight's talking about. There are moments where I feel like I'm almost able to glimpse something, but they're gone almost as soon as I can grasp them—whatever they are, they're apparently beyond my ability to sense.

For now, at least.

Either way, I trust that they're there. It explains in part why Guard's Breath of Life can provide any defense at all. The Abstraction is wearing it down nearly as quickly as Guard can generate it, but the fact that it's doing anything at all...

The question that remains is what type of Abstraction we're dealing with. Breath of Life's effect on it indicates that it's probably Death or something similar, but the Knight insists that it isn't—an abstraction of Death would likely have already killed us.

"But something similar," it concedes. "Something close enough."

Close enough is going to be the best I've got to work with. I can't quite tease out what I'm up against just by feeling for it, and the Interface isn't any use here; it only gives me a name once I've defeated something. But if Life Firmament is enough opposed to it that it can provide us some defense...

Time to break out an old tool.

"Guard," I say quietly. "Can I borrow some of your Firmament?"

He-Who-Guards glances at me and gives me a tense nod. It takes some effort for him—I can hear the whine from his systems—but he manages to provide a single wisp of Life Firmament that isn't immediately sucked up by the Abstraction's mere presence; I bind it to myself with a touch of Firmament Control, then take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.

The way I see it, the skills I have right now can't deal with an Abstraction of any level, let alone whatever we're facing. I'm not sure it would be enough even if I had skills composed purely of Life Firmament. But something the Knight said stuck out to me.

Abstraction and Anchoring are counterpart Talents. I don't have the ability to create an Abstraction—but I do have the ability to Anchor.

"You want to Anchor Life into your skills?" The Knight sounds almost impressed. "That will not be easy. Skills are already fixed; to Anchor something into them a second time..."

"I think I can do it," I say, "if I use the All-Seeing Eye."

Technically, the Inspiration is meant to help me combine skills. It exposes a skill construct on a level beyond what I can normally sense. More than that, it exposes the gaps in a skill construct—places where another skill might be able to slot in. Normally they're shapes too complex for me to be able to break down, but with the All-Seeing Eye, I can see where they fit. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

It occurs to me that one day I might not need it anymore. If I can develop my sense of Firmament enough, if I can puzzle these skills apart and figure out this underlying connection I seem to have found... I might be able to manipulate skills much more freely.

But that's for the future. For now, I need the All-Seeing Eye and its ability to highlight the gaps in a skill. If I can find a way to combine my skills with the sample of Breath of Life I'm holding...

All-Seeing Eye.

Yellow fire blazes into existence on the left side of my visor, and reality peels away to reveal Firmament in sharp focus.

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It isn't quite enough. Breath of Life is blurry, faded—the skill isn't entirely my own, and it's created from a circuit rather than a construct. But maybe...

Firmament Sight.

Another layer on top of it all. The Firmament I'm holding sharpens even further, just enough for me to make out where it might fit in with other skills.

"I don't wish to rush you," Guard says. There's a touch of nerves in his voice, and at the same time, what feels like... faith. "But it's getting closer."

"How close?" I ask.

"It's a few minutes away," he says. "I'll warn you when it is close."

"Thank you."

It's still taking its time. The more time it gives me, the more I'll be able to prepare.

First and easiest. Crystallized Barrier isn't the same as Barrier, but it's still easy enough to slot another element into it.

[Crystallized Barrier] + [Breath of Life]

[You have created Life Dome (Rank A) (Temporary)!]

I frown at the notice. It's not good enough. The skills are combined, but not completely—part of the problem is that Breath of Life isn't my skill. I'm combining the skills in theory, and the Interface is trying to fill in the gaps...

But I'm not done yet, am I? This isn't going to work if I don't make the Life in these skills real. If I don't Anchor them into reality with enough strength to oppose an Abstraction.

I focus my will like a hammer. I still don't completely understand what I'm doing with Anchoring, but I can feel the edges of the skill—fuzzy, undefined, not quite there...

I bring it into being. I force it to change. My will creates a weight, and the world bends to accommodate what I've brought forth.

[Life Dome (Rank A) (Temporary) has been upgraded to Crystallized Life (Rank S)!]

Better.

Next is my primary offensive skill. It's harder to find, but I see it after a moment of examination: Amplification Gauntlet takes my strength and amplifies it. I just need to change what it takes.

[Amplification Gauntlet] + [Breath of Life]

[You have created Life Infusion (Rank A) (Temporary)!]

One more time. I need to Anchor the Life in the skill. I need it to channel life into a solid, amplified point, powerful enough to damage an Abstraction. I will the Anchor into being—

[Life Infusion (Rank A) (Temporary) has been upgraded to Vital Blow (Rank S)!]

Better.

I'm distantly aware that there's a throbbing in my skull. Anchoring isn't something that I've practiced extensively; the knowledge that there are consequences to failing prevented me from openly experimenting as much as I would've liked to. This is probably straining something I'm not supposed to strain.

"You have done well," the Knight says, sounding impressed. "I did not think you would succeed... With this, we may have a chance."

Except a part of me isn't satisfied with this. I'm going up against something that requires a fifth-layer practitioner. Am I really going to go at this with just two Rank S skills that might be able to hurt it?

"Ethan?" The Knight sounds concerned now.

The point of power is to protect those around me. I told myself I'd gain enough strength to never have to make a hard choice. That goal is a long way away, but if I don't hold on to it now...

He-Who-Guards is giving this everything he has. This isn't even his fight. He could have walked away from it—he didn't need to join me. But it's only because he did that I have a chance at all in this fight.

"Ethan. I do not recommend pushing this further. Anchoring requires the force of your entire soul." The Knight's voice is a stern warning. It's probably the most concerned I've ever heard it. It usually relishes a challenge.

I can sense Ahkelios through our bond. The distance strains it, but there's a peculiar mixture of anger and hope; I don't have to be able to see what he's doing to know that he's fighting his own fight. He's confronting himself, and part of the reason he's doing it is me. Because I convinced him I would fight for him and with him, if the time came.

I look at the two skills I've created. All I can think is that they're not enough.

"Ethan," the Knight tries again.

And then there's Naru.

Truth be told, he doesn't matter that much to me, but what does matter to me is that he tried. More than that, Tarin and Mari see an opportunity to reconcile with their son. It's an opportunity I never got with my own parents. Might never get to have, with the way the Trials and Integration are going.

Maybe I'm being a fool. I could lose this stage and lose nothing. I've done enough. I've tried.

But my heart disagrees. And with that disagreement—

[You have touched on a Thread for the third time. You have gained access to the Thread of Insight.]

It's all so clear now. Exactly what I need to Anchor. The core of the skill, the center of the pattern.

[You have created a Submerged skill: Great Filter (Rank F)]

[You have created a Submerged skill: Primordial Foray (Rank F)]

I stare at the Interface, breathing heavily. The first thing I notice is the rank—it nearly makes my heart drop. But then I catch on to the Submerged part and freeze.

That's how the Interface rates imbuements, isn't it? What's that word doing here?

"Ethan, we're out of time," He-Who-Guards says. His voice is strained. I look up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he's right. The Abstraction is here. A terrible, broken thing, like staring at a wound in reality. It mimics a humanoid, bipedal form, but something tells me that appearance is no more real than a projection on a screen. It's just there so my mind can make sense of it.

I reach inside my soul and flinch.

Above all the rest of my skills, Great Filter and Primordial Foray hang like miniature suns. The rest of them look like mere engines in comparison—these new ones...

I don't know what I just did, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out.

Just activating one takes every drop of Firmament I have.

Primordial Foray.

Somewhere in the space between spaces, Kauku sat up, intrigued.

Ethan was fascinating. Out of his depth in almost every way imaginable, certainly—he couldn't remember the last time a practitioner had figured out Submerged skills, let alone a Trialgoer still going through their Trial—but fascinating, nonetheless.

"What an Heir," he muttered to himself, unable to stop himself from grinning. "But I'm afraid you're too far ahead again, Ethan. How are you going to get yourself out of this one?"

Maybe he could help. Toss his Heir a freebie. Ethan was already exceeding all expectations helping him, after all; it was only fair if he gave something back. What was it the humans called it? A quid-pro-quo?

"What do you think, Ira?" he asked into the darkness. There was, of course, no response; Kauku hadn't expected one.

But with the way things were going... well, if Ethan didn't burn himself out, he'd get to see the other Scions again soon enough.

Kauku sighed, tapping bony fingers on an empty plane of the void. "I'm not supposed to root for you, you know," he said. "But damn if you don't make it hard."

He'd do nothing for now. He'd watch. See how Ethan dealt with this.

If he was right, he'd get his chance to step in.