The Sixth School Book II Ch. 065

IMPORTANT NOTICE.

Author's Note.

I can only apologize for my prolonged unexplained absence. Life is giving it to me in spades and it's all I can do to take it. Please bear with me guys.

As always,

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All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...

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Chapter Sixty Five: Her Response...

"This is the tenth such sigil that you have placed in one of these chambers, could explain what it's supposed to do?" Mage Ethia's voice, was calm, though a bit strained by the unimaginably thick miasma of mana all around them.

It was a lucky thing that the world serpent didn't allow previously used mana chambers to fill up entirely till there was no more space left. For a chamber to be considered full, it meant that it was about ninety-five or so percent full relative to the size of the rest of the chamber. This made it so that there was still ample room for Greg and Mage Ethia to at least appear in the chambers and remain untouched by the golden mana liquid inside. Nevertheless, while they did have some room around, the ambient mana in them was almost ten times as oppressive when compared to the ambient mana in the first chamber. If the first cavern that they'd visited was like a sauna mana-wise, the filled ones felt like Greg had been placed in a high-pressure chamber.

After his first visit, Greg had waited a few days before coming back to Mage Ethia and telling her that he'd need to visit every single chamber of mana there was. Despite her misgivings, there wasn't much room to object for Mage Ethia. If Greg didn't somehow find a way to exhaust the mana they'd gathered up over the centuries, it would spell their doom the moment the black zone was taken down. As such once every few days, Greg had been descending into one of the chambers that had been previously filled. In truth, Greg hadn't done anything of significance for the first few weeks of such regular visits. To keep Mage Ethia from growing suspicious and refusing to take him on more visits, Greg had pretended to be surveying the layout of each cavern as if it were a crucial detail to the plan he was putting together. In truth, Greg was only amassing magic points for the Magic shop. But while Greg wasn't doing anything meaningful inside the caverns, the same wasn't true inside his airship. In that time, Morpheus made him repeat weaving the same runic thousands, if not tens of thousands of times. It was this same sigil that was now hanging in the air before them.

Greg was tempted to answer the eighth-tier mage that he had no idea what the hell the sigil was. But while this was true in essence, he doubted such an answer would go over well with the mage. "A conduit," he said simply. "Not only will it be rather unnecessarily tedious work, but opening channels directly to these reservoirs will flood the city above with lethal levels of mana. A move that would defeat the whole purpose of having them so far underground. Think of these sigils as a doorway that will allow the mana to move through a hallway in a different dimension to exactly where it is needed. That way, there is no risk of spillover or collateral damage in the process," he laid out.

"So basically a teleportation formation? " Mage Ethia asked, sounding unimpressed by the complicated explanation.

Greg couldn't help but smile at the fact that an eighth-tier mage asked the very same question he had when Morpheus had given him a similar explanation. Greg shook his head the same way Morpheus, in the guise of an old monk, had. "A teleportation formation would taint this mana with the space attribute, and in its current quantities, that could prove disastrous. This formation is little more than a pipe ferrying mana from one point to the next. Just because you can't perceive the dimension through which it passes doesn't make it teleportation any more than the veins in your body teleport blood," Greg repeated the answer he was given.

Just because he could repeat the deity's answer word for word, however, didn't mean that Greg had any in-depth understanding of the runic sigil that was slowly turning golden in hue as it drew on the mana around. He doubted that Morpheus would outright lie to him about the purpose of the sigil. That said, there was no guarantee that the deity had told him everything that the runic sigil had done. Morpheus was after all, the one who once warned him that just because someone tells you a formation does something, didn't mean that that was all the formation did. Be that as it may, Greg's task had remained unchanged. Like a perfectionist drill sergeant from hell, Morpheus had essentially transformed Greg into a stamp. Given the amounts of mana they were dealing with, not to mention the danger of the situation as a whole, there was no room for even the slightest mistake. He'd been made to repeat the sigil enough times that he could recreate it with his eyes closed. Greg knew this for certain as it was one of the tests Morpheus had put him to before allowing him to actually create the sigils inside the mana reservoirs. But while Greg did ninety-nine percent of the work, the last and most crucial one percent of the work was usually done by Morpheus himself.

Usually, such mage-created sigils had to be created on some substrate. For all the ambient mana it held, one simply couldn't carve mana formations into thin air. To beings at the level of deities, however, a proper substrate was anything they wanted it to be. They could just as easily carve into the air as they could on rock. In truth, the formation wasn't anchored in the air. Instead, it was anchored to reality by their powerful wills. To expend Greg's lifespan as sparingly as possible, he would do most of the busy work, carefully weaving the mana into the proper runes and arranging them in the proper order for the sigil. Once that was done, Greg would hand over control to Morpheus and have him infuse it with his will along with the law of permanence. That way, even after Greg stopped consciously supplying the runic sigil with his mana, it would go on existing. In total, Morpheus would be in control for less than ten seconds every time.

The first time it happened, Mage Ethia had gone pale with fear, thinking that it was some kind of ambush. Morpheus, however, didn't even acknowledge her existence as he just worked on the rune and then ceded back control. Naturally, Greg collapsed for a few seconds in the transition back from the deity's control. To keep from falling over the edge of the platform they were standing on, Morpheus would usually lie down on his back before handing the reins back to him. In any other situation, losing control like this would have been a reckless move that neither Greg nor Morpheus would have been willing to risk. However, inside this city, they were under the world serpent's protection. Even with Greg in a vulnerable position, Greg doubted that any of those within the city would be willing to incur Ssalythia's wrath. Of course, they were still leaving Greg's fate in the hands of the world serpent, which both of them hated. However, it wasn't like they were spoiled for choices in the situation.

The only other individual that Greg could safely bring with him into the caverns was Olivia, his familiar. Being a creature of mana herself, the high density of mana underground wouldn't affect her in any way. She, however, was only at the second tier, whereas Mage Ethia was an eighth-tier powerhouse. Any confrontation between the two of them couldn't even be credibly called a fight. Mage Ethia would just slap his familiar around if she were feeling charitable. If not, Olivia would die in seconds. Not calling on Morpheus was also a nonstarter. No matter how good Greg became at forming the runic sigil, it wouldn't mean anything if it dissipated shortly thereafter. Even if one didn't consider that Greg couldn't wield the law of permanence, and considered will alone, there was no comparison to be had. If Greg's will was a pond, Morpheus' will was vast as the ocean. The runes anchored on his will wouldn't come undone unless he expressly wanted them to.

Their fear that Mage Ethia might throw caution to the wind and harm him, while logical, didn't materialize. What actually took place wasn't anything Greg would have guessed even if given a hundred tries. The first three times Morpheus appeared, her fear spiked as she anticipated that they'd turn on her in some way. By the fifth time, however, the fear abated significantly as it became clear to her that Morpheus wasn't even remotely interested in her existence. If this were the end of it, it would have been okay. But by the seventh time, Greg started to get a strange feeling every time he came back to himself. It wasn't until the ninth time around that Greg worked out the fact that the strange sensation he was getting, was his senses picking up on lust coming from Mage Ethia.

After a year in contact with the law if desire and tempering his will through it, Greg had developed a sense for lust. While he couldn't exactly define the sensation, the closest explanation he could give was a strange mix of a scent and a bodily sensation. Usually, Greg was a lot faster at picking up on it and figuring out what it was signifying. However, in the current situation, it was so strange that Greg couldn't even blame himself for being slow on the uptake. The first time Mage Ethia ever met and interacted with Morpheus, it had ended with her on her knees humiliated in front of her peer and juniors as she was forced to suck on his dick to save her life. How and why that would translate into her being turned on at the mere presence of Morpheus, Greg couldn't even begin to compute.

Not naïve by any means, Greg was familiar with BDSM and those who delighted in the fantasy of a powerful partner who could take full control of them. He doubted anyone born in the age of the internet as he had been in his former world, didn't know of this kink. That said, what had transpired on that very first day during their first meeting wasn't role-play of any kind. There wasn't even a hint of doubt in Greg that Morpheus would have killed Mage Ethia had she not swallowed her pride and then his cock right after. She knew this just as clearly as Greg did, and yet, rather than understandably hating, or even avoiding Morpheus, here she was turned on by him.

But then, perhaps that was the very reason she was turned on by the deity. Powerful as she was, there weren't that many men in the whole world, let alone this little city, who were powerful enough to dominate her. Worse yet, the only equal she had in this city was a rival she would sooner kill than fuck. Injurious to her pride as it was, perhaps the encounter with Morpheus was the first time in a long time that she'd encountered someone who gave her the feeling of being completely at someone else's mercy and that's what she craved? Whether this was Stockholm syndrome or some twisted fetish, Greg couldn't even begin to puzzle out.

To her credit, Mage Ethia had a damn good poker face. If Greg didn't have the sense for lust that he had developed from his year in seclusion, he never would have been able to tell just by looking at her. A stranger observing the dynamic between the two of them wouldn't even be able to tell that something had ever happened, let alone that there was now a quiet sexual tension between them. Through an unspoken understanding, neither one of them had spoken of the blowjob since. Greg hadn't spoken of it primarily because he saw no benefit in antagonizing the woman when it was her cooperation he was after. She on the other hand, had acted like nothing had ever happened, likely to preserve her pride.

"Let's get back," Greg said turning away from the sigil to regard Mage Ethia. In truth, Greg could have lasted a minute or two longer thanks to Morpheus' help. He, however, could tell that Mage Ethia was at her limit. Sure, he could have pressed the issue and forced her to bear it. Her ego as an eighth-tier mage likely wouldn't have allowed her to show weakness to a third-tier mage. Nevertheless, Greg didn't need to be a sage to see just how shortsighted that would be. Sure, the extra minute or two would net him more magic points. Mage Ethia, however, would only have to experience this three or four times before she started finding excuses to not go down to the underground chambers. By allowing her to maintain her image as a powerful eighth-tier mage, she'd be more willing to grit her teeth and bear the slight discomfort these visits subjected her to. What few points he would have gotten in the extra minute or two, were far surpassed by what he would get for more frequent visits, even if they were shorter.

With a tight nod, Mage Ethia started to pour mana into the teleportation formation on the platform under them. In short order, they were back on Mage Ethia's floor at the top of one of the tallest trees in this strange city. Though she kept her back straight and head held high, Mage Ethia made a beeline straight for the bean-bag equivalent she was usually seated on.

Without Morpheus as a backer, the woman was powerful enough to end his existence with the wave of a hand. And yet Greg couldn't help but let his gaze roam over her curves, dropping down to her plump, heart-shaped ass. The seventh-tier mage who usually escorted Greg to Mage Ethia, had eventually stopped doing so as his visits became more frequent. Whether the man thought this to be an underhanded slight at him, or just simply couldn't be bothered, Greg didn't know or care. He, however, did appreciate the freedom it gave him to appreciate Mage Ethia's feminine form while her back was turned to him. Greg had to look away as he felt some stirrings in his loins at the slight jiggle of Mage Ethia's ass. Once she was settled on the bean bag and looking back at Greg, however, his face was a mask of calm neutrality.

While Greg could indeed feel lust exuding from Mage Ethia's being, he had no plans to act on it. At least not until he had a runic sigil hanging above every last possible mana reservoir. His life and that of everyone he cared about were hanging in the balance. He wasn't about to do anything to put their plan of escape at risk, least of all over sex. If he made a move and Mage Ethia took offense to it, it could very easily lead to a breakdown of the tentative cooperation between them. Yes, Greg could feel lust coming off her. But, from the stoic air she maintained at all times, she clearly wasn't someone easily moved by what particular emotions she was feeling at the time. Yes, bedding an eighth-tier mage was certain to earn him an unbelievable feat of lust, no doubt. Greg, however, would only go for it after her part in his plan had come to an end.

"You have landed your airship."

Greg, who was about to bid her adieu and make his way out of her abode, paused at the comment. "The area you've chosen to land it, unfortunately, is deep in the area controlled by my enemy's faction. This unfortunately means that I can't directly shield you as easily as I would be able to if you were to move to my side of the city. The other powerhouses have noticed the grand formation that is currently coming together around your airship and I must say it is making many of them nervous. Perhaps you could enlighten me on what it is you are after with the formation so I can placate them," she laid out.

Greg couldn't help but pick up on a few things from her words. For one, the powerhouses were still caught up in who belonged to what faction. This was a good thing as far as Greg was concerned. The more they were distracted by irrelevant things, the more they'd stay away from him and his plans. Secondly, there was a cleverly hidden trap in her words. Mage Ethia knew perfectly well that Greg wasn't even remotely interested in joining her faction. Due to her being the only one with access to the manna reservoirs, however, Greg had been visiting her a lot in the past several weeks. If he accepted the seemingly benevolent offer of protection from her and shifted his airship over to their side, it would seem to everyone that, after several weeks of persuasion, she had finally won him over. It wasn't true, but, it didn't need to be. Perception is, after all, the truth to most people. Even without actually winning him over, she would have recruited him to her side in the eyes of everyone else.

Lastly, while she phrased it as a question posed by all the powerhouses, Greg doubted the woman would actually repeat his answer to anyone, should he tell her what he was up to. Rather, she'd keep it as strategic info that she could find a way to leverage to her own advantage. Even worse, if he was wrong and she told it only meant that he'd face potential interference from more sources than one. His teacher, along with an army of Olivia's clones, had just begun on the groundwork on a large area around Greg's airship. Over the next month or two, this world's first law-integrated formation would come together around their airship. Greg's main fear as far as that was concerned was the world serpent. If Ssalythia saw something she didn't like in the process and chose to interfere before they were done, the whole plan could come apart before it even had a chance to be implemented.

At the same time, however, it wasn't like Greg could ignore the question from Mage Ethia. As the only one, outside of the world serpent, with access to the mana reservoirs, Greg couldn't afford to antagonize her. To begin with, the mana underground was the fuel for the incredible jump he hoped to make with the airship and everyone on board. Without it, their escape plan was dead in the water. Even worse, that mana was the very thing that would doom them all if it wasn't used up before the black zone fully came down. The world serpent was probably the only one with any hope of escaping the mana storm that would result from such a turn of events. Yeah, whether he liked it or not, Mage Ethia was very much needed for now.

With a smile on his face, Greg turned to the woman. "I know you look at me and see someone powerful. Someone who almost nothing could threaten, seeing as I am linked to a deity. Unfortunately for me, true as that perception might be, it doesn't mean that the same is also true of my people. There isn't even a smidgen of doubt in me that I will make it out of this city and black zone alive. I, however, have no intention of leaving anyone I came with behind! The grand formation my people are working on is to ensure that, come what may, everyone makes it out alive," he answered.

Greg wasn't at all deluded about how powerful he truly was. But if he had learned anything from twenty-first century marketing, it was that, the product in and of itself didn't truly matter, it's how you made the client feel about the product that usually carried the day. A good salesman sells the product, a great salesman sells the fantasy. Given the lust he felt coming off her every time she was in Morpheus' presence, Greg knew what the woman wanted. Lust or not, however, Mage Ethia was never going to proposition a deity. No one who had lived as long as she had and reached her level of power was going to be stupid enough to do such a thing. Capricious as they were, a deity was just as likely to be flattered by the offer as they were to smite you for the gall to suggest that they could be enticed by a mortal. No eighth-tier mage was going to flip a coin on whether they went on living or not.

With this in mind, Greg only took the next natural step, he blurred the lines and claimed the deity's power as his own. The truth or falsity of his words didn't matter, he wasn't selling himself, he was selling the fantasy. No doubt Mage Ethia was smart enough to realize that Greg wasn't truly powerful, he was just a child on the back of a fierce tiger. But what people knew to be true, and what people wanted to be true were, quite often, not the same thing. So long as he slowly seeded her with the idea that he represented the same power as Morpheus did, her desires would do the rest.

The best part about his answer was that it wasn't open flirting. There was no chance of her getting offended that a third-tier mage was making a move on her and consequently jeopardizing future visits to the mana reservoirs. Instead, it struck the right balance between vague and detailed. While Greg had revealed part of the purpose of the formation his teacher and familiar were currently working on, he hadn't actually given any specifics on what his plan entailed, instead, he'd just given a detailed answer on what he hoped to achieve in the end. In other words, he'd said just enough that she couldn't claim that she'd been blown off, while at the same time, never giving away anything truly crucial.

"Isn't your plan to ensure that there won't be a mana storm to threaten them when the black zone comes down? You don't sound like you're confident in achieving this?" Mage Ethia questioned, her gaze piercing as she looked for any signs of hesitation or doubts on his face. Her fate hang in the balance as well, so Greg could understand why she would ask.

"Ah, if only it were that easy," Greg said, his tone genuinely wistful. "Unfortunately for me, it is not the potential mana storm that I fear the most and feel I have to guard against," he answered.

Though his answer remained just as vague as the first, Greg didn't miss the way Mage Ethia's back stiffened. She immediately knew what, or more accurately, who Greg was referring to. Something that was only confirmed by the short tense silence that followed his answer. When she finally spoke once more, there was a tense hesitancy in her tone of voice. "And... and how confident are you in protecting against this second danger?" She asked.

It was once again a reminder that while they weren't exactly on the best of terms with the powerhouses of this city, if he was smart about it and played his cards right, perhaps Greg could turn them into temporary allies. At least until the worst was dealt with. Once the world serpent was no longer a threat, Greg didn't see any of them choosing to start a fight with a deity right after they'd just survived a similar disaster. Perhaps the only exception to this would be the ice mage who lost his brother. Grief over such a loss was rarely amenable to reason. The ice mage, however, was the furthest thing from a concern to Greg. If he was stupid enough to still come after him, then Greg would show him no mercy just like he'd done with Talrik. A smile graced Greg's lips as he looked at her. "Only a fool goes into a fight underestimating their opponent," he instead said. There was no way he was just going to brag that he was effectively prepared for whatever the world serpent had in store for him. They were already in big enough trouble as things stood, he didn't need to invite more. "I can make you no promises that I am ready to take on anything. But I can tell you this, one would be wise to not be the fool that underestimates me," he said an unhidden predatory gleam shining through in his gaze...

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Greg's gaze turned in the direction of the door to the training room as he heard it open. Despite all that was going on around them, he had largely maintained the same daily schedule. Despite the natural urge to suspend everything during a crisis, Greg found that it actually helped him cope with the pressure of everything to stay the course. The fate of his family, allies, and everyone aboard the airship rested on his shoulders. In truth, Greg didn't mind this, he much preferred being the one they could all turn to in a crisis as it gave him some measure of control. Just because he didn't mind it, however, didn't mean that it was at all easy. The regularity of a schedule helped him keep from constantly stressing about whether he was doing everything right, or if a new crisis was just around the corner. Not only did it keep him from having too much idle time on his hands, but it also helped keep his skills sharp even during crisis times. This was why he was in the training room with his familiar ready to latch into another brutal bout with her.

Greg wasn't a sadist by any means, and even less a masochist. Still, Greg would be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to these bouts. This wasn't because he got to rail on Olivia. Neither was it because she pummeled him just as hard in return. Instead, the true allure of these bouts for Greg was just how simple the world became. There were no longer world serpents, cataclysmic mana storms, Fate hunting for him, or any other crisis he had to think about. Instead, all Greg had to think about was the next move in their dance of orchestrated violence. The world narrowed down from titanic forces seeking to do him in and pull him under, to just trying to read Olivia and countering her moves even before she made them. Greg had learned the hard way that if he waited until she was already making the move, then he was already far too late.

Greg couldn't help the surprise he felt when he saw Calyn somewhat sheepishly walk into the training room. She wasn't hunched over or looking down or any such thing. She was far too refined for such an obvious display of discomfort. Her back was straight and her head held high as she moved through the room. Greg, however, could tell by the subtle blush spreading on her cheeks that, she wasn't feeling anywhere near as confident as she was projecting herself to be. Unable to help himself, Greg could feel his gaze roam over her. He couldn't help the smile that slowly crept onto his lips as he picked up on the fact that she was in the training outfit she usually had on during their training fights.

Ever since their last training bout close to two months back Greg hadn't seen hide nor hair of her inside the training sessions. They'd gone overboard in that bout and beaten each other black and blue. While this was no different from what he usually did with Olivia, with Calyn, the motivation hadn't been to improve one's skill. No, they had both acted out of raw unadulterated fury. Rather than an unfortunate side effect of pushing their skills to the very edge and dancing there. No, it had been the entire purpose of each blow and kick they landed. In the talk they'd had after, Greg had been forced to lay his cards out and tell the girl why he'd slept with Athalia and not her. Furthermore, he'd disabused her of the notion that she had that he was someone who had gained the favor of a deity and that this was why he was linked to one. In truth, his current situation was of a nobody from nowhere being attached through strange circumstances to a deity that cared nothing for him and only protected him because his survival depended on it.

If Morpheus had his way, he wouldn't even for a second hesitate to eliminate Greg to remove any evidence that he'd ever been dependent on a mortal for survival. If anything was ever to happen between the two of them, she needed to understand that she wouldn't be linking a powerful deity to their clan. Rather, she'd need to know that she'd only be getting Greg and nothing more. Though Greg would have loved immediate acceptance, he could fully understand when Calyn asked for space to think everything through. That was the last of her that Greg had seen in the training room since.

Despite the smile that played on his lips as she came to a stop before him, there was some slight sense of trepidation in Greg. The last time they'd spoken to each other she'd said she needed to think about what would be of the two of them. Greg had agreed and given her space to do so. Cocky and self-assured as Greg acted most times, however, he was fully aware that there was a chance that she could decide to keep things platonic between them. Perhaps she'd judge that without a deity attached to him, Greg wasn't all that impressive. At least, not when compared to the daughter of an illustrious clan like hers.

Naturally, Greg would respect her choice if this was what she wanted. However, he'd be lying if he said that such an outcome wouldn't disappoint him. He had never made a secret of the fact that he found Calyn attractive. She was a criminal mix of athletic and yet curvy at the same time. Not an ounce of belly fat or pudginess to be found anywhere on her and yet, she somehow had an ass that could be the ruin of kingdoms. Her legs, deadly weapons that they were, couldn't help but strike Greg as works of art that a sculptor could die happy after carving. Greg was no aficionado of bra sizes, but even he could tell that she was an easy D cup, as her bust pushed against the skin-tight outfit she usually wore to their sparring sessions. The thing was made out of a tough material that was almost impossible to break, and yet somehow flexible enough not to restrict her movements in the least. Greg couldn't help but be taken in by how it hugged her every curve in a most alluring way. It left him wanting to just...

"You'll have to forgive me, I didn't mean to make things hard for you," Calyn's cheeky voice snapped Greg out of her hypnotic allure. Even without noticing, Greg had let his gaze drift from hers and drop to visually ravage her, a fact that she had clearly picked up on. Greg took it for the good sign it was that, rather than being angry or displeased with him for it, she actually seemed pleased by the attention.

Greg was about to say something in reply but his mind finally picked up on what she had just said along with the amused smirk that seemed pasted on her face. A sigh left Greg even as he looked down, already knowing what he would find. His hard dick was so prominently tenting his pants that Greg could clearly trace the shape of the head of his cock on his pants. "I refuse," Greg answered, unable to keep the smile off his face even as he looked back up at her. "You must be punished for being so unforgivably enticing, " He demanded with mock outrage.

Calyn's head tilted to the side, the smirk still there, only this time, battle lust had also ignited in her eyes. "Is that so?" She asked, her voice coquettish. "I don't know, you'd have to be pretty strong to put me in my place... do you think you can do that?" She challenged.

She hadn't addressed their last talk or answered as to what she had decided in the final analysis. Looking into her eyes, however, and feeling the palpable tension that hung in the air between them, Greg could only smile devilishly. She didn't need to...

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