Amun Za'Darmondiel-Nox.

The Omni-Wagon, traveling through Nytholon Territory, in the Heart of Vruria.

15 Septara, 1492.

06:12.

***

It was good to be exploring again. Great, actually. Bakewia and Nydorden Halls were nice little adventures; ones I'd been looking forward to for ages. Zimysta Falls and our recent time at the Bodhi Tree were necessities; one unpleasant and one amusing. And while I had several things left to check off the list for this year, it wouldn't be the hard charge I'd been on since the year began. Or the start of my life, for that matter. Finally, it was time to slow down, admire the views, and smell the roses. As much as I could before the crusade, at least. Regardless, it all started with our return to the Omni-Wagon, which had since crossed Shujen's borders into the Vrurian Empire.

Vruria was the closest thing to the Bodhi Tree's wilds we explored last year; best described as Jurassic, enhanced by the flair of magic. Ferns stood like houses amidst car-sized weeds, forever occluded by the towering trees that dominated the land. Their mangled bark was like the sentinels of this empire, imposing the sense of being watched on those who trespassed their sprawling roots; assuming they could break through the brush in the first place. A maze of twisting branches only added to the unsettling ambiance, their mossy surfaces acting like omnidirectional avenues for the many beasts who called this dark forest home. They and the eldritch creature just passing through.

The wagon had been slithering through the branches without end, relying on the perpetual shadows cast by the canopy to evade the many beasts and monsters prowling within to grant the Troupe the means for some much-needed rest and relaxation. Including me. I'd been in my lab and private quarters, accompanied only by Lana, Zaraxus, and Borrowed Time for the last three days, and only now did I emerge from the optic nerves of what was once Hatchi to wander the greater Omni-Wagon.

It was a welcome sight and one I would get used to, for we were projected to spend much time here for the rest of the year and perhaps next year as well; much less the many beyond. Being much smaller than the Cuttleship, it was designed to undock and embark on a cross-country journey upon entering a new realm, moving at a slow but dutiful pace of a few meters per second. And it would stop for only a few reasons.

Being as large as a lunar truck on the outside - 6 meters high, 15 long, and the same width - it wasn't all that out-of-place aside from its distance from the sea. However, those dimensions being scaled up in the interior gave us all the room we'd need to fulfill our duties on top of having the obligatory guest, welfare, and support bays seen across the rest of the legions. Unlike the Cuttleship, though, the Troupe had yet to grow acquainted with their lodgings before our time at the Bodhi Tree. Thus, I was eager to see what they'd been up to for these past few days.

Having been one of the few to have already made her claim, I passed beneath Iris' domain in the Hatchi's old brain as I left my overbearing twin doors, separated by the bundle of nerves enveloped in hardened cartilage, woven atop the esophagus to form a corridor leading from the Buccal Mass behind me to the stomach at the far ahead. Turning away from the calcified walls of the mass, I let the nerve-road carry me down until I passed above a liver-shaped dome filled with noxious fumes and the screams of the dead while simultaneously using our link to gaze over Wilson's shoulder to see him dexterously moving through the chemical factories strewn throughout. Above him were Ilar and those he recruited from Zimysta Falls, occupying stalactites formed by the hardened smoke residue.

Continuing down, I used Soul Surveillance to look over Reina's shoulder while looking over the kidneys, which appeared the most like their biological parts on the outside while the inside was filled with vats for the waste produced by those dwelling within the wagon; minus the gunk produced by the augmented ones. Even with the presence of Mala's family, it was a stark contrast to the gonads behind it, which was like a shimmering jewel of sapphire and emerald filled with the dazzling lights of the Mafia's luxurious headquarters; now much more populated after the establishment of the School of Exemplary Service.

Wheeling around and down put me on a trajectory leading past the hearts, bringing a crimson-colored dome into view. Beyond the panes was a pumping crystalline structure surrounded by conduits that shifted from midnight blue to sky blue or almost white as they flowed around the reactor, where dense air bellowed over them constantly, reducing their shades to teal. I stepped off the road toward the end of the crystal dome and gazed over the branching road as I did to look into the various arms occupied by the troupe. Geri and Freki were in the first and second arms. Etan had the seventh arm while Eban had the eighth, leaving the fourth and fifth for our cultural and supportive needs until we got some new members. The third arm, however, was across from my destination. Being male, the third arm acted as Hatchi's mating arm and thus was used for docking. My destination, however, was just as… uncouth.

Hatchi's anus was like an enclosed motor pool with open barns lining the walls perpendicular to the vaulted entrance and the mass of swirling moonlight comprising the exit. Filled sparsely with the various Uma of the Troupe's subordinate members, the space was dominated by Kipp, lying in the central space as if he was sleeping.

"Time for a walk." I said on approach.

The giant fox's ear perked up before a throaty growl reverberated through the space, triggering the fur beneath it to mat itself into steps for me to climb up and descend through the ear canal leading into the bridge of his vacated brain.

I was hardly surprised to see Blude and Iris waiting within, the former puffing happily on a cigarette while the latter danced across the net. The others had trickled in by the time I dialed in the route, chatting away about their assumptions regarding my great-grandfather, his impressions of them, and his instructions for us.

"You know his class is only for the students, right?" I reminded them.

Of course, Eban had the first retort. "You say that like we can't watch."

"You never know." I winked. Then laughed as Kipp's lunge stole his words from his mouth and turned to watch the swirling exit of Hatchi's asshole pass through the Looking Glass.

Kipp sprawled his legs the moment he was clear, allowing the rapid winds to take us through the siphon and eject us onto the gnarled hills of Vruria, only for him to dip in the first few strides, allowing darkness to consume his vision and vertigo to overtake him before he flipped himself upright, landing in a sprint within the depths of the Shadow realm. The weight of curiosity pulled on me as I realized it was their first time in the realm - all of them but Wilson, in fact. Yet, that curiosity morphed into intrigue when I noticed Iris's yellow eyes scanning the countless shadows attempting and failing to swarm her through Kipp's frame. The way they congregated to her was stronger than even Wilson. Curious indeed.

Within a few minutes, Kipp dipped again, and we emerged in the lands pointed out to us by the Bodhi Tree before our departure with a seed of uncertainty in my gut, shrouded by the light of curiosity, for before me was a familiar sight. A plate or square dais of what seemed like obsidian, inscribed in gold with my family crest; seeming to mark the start of an ecological dead zone. Much like in my homeland, the trees behind the dais had black bark and white leaves, yet there was no snow weighing their branches down. Before them was only short-bladed midnight grasses that swayed omni-directionally in the still air like boneless fingers, stretching for several hundred meters before the black bark and dense shrub returned, broken apart only by a thick spire, centered on what appeared to be a stable filled with dessicated horses piled atop each other.

Prompting Kipp to lie down at the edge, I disembarked and stepped into the brisk air, lighting a joint with the Flames of Moil and loudly inhaling the menthol-like smoke before stepping forward.

Within two steps, the crackling sound of sparks pulled my eyes to a blue-white streak darting from branch to branch, singeing branches and clapping thunderously before landing with a reverberating crash at my side. A shrieking whistle pulled my senses to the west before the dust had even cleared, giving me a glimpse of colorful feathers appearing to my left before a puff of smoke materialized behind me, roiling like the steel meteor breaching the clouds above. And from shining lights to bursts of elemental energy, my Imperators landed around me while their subordinates floated overhead, saluting in reverence.

"I've never seen you so nervous!" Toril chortled as he dismounted the massive beast of cobalt feathers and black talons.

"I'm not sure what to expect, to be honest." I admitted, giving the Paragon Tempest Griffon's intelligent eyes a knowing grin.

"Do you ever know what to expect concerning him?" Ed laughed, coming up from behind me.

"Fair point." I shrugged, then turned to look upon the out-of-place spire and stables we were all guided to. It was a macabre place of shadows and corpses, with pools of tar and dead trees surrounding the black-walled stables, and little else. On the surface, at least. "Let's just get this over with." I sighed.

While there was little to be seen from afar, some rather regal looking specters, zombies, and skeletons emerging from the dark as we approached, keeping their distance but holding their monocled orbits on the Conditor as they passed, paying as much attention to the markings on their chests as to their shadows. Just a couple, at first, then dozens. Hundreds by the time we eased up a cobblestone road straddled by stables and pens of bubbling tar rather than mud or grass, crowding behind us like an unliving gate that closed us in the towering arch leading into the spire.

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Stopping at the threshold of those arches, they let their lingering gaze push us deeper into the dark corridor. Sconces and braziers triggered from our steps, alighting with the violet Flames of Moil to cast writhing shadows from our feet toward the grandiose doors ahead as if they intended to greet the one waiting for us in lieu of words. He was a man around my age and had a familiar visage, albeit with vast differences, being a hulking brute like Roheisa but with a short beard plastered atop my face and a lion's mane of locks sweeping over his pauldron-like shoulders. And his smile…

I felt myself going wide eyed with apprehension as I faced that fickle smile, yet kept my composure as I lowered my head into a bow.

"Well met, Amun!" The Great Necro King's Doppelganger blurted before I could speak. And I rose with the most incredulous look in my eyes.

"G- Grandpa Lich." I bowed again. "Good to see you… again?"

"Wahahaha!" The Necro King's clone reeled back in boisterous laughter before slamming his meaty paws on my shoulder. "Grandpa Lich!" he echoed, wooing like a certain wrestler. "That's rich! They said you were an eccentric one! And audacious! However…" He killed his laugher as he stepped forward, gesturing to my horns, hair, and other changes given to me by our ancestor. "I did not expect this."

I squinted as I looked over his boyish form, unsure if he was just fucking with me or being his literal old self. "I could say the same." I then snorted. "'One could become two, but no more.' That's what… you told me about your doppelganger's evolution. I'm assuming you're one? Where is the other?"

"Home." He grinned.

"Uh-huh." I nodded slowly.

"Yes!" He squatted, resting a hand on his knee to point his beefy finger in my face. "He is as small as you are, but half your age! Wahaha!" He roared back, then leaned forward as if his serious tone had been there all along. "I digress." He spread his arms as if he'd just now seen the others for the first time. "Welcome, all! I am the Necro King's doppelganger! You may call me Ev. I'll teach you all I know about summoning. However." His tone suddenly shifted low as he flicked his eyes across the Troupe, lingering far behind. "I can see not all of you are students of the Bodhi Tree." He snapped his head to me. "Subordinates of yours?"

"Warlocks of mine." Amun corrected with a grin. "And more."

"Fascinating." Everandus smiled evilly. "You will tell me more later. Just like old times, yes?"

"Uh- y- yes." I stammered, the incredulity back in full force, mixed with more.

This was going to be… interesting.

"Regardless, teaching others is not part of my agreement with the Tree. Dismiss them."

I noticed Iris seem a little dejected before she warped away, but was pulled by the resonance of my and Grandpa Lich's sorcery and the prospect of knowledge. She'd be fine, after all, and so I turned to see a company of undead emerging from the shadows to push those massive doors open, revealing a classroom as large as a grand hall, filled with the same alchemical desks I used back in Corvus Tower.

The nostalgia hit me in full force once we got seated and Grandpa- Ev began his pacing in his lecturing tone. "Our lesson begins with mana, conjuration, and logic." He explained with a grunt. "First, there is the difference between arcana and mana. In short, conjured materials born from mana are not entirely real. Your steel, for example," he pointed to Roheisa, "would rust within the hour, were your mana like mist. With your diamond well," he shrugged, "it will last decades. But with arcana, it would be indistinguishable from real steel. Once the spell effect and residual mana wear off, at least."

My brow rose with the words. 'He… can't tell she has arcana now?'

"That's without taking logic into effect, however. Now, from what I hear of your casting style," he turned to me, "you may be unaware of this fact: the quantity of mana required for a spell is dependent on two things. The first is your understanding of the affinity in question. Understanding that fire burns hotter with air, for example, will lead to your using less mana for fire magic. The second is logic. The more your spell breaks logic - using fire mana to form a solid hammer, for example - the more taxing it is on your mana well, and the less likely it will persist once the residual mana wears off. That's if you ignore the innate illogical nature of magic in the first place, of course. But I digress." He meekly shrugged, stepping away to fling a viscous mass of blue-black mana onto the ground behind him. "Onto summoning, which comes in two forms."

From that bubbling mass of magical tar came a somewhat familiar sight- a hulking, vaguely humanoid hand that made the stone sizzle as it gripped the ground to pull its mass from the pit. Then it stood before us as if it were labored by the act, its amorphous body rippling and sloughing hot tar while its lifeless visage panned across us.

"Behold, arcane summoning." Grandpa Lich grinned. "That is to animate an inanimate object using one's magic, or to conjure them outright through mana. It is not imbuing life into them, although that can happen with the right magic. What most people believe to be golems, for instance, can be formed out of nearly any conjuration magic and can take the form of nearly anything. But they are not considered true golems, as conjured steel, magma, or anything else born from magic is not real in the first place, and they possess no sentience. Arcana would be the exception. However, it still would not have sentience like a true golem; and, of course, such a thing involves no summoning. Demonstrate!"

Like many of us, Roheisa was taken aback by Grandpa Lich suddenly turning on her. But years of royal training seemed to kick in at once, given her dutiful nod. Even then, she seemed to be at a loss until she remembered something and put her arcana to work, weaving three threads through her cores to fling them at the ground one by one.

Her steel emerged as a wrecking ball of layered sheets that unfurled itself into a hulking suit of armor that looked like it'd been partially melted into a single piece that somehow retained its mobility. Her magma morphed into something like a Minotaur, altered with the attributes of the Vulcanox, only smaller, while the mass of crystal seemed to cut and smooth itself into the shape of a salamander, much like the one she killed; and much like her armor.

"Impressive." Grandpa Lich hummed, pacing toward the constructs before turning his cold eyes to us. "Being conjured spells, these cannot move without Roheisa's magic and, despite being made of arcana, they possess no intelligence. The caveat is that they can be layered with spell effects. Otherwise, you will find these arcane summons can do everything a golem can, including following your orders until they expire. These are the types of golems that are most commonly seen throughout the explored realms. Their versatility will aid you greatly."

Of course, I'd seen Scarlett do something similar last year with her giant silkworm. But unlike then, my mind was racing with the possibilities. Naturally, none of my affinities were suited to such a task, but that was a moot point when my elven abilities allowed me to conjure anything from the ambient arcana. Even if I was hardly proficient in such a thing.

"You faced an iron golem last year, yes?" Grandpa Lich stopped before Ash and stared until he returned a passionate nod. It was only natural. After all the training Ash had done to adopt Caleb's Sun Walker technique, he'd been itching for a rematch. Yet…

"Wrong!" Grandpa Lich huffed, stomping away. "That golem and those like it were gifts to Maru from the gnomes. Golem constructs. Constructed in the sense that they're made from inanimate materials, amalgamated and given a semblance of sentience through an artificed crystal."

That triggered a spark in my eyes that was promptly ignored as Grandpa Lich pointed at me with a laugh.

"Not even our sorcery would create a true golem. Demonstrate, Amun." He smiled, betraying the accusatory grim tone rippling through his beard. "You have collected many souls, have you not?"

"Oho, yes." I groaned and quickly buried my growing discomfort as a sudden wind pushed against the spire above us, echoing the tunes of my spirit across the land. And so I dug deep, fishing for the most unremarkable soul I could find before carelessly tossing it into Roheisa's steel statue.

Its eyes lit up with the sea-green radiance of my arcana and stiffened into a salute, its body pointed to me while its gaze remained on Roheisa. Grandpa Lich didn't seem to notice or care, however. He was more focused on my classmate's reactions. Or rather, their lack thereof. Everyone other than the Tritons looked at it with disinterest, or more, with the pondering eyes of speculation.

"A soul gives it sentience like a true golem, but not longevity." He eventually continued. "Once the steel rusts or is destroyed, the soul will return to Amun's underworld. Were you in possession of a conjuration affinity, you could create true golems with our sorcery." He said to me; and with a certain smugness. "But alas, you have transmutation abilities. Perhaps with your…" he waved his hand around my face, "Holiness, that is different."

Fighting the urge to disclose the obvious, I pinched the bridge of my nose before turning to my forefather's clone with an inquisitive brow raised. "I assume I can still create necromentals out of inanimate objects, though, yes?" I asked.

"Depending on how well the object can hold the soul." He nodded.

"Interesting."

"For those who are curious, true golems are beings native to the elemental planes. They are sentient, intelligent, and, being purely elemental, possess magical powers that make them exceptionally dangerous. They are known for one thing. Fulfilling their orders as quickly as possible so they may return home. They… dislike being summoned. Doubly so by those they deem weak. More importantly, you must understand that while they are true summoned creatures, the act of summoning them is not summoning magic. It is a ritual. Summoning magic involves summoning material, energy, or an entity from another plane of existence. Like our sorcery, and yours." Grandpa Lich grinned at me before pointing to Ash. "Ours is pulled from the Underworld, using the Shadow Realm's energy to access the Mortal Plane. Yours comes from the Elemental Plane of Fire."

Pausing, Grandpa Lich released several skeletons from his shadow, who collectively began carving into the wood panels at his feet with daggers to draw an instantly recognizable shape. Six circles, spaced evenly within a seventh to create a geometric rosette. The seed of life. Or, in this universe, the Glyph of Courage.

"For those without such sorcery, they must use this glyph to summon energy or a creature from another plane. When the appropriate sigils are inscribed within the spaces, with a conduit at the center, it becomes a magic circle. That conduit is usually destroyed during the summoning and is dependent on what is to be summoned, similar to the sigils. Once the connection has been established, the summoner must call the being's true name to summon it from another realm or plane of existence. If they are willing, then the ritual is complete. If the summon is unwilling, the summoner must bind it to a contract through a stronger ritual. While it sounds complicated, it is quite a common thing. Familiars are an example of this, like the paladin's mounts." He nodded proudly at Toril.

"While wizards and witches most often have Fae familiars that can shift between many forms and link their senses together, and warlocks have familiars aligned with or often assigned by their patrons, anyone can form such a pact, be they with fiends, Fae, or, most commonly, true golems, but such endeavors must be done with caution, for those more intelligent beings often enacts a plan to get back or get over on the summoner. Moreover, should they fail, they simply return to their plane with a vengeance. Now, let's practice!" Grandpa Lich beamed, opening his shadow to allow a sight for sore eyes to peer through.

"Urda!" I beamed, seeing the alchemical lich in the bones.

"Good to see you, Young Master!" He bowed graciously, killing my enthusiasm in one fell stroke - something Grandpa Lich found hilarious.

"You will catch up later." He said, regaining his wits as he turned to the others. "Urda will teach the artificers how to create the needed crystals while the rest observes. Once you meet his standards, you will move on to summoning and see what, if anything, heeds your call."

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