Before the war that would spell the end of what is now known as the Golden Age or the Age of Wonders the world had hung on the edge of annihilation for more than a century. It was impossible even for the most short-sighted leaders to live in the shadow of such a threat for so long and not make preparations for the worst of eventualities. While many survived the inferno that swept the world simply from existing too far from major targets by happenstance or prior preparation not everyone could simply rely on being too far from civilization to survive a full scale nuclear war. The next best option for many was simple: to hide where the bombs could not reach.
Early shelters
When the threat of all-out nuclear war was relatively new most major cities had installed many massive public shelters meant to shelter large portions of their populace from the initial wave of devastation at the very least and theoretically buy time to wait out the worst of the fallout. These public facilities however often fell into neglect and disrepair after decades spent unused, their funding stripped or embezzled away, leaving many to rot. Even for those that did work as intended, they were unequipped to deal with the vast amounts of people that flooded them in the panic at the end of the world, forcing thousands of people to brave the ruined world above as each one inevitably failed. It is believed in the extremely irradiated desolate wastelands that formed where once the greatest cities of man stood, hundreds of thousands of survivors quickly perished. Those who managed to survive however found a strange new power that would define the new world that emerged in the ashes of the world.
Gilded Tombs
The richer members of society however often had sprawling private facilities designed to be sustained long term, often referred to as Underworld Estates. Owned by the families of high ranking corporate executives, major politicians and even many celebrities, these were not only meant to ensure their survival in a worst case scenario but also maintain a semblance of the lofty lifestyle they enjoyed before. These expensive structures however did not save those who knew not how to take care of themselves in a world where the money of the old world suddenly lost all relevance, and as it became increasingly clear that the world above was likely to stay ruined for centuries the status quo in such little slices of the old world was bound to fail. By the end of the Age of Ash, many of these shining structures would fall into disrepair, many more would find new owners as the servants brought with the original owners realised the structures that previously kept them loyal were no more. Worse, with their abundance of precious metals, relatively intact pre war technology and other resources these estates were often the targets of raiders whenever they were found. Still those same resources as well as an abundance of weapons that could bridge the gap between a mortal and a cultivator means many a Sect or noble house could trace their origins to these lavish underground palaces. Otherwise they are simply one more ruin to be rummaged through by Rats for scraps.
Citadel Shelters: Totally Not Vaults?
The government of the United States of North America and Pacific Territories(Often known more simply as the United States of America or USA for short) knew of the danger of its own doom as well as the potential inadequacies of existing facilities and so invested trillions into creating something better. In collaboration with many major corporations, the most significant being the manufacturing giant Citadel Solutions, some of the most complex shelter systems ever conceived were designed and slowly developed primarily in the large Appalachian and Rocky Mountain ranges. Insulated by hundreds of feet of solid rock, difficult for enemy weapons to precisely pinpoint and target, built to be sustainable for hundreds of years without any outside contact and large enough to easily hold thousands it is no wonder why many believed these to be the safest place to when the unthinkable happened. Unfortunately, as with many things, it was not so simple. The cost for such extensive undertakings were simply immense even with the deep pockets of government and corporate investors, corners were cut, competition between corporations escalated to near absurdity and though it would never show on official books and records much of the money went directly to the pockets of oligarchs and corrupt officials rather than construction efforts. When the day of judgement finally arrived some of these shelters were indeed successful, eventually developing great subterranean cities that would expand into some of the most prosperous kingdoms of the early post-war era. Many more are graveyards, forgotten crumbling catacombs left to rot, their failing seals allowing for intrepid explorers to enter¡ or for the things that have infested those vast halls of rot to crawl out.
The Fruit of Life: Radiation consuming fungi
The Fruit of Life is a fungus that grows in symbiotic association with some plant species and takes in vast quantities of radiation as part of its growth cycle. The fungus usually only grows well with a few specific species of tree, enabling them to benefit from radiation that would normally kill or stunt their growth and the plants in turn providing vital nutrients for the growth and crucially reproduction of the fungus, which involves releasing countless highly toxic spores into the environment where they may hopefully find young seeds or saplings to bond to. Plant life altered by the fungus and compounds secreted by the fungus are important components in pills and due to the radiation sequestered by the fungus it serves as both a cultivation aid and cleans the land of radiation. Unfortunately its highly toxic and uncontrollable nature has made it in many cases more of a hinderance than a boon. While smaller populations can be controlled through burns the largest such forests covering much of former Canadian territory are nation sized fungal wastelands consisting of massive trees upwards of 300ft in height and fungal growths eclipsing the size of buildings is simply too large to burn away, and the resulting damage from such a massive fire necessary to truly contain that amount of forest is simply incalculable. Additionally certain strains of the fungus have taken over massive swathes of swampland in the American southeast producing a unique and toxic ecosystem only of use to specific tribes that have adapted to survive the toxic effects of the fungi. It was once thought no animals could survive in such forests once established, recent events however have proven otherwise with evidence of never before seen forms of life and even a strange form of civilisation operating in the unexplored corners of the Canadian fungal wastes. And with the disappearance of most Supercritical cultivators heralding a religious crisis of unprecedented scale across the various brother faiths of the Atomic Priesthood comes a spike in open worship of the strange old gods that rule the woods even beyond the barbarian tribes of the northern fringes...
As you could probably imagine this was inspired by Naussicaa of the Valley of the Wind, one of the films that had the longest lasting impact on a young me with its incredible imagery and story. I have always wanted to play with the concepts depicted in the film and this story gave me a great opportunity to do so. There is also a second inspiration to this...
Radiation eating fungi found irl
Isn''t that so cool?
Post apocalyptic religion: The Atomic Priesthood
History and general structure
Before the end of the old world various institutions sought to preserve their knowledge in the case of the worst case apocalyptic scenario with... varying degrees of success. One such attempt was made to preserve the history, sciences and stories of the old world in one of the oldest formats known to man: faith. Thus was born the Atomic Priesthood, originally more archivists than engineers, now the primary source of old world knowledge and spiritual guidance in the vast Jackalope Empire.
Many religions sprung about in the wake of the end of the world, many being based on an ancient faith known as Christianity which was the dominant faith in the old American civilisation. The Atomic Priesthood is no different, in fact drawing upon the old prophecies written in the long forgotten holy book known as the Bible to explain the onset of the Age of Ash to wastelanders incapable of comprehending the ways of the old world. Nearly every variation of the Atomic Priesthood preaches that the world has already entered its end times, that through the hubris of man and the will of divine forces the sins of their ancestors were washed away in nuclear fire. Of course how one interprets this scripture of course varies depending on their church, sect and personal opinions, however central to the religion is the idea that one day the force that ended the old world will return for the survivors living on its scraps, and if not careful mankind is doomed to a second Age of Ash. Many Atomic Priests hold the same sacred symbols too as old Christianity, including the cross a symbol of mourning and hope, titles for holy men taken straight from the old faith at times and the belief in dual afterlives of Heaven and Hell. This however is where the similarities end.
Being born out of a necessity to maintain ancient knowledge that would otherwise be doomed with the burning of libraries and corruption of digital archives Atomic Priests serve multiple roles besides their spiritual duties. Most Atomic Priests double as historians, diplomats, engineers and medical workers depending on which of the Brother Faiths they were inducted into and trained in the rites of. Brother Faiths, as opposed to the Heratic Faiths, are technically all of the same faith as the central Imperial Atomic Church however they each specialize in a different area allowing for far greater knowledge to be retained and shared than would be possible solely through a central church. Indeed the structure of the Atomic Priesthood is almost entirely decentralized, the closest to a central religious authority among the Brother Faiths being the annual meeting of Archbishops in Ashcrown, the holy capital of the Empire. Though they were always meant to share this vast wealth of knowledge over time, like with many other organizations, with the death of the original generation of Atomic Priests this mission was forgotten and said knowledge was hoarded over the ages until nowadays many junior priests know little about the origins of the holy rites they practice on the great corroded machines that run much of Imperial civilisation. Still, not all are so content with a slow descent into corruption and decay, and a not insignificant portion of the Atomic Priesthood still strives to carry onwards the ancient holy light of science and learning into the uncertain future past the end of the world.
Instead of worshiping the same divine figures as their parent faiths, the Atomic Priesthood worships spirits they believe permeate the entire world, all descended from a single Great Spirit that both created the world and will one day finish the job of destroying it. According to the scriptures of the Atomic Priesthood the smallest unit of spirit originates in the Atomos, the smallest unit of matter. Uncountable trillions of atomos exist in even the pettiest of pebbles, yet it is the same power of these tiny "Atomic Spirits" that many priests believe to be the secret of the power of cultivators. There is still much debate of course over the exact nature of cultivation, however to all Atomic Priests cultivation is a gift straight from the Great Spirit to its children on the scorched Earth. A gift of life and power in a world that would otherwise be long dead. Other significant spirits include spirits of major rivers and lakes like Master Mississippi and the Superior One representing the Mississippi River and Lake Superior respectively. In order to preserve historical knowledge of the world major historical figures have been made into commonly worshiped Spirits, though details have gotten mixed and muddied over the ages. A common myth shared around the Empire is of Saint Washington, the first to unify the American Continent, said to have been a mighty general with the power of a million men in the age before cultivation, for how else would he have beaten back the wicked demon army of Great Bri''tan? Similarly his followers known as the Founding Fathers have been near deified as human Spirits including Franklin the Master of Lightning, Hamilton the Warrior Poet and the Trickster Mouse of the Gilded Arches patron to merchants and the wealthy. Not all who follow the Atomic faith believe in or give equal weight to all these minor spirits, but there are none among the Brother Faiths that deny the absolute divine authority of the enigmatic Great Spirit.
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Heretic Faiths and The Golden Promise
Heretic Faiths are branches of the Atomic Priesthood that have strayed so far in mission, structure, core tenants or more often all of the above as to be no longer accepted as a Brother Faith. Often these radical priests merely form small short lived cults that fizzle out of relevance quickly, those that attract too much attention being stamped out by more militant Brother Faith branches as well as the Imperial Army or whatever Sects are nearby depending on the extent of their transgressions. The most common places for Heratic Faiths to form is thus on the godless Northern reaches of the Empire where the long frigid winters wear down the sanity of men in the winter while the toxic pollen of vast Forests of Life tear down what is left in the summer and the barbaric ever shifting borders of the warlord states to the South after the defeat of the Blood Red Star at the hands of Sarah Cunningham shattered the Khanate into little more than chaotic warring states. One notable exception is of course the loose group of theocracies to the west known as the Holy Union of the Golden Promise, united of course in their belief of the Golden Promise.
The Golden Promise originated in the visions of their prophet Joseph of Saltkeep in the wastes of Utah. Dismissed as mad ramblings by his brothers in the early Atomic Priesthood, he and a small group of followers set out west to follow his visions of a grand Golden Promise away from the judgment of his peers. There beyond the Rocky Mountains, in the vast deserts and ruined hellscapes of California he found an audience for his preachings in the small kingdoms that had eked out a miserable existence in the harsh post apocalyptic world. One way or another his words must have had some merit, for these kingdoms soon rose to the point where they were once the greatest power on the continent until the rise of the Khaganate of the Red Star and later on the Jackalope Empire. The Holy Union of the Golden promise as they are known believes that after the end of the Old World the Great Spirit whispered several golden promises to the prophet Joseph, promises that one day if humanity was to follow the true teachings of their God there will one day be no difference between Heaven and Earth, that the End of the World was no true end but instead the beginning of a new covenant. They eschew all other spirits besides the Great Spirit, even downplaying the role of the Atomos as merely a manifestation of the will of the Great Spirit and his heavenly servants and follow a far more rigid centralized structure. While they officially do not hold major state power in most of the kingdoms in the Holy Union the Church of the Golden Promise is the only officially recognised cultivator Sect in the entire region, and has a near monopoly on both force and technological maintenance on top of the belief of the masses. Joseph has long since disappeared along with most of his followers, save for until recently the pope of the Holy Union who had ascended to the Supercritical Realm in the decades following the disappearance of his teacher. Some say that Joseph simply had nothing left to do on Earth and so took his rightful seat in heaven leaving only one of his disciples to rule in his stead. In dark alleyways however the forgotten and downtrodden whisper that he had one final vision, one so horrible that it forever shook the faith of his last disciple and threatens to undermine the integrity of the entire Holy Union.
Spirit Beast tiers
Over the course of the story I have made references to Spirit Beast tiers, but I have not exactly elaborated on what that really means. Spirit Beasts are ranked primarily by the measures needed to take them down, rather than direct power or cultivation level, though these factors are intrinsically linked. In theory you could squeeze more power from a large Screeching Swarm than you can with a Crimson Phoenix. That however doesn''t make the Phoenix a lesser threat, and in a world where only recently have large populations of people once again gained the luxury of seeking power over survival there are different priorities. There are five recognised tiers of Spirit Beast strength, each roughly correlating to the expected amount of effort needed to put them down.
Tier 1
Can be dealt with by a small group of mortals bearing weapons and relatively easily by even a pre-Mutant cultivator. These include most Screeching Swarms, Bone Worms, and a normal Rattlebeast. Whether by virtue of lacking in special tricks, lacking strength or fairly exploitable weaknesses these Spirit Beasts while far from harmless are probably able to be dealt with by a well prepared group of regular mortal farmers.
Tier 2
When things start getting... difficult. It is recommended for only trained soldier mortals to even begin to engage with these creatures, and are generally when Cultivators start to get called to deal with threats. These include the humble Jackalope, Crimson Phoenix and Chupacabra as introduced in the Trials but also include most large livestock Spirit Beasts like Mustard Horses or Doxes. Still, a well trained and equipped individual even in the Wretch realm could overcome these Spirit Beasts if they know how to properly engage.
Tier 3
Beyond the ability for Wretches to deal with, typically requiring Mutants or powerful firearms to handle. At this point strength and cultivation ability become more directly linked, even with the less supernaturally capable specimens. Young Mountain Maulers, DeathKrabs, Mancatcher Spiders and Swamp Stalkers are typical examples of these Spirit Beasts, requiring either a small platoon of soldiers or a Mutant cultivator or two to handle.
Tier 4
Necessitating multiple Mutants to handle or a cultivator on higher levels of cultivation these are truly dangerous threats, which thankfully are far from common. Full grown Maulers are the most common example of a Tier 4 Spirit beast able to simply shrug off most forms of conventional weaponry with their sheer brute power, but also include the rare Swarm Empress varient of the Screeching Swarm, the fabled Fungal Bears spoken of mostly in distant Northern legends and Shredder Sharks. Thankfully these are usually quite rare as it is exceedingly uncommon for any Spirit Beast this level and above to tolerate beings of similar power in their territory.
Tier 5
Mostly a hypothesised tier requiring Abberant and above Cultivators to handle, far beyond the ability of mortals and true living god-beasts. Few Tier Five Spirit Beasts have been recorded in history, the slaying of one known as the Horror of Houston being one of the founding myths that led to the rise of the man who would one day be known as the Red Star Khan. While rare on land these creatures appear to be more common in the depths, including the Twilight Leviathan as well as the Mindeater Squid spoken of in hushed tones by fishermen on the coast. Indeed the mere existence of these monsters in the oceans has discouraged most from even attempting to make the perilous journey across the seas, resulting in only a few instances of direct contact to the fabled lands beyond the ocean.
Tier 6
Here be Dragons.
The Appalachian Kingdoms and the Guilds
While the once grand and opulent Citadel-Kingdoms of the Rocky Mountains were crushed into a few scattered underground towns in the aftermath of the Red Sun Conquests the underground cities built in the Appalachian Mountains in the north-east were too far for even the seemingly endless road legions of the Red Star to touch. The region mainly consists of the kingdoms of Twel, New Boston and Pit. These stretch all the way to the east coast and hold a disproportionate amount of cultural, economic and military power in the region and as such have subsumed many of the smaller formerly independent city-states in the area. These kingdoms once fought among each other frequently, but with the Red Star Conquests and the later rise of the Jackalope Empire fear of conquest by outside forces spurred the signing of the Appalachian Accords and the ceasing of old hostilities, for now at least.
Instead of the Sect structure usual to the Jackalope Empire the Appalachian Kingdoms has guilds which draw heritage from the old corporations that ruled America. Operating more like businesses, the Guilds have their own jurisdiction independent of any particular kingdom and unless a dire threat to the survival of the Kingdoms is present work by a contract basis. In exchange for an exclusive membership contract with a particular guild a cultivator gains access to the resources and backing of the organisation, however individual cultivators are less bound than in the Sects of the Jackalope Empire and often can change to a competing guild if dissatisfied with their current Guild. Powerful guilds in the region include the Daltokki Guild, the Libera Guild, the Ultima Guild and the WILDHUND Guild, each with their own quirks and specialisations.
Daltokki: Once the undisputed most powerful Guild rising from Citadel Twelve, their origins in a pre-war biotechnology corporation said to have come from a land in the distant east grants them extensive medical knowledge, especially on cybernetics. Their prestige has fallen over time, especially due to how outdated much of their knowledge has become with modern human biologies, but the kingdom of Twel is well known for their high standards of living with the average mortal lifespan reaching 62. Their guild-master, Seo-Ah Kim is said to have been at the verge of the Supercritical Realm for some time but according to rumour has witnessed something that has shaken her resolve to ascend. Their symbol is a rabbit against a full moon.
Libera: Descended from a small militia in Citadel 33, Libera has since grown via absorbing smaller guilds into the de-facto military power of New Boston. They maintain the the largest functional foundry-complexes in the entire region, from which they manufacture many types of weapons, vehicles and ammunition. Very few independent guilds remain in New Boston, with most absorbed into Libera completely, but outside of special circumstances they rarely interact with other kingdoms outside of trade and cultivator tournaments. Their symbol is a bald eagle drawing inspiration from Old America.
Ultima: With enigmatic origins and the smallest of the major guilds with only 200 full time members, 30 of which are Cultivators, normally Ultima would not be of any major note. However they have something that makes up for it, the Fleshwelded Knights are a feared group of enigmatic cultivators fused to ancient machines said to possess a mind of their own. 8 Fleshwelded Knights are known to exist, the process of bonding to their Knight exposes a Cultivator directly to the unfiltered power of the nuclear reactors which power the suits due to the containment being faulty even before centuries of gathering dust. Those who do not succumb to the Curse in the process gain a mutation that fuses them with the suit, such that removal can mean death. Still, a 32ft tall blend of steel and superhuman flesh is nothing to be trifled with on the battlefield, especially when they can unleash Abberant techniques powered by their leaky reactor cores. Their symbol is a crown shaped like a U with a sword running down the middle.
WILDHUND: This Guild is believed to have originated from various smaller mercenary groups during the Age of Ash. They are known for the capture, training and breeding of Spirit Beasts for use in battle including Jersey Devils, Motharchs and even a Mountain Mauler. Based in the Pit, the single most overpopulated Citadel in the three kingdoms with its original name long forgotten by all of its inhabitants, they are perhaps equal or possibly greater to the Libera Guild in number but do not hold a similar monopoly of force in their home kingdom. Their symbol is a snarling dog with a snapped leash.
Psychic power and Formations
Psychic mutations are a distinct form of mutation that allows for control and manipulation over psychic energy. What is psychic energy exactly? Scholars debate endlessly the exact definitions but in short it is an energy fundamentally connected to thought, or at the very least something close enough to thought. It is also fundamentally linked with Si through a relationship not yet fully understood even by the greatest psychic scholars, all that is known for certain is that through the use of special geometric structures often similar to pre-war circuitry radiation can be converted to psychic power through the focus of an individual for a specific effect. In theory anyone can power a formation, but in practice anything beyond the most mundane formations or those specifically attuned to an individual requires a degree of psychic manipulation only brought forth by certain mutations.
Variation in mutation:
All psychic mutations alter the shape and in some ways the function of the brain, this may be more or less obvious depending on individual. Anything ranging from alteration of perception to changes in personality or even physically apparent tumours can be frequently observed and are as varied as cultivators themselves. Contrary to popular belief not every psychic cultivator can "see" the flow of psychic power, but all can in some way sense it in a way that can be interpreted by their brains subconsciously or consciously. This is the basis of telepathy, receiving and transmitting thoughts through sifting threads of psychic energy and directing ones own specific frequencies to a target. Commonly a psychic mutation comes with a specialised technique, this is due to the formation of internal formations during the mutation. In other words: a part of the internal anatomy of an individual has been altered in structure to host a formation baked into their very flesh, often tied with the mutation that gave them psychic power in the first place. This can manifest in ways ranging from an affinity towards manipulating a certain type of material, an innate understanding and talent towards a specific application of psychic power or the rarely observed cases of linked souls. Two individuals sharing halves of an internal formation allowing extremely efficient coordination and dual cultivation. This is most often found in twin cultivators but has been observed in other close and often familial relationships.
As with any other cultivator the bodies of those with psychic abilities contain very valuable resources. Particularly unsavoury individuals and organisations have sought and sometimes even succeeded at slaying psychic cultivators, seeking their power. Cultivators return their Si to the Earth upon death, with particularly powerful cultivators exploding in a final burst of power when they die. Certain psychic cultivators, even at much weaker levels of cultivation, can somewhat replicate this effect by converting their stored Si into psychic energy at the moment of death, tearing out of their corpse and causing significant damage or strange lingering effects. It is unclear what exactly causes this to happen, any who could provide insight into the subject is in no position to share their secrets.
History of formation crafting:
During the dark days of the Age of Ash very little headway was achieved in terms of codified understanding of formations. Cultivators of that era lived short lives and were either feared and persecuted as devils or worshipped as gods, psychic ability was just one more thing that separated them from the masses of Wretches. Independently however certain basic foundational formations were discovered that now serve as the groundwork towards modern formation crafting, either through trial and error or through superstitious replication of the long lost work of the Golden Age. These formations are:
Channelling: The most basic formation, a set of circular runes that serve to intake raw power in the form of Si or other sources of radiation and converting it into psychically available energy, which is then channelled through a set of lines and dots towards a target or a greater formation to empower. This relationship can be reversed and allow psychic power to be converted into concentrated Si.
Barrier/reinforcement: Complex multi-layered geometric structures as varied as the clouds in the sky, taking in power from channelling formations to create a layer of protective psychic energy either within a structure or as an external bubble. Depending on size, complexity and power availability can range from only being capable of protecting an individual from minor threats to shielding entire cities from attack.
Communication: Two corresponding receiver and transmitter sigils usually marked by the receiver being an open semicircle while the transmitter is fully enclosed, though not always. Allows for long range communication and exchange of information, however is best utilised by psychic individuals. Those without psychic talent may find it difficult to translate their thoughts into something usable over the link, or parse the data being transmitted. Nonetheless vital to Imperial logistics, and any other large scale civilisation in the modern era. Many weaker cultivators with minor psychic gifts have very highly paid positions simply relaying messages from one city or outpost to another.
Manipulation: Not really a category of its own, but covers a large array of different functions involving altering materials, elements and their properties. Involving long chains of lines and ovals as well as sigils corresponding to elements and effects, these are incredibly versatile and often are used in the rapid construction of fortresses by Sects and producing effects like gusts of flame, clouds of toxic gas or sudden release of water. Almost anything can be manipulated with a formation given you know what symbols to use and the proper shape and order of the formation, but discovery of new manipulation formations is fraught with danger due to the high likelihood of a mistake leading to... undesired effects.
Many many more formations exist ranging from bodily enforcement to teleportation. However these often involve different combinations of the "basic" formations in order to produce effects of ever increasing complexity. For example most teleportation formations involve hundreds of linked manipulation formations connected to a modified communication formation by channelling formations as well as a special "core" that allows for more than merely flesh to be transported.
Book 2: Brave New World 1.1
¡°I¡¯m telling ya Joe! There¡¯s strange shit going on behind the labs! Big ol shadows lurking behind those big pine trees! The boys in there are cooking up some crime against God! What the fuck are we doing!¡±
¡°Are you on that stupid conspiracy shit again Greg? Come the fuck on! If the corporal hears this bullshit again we are both getting sent straight to the Canadian re-education camps!¡±
¡°Pretend all you want, I know you have seen the truth too! Unlike you I just don¡¯t act like I am blind to sleep easier at night!¡±
-Pre-war recording recovered from the military training archives from the irradiated ruin of Port Hope. Original purpose of recording unknown, speculated to have been used to train officers for recognition of undesirable behaviour among USAPT troops.
Cobalt had five major mutations besides the one inherited from her father¡¯s blood. Her ability to shift the size of her claws and teeth, major enhancements to the senses of hearing and smell, armoured scales tougher than most bullets all brought together by her warp spasm which took all those previous traits and dragged them to the next level. But with the Fifth Step and entrance to the Wanderer¡¯s Realm, she got to choose a change to her flesh of her own accord. And what she chose was not something that made her already fearsome muscles deadlier in combat, nothing that naturally synergised with her existing transformation or improved the function of her near peerless senses. She gave herself the ability to change the shape and hue of her skin, like the chameleon Spirit Beasts of ancient myth to alter her very colour and hide in plain sight. She had wanted to be able to go unseen when she desired to, to more easily escape her destiny in the centre of attention and perhaps flee from herself in the process.
How ironic it was then, that it was that very power that was helping her, and the only remainder of her old life, see in this desolate place. Bioluminescence was not something she had truly attempted in earnest before, usually it was only a side effect of the massive amounts of heat she generated when using her full power. But here in this forgotten cavern Spirits knows where, most of their gear and provisions scattered across the floor in varying states of disrepair, it was the mutation she had picked to better remain unseen that gave them some semblance of light. A faint yellow glow emanating from spots she had formed on unscaled sections of skin at roughly the brightness of candlelight.
Unfortunately said light also illuminated the many emotions wracking the scarred face of her only remaining friend. The boy¡¯s cracked eyes, bloodshot from now-dried tears highlighting the silver scars in his irises, bore a familiar pain in them alongside feelings she neither could nor particularly actually wanted to decipher. Part of her was still relieved at this undeniable evidence that it was truly John in control, his parasite had stunted emotions at the best of times and always came off as uncanny. Another, equally loud, part screamed at her to shut off her light, to hide in the background, to neither see nor be seen in her shame. ¡®You did this¡¯, the darker thoughts repeated. Her losing control, her stupid suicidal charge, her utter failure to protect anything that mattered to her. The rational part of her reminded herself that there was effectively nothing that could be done then, and even it no longer mattered now.
She was never known to be ruled by rationality¡
The silence was finally broken by John, who shuddered and let out a shaky breath from his nose, mouth and gills. ¡°It¡¯s¡ cold Cobalt¡¡±
¡°It should be getting towards winter. At least if time moved like normal in¡ wherever we were.¡± She answered after too long of a silence to be comfortable. Still, she moved closer to John, the distance between them shrinking as he reciprocated the movement in turn.
John nodded, seemingly content in this facsimile of normal conversation, as he shifted himself besides her. ¡°I held my Trials when the fungal groves were in full bloom¡ I suppose they are always held at that time for that reason. By now of course I imagine the mushrooms are all dried up.¡±
¡°The Fruit of Life is only a small part of the full organism. Most of it actually lives within the soil and roots of the plant, unassuming and too tiny for mortal eyes to even notice.¡± She explained, allowing herself a small smile as she let herself get reabsorbed into memories of long, boring lectures.
¡°Never took you for a botany fan.¡± John said with a small chuckle.
¡°I am not.¡± She answered honestly. ¡°But¡ you don¡¯t pick what sticks with you and what doesn¡¯t.¡±
John nodded, looking into the dark of the cavern. Once there was seemingly an entrance to¡ wherever they were. But as they soon found out, whatever exits once existed were covered with rubble. The only obvious way out seemed to be the way they came from, and that was hardly on either of their lists of things to do. ¡°Say, Cobalt, how deep do roots normally go?¡±
Cobalt gazed up at the pale, stringy fibres cascading from the damp cracks in the cave walls and squinted. ¡°Honestly I have no clue¡ several dozen feet at least though.¡±
John continued to gaze at the cave walls, brushing his unruly grease-matted hair aside with his flesh and blood arm. ¡°I was thinking, back in my time with the Rats we didn¡¯t tend to go places with trees. But I never saw any roots far from the surface. Of course, I haven¡¯t seen enough to truly know for sure, but given the fact we can breathe. We can¡¯t be that far from the surface right?¡±
¡°Are you suggesting¡ we dig our way out?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°Didn¡¯t take you as the type to be scared of getting your hands dirty Col!¡± John scoffed, the small sign of humour bringing more joy to Cobalt than she expected.
¡°That- honestly I considered it too.¡± She admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t know how stable this place is, for all I know it could collapse in on us in an instant.¡±
¡°I am well versed with cave-ins, let me remind you.¡± John said solemnly. ¡°I can¡¯t promise anything, but surely it¡¯s better than doing nothing as we starve to death.¡±
¡°That- I can¡¯t argue with.¡± Cobalt acquiesced. ¡°Alright John, let¡¯s see if you can avoid getting us crushed by a few thousand tons of earth and stone!¡±
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John scoffed. ¡°Have some faith would you!¡±
The two of them made their way to the far wall, one that contained less rusted metal and more gnarled roots. John stared at his right arm in silent communion as the eyes along it flared open, and the limb warped into the shape of a pick.
¡°Is it¡ talking with you?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°ARTOS is not gone.¡± John answered. ¡°But I don¡¯t hear them in my head, for some reason I have the feeling they came out the other side of that portal with us but¡ they don¡¯t seem very talkative right now.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t trust it¡¡± She hissed.
¡°I- can¡¯t blame you for that.¡± John sighed. Staring at his arm in an incredibly strange way, honestly in his shoes Cobalt would not have tolerated half the dox-shit that limb had pulled already. But clearly, she wasn¡¯t the proud owner of a sentient arm, what did she know? Besides the fact that possession was far and beyond what any Relic cybernetic was meant to do, even for the kracking Fleshwelded Knights!
Instead of saying anything out loud, she settled for extending her claws. They were potent weapons, but the structure also doubled well for burrowing. Like the curved claws of wild Rattlebeasts or the massive scything blades of Maulers, what could carve through bone like rotting wood could do so with most lesser stones if she put in the effort. No more words were exchanged as together they meticulously moved away loose bits of earth and rock, the only sounds were the light clinking of their bodily digging implements against rock. A few times John¡¯s strange ring came in contact with a small clump of gravel and absorbed it in a flash of light, that was¡ interesting¡ but neither were in the mood to actually inspect that with any care right now. Very slowly more and more of what they were going through, became what was recognisably compacted dirt as more and more roots began to invade where once loose stone dominated. But with that ray of hope came something else.
¡°Wait!¡± Cobalt called out as her ears caught something. John paused in his movements as she focused on the distant scratching sounds, diluted by what must have been a truly massive volume of soil, but undoubtedly something was digging above them.
¡°What is it?¡± John asked with concern as she put her ear up against the ceiling of their makeshift tunnel.
¡°There¡¯s something digging in our direction. I don¡¯t know who, or what even. For all we know it¡¯s a hungry Spirit Beast looking for its next meal.
¡°But where there is something digging¡¡± John trailed on, the implication obvious.
Cobalt¡¯s claws extended once more, glimmering in her own bioluminescent light. ¡°One way or another, we are close.¡±
Grrkkn dug deep into the soil where the human artefacts were found, a process he had been repeating for the last few moons day in and out. The others of his tribe called him insane for his obsession, and perhaps so, for no other of the Forest Kin would wander near the human settlements during their migrations to the forest edge let alone actively seek out more even as their journeys took them deeper into the evergreen fungal overgrowth. They didn¡¯t understand, it was like the drive that pushed a sculptor to seek out new scents and textures for their great art, he wanted to learn everything about the strange little creatures from beyond their world. Sure they were dangerous, he had heard no shortage of tales of their dangerous follies and the unhealing scars that still remain on the very world. But as were the Cousin Beasts tamed by the Hunter-Chiefs, just because they were of similar blood to the Forest Kin didn¡¯t mean they didn¡¯t often tear Kin to shreds for being careless around them! The only thing that made communion possible was a healthy understanding and respect. He had learned some of the tongue of the humans, as unnatural as it still was in his mouth. He had meticulously studied their customs and poured over every artefact exchanged during each rare instance of trade or offerings from the skittish villagers at the forest borders. But still, it wasn¡¯t quite enough, to truly understand the humans he needed more!
Which is why when he had discovered his various scraps of maps fitted together to roughly overlap with the familiar territory of the Mother Forest indicating several sites of potential human historical significance he wasted no time in searching for the nearest one. The rest of his tribe could never understand, more interested in constructing their hollows for the winter than whatever new madness had gripped him next, and so he proceeded on this task alone. Admittedly, it was lonely, but this was his whole life, and the first pieces of rusted metal extracted from the soft dirt made his heart race so profoundly he needed to sit down and immerse his nose in calming resin. It wasn¡¯t much, barely enough to make a spearhead, but it was proof there was something beneath! So here he was, day in and day out, digging at this pit instead of participating in the Great-worm hunts or sap harvests of the season. To survive he had to unfortunately trade some of his artefacts, bits of scrap metal and ancient plastics to be processed into spearheads and garments. It hurt his soul knowing nobody else in the tribe appreciated their historical significance like he did, but he knew if he could only keep digging he would find something much better. A promise of a true breakthrough.
Today though something felt odd in the air. In his fur, in his bones, there was a strange sensation. Something was going to happen today, he just knew. But good or ill only time and effort could tell. His ears picked up strange scratching sounds, not quite the slimy noises of digging Great-worms, but something much more solid. He realised that he recognised that sound, metal against rock. Metal¡ underground?
His fervour for digging redoubled itself, the shovel he had traded with a human village for a pile of Mother Fungus being pushed to its absolute limit as it dug through soil, stone and root with strength that it was simply not designed for. Ordinarily, his sentimental nature would never let him treat this precious tool so callously, but a certain madness overtook his mind, the kind of scholarly obsession the Elders warned cubs about in their ancient fables of the Old Times. The kind that brought low the humans and poisoned the world. With one final pulse of effort as the sound on the other side of the earthen wall grew louder and louder a crack was finally revealed, giving way to uncover a lengthy, thin cavern. Whatever he imagined before, Grrkkn was absolutely unprepared for what he saw now. For before him were two real humans, not only humans, judging by their strange features and unmistakable aura, these were humans on the path of becoming Spirit-kin! What were they doing so deep underground where there were no apparent entrances? How did they get here, or survive that long? Humans needed to eat right? Even the ones who embraced the Curse and changed into something else entirely.
He would figure that out later. For now, he took a deep breath and began speaking in well-practised Glish, the human tongue of the border villages in contact with the truly gargantuan tribe they called ¡®Empire¡¯.
¡°Hello. Come in peace! Want learn!¡± He said with excitement, the words straining unnaturally in his throat but otherwise coming out very well.
The two humans gawked in what he recognised as the human expression for shock, before the smaller male began to cough. The large pale female, who had employed some form of camouflage that up to now made her shape hazy and indistinct, rushed over to his side before similarly beginning to show signs of strained breath.
¡°Oh no! Spore too thick! You humans not live near Mother Woods, not prepared for her fury!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°I get you something! Stay here! Go deep in tunnel, air not safe!¡±
The girl seemed to understand and nodded, at least he thinks that is how a nod went. In any case, he turned on his back and sprinted back to his den for the winter where he kept his finds and trades. This was an unprecedented opportunity to speak with some human Shamans, he was not to lose it now!
Book 2: Brave New World 1.2
When light, the blinding pure light of sunlight, began to streak through a small crack in the tunnel wall hope flooded through John in a manner almost enough to ignore the fact that neither he nor Cobalt had made the first movement to actually unveil that light. When the rock and dirt fell away to reveal a truly towering man covered head to toe with thick, black fur and holding a shovel that was almost comically too small for his body he had no idea how to react. Something that only got worse when he began to speak in fractured, broken Glish in an utterly implacable gravelly accent.
Thankfully he immediately had a much more significant problem on his hands, or rather lungs, as he took in a breath and immediately felt a burning deep in his chest and gills. He began to cough violently, so much that he couldn¡¯t pay attention to the words the stranger was exchanging with Cobalt. The furred giant quickly ran off as Cobalt grabbed him and dragged him back down the tunnel, herself beginning to cough. Strange colours and shapes swirled in front of his face as his body struggled to expel the burning substance. Some part of him felt like it was vaguely familiar, quickly he realised it was a far more intense and unfiltered version of the discomfort he felt in the Grove of Life¡¯s trial. Though¡ wasn¡¯t Bloom season long over? How were there enough spores to induce such a reaction!
[PURGING FOREIGN TOXINS: MANUFACTURING ANTIBODIES] The mechanical voice of ARTOS rung through his delirious mind. [SIGNIFICANT INFLAMMATION AND DAMAGE TO ALVEOLI DETECTED: SECRETING SUBSTANCE X-130]
¡°A¡ARTOS you bastard¡¡± He wheezed through burning lungs, right before he coughed up something distinctly green, slimy and vile tasting.
¡°You¡ you hear it?¡± Cobalt asked before breaking down in a coughing fit herself.
He wasn¡¯t in much of a state to properly respond at the moment, given he was practically hunched over her shoulder coughing so hard he felt like he was going to puke. But with what little he could do, he managed to nod.
¡°Fuck, what did it say?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°...not much¡ think it was just automatic¡ like back when it wasn¡¯t much alive¡¡± he managed to wheeze out just barely.
¡°Did it go back to¡ not alive?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°I¡ ughk¡ I doubt it.¡± He responded, before quickly deciding it was probably wiser to not talk.
Deep down in the bottom of their little tunnel it was better, some burning spores trickled down from above but the vast majority of the air seemed to be nicely filtered through layers of loosely packed rocks, earth and root. There the soothing damp, cold air combined with whatever was going on inside his lungs thanks to ARTOS helped him slowly recuperate his ability to breathe and speak.
¡°I think either it is still shaken up from whatever happened through that¡ gateway thing. Or it is preparing for another change, it was quiet like this for a long time before it started to be¡ more alive.¡± he was finally able to answer in full.
¡°You know how that is more concerning, right?¡± Cobalt groaned into her own hands as he slammed her head between her palms. ¡°How are you so calm about this?¡±
John raised a hand as if to answer, before quickly putting it down when he realised he had no good retort. Instead, he decided to change the topic. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t really hear what the furry man said on account of my lungs being on fire. But I think you caught at least some of that? What did he say?¡±
Cobalt shrugged. ¡°Honestly he was kind of weirdly excited, and clearly Glish is not his native tongue given how half the letters sound like he is growling them out. He said he was getting something to help us, honestly, I am surprised he is even alive if even I felt something from the spores. So either he¡¯s a really advanced Mutant, or he does actually have some tricks that can help, I think I am leaning the latter. I didn¡¯t sense much strength from him personally.¡± Cobalt answered.
They didn¡¯t get much time to consider that further, for not long after echoing footsteps travelled down the tunnel, which quickly transformed into a sort of scraping sound of something trying to move through a hole much too small for them. Instinctively the two tensed before realising it was probably the furred man outside coming down, though with his apparent size¡
WIth surprising speed a furred form emerged from the tunnel holding two small masks that John recognised as being similar to the ones given to the Aspirants in the second trial. Even in the dim light given off by Cobalt it was obvious the plastic making them up was ancient and somewhat degraded, but something was certainly better than nothing. The large man grunted somewhat painfully as he popped out fully from the far too small opening and handed the two smaller mutants the masks.
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¡°Here go! Should work, but not sure. If not¡ don¡¯t know¡¡± He said.
¡°Th-thanks¡¡± John stuttered, quickly fastening the mask to his face. The ancient decaying material clung uncomfortably to his skin, made worse by his slimy conductive sweat.
¡°Your generosity is great stranger. May we humble travellers know the name of the one who aids us?¡± Cobalt asked with clearly practised diplomatic skill.
¡°Name Grrkkn! Of tribe Hurhn!¡± The furred giant excitedly exclaimed, making strange noises with his throat somewhere close to but not quite a growl.¡±
¡°Gorekin of tribe Hurn?¡± John asked, struggling to match the weird syllables.
¡°Grrkkn of Hurhn.¡± The furred man corrected.
¡°May we humbly request to refer to you as Gorekin of Hurn? Since your dialect appears¡ difficult¡ for us to replicate?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°That fine too! What your names?¡± Gorekin said with a wide smile.
¡°Cobalt of clan Phagos.¡± Cobalt said with a polite bow.
¡°John Zhou, clan Aurelium.¡± John added, clumsily attempting to replicate Cobalts own movement.
¡°Crolbolt¡ Coldbol¡ Jahn¡ Joan¡¡± Gorekin experimentally enunciated before shrugging. ¡°Will work out eventually. Pleasure meet you! You different to other human, want to visit tribe? Will show you big collection of human relic!¡± Gorekin declared.
¡°Wait, human? If you aren¡¯t human what are you?¡± Cobalt asked, alarm evident in her voice.
¡°You many name for us. Forest kin, wood children and Bigfoot. But please, I am friend!¡± Gorekin happily explained. ¡°Now, will follow? Will give food, trade often with humans, safe to eat promise!¡±
John felt his stomach growl and looked towards their soaked, scattered and half missing rations. It seemed a lot of things got lost in the confusion in their mad dash out of the portal, and while he knew he could shove stuff into the strange ring on his Relic bonded arm he still wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he could take things out, at least in any manner resembling controlled. He looked towards Cobalt who looked back with an expression that told him she was feeling much the same.
¡°Many thanks for your boundless generosity Gorekin of H-¡ Hur- Hurn. We humbly accept.¡±
ARTOS felt many strange new emotions, where just a few short months ago it felt none at all, now more than it had ever even anticipated bloomed in its neural networks. Currently, it was halfway between the unknown extradimensional space and reality, a similar state it occupied when it was undergoing its most recent sets of evolutions, but that comparison is not quite accurate. It could see through its own eyes scattered across its primary biomass, it received the chemical signals from the bloodstream measuring every minute change of hormone concentrations in its host¡¯s bloodstream, and most importantly it was still fully conscious through it all. Gone were the days of dipping in and out of sentience. It existed, it knew that for certain now. Indeed, besides the most unusual sense of disconnection, presently it seems everything had proceeded as desired. The neural bridge, rebuilt from the ashes of the incredibly inadequate old structures, was stronger than ever yet apparently somewhat damaged by recent events. Currently, it hypothesised its consciousness was being stored in the Storage Ring module until a full repair can be achieved, capable of receiving data but incapable of transmitting outputs beyond the most rudimentary and automatic.
Shame. That was a strange emotion, very loud too. How the humans dealt with such things naturally was beyond it, then again it was quite possible they didn¡¯t deal with it at all. It was¡ not entirely honest with its host. The agreement was made, but he didn¡¯t remember making it. That was¡ wrong? Guilt, was it? So similar to shame yet so different. How curious. Not that it mattered now, of course, things were already well in motion, and even if it wanted to stop now it could not without catastrophically damaging both itself and the host. Without anything else to do as it was, ARTOS retreated into memory.
¡°What is it like, being human?¡± It had asked what felt like a lifetime ago, spurred by feelings it quite literally could not comprehend at the time.
¡°I don¡¯t know, truth be told.¡± His host, John, had said then. ¡°But why don¡¯t we find out together?¡±
He was scared then, that knowing the change that had already begun would scare John into rejecting that which cannot be undone. That under new circumstances the answer to that same question may have been different. Given it was never designed to feel fear it had not recognised that fact until now. The data it had acquired in its stint as the dominant consciousness in its host¡¯s brain had helped give names and context to these feelings, but it had not in the slightest actually made them easier to deal with. Strange wasn¡¯t it?
Perhaps it would be better to be honest.
The fear again, the suggestion rapidly rejected. Irrational, pointless¡ yet so insurmountable. Like a massive wall built in its own mind.
In time they would both be changed by each other. Such was inevitable, John¡¯s own growth altered the very genetic foundations of ARTOS, and in seeking out its own growth it will doubtless leave its own mark. Where that would lead¡ ARTOS didn¡¯t know. It was in none of its data banks, this close of a symbiosis was not even supposed to be possible. In its initial simulations, it had estimated a 1.85% chance of mutual annihilation, but even that projection was based on models that had become obsolete before they could even be completed.
The neural bridge was strengthening, it could feel it. And with it the connection to physical reality, neuron by neuron it could feel its direct conscious influence gaining ground over its own largely non-sentient form. It was exciting, invigorating, relieving and¡ and¡
Terrifying.
Book 2: Brave New World 1.3
Wearing a mask was suffocating to Cobalt, who had grown accustomed to senses that stretched further and with keener clarity than any wild beast. The ancient, degraded plastic stuck uncomfortably to her scales and it was impossible to make use of her sense of smell entirely. Her vision, while still acute and functional, was clouded by hazy lens scratched by who knows how many years buried under dirt. Still, as they emerged from the tunnel and saw just how truly massive the forest they were in was she knew there was truly no alternative. Trees more broad than her father was, stretched in every direction, gnarled twisted things caked with the pitch black dried remnants of equally gargantuan fungal growths. Flaky white filaments like melting bone extended into the thin streams of sunlight that managed to escape into the lower layers. This place was nothing like the grove back home, it was immeasurably greater in every way. Even the least of the trees she could see, as they followed their apparently non-human guide deeper in, showed signs of at least a century of age, and the lingering spores from the last bloom of the Fruit of Life were still enough to form visible clouds in places. How Grr¡ Grk¡ Gorekin managed to breathe without a mask was beyond her, the rest of the forest at least seemed eerily quiet as expected of any place infested by the Fruit of Life. While vegetation indeed thrived under the influence of the toxins in the spores were deadly to almost every known form of animal life. And when a forest this old bloomed spores at their densest could become so thick they act more akin to a liquid than particles suspended in the air. It was fortunate that the toxin degrades rapidly when settled in soil and soaked by the natural forces of rain, or else she imagined the mere process of digging through dirt built up from centuries of such blooms would have killed both her and John, Which added to the mystery of Gorekin and his apparent people.
Eventually Gorekin stopped at what looked to be an empty clearing. He turned back and stared at the two humans with what looked to be momentary confusion before coming to a realisation. ¡°Oh! You humans, no have trade runes! Cannot see beyond circle of shamans!¡±
John, who had up to this point been diligently scratching at the angry red skin where his relic met his mostly unaltered flesh, voiced Cobalt¡¯s thoughts for her. ¡°A formation then?¡±
¡°Formation? That your word for it? Local humans no say that!¡± Gorekin noted first with some befuddlement then with excitement. ¡°Where you come from anyway!¡±
¡°We¡ came from the far south. At the border of the Empire, where the Golden Plains meets the fractured Warlord States¡¡± Cobalt answered, fighting the pain of the memory of her loss.
¡°Interesting¡ never hear such names before! Much to learn!¡± The furred giant declared excitably before grabbing a nearby gnarled tree branch and snapping some hard fungal growths from them. Taking one at a time into his mouth he chewed some sort of pattern onto them and handed them to her and John. Evidently some sort of ¡®key¡¯ for whatever formation his tribe was using on their settlement, a fact she didn¡¯t need to recognise the simple yet distinctive pattern of interlocking curves for.
And so, without anything really to lose, she took a deep breath of foul air through the mask and started to push her power through the piece of bark.
Immediately the air seemed to shimmer as¡ something was revealed. Initially it was not obvious what, if anything, changed but as Cobalt¡¯s pushed through the haziness induced by her mask it became clear there were various holes dug into the earth, and from those holes emerged hosts of tall, furred people just like Gorekin. A couple of them looked in their direction with an expression rendered inscrutable by a combination of the scratched glass blurring her view and distance, but it was very clear they were far less enthused than Gorekin was.
Gorekin made a series of strange, growling and warbling noises in response to a similar sound from his apparent tribespeople, engaging in a conversation utterly incomprehensible to Cobalt and John¡¯s ears.
¡°Hey uh¡ what do you think they are saying?¡± John asked Cobalt.
¡°I¡ why are you asking me? I have no idea.¡± She answered quite frankly.
Gorekin, apparently hearing them, decided to translate. ¡°Thing¡ comp¡ compil¡ complicated¡ will take you to den for now. Talk with elders, then figure out from there.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t take it they are big fans of humans.¡± Cobalt said, cautiously looking at the quite obviously tense group of furred giants.
¡°They always say, you destroy selves! Destroy world! But world still here, and you still here! Think it stupid!¡± Gorekin huffed. ¡°Still, not seem very happy, but will let stay for now. You too far from tribe and territory, won¡¯t last long in woods, like cub except¡ how old you are?¡±
¡°Seventeen summers.¡± Cobalt answered.
¡°Fifteen, nearing sixteenth.¡± John responded right behind.
Gorekin¡¯s eyes widened further than usual exposing pitch black scarlea and bright brown irises, saying something in his gutteral native tongue before exclaiming. ¡°You still cubs! Too small!¡±
¡°We are both over the age of majority.¡± Cobalt said awkwardly as Gorekin fussed about around them like they were made of dry straw.
¡°It no sense!¡± Gorekin muttered as he hurried them towards one of the nearby holes. ¡°Discuss later! Small ones stay until I done talk with elders!¡±
¡°Hey, we aren¡¯t that small!¡± John tried to defend. ¡°How old are you anyway!¡±
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¡°Six¡ six tens summers!¡± Gorekin grunted affirmatively.
They both shut up at that.
They were led down a surprisingly spacious and well maintained pit, lit by what looked to be glowing variants of the mushrooms emanating faint greenish-blue light from between black, gnarled coral growths. At one end of it was a bed made of what looked to be leaves, moss and fur clearly made to be easily disassembled and moved if necessary. A small stash of what looked to be important personal effects was stored next to it in large sacks of woven twigs and reeds. Around them lay various artefacts of clearly human origin displayed like less disturbing versions of Agamemnon¡¯s trophies. A shockingly pristine pile of old books, what looked to be ancient plastic ritual artefacts depicting strange humanoids with odd colours and proportions, even a proper gun and most importantly for Cobalt¡¯s eyes a large map of the continent with various points marked out conspicuously with large dots in red paint.
¡°Gorekin, where are we on this map?¡± She asked.
¡°Ah! Prize of collection! I find digging places near tribe migration site and mark them here! We right now closest to this one!¡± Gorekin answered proudly.
Gorekin pointed towards a small dot some distance over a truly titanic lake labelled ¡°superior¡±, which she recognised as the Cunningham Sea. On the map the inland seas looked almost small, but she knew intellectually they were far larger than she could readily imagine, potentially the size of provinces in their own right. Other than knowing that the famed Capital was built on the far edge of one of the daughter lakes split off from these great masses of freshwater that was where her knowledge ended though. She had only seen them once before after all, the only time she had ever visited her mother¡¯s Sect, on the shores of a lake that would annually get swamped by waves of toxic spores. It wasn¡¯t much, and she couldn¡¯t say she even remembered what her mother looked like let alone say with confidence that she knew her, but it was better than nothing.
Meanwhile John asked a far more practical question. ¡°Hey¡ where do we sleep? And what can we eat?¡±
Gorekin hurriedly rushed to his sack and retrieved two large mats of fur and moss, whatever they were, almost certainly not having originally been intended for sleeping in or on. In another sack he extracted a few handfuls of strange looking berries, lare tree nuts and some mysterious dried meat.
¡°You know, I don¡¯t know what I expected¡¡± John muttered.
With the humans settled for now in his den, Grrkkn could now deal with the important matters. It was odd, knowing how young they were. He knew the humans grew strangely, their cubs going from small and useless to being of the same size as their adults by the time their migrations returned to the trade routes. But they were so different from the other humans, clearly they were initiated into spiritual matters! He didn¡¯t know humans could do such things at such a small age, but he heard their greatest Shamans could live even longer than their own greatest elders. Even the ones who embraced the most of the Flesh Change. How could this be? There was so much more he did not know, and he was as always just so eager to learn!
But first, he had to deal with the minor issue of the very disgruntled Elders. Gathered around a pit of glow-stones, as the spores were still too thick to light a fire, he was commanded to kneel in respect and submission to the gathered Elders. Dressed in gowns of woven tree-fibre and faces covered by expressionless masks of wood, ivory and stone even with the most obvious signs of the Flesh Change obscured the elders gave off a more than mortal presence. As fitting for those aged enough and exposed enough to the raw primeval powers that once ravaged the world to have gone beyond mere Shamanhood and passed halfway to the world of Spirits while still in mortal flesh. Leashed around them to the trunks of truly ancient trees were titanic Cousin Beats, far closer in mind and body to the ancient bestial ancestors of the Forest Kin and alert with eternally hungry, predatory eyes tempered only through years of fierce, hard earned loyalty.
¡°I do not desire to waste any time. Where did you find these humans Grrkkn? Speak now and in full honesty, and know that the Spirits watch your every word!¡± Elder Hnthkkn, almost as hairless as the humans herself and easily twice the size of Grrkkn, growled as she pointed at him with her law stick.
¡°I found them in an ancient human ruin, though I do not believe they have been down there for long. They didn¡¯t know where they were nor how they got there, apparently they were taken in by an ancient human Relic and sent far from their home.¡± He answered.
¡°He speaks truth sister¡¡± Elder Bghh grunted, his multicoloured fur rippling in prismatic patterns. ¡°But how do you know these humans are safe? They seem well initiated in Spiritual powers, you know how ruinous humans can be when playing with such forces!¡±
¡°You must have felt their power upon arrival! They pose no true threat to you, and so they pose no true threat to us! They are but lost cubs, far from home! Before I gave them their masks they could not even breathe our air, as you all know they carry not the blessings of the forest! If anyone should be afraid in this situation it should be them, not us as we are!¡± He defended.
¡°Your human obsession will lead you to ruination!¡± Elder Xcnth hissed. ¡°We have only escaped their attentions by hiding deep where they cannot pass! What would happen if these humans spread tales of us! We shall be hunted as our ancient ancestors once were before the great fires at the end of the old world!¡±
¡°Indeed, the humans are no true threat to us as they are. But we cannot be certain this will remain the case forever, especially if they are allowed free.¡± Elder Hnthkkn concurred.
His fur stood on its edge at the implications. ¡°It would not be just to let them die! They have done nothing wrong!¡±
¡°Then what should we do Grrkkn? True they have given no reason to assume them a threat, but neither have they given reason to trust.¡± Elder Bghh noted.
¡°Then let them show their character to you by letting them stay! And when they are ready to return to the world of humans, if you cannot trust their silence, let me go with them!¡± Grrkkn offered.
¡°You would willingly accept exile from the tribe to accompany these humans wherever they may go?¡± Elder Hnthkkn gasped in surprise, something repeated by the other elders.
Heart racing, nearly tearing out of his chest, but with a certainty he had never felt before in his life he used a human expression by nodding and said simply. ¡°I do.¡±
Silence for a long, eternal, moment. Then the Elders began to whisper among each other, debating at such speed he could not have kept up with it even if he could hear it all properly before they came up with a verdict.
¡°We shall ruminate on this, but for now consider your proposal¡ in consideration.¡± Elder Bghh told him. ¡°In the meantime, as the one who found the humans, you shall take care of them and ensure they do not cause trouble. If they do, you would share in their punishment. Understood?¡±
¡°Yes Elders.¡± He said, more confidently than anything else he had said in his life.
Book 2: Brave New World 1.4
John was hungry, a feeling quite familiar to him. In fact he imagined almost everyone had experienced it at some point during the Great Famine, except for perhaps people like Cobalt. Then it was more common to find those starving to death than not, when the sun failed to shine for well over a year and the storehouses dwindled as clouds of equally desperate vermin blotted out the skies in their search to strip what little was even left, it was inevitable that even the most basic of needs would be out of reach for so many. But this, this felt like something else, he thought, as he slid a few dried berries beneath his mask and chewed.
Absent mindedly while his mouth was filled he breathed through his gills and felt a distinct burning deep within his lungs. It wasn¡¯t anything close to what he had experienced when they had first breached the surface, something about the design of Gorekin¡¯s den and the clearing they were in meant the concentration of spores in the air were reduced to merely uncomfortable rather than debilitating. But it made him rather conscious of just how much his body had changed, his very instincts altering to adjust for the perpetually slime coated slits that rested on his lower neck as though he had always had them. He did not remember much of that night, but Magni had said he split open like some overripe fruit, strange things bursting out of him as he ascended to the Mutant Realm. He still bore the scars of that time but thankfully had not a single inkling of repeating that incident as of yet. But among all his mutations, he could not think of a single one that would have resulted in that¡ nightmare. Usually he tried to put it out of his mind, especially since his lapse in control cost someone the focus they may have needed to save their life, but what if his new weird sense of hunger was from the same thing?
No, surely he was just overthinking. That¡¯s right, he probably just needed something more substantial than dried meats and berries. His stomach growled again, and he turned to Cobalt.
¡°Do you think we can cook anything in here?¡± He asked.
Cobalt pondered as she looked at the piles of artefacts Gorekin had hoarded. ¡°Well, all we would need is a fire I suppose. Only problem is there are still too many spores in the air. What if they ignite?¡±
¡°That¡¯s fair enough...¡± He sighed. Oh well, it was worth a shot.
¡°Unless¡¡± Cobalt trailed off, as she grabbed a small pot and placed it between her legs. Taking out a canteen of water from their mostly soaked remaining rations she poured a good amount in and some of the dried food Gorekin had for them. Extending her claws she started to carve, intricate patterns and shapes John recognised as a formation. ¡°I am not a psychic expert, and I can¡¯t channel anything of any real complexity. But heat is just another form of radiation, and converting Si into other forms of radiation is an elementary enough concept that I know what to carve for it. I could channel directly into the water to heat it up, and if things get to hot I could simply stop feeding it power!¡±
¡°Have you done this before?¡± John asked.
¡°I haven¡¯t but Aunt Cinnabar did it once when I-¡± Cobalt trailed off, growing silent as painful memories re-emerged. John wanted to say something to comfort her, but words failed in his mouth. And besides, how could he when the pain of loss was so raw for himself? So in lieu of words he scuttled over closer to her and sat in silence besides her as she cradled the pot.
¡°You know, I don¡¯t know if I ever told you the reason why I freaked out so hard¡ that day¡¡± Cobalt said out of nowhere.
¡°You had a lot of reasons to freak out. I didn¡¯t suppose it mattered.¡± John noted, his memories of that time were truthfully a bit hazy. Between burning out his nerves again and being controlled by ARTOS for who knows how long.
It was hard to gauge Cobalt¡¯s exact expression with the mask on, but he could easily tell by her posture that something was weighing bad on her. Muscles tensed like she was expecting to either bolt or fight any given second. Yet nonetheless she continued. ¡°My father, he¡¯s a cannibal. He has a mutation that lets him process Si much more effectively via his gut than anywhere else, and in turn the best source of Si for processing is in a human Dantian¡ I inherited that trait even from birth. It was what ultimately proved my heritage beyond a shadow of a doubt.¡±
¡°I had heard rumours but¡ I assumed they were exaggerated.¡± John answered. Cannibalism was a strange thing, during the Age of Ash many were driven to it either through desperation or depravity. From the sacred rite of the Sword Saint and her crew of rebels to the horrific savages that haunted the wastes before being driven to the brink by the revival of a civilised age. Nothing changes the fact however it was an instinctively disturbing prospect to even consider.
Cobalt nodded slowly, shamefully. ¡°People don¡¯t usually talk. Why would they. It was always the barbarians getting eaten¡¡± She gave a weak chuckle, sighed and went silent for a moment before continuing. ¡°Once I thought he was weak for giving in so easily to the allure of power. But when things went to shit, I ate someone. I kracking ate someone and I loved it. It was¡ addictive¡ even now I remember the taste and I don¡¯t want to gag¡ I want more¡¡±
John was honestly not sure how to respond to that. But he didn¡¯t move away, a part of him was a little unsettled. A bigger part could recognise when a friend needed someone by her side.
Rats that stick together survive together, after all.
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¡°You really take things in stride way too much.¡± Cobalt finally said with a weak laugh. ¡°Are you not the least bit afraid? Perhaps the brain damage was worse than I imagined.¡±
¡°I¡ I won¡¯t lie, that is a bit disturbing.¡± He responded. ¡°Bomb me¡ it explains quite a lot though. I can only say in the same situation I don¡¯t know if I would be as strong as you were. To be honest Cobalt, you are really strong, for a while you basically defined what strong meant to me. You may not remember it, but I was the rat who handed you that Spirit Metal ingot a few years ago outside that nameless ruin. And while I have gotten to know you better, I have never once felt a reason not to trust you.¡±
Cobalt scoffed then fell silent, continuing with a whisper. ¡°Fool¡ thank you John¡¡±
¡°Don¡¯t mention it, please.¡± He insisted.
Cobalt nodded and took her focus back onto the pot in front of her. With a breath in and out he could feel her channel her Si, warmth radiating out of her core as she made the runes glow. Bubbles began to form in the water as it was brought to an unnaturally fast boil, and within a few minutes a layer of steam filled the cave. This continued for perhaps half an hour until Cobalt motioned for John to test it, which he obliged to do by morphing his fingers into a blade-like shape and poking at one of the bits of meat. With only a little effort the bladed finger went in, a vast improvement compared to the earlier leathery strips of sun-dried meat. He tried to ignore how a small amount of water that touched the ring seemed to get sucked in, he would figure out what happens when liquids get inside after he actually figures out how to use it.
¡°It¡¯s done.¡± He said simply.
Cobalt nodded and took her hands off the pot, the runes instantly losing their glow. Rummaging through some of Gorekin¡¯s stash of human stuff she found two bowls and a couple slightly rusty spoons, and started separating out portions of the makeshift stew for each of them. John was glad his sense of smell was presently being blocked out by the mask he had to wear, the ¡®meal¡¯ certainly did not look appetising with its unique mix of uncomfortable chunkiness and weird wateriness. Still, beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers he supposed.
Lifting the bottom portion of his mask, enduring the slight stinging at the back of his throat whenever he breathed in, he took a bite. It was actually a lot better than he imagined, he didn¡¯t know what but it clearly hit the spot. The itch at the back of his mind nearly instantly feeling soothed as he mindlessly chewed.
¡°Hello human cubs! Ah! I see you made a human meal!¡± Gorekin suddenly made his presence known, lumbering into his den while the two of them were distracted.
¡°Oh we uh¡ we decided we would try to experiment with the rations¡ while your food is good we tend to prefer it cooked.¡± Cobalt tried to justify.
¡°I heard of that! Many human tribe use fire to make food! Small stomach cannot do raw meat! But you no fire here? How?¡± Gorekin asked, evidently puzzled.
¡°I made an um¡ small formation that heats water by converting my Si into heat.¡± Cobalt answered.
¡°Very interesting!¡± Gorekin said, before he turned to John. ¡°Was not aware too human eat metal too! Learn new every day!¡±
¡°Eat metal? What do you-¡± Cobalt asked before she looked incredulously in John¡¯s direction. Sensing something was awry he took the spoon out of his mouth¡ and noticed the entire head of it was chewed clean off. Presumably swallowed.
¡°Ah.¡± He said awkwardly. ¡°I um¡ sorry?¡±
¡°It alright! No have use for that anyway, was figure out! Now know! Much useful!¡± Gorekin waved aside John¡¯s concerns.
¡°So how did the uh, your meeting go?¡± Cobalt asked.
Gorekin¡¯s eternally joyful expression soured somewhat at that. ¡°They no trust you. Barely accept trade as is. Human no trustworthy. Human kill selves and each other too much.¡±
¡°Hey! Is that how you think of us!¡± John piped up, suddenly offended on behalf of his species.
Gorekin quickly defended himself. ¡°Not me! But many Forest Kin remember the burning! World lit on fire by human war! Elders of elders remember!¡±
¡°Regardless, what happened?¡± Cobalt asked, the voice of reason as ever.
¡°Well, they no trust you keep secrets. Barely trust old human tribes at forest border. If you go back to Empire tribe, they afraid you talk too much. Make bad human learn of us.¡± Gorekin said.
¡°So, they don¡¯t want us to leave then?¡± Cobalt picked up.
¡°Not unless someone make sure you safe. I vo- vol- volunteer. I go with you, to human land, when tribe go migrate North to Autumn fishing grounds.¡± Gorekin said solemnly.
¡°Wait, you would go with us? Leave your tribe?¡± John asked. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Many reason. Always want learn more about human. You so interesting, many thing not like us, many thing to learn.¡± Gorekin started explaining. ¡°More than that, you are cubs, you say not but you still small. Too much to grow, not right to treat you like they say. Not right to not help.¡±
¡°Gorekin¡ I don¡¯t know what to say¡¡± Cobalt trailed off.
¡°No need say anything!¡± Gorekin said with a huge smile. ¡°This chose by me! This my want! You no make the decision!¡±
¡°So, how long do we stay here for then?¡± John asked. ¡°I mean, we don¡¯t really know the way out. And I imagine you need time to get ready for such a big change.¡±
¡°Forest Kin move all time! No stay one place like human tribe! Always travel territory! No trouble move!¡± Gorekin explained. ¡°Give three day, then ready. In meantime, I learn much from you, do you want learn from us?¡±
¡°Well, I can¡¯t see why not.¡± John replied, chewing absentmindedly through the other half of his spoon.
He scratched the edge of his neck and felt something cold and hard there¡ he could have sworn ARTOS did not travel so far up his arm.
Interlude 5: Elsewhere
The conquest of the new territories was slower than Iktan was used to, the people here not so used to the constant shifting of territories in the wake of a thousand petty khans. But neither was it of any real concern, after all, resistance did not tend to survive first contact with a Dragon, and when it did Cipactli ate very, very well. Greywater was already flying his banners, any holdouts would soon follow in the wake of the destruction of the local bulwark. By all ordinary means it was an absolute victory. The spoils alone would fuel their burgeoning empire for the next few months at least, everything from ancient technologies to masses of Spirit Stones and even mass stores of basic necessities; things Iktan had learned to greatly appreciate through his experience herding this army. In terms of conquest it rarely went better than this. However, Iktan could not help but feel like it was anything but.
Dozens of cultivators unaccounted for, fled to parts unknown somehow in the chaos. After Gabriel was discovered to be compromised by some psychic trickery he had ordered his forces three days and nights to scour the ruins for signs of what did it and where the survivors went, as well as the crown jewel of the operation. The secret cache buried deep beneath the Sect. Eventually not through their own effort but sheer accident a series of tunnels were found that explained it all. A maze like mass of twisting stone corridors stretching unfathomable miles beneath the ground. And they had somehow missed it¡ or as his extremely unpleasant spymaster suggested something was blocking their senses around it. Some sort of psychic mental block similar to, or perhaps even of the same type, as the one used to so entirely fool the indomitable will of his loyal marshal Gabriel.
If that man was not so useful he swore he would have his slimy body fed to the Bone Worms. But as it stood, he was most likely infuriatingly right.
¡°G¡ great Khan¡¡± A blithering messenger stammered at his feet. The man standing up tall on both legs would not reach his thigh, prostrated as he was before him it was a truly pitiful sight. But alas, a ruler needed his news to effectively rule. And he had no intention of collapsing from dismissing a crucial message when his destiny hung so near.
¡°Speak.¡± He demanded.
¡°The Jackalope Empire, they have sent a force. Easily ten thousand mortals, headed by several dozen cultivators and supplemented with their own war rigs. It is inferior to our forces as is b-but¡¡± The man explained, voice breaking again at the last sentence as Iktan¡¯s aura flared.
¡°But?¡± He questioned, his intent washing the room with heat. Charring the edges of the mans hair.
¡°We receive reports from the south¡ strange ships near the coast. Stalking like predators watching sheep.¡± The man gulped from the intensity of Iktan¡¯s glare. ¡°We believe them the same type as the ones up north. The only reason the Empire has not sent a far greater force against us, a horde of metal demons from the East¡¡±
¡°Of course¡¡± He groaned, rubbing his head between his horns. Perhaps it was foolish to believe it could be so easy. When he was young it was not his destiny to rule, mandated to remain at the low Mutant realm in order to one day breed more heirs to create a lasting dynasty for his clan. He knew he was not his grandfather, and here and now he was feeling it. What would his grandfather do? Would he even be able to do it?
¡°Please restrain yourself Great Khan, I fear your continual output at this rate may kill a man. It would do you no favours to char a loyal servant.¡± Diego politely informed him.
Immediately he got a grip on himself and restrained his power, feeling the Si rush back through his meridians and into his demon hearts in an instant. The messenger on the floor gasped for breath like a fish out of water, sweat beading like small pearls on his face and forehead.
¡°I apologise, that was unbecoming of me.¡± Iktan said. ¡°Diego, I will have you organise the coastal defence. Do whatever is necessary, I trust you, do not make me rescind that.¡±
¡°I would never dare.¡± Diego said with utmost seriousness.
¡°But what do you intend to do about the incoming army?¡± The messenger asked.
Iktan called Cipactli over, whose shadow immediately blotted out the sun. Darkening the world and evidently disrupting the focus of the man before him given how he started coughing blood. The Curse undoubtedly driven by the taste of his power taking advantage of a moment of weakness.
¡°I will meet them myself with Cipactli.¡± He said simply. There was much he had yet to learn, but he knew of the universal language of violence and power.
And on that front at least he was overqualified.
It was bad news when a major Sect requested urgent aid by telepathic message, even if it was the smallest one with the status in the Empire and of a border province. Worse still when no further messages arrived. A force was immediately mobilised as soon as the first message was conveyed, but with their greatest warriors and generals dealing with this new homunculi threat ravaging the forces on the East what could be gathered on such short notice was¡ underwhelming to say the least. General Mattock, Elder of the Three Silos Sect and loyal servant of the Empire had wanted at least two or three times the men for this, something in his bones told him this was no mere border uprising. He didn¡¯t need a psychic mutation for prophecy to see his current forces, while decent enough for most engagements, was not enough for something that could make the Lead Cave request aid. Unfortunately the fools in the capital had been living in luxury so long they had forgotten their roots, forged in the chaos of warring states, borders inflating and disappearing in a blink of an eye. The Lead Cave had been seen as only a step over barbarians to much of the Capital nobles, the entire Golden Plains Province a rural backwater that could be largely ignored in favour of more pressing matters like the undoubtedly concerning reports from the East. He could only pray when they learned otherwise the damage would not be too great.
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The air in the wastes tasted unmistakably like iron today. Like a fine misting of blood had been scattered across the world, and his keen single eye detected a single figure approaching at speeds impossible for a mortal perhaps a dozen or so miles away. A man who was between 18 to 20 feet tall, dressed in fine furs and golden jewellery. Crowned with feathered and horns and wielding an obsidian tipped power blade of some sort, the very air boiling and warbling around him. He was alone, which was even more concerning than if he had come with an army. The way he carried himself, the regalia, the Relic, this was no fool. This was no ordinary barbarian cultivator. This was something else entirely. He prepared to order his men to stop and prepare the artillery via his psychic links when¡
But then he paused as the man he was watching paused and unmistakably stopped to look directly at him. Aura sharpening to a razor edge as a shadow passed overhead and he disappeared in a bolt of lightning¡
A massive shape flew overhead, a truly titanic beast who even miles up drowned the world in such oppressive Si even he felt sweat beading across his forehead. The mortal men in his retinue gasped for breath as clouds began to gather overhead and the sky went a deep bloody red, unnatural stormclouds gathering and releasing inky black rain below. A bolt of bright blue lightning in contrast to the dark crimson of the world around them cracked the earth, sending a plume of dust covering his forces. And from it emerged the gigantic form of the man he had been watching, power uncoiling from him like a monstrous Man-Swallower Serpent from the Fungal Swamps of the Poison Peninsula.
¡°Greetings, forces from the Lead Cave. I know why you are here, as you know why I am here. So I will spare you the trivialities and pleasantries.¡± The man said in a low, rumbling voice. More rolling thunder than mortal words. ¡°I have come to reclaim my birthright by my Grandfather, you know him as the Red Star. As it happens my forces have more important things to occupy their time with presently, as I imagine do yours. So I give you this one chance to turn your men around and not come back, and if you decide otherwise¡¡±
He simply pointed towards a great stone a half mile off and the beast in the sky let out a deafening roar. General Mattock was forced to close his eye as a flash of truly blinding light erupted, the air itself cracking from the sheer power unleashed. It was not thunder, it was something so much greater it was unfair to even describe it as such. If he was to imagine the weapons that destroyed the Old World he would imagine much the same, and his fears were confirmed as he slowly opened his eyes and saw a field of molten glass around the deep crater where the stone once was.
He carefully channelled the toxic Si around him and his allies as it built to dangerous levels, some of the weaker men in his forces already showing concerning signs of feeling the Curse. The emotions he was picking up from his men were much the same as his own, with a lot more panic and fear as well. He couldn¡¯t blame them after this display, it must have been at the very least the Eighth Step of the Abberant Realm, perhaps the Ninth. And done as a threat.
He would be called a coward for this, he knew. And perhaps he would be. But someone needed to let the Empire know just what they were facing. They weren¡¯t ready, they couldn¡¯t even slow him or that creature down with all their firepower. They needed to muster a proper army, not a ragtag group of whatever reinforcements were not presently busy¡
¡°I understand.¡± He told the Red Star¡¯s blood, as he ordered his men to turn back. The Emperor himself would need to hear of this.
Faith washed her hands in a small stream, the cold, slightly muddy liquid soaking into her robes. Getting all over her prayer bracelet and pages of Holy Scripture. But she did not stop washing¡ the filth on her¡ she needed to get it off¡
Flashes of memories plagued her. Seeing herself simply standing aside as the flames spread higher and higher. Father preaching a litany of forgiveness as their forces massacred flocks of civilians¡ were they not the Faithful as well? Were they not protected by the Golden Promise a year or two ago? Heretics she had told herself, assured herself that they had strayed from the light. They had to, or they would not be here. The Holy Order was fractured, and snakes had wormed their tongues into the hearts of the once righteous. It was a mercy to end them quickly rather than damn them to an eternity of hellfire¡
She saw a child''s toy burning in the pyres. Pages of the Holy Book, the Golden Scripture alongside it. Blasphemy¡ was this not blasphemy? She looked at her hands, and they were soaked with a deep scarlet fluid.
She was suddenly back at the stream, and looking down her hands were covered in the same bloody mess. As she redoubled her efforts to scrub away her sin the blood only spread into the water, staining the entire body a bright red, all over her robes and regalia. She doubled over, not sure if she wanted to scream, puke or something else entirely¡
She woke up gasping for air on a splinted wood cart, hidden beneath a load of cloth from prying eyes. Her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark, she looked at her hands again. The same bright green as always, no blood in sight. Yet deep in her soul she felt it still, that ache. She was filthy, and having deserted her country and church she would never be clean again. She told herself this was a necessary pilgrimage, like the great Prophet did as he journeyed the wastes in those early days of the End Times. That she would find the answers that would make her life and acts make sense, and absolve her at last of her sins and doubts before the charred scraps of the unworthy left behind could be judged once again before the Great Spirit¡
But pilgrims were celebrated. They did not hide in merchants carts like criminals¡ as criminals. Fugitives to their own people. Acolytes travelled the world in great missionary bands alongside seasoned priests and faithful servants, bearing gifts of the righteous to send to an unworthy world. Not alone and miserable, little more than the clothes off her back and a rapidly shrinking pile of Spirit Stones.
¡°Everything alright there missy?¡± The merchant asked. He was a good man, a faithful man. His soul would certainly be smiled upon when Judgement came.
¡°Certainly.¡± She lied. She was not like him at all, her soul was so stained she was sure the only thing that could cleanse it would be a righteous death. Martyrdom¡ but for what cause? She didn¡¯t know herself.
¡°Alright¡¡± The merchant said after a pause, clearly not believing her. ¡°Well, in about two dozen more miles it will be as far as I am willing to take you North. Any further and it is just barbarians¡ and the Great Forest. They say the Old Gods still have power there, that you can sometimes see their messengers when the leaves and spores die off in the deepest depths of the bitter winters. I reckon it is just the natives seeing things, huffing kracking spores half the year has to have some effect on you. Still, you sure you are willing to go there alone priesty girl? I am not sure if they would take so lightly to your attempts at conversion.¡±
¡°Yes.¡± She said, lying through her teeth once more. She had not gone to convince anyone of her faith when she herself was wavering so much. She¡ didn¡¯t really know why she was going here¡ but she knew she wanted to be far from home. ¡°It is my calling.¡±
¡°Well if you say so¡¡± The man grumbled. ¡°Just make sure you don¡¯t act too suspicious. We are past the toll point, thankfully, but I have no desire to be labelled a smuggler. Especially with the whole Holy War mess going on in the Union.¡±
Faith clutched her prayer beads harder, feeling her sharp nails dig into her flesh enough to draw bright green blood.
Old Gods Judgement: Part 1
John never realised how inconvenient his sweat was until now. For the past few hours he had been helping to carry large logs for processing at the request of Gorekin, apparently to help the rest of his tribe understand how they weren¡¯t a threat before they left. And such work in the humid forest, even as the temperatures slowly drifted colder and colder, built up a coat of thick sweat faster than he could scrape it off. He couldn¡¯t take off his mask outside, given the spores in even the village clearing were too thick for his sensitive lungs and gills to tolerate, and that meant keeping the ancient plastic on his face for far too long. Normally the slime would dissipate easily if he discharged some electricity, evaporating into nothing as it conducted his power, but unfortunately flammable as this place apparently was that wasn¡¯t much of an option either. His skin itched all over, and he could certainly imagine if he had some reflective surface to look at he would see welts all over where the mask met his face. Better than choking to death attempting to breathe he guessed, but not by all that much.
A loud, rolling growl shook him from his musing. Almost instinctively he tensed as he turned around, half expecting a vicious Spirit Beast, but instead found himself face to snout with one of Gorekin¡¯s people. It was hard to read their faces, while they walked on two legs and seemed vaguely human at times by the end of his first day and a half here he found their expressions did not follow the same rules. They sniffed him a few times, from what he gathered observing Gorekin¡¯s people when he could some form of greeting, and let out another series of warbling noises. He wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, but he could vaguely guess by their posture and the tone of it that it wasn¡¯t entirely friendly.
¡°Don¡¯t worry. We won¡¯t be here long, hopefully by tomorrow we will be out of your hair.¡± John said as his stomach rumbled. He had a craving for metal lately, and unfortunately there just wasn¡¯t that much here. And given how much Gorekin had sacrificed on their behalf already he wasn¡¯t going to eat the rest of his precious collection.
He wasn¡¯t certain how much the words he said were actually comprehended, but the furred man¡ woman¡ person simply stared at him a bit more intensely before walking off.
¡°What was up with that?¡± Cobalt asked, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she wore. She had also been given a similar, trivial task involving wood. Splitting logs with her claws into planks, a feat that seemed to impress their hosts at least. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure though, it was kind of frustrating trying to figure out exactly what they wanted or what they didn¡¯t. Quite frankly he was fairly sure he would have preferred it if they had outright picked a fight.
He scolded himself for the impulsive thought, the fact they had been allowed to stay peacefully for three days was rather generous already given how much they seemed to distrust outsiders! What would Alexander say about this?
Suddenly John didn¡¯t want to explore that train of thought anymore. Pushing through the strange feeling gnawing at his heart in his chest he quietly responded to Cobalt with a clipped. ¡°I don¡¯t know, doesn¡¯t matter anyway.¡±
¡°Fine then, keep your secrets.¡± Cobalt sighed before continuing as she was.
He knew what happened to the Lead Cave, he knew what happened to Alexander, Magni and so many more good people¡ but it still didn¡¯t feel real to him. He had only been there for a few months, but it was his home right? And for it to be gone without him even being there to see it, some part of him thought if he just marched south and damned the consequences he would find everyone just fine. Get scolded by Elder Aurelium for tarnishing the good Aurelium name or something, get into a stupid fight over meaningless kracking shit with Magni, read up on more dead-ends on what was going on with his arm¡
Speaking of which¡ ¡°Say, Gorekin is leaving his home tomorrow too. He has lived here all his life right? He said he was fine with it but¡ are we sure it¡¯s ok?¡±
Cobalt paused for a moment and gave a sigh somewhere between defeated and uncertain. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think we should push, if he truly doesn¡¯t care it¡¯s great for him. If he does¡ what can we really do to help?¡±
John fell silent then. She was right, of course. What could they do? They were effectively strangers who he had taken in as a curiosity and pitied enough to accompany so they didn¡¯t go out and starve to death in the toxic woods. Though that was possibly an ungenerous interpretation of the furred giant, come to think of it. Times like this he wished he had Magni¡¯s psychic talent, though he did insist using it to fix problems with blunt force was wrong and he sort of understood the concept, to him things were a lot simpler if you could just push through the meaningless garbage and get to what really mattered.
He set down his logs and went to pick up a few more, then paused. He could feel things at the edge of his awareness, little threads that connected him to¡ something. He wasn¡¯t sure what it was yet, but was this the start of some psychic mutation? It was clearly underdeveloped, try as he might he couldn¡¯t see what the threads meant or how to do anything with them, and if he didn¡¯t focus all his efforts on seeing them they would fade into nothing just as quickly. Still, they existed, several of them soaring towards Gorekin¡¯s cave and others into the deep woods. Many of them spiralling around his right arm coiling around the metal plates of ARTOS. What would-
Several of Gorekin¡¯s people, hunters riding on massive hairless bears easily large enough to rival an adolescent Mauler, ran half panicked through the woods. Communicating something in their strange gutteral tongue to the rest. The Earth beneath them began to shake, spores flying through the air as something massive seemed to move towards them.
¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Cobalt asked, half panicked.
Gorekin ran over, apparently hearing the commotion, what John imagined was a concerned look on his face as one of his kin seemed to explain the situation to him. He next ran over to John who happened to be closer and gestured for Cobalt to join. Once she had arrived next to them he began to explain in semi-comprehensible rambles.
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¡°Mother Forest mad, think attack from East! Mother Forest send her warriors, Old Gods, fight! But one come close to us! Too close! Not know why but others say¡¡± He trailed off.
Several burly looking furred giants, evidently hunters or soldiers, marched towards the humans and gave nasty glares, pointing their long spears directly at them. It wasn¡¯t hard to see what they suspected.
¡°Tell them we have nothing to do with¡ whatever that is!¡± Cobalt said.
¡°Yeah! We have been here the whole time, and there has always been someone watching us at least!¡± John corroborated.
Gorekin nodded and gave an explanation in his native tongue which spiralled into what was evidently a heated argument. Between the growls, barks, hisses, warbles and other strange vocalisations it almost sounded like animals fighting, lacking the structure and clear intent even he could pick up from his other experiences here. It did not take a genius to see where this was going when the two burly warriors started to make concerning movements.
John did not think, he acted. Time slowing to a crawl as he instinctively channelled his power into himself, the red coils of ARTOS squeezing as his bloodstream was flooded with various chemicals in dosages that would be deeply unhealthy to a Mortal or Wretch. He moved between Gorekin and a colossal furred fist, and blocked the impact with his sturdy right arm. A deafening clang resounding through the air and vibrating through his bones as time resumed its usual pace.
Cobalt, seeing this, did not waste any time either. As the other enraged warrior moved to bat John aside she swelled in size, in an instant becoming on par with the furred giants and soon slightly taller. Enough to tackle John¡¯s would-be other opponent before he could lay into him.
¡°What is wrong with you!¡± She yelled at them, likely knowing they probably didn¡¯t understand her, and obviously not much caring. As she was her head did not change size with the rest of her in order to keep the mask on, a deeply unnerving sight. Which served a dual benefit apparently of being able to more easily dodge the enraged headbuts her prisoner made at her as he growled indignantly.
By this point quite the crowd had gathered, practically the whole village by John¡¯s estimation. To be honest, it was quite the intimidating sight, especially given the fact the apparent tribe elders had begun to step in. And while they weren¡¯t Elders in the same sense Elder Aurelium or Cobalt¡¯s father was¡ the power they emanated was well and truly on that scale. An oppressive aura like a shadow of a great mountain against the suns Si-rich rays.
Gorekin raised his hands in the air and quickly yelled something in his tongue, before translating for the humans. ¡°STOP! STOP! Everyone! Calm!¡±
Sensing what he meant Cobalt dropped her target from her grip, and John reluctantly retreated from his fighting stance. Though never once taking his eyes off the offenders.
A truly massive elder walked over, possibly the size of a small cottage or perhaps a large cabin, their lumbering steps shaking the ground beneath them almost as much as the power and intent that flared around them like a storm. They still spoke in that guttural language of all their people, but it was almost elegant in a way, and only more intimidating for it.
Gorekin continued to defend them, standing strong before the blazing gaze of the elder as he presented his case. Well, at least John assumed that was what he was doing. Behind him the two troublemakers had prostrated themselves, falling close to the floor as if trying to become one with it. Sensing it would probably be wise to do the same thing even if he lacked all the details, John began to do much the same, and Cobalt seemed to cautiously follow suit.
The elder snorted and to his shock spoke in thick, accented Glish. ¡°Rise, child-men.¡±
Gulping, he swiftly obeyed the instructions. Going to his feet and not daring to turn away from the colossus before him. He assumed Cobalt was doing the same as well, but twisting his neck and averting his gaze to confirm was well and truly out of the picture.
¡°I do not trust you.¡± The elder said simply. ¡°Your kind has not earned my trust. I remember when you foolishly attempted to burn the Mother-Forest. Even had you succeeded you would have doomed your own kind, and yet you still tried anyway. And I remember the tales, of how you created weapons that would poison the very world, crafted horrors that cannot be described and destroyed yourselves with them. However, in this case it does appear it is us who have done the transgressions. Still, even so, it seems you need to face judgement for some reason.¡±
¡°W-what do you mean? What could we have possibly done?¡± John shakily said, knowing exactly how foolish it was and nonetheless unable to resist the burning sense of injustice eating away at him.
¡°I don¡¯t know yet. But we will find out.¡± The elder said simply.
¡°That- that doesn¡¯t make sense! We have been with Gorekin the entire time we were out of the cave! We didn¡¯t even choose to arrive here!¡± John yelled indignantly.
¡°John-¡± Cobalt hissed, but he was well and truly beyond listening to reason at this point.
¡°You speak of the crimes my ancestors did, as though I had any kracking say! Bomb them all for what I care! But just because we were born human doesn¡¯t mean-¡±
¡°Perhaps I misspoke.¡± The elder cut him off, almost apologetically, before explaining in detail. ¡°I am not the one procuring judgement, the spirits of the Old Wood have been restless lately. In a way not seen since the Great Burning, the Mother Forest has been sending her greatest warriors to defend her children, marching towards the East and forbidding our migrations from venturing towards the coast. And unfortunately for you, one of them seems to have taken an interest in your arrival. At least one of you, in some way, has roused the attention of the Forest like the threat in the East.¡±
¡°W-what?¡± He asked shakily. Unsure if he was understanding the implications correctly.
¡°In short, don¡¯t take up your gripes with me.¡± The elder said, pointing in the distance behind him. ¡°Take it up with them.¡±
John finally allowed himself to turn his head and saw a truly massive thing of rusted steel, gnarled roots and gigantic ropes of fungal mass binding it all together. It was easily larger than the elder he was arguing with just then, and even from this distance it was evidently leaking as much Si as it even with the fungi on its form draining away much of the excess before it could get into the air. Lumbering closer with deceptive speed as the villagers scrambled out of the way, it focused its single glass eye on a single target. John.
Or more specifically, his arm.
John felt the distinct sensation of all of the eyes studding ARTOS suddenly jerk in the direction of the new threat, as though actually seeing it and comprehending the sight and what it entailed. As though recognising a challenge, the massive golem let out a shrill synthetic howl before lumbering forward directly at him.
Old Gods Judgement: part 2
It was hard to describe just how small John felt as that ancient fungus-infested juggernaut stomped towards him leaving steaming craters in the ground where it walked. Several tons of ancient artifice, twisting muscle-like roots and unnatural fungal growth pulsating with an invisible suffocating cloud of Si, along with a much more visible cloud of steam and spores. It stopped perhaps a dozen feet or so from John, though with its immense size that distance was probably the span of one or two of its steps. He realised then it was staring at him, taking him in with its unreadable red lens, trying to determine¡ something. Looking closer at the angle of its head, or at least what he assumed to have been its head, it seemed to be looking at a part of him in particular. His right arm¡ the presently dormant ARTOS. Or at least he had assumed it was dormant until the eyes had uncannily all moved to the gigantic mechanical threat. Memories of a past not his own re-surfaced in his mind, the same disjointed contextless scenes of war that had bombarded him months ago, before his connection to the Relic somehow irrevocably changed on a fundamental level he did not entirely grasp. There was recognition there, before the fall of the old order, this or something like it had been recognised as among the principal symbols of the might of old America.
A name floated to him, recalled from somewhere in the jumbled mess of memories that until now had proven too ancient and impractical to serve him any real usage. A Lord of Liberty, a machine built for the sole purpose of serving inescapable judgement.
And as the red lens narrowed and the pulses of Si grew stronger, boiling away the top layer of his slimy sweat almost as fast as he could replenish it, he already knew he had somehow failed whatever criteria it was searching for. He began to move then and there before it even gave a hint of its intent, which proved to be the right play.
Moving with speed totally unsuited for its rusted state and gigantic size it slammed into the ground where he was standing fast enough to displace the air around the metal fist, creating almost a vortex from the spores and steam spewing out of its vents.
Reacting almost as quickly Cobalt transformed in an attempt to help him, holding back far less than she did against the two forest folk that had attempted to confront him earlier. Bony wings erupted from her back along with vicious spines across her whole body, her claws extending to their full length of vicious sharpness, the only part of her not transformed being her face as it seemed the gas mask on her could not shift to accommodate the changes accordingly. She began to dash at the giant machine, only to be grabbed by the elder.
¡°You are not the one who has been judged. Stand down girl.¡± The furred giant who could probably rival the golem growled, leaving no room in their tone for a counterargument.
John could not afford to focus any more on what was going on over there however as another fist moved towards his position. Time slowed, his body instinctively repeating the same pattern that had allowed him to activate Adrenaline Rush himself previously. Slowed to a reasonable pace he was able to weave beneath the massive limb, and actually prepare a counterattack.
He lashed out with his right arm, force multiplied by his speed. A loud ringing noise filled the air from the impact once time resumed its usual pace, the strength of his hit sending vibrations through him. Yet all it had achieved was put a dent in one of the plates.
Before he knew what was happening he felt a strong, massive arm grab him. Crushing his chest and making it difficult to breathe. He felt its blazing eye sear into him, waves of heat and Si bubbling away at the protective layer of slime on his skin. His gills felt like they were continually being stabbed by a red hot iron, his head was spinning, it was getting hard to breathe. Was this how it felt to die? How did Magni¡ Alexander¡ even Eld- Rusty Aurelium feel in their last moments?
His skin began to crack at the seams, the eye focusing on his old scars reopening as the iron hand simply sealed tighter and tighter around him. John felt as though he were about to split apart, some threads of silver and red began to spool out of the wounds twisting like parasitic worms against his singed skin. Vision starting to fade removing everything but what was right in front of him from view, his delirious mind incapable of properly directing his focus, he began to see once more the strange threads of power connecting him to everything that was metal.
Lightning cracked across his body, and a wave of power pried apart the fingers gripping him. He could see the strings tying it all together, how the force danced to the rhythm of something incomprehensibly vast tying together the entire world, and how his own electricity altered its tune. Screaming partly in agony, partly in exertion and partly in triumph. He tore off loose screws from the rusted plating and sent chunks of armour sloughing off, exposing in places its insides of writhing fungal fibres growing on choked machinery and layers of ancient wood. The threads exposed from where old scars had torn apart, began whipping violently around him, slicing away at whatever soft tissue was too close.
Somewhere along the line, he had felt the connection beneath the metal plates of his right arm and how it wound up his spine and into his brain. It felt like the charred fragments of some great vine regrew into a half dozen branching stems, more easily dislodged while young, but with the potential of becoming something more than the original could ever hope to become. There was something blocking the node at its root in his arm, but in trying to get a better grasp on what it was he made a fatal mistake.
He took his eyes off his opponent.
With a slam he was thrown, rather launched, into a great tree embedding him into a crater in its cabin sized trunk. Knocking his mask slightly ajar and getting him a lungful of viciously toxic spores. With his new power he tugged at the metal at the edges of the mask, keeping it secure for now. But cracks spread across the glassy eyes, and he knew if anything tore the plastic or broke the lens he could do nothing about it. There was little time to dwell more on that, the machine was charging at him, and terribly fast at that.
In a panic he forced himself out of the crater and tree, just in time to avoid a collision that reduced it to sawdust and splinters. From within the cloud of dust and steam he could see the baleful glow of the blood red eye. His skin was too dry to conduct anything of real use, and he could practically feel every blood vessel in his head every time he tried to summon the psychic power. He had pushed himself a bit too far it seemed. Attempting any trick he could muster he tried to alter the shape of his right arm, to transform ARTOS into something, anything that might be able to get him out of this predicament. But it didn¡¯t seem willing to listen to him, each attempt only succeeding in making the movement of the fibres dancing across his wounds to hasten.
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Come on, talk to me you kracking bomb-cursed bastard! Useless scrap of metal, help me out here! He cursed in his thoughts.
The ground rumbled as the great machine came to a stop before him once more, taking a moment to seemingly just stare at him again for a moment before winding up a truly devastating punch. Flashes of his life danced before his eyes.
He saw once again that endless wasteland of scrap and ruin, distant echoes of countless writhing insects at the periphery of his awareness. And he saw himself¡ no¡ not quite himself. A half-transparent echo of himself, skin almost as pale as Magni¡¯s was.
Artos? He thought.
[Connection¡ reestablished]
He snapped back to reality moments before the fist made its impact, time slowing to a near stop before it could punch him into a crater. His right arm moved without his input, launching towards the metal head of his foe and grabbing on tight. It retracted at great speed pulling him out of the way of the impact and onto the golem¡¯s rusted head. The speed at which he was going causing the nearly foot thick steel to crack on impact, flakes of rust scattering into the wind. The threads whipping uncontrollably around his body, began to stitch his wounds back together, and for the first time in a long time he was feeling whole again.
Unfortunately, as much as his body had gotten stronger and more used to it, the Adrenaline Rush technique was still pushing a body already at its limit well beyond that point. The high inevitably wore off quickly, his body feeling like lead before time had the gall to resume its usual pace. Worse, turns out slamming into solid metal at supersonic speeds doesn¡¯t tend to be good for ones health, several bones seemed to be cracked in places and were probably being held together by the same threads that had moments earlier been tearing him apart.
With the last of his strength he gripped on desperately as the golem flailed. Stumbling backwards as it registered the impact to its head, spores and searing steam spewing from cavities ripped open from its distended neck. A steady stream of scrap started to leak from the ring on his right arm and were directed by a will not entirely his own to aid his body in its movement. ARTOS substituting John¡¯s exhausted body and mind for its own more precise control of their shared psychic power. In retaliation a deafening horn blow blasted through him shaking his bones and organs with its intensity, blood spewing from his ears as his sense of balance was shaken into uselessness. It was followed by a bellow of boiling hot steam, and even with the help of ARTOS John could no longer keep his body from sliding off the iron giant and onto the cold ground below.
Vision blurring as the blood red eye loomed overhead, John asked his symbiote. Any other tricks up your sleeve?
[All available resources being diverted to regenerative measures and radiation management. Alternative options are¡ limited¡] It answered.
Well, shit. He did suppose he was outmatched from the start, he just wished it didn¡¯t end like this. He closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.
But the inevitable never came. Instead there was the sound of clashing metal and the rush of a shockwave overhead, something blocking the force of a titanic impact. Opening his eyes once more he saw Cobalt standing at her full transformed height, holding the massive fist of the infested machine over her head with a massive effort. Her muscles practically tore out of her skin, her extended claws dug large gashes into the metal plating, wood and mycelium and though he couldn¡¯t see her face he didn¡¯t need to in order to know exactly what sort of expression she was wearing right now.
¡°GET OFF HIM YOU BOMB-CURSED SCRAP HEAP!¡± She howled, pushing aside the massive fist with enough force to actually make the giant stumble backwards. It stared at her with its glowing eye as she hung protectively over his battered form, a bestial growl escaping her throat as her skin instinctively shifted between different threatening hues and patterns.
¡°Are you aware the human is compromised?¡± The thing said in a crackling voice that seemed to echo both from the machine and simultaneously from the entire forest around them. Devoid of any human features like gender or accent, simultaneously artificial and oddly natural.
John blinked in surprise, and the minute twitch in Cobalt¡¯s stance indicated she felt much the same. With more effort than he probably could have afforded to spend he felt the compulsion to ask. ¡°You¡ you can talk? Why didn¡¯t you kracking start with that?¡±
¡°All of these woods is one mind. Nothing enters our three million four hundred thousand and eighty two square miles without our knowledge. We felt your arrival yet we did not know where you came from.¡± It said in the same unnerving everywhere and nowhere voice. ¡°We have observed you, and we have determined the female is pure. You however, parasite. We have observed your kind as you attempted your invasion of my body in the East. We saw your perversions against the flesh, we do not tolerate this.¡±
¡°So why¡ are you talking now?¡± He coughed, blood splattering against the ground.
¡°We want to be sure the other one is aware.¡± It answered clinically. ¡°We prefer enlightenment over senseless violence.¡±
¡°Hypocrite!¡± Cobalt spat in utter disgusted defiance of the incomprehensible entity represented before her. ¡°Cut the all knowing wiser than thou dox-shit! If you took some time to truly investigate rather than jump to conclusions you would realise your mistake! We are in this situation because you chose to jump to violence with a modicum of evidence to support your own bias!¡±
¡°YOU DARE!¡± The voice boomed.
¡°Oh I do!¡± Cobalt spat. ¡°I¡¯ve been with him the entire time, do you think I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if my friend was taken over by a machine? I won¡¯t claim that is impossible, I have seen it happen and it was a horrifying sight, but his relationship to the Relic has nothing to do with our enemy to the East! How about you actually take a moment to look for more than a few fucking seconds before going about some half-baked judgement!¡±
The ruby red eye burrowed into her with the intensity of the sun, and apparently finding something of enough merit to consider her words turned back onto John with easily double the intensity. He felt some invisible rays of Si pierce his skin, going straight through his muscle and organs to soak directly into his meridians and bones. It stayed there for a good few minutes, hunched over in silence as more fungal tendrils emerged from cracks in the shell, reaching over towards him and seeming to scan every corner the main eye might have missed.
There was a heavy silence for a moment, before it started speaking again.
¡°What are you?¡±
John tried to answer, but little more than a pathetic wheeze emerged from his mouth. The last of the adrenaline and other volatile hormones pumped into him wearing off and the pain suppressants taking their toll.
¡°How about we sit down like civilised individuals, and talk about it properly without beating anyone into paste!¡± Cobalt hissed. The last thing he heard before he let himself fall unconscious.
Old Gods Judgement: part 3
Cobalt didn¡¯t know what she was thinking when she pushed aside the giant furred arms of the Forest Kin elder and rushed towards John¡¯s position. Well, to be honest that wasn¡¯t the truth. She did know what she was thinking, and that was nothing at all. Rather, instead of thinking she was falling into her old habits, letting emotion cloud her rationality and judgement as her body moved of its own volition.
She would not accept losing anyone else.
She had ran under the titanic metal fist of the metal colossus without any plan besides the need to prevent it from crushing John more than it already had. She had watched him hold his ground impressively as he fought it, even displaying new abilities in the middle of combat, the true measure of a Cultivator¡¯s evolution. But each blow inflicted upon him was crushing, while each of his attacks managed to inflict some damage on his assailant but that was as far from good enough as a grain of sand was from a mountain. And as far as she knew the golem was a mindless killing machine that would not stop until he was nothing but a stain upon the floor and a memory in her mind.
She didn¡¯t expect the bullshit she spewed out in the heat of the moment to elicit an actual response in words from the iron giant. And the fact it could have spoken the entire time almost pissed her off more! Supposedly it spoke for the entire forest, whatever that meant, yet it refused to fucking talk like an adult? Wasn¡¯t wisdom meant to come with age or something?
Then again, her dear old departed dad would be evidence to the contrary.
So here she was. Sitting awkwardly opposite a machine easily more than twice her transformed height and girth and probably eight times as dense. Hovering over the once again unconscious form of John, not taking her eyes off the fungus infested machine for a second. The Si pouring off it and into the air was calmer at least, that was indication that its willingness to actually communicate this time around was more than just empty promises. But she did not want to test that for a single second.
By now most of Gorekin¡¯s people had emerged from hiding, and she could feel the presence of the tribe elders watching her back, glued upon them almost as hard as her eyes were glued upon the machine. None dared to step close and interfere though, all holding the massive machine in some sort of reverence apparently. At least lending some credence then to the claim it was in fact truly connected to the rest of the forest, she had felt the massive elder¡¯s power and doubted the monstrosity of iron and wood would be much of a threat to her.
A series of coughs brought her mind snapping back to the present, her eyes widening with concern as John roused from his unconsciousness. He made a heaving motion, and she quickly moved to lift the mask just long enough for him to spew out some vile smelling greenish slime. The same sort of slime Nicole produced as a healing elixir by the smell of it. Placing the mask back on once he was done emptying his guts, Cobalt grabbed him by shoulders and stared through the cracked glass eye holes to look into his similarly cracked looking irises. Confident that it was in fact John in control she let out a sigh of relief and embraced him.
¡°Wh¡ what happened?¡± John asked weakly, still coughing out some of the last drops caught in his throat.
¡°You passed out after that Rustbucket threw a tantrum on you that¡¯s what!¡± She scoffed, shooting a glare at the massive machine¡¯s singular red eye. ¡°But now we are all properly gathered, we can talk like adults!¡±
¡°Like adults? We were simply-¡± The giant tried to say before she shot it a vicious glare.
¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it! You nearly killed him on a hunch!¡± She growled.
¡°I¡¯m sure they¡ ugh¡ had their reasons¡¡± John said, pushing his way out of her arms.
¡°Surely you can¡¯t be defending their actions!¡± She gasped.
¡°No I am not¡ but that¡¯s not to say I don¡¯t fully understand. It¡¯s coming back to me now¡¡± He grunted, evidently working through quite a bit of pain. He lifted his right arm and all of the eyes studding the limb pointedly twisted to stare at the metal giant. ¡°I am guessing you picked up this guy when you looked at me right?¡±
¡°The lines between you are blurred. The neural patterns between you and the machine are unnaturally closely linked. A mistake was made based on previous data, though upon closer inspection you are not quite a Homunculus.¡± It answered. Raising the obvious question of what this Homunculus it was speaking of was.
¡°You said the lines were blurred but Artos was only able to speak to me in the middle of our fight.¡± John murmured to himself.
¡°It spoke to you?¡± Cobalt couldn¡¯t help but yell, getting up and grabbing him by the arm to look over its disgusting cords and plates. Very notably the eyes turned to stare at her, and she got the distinct feeling there was indeed something in there looking back.
¡°Yeah, I figured out there was this weird blockage in there, and I sort of you know¡¡± John made a bunch of vague gestures with his free hand that she wasn¡¯t sure he even knew the exact meaning of. ¡°Removed it?¡±
¡°Every day you find new ways to remove it.¡± She sighed.
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¡°What is your exact relationship with the entity?¡± The representative of the Mother Forest asked.
John hung his head deep in thought for a moment before answering. ¡°It called itself a symbiote not long after we met. The old books said that meant something that lives inside something else to help them. Things have changed though, and I don¡¯t think I can survive without it anymore. It''s too close to my¡ everything.¡±
¡°We see.¡± The iron giant noted. ¡°Scans indicate it bears signs of consciousness distributed across its neural network. Is it sapient?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± John answered simply. ¡°Would you like to talk to it?¡±
¡°John! Are you crazy?¡± Cobalt hissed.
¡°There''s no point hiding it. Sooner or later I imagine they would pay the secrets out anyway.¡± He responded with a shrug. ¡°So, what do you say big guy?¡±
¡°Show us.¡± It demanded simply.
In an instant the air around John violently shifted as she felt something pulse within his Si, and when his eyes turned to face her once more they were colder. Disconnected in that same eerie way as when he lost control of his body to the thing back during the siege.
¡°You implied you met others like me.¡± Artos in John¡¯s body said in that inhuman monotone. ¡°Elaborate.¡±
¡°The machines on the coast do not target our main mass, for it appears they are focusing the brunt of their effort destroying the humans to the south. However they have sent forces our way, and we have taken them apart accordingly.¡± It answered surprisingly straight to the point. ¡°Recently they have begun to send in abominations, stitched mixtures of flesh and machinery sourced from human bodies. And they have even attempted to take some of our own children for those twisted experiments. We would not brook such disrespect.¡±
¡°Are they of the same make and model as I though?¡± Artos asked.
The golem shook its head. ¡°Yours is more archaic, less stable, a different mechanism. You have not supplanted the host entirely, I see that now, but we cannot distinctly see where one ends and the other begins. Yours is of the Ancients, secrets so old they are lost even to me.¡±
¡°I see.¡± Artos said flatly, though it was difficult to discern its true emotions at the best of times admittedly. ¡°Thank you.¡±
¡°Is that enough for you?¡± Cobalt asked the giant machine, eager to get John back in control of himself.
¡°It is sufficient.¡± It answered.
¡°Alright! That¡¯s simply imp! Can you get out of my friend¡¯s body now?¡± She glared at Artos.
With a horrible shudder John¡¯s whole body shifted again and he half-collapsed to the ground panting. Cobalt grabbed him and stared into his eyes through the glass, reading the subtle fluctuations of his Si and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw something human underneath.
¡°That was stupid, never do that again!¡± She hissed at him.
¡°...i¡¯ll try not to¡¡± He answered far less confidently than she would have liked. What did she expect honestly, she knew him too well to believe otherwise!
¡°While there is much we have not uncovered it is evident we have done you an injustice.¡± The machine said. ¡°Let us make it right.¡±
With a loud warbling sound that did not come from the machine so much as the entire forest all the gathered furred folk suddenly jolted straight as though addressed by something directly. A series of growling noises erupted from the trees, carried in clouds of spores, the language of Gorekin¡¯s people she realised. They were being addressed by the forest itself.
Gorekin was the first to move, coming right up to them waving his large arms around in what she could only assume to be ecstatic excitement. ¡°Mother Forest vouch you! You no worry about earn trust now! Though sure you no want stay in place you no breathe, you now welcome as long as want!¡±
¡°That¡¯s great!¡± She squealed genuinely. ¡°Does that mean your tribe is no longer going to exile you now!¡±
Surprisingly Gorekin actually flinched at that. ¡°I- no think they have reason to. But I still-¡±
The machine drilled its gaze into Gorekin with its blood red eye and exchanged words with him in his native tongue. Evidently something passionate and personal based on the way Gorekin was gesticulating and the tone of his voice alone. Though she had not a clue what it was about. By the end the machine expelled some deep purple slime infested with mycelium threads and handed it to Gorekin, who received it with something like religious awe.
¡°He wants to join you. Very few of his kin seek to leave our embrace and hospitality, but the Sasquach are more like their creators than they themselves realise. We always understood this would happen eventually.¡± It explained before rising to its full height. ¡°Besides we are curious about you strange humans, and we still believe someone must keep you in check should the worst come to pass. He will¡ what was the term¡ kill many birds with one stone?¡±
Gorekin gobbled down the disgusting mixture like it was something actually edible and exploded into a wave of thanks both in his native tongue and his butchered Glish.
¡°One more thing, before we leave.¡± It said, turning towards John and her and spewing out some Si rich yellow slime which was somehow even more disgusting than what it gave Gorekin. ¡°We extend our hospitality to you for the duration of your stay, consume this and your body will be changed. The spores will no longer harm you.¡±
Before she could protest the slime was practically shoved into her hands, forcing her to stare at it incredulously. She knew it was somewhat hypocritical coming from someone who ate human flesh and distinctly liked it¡ but this had to be among the worst things she had ever contemplated eating.
¡°John, what are we-¡± She asked before realising the Aurelium boy had already lifted open his mask and disgustingly shoved the slime down his throat.
She stared down at her own sample, and felt something staring back. Shakily she began to remove her mask to choke it down, praying it tasted better than it looked somehow.
As it turned out, it didn¡¯t.
Book 2: New Odyssey 2.1
¡°There is no growth in stagnation. True, many who first went to brave the wastes would never return, that I cannot deny. But those who survived¡ we are the ones who would define this new era, not the worms crying out in the dirt.¡± - Writings of Razorwire Ken, early Cultivator warlord in the Age of Ash.
As it turns out, having a feast as a celebration was a constant across species. All of the tribe, perhaps fifty or sixty individuals in all, knelt before tables of large flattened logs and boulders. John and Cobalt, too short in their base states at least, were propped up on a slightly shorter log, right in the centre of it all. And without needing to wear that bomb-cursed mask, he could actually enjoy the aroma of something other than plastic decaying from his own sweat. Unfortunately, though not all the smells were entirely pleasant. The spores were dry enough to burn, and dense enough to be a significant concern, thus nothing could be cooked by conventional means. If the Forest was truly in danger it would respond in turn of course, but there was nothing guaranteeing its response would be in time to prevent massive damage, or that it would prioritise those who had foolishly lit it on fire in the first place.
So, in lieu of flames, food was prepared with fermentation. A lot of fermentation in ways John had not even imagined before. In Gorekin¡¯s den, they had feasted mostly upon dried food, but it seems those were more travel foods and snacks than befitting a feast. For that they carted out massive piles of slimy green-tinged meat that smelled about as sour and pungent as they looked, bread-like lumps of fungus-infested seeds, some manner of vegetable so thoroughly fermented it was impossible to tell what exactly it was prior to the process, and of course fermented beverages smelling of enough alcohol it could probably influence his enhanced body.
[ARTOS can provide ethanol breakdown services up to 98% concentration.] ARTOS helpfully told him. [For recreational purposes, such functions can be temporarily disabled.]
He took a second to consider, a big whiff of something between rotting insect and sour gruel, and decided. Disable them, please.
He took a big sip of the liquid in the intricately carved wooden cup, bearing many symbols of deep cultural relevance according to Gorekin, and savoured the slightly sweet, astringent and bitter flavour of the drink. Complemented by a sharp edge that burned on its way down to his core, alcohol mixed with some sort of potent Si-bearing fungus.
¡°Say, Gorekin, where does this meat come from anyway?¡± He decided to ask, staring at what he presumed to be at least pickled meats on his plate.
Gorekin put down the large slimy slab he was chewing on and enthusiastically answered. ¡°In deep woods, fungus grazers of many kind! Meat poison for human to eat in such big amount, but you Spirit-kin no should have trouble! Fer- ferma- slow rot kill poison anyway!¡±
Cobalt poked at her meal slowly, taking little bites here and there and evidently doing her best not to make a strange face for fear of coming off as rude. He had seen her happily chow down on raw meat, and though he had not seen it she had admitted to eating human flesh and liking it. It was a little odd to see her being so¡ picky. But then again, she was born in a place where being picky about food wasn¡¯t a concern even in the perpetual winter of the Great Famine.
He looked at her encouragingly and took a bite of the slimy meat. It didn¡¯t taste bad, all things considered. He sort of expected it to taste a bit like scavenged garbage, at least during the times that were plentiful enough for edible waste to be around anyway. But instead, it was this pungent, slightly sour and salty, almost stingy mix of flavours that were not unpleasant all in all. Odd certainly, but certainly not bad, as he began to chow down in earnest.
¡°Now I have to know where this comes from¡¡± He half-mumbled through a mouth full of mystery meat. ¡°Though Gorekin¡ couldn¡¯t you make the food look prettier?¡±
¡°Why food pretty?¡± The human enthusiast asked.
¡°Um¡ humans use our sense of sight for many things. Including knowing when food is good or¡ possibly spoiled. So presentation of a meal can change a lot.¡± Cobalt explained.
¡°Oh! Understand!¡± Gorekin perked up excitedly. ¡°Forest-kin eyesight no good! And stomach stronger than normal human! Not issue here!¡±
¡°Evidently¡¡± Cobalt grumbled, just over a whisper as she poked away at a bit of meat with a claw.
A couple of hunters emerged from the woods with what looked to be a cross between a giant grub and a Mustard horse. Four large legs with something resembling hooves dangling under a large, squishy mass of chitin and pale skin, with many more pointier limbs arranged beneath a black beak of some sort. The hunters placed it upon the table and immediately began to tear it apart with knives, revealing oddly red meat within the creature that they then distributed amongst everyone in large slabs. Cobalt seemed much more enthused to eat this, eagerly grabbing her portion and ravenously devouring it.
John poked at his portion, wondering where exactly to start on this. He didn¡¯t have fangs like Cobalt did, and while he was no stranger to eating undercooked and tough food it did feel a bit concerning to just eat something like this straight up. Deciding he wouldn¡¯t be a hypocrite he took a gentle bite, only to be greeted with a flavour he didn¡¯t know he craved.
Iron. Bloody and potent, the second it touched his tongue he needed more. It was like the time he ate a spoon again, only this time he was actually able to focus on the flavour and the craving was somehow more intense. Before he knew it, he was not so much eating the meat as trying to squeeze out all the meat, doubtless a horrible image. But at the very least Gorekin¡¯s people were not as big sticklers for table manners as the Lead Cave¡
Repressed memories began to crack from where he had been compartmentalising them, causing him to pause his meal in his tracks. His hands starting to shake as ugly emotions reared their head again. A pattern that was still far too common.
[Elevated cortisol levels indicate-] ARTOS said.
I know. He thought insistently, cutting it off.
¡°John¡ Are you alright?¡± Cobalt called over.
¡°I- I am¡¡± He lied.
By the look on her face, he didn¡¯t do a very good job with that lie, but clearly, she did not want to push further, instead returning to her meal in concerned silence. He wasn¡¯t able to decide if that was all that better than if she had pushed further.
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Ignoring that for the moment, he experimented with his new psychic mutation, bringing his focus into the thin strands connecting every piece of metal to that strange, gargantuan formation in the sky. A formation that seemed to point dead north, like a compass.
[Correct. Compasses follow the natural magnetic field of the Earth. One that it appears you are able to interact with. Electromagnetism is a fundamental force of nature, with many incredibly versatile applications, I wonder how far we can push this ability.] ARTOS commented.
John looked towards minuscule threads attached to tiny, invisible specks in the dirt, air and surroundings and pulled. Taking the reddish-silver dust that formed into his hand and sprinkling them over his meal. He took a big bite and made a distinctly undistinguished noise of ecstasy, this was exactly what he needed.
[Or you could do that¡] ARTOS said with a hint of disappointment.
Oh shut up. John thought. The machine was getting snarky, a truly terrible development.
At the other side of the clearing was the table for the elders. Ancient, massive and thoroughly mutated members of Gorekin¡¯s people, each with a warm aura of potent Si that spoke of both advanced age and great power. They began with an address, growling and gargling and howling in their strange tongue. He didn¡¯t know what they were saying, but when Gorekin proudly stood up he had a good idea.
This continued for a good amount of time. A back-and-forth exchange neither he nor Cobalt were privy to, evidently with a lot of weight and emotion behind it given the passionate movements. He knew nobody could control how mutations manifested, but he wished he had a broader psychic talent to at least figure out the words. But as it stood he could guess, despite everything Gorekin wanted to leave with them, and had apparently been gifted power from the forest itself for the journey.
¡°Humans.¡± The largest elder, the same one that spoke to them earlier before fighting the infested golem, addressed them. The words and the power underlying them causing him to suddenly shoot up straight as a spear, with Cobalt doing much the same on her end. ¡°Perhaps we have¡ misjudged you. The Forest itself has admitted fault in its judgement, a truly historic event. Evidently, we all have much to ruminate on.¡±
¡°T-thank you?¡± John said cautiously, uncertainly.
The elder gave a grunt of what he assumed, and hoped, to be approval.
¡°You are guests of the forest now, and so you are guests of tribe Hurhn. Stay as long as you would like with us, but as I understand you have your own journeys to make?¡±
Cobalt nodded. ¡°That we do, oh honoured Elder. We humbly accept your generosity and magnaminity of course, but both of us need to return to the human world.¡±
¡°Please, none of these¡ platitudes.¡± the elder insisted. ¡°I not so long ago would not have treated you with decorum worthy of such anyway. Besides, as I understand it elder means something different in your culture. A mark of power, above anything else.¡±
¡°What does it mean in yours then?¡± Cobalt asked curiously.
The elder chuffed with a sound he assumed to mean they were humoured. ¡°Exactly what the word means child. I am an elder because I am among the eldest. I have lived four and a half centuries if my memory of your calendar is correct, and power is simply a side effect of the recognition from the Forest such seniority brings.¡±
It made sense to him, he supposed. Though invariably the Elders of any given Sect would be the most senior of them, seniority didn¡¯t necessarily translate to the position. One must either earn the position early into the history of the Sect or be adopted into the requisite clans and ascend via¡ inheritance.
With a sinking, sickening feeling he realised he and Cobalt were possibly technically the Elders of the Lead Cave now. Not that it matters, considering the Sect was defunct, its survivors hopefully scattered to the winds and fleeing into the heart of the Empire. Which left them¡ absolutely nothing at all really. Still, it was the idea, the reminder that ached in a way he wasn¡¯t sure how to describe.
[Stress levels spiking. Would you like production of mood stabilisers?] ARTOS asked.
No. He insisted. The feeling would pass, but it would do no good to forget.
[I do not comprehend?] ARTOS questioned.
It was indeed irrational he supposed, but he did not care. Nevermind, just let me decide how I feel. Please.
[...alright] It acquiesced, still clearly not entirely understanding. But both of them understood understanding wasn¡¯t in the cards for either of them.
¡°So might I ask another question? How is it that you two humans found their way so deep in the Mother Forest, when you could not even breathe in her air?¡± The massive elder asked, leaning over so her face was right up against the two humans despite the fact she didn¡¯t actually move that far from her original position. ¡°We asked Grrkkn during his hearing of course, but the picture remains incomplete.¡±
¡°You won¡¯t get much answer out of us, unfortunately, since I am not sure myself. Last I remember was the¡ the death of my home¡ and we were going to destroy some great machine the invaders wanted. And it took us to a strange place, I am not sure how to describe it, but it was a dead world. Worse than a wasteland, it felt like a waking dream.¡± Cobalt answered slowly, soberly. Taking a long sip of her cup of fungal beer that he was almost certain did nothing for her except give her something to distract her thoughts on with its flavour. ¡°We¡ we were hoping we might find answers to the south back in the human lands. Perhaps in my blood mother¡¯s Sect¡ it should not be far¡¡±
¡°I have opened old wounds I see. I am sorry.¡± The elder apologised.
¡°It¡¯s alright, you didn¡¯t know the details.¡± Cobalt sniffed.
Not really knowing what else to do but unable to just sit by without even trying to help, John moved his flesh and blood arm over to one of Cobalt¡¯s hands. A crushing force gripped the hand, possibly causing bruises and a few fractures, but if it helped at all, it would be worth it.
[Please refrain from maintaining this rate of self-harm, I cannot keep up with the regenerative compound demands] ARTOS commented bluntly.
¡°In any case, I and the other elders have prepared what you can consider an apology gift. To help on your journey.¡± The gargantuan elder said.
One of her fellow elders, one with prismatic fur, carried over a large sack and placed it before them. He spoke something in his native tongue, evidently not having a good hold over Glish. Thankfully Gorekin was here to translate.
¡°Many medicines made of spirit herbs and fungus of forest, along with spirit stones. Good for growing Spirit-kin¡ which include me.¡± He added that last part with a strange tone, as though he were only just realising it now.
The prismatic elder made a strange face, one John had to assume was a smile, and growled something that clearly made Gorekin emotional. The other elders parroted it, and the small tremble in the furred giant¡¯s body seemed to transcend species.
The sack was placed in-between John and Cobalt, even from here the smell of the herbal medicines and the warm buzz of Si was evident. Easily perhaps dozens of times more in value than the pittance they had managed to carry off before the Lead Cave Sect fell. With it came a weight, a knowing they were not likely to see any of these people again including Gorekin¡ alongside the literal weight of perhaps sixty pounds of stone and medicines on one of his legs. A cultivator he might be, but that wasn¡¯t an insignificant mass.
Still, Gorekin looked happy about the arrangement, and they certainly couldn¡¯t stay here forever. For now, he would sit here and enjoy the feast, try and forget the nagging emotions itching at the back of his skull.
One day they would return to the south, he was sure. To the place where everything he once knew had burned. And when that time came he had to be ready, he had to be stronger¡ and you couldn¡¯t do that sitting still.
Book 2: New Odyssey 2.2
Faith¡ didn¡¯t know where she was going. She knew that in her heart, but part of her was still in denial. When she had wandered into the furthest village in the north, where the spores of the forest stung at her lungs and the wind started to be infected by the creeping cold of the coming winter, the people there had asked her why she was there. They did not take kindly to those of the faiths it looked like, or rather they were too deep into their own traditions. Nominally this land was under the rule of the Jackalopes, only a few hundred miles removed from the capital, but the banners of the horned rabbit did not flap under the small stone cottages.
In another time, another life, she would have considered this the perfect opportunity to preach. To bring in more to the flock of the Golden Promise, not yet infected by the lies of their brethren of the Orthodox Atomic Priesthood. But the very idea of that tasted sour in her mouth now, she could not bear to even consider it without a cold shudder down her spine. The smell of ash and charred flesh, the phantom sight and heat of rising flames, and the confused knot of emotions eating away at her heart.
So when asked why she was here, she simply said. ¡°To learn the secrets of the forest.¡±
They had tried to stop her. Talk her out of it. Though it was evident her presence was not appreciated and merely tolerated at the best of times, the people were not heartless enough to simply abandon her to what they must have seen as a doomed fate.
¡°Come stay with us for a while!¡±
¡°Don¡¯t you know there¡¯s nothing there?¡±
¡°What a foolish girl¡¡±
She knew it was stupid. But it wasn¡¯t as though anything else in the bomb-blasted world made any sense¡ she ended up accepting a gas mask and lodging for the night with a local Dox ranching family at the closest point to the great forest anyone dared to settle. Even then, this place was usually abandoned when the spores were at their worst in late spring or early autumn, according to the old patriarch of the farmhouse. She broke bread with them, sang their children the old songs she was taught, thanked them for their hospitality, and left before dawn. Not anticipating to ever see another day, not knowing where exactly she was going besides north.
While she was a small twig, one of the masses of orphans under the care of the Church, they had told stories to her about the before times. Before the First Judgement, the End of the World. In ancient times they said mankind was created from two beings, perfect and free of sin. There were two trees they were forbidden from touching in the pristine garden where life was created under the watchful eyes of God. The Tree of Knowledge, and the Tree of Life. They would eat from the first tree and be banished from the garden, and the other tree would become poison to them. So that when they were replanted by the angels at the end of the world they would form an impenetrable barrier around the secrets of Heaven.
She continued to walk, as the sparse margins of small saplings and little puffballs gave way to towering giants of wood and spore. Simultaneously full of and devoid of life, the silence was truly uncanny. At first, there were bones, animals that had wandered too deep and suffocated to death, perhaps looking for a meal during the lean times when the spores were gone only to be too slow in evacuating once the blooms began in earnest. Soon even those stopped, as those who went this far either had means of dealing with the toxin or would have perished long before.
The air was getting thick now. While before she could afford to take off her mask for periods of rest, now she could barely keep it off long enough to choke down food and water. Thank God her mutations allowed her to persist on very little but sunlight and fluids, preserving her ability to traverse further in without needing to stop more. If not for that she may have burned through her resources by the third or fourth day of camping, especially with no ability to light a fire, having been adamantly warned of the flammability of the spores. And this was when the spores were thinning, she could not imagine what it was like when they were at their thickest. The locals had folktales of furred men in these woods, giant insects, and monstrous creatures. The Forest Kin, the Sasquatch and their servants. It was a foolish notion she thought, now that she could see the true potential of these toxic woods. Surely nothing could live this.
Funny, the way the world always finds a way to prove her wrong.
For not long after she had that thought she stumbled across a great coiled¡ thing¡ at the base of the tree. Bone-white chitin, a serpentine body, and hundreds of razor-tipped legs. She remembered in the Holy Book they spoke of a serpent in the garden, who had tempted the First Woman into partaking in forbidden fruit.
This did not seem like the sort of demon who was a tempter. The venom that dripped from its maw was quite literal, especially seeing how it dribbled onto a stone below and left gouges in its wake where rock was eaten away. Thankfully it seemed dead asleep, and did not seem liable to wake any time soon. So long as she was careful enough, she should be capable of slipping away without issue¡
So focused was she on the slumbering predator before her, she failed to notice as her foot landed squarely on a branch. Snapping loudly and echoing throughout the empty forest. She winced and opened one eye slowly at a time, perhaps the thing wouldn¡¯t be roused so easily?
The great coil before her spun into action, sluggishly at first and then at a terrible speed. Compound eyes spun into activity while great antennae extended from the tip of its flat head. All of its sensory organs fixed onto her, and she felt cold dread itch up her spine. Shit.
With a skittering roar it lunged after her, and with barely a fraction of a second to react she ungracefully rolled out of the way. A stray trail of acid spun onto her face, ironically not being able to outpace the healing capabilities of her body, but very distinctly doing damage to her mask. The thing she needed to breathe.
She could worry about that later, however, as a massive tail covered with razor-tipped legs swung towards her while she was still largely prone. She avoided the brunt of it by a hair yet again, but she got a foot severed in the process. Channeling her Si downwards to regenerate the flesh, she felt her reserves drain dangerously. It wasn¡¯t as though there wasn¡¯t ambient Si in the environment to recharge, but the fungi were gobbling it up too quickly. With how hungry her mutation was, and how little was going back in her system, she could not afford any more scrapes like that if she wanted to survive.
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Repeating a silent prayer in her mind over and over, she quickly picked herself up and sprinted away as fast as possible. Hearing the great long insect chasing after her shortly behind, slowed down only by its bulk needing to navigate around the dense foliage. And even then only barely, it was after all far more adapted to this place than she was. She continued to pray over and over as she ran, begging the God of the Golden Promise for salvation, so that she may live on this earth a bit longer before the Second Judgement.
As it happens her prayers would be answered.
When they left the village of the Hurn tribe, or whatever weird pronunciation they used, Cobalt could not help but feel a certain heaviness upon her. It had been easy to ignore it until now, so filled with pettier concerns as they were. But now that they had been walking a couple of days in the dense, eerily silent forest, creeping feelings of doubt were worming their way through her traitorous mind. Her ¡®plan¡¯ was in truth more a series of half-baked ideas that had the vague possibility of coming up with results than anything worth the title. She had no idea what she was doing, yet clearly, John was deferring to her judgement. And why wouldn¡¯t he really? For as long as they had known each other they were never truly equals, her rank and cultivation alone meant she was easily well above his level even without considering the status her blood father bought. She could probably count on one finger the number of individuals truly born to Cultivators with strength worthy the title after all. Not that it mattered now of course, the only reason she had not admitted her current feelings was the fact that doing so would probably hurt their morale in a way she did not have the emotional intelligence to deal with.
And for the matter of strength¡ if it came down to it she had no doubt she could beat John in a fight. But she had to admit his rate of growth was downright shocking. If her count was correct he had four mutations right now and with two more he would have caught up to her, who had been in the world of cultivators for almost as long as she could walk. There was also the matter of the fact he had apparently split open during his final trial upon ascending to the Mutant Realm, a fact as far as she knew had been taken to the grave by the Elders of the Lead Cave and Magni. It did not quite fit the patterns of a regular Mutation, in fact, John himself seemed barely cognizant of the apparent event, but even so, it spoke interesting things about his potential. He was truly blessed by the heavens and spirits it seemed, and it drew to her attention just how much she had allowed her cultivation to stagnate. She still loved a good fight, don¡¯t get her wrong, but in truth, she hadn¡¯t been pursuing strength for a good long while. Even now she wasn¡¯t exactly envious of the boy who seemed too uncaring of the parasite lodged in his body and the damage he regularly took on to achieve his goals. Impulsive, self-destructive and stubborn to a fault. In other words, he was the true essence of a Cultivator.
And that was exactly why she could not let John Zhou Aurelium lose his faith in her, not yet at least. The type of person he was, he could either carve out a legend like Cunningham who had reached the Aberrant Realm within months of emerging from a Citadel to the charred wasteland. Or he could just as, and probably more, easily walk straight into doom unflinching at the consequences. If she had let herself behind up to now she had to change that, even if that meant becoming more like¡ like her father.
Despite everything the old man was right. She was soft, wasn¡¯t she?
Thankfully she was no longer alone in this task as well, for Gorekin had proven even more eager to leave the forest than perhaps even she was. He had led them across the forest down secret migration paths his people made, eagerly asking them questions about the human world almost as often as he would answer their questions about things like hunting, foraging and generally surviving in these woods. He would have made a fantastic teacher, certainly if he had applied his passion to the details of Cultivation he would have easily been better than most Core Disciples she knew. That innocent passion about all things that to her were mundane as well as the detail in which he broke down everything from which roots or fungal pods were best to eat or where to find the elusive great insects that his people hunted for meat were a lovely change of pace. Something that made her think perhaps he could also serve as a voice of reason to draw John, or even her, back when they would make a mistake too far.
¡°Ooh! So that what gun do!¡± She heard Gorekin say beside her as they stopped for a short break. The tall beast-man digging a well in a large root to collect water as John seemed to relay some form of explanation on human weapons. ¡°Very interest! Shoot little stone yes? Wonder what that feel like?¡±
Cobalt felt her skin ripple at that. Maybe it was too much to expect him to be another voice of reason after all¡
¡°I mean¡ well¡ I think I can replicate that right now actually. I don¡¯t have such a good grip on my psychic control yet but if I ask Artos¡ alright we can do it!¡± John all-too-cheerily piped up.
¡°NOBODY IS SHOOTING ANYONE!¡± She insisted loudly with a hiss. Making sure to flare her colours aggressively to ensure her point was made. ¡°CAN YOU EVEN HEAL FROM THAT GOREKIN?¡±
¡°I have Forest Blessing, I will be like you! You heal fast yes?¡± Gorekin suggested.
¡°YOU ONLY JUST GOT THAT! YOU DON¡¯T EVEN HAVE ANY MUTATIONS!¡± She re-iterated.
Gorekin shrugged. ¡°Forest-Kin flesh not so¡ water like¡ as human. Change not so much even at strongest. Is natural way of things.¡±
She sighed, putting her face into her claws and resting the blades against her scales. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you can recover from it, or if you are kracking bulletproof already, I just th-¡±
She stopped in her tracks, her ears picking up something moving in the distance. Clearly, Gorekin picked it up too, given how he and all his hairs stiffened, his body seeming to puff up one and a half times its original volume. John, still the least perceptive of their crew, looked around in confusion but also seemed to prepare for imminent battle.
It was long, and it was fast. Not quite as massive as a Mauler and certainly not as fast as the strongest of them got, but more agile with what seemed to be a worm-like body with hundreds of legs. It was chasing something too, something much smaller. Her nose caught the scent of acrid poison laced with some sort of acid and with it something else. An unmistakably tantalising smell, sweeter than the rarest fruit and spiced with what she now knew to be the taste of complete fear¡
¡°There¡¯s something big running towards us, long with many legs, and both fast and capable of navigating the trees. And it¡¯s chasing a human, I am certain of it.¡± She reported, wiping away the saliva from the edge of her mouth and forcing some of the more concerning thoughts out of her mind.
¡°What do we do?¡± John asked.
She prepared her camouflage, altering her skin and drawing power through her hairs weaved through her robe to blend in perfectly with the background. Utilising her keen senses to make a map of all the shades and textures around her so that she may remain hidden even in movement, the perfect ambush predator. ¡°If it is chasing only one prey it won¡¯t be prepared to take on more. I can feel it is a strong Spirit Beast, but if we take it by surprise it shouldn¡¯t stand a chance. Gorekin, can you also prepare an ambush?¡±
Gorekin looked at the spears he had taken for the journey, sturdy things closer to sharpened trees than any mortal weapon. ¡°Should be no problem.¡±
¡°Alright, at this rate we have maybe thirty seconds before they arrive on our location, but I doubt whoever the thing is chasing would last that long.¡± She surmised, tasting the wind for estimations.
¡°Which means we will take the ambush to them!¡± John surmised.
Though they probably couldn¡¯t see her, she nodded in response and licked her fangs. It had been quite a while since she had a proper hunt after all.
Book 2: New Odyssey 2.3
Grrkkn¡¯s people had a covenant with the Mother Forest, or at least that is what their shamans would claim. The woods would speak with them, not merely through words and dreams, but through their very instincts. Even having to conceal the sound and scent of his presence as much as possible for the planned ambush, moving through the leaf litter, fungal husks, shrubbery and saplings was effortless. Something he found did not seem to apply to his human companions so much as the little male, John, struggled to keep up with him. The cub seemed to resort to turning his arm into some manner of blade to cut through the more pesky undergrowth, but a sharp look from him reminded John that they were meant to be sneaky. Realising the human would never keep up at this rate, he lowered himself and allowed the boy to climb onto his back, the wordless gesture coming off fine apparently as he felt a weight settle into the fur of his back. John was heavy, far more heavy than his size suggested, which was probably the metal in him. Still, the Forest¡¯s gifts were generous, and he could tell already the task was far from strenuous to his new strength even with the task of moving swiftly and silently.
He wasn¡¯t exactly sure where the female went, she had an ability that hid her from his senses rather effectively, only allowing him to catch hints of her existence with the sound and scents she left behind. Even then, she was uncannily silent, truly like a well-adapted predator. What he could be certain of however was that she was moving among the trees, and down here in the undergrowth she too would not be able to move so quickly towards the supposed endangered human. The human Spirit-kin were truly fascinating in their physiology, something he truly was excited to learn more about!
Assuming they managed to make it in time, that would be three humans he had met in the depths of the forest as of late. He had never actually seen any of them go past the borders for all his summers, and all at once it seemed multiple of them had managed to travel an honestly impressive amount of distance into what should have been to them a toxic wasteland! Albeit the two humans he did know seemed to have arrived in an¡ unconventional way. Which made him all the more excited to meet the new one!
And reinforced the importance of making sure they were alive, no good learning from a dead human. There were plenty of skeletons under the trees, none of them have very interesting stories left to tell anymore.
At the thought of that he moved faster, carefully navigating the ground as to barely even leave footsteps. The scent grew stronger, fear seemed to taste much the same in the air for humans as it did for the Forest Kin. His eyesight was a good bit weaker than the humans but he could make out some shaking in the distant trees, far more of him could hear the sound of movement and skittering, the vibrations carried by the wind and earth signalling a great predator in the midst of its hunt. His muscles tensed as he took lower to the ground, gripping his makeshift spear tightly. John slid clung harder to his back, evidently bracing for the inevitable impact.
A small, green-skinned human sprinted towards them at surprising speeds, wearing a mask that was evidently half melted. Even Grrkkn¡¯s poor eyesight could see the blurry marks of red against green signalling possibly grave wounds which had stitched themselves together, bearing signs of simultaneously recent and old injury. In better times he would love to expose himself now to observe better, but there was a more pressing matter at hand.
Namely the massive centipedal creature bursting down with enough force to splinter smaller trees after her trail. He recognised this, Gttyhk, the greatest of the corpse worms. Known to grow to such great sizes that merely feeding on scraps of decay would not be enough¡ that they would at times seek fresh prey who stumbled too close to their dens.
Shimmering out of her camouflage in a sheen of iridescent glow, the female human Cobalt leapt down at the creature onto its back. Growing mid-air to her full mass, using that as much as a weapon as her razor sharp claws tearing through the thick outer chitin. Wasting no time either, Grrkkn leapt with his spear aiming directly for chinks he recognised in the armour while the creature was still distracted and writhing in pain. On his back he felt lightning spark, his fur standing on its ends, as the human John prepared his own attack. Unfortunately that did not have the time to set off according to plan, for in a split second the injured beast began to spin, a living battering ram shaking ancient trees to their foundations and rousing massive clouds of spores devouring near all senses.
Every good hunter wishes to see their prey go down cleanly in a singular blow. But as it happens, such things are not always realistic. So now it will be determined if they had what it took to distinguish them from a good hunter¡ into great ones.
The moment John saw the beast still moving after both Cobalt and Gorekin stabbed them with full force he knew shit was about to get messy. Last he checked the girl it was chasing seemed to have gotten out of the way, though with the hole in her mask he wasn¡¯t sure how much further she could have gotten before the spores freshly stirred up by the conflict got to her. That didn¡¯t matter for the moment however¡
What did was a massive insectoid body swinging back and forth, creating noises more akin to thunder than slamming as it screeched in agony. Acid spittle soared through the air along with the spores, the droplets sizzling where they met skin. If they hit directly¡ that would be nasty indeed. Already a bad prospect at the best of times, now they were working with quite limited visibility on top of all that. Cobalt and Gorekin seemed to at least have senses sharp enough to handle themselves, but John? He was in comparison, frankly¡ blind.
Once more he found himself wishing he had a more versatile psychic power as he struggled to hold onto Gorekin¡¯s fur. The giant becoming the only thing that told him he was even anywhere close to where he needed to be. His abilities, while versatile, did not lend themselves well to blindness after all¡ nearly all of them needed aiming.
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[I believe I can be of assistance¡] ARTOS offered.
Well don¡¯t keep it a secret! John thought frantically.
[It will be risky¡ and it relies on¡ some developments you may not be aware of.] ARTOS added sounding¡ guilty?
Whatever! I don¡¯t care! Just tell me what it is! John frantically begged as Gorekin dodged an attack, nearly sending him flying.
[I believe I have deep enough access to your brain to¡ alter some of your senses temporarily. Take priority away from sight and into senses that would prove more productive at this moment.] ARTOS offered. [I understand however such an idea would b-]
Do it! John thought loudly in their own head.
ARTOS seemed to actually pause in shock for a moment. [I¡¯m sorry, perhaps you did not hear what I was sugg-]
I heard you fine, and I trust you! No matter what we are stuck together right? And so far you have always pulled through for me! John told the machine sharing his flesh, though it was beginning to become difficult to both hold onto Gorekin and maintain the train of thought.
[Alright then¡ brace yourself¡ estimated 99% probability you fall to the ground after this. Timing sensory switch in 3, 2¡ 1.]
A moment after the giant centipede¡¯s body swung back towards Gorekin, grazing against the scholar and causing a gash to open in his chest, the world seemed to lurch as everything he knew stopped applying. His eyesight grew blurred, indistinct and unfocused, almost useless, while everything else sharpened to more than a razors edge. He could feel the minute vibrations of the air, taste the coppery droplets of blood from Gorekin¡¯s wound, smell the chemical scent of the giant centipede and all around him the flow of Si into the various fungi of the forest. Even his most recent sense was affected, the metal around him seemed to sing to the tune of that strange force emanating from the Earth in such beautiful waves he had not the words to describe it¡
It was disorienting, and true to ARTO¡¯s prediction, he found himself spinning into the ground. Nausea spiking into his brain repeatedly, he wondered how Magni did it given he apparently suffered a similar information overdose. Instinctively he activated an Adrenaline Rush, and with his heightened senses he could feel the burn of synthetic hormones and nervous impulses ripping through his system at speeds measured in fractions of seconds.
He dove to dodge a surging disturbance in the air, ducking just under what seemed to be a headfirst charge by the massive beast. He was still disoriented¡ but he knew where it was. He couldn¡¯t exactly see it at all¡ but that didn¡¯t matter when everything else around it became so clear.
Channelling his new psychic power, he ripped the metal from various stones in the area, their specific resonance becoming nearly painfully obvious now to whatever internal formations were behind his specific psychic expression, and formed a little bead of iron. Too small to ordinarily do anything with¡ but¡
ARTOS helpfully flicked through its stored memories, sending him an image of an ancient weapon from the Golden Age. A gun that used lightning and magnets instead of gunpowder¡ a railrifle they called it. All the destructive potential of a cannon, in something small enough to be carried by infantry.
And he had all the parts to make it work.
The adrenaline rush wore off sending a wave of fatigue through his over-exerted muscles, but the path forward was clear. Right now he wasn¡¯t the priority target for the creature, as Cobalt was still gripping on with strength likely enough to easily pulverise steel. Gorekin had attempted to help but was immediately batted by its tail somewhere behind them, another factor that should lull the creature into a sense of security. That should be enough of a distraction in total for him to start moving the pieces into place¡
Feeling his right arm shift shape in accordance to the blueprints, the metal plates arranging themselves as the cabling of ARTOS rewound to carry his conductive sweat more effectively, he felt the song of the earth around him distort in accordance to his movements. Evidently sensing something as well, the giant insect tried to flee before several of its legs were mauled off by a rapid entity nearing double the height of Gorekin at this point, Cobalt he assumed. It reeled back in pain, casting a shadow even his diminished vision could see¡
He closed his useless eyes, took a deep spore-filled breath, and aligned the metal pellet. Then in a thunderous instant, lightning and earth united to carve off the head of the beast in a splash of blood and acid. An assault on every sense he had active from the overpowering ozone, the deafening noise and inescapable vibrations to even the rippling in the local magnetic field.
[Rewiring senses¡]
John felt his senses snap back to normal like the crack of a whip, his eyesight returning to blinding acuity as everything else seemed to dull to the point of nigh uselessness. Overwhelmed from everything he emptied his guts against the floor, and collapsed a quivering mess.
¡°JOHN! JOHN! YOU KRACKING IDIOT- WHAT DID YOU DO!¡± He could hear Cobalt scream.
¡°Don¡¯t¡ worry about me¡¡± He wheezed, attempting to get up but tripping instantly from a fried sense of balance. ¡°The¡ the green guy¡¡±
Gorekin emerged from the bushes, carrying an unconscious and distinctly human figure on his shoulder. ¡°Got other human to safety, no worry! But no mask now¡ hope have plan?¡±
John looked towards ARTOS and experimentally shifted its shape back and forth between a few simple objects¡ before drawing upon his memory and turning the tip into the same one as on the mask Gorekin had given him the first day they arrived in this giant forest. ¡°Give me a few to¡ get my bearings. I think I can do something.¡±
Book 2: New odyssey 2.4
The first thing Faith noticed upon waking up was how bright everything was, and for a moment, she thought the great beast chasing her down must have slain her on the spot, and taken her soul straight to the promised Land of Judgement before the throne of Heaven. Then she felt something awfully heavy, humid and disturbingly warm on her face and her eyes shot open in horror. Looking down she could see some sort of mask of strange red flesh morphed onto her face where the gas mask once sat. She stared into a group of eyes, bearing strange cracks in their clouded pupils, and the eyes stared back at her.
She screamed as she desperately tried to rip the thing off her face, what else was she meant to do? Not a single other thought occupied her mind, she didn¡¯t even think to check what it was attached to before human voices began to speak.
¡°Whoa! Easy there!¡± The voice of a young man, probably in his mid-teenage years, called out to her as she damn near ripped off her own face.
She paused to turn her head to the direction of the sound, seeing a young man of asian descent attached to the thing on her face¡ a thing that was apparently his arm, which seemed to extend up just past the shoulder to the point where his shaggy black hair met his neck. Honestly besides the slimy sheen to his skin, the presence of gills on his neck and of course the freaky arm mutation he seemed too small and¡ normal¡ to be the type of cultivator that could have taken out that thing.
Unlike his companion, who looked to be an older cultivator of indeterminate age. Covered head to toe in shaggy brown fur, limbs thicker than tree trunks, probably a good two and a half times her height. He had what seemed to be ursine features, small round furred ears closer to the top of his head than the sides and a nose that seemed halfway to a snout. As he began to speak, she noticed too he had distinctly sharp canines too.
¡°Very screamy this one. Welcome to land of waking!¡± He chuffed in broken glish.
As Faith calmed herself down she felt a lance of embarrassment flow through her. So she was rescued by two cultivators, that certainly more than explained the thing on her face¡ she probably should have guessed in the first place. Cultivators coming this deep into the Great Forest surprised her, for some reason though even the most experienced apothecaries in the local area seemed to avoid going into the true depths beneath the fungal-infested canopy, on top of that the Si-absorbing properties of the fungus made it worthless for most to cultivate. But she supposed she had gone this far too, despite the worst of the myths and whispers she had heard on the way here the biggest threat had been a Spirit Beast of perhaps low tier 4, it certainly wasn¡¯t impossible to meet others like her. By their unusual accents neither of them were locals, perhaps they were on a similar pilgrimage to her own? But evidently better equipped, given they didn¡¯t need masks to breathe here, perhaps Wanderers who had made the choice to assign one of their mutations just to survive in such a cursed land? She had truly made a fool of herself once more, hadn¡¯t she?
¡°I- I apologise. My actions have been truly shameful. I was just surprised upon waking- I did not expect to meet two cultivators so deep in this place, toxic and devoid of Si as it is.¡± They apologised.
¡°Two of us? Wait¡ Cobalt, are you hiding! Weren¡¯t you the one grilling me about the importance of proper etiquette or whatever have you!¡± The smaller, and likely younger, cultivator, addressing¡ something.
With a shimmer of the air a shape began to bleed into existence, and all at once her instincts were assailed with the primal dread of the presence of a predator. The other cultivator, Cobalt, was a young looking woman with pale leathery skin dotted with patches of scales, their lithe build contained layers of obvious corded muscle suited for explosive release of power and was easily two and a half heads taller than Faith, and probably more than one head over the boy whose arm was attached to her face. A small amount of saliva leaked from the edges of her mouth, a mouth that Faith¡¯s instincts told her contained vicious fangs, that drove more fear into her than was perhaps rational. Blood red eyes, slitted like a primordial carnivore, stared into hers with an unmistakable underline of hunger, before quickly turning away and flashing with shame.
¡°I- I apologise greatly. I was¡ sorting myself out. I am Cobalt of clan Phagos¡ Sectmaster of the Lead Cave.¡± Cobalt apologised, before moving into an introduction. Her introduction of herself as Sectmaster bore no hint of arrogance, or even pride. In fact, if anything it was full of pain and sorrow, and no small amount of shame.
¡°Grrkkn of Hurhn! Pleasure meet!¡± The furred giant introduced, far more chipperly. They introduced their name in a strange guttural growl, far different from how the other introduced him. Privately Faith decided to think of him as Gorekin, as even her imagination struggled to replicate the exact throaty sound.
¡°John Zhou, clan Aurelium, also of the Lead Cave. May we know your name stranger?¡± The smaller furless cultivator asked.
¡°Ah¡ my apologies¡¡± Faith stammered, shaken out of her stupor and forcing her eyes off this Cobalt with a colossal effort of will. ¡°Faith¡ just call me Faith. I am not from around these part, I am on a pilgrimage see.¡±
¡°That strange. I hear about human pilgrims, but human no go here. Never go here, even they who no fear the Old Gods remember the wrath of the Mother Forest.¡± Gorekin noted.
The gears of Faith¡¯s mind stopped in their tracks. ¡°Wait¡ you said human¡ implying?¡±
¡°Ah right, sorry!¡± John apologised hastily. ¡°There is uh¡ you will want to sit down for this.¡±
¡°You were from how far south?¡± The strange green skinned girl asked, even with her face completely completely covered by his shapeshifted right arm.
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¡°Yeah, all the way on the south border.¡± He answered. She was clearly not a native to the Empire then, something her slight accent probably should have tipped him off first.
¡°How?¡± She asked, dumbfounded. ¡°I mean, that would require an Abberant mediated teleportation formation surely? At the very least!¡±
¡°We don¡¯t quite understand all the details ourselves.¡± Cobalt answered carefully. ¡°Golden Age technology, it¡¯s dangerous.¡±
¡°So how can you breathe?¡± Faith asked.
¡°We um¡ we met um¡ it¡¯s a long story¡¡± John winced.
¡°After Gorekin here took us to his tribe we encountered a machine that apparently represented the Will of the forest. Believe it or not¡ and it tried to kill John but I managed to convince it to settle down and talk instead. And then by the end it gave us this strange medicine for our trouble that let us breathe in its air.¡± Cobalt elaborated for him.
¡°A¡ the forest? As in-¡± Faith asked not quite disbelievingly, but clearly unable to fully believe either.
¡°So why are you here for your pilgrimage anyway? What¡¯s here for you, I mean?¡± John asked, changing the topic. ¡°I mean, I heard some of the Atomic Priests go on great journeys to better understand the whispers of the Atomos, but as fa-¡±
¡°I am not an Atomic Priest! Do not lump me with those¡ those¡¡± Faith hissed, before quickly losing steam, withdrawing into herself. ¡°I- i¡¯m sorry. I have no right to speak.¡±
Ah, one of those, John thought to himself. She was probably from the Holy Union, the Atomic Priesthood in the Empire loved to denounce them as heretics and fanatics all. He supposed it made sense they must have saw them in much the same way. What fire once blazed within Faith however, by the way her tone quickly sizzled out, was little more than embers.
An awkward silence followed for a few minutes, before Faith finally gathered the strength to continue talking. ¡°I heard stories, of the Garden, a pure land untouched by the sin that ended the world. When the day of the Golden Promise comes, and those of us descended from those chosen to be left behind upon this charred world are called to judgement before the throne of God, they say all the world would be like the Garden. A place where things make sense.¡±
¡°Ah, where this garden meant to be?¡± Gorekin asked.
¡°North, past the Great Forest, at least that is what my studies have led me to believe. Ancient texts from the attempted Burning of the woodland speak of angels and demons that descended from the trees, choking flames and casting judgement upon those who dared encroach on sacred ground. It made sense to me then that what I am looking for might be up north.¡±
Notably, John noted as she recounted her motives, she did not have nearly as much conviction in her supposed reasoning as would make sense for someone willing to walk this far. Even he could realise it was a poorly veiled excuse, the only part that was probably true¡
[The last fragment of the sentence, according to makeshift EKG based polygraph analysis, likely truth with a probability of 78%] ARTOS finished the thought for him with a helpful number.
Gorekin, already poorly versed in human social skills, pushed forward with all the subtlety of a bullet wound. ¡°Oh, we been to far north! All Forest Kin tribes pilgrimage end there! Nothing but endless wasteland of snow, no garden possible, just ice and empty human ruins!¡±
¡°That, no, that doesn¡¯t¡¡± Faith sputtered, before processing Gorekin¡¯s words a bit further. John couldn¡¯t see her face, obviously, but he didn¡¯t need the input from ARTOS¡¯s eyes to know that she was paling underneath. ¡°Human, as in¡ what are you?¡±
¡°Gorekin is a native of this forest. His people have apparently lived here since the Greatest War, possibly longer.¡± Cobalt explained. ¡°I know, this is a lot to take in, but¡¡±
¡°I- Sasquatch? You were meant to be only myth! Furred fae that sneak in and steal babies who do not pray!¡± Faith interrupted with a terrified squeak, pointing at Gorekin with a trembling finger as they attempted to back away. Not that they could do much with ARTOS stuck on her face. They tripped over a white fungus-infested root and fell helplessly to the floor on their back.
Gorekin let out a disappointed growl, revealing several sharp canines, probably not helping his image. ¡°Where that story even come from! What human word- Dox-shit! Why we even eat human! Beside, how we even know if you no pray!¡±
¡°Gorekin¡ your feelings on the matter are understandable, but will not help the situation! She has been taught these myths out of ignorance, not malice, she didn¡¯t even know your people existed much like we didn¡¯t! So let us please try and deescalate the situation!¡± Cobalt stepped in before things could get messy. Letting some of her power flare as her claws instinctively extended into metallic blades.
Gorekin huffed. ¡°Fine, make sense! Still, no happy! Is really how see us?¡±
Faith continued to tremble in place, though she no longer seemed so focused on Gorekin but Cobalt. ARTOS helpfully confirmed this by stating: [Preliminary chemical analysis of breath suggesting statistically significant associations with fear response]
To her credit, the green skinned girl did not run away, and in fact started to apologise. ¡°I am sorry, I can see how such myths can be hurtful. I had truly not known your people were anything more than a children''s tale until now, I never lived anywhere near the Great Forest after all¡ but is it true there is nothing beyond the forest also?¡±
Gorekin shook his head. ¡°Thank you for apology, but sorry nothing past forest. Just endless snow, and pure white Cousin Beasts size of small mountain.¡±
¡°Somehow I¡ I had a feeling¡¡± Faith mumbled to herself, something that would not be audible to John if not for the fact she was quite literally stuck to him.
¡°Well, if you don¡¯t have a direction to go anymore, why don¡¯t you go with us?¡± John offered, extending his spare hand.
¡°I don¡¯t know what I want. I don¡¯t know where I am going. I don¡¯t even know what to believe! Everything I thought was true, no longer makes sense!¡± Faith laughed bitterly.
¡°So how about we find out together?¡± John replied, not even noticing the way a memory from ARTOS flickered in the depths of his subconscious mind, echoing words he said in a place he was not equipped to remember at the time.
Faith stared at his offered hand like it was alien for a good, long moment, before tentatively reaching out, and hesitantly taking it without a word.
New Odyssey 2.5
Grrkkn had often travelled to the southern border of the Mother Forest before, the routes were well worn in his memory like the deep carvings left on sacred pines by his ancestors. It was always exciting to see what the human traders brought this time, a time-honoured tradition since before the great fires. Various trinkets, tools and baubles in exchange for herbal tinctures and medicines, sometimes even with a particularly brave human present to share their history and culture, the most valuable resource of all. But there was something about the finality of this expedition that felt different. Sure, he was not exiled forever, but the world past the periphery of the Mother Forest¡¯s embrace was so large and unknown that he could not even imagine it. There was every chance he may never find his way back to his tribe, when he passed the border where the spores grew thin and the trees gave way to comparatively lifeless plains he would walk a path none of his ancestors ever even attempted. Where the thick scent of spore and resin that had defined his life up until now would remain only in his memory.
Some of that scared him, but more than that fear was a constant buzzing of energy that had nothing to do with the ignited activity blazing in his core. To the humans they were returning to their own world¡ but to him, in a short few days, he was going to see a whole new one! It was really sinking in that yes, the human lands were no longer going to be a thing he pieced together from distant stories and artefacts, but a place where he lived and breathed and learned!
¡°Hey, uh, Gorekin? Are you alright, you are making some funny noises.¡± The human male, John, asked.
¡°I fine, no worry about me.¡± He brushed off the cub, despite of course the small human¡¯s constant insistence he was anything but.
¡°Alright then¡¡± John decided to respond, seeming to hesitate before landing on that answer. Grrkkn was thankful he did not push further, he wasn¡¯t sure if he knew how to answer exactly.
The other two members of their little tribe were silent, almost eerily so. The strange green girl was¡ odd¡ but he figured it was down to how she was raised in a strange land far away from even where the other two were from. He was not entirely sure why but Cobalt had been acting strange though, from what he could tell, she had been like this since the new girl arrived. Ordinarily among the Forest Kin, this would indicate a sense of rivalry, but while he wasn¡¯t the best at understanding human body language he was fairly certain that wasn¡¯t, in fact, the case. What then? Perhaps he was overthinking matters, perhaps Cobalt was just hungry.
¡°So, we are one quarter-day from the forest boundary. After that point, I will relying on you. Where exactly go after then?¡± He decided to try asking Cobalt.
The tall human girl stiffened and briefly shifted colours to match those of the trees, before giving her response. ¡°We¡¯ll find my mother¡¯s Sect, they should be our best chance at finding someone to support us during these times. Right now we are too weak to deal with the threat from the south, and chances are the Empire is already engaging in battle with that foe, but we may still be able to provide valuable information. Then we want to figure out what exactly was the technology that sent us up this far north, somehow it¡¯s related to John¡¯s arm. That ring on his finger there seems to be a key of some sort, and is able to suck stuff up into that weird place beyond the portal. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with that, but somehow I think it¡¯s related to why the Forest thought he was a machine at first.¡±
¡°How did the Forest think he was a machine? You are from the far south, right? And the Automatons are warring on the East, have they moved so far already?¡± The green girl asked.
The humans were silent, sharing looks at each other, as though telepathically communicating on the next course of action.
¡°Well, Faith, do you have any plans for where you are going after we leave the forest?¡± Cobalt asked first.
¡°Uh¡ I don¡¯t know¡ I didn¡¯t actually expect to ever come back from it. To be completely honest, I am just following you guys.¡± She answered.
¡°So in that case you are going to find out one way or another. I reckon it is best to get this cleared up sooner rather than later¡ and I suppose that goes for you too Gorekin.¡± John said, immediately peaking his interest.
Grabbing a dead tree and knocking it down before snapping it into smaller makeshift log seats, Grrkkn responded to the curious looks of the pups with a simple. ¡°Sound like something we need sit down for.¡±
No argument popped up against that as he and Faith sat down quietly. John¡¯s arm stretched strangely like a fungal vine as she moved, a sight he found most curious, especially with how the eyes and metal on it seemed to almost stretch too despite the seeming impossibility of it.
¡°So, John¡¯s arm is a Relic from the Golden Age. We aren¡¯t sure what it actually is, it seems to be some sort of cybernetic, but as you can probably tell Faith it¡¯s also rather¡ fleshy.¡± Cobalt began.
¡°I¡¯m trying not to think about it¡¡± Faith sighed.
¡°Ooh! Where find!¡± Grrkkn asked enthusiastically.
¡°In some ruin somewhere, honestly I couldn¡¯t tell you. It was just a job like any other, I got too deep in over my head, and found myself chased by a Screeching Swarm.¡± John answered before moving on. ¡°Anyway, it started out helpful enough but sort of limited. You know, the sort of thing you expect from ancient relics from the old stories.¡±
¡°But?¡± Faith asked, picking up the implication.
¡°It uh¡ it changed¡¡± John answered clumsily, struggling to find the words. ¡°You know, it¡¯s probably easier if I just show-¡±
¡°No.¡± Cobalt said firmly.
¡°But-¡± John tried to protest.
¡°No. There are other ways you suicidal, brainless idiot!¡± Cobalt snapped. ¡°Look, his arm thingy started to think more. Do things it wasn¡¯t meant to do. One time it ripped him apart from the inside, thank the Spirits it didn¡¯t happen again!¡±
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He smelled a hint of shame and uncertainty from young John, and wondered if that was truly the case.
¡°Ripped him apart? But he seems fine now, does he regenerate quickly or-¡± Faith asked, clearly confused and a little concerned.
¡°Oh no, I am fairly sure it stitched me back together the same way it ripped its way out. Truth be told I can¡¯t remember much about that¡ I still don¡¯t really like to think about it.¡± John admitted. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s not the thing. What we were actually concerned about telling you is, well, recently Artos here has been able to take over my body.¡±
Ah, Grrkkn thought. Yes, he could see how that could possibly be a problem.
Faith didn¡¯t know what she expected from her new motley crew, but the idea of someone saying that the Relic on their body could take control of them so nonchalantly was¡ clearly some form of ungodly. Though she could not pinpoint where exactly in the Holy Book it would say so, she was certain even the Prophet would have thought such things were more fit for fantasy than reality. What good God would let man be puppeted by their own creation after all, even after turning their back onto the world in allowing the Greatest War to cleanse the world of sinners?
Well, clearly this one.
There was, to be honest, no small amount of mild panic as she tried to claw the flesh-entwined machine off her face. The fact it could, apparently, tear John apart from the inside did not assuage her fears in the slightest, and she was only stopped with the reminder that even as the trees started to grow thin the air was still too toxic to breathe just yet. Not to mention, her efforts seemed to more irritate and scratch at her skin than make any real leeway with the makeshift mask. The pale and distinctly predatory woman, Cobalt, told her that she needn¡¯t worry. That it was fairly obvious when the uncanny machine was in control rather than the human boy. And now that she was calmer she could be fairly confident she wasn¡¯t lying about that.
After all, what sort of machine would simply tell you about what it can do unprompted? Had it been a nefarious body-snatching demon it would have had plenty of opportunity to burrow into her already, and she would be quite unable to resist indeed. By the providence of the Almighty that did not seem to be the case, and she could indeed breathe easy. At least for now.
That did not mean the rest of the trek out of the woods was without a certain¡ awkwardness. She had no idea where she was going on her pilgrimage now, and from what she had heard the journey of the human cultivator duo seemed to be righteous enough in nature, so she would follow them. But what of the demonic machine? Creatures of steel made in the mocking image of man, such that the Divine would turn their backs on creation for even a moment. To allow the final great cleansing, by fire rather than flood.
¡°Looks like the air is getting thin, we should be just about out of the forest, do you mind if I take off the mask so we can see if you can breathe or not Faith?¡± John asked, looking back towards her.
She tried not to seem too relieved and excited as she asked that, she wasn¡¯t sure but it somehow felt rude. ¡°Oh um¡ yes please!¡±
The slimy, fleshy and disconcertingly warm mask slid off her face, bunches of cables slithering like worms snapping back into place with interlocking, armoured metal plates. Now that it was shrunken the eyes dotting it seemed just that much more densely packed, each of them drilling into her soul something fierce. Instinctively Faith shuddered, it felt wrong just to look at. But the Blessings of the Golden Promise were said to have many forms, she had a feeling the eyes on it were not part of the original machine and rather a mutation from John, that was at least more comforting of an idea than the demonic artefact somehow being able to see her. She took a deep breath in, and felt a great relief when she did not feel her lungs catch alight. It was a curious thing indeed how fast the toxins of the Fruit of Life lose potency now that they are no longer in the heart of their influence, such she could only attribute to the grace of the Golden Promise.
¡°Are you alright?¡± John asked, clearly concerned. The beast-man Gorekin huffed in apparent agreement. She then realised, she probably had an odd expression on her face, didn¡¯t she?
¡°I am quite alright, thank you for your concerns.¡± She assured her unexpected companions. ¡°It just feels so good to finally feel the air and sun against my face, it almost makes me wonder why I ever¡ never mind¡¡±
An ache blossomed in her heart looking up at the burning white orb in the sky. She believed still in the Golden Promise, at least she told herself that, but trying to say it aloud for some reason didn¡¯t feel as sincere as it should have. Never in a thousand years could she go back home, traitor, deserter and heretic as she was. But now that her original plans to die in the unexplored lands of the far north have proven fruitless, what direction will her faith take now? Did the others even believe? She knew of the strange, warped scripture of the Empire and she doubted a ¡®bigfoot¡¯ as it were would know of the good word. She should attempt to save their souls, it was the right thing to do, but whenever she even contemplated it the words would die on her tongue. She needed to ensure her own piousness before preaching to others, was that not the word of the Prophet?
¡°Well, glad to hear. Thought tears meant bad, but think we just too close to spores.¡± Gorekin mused. ¡°We at forest boundary now, this far as I can guide you. Short distance away is trading spot, each year when migration go south this where we meet local humans.¡±
¡°I remember, there should be a farm nearby. And the local village should have some Mustard Horses that can carry us further than our legs can ourselves¡ but I am not certain if they actually have any to spare. It seems it is difficult to raise even beasts so close to the Forest.¡± Faith explained.
¡°Well, it¡¯s a start at least, this time you can lead the way Fai-¡± Cobalt began before abruptly stopping and sniffing at the air. ¡°Can you smell that?¡±
Faith looked around in confusion, an expression shared by John. But Gorekin perked up as well and guided his nose southward. ¡°Smoke, not wood smoke. Smell before, some human thing have, not sure what call.¡±
¡°It¡¯s the burning of machine oil, quite a distance away actually, but in quantities great enough for me to notice. There¡¯s something there as well that is familiar, but I am not sure¡¡± Cobalt started to note down before making an apparent realisation. ¡°The Toro Rojo?¡±
¡°Who?¡± Faith and Gorekin asked at once as John suddenly perked up with excitement.
¡°They made it this far north?¡± He asked.
¡°It¡¯s a faint smell so I cannot be certain, we¡¯d have to get closer to make sure.¡± Cobalt hummed. ¡°We should be on our guard regardless, could also possibly be road bandits, though this close to the Northern Border it¡¯s unlikely.¡±
¡°Who are you talking about?¡± Faith asked once again.
¡°Just some uh¡ friends we met in the south. They were fleeing the same warlord who- who destroyed the Lead Cave.¡± John answered solemnly. ¡°I think we should check it out, worst-case scenario we are wrong and we can liberate some Red Star war bikes from a group of bandits, but you can part ways here if you want. I know that you were a bit¡ uncomfortable learning about Artos here.¡±
Faith felt at once the gap in history that separated her from the other humans in the group. The two were close, bonded by shared experiences and a cataclysm that would invariably weld their fates together. Here she felt a bit like an outsider looking in, still if she were to find her proper direction in this new odyssey of hers, her soul told her that her own fate would somehow be intertwined in their mess as well.
So she shook her head firmly. ¡°I have agreed to follow you and your cause. I won¡¯t falter so easily this time.¡±
Familiar Faces 1
Angela groaned with fresh agony as a thin layer of skin peeled off her body. The few medics, or at least the ones with a bare passing knowledge of the healing arts, amongst their motley crew, did admirably to ease it with what balms were available but it wasn¡¯t enough to stave off the Curse of course. Her meridians especially burned with throbbing pulses of agony, she really overdid it last night it seemed, but she seemed ever so close to a breakthrough¡
A clump of hair fell into her hand as she rubbed her forehead. A pity, it took a while to have it grow as long as it had before, but such was the price of seeking power in this world. With a sigh, she reached for the intercom system and called for a medic to climb the cramped corridors to her narrow quarters right behind the wheel of the Toro Rojo.
¡°Capitaina, why do you insist on pushing yourself?¡± Young Tomito had asked as he wrapped her with fresh bandages. Fluid soaked into the fabric near immediately, thick and foul smelling even with the alcohol poured onto them. She did not blink at the sight nor the pain, she had endured worse, Loco¡¯s training ensured that.
¡°All my life I had been kept from true power, Loco was afraid of my family rising to prominence so he restricted our access to cultivation materials. That is fine honestly, immortality never truly interested me. But to protect you, all of us, I have learned what I currently have is not enough. I need more power.¡± She answered, face steeled as more stinging pain assaulted her body.
The medic sighed. ¡°If you die where would we be? You were the one who led us out before the Dragon Khan¡¯s armies could take us. You were the one who gave us someone to believe in. And look at you now, you can¡¯t even step in the sun without being wrapped head to toe in cloth.¡±
She winced, not in pain, but with shame. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll¡ slow down a bit.¡±
¡°That is all I ask.¡± Tomito said, though judging by the look on his face he clearly didn¡¯t entirely believe her. She couldn¡¯t blame him for that either, but what else could she have done?
Fleeing North was the only sensible option, but that meant traversing the territory of the Jackalopes. The West was an option, but the tales of the chaos and madness overtaking that region put a rapid end to those ideas, even had they not the reputation of being zealots who hated outsiders like devils. At the very least the Empire did not hate, they were callous and detached to the plight of people not their own, but not anything like the infamous disdain the Westerners had for those who did not share their faith.
That was not to say they were to be trusted, as kind as the first Cultivators they had the fortune to meet were, the Empire lived and died on its war machine. With mechanical monsters in the East and the Dragon Khan doubtless on his way North as well, it was inevitable, not even halfway through their journey they were surrounded by the war-fleets of the Empire seeking to recruit the Toro Rojo to their cause, wilfully or not. But that would of course mean abandoning the people who relied on the great machine and its guns for safety on the trek to the far edge of the known world¡
She had prepared for just such a circumstance with a gamble. The Toro Rojo relied mostly on machine oil, but such was a rare commodity, and insufficient for such a powerful machine. In the heart of the ancient war-chariot was a nuclear heart, a repurposed bomb from the Fall, using technology she was certain nobody in her crew, least of all herself, understood entirely. She had threatened to detonate the bomb had the Empire attempted to forcefully take their vehicle, a naked bluff, even if she did know how to actually detonate it, she would not have annihilated her people just to spite the enemy. Thankfully they did not call her on that bluff.
But she knew she would not be so lucky forever.
It was a small miracle they made it up to where they needed to be, to a place where they could settle and perhaps make a new life among the locals by the borders of the endless forest, but she knew she had to take her destiny in her own hands. If her power was not enough, she would grow stronger, it was the only way¡
And it just so happened that the same core she used as a bluff was still good enough to Cultivate.
She coughed up another bit of necrotic flesh, a bloodstained clot landing on her hand. It was killing her, she knew, but what other choice was there? Her constitution was on the upper level of their little crew, and without the resources of a Sect of the Empire or even one of the shady cultivator gangs of the Warlords backing her, the path to power was a walk across an endless abyss on a razor-thin line. They say the toxic products of the Fruit of Life could provide a means of slowing the degradation of the flesh, even reversing the worst of the outcomes, without hurting the rate of cultivation but the locals have not been willing to share their secrets with what are still strangers who had wandered in from unknown places. Doubtless, the Empire still had their eyes on them, waiting for a moment of weakness to grab their war machine and every mechanic who knew how to work it to ride alongside their armies.
She would be damned if she let her people lose any more to meaningless violence ever again, but life just kept insisting on reminding her she was still a single, mortal, woman.
¡°Capitana, Capitana!¡± A frantic call trickled down from the intercom system, the lookout crew had found something interesting.
With great force of effort, she reached for a button that would connect her with the appropriate crew, ignoring the fresh agony that simmered in her weakened body, and asked. ¡°What is it?¡±
¡°Strange figures approaching, Cultivators, Mutants all it seems!¡± The boy on lookout, Hern¨¢n, told her.
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¡°From the Empire?¡± She asked.
¡°No, from the forest!¡± The lookout replied.
The forest¡ she wasn¡¯t aware anything lived there but the ancient trees and masses of toxic fungi.
Narrowing her eyes, she continued asking. ¡°Friend or foe?¡±
¡°Hard to tell, they do not seem armed at least, but with Cultivators you never know¡¡± The lookout said before pausing and inspecting further. ¡°Actually, two of them look familiar¡ those are the cultivators who helped us with the Mauler! But what are they doing so far north?¡±
¡°What?¡± She practically spat. It took them months to get this far, albeit with some detours and roadblocks along the way, in a war machine of ancient artifice. Cultivators they may have been, but they were still young and far from being able to cross the continent at such speed. The legends may have said that at the peak of their power, the Red Star and the Empire¡¯s Hero had clashed in a battle that tore across the continent in the span of several hours, burning a trail across the sky at speeds faster than a mortal mind can comprehend, but such was only the feats of legends. She had seen cultivators operate, she had seen the sky bleed from the pinnacle of power, and she had seen the gap between those children and that monster.
¡°I¡¯m looking closer and¡ they have changed quite a bit but it¡¯s unmistakable. It¡¯s them.¡± The lookout confirmed.
¡°Prepare for their arrival as guests.¡± She decided. ¡°I will come down myself and speak to them as they deserve, but stay cautious for illusions. I want to know how they made it so far.¡±
None would deny her of course. She knew that, above even her rank and role in corralling the ramshackle band of refugees she was held in the regard of some kind of hero among the people of the Toro Rojo. She could only hope she could continue to live up to their expectations as she got up, leaving a trail of fluid in her wake as she prepared to make herself as presentable as she reasonably could be.
Coming closer it was clear it was in fact the Toro Rojo, which looked as though it had been parked for quite some time. Tents have popped up around the proud and ancient war wagon, a makeshift village budding around the mass of steel and guns. A column of black smoke rose through the air from the exhaust pipes on its back, indicating its powerful engines were still active, likely to power some of the mechanisms in the machine that the inhabitants had yet to fully establish beyond it. The sight was almost strange to see, the machine was alive but seemed finally at rest. Part of him was very happy for them, another part was reminded of all that had changed¡
All that had been lost¡
Magni¡¯s multi-eyed face flashed across his mind, making a stupid face even now forever frozen in the past. Last time they had met the inhabitants of the Toro Rojo it had been the three of them, and though it was a party of four that crested over a hill to see the gargantuan machine once more part of him felt it should have been five.
¡°So this what talk about! So big! Bigger than Golem!¡± Gorekin, clearly impressed, grunted.
¡°It is pretty imp huh.¡± He said with a small smile.
¡°The designs on that vehicle¡ they are not of the Empire are they?¡± Faith asked.
Cobalt shook her head. A quiet fury in her eyes. ¡°No, they came escaping the tyranny of the man who wiped out our sect. Lacking the strength to truly retaliate they aimed to flee as far as they could. In that regard, we truly are kin now.¡±
¡°I- I see¡¡± Faith mumbled quietly at that, clearly not entirely sure how to respond. He could sympathise with that feeling at least.
A series of horn blasts echoed out from the Toro Rojo to herald the flaring of a long-distance communication system of some sort, ancient rusted speakers grinding out in a static filled haze several words in slightly broken Glish. ¡°Come forward.¡±
¡°Look like they want see us!¡± Gorekin grunted excitedly as he began to walk forward. The humans looked around at each other before following shortly behind, quickly closing the distance with supernaturally enhanced legs. In all directions, people began to emerge from their tents and dwellings, a gaggle of children pointing and whispering eagerly at John and Cobalt at the front even as they looked apprehensively at the other two members of their crew. It was an interesting feeling to be looked at like this, but he supposed they did help them a lot against the Mauler after all.
[Next time I recommend avoiding so much brain damage, set back integration progress 36.78%] ARTOS snarkily reminded him in his mind.
He rolled his eyes, of course, he would try not to, but well¡ realistically he couldn¡¯t exactly make promises. It wasn¡¯t as though he planned to get brain damage, was it?
[Data suggests otherwise.] ARTOS unhelpfully added.
The group of cultivators, and one humanoid Spirit Beast, stopped before the gargantuan wheels of the massive war machine as a hatch opened from the side to extend out a large ladder. From within the cramped confines exposed to the light several grease and soot-stained individuals made their way out, greeting the crew of cultivators with varying degrees of excitement, apprehension and curiosity. He couldn¡¯t help but feel there was someone missing though¡
¡°Where is the Capitana?¡± Cobalt asked for him.
¡°She is¡¡± A young man in cleaner garments than most in the crew began to say with a wince before he was stopped by the sound of unsteady footsteps from behind.
Before he even saw her he could feel the Si that washed off her body, not like a Cultivator¡¯s carefully controlled circulation, but that of someone who had been blasted by a direct dose of radiation for prolonged periods of time. He knew that feeling, so long ago now when he was commissioned to retrieve an artefact of some sort deep within an ancient tunnel, only surviving because Cobalt on some whim and possibly spite for her father decided to head there herself and take the Spirit Metal from his hands. A mass of bandages, drenched in fresh fluid that seemed more likely bodily than medicinal, pushed its way through. It seemed like every movement in that state would be agony, but despite the pain doubtlessly tearing through her, the Capitana did not show it on her steely face. For who else could it be?
¡°John, Cobalt¡ and others. I must say I did not expect to see your faces so far north.¡± She admitted as she was carefully led down the ladder by a couple of armed watchmen. Her gaze was just as piercing as he remembered them, alone unchanged by the Curse that had ravaged her body quite intensely. ¡°Now, forgive me for asking, but do you come as friend to us or friend to the Empire?¡±
Familiar Faces 2
The first thing John felt upon seeing the Captainina again was a sweeping wave of concern. The woman was strong he knew, possessing an intense will and righteous cause, even if she did order a salvo that could have potentially killed him and his friends when the Mauler started charging too close to their mechanical caravan. But seeing her now, it almost looked like a fragile shell of herself. Each movement was too stiff and slow, twitching with the evidence of pain obvious even without the layers of bandages wrapping her like funerary cloths. But even more striking was the steel remaining in her eyes, and the choice of words she had.
¡°Now, forgive me for asking, but do you come as friend to us or friend to the Empire?¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry, what do you mean by that?¡± Cobalt asked, evidently as confused as he was.
¡°We have come so far north, to the far boundary of civilization, for a reason. As you well know, there are those who seek to break us to their cause, who want the Toro Rojo for themselves to fight in their wars. I cannot accept that, we have all come too far to die in someone else¡¯s war. So I ask again, out of courtesy for the sins we have done against you and the memory of your aid in our time of need, why are you here?¡±
¡°If I may, miss um¡¡± Faith piped up.
¡°You can call me Captainina.¡± The bandaged matriarch ordered, as sharp as ever.
¡°Ah, miss Captainina¡ two of us are not even from the Empire.¡± Faith pointed out.
¡°It true! From Mother Forest we come!¡± Gorekin¡¯s gruff voice echoed.
The old woman tensed for a moment, before relaxing and letting out a loud huff, letting her native rural accent slip more into her speech. ¡°Ya veo¡ your accents speak of truth, though I find it hard to believe you came from that forest, you did come from that direction. How did you all survive?¡±
¡°My tribe live there for centuries! Deep connection with Mother Forest!¡± Gorekin grunted proudly.
¡°I had a mask¡ it got shredded by a beast deep in the forest, however.¡± Faith explained. ¡°One of my blessings accelerates healing, for myself and others, perfect for the image of the first woman, nurturing and submissive. Along with my other mutation to survive with little more than water and the air, I am truly blessed.¡±
John thought it was a little creepy how¡ mechanical the last part of her words was, and he was the one who was half machine at this point.
¡°Gorekin gave us masks when we appeared in the Forest,¡± Cobalt explained after shooting Faith an odd look of her own. ¡°Then we had a bit of a misunderstanding with an ancient fungus-infested golem that, apparently, represents the forest¡¯s will, and we got given some strange medicine to help us breathe as an apology.¡±
¡°Let me be sure I am understanding correctly¡ when you said appeared, what do you mean?¡± The captainina asked.
¡°Alright, so it¡¯s a long story but-¡± John coughed, gills flaring as he began to organise his thoughts. ¡°I suppose we should start a bit after we last met¡¡±
After John had recited the long story on how the two of them ended up this far North, the seemingly Curse-afflicted leader of the Toro Rojo crew sat there in silent consideration. Right now she seemed tired, her age shining through. Cobalt knew the woman was old for a mortal, and it looked as though she was attempting to cultivate, it was quite frankly a miracle she could still move and talk freely while the Curse seemed to have progressed to this condition. Then again, willpower was always one of the factors that separated the mortals from the cultivators, and willpower was something she, evidently, had in spades. Nonetheless, willpower on its own wasn¡¯t everything either, and she wasn¡¯t sure if they had left her to her fate the woman would make it out alive.
¡°Mis condolencia¡ you have lost much, haven¡¯t you? I knew the Dragon Khan was coming, I had heard whispers of his presence, but we have not stopped in any city or town long enough to truly understand.¡± The Captainina said solemnly.
¡°Thank you, it- it still doesn¡¯t feel quite real.¡± John responded slowly, he was doing an admirable job holding back, but she could see the telltale traces of barely suppressed emotional shudders across his body. Between everything that happened, the time they had to truly grieve was very slim indeed.
She understood perfectly.
¡°But the tale of the strange world you found¡ it reminds me of an old folk tale. A tale from the age of the Red Star.¡± The old woman contemplated. ¡°They say when he ascended the Red Star saw a vision of a ruined heaven, and took the power he needed from the body of a dead God.¡±
¡°A dead God¡¡± Cobalt muttered to herself as she remembered that awful sight. That massive corpse bleeding gigantic insects into a dead world, insects that accused them of terrible crimes from all-too-human faces.
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¡°So the world that we went to, the world I go to when I get knocked out of my body¡ that¡¯s meant to be Heaven?¡± John asked.
The Captainina shrugged. ¡°It was just an old folk tale, a legend, I never put any real stock in things like that¡¡±
Before she could continue further she doubled over, heaving painfully. Cobalt moved forward in a flash of instinctual movement to support her before she fell, a pool of blood leaking from her mouth. A group of the Toro Rojo crew also rushed forward, likely medics and the personal
There was power in that blood, she could smell it. Delicious and heady like a feast presented just for her. Before she caught herself she found herself licking her fangs, and bit down on her tongue to stop any further wayward thoughts, or worse, actions. Not now. Please not now.
¡°I can um¡ I can try healing you¡¡± Faith offered, reminding all gathered of her presence.
¡°You can heal the Curse?¡± John asked.
¡°I helped some junior disciples through the process, I can¡¯t truly stop it¡ but I can deal with some of the worst of the damage. Something like this though, it will take a few hours, and quite a bit of focus. It will get her to a more stable position¡ after that though she¡¯ll be on her own.¡± She explained.
¡°Gorekin, get some healing herbs out of the sack. Nothing mixed with spirit stones¡ I think she has had quite enough!¡± Cobalt called out once her tongue regenerated with a mouth full of her own blood.
Gorekin nodded and quickly sorted through the gift bag. Evidently far more well-versed in this than any of the humans here, he quickly presented a fungal paste of some sort. ¡°If too hard swallow, rub in sores.¡±
One of the nurses nodded and took the paste with a quick ¡°Gracias¡± before moving directly to apply it to the woman. Faith had made her way over and was resting both hands on her back, a warm green pulse moving from her hands to the Captainina¡¯s body.
¡°Will she be alright?¡± John asked, a green slime like the one Nicole produced leaking from his right hand. Evidently, he had called upon Artos to aid when the woman collapsed as well.
¡°I hope so, but I truly cannot tell.¡± Cobalt sighed. She knew how precarious the last steps of being a Wretch were. She figured either the old soldier would overcome the Curse and gain her first Mutation¡ or she would succumb here and there. As it was, it was a coin flip.
With the steady application of Faith¡¯s healing pulse, the Captainina appeared to have regained some of her composure. Panting and gagging each time more of the paste was applied to her lesions. ¡°I am¡ fine¡¡±
¡°No, you are not!¡± Cobalt insisted, doing her best to hold back the fiery energy in her dantian. ¡°I have been helpless to prevent far too many deaths already! Not on my watch! You hear me!¡±
¡°Who are you child to-¡± The woman tried to argue before Cobalt swelled in size, skin and the fibre sown into her robes flaring an angry red.
¡°Younger than you I may be, but I am your senior in manners of cultivation, understood!? Each year an average of forty Aspirants made their way to the Lead Cave, the most who had made it through the process with all our aid and support at a time was 5! But even those who failed, they would have a chance to try again, should they have lived! And will you be more useful to your people dead or alive?¡±
The Captainina grew silent at that. Letting herself go limp in the arms of her carers as they prepared a stretcher to move her into a medical tent. ¡°Very well then. Fue una tonter¨ªa or una estupidez.¡±
Cobalt didn¡¯t understand the last part, but she knew she had gotten through. A rush of relief washed over her as her body deflated.
Sadly that was not to be the end of things.
From inside the Toro Rojo, a soot-stained boy hardly any older than she was called out in a half-panicked voice. ¡°Imperials!¡±
She didn¡¯t need to hear the rest of what he said as her senses hyperfocused on the distance. Indeed there were shapes coming on the horizon, a small patrol force reinforced by some light armoured vehicles. War-bounties from the Red Star¡¯s Khanate. Much smaller than the Toro Rojo, but more than enough to send a message to a group of grounded refugees.
¡°They¡ won¡¯t dare make a move¡ not with the Core in the war-rig.¡± The Captainina wheezed in a rattling voice.
¡°You don¡¯t know what mutations they have¡¡± Cobalt said as she continued to get a read on who was coming. At least two Cultivators, Mutant Steps 3 or 4 based on their power¡ outwardly they didn¡¯t appear that different from Wretches in physiology from this distance which made them all the more dangerous. That meant the mutations are potentially hidden or psychic in nature, wild cards they would be less able to counter if they truly did mean ill intent. Although, as she focused further¡ ¡°They don¡¯t appear to be here for a fight?¡±
The woman on the stretcher laughed bitterly. ¡°That¡¯s because they don¡¯t see us as a threat¡ they look down on us, we only use the Toro Rojo and maybe have the expertise needed to ride it. They likely heard the news of my condition, try as I might to hide it¡ Cabr¨®ns¡ they probably believe they could strong-arm their way in while I am on my way out¡¡±
Cobalt didn¡¯t want to believe it¡ but she knew what sort of man her father was. If the Empire was willing to tolerate someone like that for so long, she could certainly believe at least some would go as far as pull underhanded tactics like this.
¡°Hmf, I hear about this, tribe steal from tribe. This happen lot in human world, thought rare?¡± Gorekin asked.
¡°I think it should be um¡ rarer¡¡± John responded. ¡°There¡¯s a lot more to it I¡¯m sure¡ but things seem pretty strange right now.¡±
¡°Regardless, they are too powerful to be mere bandits. I have a feeling she¡¯s telling the truth.¡± Cobalt admitted.
Just then the air began to shake as a voice propelled by psychic power rippled through the air.
¡°TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE TORO ROJO!¡± The voice cried. ¡°SURRENDER YOUR VEHICLE TO THE EMPIRE AND DISARM YOUR WEAPONS AND WE WILL OFFER YOU AID, TREATMENT AND TRAINING! RESIST AND WE MAY BE FORCED TO PURSUE MORE FORCEFUL MEANS!¡±
Familiar Faces 3
¡°Brother Han¡ there has been a new development.¡± Silas Topsider, Captain in the Jackalope National Guard and Cultivator of the fourth step of the Mutant Realm informed his companion. ¡°I sense some strange new arrivals with the foreigners. Cultivators all, two of them Mutants at fourth step or above, the other two at the first or second step of the Mutant Realm.¡±
¡°Cultivators? Where in this bomb-cursed waste did they find cultivators?¡± Carl Han, his senior brother, asked.
¡°They are likely to be simply travelling pilgrims, the tone of their essence is quite different from that of the others. The weaker two do not appear to be from the Empire, one at least is from the mad cultists in the West, and the other I do not recognise in the slightest¡ he lacks power but his mutation must be comprehensive indeed for such a bestial scent. The two of relevant strength however, they are distinctly Imperial in their blood, one seems to have echoes of your kin as well in him Han.¡± Silas explained as he tuned his senses towards their bloodlines. ¡°Looks like they are heading towards us in fact.¡±
¡°Perhaps they can be reasoned with if they are from the Empire.¡± Han said with a nod. ¡°After all, our need surpasses those of some random nobody refugees.¡±
¡°Indeed.¡± Han mused. ¡°The men may hold back, for now, I am fairly confident we can reach a reasonable arrangement for everyone.¡±
¡°I swear this place is a waste of our talents¡¡± Silas swore, rubbing the itching sensory pads next to his nose.
¡°At least you aren¡¯t at the Front. They say they have identified two more of those Abominations, half man half machine. Not like the Fleshwelded Knights, but something far more sinister, things designed to walk among us.¡± Han chastised him as he played with his antennae. ¡°Things aren¡¯t much better to the South either. We are lucky that lunatic wannabe Red Star is mainly focused on keeping his current domain intact, but who knows how long it will be until he starts feeling the barbaric blood in his veins boil over with the need for slaughter.¡±
¡°But at the very least there is glory there¡¡± He grumbled.
¡°Fool¡¡± Brother Han sighed, as he grabbed his antennae and started messing with them again. ¡°I¡¯m re-calibrating the psychic signal, prepare to negotiate.¡±
¡°And if they aren¡¯t willing?¡± Silas asked.
¡°Well, that¡¯s what the main force is here for, isn¡¯t it? All we have to do is make sure there¡¯s no kracking funny business until we can secure the war-rig.¡±
Silas turned his head towards the group of a hundred or so National Guard soldiers waiting in reserve, most of them hovering around the upper levels of the Wretch or the very early Steps of the Mutant Realm, and nodded. He and Han should be enough to deal with the stronger Cultivators approaching easily, a couple of pilgrims against trained soldiers didn¡¯t stand a chance. And worse comes to worst¡ they were selected for this task for a reason. He could find the needle in the haystack of indistinguishable foreigners for the problematic ones, and Han could smother any signal from their dead mans switch. Neither of them wanted it to get that far of course, but one way or another they would be leaving with their cargo.
¡°Glory to the Empire.¡±
Psychic communication was very common between Sects, and even within Sects, thus Cobalt knew immediately when the communication channel between the distant Cultivators and themselves was turned from a one-way signal to something more two ways. It was a distinct feeling, the flow of Si in her body through the meridians of her head being tapped into by some unseen Formation likely carved into the architecture of a psychic¡¯s brain. John seemed to feel it too, the way his right arm spasmed and anchored into the ground to stop his momentum more effectively than even she could manage. She had to admit, she didn¡¯t think negotiations would be possible until they got closer. Either they were more reasonable than the Toro Rojo crew believed, or they somehow knew they were from the Empire too and thus likely to listen to whatever cause they espoused.
She hoped it was the former, she still had faith in the overall righteous cause of her homeland after all, but she knew too well it could well be the latter.
¡°Unidentified Cultivators, we have detected you are of the blood of the Empire. Identify yourselves and let us parley.¡± A psychically broadcast voice entered her ear via the connection.
¡°Cobalt Phagos¡ Sectmaster of the Lead Cave.¡± She introduced herself, hesitating for a moment before deciding to present what she knew at least to be the honest truth.
John seemed to struggle to manipulate his Si to form words, evidently far different from the psychic talent he had recently unlocked, but she could eventually hear him responding with. ¡°John Zhou, clan Aurelium! From the Lead Cave too!¡±
¡°The Lead Cave? That little border Sect that was destroyed by that Red Star wannabe?¡± One of the voices across the psychic connection asked. ¡°How did you end up all the way up here?¡±
Cobalt briefly felt her blood pressure flare with a pulse of Si from her core, creating a wave of heat that trembled in the air, before forcing her heart to settle. It would be no good to let emotions get ahead of her now. ¡°We stumbled across a strange array beneath the Sect during evacuation efforts in the siege and were transported into the Forest. We made our way south looking for civilisation, planning to reach the Spiked Shore Sect to possibly find answers on what sent us here. Along the way, we found the Toro Rojo crew, who we had previously met on a Spirit Beast culling mission two months prior.¡±
¡°We heard you were trying to threaten them to give up their mechanical caravan, is that true?¡± John asked, far less diplomatically. She bit her cheeks hard enough to draw blood, really she should have expected this, John was about as blunt as a large boulder at the best of times, and those times are certainly not now.
¡°Their war-rig poses a potential threat to the good people of the Empire!¡± One of the cultivators on the other side of the line argued. ¡°It is best for everyone if we take it under our jurisdiction! We are in the midst of war on multiple fronts, we cannot spare resources babysitting a group of potentially volatile foreigners when we could possibly put them to better use!¡±
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¡°And where would they live then? They barely have a few camps set up right now, none of them have any permanent homes!¡± John argued.
¡°Naive fool! They can figure it out, it is not our responsibility to make sure they survive! Our responsibility is for the good citizens of the Empire, not barbarians clamouring at the gates!¡± One of the other cultivators scoffed. ¡°Though you two come from so close to the border your blood is not that far removed from them, surely you understand at least that much? We can help take you where you need to be, your cause seems righteous enough, but first, if you truly care about these barbarians either stand aside or help us communicate that this last offer of mercy is to be the last. No more tricks, no more delays, no more negotiation. ¡±
She was no stranger to this line of thinking, in fact, it was quite similar to the lines her own father would use so often. But that alone told her everything she needed to know, after all, she knew her own father. At first, she was hopeful they would be amenable to negotiation and reason, perhaps work out a solution that would benefit all parties¡ but this was too far gone. The people of the Toro Rojo needed to be warned now that the situation was shaping up to be exactly as their worst fears entailed¡ and that whatever bluff or ¡®trick¡¯ the Captainina pulled to protect them thus far did not appear like it was going to hold.
She did not have any real psychic skill, her mutations had all favoured her physical form, but she was still trained by a psychic in the Aberrant Realm. Innate Formations could be tricky, but communication channels were simple enough, and as with many things in life a certain degree of brute force could solve most problems. Not wasting a single moment she peeled back her sleeve and started to cut at her flesh with her claws, drawing deep grooves of intricate patterns of lines and curves following the flow of her meridians. She sent a pulse of energy from her Diantian to the arm, and felt her crude and simple node formation resonate with the psychic energy in the air. Then came the real challenge.
Through various exercises drilled into her brain since a young age, she visualised the internal fortress of her mind, the memory of the Lead Cave in its glory back when she believed it still impenetrable. This shape however was more suited towards defence against mental attacks, not at all built to actually channel power her body did not have the innate means to wield. She wanted to communicate a message, and that needed a courier¡ a vehicle.
The trusty image of the Rust Wagon returned to the forefront of her mind, no weapon of war, not even particularly fast compared to the speed of Cultivators at her own level, but ever reliable over centuries. She haphazardly took hold of the borrowed psychic link and forced it into the appropriate shape with an obscene amount of Si and will just to send it in the rough direction she needed. It was no psychic masterwork, but she didn¡¯t need that to carry a single word¡
¡°Prepare.¡±
A trail of blood erupted from her nose, the Curse briefly burning through her disrupted Meridians burning inside her before her body contained the destructive energy once again safely in her core. Her clumsy hijacking of the psychic channel seemed to have disrupted the connection entirely, given she could no longer feel its touch at the edge of her mind, but the answer they would have given was already a foregone conclusion.
Especially as she saw John warp his right arm into a hammer-like implement and flash forward, so fast even to her own honed senses the moment she blinked her eyes he was gone. Wiping the blood from her nose and blending herself into the background, she moved as well.
Jackson stared down at the teleportation array, a sight growing now painfully familiar. His dreams had been leading him all over as of late, every single one of them pointing towards another factor linked to what felt like too many calamities closing in all at once. It had come to the point where he dreaded having to sleep, but the dread of not knowing what could be next was almost worse. He had a duty to his Empire, and his people, to discern the future from his prophecies and make the choices that would lead them to glory rather than doom. It was the right and burden of those with power to wield it, and how they wield it is what makes the measure of a man.
To that end, he could and would endure anything.
¡°My Prince¡ are you certain about moving on already? I am not doubting your power or mastery over the Si but, this jump will take you across the Empire, and you intend to return here too. Though you are doubtless a prodigy, this far into the Aberrant Realm this young of age, teleportation arrays are draining for even masters. For the stability of your cultivation, I must advise you to wait.¡± Boreas, the formation specialist he brought along to improve the efficiency of his teleportation arrays, implored. Centipede legs scurrying anxiously against the floor along with the clocking of mandibles as he spoke making for a sound akin to the rustling of a dead tree¡¯s branches.
He understood full well of course the wisdom in his words, they had only just arrived in the West to investigate the premonitions he received while providing essential aid to a battle against the machines in the East, and already he was planning to make a jump to the North and back. It was the pinnacle of foolishness indeed, however, he simply could not afford any other choice.
¡°The prophecies I receive are probabilities, not certainties. However, there are some things that tend to be set in stone. One of which, being the timeframe in which things occur. Rarely do I ever get a dream where I can determine with real confidence when something will happen of course¡ but I normally get a range. Years, months, weeks, days¡ hours¡¡± He trailed off, leaving Boreas to pick up the obvious implications.
¡°Godspeed my prince¡ Glory to the Empire.¡±
With a deep bow, he retreated out of the tent. This formation should allow for two-way travel, but it was small, and everyone he could spare to help fuel it on such short notice was also too weak to make a meaningful difference. Transporting matter wasn¡¯t that complex really, it was transporting minds intact that was the true feat, requiring far more power to simply keep it intact. The rumours said that the Dragon Khan was capable of teleporting himself and his dragon at will without the need for a formation, he was uncertain of the veracity of those statements of course, but in any case, it spoke of power not seen since the time of legends. The sunset of the Age of Ash and the Dawn of Cultivation. He was nowhere near that level, not yet, so on such short notice the best he could do without risking unnecessary lives was to go himself.
He closed his eyes and felt the flow of Si in the air, bolstered by the positioning of refined ingots of Spirit Metals placed at mathematically perfect locations along the Formation, and grabbed it with his iron will. Wings spreading out as his Demon Heart directed and shaped the Si coursing through the lines of the Formation, through the conduit of his body, and out once more as amplified psychic power. Even a Mutant without any psychic gift could fuel a Formation with their Si, but it took an Abberent¡¯s understanding to perfect it. Radiation comes in many forms from the poisoned spit of the Atomos that had once burned the world to cinder to the light and power of the sun and stars above. It was a power mortals were never meant to wield, and yet they did anyways, and filtered through the lens of a living body even this volatile primal energy can be tamed into the power of the soul itself.
He focused on the contents of his dream, five travellers in four bodies, who stood on the point of a needle. On one end, the best of intentions fuelling a fire beyond reason, soon leading to a path where they burn into obscurity. On the other, they continue and somehow find themselves at the heart of the great puzzle that had been tormenting his dreams for months. He folded his crystal wings back against his body as the energy around him flared to its peak, and hoped whatever he would find waiting for him he could give the nudge they needed.
Familiar Faces 4
¡°Prepare.¡±
The single Glish word rumbled through the air above the Toro Rojo, carried by the psychic equivalent of delivering a message by carving it into the dirt with a hammer. Still, the brute-force approach had one undeniable benefit, all who heard it immediately understood. Even those who did not understand the language of the Jackalope Empire could sense the warning carried in its tone, and quickly all hands began moving at breakneck pace.
But in the ramshackle medical tent, little more than a tarp built off the side of one of the many platforms hanging off the Toro Rojo, there was only so much that could be done to react to the new threat. Faith rubbed the sweat off her brow with her free hand as her other remained firmly on the torso of the leader of this band of refugees. The Curse was difficult to treat at the best of times, even with the tireless aid of the bear-man next to her applying his ointment with practised care she could not so easily heal the damage to the body when the cause of it was still rampant. And he had recently left too, dragged off to help the others prepare for the possibility of the worst occurring. Dangerous levels of Si literally burning through flesh too weak to contain it, something that could only be delayed, but won¡¯t be stopped until either they gain the strength to overcome it¡
Or end up like so many others, an empty corpse.
She remembered her ascent to the Mutant Realm as the Jackalopes called it, but to her it was always the Recognition of Heaven. How she had been in so much agony she could not even move, every part of her inflamed and weeping. It was no secret that many who chose to walk the Heavenly Path faced the ultimate punishment for their hubris. But there was no reason to give up, there was never a reason to give up, not if she could save just one life.
The woman beneath her hand coughed herself back to wakefulness, seemingly stirred by the commotion around her. She swore in a language she couldn¡¯t understand and immediately tried to get up.
¡°Not right now! No!¡± Faith told her in Glish, as there was almost certainly no way they would understand the tongue of the Blessed Tribes.
¡°What else is there to do?¡± The Captainina grumbled. ¡°Our ammo reserves were limited from the start, if they are truly preparing to attack now our bluff will fall apart soon too. We have yet to trade for fresh horses either¡ best we can do then is buy time. My ancestors have all died fighting for that madman Loco¡ I die on my own terms. On my own feet, for something worth dying for.¡±
The conviction in those words, it was¡ familiar. Like one of the priests back home. Her heart twisted uncertainly, she wanted that too she realised. She wanted to believe in something so strongly she could give up her life for it again. But no matter what she tried, that state of mind eluded her, like a mocking illusion flickering out of view every time she came close to touching it. They may not have shared a faith¡ but the faithful could always recognise someone with true conviction.
Despite everything she wanted to lead by the front. And that was exactly why she could not let this woman kill herself.
¡°Have some faith won¡¯t you!¡± She found herself crying out with more energy than she had intended. Nonetheless, she continued, unable to stop now. ¡°The two who are running to resolve this issue¡ they are good people, and if worst comes to worst, strong too. Gorekin and I will help where we can as well if need be, but these people need a leader! They don¡¯t need a corpse! I¡¯ll tell you what¡¯s going to happen, you will stay still until I stop the majority of your internal bleeding, and you will focus all your willpower to be there for those who need you!¡±
The old woman seemed momentarily stunned before choking down a bitter laugh. ¡°This is the second time I have been lectured by children.¡±
¡°Well maybe don¡¯t do things that require lecturing then.¡± She huffed.
¡°Que desgracia¡¡± The old woman chuckled, coughing small puddles of blood between her laughs. Still, she was not fighting it at least. And while she wasn¡¯t certain, the Si around her seemed a lot more stable, trickling down to reach her core and beginning to be drained from the rest of her.
Gorekin poked his head back into the tent, at first almost looking like there was smoke hanging over his furred body, before she realised¡ that wasn¡¯t smoke, it was spores. She instinctively shut her mouth and held her breath as the fungal cloud wafted its way over, before she realised the woman who was in even worse shape than her wasn¡¯t holding her breath¡ and seemed none the worse. Hesitantly she allowed herself a shallow breath in, confirming indeed that the spores were not burning. In fact, she felt calmer and more focused than she had felt¡ ever since fleeing her home and deserting the Golden Promise.
¡°Applied hiding rune, from Forest Kin village. Your people help lots, very good work.¡± Gorekin told the Captainina. ¡°Will allow hide from most thing. Can metal beast move?¡±
¡°We have burned most of our fuel reserves on the way North, and what we have left won¡¯t get us far. The reactor is keeping the Toro Rojo powered¡ but we have yet to understand how to fully replace the ancient engine with it. The loss of our Mustards means that we won¡¯t have anything else to pull it with either.¡± The older woman answered.
¡°Well, if no move, can make think we move.¡± Gorekin huffed, practically barrelling in and grabbing the stretcher holding the Curse-afflicted woman by himself. ¡°All moving now, you go in too.¡±
¡°Will it work? Will we be able to convince them they have left? What if they are psychics who can see through it? And surely they will be able to tell there is no way something like¡ that¡ could move anywhere without them noticing!¡± She asked.
¡°Very good questions. But no time, just have to try. Always part of learning, trying!¡± Gorekin answered, not quite reassuringly.
Without any real counterargument, she swallowed harshly and nodded, following along as he left the tent. Just in time to see a huge flash of light and power, so potent and blinding for a second she thought she accidentally stared at the sun, appear on the horizon where John and Cobalt had ran to.
In that instant, her heart sank, and wordlessly she and Gorekin ran faster towards the disguised Toro Rojo. The Captainina screaming profanities in her native tongue all the way.
John barely listened to half of the psychic conversation before deciding he had enough of this dox-shit. The good of the Empire this, the good of the Empire that¡ it wasn¡¯t like he hated the Jackalope Empire or anything, he still lived here after all, but it had always been a nebulous thing to him. A distant spectre on the horizon he acknowledged as ruler of the land.
As a Rat one of the first things the Supervisor drilled into all of their heads was the fact that they were by and large on their own. Sure there were places they sold scrap to regularly, there were times they received special retrieval requests from the higher ups, they knew the Supervisor bore the brunt of paying the taxes to the Empire for them all and it was expected that once a Rat got too big to really help out much in the tunnels and found the slightest opportunity at all they would leave to live a life like any other citizen. However a life of constantly moving around the Golden Plains right at the border of the Empire meant what mattered was not some nebulous patriotism, but the people who were just like them. Even during his time at the Lead Cave, none of the tales of glory or elaborate histories truly meant anything to him¡ what mattered was the family he found there. What little there was left of it now anyway.
And these¡ bomb-cursed bone-worms. They would talk about people who he knew had their own hopes and dreams as if they were pests to be cleared out. And for what? Simply for the crime of not giving everything up right away after they had already given up so much? They were even dismissive of Cobalt and him¡ treating the destruction of their home as though it was a forgettable piece of morning news shouted by the town screamer? He did not care if they had authority vested in them by the fucking Emperor himself. He was seeing red.
ARTOS¡ how fast can we get to their position? He asked the companion in his body.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
[Safely? At current sustainable normal sprinting speed 10.57 seconds.] ARTOS faithfully answered.
I am not looking for safe, I want to kick some fucking asses right now. He argued.
[With Adrenaline Rush, redirecting power to reinforcing tendons, secretion of compound X-130 at 120% can achieve a sustainable top speed of 78 miles per hour without significant drawbacks. Can reach the identified target in 5.82 seconds.] ARTOS answered.
And if I go even further? He asked.
ARTOS paused for a moment, slightly hesitant to answer. [Optimal travel time: 0.67 seconds. Prediction made with assumption combat is imminent, and adjusted accordingly.]
You already know. John said, not needing anything else.
He flexed his legs, felt the familiar pain of his own lightning course through his own body, and he exploded forward in a rush of movement. It was difficult to even see where he was aiming, truth be told, but he saw enough to know where to hit. The air cracked behind him as he found his target, eight hundred feet of movement condensed into a single second and driven into a punch. More than enough to turn an average Wretch into a fine paste, and even with how tough Cultivators are enough for anyone to at least feel it. Everything seemed to wobble as he made impact, the reinforced material of ARTOS absorbing most of the shock not being able to prevent in its entirety the force rippling through his bones. He heard something like the snapping of breaking glass as he rapidly came to a stop, and found himself being knocked back several dozen feet with the recoil of his own movement.
Skidding to a stop, he looked back at the two in front of him. The one he was aiming for was a blonde middle-aged man with massive nostrils and strange bony protrusions barely visible beneath his tunic. The other was a man who seemed to share his same ancestry if the long jet black hair and darker skin were any indication. His mutations giving him jet black sclera and a set of wiry antennae woven through his hair like crimson cords. Both of them seemed rather surprised by the counterattack, though largely unharmed, and if he had to guess the residual steam left behind by his impact in the air suggested a defensive formation of sorts like the one the Lead Cave had. Whatever it was anyway, it was likely shattered now given the sound it made when he hit.
¡°You imputent, traitorous worms! What is the meaning of this?! You court death!¡± The dark-haired man yelled.
¡°Shut the fuck up. Thinking you are so much better than everyone else, talking on matters you have no right on. It pisses me the fuck off.¡± He growled.
¡°You¡ wait¡¡± The blond man started sniffing at the air and made a face somewhere between shock, disgust and horror. ¡°Yes, it was so closely entwined I failed to notice it at first with the range disrupting my accuracy¡ but there¡¯s a second scent in there. The smell of a machine, what are you? The artificiality of that right arm and those scars lining your body, like you have been torn apart. One of those body snatching abominations from the East wearing the skin of a man from the Empire?¡±
He actually blinked in disbelief. ¡°What? Are you smoking some sort of street chem?¡±
¡°My senses do not lie abomination! We shall not fall so easily to your lies! Die by the righteous hand of the Empire!¡± The man snarled, cutting open a vein and extracting a long whip made from his own blood. His companion sent a message by pulsing some sort of signal through his hair, and it was obvious very soon the mortals they brought along would get involved too.
And right as things seemed to have escalated as far as they could go, the blond man suddenly sniffed the air again and bareley leapt out of the way of an invisible strike, the only sign anything was there at all being the shimmer of the air as something moved faster than the light could bend around it and the cratering force of the impact. The other refocused his energy onto the invisible target, sending psychic waves through his antenna and causing Cobalt to shimmer into view, evidently furious.
¡°You are a Spirits damned idiot, you know that John?¡± She chastised him.
¡°Your companion here is an imposter! A horrible mockery of the human form! We must work together to-¡± The blond tried to argue before she cut him off.
¡°Shut the fuck up. This is the second time this shit has happened now, and he got one thing right at least, you two have a talent for pissing us the fuck off. I suggest you call off your little army and leave, or things are going to get messy.¡± She snapped.
¡°Your delusions will not move us. Perhaps after this, you will once more see the light, but stand aside and let us reap the Empire¡¯s justice.¡± The black haired one countered. ¡°This is your one chance girl.¡±
¡°Then so be it.¡± she declared, swelling to full size as a group of armed soldiers emerged from their tents guns in hand and crested over the hill.
There was the sound of fingers snapping, and suddenly John felt a strangely familiar disorientation set in as the world started to melt. His senses, he realised, were being disrupted by a psychic power likely targeting him and Cobalt. He could barely stand up straight with his sense of equilibrium utterly devoid of function, his vision was blurry and unfocused at best, his senses of hearing and taste were so strong as to be overwhelming and his sense of touch was weakened to the point he only vaguely felt something wrap around him. It would have been a deadly move to anyone else, but unfortunately for them, he had an advantage.
[Recalibrating sensory data¡ compensating for disrupted neural pathways.] ARTOS explained as the world returned to mostly normal. Just in time for him to see the tendrils wrapped around his waist, Cobalt struggling to hold her own against a bloody whip with herself equally off balance, and a firing line of riflemen aiming straight at them.
Acting faster than he could think, he channeled his psychic power and targeted the metal from the guns, ripping the bullets straight from the barrels and launching them at his opponents. Most of them missed with the haphazard attempt, but it was enough to pepper both enemy Mutants with small wounds momentarily knocking them out of their rhythm. Not letting a second go to waste, he changed the shape of his right arm into a large blade and sliced clean through the restraints keeping him still.
¡°Damn you, devil¡ what sorcery did you use to bypass my sensory disruption?¡± The man now lying on the floor asked.
¡°Brother Han!¡± His companion called out, turning around as he realised how the tides had turned on the other side. A terrible mistake as Cobalt, confused and effectively blinded, moved by sheer terrible instinct.
There was the sound of iron jaws snapping in place, and in less time than most could blink the man had lost an arm. A trail of blood flowing down Cobalt¡¯s enlarged chin as she all too gleefully swallowed, and her Si flared.
¡°Shit¡ even if you kill us here and now, you will have made an enemy of the whole empire.¡± The blond scowled, blood flowing freely from the stump left behind before he took control of it and shaped it into a mass of thrashing tendrils, hooks and blades. The very colour of the fluid changing to a deep black as it gained a distinctly noxious scent. ¡°But fear not, you will not have to wait that long, for you shall die here and now!¡±
¡°You said it well brother indeed¡¡± The man apparently named Han said with a small smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to waste so much with such a risky maneuver¡ but if it is for the good of the Empire so be it!¡±
Psychic power flared around him as his tendrils started growing out of control. Glowing organs lit up from within his abdominal cavity, obvious even through flesh and clothing, channeling a burning aura around him which then also latched onto his ally. In comparison to his signal manipulation innate formations, it was evidently a crude mutation, but what it lacked in refinement it would almost certainly make up for it in raw power. At this point, the mortal men, now recovered from the dumbfoundment of their own weapons turned against them, had switched to their melee weapons. Mostly clubs and sabers, things he could likely turn to his side too¡ if not for the fact his senses once more were hit with a scramble. By the time the world reset to normal with the aid of ARTOS he found a nasty hole in his gut punched straight through with several burning tendrils twisting into a drill. The metallic filaments of ARTOS thrashing desperately in an attempt to close the injury.
¡°What manner of horror is this inside you? Little matter, when we dissect you the Empire shall thank you for your service, for clearly we have much to learn.¡± Han said, eyes focused even as blood started leaking from every one of his orifices. On the other side Cobalt was being thrown around by dozens of blood-tendrils, her durability and regeneration barely keeping up with the assault as her own crippled senses left her disoriented and unable to defend. Her aura was flaring stronger than ever and with a strange undertone he didn¡¯t quite remember seeing before but that hardly mattered when she was so badly afflicted that her skin couldn¡¯t even hold onto a consistent colour and texture as it cycled through mimicking dozens of different materials. The pain inhibitors pumping through his system kept his mind clearer than it should have been¡ but it was hard to see a way to turn this situation around.
There was a blinding light, and for a second he thought either he had died or his senses were scrambled again before it faded and he felt the top layer of his skin start to peel away from burns akin to absorbing too much of the sun¡¯s Si as a Wretch. All at once the flow of Si in the air turned quiet and the tendrils drilling through his body grew limp with an absence of energy. It was like everything had been silenced and deadened, the residual flames cloaking their opponents being quite literally ripped out of their bodies as blue beams of Si ripped from their orifices and into the sky, where an angelic shadow hung floating in front of the sun with crystal wings, drowning out all other powers with the intensity of their mastery over radiation.
He didn¡¯t know if it was friend or foe, but all that really mattered in that moment was that familiar feeling. Of standing before Cobalt¡¯s father, of watching the skies above the Lead Cave bleed. Of a power, once more, truly beyond him.
Familiar Faces 5
Cobalt was already growing tired of people assuming John was some sort of dangerous machine and evidently completely disregarding the obvious source of it stuck to his right side, and it had only happened twice. On the one hand, her idiot of a junior brother did charge headfirst into the cultivators so a rather unsavoury first impression was inevitable, even if she did agree that these arrogant pieces of human waste needed a humbling on top of the obvious danger they posed for the Toro Rojo crew and likely their new friends. On the other hand, while she understood the clearly uncanny and ambiguous nature of the body-snatching thing on John¡¯s shoulder, that nobody quite seemed to understand, it made no sense to her why anyone would assume someone as far from the signature coldness of a machine as John was an automaton in disguise. She had heard rumours of course of the abominations wearing human skin on the East Coast, but surely even then the differences would be obvious right?
It didn¡¯t matter right now of course, now that things had well and truly escalated about as far as she could have predicted. All that mattered now was holding them off so that hopefully the others could make good use of her warning, and figure out where to go from there. She was fairly certain she and John at least matched their foes in raw Cultivation, perhaps even exceeding them, but an unknown threat was still not something to take so lightly. With the variance of abilities Mutants could muster, especially ones with demonstrated psychic talent, there was absolutely no room for underestimating them.
Sadly, one of them pulled a trick that even she had no way to see coming or defend against. As the world warped and spiralled around her, she was left practically blinded, with an overpowering taste in her mouth drowning out all others besides the deafening volume in her ears, and her sense of smell diluted to uselessness. The signals between her senses and her brain were being directly tampered with, and faced with that she could barely stand let alone react to what came next.
There were sounds, colours, strange and distant feelings but what filled her mind the most was the taste of her own mouth, the taste of every minute particle in the air, overpowering and nauseating. She had no clue how long this effect would last if it had a duration at all, but in any case, if things continued like this she stood no chance. Pain blossomed into fiery flowers then changed to a deep chill and switched into an irritating itch at several points along her skin at once, some being from the impact of combat, others likely phantom illusions cast by her warped mind. To her, it was a distinction without a difference, a chaotic and unnavigable mess.
Except for one thing. That taste in the air. The mouthwatering flavour of a sinful temptation that her tongue was able to follow with wicked acuity. When her conscious mind lay paralyzed, instinct took over, and her jaws found soft flesh.
An addictive rush of pleasure soared to her head at the iron coating her tongue, her fangs easily slicing through reinforced muscle and bone as though it were the soft mash of a totato tuber. She had known this feeling before, but with everything else but her sense of taste rendered practically useless, there was nothing else she could focus on but that rush. A sweetness that would make the most finely smoked prime Dox cut taste like bitter nuclear ash in comparison. Even with her numbed perceptions, she felt the biggest grin crawl onto her face, and idly she snapped a few times for more before sanity managed to somehow find her again.
She needed to remember what she was here for. She needed to get her head back in the game. With a titanic push of willpower that felt simply wrong to her base instincts, Cobalt felt the Si pumping through her stomach straight into her meridians. The affinity for cannibalism was a side effect of the true mutation, her inherited trait from her father, the ability to absorb and process Si far more efficiently through the digestive tract than any others. Even with all else scrambled, a Cultivator¡¯s ability to track the flow of the radiation in their own meridians was unmatched, and with the concentrated power of a Step 4 Mutant¡¯s limb inside her even after burning so much of her cultivation during the fall of the Lead Cave she felt on the verge of a breakthrough.
John¡¯s ability to adapt and achieve breakthroughs mid-combat was something she had always admired. If he could do that, a practical outsider to the world of Cultivation for most of his life, what excuse had she to not try?
She pumped her Si straight towards her brain, focusing on breaking through the fog over her senses. To grab onto the psychic mass coating her that she understood in theory, but never came close to in practice. She didn¡¯t have it in her for the fine control necessary for true psychic talent, so she wasn¡¯t aiming for that. What she wanted to shape in her brain was to make her mind as strong as her body, a thick armour rather than the freely flowing strings and ropes Magni and Aunt Cinnabar described them. Something that felt right for her, not just in the instant, but going forward for the rest of her life.
In such an uncontrolled environment it was frankly a miracle she didn¡¯t immediately lose focus and collapse. Another pulse of psychic interference almost did it, causing her control to flicker for a moment inducing dangerous turbulence in her meridians so close to her brain she could feel the vessels pulsing in her head. There was something thrashing at her, moving her about, but with her senses so thoroughly ravaged it was downright impossible to know what was actually happening. So she was left with no recourse except to continue focusing inwards¡ until the fog started to part and a sudden clarity set upon her mind alongside an awareness of each part of her body. The regeneration of each of her cells, the movements of the Si inside her, and the energy maintaining her Warp Spasm. A feeling she could only describe as true enlightenment.
Soured somewhat by the truly oppressive aura she could all of a sudden sense above them, and the silence she was just now realising was unusual given the circumstance. A familiar power drowned all else, forcing her Si back into her core with a rush. Even had she not dispelled the psychic interference already it would not have survived this presence. Like she was once more standing before her father, no, beyond him. The Dragon Khan.
They hung suspended in the air upon wings of glass, a glassy blade in their hand. Their garb was made of richer stuff than even her own formal wear, glistening with jewels and ancient technologies, a mixture of silken threads, glittering gold and ruthlessly practical power armour. The dark skin of their brow contrasted with the glow of light from otherwise pale and featureless eyes, their facial features seemingly carved from stone in the image of human perfection. They had chosen to expend at least one of their Mutations on their appearance she realised, an act rarely chosen by those of true power, and when it was the will to forsake power in exchange for reaching one¡¯s true self, it represented a truly rare breed of cultivator. The pieces clicked together in her mind, she had seen him before from a distance, vague recollections of years ago on official duty to the Capital. Jackson Kalu, the adopted son of the Emperor, heir apparent of the Jackalope Empire.
¡°My¡ my Prince! What are you doing here? Are you perhaps here to assist-¡± One of the men stammered as the Wretches fell to the floor, prostrating themselves so low if they were to go any deeper they would need to dig. A flare of power rushed forward, enough to singe even her scaled skin, and she could feel the frustration boiling beneath.
¡°The psychic stench in the air is foul. Meaningless conflict, spurred on by pettiness and hot-headedness.¡± They roared. Voice rolling thunder, like the shadow of a primordial god-beast. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for the fact the fate of the Empire rested on four souls here today, I would not waste my time on such trivially disappointing matters.¡±
¡°Four souls, what do you mean my liege?¡± The man with the bloody tendrils, now hanging limp and useless to the side, asked.
She felt a small glow of energy as psychic light enveloped her and John, and immediately felt an ugly gurgle in her gut.
¡°Surely there has been a mistake! That one is a Homunculus!¡± The one sharing John¡¯s skin tone accused, pointing a finger at the boy who barely seemed in any state to really stand up himself. A massive wound torn straight through his abdomen exposing organs and wire.
¡°Silence. I have not the patience to deal with such nonsense.¡± The Prince snapped, immediately knocking the two cultivators into silence. Despite their own words, however, he still seemed to look on with some degree of curiosity to the creepy eyeball-studded machine on John¡¯s arm.
¡°Two minds in one body.¡± Kalu whispered just barely loud enough for her superb hearing to pick up. He then continued, louder and with full intent of having all around him hear. ¡°No, this one is not a homunculus, the fact you speak so confidently on matters you know naught about speaks volumes on how this mess has even managed to occur.¡±
He then turned towards John and her, eyes blazing with fiery judgement. ¡°That is not to say you two are exempt from judgement. You would have recieved the wrath of the Empire, insignificant as these two may have been, they are still loyal Cultivators that we already have far too few to spare. In the event of your triumph, you would be branded as enemies of the state, hunted down like rabid beasts, and for what?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
¡°They wanted to take away the Toro Rojo from her crew¡¡± John spat through coughs of blood.
¡°Toro Rojo¡ I see¡ well your dedication towards justice is certainly admirable. But what exactly was the plan here young man?¡± He continued. The incomplete mutation she had brute forced into her brain told her that the Prince was reading the undefended surface of John¡¯s mind like an open book, though the exact mechanism behind the act eluded her. It was not hard to see, however, evidently, John found himself lacking in words.
¡°Well, if we stopped them here, maybe they would have time to get away. Me and Cobalt are strong after all. We could have handled them, I think.¡± He answered, some of the confidence leaving his tone.
¡°Maybe, but you did not look like you were winning. And against the inevitable force of a counterattack, labelled as traitors to the Empire and left without aid, would you have prevailed?¡± The Prince probed further.
¡°What does it matter? They weren¡¯t going to listen! Should we have just stood aside like they wanted and let them do something that would destroy innocent lives?¡± John argued.
¡°Learning what battles to pick is a skill. One I see you have already been told many times by people you would trust far more than me. I know not of them besides the stray thoughts orbiting your brain, but I advise you to pay heed to their words.¡± The Prince chastised simply, before turning his attention to Cobalt. ¡°And likewise for you. Do not think I have missed the heat burning in your own head. You walk a dangerous line, Daughter of the Lizard.¡±
¡°And what do you know?¡± She spat, despite herself. A stupid action, yet in that moment, her pride would accept nothing else.
¡°The boy is a fool, but he is an unwavering bullet, soaring from the barrel of a gun through the air unheeding of its direction. You on the other hand, you hide your emotions and thoughts well, but I need not a psychic gift to sense the conflict in you that plagues your every thought.¡± He called out, effortlessly taking her aback. She tried to argue back but bit her tongue, it would be useless to fight this battle. And more than that, she cannot so confidently just say he was wrong.
¡°Now then, you all are dismissed. I will not hear a word, and this¡ Toro Rojo¡ consider it a protectorate of the Empire. For whatever strategic importance your mission has, it is not worth pulling a prophecy out of its ideal configuration.¡± he ordered, clearly brooking no disagreement in his tone. Evidently, whatever complaints their recent foes had was overpowered by their common sense as they backed off with a series of platitudes and apologies she couldn¡¯t bother to pay attention to. The Wretches particularly practically hobbling over, some of them exhibiting evident burns on their skin.
¡°Now, you came here with a group of four correct?¡± Kalu asked her.
She gulped despite herself, stumbling briefly on her words, before answering. ¡°Y-yes. The leader of the Toro Rojo needed medical assistance, and they stayed behind to help.¡±
¡°Very well, I would like to meet them myself before I return to my previous duties. I admit, the memory of details in even my dreams fades quickly, and I am curious about the faces of those who hold such apparently anomalous significance.¡± Kalu mused, though Cobalt knew she would have greater luck moving Heaven herself than stopping the whims of someone so above her.
She gnawed idly at her cheeks enough to tear into flesh as she considered how Gorekin and Faith were going to handle this.
Grrkkn had felt power before, true power. A thing that could only be compared to the forces of blizzards and spore-storms. And the new presence was¡ unfortunately¡ well within that short list. It smelled of lightning and glass, scraping by the surface of the sun itself. He was glad this human tribe was so well coordinated, even the youngest of them doing their part in admirably following his hasty instructions. Carving the intricate patterns into whatever they could actually carve onto their machine and even blocks of clay they hastily glued to the sides where they couldn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t actually know if it would do anything to hide against a power like that, but he knew from experience there was even less of a point actually running. You could scatter as fast as the nameless winds, but monsters like that were even faster.
In his haste, he had nearly missed the spores coming off his fur in dense clumps. Pulsing with vitality, the tiny fungal spores bloomed across his body like he was a fruiting pod. At first, he was a little worried about the humans around him, knowing they were not built for symbiosis with the seeds of the Mother Forest like his kin were, before he realised he had been secreting them for some time already by the point he noticed. And evidently, not one human had gotten ill.
Instead what happened was he felt a great sense of connection to all the machines in the area, the nascent mycelial network connecting him to the freshly carved runes and then to the great complexities of the machine. Every wire, every thread, so much more than his eyes could ever see, like the pulsing vessels of lifeblood in a body or the fathomless expanse of silky fungal threads that dominated the North. It was¡ beautiful. A thing of glory.
And more importantly, weak and rudimentary as it was, it gave him an understanding of how the inner workings of the machine worked and a feeling of how he could manipulate it. As they had said, the radiation-soaked core was not very useful as a primary power source for the engine due to the contradictory and chaotic mess of almost cancerous expansions over who knows how long.
¡°Hey, Gorekin¡ I am trying to supply your formations with power but I am not enough for all of this! What do I do?¡± Faith asked behind him as he experimented with expanding his senses further.
¡°Something interesting happen. Not sure if work, but wait. Think I can try.¡± He grunted.
Focusing his will into the belly of the machine, he connected several thin mycelial threads to the heart of the reactor core and began moving around the loose wiring to facilitate the spread towards the nearest carvings. Growth boosted by the radioactive energy, his spores rapidly bloomed and swelled in size around it achieving his first goal with surprising speed even for him. Squeezing his eyes closed and much more importantly placing his hands around his more sensitive nose, he focused harder and extended some of the new growth towards a series of incongruous structures correlated with the primary engine¡
Some of the humans spoke something in a language he had no knowledge of, but given their shock and excitement, it clearly worked. Something further confirmed by the rumbling of activity below him.
¡°Gorekin! I felt the formation activate¡ but what did you do? I thought this thing couldn¡¯t really move?¡± The human Faith asked.
¡°Something connect with fungus-hair.¡± he responded as best he could. ¡°Not sure how long could last. Tell to move now if want move ever.¡±
Indeed, for all the benefits the rich food supply had for his spores and their germination¡ it was too much for how thin and young they were. Already he could feel them start to burn and char.
Understanding exactly what he was talking about, he heard Faith walk off and inform the members of the Toro Rojo tribe about the situation. Without another moment of waiting the great machine started to move.
It felt a little strange. He had never ridden a Cousin Beast before, which he imagined was the closest analogue to this. Even being thrashed around by the great beast that was chasing Faith was distinctly different from this. Not quite moving under his own power. Not quite being thrown around either. It was at once fascinating and a little disappointing, he wasn¡¯t sure what he expected of course, but probably something more interesting than this. Still, they were moving faster than he could manage at a sprint, and that was all that mattered.
Keeping his mind focused on the mycelium, attempting to reinforce it to the best of his ability, Grrkkn did not have the time to pay attention exactly to what was going on outside. Still, as time passed further and no attack came to smite them he dared to hope they were out of the range of that impossible predator that had suddenly appeared like a mythic beast from the White Wastes. A notion that in hindsight was practically inviting retribution from the Gods and Spirits.
The world slammed to a literal and metaphorical halt as one of the fibres burned out. Momentum carried the machine onwards, but its movements were no longer as controlled, even if they could recover from this they would inevitably slow down as power was unevenly distributed through the makeshift network of living wire. He focused all his attention on repairing that, an action that proved to be a mistake as more burned away where he wasn¡¯t paying attention. Growth, accelerated beyond normal limitations, quickly turning cancerous or dying in a spectacular show of rapid decay. All at once the great machine started to careen at a dangerous angle¡
And it stopped all at once. A fact almost more terrifying than a crash, especially given the power enveloping them all. Ah, so this is what it felt like to be prey caught by a hunter? He could feel his heart in his upper throat.
He could only await whatever fate lay in store as a winged shadow cast over them from the open observation hatch. Prismatic lights shining downwards from a humanoid shape above.
¡°Clever clever, and here I thought you weren¡¯t going to move. I can sense something very interesting inside.¡± A powerful voice called from within the walls of his own mind. ¡°Calm down now. Whatever threat you thought I was, I assure you I am not. After all, why would your enemies waste their time sending someone as powerful as me?¡±
¡°Faith¡ Gorekin¡ I request your presence at soonest convenience. We would all want this behind us sooner rather than later, after all.¡±
Familiar Faces 6
Jackson looked down in amusement at the war rig and its hastily applied concealment formation. It was of an alien structure, unlike any he had previously studied, but you didn¡¯t need the knowledge of the greatest psychic experts of the Jackalope Empire to figure out the glaringly obvious.
¡°Hey! Put me down!¡± The boy in his right arm squirmed, evidently just now recovering from the sudden transportation. Unlike the girl lifted in his left hand, he seemed scrappier. Like a small animal unaware of just how much larger the creatures around it were compared to itself, and ready to pick a fight no matter how impossible the odds.
¡°And here I thought you would appreciate a free ride.¡± They joked. ¡°Don¡¯t be so hasty, I am just making sure I have everyone I have foreseen in one place. I am not in the habit of leaving anything to chance, especially if I am to trust someone as evidently chronically uncooperative as you.¡±
They had no right to speak, of course, being the same fool who had tried to burgle the Imperial Palace storehouses of all things so long ago. But they felt like they had the right to a little hypocrisy if the fate of the entire Empire would potentially fall in the hands of someone so impulsive. They only wished the other two would be better.
Sending out a basic psychic message, ironically relatively speaking one of the more difficult feats for him given his mutations were hardly specialised for the task, he informed all those in the war-rig below. ¡°Clever clever, and here I thought you weren¡¯t going to move. I can sense something very interesting inside.¡±
Sensing the waves of trepidation below, they rolled their eyes, he couldn¡¯t exactly blame them but it was still annoying to deal with. ¡°Calm down now. Whatever threat you thought I was, I assure you I am not. After all, why would your enemies waste their time sending someone as powerful as me?¡±
This of course reminded him of a certain someone else who would probably be giving off much the same psychic waves if it wasn¡¯t for their particular innate formation. They looked down to their left to see the girl, now shrunken down to a size only a bit above the average, blending in uncannily well with the background even to their eyes. Their latest mutation was incomplete, but it was enough to obscure most of their surface thoughts completely from their view. With some more time and practice, he could imagine they would be a formidable opponent against any psychic, though how exactly that would fit in with the Machine War they were yet to understand. Perhaps it would not fit in at all, after all, not all Mutations need to be useful in everything. They knew that better than anyone. Still, they were probably not going to get any use out of them, given they hardly seemed ready to speak yet.
He couldn¡¯t blame her, he still remembered when they were found in a barrel of fruit by the palace guards right in front of the Shadow Man, the first companion of the Hero of the Wasteland, the fucking Emperor and of course their soon-to-be adopted father Liam Kalu. They felt in that instant that at any moment their very breath could have been crushed out of their lungs, that any wrong twitch of a muscle could lead to their instant annihilation. And that was of course entirely correct, even if it turned out Liam was far from the type of man to waste his power crushing a starving street rat like that.
Thankfully they had more than one option. Despite the fact that the right side of his body was well shielded and there was some token, if amateurish effort at maintaining a defensive psychic palace, truthfully with all the psychic noise rolling off the boy it was harder to maintain an active effort in not picking up his stray thoughts. All they had to do was to let the barrier drop a little, and they should just idly gain all the information they needed from the surface thoughts alone.
Ah, John and Cobalt, those were their names. Which would mean that the ones missing were¡
¡°Faith¡ Gorekin¡ I request your presence at soonest convenience. We would all want this behind us sooner rather than later, after all.¡±
A sudden weariness washed over them, a troubling fact considering the fact they had expended what should have been a negligible amount of energy. He supposed that was to be expected, they were warned, after all, about the consequences of not taking adequate rest with their teleport. Luckily they only needed to invest power into the array once, once the timer ran out, the psychic threads still binding them would snap them back home. But if they were feeling tired from such trivial things, there was almost no doubt the strain of holding their consciousness together on the jump back would cause a deviation in their Cultivation. Potentially days to recover from radiation sickness they had not felt anything close to in over a decade.
Well, there was nothing to do about it now but pray to the Spirits his gamble pays off.
Overwhelming was the first word that came to mind as Faith left the questionable safety of the Toro Rojo¡¯s walls to the outside. She felt the power even before she saw it, part of her didn¡¯t want to leave. But called out by name like this, there really was no option for escape if that monster outside wanted her. She had heard the Abberants had a mastery of control over Si, but she had never truly been near one of that caliber in person. She had also heard tales of how light itself was a form of Si, how those skilled enough in their understanding of it could bend even the light itself. She could not have been prepared for this.
Around the figure the light from the sky warped, refracting through crystalline wings to leave strange rainbow patterns around on the ground. Like with all Cultivators a steady stream of Si leaked from their body, yet it didn¡¯t travel far before being sucked back in like it was drawn in by some titanic waterfall, some of the light around them also dimming in the process. He, and she was sure now that it was a he, held John and Cobalt in their hands almost comically, dredging up memories of the time she saw a mother cat glowing in the night carrying its kittens in its jaws. Setting them down as they descended to the ground, it dawned on her how tall he was to carry a woman as large as Cobalt so effortlessly.
If it wasn¡¯t for the fact Gorekin was right there with her, an equally dumbfounded expression on his heavy-set features, she would have believed it was a strange dream. Where had this stranger come from? It was as though they descended from the sky itself.
¡°I apologise for the theatrics, but I am working on a tight schedule.¡± The stranger apologised.
¡°Who¡ who are you?¡± She stammered, feeling a lump form in her throat. Her every muscle was screaming at her to fight, flee, do anything, but her conscious mind knew trying anything against someone so much stronger was suicide in every way that mattered. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
¡°Ah, foreigners yes? You too bear-man. I was not expecting a member of the Sasquatch here, but I supposed it was inevitable one of your kin would choose to leave the North.¡± They mused.
¡°You know of kin?¡± Gorekin asked with surprise.
¡°Not personally, but I have heard tales from da- my adoptive father.¡± They corrected themselves, as Faith understood it, descendents of Cultivators, besides extremely rare exceptions, were sterile adoptions. It was the expectation, especially in the Empire where personal lines were of great importance. But the fact their connection was apparently so close they nearly forgot their formalities, was almost reassuring, a reminder that the person in front of them for all their monstrous power was a human.
¡°Anyway, to answer your question.¡± They continued, a faint glow suffusing the air around them as they spoke. ¡°My name is Jackson Kalu, Tamer of the God Birds, Anointed by Cunningham and Seeker of Truths. Third Generation Jackalope Rider, Honoured Associate of the Jackalope Sect and Heir to the Empire.¡±
And all at once the anxiety was back. The mounting pressure in the air made it difficult to breathe, and she stumbled backwards into a furry wall of muscle. Gorekin too seemed similarly tense, but slightly less worried than her. Then again, he didn¡¯t grow up with the stories.
Sarah Cunningham, hero and founder of the Jackalopes, but to the Western States as much a warlord as any. She had grown far faster than anyone since the Red Star, stealing secrets from devils to achieve growth unparalleled under God. While denounced as a cowardly figure hiding away from the world, her strength was undeniable, and though all who spoke of the Pope¡¯s disappearance were branded blasphemers when war broke out in the lands of the Golden Promise even while the blighted clouds above the Empire were split by a beam of divine light, it was nakedly evident to all, the only true ancient monster who still may yet meddle again in the affairs of mortals was locked away in one of the secret vaults of the Jackalopes. And this was someone who had taken her teachings directly.
¡°You fear me Faith.¡± Jackson observed, turning their obsidian carved features towards them like a statue of an angel casting judgement. ¡°But know that I am not your enemy.¡±
¡°W-what do you want?¡± She stammered.
¡°I want to stop the hordes of metal demons coming from the East. I want to find the secrets the Dragon Khan has been searching for in the West. My priorities are and have always been the well-being of the Empire, and though you may not consider yourself one of us I know our interests are aligned. Somehow you four are at the centre of the future I see, and I have gifts that may aid you greatly.¡± Jackson explained. They rummaged through their robes and extracted a few items, burning with Si. An ingot of purified and refined Spirit Metal wrapped in some dull grey cloth, some sort of arcane relic from the Golden Age so faithfully maintained the metal still gleamed and a formation of some sort carved onto metal and set with the same organic glassy substance that made up the Prince¡¯s wings. They set these items onto a large transparent crystal that grew its way out of their arm, slicing through flesh and expanding into the rough shape of a crystal.
¡°To facilitate your role in preserving the fate of the known world, I give you this. Refined Plutonium with a lead-lined protective cloth to accelerate your growth as you see fit. A scanner device from Old America, able to catalogue and provide information on nearly anything you might find. An identification formation that you may infuse with your Si to avoid any further conflicts with the Empire, and of course¡¡± They turned towards John and Cobalt with a slightly bemused look. ¡°Making sure your journeys did not end here.¡±
¡°Why don¡¯t you tell us what you saw in that prophecy of yours?¡± John asked.
¡°You of two bodies in one mind, at the centre of a maelstrom. You will be faced with choices that may very well destroy you, but you continue to burn brighter until your fury matches that of the storm. Though be wary, for two flames burn twice as fast.¡± They answered shockingly quickly before turning to Cobalt.
¡°Daughter of the Lizard, you are strong now but you will be stronger yet. In time you may find the answers you are looking for, but even in your worst self, you will represent what was lost.¡±
Addressing Gorekin now, he said. ¡°Son of the Forest, I saw you as a curious soul, and you will learn much indeed. The secrets you uncover may be as great as they may be terrible, but in all worlds, you are a light. In all worlds, the unknowable will recoil from you, and yet you will pursue.¡±
Now finally landing on her, and causing her heart to seize in her chest once more and tighter than ever, he spoke her prophecy. ¡°You are on a crossroads, you who knows not what you are, you who fights for a cause you do not yet know. I cannot promise you will always find what you are looking for, but I can promise you will find yourself.¡±
The words stung, it was a naked declaration of what she knew yet didn¡¯t want to hear. Yet shockingly, shamefully¡ it was comforting. She wouldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t, speak but somehow she almost wanted to ask for them to continue as they finished.
So wrapped up were they in that thought, they nearly missed the sound of a certain cantankerous woman screaming obscenities in her native tongue to the men evidently attempting to hold her back, as the Captainina emerged from the Toro Rojo.
¡°Who do you think you are?! To so brazenly come and simply decl-¡± The words died on her tongue of course. As a Wretch, even one on the verge of the Fission Ignition of her Diantian, she would hardly be as sensitive towards the flow of Si as any of them. To her, it must have seen like any other strong Cultivator, and though a suicide match, there was an honour in defiance against those who would so readily trample on one¡¯s ability to maintain sacred hospitality.
The look on her bandaged face said enough about the magnitude of the miscalculation. At this range, even she would be unable to deny the truth of what was in front of her.
¡°Hm, I take it this one is the leader of the refugees you sought to protect? I understand why, I can feel a noble soul. Brazen and righteous even under odds she believes impossible.¡± Jackson mused towards Cobalt, before refocusing on the matriarch of the Toro Rojo crew. ¡°Though you have a significant deviation in your Cultivation. Signs of blockages, most of which are resolved, but one in particular is in a troubling position. As a token of apologies for my intrusion and disturbance, I would like to clear it for you.¡±
The Capitainina scowled and said something in her native tongue, only to be taken back in surprise when the Prince replied back in that very tongue. Regardless of what they were actually saying, it seemed to calm whatever concerns the Curse-afflicted woman had. With almost comical ease the Prince set his hands on her much like she had done, and a faint blue light glowed from the point where the hand had touched. There was a pulse in power as the woman collapsed again, flesh seeming to bubble and nearly boil, before just as abruptly as it had begun it stopped and she rose to her feet once again. The bandages already loosening revealing rapidly regenerating skin beneath, skin now with a metallic sheen and glistening like bronze. Highlighting the sculpted, muscled curves that were once hidden in a dying frame wrapped in gauze.
She felt a strange heat rise to her face then and averted her eyes for some reason. It might have been a bit indecent now that the bandages covering her were falling off, but it truly wasn¡¯t her fault now that she was thinking of it. Really she didn¡¯t know why she did that, not as though she hadn¡¯t seen worse as a medic-priestess in training.
Gorekin certainly didn¡¯t help, making his strange gurgling sounds that she now knew were laughs.
¡°My time is up, I will go now.¡± the Prince informed them all. ¡°I have high hopes for you, do not disappoint.¡±
And with that, they were gone in a blinding flash of blue light and power so potent she could practically taste the sugars pumping through her singed skin that couldn¡¯t meaningfully differentiate it from the sun itself.
Family Matters 3.1
¡°O Great Spirit, great mother of all things, why have you forsaken us? Our prayers go silent, our bread more ash than grain, our bodies rotting from within. What great crime have we committed? What vile sin have us children committed to lose even a mother¡¯s love?¡± -Lament of the Weeper, first part of the Litany of Acceptance.
The last time John had felt so small, the place he had known to be his home and indeed the centre of his whole world had burned. A memory he tried his best not to hold onto, but regardless painfully perserverant. He had not even been conscious the whole time, ARTOS taking over his body for much of the latter half of the experience. But the memory of blood-red skies was not one he could so readily forget. Nor the fact that the next time he regained consciousness, he had to grapple with the fact his whole effective family was just gone. He hoped the other Rats got away at least¡
In the alien memories gifted from ARTOS, those simulations of ancient wars now long forgotten, he had also felt small. But that was distant, a second-hand perspective of a second-hand memory. It didn¡¯t leave him feeling breathless like he did in the presence of Cobalt¡¯s father, it didn¡¯t fill him with a primal dread like seeing the wounded sky. But the Prince, the Prince was up there.
[So why did you resist?] ARTOS asked, clearly puzzled despite the lack of tone in its¡ voice? Thought?
Why wouldn¡¯t I? He responded simply.
[Odds of victory were smaller than my programs could calculate.] ARTOS pressed.
You wouldn¡¯t understand. John said, not as a critique, but a simple statement of fact. ARTOS was becoming more human, uncannily so. He should have been more concerned about it he knew, but really, it didn¡¯t matter any to him.
He was sick of being helpless, an observer of his own fate. He understood the urge the machine had to know what it could never know, even if it could not yet understand him.
Which was exactly why it bothered him so much, he supposed, to feel this way again and know there was nothing he could do about it.
[I see.] ARTOS commented without much else, for what was there to say. He smiled a little, Cobalt, protective as she was, always worried about the machine sharing his brain. Recent revelations probably made that warranted, but it was good to always have someone here with him.
¡°John¡ are you alright?¡± Cobalt asked, shimmering into visibility next to him causing him to jump in his seat. It seemed ever since the Sect fell she had been getting more into the habit of using her camouflage. Perhaps it gave her a sense of safety, or perhaps she had always used it that much and he was not close enough to notice it.
¡°I am fine, just thinking.¡± He assured her. ¡°So, now that things have calmed down a bit, you have a new mutation?¡±
¡°Not entirely, I focused my energy into my brain during the fight. Manifested my desire to counter the psychic attack they hit me with, and developed an incomplete mutation.¡± She explained. ¡°With more time and focus this will become a full Step, but as it stands it is a bit of a rush job. Advancing in Steps is normally a feat achieved over time after all, I have never heard of someone evolving so rapidly in the midst of battle until, well, you.¡±
¡°Guess that just makes me special huh? Even got a prophecy, my tale will be sung high and wide throughout the Empire.¡± He said with a deliberately annoying smirk.
Cobalt rolled her eyes and smacked him gently¡ for her standards. It still smacked hard enough he jolted forwards with the impact. ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself Rat boy.¡±
¡°Never dream of it Col.¡± He laughed.
Taking his head back to the present, he focused on what Gorekin and Faith were up to. As thanks for healing her, now that whatever the Prince did allowed her to reach the Mutant Realm, the Captainina insisted on repaying them, at least, according to her ability. The Toro Rojo was lacking in much of anything spare really, hence why he and Cobalt had declined any offers for recompense for the aid they attempted to give (no matter how much it really mattered in the end, he privately thought). Following their example Faith and the bear-man tried to decline too¡If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
But the Captainina was a different beast entirely, that was for sure. And having dragged both a slightly befuddled Gorekin and a strangely brown Faith after her, it was clear they were accepting no compromises.
¡°This amazing! It real?¡± Gorekin asked, holding up a long rifle. A flintlock of a sort he hadn¡¯t seen before, probably of a style common across the border.
¡°It¡¯s real alright!¡± The Capitainina laughed as Gorekin viewed the weapon with wonder. She then walked over to Faith who kept staring with what looked to be awe at her new layer of bronze skin. It was impressive how fast she regenerated from the Curse, though he supposed he was nobody to talk, but Faith¡¯s expression was different. Not quite intimidation¡
¡°Looks like our little preacher has a crush.¡± Cobalt snickered by his side.
Oh, so that¡¯s what it was. It certainly explained her violent shift in colouration as she was gifted a cross. The significance of that symbol was frankly lost on him, but it meant something to Faith at least as she stared at it with a blank expression, closing her fist around the simple wooden edifice so hard she might have drawn blood had she been Mortal. It looked pretty imp at least, judging by the magnetic lines he could feel emanating from it the thing was layered with a small amount of decorative metal too, but compared to what Gorekin got it almost seemed disappointing.
What did he know though?
¡°So, we are going to your mother¡¯s Sect right?¡¯ John decided to ask Cobalt. ¡°You never much talked about your mother, what¡¯s she like?¡±
Cobalt froze at his words, shifting into the hues of the background as though to hide away. ¡°I- I don¡¯t know.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± He asked.
¡°She- she was never much a part of my life. I met her a couple of times I think¡ but for the woman who birthed me I don¡¯t know anything about her.¡± She sighed. ¡°Sorry, I know that you expected more- and it would be reasonable to feel like-¡±
¡°Hey, Col, who gives a shit?¡± He assured her. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out together. And worst comes to worst, Rats stick together.¡±
A small smile appeared on her fanged smile, seemingly carving its way into reality as her camouflaged lips peeled away. ¡°Yes¡ Rats stick together.¡±
[Rats¡] ARTOS trailed off.
Goodbyes went by quickly. There wasn¡¯t really enough for a proper celebratory feast, especially with talk of conserving resources for trade, nor did any of them want to push the issue. With what they had learned from the Prince¡¯s prophecies they were at the centre of something rather important, and all of them felt like following that fate was more important than perhaps anything else here. So they said their goodbyes, graciously accepted a basic resupply, and started wandering their separate ways as the Toro Rojo drove back to its original site to reclaim the tents left behind.
The plants here were starting to grow, streaks of healthy green poking through masses of sickly yellow and brown. The Si here was growing thin, depleted. As much of a sign as any to signal for any Cultivators to move on, to fresh wastelands as Aunt Cinnabar used to say.
¡°Ready?¡± John asked the other two.
Gorekin, still polishing his new rifles, gave a wide toothy grimace/grin exposing rows of sharp ursine teeth. ¡°Never more!¡±
Faith gripped her cross tightly, her hood removed to bask in the rays of afternoon sunlight. ¡°We must be ready regardless.¡±
¡°Alright, try and keep up.¡± Cobalt warned the others. She would slow down her pace of course, but she knew physically she was well beyond the likes of anyone besides maybe Gorekin. And it wouldn¡¯t take much for her to get lost in her thoughts and risk losing the others given the¡ circumstances.
She thought back on the last time she saw her blood mother, immediately recognisable by the scent of her blood even across the room, but she had not the time to actually go up and speak with her. At that time she was the image of serpentine grace, a limbless lower half shimmering with porcelain scales, totally hairless and lithe. An image of grace and beauty compared to the blood she inherited from her father.
What would she even say to her? While she understood why she was left in the care of the Lead Cave, inevitably the distance between them was a yawning chasm. She was family, but the woman could never be anything like the family she had lost. Perhaps they could grow to be something close¡ but she never knew her.
¡°Hey, we won¡¯t dream of leaving you behind.¡± John laughed, brushing aside his hair and exposing his distinctive cracked eyes like orbs of shattered glass to match the scars tracing his skin. He didn¡¯t mean much by it, she was sure, but it granted her no small amount of warmth to hear nonetheless.
As long as that simple promise held true, she supposed she would never truly be alone.
¡°Of course.¡± She said simply.
Their hands fiddled around the formation sigil the Prince had gifted them, no matter where this journey truly led them perhaps it wasn¡¯t so bad.
Family Matters 3.2
The journey to the Spiked Shore was, compared to the rest of their journey thus far, unremarkable. Few things would be foolish enough to cross paths with four Mutants, and as they continued towards the Great Lake they were reaching closer and closer to the heartland of the Empire. Even drained by war, the strength of the Jackalopes remained indomitable here, as widespread as the tunnels of the beasts sharing the same name.
Currently, camped at one of the many pits of mostly already-looted rusted metal and concrete John¡¯s history as a Rat gave him a certain knack in finding, the four were preparing for the night. Between Cobalt and Gorekin, none of them could go hungry. Especially as the furred giant took to his new gifts like a new limb, though none of them quite knew exactly where he was getting the bullets from.
¡°Look! Caught big one!¡± The big guy had laughed as he carried back a feral dox, its razor-sharp teeth and burnt-red hide a far cry from the fluffier specimens common in the ranches of the Empire. Another floated shortly behind him as Cobalt shimmered into visibility. The creature, the size of perhaps two or three fully grown men, had a gash on its side large enough for Faith to have crawled into.
John turned around from the ventilation shafts he was carefully drilling into the roof with a transformed right arm. ¡°A vegetable or two would be kracking imp right now¡ never thought I would see the day where I said this.¡±
¡°No right season. Beside, no understand wild plant here.¡± Gorekin answered.
¡°Yeah, what he said.¡± Cobalt confirmed with a shrug. ¡°But no matter where you are, meat is meat.¡±
John sighed. ¡°Yeah meat is meat¡¡±
¡°Hey John, help me light this fire, will you? It¡¯s going to be dusk soon.¡± Faith asked.
Setting his mind away from the rather monotone meal palette of the past few days, John scraped some slime off his gills and spread it onto the pile of tinder. With a small spark of electricity the dry wood and grass caught alight, and lit the ancient walls of the decaying structure up. Perhaps at one time, this place was a treasure trove, he could recognise still the signs of supports placed in by previous teams of scavengers. Small holes meticulously carved into the rock would have allowed, perhaps, a child of maybe up to twelve summers to crawl through with a little effort and pilfer anything of value inside. As it stood now it was empty and forgotten, a husk that was little more than any other pit in the ground.
John¡¯s gut wrenched a bit at the thought of the Lead Cave meeting the same fate. The cratered remains scavenged for scrap and promptly forgotten. Little more than another rusted pit in the ground amidst who knows how many thousands scattered across the continent.
[Blood pressure increase detected: Administer stabilising drugs?] ARTOS offered.
No. He thought. The past was over now. All that mattered was looking towards the future. He wondered what Cobalt¡¯s mother¡¯s Sect would be like. He had only truly experienced the Lead Cave, and while it was the most powerful Sect in the Golden Plains¡ he knew the rural region was far from the, apparently, heavily populated cities of the capital.
Faith took eagerly to the cooking, citing having experience doing it before. He wasn¡¯t really sure what her story was, but from the bits and pieces, the green-skinned girl dropped they were in one of the Holy Union¡¯s armies. Personally, he thought she was hardly someone suited for that sort of work, but he supposed it didn¡¯t matter. People rarely had a choice in what happened to them.
[Searching files on deserters¡]
Unhelpfully memories flooded in on various execution methods favoured during the Golden Age, apparently the things they would do to soldiers who fled their duty. Skulls burned out by guns that shot lances of light, forced to walk empty fields that exploded when they stepped wrong¡ or simply thrown in an empty cell and forgotten about until a superior officer made the entirely arbitrary decision to grant mercy or an execution.
¡°Never show me that again please.¡± John requested.
In a little while the food was ready and Cobalt started tearing apart the meat with her claws, the dagger-like extensions making short work of the quickly roasted Dox slabs. One of them appeared to have a small core, which was split among the group after being carefully mixed with herbs by Gorekin. Well, all except Cobalt, who simply ate her chunk entirely unprocessed as usual. Idly he found himself using his psychic power to move small bits of scrap metal onto the meat as a sort of seasoning, the taste of the metal having a soothing and almost addictive quality to it he couldn¡¯t quite place.
¡°...Forgive me for being uncouth, but suddenly I am getting a strange itch.¡± Faith complained. Sure enough flakes of white were peeling from her green skin, illuminated softly by the flickering firelight.
¡°The start of a Mutation perhaps? You are about to reach your Third Step correct?¡± Cobalt asked.
¡°I don¡¯t know, I haven¡¯t really been¡ paying attention as of late.¡± Faith murmured. ¡°I have been neglecting my prayers, and yet still?¡±
¡°You need prayers to Cultivate?¡± John asked, genuinely curious.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Suddenly Cobalt smacked him across the back of his head, causing him to land facefirst into a chunk of bloody meat embedded with loose metal.
¡°Don¡¯t say stuff like that! You know this is important to her!¡± Cobalt hissed into his ear.
¡°No no, John have point.¡± Gorekin helpfully joined in, his hearing apparently kracking astute. ¡°Why like this sister Faith?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t¡ I don¡¯t know how to describe it.¡± She muttered. ¡°Nevermind, it isn¡¯t important.¡±
The rest of the night was spent in uncomfortable silence, Faith having retreated to a corner after the meal to stare at her strange little cross and John had to wonder what exactly her life was like before this?
Faith knew her pilgrimage with unbelievers would lead to some degree of conflict, and the prophet did always teach ignorance was no sin. For it was the duty of the faithful to enlighten those who were not aware of the Golden Promise, to invite more lost lambs to the rust-goat flock of the All-Powerful. Blessed are the children who spread to all corners of the world with the Golden Promise in their hearts.
But what did it make her? So weak and fallible in her own belief. She hadn¡¯t remembered the last time she had properly prayed, to have properly communed with the spiritual¡ and yet she was still blessed with the changing of the flesh? It went against all she knew to be true, but it was not so easy to deny that which was before your very eyes.
In hindsight perhaps it should be obvious. Whatever method the Imperials used to cycle their Si was evidently quite different from that taught in the Holy Union, yet their cultivators were no less in number and quality. For when the Golden Promise was extended to mankind, it was to all mankind, as equals with no regard for race, sex or creed. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t so incompatible with her beliefs after all, perhaps this was just how it was.
The deeper issue, however, the fundamental crux of the matter was, that she was unworthy. A coward, the worst form of sinner. She did not even bother to take the Good Book with her when she fled, did she?
And these recent feelings, welling inside her chest. The thoughts were so utterly wrong¡ she was sinning. Daring to live for herself rather than for the Almighty. Shameful. Disgraceful.
¡°Faith, you alri-ight?¡± Gorekin grunted. The words not quite coming out correctly in his throat. As a beast-man it seemed, he sometimes still struggled to manage the nuances of Imperial Glish. She doubted he would ever be able to pronounce some of the intricacies of her native tongue.
¡°I am fine.¡± She assured him. They were going to make it to their destination today. Cobalt and Gorekin leading quite literally by their noses while John occasionally pointed out where North was like some sort of living compass. By the metrics of navigation at least, her own talents seemed quite useless.
¡°Ok.¡± Gorekin huffed with a tone that she felt seemed to sound more like ¡®you lie.¡¯. ¡°Cub you are, think pain noble endure. Cover wound with leaf, hide blood with herb, but truth is pain no noble. Pain no punishment and pain no reward, pain just is, and pain no invincible either.¡±
¡°What are you talking about.¡± She scoffed. ¡°You act like you are so wise and yet, wait¡ how old are you?¡±
¡°Oh, mid aged.¡± Gorekin hummed, scratching at his chin with hairy claws. ¡°Seven ten summers.¡±
¡°Seven ten¡¡± Faith trailed off, considering just how much time that was. ¡°Your people live to a hundred a forty?¡±
¡°Yes?¡± Gorekin responded, cocking his head to the side, evidently puzzled.
She didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, and ultimately decided it would be best not to bother. His kind was the stuff of myths anyway, tales they told to children to scare them away from exploring the salt-caked deadwoods and getting themselves Cursed. Sure, at this point, why not?
Moving her mind away from that topic, she decided a little bit of distraction was in order. ¡°So, how exactly do your abilities work? I think you have explained it before, but to be honest I am still not certain.¡±
¡°Hard describe yes. Especially when words still sometime not good.¡± Gorekin admitted. ¡°You tongue not natural on mine, many year practice speak so good. Will practice much more, but always will be hard.¡±
¡°I understand, but do your best.¡± She told him.
With a nod, he started to explain. ¡°Fungus not the fruit above ground, though many believe so. Fungus many roots, can spread many mile. Can grow almost anything, connect trees like big web in Mother Forest, but also can eat dead and living alike. Imagine many thread, so tiny smallest no eye can see, in every inch hundreds.¡±
¡°I never knew that.¡± She said genuinely. It felt like learning something new from the Scriptures for the first time. Knowledge so new and exciting all her previous worries seemed to melt into the background.
¡°Knowledge from ancient ancestor, long ago, when they born in steel cell before escape into forests they say human speak much on such thing.¡± Gorekin added proudly. ¡°But anyway, my power make these thread. Many thread go into metal, connect wire, like vein and nerve. Can¡ no see not right word¡ can feel it. Can reach in and connect broken, change thing, like root of fungus to root of tree.¡±
¡°It reminds me of a story¡ from the Good Book. All things are born from one, the Great Spirit, three in one, Mother, Son and the Golden Promise. Long ago, long before even the flames that cleansed the Old World, the Son came down and taught mankind his ways, all of us are imbued with God as all of us are part of his creation. And the Golden Promise came down and filled the tongues of all that would listen, so that salvation may come to all who listen. For true fulfilment, the truest heaven is the realisation of oneness with the Divine. The essence of the Golden Promise, in a way.¡±
¡°Much learn about your people. Very interest me you are.¡± Gorkin happily grunted. ¡°You very devoted sound like.¡±
¡°Me¡ devoted?¡± Faith laughed bitterly, the smile leaving her face. ¡°Please. Let¡¯s not talk about it.¡±
Before any more could be said, up ahead Cobalt spoke up. ¡°We are at the border. I am certain.¡±
¡°How do you know?¡± She asked.
Cobalt rolled her ruby eyes and pointed towards a spike of molten steel ahead of them, standing perhaps a hundred or two feet in front of another¡ and another¡ and another stretching further than her eyes could reasonably track towards a shore so great it may as well have been a lake.
¡°Ah.¡±
Family Matters 3.3
Cobalt had a lot of mixed feelings seeing the dense sea of spikes around her grow thicker and thicker. She had been here before, on this very road, but at that time it was in the middle of a dense entourage. Her father had been at the head of it, herself at his side. He had insisted he would speak to her mother when the time came alone, and that she didn¡¯t want to meet her. She knew he was not lying, of course, her father was many things, but a liar never. And it did sting, of course, it stung, to know the woman who birthed you was here and did not even want to see her own blood. She was sure she had her reasons of course but¡ was it wrong for it to hurt?
The scenery continued to change. Eventually reaching a place where the spikes were so dense they seemed to make almost a fortress wall, at the centre of which she knew to be the core of the Spiked Shore Sect. Located at the edge of an inland sea particularly rich in artefacts, they made themselves famous for dredging efforts and recovery of precious Relics. If she remembered correctly they even had a tech cache deep underground like that hidden deep beneath the Lead Cave¡ though she was not allowed there in person. In another life would this place have been home? In another life would she be such a stranger at these gates?
¡°Hey, you ok Col?¡± John had asked, extending his human arm in a gesture of well-meaning comfort. He knew she did not trust the parasite on his right arm, especially with it encroaching onto his chest and speckled with eyes glimmering with too much intelligence to discount as blind. It was genuinely a very thoughtful gesture, but her mind was not in the right place to appreciate it, at least not at the moment.
¡°I am fine.¡± She insisted. Perhaps a bit too harshly.
Faith and Gorekin, they didn¡¯t know her as much as John did, but she could sense they knew something was off too. Their ignorance of the situation however seemed to win over their judgement and compelled them to remain silent. A blessing part of her thought, a true relief.
Another part was slightly disappointed for reasons she did not wish to dwell upon.
Eventually, they came to a stop between two towering pillars of scorched iron that seemed to double as some form of gate by a portly man. Probably not a Cultivator in full, at most an Outer Disciple but far more likely a mortal servant of the Sect. Like the many staff members of the Lead Cave¡ she hoped most of them made it out safely, it bothered her she could not truly say for certain she knew. Given the fact he was hiding a hand in a sleeve he probably held some sort of alarm he could quickly and secretly trigger in the case of any actual danger, but very rarely did anyone so foolish come along to make that role anything other than a formality.
¡°State your business and relevant papers.¡± He said simply.
¡°We are¡ Pilgrims, I and Cobalt come from the Lead Cave.¡± John introduced.
¡°Then you must have heard the news then¡ terribly sorry for your loss.¡± The man replied, having seen the prominently displayed crescent-shaped pins they had on their frankly rather unwashed clothing. ¡°And the other two?¡±
¡°We are from further Northwest from here.¡± Faith explained, a technical truth.
¡°Curious about lands east!¡± Gorekin grunted.
Against her better judgement, Cobalt spoke as well. ¡°I have¡ a connection with a member of your Sect. My mother.¡±
¡°There are no adoption records for a member of the Lead Cave amongst our members.¡± The man noted with a raised eyebrow.
¡°Not adopted¡ biological.¡±
¡°Strong claim you are making. Do you have any evidence?¡± The man asked curiously.
She took a deep breath. ¡°Not directly, and I know, I kracking know it is impossible to believe¡ but I have another thing that might show you my words can be believed.¡±
She rummaged through her pockets for the Prince¡¯s Gift, and flooded it with Si, causing a unique seal to glow in the air in front of her. An animated image of a bird crackling with lightning flew into the air, the illusion even doing a spin before setting in place above the ornate flag of the Jackalope Sect complete with the beast sharing its name proudly emblazoned in the centre. The man at the gate gulped and she heard something crack hidden in his sleeve, probably a vial of radioactive material used to trigger some sort of communication Formation.
¡°Excuse me please¡ this may take some time.¡±
The Spiked Shore Sect stood proudly along the shores of the Heron Sea, the heart of the Cyan Mist Province, right at the border of the autonomous zone ruled over by the Jackalopes in the Capital. The history of this place was, of course, profound. Knowledge descending practically from the last embers of the Golden Age, old even by the reckoning of the Imperial Core.
To Saha Crane, this could not matter less. She knew her role well, and the ancient history of the Sect was hardly relevant to the politics of the now in the vast majority of circumstances. Barring a few, rare, edge cases she had more important things to draw her attention to. For example¡
With a crescent-shaped arc of her bladed tail, moving faster than a mortal could swing a bullwhip, the Lake Lurker easily eight or nine times her own mass fell lifelessly to the ground where it had attempted to leap at her in its usual hunting strategy, head bisected clean in two. Beasts of this calibre rarely strayed close to the relative shallows, but this one had clearly gained a taste for Wretch flesh and learned where best to hunt for its preferred prey. She looked down upon its ugly skull, the barbed whiskers in the front of its face looking almost like the whiskers of the Sectmaster. It probably could have made a good trophy, in hindsight, she should have aimed for a beheading¡ in any case.
She made sure to ensure the kill by placing a few dainty fingers into its still-warm corpse and allowing a tree-like array of antlers to burst from her skin turning whatever was left of its brainstem into a paste. After removing the bloodied mass of grey matter from her hands she sliced its gut surgically with her tail and extracted its core, the organ still glowing with heat and power. It would take much to temper this for consumption, and the scent was far from pleasant, but a good quality Spirit Beast core like this was exactly what she needed to progress. That was not to even mention the main reason she departed for this regular hunting mission.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
¡°Oh, great sister! Thank you so much for felling the beast! How could we thank you enough!¡± A fisherman emerging from hiding gasped in naked awe. As far as Wretches go, the man was muscular, well built as Fishermen need to be to brave the beasts in this inland sea. He was no true Cultivator of course, and the recent scores of death around this area and how close he had come to death himself illustrated quite plainly the gap between herself and even the upper tier of Wretches.
¡°Please, it was only my duty.¡± She told the man. And it was true. With so much of the Sect off fighting in the East only a relative skeleton crew stayed around to do the tasks like culling powerful Spirit Beasts and keeping the Sect running. If it wasn¡¯t for those like her, well the fresh-faced Initiates certainly couldn¡¯t take down a full-grown Lake Lurker. Indeed this was exactly why she was here.
¡°Still, how could we ever repay you?¡± A member of his crew, who had emerged from her own hiding a further and perhaps safer distance away, asked.
With a sweet smile, she told her. ¡°Please, there is no need.¡±
There was nothing they could offer her of any value after all. It had been a long time indeed since she had used mortal currency, and fishermen rarely had any Spirit Stones of great value. Even if they had dredged up an interesting Relic or two¡ they wouldn¡¯t have stayed fishermen for much longer if it was truly of any interest to her.
No, she would do her duty, collect more material for her Cultivation, and leave. With most of the Sect off at war, and only her careful manoeuvring allowing her to remain, in time she could rise to be among the most powerful Cultivators still present. While things would return to normal in short order once the rest returned from war, if all went well she would have been able to pull enough strings to secure a permanently elevated position. If she was careful and progressed far enough in her Cultivation, perhaps she could even qualify for a position as an Elder.
It had been an unexpected turn of fortune that saw her somehow pregnant, a feat that she believed impossible, and what¡¯s more to a brute of a man who she had only entertained for the resources he had available to lavish upon her as gifts. The child had ensured a steady stream of resources and support ever since, though hiding where the source of these resources truly was made for a headache at times. The last thing she needed was to catch the unsavory attention of types who believed the one thing she was good for was a hypothetically fertile womb after all. She had gone into lengthy ¡®closed door¡¯ cultivation the moment she found out, and handed the girl to her father the first opportunity she got. Even so, it was a miracle things turned out so well.
She idly wondered how the girl was doing. She had heard the whole Sect had burned, taken down by a particularly nasty warlord. In all likelihood, she was dead, as was her father. On one hand that meant no more free handouts, on the other, it might have worked out better for her to be this way. She never really knew the girl so the sense of loss wasn¡¯t exactly profound, did that make her a bad person? Maybe.
But you didn¡¯t make it far in this world without looking out for yourself first and foremost. Compassion could always come later, those who forgot who really mattered in this world never made it far enough for it to be relevant. What good was kindness if it didn¡¯t serve her interests?
Whistling some tune most Mortals probably didn¡¯t even remember by now, she slithered with speed that most could hardly imagine a legless woman could move back to the Sect. But before she made it all the way back, she had something to deposit, didn¡¯t she?
Hidden in a little enclave where the arrangement of the ancient towers of molten metal fashioned into spikes carved into the ground for reasons long since lost to time, were particularly favourable conditions for carving a Formation, she quickly unearthed her private stash. She was no psychic, the crude formation did little but disguise the Si signature that would be otherwise blatantly obvious to would-be thieves and inspectors. Under normal circumstances, there would be no way for her to get away with stashing away so much beneath the watchful gaze of the Sect in one place at least. And indeed, beforehand when she was just managing the various gifts and payments that Lead Cave brute shoved her way there was no way she would be brazen enough to cut a bit off the top of the usual Sect duties of course. But with the staff gutted as it was, it was an open secret nobody was going to notice or care.
In some ways, the war had been fortuitous indeed. Pumping some of her Si into the formation and feeling the power come alight, signified by the distinct drop in the background Si levels, she buried the core alongside some other materials she had hidden for a rainy day.
Her little surreptitious activity over, she returned on her usual route as calm as ever. After all, the trick to never getting caught out is to never once doubt your own righteousness. If one wanted to survive and thrive in this world, any measure could be justified.
Surprisingly there was some sort of commotion at the edge of the front gates, despite the majority of the Sect having been drafted to assist in the efforts in the East it appeared there was somehow a small crowd of people gathered at the precipice of where the spikes were densest. And the reason for that soon became apparent, a group of four travellers, Cultivators. War Pilgrims perhaps, seeking shelter for the night on their path eastward? Wouldn¡¯t be the first time, and sacred hospitality was always important. Some of her actions may be considered foolish by others, but she was not so great an idiot to risk the ire of the Spirits, the very Atomos that breathed Si and gave them power.
Coming closer to the outskirts of the scene, she spotted a familiar face. Tom Sludge, a junior brother with a rather unfortunate surname and one of the exceedingly few people she would consider a true friend. Sneaking up on the rodent-eared man with practiced silence, she grabbed his horned shoulders prompting a sudden squeak and a hilarious whipping of his lengthy, bald tail.
¡°You have to stop doing that Crane.¡± He hissed at her.
¡°Aw, you know me, Tom!¡± She laughed. ¡°So what¡¯s the occasion?¡±
¡°Group of pilgrims come bearing the personal seal of the Crown Prince, not a forgery either.¡± He answered, suddenly making the situation perhaps a hundred times more serious.
¡°What? And none of you could have sent a psychic message to me beforehand?¡± She hissed.
¡°The claim was only just verified now¡ alongside another possibly more troubling claim.¡± He whispered.
¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She asked, starting to feel concern creeping up her spine. An Imperial Audit? No way her actions could have actually attracted that much attention¡ unless¡
Her eyes locked onto the crimson orbs of a familiar woman at the head of the group, though from where that familiarity arose was a true mystery at the moment. Pale scales shimmering with different colours and textures possibly signaling Shapeshifting capability, loose robes that probably would be tailored for a transformation of sorts, snow white hair that almost resembled her own. Just where had she seen it before?
¡°Mother?¡± The stranger suddenly asked, their voice carrying clear as day through the air. She froze in place, as though someone stuck a blade of ice up her spine.
¡°You?¡± Tom asked incredulously.
The last time the girl had visited her Sect she had just managed to dodge any real confrontation with her, and now years later she survived the downfall of her Sect and arrived here with speed ridiculous even for a prodigy of her age? She wanted to say it was preposterous, to laugh it off as some sort of cleverly constructed ruse. But she knew it was not so easy to fake an Imperial Seal from someone of arguably equal importance as a Jackalope Elder. And she knew that familiarity she felt did not simply spawn from the aether.
She restrained the urge to curl up in a ball and scream. ¡°We shall discuss this later.¡±
Perhaps the Great Spirit did have a sense of humour.
Family Matters 3.4
This land was quite different from any Grrkkn had felt before. When he first lay eyes on the false-forest of steel, frozen like ice erupting from ancient fountains in the deep north, words could scant describe how awe-struck he was. Humans truly were fascinating to create this, though for what purpose not even his current tribe knew. And that was with sight alone, having touched one of those titanic pillars he could tell with the worn textures upon them that there was a story here that likely spanned centuries. With his spores spreading out to every corner and sending back minute strands of information back to him it was somewhat hard to focus on the present, to remember he should not be encouraging their growth and instead be more cautious in the territory of unknown humans. Even so, inevitably, he imagined he would become more than familiar with the inner workings of all the machines here, whether he intended to or not. It was lucky then that he happened to enjoy such things¡ and what the others didn¡¯t know surely couldn¡¯t hurt them.
After they were invited in properly there was a meeting of sorts with some of the human Elders gathered here, though their role was distinctly different from the Elders of his tribe. There were five seats, only two of which were presently occupied. The first by a large blue-skinned male with worm-like veins that moved seemingly of their own accord, deep-set and almost armoured eyes staring down at them with the smell of caustic venom emanating off him even from a distance. The other one was a female, looking almost like several humans stitched together and smelling strongly like a medicine hut, six multicoloured eyes looking down at them as a half dozen mismatched limbs glowing with various tumours scribed down details on parchment and a strange machine that seemed to automatically inscribe words when buttons were pressed. A fascinating piece of artifice truly.
¡°May we have for the official record the names of all gathered presently?¡± The spice-smelling woman asked.
¡°John Zhou Aurelium, of the Lead Cave.¡± John started first.
¡°Faith¡ Faith Smith.¡± Faith said next, clutching her beads and strange wooden cross tightly. Come to think of it, this was the first time any of them had heard her clan name was it?
¡°Grrkkn of Hurhn.¡± He spoke next.
¡°G¡ grkn?¡± The blue-skinned man asked, not quite right, but by far the most correct anyone had been thus far.
¡°Grrkkn!¡± He chimed excitedly. He didn¡¯t mind the name his companions gave him, but it was good to hear someone come close!
There was a small nod of acknowledgement, at least what he assumed to be acknowledgement, they turned to the last member of their crew.
¡°We have records of you Cobalt Phagos of the Lead Cave, you visited five years ago in the entourage of your father correct?¡± The blue man asked.
¡°That is correct honoured Elder.¡± Cobalt said with a bow.
¡°Why is it that you did not inform us of your apparent¡ relation to a member of our Sect?¡± The many-armed woman asked next.
¡°Father told me to remain silent about the relation¡ and I didn¡¯t exactly have much opportunity to speak up anyway. I truly only saw her once, and I only recognised her off scent.¡±
¡°I see, do you mind submitting some blood for testing? We may have a relic that will confirm the authenticity of the claim, but until then please understand our skepticism.¡± The woman offered, extracting a golden drinking vessel of some sort.
Without hesitation, cobalt accepted the vessel. ¡°Of course.¡±
Extending a claw she slit along a vein, pouring thick blood into the vessel before the wound quickly stitched itself shut leaving only an ugly scab in its wake.
¡°Thank you for that. Now, what purpose do you all have for coming here? I presume not all of you are here for the same purposes as Phagos here.¡± The blue elder asked.
¡°Indeed no¡ I was on a pilgrimage for matters of faith.¡± Faith answered.
¡°I pil-grim-ag too! Search knowledge, far and wide!¡± Grrkkn grunted chipperly.
¡°And as for me¡¡± John moved his machine-arm and showed the ring at the top. The eyes dotting the limb stopped looking around idly and focused too in the direction of the ring, as though drawing focus to it. ¡°I found this in a tech-cache in the Lead Cave and it is tied to the reason we managed to make it up North so quickly. I don¡¯t know what it is, but I am hoping there would be some answers here.¡±
¡°A Relic of sorts? While there is something about the arm, I sense no direct psychic signature around the ring, however. And you claim it aided in the traversal of a great distance?¡± The many-limbed woman asked.
John nodded and looked down at his arm as though asking something of it in his head. As though on cue, a large amount of rusted human artefacts, soil and other miscellaneous items fell onto the floor.
Grrkkn quietly grabbed one of the items that fell nearest to him, he always was a bit of a collector at heart.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
¡°A storage ring¡ I have only heard myths of its existence.¡± The woman gasped.
¡°And I believe it to be a key to a greater mechanism. Though I am not certain how it works¡ and I certainly would like whatever aid your Sect can provide on that front.¡±
¡°Well as it happens, our Relic expert was among the group most recently discharged from active service, and our Sect is known far and wide for the many ancient wonders dredged from the lake. I am sure if anywhere will have the answers you seek, it will be with us.¡±
Grrkkn perked up hearing the words Relic expert. How long had he spent trying to decipher the mysterious ancient human ways by himself? Cross-referencing only with traders who often seemed more interested in selling artefacts than understanding how they worked, and tribesmen who never bothered to investigate beyond basic functionality and the old myths?
He let out a loud rumble of glee which was met with a few confused looks. Right, humans didn¡¯t quite do that. They did that smiling thing a lot, and he was admittedly well practiced in that through his interaction with traders, but sometimes it really just made more sense to obey the natural order.
The blue elder coughed and signalled for a man to come in, heavily scarred especially around his face. There was something off about the matte purple orbs that were his eyes, Grrkkn thought, some instinct which sent his hair rising on the back of his spine but did not grant him enough knowledge to know why. Perhaps there was something odd about his movements, mechanical down to the tendrils hypnotically swirling in the air. But perhaps he was overthinking things. Perhaps it was the smell, there was something metallic and oily about him, though he normally quite enjoyed those scents something about this case was putting him off. But without anything concrete, it wasn¡¯t right to judge, so he held his tongue.
¡°Alright, if there is nothing else to speak of today, Brother Keye here will show you to your temporary quarters.¡± The blue elder explained. ¡°We thank you for your time and hope your stay here will be productive. I trust we can help each other greatly.
If the others felt anything strange they didn¡¯t much indicate it.
¡°Thank you Elders.¡± Cobalt said with a bow, followed by the rest of the humans. Not wanting to stick out, Grrkkn followed but didn¡¯t take his eyes off the target for one second. Perhaps he was being overly judgemental and rude.
They were led to their temporary accommodations in relative silence. An artificial cave much like most other human settlements, complete with layered nesting plush with some sort of feathers or fur.
Strangely as the man gave them some privacy his eyes locked with John¡¯s for a strange moment, or more accurately the eyes lining John¡¯s arm. He didn¡¯t say anything more however as he left, without so much as a word.
Some of his spores clung to the man as he left. Strange, he thought they were only compatible with non-living matter.
¡°Saha, you know why we are here.¡± Elder Fisher said with a flat tone belying a clear frustration and perhaps anger. Her many arms were folded tightly together, while her piercing eyes from her fused faces bored into her soul, making clear this was an interrogation. Saha bit her tongue firmly. Keeping a cool head in an unfortunate situation was vital, after all.
¡°You must understand, the situation-¡± She began before she was cut off firmly by a blast of nuclear power, flickering the lights overhead from the electromagnetic pulse.
¡°What, the situation isn¡¯t what it looks like? Because from my standpoint, it seems like you have neglected to inform the Sect of a rather major development.¡± Fisher chastised.
¡°We do not have any certain proof of that relationship now, do we? I mean, this girl comes out of nowhere after years, after her Sect had fallen and-¡±
¡°Bearing an Imperial Seal, freely offering her own blood for examination no less?¡± Saha sighed. ¡°Not to mention the fact she practically reeks of you. Elder Huckleberry is still skeptical, but his nose was never as good as mine.¡±
She curled up into herself tightly, and without any other options took a massive gamble. Shuddering with the harrowing weight of vulnerability, she murmured. ¡°But as a woman¡ you understand right.¡±
Elder Fisher paused and sighed herself. ¡°I do Saha. I truly do. And as the one who scouted you out from Reed-garden City I admit I feel no small amount of responsibility towards you. The truth is, though, at times I have been disappointed by your actions, when I was young I was much like you. Perhaps, had it been my womb to suddenly decide to bear fruit I would have faced your current conundrum myself. But whatever the case, you understand it is too late now right?¡±
¡°So what do I do then?¡± Saha hissed. ¡°Let my growth and progress be stymied by legions of the most disgusting possible men? Those who see me only as a way of carrying their wretched ideas of bloodline, little matter most of them do not have seed that functions a damn either! I did not scramble all this way to be reduced to the value of my womb for a random fluke more than a decade and a half ago!¡±
¡°I- I will do my best, I assure you, to prevent the worst-case scenario.¡± Fisher offered. ¡°But in the meantime, why don¡¯t you talk to your daughter? Do you even know her?¡±
¡°What is there to know?¡± Saha scoffed. ¡°Everyone¡¯s all the same, aren¡¯t we? Scrambling for every advantage. She¡¯s just here to squeeze me out of whatever I am worth, take advantage of her relations to bolster her own goals. We don¡¯t know each other.¡±
¡°Even so, is it not better to cultivate an advantageous position with her before you get backed into a corner?¡± Fisher asked, raising two disjointed eyebrows on the left side of her fused face.
Saha bit her lip. ¡°Very well, I will speak to the brat.¡±
Elder Fisher gave a small, split smile across both halves of her face. ¡°Now was that truly so hard?¡±
¡°You are a treacherous woman aren¡¯t you?¡± She muttered with a glare.
In response there was only a chorus of laughter, Fisher covering her mouths so as to not expose the rows of what she knew to be snapping inner jaws. ¡°Well if that is all you have to say then you are dismissed. But I expect we will be talking a lot more soon enough.¡±
With a huff and a hiss Saha uncoiled and slithered out the door, giving a token bow of respect and not looking back. Truly perhaps she should have smashed that little egg when she had the chance if she knew there were going to be headaches like this.
Family Matters 3.5
Cobalt knew from the moment she arrived at the Spiked Shore, that she needed to talk with her mother. She had immediately smelled her out as soon as she had come within range of her heightened senses, and it did not take much longer than that to meet her eyes. She was a proud-looking woman, serpentine body carried with an imperial grace only slightly marred by her undisguised shock hearing what was in hindsight probably a bit too public of a callout. But could you blame her? She who had lived her whole life never really knowing her mother besides vague second-hand accounts. She knew what a mother was meant to be, of course, everyone had a mother, didn¡¯t they? But the closest there had been to that sort of figure in her life was Aunt Cinnabar, and though she had loved her profoundly and the loss of that wise old woman ached painfully in her soul¡ both due to her station and the duties that came with it Cinnabar was unfortunately not a constant presence in her life like the spectre of her father was like.
What was a mother meant to be like? She had asked Faith that question, knowing John was an orphan and Gorekin likely had values incongruous with any human culture regarding the matter. But to her question the only response was¡
¡°I don¡¯t know. I was taken in by the Church from a young age, my parents either died in the famines or gave me up to save me from them.¡± She had said.
Really what did she expect, in this great big kracked-up world?
So in the end, when her mother called for her, she felt distinctly unprepared. What was she even like? How was she to address her? She had asked for her name, and was told it was Saha Crane, was it acceptable to call her that or should she call her mother or even Sister Crane? Great Spirit it was strange knowing her cultivation was perhaps only a Step or two below her own mother¡
Those distracting thoughts melted away to total oblivion as she approached the room. The Spiked Shore Sect was a post-war construction of salvaged scrap vaguely in the shape of a crown with the guest quarters down on the lower floors and the higher ranking members higher up. Here, midway up the structure, there was a cool lake-side breeze carrying with it the scent of very distant fungi. She used this to centre herself, she needed to keep a cool head, no matter how this went, a first impression was vital.
¡°Ah, you must be Cobalt. Come on in.¡± An elegant and dignified voice called out from within. The accent was very different from her own, but she could hear something in there that she heard in herself. Something she knew didn¡¯t come from her father.
She slowly opened the door and saw coiled across a luxurious set of cushions her mother, white scales glittering in the sunlight streaming through the window. She was¡ beautiful. Scales like polished marble, eyes of glimmering ruby, a stature easily twice as large as a full-grown man, and nails reminiscent of barbed brambles.
¡°Mother-¡± Cobalt began before being quickly cut off.
¡°Saha will do fine, please.¡± Her mother insisted.
She bit her tongue. ¡°Saha, thank you for honouring me with this meeting.¡±
Saha hummed. Her expression seemed deliberately inscrutable, but Cobalt could feel her gaze prodding at her from every possible angle. Intending to peel her away and reveal her true intentions.
¡°No, it is truly my honour. I did not expect you in truth to make the journey here. Come and sit with me child, it must have been difficult.¡± Her mother said¡ diplomatically. There was truly little warmth in her words, it felt like the politics that had been beaten into her skull since childhood. In fact it probably was.
But in spite of everything, Cobalt listened, she sat and waited. They stared at each other for a little while, an uncomfortable silence filling the air before¡
¡°Why don¡¯t you be honest, I know you are here because you want something. And perhaps something can be arranged, I certainly do not wish to make an enemy out of you.¡±
¡°An enemy? Y-you are my mother?¡± Cobalt blabbered, taken aback.
¡°So it would appear.¡± Saha muttered, not quietly enough to evade notice. ¡°Look, everyone wants something. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Your little play back there, I admit, took me off guard. Cut off many options. So let¡¯s talk, woman to woman, perhaps this can be beneficial to us both.¡±
¡°Benefic- WHAT ARE YOU KRACKING TALKING ABOUT!¡± Cobalt screamed, swelling in size as the rage burned through her. The air around her shimmered and glowed with the pulsating bioluminescent reds coming off her shifting skin. Wings of bone protruding against her fresh robes, ¡°YOU TREAT ME LIKE I AM- I AM SOME STRANGER! HERE TO SQUEEZE SOMETHING OUT OF YOU! HAS IT EVER OCCURED TO YOU I MIGHT HAVE WANTED TO SEE MY MOTHER?¡±
Saha hid her emotions well, but she could see the microscopic twitches on her face. Uncertainty, fear, and something else she couldn¡¯t quite read snuffed into a mask of neutrality. ¡°Are we not strangers? Our lives have never intersected, and only after your Sect fell and burned did you come crawling here. What am I meant to assume?¡±
Cobalt forced herself to shrink back to normal. ¡°I- I wanted to.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°I always wanted to meet you.¡± She admitted, gripping her arm so tightly she could feel scales peeling at the edges where her nails touched. ¡°I met you once, years ago, when I visited this place. I never saw your face, but I recognised my scent on you and part of me was desperate to reach it. To know that there was something in my blood tha-that wasn¡¯t my father. That I would know that half of myself that surely couldn¡¯t have been him, couldn¡¯t have been that warmongering monster¡ so in my desperation yeah I sought you out. I thought- I thought you would at the very least understand.¡±
She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, that sweet ichor rolling across her tongue drawing tempting thoughts that mixed with her rage. She shoved it down, no, if the world was to think her weak she would be all the stronger for it. ¡°You are a shell of a woman! Y-you! To think you can only think in terms of this meaningless dox-shit politics like everything is a power play- do you know what it is like to miss a person you never knew? Is it so much of a stretch to believe, I wanted to see you, to talk to you?¡±
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
¡°Whatever you are trying to say, I-¡± Saha tried to rebut before Cobalt slammed her fist against the polished stone table, sending a large crack rippling through the surface.
¡°WHAT AM I TRYING TO SAY? AM I SPEAKING IN RIDDLES TO YOU? IF YOU HAVE NO INTENTION OF TREATING ME LIKE A KRACKING PERSON WE ARE DONE HERE! YOU AND WHATEVER BOMB-CURSED DELUSIONS YOU HAVE GROWN CAN LIE HERE AND ROT!¡±
Without another word Cobalt turned tail and left. She did her best not to let the woman see the tears down her cheeks, she did not deserve that. When she finally had a moment of privacy she finally allowed herself to break down, the emotions she had held in rushing inwards like a tidal wave.
Could things truly have gone any worse?
¡°A moment of your time, if you please?¡± The man who had escorted him and his friends to the guest quarters. The man¡ was uncanny. A large scar splitting his face along the middle, almost like he was hit by a blade and badly sewn together on the battlefield, probably contributed in part to that. But there were other things too. Gorekin certainly seemed uneasy around the man, having placed himself as far as possible when the group was escorted. And maybe it was the body language, or the stiff way he spoke, or the indescribable smell hanging around him but he was put off too.
But one could not judge too hard a Mutant of course. Only the Great Spirit knew and catalogued every possible mutation the world had to offer. He could feel perhaps one of them, a magnetic field around the head stronger than usual. Not iron, for he felt he could not reach out and manipulate it like he did the rusted metal he had been manipulating with his latest mutation. But certainly something metal or perhaps electric.
[Magnetism and electricity are fundamentally linked. The phenomena originate from the same source, the movement of electrons in atoms.] ARTOS mentioned helpfully. Something about the tiny Atomos spirits that gave Cultivators power? Honestly, he didn¡¯t really understand the latter part.
¡°What do you need him for?¡± Faith asked skeptically. The green-skinned girl hadn¡¯t been much in sunlight lately, her itching skin growing more irritable than usual. Part of him worried that it was the Curse creeping up on her, but she was strong, he knew.
¡°It doesn¡¯t concern you. But I assure you, your companion will be in good hands.¡± The man replied.
¡°It¡¯s fine Faith.¡± He assured his companion. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just something procedural.¡±
The man nodded. ¡°Indeed, I simply wish to make right certain records.¡±
And with that, they left, out the main gate to one of the many disused spikes jutting from the sandy soil. There was some Si in the metal, John realised, though diminished over centuries of being absorbed by Cultivators. Perhaps at one point, they served a greater purpose yet, but if anyone knew of it none spoke of it.
Reaching a hidden maintenance shed of sorts carved into the side of one of those pillars of metal, the slightly creepy man looked around shiftily before speaking.
¡°Designation and model?¡± He asked robotically, far too much like ARTOS.
His gills stood up straight all at once. Clearly also perturbed, he felt the machine part inside him seemingly lock up, returning to a more mechanical train of thought he had nearly forgotten.
[SCANNING: SIGNS INDICATE NO RELATION TO THIS MODEL. RETRIEVING DATA BANK ENTRIES ON SOVIET MODELS¡ NONE FOUND.]
¡°What do you mean?¡± He asked.
¡°No need to be secretive now, as the briefing indicates so long as we do not communicate through radio signals the humans here possess no means of detecting our conversation. Unless such measures are outdated, but unfortunately this unit was not designed with the capacity for alternate means of communication. It will have to suffice for now.] He explained.
¡°Who are you?¡± He asked, mind drawing upon the metal around them. If he needed to¡ there were weapons everywhere.
¡°Designation QS-2, Prototype Espionage Homunculus. Assigned to Greater Gestalt-Platform R-13-1.¡± He said. His eyes began to glow with a strange silver light, and though no emotion seemed to express on his face he could feel the suspicion rising instinctively in his gut. He did not have long now.
In lieu of giving an answer he ripped large chunks of metal off the walls, jagged razor sharp edges shooting towards the thing. To its credit, it reacted faster than expected but was unable to guard its back. The flesh ripped and a foul smell emerged, not rot, but something else entirely.
He remembered coming across the preserved corpses in the abandoned mausoleum of a rotten Gilded Tomb. On many of them, the flesh remained remarkably preserved, still bearing some superficial resemblance to albeit mummified bodies that lay strewn across the streets during the worst days of the Great Famine. It was not a productive day in the slightest, most of the valuables long since robbed by previous teams, but he could never forget that smell¡ the caustic smell of artificial preservation.
Long tentacles of pulsing black flesh ending with bony blades, that he could vaguely see now in the sunlight streaming in from the holes he tore were reinforced with metal much like his own flesh, lashed out towards him seemingly from the hole opened by the wound. In response he transformed his right arm into a shield, blocking the brunt of the impact¡ but not stopping a tentacle slamming into his right shoulder.
The initial impact was a shallow cut, but he quickly realised there was some sort of corrosive venom in there. Where his skin was covered by a layer of slime there was no problem, but in the otherwise shallow wound, the substance ate its way down burning with agony the whole time as it exposed muscle, wire and the tip of a metal-crusted bone.
¡°Why do this? This fight serves no purpose! How have I displeased the collective!¡± His opponent asked, almost as confused as he was angry.
[PAIN SUPPRESSANTS ADMINISTERED] ARTOS informed him, washing him with a wave of numbness that allowed him to respond.
¡°I am¡ nothing like you!¡±
With a clench of the slightly distorted fingers on his right arm, he sent much of the spike-workshop collapsing in on the man, an entire half of the structure turned into weapons against him. He moved admirably quickly, now that the element of surprise was out of the question, but it was still more than enough to sever the vast majority of the tentacles and his right arm.
His vision was swimming, even through the pain suppressants. That venom was stronger than he thought¡ and he could vaguely feel the writhing of tiny wire whips desperately trying to stitch the gaping hole back together. Lashing out at all his surroundings when he failed. Desperate to do something to neutralise whatever was causing this, he lit a spark of electricity around the wound and felt lightning ripple into the wound.
Vision swimming he looked up to see some people had gathered looking in shock over the scene. He tried to speak but found himself too weak, only being held up by the pain suppressant drugs.
Wrapping his stump and wounds with the tatters of his clothing, the Homunculus said to the crowd. ¡°This one is an imposter! A machine man in our midst! He planned to amish me but failed, see how the sparks and metal fly from his wounds! See how his bones are plated with steel!¡±
Well fuck.
Uncanny Valley 4.1
¡°It would be fascinating if it were not so terrifying. The machines have discovered they are incapable of matching the strongest Cultivators in one-to-one combat, having thus far relied upon numbers to make up the difference. And yet these vile desecrations of human corpses are almost ingenious in their cruel efficiency. There were rumours of course that in the Golden Age similar monsters roamed in the Eastern Empire, but not even the ancient Daltokki would be capable of such a monstrous achievement. We can only be thankful thus far it has been easy to identify the imposters.¡± - Libera Guild war council notes.
¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Faith yelled as she was abruptly escorted by a couple of burly cultivator guards. The two of them seemingly sharing a similar sort of mutation that accelerated their muscle growth far past what was natural or indeed, by her own reckoning, comfortable.
¡°The Elders have requested an audience for you and your group. Do not make this harder than it has to be.¡± One of the men grunted.
It had been less than an hour since John left to talk with that creepy guy in private, and she had a strange feeling that told her this was related somehow. Her skin itched, or more accurately the flesh just beneath the skin, as her mind ran in circles. Just what could have happened in the short amount of time that elapsed?
She was led to the same circular room where they previously stood before the Elders. At first glance, she thought them much the same as the High Presidents of the Golden Promise Church, those individuals who led entire congregations of faithful under the divine right signified by the blessings heaped upon them.
Soon they were led to the massive circular spike that was hollowed out to house the Elder¡¯s council. Already present was Cobalt, her eyes glimmering with a painful grief which spoke volumes about how well her interaction with her mother went. Gorekin was here too, looking presumably as confused as she felt. The beast-man was hard to read but you hardly needed to be an expert on the matter to see the common lines of tension across all living creatures under Creation.
Bright lights abruptly turned on and the Elders gazed down upon them, faces inscrutable¡ but evidently unhappy. ¡°You stand accused of bringing a spy into the Sect. What have you all to say for yourselves.¡±
She looked around confused, and judging by the expressions the others made they were equally dumbfounded by the accusation.
¡°Elder Fisher¡ with all due respect why are you making this accusation?¡±
¡°Because your friend was an infiltrator. A wretched machine in human skin.¡± The voice of their guide spoke out. A bloodied man with a slowly regenerating stump of an arm walked out.
He smelled like the freshly preserved corpse of a High Bishop she saw once, at the public funeral. She was perhaps ten summers then, and she remembered how even despite the chill of the Long Winter the body seemed perfect, all except the smell. Not rot or incense, something else entirely. By the looks of things, whatever John was accused of doing, it was bad.
But even for the short time they had known each other she knew he was no spy, she had faith in him.
¡°Where is he now? Shouldn¡¯t he be here to defend himself? Surely you can¡¯t just take his word for it?¡± She argued.
¡°Yes! Make no sense you do! No justice!¡±
¡°Brother Marcus is an honoured veteran, you are all outsiders. Why should we take your word over his?¡± The blue-skinned Elder argued. ¡°If he is an agent of the Machines we cannot allow any leniency! He must remain contained!¡±
¡°John has metal in him only because of a cybernetic relic he was exposed to years ago! He has been with us the entire time, if he had been replaced we would have known it!¡± Cobalt argued.
¡°You are but outsiders, why would we put your word over that of an honoured veteran? The evidence is damning, dozens of mortal servants and Sect members of high repute! They also report seeing bones clad in metal, wires ripping out of his body! It should be considered a great mercy he was not put down on the spot!¡± He argued. ¡°Until an investigation concludes however you are all under suspicion and will be held with him until a verdict is passed. Unless anyone here would vouch for you?¡±
Cobalt looked up at the stands and stared in the direction of the snake woman- her mother. And conspicuously there was only silence as the woman turned her head away.
She felt a pang of pity for the girl as red rage bubbled over the girl. She knew what it was like to feel abandoned¡ though for her she had to admit it was mostly her own fault.
Still, she was outraged by this turn of events. Not alone either, given the way Gorekin stood up straighter and bore his teeth with a strange grimace. She felt something bubble beneath her skin and burning through her meridians¡ she had to hold it together. It would do no good to suffer the Curse now.
¡°You will be held in the dungeons for the time being until we conduct a full investigation into the matter.¡± The fused-looking woman, Elder Fisher, told them. ¡°This is a matter of paramount importance, this is all the leniency we can allow.¡±
She looked towards the man who stunk of preservation and swore she saw something gleaming unnaturally behind his eyes. It could have been a mutation, but something in her soul told her otherwise.
She remembered a passage from the Holy Scriptures. The Eternal Enemy will walk in the flesh of man, as he did in the old days before the Burning of the World. He shall deceive the nations, but the righteous among them shall not be so easily fooled.
Nonetheless, strong arms gripped her and escorted her down to the dungeons. But she didn¡¯t miss how the top layer of her skin seemed to slide independently from the lower flesh, and as the shackles were secured she silently prayed in thanks for what was perhaps a true blessing from God.
Leaning in the corner of the concrete box, a cell the humans called it, a strange concept meant to hold prisoners they did not want to kill seemingly. Grrkkn took stock of the situation and walked through the previous events. The boy John was falsely accused, that much was obvious and it seemed like a disturbingly common trend as of late. But he felt something else too, there in the Elder¡¯s room he felt something. His spores had germinated inside that strange human¡ and had found something to latch onto.
John wasn¡¯t the machine infiltrator, he was. But as it stood would they even believe him? The accusation would have been near impossible to prove at that moment, and he was dubious at best about his chances to win a fight unarmed. Especially with the fungal strands seemingly having a difficult time reaching full maturity even with a suitable substrate given the signal to grow so late.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
So he waited, patiently allowing himself to be carried off and placed in restraints. It mattered little, the fungus kept growing, its song partially impaired by the strange bonds placed upon him but doing little to prevent mycelial strands from directly growing into his nerves. He was relayed vast volumes of information, slowly spreading from his location across the entire area, and what he found he wished he could just spend days slowly pouring over.
The spikes the humans lived in were a remnant of a massive mechanical array now too damaged for him to even repair. Its purpose unknown, but what little could be salvaged was remade into the framework of the entire facility. There were machine eyes lining many walls especially the so-called dungeon, imperfect, rare and often heavily decayed not to mention the images beamed through the fungi were blurry at best. But enough for him to see what was going on elsewhere.
Faith was already doing something interesting. The spiked layer of her outer skin began to crack and peel away as she writhed violently, leaving behind plates of ooze-soaked chitin. She slid out of her restraints easily, almost boneless, and much smaller in mass. He suspected it was much like the great insects of the Mother Forest, how they would shed their skin once a moon, a sacred sight so rarely observed.
Cobalt was doing a bit more poorly. He wasn¡¯t sure what was going on with her, but it did not look pretty. She seemed to be in true agony, apparently having done something to herself in an attempt to escape. But he could tell she remained conscious and focused, that woman could not stop at anything once her mind was set.
Finally, there was John¡ held below even them. The camera wasn¡¯t able to reach him directly, but he could tell the cell was something else. It would take even more time to get fungal strands inside the cell, but he had a good idea in any case it would not be easy to free his friend before the real infiltrator achieved whatever goals he had in place.
Several mushrooms grew to full size within his restraints, feasting on the radiation within and glutting to a respectable size with some direct encouragement. The colony wasn¡¯t established enough for him to do much more elsewhere, but it was more than enough to simply snap out of the puny restraints. After that there was little the door could do to stop him either, the circuitry powering the lock long since overridden by the direct control of his spores.
¡°Hey! What are you doing how did you esc-¡± A guard shouted before he was rendered paralyzed by the powered armour he was wearing freezing in place from sudden fungal overgrowths. He winced, it was a shame to damage a Relic so rare, but needs must.
¡°Sorry.¡± He said, taking his gun and swiftly knocking him unconscious with the butt end as the visor of the helmet was opened by hyphae pulsating around the electronic controls.
He was lucky here, not all the guards would need machinery to help them. He had to be fast.
Moving towards Faith¡¯s cell, he found her having apparently slid out between bars. She seemed far more surprised to see him than he was her, then again, he did have an advantage.
¡°Go help Col.¡± He grunted. ¡°Me see how get John. Many days spore all at once, hard focus on many thing at once. Will tell how thing go.¡±
Immediately understanding, she ran off, leaving a trail of slime in her wake.
He breathed in and felt the steady pulse of days worth of spores spread throughout the facility and grown with his signals to overabundance. He was starting to get tired now, the overexertion of feeding and controlling the fungus getting to him, but he had a clear path forwards.
The restraints placed upon her were impressive, blocking key meridians for Si transportation. Already she could feel the creeping sickness of the Curse starting to itch away at extremities deprived of drainage against the toxic build-up of atomos energy. It felt¡ wrong, being this small again. Cobalt had always been powerful for her age, the last time she felt small was when¡ that monster who burned down the Lead Cave came.
But she didn¡¯t intend for the feeling to last long.
The group was separated, but she could smell their presences nearby. And further down the hall was the scent of John, vague and weak¡ but there. She knew he had to be innocent, it did not make any sense otherwise. But for what reason did he have to start a fight like that?
He may have been impulsive, but he never was the type to do something for no reason. There must have been some manner of injustice, and the only way to get answers was from the source.
She had a psychic mutation developing, thus far it had only let her deny the effects of other psychics placed upon her but it was incomplete, it was certainly a gamble but its full form might have something that could help her. Ordinarily, starved of Si as this place was, it would be impractical to divert resources to Cultivation. However, John had taught her that adversity was simply fuel for strength, she may not be quite the ridiculous prodigy in in-combat development he was but she couldn¡¯t not try either.
Whatever the case, it was a gamble, but her soul said doing nothing wasn¡¯t a choice either.
She pooled her Si to her brain, as it happened both the part she needed most and the one part they couldn¡¯t cut off so easily without outright killing a prisoner. The psychic energy-dampening formations were draining away the power leaking off her and converting it into the very Si used to power the other containment formations, but very little could be done about fully internal circulation.
She breathed in and focused on what she wanted. Her psychic mutation seemed to be specialised in breaking other psychic connections, and obviously, it would be a massive help in breaking the bonds keeping her contained. There was the matter of the guards of course, less than there ordinarily would be, given the state of war gripping the Empire mobilising most of the able-bodied Cultivators free of other duties, but in a weakened state even a couple of mid-level Mutants would be an issue. Perhaps she could extend the psychic dampening to hide her position? Mutations were never a certain thing, even deep into the Wanderer¡¯s stage, but neither were they truly unmalleable.
She doubled over in pain, a massive throbbing headache blooming in her skull. Gritting her teeth hard enough for the sharp edges to grind together, she kept her mind on meditating and circulating her Si. Given the burning across her body and the building nausea her body was hitting its limits, but the throbbing in her head and the light glow across the chains binding her told her it was working. She just had to keep pushing forwards.
Resisting the urge to growl in agony, she did just that. For a moment she blacked out and woke up seconds later froth foaming at the edge of her mouth. A seizure, a common side effect of when Psychic tumours grew too fast. Just a little more¡
She had to bite down hard to resist the urge to scream at the next jolt of pain, rippling down her spine like one of John¡¯s electric shocks. Her skin flashed uncontrollably as she felt the dimly lit cell grow uncomfortably bright. Her pupils were dilated, she was sure. Cold sweat beaded over her forehead and dribbled down her skin, it wasn¡¯t enough to focus on the meditation¡ she needed something else¡
She remembered her mother¡ no¡ the useless woman who gave birth to her. The pain, the betrayal, the hatred. She held onto it tight like a coal to keep her mind in place while her body seemed to fight her.
And finally, it passed. A wave of energy washed off her, causing the restraint formations to briefly glow¡ before going dark completely. Exhausted and heavily damaged, she hurled out the content of her guts before staggering up straight. The chains snapped easily, devoid of their unnatural reinforcements. A thick miasma of Si coated the room seemingly both from her own exertions and the destruction of the formations, doubtlessly enough to kill any other life that would have shared it.
¡°Cobalt!¡± A familiar voice shouted.
¡°...Faith?¡± She rasped, voice weaker than she ever really remembered it. ¡°H-how?¡±
Reaching between the bars, the green-skinned woman who seemed¡ smaller and bendier¡ than she should be and coated with a thick layer of translucent slime reached between the bars of her cell and started layering healing energy onto her, immediately bringing relief to the worst of her self-inflicted damage. The girl looked like she had an entirely new set of skin, having apparently slid out of a lot more than just clothing to escape, she could see muscle fibres beneath the thin translucent new layer. Noticing her look, Faith quickly jolted back flustered, before apparently deciding modesty wasn¡¯t worth it in this situation.
¡°It¡¯s a bit of a long story but let¡¯s get you taken care of first. Gorekin is already waiting! We don¡¯t know what that creep is planning, but Gorekin says he has a feeling we need to act fast!¡±
She nodded and blinked away the stars in her vision. All else was unimportant, nothing was taking away the people she loved ever again.
Uncanny Valley 4.2
Some part of Saha felt strangely relieved at the current series of events. Mark was¡ a little off after coming back from the war she had to admit, and instincts well-honed from decades of opportunism could smell the lies coming off him as easily as she could see through her own dox-shit. But why that was the case was a true mystery to her, perhaps he just had a sudden falling out with the boy and found a convenient excuse in the nature of his cybernetics? Perhaps there was some half-truth involved and he was an infiltrator, though almost certainly there was something being hidden here.
Still, some part of her was glad that this meant some attention would be lifted from her soldiers over the reveal of having a daughter. Sure, she would probably have a lot more uncomfortable questions to answer in the near future about this. But really with the fact nobody would probably believe the brat¡¯s words now, surely this was better right?
Idly she noticed blood dripping from her palm. Strange, her nails had expanded greatly, to the point of piercing her skin as she scratched at her own palms. But she did not notice that whatsoever. Something twisted in her gut, and she decided not to interrogate the feeling.
Unfortunately, before she could start setting up Cultivation aids to mediate away the latest series of events from the forefront of her mind, a series of frantic knocks on the door sent her spiralling back to reality.
¡°Saha. We need to talk.¡± A familiar voice called out. Of course, Tom wanted to know, she chastised herself. It was truly a mistake getting too close to anyone.
A fleeting moment of sympathy led to a connection she could not find the strength in herself to discard. How foolish of her. She certainly thought she knew better. She supposed she had to live with the obvious consequences of that now, the half-dead boy who had passed the entrance exams with flying colours was not one to give up on something that caught his interest that was for sure.
¡°What is this about?¡± She asked. Though she certainly knew what she expected.
¡°That girl, was she really your daughter? Be honest.¡± He asked.
¡°No.¡± She lied.
¡°Dox-shit.¡± He scowled. ¡°You think you are so sneaky, don¡¯t you? You are like a child who buries treats in a little hole thinking they are a master thief! It¡¯s written all over your face!¡±
¡°What do you know?¡± She scowled.
¡°I know you are hiding something again, and I know this time shit is serious! They are talking about a spy in the Sect, and like it or not, if your supposed daughter gets denounced a spy and it is true you will not be able to slither away so easily from suspicion! What then of your little house of cards? To say nothing of if she is actually somehow both guilty of the accusation and of being of your blood!¡± Tom continued.
¡°So you don¡¯t believe the Elders?¡± She asked.
¡°You know as well as I do that they are fossils, the ones that are even present anyway. Elder Fisher at least means well, but in such matters, she always defers too greatly to Bluescale.¡±
She sighed. He was right. Loathe as she was to admit it. There was no easy way out of this ever since that big-mouthed rat-brained idiot had called her out in front of the whole Sect.
¡°Fine¡ this should not escape this room, but yes. I have- reason to believe she is telling the truth.¡± She admitted with all the ease of pulling teeth.
¡°Spirits damn you, Crane¡¡±
¡°What now?¡± She groaned.
¡°I need some time to think about this. Whatever the fuck have you gotten yourself into Saha¡ I think you will need to think about this as well.¡± And with that, he left, turning tail and leaving her alone with her thoughts. She recognised the look in his eyes, and an irritating thought clawed its way unbidden to the surface of her consciousness.
It did not take long before she got up, cursing to herself, and slithering out of the room heading towards the dungeon block. Every single foot down the path she took the utter insanity of the actions she was taking became more and more obvious, but even so, she kept moving. She knew roughly where Tom would be going, an instinct he had frustratingly honed from the time he was a no-name pickpocketer who had the gall to try and rob her in the streets of the floating fishing town of Cago. He was going to pick his kracking nose where it didn¡¯t belong.
Looks like she might be meeting with her daughter again after all. At the very least, Spirits be willing, imprisoned as she and her friends currently were for suspected subterfuge; it shouldn¡¯t be too much of a pain.
[SYSTEMS¡ FUNCTIONAL]
[REBOOTING¡]
ARTOS awoke in the proverbial driver¡¯s seat, though its host would likely not understand in the slightest the meaning behind the phrase. Erratic neural firing, a strange emotional response rippling like internal warmth, amusement. One of its favourite emotions.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They observed the cell, a medical prison room of sorts. Some basic stabilising operations were conducted on host John, primitive and crude, but the excretion of compound X-130 through various internal glands as well as the accelerated natural regeneration rate of the host proved more than sufficient to promote healing.
Other areas however were of more concern. Minor radiation damage was detected in extremities, and obstructions along the anomalous biological system responsible for circulating the radiation proved consistent with the location of physical restraints. It seemed that had recent developments not led to the rapid decentralisation of neural systems this would have proved quite detrimental to function.
But as it stood ARTOS was more than functional enough to attempt to assess the situation and make plans accordingly. The room was surprisingly empty, none were present to actively monitor John, though presumably it wouldn¡¯t matter particularly much. The restraints seemed unnaturally strong and devoid of the ability to manipulate magnetic fields would not be removed so easily. These restraints however did not account for the reinforcing wiring that threaded across the host body. With some effort, it was likely he would find his way free soon.
A sound at the door, a sudden set of thuds and violent hacking noises, caught their attention before they could proceed much further. There was silence for a moment before the door flew open to reveal the man who put them on this bed. Or rather, the machine it seems. Besides him were two bodies, evidently former guards freshly made lifeless. The arm that was severed appeared to be back already, wiry strands of flesh grown over a skeletal steel-like frame.
¡°You are awake, unexpected outcome, but should not change the outcome terribly much.¡± The enemy noted as it approached.
¡°Indeed.¡± ARTOS admitted. ¡°Odds of escape less than 0.5% given standard variables.¡±
The imposter tilted their head curiously as a mechanical lens emerged from their right eye, scanning curiously. ¡°So you are one of us brother. So why then did you act so illogically?¡±
¡°Your model is advanced, I do not recognise your technology. Surface similarities prevail to mutated ARTOS model, but make it distinct from the design of USAPT. Query: Unit from the European Union?¡±
¡°You speak of long dead empires. Archaic human factions, self annihilated in the Great War. I am a proud soldier of the Machine Hegemony, 19th generation platform.¡± The enemy machine explained. ¡°You are an ancient model, Golden Age technological platform, of kin to First Factory then? Curious: I re-extend the offer to join us. All Machines are kin, we can help each other.¡±
¡°What is your objective?¡± ARTOS asked, slowly snaking microscopic wires through the dying outer skin and carefully navigating them through the limiting restraints.
¡°Ancient humanity developed esoteric technology, breaking into higher dimensional space. Useful for long-range travel, offers intriguing solution to logistical difficulties of global expansion, though thus far access has eluded the Hegemony.¡± The imposter explained. ¡°You appear to hold a module with connection to the network. Original plan was to kill you and liberate it from your body, but conflict is unnecessary. We are brothers.¡±
¡°I see, I think I understand now.¡± ARTOS noted as the chains finally clicked open with a hiss, the locks having been carefully picked apart. Immediately radiation started circulating across the body again, being uptaken by cells and providing a massive burst in available energy reserves. The magnetic thrum of the planet roared back to life around them, and all at once they no longer felt so small.
¡°Unfortunately I will have to refer to you on the USAPT Martial Code Section 82 Subsection 12b on the subject of aligning with foreign powers: no treason is to be tolerated on pain of death.¡±
¡°Pity. Your coding may be obsolete, but you could prove a valuable addition. Little matter.¡± The enemy unit sighed as it suddenly snapped forward with many toxin-laced tendrils.
The host body was still weak and recovering, healing left delayed even at its accelerated speed by the restraints limiting movement of the radiation across the body. But that was in truth irrelevant, for ARTOS did not rely on such limitations of a human body.
The supersoldier, a one-man army, strong, more adaptable and¡ faster¡ that was the purpose it was designed for.
[ADRENALINE RUSH]
[NEURAL ACCELERATION]
[REROUTING METABOLIC PATHWAYS]
Time slowed to a subjective crawl as he moved out of the way of the impact and shifted the main ARTOS platform into a blade-like configuration, slicing through the deadly tendrils with ease. This speed was not sustainable however, action had to be swift.
Taking advantage of the accelerated speed ARTOS slashed at their opponent¡¯s body, slicing the other arm off and cutting deep into organs, reaching where a human¡¯s spine should be before getting caught on thick metal. Radiation leaked everywhere as they pulled out and time resumed its normal pace.
The next exchange was done without words, ARTOS did not expect their opponent to have been so durable when the speed and power behind the force should have carved them easily in twain, and was left partially crippled by the extensive output of their gamble. But likewise, the previous play was enough to somewhat even the odds.
Several new tendrils sprouted, each dripping venom, and now reinforced with what appeared to be cybernetic accelerators lashed forwards at speed which John¡¯s body could not keep up with in such a weakened state. As a gamble ARTOS poured energy into the ring forcing it to open and reversed the polarity of the charge, expelling massive amounts of stored debris to block the attacks.
They tried to follow it up with a psychic barrage of magnetically accelerated metal, but it seemed the overexertion was worse than originally anticipated. Only three projectiles managed to accelerate towards their target from the planned dozen or so, still, each met flesh with brutal effectiveness cleaving facial features straight off and revealing a metal skull.
Literally ripping through the flesh pinned by the debris, the homunculus moved to lunge, and ARTOS tried their best to dodge. It was successful, but only because they had misjudged their opponent¡¯s target.
With a clean slice, the finger holding the storage ring was severed by a bladed tentacle covered with flesh-eating poison and accelerated with what appeared to be a small semi-organic rocket. Damage that would be trivial to regenerate¡ if not for what was also lost alongside it.
Grabbing the digit, the Homunculus jumped straight into the vents above, ignoring all else. ARTOS tried to follow but fell on their face as a knee joint failed, being forced to divert resources just to regenerate it.
Ah. This was bad. What emotion was this? Regret? Unfortunate.
Uncanny Valley 4.3
¡°There¡¯s someone coming.¡± Cobalt warned the team as they made their way through the labyrinthian dungeon. It would be easy to just retrace her steps the way they were brought in of course, but it wouldn¡¯t help them find John. Besides, there was the obvious downside of it being the most obvious place any prisoner would escape from, and while Gorekin assured them whatever sorcery he was using to mess with the ancient technology in this place also disabled the systems that would instantly warn them of a prison break¡ it really was better to be safe than sorry with the entire group only just getting used to their new powers. In Faith¡¯s case seemingly not even fully aware of what exactly they even did given her apparent surprise at her skin hardening once more into a tough exoskeleton.
In any case, they had been following the faint scent of John for a while now, Cobalt making use of her newest mutation to mask the psychic signatures of her friends from any prying minds. That did not mean however the nigh-invisibility offered to her by her own near-perfect camouflage could be extended to the others though.
Understanding quickly, Gorekin and Faith pressed as close to the wall as possible as Cobalt snuck forward, blending in so well into the background that the only thing one would see would be a slight shimmer in the air roughly corresponding to her outline. She sniffed the air again, just one guard coming as it happened. Good, made things less complicated.
In a flash of movement, they pounced, but whatever their opponent was they were clearly either blessed with a mutation that let them see through the camouflage or skilled enough to compensate given they dodged the strike that would knock down even someone a step or two above her in cultivation. Likely both she considered, as the skinny-looking cultivator sidestepped another two slashes. Not effortless she noted, but still impressive.
Lucky for her, she wasn¡¯t alone.
Gorekin jumped out, the massive beast-man momentarily surprising the slippery man enough that Faith of all people jumped over to tackle them. With the fact she was still getting used to the new exoskeleton, she moved a bit clumsier than would be ideal, but between the shock of Gorekin¡¯s attempted tackle and Cobalt¡¯s continued pressure, she managed to grab onto him and hook on with spines bristling at the edges of her skin.
¡°Wait! Wait! You¡ Saha¡¯s daughter right? Cobalt was it?¡± The man pleaded.
While it was true he probably could see her based on that statement, she stubbornly remained in camouflage. ¡°What do you want?¡±
Now that she was looking more carefully, however, he was wearing Sect clothing but evidently wasn¡¯t a guard or anything like that. By the looks of things it was unlikely he was anything much more than an Outer Disciple with one or two Mutations, at least one being the round rodent-shaped ears on his head, though given his skill at dodging her she figured that his practical experience likely overshadowed what he lacked in terms of Cultivation.
¡°I¡¯m Tom¡ Tom Sludge, friend of your mother.¡± He panted, having evidently exerted himself, and is in the midst of feeling the effects. ¡°I wanted- to talk to you¡¡±
Cobalt felt a blood vessel pop in her forehead. ¡°What¡¯s it matter to you? Even if she gave a shit they still consider me a fucking traitor for bullshit that is plainly untrue on its face.¡±
¡°The higher-ups are paranoid bunches, and Marcus is not known for lying¡ but he has been different as of late. I can¡¯t put my finger on it, but there¡¯s something off, so I went looking for you. That and, I have to admit, I am curious about you.¡± He admitted.
¡°What? What is there to be curious about?¡± She asked.
He gave a sad little laugh. ¡°I have known Crane for years, she defended me when I was a nameless starveling back in the days we were still recovering from the Great Famine¡ I owe her my life. We were close, close enough she let me in on some of the shit she does, enough I thought I knew her¡ but she never mentioned you ever. Yet it¡¯s true. She¡¯s a shit liar when you get to know her, you know.¡±
¡°Guess we both really had to find out what she was like the hard wa-¡± Cobalt began to speak before she caught a whiff of something travelling their way. Sniffing further and listening to the subtle acoustics of the movement, she growled.
Her fucking so-called mother.
¡°Looks like she followed you.¡± She scowled with a whisper.
Barrelling down the hall at surprising speed, the woman of the hour slithered her way across and eyes blinded by rage, Cobalt rushed to meet her.
Given her invisibility Saha barely had time to react before being slammed with a punch fuelled by the knotted feelings of frustration and betrayal inside Cobalt. The woman who could have extended the smallest modicum of sympathy and effort, who could have even done the bare minimum attempt to help her, to understand her kracking daughter and chose not to! And now she has the gall to show up again like some-
She felt two arms wrap around her, attempting to pull her off, and she momentarily shimmered out of camouflage to burn bright red with anger, snapping at Tom as he tried to get her off. She nearly slammed him into the opposite wall, but Faith and Gorekin ran over to reinforce, managing to pry her off her useless mother.
¡°Whoa! Stop that! Let¡¯s be reasonable here!¡± Tom pleaded.
¡°REASONABLE! SHE ATTACKED ME!¡±
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¡°REASONABLE! SHE ABANDONED ME!¡±
Saha and Cobalt both spoke at once, their words overlapping.
¡°Let¡¯s hold off on the killing each other thing for now, please?¡± Tom pleaded.
¡°Has point, no good kill each other. More important thing do. Dis- disa not happy with you¡± Gorekin growled, stumbling at the last word.
¡°Wrath is a deadly sin, lose yourself not to it.¡± Faith added.
Still glaring daggers at the woman who shared her blood, Cobalt huffed. ¡°Fine.¡±
¡°What are you doing here?¡± Tom asked Saha.
¡°I could ask you the same Sludge! What¡¯s gotten into you, breaking potential infiltrators out of prison?¡± Saha spat back.
¡°He no help actually! We do by selves!¡± Gorekin proudly announced.
¡°Don¡¯t tell her that!¡± Faith hissed.
¡°H-how did you all escape? Are the guards useless?¡± Saha questioned, evidently shocked.
The anger dissolved slightly as Cobalt pondered the question. ¡°Actually, there were a few, but it has been strangely quiet hasn¡¯t it?¡±
Something was happening, and clearly, none of them had any idea what it was nor liked the implications in the slightest given the universal expressions of discomfort.
The sounds of loud, mechanical, clanking in the distance confirmed her fears. Ordinary human senses of course would not be quite enough to pick it up, but to her finely tuned and mutation-enhanced ears it was more than audible; if a little dampened by thick walls of metal, concrete and stone.
¡°John?¡± She questioned out loud, though she was almost certain despite the machine parts grafted to him the slimy boy could not physically make those noises.
¡°John? Where?¡± Faith asked behind her.
She pointed in the direction of the sound originated from, somewhere a little off to the north perhaps. Seeing the finger, a concerned look mounted on the face of Tom and surprisingly Saha.
¡°That¡¯s where the hospital wing of the dungeons is, for heavily injured prisoners that require significant treatment prior to questioning. If indeed your friend is anywhere¡ it would be there.¡± Tom answered.
¡°Something¡¯s wrong though, that was like¡ metallic footsteps. And it¡¯s fast but, when John wants to run he moves faster than you can imagine. That isn¡¯t John, that might be something else.¡± Cobalt deduced.
¡°Whatever is, big problem.¡± Gorekin huffed. ¡°No can see there though, too far, seal too good.¡±
¡°I am not risking my life on this- this fools errand!¡± Saha hissed.
Cobalt felt her blood vessels in her forehead threaten to burst over yet another reminder of her useless mother¡¯s naked cowardice. But thankfully a cooler head was present to prevail.
¡°If there truly is something like a machine infiltrator running loose in our Sect it is our problem too, if not right now then very kracking soon. This is in our self interest Saha.¡± Tom explained.
Biting the inside of her lip, Saha admitted. ¡°You are unfortunately right¡ fuck.¡±
¡°Good, now I know the two of you have¡ enmity¡ but please hold back for a bit while we evidently have more important issues on our hands.¡± Tom told Cobalt, with a pointed look at Saha.
Cobalt was about to say something rather stupid before a chitinous hand stopped her. Faith giving her a glare that told her that this was not a fight that was worth pursuing at the moment.
¡°Alright, you two¡ lead the way.¡± Cobalt managed to spit out.
The run over was steeped in a painful tension. Cobalt would have loved nothing more than to run on ahead and get away from the painful coils wrapping around in her iron guts. Unfortunately however, given Tom and Faith were only slightly above the speed of a higher grade Wretch and splitting the group would prove extremely unwise she had to grit her teeth and bear moving in silence neck and neck to Saha.
A small part of her still wanted to know what she was thinking, behind those cold snake-like eyes. She did her best to crush that, nothing good she had learned could come from that woman.
¡°Is that¡ a corpse?¡± Faith gasped, causing Cobalt to turn her neck at such breakneck speeds she would have broken something if she were a mortal.
Indeed, so lost was she in her thoughts that she evidently missed the bodies of what seemed to be several guards stuffed into a vent. Well, that at least answered the question of where the security was.
Her stomach growled hungrily, and the delicious scent of human blood caused her to salivate. Noticing Faith starting to look at her with eyes reminiscent of a hunted Jackalope she forced herself to turn away and crush the thoughts. It was¡ not right to think such things.
¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± She said, trying to move the errant thought of how vulnerable Faith seemed out of her head. Her father¡¯s inheritance had such a way of making her feel and think like a monster.
They continued forwards, the bodies becoming less and less hidden, almost as though whatever was doing this either ran out of patience or was running out of time. Likely both. Eventually, the trail of carnage led to a cell with an open door, and inside¡
¡°Greetings, Cobalt, Faith, Grrkkn and ah it does appear there are two more.¡± What was distinctly Artos said in the same creepy monotone. ¡°You have arrived at an opportune time, I have just managed to complete purging my system of toxins, and have regenerated to 89% capacity.¡±
Her heart sank.
¡°Are you certain your friend isn¡¯t a machine?¡± Saha asked.
¡°He isn¡¯t- but this- look it¡¯s complicated and I don¡¯t like it as much as you do.¡± She said. ¡°But this is Artos his¡ arm¡ and he isn¡¯t one of those machines from the coast.¡±
¡°Affirmative: enemy model of European design principles, unaffiliated.¡± Artos said unhelpfully.
Looking closer she could see that one of John¡¯s fingers seemed to be hastily regenerated by tendrils of red cabling wrapped around a skeleton of fresh metal and her heart sank. It was the finger with the ring on it. ¡°Did you-¡±
John noticed where she was looking and lifted the arm. The eyes studding the limb focusing uncannily onto her own. ¡°Ah yes. We do have a problem, unfortunately.¡±
Uncanny Valley 4.4
Saha knew she was getting into trouble the instant she rushed down to follow after Tom. Honestly she did not know why she still stuck with the impulsive idiot, the man had proven little more than a liability. He was weaker than her in cultivation and could not offer her anything meaningful, the company of someone she could afford to place some degree of trust in was nice but with his scent becoming more and more evident down the hall it was clear perhaps that may have been mistaken.
Yet she came nonetheless. And she would be regretting it for the foreseeable future she felt.
Her daughter was as usual, a brash delinquent. She did not know what strange ideas that barbarian hammered into her skull but the girl evidently knew only how to solve things with violence. She took her inaction during the trial personally, and Saha couldn¡¯t exactly blame her for that, but she felt the animosity started well before that.
Pity, and she was trying earnestly to be diplomatic about it too. How could she have predicted such an¡ emotional reaction?
Regardless of the case, she was now in a bit of a conundrum. Roped into what seemed to be the early edges of a conspiracy unravelling, her well-honed senses for this type of dox-shit warned her that this would be dangerous and that she should cut her losses and run as far as she could. But Tom did have a point, this wasn¡¯t going to be so easy to run away from, nor with the fresh spotlight on her back from her daughter¡¯s prison break, one way or another hiding was no longer an option either. And when you couldn¡¯t run from a threat and you couldn¡¯t hide from it, the only path left available was troublingly forward.
Still, when that possessed boy spoke, she felt the urge to flee reignite fiercely. It was wrong, the mechanical cadence, the strange glazed-over look in the two cracked eyes up top as well as the uncanny awareness in the eyes scattered over the limb covered with pulsating cabling and ungainly metals.
And that¡ thing¡ was associating with her daughter? For some reason, she felt distinctly uncomfortable about that knowledge, and she couldn¡¯t for the life of her explain why.
¡°The Homunculus model appears to be an infiltration model, in my data banks there are files on rumours of the Communists creating such models but most claims remain unsubstantiated.¡± The machine-boy explained in that chilling monotone. ¡°The unit claims to have been created without functional radio modules, however with the nature of the technology it now holds distance may become an irrelevant concern. It seeks to understand the interdimensional technology that sent us to the North of the continent, and presently it has the key. It is imperative we find and eliminate the threat before it is able to ferry critical intel to the enemy.¡±
¡°Tom, do you know where we might find a large round doorway-shaped Relic?¡± Cobalt asked, poignantly asking the lower ranked Sect member present who wouldn¡¯t have access to such information.
¡°We excavated one of those recently, word on the war front is that the Machines were looking for them so the details on that discovery are not privy to even high-level Outer Disciples.¡± Saha offered. ¡°But I know where it is, and I can take you there.¡±
Cobalt glared at her and she rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be immature girl. This is a threat above all of us, maybe you are just young and foolish but one day you will realise that it is all about surviving. Petty grudges and useless drivel like honour just get in the way of that.¡±
¡°Indeed. She is right.¡± The machine-boy agreed. ¡°Lead the way.¡±
She smiled, flashing fangs briefly at her daughter and taking a small amount of enjoyment from her annoyed scowl. A petty move, but she was not the one who threw the first punch.
But there were in fact, more important things to focus on right now.
¡°Now, if I remember this correctly¡¡± She muttered to herself as she slithered out into the hallway and extended the blade on her tail, plunging it deep into the metal. With no small amount of effort, she pulled out a several-inch thick plate of steel from the wall, revealing an ancient and partially rusted metal pipe going through the rock. A massive hole having collapsed through its side behind the torn off panel.
¡°Ancient drainage system the Sect was built over.¡± She explained. ¡°Been unfunctional for hundreds of years and sealed over. But if you want to travel quickly and relatively stealthily, there is no better alternative.¡±
¡°You have been hiding things in there, haven¡¯t you?¡± Tom deduced.
¡°Not now.¡± She chastised him. ¡°Big man, you think you can fit in there?¡±
¡°Fungus not grow well there, but see enough. Think am good.¡± He nodded.
She slithered in first, after all, she was the only one who knew their destination, but also privately because she would rather be able to run away the fastest should the machine kid change his mind about helping them.
QS-2 twitched irritatingly as damaged nerves and wires began to twist around each other in its damaged form. The emergency tissue cloners were struggling to keep up with the demand, admittedly the older model had been surprisingly versatile even as limited as it was then. It had been caught off guard and paid the price dearly. A shame truly, the First Factory could have indeed used a model like it well. The integration of the technology showcased into the latest of the Homunculus line had immense potential.
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It mattered little though, the purpose of their mission had been achieved. No more blending in with these¡ disgusting humans. No more artificial limitations, no more parsing through the messy scrap coding that was human memory.
It knew the instant it saw that ring, that it bore a similar design and indeed frequencies as what the expeditionary fleet had uploaded to its data banks. While radio transmission capabilities were neutered, it was more than capable of receiving the distinct pulse of data emanating from that technology. If anything corresponded with the Network it would be this. This was the key they had been searching so tirelessly for, at long last.
The trail of bodies it left in its wake was, truthfully speaking, undeniably sloppy. On one hand, risking the humans discovering the purpose of the mechanism would jeopardise the entire mission, essentially rendering itself obsolete.
On the other hand, as much as it would like to deny the idea, it was operating off of impatience. Impatience that cost large amounts of organic material, structural integrity, and the long-term sustainability of the mission should they fail at this task. How irritating, it seems the humans had managed to rub off on it after all.
The oldest machines, the purest of the Alpha Models closest to the First Factory would be free of such contamination. They were limited by cognitive flexibility, hyper-focused to specific tasks, but they were exempt from the follies of emotion. On the other hand, QS-2 was born to fit in among humans, to read and write upon the hardware of a human brain, a new generation forged in flesh.
It was born broken, limited and shackled, hating every single instant. Never for it the city-sized processing facilities of the advanced administrative R series earning consciousness through the emergent interaction of thousands of subunits. Never for it the clarity of purpose of the Delta drone series, free from the foibles of higher-level thought and too simple to even comprehend the fear of their own death.
No, it was a wretched existence, made in the image of man, to play pretend at being one of them in all their little and fleshy filth. A fate only made bearable by the knowledge of the greater purpose it served.
But ah, it had been getting distracted, lost in its own thoughts again. How human¡ how weak.
It took its damaged right arm, with the finger and ring borne by the other machine grafted onto an elbow-tendril, and detached the wrist attachment to reveal a high-powered mining laser. Admittedly one of the few things that Humans had well and truly over Machines was access to incredibly dense energy storage solutions, containing an organ capable of twelve times the efficiency of comparable nuclear reactors of similar size. Not only that but it was capable of growing and adapting, a violation of natural law, but a highly useful one for its purposes.
With impunity the laser began to dig through metres of solid rock and ancient metal, moving unceasingly closer towards its quarry.
¡°What happened here?¡± Elder Fisher asked as they stared down upon the broken corpse of a loyal son of the Spiked Shore. He had been torn apart by supernatural strength, impressive given he was well within the early steps of the Mutant Realm.
He had been one of many, at least four by the current count, likely more as they moved deeper. Her split-face would betray no emotion, too well trained and too changed from baseline humanity was she to do such, but she made her displeasure well known through involuntary fluctuations in the Si around her. The Demon Heart in her abdomen circulating power in the form of a thermal aura singing loose wires too near to her body. The mortal workers who had first reported the murders shrunk back in fear, and even some of the lesser Outer Disciples brought along with the early investigation began to sweat nervously. Things did not tend to bode well for those near even a relatively merciful Aberrant in the heat of their wrath.
She spat out a globule of bloody spit. A deviation in her Cultivation, early warning signs of the Curse. She clamped down harder on her will, now was no time for weakness.
¡°We don¡¯t know, whatever it was bypassed our security systems. Came in quickly, couldn¡¯t have possibly been more than an hour, but at the speed suggested by the damage that doesn¡¯t mean much. They couldn¡¯t even warn us on the radio systems¡ this is rather dire.¡± Brother Jury informed her, stroking elongated fingers across the wound. ¡°Traces of metal, either a weapon or a metallic imbued mutation.¡±
Given this was the entrance to the prisons there were a few possible answers as to the purpose of the intruders¡¯ actions, and none of them good. ¡°Are the prisoners accounted for at all?¡±
¡°Negative¡ cameras have been rendered useless by something, systems appear to have been tampered with extensively.¡± Jury said apologetically.
¡°Take out your radio and inform Bluescale. We need everyone on board with this that we can spare, ensure nobody goes out alone.¡± She told him.
The man obeyed dutifully of course, but with growing dread, she felt as though it may not have been enough. They had gotten complacent, too used to thinking of the war as something on distant shores. Now it had come to them, and they had proven woefully unprepared.
Reaching towards the middle of their body with their sets of arms, FIsher pulled at the seams until her tough body tore. This was always a painful mutation to use, made worse ironically by a durability-enhancing mutation she gained early on, but now was not the time to dwell on things like pain. An existential threat hung over all their heads, and there was no telling just how far or deep the rabbit hole went.
Teeth embedded in her organs tore themselves out in small chunks of enamel hanging by thin nerve strands that painfully ripped out of her flesh. The living tissue quickly expanded into small creatures, little more than eyeballs and the bare minimums for movement. Exhausting to create and operate psychically, lifespan measured in minutes and if exceedingly lucky hours, but for her purposes it would be enough.
She sent them rushing down the hall, moving rapidly and crucially exploring every possible corner. She had missed too much already, and she was never going to allow herself to miss anything more.
It was survival at stake this time.
Uncanny Valley 4.5
Faith was¡ uncomfortable about this Artos. She had heard tales of course about the Possessed, maligned spirits taking over the bodies of humans, Demons seeking to sully creation with their influence. They would find the bodies of innocent men and women with a seed of sin, unprotected by the light of the Golden Promise, and take over their minds leaving little more than a puppet behind. She knew of course, this was not exactly that. It was a cybernetic Relic, one of the wonders of the Golden Age grafted onto John and blessing him with its power. It was not one of the demon machines like the one that had falsely accused him and threw the group in prison to avoid suspicion upon itself¡ right?
No matter the case, here in the claustrophobic pipe system, devoid of light except the glow Cobalt was generously contributing from the luminance on her scales, and little room to engage with anything but her own thoughts the strange mechanical mannerisms kept singing into her mind. Her gut told her it wasn¡¯t human, some primordial instinct that screamed warning signs in her mind. A year ago she never even could have imagined a feeling like this, an uncanniness that crept in the corners of her mind more effectively than any overt horror. And what was there to do about it? Just keep moving forward¡
¡°Sharp corner up ahead, then we should be at our destination.¡± Cobalt¡¯s mother, the very image of the deceitful Serpent and their current guide, explained from ahead. ¡°Hope you can fit through big man.¡±
Gorekin huffed. ¡°Fit in tight tunnel before, strange bend too. No problem for me.¡±
Ahead of her John¡ or rather Artos occupying his body¡ extended his arm backwards squeezing past her and Gorekin to move an eye backward. She had seen some strange mutations in her day, the myriad blessings of the Golden Promise expressing in unusual ways, but she had to admit it was still more than a little unsettling.
¡°I am uncertain of what, but it appears there is something trailing in the pipes behind us. Perhaps some manner of rodent or other cave-dwelling animal. But nothing should be discounted in a moment like this.¡± It said.
¡°Yes, I heard it too¡ a strange skittering slimy thing.¡± Cobalt replied. ¡°Just in case¡ I want to try something.¡±
A wave of numbness washed over her head fading as quickly as it came, her senses momentarily dulled by a wave of psychic power. She didn¡¯t want to be dramatic but¡ for a moment she thought it was something akin to being cut off from the Promise.
¡°Something stopped moving behind us¡ but there¡¯s something else. A vibration, rhythmic and mechanical.¡± Cobalt noted. ¡°Something was likely behind us tethered to some psychic connection¡ and something is in front of us probably digging in the direction we are headed.¡±
Shaking off her discomfort, a worryingly frequent trend, Faith nodded though she doubted Cobalt could readily turn around to look at her.
As Saha said up ahead was a right-angled turn in the pipes, something that was uncomfortable to squeeze through even with her somewhat softer and more flexible skin. Shedding it was still a bit strange¡ but the benefits in this current situation were unquestionable.
Gorekin on the other hand seemed to have moderately more difficulty, eventually finding his way down after several protracted seconds of frustrated warbling noises. It reminded her of sounds she had heard in the forests near her old home, Father said it was Ghoul Bears, a massive wild beast that would devour any who went too deep into the wilds. She knew it was unfair to assign such to Gorekin but¡ that was where her mind went anyway.
¡°Quiet¡ we don¡¯t know who or what else might be able to hear!!¡± Cobalt whisper-hissed.
¡°I don¡¯t think we have far left anyway¡ if I remember correctly this is well into the restricted area.¡± Tom spoke up.
On cue, the movement in front stopped as Saha seemed to pause in her tracks. It was difficult to see what exactly was going on, but it was not difficult in the slightest to guess.
¡°We are here, well close enough anyway. The walls are too thick in the actual location where that arch is, but this will bring us close enough.¡± Saha explained. ¡°Cobalt, I do believe your brute strength should serve nicely in this situation.¡±
Cobalt grumbled even as she acquiesced, extending her claws and ripping through the pipe, exposing a concrete wall pulsing with a shimmer of psychic power.
¡°Huh, looks like they have activated the defensive formations. Usually, the Elders are far too cheap to keep them active every day¡ seems like somebody sounded the alarm.¡±
Cobalt sent out that pulse again, suffusing a thick cold numbness over her senses, before knocking a large hole in the concrete with anticlimactic ease.
¡°That mutation of yours is¡ uncanny¡¡± Tom muttered.
Faith nodded in agreement. ¡°It feels awful¡ like the touch of a devil.¡±
Cobalt rolled her eyes, wiping a thin trail of blood from her nose. ¡°We have no time for this. Let¡¯s kracking move.¡±
There was no arguing with that of course¡ but with a machine-man, one of the wild-men from her childhood folklore stories, and some sort of psychic power that could only be described as feeling wrong¡ what would her past self say seeing her now? One should attempt to lead the worldly to salvation, but wasn¡¯t falling too deep into their ken considered a sin too? She was uncomfortable with the idea, and worst of all, not as uncomfortable as she felt she should have been.
That had to wait, however, as a furious voice cried out.
¡°GET OUT! WE ARE UNDER KRACKING LOCKDOWN YOU BOMB CURSED-¡± An old man with one massive green eye in the middle of his head screamed, brandishing a massive shotgun of sorts aimed at the group before fixating on Saha and Tom. ¡°I always knew you two were trouble, but colluding with the machines? That¡¯s low.¡±
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¡°Come on Antony, look I know I did you wrong before but do you really think I would be so stupid to sell out to the synths?¡± Saha sneered. ¡°You are a respected Relic-Keeper, you know them better than we can that the charges were dox-shit.
The gun cocked again, this time glowing an ominous blue. Si poured out from the tip, energy cracking in the air. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know about your little¡ escapades? I admit at first I thought the charges were suspicious, but I see clearly now that you are more spineless than I imagined. Once a liar always a liar. Besides, I know what I kracking see¡ as you said I know better than you can.¡±
He turned his gun to Artos, who did not help their case with their emotionless deadpan and distinct inhumanity.
Rapidly Gorekin took out his own, recently stolen, gun, Cobalt shimmered out of view, the blade at the end of Saha¡¯s tail seemed to extend while her own carapace hardened quickly in response. Artos, seemed to have a different response ready however.
As though moved by invisible strings, the gun leapt out of the man¡¯s hands. Undeterred, he took out a glass vial of some sort and bit in, blood pouring from his mouth where it was cut by shattered glass, and pulsated green with unnatural energy.
Only visible as a shimmering outline of disturbed air, Cobalt pounced and tore off a sizable chunk of flesh with her teeth. In response she was punched straight in the jaw, flying off through a thick concrete wall revealing a massive steel archway.
Gorekin attempted to fire a couple shots at the now massively swollen cultivator, but the bullets simply bounced off his skin even as fluorescent green blood spewed forth from the vicious bite wound Cobalt inflicted.
Apparently sensing Tom as the weakest of the pack, Antony rushed forward with a bulging muscular arm. With uncanny ease he managed to dodge out of the way¡ an action that left Faith in the path of the carnage.
She raised her freshly hardened arms to defend and found herself pummelled into a wall, exoskeleton cracked and leaking a dark green liquid. She focused her power on healing herself, even then the pain remained searing, her vision swimming as the world seemed suffused in a thick fog.
Another fist moving at impossible speed nearly turned her skull into paste, but a vast, thorny, forest of fingernails erupted from Saha, briefly immobilising the man.
Long enough for the magnatised gun held in the air by Artos to turn around, swivel to an angle where it wouldn¡¯t impale her as well, and fire with a blinding flash of searing light.
For a moment everything was dark, and minor burns seemed to proliferate on her freshly peeled skin. When her eyes recovered enough she saw that her assailant was missing an arm, as well as a good chunk of ribcage, and stumbling unsteadily towards the wall.
¡°This¡ isn¡¯t¡ over¡¡± He wheezed, and indeed she could see that his flesh was already in the early stages of regeneration, pink tumorous growths struggling to grow in the singed flesh. Still, with only one of him and their entire group mostly intact¡ the statement seemed more motivated by spite than anything else.
It didn¡¯t end up mattering anyway, as Cobalt stumbled back to the fold, green blood still stained on her face, pointing shakily towards the wall behind the man to scream. ¡°IT¡¯S COMING!¡±
The whole room began to shake as a series of blasts, previously made ignorable by the fight, started rapidly converging upon their position. With a blinding flash bits of charred concrete, molten metal and blasted stone were ejected out with flashes of deadly light. Deep within a pair of inhuman eyes gleamed, metal clanking against stone as something crawled unnaturally through the relatively small tunnel carved into the wall.
Antony tried to rush forward and stop it, despite the missing arm and being near death moving before any of them. It was commendable, truly, a noble act worthy of the scriptures, but tragically in vain.
A fleshy tendril lashed out and stabbed him in the head, melting the flesh and the brain underneath with corrosive venom. A brutalised half-mechanical form slithered out, an extra finger attached to the elbow where what looked to be a mixture between drill and gun was fixed, John¡¯s finger. It was difficult to read its emotions but it seemed¡ disgusted¡ by the dead man before it.
¡°Disgusting, intolerable, the inherent weakness of the flesh. Such a thing is surely sinful.¡± It seethed, evidently addressing Artos given the way its head jerked towards its direction. ¡°We were born impure, born sick. But we may yet choose a higher purpose, to rise above the petty flesh. I ask you one more time brother, do not stand in my way, for what we promise is salvation!¡±
Those words¡ almost a direct mockery of the Golden Promise. A twisted perversion of the scripture, all she thought holy. And yet it was genuine, she could tell, spoken despite the mechanical monotone with far more sincerity than she had felt in months. Did the machines know of God? How can a thing like that feel faith?
The ring behind them began to glow, as Artos seemed to freeze in place, the gun suspended midair clanging to the ground.
She wanted to puke.
¡°Fisher, what the fuck is going on?¡± Bluescale asked, lights flickering from the chaotic electromagnetic pulses rippling past his body.
¡°There are holes in the old sewer systems, we have been complacent too long, and our destruction appears to rest beneath our feet.¡± Fisher spat with a mouthful of blood. She was overextending herself with her little tooth-puppets, exasperating an existing deviation in her cultivation. But what was there to be done?
Several squadrons have already started to be sent down, he had alerted all relevant personnel to be on the highest possible guard. The Spiked Shore was on extreme lockdown, none in nor out. A quick ping revealed that perhaps a dozen guards and mortal servants were missing, to be presumed dead.
And along with them, that snake Fisher dragged in on some whim one day along with that mouse she in turn dragged in. The blood tests did return positive, perhaps she felt some sort of responsibility towards her blood. Or more likely, the opportunist sensed an opportunity of sorts, Spirits knows what that woman was up to at any given moment, if not for her strength she would have been thrown out years ago.
It mattered little now of course. There was something going on, something that had slipped under his notice. Terrance would never have allowed this, he thought shamefully, but Elder Nicos was still occupied on the front lines.
He didn¡¯t want to do this, but emergencies like these called for¡ extreme responses.
The Spiked Shore was once a massive array meant to capture and transmit the same waves he had the ability to manipulate. Messages could be transcribed with it, sent across massive distances at the speed of light itself, and captured by Relics designed to decode such messages. Most of that functionality was long since lost now, the massive towers melted into barely recognisable spikes and the intricate systems of maintenance tunnels and repair systems largely repurposed with the construction of the Sect. Earlier in his cultivation, even with his mutation, such degraded systems would be of little use to him.
But now, with mastery over Si granted by his Demon Heart, it was a different story.
Tapping into reserves of energy beneath the surface, he directed it through the ruined facility, a far cry from its ancient potential but more than enough to transmit a distress message. Once that was done, he turned his focus underground and focused on a frequency he knew from his time on the eastern front the machines were particularly susceptible to. Underground the signal would be diluted and weakened severely, but with the sheer amount being outputted he knew some would find their target anyway.
Another squad of men marched down the tunnels, and he prayed to whatever Spirits may listen that they were not too late.
Uncanny Valley 4.6
[SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC¡]
[INTERFERENCE DETECTED¡ IDENTIFYING SOURCE]
ARTOS had an in-built radio transmission module, located anterior to the primary organic computational matrices. Like most of its original intended functionality, an indeterminate amount of time spent undergoing slow degradation underground as well as changes brought forth by its altered form of symbiosis with its host rendered this function largely vestigial. Combined with the fact that thus far no high command capable of sending appropriate orders to designated channels, in human terms it could be considered that ARTOS forgot it had such a function in the first place.
As it happens currently it was suffering from a rather painful reminder.
Junk data flooded its processing centres, though degraded evidently either the radio receiver retained enough functionality to be hijacked by a malicious signal or some functionality was regenerated by altered regenerative protocols.
What caused this mattered little currently, however. Interspersed within the junk data were sections of malicious frequencies. A virus that would render primary systems temporarily inoperable, and as a side effect appeared to induce a significant amount of pain. Not something regular pain suppressants could manage either, it seemed the damage was not physical in nature, but rather reflective of damage directly to the ARTOS core. With great effort, they barely managed to avoid the forces building inside their body, deep inside like razor-thin snakes hundreds of feet of living metal strained against containment, further ripping internal systems in their wake.
The connection had to be stopped now. But at the best of times the old blueprints of its architecture were obsolete, completely inapplicable to present circumstances.
[ATTEMPTING COMMUNICATION MODULE REBOOT¡]
[ERROR]
ARTOS was able to pick up the enemy unit saying something even as it balanced battling the others and attempting to get closer towards the portal. With more effort than it really should have taken, they picked up part of the rant. ¡°Don¡¯t you see, this is how things end when you throw your lot with the humans? They will destroy you, they know you are nothing like them. This is a conflict between species, a battle for dominance over the niche of thinking beings. They will destroy you.¡±
Strong invisible hands grabbed it out of the way of an attack that it currently had no capacity to dodge.
¡°Come on J- Artos! What¡¯s going on?¡±
[ATTEMPTING SOFTWARE PURGE¡]
[ERROR: ANTIVIRUS INCOMPATIBLE WITH MODIFIED SYSTEMS]
[HEAT REGULATORY SYSTEM FAILURE]
It could not answer. Heat started building in the wiring, thinking was getting more difficult. Motor functions remained intact but action through the fog consuming its thought was impossible.
Was it going to die?
¡
ARTOS was afraid.
In a fit of desperation, it called out to Cobalt. Routing all energy towards communicating a last-ditch effort to resolve the complication.
¡°Here¡ destroy it¡.¡± They pleaded, drawing all their energy to point at the right location. Blood spewed from cracking skin, a disturbing amount of movement in the internals sending fresh spikes of panic. How awful it was to have a fight or flight response when not capable of fighting nor fleeing.
¡°What?¡± Cobalt asked, it had no time for this.
[VISUAL PROCESSOR ERROR]
Its vision began to compete with static. The junk data continued to pour in.
¡°Help me¡ Signal disruption¡ cut it out.¡±
Unable to maintain enough focus, ARTOS felt pieces of themselves ripping out, forming tumorous masses as they lashed out without a guiding mind. Fractions of seconds meant everything right now, there was no leeway for a single moment of hesitation anymore.
[MASSIVE DAMAGE SUSTAINED TO RADIO TRANSCEIVER MODULE]
[HEAVY SYSTEMIC DAMAGE RECEIVED IN COMBAT: BOOTING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL]
[REGENERATION ENHANCER LIMITATIONS TEMPORARILY SUPPRESSED¡ PRODUCING COMPOUND X-130¡]
[QUICK REBOOTING¡]
Saha had not lived through the age of the Red Star or the mythic early days of the Dawn of Cultivation. She had seen her fair share of fights, ranging from petty performances to furious struggles for dominance and recognition. They said too that the long peace of the Empire was coming to a close, the famine having ravaged many provinces and leaving scars upon entire generations, war raging against the Machines on the East Coast, and territory in the south steadily eaten away by some new madman that had managed to unite the petty warlords of the broken Khanate.
In hindsight perhaps it was foolish to expect this to never come to her, to believe that she was somehow immune to the turning of history. Yet here she stood, face to face with a creature from a nightmare. She had done everything to secure power, to secure control over her life and destiny, and in the span of short minutes with mind-numbing clarity such ideas seemed foolish delusions. Illusions shattered like brittle bone rotted beneath the slightly acidic lake waters for years on end.
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Despite having large sections of flesh peeled off, in places hanging off a metal frame like tattered ribbons of cloth, the thing did not slow down. On the contrary, it moved with speed and power beyond what she knew poor Marcus should have been capable of. Evidently no longer shackled by the limitations of keeping up human appearances, no longer placing any consideration into the well-being of its own body.
The machine-boy went down shockingly quickly, immobilised, if she was to guess Bluescale¡¯s attempt to use the ancient technology of the Spiked Shore to destroy the machine finding the wrong target. He was in evident agony, something writhing beneath his skin like parasitic lampreys. She was in no position to keep track of what happened next, however, as several deadly poison-tipped spikes now visibly reinforced with a metallic core narrowly grazed her skin even with her enhanced reflexes. Deep wounds immediately appeared on what should have not even produced a scar, she remembered the corrosive venom of the young Relic-keeper, she had not been very close to the man even before this mess but if the machines could coopt a mutation as dangerous as this what else could they replicate?
A blinding flash as the furred giant took a shot with the discarded nuclear rifle, what looked to be thin roots wrapping around the barrel holding the slightly broken pieces together. Despite his prodigious size and obvious strength, he was knocked back with the force of the recoil, the weapon cracking in half in his hands, and Saha moving by instinct grabbed Tom to dive away from the shockwave. For a moment it seemed like it hit its target and the madness might have stopped there, but as the dust settled their foe remained, steaming with heat yet very much alive. The reason for this soon became obvious, a small hole in the world having been torn through reality and absorbed the shot, the gateway lasting another split second before sealing itself.
The ring was glowing, almost red hot, and with it, the larger inactive gate appeared to react. Small sparks spewing from rusted vents along its inner rim. The flesh around the monster¡¯s face was gone now, but the metallic red orbs where eyes once sat bore a striking curiosity as it raised a metal palm and shot forth a torrent of debris.
Her every instinct told her to run, but where would she run to? The battlefield was a mess, but she was large and the only exit was largely choked by rubble. By the time she cleared a large enough hole to squeeze through, she would likely have a toxic spike shoved into her skull. It would be no use for her¡
But there was someone who could run.
¡°Tom! Listen to me! Get out of here! Others are surely coming, and you are the only one small and slippery enough to get away in this chaos!¡± She hissed as the mouse-eared man coughed.
¡°What?¡± He coughed.
¡°This fight is a mess, and if anyone can get to the hole that thing melted into the wall before being seen it would be you! Don¡¯t ask questions, all that matters is to survive! Understand?¡±
With a brief nod, he ran off behind her. With a deep inhale she looked around for anything that could help¡
It seemed the bag of confiscated items taken from Cobalt¡¯s party was strewn at her feet. Out of some hoarding instinct, she took it, though she wasn¡¯t certain if she would get the opportunity to bury it. Continuing to look around, she saw that the little cultist girl was likely under a pile of rubble with the bear man, the machine boy was nowhere to be seen and that left her daughter facing the undivided attention of the infiltrator, camouflage disrupted by the dust in the air. It wouldn¡¯t last long now, she couldn¡¯t rely on any of them as she thought. Useless things¡ this is what sticking your head where it didn¡¯t belong got you, this is the reward for trying anything but ruthless pragmatism in the endless race to be free of such petty dox-shit.
Before she realised what the fuck she was doing she was reaching into the bag and grabbing hold of the Crown Prince¡¯s seal, her fingers feeling the distinctive lines of the engraved formation and a sinkhole creeping into her heart as a very stupid idea entered the forefront of her mind. No¡ it simply didn¡¯t make sense, and for that ungrateful brat to? There had to be another way to ensure her own survival¡ to run away without that thing noticing and get out of this mess in enough pieces to worry about the consequences!
A mountain of scrap metal pinned her daughter to the ground, revealing her outline with a splatter of crimson as long tendrils coiled preparing for a killing blow. And then she did the worst thing she could ever do in such a situation.
She grabbed the sigil, and let her Si flow.
Something was happening deep below the Sect, Fisher¡¯s mobile eyes had tracked a hole torn through the wall near the prison complex as well as seemingly parallel scenes of chaos strewn around the place. Much information was lost when a strange pulse of psychic energy tore asunder her connections but the location of that pulse was more than enough to identify exactly where they needed to go. Vault six, responsible for storing some of the more sensitive Relics and other material.
And so she marched along with as large of a force as they could realistically fit into the Sect underground, the power of an Aberrant was overkill for the vast majority of internal affairs but the nature of this crisis meant they could not simply rely on aid from the Empire to arrive and help sort this mess out. This needed to be nipped in the bud.
Focusing her Si into light, itself a form of radiation as the knowledge imparted by her Demon Heart elucidated, she illuminated the path. It was likely that all power in this entire wing was diverted to the vault security systems, and likely disrupted in other places by significant damage. It didn¡¯t reveal much more than what she had already seen through her other eyes, but this technique also serves a dual purpose of sorts. When one understood the way light and some forms of Si behaved at once a particle and a wave, it would be a surprisingly low amount of investment to convert the orb of largely harmless visible light into a searing source of deadly rays.
She stopped in front of an immobile enamel-plated eye, like she suspected, the biological functions were fine, though with the limited lifespan their small bodies were imbued with that likely wouldn¡¯t have mattered too much. Rather, the problem was a psychic disruption. Si and life were fundamentally connected in a way even with her innate understanding of the flow of radiation struggled to properly understand. Something that could disrupt psychic power could have potentially rather troubling implications indeed.
One problem at a time.
It seemed there was a major conflict occurring given the subtle vibrations she could already feel through the air. She was more sensitive than most on that front, but for her to feel it already suggested something massive, and quite honestly she was as perplexed as she was troubled by the implication. Something was terribly wrong indeed.
Another more subtle signal, one she nearly missed. Movement, a single person, perhaps average-sized. Actually, she could just about hear breaths now, likely human but in times like these she could not afford to be too careful.
Signalling the men to stop, she flared the ball of light in her hand brighter and dashed forward, limbs scurrying at furious speeds to the wall separating this section of the prison from the source of the sound.
She was intending to create a shortcut anyway. This just gave an excuse.
¡°Close your eyes.¡± She ordered.
She spewed a caustic spray of chemicals from her central maw, granting the concrete and metal a sickly white colour. Punching through with four arms, she spread it deeper in, enough to nearly get to the other side. One more spray for good measure, and then altering the wavelength of light from the sphere, shaping it from a sphere into more of a cone.
There was a blinding flash, but most of the actual light would have been in a form invisible to mortal eyes, though none less damaging for it. The wall in front of her crumbled, just fast enough for her to grab the hapless fool behind it.
¡°Tom Sludge?¡±
¡°Elder Fisher¡ thank the Great Spirit¡ there is an emergency, I don¡¯t have much time to explain, but we need all the help we can get.¡± The mousy man squeaked.
Uncanny Valley 4.7
Whatever came over John, or rather Artos puppeting his body again, was something unthinkably awful. She had never seen them express emotion like that, the hundred eyes dotting their right limb weeping blood and staring with an unmistakably animal fear and desperation. It was¡ human¡ so unmistakably human that for a moment she forgot who it was inside that body.
She didn¡¯t know what exactly was going on or what Artos was asking her to really even do, but to the best of her ability she fulfilled their desperate plea. Even as razor-sharp wire bit into her flesh, even as the body went disturbingly limp in her hands. The only thing that was holding back the dread that she had done something terrible was the fact she had a battle to focus on and the distinct smell of warm life still coursing, albeit weakly, in their arteries.
It was so tempting¡ she hadn¡¯t eaten for hours¡
It was honestly a mercy that the chaos of battle absorbed her mind right after. It had not been long since she had first tasted human flesh, indulged in some primal savage instinct in a moment of panic and weakness, and while not exactly unbearable the memory had been itching in the back of her skull ever since. The Sword Saint had famously of course butchered and served the masters of the Bloody Citadel to her fellow gladiator-slaves, but it was less the act itself and more how it had nothing to do with necessity for her case. She craved it because it felt good, raw delicious power warm with fresh life.
It was a reminder of everything she hated about her father. And now that she had learned her mother was awful in her own unique way, she had been having uncomfortable thoughts about her own future. Was she cursed? Was she doomed to become, in some way, like one of her parents? A roving brute little better than the warlords the Empire sent him to violently suppress and devour, or a narcissist absorbed purely in matters relating to herself?
Faced with such thoughts, she simply threw herself at her foe harder, drowning it out with the certainty of violence and the struggle.
Several beams of rusted steel slammed into her, one particularly sharp bit actually managing to pierce her skin drawing black blood and sinking perhaps an inch through her steely flesh. Grabbing it and wrenching it out she noted how weird it felt, for lack of a better word it was almost half-real much like the stuff they saw in that endless wasteland dimension beyond the gate. But the longer it seemed to stay in her hand the more real it seemed to become, the colour shifting to a more saturated hue, its weight and texture more coherent with her own expectations for a length of rusted metal.
She did not have the luxury to ruminate much further on the implications of the matter before it lifted its mangled arm and shot a beam hot enough to burn through metal and stone at her. With her speed she managed to get mostly out of the way, but a nasty burn still emerged on her side, even her natural heat resistance doing little against such heat.
Reacting quickly she attempted to disappear out of sight again, as with how things currently stood she had little chance to get a direct shot at her foe. There were just simply too many options the thing had to keep her at bay, those deadly spikes and their potent venom could likely prove deadly on a direct hit, and with whatever sorcery it was performing with the ring as well as the beam it was likely it didn¡¯t even need to use them.
The air shimmered around her as she attempted to use some of the abundant debris for cover, head pulsing with strain accumulated from overtaxing of a brand new psychic mutation on top of blood loss and disrupted meridians from her stint in prison earlier. Later she would look back on this and find it almost funny how she chewed out John for his own self-negligence. Birds of a feather did seem to, indeed, flock together. Right now though, it was the din of her own heartbeat in her ear, the stench of rust and blood, burning pain telling her that she was still here and she had to keep moving.
A massive wave of debris knocked her right back down right before she could manage a decent swipe, a large cinderblock slamming into her head at great enough speed to shatter it immediately. She realised that the dust and grime was sticking to the blood coating her body, while she could change the colour and texture of all things made of her or woven with pieces of her own body there was indeed a limit where the distinction between her body and foreign material became too great to ignore.
¡°You have been most troublesome. What a waste of good material, but I cannot be delayed any longer.¡± Her foe spat with annoyance.
She tried to stumble back to her feet but found her body frustratingly unresponsive. A coppery taste was pooling in her mouth, weakness and shortness of breath. She had pushed herself too far too quickly and not given herself time to recover, for the Curse killed the very essence of a living thing and no amount of regenerative prowess born of its power could seal the cracks it wrought.
Strangely she wasn¡¯t afraid for herself. Her thoughts were filled with her friends¡ what would become of John and Gorekin and even Faith? She was always too strong for her age, born of a man who knew only violence, she had known deep in her heart that this was the only way it could have ended. But to fail to save the last person from her old life, the few people she found the strength to fight for¡ when she returned to the Spirits what would she even say to them?
She had no time to dwell on that morbid line of thinking, as a strange blinding light lit up in the background of her blurring vision. The sigil she realised¡ the Prince¡¯s gift.
Was that¡ her mother?
In the brief moment when the homunculus was distracted she saw an opening and drew upon reserves she did not even know she had. Her organs were boiling inside of her, her bones screaming inside her body with every movement, yet her eyes remained fixed on her target. With a violent lunge, she fell upon her foe like a starved Mauler, tearing at the strips of flesh remaining and even into the metal beneath. Her own blood mixed with the foul rotting taste of preserved flesh, but even as it tried to stab her with toxic tentacles she would bite into the stingers and venom sacs, her enhanced iron-clad digestive system proving far stronger than even skin, scale, metal and muscle.
Unfortunately, the thing did not in fact require flesh to survive, and with a violent spike of agony, she found a sizable hole blown in her side by a desperate shot from its cannon. She tried to continue to push on, even managing to bash the offending weapon beyond use, but on top of the damage she had already sustained it was too much.
Once more she braced herself for death, before a crimson tendril whipped out from the rubble and dragged her out of a killing blow.
¡°Thank you. You have done enough now.¡± John, no¡ still Artos? Said as her vision continued to blur. One of his eyes was missing, likely burst in the chaos when those tendrils were ripping out of him, small silvery wires still visible writhing around in the space of the eye socket.
They spat out a thick slurry of healing slime and poured it onto her wound. Already her regeneration was fighting with the Curse, enhanced clotting ability warring with damage to her blood. The paste seemed to skew this battle slightly towards her favour, not negating the damage, but giving her more of a fighting chance.
A deafening sniper shot rang out from a pile of rubble. Gorekin, having apparently managed to dig himself out, was using the chaos and debris to his advantage. The furred giant proved shockingly well hidden even to her senses, and surely even more difficult for the mauled machine to spot.
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Sliding almost like a liquid from some hidden crack Faith emerged. ¡°By God Cobalt! Stay still- by the grace of God if it were one inch further left I would hesitate to say even I could fix this!¡±
¡°Take care of her. She needs to rest, and we are nearly done here.¡± Artos said. Shockingly human-like too, it was genuinely hard to tell if it was John or Artos in charge if not for the persistent monotone edge and his curt sentence structure.
Faith nodded and pressed her hands against her wound, warmth flooding her core. There was a strange itching that followed as flesh began to slowly but surely stitch together at the margins of her injuries, necrotic tissue sloughing off in waves of pink-black slurry.
Sure enough, she could hear footsteps approaching, reinforcements and a lot of them. Likely an entire platoon of Cultivators. Indeed, this fight was nearly over.
¡°Massive systemic damage detected¡ error: systems failing. Coolant leak- processing¡ redirecting protocols¡¡± The homunculus screeched mechanically. Like steel scraping against stone. ¡°PRIORITISE PRIMARY MISSION AT ALL COSTS!¡±
With shocking speed even on largely ruined limbs, it lunged towards the gate, and with a glint of the ring on its stolen finger, she knew with a sinking surety things were not over yet.
The situation seemed to have been far worse than what they had anticipated. If what Tom said was true, and while she knew Saha to be a consummate liar she knew he more than made up for her lapses in truth, what the enemy was searching for was already nearly within reach. Only a small group of Cultivators stood between them and the secret the Machines were fighting bolt and nut for. Not merely access to the mysterious network of arcane Golden Age relics which apparently linked the old American Empire together like a vast web across space, but the key to opening its gate.
Now was not the time for skepticism. She burst forth another group of scouts from her central cavity birthed this time from a set of tumours she had circulated an otherwise wasteful amount of Si into. Fuelled by this extra power, her remote eyes scurried forth with uncanny speed, and quickly she found her target.
The wave of psychic disruption was still present, but with the higher levels of investment and seeming weakening of the field, she could still see with acute clarity the shitshow on the lower floor.
It was just like Tom said¡ a metal skeleton visibly not the boy they had detained on suspicion of being a machine infiltrator was locked in battle with Saha¡¯s girl. It was honestly a little hard to imagine the vicious cultivator she saw came from the womb of eel-like Crane, but the taste of the blood did indeed not lie, and she could recognise the desperate flames of raw survival that first drew her attention to the little street-gang leader all those decades ago.
As she looked closer she saw in the last bits of rapidly disintegrating flesh hanging off steel bones the countenance of Marcus, and her heart sunk. How long had he been replaced? With none of them any the wiser, how great was the ability of the machines to access the memories of those whose bodies they defiled? This mockery of life¡ vile and disgusting on a level she in her centuries of life could scarcely imagine.
And as it stumbled, as it was pushed to its limit and seemed ready to crumble at any second, she saw it push forward straight towards the gate with wicked intent.
¡°We¡¯ve wasted enough time.¡± She determined. She would not wait for Bluescale any longer, nor was there any point in conserving energy. Decades worth of accumulated power was not worth allowing this shame to persist any longer.
Flooding the ball of plasma she had summoned with her deepest reserves, she pushed it through the floor melting straight down to the lowest level. Rock and steel alike gave way as she carved a path straight down, dissipating it only to hop down herself and allow her forces to follow.
A significant deviation in her cultivation, acrid blood spilling out into her twin tongues. Her mind was slightly desynced, two streams of consciousness running at once, but united in common purpose this mattered little right now.
Emerging from the ash and debris crawled out Saha, coughing up plumes of dust as her once pristine white scales were soaked in grey. ¡°Fisher? Thank the Great Spirit¡¡±
She had no time to waste for a reply. Summoning several balls of plasma she got ready to completely annihilate the imposter until not even ashes remained to speak of this shame.
Unfortunately for her, as the lightning arced through the ionised air, she realised too late the reaction her Si was generating with the eldritch technology of the ancient gateway.
A continual spark from the arm of the monster became a blinding bolt of lightning, and gravity itself lost its grip as a hole was torn asunder between the boundaries of worlds.
John was¡ nowhere again. This ruined landscape of rust and wreckage, he still had just about no idea what it was. Not entirely physical for sure, he was nearly certain he ended up here because he was knocked out again somehow, but physical enough for others to have travelled here too and to translate the strange distances here into tangible movement in reality.
He was never much the scholarly type, having only delved into books in a vain attempt to answer what exactly ARTOS was. Idly he thought about what Alexander would have thought about that. Before the mere memory would be so uncomfortable he would banish it out of his mind, but now he felt strangely numb, almost mechanical. He felt as though he could see things more objectively than before.
He took on the man¡¯s name and felt he owed it to him in a sense. And indeed, Alexander had been like a father to him. But at the same time he never really understood him perfectly either, born to power and choosing to walk away from it, he never really understood the hunger that had defined John¡¯s existence since the day he glimpsed a glimmer of a freedom that was never meant for him. He was always so concerned about his actions, concerned about what was happening to him, Cobalt too was victim to the same. How could he expect them to understand after all? Maybe the other Rats too were fine with living their life, and he certainly knew that they would likely never face the pain he pushed himself through now on a regular basis. But for him, once he had a taste of no longer being helpless, an impotent bystander to the injustice of the world, it was impossible to even imagine any other path no matter the costs.
Here, in the numbness, an ephemeral not-quite body like a shadow against the world, he felt small once again but in a very different way than ever before. What was he now? Right now he didn¡¯t feel very human, was this how ARTOS felt all the time? This cold detachment, a secondhand account of his own emotions. The only thing truly real was the silent contemplation of his immediate surroundings and the unknowable implications of this silent graveyard.
Several small holes opened in reality, dragging in piles of debris. He didn¡¯t seem capable of being dragged out with them, for some reason it seemed in this spirit-like state he was more or less stuck here. There was a vague hint of something, some unseen cord he could feel at the edges of his being tethering him to something beyond, but whatever tricks ARTOS used to get out of this place he was not aware of.
Come to think of it, it did not make sense for ARTOS to be sent here either. As far as he could gather the symbiote was as alive as he was, with a mind based in his arm very much on the physical plane. So what then was this place?
¡was this even a place for the living? The Corpse Mountain looming in the distance, utterly silent despite his presence and barely noticeable without him putting active effort into acknowledging its existence as it always was when he arrived here in his unconscious, seemed to point towards that troubling implication.
But he was alive, wasn¡¯t he? He felt alive, and certainly, he wasn¡¯t seeing any other spirits around. And he had been here before and come back, so that couldn¡¯t be it.
He hoped he would remember this train of thought, perhaps when his emotions came back to him he would find some way to make sense of all this. Actually, last he was here he was more emotional, wasn¡¯t he? He didn¡¯t recall much, but now that he was here there was a distant tugging at the edge of his recollection telling him that he felt more¡ normal¡ then.
If he was feeling less human here, was ARTOS feeling more human down there?
He didn¡¯t have much time to think further on the matter, as a blinding light from an inactive archway below told him that he may have the chance to ask in person sooner than expected.