The next day of training was considerably more annoying than any that Dallion had previously experienced. On the one hand, he was only dealing with Dark. At the same time, the dragonlet had quickly learned to abuse his ability to talk through combat splitting. While one instance of Dallion was yet again going through the basics of split breaking, a dozen of instances of Dark were chatting with items and goofing off. Things became so bad at one point, that Dallion was forced to resort to continuously fading the dragonlet’s instances just to get some peace.
As expected, that wasn’t appreciated by the creature. However, instead of grumbling or swearing like his siblings, Dark focused on finding devious ways to get around his punishment. While for the most part that could be considered a positive, since the dragonlet redoubled his attempts to learn combat breaking, it increased Dallion’s fears that maybe dragonlets weren’t able to learn the skill in question.
“Let’s rest a bit,” Dallion said after half a day of attempts.
I’m not tired, Dark insisted.
“I know. I am,” Dallion lied. He could see exactly how tired the creature was, just as he could see that the failure wasn’t its fault. “Just a bit.”
Annoyed, the dragon flew to the sky. Dallion waited till Dark was no longer in view, then went to the shelter the dragon had made for him.
“You’re the one blocking it, aren’t you?” Dallion asked as he took a piece of the pumpkin fruit. “He’ll figure it out.”
“Not unless you tell him,” a deep voice replied. Dallion could feel the unspoken warning within.
“If you didn’t want them to learn, why have me teach them?”
“There are many things they could learn. They have already learned a lot. If they learn combat breaking, you’ll have accomplished your task.”
Dallion froze. This was a possibility he hadn’t considered. He knew that failure would be punished, just as hurting any of the dragonlets would. However, he hadn’t imagined him being imprisoned in this realm for eternity. The worst thing was that there was nothing he could do. The alternative, back in the real world, was a quick death. Without the help of the Moon, he was no different from a bug. The dragon knew that, which was precisely why he didn’t want Dallion to earn Felygn’s favor.
“Am I still useful?” Dallion asked. There was also the option that he had outlived his worth.
“There are still things you can teach them. Otherworld hunters have many hidden skills, especially those of your kind.”
“The Moon won’t be pleased that you’re keeping me here.”
“What can one ex-favored do than another can’t? As long as there’s the threat that I kill you, the Moon won’t intervene. He knows me well enough to tell what would happen if he does.”
I guess I was supposed to see that coming? Dallion asked.
In his mind, he was already going through options to escape. There were several options he could try, but ultimately none of them mattered, since he was going to end up in the same state he was before entering here: about to be squished by the dragon’s tail.
When he had set off on this expedition, Dallion had a strong suspicion that reaching the dragon would be dangerous. Even without the ruins of the Star’s kingdom, the unexplored wilderness was a test for any hunter. It was ironic that the very thing that he’d come to help ended up being the thing that would kill him.
“Think of it as a gift,” the dragon said. “While you’re here you’ll have eternal life, food, and also the knowledge that everyone close to you will never miss you.”
That was a bit cold and calculating. How had the dragon become a follower of Felygn in the first place?
“And also, there’s always the chance that at some point in the future I might release you.”
“You’re asking me to live for a future chance of freedom?” Dallion asked.
“You won’t be the first. Millions of beings do that every day of their lives. At least you have the certainty of knowing that while you’re here, nothing bad will happen to you.” A piece of the stone floor rose up, transforming into sun gold. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful. While you’re here, you’ll earn gifts that you could only dream of in the real world.”
“And the dragonlets? Will they get anything? Or am I the gift?”
“They’re too weak to survive in the wilderness.” The tone suddenly became harsh. “Keep on training them, or don’t. The choice is yours. Just don’t forget what’s waiting for you in the real world!”
Dallion looked at the lump of sun gold. With such an amount, he could make virtually anything, including a full set of plate armor. However, it was also completely worthless. There was nothing that he could use it for. Like the dragonlets, he was trapped in a utopia without escape. More than likely he wasn’t the first; maybe those before him hadn’t lasted as long, but they had to have lasted long enough for the dragonlets to pick up swearing.
This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it, Felygn? Dallion asked. You want Dark to become your new favored, that’s why you made me promise. Time was never an issue, because time doesn’t exist in this realm. Just tell me one thing: was I to be expendable?
There was no answer, as expected. In the past, Dallion would have considered that a bad sign. After living long enough as a hunter, however, he was partially relieved. At the end of the day, the Green Moon hadn’t said yes.
“Dark,” Dallion said loudly. “Time to continue.” He left his “home” and looked up at the sky. Soon enough, the dragonlet appeared. At that point, the training continued.
For days, Dallion kept on teaching the creature tricks and shortcuts, not only when it came to combat splitting, but other things as well. Line attacks were quickly mastered, as well as layer vision.
As the dragonlet grew stronger, Dallion expected that he would be ordered to train the rest as well, but for some reason, that didn’t happen. According to Dark, that was normal. The old dragon tended to encourage a weird mix of favoritism and rivalry: all the dragonlets competed amongst themselves to increase their level and acquire new skills, all in order to gain his approval. Those with the greatest level of success would receive special training, as Dark was getting now, while all the rest were left to figure it out on their own.
“Have you ever thought of leaving the realm?” Dallion asked one evening.
Sometimes, Dark replied, as he practices combining combat splitting and point attacks. To a casual observer, it seemed as if the dragonlet was laying calmly on the cliff’s peak. For those who could see instances, though, dozens of mountains crumbled under the intensity of its attacks. I’m curious to see what’s out there. Dad used to talk about it more, but he stopped when I learned how to split.
Of course, he would, Dallion thought.
“Have you tried to?”
A few times. There’s no way to get out of here. Well, unless I can challenge dad, but I’m not that strong.
“Maybe it’s not about strength,” Dallion said. “Say, how do you force someone else to choose one instance?”
Dark looked at Dallion in all of its instances.
I know something you don’t?
“Don’t let it get to your head,” Dallion laughed, but it was already too late. A sense of pride and mischievous superiority had enveloped the dragonlet, filling its entire body with a bright cyan glow.
I can’t wait to tell the others. Dark smiled, ending all of its other instances. It’s not that difficult. I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out already.
“There wasn’t anyone to teach me.”
It’s simple. All you have to do is choose the instance you like and the realm which has the instance you like.
“The realm?” That sounded a bit confusing.
Yeah. Dark nodded. There’s always a realm. It’s the instance that holds the instances.
“The realm…” Dallion scratched his chin. The dragonlet’s explanations were terrible, but Dallion was starting to make sense of it. If he was not mistaken, what Dark was trying to say was that he was somehow combining the instances of both. Up to now, all that Dallion had been doing was follow through the splitting only half way. When dealing with other instances, Dallion had only gone so far as to eliminate other instances as well as choose the one that was most advantageous to him, and having to become reality in-between the splitting of his opponents. Technically, he had never actually “fought” for imposing an instance. The dragonlet didn’t accept that, imposing its preferred choice of instances over that of Dallion’s.
Just like threading a needle, Dallion thought. The thread was the stances he chose, while the “needle” was the instance of his opponent, which represented “the realm.” In order for the correct instance to become reality, Dallion had to select both.
“What if the other side also selects a realm?” Dallion asked. “Who wins?”
The one whose instance is stronger, Dark replied, as if were the most obvious thing. That’s why split breaking is so strong. With it, you can just end everything without having to worry about that.
“It probably is.” Suddenly, everything made a lot of sense. “How about we instance duel? Both of us try to make an instance reality. No breaking.”
Sure? Dark didn’t sound too convinced, but was curious enough to try. How do we do it?
“We’ll start with something simple,” Dallion said. “Each of us tries to make a step to the side. Whoever manages to do that wins.”
Disappointment flared up in the dragonlet’s chest, but it didn’t say a thing. Instead, it burst into a dozen instances.
Dallion did the same. Choosing one in which he took a step to the right, he concentrated. Instead, he suddenly found himself pulled into an instance of him remaining still and the dragonlet having moved.
“That was quick.” Dallion laughed. “See? You’re not the only one who can’t learn tricks.”
That’s because you’re not focusing on the realm. You only choose a grain, but nothing else.
“Let’s try again.”
This time, Dallion decided on a completely different approach. Instead of focusing on himself, he tried to select an instance of everything else. There was no guarantee anything would happen. Vend had never taught him that before. To his surprise, he started noticing some minor changes. While all of his instances remained perfectly still, the world around him reacted differently. He could see the dragonlet move in, but not only that. There were instances in which the breeze was slightly stronger. Instances in which a few additional sounds were heard in the distance… As soon as Dallion tried to concentrate on those, the moment had gone. The dragonlet had already chosen the world, winning again.
You’re really bad at this, Dark snorted.
“I just haven’t had a lot of practice. The way we use combat splitting is actually very different. I focus on my instances, and you focus on the realm instances. That’s why I’m having problems with instance pulling, and you with instance breaking.”
Then you’ve been doing it wrong. The order of choosing is always from large to small.
“I didn’t teach your sister that way.”
That’s what she did. I thought that’s what you were doing as well.
“One more time.”
Despite the complete lack of interest, the dragonlet indulged Dallion. This time, things were slightly different. He managed to attempt to select a realm instance, but quickly felt the pressure of Dark’s choice and was forced to let it go. It was as if the air had suddenly become water, causing him to buckle under pressure.
More attempts followed. During the first five, there was no contest. After that, though, Dallion started putting up a bit of a fight. The dragonlet quickly forgot its boredom as competitiveness kicked in. Alas, Dallion’s mind trait was far greater. Each time the fight was closer and closer until at one point Dallion won. Strictly speaking, he had forced a draw—which he had chosen an instance in which the dragonlet hadn’t moved. He had been focusing on it so much that he had forgotten to do so as well with his instances.
The mistake was quickly rectified. From the next duel on, Dallion started an almost uninterrupted winning streak. By evening, the roles had reversed: Dallion was the one winning effortlessly, and Dark had become the one constantly challenging him.
As amusing as that was, though, while learning the skill, Dallion had noticed something else—they weren’t the only ones forcing an instant.
“I think I now know how to get you to split break,” Dallion said casually.
Really?! Now?
“Try focusing only on your instances without bothering with the instance of the realm. Just leave it be.”
But that’s stupid.
“It’s just an exercise to get you going.” Dallion smiled. “Once you get the idea, you can add complications.”
Dark looked at him for close to half a minute, then nodded.
Get ready, Nox, Dallion thought. We’re about to do something wild and dangerous.
“Ready, Dark?” Dallion asked. “Here goes.”
He split into half a dozen instances. The dragonlet tried smacking him with its tail, but as all the times before, the attack was just a moment too slow, hitting an instance instead of Dallion at the moment of splitting.
Thanks to his recent training, Dallion was able to see how a new instance of the realm was selected—one in which the air became slightly thicker, deliberately preventing Dark from hitting at the required moment. This wasn’t done by accident, though. There was no doubt in Dallion’s mind that it was the old dragon’s doing.
The only reason the dragon would do that would be because he didn’t want any of his offspring to learn that ability; and the only reason he didn’t want them to learn was because a dragonlet with instance breaking had the potential to escape his realm.
Nox, challenge the dragon! Dallion thought.
The next day of training was considerably more annoying than any that Dallion had previously experienced. On the one hand, he was only dealing with Dark. At the same time, the dragonlet had quickly learned to abuse his ability to talk through combat splitting. While one instance of Dallion was yet again going through the basics of split breaking, a dozen of instances of Dark were chatting with items and goofing off. Things became so bad at one point, that Dallion was forced to resort to continuously fading the dragonlet’s instances just to get some peace.
As expected, that wasn’t appreciated by the creature. However, instead of grumbling or swearing like his siblings, Dark focused on finding devious ways to get around his punishment. While for the most part that could be considered a positive, since the dragonlet redoubled his attempts to learn combat breaking, it increased Dallion’s fears that maybe dragonlets weren’t able to learn the skill in question.
“Let’s rest a bit,” Dallion said after half a day of attempts.
I’m not tired, Dark insisted.
“I know. I am,” Dallion lied. He could see exactly how tired the creature was, just as he could see that the failure wasn’t its fault. “Just a bit.”
Annoyed, the dragon flew to the sky. Dallion waited till Dark was no longer in view, then went to the shelter the dragon had made for him.
“You’re the one blocking it, aren’t you?” Dallion asked as he took a piece of the pumpkin fruit. “He’ll figure it out.”
“Not unless you tell him,” a deep voice replied. Dallion could feel the unspoken warning within.
“If you didn’t want them to learn, why have me teach them?”
“There are many things they could learn. They have already learned a lot. If they learn combat breaking, you’ll have accomplished your task.”
Dallion froze. This was a possibility he hadn’t considered. He knew that failure would be punished, just as hurting any of the dragonlets would. However, he hadn’t imagined him being imprisoned in this realm for eternity. The worst thing was that there was nothing he could do. The alternative, back in the real world, was a quick death. Without the help of the Moon, he was no different from a bug. The dragon knew that, which was precisely why he didn’t want Dallion to earn Felygn’s favor.
“Am I still useful?” Dallion asked. There was also the option that he had outlived his worth.
“There are still things you can teach them. Otherworld hunters have many hidden skills, especially those of your kind.”
“The Moon won’t be pleased that you’re keeping me here.”
“What can one ex-favored do than another can’t? As long as there’s the threat that I kill you, the Moon won’t intervene. He knows me well enough to tell what would happen if he does.”
I guess I was supposed to see that coming? Dallion asked.
In his mind, he was already going through options to escape. There were several options he could try, but ultimately none of them mattered, since he was going to end up in the same state he was before entering here: about to be squished by the dragon’s tail.
When he had set off on this expedition, Dallion had a strong suspicion that reaching the dragon would be dangerous. Even without the ruins of the Star’s kingdom, the unexplored wilderness was a test for any hunter. It was ironic that the very thing that he’d come to help ended up being the thing that would kill him.
“Think of it as a gift,” the dragon said. “While you’re here you’ll have eternal life, food, and also the knowledge that everyone close to you will never miss you.”
That was a bit cold and calculating. How had the dragon become a follower of Felygn in the first place?
“And also, there’s always the chance that at some point in the future I might release you.”
“You’re asking me to live for a future chance of freedom?” Dallion asked.
“You won’t be the first. Millions of beings do that every day of their lives. At least you have the certainty of knowing that while you’re here, nothing bad will happen to you.” A piece of the stone floor rose up, transforming into sun gold. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful. While you’re here, you’ll earn gifts that you could only dream of in the real world.”
“And the dragonlets? Will they get anything? Or am I the gift?”
“They’re too weak to survive in the wilderness.” The tone suddenly became harsh. “Keep on training them, or don’t. The choice is yours. Just don’t forget what’s waiting for you in the real world!”
Dallion looked at the lump of sun gold. With such an amount, he could make virtually anything, including a full set of plate armor. However, it was also completely worthless. There was nothing that he could use it for. Like the dragonlets, he was trapped in a utopia without escape. More than likely he wasn’t the first; maybe those before him hadn’t lasted as long, but they had to have lasted long enough for the dragonlets to pick up swearing.
This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it, Felygn? Dallion asked. You want Dark to become your new favored, that’s why you made me promise. Time was never an issue, because time doesn’t exist in this realm. Just tell me one thing: was I to be expendable?
There was no answer, as expected. In the past, Dallion would have considered that a bad sign. After living long enough as a hunter, however, he was partially relieved. At the end of the day, the Green Moon hadn’t said yes.
“Dark,” Dallion said loudly. “Time to continue.” He left his “home” and looked up at the sky. Soon enough, the dragonlet appeared. At that point, the training continued.
For days, Dallion kept on teaching the creature tricks and shortcuts, not only when it came to combat splitting, but other things as well. Line attacks were quickly mastered, as well as layer vision.
As the dragonlet grew stronger, Dallion expected that he would be ordered to train the rest as well, but for some reason, that didn’t happen. According to Dark, that was normal. The old dragon tended to encourage a weird mix of favoritism and rivalry: all the dragonlets competed amongst themselves to increase their level and acquire new skills, all in order to gain his approval. Those with the greatest level of success would receive special training, as Dark was getting now, while all the rest were left to figure it out on their own.
“Have you ever thought of leaving the realm?” Dallion asked one evening.
Sometimes, Dark replied, as he practices combining combat splitting and point attacks. To a casual observer, it seemed as if the dragonlet was laying calmly on the cliff’s peak. For those who could see instances, though, dozens of mountains crumbled under the intensity of its attacks. I’m curious to see what’s out there. Dad used to talk about it more, but he stopped when I learned how to split.
Of course, he would, Dallion thought.
“Have you tried to?”
A few times. There’s no way to get out of here. Well, unless I can challenge dad, but I’m not that strong.
“Maybe it’s not about strength,” Dallion said. “Say, how do you force someone else to choose one instance?”
Dark looked at Dallion in all of its instances.
I know something you don’t?
“Don’t let it get to your head,” Dallion laughed, but it was already too late. A sense of pride and mischievous superiority had enveloped the dragonlet, filling its entire body with a bright cyan glow.
I can’t wait to tell the others. Dark smiled, ending all of its other instances. It’s not that difficult. I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out already.
“There wasn’t anyone to teach me.”
It’s simple. All you have to do is choose the instance you like and the realm which has the instance you like.
“The realm?” That sounded a bit confusing.
Yeah. Dark nodded. There’s always a realm. It’s the instance that holds the instances.
“The realm…” Dallion scratched his chin. The dragonlet’s explanations were terrible, but Dallion was starting to make sense of it. If he was not mistaken, what Dark was trying to say was that he was somehow combining the instances of both. Up to now, all that Dallion had been doing was follow through the splitting only half way. When dealing with other instances, Dallion had only gone so far as to eliminate other instances as well as choose the one that was most advantageous to him, and having to become reality in-between the splitting of his opponents. Technically, he had never actually “fought” for imposing an instance. The dragonlet didn’t accept that, imposing its preferred choice of instances over that of Dallion’s.
Just like threading a needle, Dallion thought. The thread was the stances he chose, while the “needle” was the instance of his opponent, which represented “the realm.” In order for the correct instance to become reality, Dallion had to select both.
“What if the other side also selects a realm?” Dallion asked. “Who wins?”
The one whose instance is stronger, Dark replied, as if were the most obvious thing. That’s why split breaking is so strong. With it, you can just end everything without having to worry about that.
“It probably is.” Suddenly, everything made a lot of sense. “How about we instance duel? Both of us try to make an instance reality. No breaking.”
Sure? Dark didn’t sound too convinced, but was curious enough to try. How do we do it?
“We’ll start with something simple,” Dallion said. “Each of us tries to make a step to the side. Whoever manages to do that wins.”
Disappointment flared up in the dragonlet’s chest, but it didn’t say a thing. Instead, it burst into a dozen instances.
Dallion did the same. Choosing one in which he took a step to the right, he concentrated. Instead, he suddenly found himself pulled into an instance of him remaining still and the dragonlet having moved.
“That was quick.” Dallion laughed. “See? You’re not the only one who can’t learn tricks.”
That’s because you’re not focusing on the realm. You only choose a grain, but nothing else.
“Let’s try again.”
This time, Dallion decided on a completely different approach. Instead of focusing on himself, he tried to select an instance of everything else. There was no guarantee anything would happen. Vend had never taught him that before. To his surprise, he started noticing some minor changes. While all of his instances remained perfectly still, the world around him reacted differently. He could see the dragonlet move in, but not only that. There were instances in which the breeze was slightly stronger. Instances in which a few additional sounds were heard in the distance… As soon as Dallion tried to concentrate on those, the moment had gone. The dragonlet had already chosen the world, winning again.
You’re really bad at this, Dark snorted.
“I just haven’t had a lot of practice. The way we use combat splitting is actually very different. I focus on my instances, and you focus on the realm instances. That’s why I’m having problems with instance pulling, and you with instance breaking.”
Then you’ve been doing it wrong. The order of choosing is always from large to small.
“I didn’t teach your sister that way.”
That’s what she did. I thought that’s what you were doing as well.
“One more time.”
Despite the complete lack of interest, the dragonlet indulged Dallion. This time, things were slightly different. He managed to attempt to select a realm instance, but quickly felt the pressure of Dark’s choice and was forced to let it go. It was as if the air had suddenly become water, causing him to buckle under pressure.
More attempts followed. During the first five, there was no contest. After that, though, Dallion started putting up a bit of a fight. The dragonlet quickly forgot its boredom as competitiveness kicked in. Alas, Dallion’s mind trait was far greater. Each time the fight was closer and closer until at one point Dallion won. Strictly speaking, he had forced a draw—which he had chosen an instance in which the dragonlet hadn’t moved. He had been focusing on it so much that he had forgotten to do so as well with his instances.
The mistake was quickly rectified. From the next duel on, Dallion started an almost uninterrupted winning streak. By evening, the roles had reversed: Dallion was the one winning effortlessly, and Dark had become the one constantly challenging him.
As amusing as that was, though, while learning the skill, Dallion had noticed something else—they weren’t the only ones forcing an instant.
“I think I now know how to get you to split break,” Dallion said casually.
Really?! Now?
“Try focusing only on your instances without bothering with the instance of the realm. Just leave it be.”
But that’s stupid.
“It’s just an exercise to get you going.” Dallion smiled. “Once you get the idea, you can add complications.”
Dark looked at him for close to half a minute, then nodded.
Get ready, Nox, Dallion thought. We’re about to do something wild and dangerous.
“Ready, Dark?” Dallion asked. “Here goes.”
He split into half a dozen instances. The dragonlet tried smacking him with its tail, but as all the times before, the attack was just a moment too slow, hitting an instance instead of Dallion at the moment of splitting.
Thanks to his recent training, Dallion was able to see how a new instance of the realm was selected—one in which the air became slightly thicker, deliberately preventing Dark from hitting at the required moment. This wasn’t done by accident, though. There was no doubt in Dallion’s mind that it was the old dragon’s doing.
The only reason the dragon would do that would be because he didn’t want any of his offspring to learn that ability; and the only reason he didn’t want them to learn was because a dragonlet with instance breaking had the potential to escape his realm.
Nox, challenge the dragon! Dallion thought.
