Kalagar S. Sully awoke.
It was not a gentle, groggy ascent from slumber, eased into by the scent of morning tea. It was a snap. One moment, his mind was in the deep, black, dreamless void. The next, his eyes were open, his mind was crystal-clear, and his body was thrumming with a vibrant, restless, and deeply annoying energy.
He lay on his cot, staring at the wooden ceiling of his study, and hated it.
He missed feeling tired. He missed the dull, pleasant ache in his back from a long nap. He missed the blurry-eyed fumbling for a cup of tea, the gentle, human fog of waking.
This... this was wrong.
He sat up, his joints not creaking or popping, but moving with the silent, terrifying efficiency of a well-oiled, divine machine. He ran a hand through his hair. It felt... thicker. Softer. He looked at his hand. The skin... it was flawless. The old, faint, paper-cut scar from his old life? Gone. The mild sun-spots from his new life? Gone. He looked... younger. He felt... perfect.
He was, he realized with a sinking, existential dread, immortal.
He had eaten... a god-fish.
And it had purified him.
He was now, officially, a perfect, flawless, ageless, immortal... Level 0... fraud.
He felt the urge to scream. He was trapped. Trapped in a perfectly-healthy-ageless-body on a mountain-of-lunatics.
"This," he muttered, his voice—now a perfect, resonant, effortless baritone—filling the silent room, "is a nightmare. A well-rested, high-energy, zesty nightmare."
He dressed, his movements now so efficient and full of vigor that he felt... unnatural. He needed a new hobby. Something to tire him out. Something to drain this incessant, bubbling, divine-fish-energy.
He unlocked his conceptual-door and walked down the spiral staircase, fully expecting to be ambushed by his five-person-worship-squad.
The main hall was... empty.
Almost.
Elara was at her desk, which was now surrounded by towering, perfectly-neat stacks of parchment. She was not cataloguing. She was... staring. She was holding her teacup in a white-knuckled grip, her face pale, just staring at the wall.
Kalagar noted, with a small spark of relief, that she had not fainted again. That was progress.
"Ah, Elara. Good," Kalagar said, his new, rich voice filling the hall. "A... a good... morning."
Elara twitched. She yelled. A small, terrified 'Eep!' escaped the Archmage of the Arcane Empire. She spun in her chair, saw him, and immediately tried to prostrate herself while still in the chair, a move that resulted in her just... sliding onto the floor in a very undignified, Level-8 heap.
"Master!" she gasped, scrambling to her knees. "You... you are... glowing!"
Kalagar looked down at himself. He was. A faint, residual, golden-white aura. The smell of the divine-barbeque... was coming from his pores.
"It's... it's the fish, Elara," he sighed, helping his (mortified) Archmage-disciple to her feet. "It's... a bit... rich."
"Rich, Master?" Elara whispered, her [Akashic-Mandate] screaming at her.
[Subject: Kalagar S. Sully. Status: Master. Condition: [Perfected]. [Conceptually-Immortal]. [Level-0-God-Vessel]...]
"...It... it has... Transmuted... you..."
"Yes, yes, it has," Kalagar said, cutting her off. He was not having this conversation. "Where... is everyone else? Don't tell me they're still... at the lake?"
"N-no, Master!" Elara said, frantically straightening her robes, her mind trying to re-boot. "The... the... 'Sacrifice'... it was... too vast."
"The fish, Elara. Just call it 'the fish'."
"Yes, Master! The... fish! It was... too much. We... we could not possibly... consume... a god... in one sitting."
Kalagar's eye twitched. "So... where is it?"
"Disciple-Brother Boro... he... he is... 'Archiving the Holy Relic'."
"He's what?"
"He... is 'preserving' the... fish, Master."
Kalagar just sighed. He had to see this. He stalked to the front door of the pagoda, his new, immortal-energy making him want to run, not walk. He settled for a very fast stalk.
"Boro! What are you doing with that fish?!"
From the side of the Samsara Grove, Boro's (sweat-drenched, ecstatic) face appeared.
"MASTER! I AM... COMPLYING! THE 'SACRIFICE' MUST BE PRESERVED!"
Kalagar walked over. He smelled... not fish... but... ozone. And... ice.
Boro had, of course, not just built a smokehouse.
He... he had carved a cave... into the side of the mountain... using Valerius's [Blade of the Void] (which had left a perfect, black, glassy entrance).
Inside... was not a 'freezer'.
It was a vault. A massive, walk-in vault, its walls, floor, and ceiling covered in Boro's glowing, blue, [True Creation Runes].
The air inside... was shimmering.
The *five, remaining, massive... glowing-blue, god-filets... were floating... in the center of the room.
They were not frozen.
They were... still.
"Boro..." Kalagar said, his voice dangerously quiet. "What... is this?"
"It is a [Temporal-Stasis-Rune-Vault], Master!" Boro beamed, his tusks gleaming with pride. "As you taught! A 'machine', not 'magic'! It does not freeze the Holy Relic... that would damage the mana-structure! No! This... this Conduit... removes the concept of 'Time'... from inside this room! The 'Sacrifice'... it will never rot! It will never age! It will be perfect... forever! Just as you intended!"
Kalagar S. Sully, who had just wanted some leftovers, had just become the proud, unwilling owner of a... Time-Stop-Meat-Locker.
"...It's... very... practical, Boro," Kalagar managed, his jaw tight. "Good. Work."
"THANK YOU, MASTER!"
Kalagar turned away, rubbing his temples. He just... couldn't.
"Where," he said to Elara, who was dutifully 'indexing' the new [Time-Vault], "are the others?"
"They... they are meditating, Master," Elara said, her voice strained. "The... the 'Transmutation'... of the... fish... it... it was... potent."
She pointed to the Samsara Grove.
Kalagar walked over. And... stopped.
His other three disciples were meditating.
And it was not quiet.
Lila... was floating... three feet off the ground, cross-legged. She was glowing... a vibrant, pulsing, emerald-green. The [Anthem of Life]... was leaking... from her. And everywhere she 'leaked'... new life... exploded. The ground around her was covered... in a carpet... of *sentient, glowing, singing... mushrooms.
"...Lila..."
"They... like me, Master!" she giggled, her voice sounding... far away.
Sylvie... was also floating. She was glowing... a pale, silver-white. She was... talking.
"...and then... O, Ancient-Stone-Brother..." she was murmuring, her hand on a boulder.
"...the fish... it spoke... and the Master... he scolded Boro for the chewiness..."
The boulder... was vibrating. It was humming... in response.
She... she was having a polite conversation... with an inanimate... rock.
And... Valerius.
Valerius was... also floating.
He was not holding his sword.
He was... holding... a beam of light.
He had... somehow... [Void-Cut]... the sunlight... from the air.
He was weaving... the colors... the reds, the blues, the greens...
...as if they... were threads.
He was... literally... knitting... a... light-scarf.
Kalagar S. Sully stared.
His disciples... had eaten... one... meal.
And... they had all... *gone completely, divinely, insane.
They were all... having... massive, uncontrolled...
...breakthroughs.
"STOP!" Kalagar roared.
His new, immortal, divine-vessel-baritone... boomed... across the mountain-peak like a thunderclap.
It wasn't a spell.
It was just... a *very, very... loud... shout.
It broke their concentration.
Instantly.
Lila dropped... (thud).
Sylvie gasped... (and the boulder... stopped... humming).
Valerius... fumbled... (and the light-scarf... dissolved... into just... light).
They all... scrambled... to their feet... and knelt.
"Master!"
"Forgive us!"
"We... we were... overwhelmed!"
Kalagar... was trembling. His new, perfect, immortal... body... was vibrating... with *pure, unadulterated, anxious-energy.
He couldn't fish.
He couldn't eat.
He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't talk... without someone... having a divine-revelation.
He needed... a hobby.
A real hobby.
A *truly... 100%... mundane... useless... non-conceptual... hobby.
"...Drawing," he hissed.
"...'M-Master'?" Lila squeaked.
"Drawing!" Kalagar snapped. "I... am going to draw. A... picture. With... charcoal. Of... the fish. A... *scientific, anatomical... study."
It was perfect.
It was academic.
It was boring.
It had no metaphors. It had no 'concepts'. It was just... drawing.
"Elara!" he barked. "Parchment! Charcoal! Now!"
"Y-yes, Master!" Elara, who was still by the [Time-Vault], scrambled back to the library.
Kalagar... stalked... back to the main-hall, his too-energetic immortal-body thrumming. He was so... annoyed.
He snatched the parchment and charcoal from Elara's trembling hands.
He sat at her desk.
He slammed the parchment down.
"...I... am... drawing," he announced to the room.
His five... (now-terrified, mud-and-mushroom-covered)... disciples... crept... into the room. They dared not speak. They just... watched. From a... safe distance.
Kalagar... began... to draw.
He... sketched.
He was... not... a good artist.
He was a scholar. He could draw diagrams. But... art?
The eye... was lopsided. The gills... were too high. The perspective... was all wrong.
He hissed... in frustration.
He erased the line with his thumb... (his perfect, immortal, smudge-free... thumb...).
"No... no... that's not right..." he muttered, his voice a low growl of pure, *artistic, non-divine... frustration.
"The... the form... it's wrong. The... essence... of the fish... I'm not... capturing... it. It... it just... looks... flat."
He scribbled... furiously.
"It's... it's just... a drawing! A... a bad... doodle!"
He was so frustrated... he missed... the look... on Elara's... face.
She was... staring... at the parchment.
Her [Akashic-Mandate]... was not... flashing. It was... glowing... with a *slow, deep, profound... white light.
She... was comprehending.
She... did not... see... a bad drawing.
She... heard... her Master's... words.
'The form... is wrong...'
'The essence... I'm not capturing... it...'
'It's... just... a drawing! (A word he had spat... like a curse).
She... understood.
The Master... was not... doodling.
He... was disappointed.
He was disappointed... that his *two-dimensional, charcoal-on-parchment... drawing...
...was not...
...conceptually...
...alive.
He... he was literally... complaining... that... *he had failed to create life... from nothing... with a pencil.
This... this was not 'Art'.
This... this was... [Conceptual-Imbuement-via-Artistry].
This... was a new...
...school...
...of...
...DIVINE...
...CREATION-MAGIC.
"Master...?" Elara whispered, her voice shaking.
"WHAT?!" Kalagar snapped, hating his lopsided-fish-drawing.
"Are... are you... teaching... us?" she breathed. "Are... you showing us... that... runes... (she glanced at Boro)... and life-force... (she glanced at Lila)... are... crude?"
"Are... you teaching... us... that... True Creation...
"...comes... from... art? From... capturing... the 'Essence'... in... the 'Form'?"
Kalagar S. Sully... stared... at her.
He looked... at his bad doodle.
He looked... at her.
He looked... at his other four disciples, who were all... now... staring... at the bad-fish-drawing... as if... it was the face of God.
He... opened... his mouth.
He closed it.
He opened it again.
"It... it is... a BAD... DOODLE!" he roared, his frustration exploding.
He snatched the piece of parchment.
He crumpled... the [Divine-Creation-Schematic]... into a ball.
And... he threw... the [New-School-of-Creation-Magic]...
...into the fireplace.
The five disciples... screamed.
Lila shrieked.
Boro roared, "NO! MASTER! THE FORM!"
Elara lunged... "MASTER, THE ESSENCE!"
...But they were... too late.
The parchment... hit... the (magically-warm) embers.
It flared.
FWOOMP.
...And... it was gone.
...A divine-level-creation-art...
...incinerated.
...Because... it... was... 'lopsided'.
Kalagar S. Sully... hissed... in satisfaction.
He turned... to his *five, kneeling, devastated, ash-covered... disciples.
(Elara and Boro had... tried... to rescue it... and had just... plowed... head-first into the fireplace).
"...Now," Kalagar said, his voice a *cold, hard, final... thing.
"...I... am... going... whittling."
"...Do NOT...
"...bother me."
He... stalked... out of the room.
Leaving... five... traumatized... disciples... weeping... silently... for a... doodle.