A while back (about a year ago), Audland had participated in a race and two spars. He'd placed fourth in that race, just barely beat by some spindly twinkbeast despite his best efforts. In the first spar, he'd met someone special... and then pummeled their giant belly into the earth. They'd pummeled him too. It was a mutual thing.

In the second fight, Audland had lost spectacularly to someone way above his level. And then he'd gotten to see that same guy face off full throttle with someone like Audland, someone without as many advantages. She did have some neat armor, though. And she had managed to win, despite her chrysalization. Orion's stars, that had been so cool to watch.

Oh, and he'd learned two important things: gay people exist (happy pride), he might be one of them, and you can't really make Lessers give life when they don't want to. Stop counting. Look away. Wait no look back i'm not done expositing.

He'd fought with the Polaris river, met a weird bouncy ball with tentacles on it, tried and succeeded in making contact with big daddy (although it hadn't really felt like a victory), antagonized some forgettable dweebs (whose names and faces he had tattooed to the back of his eyelids), signed himself up for a weird contract or two, and... that should have wrapped up the year, or so Audland had thought. A pretty good year all in all, or at least good enough. Actually, that was more of a summary of his entire life up til this point. Was it still a good life? ...Good enough?

Some butch purple lizard lady must've thought not. She decided to spice up his life by inviting him to the big bad boss fight at year's end anyway. Even though he came in fourth. And now Audland felt... more than a little intimidated, and permanently scarred from the battle. Not that that was worth admitting to anyone. He wished he'd done more. But how could he have seen it coming? That his best efforts, while pitiful, would still be rewarded?

The fight to control one's own magic was a difficult journey for anyone. For the Corrupted, the task often proved especially counterintuitive and often deadly. And Audland preferred to keep a freeloader's heart. He had a live-and-let-live-unless-something-was-annoying-him mentality. In the inner peace and utter tranquility of his elevated mind (read: laziness), he had all but cast off the idea of ever putting real effort into understanding it.

But two things: that hyena had been faced with a death threat from a maniacal demon with a slutty waist that had completely lost his composure. And she'd won, somehow, through her training. Against an opponent Audland had faced one round prior! She lacked the advantage, she lacked the magical skill—she lacked the ability to see!! But she'd made it out with her life intact (not what Azrael had wanted), and that was a victory in Audland's eyes. If Audland ever had to face that man in another fight, would it be possible for him to do the same? More? She had shown him that the unbeatable could be beaten, if he... tried. If he didn't give up.

And the other thing was that if he'd known more, or been better, or... something, he might have survived the combat til the end. If he'd been better, he might have survived and actually won something. Not that he would have deserved it. So maybe this outcome was the most fair; but Audland wasn't partial to fairness.

He'd sought clarity. Mental clarity, and visual clarity as well. A cave he had never seen before, opened up through a passage in Ursa. It was... supposed to be dark, he imagined. But to him, it was quite pleasantly bright. He had searched further and further to find its "brightest" part. A big dish, full of whispers. Annoying as they were, Audland was no stranger to such ambience.

Here, he might just be able to think. To practice, even.

First, he would find a place in the pit to take a seat. Placing his hands upon the earth, Audland wondered what would be the easiest way to begin. Perhaps with something that he knew already liked to grow and spread. Something to set his stage. The twisted cordyceps hiding in the inner crevices of his fur—the ones that induced his constant itching and made pretty much all bathing irrelevant—rippled and coursed through his skin with delight, much to Audland's personal discomfort. Contact, with new substrate? They ate it right up, just like they had in the fight with the Champion. Maybe it wasn't about the substrate. If there was one thing Chaos certainly loved to do, it was spread.