Greater Heights 1 (1/2)

The Shattered Isles had always been a thing of mystery. Their very existence was an enigma to be sure, but the way they appeared and disappeared seemed to ignore a number of the laws of magic. Though it was more or less true that anything was possible if one threw enough mana at it, said mana was by no means an infinite resource. The sheer amount of magical energy needed to teleport a landmass the size of the Shattered Isles was astronomical. According to a number of studies, calculations, and estimates, teleporting that much matter over a distance of as little as one kilometer would require about fifteen times more MP than every being on Terrania had combined.

And yet the Shattered Isles came and went as if it was no big deal. That said, their abrupt arrivals and equally expedient departures were, in fact, a very big deal. The impossibly high amount of energy required to pull off such a thing aside, having something the size of a nation appear out of thin air caused devastating damage to the environment. If they cropped up somewhere in the ocean, the water they displaced would raise tremendous waves that wiped out coastal settlements hundreds of kilometers away. If they materialized somewhere in the sky, it would disturb climate patterns for months on end, indirectly ruining countless acres of crops.

The upside was that such an invasive and potentially devastating occurrence did not happen without warning. Like bubbles rising to the surface of a lake just before a drowned corpse floated up from its depths, so too did certain things betray exactly when and where the Shattered Isles would appear. More specifically, it was an unnaturally dense gathering of ambient mana on an enormous scale. Several weeks before the Dragon Festival was slated to begin, scholars across Terrania would use specialized tools to measure abnormal spikes in magical energy. Compiling this data together helped them predict with a reasonable amount of accuracy where in the world the Shattered Isles would emerge.

For this particular occurrence, they had been slated to materialize off of the northeastern coast of the Horkensaft Kingdom, about half of the way towards the shores of the dead continent of Percepeia. This was, of course, rather worrying, as some believed the devastation caused in their wake would stir the proverbial hornet nest that was the Blighted Lands. The upside was that Atica’s shores would suffer relatively little, though coastal settlements had been evacuated nonetheless.

This information had, of course, found its way into the tentacles of one Boxxy T. Morningwood. Having Ranked Up barely two days ago, the ever-increasingly deadly shapeshifter was eagerly awaiting the Festival’s ‘opening ceremony.’ It and its entourage were currently on the deck of the magical ship conjured up by the Admiral’s Luggage, otherwise known as the Pale Pearl. It knew for a fact that it was in the right place, as palpable waves of magic energy seemed to wash over the vessel. Even Jen, who wasn’t all that sensitive to ambient mana, could feel the air itself seemingly undulate to some unheard rhythms. She could see the phenomenon as well since it caused massive uniformly-shaped ripples across the water’s surface.

“You sure it’s a good idea to be so close to the event?” Fizzy asked yet again.

“It’ll be fine,” the massive abomination reassured her. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. A little water never hurt anybody.”

“I guess…”

“Anyway, we still have a few hours to go, so I better get those lazy slackers ready.”

Upon saying that, Boxxy used its Ultimate to pump its INT Attribute as high as it would go. The strength of its familiars’ conjured bodies was based on the MP used in their creation, so temporarily boosting its magical reserves to their utmost limit was an obvious course of action. It even had an Artifact that helped immensely with that - the Portable Mana Battery. It increased the wearer’s maximum MP by 500 and did little else, but its effects stacked wonderfully with magic items that already boosted one’s Intelligence (INT). Not only that, but it had significantly increased all of its six basic Attributes by absorbing all of the Quintessences and frozen corpses it had stored up prior to its Rank Up.

As a result, Boxxy’s current base Attributes were rather ridiculous. Its MP especially was somewhere around thirteen thousand after it was done shifting them around. That was a ridiculous amount of magical power to dump into the Summon Familiar Skill, and its pet demons knew this better than anyone. When Xera was re-summoned, the drastic difference in power between her current form and the one she’d had just moments ago made her downright dizzy. It was an intoxicating sensation, to say the least. And given that there was usually only one thing at the forefront of her mind, this led to her wanting something entirely predictable.

“Masteeeer!”

She cooed lustfully as she drifted over to the writhing mass of flesh, teeth, and tentacles that Boxxy had become. She was then casually swatted aside like an annoying fly, resulting in at least two compound fractures and several shattered ribs. Having gotten what she wanted, the shameless pervert wallowed in a broken mess at the other end of the deck while her master waited for its MP to recover. Something that would have been a slightly more significant wait if not for Legendary Wisdom.

Legendary Wisdom

Requirements: Reach 1,000 Wisdom (WIS).

Effects: Increases all XP and Proficiency gains by 10%.

Spells and Skills refund 10% of their MP cost when used.

It would still be a short while before its absurd MP pool could recover, so Boxxy decided to spend that time on something productive, like some last-minute tinkering. However, that was proving to be rather difficult. Not because of the rocking of the ship - it was surprisingly stable, actually - but because it had difficulty manipulating its tools with the same level of precision it used to have when it was still a doppelganger. An abomination’s flesh was constantly in motion, like the surface of a pond on a windy day. Compensating for those involuntary movements while holding onto tiny instruments took intense concentration, but its ridiculous DEX and WIS Attributes made it manageable.

The same could not be said about its attempts to blend in with the enlightened. Though the shapeshifter could, in theory, attempt to pass itself off as one of Percepeia’s estranged giants, but in practice it was nigh-impossible to do so. Its skin would sprout toothed tentacles covered with eyes, and spikes would grow and rip through any clothes or cloaks it attempted to wear. Rings and amulets would mysteriously slide off the slithering appendages they were placed on. Even armor, such as breastplates and greaves, would sink somewhere in the sea of flesh, only to be spat out moments later. Weapons seemed to be a bit easier to handle for some reason, but even holding onto those took a good deal of conscious effort on the monster’s part.

All of this happened subconsciously, as if Boxxy’s new body rejected the idea of civilization. It was, in some ways, the opposite of a doppelganger. Or perhaps, rather than some monstrous instinct or compulsion, it was some kind of mental hang up Boxxy had developed over the whole Keira thing. It wasn’t completely satisfied with how that went down, but it also was not going to complain that it missed out on that ‘Goddess of Love and Compassion’ fiasco, though. Regardless of the cause, it was currently impossible for the shapeshifter to pass itself off as anything other than an abomination. The fact that it seemed to practically radiate mental illness wasn’t helping things, either.

That was fine, though. Boxxy had already left that life of deceit and lies behind. After spending most of its life cooped up and constrained by societal norms, it was now free to go on rampages to its heart’s content, consequences be damned. It wasn’t going to tempt fate by assaulting a capital or anything like that, but it had already depopulated a village or two on the way here, just because it could. Admittedly it had done similar things before, but this time around it had been solely to satisfy its whims. It had been a surprisingly refreshing experience, all things considered.

Long story short, Boxxy no longer felt the need to hide among its food. That was why it currently wore a shape more in-tune with its inner self. Namely that of a monstrous chest with massive teeth, its faux-wood shell covered in spikes and eyes, and a variable number of weaponized tentacles that served as limbs. Simply put, it looked like a mega-mimic of some sort. Boxxy’s subconscious seemed to like this shape quite a bit, as it was able to maintain it without any ‘protests.’ Admittedly it wasn’t as intimidating or combat-oriented as its true form, but it could easily shift into that at a moment’s notice.

Its MLG was another story, however. Though Boxxy was still as proficient as ever at forming and using the organ, the ‘sea of flesh’ aspect of an eldritch abomination meant that it was quite difficult to maintain the delicate gland. As a result, the shapeshifter’s magical sight had a number of blind spots that appeared and disappeared at random. Fortunately, unlike the inability to disguise itself, this seemed to be an issue that could be solved with some good old-fashioned practice. An abomination’s body was quite different from a doppelganger’s, so Boxxy had to break a few old habits and form some new ones if it hoped to make the most out of its prodigal skill at flesh-sculpting. It wasn’t ideal that it couldn’t get this practice out of the way prior to the Dragon Festival, but Boxxy was sure it would get the hang of it soon enough. After all, it had always been a fast learner.

As the monster’s MP recovered, it summoned Kora and then Drea. The sudden power boost they experienced caused both of them to react in a euphoric manner similar to Xera, albeit with considerably less depravity. The keeper demon just flexed and grunted in a shameless display of vanity while the webstalker chittered quietly as she dragged her bladed limbs across her carapace. Fizzy, for her part, just rolled her eyes at their meatbag antics as she healed Xera’s broken body so she’d be fit for duty when the moment came. Jen ignored all of that and sat cross-legged on the deck meditating, though her minute body language suggested she was raring to go.

Then, as Boxxy was double-checking its last-minute preparations, ‘it’ happened. A thunderous boom and a blinding light heralded the appearance of the Shattered Isles. The landmass instantly displaced incalculable tons of ocean water, kicking up a titanic wave nearly thirty meters in height. The magical construct masquerading as a ship was instantly capsized and swallowed up by the wall of water. The shapeshifter stuffed Fizzy inside its Storage and dove into the wave along with its familiars while Jen darted skywards to fly over it.

Much like Boxxy had summarized, ‘a little water’ was nothing to get worked up about. The only arguably bad thing that happened was that the Pale Pearl was destroyed, but that was hardly a major loss. The shapeshifter didn’t really need the ship anyway. Unlike its previous nautical adventure, its destination this time around was much more obvious. It and the rest of its posse had arrived on this spot by air since it was faster, and were only using the magic ship as a staging ground of sorts. There were some concerns over running into other ships, but the rest of the Festival’s attendees hadn’t seemed keen on having their vessels swallowed up by the ‘opening ceremony.’ Which was to say that the shapeshifter and its crew would likely be among the first to set foot on the dragons’ homeland in twenty or so years.

Said homeland didn’t seem too keen to accept visitors, of course. Upon resurfacing, Boxxy saw an immense vaguely dome-shaped mass of rapidly shifting colors, mostly violet, green, red, and mixtures in-between. This barrier of semi-solid mana was the border between Terrania and the Shattered Isles, with the landmass’s vague outline barely visible beyond the mostly opaque dome. The only real purpose it seemed to fulfil was to make it abundantly clear where one needed to be in order to avoid disappearing along with the Shattered Isles once the festival concluded.

The chest-shaped abomination began making its way towards the barrier while doing its best impression of an alien squid. It passed through the underwater portion of the several-meter-thick bubble, which caused its entire body to tingle uncomfortably as if it was going numb. Immediately upon emerging on the inside, it realized that the surrounding water was quite literally boiling. Rather intensely, at that. It and Snack were perfectly fine since they had Fire Affinity, but Claws and Arms weren’t so lucky and were taking damage from the heat. The shore was several hundred meters away, but they would be able to make it there without losing too much HP since their ridiculous Attributes would allow them to cover that distance in just a few minutes.

Your body begins to feed off the ambient mana. Automatic HP and MP recovery increased by 500%.

After resurfacing, however, the shapeshifter was suddenly assaulted by the anomalous region’s rampant magical energies. It wasn’t drinking up the mana - it was practically drowning in it. The way it forced itself into its body was akin to seawater rushing through a hole in the bottom of a ship. The pressure was so immense that Boxxy momentarily found itself unable to take a breath, but managed to remain calm as it still had some gills formed on the submerged parts of its body. It was an odd sensation, breathing water while simultaneously drowning on air, but after a minute or so the creature managed to get used to the environment and normalized its breathing. Once it had finished collecting itself, it wasted no more time and swam towards the closest piece of land.

Once finally ashore, Boxxy was greeted with a bleak landscape. Despite being next to the ocean, the beach was nothing but dry, cracked dirt, and the rocky terrain beyond it didn’t seem hospitable in the slightest. It was difficult to believe anything could last more than a week or so in this barren wasteland. At the same time, the shapeshifter could practically feel magic rise up from the cracks in the soil like a hot draft. This struck Boxxy as odd since past experiences had taught it that life usually flourished where mana was abundant, but perhaps this was too much of it.

Speaking of which, ‘abundant’ was far too weak a word to describe the concentration of magical energy in the air. ‘Overflowing’ was far more apt. One didn’t need supernatural perception to notice the mana around this place, as it gathered together in thin fog clouds that tinted everything a slight shade of purple. These volatile clouds would also occasionally produce minor phenomena. They would, among other things, randomly explode into fire and smoke, crackle with electricity, cause miniature tornadoes, or shower the ground with shards of ice that evaporated instantly. These anomalies were too small in scope and too weak in power to be of any threat to anyone, though Boxxy knew better than to simply ignore them. They were, after all, the early warning signs of something far, far worse.

Just to be sure, the shapeshifter reached into its storage and pulled out Vigilance, the sentient sword that had allegedly been through several Dragon Festivals. Its experience would surely be a huge boon to Boxxy going forward, though it had its doubts that Vergil, the consciousness that inhabited it, had gone rather senile. Still, it was better to have it than not.

“Oh! Good morning, sir,” Vergil greeted its owner in a chipper tone of voice. “I see we have safely arrived at our destination.”

The eye-like ornament in its hilt then scanned the area, after which the sword spoke up again, this time sounding more concerned.

“Though, I daresay it would be wise of us to vacate the area immediately.”

“An ether storm is coming, right?” Boxxy wanted confirmation.

“Indeed, sir. This area is likely a hotspot for them.”

Ether storms were one of the most dangerous things on the Shattered Isles, second only to the elder dragons that ruled over them. They could have terrible consequences for anyone or anything caught in their wake. Living beings could suffer a myriad of problems, such as sporadic mutation, permanent nerve damage, and death via extreme and instantaneous dehydration. Magic items, on the other hand, could develop curses or lose their properties entirely, while unenchanted objects would more often than not simply crumble to dust.

Needless to say, Boxxy wanted to avoid getting caught in one of those things, even if it felt rather confident that its abominable constitution would allow it to emerge more or less unscathed.