Reborn Healer Chapter 23

Beyond the door lay a familiar darkness. Unlike the rest of the house, which had mana-powered lighting or natural firelight, the stairs downwards had nothing.

I took an apprehensive step forward, hand finding the wall. For a basement that hadn’t been opened a single time since I’d been born as far as I could tell, the stairs were sturdy, not even creaking as I stepped on them. I looked down and saw nothing past my foot.

“Go on,” Aria urged.

I stepped forward again, then again.

“Should I… be here for this?” Mizuki asked behind me. “I don’t mean to impose.”

I ignored her and whatever the response to that sentence was, focusing on controlling myself and continuing down the steps into utter darkness.

The further I went, the darker it got. By the tenth step, I couldn’t make out my surroundings. By the twentieth, I couldn’t even see my outstretched hand.

“How far down does this go?” I asked incredulously.

“Keep going!” Aria encouraged. “The only one who can overcome the barrier is yourself!”

The barrier?

I found myself legitimately astonished by the sheer depth of the staircase. Pretty soon, I was far down enough that I was certain the entire house above could fit in the space I’d traveled twice over.

My initial trepidation wore off quickly enough, replaced by tedium and a strange sense of wonder. I started taking the steps two at a time, three at a time, trusting that my intuition would guide me the right way even if I couldn’t see shit.

Eventually, after somewhere between a hundred seventy and two hundred steps, I started feeling resistance, as if the air itself was pushing against my body. The sensation was oddly familiar, and it didn’t take me long to place.

My mother’s aura. When she’d come to rescue me from the World Dungeon, she’d exerted a pressure that had deterred anything and anyone from getting in her way. This was that same thing, just fully directed at me.

It got worse as I got deeper. Two hundred steps. Three hundred. Five. I had to have been going for a solid half hour by this point.

By now, it was obvious there was something magical about this stairwell. The resistance had made that transparently clear, but I also should have been something like a thousand feet underground by now, and there weren’t any signs of anything on that scale anywhere near our household.

I was grateful for all the training I’d done now. Even though I was practically sprinting now, I had barely tired physically. My coordination hadn’t faltered once even though I saw nothing but the faintest outline of my own silhouette.

Around seven hundred steps, the resistance sharply increased to the point where physically moving through it was like trying to shove my way through molasses. I kept on going. The pressure on my cores was getting to be severely uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of said cores trying to tear themselves apart.

My awareness of my own body increased with every step. I noticed the way my clothing shifted against my legs, the slight burn in my legs as I moved—and I felt my warrior core awakening with a vengeance.

I had grown used to its desire for what lay inside. I’d gotten so good at living with it that I barely even noticed its presence these days. Now, though, that hunger roared, reaching out through my body.

The pressure rebuffed it, building to a point where I didn’t think it was wrong to call it a barrier. My movements slowed, my soul itself repelled by the force at hand.

At this point, I had no idea how many steps I’d traveled. I just knew that it was a lot. It was probably fair to assume that just taking the steps wasn’t going to take me far enough.

I reached for where I remembered I’d kept items, looking for something I could use to maybe try and utilize somehow, but I paused.

Aria had said that only I could get through this. She knew what this magical barrier was. I had to assume that meant I didn’t need to use items—hell, maybe it even meant I didn’t want to be using my other items here.

I focused on my soul instead, trying to draw that hunger out instead of just watching it pulse. Even having grown used to manipulating my warrior core in order to manage my skills, it was a challenge to bring it forward.

From there, I focused all of my warrior core on forming itself into a weapon, aiming it outwards towards the barrier.

It didn’t work on the first permutation nor the second. Skills tended to be a manifestation of mana in my own body, and that rarely manifested as an actively offensive skill. I was trying to force it out past my soul, through my body, and out into the real world. Normally, that was the domain of my mage core, but I couldn’t think of a better way to do it.

Using my experience casting spells day in and day out, it was easier to shape the skill.

My warrior core reacted poorly to being manipulated in this way, pain tearing through my soul, but there was something different about this particular brand of agony. While the cores splitting apart came with nothing but raw pain, there was a sense of satisfaction to this pain, the same kind that would come with lifting something far too heavy for me.

I kept prodding at that, shaping it further, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

My soul burst forward, and the barrier gave.

The darkness broke open.

Skill learned: Split the Shadows [Adept]

I slid through the gap in the darkness, flying down steeper and steeper steps until I was in free fall.

All of a sudden, there was ground under my feet. The darkness was gone, replaced by a dimly lit basement room.

Aria was already waiting for me, beaming. She spread her arms and wrapped me in a hug, uncaring that I was still dirty from the events of the day.

I noticed that her trademark sky blue cloak was completely unmarred by even a speck of dust. After combat against other humans, I could appreciate just how hard that was.

“I knew you could do it,” she said, releasing me.

“I’m going to guess that you didn’t have to go down quite as many stairs as me,” I said.

“Once you’ve found your way through the barrier once, you can do it again,” she said, confirming my suspicion. “How that entrance shows itself depends on who you are and how you solved the wall.”

“Something I can only do myself,” I recalled. “I’m following.”

What did it say about me, then, that the method I had used involved making a weapon that broke through the boundaries of my soul using a core that was never meant to do that?

It said something, I was sure, but honestly at the moment I didn’t really care about wringing my hands over that. My focus was on the sheer energy present in the room and its odd composition.

While at first glance it appeared to be a normal basement room, any closer observation dispelled that illusion. Dark shadow oozed through gaps in the walls, there were no visible exits, and an invisible weight suffused the air. A single table sat at the center of the place, while a number of long closed boxes that evoked the image of coffins lined the walls.

Aria spread her hands. “The skill you created to enter will be added to your alms. Soon, you will understand the depth of what it does.”

The alms of the gods or just alms was the name most religious people gave the interface I called a system. I looked to confirm. Sure enough, a description was written. My other three skills were all intuitive to understand and had equally intuitive basic descriptions, but Split the Shadows was a bit more unique.

Skill: Split the Shadows

Tier: Adept

Type: Shadow

And lo, the warrior struck the veil between life and death, and thusly it learned what it was to break.

Reshapes the soul and pierces a barrier by drawing shadows from the Nightmare and energy from within.

My translation of the first line was rough. I knew from my extensive readings that the dialect it was written in was an older variant of the continent’s most common tongue, primarily used in prayer and religious texts. The second was more normal, although it was still written using more archaic terminology.

Given its wording, I could tell this was powerful. It had been enough to tear down a metaphysical barrier, and I intuitively understood that I could use it to break through physical barriers with much more ease.

Just like a spell, it cost some focus and mana to use, but it didn’t expend it in thesame way that normal magic did. As I forced it to manifest fully, I could feel the stretching pressure it placed on my warrior core. Shadow-like claws extended from my hands, not quite tangible but very visible.

A thrill of excitement ran through me at that. “Wow. That’s what I was doing?”

Though I had spent enough time in this world that I had grown accustomed to having magic, this was different. Forgotten dreams from an edgy teenage phase I would’ve rather forgotten surfaced in my mind, and I had to admit that I was smiling from ear to ear both inside and out.

Shadow magic, though technically not magic by the spellcaster-exclusive definition of the term. How cool was that?

“Precisely correct,” Aria said. “Now that you have awakened the skill, your journey here will be much easier.”

“That’s helpful.” I rubbed my aching legs. “Even with all that training, those were a lot of stairs.”

How many had it been? A thousand? Two?

“There’s only one flight,” she said. “The barrier loops that set in on itself. I just walked in.”

“Would’ve been nice to know ahead of time.”

“I can tell you of the existence of a gate,” Aria said, “but I cannot give you my knowledge on how to pass it. That was something you must learn yourself or not learn at all. Taking you through it myself would defeat the purpose as well—what use is there in opening one door for you when you will find yourself faced with so many more in your life?”

“Teach a man to fish,” I said.

“Pardon?” My mother tilted her head. “I haven’t heard this saying before.”

“Ah—I read once that if you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day, but if you teach him to fish, you feed him for a lifetime.” I couldn’t admit where I’d really got that proverb from, but I was sure there was something like that in one of the shelves of books I’d devoured.

“Interesting,” Aria mused, frowning slightly. “I hadn’t heard of that. It’s a useful phrase.”

“Anyway,” I said, eager to change the topic. “What is this place, actually?”

Aria held out both of her hands and flicked her wrists. Movement flashed through my eyes for a brief moment, and then she held an ornate black dagger in each hand. The same pressure that came from the room and from her was present in both those weapons if I focused.

“It’s a connection,” she said, an ominous echo deepening and backing her voice, otherworldly energy infusing her. “Are you sure you want to know more? This is not something you can go back on.”

I stared at her blankly. “Do you think I would’ve committed to walking through that staircase for so long if I wasn’t?”

“Fair enough,” she said, placing her daggers on the table. “Iryn has taught you about the Nightmare sect.”

“She has.”

“She didn’t teach you everything.”

“I assume not.” I could make out the general bent of where this was going.

Aria gestured around us. “You might have noticed the basement feels less real.”

I nodded. “I was going to ask about that, actually.”

“That is because it is. This room is built around and partially contains a connection to the Nightmare.”

I repeated the blank stare, understanding even less time. “Sorry, I was under the impression the Nightmare was a god. Emphasis on the was.”

“Not quite.” Aria pointed at her daggers with one hand. Thin shadows sprawled forth from her fingertips, forming string-like connections to them. “The Nightmare is alive in some sense, but it is not a deity as the Warrior or the Maiden is. With effort, you can form a connection with the plane that comprises its body. The Nightmare, contrary to popular beliefs, is neither good nor evil. It simply is.”

“An alternate layer of reality?” I asked. “Is that where we are now?”

“This is a halfway point between our world and the Nightmare,” she said. “This is where a lifeline can be formed.”

Lifeline. I recalled the word from a conversation some years ago. After I’d saved myself from my plight in the World Dungeon and subsequently been extracted by my mother, Iryn had wondered if I had already “found” mine.

“Is that yours?” I asked, indicating the daggers.”

She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying back into her hands before they disappeared again. “You really are Vallis’ child. Yes. It is. A lifeline is an artifact holding a fragment that we synchronize with, creating and deepening our connection to the Nightmare.”

“Our,” I repeated. “The Nightmare sect?”

Aria shook her head. “The sect is gone. That part of history was true. It happened when I was much younger—before I had you. The few of us who are left are broken and scattered to the winds.”

“You and Iryn,” I said. “And Mizuki too, I suppose? Iryn knew her.”

“Mizuki has no connection to the Nightmare,” Aria said, inclining her head. “Your eyes pierce through deception better than most kings. Who taught you this? It certainly wasn’t me.”

“I learned that part myself,” I said. “Locke, then?”

“Locke’s interactions with the Nightmare are complicated,” Aria said. “But yes, he does have some connection to it. You still remember him.”

“Mizuki told me he helped her,” I said.

I didn’t even realize until after the words were out that what I had just said flagrantly violated the binding vow I had made with Mizuki. One of my cores briefly seized up, but then it passed, and it was like nothing at all had happened.

Hm. That was very valuable information.

“That girl is in a dangerous position,” Aria said, unaware of my private revelation. “Be careful around her. The world is in a state of precarious balance right now, but that isn’t going to last for very long.”

“That’s something I’d definitely like to hear more of,” I said. “You have access to a whole lot of knowledge I don’t, right?”

“I do,” she admitted, “but too much of it is dangerous enough that I cannot give it to you in good faith. I know I can endure having my soul forced out of my body and into a jar for months on end. I cannot expect the same of you.”

I shivered. “That’s the kind of thing that can happen with the information you have?”

“Not can. Has.”

“By who? Isn’t offensive soul magic forbidden across every northern kingdom?”

Aria’s expression went blank, her eyes looking far off in the distance. When she spoke, it was with utmost sincerity. “Forbidden and unused are not the same thing, my son.”

I grimaced. “And now you’re saying I can become one of you? Or was that whole display with the barrier supposed to lock me into this?”

“That was to see if you could even access the Nightmare, should you choose to,” Aria said. “You could walk away now. I would not punish you for it nor try to control your behavior. I do not claim my connection is one of honor. The Nightmare is a tool that can be used for good or abused for evil beyond comprehension, but either way it is one that is not looked favorably upon by much of the world. I wanted to keep this from affecting your life for as long as possible.”

A lot of things were starting to make more sense. The constant visions of my mother in danger. The impossibility of opening the basement door. The missions she took without telling us, disappearing somewhere none of us could name.

“Tough choice,” I said.

Aria nodded. “Walk away with your new skill or forge your connection to the Nightmare.”

Despite her nonchalance, I could tell this was an emotional moment for her. Though Aria tended to be wholly unreadable by my empathy skill even as my own mother, bits and pieces were leaking through now. I seized on one of them idly.

Empathic Insight lvl 2 -> 3

“You don’t want me to do this,” I realized.

Aria flinched ever so slightly, then softened. “You’re growing to be very perceptive. It is as you say. I have done a great deal of good and almost as much harm in my life, but there is nothing I consider more precious or valuable in that time than you. I know what kind of life creating a lifeline will lead to, and I want to protect you from that.”

“Yet you let me down here in the first place.”

“Also like you said,” she said, a note of resignation coloring her words. “You were going to find a way in one day or another. I don’t want you to put your life in danger, but I also don’t want to be the mother bird who never lets her brood learn to fly. I cannot let you join me in my missions, but I also cannot expect you to stay willfully blind forever.”

Huh. I hadn’t expected her to be so… reasonable about this. I mulled over it for a moment, but my decision had pretty much been made since before I’d even started down the stairs.

“I’m doing it,” I said. “I know you want to protect me, but I’m not a defenseless child anymore.”

“You are still young,” Aria replied wistfully.

“Young, but old enough for war,” I said. “Old enough that people are fully willing to kill me if I get in the way of what they want. Old enough to fight back.”

“I heard about what happened,” she said with a slight sigh. Something told me that she’d expected this result even if it wasn’t the one she’d wanted. Aria had long since arrived at acceptance. “So be it, then. Reach out into the darkness around you. Feel for the Nightmare. Invite it in, then shape it. Use these.”

From one of the coffin-like chests, Aria drew a chunk of black, glassy material—the same kind that made up her knife. It stood out even in the dimness of the basement room for just how dark it was, its edges barely visible.

“Channel it into this,” she said. “This is deep obsidian, forged by magma currents and pure mana in the deep levels of the World Dungeon. It will withstand the connection better than any other material.”

I accepted it, trying to focus as she’d suggested. Just like she’d brought up earlier, following her words alone wasn’t enough for me to understand how to do anything with this. Trying didn’t get me anywhere, and all I ended up doing was cycling my mana within my body and briefly pushing it into the obsidian like I was trying to cast a spell, which didn’t even use the right core.

This was a matter that had to be approached like I’d managed the barrier on the stairs. I grasped the material in both hands. It was cool to the touch, surprisingly metallic despite being obsidian. I assumed it was sturdier than the notoriously brittle regular obsidian we had on Earth was, too, though I didn’t try to experiment with that.

Instead, I closed my eyes, imagining a closed loop of mana flowing through me into the metal and back into me. Mana started flowing, and somewhere in there was something other.

I opened my soul to it, and the Nightmare flowed in to fill the gaps. I was never going to get used to the pressure, but the tidal wave of soul force was familar enough for me to stand my ground as I pushed my core back into shape.

When I opened my eyes, the obsidian in my hands had changed form.

There hadn’t been all that much of it to start with, and I hadn’t made any new material by creating it. It was longer now, sleek and cylindrical with dimples in the center for me to grip. It was barely thicker than two fingers, about four feet long, and it tapered off on both sides to an extremely sharp edged point.

I held the spear-like weapon with one hand, testing the balance of it. Perfect.

You have acquired a lifeline. The Nightmare offers you a boon.

Select two of the following skills to gain.