Overgeared: Saharan Successor

Chapter 46: Great Magician's Resurrection (I)

Odin's playful façade dropped entirely. His eyes became cold, calculated, as he took a deep breath.

"Fine," he said, the levity vanishing from his voice. "No need to dance around the subject. Let's be honest, I've got an important meeting in 45 minutes, so let's cut to the chase." 

His gaze hardened while his eyes flashed with a deeper redness. 

"I assume you're Braham Eshwald, the Great Magician of Legends who has created the current Magic System of Humanity?"

Braham's ethereal form floated silently before his lips curled into a wry smile.

[Good, now we're talking instead of wasting precious time. You're right, child of the Saharan decedent. I was known as the Great Magician Braham. Why have you come to my Labyrinth designated for the Pagma Successor?]

Odin's expression didn't waver, but his eyes showed a subtle hint of challenge. His voice remained firm and steady, matching Braham's condescension with cool pragmatism.

"I highly doubt this is 'Your' Labyrinth, Great Mage. Just as I intend to turn this location into a stronghold for my people, that's how you also turned an Ancient Ruin into your territory."

Braham's face darkened slightly at Odin's insinuation, the air around them thickening as if the atmosphere bristled with his irritation.

[This is my labyrinth, boy.] Braham said sharply, his red eyes flashing with power. 

[I restored some of the Silver Civilization's stronghold and made it my domain. But I'm not interested in giving you a history lesson.]

Braham's tone grew colder, more cutting. [Tell me, why are you here?]

Odin shrugged nonchalantly as if the gravity of the situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Obviously, I'm here for loot and treasure," he said, smirking. "A power-up, as any respectable adventurer would expect. However, my hopes aren't high. I think I've used up all my karma getting to this point."

Braham let out a dismissive snort, but his expression was unreadable. [Power-ups, you say? You adventurers are always the same, scrambling for scraps of strength.] 

His voice turned quieter, more thoughtful. [Though... I could give you the power you seek. On one condition.]

Odin's eyebrow raised in mock curiosity. "Oh? What's the catch?"

Braham's eyes gleamed, and his tone became predatory. [Bring the Pagma Successor to my feet. I need him to craft something for me to help me achieve my ultimate goal—immortality.]

Odin crossed his arms, giving Braham a skeptical look. "Immortality, huh? That's a tough gig," he said dryly. "I've heard rumors about this Pagma guy, but I have some bad news for you. There's no Pagma Successor alive today. Maybe, in a few decades, some idiot brave… or dumb enough will stumble into one of these labyrinths and knock on your door."

He paused, watching for Braham's reaction. "But I'm curious—what exactly are you hoping to build? Maybe I can help out directly."

Braham's face hardened, the smirk fading. "You cannot help with this. Only that accursed blacksmith and his successors can work with Pavranium—the one material I need for my plan."

Odin frowned slightly. "Pavranium?"

Braham nodded, his voice taking on a tone of reverence but full bitterness. 

[Pavranium is the pinnacle of all materials. Created by Pagma's hand and perfected by my superior magic, it is harder than adamantium, lighter than mithril, and has unmatched compatibility with magic power. Its elasticity surpasses even jaffa.]

'It's annoying listening to bogus storylines, but if it's for some juicy reward, I don't care.'

As Braham's voice droned on, delving deeper into the technicalities and nuances of his failed quest for Immortality, Odin shifted his attention to the glamorous chest that remained to be opened. 

Odin's hand hovered over the chest's lock.

"Is this Pavranium in this box? Mind if I open it?"

He glanced back at Braham briefly, ensuring the mage's attention was still fixated on his own lament. The spectral figure floated in place, eyes distant, lost in the haze of old memories. Odin smirked inwardly.

[Go ahead. If I could, I would smell that piece of metal with my Meteors and Fireballs, but it would be impossible.]

Without a sound, Odin inserted the key into the chest's lock, the ancient mechanism giving a soft click as it yielded to his touch. He slowly lifted the lid, cautious not to draw any unwanted attention.

The lid creaked slightly as it opened, revealing something unexpected inside. 

'Whoa, I can't believe this. A Dragon Egg?'

Odin's breath caught momentarily as his eyes fell on what looked like a gleaming golden egg. 

The egg rested on a velvet cushion, its golden surface shining even in the dim light of the labyrinth. 

Yet, as Odin reached for it, the moment his fingertips brushed against its surface, the egg shuddered violently in response. A strange, metallic hum filled the air, and the golden object began to resist him as though it had a mind of its own.

'What the hell...? This doesn't feel like a Dragon Egg. It's like I'm touching Steel back in the factory.' Odin thought, his grip tightening instinctively. 

The egg was feather-light, but the texture was that of a metal. 

The resistance it exerted against him was astonishing. It was as if the metal itself was alive, actively rejecting him.

"What is this?" Odin muttered, glancing at Braham, whose rant hadn't ceased. The mage's voice, though tinged with bitterness, was still recounting Pagma's final days and the creation of Pavranium.

'This thing is more stubborn than any piece of tech I've ever worked with,' Odin thought, his brow furrowing. 

'If I didn't know better, I'd say it's got a mind of its own.'

Meanwhile, Braham kept on his dialogue line as if he were a broken record. Who could blame the old ghost after 300 years of fragmenting his Soul and being split into 27 locations? Adding on the additional mental issues he had, it was a dangerous cocktail of disorders.

[I hoped for Pagma to make me something. I only helped Pagma make pavranium so that my wish could be fulfilled. It took us nine years and 11 months to complete the pavranium. But there was a limit.]

[Pagma, who was full of strength and health, died shortly after the completion of pavranium. Even someone revered as a legend couldn't escape the years and died of old age.]

[Everything was in vain. Everything I hoped to accomplish seemed lost. I visited the dwarves and asked them to make something from the pavranium, but their tiny masses of muscle couldn't even smelt it. I was desperate! I felt despair!]

Braham screamed before coming closer to Odin as if he could see a soulmate in him, someone who could understand his suffering. His red eyes were filled with mixed emotions, including anger, joy, and even madness.

'Awkward… This guy has some unsolved psychological problems… '

Odin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, shifting his focus to the golden egg.

'I might need to give him a referral to Veradin.'

Odin half-listened as he continued to examine the egg. He could feel the rejection intensifying, the egg pulsing with energy as if alive.

[You have used 'Sovereign Insight' to identify the item][You have discovered a piece of Pavranium]

"Damn thing..." Odin muttered, forcing the egg down. 

Then, Braham's voice broke through the tension like a blade slicing through thick fog.

[That cursed piece of metal…] 

Braham spat the words like venom. 

[Even you, a descendant of Titans, cannot control it. Pavranium only answers to one hand, and it's not yours.]

Odin scoffed, unimpressed by Braham's words. 

"Oh really?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ignoring the struggling metal in his hand. "And here I thought you were the smart one in the room."

Braham smirked, a twisted pride lighting up his ghostly face.

[You think your strength alone can tame Pavranium? How quaint. Even your Titan blood isn't enough to command it. Pavranium chooses its master. It only responds to the one hand capable of shaping it. That hand... is not yours.]

He opened his system window interface, ignoring Braham, who was laughing at the fact that even the descendants of a mythical race couldn't control his creation. In his twisted way, he was proud that Odin failed to control the Pavranium.

Ignoring Braham's laughter, Odin navigated the system menus, scrolling through his abilities. He tapped into his 'Saharan Successor' skill set, specifically focusing on one ability.

[Red Energy]

Rating: Legendary

An innate force resource only available to the noble descendants of First Emperor Haycien Saharan or his Legacy Bearer.

A power that allows the user to penetrate matter and change the state of the matter.

--

Odin's eyes lit up as he skimmed through the description, and then another unique window popped, one that he hadn't explored thus far. He'd barely scratched the surface of Red Energy, but this felt like the perfect opportunity to test its limits.

[Red Energy is especially effective against:– Ancient magical constructs– Legendary or cursed materials with inherent will– Living artifacts or sentient magical items]

'Change the state of the matter? So, technically, will it act according to my willpower?'

'If I, for example, strengthen a low-quality piece of metal before being crafted into a sword, it might have superior qualities similar to a Deluxe Steel Bar.'

'This effect can also be reversed with me rusting and weathering a certain item that contains 'matter'.'

'This might just do the trick,' Odin thought, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

He closed the interface, turning his full attention back to Pavranium.

Braham continued to ramble in the background, clearly enjoying the spectacle of Odin's failure. But Odin didn't care. He let the mage's words wash over him, focusing on the task at hand.

With this understanding, he went along and began summoning his Red Energy. Moments later, Odin's hands began to glow with a faint crimson aura as he focused on directing the energy into his hands.

[You have consumed (1) Red Energy. (64/100)]

The energy crackled like electricity, sparking at his fingertips. The Pavranium, sensing the power shift, reacted violently, thrashing even more in his grip. But Odin remained calm, his expression unreadable as he let the Red Energy seep into the metal's surface.

The golden egg shuddered, resisting the foreign energy at first. But Odin persisted, the red tendrils of energy wrapping around the Pavranium, penetrating its defenses. The resistance weakened slowly, and the violent pulsations grew less frequently.

[The Pavranium has reacted to your Red Energy. Its resistance is weakening.][The Pavranium has begun to rust under your influence. Your Red Energy has successfully disrupted its sentience.]

Odin's eyes glowed brighter, the crimson in his irises flickering dangerously as his aura pulsed in sync with the Pavranium. 

As his Red Energy was being consumed by him injecting it into the 'Pinnacle' of Crafting Materials with his energy, new changes started to appear all over the pavranium. 

[You have consumed (1) Red Energy. (48/100)]

Suddenly, the first sign of submission appeared, a faint spot of rust. It was small, barely noticeable at first, but it spread rapidly across the surface of the Pavranium like a disease. 

Odin's lips curled into a smirk as the metal's defiance crumbled. More rust spots emerged, creeping along the once-pristine golden surface. 

The Pavranium was breaking, its will succumbing to Odin's superior force.

Braham, watching from the side, his ethereal form vibrating with laughter, suddenly stopped as he noticed the rust forming. 

His expression shifted from smug amusement to disbelief. The mage floated closer, his red eyes narrowing as he examined the Pavranium. [Impossible…] 

The metal's once-violent shuddering had stilled, and more rust appeared, spreading like wildfire. The pulsations that had resisted Odin's touch grew faint, almost submissive, until they faded entirely.

[Congratulations! You have successfully subdued a piece of Pavranium.][Your Red Energy has resonated with the Pavranium. It now acknowledges you as its master.]

The 'sentient' godly metal now rested in Odin's hand, utterly docile.

"Know your place, junk. If you ever think of opposing me, I will fully rust you and throw you into the sewers of Talima for the Dwarves to smelt you together with Copper," said Odin coldly, his voice low and commanding

Odin casually flipped the now-docile piece of Pavranium filled with rust pockets in his hand. 

"Guess it's not so picky after all. You just have to know how to ask nicely."

Braham's expression was one of utter disbelief. The ancient mage so used to his dominance over magic, could hardly comprehend what he witnessed. His red eyes flickered with confusion, frustration, and, finally, something close to admiration.

"I understand your emotion as you struggled with that pavranium." remarked Odin, looking at the archmage ghost who couldn't believe what it saw, not even in death.

[You... you managed to submit that dreadful piece of junk?] Braham stammered, floating closer to Odin, his disbelief palpable. 

[Unbelievable. I've tried all sorts of methods. Magic, brute force, even infusing my mana into it—but they never worked. How is that even possible?]

Odin shrugged nonchalantly, tucking the now-docile Pavranium into his inventory bag with casual indifference. "I just threatened its life," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"And it worked."

Braham's expression twisted, disbelief etched into every line of his ghostly face. [Sure, I've done the same for 20 years. Why did it work for you?] 

Braham demanded, floating even closer, his voice low and laced with frustration.

Odin leaned back casually, enjoying the moment. "Well," he said, smirking, "it seems I have the power to destroy it." His voice was calm, as though stating something as simple as the weather.

Braham's eyes flashed with indignation. [... Child, I have reached the transcendence of the human form. What you can do, I can do better, no, perfectly.]

There was no arrogance in Braham's voice, only a bitter truth that he believed to his core.

"Yeah, I can see it," Odin said, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. "Ahem, you talked a bit about the Dwarves, right? This might sound like a dumb question, but have you ever tried teaching some Ogres the smelting technique of the Dwarves?"

Odin chuckled. "In case they were too dumb for the job, you could've just brewed some alchemical elixirs to boost their Intelligence to a human level. Problem solved."

 "You could also have done some experiments on creating a chimera with power high enough to bend that piece of metal with its own hands." 

Braham's eyes narrowed. [Do you think I hadn't thought of that? Do you think I hadn't explored every avenue imaginable? I tried everything. Alchemy, magic, physical force, but nothing worked.]

His voice grew darker, the frustration bubbling up again. [Even if I created a chimera with the strength to bend mountains, it would fail to smelt that abominable junk.]

Odin raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying pushing the ancient mage's buttons. "Soo... I guess it's a skill issue?"

Braham's face twisted in rage before he released a resigned sigh, his frustration turning into an almost manic laugh. 

[Yes! Damn it! It is a skill issue!]

He floated back, his hands clenched into tight fists. [Fuck all of those parasitic Gods! Fuck Yatan and his nonsense 'Curse of Idleness' that stole half a millennium from my life!]

Odin watched Braham's meltdown with bemused interest. "It's alright, mister. You can vent to me about all those hardships. I just put that junk metal into its place. If it makes you feel better."

Braham floated silently for a moment, his ethereal form vibrating with conflicting emotions. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft, bitter chuckle. 

[You're a good listener, Saharan child. But... I doubt you can help with my ultimate goal.]

Odin tilted his head, curiosity piqued. "Why is that?"

[I need Pagma's Successor,] Braham said, his tone darkening again, 

[To achieve the one thing Pagma failed to fulfill. I need the Vessel of the Soul to resurrect myself... and finally gain immortality.]

Odin's brows lifted slightly. "I see, the Vessel of the Soul? It's like a Lich Phylactery?"

Braham's expression soured instantly, his pride stinging.

[Don't put my grand masterplan with dirt like a Phylactery… Well, the idea was generated by the Phylactery, but my Genius has transcended the limits of humanity. Building a Vessel to make me Immortal while also regaining my corporal body is far grander than turning into a skeleton.]

Odin scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I see why. Who'd want to be a skeleton? No more food, no more sex... that'd make me depressed, too."

Braham blinked at him, genuinely taken aback by Odin's casual, almost sympathetic tone. For a moment, it seemed like the two men, so wildly different in personality and age, shared a bizarre, almost brotherly bond.

Braham's expression softened, and for the first time, as if Odin was his lost brother or lover.

'This guy is a Bipolar. I bet all my money on this diagnosis. As for his self-centeredness, I can't tell with this many interactions.'

'I wonder if I can persuade him to give me some quests even if I'm not this Pagma Successor?'

[Child,] Braham said after a long pause, [Show me the Pavranium again.]

Odin shrugged and casually reached into his inventory. The golden egg reappeared in his hand, still faintly glowing. The rust marks that had marred its surface earlier had begun regenerating but hadn't fully healed.

Braham's eyes widened as he stared at the piece of Pavranium, its glow now subdued and obedient in Odin's grip. 

Without warning, Braham raised a hand and fired a bolt of Arcane Missile at the egg. Odin watched curiously, unfazed, as the spell struck the Pavranium with a sharp crackle of energy.

To both of their surprise, the golden egg absorbed the magic without suffering any damage. 

Instead, the rust marks that had begun to heal flickered like the metal was momentarily feeding off the magical energy.

Odin's eyes glinted with interest. "Huh. Looks like it's got a taste for magic now."

Then, without warning, Braham's demeanor turned cold. 

[Abomination!! That cursed Pagma screwed me by overriding the commands of the owner!]

 Braham's voice trembled with an old rage as if the very sight of the Pavranium was a reminder of all his failures. He floated back slightly, his red eyes narrowing at the egg. 

"Huhu, no marks left? This one is resilient."

[Let's try another test, boy,] Braham growled, his voice filled with dark intent.

A second Arcane Missile materialized in Braham's hand, but it was aimed at Odin's heart this time. 

The friendly banter evaporated, and the atmosphere turned cold and deadly.

'Shit. I got comfortable around a Bipolar fuck who needs to take his meds.'

Odin's instincts kicked in immediately. He moved to summon a Wind Wall to block the attack, but something happened before he could cast the spell. 

The golden egg in his hand pulsed as if sensing the danger, moving of its own accord. The Pavranium shot at Odin's chest, intercepting the missile before it could reach him.

Boom! 

The Arcane Missile collided with the egg, but instead of damaging either the egg or Odin, the Pavranium absorbed the energy again. The rust marks on the egg glowed faintly, the magic revitalizing the sentient metal.

[The Pavranium has been fully submitted. Its sentience recognizes you as its rightful wielder. Future resistance is impossible.]

Both men were silent for a moment once again.

Braham stared at the Pavranium with wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and awe written across his face. 

[You… How have you done it? This abominable junk has recognized you as its Master.] 

His voice was softer now, almost reverent, though the bitterness lingered.

Odin lowered his hand, feeling the cool metal of the Pavranium against his chest. "Who should I ask?" he said, half-smirking. "I just injected my Red Energy."

Braham's eyes narrowed as his mind worked through the implications. 

[Red Energy? Ahhh... of course. The innate power of the Saharan Imperial line. It was said to alter the state of materials, yes... I remember now. The emperors used it to strengthen the armors of their Red Knights, crafting them from Black Mithril.]

His voice trailed off as if pieces of an old puzzle were finally clicking into place.

Odin crossed his arms, still keeping the egg close. "So, you got your answers? What now?"

[I want you to help me craft the Vessel of the Soul.]