Infinite Body Prince-Chapter 100: Resonance

After leaving Haldon on the roof, Hadrian moved into a nearby alley.

Making sure he was alone, he entered that space and used the mystical box to gather a massive quantity of the fog.

Bringing it back to the real world, he split the gray cloud into two clouds.

He attached the first to one of his remaining seabird vessels and sent it back toward the rooftop where Haldon knelt in a state of shock.

The bird circled, and following Hadrian's intent, the cloud of fog separated, flowing down to Haldon.

The second he attached to himself.

That should last a little over a month, Hadrian calculated.

He wouldn't have to worry about the distance required to maintain control over Haldon.

He had pushed the mystical box to its limit, carrying as much of the fog as it could hold.

Satisfied, he returned to the space one last time, dumping the box and the rock bracelet back into the void.

He glanced at the bracelet; only five rocks remained white.

He stepped back onto the streets of Twain.

The moonlight was livid, casting a sickly, pale white over the cobblestones, while the cool night sea air carried the heavy scent of salt.

I've been going about Baruch the wrong way, Hadrian realized as he walked.

He had treated Baruch like a tool to be picked up and put down, inhabiting his body every time a task required a personal touch.

It was inefficient and bred resentment.

Instead, he should have been sending "revelations" like divine mandates.

He would reward or punish the man based on performance, just as he intended to do with Haldon.

By positioning himself as a distant, demanding deity rather than a hijacker of the soul, he could bypass the issue of trust.

Of course, it would seem stupid if Baruch found out about him and his ability level in the future were jasmine to reveal it to them.

Haldon already knew, so Hadrian didn't bother with an act.

Twain was unlike Gritjor. It lacked the massive, oppressive city walls.

Instead, it was a sprawling, chaotic organism that had grown freely around the mouth of a great river. Alleys turned into docks; houses stood on stilts over the water.

Half an hour into his scouting, his target found him.

A desperate man, a mixture of Aurnaian and Tahalyn descent with a jagged scar across his lip, stepped from the shadows of an alley.

He brandished a rusted knife, his eyes hungry. He didn't get a chance to speak.

Within seconds, the man's eyes glazed over, becoming Hadrian's vessel.

Like he'd previously noted, the higher the rank of the vessels he possessed, the faster he could convert lower-ranked beings.

It's the reason Haldon hadn't lasted as long as the corrupted monkey, despite being of the same rank.

Now knowing the language through his local vessel, Hadrian began his assessment.

If Twain offered no prospects for his advancement, he would leave.

Beyond the Aurna embassy, there had to be mages of other paths he had yet to witness.

He specifically needed to find Ranks One and Two of the death path. That way, he could accommodate the fiend's cores.

If it became too much for him at his tier, he could dump it to a new specialized vessel.

At that point, even one of the sea bird vessels would suffice.

As he walked, his mind drifted to what Lys had told him.

She'd said before mages existed, witches had sorcery of the different paths of magic.

He wondered if it applied to the three "new" paths: Mind, Soul, and Flesh.

He recalled the day he had observed the Keep's ramparts through Baruch's eyes.

Lys had mentioned that mages began appearing in the same manner they were seeing now.

Could she be from that era? Hadrian didn't dismiss the idea.

He also needed to look into the other paths' "Authority Wielders" as their fate might reveal certain truths about himself.

The Princeps too.

The distant, rhythmic chanting of the procession grew louder, pulling him from his thoughts. Having no immediate objective, Hadrian had decided to follow.

With his fog shroud, he was confident.

And, after Gritjor, anything to do with a ritual brought to mind the witches.

A portion of the procession split, wounding down to a secluded stretch of beach. Hadrian perched on a jagged rock cliff overlooking the shore, watching the scene below.

Twelve figures moved in a slow, hypnotic circle on the sand.

His two remaining seabird vessels landed silently beside him, their black eyes reflecting the moonlight.

Using his Force Path essence, Hadrian augmented his senses. His vision sharpened, and the distant murmurs became clear.

They sang exalted praises of Immensity, Creation, and Providence.

He had expected them to only be regular humans, not thinking mages, who could manipulate different aspects of reality, would be religious.

There were three among the leftovers of the procession.

Hadrian wrapped his hands around his knees, leaning forward.

For a moment, the rhythm of the chant synchronized with the crashing of the waves, creating a strange, pulsing vibration in the air.

His mind drifted with the gentle sea breeze, the moonlight pale.

He felt an unexpected resonance within his own sea bird chest, his Rank One Elemental Path core was radiating a warmth that felt like an invitation.

The scent of the sea grew intoxicating.

Cautious, wary of any foreign influence on him, Hadrian immediately shifted the seabird carrying his Elemental core to mechanical control.

His eyes narrowed on the twelve men and women.

The rhythm of the waves had become in sync with their voices.

They shifted from their moving circle, standing shoulder to shoulder facing the sea in a straight line, and their chants changed to low hums.

After three verses, their hum came to an abrupt stop.

Apart from the strange presence in the atmosphere though, nothing happened.

After two minutes of silence, they disbanded, and walked back up the beach like regular people, heading back into the city.