The Third Step: Chapter Fifty-Five (and a Half) (Patreon)

A wine glass tumbled from Atsila’s fingers as she stared up into the sky where the flash of light had come from, even as Ama fed her a stream of information via their bond. An instant later, a dozen different emotions raced through her, but there was one dominant one: Frustration. 

The Storm King had cheated, and he hadn’t even done it well enough to really win. The Storm King had simply lifted a massive block of steel plating surrounding the overblown light spell, brought it to the edge of the manasphere, and launched it with all his might. 

It had been done during the lightning storm, to mask the movement of so much tempest magic, and the block only lasted twenty-some odd minutes before it was entirely eradicated by the absurd solar and lunar power that made up the vacuum. That had been the flash – solar mana reacting with exposed enchantments. 

That wasn’t a space race. It was him flexing his raw power, like he always did. For all she despised Tom, at least when the man launched his probes into space, they were real. They were attainable by Arcanists working together for one, and designed to resist the pressures of space. To create a capsule that could stay in orbit and return. To last weeks, months, or years. To circle Ddeaer and return. Then to explore the moon and void beyond.

If someone just wanted to throw something into space and watch it disintegrate, then any of the Titled could do it. She and Tom had both done as much to test prototype materials, they simply hadn’t made a spectacle of it! 

But none of that mattered. The Storm King had made it big, flashy, and put it in front of the whole world. Even though he hadn’t made any real scientific progress, he’d made sure to mark his name down in history – again. Even when the truth leaked, it wouldn’t matter. People cared about what someone made them feel, more than about data most of the time. 

For a long moment, she played out a mental image of what would happen if they tried to kill the Storm King. Seriously kill, not the little pot shots Magi took at one another. 

She didn’t like what she saw. For one, she wasn’t sure she and Ama could kill him, not so close to his throne and the seat of his power. Even if they did manage it, the aftermath would be untenable. 

The best outcome, where the Windrider managed to stabilize the climate – which was yet another feat she wasn’t sure of – still killed, displaced, or wounded tens of thousands. If he couldn’t? It would sharply rise to the millions. That was to say nothing of the battles that would rage for territory, resources, after the Storm King died. 

She let the fantasy slide away, then started checking her and Ama’s personal accounts. The senate might have set a limit on how much of the already-strained budget could be used by the burgeoning space program, but that didn’t cap personal donations… 

– 

Tom growled and immediately slashed four dozen contracts from his corporation that supplied Central Daocheng with minerals. The revenue drop was going to hurt, and as if that wasn’t enough, Wallcorp had been practically begging for any excuse to move on him. They would soon, and he’d be forced to perform a hostile takeover before turning them into a subsidiary. 

But for all that it would hurt, it was needed. He was so close to an actual self-sustaining enchanted vessel that would be able to orbit before returning. Another ten years, maybe fifteen, twenty at the worst. At least this stunt would give him the power to pressure the other corporations to increase taxes. Maybe even add a space race tax?

–

Meadow sighed, her fingers drumming on her cane as she watched the light bloom across the sky. She knew Atsila and Ama would be fuming over this, but for all that she liked her friends and erstwhile mentors, this was an area she disagreed with them. 

It wasn’t that there was no point in reaching for space, but rather that the world had enough problems already. She firmly believed the best thing for everyone would be to keep two feet planted firmly, and to assist those around. 

But it seemed they’d be getting their way. A stunt like this would spike global interest in the space race, and people would want to see their home countries outperforming Central Daocheng. She just hoped it wouldn’t come at the cost of people’s suffering…

–

The Space King stared up into the sky as the flash of light erupted, and rolled her eyes, sloshing the bottle of cheap liquor before taking a long chug.

All this was worthless. The fact the Storm King still cared about anything was absurd beyond belief – regardless of if the Sun and Moon Queen’s theories were fact or fiction. It wouldn’t lead to real power or innovations or contact with other sapients. At the end of the day, it was all bread and circuses for the mortals.

She stared forlornly at the bottle and wished a few more years would hurry up and pass. She couldn’t wait to be free of her damn tower prison. 

– 

Orykson sighed, pausing to look into his Wytchlight Bourbon, swirling the perfectly clear glass sphere within. That had been a clever trick.

Oh, from an experimental standpoint, it was almost entirely worthless. But as a political stunt, it was annoyingly well played. If he’d thought about it, he would have teleported a ‘shielded vessel’ of his own outside of the manasphere, and taken the political capital that granted. But now, it would be effectively worthless, unless he wanted to actually turn his attention to escaping orbit. 

–

Burning violet eyes in obsidian skull sockets stared into the sky and tried to hide their delight. This was perfect.

Oh, sure, it was going to be a mild annoyance. But it got the world’s eyes – and the eyes of most other Occultists and Magi – on Daocheng. Which was to say, away from Nightflock. The Storm King had just bought her the perfect opportunity to accelerate the Barrow Writhemetal project. She could practically kiss that old monster!