《Vreem from Beneath》 Prologue: How to Almost Kill a Chronomancer ¡°Good question actually; I choose to live in Solwick because this city is a dumpster fire even for the Kratocracy. It¡¯s got the whole damn checklist: an economy fueled by the exploitation of the hellish tunnel network its built over, grand scale order enforced by an anonymous archmage, and a bustling assassins guild to keep me sharp! Speaking of assassins, if you¡¯d excuse me for a moment¡­¡± - Interview with Arick the Skinless, warlord of the red light district shortly before their showdown with master assassin Kosech. Solwick, 4 days before the Deepvein Academy of Delving opens for the year. My blade is barely a millimeter from the wizards left eyeball when the world stops. Reflexively I tear my soul away from my frozen neurons, electrochemical signals held firmly in place by intricate threads of mana. Pushing out of my body like an intangible, invisible cloud, I take a fraction of a second to assess the situation. The cobblestone street is rapidly clearing as people flee from the surge of mana emitted by my target. The target themselves has taken a step back; the orcish spellcaster¡¯s thick green skin, obvious muscles and luxurious robes are a stark contrast to my own pallid skin, emaciated frame and rat leather armour. ¡°¡­assassins are one thing, that¡¯s just business, but a kid? For Abyss¡¯s sake, they don¡¯t even look old enough to drink! Fast though, if it weren¡¯t for my enchantments¡­¡± the wizard is muttering to themselves, seemingly somewhere between amused and frustrated. Leaving them to monologue, I move my focus to looking for a way out. I¡¯ve been trying to move to no avail; it feels like some kind of temporal effect. To most beings it would seem that the world leaps forward around them, but most beings keep their body and soul firmly intertwined. Even given my advantages, the wizard¡¯s control over their mana is astounding; trying to disrupt the effect will only reveal my abilities, and it seems like the wizard is preparing to release me anyway. Presumably to strip me of what little protection being temporally locked in time gives me. I sense them preparing offensive spells for efficient termination of a proven threat; with my body frozen like this, there is little I can do to stop them. However, I am not at all prepared for my target to engage me verbally. ¡°Stay put kid, don¡¯t make me crisp you. Got enough on my conscience already.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. I don¡¯t see the trick, and that unsettles me because negotiating with me is a waste of energy- I attacked, they defeated me, and thus I am to be killed. Such is the Way of Things. They¡¯ve backed up a few steps (long strides, they are out of reach) and are holding a ball of fire (unnecessary, inefficient, intimidation tactic?) containing a readied spellform. Even if I¡¯m no longer frozen, I can¡¯t cross that distance before they can unleash a readied spell, and there¡¯s no cover I can get to in time; the nearest option is a wooden market stall. ¡°Can you speak? We¡¯ll start simple: what¡¯s your name?¡± A question? Ah, so that¡¯s it- they have sufficient energy stores, and value information more than nutrition. Fortunately, I have plenty of information to trade, and though I fail to see what advantage they gain from this it is not the place of the defeated to judge their better. In any case, a question has been given, so an answer must be received. Opening my mouth to speak, I¡¯m glad that this body¡¯s previous occupant left generous stores of memory to learn from. ¡°I am Vreem. What knowledge do you seek?¡± My voice feels wrong. It is entirely too childish, entirely too innocent; it matches my body, but not my mind. For the first time since I tried to stab them in the eye, the wizard stops talking for a moment; presumably to consider what questions to ask. Even if I am at their mercy, there is a limit to how much knowledge I can provide. Such is the Way of Things. ¡°Alright Vreem, how about you drop the shiv and tell me why you tried to stab me?¡± Their tone is irritating, very calm and reassuring. It¡¯s the tone I use to lure rats. Despite that, I drop the oversized splinter. The bloody groove it carved on my hand contrasts pleasantly with my pallid skin, and its slightly saddening to see the wound pull itself shut. ¡°I planned to defeat you, earning myself a place at the Deepvein Academy of Delving. I underestimated you, and thus was defeated. If I am spared, I shall find a weaker target and try again, until either I am killed or I earn a place in Deepvein.¡± The wizard seems to be somewhere between suppressing laughter and frowning concernedly. I suppose that given my current pathetic form such ambitions would seem ludicrous, even if I was a seventh of a second from their prefrontal cortex. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not quite how it works. If you want to join Deepvein, you just need to pass the entrance test. Hell, I¡¯ll take you there myself- you¡¯ve earned yourself that much by getting closer than most guild assassins.¡± Generosity is enormously suspicious, but I have little choice. No matter what, I must reach the Underneath; and the first step to that is getting a license from Deepvein. Besides, how poorly could a test go? Chapter 1: A Casual Duel ¡°Sarvic is heading back to the surface!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe it for a damn second. Sarvic wouldn¡¯t return unless they¡¯d found what they were looking for, and if they found¡­ it, then we¡¯d bloody well know about it. Besides, how would you know that they¡¯re coming back?¡± ¡°Father Echo told me that a Paragon clad in willpower and darksteel is on their way and asked us to prepare some healing rituals.¡± ¡°...that implies that he¡¯s hurt. What the fuck could have thrashed him so badly that he can¡¯t heal himself?¡± ¡°Based on last time he was injured, I¡¯d say a god. The real question is, what kind of god lives that deep in the Underneath?¡± -Excerpt from ¡®Fly on the Wall: The Autobiography of an Anonymous Illusionist¡¯ One week after the attempted assassination of Professor Jensen Kira POV It¡¯s a beutiful day today; the sun is shining through the hedges as they slowly rearrange themselves to the beat of birdsong, and the grass is as soft and comfortable. But best of all I am alone in my mind; it¡¯s a rare moment of peace from the incessant mundanities and insecurities that occupy the thoughts of others. Grandma says that I¡¯ll get used to it, but I¡¯m not so sure. Psionics run in the Arken family, and I¡¯m proud of my noble lineage. Still, that doesnt make constant subconscious telepathy any less problematic. Fortunately, none of those problems apply to my current company; Mark Nine is sitting next to me, rapidly flipping through a pamphlet about the prerequisite equipment for the lessons that start next week. I can see my reflection in their forehead; they must have polished their plating recently, leaving their depleted manasteel head looking vaguely like a skull. The only sound I hear from them is the thrumming of runes. ¡°Fun fact; humans need to breathe. Isn¡¯t that interesting?¡± I say with a wink. They freeze in place for a second, before an audible exhale marks the resumption of their ¡®disguise¡¯. ¡°Answer; yes, that is a very interesting and fun fact. As a human myself I find breathing to be one of my favorite hobbies, right after eating and sleeping. Subject change: according to my research, student triads typically composed of three students. Do you know who our third group member will be?¡± Mark says, their voice a monotone drone that is entirely at odds with their surprisingly expressive body language. I don¡¯t know why Mark feels the need to pretend that they''re a human, but they¡¯re far from the strangest entity studying at Deepvein. ¡°I asked an administrative thrall earlier, they told me that our third is a commoner called Vreem. That¡¯s all we know about them, unless you recognise the name?¡± I say, and as I ask the question Mark freezes in place for a split second. ¡°Name matches with an entry in the student directory. According to the student directory, they took the martial admission test as opposed to the academic test that you did or the special entry pathway that I used. They are not associated with any organisations, noble houses, and have no surname.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. As I hear Mark¡¯s words, anxiety begins welling up within me. No surname means that this Vreem is almost certainly a commoner, and if they got into Deepvein through the martial path¡­ I can¡¯t help but envision some kind of brute, stupid and crass. Surely Deepvein wouldn¡¯t put me in a group with some thug?! I am torn out of my worries by a panicked scream coming from elsewhere within the hedge maze. ¡°MEDIC! NEED A MEDIC!¡± Mark is on his feet and heading straight there before the scream finishes, leaving divots in the grass, holes in the hedges and dirt all over my dress; I follow while trying to pin a name to that voice. ¡ª Vreem POV My opponent is quick to adapt and I cannot ignore their mobility advantage. Despite my soul forcing my muscles into overdrive, they are faster than me. Still, if I can get into melee¡­ despite them being head and shoulders taller than me, I¡¯m confident I could rip them apart. The gaunt draconoid hovers above the hedges, the greenery easily three times my height. They hover like a puppet with invisible strings a panicked expression on their face and zero attention being paid to me. ¡°MEDIC! NEED A MEDIC!¡± They scream out. It seems my bluff paid off; they think I¡¯m bleeding out. After the events of the admission test, it was made very clear to me that using lethal force on school grounds is grounds for expulsion; so I can understand their concern. Unfortunately for them, the handaxe buried in my neck is more an inconvenience than anything else; the regenerator cells are sealing the wound, and I¡¯ve primed my secondary nervous system just in case my spine is severed. If anything, I am more irritated by the damage to my armor- I haven¡¯t had a chance to go rat hunting since my failed ambush of the wizard I now know to be Proffesor Jensen. I reach up and pull the elegant handaxe out of my neck. It¡¯s well made; the blood soaking it barely reduces my grip on it. Staggering like a wounded animal, I stumble towards the hedge. The threat sees me holding the blood soaked axe, and they drop towards me. I take stock of their arsenal; they have a parrying dagger in their left hand, a few spare handaxes on their belt and three small steel vials presumably containing potions that are sown into their chainmail armour. ¡°Stop moving, you¡¯ll bleed out¡­¡± The draconoid begins to say concernedly, before they stop moving and once more return to a hover. They must have noticed that my neck is no longer bleeding; I have a split second before they gather their thoughts and render my trick useless. So I don¡¯t think, reacting on instinct. I drop the act and dash up the hedge, jumping off of it once I have enough height to reach them. The manoeuvre takes less than a second, but that¡¯s enough for them to begin to react, raising the dagger to parry their own handaxe clutched in my undersized hand. Time seems to slow to a crawl as I fly through the air towards them, and I feel my brain start to burn as I push it to its limits. Even caught off guard, they¡¯re skilled enough to block, but the rushed parry leaves the blade misaligned so I can catch the blade in the wickedly curved axehead, twisting it out of their hand. As they reach for their spare axes and neurons start to die, I am forced to extend my aura and put it to use as a place to think outside of my body; I plan to finish this fight before the threat can take advantage of me losing my accelerated thinking. My momentum offers no chance to reconsider or retreat, and I collide with them head on before they can move their axe in between us. Reflexively, I drop the handaxe and grab them by the shoulders to pull myself towards them, rendering their superior bladework irrelevant and reducing the fight to a messy grapple. I¡¯ve got them now, and it¡¯s just a matter of finishing this. Putting my momentum to use, I headbutt them in their blunt snout; their sky blue scales cannot negate an impact like this. As my forehead makes contact with their chin equivalent, two things happen simultaneously. The first is that we begin to fall- in hindsight, I didn¡¯t see the leathery wings usually found on draconoids, so they were obviously using a spell to fly; and I just brought them into the antimagical static of my extended soul. As we both fall, with me on top, the second occurrence is what worries me: the handaxe I just dropped is being swung at the back of my head by a surprisingly nimble tail- how could I forget about the tail? I don¡¯t have time to get angry at myself as the ground rushes at us and the axe rushes at me, I have no time to think and no time to plan. All I can do is tighten my grip and start to peel apart their armor as we hit the ground- and the axe splits my skull wide open. Chapter 2: Three ‘Humans’ Meet in a Maze Morale is high, our supplies are plentiful and casualties negligible; yet I am lost in despair. Our bombardment has had no effect on the city''s impressive warding; those walls of force are yet to crack. The troops can¡¯t see it, they can¡¯t feel the way magic pours from the city; more than even the least efficient wards should produce. Me and the other officers have a theory; I can only hope that we¡¯re wrong. Because if they have a mana spring in there, then those wards will never run out of power. If they have a mana spring then the grandchildren of my grandchildren will be maintaining this siege, because if we ever relent, then all of that power will stop going to their defences; and I hate to imagine what kind of offence they have at the ready. Signed, Armand IV. -From the journals of Armand IV, displayed in a museum of ancient history. Kira POV Mark is unfairly fast; I¡¯ve barely gotten into a proper sprint when he breaks through one last hedge wall and changes direction. Looking past him, I have barely a moment to see what¡¯s happening- despite that, I¡¯ve been trained to quickly analyse situations. Some child in ragged, homemade looking armour is on top of a draconoid I recognise as Kaelan, legs wrapped around Kaelan¡¯s torso with a death grip on that armoured neck, the steel deformed like clay around their hands. Kaelan¡¯s snout is absolutely mangled, I doubt they¡¯ll be speaking for a while- but I¡¯m not sure his opponent will ever speak again. The child¡¯s head has been split open from nape to forehead, spraying blood and chunks of brain matter everywhere; expression frozen into an empty stare. I don¡¯t have time to process any of this before Mark is upon them; shoulder-checking the child and sending him tumbling limply away from Kaelan as compartments on their forearm pop open and reveal first aid supplies- time slow scrolls, blood potions, the typical kit. Kaelan feels like he''s chewing broken glass, so I know he¡¯s alive at least. In contrast, I feel absolutely nothing from the child as they stop tumbling, lying face down in the grass. Despite the efforts of my parents to ensure I was unphased by blood and gore, I can¡¯t help but freeze when I see the back of the child¡¯s head. The flesh and bone around the wound seems to melt like wax, sealing itself together like wet clay as I reach them. They jump to their feet as if they just slipped and fell over, and I still feel nothing from them- no thought, no emotion. Deepvein is an inclusive institution, but still¡­ Where do you even find someone like that? They stand up to their full height of¡­ barely four feet tall, head and shoulders shorter than me. They stare intently at Mark as he pries open Kaelan¡¯s snout so the draconoid can breathe, and I¡¯m sure that the thoughtless child is about to try and finish Kaelan off when suddenly they shudder, and a wave of panic rolls off of them. I still don¡¯t detect any thought though, and it¡¯s throwing me off. ¡°Will they survive?¡± The child¡¯s voice is calm and collected, entirely at odds with the panic I know they¡¯re feeling. In fact, it¡¯s almost as monotone as Mark¡¯s reply, which he gives without once looking away from his patient. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t try to finish them they should be fine. I foresee no issues with stabilising them, so we have plenty of time. However, I suspect a spinal injury so moving the patient is out of the question- Kira, would you kindly take the self-repairing one with you and go fetch a proper medical chronomancer?¡± The child hesitates for a moment, seemingly considering what to say. ¡°I might be able to help. I am an experienced biomancer.¡± I am sceptical to say the least. What kind of biomancer can shrug off an axe to the skull? Still, it seems that Mark shares my suspicions. ¡°No? The patient is still alive, so their soul would mangle any precision spellforms inside them. You¡¯d be more likely to give them cancer. Please just walk with Kira to get help- no offence intended, but I don¡¯t trust you around the patient.¡± Weirdly, I don¡¯t sense anything new from the short biomancer- did they genuinely take no offence? They nod, and I confidently pick a random direction (not past Mark and Kaelan) and start walking. They start following me, and I can¡¯t help but be a little nervous at the prospect of wandering a maze alone with this child. What did Kaelan do wrong to incur their wrath? Hell, how did Kaelan lose to some random child in crappy leather armour, wielding improvised weapons that might just have come from a garbage can? It doesn¡¯t add up. Grinning internally, I resolve to entertain one of my favourite hobbies while we walk- prying. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Vreem POV- Several minutes later I am walking beside the telepath, or rather getting lost in this hedge maze beside the telepath, and my thoughts are anxiously spiralling. Despite what the automaton said, I¡¯m terrified that the dragonkin will succumb to the wounds my body inflicted. On that note¡­ By Eternity¡¯s Beak, how could I have forgotten to rewrite my reflexes for nonlethal combat? Worst of all, a person and an automaton saw me regenerate from catastrophic brain damage! That isn¡¯t something that can be explained by an accelerated metabolism, but maybe they¡¯ll believe it¡¯s biomancy? As the automaton said, interference from the soul of the target makes precise biomancy, including healing, extremely difficult to cast on others. I could claim to be an undead, but a deception like that would be uncomfortably close to violating the Way of Things; undeath would attract too much attention anyway. The telepath pokes my mind again, looking for something, and I continue to grit my teeth and resist the temptation to let them in. See how their fragile mortal mind handles the Way of Things, the sunless truths and thought breakers floating through my memory¡­ Instead, I breach the awkward silence that permeates the air as we walk through the hedge maze in search of an exit. ¡°For your own safety, leave my mind alone. If you have questions, simply ask them.¡± Kira seems taken aback, as if surprised that I noticed the blatant psychic intrusions. Nevertheless, she recovers her composure almost instantly. ¡°I assure you, I was not trying to intrude; I¡¯m merely curious as to what kind of warding charm you¡¯re using. You see I can sense emotion but not thought from you, whereas most warding charms simply block everything.¡± Her reply is almost as frustrating as the probing, a kind of roundabout word tangle that conceals questions in statements and statements in questions. It is the same babble that the clerks at the admissions test used. What she really means is ¡®why can¡¯t I read your mind?¡¯. ¡°I am not using a warding charm. I simply think in a different manner than you.¡± ¡°¡­¡± There is silence for a minute or so. I find it very comfortable, so it is sad when I must break it. ¡°That¡¯s the wrong way. We¡¯ve passed this hedge three times already; follow me.¡± Fortunately, she seems happy to follow me. Unfortunately, she seems to take this as an invitation to restart our ¡®conversation¡¯. ¡°So why were you fighting Kaelan anyway? He¡¯s normally as cool-headed as he is cold-blooded.¡± Once again, her words hide their meaning; she is accusing me of picking a fight with the dragonkin- Kaelan, apparently. I can¡¯t help but feel slighted- as if I would pick a fight in an area with potential witnesses! although, I suppose I am partly to blame¡­ ¡°The dragonkin, Kaelan, challenged me to an honour duel. apparently I besmirched him by taking his rightful spot in the triad of Kira Arken and Mark Nine, and he wished for me to prove myself worthy of the position through violence.¡± Once again she is silent for a few blessed seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed as she adopts a concerned expression. ¡°You¡­ wouldn¡¯t happen to be Vreem, would you?¡± she asks hesitantly, seemingly hoping for me to deny it. I will not, because I cannot. ¡°Correct. I am Vreem, biomancer. Who are you?¡± ¡°My name is Kira Arken, heir to the Arken family and psionic prodigy. A pleasure to meet you.¡± ¡°I believe the first half of that statement, Kira, but it is never a pleasure to meet me. Unless you judge first impressions based on how much brain matter you see?¡± I need to recenter myself- I just used the same word tangle I was deriding earlier. Subconscious mimicry is a bad habit, and one I thought I¡¯d broken. Ignoring Kira¡¯s attempts at continuing the conversation, I consider my situation: from what I gather, Triads are expected to trust each other, work together and grow as a team. If I am in a Triad with a telepath, sooner or later I will make a mistake and allow them to see my true mind. Triads are typically for life. How do I leave a Triad? Can I leave a Triad? I am so lost in thought that I barely notice as we exit the hedge maze and catch sight of the ancient stone castle, the old fortress which now serves as the main campus for the Deepvein Academy of Delving. We emerge into the western courtyard, crawling with students partaking in carefree picnics and relaxed study. Lessons don¡¯t start until next week. I am caught off guard when Kira addresses me. ¡°Vreem, go to the main office so you can report your side of the story. I¡¯ll talk to the staff and arrange for a medic to go and relieve Mark. After you have given your report, me and Mark will meet you at the dorm so we can properly introduce ourselves.¡± Her prior nervousness and anxiety has vanished, replaced by a self-assured authority that reminds me of¡­ a certain trauma-inducing individual. She doesn¡¯t even wait for me to acknowledge her commands, striding forward confidently toward the medical pavilion. The transformation is so sudden and dramatic that I cannot think to do anything but go along with her plan. Later, I would pick apart my brain (literally) searching for evidence that she influenced me psychically. I wouldn¡¯t find any. Chapter 3: The Least Awkward Conversations Yet ¡°I don¡¯t know what game you¡¯re playing, Hoplix, but I want no part in it. Accompanying this letter is the largest piece of Darksteel I was able to procure. It is the size of a marble and infinitely useless- it is entirely indestructible and immutable; and thus impossible to shape or enchant. I trust you will appreciate it for what it is- the world¡¯s most expensive paperweight. Consider us even. I wish you luck, and I wish for our paths to never again cross. Signed, Harold.¡± - a letter in Headmistress Hoplix¡¯s trophy cabinet. Vreem- 3 days before classes start When Mark called us all to a ¡®Triad meeting¡¯, I don¡¯t think this is what they expected. The atmosphere is tense, to say the least. Me, Kira and Mark are sitting at the circular dinner table in our Triad room. The sheer luxury and decadence on display astounds me: although the room is small, it contains a kitchen and dining area. Three equally spaced doors on the eastern wall lead to even smaller personal bedrooms, and on the opposite wall another door leads to a bathroom. on the southern wall is the doorway to the corridor, where dozens of other doors for dozens of other triads can be found. And the enchantments! Each room has smokeless torches, the bathroom has an absurd amount of elemental enchantments and the amount of different temperature runes in the kitchen is absurd. This may be my first time living indoors, but my memories indicate that this is anything but normal. Do the enchantments require maintenance? fuel? will we need to feed them? These are the thoughts that I occupy myself with, and judging by the contemplative look on Kira¡¯s face she is equally lost in thought about something. Mark, on the other hand, is much harder to read- Their gleaming metal face does not twitch or move. It has eyes, currently glowing a dull blue, and a lipless mouth, but it lacks any other facial features. I also can¡¯t see any movement in their limbs or chest, even as they make the sounds of quiet breathing. I find them eerie, and so I almost jump when they are the first to talk. ¡°As a Triad, we should get to know each other. Since it seems that won¡¯t happen through small talk, let¡¯s properly introduce ourselves! Even if forced, introductions and volunteered information makes a great basis from which to build relationships. Does that sound reasonable to everyone?¡± ¡°That sounds good to me.¡± affirms Kira. ¡°I have objections, but continue regardless.¡± I state, feeling slightly patronised but not knowing why. ¡°Excellent! I¡¯ll begin then. My name is Mark Nine, and I specialise in enchantments. Despite appearances, I consider myself human and would appreciate being treated as such. I¡¯m studying at Deepvein to push my limits and improve myself. In my spare time, I like to read books of philosophy and ethics. And you, Kira?¡± The golem wishes to be treated as human? Interesting. ¡°I am Kira Arken, of the Arken family of course. I am a prodigal psionic and consider myself an intellectual, so I entered Deepvein through academic merit. I am attending Deepvein in order to become a Delver and thus prove myself worthy of inheriting the Arken estate. I¡¯m an amateur painter in my free time. Vreem, if you would?¡± Kira seems very proud of her family, and seems disappointed when I don¡¯t react to the family name. Nevertheless, it seems it is my turn. time to get my story straight. ¡°I am Vreem. I have no surname or worldly possessions beyond my equipment. I am a biomancer, specialising in enhancing and repairing my own body. My body enhancements are not quite sufficient to go toe-to-toe with a warmage like Professor Jensen. I have no free time.¡± The other two seem somewhat stunned for a moment, a moment of quiet contemplation that is interrupted by the scraping of my chair as I stand up and turn to leave the Triad room. I¡¯ve come to a decision. My hands are turning the door handle by the time Mark speaks again. ¡°Where are you going, Vreem? I¡¯m sorry if I triggered some unpleasant memories.¡± It¡¯s the opposite of how Kira speaks. Mark spoke two sentences, and conveyed exactly two messages with monotone efficiency. Despite how eerily expressive their face is, I find my respect for Mark rises a few notches. Nevertheless, a question was asked and so an answer shall be given. ¡°I am going to ask someone with authority to remove me from this Triad-¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°-mostly because Kira is a telepath, and I have dangerous secrets.¡± Mark begins to say something, but is cut off by an indignant Kira. ¡°I don¡¯t thin-¡± ¡°I assure you, I can keep a secret! The entire point of a Triad is to learn to trust each other with our very lives- no matter what crime you might have committed, and no matter how much I dislike you, I wouldn¡¯t disrespect the tradition of Triads by betraying you to the authorities! Even if you¡¯re an uncouth, violent psychopath from some backstreet slum, you are a member of my Triad and so you will become the best possible version of yourself. My family name rests on it! The only way out of a Triad is to either die, graduate, or have it revoked as invalid.¡± That is worrying. Death and waiting until graduation are immediately off the table- the former is unacceptable because I have things to do, and trying to graduate while in a Triad with a telepath is almost certain to result in death as well. That only leaves option three¡­ Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Kaelan, the draconoid, accused me of stealing his place in this Triad. Is that grounds for the Triad to be invalid?¡± This time, it¡¯s Mark that gives an answer- but he gives his while standing up, and motioning for Kira to do the same. ¡°If someone arranged a Triad or changed it¡¯s membership for political or economic reasons then the Triad is invalid. In order to formally dissolve the Triad however, you¡¯d need solid proof of tampering or bias. Kira, would you accompany me and Vreem to go and follow the only lead we have?¡± Kira voices a plethora of questions, but they¡¯re aimed at Mark so I ignore them and connect the dots myself. Kaelan accused me of stealing his place in the Triad. That implies that he was told he would be in the Triad. Could it have been changed? If so, Kaelan may have some useful information. Best case scenario, I can challenge him to a rematch and intentionally lose, he retakes his rightful spot in this Triad, and everyone is the better for it. That all relies on him being able to prove that it¡¯s his spot, though¡­ and relying on others has never worked out well for me. ¡°Kira, we may need you to extract information from his mind. If we can prove that he was removed from the group for corrupt reasons, then I can get out of this Triad. You¡¯d be rid of an ¡®uncouth, violent psychopath¡¯ and I¡¯d be rid of a prying, telepathic nuisance. Everybody benefits.¡± It was satisfying to see the indignant shock on Kira¡¯s face, and even more so when she huffed and stood up. Stepping aside, I let Mark lead the way as me and Kira followed him, presumably to go and have a conversation with a recently injured reptile. Several Minutes Later As it turned out, Kaelan had just been released from the infirmary with a freshly mended snout. Or was it ¡®unwounded¡¯? Medical biomancy is unviable, but for some reason chronomancy can afford the imprecision of operating within another''s soul''s influence. I¡¯ll have to look into that sometime, there has to be a method of abusing that¡­ Anyway, we ambushed the draconoid as they stepped out of the medical pavilion into the pouring rain of the courtyard, shivering slightly and wearing a deeply grim expression. I wonder how Mark knew to find them here? Regardless, Mark is the first to speak. ¡°Kaelan! Why so grim, what¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°Sorry, do I know yo-¡± I can pinpoint the exact moment that they noticed me and Kira behind Mark. It¡¯s the moment that they freeze, and grow even paler than their normal sky blue. When they speak again it¡¯s almost hysterical, unbelieving. ¡°I¡­ I killed you. I buried an axe in your skull!¡± ¡°You also stabbed me in the heart. I twisted your armour until it cracked bone and smashed your snout hard enough that I believe you swallowed teeth. You fought well. The difference between us is that you needed Mark to stabilise you until Kira could send a medical chronomancer to help, whereas I simply stood up. If I concede the duel, will you take my place in this Triad?¡± That snaps him back to reality, and his expression hardens into a serious frown. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss this somewhere more private- and warmer. Cold-blooded and all.¡± At this point, Kira steps forward and I notice that she is completely dry despite the torrential downpour. Looking closer, I notice that the rain hits an invisible shield above her- a profoundly petty use of psionic power. I approve. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, Kaelan. I¡¯ve seen you endure worse weather for far less important reasons. It¡¯s wet, cold and miserable out here- there¡¯s no-one around. We will have this conversation here and now! The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the sooner me and this savage that apparently took your place can part ways.¡± Kira and Kaelan have made eye contact, neither of them flinching and a whole heap of emotions that I don¡¯t understand being wordlessly communicated between them. Of course the arrogant psion would have history with our informant, that tracks with my luck recently. I suppose I have it coming, what with my meddling in Fortune, Fate and their affairs. Regardless, Mark looks intensely uncomfortable right now, and I respect them enough for the Old Way of reciprocity to apply. ¡°Enough with the staring contest, I have questions to ask and answers to receive. Kaelan, tell me everything you know that could be relevant to getting this Triad revoked as invalid.¡± He breaks eye contact with Kira and turns to face me, clearly unhappy with the situation in general. ¡°Very well then, I¡¯ll start from the beginning. About three months ago I sent a letter to the Deepvein staff asking if they could put me in the same Triad as you, Kira, on account of us being childhood friends-¡± ¡°Some friend you are.¡± ¡°- and having complementary skillsets. Evidently, someone at the school agreed with me because a week later I received confirmation that I would be in a Triad with Kira Arken and Mark Nine, in the form of a letter from the Academy.¡± ¡°Excellent,¡± pipes in Mark, ¡°that means someone changed a planned Triad to separate you from Kira! Or from me, I suppose, but that seems less likely. If we can just show that letter to the staff-¡± ¡°About that¡­ you must understand, my family is a little bit, um, old fashioned? One of my dear brothers decided to use a stack of paperwork from my desk as kindling. The fire-breathers were all out of the house that day, you see.¡± Kira looks about ready to snap, and I find the twitching of her eye amusing to no end. ¡°No! No Kaelan, I don¡¯t see. You had a perfect solution to our problem- and you let one of you idiot brothers use it as kindling? Do you have ANY IDEA how infuriating that is? You know what your family is like- they¡¯re source-damn barbarians Kaelan! They¡¯re almost as bad as Vreem! How could you let them even be around anything that important?¡± Kaelan is very still. They are silent, and unnerving- but a subtle ¡®soul-out-of-body¡¯ experience on my part reveals that their very soul is trembling in rage. Is he going to kill Kira? I hope so. I am disappointed however, when he controls himself and speaks in a low, dangerous tone. ¡°Because unlike you, Kira, they are honest and kind. Obviously, a barbarian like me would be of no use to a refined noble like yourself. I¡¯ll escort myself out of your presence.¡± He stalks away, shoulders tense with simmering fury. I¡¯ll admit to taking great joy in ignoring the similar suppressed wrath that Kira is hiding beneath her neutral expression as I turn to her and, smiling ever-so-slightly for the first time I can remember, ask the ever important question. ¡°What now?¡± Chapter 4: We Arent Resisting The ground isn¡¯t shaking. It isn¡¯t rumbling; it¡¯s trembling in fear. The very earth is afraid of them as they stride forward, a smile on their face and a dragon skull slung over their shoulder. They don¡¯t seem to notice the doorframe they shatter as they walk in and take a seat at my bar. They rip a tooth off of the skull with their bare hands, and drop it onto the counter. I don¡¯t doubt it¡¯s worth more than the whole inn. ¡°A barrel of the strongest stuff you have for me, and a dozen rounds of your second strongest stuff for everyone else! Stop shaking barkeep, I¡¯m here to celebrate!¡± -A retelling of the tall tale ¡®When the Paragon came to Party!¡± Mark- three days before classes start ¡®Intelligent life is defined by its ability to find the path of most resistance¡¯, a quote from one of my favorite books. It comes to me now, as I sneak through cold stone tunnels with dirt smeared all over me. Because of course, me and Vreem were the ones to dig out the old tunnel entrance. I think back to half an hour ago, when Kira confidently answered Vreem¡¯s question. ¡°We¡¯re going to break into the archive,¡± she said, with a resolute expression and unshaken self-confidence. ¡°It¡¯s monitored but not guarded, and if there¡¯s anywhere that we¡¯ll find a copy of Kaelan¡¯s letter or some other kind of evidence then that¡¯s where it will be. We just need to avoid some administrator thralls, and maybe some light warding. I¡¯m sure that with our combined talents, it¡¯ll be easy!¡± I didn¡¯t miss how she only gestured to me and herself when she said ¡®our¡¯, as if Vreem would be dead weight. Instead he¡¯s gone ranging ahead of all of us, slipping through these old sewer tunnels- unused since the installation of runic plumbing. Kira didn¡¯t notice, but my night vision was superior enough to notice how his skin changed color slightly to match the background stone, and his eyes stopped glinting in the dark shortly afterward. Speaking of, I see him resting against a ladder on the side of the tunnel a few dozen feet up ahead. Kira is tense, and I can hear the beating of her heart even louder than the crunching coming from Vreem. She¡¯s blind in the dark, hands tracing along the wall of the passage, and I wait until we¡¯re but a few steps away from Vreem before putting my hand on her shoulder. She jumps a bit, and I can sense a dull pressure on my neck- reflexive psionic defenses, utterly useless against this accursed, no, BLESSED body of mine. Gods above and below, I¡¯m a mess¡­ ¡°It¡¯s ok Kira. That crunching is just Vreem eating a rat. Vreem, why did you stop to eat a raw rat?¡± ¡°I stopped because I found the entrance to the archive, and I assume it has one of those wards Kira mentioned earlier. I¡¯m eating because I¡¯m always hungry. Mark, you said you were an expert at enchantments. Get this enchantment out of our way.¡± I¡¯d appreciate a ¡®please¡¯, but I understand that Vreem¡¯s had a bad day. In any case, he isn¡¯t wrong- I¡¯m certainly the most qualified of our merry band to be meddling with warding sigils and runes networks. Asking the other two to stand back, I slowly walk forward until I see the wooden trapdoor at the top of the ladder, and the runes carved into the stone next to it. They are very faint and filled in with dust the same color as the surrounding stone- I can barely make them out, and I know what to look for. How exactly did Vreem notice this? Regardless, they are fairly common security sigils, and so it¡¯s a simple matter to extend a finger and scratch new connections between sigils, sending their own magic flowing into them from the wrong directions and in the wrong quantities. The trick is not to directly destroy the sigils- most wards will raise an alarm if they are dispelled. This way, it should still believe itself entirely functional. Really, it¡¯s much like manipulating people- but slightly harder, I suppose. When my task is complete, I climb back down. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°The security sigils are disabled, we¡¯re clear to keep going. Would you like to take the lead again, Vreem?¡± I give him what I intend to be a reassuring smile, being careful to hide my iron teeth. ¡°Yes.¡± if he notices my smile, he gives no reaction either way. Still, I¡¯ll keep trying to scrape away that prickly exterior- something tells me that I want Vreem as an ally. ¡°No. I sense thralls above us- they¡¯re almost as empty as Vreem, but I can still sense them. Let¡¯s just wait, I¡¯ll tell you when it¡¯s clear.¡± I¡¯ve noticed that when Kira speaks, it is with the authority of someone used to being obeyed- presumably because she grew up in a noble house surrounded by servants. I doubt that she''d admit it outside of the most dire of circumstances, but she has almost as many problems as Vreem. She just hides them better. Crunch. It''s obvious that Vreem is unbothered by the wait, simply continuing to eat the rat like a carrot. In the end, we wait for no more than two minutes before Kira gives us the whispered ¡®all clear¡¯, and she doesn¡¯t wait for us to acknowledge it before climbing up and pushing open the trapdoor. Following her, me and Vreem climb up into what I can¡¯t help but think of as a strange kind of library. I see sturdy wooden shelves and stone walls arranged in random, labyrinthine formations; except instead of books upon the shelves, there are neat stacks of parchment with undecorated wooden paperweights holding them down. Kira immediately starts leafing through the stacks on the nearest shelf, muttering to herself in quiet tones that I don¡¯t think were intended for me to hear. ¡°Index, index- gotcha. T for Triad¡­¡± she mutters, and I decide to help however I can. ¡°Vreem, could you keep a lookout for thralls? I¡¯m going to help Kira.¡± I whisper to him, and notice that his skin is back to its usual color. His pupils are still narrow slits, however- curious. ¡°To my knowledge, there is no undead paper-pusher in existence that could sneak up on me.¡± Is Vreem¡¯s reply, but considering how he stalks off to watch flank routes I take that as an affirmative. And so, with someone watching our backs, me and Kira get stuck into it, pouring through parchment and ink. Minutes pass, until Kira exclaims. ¡°Got it! A copy of a letter confirming Kaelan¡¯s request to be placed in the same Triad as me, signed by¡­ Headmistress Hoplix? But why would the Archmage be involved in the assembling of a Triad?¡± Kira¡¯s voice is confused and concerned. Are we getting caught up in some kind of conspiracy? ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask her yourself? You¡¯re in big enough trouble to warrant a visit to her office, after all.¡± Me and Kira both freeze, before slowly turning to see Proffesor Jensen leaning on the bookshelf at the end of the row. His smile is friendly, but the sparks dancing around his crossed arms brook no complaint. Vreem stands behind him like a soldier at attention- I didn¡¯t peg him for a traitor, and he¡¯s getting in trouble too! ¡°Vreem you traitorous little bastard!¡± It appears that Kira shares my thoughts, but not my restraint. ¡°Jensen defeated me over a week ago. By the Way of Things, I shall not stand in his path or interfere with his plans.¡± At that, Jensen looks a bit uncomfortable, but isn¡¯t complaining. ¡°Calm down, all three of you are going to see Headmistress Hoplix- I just hope we don¡¯t interrupt her dinner, for your sake. Unless of course,¡± the sparks dancing across his skin escalate into miniature lightning bolts, and the smell of ozone fills the air. ¡°You three feel like resisting?¡± Chapter 5: Interview ¡°Yes, I study necromancy. No, I am not a necromancer- I study all fields of magic; in fact, I¡¯ve studied most things at some point or another. Yes, I know that the Empire condemns necromancy as illegal. To the Empire spies among you- no need to panic, I won¡¯t snitch-, I invite you to bring an army here to stop me. Because nothing less than an army led by Wellsprings is going to stop me from doing what I¡¯m doing, which is the same as what I¡¯ve always been doing and always will do- satisfying my curiosity.¡± - an interview with Archmage Hoplix, prior to her founding of the Deepvein Academy of Delving. Kira- ten minutes after being captured. This has to be a nightmare, a demented dream of the worst case scenario. Because if it isn¡¯t, then I¡¯m likely getting expelled at some point in this conversation; classes haven¡¯t even started yet, and I¡¯m in the Headmistress¡¯ office for trespassing in a staff-only area, for sneaking into the administrative heart of the academy. Me, Mark and Vreem are sitting in three separate chairs at Headmistress Hoplix¡¯s desk, facing the archmage herself; I¡¯m not fooled by her grey hair or clouded blue eyes, nor by the smile lines and wrinkled brow- this is a woman who¡¯s gone toe-to-toe with wellsprings and emerged victorious. I can¡¯t even muster the courage to try and determine what she¡¯s feeling, let alone thinking. ¡°I must say, I¡¯m curious as to what could motivate three of my students to engage in such¡­ shenanigans before classes even begin. Typically this kind of misdemeanour comes from overconfident chronomancy students.¡± In spite of how dire I think the situation is, Hoplix herself seems more amused than anything else, as she leans back into her chair with a faint smile. Before answering, I take a moment to take in my surroundings and centre myself. Her desk is clear and neat, with only an inkwell, quill and a small stack of paper with a lumpy, pitch black marble as a paperweight- a marble that Vreem is staring at intensely, seemingly blind to anything else like the half-civilised animal that he is. The rest of the room is far more cluttered, with cabinets and shelves full of trophies and knick-knacks, artifacts and memorabilia. ¡°A conspiracy, headmistress. We have reason to believe that our Triad was tampered with for political reasons, and were simply searching for evidence in the archives.¡± Regardless of what I¡¯m feeling, my voice is level and calm. My training has taught me that much at least. ¡°Interesting. And what do you two think about that, I wonder?¡± As she looks over the other two, Mark sits up just that little bit straighter. Vreem, on the other hand, doesn¡¯t even seem to notice. He does, however, give a response. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be in a group with a telepath for the next few years. I¡¯d probably end up killing her, and then being expelled.¡± He¡¯d probably end up doing what? As if I needed more reasons to dislike the murderous midget. Seriously, how the hell did he end up as a student? Part of me wants to ignore the social consequences and just pry open his mind, call his bluff¡­ but another part of me holds it back, because I think he¡¯s serious. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Noted. In future, Vreem, please refrain from admitting your murderous intent- especially while your potential target is within earshot! Oh, and there¡¯s no need or use in trying to hide your indignation Kira,¡± and for a moment her smile vanishes, and I feel the weight of a presence, a soul so ancient and powerful that I am but an ant in comparison being smothered and crushed. ¡°After all, I¡¯ve been playing this game since before the first of the Arkens. Anyway, what do you think Mark? You seem much less¡­ apocalyptically self-replicating than your predecessor.¡± And just like that, she¡¯s back to being the smiling old woman asking friendly questions. It¡¯s a harsh reminder that I¡¯m still a very small fish in an unfathomably deep ocean. Clearing those morbid thoughts from my mind, what did she say about apocalyptic? Mark certainly seems uncomfortable. ¡°I¡­ would rather not talk about it, if that¡¯s alright with you. On the matter of the Triad however, I¡¯ve been trying to find a mutually beneficial solution where both Vreem and Kira can prosper, ideally separate from each other. You see, a draconoid named Kaelan-¡± ¡°I know, Nine. Who do you think altered the membership? It¡¯s my name on the the parchment, after all. This is exactly what I was aiming for- to see how a Triad composed of a human, a ¡®human¡¯ and a human,¡± she nods to me, Vreem and Mark in turn. ¡°Would interact, and what kind of trouble you¡¯d get up to. You should be proud! You¡¯ve exceeded my expectations handily.¡± Baffled, confused and frustrated, I can¡¯t help but speak up angrily. ¡°But¡­ Triads are an ancient, revered tradition grounded in Delving sense and truth; how could you of all people disrespect a tradition that you helped found?! When people find out, they¡¯ll-¡± ¡°They¡¯ll do exactly nothing,¡± interrupts Hoplix, a grin like the Cheshire cat. ¡°As you said, I founded the tradition- and can you name a single person in this city that could, would and shall enforce any kind of consequences on me? I thought you would know this by now, little Arken; this city is a kratocracy. That means that the only law here is what you can enforce by your own strength, and I can count the number of people who could harm me on one hand. And none of them would go to war over a disrespected tradition.¡± With this proclamation, the pressure and presence from a minute ago come back in full force- and once again, Vreem doesn¡¯t even seem to notice as me and Mark are pushed back in our seats as if gravity just intensified. He¡¯s just staring at that bloody paperweight like it¡¯s the most delicious thing in the world- wait, is he actually drooling? Hoplix continues, and the pressure vanishes as if it was never there- but I¡¯m still covered in a cold sweat. ¡°Hopefully that cleared things up a bit for you. Unless there are any questions-¡± ¡°There is a soul in the stone.¡± Vreem is pointing to the paperweight, and for the first time since sitting down he¡¯s looking away from it. He¡¯s looking Hoplix in the eyes, and for a moment- just a fraction of an instant- I feel fear from her. It¡¯s just for a moment though, and then her eyes harden in a way they hadn¡¯t, even when suffocating me and Mark with her soul¡¯s presence. ¡°I¡¯m teleporting you back to your dorm. Consider this matter resolved, with no punishments assigned.¡± she says with a cold tone and then, with a snap of her fingers, I¡¯m in our Triad¡¯s dorm room with Mark, and only Mark. Vreem is still in the archmages office. Chapter 6: You Want to Play a Game ¡°What do you mean, it saw you? You¡¯re an oracle, Kedel, not some scrying wizard.¡± ¡°I meant what I said Lorgana! Things are changing deep below, as they ever were and ever will be- but it¡¯s changed out of change!¡± ¡°Calm down Kedel, you¡¯re not making any sense.¡± ¡°NEITHER DID THE EYES LORGANA! There¡¯s no light Lorgana, why would it have eyes? THERE HAS TO BE A REASON!¡± -¡®Fly on the Wall: The Autobiography of an Anonymous Illusionist¡¯, chapter 12: Don¡¯t Spy on the Future Vreem- seconds later Normally I would tense up as my two ¡®teammates¡¯ vanish, but that would imply that I¡¯m not already tense and ready to flee. There is no fighting this enemy- and I know that they are my enemy, turning to look at me with a cold, calculating expression. ¡°What makes you think there is a soul in my paperweight Vreem? That¡¯s fairly absurd after all.¡± I consider telling the truth, in accordance with the Way of Things; that I can feel a resonance when I stretch my soul out and surround it, that I can practically taste the vulnerable collection of self-aware mana hidden within that immutable shell. But the Ways don¡¯t apply to an Enemy of Death, they don¡¯t acknowledge those artificial immortals as people any more than a corpse is. I have no obligation to tell this husk the truth. ¡°When you released your presence to cow the others, the source was not your body. It was the stone. Why do you allow mortals in your presence?¡± Hoplix¡¯s eyes sparkle with some unknowable emotion, and her cold stare lets up into merely a calculating gaze. ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯m not mortal myself. Do you have an accusation to make?¡± ¡°I thought that we both knew. You are an Enemy of Death, antithetical to the Way of Things and a grain of sand threatening to clog up the gears of the cosmic engine that drives everything forward and onward.¡± the moment I mention the Way of Things, her unsettling smile returns- and I am difficult to unsettle. ¡°So you know of the Way of Things? Fascinating. You, Vreem, are my favorite kind of topic to study- one invested in keeping their secrets. Even better, you aren¡¯t susceptible to the usual methods of prying out knowledge; I doubt I could bribe you with a million gold, torture is unlikely to do more than waste both our time, and your mind is so well fortified I¡¯m not even going to try and crack it open magically. So that leaves me with only one option- destroy you, and learn what I can from your corpse, or allow you to continue along your business and observe you from a distance. Understand?¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I cannot fathom your logic.¡± ¡°Excellent! Now let¡¯s set some ground rules for this game we¡¯re playing. First of all, questions. Whenever you feel like, I¡¯ll truthfully answer any question you offer- in exchange, for each question you ask of me, I would like you to give me one truthful answer in turn. Sound fair?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like I have a choice, so I¡¯ll accept it. What are the other rules you wish for this ¡®game¡¯?¡± ¡°Rule two: don¡¯t expect mercy, and don¡¯t waste time trying to escape. I want to be kept guessing, and the moment that I believe I know everything I need to, you will go from a student to a dissection subject.¡± Guaranteed death? That doesn¡¯t appeal to me much. ¡°If there is no path to victory for me, I will destroy myself to spite you and your heathenous plans. You are a bored immortal with no true challengers, an undead abomination using a breathing flesh puppet,¡± a bit like me¡­ a concerning thought. ¡°If I can keep you ¡®guessing¡¯ until I graduate from the academy, do I have your word that you will allow me to leave?¡± ¡°Of course- I don¡¯t expect you to make it through even one year, let alone the minimum of four it would take you to graduate. Now, fourthly and finally; I don¡¯t know the extent of your capabilities, I don¡¯t know if you were going easy on Jensen and I don¡¯t know what you can do, but I¡¯d appreciate if you could refrain from mass murder, societal destabilisation, and any other irritating disruptions to my plans. Play nice. Now, any questions right off the bat?¡± She speaks as if Solwick is stable to begin with, as if the ¡®masses¡¯ wouldn¡¯t tear me into confetti given half a chance. It would be a massive waste of time to try and make things worse. ¡°Only one question. What is your true form?¡± She seems surprised. Did she expect me to ask for arcane secrets? Magical techniques, pleadings for mercy? As if anything I learn from her wouldn¡¯t be a poisoned apple. As if an undead knows mercy. Instead of answering with words, she smiles faintly as the skin of her face begins to bubble and boil, evaporating into a noxious smog- and a second later, fire that burns as black as the void shines through it. The ¡®paperweight¡¯ from earlier, resting on a skeletal palm, burning eternally but never even warmed. I now sit before a corpse, a polished and preserved skeleton possessed by a loose soul reaching out from that immutable stone. It is uncomfortably similar to how I exist now¡­ unnerving. It also reminds me how far I¡¯ve fallen; in the depths, such an existence would have been barely a scavenger. Here, on the surface¡­ it represents a force I cannot hope to match. I¡¯m barely confident I could hurt them, like a wasp stinging the hand that swats it. ¡°This should answer your question. Now, my turn; where do you hail from, Vreem? My guess is that you¡¯re a visitor from the outer realms, or the Realm Where Logic Died.¡± Her voice is forceful, no longer muffled by unnecessary flesh and sinew. I am uncowed; not out of courage, but simply because I mangled that aspect of myself beyond recognition. ¡°I am from the material plane, just like any organism. I am not from the surface. My first memories are of the Beneath.¡± ¡°Well then Vreem from Beneath, if you have no further questions,¡± the mist recondenses, pouring back into skin, hair and eyes even as the black flames pull themselves back into their stone. When she continues speaking, she is once again flesh and blood- just in time for Professor Jensen to knock on the door, and open it without waiting for an answer. ¡°I would ask Professor Jensen to escort you back to your room. Do have a nice day; you¡¯ll need all the rest you can get.¡± Chapter 7: Uncommon Tensions ¡°What differentiates a soul from a spell? Practically, I mean, not philosophically. Density! What was I¡­ oh yes. Theoretically, if you properly dismantle a soul you could¡­ a spell? Into a shell, eternity husk! Sorry, was I saying something? Bring me another syringe, this one is about to be dirty.¡± - the ramblings of Magus Jindosh, shortly before his third escape that month. Mark- early morning, hours before classes start Over the last few days I¡¯ve grown accustomed to long hours spent in darkness, waiting for the others to wake up. I don¡¯t sleep anymore. I can¡¯t dream anymore. I acknowledge that my emotions are complicated, and that I should really give a proper explanation to Vreem and Kira sometime, but¡­ even speaking has changed. No longer do I force words through stiff lips, they simply flow out of my thoughts as naturally as breathing- in fact, I suspect the instincts were repurposed. And besides, the others have their own problems. Kira is the simpler of the two. Since Vreem returned to the dorm escorted by Professor Jensen, she¡¯s been slowly but surely spiraling into ever greater anxiety. You see, she thinks that it¡¯s all some plot to get at her family through her; I suspect she¡¯s decided that Vreem must be an agent planted by the faculty with the intention of humiliating her by proxy when he inevitably causes some kind of scandal. And Vreem himself¡­ is complicated. He seems tense, seemingly expecting an attack at any time, but also strangely carefree? It¡¯s difficult to explain, and I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m interpreting him correctly, but I suspect that he made some kind of deal or concession to Hoplix to pay for her, letting us all off the hook for what should have been a suspension, at best. Then again, Hoplix¡¯s own words don¡¯t exactly paint a reassuring picture¡­ In any case, I¡¯m more worried about him than I am for Kira. Mostly because Kira hasn¡¯t committed self harm- one night I found Vreem in the kitchen at midnight, carefully peeling the skin off of his forearm, the flesh calloused and hardened like leather. The next day, he had repaired his ¡®rat¡¯ leather armor¡­ even for a self-proclaimed biomancy master, it just seems so¡­ unnecessary? Leather armor costs a few silver at most. Next time his armor is damaged, I think I¡¯ll buy him a replacement myself. I¡¯ve managed to avoid Vreem interacting with¡­ anyone really, by bringing both his own and my portions from the cafeteria to the dorm. It¡¯s not like I eat anything but ambient magic anymore, and hopefully by keeping Vreem away from crowds I can delay or prevent the scandal that Kira is so scared of. I don¡¯t entirely understand why she¡¯s so opposed to Vreem, but I suppose he did threaten to kill her. In any case, I¡¯m prepared for the worst- today is the day that classes start, and Vreem will be exposed to the folk of Deepvein at large. Hopefully, he will remain just another student, as opposed to a problem. As the sun begins to rise, and I hear Vreem exit his room to begin his morning routine; sitting in the sunlight shining through the window and reading through one of Kira¡¯s textbooks- I suspect he can¡¯t afford his own. I also don¡¯t think he ever uses the smokeless torches to read by. With a forced sigh, I admit to myself that there is little hope of Vreem passing as a normal student. At best, his strangeness will be overshadowed by the non-human students, and at worst¡­ I have plans for damage control. Vreem- minutes before class starts I am sitting next to Mark, with Kira on the other side of them. Me and Mark got here an hour ago, having left shortly after Mark brought the morning meal; I¡¯ve been growing to appreciate Mark. He displays weakness in the form of kindness openly, and while that would be a death sentence in the Beneath it seems perfectly acceptable on the surface. I suspect that he¡¯s doing it merely to ingratiate himself with me, but even if that¡¯s the case he is doing an excellent job of it. He spares me having to navigate the ¡®cafeteria¡¯, which I gather is the local hunting ground, he assists me with unknown terminology I encounter while memorising textbooks. He is so helpful, that not only do I vow to protect him when we eventually make it to the Beneath, he almost makes being in a Triad with Kira worth it! If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Speaking of Kira¡­ it has been difficult not to kill her, even if murder would violate my agreement with Hoplix. She has made it abundantly clear that she expects me to humiliate myself, and by extension the whole Triad; and she complains about seemingly everything I do. ¡®Why is the kitchen covered in blood?!¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t steal my textbooks!¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s midnight, just shut up and go to sleep!¡¯. Mark keeps trying to mediate between us, but I suspect our perspectives are just too different to reconcile with each other. In any case, over the last few minutes the outdoor amphitheatre, made of ancient but well¨Cmaintained stone, has been filling up. The majority of students seem to be human, which should help me blend in, but there are enough anomalies to hopefully draw attention away from any slip ups that I make. I see elves, dwarves- or perhaps they¡¯re just hairy children?-, orcs and draconoids in decent quantities, and they seem to mingle fairly well with the humans. There are outliers though- harpies, nagas, and other more monstrous races don¡¯t mingle as much with other races. I also note that all but one of the draconoids has wings- that exception being Kaelan, although he still mingles easily with the other draconoids. Interesting. More interesting still is the arrival of who I presume to be the speaker today- an ageing dwarf, with a horrific burn scar across their chin preventing them from having any sort of beard- and likely the reason for the extravagant moustache, curling and flowing luxuriously. I notice similarities between his- or hers? All dwarves can grow moustaches I suppose- robes and those of Professor Jensen¡¯s, elegantly flowing dark blue robes with protective sigils in silver embroidery. ¡°Damn, they really do get weirder every year,¡± they mutter to themself under their breath. I don¡¯t think anyone else was supposed to hear it. ¡°Welcome to Deepvein, all of you. Or at least, welcome to studying at Deepvein! You¡¯ll find that we do things¡­ differently to most. One of these differences is this very class! This is the first class every student attends, so allow me to introduce you all to the beginning of your studies in Uncommon Sense! I¡¯m here to teach you the basic fundamentals that most of you probably already know. Put your hands down, I¡¯m not taking questions! Besides, I know what you¡¯re going to say. ¡®But Professor Troom, if we already know then why do we have to be here?¡¯ Well, I¡¯ll tell you why. It¡¯s because some of you might have been taught wrong, because some of you just don¡¯t know, and because some of you are just plain idiots!¡± An enormous grin is forming on Troom''s face, and I can understand why. The mixture of indignation, boredom and anger on Kira¡¯s face is amusing to me, and I see it mirrored across a solid third of students- plus, Troom would have the satisfaction of causing it. I suspect I¡¯ll get along with this professor. ¡°My job is to assume that each and every one of you have been living under a rock, and not in a good way. I¡¯m here in hopes that I can drill into your stubborn heads one or two pieces of information that will save your lives in the Beneath, as well as making sure you understand where you need to be at what time while you¡¯re studying at Deepvein. PUT THAT HAND DOWN! I¡¯ll take questions at the end. First of all, today you will have one and a half more lessons to attend. After this one, you¡¯ll head over to be split amongst the arenas for Competency in Combat. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re a ¡®backline¡¯, and neither does Professor Jensen! Now, after you¡¯re done getting your sorry asses kicked by a combat competent ¡®backline¡¯ caster, you¡¯ll be directed to the elective fair, where you can pick some electives which you¡¯ll be attending as your third lesson every school day starting tomorrow. Apart from your electives, all classes will be attended alongside your Triad, so I¡¯d advise you to get along with them! Now I¡¯ll be taking any questions you have.¡± There were a lot of questions. There were none important to me- rather, I was rewiring my body in anticipation. After all, if there was ever an excuse to engage in violence, a class called Competency in Combat is it. Chapter 8: Dont Trust Me, Im a Healer ¡°What do you make of Vreem, Jensen? I must admit to being curious as to why you let a failed assassin into my school.¡± ¡°I think he¡¯s dangerous. I saw his eyes as he attacked me- there was no hesitation there. There was no mercy; if he had a chance, he would have killed me without any regret.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t too uncommon in Solwick. There are plenty of psychopaths who wouldn¡¯t bat an eye at mass murder roaming the streets, held back only out of fear of the warlords.¡± ¡°And now there¡¯s one less on the streets; and hopefully, in a few years he¡¯ll become a problem for the denizens of the Beneath.¡± Vreem - the start of Competency in Combat class Troom was telling the truth when they said we¡¯d be directed to an arena. To the south of the primary Deepvein building, there are a dozen stone arenas with varying sizes. I suspect that they are magically larger on the inside though, as the arena we entered was the size of a two story house on the outside, and is the size of a stadium on the inside. There¡¯s a crowd of six Triads, eighteen students in total- and standing taller than even the elvish students, burly, muscular and proudly green stands Professor Jensen wearing chainmail. He looks uncharacteristically grim, his hands held behind his back and posture as straight as a spear. When he speaks, it is almost solemn. ¡°I am Professor Jensen, and although I may not look like it, I am a warmage. I am a firm believer that everyone who sets foot in the Beneath should be able to hold off a skinmelter hound, or any other beast of the tunnels, for at least seven seconds. That¡¯s how long it should take a competent backline to line up a shot and kill the creature, or for a competent frontliner to come and get it off you so you can line up the shot. Are there any questions?¡± The naga from earlier, clad in unenchanted but polished chainmail raises a clawed, scaly hand. Jensen nods to them, and they speak. ¡°Sssome of usss- *ahem* some of us have prior combat experience and training. Are we going to spar or face captive beasts?¡± ¡°You raise an excellent point, but one I have already thought of. I¡¯ve already read a report on each of you- and I believe that some of you can handle yourselves in a fight. However, the only person here that I know can fight is Vreem- remind me, how close did you get?¡± I step forward and emulate Jensen¡¯s posture, speaking confidently and clearly. ¡°If you had been one fifth of a second closer, I would have killed you sir. Nevertheless, you defeated me, so in accordance with the Way of Things I am yours to command.¡± even if I was holding back my ability to disrupt spells, it likely wouldn¡¯t have worked. Jensen¡¯s mana control, reflexes and senses beat me fair and square. I still note that saying it seems to make Jensen uncomfortable- I wonder why? Still, the other students look very curious, and perhaps a little bit afraid- Kira in particular looks like a nightmare is coming true. Even more so when Kaelan steps forward with a raised hand, and Jensen nods to allow him to speak. ¡°I can also attest to Vreem¡¯s talent¡­ and durability. However, I do not believe he has ever received formal training, and am eager for a rematch now that I understand his capabilities.¡± For the first time in this lesson, the shadow of a smile flickers across Jensen''s face for a moment. ¡°In that case, let me finish answering this student¡¯s question and then we¡¯ll get into sparring matches. So, back to what I was saying, you will mostly be training against each other for the first semester or so. Occasionally, we¡¯ll get a master illusionist to create tangible replicas of the beasts for you to fight. Only in your third year will you start actually fighting beasts one-on-one in this class, although you may be pitted against them as a group earlier than that. Now before you get to hacking each other into pieces, I¡¯ll allow Healer Ashtrunk to introduce themselves.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. And sure enough, stepping out from behind Jensen is a stick-thin elf wearing the red uniform of a healer, glaring at us with what I am certain is killing intent. How didn¡¯t I notice them before? They are visibly ancient even by elf standards, with grey hair and clouded eyes the pale pink of a bloodless corpse. As they begin to speak in what I can only describe as an extended death rattle, the very air tastes stale- it tastes dead. ¡°You are all¡­ under my care. You are my patients until you leave this arena. That means that¡­ I am to keep you alive. I will not keep you happy. If you break a bone, I will accelerate it until it heals, and then break it and try again until it sets properly. I will not heal bruises. Unless you are about to be crippled, maimed or killed I will not step in. If I have to heal you, I will inflict as much agony as is medically feasible and leave you feeling better than ever afterward. If I have to step in, I am obligated to check the health of everyone involved. If you kill anyone under my care, I will turn your blood acidic and your heart into a cancerous mass. Please test me.¡± I¡­ don¡¯t think I want to. Judging by their threats, they are a true biomancer- and their threat lies not in killing me, but in exposing my secrets. I can heal myself independently, so all I need to do is avoid killing any other students. It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult, I¡¯ve rewired my reflexes and instincts for nonlethal combat by now. Another incident like what happened with Kaelan is borderline impossible. Regardless, Jensen is stepping forward again, with a strained smile on his face. He seems excited; eager even. ¡°Alright! Now that you understand the stakes, I¡¯ll pair you into groups. Remember: sparring matches go until either duelist concedes, or is unable to.¡± He very quickly sorts us all into pairs- and as I walk toward a circle in the sand alongside my sparring partner, the naga from earlier, I begin to adjust myself and prepare my plans. I can¡¯t help but smile. Skador K¡¯soon POV As I slither alongside my opponent, I cannot help but feel uneasy. They are a juvenile clad in shoddy, homemade leather armour; The only weapons I can see on them are a rusted dagger and a beautiful steel handaxe covered in dried blood. And yet, Professor Jensen himself was almost slain by them; I wonder what circumstances could create a person who can challenge a Magister, but not clean their weapons? ¡°Professor Jensen called you Vreem; my name is Skador K¡¯soon. It will be a pleasure to test myself against you; but I couldn¡¯t help but notice that your weapons are in¡­ subpar condition.¡± When I mention ¡®your weapons¡¯, their eyes flick to their hands; and although it would be imperceivable to most mammals, I can see the feverish heat in their fingers as their nails slowly extend and sharpen themselves. Vreem stays silent for a few seconds, until we reach our designated patch of sand. ¡°I¡¯m not used to having external weapons. How deep can I cut without putting your life in danger?¡± ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, but I do believe that we were going until first blood?¡± ¡°Jensen said that we would go until one of us concedes, or is unable to. If you want me to stop after the first drop of your blood sees daylight, then that is when I will stop. I will not be stopped by you drawing blood; I don¡¯t think you could cripple, maim or kill me if you tried.¡± ¡°Those are bold words, Vreem. Nevertheless, let¡¯s not test them- I can¡¯t imagine ¡®healer¡¯ Ashtrunk accepting ¡®but they said to!¡¯ as an excuse. I¡¯ll stop when you concede.¡± ¡°Then we fight on Jensen¡¯s count.¡± As if Vreem heralded it, Jensen¡¯s voice booms across the arena. ¡°Everyone ready to rumble? Good. You will start when I say to fight, and you will expect the unexpected. Three!¡± The arena is silent, as if holding it¡¯s breath. ¡°Two!¡± I tense, spear pointed at Vreem. ¡°Fight!¡± And before Jensen even finishes saying the word, Vreem shoots toward me like a crossbow bolt. Chapter 9: High Impact Learning ¡°Me, a Deepvein alumni? Gods among mortals, I hope not. Although, that would explain a few things; mostly why I volunteered to sacrifice all of my childhood memories to the Mind Twister diplomats a few years back. I tell you, that school¡­ it¡¯s very impressive, so absurdly good at what they do that over half of students survive their first year of delving. What¡¯s less impressive is the casualty rate of the students during their first year of training¡­¡± - Arrick the Skinless, resuming an interview after their showdown with the late master assassin Kosech. Skador K¡¯soon - a fraction of a second after Jensen said ¡®Fight!¡¯ It happened so fast I missed it; despite the warmth of the day, I can¡¯t help but feel like my cold blood must have been somehow running chilled and sluggish. Vreem¡¯s hands are like a vice around my neck, unnaturally hard nails piercing my scales ever so slightly. A drop of blood runs down his hand, along his arm, staining his armor red. ¡°A drop of blood. You concede.¡± Vreem¡¯s voice is a strained wheeze, but I don¡¯t hear any fear or pain in it. Slowly, almost dreading what the warmth soaking into my gauntlets is telling me, I look down. My spear has pierced right through his chest, his lungs specifically from the sound of his voice, and his blood is soaking my hands. Even as I watch, I can see bleeding slow; in the scant seconds that it takes two very concerned staff to sprint their way to us the bleeding has stopped entirely. Ashtrunk is readying some kind of spell as they sprint at us like an avatar of death, and I can smell the power rolling off of it. But just as the wrathful elf reaches us, Vreem steps back and turns towards them- almost taking my spear with him until I tighten my grip on it. ¡°Healer Ashtrunk, I am neither crippled, maimed or dying. There is no need for you to step in; I am a biomancer specialised in self-repair and enhancement.¡± As if to prove their words, I see a piece of their lung- ripped out their back by my barbed spear- pull itself back into his body like some kind of horrific slug. It is at this moment that Jensen finally arrives, putting a hand onto Ashtrunk¡¯s shoulder as the healer stands as still as a statue, half-outstretched hand still glowing with magical power- although whether it¡¯s to heal Vreem or to ¡®turn my blood acidic¡¯, I hope to never find out. ¡°I take the blame for this, Ashtrunk. I should have warned you about Vreem¡¯s¡­ abilities beforehand. Vreem is not dying. Your oath is not at risk.¡± Jensen¡¯s voice is even and calm, the same tone one would use while trying to calm a wild animal. Ashtrunk says nothing, but their hateful snarl recedes into a cold glare and their hand stops glowing as they dispel whatever magic they¡¯d prepared. They stalk back to their position in the middle of the arena, to maintain their grim watch. Then Jensen turns to Vreem, and he looks not angry, but disappointed. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°What in the Abyss was that Vreem? You almost got me! What kind of plan revolves around taking needless damage?¡± ¡°The effective and consistent kind, sir.¡± Jensen turns to me, and now I can see he¡¯s angry. ¡°Skador, was it? Why don¡¯t you go and help one of your Triad members?¡± Vreem POV The naga slithers away, moving towards where Mark is batting aside icicles and approaching a panicked human holding a wizard¡¯s staff. I look back to Jensen as they glare at me. ¡°Vreem, I think you fundamentally misunderstand the purpose of these duels. Tell me what you think the objective of this sparring is.¡± The answer is so obvious, I answer without even thinking. ¡°To defeat your opponent.¡± ¡°WRONG!¡± Jensen shouts angrily. ¡°The objective is to emulate a battle in the Beneath. What you just did is one of the gravest sins a brawler can commit in the tunnels- get tied down. Suppose that Skador was some beast of the Beneath, and you impaled yourself on its claws in order to cut it¡¯s throat. You are obviously resilient enough to survive such a thing, and the monster is now dead- tell me what¡¯s wrong with this situation.¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t see anything wrong with it. The enemy is defeated, you are alive. Is that not the best outcome possible?¡± ¡°Are you sure about that? And what about the second creature that you didn¡¯t see, or some opportunistic stalker taking a chance and ripping a chunk out of your backline? They die, and then you do too. What if you get blindsided by another beast, and you can¡¯t dodge because you¡¯re fucking impaled? You die, and then the rest of your team dies. You sacrificed your most valuable asset as a brawler, your mobility, in order to win a fight that your backline will win for you if you just buy them time to line up a shot. If you keep doing it, you will fail this class and hold your entire Triad back by a year.¡± And then while I¡¯m still processing his ultimatum, as my lungs finish putting themselves back together, Jensen¡¯s grim fury turns into a bloodthirsty grin and a gnarled wooden staff appears in his hands. ¡°But I like you Vreem, so I¡¯m not going to let that happen. No, I¡¯m going to teach you to use technique and skill to overcome an opponent who is stronger,¡± and his staff begins to shimmer iridescent, before that shimmer spreads to his arms. ¡°Faster,¡± and the shimmer spreads to the rest of his body. ¡°And better equipped than you.¡± and as a helmet, shaped like a grinning caricature of himself, appears over his head. ¡°After all, I¡¯m a¡­¡± he strikes his palm with his staff hard enough that the sound makes students across the arena flinch. ¡°Kinetic teacher, and I suspect you¡¯ll be a kinetic learner soon enough.¡± And so, with the crunch of my knees being swept out from under me hard enough to pulverise the bone, my true training begins. Chapter 10: Rumour and Conspiracy Kira POV - over two hours later I can¡¯t help but reevaluate my thoughts on Vreem. In the last few days, he seems to be doing his level best to drive me insane- stealing my textbooks, making a ruckus at midnight, somehow getting blood all over the kitchen; I genuinely started to think that he must be some kind of mercenary, hired by a rival noble family to sabotage me. I can imagine it easily- some street rat, taught secret techniques and magics and tempted with the promise of a better life. Even so¡­ A quarterstaff moving as fast as a whip crack connects to its target, hitting so hard that a finger sails through the air detached from the hand. I know that some people have it bad in Solwick. Cripples, beggars and orphans are plentiful in the slums; but I can¡¯t imagine anyone who has it so bad that they¡¯d rather go through Jensen¡¯s ¡®training¡¯. Seriously, what kind of teaching is that! Just beating a student until they improve. I suppose I should have expected something like that from Jensen- no matter how well he composes himself, no matter how good his self-control, he is still an orc. The savage joy I felt from them as they shattered Vreem¡¯s bones over and over¡­ ¡°Finally, you¡¯re starting to get it! It was shoddy, obvious and poorly executed, but I¡¯m certain that you just tried a feint. It¡¯s slow, but you¡¯re learning!¡± Jensen speaks excitedly, while Vreem drags himself over to where his finger landed and picks it up, holding it to the stump left on his hand. ¡°Kira? Are you alright?¡± Mark pulls me out of my contemplation with a question. In some ways, it¡¯s reassuring to know that at least one of my Triad members cares. In other ways, it makes me feel so alone; especially given how me and Mark are walking alone down a stone corridor, making our own way to the elective fair. Vreem chose to walk with Jensen, discussing tactics and such. Most students split off into their Triads, scattering through the hundreds of paths in this labyrinthine academy. ¡°In all honesty, no I am not alright. I just witnessed a respected war mage and professor beat a member of my Triad into a bloody pulp for over an hour nonstop; and all I could sense from either of them is that they were loving it! What kind of person does that?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I don¡¯t think Vreem is a person in the same way we are. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s even human.¡± I stop in place mid-stride, almost tripping over myself. And yet Mark says it so casually, as if he was discussing the weather. In an uncharacteristic manner for them, they don¡¯t seem to notice or care about giving me time to process before continuing to drop verbal fireballs. ¡°I talked to Healer Ashtrunk in between sparring matches, and they confirmed that Vreem isn¡¯t using biomancy either, unless he¡¯s secretly an archmage with godlike mana control using spells far beyond what modern biomancy can do. No biomancer on the planet can heal brain damage like Vreem had sustained when we first met them, especially not if they were the one that had received the damage.¡± ¡°What¡­ what do you think he is then?¡± ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d be able to help with that. I¡¯ve only noticed reasons he¡¯s not human: his joints don¡¯t quite bend right, his blood is a few shades too dark, his pupils change their shape rather than dilate; I could go on, but that¡¯s beside the point. I wanted to get you alone for a bit to ask if you had any idea what he could be?¡± I force myself to calm down a bit; a touch of psychic pressure to the right part of the mind and an icy focus envelops me, washing away even the memory of my parents warning me about the dangers of psychic self-manipulation. What kind of creature could Vreem be? If I take Mark¡¯s word for it and accept that he¡¯s not human, which would be silly and absurd if it didn¡¯t make the dots connect so well, then I can define two main features to Vreem. He, or perhaps it, has a human form either naturally or via shapeshifting. He also has absurd regeneration, which narrows it down even more than his form. ¡°Only a few things come to mind¡­ and it¡¯s always possible that he¡¯s some kind of unique aberration. Still, I think the possibility exists that he¡¯s a Fleshthief of some kind, except-¡± ¡°Jensen, or certainly Hoplix, would have sensed the necromantic energies and put him down. Deepvein is inclusive, but I doubt they¡¯d let a Fleshthief attend.¡± Mark interrupts me, connecting the dots faster than I can explain them. ¡°Please don¡¯t interrupt me Mark, but you¡¯re right. The only other possibility that comes to mind is that he¡¯s some kind of golem. Do you remember how Hoplix described our triad? ¡®A human, a ¡®human¡¯ and a human.¡¯¡± ¡°That theory has even more problems- even if you could make a golem out of meat, which you can¡¯t, Hoplix would have noticed.¡± ¡°Unless.. What if Hoplix was the one who made him? She¡¯s an archmage; if anyone could make a meat golem it would be her. And didn¡¯t she say she was interested in seeing how we would interact with each other? What if she¡¯s testing out an experiment? Mark, what if we¡¯re fucking test subjects?¡± There is a long, contemplative silence. It lasts nearly a full minute, until Mark reaches some kind of resolution. ¡°We do the only thing we can. We play along, and hope that the experiment is a success- otherwise we¡¯ll end up exploring the Beneath with two thirds of a Triad, best case scenario.¡± Chapter 11: Feelings, Bottles and Blood ¡°You call me undead?! I am offended and appalled at your insinuation, sir! Nay, I am a true vampire, not some disgusting imitation that needs to drain vitality from the living. Rather, I am a creature of refined life and vitality, blessed with eternal youth and conditional immortality. When I drink your blood, it is not because I need your life essence- rather, I need to dilute my own blood with weaker stuff, lest I ¡®regenerate¡¯ into an infant. Now would you please hold still? I think I worked up an appetite while educating you.¡± - an anonymous vampire, now deceased after attempting to drain a paladin from the Order of the Seventh Spring Vreem - at the Elective Fair ¡°For the last time, I don¡¯t buy second hand blood. Both because funding serial killers is bad for my image, and because old blood is disgusting and unsanitary.¡± ¡°I will repeat myself a third time; I can provide at least three litres of my own blood, fresh and with more vitality than most humans. The sign said you pay 30 gold per litre correct?¡± I¡¯m trying to acquire money. Recent feedback from Jensen- delivered through brutal impacts- has proven that my current leather armour, even made from skin as quality as mine, is not effective. However, while I am confident in my abilities they are rather narrow. I can kill, I can survive, and I can improve my flesh, but I don¡¯t know the first thing about how to acquire funds except by taking them from defeated foes. I suspect that Hoplix would object to me killing and/or crippling and maiming people in order to fund my new armour though, which unfortunately also rules out joining electives like ¡®bounty hunting¡¯ or ¡®independant and guild thievery¡¯. So, I find myself somehow failing to convince a vampire to accept my blood. The fact that it likely contains more vitality than their own is hardly my problem. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to commit suicide, just say so! I¡¯d need a telepath¡¯s seal of approval that your existence is more suffering than joy, but if you have that then I¡¯d happily pay for a full five litres and have it sent to the people or charities of your choosing.¡± They are frustratingly bound to their morals, a lone figure as pale as ash under a dark coat, a thick umbrella and a thicker canopy, blending into the other stalls and tentoids strung up haphazardly around the verdant field; most are advertising to join some elective or club, but some stand out. Like this place, with a sign in front of it saying ¡®Sell Me Your Blood! 30 Gold Per Litre!¡¯. I¡¯m starting to consider the merits of slitting my wrist, force-feeding this vampire my blood and then just taking the appropriate payment when a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. ¡°Your moral fibre is commendable, Avery. However, this student, despite their relatively mundane appearance possesses anomalous regenerative abilities. If they claim to be able to survive with three litres less blood, then I am inclined to believe them. Please prepare the container for them.¡± Healer Ashtrunk, as withered and unnerving as ever, somehow snuck up behind me; my senses barely even register them as a living thing. But even now, the vampire seems about to speak up in objection- until the skin around my wrist splits apart and they rush to put a wineskin and funnel under it, catching the crimson waterfall that gushes forth. That is not what alarms me. What alarms me is that that wasn¡¯t me. I don¡¯t have time to panic, however, before a shrivelled hand grasps my shoulder. ¡°Do not be alarmed. I merely parted the skin; after the blood is deposited, simply push the skin back together and it will reconnect in moments. I do not take chances with lives, Vreem.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. That is a slight relief, and indeed the skin reconnects like wet clay once I¡¯ve deposited exactly three litres of blood. However, that isn¡¯t really the problem. The problem is that they altered my body. No matter how harmless the alteration, their magic reached through me and split my skin. My body is mine. They can batter and break it, cut it and crush it, but it is mine to shape, mine to change, MINE. How dare they? I¡¯ll show them how it feels. I¡¯ll change THEM, warp them, twist them into a protean mass as the Way of Things decrees! I am the one who changes, I am Change! Simmering in a fury I haven¡¯t felt in eternities, I reach for my the power I have earned, the power I AM- and feel nothing. The power is gone, destroyed, and it hurts to feel how much I¡¯ve lost, the hollowness instantly shattering the bottles and barriers I¡¯ve been using to contain emotions I cannot bear. It hurts so much more than any wound ever could, it hurts more than death; I am weak once more. Dimly, I realise that I am crying, but I can¡¯t bring myself to care. ¡°What happened?!? Ashtrunk, did you not numb them? Don¡¯t worry kid, I¡¯ve got some potions of pain nullification somewhere here-¡± ¡°Those cannot help with the kind of pain Vreem is feeling. Please have the payment delivered to his Triad dorm, I shall take it from here. Vreem, please follow me. We have much to discuss away from curious ears.¡± I am unresponsive; it doesn¡¯t matter any which way. Why did I struggle so hard to endure all those months ago? I¡¯ve already been not just defeated, but destroyed. When Ashtrunk gently but firmly grabs my arm and begins walking, pulling me along behind them, I don¡¯t resist. In my spiraling hopelessness, I barely register where he¡¯s taking me- a dark tent with thick walls and a sign in front of it stating, in plain font, ¡®Aberrant Mind Rehabilitation and Repair¡¯. He pulls me inside, closing the flap behind us. Instantly, all the noise from outside is instantly muted. ¡°Now we have some privacy, and I have quite a few questions to ask you. First of all, I¡¯m going to need a very good explanation for why your soul is grinding against your mind like the gears of rusty clockwork, wearing both down into fragile husks.¡± I remain unresponsive; I¡¯m not sure what I want. Death? No, Hoplix wouldn¡¯t let me escape so easily. ¡°Vreem, I am a healer and you are one of my students. That means I am responsible for your health: mind, body and soul. And I¡¯m going to help you, whether or not you want me to. You have one minute to answer me, or I¡¯ll start looking for more answers in the alchemy of your brain. The last time I did that, I seemed to have destabilised you enough to start crying and become unresponsive.¡± I¡¯m not entirely sure why I did what happened next. Much later, I would reflect on this moment and tell myself that it was my mind simply having had enough, returning to my most ingrained and basic instincts. ¡°I AM THE ONE WHO CHANGES!¡± Hoplix POV I watch the scrying pool with great interest as Vreem lunges at Ashtrunk. For a moment, I consider interfering; it would be a shame if either were to die. I dismiss the notion as quickly as I conceive it, it would be a much greater shame to miss out on such a fascinating combat. Eyes locked on the fight, a dozen enchanted quills scribble notes and observations. I¡¯m far beyond needing notes for memory, but I enjoy the nostalgia somewhat. Nevertheless, I¡¯m not learning too terribly much. I learn that Vreem can continue moving even as tumours the size of fists pull apart his spine, and that Ashtrunk is slower than Vreem, but still able to heal themselves faster than Vreem can tear them apart. I¡¯m not particularly worried about Ashtrunk killing Vreem- Perceive Thoughts shows that Ashtrunk is genuine in their intentions to help Vreem. And besides, I¡¯m not too proud to admit that Ashtrunk is a better biomancer than I. I do wonder how they figured out the state of Vreem¡¯s mind and soul, but then again I should expect no less. They are my apprentice, after all. Chapter 12: I Will Help You A blood red, gelatinous mass hangs from the ceiling, gooey tentacles with grinning mouths weaving over and around the bookshelves like snakes. Crimson tendrils with unblinking eyes watch over dozens of shoulders as people quietly read. The library is silent, save for the comforting rustle of turning pages. Ashtrunk was right, this is much easier in my true form! - From the Journal of the Librarian Vreem POV ¡°Are you quite finished with this little tantrum? Because I assure you, I¡¯m prepared to continue for at least another few hours.¡± Infuriatingly, Ashtrunk is correct. I¡¯m running out of energy, exhausted by fighting a war on two fronts- internally against the rampant tumours, and externally against the astonishingly nimble healer. The fact that their flesh reassembles itself as fast as I can rip it apart doesn¡¯t help. I could also keep fighting for hours, but that would require consuming a lot of ¡®unnecessary¡¯ flesh and bone, and I¡¯d rather keep that for absolute emergencies only. ¡°I will kill you one day, Healer Ashtrunk. But it doesn¡¯t seem I can do that today, not as I am now. I am weak. That doesn¡¯t change the fact that you are correct- I¡¯m not angry anymore, just hateful.¡± ¡°Thank you for being honest with me, Vreem. I shall be honest too; I¡¯m not happy to hear that you hate me, but I understand why. Nevertheless, you have passed the test- welcome to the Aberrant Mind Rehabilitation and Repair group!¡± I consider interrupting them to ask questions, but this is the first time I¡¯ve heard anything resembling passion or excitement in their voice. I have a feeling that their monologue will contain many answers. ¡°The goal of this group is to seek strange and uniquely challenged individuals such as yourself and help them to integrate as smoothly as possible into Deepvein culture, as well as society in general. In your case, Vreem, if you¡¯re trying to pass as a normal human you are failing spectacularly. You lack any pain response, you have a physical resilience surpassing even mine despite having slower regeneration, and you have demonstrated limited shapeshifting capabilities- even right now, your nails and teeth are more like daggers than any part of human biology!¡± As their excitement grows, I start to reconsider. Should I try to silence them? If I sacrifice enough, there¡¯s a chance that¡­ no, there isn¡¯t. They simply regenerate too quickly for flesh wounds to do anything, and they are too nimble to let me get at their brain. Glumly, I listen as they continue their monologue, now pacing back and forth excitedly- a gesture which is greatly at odds with their appearance being reminiscent of a dehydrated corpse. ¡°Even more interesting, while planting tumours I do believe that I¡¯ve found an answer for the friction between your mind and soul! While we were fighting, your brain was hotter than your muscles, and your soul was entirely within your body- You¡¯re using your soul to enhance and control your body, even to the level of directing your body towards the tumours in order to destroy them! In fact, I suspect that your brain is secondary- you mostly think with your soul, do you not?¡± They are almost entirely correct, and my concerns keep rising as they continue to do so. ¡°I have a few theories about your true nature! Now keep in mind that while I won¡¯t force you to confirm or deny anything, the more I know the truth the more I can help you- and I do want to help you. If it helps assuage your concerns, I do have a selfish motivation; no physical wound poses a problem to me anymore. I could heal a severed head! These days, I am pursuing mental wounds. It requires an entirely different toolset, and experiments about the mind are unpredictable! Even better, each mind is different, a new puzzle to twist and click and piece together! And you, Vreem, pose a unique opportunity. I have two theories about what you are; my first theory is that you¡¯re some kind of shapeshifting creature, likely one that somehow escaped the Beneath, pretending to be a human in order to try and make his way back underground after realising the surface isn¡¯t so great. Alternatively, you could be an undead! Some new and fascinating kind of spirit, possessing the first body you found and piloting it with such skill that you emulate life while maintaining the benefits of your undead constitution. You joined Deepvein because of the instinctive will to become stronger that all undead have, hoping to grow more powerful. Either way, there¡¯s nothing to fear in exposing yourself,¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Further from the truth than I expected, but still uncomfortably accurate. Still, reveal myself? If only they knew. Even if Hoplix wouldn''t eagerly dissect me, no sane person in the city would suffer me to live. Actually, since I attacked Ashtrunk have I violated the terms of my agreement with her? ¡°After all, Deepvein already employs both! The Librarian is an oblex, a memory stealing mimic- and all of the administrative thralls are undead! You¡¯ve already passed the test, proving that you¡¯re not dangerous-¡± That¡¯s too much. ¡°Minutes ago I was trying to kill you. Am I such a non-threat that you consider me harmless?¡± They seem slightly taken aback by me breaking my silence, but recover quickly. ¡°Of course! In order to incite you to violence, I had to interfere in your business, violate the sanctity of your body by using biomancy on you without permission, unbalance your brain chemistry, and then confess to doing so! You¡¯ve demonstrated better self-restraint than most delvers. And if you¡¯re determined to continue pretending that you are human, I can at least help teach you to pretend. In fact, if you¡¯re determined to pretend that you¡¯re a biomancer than I can at least teach you the basics. What do you say, Vreem? Join my little project, and I¡¯ll help you maintain your disguise! All you have to do is keep your mind and soul separate, at least when not fighting! A damaged mind is interesting, but not what I¡¯m trying to study right now. Deal?¡± Ashtrunk extends a wrinkled, leathery hand out to me; and I can¡¯t help but think back to the last pact I struck, with Hoplix. Somehow, this feels even more dangerous- and yet, I obviously need help- I didn¡¯t even know my soul was wearing down, much less that my disguise was so flawed. And so, with my hand still dripping Ashtrunk¡¯s blood from mere minutes ago, I take their hand and shake it. Mark POV - about an hour later Me and Kira are wandering around the elective fair, discussing options. So far Kira is dead set on taking ¡®History of Solwick¡¯ as her first elective, and I¡¯m similarly determined to take ¡®Advanced Runes¡¯ as my first elective, neither of us are certain what to choose for our second electives. We¡¯re walking and talking, idly looking at stalls for all sorts of electives, from Bounty Hunting to Monstrous Cuisine to Cultural Literature- actually, that last one sounds rather interesting. Alas, I don¡¯t have time to mention it to Kira before I spot it- or rather, them. Over there, parting the crowd in the way only a pleasant smile combined with clothes dripping blood can. The smile looks¡­ wrong, I suppose, on Vreem¡¯s face. Him being pale, almost albino doesn¡¯t help either. ¡°Kira, look over there; I think we found Vreem. Or rather, he found us.¡± ¡°By the Pinnacles, what did he do? How does he always somehow end up covered in blood?¡± I don¡¯t respond, because I just noticed the small red book he¡¯s clutching. The title, seemingly burned onto the leather of the cover, is visible- ¡®Being a Person; an Outsider''s Guide to Society¡¯ by Arick the Skinless. Suddenly, I have a very bad feeling about this. Chapter 13: Not My Vreem ¡°And? Of course shapeshifters are gonna read my book; they¡¯re who I wrote it for! I¡¯m trying to figure out why it¡¯s a bad thing to make things easier for them. They¡¯re a great way to preserve knowledge and customs and all that good shit- hell, my favorite bakery¡¯s been run by changelings ever since the original owner had a heart attack last year. Calling people monsters is a self-fulfilling prophecy; and besides, if you really object you can always come and purge the district of them. Just remember that they are my people, and you know what happens to those who try to hurt my people.¡± - Excerpt from The History of Shapeshifters in Solwick. Monday, First day of class, early evening. Vreem POV Everything about this feels wrong. I can feel my thoughts moving around in my brain, slowly and inefficiently. Dozens of simultaneous distractions and trivialities scream through my head, like rats fighting over a corpse; I feel blind without my soul to watch my back. I feel so impossibly slow, I feel so¡­ fake. But what option do I have except enduring it? I cannot blend in, I cannot understand the nuances of emotion and I cannot swallow my pride enough to feign the weakness needed to fade into the background. The only option I have is to just stop being myself for a while. It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t changed before; changing is what I am. The book that Ashtrunk gave me will serve as a guide for now. But I do not trust mere paper to contain everything I need; I have better resources available to me, two of them in fact. Mark finally notices me, and alerts Kira to my approach. Kira seems shocked, while Mark¡¯s eyes lock on to me, observing me intently. Before I get too close, I make sure to scatter my thoughts enough to hopefully stop Kira from seeing anything important; I remember Kira mentioning something about wards or enchantments that can protect a mind against observation, I¡¯ll need to get something like that as soon as possible. Regardless, I¡¯m now right in front of them and a greeting is in order. ¡°Hello Kira, hello Mark. What are your opinions about the weather we¡¯ve had in the last few days?¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Strangely enough Mark remains silent, leaving Kira to gather her wits and respond. ¡°The weather has been fine enough¡­ Are you alright, Vreem? You seem a bit more¡­ cheerful than usual. Did something happen that we should know about?¡± ¡°Other than a wellness check, nothing that you need to know about. I did however have two requests. Firstly I would like to request a ward against telepathy, and secondly I would like to arrange for a meeting of just us three¡­ outside Academy grounds. It doesn¡¯t have to be today, but I would like for it to be as soon as possible.¡± Now, it¡¯s Mark who steps forward and speaks. ¡°Understood. How about we meet up at 13 Gretgar avenue? It¡¯s in the neutral ground between Arick¡¯s territory and the Lockdown, so it¡¯s not the safest neighborhood, but if you want privacy- as I suspect you do- then there are few places more suitable. Now how about you head back to the dorm and wash up while me and Kira see about finding you a warding pendant?¡± ¡°That sounds good to me. How about we meet up tomorrow afternoon, during the period for electives? I know that missing the first class may be problematic, but this is important.¡± ¡°Works for me. Kira, let¡¯s get going- we have a ward to buy.¡± With that, Mark takes Kira by the arm and walks away. I stand still, watching them go. And once they¡¯re far enough away that a normal human would have no chance of making out what they say, I see Kira lean over and whisper into Mark¡¯s ear. ¡°That¡¯s not Vreem. Their thoughts were a frantic chorus of babbling nonsense; Vreem¡¯s thoughts barely contain emotions, let alone words.¡± ¡°Then that all but guarantees that we¡¯ll be walking into an ambush. Can we count on your family for reinforcements?¡± ¡°Yes. The Arken family will take any chance to destroy a monster, no matter what shape it takes.¡± That¡¯s all I hear before they¡¯re too far for even me to hear them, but I¡¯ve heard all I need to. As I walk through desolate stone corridors, I set my thoughts to the task at hand: escaping from Deepvein, and by extension Hoplix. Chapter 14: Stretching Out ¡°The noble houses of Solwick are a fascinating bunch, and I¡¯ve observed a few notable differences between them and typical nobility such as those found in the Empire. For starters, most of the nobles of Solwick don¡¯t hire mercenaries; instead they train harder than most soldiers to ensure that they can handle any problem that comes their way. It¡¯s a fascinating pseudo-martial culture, with familial bonds and proud legacies.¡± - Geddamp Volotharm, scholar and historian. Tuesday Morning, First Week of Classes, the Arken Compound. Kira POV. Even though it hasn¡¯t even been a month since I was last here, the Arken compound feels more nostalgic than familiar. Still, it¡¯s nice to be back among family, starting from when a few cousins on guard duty let me in. I revel in being able to stretch my thoughts out without worrying about accidentally whispering secrets into the minds of passersby. As I enjoy the catharsis of stretching my mind, I in turn pick up drifting thoughts and feelings from the whole family; it¡¯s indescribable to someone whose mind is trapped in their head. A united web of thought, dozens of individual minds with their own perspectives and thoughts flowing through each other to the betterment of all. Searching for two minds in particular, I navigate through the warded stone corridors until I reach my destination: my parents preparing themselves a late breakfast. Wordlessly I join them, slicing up a loaf of bread. After all, why would we need words? Kira! It¡¯s wonderful to see you. How do you like Deepvein? Have you got a Triad yet? My father¡¯s thoughts are colored with excitement and curiosity, but I can feel the concern buried underneath. It¡¯s a sharp contrast to my mother¡­ Shouldn¡¯t you be in class right now? What¡¯s so important that you would skip classes on the second day of school? Her words are harsh and angry, but I can feel the undercurrent of concern. It¡¯s easier if I show you. And I do: I show them my first encounter with Vreem, our ¡®adventure¡¯ through those tunnels, our conversation with Hoplix, and the last time I saw them. I even share what thoughts I gleaned from Vreem the last time we met! Weirdly, it¡¯s that last thing that gets a reaction out of my mother. You¡¯re right. Whatever that thing is, it almost certainly isn¡¯t your¡­ ¡®friend¡¯. Few humans, and certainly none that young, know how to hide their thoughts like that on purpose. Some people simply think like that normally, but Vreem''s movements are too controlled, too measured. It''s called the scattermind technique, splitting your thoughts into as many separate paths as possible to make understanding your thoughts useless to a telepath. Exactly. I came here today to ask the family for help; both to defend against what is almost certainly an ambush and to find the true Vreem. He may be problematic, but he is a member of my Triad; and I can¡¯t allow him to go missing forever. That¡¯s when my father, chewing contemplatively on his bread, chimes in. To me, this reads like a standard false hostage situation. A shapeshifter imitates someone close to the target and lures them to an isolated location, where a larger force is waiting. Gretgar Avenue is in neutral territory, so if the family mobilises a fighting force there we could face serious consequences. Don¡¯t worry though! We¡¯ll give you a thoughtpulse projector so you can contact us in an emergency- no amount of consequences will stop us from being there if you need us! Especially with that lunatic Jindosh having broken out of the Lockdown again.... That said, let¡¯s see if we can make sure you don¡¯t need help. I¡¯ll start organising subtle searches of the city, check with Arick to see if any of his people have gone rogue¡­ in the meantime, how about you go with your mother to the armoury? Proper enchanted gear can¡¯t do anything but help. Besides, there¡¯s always a chance Vreem shows up to class¡­ Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Tuesday Morning, First Week of Classes, Lecture Amphitheatre. Mark POV. Vreem hasn¡¯t shown up to class. The amphitheatre is full, and the professor is surely talking about some fascinating things, but I don¡¯t hear any of it. I¡¯m utilising one of my many curses to the fullest: a perfect memory. I¡¯m looping everything I saw of the fake Vreem, analysing every microexpression, every twitch, everything I possibly can. I¡¯m not even sure what I¡¯m looking for, or if I¡¯m really looking for anything at all. What I am sure of, is that it¡¯s getting very hard to ignore the elf tapping on my shoulder. They sidled up to me about a minute ago, and have been trying to get my attention ever since; dammit, can¡¯t people just let me focus?! Whirling around, I utter angrily. ¡°What do you want? I¡¯m trying to focus.¡± Instead of being put off by my sour tone, the elf seems to be beaming with enthusiasm. Fortunately, he keeps his voice down enough to avoid attracting the ire of the professor, who is still giving a lecture. ¡°Hi! You¡¯re Mark, right? Kaelan told me about you. I¡¯m Olkyr! I¡¯m in Kaelan¡¯s Triad, and he was worried that Kira didn¡¯t show up to class! He didn¡¯t want to bother you though, so I¡¯m handling it for him! Is everything alright? Can we help?¡± I¡­ hadn¡¯t considered that. Could I recruit Kaelan and his Triad to help us? Kira¡¯s going to try and get help from her family, but more reinforcements can¡¯t be a bad thing. ¡°Actually¡­ you can. Could you go gather the rest of your Triad? Tell them to meet outside 13 Gretgar Avenue- but don¡¯t go inside. Let them know that the situation involves shapeshifters, and is potentially very dangerous. Me and Kira will meet you there after lunch- right before electives normally start. Understood?¡± The moment I mention shapeshifters, the Olkyr¡¯s face drops from naive cheerfulness to a smouldering stare- literally, their eyes burn like embers. ¡°Understood. I understand how messy things can get with shapeshifters. When we next meet, assume we¡¯re imposters until we mention bread and cheese. We¡¯ll assume you''re imposters until you mention books. Clear?¡± ¡°Clear. See you in a few hours- and let¡¯s cross our fingers that this is all unnecessary.¡± Tuesday Morning, First Week of Classes, Headmistress¡¯s Office. Hoplix POV. As I re-read the note for the fifteenth time, I ponder the conundrum that has been presented to me. "To Hoplix, from your only living peer. I''ll be borrowing your new toy (the child, not our apprentice) for a little while, as well as the Arken and my prototype. Kindly don''t meddle, or I may have to ask Mark Eight to come home..." Three short sentences, a letter delivered to me by an administrative thrall, and a Vreem who I¡¯ve somehow lost despite the plethora of scrying anchors and seeking spells I placed on them during our last conversation. Fortunately, the scrying spells on Kira and Mark are still very much intact; but even if I could find them... the lunatic is almost certainly bluffing. But if he''s not... Metal and hate stretching to the horizon. A growing mind hungering for more. The only thing in the last millennia to truly scare me. I just can''t take that risk. Chapter 15: Automutilating Houdini Every year, the warlords slay dozens of individuals too dangerous and unstable to be allowed to exist within society; many of which are talented and ambitious individuals. I founded the Lockdown to provide an alternative, a means by which these individuals can still be of use. A haven of enlightened study, where the scientific exploration of magic is king! Yet it seems I should have been more careful; in a matter of days you¡¯ve somehow convinced the faculty that I am no less of a danger to civilised society. I won¡¯t resist it, for I can¡¯t bring myself to destroy such a beautiful place, but you must understand one thing. No-one and nothing is truly invincible, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before I find your blind spot. Signed, Magus Jindosh. Tuesday morning, just after midnight. Vreem POV. My soul itches and shivers as I stalk through the sewers, paying little attention to what direction I go as long as it¡¯s away from Deepvein. With how many metaphysical hooks and markers I found attached to it, presumably by Hoplix, nothing shy of effectively ¡®skinning¡¯ my soul and scraping away the protective outer shell was sure to secure my freedom, however temporary. By morning, one of the undead staff will find the note I left for Hoplix- no reason to make that creature think I¡¯m forsaking my pact. Regardless of why, I¡¯ve reached an all-time low. My body is starving and exhausted since my fight with Ashtrunk, my soul is vulnerable and bruised. I couldn¡¯t even afford to properly adapt my eyes to the dark; I can barely make out silhouettes. I could solve both of those problems, but I haven¡¯t encountered a single rat since I left Deepvein, and I don¡¯t have time to go hunting properly. I need to find the meeting point somehow, I need to find materials for the ritual, I have to prepare for the worst in case the Way of Things prevents the ritual¡­ A silver lining in all of this is that perhaps I¡¯m too weak for the Ways to apply. That thought makes my mind ache, and I¡¯m almost glad to be thinking with my flesh instead of my soul; it keeps those painful thoughts from hurting my soul too. The downside is that I¡¯m slow to react, so when I hear footsteps behind me it takes almost a second for me to turn around and see five silhouettes turn a corner I walked past. ¡°Greetings! I must say that you look rather lost. Would you like some help? Directions, food, an escort perhaps?¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The voice is as smooth as silk; I feel it gently brushing past my soul, reaching into my brain and soothing the pain. Something about this feels wrong¡­ but then again, I know I¡¯m rather paranoid. And didn¡¯t Ashtrunk say something about my brain and soul wearing each other down? They offered food too, which I desperately need some of- I¡¯m at most a few hours away from needing to start breaking down muscles for fuel. ¡°I would greatly appreciate food, especially live meat if you have any. And regarding directions, I¡¯m trying to reach-¡± ¡°13 Gretgar? What a coincidence! I was just heading there myself. And I¡¯m sure my friends here can source some meat, although I can¡¯t guarantee it¡¯ll be live. If you¡¯d just follow me, you were heading in the wrong direction; I had to track you by something as crude as your footprints!¡± And before they turn around to lead the way, followed by the other four figures who move in perfect unison, I feel my soul start to prepare me for a fight. I can¡¯t imagine why, though, these five will protect me. Tuesday morning, just after midnight. Jindosh POV. It¡¯s wonderful when a plan goes smoothly! I expected ¡®Vreem¡¯ to be considerably more resistant to psionics; that¡¯s why I brought Marks 4 through 7! I¡¯ll have to investigate that during the dissection. Then again, this plan didn¡¯t involve my unwitting nemesis: the general public, so catastrophically unpredictable and inconsistent! I always seem to overestimate them as I did when planning the Summer Plague, the 7th Street Massacre, and other such experiments. No matter, today is the start of a new chapter in my life. Typically, it¡¯s easiest to let those traitors at the Lockdown think they can contain me, but when I saw the company that Mark Nine was keeping I just had to do something! Even if my latest and greatest experiment is having a rebellious phase, the utility of having a hidden scrying beacon on the outside is just too useful to risk it being damaged by a telepathic brat. As far as I can tell, the warding seems to still be working, but I can¡¯t rely on last resort measures like that. It still took almost a week to get out, a marked spike in difficulty since the last time. Regardless, the Arken family is extraordinarily wealthy, and if I repurpose whatever meeting ¡®Vreem¡¯ was trying to set up then I could walk away from this with a king''s ransom- or would it be a princess''s ransom? Noble¡¯s ransom? Enough funding to last me years! Funding for tools, a biomancer for spare parts, and a telepath as a new experiment. Perhaps if I get some proper feedback from Nine, I could maintain control of the experiment without compromising its autonomy? Despite the darkness, odour, and general unpleasantness of my current environment, my smile is as bright as the future! Chapter 16: Dead but far from Dying In this research paper I will revolutionise how we view the soul, and by extension modern necromancy. By page four, I¡¯ll prove souls are condensed mana structures capable of self-replication. On page twelve there¡¯s a diagram detailing how a soul leaves a body, including measurements of the precise magical force required to prevent it from dissipating back to the cosmos. Pages fourteen and onward detail my experiments into soul refinement and transplantation (see Mark One through Five). Tuesday morning, just under an hour after Vreem¡¯s capture. Vreem (Soul) POV. My body is no longer mine: I can see the foreign mana flowing through its brain, probably puppeteering it around. If I¡¯d just stayed intertwined, the spell would never have gotten a foothold, and now there¡¯s nothing I can do about it. I¡¯ve been keeping away from the brain, resting in the gut; but without access to the bodily senses, all I can tell is that the mage is no longer nearby, although the other four souls still move around occasionally. They remind me of Mark, with souls so faint they look more like spells. The body won¡¯t be able to figure out what¡¯s happened to it; brains are designed as a place to house memory and automate simple tasks, not actually make decisions. I¡¯d been reconnecting to it periodically to give it instructions on where to walk, what sounds to avoid, and what sounds to follow; that kind of thing. Actually, why did I separate from my body? Ashtrunk told me to. Why did I listen? I could have killed them! It would have cost too much of my reserves. The purpose of reserves is to spend them. I spent them to escape from Deepvein. All it took to escape was an unguarded sewer grate; and why would I bother escaping in the first place? It¡¯s not as if Hoplix¡¯s surveillance would be hindered by distance. That¡¯s why we tore the hooks out, even though it hurt. I can¡¯t think straight; ripping the hooks out must have left me more tired than I thought. I can¡¯t let it stop me, I need to use this opportunity to get my body back while the mage isn¡¯t here to reapply it. I can¡¯t risk getting myself infected, I need to rest and repair myself. But why would I need to touch it? I just need to destroy it. I need the body intact. Why would I? It¡¯s just a vessel. Flesh, bone and blood like any other, while I am mana and mind. Magic is nothing more than mana, shaped and charged with precision and intent. So I start taking an unacceptable risk by ¡®leaning¡¯ out of the body, gathering mana from the air into the only spellform I¡¯ve seen, a memory important enough to hold both in soul and brain. A memory from when I first met Jenson.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Tuesday morning, an hour after Vreem¡¯s capture. Vreem (Body) POV. My friend was telling the truth when they said they had plenty of food; not that they would lie. Annoyingly they¡¯ll only give me one platefull at a time, and it¡¯s all laced with some kind of sedative, which must be an accident. Still, five rats worth of meat fills my reserves, even though they were¡­ already full? I must have misjudged back in the tunnels. Well, if I don¡¯t need to stock up the reserves I¡¯m free to start fixing this body. Harder bones, stronger muscles, backups for critical systems. Weirdly, or rather as usual, it¡¯s much slower without using mana. Why can¡¯t I use my soul to speed this up? Because my soul¡¯s still healing, obviously. Extend the ribcage, broaden the shoulders, make some room. Make a secondary heart, brain, why another brain, extra lungs¡­ something feels wrong. I¡¯m being wasteful. Resources exist to be spent, and it¡¯s almost finished anyway. Why am I arguing with myself? I¡¯m probably just- Tuesday morning, slightly over an hour after Vreem¡¯s capture. Jindosh POV. My sleep was disrupted rather abruptly by the shockwave that ripped through my laboratory, shattering my magically sterile, and thus unenchanted test tubes and flasks. Yawning and grabbing my notebook from my desk, I at least feel vindicated for taking the time to install privacy wards into the building- even if someone was walking along the street out front, they wouldn¡¯t have felt a thing. Following the sounds of metal tearing to the specimen holding cells, I stretch my arms and begin leisurely walking as Mark Six and Seven escort me. By the time I¡¯m halfway up the stairs from the cellar I feel I¡¯ve given myself enough of a break, and reapply my mana sight spells- and not the watered down version. A migraine immediately sets in as the world becomes awash in imaginary colors, currents flowing around the slowly writhing souls of Mark Six and Seven. I¡¯ve learned better than to look at my own soul. Reaching the top of the stairs as Mark Six kicks open the door to the holding cell, I¡¯m just in time to see something with claws, chitin, and too many limbs squirm through a fresh hole in the cobblestone wall that I spent all day enchanting! And what a waste- I can¡¯t even see a soul in it, meaning it¡¯s just some common beast. Even more wastefulyl, the ground is littered with metal shrapnel, likely the remains of Mark Four, and the bone shards firmly embedded in the roof, combined with the blood stains, indicate that Vreem fared no better. Although in truth, right now I couldn¡¯t care less about one more monster roaming the city streets- a much more interesting specimen has presented itself. After all, where there¡¯s physical corpses there are deteriorating souls, and I have such a wonderful view as something impossible happens. A hideously scarred soul so thoroughly worn out that it¡¯s practically, or perhaps literally, a revenant cuts open the ethereal remains of Mark Four and starts hollowing it out. I suppose I could stop it; and I suppose I should hunt down that nuisance of a creature. But I¡¯ve sacrificed far greater things for far less knowledge; and given that this is the first time I¡¯ve seen a soul move without even a token corporeal body, swimming through the ambient mana like¡­ a fish I suppose; the ocean is hardly my area of expertise. No, I¡¯m already taking notes on my expertise: the study of souls. Chapter 17: Blood on the Streets ¡°Hello to you too! Welcome to Solwick I suppose, the greatest city in the world! Just make sure you stick to my turf, or near the Arken¡¯s I suppose. They¡¯ve all got sticks up their ass, but they try their best. Oh, me? I¡¯m just a crazy old lady trying to earn some good karma, hah! Now come on, I know all the best pubs here- a friendly face moving in is the perfect excuse to celebrate.¡± - An elderly gnome welcoming a dridder to the Solwick. Tuesday Midmorning, Just North of the Abandoned District. Haruki Fane. This place is miserable in all manner of ways. The reek of feces, and the scurry of vermin¡ªboth the minuscule rodents and the bipedal pests that believe themselves people. For the tenth time in as many minutes, I consider the benefits of releasing a plague or two; something elegant and thorough. An enlightened cousin to nature¡¯s blind fumblings, tailored to purge this wretched place and leave it pristine. But our noble house can make use of the wretched things. In order to craft artwork like the masterpiece that walks behind me, one requires flesh. And flesh that shall not be missed is perhaps the only resource this wretched, rotting place has in abundance. I consider it a kindness, a merciful freedom from the rotten stench of mold, rust and rot that permeates the air. After all, is it not the nature of all life to seek improvement? To reach beyond their station for power in whatever form they can grasp? Masterpiece, walking silently behind me, certainly has more power than any of the cowering scavengers scraping by on scraps and desperation. Surely these vermin understand that? And yet, as I walk the streets they are deserted. Stopping for a moment, I turn to behold my creation and allow myself to revel in the beauty of it. White draconic scales, the regeneration of a troll and the strength to match; all of it moving with elvish elegance, graceful even when hunched over to avoid towering over its betters. Not a trace remains of the malformed, scarred human canvas upon which I painted something wondrous. I resume my patrol, stepping carefully to avoid the filth piled up in the streets. It grunts and follows- a reflexive sound that I¡¯ve yet to eliminate, not a word. It has no words, for it needs none- it¡¯s a tool, not a person, and those who allow their tools to speak inevitably become attached to them. Perhaps that is what led to the fall of Esteemed Master Jindosh? Regardless, the tool doesn¡¯t need to speak, only to understand orders. Its brain has been augmented for precisely that, after all. It watches, it protects, and when I give an order it obeys. Rounding the corner into one of the diseased hearts of the district, I sneer at the sight. Normally it¡¯s a contemptible sight, shoddily constructed shacks made of rotting wood and even shoddier cobblestone leaning against each other, inhabited by vermin dressed in tattered rags. Today however, it reeks of blood and viscera instead of feces and fear; the shelters have been torn apart, and blood soaks the ground- there are no bodies though. Sighing in frustration, I shout my indignation on the off chance that the culprit is still nearby. ¡°It is common courtesy to inform the family before testing a new tool! Thanks to your failure to follow basic procedures, I¡¯m going to have to find another-¡± CRACK. Suddenly Masterpiece is beside me, right arm outstretched and fist clenched; right in front of me, something grey and chitinous slams into the ground, spraying me with blood. In the next instant, Masterpiece slaps me in the chest, sending me flying across the alley to where I slam against a wall before falling to the floor, instantly covered in grime and filth.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Sitting up, my vision blurs with pain, and possibly a concussion. Someone abandoned one of their experiments without even training it to fear House Fane! Although it is admittedly an impressively resilient piece of craftsmanship. In the time it has taken me to sit up and begin channeling magic, it has pulled itself back together as Masterpiece stands between us in a defensive pose. The creature is all grey chitin, in a shape vaguely reminiscent of a praying mantis, with six clawed legs and two curved blade arms. Its eyes, with pupils of all shapes and sizes, are scattered haphazardly around its body, leaving the head empty of anything except an oversized maw with rows upon rows of serrated, hooked teeth. The entire creature is covered in thick layers of sloped chitin, and even as I watch four tentacles ending in dagger-like claws extend from its back. ¡°An inelegant, hideous design. Keep it occupied while I stop its heart.¡± Trusting Masterpiece to handle the failed experiment, I ignore the pain as I continue to gather mana from the air, shaping the scaffold for biomancy. From there, it¡¯s just a matter of applying specifics. A tether so it can relay information on the target''s internals to me, a structure to make it track the heart by following the pressure differentials, and finally a protective shell to help it break through the creatures resistance. Then, infusing the spellframe with the necessary concepts such as death, rot and stillness. The entire process took a pitiful ten seconds, however considering my broken ribs and likely concussion I suppose I can give myself some leeway. Raising my eyes to the ongoing battle in order to aim the spell, I¡¯m disappointed to find that Masterpiece has utterly failed to pin the creature down. Instead, it¡¯s exchanging blows with the creature, both moving too fast for an unaugmented mind to track. Fortunately my mind is sufficiently enhanced to follow the battle, and my spell moves fast enough to hit the creature, especially if it doesn¡¯t evade it. And given that the spell is invisible, few creatures are even capable of detecting it. Seeing my chance as the creature is once more knocked to the ground by a powerful strike from Masterpiece, I trigger the spell. It strikes the target unimpeded, piercing through the magical resistance of the soul to foreign magics as if it wasn¡¯t there, and the spell gives me an image of the creature¡¯s internals. Three brains, four lungs, eight hearts, bone bracing, cartilage crumple zones. Simultaneously messily haphazard and evidently efficient- this creature must use more energy in an hour than Masterpiece does in a week. Even as my spell tore began tearing apart hearts one by one, I witnessed it regrow them just as quickly. And yet¡­ my spell was barely losing mana, as if the creature¡¯s soul truly refused to resist it; and as it regenerated I saw its blood boiling as if the mere act of regeneration was producing an absurd heat. Therein I saw the path to victory. All I need to do is stay behind Masterpiece and continue to bombard the creature with biomancy until it no longer has enough energy to regenerate. Then, I¡¯ll take great pleasure dissecting it to see- Pain. The world is spinning again. It happened in the blink of an eye, but I¡¯m fairly certain that the creature slipped past Masterpiece and leapt at me, slashing at me with a claw. I don¡¯t feel anything, so Masterpiece must have knocked me out of the way again. I¡¯m falling, but my arms won''t move to catch me, and I land face-down on the dirty cobblestone, continuing to roll. Why don¡¯t my ribs hurt any more? Then the world settles, and I see it. The creature has returned to battling Masterpiece- but I don¡¯t care. My vision begins to darken, tunneling in on the only thing that matters. My body, headless, collapsed onto the ground like a discarded doll. My thoughts are tunneling like my vision, scrambling for an answer. I could¡­ maybe if¡­ its so cold¡­ I could try¡­ I can¡¯t breathe¡­ there has to be a way¡­ I¡¯m so tired¡­ I¡¯ll find an answer¡­ after I just rest¡­ for a moment¡­