Naraka explanation and usage

“Naraka,” I said, raising a hand. There was a sudden shift in the air—not a sound, but a sudden absence of sound. The thousands of noises of the forest and fields, the multitude of animals that called those places home, the countless things that made you think ‘this place was full of life’—it dropped away as quickly as someone closing a scroll or dropping a stone and we well in a silent world of my creation.

For the moment. I could feel it abruptly, a focus that set my teeth on edge. Cynosarges lifted his head and looked to the side, the Goliath’s corpse vanishing as we shifted from one realm to another. The silence persisted around us for a minute or two, despite the feeling, but then came the shifting, the rustling of limbs and lives in the brush. Even without my senses, I’d have known things were coming my way. There was a black smoke, curling slowly down from the skies and up from the earth, faint but gathering, and before anything even made a move, I was sure that we were surrounded.

I snorted, glancing around as I brushed the odd feeling of unease away.

“Just some Beowolves?” My grandmother asked.

“The ability is only at level one,” I replied distractedly, bringing up the profile. Suryasta and Vulturnus formed to either side of me, shoulders set as they stalked forward to arrange a slaughter.

Naraka (Active) LV1 EXP: 0.00% MP: 6000
A skill to form dimensional barriers around oneself, removed from the normal world—the power to create a hell around the user, where one will be attacked until the technique ends. The Dungeon created gives birth to creatures of Grimm that relentlessly attack all humans within the barrier, including the user; stronger dungeons may be created at higher levels to create mightier forms of Grimm and cause additional effects. If the user leaves for any reason, the barrier dissolves.
Additional 6000 MP used per hour.
Currently available Dungeon list:
Hunger of the Wolf – Monsters: Beowolves.

“It’ll get stronger,” I said after a moment, looking at it. “It’s a pretty expensive technique, but…it’s not a problem. Well, not right now at least; at higher levels, when it starts spawning greater monsters, it could be a serious issue. But hopefully the cost will decrease quickly as the ability improves.”

“What’s going on here?” Cynosarges meandered over, a furrow in his brow. “Did you…?”

“He created Grimm, yes,” She said dismissively, ignoring her friend’s sudden look. “It’s a massive barrier that spawns monsters, I’ll tell you about it later, so go kill something. Or stick around; I don’t care. More importantly, how does it work, Jaune?”

The Alexandrian head frowned at her before casting his searching gaze towards me

“It…” I paused, frown deepening. “I don’t know the word. I understand it in my head, but I can’t think of a good translation. But this barrier…it’s not like the others. It’s not just containing or sealing off a volume of space, it’s…separating it. When it says it’s a dimensional barrier, what it means is that…”

I paused, frowned, and shook my head.

“Everything inside is cut us off from the outside, because what it’s a barrier against is reality, in a way. It’s…locking us away from it and also out of it, it’s hard to explain. It’s less like…it’s less like the barrier is meant to keep what’s ‘outside’ from reaching what’s inside, though that’s part of it—but it’s designed to separate the ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ entirely, so nothing in one can affect the other. But that’s…I’m not sure if it’s working right. I can get us out, no problem, and that’s partially because I’m the caster, but normally…I…I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” She asked, eyebrow going up. “I thought you understood any book you absorbed?”

“I do,” I said immediately. “I understand it completely. But this skill…it’s not working exactly how the book said. It’s built off a rule or a system or some natural law or something that it exploits, but…I understand how it works and how it’s supposed to work.”

I frowned, looking around.

“It’s weird. What I learned when I ate the book and what its profile says, they don’t match up completely. And the profile is right but it’s odd, because the book…the…the math seems right, for lack of a better word, but I feel like the result’s not exactly what it’s supposed to be. But everything is so strange that I’m not sure if that’s because the equation is wrong or if the result is. Except the latter shouldn’t be possible; it should be the same as one plus one equaling two, true no matter what, but it’s adding up to three for some reason. The…the physics in the book don’t look wrong, but it doesn’t do what its makers thought it would…or it doesn’t now. It’s incomplete or…or out of date. It’s hard to explain, but I’m not sure if they didn’t take something into account or if the rules have changed.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, expression cautious.

“I don’t know,” I mused, shaking my head as I tried to put the thoughts together. “Because…maybe it is the book that’s in error and I’m just biased because I’m getting the story from the people whose experiment went horribly awry and probably killed them all. But there’s a part of me that sees the result as it is and doesn’t think its right. I can see it in my head, how all the pieces line up to create this, and I get it, but I feel like maybe they shouldn’t. Like a step’s been added or subtracted, but not by me or the book. No…it’s worse than that, because I feel like even if the equation was wrong, the result would be wrong independent of that—like, even if it didn’t do what it was supposed to, it shouldn’t do this, maybe? It’s like there’s two versions in my head, showing how it works and how it’s supposed to work, but…there’s no way to get from one to the other. It’s messed up.”

“What could cause something like that?”

I shrugged, uncertain.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “Maybe I’m just missing something. This book, it was a part of a field of science or…or something. And I get this topic, but maybe I’m missing something unrelated to it in the large field? Maybe some piece that…”