The Towers that Eclipes Darkshire

[Tearen Wover]

Nealaphh awoke from its reverie of dreams with a small start. The idiotic reflexes of its body apparently mandated that the God-Mind should be startled after it woke up from such a long period of dormancy. Nealaphh was not, in fact startled. The physical side effects of its astral projection served as a stark reminder of the reason it needed to see Omni torn off of his throne. Everything about this situation was wrong.

All of this...collaboration. All of this nurturing speech and stroking of egos...none of it would be necessary if Nealaphh was whole. It was not its responsibility to make the denizens of this world realize their true potential. Neither was it the God-Mind's responsibility to herd them into a unified force. Any rational being could see that they were all being used; that they had all be violated on the most fundamental level. Yet, Kings and Emperors insisted on pursuing personal vendettas and petty spites. With a sharp lurch, Nealaphh telekinetically puppeted its body upwards and began storming towards the fireplace that flickered solemnly in the otherwise damp darkness of the dungeon.

As the Enigma stalked past one of the Secondaries it had summoned, it stared down at the fabricated human in disgust. Every inch of this...wrought flesh was just as fake as any plastic edifice. Nealaphh stared hard at the sleeping man's face, and a series of muted popping sounds began to splinter out into the otherwise hollow silence. After a few moments, and with a sharp crack, the comatose test subject's skull imploded inwards in a spray of pulverized brain tissue.

...Nealaphh paused, watching curiously as the liquified remains of the man's head dribbled down the sides of the slab table. Was that...anger that it had just been experiencing? Not only had Nealaphh been experiencing the emotion, the fury had affected the God-Mind to the point it had physically lashed out at something. It gravely highlighted one of Nealaphh's primary concerns of this mortal form. This organic body not only limited its capacity for reality-warping mental feats, but it also was slowly regressing the shadow's mind to a state as it had been before Ascenscion...forcing mortal affects into its though proceses. If this body could force Nealaphh into feeling anger, what was to stop it from inspiring fear, lust, greed...

...remorse?

The thought was beyond concerning. Some sort of drastic measure would have to be taken. An amygdalectomy perhaps? It might be something to speak to Tom about. As usual, however, something demanded Nealaphh's attention to be drawn away from matters of personal mental health. A message from Drake Oneir came in over the God-Mind's mental Dataverse connection, which read thusly:

Hey Nealaphh-Jeltz-w/e

Killin a drgn w/bombs, probs gon die

Pullin mad props on Institute fame

Make another me,k?

Nealaphh resisted the urge to feel exasperation with this revelation. This sort of thing was to be expected, given Drake's death wish, but this level of recklessness was far beyond acceptable. Still, the smuggler had kept Nealaphh well apprised of the developing situation in the Steppes, and it was likely that this sort of faux-sacrifice would be the proof needed to garner local support. A clever move.

It was for this reason that Nealaphh soon relocated to the courtyard behind Hogwarts, bright flashes of rainbow scintillation bouncing off of the dew-kissed walls of the castle. As the last few strands of Omnilium wove themselves into Drake's very fabric, the smuggler let out a long sigh and rolled his neck. It had taken about two hours to summon the smuggler with his associated accoutrements; hopefully this incarnation would last longer.

"Eugh. I wonder if other secondaries get summoning sickness too." Drake grumbled, strolling over to his new recreated UNI Cycle. The sleek, bullet shaped hover bike's canopy slid open, and the smuggler intuitively slung himself over the control panel, bidding the machine to come to life. A sharp whine heralded whirling turbines as they came up to idling speed. The deep shadow of the Moores' twilight meant that only Nealaphh's viridian hues and the turquoise panels from the UNI Cycle's control hub illuminated the otherwise chiaroscuro scene. The harsh blue light threw Drake's heavily scarred face into sharp relief as he glanced over towards Nealaphh.

"So where am I headed mom?"

Your destination is the Tangled Green. Princess Guu needs to be ready to mobilize her Primes, as promised.

Without another word, Drake nodded and jabbed a button on the console, causing the canopy of the UNI Cycle to shut with a distinctive snap-hiss. Nealaphh watched as the sleek, black machined rocketed off into the humid skies, the wash from the hover bike's thrust causing the Enigma's robles to flutter rapidly. After taking a moment to absorb the pleasant evening, Nealaphh shifted into its avian body and winged his way up into the ramparts of the castle.

...

A few minutes later, the God-Mind came drifting into Tom'd personal laboratory in the form of a thick ebon mist which seeped through the masoned walls. Allowing itself to solidfy, Nealaphh took note that there seemed to be a third mind in the room. It emanated from an ominous, rippling sphere that hung intrusively in the middle of Tom's floor. The wizard himself was busy at his desk, waving his wand over the open pages of his true body.

"I was wondering when you'd notice." Tom said, turning around slowly. Nealaphh paced circles around the metallic ball, eyeing it closely.

Well done Tom. I can honestly say I'm perplexed. There is...a gestalt mind here. Not a true sentience, but this material does seem to feel needs and process sensory input. 

Nealaphh turned to lock eyes with the wizard.

If you could please explain.

[Tom Marvolo Riddle]

Tucking the tome that contained the essence of myself into the folds of my robes, I chuckled, it was hard not to. While Nealaphh had always seemed inquisitive by nature, at least to my senses, his reaction to what was soon to be the Gigaton Hammer was quite a statement of my efforts. While my partner in this venture had been comatose and when I was not expanding the castle, I had been working on prototype chassis to which to shape the liquid metal.

“Most certainly,” I replied conspiratorially.

With another flick of my wand I summoned a laden golden metal frame from its seat on top of a book case to my hand and gingerly thrust the head into the sphere of osmium. Several things happened at once. Like iron fillings torn from gravity by a magnet, the silver-black body shuddered until rippling tendrils began pouring into the frame with reckless abandon. Like mercury into a perfectly transparent glass.

Within moments, the fluidic discharging of the sphere had finished and a wicked looking mallet of untold weight floated there in its stead. It had taken a deep blackness that was streaked with bright silvers and growing yellows of gold that formed the stylistic elements. The frame though was quickly dissolving, consumed as if the osmium were an acid rather than a nature defying metal. It was perfect.

“It hungers to consume heat, life and substance, but more importantly to consume a shape that will be its final form. This nature will force itself to constantly work towards… fight to maintain whatever body we deign to teach it regardless of any further states its being subjected to.” I said slyly.

That was one advantage with working with Nealaphh; I didn’t have to explain myself in detail. I only needed to provide a simple demonstration and a basic rundown and he could extrapolate my purpose. It would also make him an exceptional adversary if it ever came down to it.

Considering that the weapon was going to be used against a being that was possibly one of the top tier Primes of the entire known universe, I had to take steps to ensure it would remain intact through the entire fight.

Once the last of the golden frame had been dissolved, the liquid nature and its own personal gravity field reshape it into an eruption. All at once the thin extended mass began expanding to fill its original volume and shape of a sphere; although just under the surface I spied riveted tendrils that continued to seek the new and untested.

Perfect.

Ultimately this was just another step in creating something more than a brutish Neanderthal implement, but the simplest of items were often test beds for something far more advanced. Advance enough that they would be useful for my purposes. Though they would take far more abstract materials than simple metals and the souls of the unwitting.

And the source of this proto-salience? Nealaphh said with slightly narrowed eyes.

A grin slit my face, “I fused the metal with the white-washed life and hollowed out soul of one of Dracula’s minions when they dared attack me and my own. Nothing of the donor survived.”

[Tearen Wover]

Nealaphh suppressed the urge to feel joy at what Tom had accomplished in such a short amount of time. It was good to have someone so devoted to the cause of the Omniverse Institute, even if it was largely because he was being presented with such a perplexing conundrum to solve. Nealaphh reached out with its mind and coaxed the insect-level intelligence in the aqueous metal to take on a variety of ornate shapes, such as crystalline grids, fourth dimensional shadows and other similar constructs. The God-Mind was almost to the point of feeling threatened by Tom, and it was probably not a misplaced suspicion. Someone with as much ambition as the wizard would no doubt take the most opportune moment to try and advance himself past Nealaphh's station if it suited his needs. The trick, then, was to ensure that Tom always benefited more from working under the Enigma, rather than against it.

The premise of such social maneuvering wasn't entirely different from the logic used to divert a flow of water in the direction desired. Add resistance in certain key places, and remove resistance in others. Currently Tom's main source of resistance was his relatively new status in the Omniverse. His mind, of course, banished any notion of ignorance, but the mere fact that he lacked the Omnilium reserves needed to accomplish all of his goals at once was a major hindrance. Nealaphh had indeed noticed, despite Tom's great efforts to conceal it, that the young demi-human was actually rather impatient for someone with such a measured intelligence. It was to be expected; even the greatest of mortal thinkers always tried to achieve their goals as quickly as possible. It was just an inherent part of having a limited lifespan.

It was a good thing, then, that the very next day saw the delivery of the final shipment of Goron Ore from the Steppes. The delay due to Drake's reckless gambit had indeed been grating, but Nealaphh had to remind itself of its own immortality. Patience and Time were its greatest assets. The ability to think in the extremely long term was a practiced skill that the God-Mind needed to retain, if nothing else. With the assembly and refinery fully operational, getting the Osmium processed and ready for fabrication took even less time than it had previously.

The metallic osmium and Tom's inspired liquid concoction (it wasn't often that Nealaphh did not have a proper name for something) bonded together flawlessly. The cool solution hissed loudly as it met the super heated surface of the Osmium that Nealaphh was bending slowly into shape. Arcane processes that Nealaphh was not entirely certain it understood sent rays of violent purple light sparking from the shaping hammer as both Primes used their individual methods to simultaneously bring the weapon to life. The few Gorons who had bothered to stay and watch the event shifted uncomfortably as they watched the display, noxious fumes and steam pouring from the Hammer. Nealaphh wasn't sure if the non-psychic Steppes natives could hear it, but the gestalt intelligence inside the hammer screamed the entire time. It was really quite thrilling.

All at once, the hammer slammed to the floor, shattering the cobblestone under it with an immense explosion of noise. The hammer reverberated for several moments, holding an oddly pleasant chime as the vibrations eventually subsided. The leylines that had been traced in the haft of the weapon flashed red-green every few moments, as if the hammer possessed its very own heartbeat; a testament to the two united schools of reality warping that had gone into making this utterly beautiful tool. The haft was a long, simple cylinder that met full tang with the large, hemispherical head that mirrored in two opposite directions.

Nealaphh was aware that Tom found the fact that the weapon was hammer to be slightly disappointing, but the fact that it was so simple appealed greatly to the God-Mind. People often conflated simplicity with stupidity, or a lack of refinement. In Nealaphh's opinion, the ability to solve a problem with the simplest tool possible actually denoted more intelligence than otherwise. Needlessly complex approaches to any conundrum often simply delayed the same outcome, and there was a saying among Enigmas that it's not worth searching for a shortcut if you can do it the long way in the same amount of time.

I suppose we're ready then. Nealaphh said, plucking the hammer off of the ground with a mental tug. Even with the inertial assitance from the ingrained magic, the Gigaton Hammer still had a significant amount of heft. Hopefully Darunia would find it suitable.

"I suppose so. When are we to depart?" Tom asked clasping his hands behind his back. Nealaphh passed the hammer to one of the Goron's, who grasped it tentatively. Others of the stone men edged away from him with markedly unsubtle shuffles.

I am leaving immediately. If you, however, need to make arrangements for your secondaries, there is time.

With that, Nealaphh, turned on its axis and swiftly began marching towards the exit of the workshop. The Gorons followed close behind, eager to return to the warmth and life of their homeland...

[Tom Marvolo Riddle]

I frowned as the magic I had worked so hard at finally met its limit in holding the weapon aloft. But without more time and resources, improving it further would be short of impossible. Nor did I have any intention wasting more than a pittance of omnilium on it. Not that it mattered. As a tool, it would serve a purpose and against it all problems would be nails to be struck down deep into early graves.

It was odd to feel pride in a device that I had no intention of wielding. The effort had gone into it was an amazing first step, the end result sublime, but ultimately I held no attachment to it. But as building a foundation went, it was a success.

“I’ve already seen to them that they’d have company- but perhaps, Tilly.”

A soft crack echoed in the corner of the room as the House Elf appeared, “Yes Masters Toms?”

I gave the youngest of the Hogwart’s staff a light look over as I framed my thoughts, “See that your charges know that I have business to attend to outside the gates; if Hogwarts is attacked… have the citizens fall back to the castle. Only summon me if they breach the entrance hall or any of the outer walls.”

The young Tilly nodded vigorously and then was gone when no further orders were forthcoming. I had known her from my time as a student, one of the few Hogwarts house elves I had ever met. It was from her that I had begun looking for secrets within the halls, that I had the first hint of where they began. She was a useful creature, loyal to a fault and was over the moon with love for her charges. It made her effective even when they interrupted me the other day.

Nealaphh inclined its head, That will suffice?

“Until I can raise defenses,” I admitted grudgingly as I turned to face one of the burning fireplaces. The licking flames reflected my mood quite well. Desire to burn those who’d turn against me, to spread my dominion. Hunger for something greater, and an ache for the missing pieces of my soul… but most importantly what would happen should I fail.

The images of Nippur were burnt with certain clarity onto my pages, and it was an event I could easily have seen befalling my older less whole self. Voldemort had fallen to an infant, the very one I now claimed my own. And here, now, I was in a universe made of people from a number of sources all renowned for their cunning, villainy, acts of heroism or possibly all three. I refused myself to fall to a cybernetic mouse, much less anyone else.

Tom Riddle was better than Voldemort, better than some king. Here I would be a god. But until my apotheosis I had to tread lightly, very lightly. More than anything I had to follow in Dumbledore’s footsteps. Maintain neutrality. Make Hogwarts, not the whole world my responsibility.

After all an island is only as safe until someone bridges it to the mainland.

And like Dumbledore, despite my dislike for the man, I needed to make a name for myself. Taking down a high tier prime such as Dracula and Volvagia would force people to realize they are contending with an unknown they can’t hope to touch. Either one could be my Gellert Grindelwald, or perhaps both?

So it seems, then you’ve decided to accompany the expedition? Came my partner’s voice at the back of my head.

I gave a smile as my fingers flicked my wand back into existence, “Indeed.”