Chapter 32: The Artificer
Over four millennia ago, in the ancient era, within the western realms of the Narsael Empire, the floating cities of the grand arcanists ascended, propelled by arcane forces. Arcane-powered ships traversed the Toriel Expanse, exploring the enigmatic vastness of places like Suran and the Nocturnal Sea, heralding the golden age of Narsael's arcane civilization.
Meanwhile, in the eastern reaches of the same realm, the ancient empire's influence had already delved deeply into the planes beyond. Unlike the arcanists of Narsael who delved into the intricacies of spellcraft, the focus of the Emaskar Empire's arcane studies was the creation of a myriad of magical contraptions. Their highly industrialized arcane engineering bestowed upon the empire a colossal legion composed of thousands upon thousands of constructs. Those who mastered this art were called artificers, esteemed figures akin to the arcanists of Narsael within the Emaskar Empire.
Similar to their counterparts in Narsael, the artificers of Emaskar displayed a profound lack of reverence for the gods. This attitude was pervasive even among the other echelons of the ancient empire. It could be said that during that era, the entire populace of the Emaskar Empire firmly believed in the power of magical industry to achieve anything, relegating the gods to the periphery.
They came close to their beliefs, indeed. Empowered by various magical contrivances, they gained the ability to traverse otherworldly realms. Artificers commanded legions of constructs, wreaking havoc in those worlds, plundering the denizens of other planes as slaves. However, greatness often meets decline or destruction. Four thousand years ago, the Emaskar Empire's hubris led to its downfall. The slaves they had plundered, the Moorholandeans, called upon their race's guardian deity in retaliation. The wrathful divine beings from beyond descended upon the realm of Feren, leading to the ancient empire's collapse.
The grand civilization of the past crumbled into ruins. Over four millennia have passed, and the history of the Emaskar Empire now resides only within the pages of esoteric tomes that pique the interest of erudite scholars.
Presently, there exists such a "individual," albeit dubiously human, who claims to be a legendary figure from this empire that has been destroyed for over four millennia. Panni couldn't help but feel a sense of Spartanness for a moment.
However, he quickly regained his composure. There are numerous methods in Feren that can grant immortality, from the ancient legendary spell "Eiolrum's Eternity" to more common practices such as cloning, life-stealing, lichdom, and the Erelian transformation technique of a certain clandestine research organization. Then there are more obscure methods, such as the Twelve Princes of the Shadowrealm—entities whose lives have existed in a quasi-ethereal state for thousands of years.
Such longevity techniques are abundant beyond measure. In Feren, it's entirely possible to casually encounter an old man on the street who has lived for thousands upon thousands of years.
Therefore, the fact that the figure before him, more akin to a golem than a person, has lived for over 4000 years, upon careful consideration, is not entirely implausible.
"You need not be overly surprised," the metallic voice seemed to sense Panni's astonishment and continued, "As you can see, my life has persisted within this steel frame for precisely 3854 years, nine months, twelve days, eleven hours, seven minutes, and nineteen seconds... Oh, it's now twenty-one seconds. You'll get used to it. There's no fatigue, no need for sleep, and far fewer distractions from negative emotions, which makes research much more efficient."
Being able to calculate one's own lifespan down to the second.
This individual is indeed quite eccentric in their thinking.
Panni almost immediately drew this conclusion, simultaneously harboring no further doubt regarding the person's self-proclaimed identity. The fact that the construct beast, which had just displayed immense power in aiding him against the troll mage, was deemed flawed in his eyes speaks volumes about this individual's obsession with technology. Furthermore, Panni saw no reason for the individual to lie to him, as his perception had discerned a profound connection between the soul within this construct and the depths of the arcane network, an enigmatic link beyond probing.
Such unabashed might, even surpassing that of a high-tier spellcaster by several streets, screams of a potency that demands respect. Moreover, having lived for goodness knows how many years, if one's magical prowess doesn't reach the eighth or ninth circle, it's scarcely commensurate with the span of one's existence.
Contemplating this, Panni felt a mixture of awe and vigilance. "Are you suggesting, then, that this is your domain?"
"Indeed, I have resided in this shadowy semi-plane for precisely the duration I mentioned earlier," spoke Sagbar Pascal with his clanging voice. This time, Panni discerned the words clearly. Apparently, some form of illusionary magic was consistently cast upon the golem, allowing it to vocalize. However, a detail in Sagbar's words caught him off guard: the shadow semi-plane!
Glancing around, Panni observed a distant chaos, seemingly suspended in the void, a sight entirely incongruous with what one would expect from the Shadow Plane.
Though the difference between "Shadow Plane" and "Shadow Semi-Plane" lay merely in a prefix, their implications were vastly disparate. If the Shadow Plane was akin to the negative of the prime material realm, then the Shadow Semi-Plane was the negative of the Shadow Plane itself. These eerie semi-planes were nestled within the temporal and spatial interstices of the Shadow Plane, elusive and enigmatic. Panni had earlier marveled at the difficulty of discerning the magic circle within the elder's abode, not realizing until now that its destination was a Shadow Semi-Plane.
"Indeed, the number of intruders entering recently has inexplicably multiplied," remarked the artificer, while Panni sensed the featureless figure casting a glance in his direction.
"I must apologize for intruding upon your domain," Panni reflected for a moment, offering his apology with utmost deference.
He remained uncertain about the intentions of this enigmatic figure. In his experience, creatures as ancient as this one, having lived for millennia, often exhibited unpredictable tendencies. Moreover, considering the solitary nature of this artificer's existence for such an extended period, Panni couldn't fathom what kind of personality traits he might possess.
Presently, it would be prudent to extend an apology to earn a favorable impression, at the very least, to convey the absence of hostile intent.
"You do possess a modicum of decorum. I recently detected the intrusion of several trespassers and, witnessing the spectacle unfolding here, I came to see for myself," remarked the artificer with a touch of peculiarity. "I hadn't anticipated the invaders engaging in combat among themselves."
"I am human, while they are trolls, sir. It's quite evident that we are not aligned," Panni felt a sense of incongruity in this moment, his countenance taking on a peculiar hue.
"Perhaps I've misjudged?" the artificer's tone shifted as if a sudden realization dawned upon him, yet he shook his head. "But what distinguishes humans from trolls? As far as I'm concerned, anything with flesh and blood is much the same."
Panni broke out in a cold sweat, his thoughts turning more vigilant. Through this remark, he inferred a sobering fact: this artificer had forfeited the consciousness he once held as a human.
Whereas his vigilance upon initially encountering the artificer had been somewhat lax
due to the lack of overt hostility, it had now reached its zenith. The behavior and thoughts of this artificer, who had lived for nearly four millennia and seemed to have entirely shed his humanity, were now utterly inscrutable.
"In consideration of your courtesy, I shall extend you some hospitality," stated Sagbar Pascal. Meanwhile, Panni hastily contemplated how to engage with this individual, only to find Sagbar Pascal gesturing with a wave of his hand, conjuring a magical circle on the ground. Panni's vision blurred momentarily, and when it cleared, he found himself standing in a corridor.
At the corridor's entrance lay three bodies: Anael, Serafine, and Celia, all petrified. Panni could discern that they had all fallen victim to a petrification spell, their bodies temporarily frozen into stone.
Pointing towards Anael and gesturing towards Serafine, who was in the midst of casting a spell, the artificer Sagbar Pascal exclaimed, "These intruders are truly despicable! This blood magic practitioner, upon seeing me, didn't even bother with pleasantries but immediately unleashed a spell to attack me."
"This individual," the artificer pointed again, stooping slightly with palms extended forward, his posture reminiscent of a thief's, "dared to infiltrate here, attempting to pilfer my treasures."
Panni admired the petrified thief with a glance, but when his gaze shifted to Sera, who remained frozen in a posture of wielding her sword, cold sweat instantly broke out.
"And this wretched individual," the artificer pounded the enormous gap in his chest, his voice resonating with genuine anger, "dared to leave undesired marks on my meticulously crafted form. She must perish!" The artificer's voice, augmented by the illusionary resonance, brimmed with fury. "I shall extract their souls as fodder for the next batch of experiments. These two female forms shall serve as subjects for infernal creature hybrids, and this despicable thief shall become bait for shadow hounds."
Cold sweat trickled down Panni's brow. Initially, he had contemplated probing the artificer's intentions, hoping to save these individuals. Now, it seemed that failing to distance himself from them might lead him to become an experimental subject as well. "Then may I ask, Mr. Pascal, how may I be of assistance to you?"
"Well, the reason I haven't considered you as experimental material is indeed because I require your assistance," the artificer nodded, tapping his bald head. "I am currently preparing an experiment and happen to lack an assistant versed in constructology. Initially, I intended to capture a shadow mage, but upon encountering you, I feel there's no need to venture so far."
"Do I have a choice?" Panni probed.
"You may either choose to be my experimental material," Sagbar Pascal replied in a flat tone, sounding matter-of-fact.
"Understood, I am willing to assist you," Panni felt he had no choice but to comply.
Needless to say, his spells had already been expended. Even if his spell slots were fully charged, could he possibly contend with this ancient monstrosity?
The wisest course of action was to proceed cautiously, one step at a time.
"Very well, follow me. Before we proceed with the experiment, we require some preparations," Sagbar said as he walked ahead. His metallic form trod upon the corridor floor, emitting hollow clangs that sent shivers down one's spine.
Panni glanced out of the window, catching a faint glimpse of the entire shadowy demiplane. It appeared that they were situated in the central heights of this shadowy demiplane, most likely the abode of this artificer.
Unlike the floating cities of the grand arcanists, the abode of the artificers of Imaska exuded a distinct steampunk aesthetic. The pervasive steel plates and gear mechanisms evoked a sense of temporal dislocation within Panni.
Following the artificer, Panni rounded a corner and beheld several fresh human corpses strewn across the floor. Amidst the fear that gripped his heart, there was also a sense of bewilderment.
"They were my assistants procured just last month," Sagbar Pascal seemed to notice this, appearing willing to elucidate the origins of these corpses. "They were a group of imbeciles! They managed to err even in the fourth decimal place! They lacked understanding of the most crucial principle of research—rigor! It is rigor!"
As he spoke, his emotions escalated into a roar, "These fools nearly sabotaged my experiment!"
Panni shuddered involuntarily.