For a full day, Kalagar S. Sully knew peace.
He sat in his study—a room now so secure, thanks to Boro's [Conceptual-Mandate-of-Access], that it was less a room and more a personalized pocket-dimension—and he read. Downstairs, he could hear the faint, pleasant, scholarly rustle of pages. It was Elara. She was cataloguing. She was quiet. She was organized. She was, Kalagar decided, his new favorite.
Lila and Sylvie were outside, quietly "balancing" their new sentient jungle and (thankfully) not leaking miracle-plagues on the valley below.
This, Kalagar thought, sipping his tea, was sustainable. This, he could get used to.
The peace was broken by a sound that Kalagar was beginning to associate with profound, life-altering trouble: the triumphant, bellowing roar of Boro the Artificer.
"MAAAAASTER! WE HAVE RETURNED!"
Kalagar's eye twitched. He unlocked his (now-conceptual) door and walked to the balcony.
Boro and Valerius stood in the clearing, covered in dust, rock-shavings, and... sea-salt? They were vibrating with a sense of accomplishment that was deeply, deeply unsettling.
"Master!" Boro knelt, his fist striking the ground. "As you commanded, the [Aleron-Prime-Conduit] is... complete! The 'sloppy hydrology' is fixed!"
Kalagar's stomach twisted. He had been hoping they'd given up.
"You... you built it? The 'water-pump'?"
"We... perfected it, Master!" Boro's voice was a joyous boom. "Disciple-Brother Valerius's [Blade of the Void] was flawless! A 500-mile, 'zipper-cut' tunnel, perfectly aligned, straight from the Western Ocean-floor, beneath the mountains, to the Hundred-Valleys!"
Kalagar, who had suggested a simple pipe, felt his knees go weak. "From... from the ocean?"
"Yes! But your wisdom was absolute! You did not want a flood! You wanted a pump! I have built it!" Boro proclaimed, his eyes wild with creative fervor. "Twenty sentient Runic-Regulators, one for each valley! They 'read' the soil-moisture, just as your 'If-Then' logic commanded! They draw the sea-water, desalinate it with a conceptual-filter, and deliver pure, fresh water! The drought is over! We have delivered your judgement!"
Archmage Elara had, at this point, glided silently onto the balcony beside Kalagar. She was "indexing" Boro's report, and her face was the color of bleached parchment.
[Project: Aleron-Prime-Conduit. Status: Complete. Function: Intercontinental, automated, sentient desalination terraforming-engine. Power: Top-Tier Artificing...]
She looked at Kalagar. He was frowning.
Elara's mind reeled. He is... displeased? An intercontinental terraforming-engine... and he is... displeased?
Kalagar was displeased. He wasn't displeased; he was horrified. He, a former botanist, had just realized the catastrophic, freshman-level error he had just commanded his disciples to make.
"You... you desalinated it?" Kalagar whispered, his voice faint.
"Yes, Master! It is pure!" Boro beamed.
Kalagar's horror was so profound it was beginning to look, to his disciples, like cosmic, divine rage.
"Pure..." Kalagar repeated. "Boro... you idiot."
The word struck Boro like a physical blow. The Orc's triumphant smile vanished, replaced by utter, soul-crushing confusion. "M-Master?"
Before Kalagar could continue his tirade, a new commotion came from the path. It was the villagers. Again.
But they weren't cheering this time.
The same old farmer who had led the 'plague' delegation was back. He wasn't weeping with joy. He was just... weeping.
He staggered into the clearing, fell on his knees, and held up a handful of... dust.
"Sage! God-Lord!" the old man cried, his voice breaking. "The water! It came! Just as you promised! Great, clear rivers of it, pouring from the ground! We... we drank! We watered! And... and..."
He let the dust and withered, dead seedlings fall from his hand.
"...and the earth died."
Boro's face turned ashen. "What...?"
"The water... Lord!" the farmer sobbed. "It... it's... empty! It's dead! It's 'dead-water'! The crops... they drink it, and they wilt! They die! You... you cured the 'Green-Death'... only to give us... the 'Clear-Death'!"
Kalagar S. Sully, former botanist, former philosopher, current fraud-god, shut his eyes.
He had forgotten trace minerals.
He had forgotten nutrients.
He had commanded his disciples to build a 500-mile-long distilled-water-poison-system.
He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the single dumbest primordial being in the history of Gaia.
His face was now a mask of such cold, profound, self-loathing fury that his disciples visibly recoiled. The temperature on the mountain peak dropped ten degrees.
"You..." Kalagar said, his voice a low, trembling, lethal whisper. He turned his gaze on his four, assembled, terrified, super-powered disciples.
"You... fools."
(He was, of course, talking to himself, but they didn't know that.)
"The water is... sterile!" he roared, finally snapping. "It is empty! It has no food! No nutrients! No life! You can't grow crops in distilled water!"
He rounded on Boro. "Your 'engine' is stupid, Boro! It's just a 'machine'! It has no soul! No life!"
He rounded on Lila and Sylvie. "And you! Our 'life-specialists'! You let this happen! Did you not think?! You've 'balanced' the mountain, but you've let your brother build a river of death!"
His disciples, faced with the full, unbound, furious disappointment of their Master (who was, in reality, just mortified at his own basic error), were shattered.
Tears streamed down Lila's face. Boro looked like he was about to commit honorable suicide. Valerius just stood, pale and silent, accepting his share of the blame.
Elara, the new disciple, the Archmage, was the only one whose mind was still working. Her new [Akashic-Mandate] was "indexing" the problem... and the Master's words.
Subject: [Aleron-Prime-Conduit]. Flaw: [Sterile]. [Lacks Nutrients]. [Lacks 'Life'].
Master's Words: "Stupid machine." "No soul." "No life."
She looked at Lila.
"Master..." Elara said, her voice hesitant, but clear. "You... you mean... the water... the Conduit... it needs... an Anthem? Like... Lila's?"
Kalagar, who was in mid-rant, stopped. He looked at her. "What?"
Lila's head snapped up, her tear-filled eyes widening. "The... the water... it needs... to be alive?"
Sylvie gasped. "A 'river'... with a 'soul'... balanced..."
Kalagar was at his absolute, final breaking-point. He was so tired. He just wanted this fixed.
"YES!" he bellowed, throwing his hands in the air. "THAT! Whatever she said! Go! Fix it! Put... 'life'... in the... 'pump'! I don't care! Just... GO!"
He turned his back on them all, stomped up to his study, and slammed his (conceptually-locked) door so hard the entire pagoda shook.
Down in the hall, the five disciples stood in the echoing silence.
Elara, the Archmage, turned to Boro, Lila, and Sylvie.
"We have our orders," she said, her voice ringing with a new, cold authority. "The Master's previous lessons were... individual. This... is a combined art. He is disappointed because we were not working together."
Boro's head came up, a new fire in his eyes. "She... she is right! My Conduit... it is just a machine! It is logic... but it has no soul!"
Lila wiped her tears, her face hardening with resolve. "It needs the [Anthem of Life]! To infuse it!"
Sylvie nodded. "And the [Samsara of the First Tree]. To balance it. So it does not become a plague again."
The three "elemental" disciples looked at each other. They had a new, combined purpose.
"Let us begin," Boro said.
They marched to the center of the sentient, silver jungle.
Boro laid his hands on the ground, his [True Creation Runes] glowing blue, "interfacing" with his 500-mile-long conduit. "The body is ready!"
Lila placed her hands next to his, her [Anthem of Life] glowing green. "The life is ready!"
Sylvie placed her hands next to theirs, her [Samsara] glowing silver. "The balance is ready!"
"DISCIPLE ELARA!" Boro roared. "WE REQUIRE THE MANDATE! WE DO NOT KNOW THIS ART!"
Elara, standing on the balcony, nodded. She closed her eyes, activating her new, divine [Akashic-Mandate].
"The Master's intent is... clear," she intoned, her voice suddenly echoing as if from a vast, celestial library. "A new 'system' must be written.
[Lesson: 'Put Life in the Pump'].
[Component 1: [True Creation Runes] (Boro)].
[Component 2: [Anthem of Life] (Lila)].
[Component 3: [Samsara of the First Tree] (Sylvie)].
[Command: ...COMBINE.]"
[System: DISCIPLES ARE ATTEMPTING A [COMBINED-CONCEPTUAL-MERGE]...]
[...Lesson: 'Put Life in the Pump'...]
[...Comprehension: SUCCESS!]
[...Top-Tier Art [Aleron-Prime-Conduit] is being... overwritten...]
[...Top-Tier Art [Anthem of Life] is being... integrated...]
[...Top-Tier Art [Samsara of the First Tree] is being... integrated...]
[...WARNING! WARNING! A FORBIDDEN-RANK INFRASTRUCTURE HAS BEEN DETECTED!]
[New Creation: [The River of Samsara] (Forbidden-Rank Infrastructure #1).]
A wave of pure, silver-green-blue light erupted from the mountain. It didn't expand as a dome. It shot down, into the earth, following the path of Boro's 500-mile tunnel.
Miles away, in the Hundred-Valleys, the weeping, desperate farmers saw it.
The "dead-water" that was poisoning their fields... changed.
It stopped being clear.
It began to glow.
A soft, silver-green light pulsed from the 20 Runic-Regulators. The water that flowed out was now... warm. It smelled of fresh grass, old trees, and new life.
The farmer who had been holding the dead, withered seedlings watched as, in his very hand, the seedlings un-withered. They turned a vibrant, healthy green.
A woman shouted. "The fields! Look at the fields!"
The entire Hundred-Valleys, a vast, 500-mile-long stretch of dead dust, exploded into a supernatural, vibrant, glowing green. The crops were not just 'growing'. They were becoming 'divine'.
The drought was over. The famine was over.
The "Hundred-Valleys of Death" had just become the "Valleys of Samsara," the most fertile, holy, and magical land on the entire continent of Aethelgard.
Back on the mountain, Kalagar, who had been peeking through his curtains, saw the entire valley-system light up like a Christmas tree.
He just... gave up.
He turned away from the window, walked to his desk, and laid his head down on his book.
He now had five disciples.
And they had just... accidentally... created... a Forbidden-Rank Holy River.
He was, he decided, going to take a nap.
Maybe, if he was lucky, he just wouldn't wake up.