Unchosen Champion

Coop concentrated on his ethereal spear, watching as motes of turquoise mana drifted off the surface and were carried away by the warm night’s breeze. He cleared his mind, trying to forge a connection with the misty manifestation. His brows furrowed and he squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on the physical existence of the reliable spear within his hands, contemplating the corporality of the vaporous summon, and seeking to expand the link between himself and his weapon. He was a Mistwalker now, he affirmed to himself. He was one with the mists.

Nothing happened.

He stopped with an exasperated laugh, flipping the spear back up over his shoulder so that the tip clicked against the stone slab that braced his back. The Revenant class wasn’t a class that required him to delve into that kind of dubious mysticism. He just thought he’d give it a try due to the unification of his active skills. His weapon was a tool and his connection to the mists merely provided the material. Meditation on the system’s mysteries wouldn’t reveal concealed bonuses just like how climbing 1,000 steps wouldn’t put him onto a cultivator’s journey.

Coop tapped the spear against the stone a few more times before he tilted it back across his knees, admiring the tranquil frozen mists for what they actually were: manifestations with real physical specifications. The mists approximated a molten material that was poured into his imagined mold before solidifying into his desired shape. For as enigmatic as mana was, it still had a physical presence founded in reality.

He swapped his spear for his ethereal glaive while holding it out in front of his chest. The transformation occurred instantly. The solidified mists lost their rigidity and flowed into the shape that he held in his mind, establishing the deadly polearm with a speed that left him impressed in spite of his reevaluated expectations.

There were several differences in the process, though only Coop would be able to notice them. He had summoned and dismissed his weapons countless times, and previously, they had always followed the same order of operations. In order to summon a weapon, the mana cost would be consumed, mists would appear, and they would crystallize into the form that he wanted, so long as it fell within the restrictions designated by mana. If he wanted a different weapon, the original mists would dissipate and new mists would appear to form the new manifestation, following the same sequence of events.

His quick swaps were bound by the same processes, but he was going through the effort in the middle of combat. The tactic only worked because the mana cost was low enough that he could repeatedly summon the weapons, dismissing them as he drew new equipment from the mists, and turning them into disposable armaments. Fitting his quick swaps into his backswings or blocks was a conscious decision to compensate for the delay created by manifesting weapons, but he made it work, creating a potent technique that frequently caught his opponents off-guard. The tactic had even worked against Ledwidge, the alien treant weapon master back on Ghost Reef.

However, as a Mistwalker, the procedure had changed. The mists weren’t dismissed when he summoned a new weapon. They were more responsive to his desires, adaptable, and reusable.

Coop watched as his ethereal glaive melted into his bo staff, a trident, a war fork, then back to his spear in fractions of a second. Mists drifted from the manifestation, but they weren’t dismissed in order to make room for the next. The feeling that his connection to mana had changed was clear as day, and he was able to ascribe what had actually happened when he completed the Path of the Mistwalker. The training wheels had been taken off.

Before, the system was basically providing a step-by-step routine for how his skills worked. After what Coop estimated were hundreds of thousands of repetitions, he could manipulate his mana in the proper order to manifest an ethereal summon in his sleep. Retribution was a simple recipe for constructing weapons and Salvation operated in the same way for his armor.

He flexed his Mistwalking ability and his familiar armor drifted into existence, wrapping his chest with a protective breastplate, adding metallic bracers, shin guards, the layered leather pteruge, and his classic gladiator sandals to the ensemble. He dismissed it all and a puff of mists dissipated into the gentle breeze as quickly as it appeared. Now, he felt like he was really cooking with mana.

Coop flipped his spear around, and increased the density, instinctively finding the right amount to make the missile one of his explosive volatile spears. The weight suddenly increased as additional mists coalesced within the already summoned weapon, mixing together. Satisfied with the result after the swirls solidified, he made it even denser, remembering the maximum he had reached while within the Cathedral of Tides, and the spear grew impossibly heavy. When he inadvertently let it touch the ground, weakened as he was, the rigid stone surface of the temple warped like beach sand beneath the pressure. He reduced the density, and mists were expelled from the shaft as the weapon jumped back to the mass of his regular spears, releasing steam-like pressure in a spray that hissed before disappearing.

He tossed the weapon up, dismissing the weapon while feeling incredibly excited for what probably seemed like a minor change. Maybe it actually was only a slight change, but his technique was already empowered by enough experience that something that made every facet of his strategy more efficient would push him into a new realm of combat potency.

Coop summoned his ethereal short sword, reveling in the ease that it appeared. He adjusted the blade to resemble a machete, then a saber, before he went through the motions to cast Legacy of the Mists. Subconsciously following the guidelines he had been taught, he consumed 90 mana to beseech a master from the past to provide him with temporary aid.

A phantasm calmly stepped out of a misty portal with his head held back proudly. The gateway melted as the ghost breached its threshold, letting mists splash into the divots of stone in front of where Coop sat. The phantasm seemed more like an officer than a random soldier, with a long ceremonial sword sheathed at his hip. His cloth uniform was from a distant land, decorated with a red sash, and a bright turban that sat on his head and hid his hair. Long beaded necklaces dangled beyond his chest, a red line was painted between his eyes, and a thick, curling mustache and beard covered his face.

Coop raised his eyebrows at the ghost and the ghost raised his thick dark eyebrows back.

“Uh.” Coop started, remembering his awkward first summons before scoffing at himself. “I’m just testing things.” He tried to explain apologetically.

The phantasm nodded once, and rested his arms behind his back, silently giving Coop permission to continue as the most expressive phantasm he had ever summoned. Coop frowned at what he was going to do, feeling guilt, but he wanted to know the result. He transformed the ethereal saber into his one-handed hammer.

In an instant the metamorphosis was done, with the mists along the blade thinning while others were coalescing into the head of the hammer. The phantasm continued watching. Coop smiled at the ghost, relieved that he was still there.

Previously, the phantasms were directly linked to the specific weapon that Coop used when he summoned them. They were all dismissed if he changed his weapons, locking him into his original choice, adding a minor inconvenience to the advantage that they gave him. It meant that frontloading his summons was a risk that would limit his adaptability while increasing his offensive firepower.

Now, as a Mistwalker, the phantasms were coupled with a more generic weapon summon that broadly covered all of his manifestations at once. He was sure they continued to reserve durability, he could sense that much, but all of his weapons were now intertwined under the banner of Retribution within his Mistwalking capabilities. The system had let him off the guard rails, so to speak.

He tried summoning additional weapons, but he was still inherently limited to personal equipment. He could dual wield some one-handed weapons, add a shield in place of one, or wield a single two-handed weapon, but he wasn’t allowed to build an arsenal of mists for others to use. Considering how much more powerful his manifestations were relative to crafted equipment, and how easy they were for him to create, it made sense that there would still be some other limitations. Retribution and Salvation had been literally free for ages at this point, but crafting powerful gear required materials and profession skills that necessitated significant investments. He was happy enough with the evolution of his equipment not to expect more.

Next, he channeled Fog of War, using a small portion of his already diminished mana pool, and was immediately confronted with an even more intense feeling that his relationship with mana had graduated to another level.

The small cloud of mists drifted in front of him, trailing wisps that were caught in the night air. Coop could tell that if he was within the mists he actually would be better connected with the domain. He was just playing around when he tried to forge a mental connection with his manifestations and become one with the mists, but it seemed like his link to the mists of Spectral mana had really evolved into something more comprehensive than before.

The actual limits would require further investigation, but he had an inkling for what was happening with Fog of War. It was more like the advanced domain demonstrated by the Herald of Cosmos before she became Undead. The Fog was a window into the ethereal domain of Spectral mana. If the mists represented another dimension that was overlaid upon reality, Fog of War was where they melded together. Forget about merely being confused by the fog, anyone caught would be truly lost, and Coop was master of the pocket dimension.

Would he be able to strip others of their mana, the same way as the Herald of Cosmos? It was an enticing thought, but no, he inherently knew he wouldn’t have such an ability because he lacked the conflicting affinities. Spectral and Abyssal felt more like supplementary flavors than the opposites like Stellar and Void, and he had yet to delve into the Abyss as the path had only just begun. There were clearly underlying rules to mana’s various affinities.

He toggled Vaporform as his final experiment, and he was presented with the chaotic flow of mana inside of the world of mists. The dark gray sky contained lighter swirls that reflected the previous chaos that had taken place above the settlement. It seemed like whether it was day or night, the ethereal realm existed in a perpetual crepuscule. Coop supposed it was a hint that his ethereal mists were simply not an extreme that would have an obvious opposite. Rather than be on an extreme end of the spectrum of mana, the spectral mists fell in between: the midpoint in the center of a broader perimeter. The gray center of a more colorful wheel.

Instead of a storm of mana, the domain presented the calm after a storm. A haze hovered in the air, as thick as soup, so that Coop couldn’t differentiate the edges of the horizon. It all flowed like a calm ocean that had settled after significant churn. The outlines of surfaces were highlighted by slightly denser concentrations, but rather than particulates, it was more like a visualization of air flow.

To his surprise, he caught his own form at the edge of his vision, and he raised his arms up. Both palms of his hands greeted him as ghostly outlines, matching the detail perfectly and seeming solid enough. He didn’t have the uncomfortable feeling of abandoning his corporeal form, with his essence drifting away into the ethereal world, the way he did on his first visits. In fact, he watched as a gentle stream of mists flowed into the edges of his sacrificed limb, reinforcing the mists that provided the temporary prosthesis. Instead of worrying that his soul would be whisked away and dispersed by the mists, his spirit seemed bolstered by them.

He stood up and stepped forward, curiosity getting the best of him. The phantasmal officer stood within the domain, equally solid, though he had an aura that illuminated him in a way that hinted at more vivid colors than normal, more noticeable in the world of gray. The phantasm watched the small Fog of War as it drifted and shrank as if he existed in both worlds at once, or otherwise, the ghost could shift between each at will.

Rather than an obscuring cloud, Fog of War was a crystal clear window back into the real world. It was more clear than ever that the two dimensions were perfectly overlayed. In fact, they seemed to be one and the same. Throughout Coop’s vision, he watched as elevated concentrations of mana drifted across surfaces, some matching the locations of living soldiers from Ghost Reef as they fought skeletal minions, others hovering too high to be bound by gravity, and still more that seemed like entities completely untethered to the land of the living.

As Coop’s mana was exhausted, the ethereal vision faded and his normal sight returned. He stood next to the phantasm as the Fog of War also disappeared, frozen in thought for a few moments.

When the phantasm disappeared, returning to the ghost world that Coop merely visited, he sat back down against the stone slab and tried his best to articulate the epiphany that was skirting the edge of his mind.

Mana was a singular substance, omnipresent on an atomic level, with a real physical presence. When he toggled Vaporform, he was perceiving mana through the lens of his Spectral affinity, but he suspected that anyone would see similar scenes if they had access to the equivalent of Coop’s abilities. Instead of mists, someone with a darkness affinity would probably see shadows, but he assumed it would ultimately be the same shapes and flows. That was why the Herald of Cosmos was able to interact with his manifestations and rip them apart. It was all the same mana.

Coop realized that he needed to better understand the range of affinities available to people. It had always seemed so esoteric, with such a wide variety attributed to different people, it passed right through his consciousness. He had rarely seen duplicates, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t related to each other. Just off the top of his head, he could recall seeing each of Shadow, Dark, Darkness, and Void which would certainly all be a part of the same family, or the same arc in a wheel. In a way, it reminded him of the way he imagined classes and paths. Rather than a grid of streets, perhaps it was all related on a broader spectrum. He should probably pay more attention in the future, but it felt like he could only collect individual data points on something that was beyond his limited perception.

Coop closed his eyes and found himself lost in thought, trying to remember every affinity he had ever seen and put them into buckets. Classes would also be important, but he figured defining titles and dominant attributes would be less so.

While he struggled to place random affinities like Steadfast, Bound, or Disorder, Presence of Mind detected someone slowly climbing the rubble up the side of the former pyramid, nearest to where he rested. Ghost Reef soldiers had already secured the entire highway, beating his own time in traversing the settlement despite his squad of phantasms, but in his defense, the living Acolytes were more challenging than the undead. However, the enemies may have ended up less difficult, but the Test of Stairs was further complicated by the destruction of the tomb, and Coop suddenly felt silly for complaining about them in the first place. He had failed to consider that it could have been worse without steps at all.

As the first rock climber reached the top of the pyramid, she stopped and shouted to others that were further below. “I found him! He’s up here!”

[Human (Level 116)]

[Enchanter (Intelligence)]

[Arcane (Defiant)]

“Hey, Coop! Dear me! Are you alright?” Laurie asked as she rushed over, concern filling her voice.

“I’m fine.” He responded as he shifted back to his feet to prove it. “Just taking a break.” He admitted, unable to completely stifle his weariness.

“Thank goodness!” She breathed dramatically. “The leaderboards! I mean, we all thought they were broken or we were done for, no inbetween.”

Coop chuckled. “There was some room in between. What are you doing here?” He wondered. Laurie wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list of people he expected to see driving into the heart of the Cult’s stronghold.

“Looking for you!” The barista declared, like it was too obvious to ask.

Coop laughed. “I meant in Central America!”

“Ah well, the ladies decided to join the excursion as a little break from the kiddos.” She responded like she had run into someone familiar while on vacation, then she turned, growing serious as her companions appeared at the edge of the pyramid, following in her footsteps up the crumbled rock walls. “Linda, Carly! Organize the others and secure the perimeter! Janice! Take the high ground! Shout if any enemies approach!” She commanded, pointing where she meant, the tone of her voice completely flipping from concerned to demanding.

Coop squirmed awkwardly as the mommy support group that had lingered outside of Empress City behaved like an elite squad of commandos after moving to Ghost Reef, rushing to their positions with skilled efficiency. They weren’t exactly the first group of people he expected to go to war with a necromancer’s army of skeletal minions, but here they were, doing their part, and doing it well.

Laurie turned back to him with a friendly smile. “Don’t worry. Greg is taking care of the coffee shop while we’re gone. Everything is going great back home.” She added, cheerily.

“Right.” Coop nodded, getting on board.

“But what the heck happened to you? I can’t imagine what you ended up fighting to get so many levels. Was it really the God of Death? Are you really fine?” Laurie pointed at Coop’s ghost arm and tilted her head to the side as she assessed the limb. “Do you need us to get Madison?”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Another voice interrupted before Coop could start to answer the series of questions. “She was in quite a mood for the entire trip.” Gibson cut in as he caught up with his own party. “Even when we saw the sky shatter and reveal Hell, she was grumbling about how much trouble Coop was in.”

Coop raised his eyebrows, mind immediately racing as he tried to guess what he did to upset Charlie’s mother this time. He looked at Laurie, hoping she would correct a mistake.

She looked at him like there was nothing she could do. “He’s right.” Laurie responded to his silent plea, furrowing her brows. “She didn’t really calm down once we arrived either.”

“What did I do?” Coop finally asked directly.

“You didn’t let her know that you were going to war. It took Sierra explaining what was going on to get us into gear.” Gibson put his palms up. “Dr. Seraphin wanted to coordinate with you much earlier, before you ran off at least.”

Coop pressed his fingers between his eyes. “Ah, I totally forgot.” He sighed to himself. In his defense, the settlement event had distracted him with regard to his own settlement, but Madison had been waiting for him to give her the green light before visiting Corozal.

Gibson gestured at Coop’s other arm, the ghostly limb drawing his attention as well. “Are you gonna be okay? That looks… interesting.”

Coop nodded, demonstrating his fitness by summoning a spear into his ghost hand and flipping it so that it leaned on his shoulder before giving a misty thumbs up.

“Are you evolving into something else?” The Argent asked curiously, wondering if their Champion would become inhuman soon.

Coop shook his head. “No, no, it just seemed like the most expedient way to destroy the necromancer’s phylactery.”

Laurie’s eyes rose. “Was that the Chakyum fellow? The Lich? He’s already dead? Sierra made him seem like an actual God.”

Coop shrugged. “Just another whacko. He’s dead, but he took the civilization shard with him.” He stated, explaining why the pyramid was a pile of rubble instead of an organized temple.

“Oh, no.” She frowned. “That was one of our objectives, right Gibson?”

Gibson nodded, but didn’t seem fazed. “From the forest it looked like someone was trying to get a nuclear reactor started up here. I guess that explains it.”

Gibson turned away and pointed toward where the Bone Titan had fallen. “Shane is already coordinating with the leader of the Jaguar Sun. Perhaps you should join them and explain the situation. We probably don’t need to spend the rest of our free time fighting the undead if all of our main objectives are complete.” He glanced at Laurie who nodded in agreement. “Champion Coop is secured, the civilization shard can’t be claimed, and Chakyum has been eliminated.” He declared before looking at Coop expectantly.

“Alright.” Coop sighed, casting his gaze across the chaotic settlement. “Guess I’ll wrap things up so we can head home.”

Gibson broke into a smile and slapped him on the back while leading him back toward the side of the pyramid. “Well done, kid. Now, let me tell you about what we found in Florida.”