Technomancer: Birth of a Goddess
Chapter 180 – The Year of the Fish

Mensacus’ Needler pulls away from Emily’s grasp, sucking in mana with fervour and creating a swirling vortex of pressure.

Glancing down, Emily sees the remaining selachi losing their struggle against Mensacus’ tainted servants, unable to control their rabid, self-destructive impulses as they willingly trade injury for injury to take their brothers and sisters down with them. Each fish that dies leaks its vibrant, scorching crimson blood into the water, rapidly boiling more of the salty brine and losing its colour until it fades to a dull, cold black, lingering in the forming whirlpool and drawing in more unsuspecting sea life.

Emily follows her instincts, calling upon her Mother’s Blessing skill and pouring mana, machina, and stamina out of her body, letting the blessing flow into the gathering storm around Mensacus.

His metallic gun body shudders, pulsing with mana as the water crystals in its stock bleed, slowly shifting to a deep red. Their cold light spreads to every vein of mana connected to them, tainting them all with thick malice.

Emily watches the process with rapt attention despite the slight exhaustion setting in, having used so much of her stamina. She feels the mana signature emanating from the cursed tooth within the weapon getting stronger and stronger, quickly approaching the strength of a third circle mage.

A chilling black mist starts to leak from the gun’s orifices, dispersing into the vortex of wind and water surrounding them.

Emily shivers, feeling a cold hand settle on the back of her neck, and her system suddenly fills with a rush of notifications about incoming mental attacks. She cycles her remaining energies, reinforcing her cortex against the assault.

The struggling fish below them go still one by one, floating limp in the water as their life forces are ripped out, feeding the churning vortex of mana and intent.

Minutes go by, and the winds finally slow as Mensacus’ energy stabilises. He draws in the potent death he has spread, clearing the faint, mentally-corrosive black mist from the air.

Emily holds her hands out to him and, the moment he drops from the sky, she receives a system quest alert.

¯¯¯¯¯

Hidden-Quest completed: A Magical Birth

[A Magical Birth]

[Rank:] E

[Description:] Many never get to witness the birth of a magical consciousness in their lifetimes, yet you help create them.

Requirements:

-Help birth a magical consciousness (Completed)

Rewards:

-The Hive-Mother’s Guide to Raising Problematic Offspring

_____

She skims through the quest, waiting patiently for Mensacus to communicate with her as her active cores clean the battlefield, sweeping the mangled selachi corpses into her belt with a wave of mana. Her brow raises at the odd quest reward, so she pulls up its system description while reaching into her belt with a tendril of mana to find where the system has deposited it.

¯¯¯¯¯

[The Hive-Mother’s Guide to Raising Problematic Offspring]

[Rank:] E

[Description:] A compiled tome of the procedures for unique personality construct development followed by the Kalraxith Brood, an ancient magical-hivemind.

_____

A mist of space mana rises from her belt to float in front of her before solidifying into the book. It’s thick and bound in a battered, sea-green leather, with a set of characters Emily’s never seen before magically seared onto its cover.

She conjures a light breeze to flick through the pages, finding the entire tome is written in an alien language. Her eyes are quickly drawn to a few patterns in the prose as her Linguist skill aids her in beginning to decipher it, but she shuts the book and tucks it back into her belt before getting too far, turning her full attention to Mensacus as his mana quivers.

A delicate thread of mana pushes its way out of the Needler, reaching out to brush against Emily’s finger.

‘Hel-‘ a haunting voice scratches in the back of her mind, like the shriek of nails on a chalkboard, but the mana thread shudders and snaps before his message finishes.

Emily doesn’t speak, watching with an odd spark of pride burning in her chest as the thread reforms, this time wrapping around her finger to stabilise itself, like the fingers of a newborn.

‘-lo. Hello,’ Mensacus repeats, his grating tone shifting and softening towards a melodious whisper. ‘Hello, Mother.’

A grin creeps up Emily’s cheeks at the familiar calling, the warmth in her chest momentarily thawing her icy façade.

“Haha, hello, Son,” she chuckles in return, kicking off the air and propelling them towards the shore. “How do you feel?”

‘Strong. And… hungry.’

The mana reaching into Emily’s mind to communicate with her shudders with a chilling bite as Mensacus hums his desire.

“You’ve only just solidified your foundation, so that’s to be expected. If it’s anything like my ascensions, the disproportionate feeling of strength should fade within a few days as you adjust to your new body and energy flow,” she patiently informs him, practically feeling his interest radiate through their connection as he hangs on her every word. “As for your hunger, will you stop trying to attack Pod now so I can send him out to hunt with you?”

He sends her a wordless surge of displeasure, but Emily rolls her eyes and silently waits for him to respond properly.

‘Fine. Send me with the weak one.’

Emily can’t help but let out an amused snort as she lands beside Pod and hands him the sulking Mensacus. She explains his mental mana-based communication to her apprentice before sending them off to bond together, watching Pod head for the elevator to the surface while trying to persuade Mensacus to talk to him.

“Problematic offspring,” she mutters to herself, pulling out her new tome and glancing at the alien title. “We’ll see.”

***

Emily stands with her hands behind her back, floating in the open air beneath the early-morning sun as she waits for Earnie’s ship to arrive.

She can see it off in the distance, billowing out steam as it cuts through the air towards her. It’s bulkier and less streamlined than most of New Denntimo’s commercial ships, sitting somewhere in size between Calypso and the rare large military cargo carriers she’s seen carrying regiments of troops out of Liberte in size, with heavy armour plating covering the majority of its hull.

There are several well-concealed mounted weapons hidden in the folds and jagged edges of the plating, giving the ship a look that would be intimidating to most.

As the ship gets closer, Emily steps forward to meet it, sending a spark of machina into the terminal at her hip to disable the aerial intruder alarm that begins beeping away before she reaches the pilot’s window.

“Set her down over there, please,” she says, projecting her voice into the ship’s cabin with a small burst of mana and gesturing to an empty metal landing pad within the walls of her growing compound, where Pod’s standing at the ready.

Emily follows the ship to the ground, landing in front of a side hatch with several energy signatures on the other side. Pod finishes guiding the pilot in with a set of exaggerated hand gestures and runs half the length of the ship to wait with Emily, falling in beside her without so much as a quiver in his breath, thanks to their relentless physical training.

The ship door slides up and out of the way as a retractable metal staircase drops down to the floor in front of them, setting down without a sound. Earnie steps out of the ship, hobbling down the steps while stubbornly refusing to hold onto the railing beside it for support.

Several soldiers wearing the Defence Force’s uniform follow him out with their heads on a swivel, scanning the landing pad with a cautious air.

“You didn’t say you were bringing guests,” Emily says, glancing at the tense soldiers and noticing how they shrink under her gaze.

“I’m not,” Earnie growls, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “They’re just making sure I’m safe: standard procedure and all that. They won’t follow us.”

The soldier leading the group, a first circle mage Emily doesn’t recognise from Earnie’s usual workshop guards, swallows nervously before opening his mouth.

“W- We can’t be sure there are no foreign agents in this compound, thanks to our lack of oversight. I- I think it best we st-“

Emily cuts him off before he can finish, narrowing her eyes and speaking with a calm but firm tone.

“I think it best you stay in your ship, so that’s what you’ll do.”

The soldier nods frantically, beads of sweat slipping down his brow despite Emily holding in her magical pressure.

“While you’re there, you can call Minerva, or whoever it was that relayed her orders to you, and tell her that I’ll be paying her a visit next time I’m in Liberte. It’ll be friendly as long as she doesn’t pull this shit again.”

She sends the soldiers off with a dismissive wave, and they bow before rushing back up the steps, letting out sighs of relief as they shut the door behind themselves.

“What was that about?” Earnie questions with a confused glance back at his ship.

“Your Elder has been getting antsy for my designs. Since you went public with your Lightning Forks, we’ve caught several groups of Defence Force soldiers trying to sneak a peek into our workshop. It seems like she saw this as an opportunity to get past the walls we put up to stop just that.”

Earnie’s gaze drifts to the wall skirting the perimeter of the growing factory. Its body is built from stone, rising up over thirty metres and topped by a vicious-looking wire with thousands of fine blades woven into it. The wire hums with the crackle of electricity, warning off most would-be intruders with the ominous hiss alone.

“That’s…. odd.”

“That’s exactly what Old Man Silver said. Out of character for her, right?”

“Exactly,” Earnie nods. “She’s not the type for schemes and politics. Too timid.”

“I think that’s just the problem,” Emily says with a sigh, turning towards the nearest production warehouse and gesturing for Earnie and Pod to follow. “She’s terrified of me. I mentioned an interest in meeting her when I first met Old Man Silver, which should have been a positive message to pass along, but it’s somehow developed into her being too scared to contact me directly to ask about my creations. I asked the Old Man to talk to her last time Pod had to untangle someone from our wall, but it clearly hasn’t worked.”

“Well, if she wasn’t scared enough before, she probably is now,” Pod says with a chuckle.

“It’s only fair, given the trouble she’s caused us.”

Emily presses her palm to a handleless door, sending a spark of machina into the electrical lock on the other side before pushing it open wide.

They step in, and Earnie’s head spins, taking in the sprawling factory floor.

There are moving belts stretching from end to end in interlocking, stacked layers, with sleek drills and presses interspaced between them. Parts and pieces slide around the room, with some tools dropping down to tighten fastenings and etch markings as they pass, while others reach out with large, clawlike mechanical arms to move pieces between working areas for more delicate work.

The arms’ hydraulic servos hiss with steam, and the constant buzz of electrical motors complements the clang of metalwork.

“What’s being produced in here?” Earnie questions, his eyes flickering between the scattered parts in varying stages of assembly as he tries to work it out himself.

“An assortment of basic firearms,” Emily responds, conjuring a small selection from her belt for him to peruse. “A few models of rifle based on my last generation of Stream and Whisper, and some shotguns based on Breaker. I haven’t shown you that one yet.”

Earnie’s brows furrow as he brushes a hand over the stock and handle of the guns she shows him, noticing the odd construction with a cylindrical socket in place of an ergonomic grip, giving the weapons a stubby look.

“Are these for vehicle mounting?”

“Not quite. They’re designed as limb attachments.”

Earnie glances down at Emily’s metal arm.

“Why mass produce then? I doubt you need this many yourself.”

“For another of our projects,” Emily says, gathering her example pieces and heading deeper into the work floor, ducking under a moving belt. “Come along, you’ll see soon enough.”

Earnie keeps asking questions as they move, his eyes never pausing as he takes in every detail of Emily’s factory set-up with an appreciative air. Emily lets Pod answer most of the man’s questions, silently leading them through a few other buildings with more production lines whirring away.

The facility filled with lines pumping out magic-enhanced ammunitions sparks his excitement, but it has faded by the time they enter the third building producing a different type of long-range artillery, making way for a mixed sense of awe and apprehension.

“This is insane,” he exclaims, shaking his head and letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. “At this rate, by this time next year, you’ll have surpassed the production volume of all of my properties.”

“Of course we will. That’s not even a fair comparison,” Pod cuts in, flashing the old man a cheeky grin. “We’re abusing magic here! We’re even producing half of the metal we’re using ourselves.”

“What? You can make metal from magic?”

“Not quite,” Emily says, shaking her head and leading them through the largest structure in the compound that spreads out from the cliff’s edge. “We make it mostly from stone. It’s an advanced branch of alchemy called transmutation. Took me a while to figure out, and it drains mana like crazy, but it’s incredibly useful.”

They step into the elevator to the main workshop, where the ambient mana density in the air starts to increase, and, after a spark of machina, it starts with a hum.

“The real fun starts beneath the surface. We’ll start with the magical infrastructure and say hi to my son before looking at our computer systems and metal soldier project. You’ll love them.”

Earnie’s eyes widen in shock as he glances between Emily and Pod.

“You had a child?!”

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