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Chapter 54: The Path Beyond Part 1
"Planeswalker?"
Brandon nearly groaned aloud, instinctively pressing his palm to his forehead as doubt gnawed at him. Was this all some elaborate dream? The enigmatic young man claiming to be Tumen, the strange void surrounding them, and the surreal exchange of information left his thoughts tangled in confusion.
He had never encountered the term "Planeswalker" within the lore of Amber Sword. Perhaps it was an obscure class he hadn’t yet discovered—after all, in a world so vast and intricate, no one could claim complete knowledge. Yet something about the notion felt off. His instincts screamed that this wasn’t just another hidden mechanic.
Outwardly calm but inwardly reeling, Brandon wondered: What was going on? What exactly was a Planeswalker? And where in the name of the Nine Hells was he?
Tumen’s hands remained tucked into his sleeves as he floated effortlessly in the endless darkness. Sensing Brandon’s bewilderment, he smiled faintly. “You still seem perplexed. This is merely a projection—a refractive spell designed to convey my message directly into your mind. There’s no need for alarm; you’re simply exploring your inner world. Everything here reflects your subconscious.”
Brandon understood immediately what Tumen meant by “subconscious.”
“So this is a mental effect,” Brandon reasoned, regaining a sliver of composure. “But why didn’t my Unyielding Will trigger?” He paused, then asked urgently, “How do I leave this place?” Reality crashed back down—he was still in grave danger, and time was not a luxury he could afford to waste.
“Why rush?” Tumen replied smoothly. “In the realm of thought, moments stretch infinitely. As the old Bastian proverb goes, ‘A single breath can house an eternity.’ Thoughts move faster than lightning; countless ideas can flash through your mind before even a second passes. Even if death looms outside, you have fifteen minutes here.”
Brandon mulled over the Elemental Emperor’s words. Intellectually, he grasped the explanation, but primal instinct urged him to return to the tangible threats awaiting beyond this void. Taking a steadying breath, he pressed further. “I understand, but let’s hurry. Emperor Tumen, tell me—what is a Planeswalker?”
Forcing himself to focus, Brandon began dissecting the implications of this “dream.” If Tumen spoke truly—if this were indeed a projected message—then there must be purpose behind it. But what? Brandon couldn’t fathom any connection between himself and the legendary figure.
By bloodline, Brandon was purebred Eruin from the southern provinces. He bore no trace of Minarian ancestry nor hailed from Bastia. Any inheritance should logically bypass him entirely. Moreover, stored spells required mediums—meaning this transmission must stem from something close to him, likely triggered upon contact.
His gaze fell inward as he mentally cataloged his possessions. First, he dismissed mundane items: clothing, matches, fire cotton. Then came objects crafted alongside Tama—the cursed crossbow bolts, the Statuette of the White Stag, the mana potions. Natural artifacts followed suit: Golden Magic Tree fruit, assorted magical materials.
What remained were miscellaneous trinkets scavenged from battlefields—and the Ring of the Wind Sovereign. Yet those pseudo-magical baubles held little significance, while the ring itself had long been appraised to death—it carried a known backstory involving a merchant gifting a painting to Brandon’s grandfather’s liege lord, who later passed it down. Thirteen replicas existed, each now priceless after centuries. While this item might have some connection to Saint Orlso, the Wind Sage, it certainly bore no relation to Tumen.
Next suspicion fell on the mysterious stone shard taken from Borg Nesson’s corpse. Brandon had always suspected Antietta’s noble lineage hid secrets. Why would a highborn lady casually study magitech design, uncommon among Eruin nobility? Surely others noticed too—including Viscount Teste.
Now Brandon questioned Teste’s motives more deeply. The shard seemed suspicious enough, though Brandon shook his head, recalling another item touched before entering this domain—the Elemental Revelation Scroll. Reflecting on its origin, he recalled the imprints of Crystal Forest mud and unique fairy inscriptions. The scroll itself appeared legitimate.
Then realization struck: the trigger lay in activating his Elemental Pool. Yet how did these threads connect?
Fate Cards.
Suddenly, their import crystallized. Until now, Brandon had viewed them as mere skills rather than substantial artifacts. Reconsidering, however, their peculiarity became glaringly obvious. For starters, Fate Cards never appeared in Amber Sword.
While isolated magical items might escape notice, entire sets rarely evaded seasoned players’ awareness. Consider Wizard-class equipment: ignorance of specific pieces wasn’t implausible given the game's enormity. Ignorance of the broader concept altogether? That raised eyebrows.
Perhaps one could dismiss such gaps as beginner’s oversight—but Brandon wasn’t new to this world. Furthermore, these cards weren’t trivial trinkets. Their flexibility allowed warriors to wield magic freely, forming a self-contained class system.
Such potent tools couldn’t possibly go unmentioned. Unless they originated far beyond familiar territories—say, Madara, Brandon’s nemesis’s stronghold—where exposure would be minimal. Instead, they surfaced repeatedly in regions Brandon knew intimately: Jared’s Tomb, Golden Magic Tree Valley, Ridenburg, Braggs.
These areas were etched into his memory, every player rumor and notable deed chronicled across years of exploration. His love for Eruin fueled his immersion in its intricacies.
Yet despite his familiarity, he’d heard nothing of these cards until now. How had he overlooked such anomalies? Survival pressures earlier might explain initial acceptance, but hindsight sharpened skepticism.
Touching his chest reflexively, Brandon recalled his earlier observation: “They form a complete class system.” Startled, he blurted, “What exactly are you saying about Planeswalkers?”
Tumen chuckled. “Your intuition serves you well. Fate Cards and Planeswalkers share an inseparable bond.”
Brandon fell silent, sensing the young Tumen intended to reveal everything.
“To clarify a misconception first: these Fate Cards predate recorded history significantly. They aren’t my creation, though I’ve simplified their sacred insignias based on fragmentary knowledge, passing them along to humans, elves, and Minarians alike.”
Holding up a Fate Card—its back adorned with a complex sacred insignia—Tumen forestalled Brandon’s question with a raised hand. “I know what you’re wondering. Despite being born of darkness and despised by creatures of light, why aid humanity and elvenkind?”
Smiling softly, he continued, “As a Planeswalker, perspective shifts. My views diverged early due to my deck—‘Ouroboros.’ Pursuing essence above all else rendered distinctions moot.”
Pondering this, Brandon sat back, digesting the revelation. “To be honest, I’m still unclear. Could you simplify?”
All thoughts of departure faded; instead, a burgeoning sense suggested Tumen’s words heralded monumental change. Whether illusion or instinct, unease prickled at the edges of certainty.
Nodding, Tumen obliged. “Certainly. To discuss Planeswalkers, we begin with Fate Cards. Planeswalkers uniquely grasp their true nature—worldly power incarnate. Each card represents a facet of reality, neither simple rule nor shallow mimicry. Collectively, they forge miniature worlds.”
“Take my deck, ‘Ouroboros,’ describing existence via six elemental harmonies—an embodiment of principles.”
“Another Planeswalker I knew wielded ‘Infinite Power,’ composed largely of red and black cards. Red signifies fire or strength; black denotes darkness, death, destruction.”
“All failed, of course.” Tumen admitted wryly. “Thus, interpretations stem from decks. Fate Cards mirror relationships between wielder and cosmos. Your deck reveals another facet of yourself.”
“As for origins? Unknown. Earliest Planeswalkers likely emerged during dark ages, perhaps among Matatanians—nomads viewing worlds differently. Where we see boundless expanse, they envisioned uhs—root word for ‘infinity’ in Elvish and Cruzean. Contained within uhs: myriad microcosms traversed ceaselessly.”
“Misinterpreting sanctuaries versus universe birthed such perspectives. Limited understanding shaped ancient beliefs.” Smiling ruefully, Tumen added, “Rambling again—I fear old habits die hard.”
After reflection, Brandon queried, “Matatanians may have been early Planeswalkers, but what relevance holds for me?”
Shaking his head, Tumen gestured continuation. “Matatanians divided days into six phases—as does a Planeswalker’s day.”
Eyes meeting Brandon’s, he elaborated, “First phase: dawn till mid-morning—six to ten. Called ‘Growth Phase’ by Planeswalkers. Here, horizontal placement of land cards fuels daily mana needs.”
“Wait!” Brandon interjected. “Horizontal placement?”
“Precisely. Fundamental ability, source of power.”
“Explain further?”
“Simple. With basic lands, Elemental Pool, and mana reservoirs, you tap them during growth phases. Lands channel associated terrain forces into pools, infusing elements generated daily.”
“But don’t lands produce weekly element points?” Brandon interrupted.
“That point floats separately, aiding novices toward mastery. Full-fledged Planeswalkers transcend reliance.” Tumen clarified.
Considering it briefly, Brandon nodded. “Understood. Proceed.”
“During the growth phase, benefits accrue from other cards’ abilities. Recall Highland Squire? It grants lords reputation when active—paid during growth.”
“Simultaneously, green (life, nature), white (light, protection, nurturing), red (fire, vitality, vigor), blue (water, nourishment, irrigation) cards, and hybrids activate.”
Frowning slightly, Brandon recalled Chael mentioning exceptions like white-cost-free spells.
“Next comes phase two: late morning to noon—ten to two. Dubbed ‘Peak Phase,’ marked by zenith solar force, nadir lunar influence. Magic energy wanes, elemental activity peaks—offensive prime.”
“Here, unrestricted card usage reigns supreme. Additionally, draw three cards per turn.”
“Wait,” Brandon puzzled. “Meaning?”
“Planeswalker rules dictate fixed usable cards daily. Excess drawn beyond reset phase discards automatically. Fixed Fate Card count equals hand size.”
“Strength correlates with hand capacity. Novices manage five typically.”
“Do I select hands?” Brandon queried.
“No. Draws occur from designated subdecks. Take mine—six-element Ouroboros splits evenly, yielding six subdecks.” Tumen explained.
Brows furrowing, Brandon countered, “Increased uncertainty seems problematic. Wouldn’t retaining strong cards only maintain consistent power levels?”
“Theoretically correct, yet not ultimate goals.” Tumen shook his head.
“Ultimate goals?”
"You know, after you hit Post-Third Level Strength, the next step is Element Awakening. Then comes the Perfect Body—the transition from iron rank to gold. But that's not all. The final step? It’s about tapping into Existential Forces. Take fire, for example—it's the epitome of the elements. Its ultimate form is the fire elemental, the very source of all flames. There’s talk, though, that there are even higher tiers. Rumors say they’re tied to things like Time, Space, Logic, and even Force itself. These are the base constituents that define the very fabric of reality... existential forces."
Staring, Brandon momentarily lost speech. He was well aware of the Perfect Body, having already reached that stage in his past gaming experience—Level 130, the Silver Body. He had also heard whispers of Existential Forces, but legends held that once players completed their Gold Body at Level 160, progress would come to a standstill. No one knew how to breach that final barrier to attain the seemingly close yet elusive Existential Power.
But none of them had ever imagined that such an alternative path could exist.
“You mean…” astonishment gripped him. “Planeswalkers achieve existential forces?”
Tumen nodded, then gestured toward the cards. “When your ‘world’ starts to come together, the rules align on their own, and gates begin to open. But, it’s a long road to get there.” He noticed Brandon’s curiosity growing and added, “Start by building your foundational decks.”
“How?” Brandon breathed unconsciously.
“Contact with your first Fate Card already revealed your Fate Deck. Oddly, yours differs markedly. Appears structured around expansive occupational systems. Curious interest in mastering all classes—what drives that ambition?”
Brandon couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat. The first time he had encountered a Fate Card, he simply viewed it from the perspective of a gamer. As a professional gamer, his instinct at the time was naturally to aim for mastering a powerful class—who among players didn’t secretly dream of achieving mastery over every possible class? Yet, he never expected that the Fate Cards would so ingeniously capture and reflect that very ambition.
Only now did it dawn on him what the activation of the "Knight's Path" truly meant… “Oh no,” Brandon groaned inwardly. If these cards were indeed a manifestation of one’s worldview and aspirations, did this mean he was now bound to pursue dominance over every class?
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