Chapter 273 – One-Time Negotiations

Emily takes a moment to observe the strangely relaxed woman before lowering her arm.

If she can find me near instantly after a reset, there’s no way in hell I’ll have a chance of winning a head-on fight.

“That depends on who’s asking,” she finally says, narrowing her eyes on the unwelcome visitor and scanning the Factory as subtly as she can, trying to find a trace of the woman’s energy signature to get a better grasp on what she’s dealing with.

“Phyllie Phospherian, first of the phosphelites, and The Queen of Gems,” the woman responds without a care, pushing off the workbench and stepping closer as Emily’s blood freezes in her veins. “Though, you may have the privilege of simply calling me Phyllie. It would be rude of me to forbid someone of your status such a basic decency.”

The grin that stretches across Phyllie’s lips is stunted and unnatural, slightly too wide to be human and far too taunting to be well-intentioned.

“My status?” Emily raises a brow, resisting the urge to lash out and keep the woman at a distance as she steps within arm’s reach, whilst trying not to react to her name, which she recognises as one of the oldest beings alive and the first ninth circle mage to join the Guild.

“Correct. You are aware of your greater importance, no? It may not be well-known among the masses, but we superior beings are well-informed.”

Emily considers what she can reveal for a moment, already all-too-aware that she may not have the ability to take back whatever she does. Unfortunately, Phyllie’s glossy, blue, gem-like eyes gain a knowing glint as the silence stretches between them. The woman’s grin widens, and her face cracks, fractures spreading up her cheeks that part to reveal glistening, mana-filled gemstones that make up everything just beneath the surface.

“It seems you’re aware already. Good. Not often you meet one of the universe’s chosen who knows it so early in their journey,” Phyllie says, raising a hand to brush over her cheeks, repairing the cracks in her faux-skin with a wave of motion in which Emily can detect no energy.

Is she just an illusion, or is she really so strong that I can’t sense her presence a few metres away from me?

“Well, that should save me a little effort, but my request still stands: would you care to share?”

“Your name rings a bell, I’ve seen it on a few of your people’s records, but it doesn’t exactly give me reason to trust you with one of my greatest secrets,” Emily replies, crossing her arms and refusing to back down so easily despite their gap in strength.

She may know of the woman and some of her achievements, but that doesn’t mean she’ll give up The Clock without a fight, even if it’s already exposed.

“Trust, huh? Well, you could choose to trust me with your little toy because it would reflect poorly on my people if I started wiping out potential allies before they could grow, or you could choose to trust me with it because we’ve both seen how easily I could dismantle your little family if I so chose to do so,” Phyllie taunts, her teeth flashing to sharpened points as the inky-black of her dress bleeds into her bright eyes. “Or, you could choose to trust me because I give you my word I won’t attempt to steal it, and I’ll give you some advice on how to stop others like me from finding you if you want to keep using it. You see, trust is such a fickle thing.”

“I’d much rather trust you because you swear on mana itself that you won’t take it or attempt to harm me and mine as long as we maintain a cordial relationship,” Emily bites back, flooding her cortex with machina to cool her nerves and remain calm at the overt threat to her family.

“Ha, very good, kid. I was worried for a second there.” Phyllie steps back, sitting down on thin air as a throne of crystalline spurs grows from nothing to support her. She crosses her legs and rests her chin on her palm as she seems to fuse with the seat. “Never take someone new by their word alone, or you’ll soon find yourself with little to stand on out in the big wide universe. Especially with something this big.”

“So, my ‘little toy’ is a big deal now?” Emily doesn’t relax her tension, but she does shift the floor’s panels about to create space where her workbench once was for a seat of liquid metal.

“It always was, but why would I be upfront about that with someone who may not value it appropriately? You were using it excessively and with no protection just to avoid my analysis probing.”

“You call killing my entire fleet analysis probing?”

“I’ll call squashing ants whatever I feel like calling it. Besides, it’s not like I could start with killing you: I still don’t understand how it's linked to your lifeforce, so I have no idea if I’d lose my chance to get a closer look if I went with that option.”

“Right,” Emily mutters, ignoring the blatant threat. “I take it you’re a time mage then, despite what the public records show.”

“I dabble.” Phyllie beams, not a trace of hostility or humility in her expression. “It’s a more recent addition to my repertoire, only picked up in the last three millennia, but I have a passable depth of knowledge on the element. Your little device, though, is leagues beyond any of my current spellwork. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to get a proper hook on your position in the main timeline, and even then, I’m certain you’re still sending back more data than I’m able to.”

“So, you want to study my Clock to improve your spellcasting, not to recreate it?”

“Yes. If you got it how I suspect you did, I’d never succeed in recreating it anyway.”

“Okay, in that case, could you teach me what you already know about time magic in return? I’d like to know how to prevent others from finding me and asking the same.”

“And you expect me to teach you for something you should have handed over the moment I told you who I was?” Phyllie’s expression drops into an unimpressed stare as cracks start spreading from her orifices.

“I can always detonate myself and my Clock to stop you ever getting a look, but handing it over without a chance to understand how you’ll render it ineffective if I ever have to face you is a net loss for me.” Emily clenches her fists, a shiver running down her spine despite the lack of any magical pressure from Phyllie’s rage, preparing to come to blows she thinks she’ll lose.

“You’d go so far?”

Emily begins drawing mana into her circles, building pressure in her chest.

“Good.” Phyllie smiles, and her face heals back to impossible perfection in a blink. “I wouldn’t mind having a dual awakened as my student, but I couldn’t do with a weak-willed fool. I agree to teach you the basics of time magic and how to conceal your own interference, but I won’t give up any of my unique spells, and we’ll only have a single session: whatever you learn from it is up to you.”

“How long is a single session?”

“I’ll give you until your little crew arrives at my Jump Gates.” Phyllie nods in approval before holding a hand to her chest and swearing to uphold their agreement.

Emily feels a ripple in the mana around her, despite still not fully believing the woman in question is actually standing within the space she’s affecting. She swallows her doubt and reciprocates, swearing her own oath before reaching her right hand to the armoured plating of her left bicep.

“One moment,” Phyllie cuts in, making Emily pause. “Observation of high-level artefacts is best done with your real body, not an avatar.”

In an instant, the dress-wearing woman before her crumbles to pieces, falling into a pile of glistening gemstones of all hues. Emily feels the energy within the mana crystals as they are freed from the array that formed the humanoid construct, their presence suddenly appearing like a burning bright spot in her Factory’s mana density readings. They’re a mix of greater crystals and above, some giving higher energy readings than essences despite still holding a crystalline form.

Emily resists the urge to reach out and take one of the crystals to study, feeling a foreign magic signature she doesn’t recognise still layered over them. Its purpose becomes obvious moments later as the crystals float up, reshaping under Emily’s watchful gaze into the form of dozens of runes in a wide arc. Space twists in the centre of the arc, and Emily has to hold back her shock as a completely stable spatial tunnel forms, connected to what appears to be a large throne room made entirely of bright crystals.

A portal itself isn’t shocking, but the fact that Emily can feel more energy sustaining it than the entire Jump Gate system makes her cortex spin with calculations on how far it’s actually crossing in what looks like only a few metres.

“Enter,” Phyllie calls out from the other side, her voice echoing through with an odd tone that sounds somewhat like a ringing glass. “I shall return you to your ship when we are done.”

Emily doesn’t hesitate, knowing her life has been in this woman’s hands from the moment The Clock was discovered anyway, and steps forward into the portal. Her foot hits the floor of the distorted space tunnel, finding flat purchase despite it looking like she’s walking on twisted rays of light, and within a few steps, she passes through completely.

Entering the crystalline throne room, she’s immediately hit with Phyllie’s full presence, like a crushing weight bearing down on her shoulders and threatening to turn her bones to scrap. The portal shuts behind her, and Emily takes a moment to scan the room, taking in the tall, vaulted ceilings and the soft glow of light shining through the crystal walls, scattering into rainbow hues. Finally, her eyes come to rest on the giant, six-metre-tall, humanoid sitting on an equally large throne packed with more mana than Emily’s ever felt before.

The throne alone sends her danger instincts into overdrive, and Phyllie herself almost gives Emily a headache with a single look, every fibre of her being warning her not to upset this monster. Monster is the only appropriate term for the hulking mass of shifting crystal. It feels like moving through tar when Emily tries to approach her, thanks alone to the passive mana she radiates.

Phyllie looks almost identical to the avatar she sent into Emily’s Factory, though her skin is less like porcelain and more like pale-stained glass, and her dress has splashes of other dark colours mixed in with the impossible-black. Both have sharp cut angles and smooth facets blending into each other seamlessly as different hues of gem swim throughout her constantly-rearranging structure.

“I would ask you to bow, but I think formalities are wasted between master and student,” Phyllie finally says, breaking the quiet tension hanging over the hall.

The phosphelite withdraws most of her mana, speeding up the shifting of her structure but otherwise not blinking as she does, leaving Emily able to breathe free. She still feels like she’s submerged in liquid, but far closer to the surface: a few tens of fathoms down as opposed to thousands deep.

“I would say it’s an honour, but I think the circumstances behind our meeting permit me a little reluctance,” Emily responds as she comes to a stop a few metres from the throne.

Phyllie doesn’t respond, but there’s an approving glint in her eye as she raises a hand, wordlessly forming the deep red crystals that line the walkway to her throne into a seat for her guest.

“Also, does this really qualify me as your student, considering I’m buying a single session of knowledge, not a continued tutelage?”

“It qualifies you as whatever I say it does. I’m reluctant to part with any of my knowledge to one who isn’t born of me, so wear the title of my approval with pride.” Phyllie holds out a single hand, which audibly cracks and hisses as it shifts, stretching out and thinning until her hand is only a few centimetres from Emily’s, palm upturned. “Now, let’s start with my payment: I’d like to be sure my time was worth it.”