He stabbed me through the chest.
No witty lines or talk, nothing cryptic, no message or even a goodbye. Just stabbed me right at where my heart would be after he was done talking.
Admittedly, some people may argue I had that coming for a while now, sure.
My hold over the edges of his soul fractal instantly slipped, dissolving away with my conceptual self. As for how a mental image of myself being stabbed through the heart would make me lose focus on it, I¡¯m not quite sure. It didn¡¯t exist, didn¡¯t have actual blood, and half of it was more a lucid dream.
Still, however it worked, I found myself a bodiless soul floating out in the open air the moment I couldn¡¯t hold onto anything. Reality attacked my essences without a beat, instantly chewing away at the edges. Like a mounting pressure.
Wrath had explained artificial souls couldn¡¯t withstand empty space like this, but organic ones could by willpower. It took practice and deliberate training, which I¡¯d been doing halfway by constantly keeping tendrils connected to fractals outside the soul fractal. This was just keeping the whole soul fortified instead of spare tendrils. It felt easier the closer I was to my actual body, as if body and soul still had some kind of link even while separated.
I could tell by instinct where my body was for one.
It was further off, fighting a losing fight against Father, puppeteered by the old bat and one knight within, the one who¡¯d been eliminated early on. Cathida was an old monster in her own right - skilled, clever, willing to throw every dirty attack in the book if needed - but she was up against Father, a monster among monsters. All she was doing was holding him at bay while he flew from wall to wall, striking at her defenses with each passby. Her only support was one occult ghost cast by the knight, desperately trying to keep the air around saturated with flames.
I stretched a hand out in the empty air, flowing through the void until I snatched a hold onto one of my armor¡¯s spare fractals, then slinked inside like a hermit crab taking shelter. Tendrils reached out to my body, feeding warmth and life through them again.
¡°I take it you¡¯re back, deary?¡± Cathida asked over the comms. ¡°Vitals are picking up from the comma. If you would be so kind, wake up a little faster. I need your hocus pocus if we want any chance of beating Tenisent.¡±
¡°Not even going to ask how it went?¡± I asked, digging into my full set of fractals, leaving the armor to pilot itself. The speed Cathida was going at was already at the maximum the armor could reach, she had it all under control.
¡°Clearly the first part of the plan worked.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Journey hasn¡¯t detected any overrides sent, and that bastard wouldn¡¯t sit on that kind of advantage. Second guess is that the actual fight didn¡¯t work out?¡±
¡°They¡¯re still in there. Fighting him off.¡±
¡°If they haven¡¯t won already, they¡¯re not going to.¡±
¡°Sounds like pure pessimism to me.¡± I said, giving a check over the HUD while I had command of my body¡¯s eyes. In a moment I¡¯d be digging deep into the soul fractal and wouldn¡¯t be able to see any kind of HUD anymore.
¡°Intuition, dear. Everything always goes to shit on a long enough timeline.¡± She said, clearly making my own point. Internal temperature was at a rosy lukewarm temperature inside the armor, despite the inferno outside. On the other hand, sensors detected that outside temperature steadily decreasing. Soon it would be cold enough to overclock without issue.
Cathida might have a point about her timeline theory.
The clan knight deep inside Journey gathered up his will and a halfway composed mirror image of Journey ripped free from the armor, blade swinging down for Father¡¯s head. He gave it a single glance, before his own blade cleaved through the image¡¯s ankles right as he passed by, continuing with a set of probing attacks Cathida held off with shield and blade.
A moment later, he¡¯d passed right by us, flying straight for a wall, already rearranging himself for the best kick off.
I have much to learn remaining before I master the mirror image. The ghost within spoke, keeping both Journey and myself in the loop.
Single ghost is already making good progress according to Lord Atius. I sent back with a mental thumbs up. Journey said nothing. Indifference at most. There was no danger to the user in this current setup, Father was not registered as an enemy, just a training partner. Cathida, on the other hand, would have seen him as a personal insult if she were still alive, and so Journey was dutifully replicating that emotion.
I am not skilled enough with the occult to match Tenisent here and now. The knight said. I will man the defenses. Take care of the offense.
Father was growing faster. Without the occult ghosts burning the air into something inhospitable, Cathida only had flames on both her hands. And one hand was occupied with her longsword. The knight himself wasn¡¯t able to keep his mirror image out in the world long enough to make a difference, not with Father slapping it down each time it appeared.
Another fly by. This time, right as he reached attack range, a small spasm wracked his shell and both his eyes closed shut. His face twisted in a scowl and Father¡¯s temporary blindness lasted a half second before he ripped control back over his sight. In that time, he¡¯d picked to abort his original attack, twisting it to be more of a spear strike with both blades - the exact countermove to a shield bash from the armguard.
Good guess on his part. Cathida had opted to ram him with the armguard as the very first attack. Being a digital engram running at the speed of computation, she instantly feinted that strike the moment she saw it wouldn¡¯t work.
The feint saved my shield from damage, while Cathida twisted on herself, swinging her blade in a nasty undercut right into his chest. The whiplash motion jerked my body around, and only the near fully relaxed state of my muscles let me off without bruising. Her blade flowed down from his chestplate to hamstring as he passed by. His shields flared out while he turned on himself like a cat, feet kicking down into the ground to rocket him away from our range with a side swipe of two blades, both blocked by our knight¡¯s occult shield.
¡°Not so smug now, are ya you glorified steel ghoul!?¡± Cathida called out, blade pointed straight at him in insult. ¡°That¡¯s only a glimmer of what¡¯s coming. Your days of being at the top are over, I¡¯m taking that spot back.¡±
Of course, in typical Cathida fashion, that the rest of us in the armor were all working together to lift wasn¡¯t factored at all in her boasting.
Father simply scowled, not rising to her bait, already racing across the floor with three heavy strides forward, blades striking forward like a vice. Cathida drew the longsword high up and sprinted forward herself to meet the charge.
It was time for me to get into the action.
I focused. The world faded away as my connections to my body were severed one at a time until nothing was left. Fully immersed in the soul fractal, I opened my mind out to the elements, a deafening silence and calm came over.
The concepts of multiple souls were still inside his shell, fighting over across the many fractals he owned. Holding him off from triggering the shell¡¯s full abilities.
His speed was slower than normal. His mind divided trying to fight on two fronts, while the superheated air around him wasn¡¯t cooling off fast enough to grant him further access to computation speed.
This was as vulnerable as we could make him. He had to be taken out here and now before he recovered.
Occult pulsed from my armor as I rapidly tapped more ghosts than I¡¯d ever summoned before at any one time.
Nine images stepped free of the armor, each leaping different directions before racing to collapse down where he¡¯d be.
Occult pulsed out in response from his own shell, flowing into one of his blades, before he launched it forward in an arc of occult that swept through all my ghosts, making them vanish in a cloud of charged particles.
That would have worked against the knights. But I wasn¡¯t the clan¡¯s occult lead researcher for no reason. The moment the wave hit, the ghosts shimmered, more appearing from each other as the original ones were left behind like molted insect shells, swept away with the occult wind he¡¯d sent.
The new ghosts leaped straight for him from the cloud of past images, and Cathida emerged right behind them like the lead wraith of the army, blade seeking out his weak points. He readjusted his stance with micromovements, boot tips scraping off the ground to give him just enough counterforce to move his shell, other feet slamming down to skid against the ground.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I¡¯d seen Avalis do some insane things with the occult whip, and Father was clearly tapping into whatever that Feather used that let him do acrobatics at that level of mastery.
Cathida collided against him and immediately began to lose.
Right until my occult ghosts finished their surround and descended down on him all at once, blades and armguards flashing out in every direction, flames barreling into him, obscuring everything in molten red.
He was forced to leap straight up, a haze of heated hair following behind him, chased after my ghosts. They reformed faster then he could eliminate them. Each one spawned another ghost from itself right as his blade sliced through.
Occult arcs eradicated multiple ghosts. Thrown swords circled around him, controlled by strings that he manipulated mid-way, using arm, leg and even spare piping around the room which was then cut to free the wrapped up string as he flew by.
I think I was actually pushing him to his real limits, since I¡¯d never seen him pull off this kind of ridiculously complicated dance of precision. He was now truly moving with all the skill and precision of a Feather, like Avalis had when fighting against my army of images on the bridge.
Cathida chased after him, leaping right in his path. When she struck out at him, seven more mirrored arms did at the same time, all from different angles. Some actually hit, eating away at his shields.
His tactics changed from trying to take hits at me, to trying to survive the onslaught. Ultimately he didn¡¯t have the last-second maneuverability that Wrath did. She could actually fight in mid-air as if it were her domain. Father was a guest pretending at true flight. Using walls, occult arts and conservation of angular momentum to rotate like an eel - but there were limits to that.
Flames now licked almost every part of the room. Metal was growing red hot, and I could see the concepts of brittle snapping beyond the room. Temperature differences were too much for the structure, and the old insulation used by the past clan had decades of decay causing failure across a thousand points.
Is the armor going to handle this kind of heat? I asked, starting to feel genuinely worried at the hellscape that was now warping the empty chamber.
Maximum recommended heat operation rated at five hundred seventy three kelvin.
Maximum safe operation rated at nine hundred seventy three kelvin before total cooling system failure.
Maximum suit integrity rated at three thousand six hundred ninety five kelvin before full structural failure.
I could see images and feelings from the old soul at the heart of the armor. It knew it was built to protect the user. Made to withstand heat that was far above what anyone would have expected the operator to be caught by. That might be the only thing these armors had that was superior to a Feather. They were built to keep a living being alive. A Feather was replaceable and didn¡¯t need that kind of consideration.
I could fill the entire room with fire that could boil a Feather¡¯s electronics, and Journey would be as safe as a prized agrifarmer fish before market day. Father¡¯s overclocks would all stop working at a certain rating, while Journey would continue full regular operation without pause.
He was on a losing streak he knew it. But there was a clock ticking down in his favor.
Even as he flew straight for Cathida for another spar, one of the knights fighting within him was thrown out of the fight, becoming a disembodied soul that fled through the air back to the safety of Journey¡¯s spare fractals.
A tendril of the knight''s soul quickly snaked through to tap our own network, rejoining his brother in arms.
It¡¯s bad. He said. Tenisent by himself is slowly beating us down, but the machine code is what¡¯s going to be the end. Once it¡¯s fully healed up, he¡¯s going to have the rest of us out.
How much time do we have? I asked.
A few minutes. Maybe five at most. The knight was already connecting to one of the spare mirror fractals, and summoning a single ghost of his own to assist the fight. No need to assist with defenses at this time. We needed maximum firepower.
We''ll win before that time limit. I shot back.
With each knight Father defeated, they would return home and bolster my defense. Which meant his losing fight was going to be tilted even further down the wrong side.
If he tried to get close to me, a few dozen arms and blades would be carving for his head. If he tried to get further away, ghosts of all kinds would never stop chasing him down since I could completely focus on just that. Any attempt to deal damage was equally mitigated by the knights manning all the defenses Journey had inscribed on the plate. And if Father let his guard down at any point, we had weapons that could strip his shields and eat his shell in an eyeblink. All while the entire area was being bathed in flames and heat that could fry anyone outside an armor.
I was a gods-damn walking war-frigate armed with every gun possible and an entire crew all working together at peak efficiency. The sheer power I had on hand finally hit home when I saw Father - who was commanding a Feather - being backed into a corner against me.
In this world of monsters, I¡¯d finally become one myself now.
Cathida continued to stomp forward, inevitable. Father changed tactics. A cloud of black dust flew around him, circling around each of the magnetically stuck pucks on his armor. They''d held strong all this time, built to resist damage from an explosive barrel, extreme heat, and physical trauma. But against a nanoswarm drill, not much to do.
All right, I admit that¡¯s a clever counter. I thought, watching as he fell back down on the ground a moment later, armored boots landing hard on the melting metal ground, leaving an imprint in red.
Fractals were finicky, a single distortion on them would cause the whole thing to fail. He didn¡¯t need to eliminate the whole puck. All Father needed to do was have his nanite swarm eat a small hole into the puck and then mess any part of the fractal.
Back in his domain now, the nearby occult ghosts I¡¯d sent to hunt him down were dispatched in a furious weave of blades.
¡°Back on land now, yee old wire wraith?¡± Cathida called out, her longsword slicing through the ground beside her in some kind of primal warrior display. Might be an Imperial thing, but the message was pretty universal. ¡°Quit hiding behind your boots, fight me.¡± She hissed out.
He scowled further, eyes narrowing, as if preparing himself to lift something heavy. Then he launched himself forward, blades whipping through my army of ghosts, before he reached Cathida.
She met his charge in full.
Holding spiritual hands with all the knights encased in my armor, and Journey''s soul fractal, we communicated with each other faster than words. Implicit trust and understanding flowed through our bond.
Cathida attacked without a care for defense. I propped her assault up with dozens of additional hands and nearby images, striking from any direction she had left exposed. And the knights all single-mindedly focused on Father¡¯s few possible return attacks, warding them off with expert accuracy.
He was a maelstrom of movement, a tempest of blade and calculated fury. And it wasn¡¯t enough.
He took damage. He actually took damage to his shield in a one-on-one fight. Cathida was ruthless, any sutter or pause in his movements caused by the inner fight was abused. I certainly followed right behind her movements, dogpiling on the attack.
We forced him back. His shields dropped past the halfway mark - which was far past what a regular relic armor could have sustained.
And then the last of the souls inside his armor were beaten down halfway through our rampage.
The digital code had been restored in the span of the fight. And he¡¯d used it to defeat, capture and contain the remaining knights, keeping them from returning to bolster my own defenses further. That''s why everything seemed to go wrong all at once without warning - they¡¯d been shoved into the spare soul fractals on his network, locked in the same jail cell he¡¯d once been a prisoner of, never being able to alert us of the current battleground state.
We knew he''d beaten them because Journey detected the override codes, beamed directly over the wireless channels. Deep-rooted hardwired safety protocols within the armor kept an open signal, always broadcasting the user¡¯s vitals and health on an encrypted channel, communicating with some long gone command and control system that wasn''t there to hear.
Through that old network, Father¡¯s viral connection request was received and approved, data flowing in, neatly folding itself into the already activated overrides.
Journey instantly froze in place. Power was cut across the armor. The soul fractals containing myself and the knights remained active, running on a seperate power source independent from the armor, a little extra safeguard I''d left for exactly this kind of problem, so at least that turned out to work. The rest of the fractals were not, which meant we lost access to every shield and mirror fractal on the armor. Minor oversight there on my part, going to have to shore that up on the next iteration.
Cathida screeched like a banshee, turning the scream into a string of curse words, beyond upset that her fun had been cut short. To the point Father outright muted her a moment later.
Silence came down on the battlefield.
¡°Enough.¡± He said, landing hard on the ground before slowly standing back up. Metal around him was warping from the ambient heat, and he strode across it like a demon from hell. ¡°I acknowledge you, boy. This attempt has merit. It¡¯s clear to me the only thing lacking is your mastery of the blade.¡±
Well, he had a semi-point there. Cathida¡¯s skills in the blade weren¡¯t what made everything click together, just a part of it. The other half was being able to actually focus on only the occult and nothing else.
Details. I still had a match to win. ¡°Come closer Father, don¡¯t think I heard that right.¡±
Journey¡¯s response was to force me down on one knee, head bowed just low enough I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the old man. He watched me, a note of caution flashing across his face.
¡°You are defeated.¡± He said.
"Not until my armor''s shields are gone. And they''re not." Same words I¡¯d used in the soul fractal fight. This time, I saw real caution dig into his face, eyes narrowing down. Calculation flashing through his eyes on what I could possibly have up my sleeve this time.
Journey''s arms lifted up, beyond my control, then unstrapped my armguard and threw it far away, letting it slide across the ground. That was the only other source of independent fractals running on separate power. That was a pretty good guess on his part, I could use the mirror fractals embedded inside there for a quick surprise attack.
Then he threw away my sword next.
"Well, that was rude." I said.
"Was that all you had planned?"
"Eat snow." I answered back. "You junked my favorite sword."
He shook his head, walking up. "... So be it." Blade rising up, ready to descend down and lop my head off. Journey''s shields turned off on his unworded command, meaning that mock killing blow would be the official end of the fight. ¡°If you have any last tricks remaining, now is the time to use them.¡±
¡°Naw, I got nothing left.¡± I said.
He took one more step forward, holding just out of range. He could tell truth from lies and I technically had nothing left to throw at him, so he knew I was speaking the truth.
He still didn''t trust that. ¡°What plan could you possibly have now?¡± Suspicion laced through his words.
¡°Got this far by working with a team. I said I came here to kill you Father, and that¡¯s how I¡¯ll do it. With a team.¡±
He looked over my armor, noting down all the soul fractals that held the clan knights, all of them looking right back, waiting. Then shook his head, taking one last step forward, blade flipping in his hand up for the kill stroke.
¡°You have no one left, boy.¡±
¡°He has me.¡± Wrath said through the comms.
Book 5 - Chapter 45 - The Silver Bullet
¡°A virus.¡± I said, pointing at the schematic designs superimposed by the HUD. ¡°If Feathers are just near impossible to kill in the real world, how about we attack outside the physical world?¡±
We¡¯d been combing over for any possible weak point or shortcut built into Feathers, and come up with nothing. Wrath even brought out some schematics for the protofeathers, the more expensive ones, considering future generations were cheaper and less powerful.
Only real difference was alloy composition in addition to power ratio. Protofeathers just had higher quality materials, and that meant better means of making maximum effective use of a power cell.
Gods, even the power cells couldn¡¯t be put into a supercritical position unless the Feather deliberately removed all the overrides and safeties.
Wrath looked over the outline, the virtual cursor jumping from section to section as she studied the internal Feather architecture. A red marker appeared around the head, zooming in on what looked like a set of parallel memory bars all stuck together. ¡°The latest generation cybersecurity default protocols are heavily insulated against breach ever since the early era of the protofeather war. If this direction had merit, it would have seen further use into later moments of that time period.¡±
Relinquished had a Feather problem, so when she made Feathers to hunt down Feathers, only made sense they¡¯d been equipped for the job. They settled the fights the traditional way from the records we had - by beating each other up with guns, blades and insults. No mention of digital warfare anywhere. Other than that final fight over the digital sea where the last two protofeathers wiped each other out in some way.
The protofeather rebellion was long over, but the safeguards were still there. Avalis knew he was going to be fighting a Feather, so he''d brought out the whole package from retirement.
¡°How impossible are we talking about?¡± I asked.
¡°These cybersecurity systems were authored by Abdication, the same protofeather that designed the digital countermeasures for a human soul attack.¡±
The only protofeather that didn¡¯t turn traitor. He¡¯d been very productive apparently as Relinquished¡¯s chief tactician. Clearly took on some extra credit.
¡°All right, I¡¯ll put that down as ¡®very.¡¯ What would you rate your chances?¡±
She frowned. ¡°If it remained undefeated when pitted against fifty six other protofeathers, I do not predict high chances of my own success against it.¡±
¡°But Father did.¡± I said. ¡°He managed to get inside the shell, and then take over. If this guy''s system were as powerful and smart as you think it is, then it wouldn¡¯t have let an intruder just take the command seat.¡±
Wrath frowned. ¡°Tenisent attacked from a vector that cybersecurity could not prevent. Once inside, that code is no longer applicable, else permission errors would slow down combat efficiency. Abdication¡¯s code is built around preventing intrusion from any direction. This cybersecurity suite is impossible to surmount even for a verified user outside the shell. To¡¯Avalis was unable to recover his shell once his signal came from outside, for example.¡±
¡°So, not impossible, we just need to find an unlocked doorway to sneak in?¡±
She nodded. ¡°Essentially yes. However, all possible routes have already been discovered, studied and eliminated over the protofeather war. There is very little chance that you would discover something that hasn¡¯t been discovered pri--¡± She flinched just then, hand going to cover her ear as if startled.
¡°Something up?¡± I asked.
A head shake back and hand wave away. ¡°Only an alarm I set long ago to remind me not to underestimate¡ certain people.¡± She brushed dust off her legs, and took a breath. ¡°Tenisent did manage to discover a vector in the end, by defeating a different system of defense. I will keep an open mind. Assuming you discover a means of injecting a virus into a Feather¡¯s systems, I will do my part in designing the digital weapon you wish.¡±
I hadn¡¯t come up with any good ideas back then. But I did have a few weeks to mull it over. And eventually, the answer was staring us all right in the face.
Every doorway had been sealed up since the protofeather war, leaving no way into a Feather¡¯s mind. So we were looking for new doorways built after the protofeather war, when the good old A57 wasn¡¯t around to patch up his code against. Doorways such as the one To¡¯Aacar had unwittingly built.
Back in the present, Father didn¡¯t hesitate to bolt out of the way the moment Wrath spoke. Three steps back, blades back out, keeping a wary eye on what I could do.
Nothing happened to him, and that just made him more worried.
My HUD cleared up, shields powering back online along with my full set of fractals and weapon loadout. Ammunition counters reset, taking stock of everything I had on hand. Three shape charges on my chest, two sub machine guns with a full set of occult bullets inside, knightbreaker ready to fire and my occult shotgun barrels all neatly lined up my arm with a shell loaded in each for the right moment.
I shook off the dust and stood up as if I hadn¡¯t ever been pinned down.
¡°You¡¯ve countered the attack.¡± Father said. ¡°Acceptable.¡±
¡°Didn¡¯t just counter it. It¡¯s a weapon.¡± Man in the middle attack on his own man in the middle attack, except ours had been planted long ago. Wrath had been here the entire time.
¡°Announcing her presence in combat was a mistake.¡± Father said.
¡°They¡¯ll know she¡¯s part of the fight. It''s not like we''ll be splitting up down there, and they¡¯ll know about this the second time they come knocking at our door. Wrath¡¯s a Feather, she has a compulsive need to be dramatic.¡± I gave my hand a quick test, flexing fingers. ¡°More than that, she¡¯s part of House Winterscar - which means she''s going to be dramatic only when it¡¯s too late for you to do anything about it.¡±
Journey flexed its hands a moment later on its own power, a full set of tremors running through the armor as every movement was re-calibrated. Cathida reinitialized a moment later, with her first words being exactly what I expected: ¡°Having me work with a machine is already asking to squeeze gold from pyrite. Count yourself lucky I want to win more than I hate that metal bimbo.¡±
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"I don''t think you hate her at all." I said. "In fact, I''d say you''re quite fond of her, you cranky old bat. You just can''t admit that to anyone."
She pointedly didn''t say anything to that.
¡°I have registered all movement configurations from Journey." Wrath''s voice came across the comms. "Tenisent¡¯s override commands have been isolated from your system.¡±
Father on the other hand just glared forward. ¡°What have you done?¡±
"My part was to be bait.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Best of luck, Father.¡±
Embedded deep within Journey¡¯s return data had been a viral payload that compiled itself upon being read, then sank into his system undetected. Opening up certain portways, exposing Father¡¯s shell to further attacks, sneaking past all the defenses a Feather had.
A trojan horse, as Wrath called it. He probably had a few million copies of that already by now, all of them mutating and spreading outwards to become truly impossible to flush out.
I took a few leisure steps forward.¡°We didn¡¯t just come up with a one-time surprise either. The moment you read anything - my vitals, the carbon monoxide levels in the armor, where I¡¯m looking, the armor¡¯s current position, even down to how my pinky finger moved - that¡¯s all we need. Every data package is infested.¡±
Father''s body twitched, then collapsed on one knee. His internal balance systems were now compromised. Just one of many system failures currently cascading through his shell. Shields flared out across his armor and then died off. Eyes were twitching, iris refocusing, turning the world blurry.
A hand hit the ground hard, trying to keep him from toppling over.
He was fighting back. But Wrath had built her weapon expecting that kind of defense.
I took a few more steps across the room, hand reaching down for my discarded imperial longsword. ¡°So, where were we? Oh, I remember! Ahem.¡± A moment later, I had my blade right at his throat, and he couldn¡¯t do anything about it.
His body was wracked with tremors, electric whining coming from the joints and internal chassis under that relic armor of his. The kind of sound from a few dozen mechanical systems all moving against each other.
Some part of my Winterscar blood, the part that reminded me that my House and family lineage came from outright villains and backstabbers - that part demanded I twist the knife in a bit. Victory had to be savored.
I wasn''t a paragon like Kidra. Nor some silent killer like Father. Not a nobel warrior like Shadowsong and not some heir to a lineage like Ankah.
I was a rogue with a lot of personal tools painfully built up along the way.
And I was damn good at it.
My imperial blade tapped his neck, metal pinging on his relic armor¡¯s neck guard. "Father. You¡¯ve died."
Knelt down on the slowly cooling floor, still struggling to get back on his feet, he started to laugh. A sort of unhinged, full belly laugh, like a mix of frustration, relief, anger and approval.
"You''ve done well. But understand this, boy. This match is not over. Not until my center fractal is cut through. I must push you to your limits, only then will you grow. Those were the terms I set." Then he went completely still. No more struggling to control his shell, no mechanical stress or anything. A total shut down.
"I''ve lost connection to Tenisent''s shell!" Wrath instantly called out. "Keith!"
Occult pulsed across his body, and I didn''t wait to see what he was up to.
The imperial longsword dove straight for his central fractal.
An occult dome shield lit to life, deflecting my blow up and over his shoulder.
A mirror image of him rose out of his body, blade swinging straight for my head. Cathida took over, instantly ducking under the attack and launching a flurry of sword strikes in retaliation.
He battered them all with occult shields, then slowly stood back up.
"He''s turned off the central neuro-cortex system." Wrath said. "His soul is manually controlling the shell, without any subsystems to assist."
Father had been stubborn about moving his body the same way he had in life, and relying as little as possible on the Feather''s true capabilities.
Now I see why. If he ever had to turn off everything, he could do it and remain dangerous.
He swung. It wasn''t as quick as he had been before, but there was still that precision and planning he''d put into every spar and duel in life.
Cathida met his match, and this time she was moving at the same speed he was. Which meant the tie-breaker would be how good we were at wielding the occult.
The knights and I all began the attack at the same moment. Occult ghosts and arms flashed out from the armor, and Father fought back using nothing more than a few badly formed occult arms, and far more occult shields than he had any right to use.
He hadn''t been able to use any of these in the fight when he needed them - because the war within against the clan knights required willpower above all other abilities. Now, with the knights firmly locked away in his separated soul fractals, he had no distractions.
"He''s initiated a full wipe and reset backdated to one hour prior." Wrath warned. "When the system is restored, my intrusion code will not be present."
"Doubt he''s going to put his hand on the fire a second time." I hissed, trying to dogpile him down with more ghosts.
Father''s command of the occult wasn''t on par with my own, and not a match against the combined might of the clan knights all manning different fractals within my armor. We were getting scores of hits over his body, whittling down his willpower.
He didn''t need to be good with the mirrors however. He''d been putting his efforts elsewhere.
The occult pulsed out around him again, and then pooled into his eyes, leaving bright blue trails behind him. His movements solidified, becoming utterly confident in every strike.
The futuresight fractal.
He wove through my army of ghosts, sliced through any arm or attack sent by myself or the knights, and struck against Cathida''s core defense.
Occult domes appeared on my armor, blocking the strikes that had navigated through every possible defense I had to hold them off with. The two knights gripped each other in support, turning their focus back to keeping my defenses as maximum.
I knew from Atius this spell would only last a few seconds at most. All we had to do was wait him out.
That fractal was notoriously difficult to use. The multi-verse spell I¡¯d used had a balanced ratio. For every alternate world, there was an alternate Keith processing the information. I could never be overwhelmed. With the future sight, many possible futures would all collide into one single mind - mine. Three of four I could keep track of, more than that and I¡¯d quickly be overwhelmed and left with a splitting headache.
Even Atius couldn¡¯t maintain that spell for long, despite his decades of discipline in mastering it. Father was going to run out of steam in seconds and then he''d be right back to the meat grinder we were putting him through.
He had to have another plan then this doomed last stand.
A moment later, I understood what he was doing: Buying just enough time to get his systems back up.
Humans can¡¯t think a few thousand possible directions all at once. But a computer could. A haze appeared over his head at the same moment Wrath called out over comms that he''d completed the reboot.
He was tapping into the shell¡¯s overclocking abilities. And he was using those to directly process the sheer amount of information the occult was feeding into his mind.
A good plan, but I could beat it.
I brought my attention back to the present, and ordered all my ghosts to flood the room with heat. The overclocking had to be stopped. So long as that was running, he would always have that futuresight spell running at full blast. If that spell ended, so did his chance of winning against me. Fortunately, it wouldn¡¯t take long to get the entire room nice and toasty.
¡°This is futile!¡± I shouted out in the melee, ¡°Moment the room is back to scorching hot, it¡¯s over! Quit being a sore loser and just accept that I¡¯ve gods damned beaten you at your own game!¡±
He growled, then leaped back, occult flowing across his blades before he launched out a massive set of arcs in an X shape. Not at me, or my army of ghosts harassing him.
His target was the roof.
Because beyond that thick barrier of metal, concrete and aerogel - were nothing more than the white wastes.
The deep, utterly limitless chill, ever waiting for a single crack to slip through.
Book 5 - Chapter 46 - To push the limit
Damage hit the superstructure above, moving the already heated metal like a wave.
It undulated, then ripped a tear when the waves collided against each other.
It didn''t need to be large. Anything that broke through the integrity of the structure was enough for the white wastes to destroy the rest.
Temperature differences between the nearly melting room around us, and the sub-zero surface above caused an outright explosive decompression of pressure. The degrading aerogel insulation couldn¡¯t hold, forced far beyond what the reachers of the past clan had prepared for.
I found myself sucked straight up and out, the wind strong enough to blow the rest of the roof with it.
Journey remained at full integrity, flashing its shields only when needed against flying debris, and leaving Cathida to navigate through the explosion. We flew a few dozen feet in the air, now falling straight down through the billowing snow.
"Brace!" Cathida called out, hands extended out. She landed with an expert roll, dissipating the kinetic force and leaving the armor to handle the rest, boots finding purchase and peeling off a layer of ice behind it as it skidded across the flat ground.
We stood back up, now on the surface of the world.
Father landed shortly nearby, not bothering to do any kind of roll, leaving his legs to take the impact, blades in his hand, ready to fight.
He stood up, occult halos trailed behind the two edges. There was no heat above him anymore. He didn¡¯t need any kind of cooling system. Up here, he could overclock at maximum as long as he pleased.
There would never be enough heat on the surface to ever cause issues.
¡°Ratshit.¡± I cursed. ¡°We almost had him.¡±
Further away, he started to stalk forward. Relic armor equipped everywhere except for his helmet. Occult still pulsed around him, eyes glowing over the look-alike human face. It was like watching a Deathless from myth. The ones who took on gods and demi-gods alike in the songs. The ones who fought alongside the like of Talen, Urs, and Tsuya.
He struck forward the moment he came into range. Cathida met his charge, along with every ghost I could summon to assist.
Now pairing his overclocking with the future sight fractal, it was a far closer fight, but I could tell we didn¡¯t have the advantage anymore.
¡°Is that all the fury you can muster?¡± Father roared over the whirlwind of blades. ¡°Is that all you have?!¡±
The knights inside groaned, holding off an unfortunate series of strikes from Father. Journey had to intercede on two of them, flashing its shields to protect the hit.
¡°You have not reached your limit.¡± He said, voice more a half whisper that somehow could still be heard. ¡°I will beat it out of you. If I have to put you in true danger, I will. Better here, under my control, than deep down in the heart of the enemy territory.¡±
The onslaught increased in ferocity. Cathida was forced to dial off her attacks, turning to defense. We began to lose ground.
I realized what he meant. His attacks were so fast, Journey was having a hard time deciding if it needed to trigger shields or tamper down on the reflex and let the knights handle it. If there was even a minor fuckup, that¡¯s an occult edge cutting straight through. Father was clearly aware of this, and fully prepared to cut an arm or leg if he had to. Even out here in the freeze. Because Wrath could heal me up.
She was out here, watching from a distance. Journey''s HUD had her nametag on screen listed as a nearby ally. Wrath must be watching from the top of the clan colony, plated up in her own relic armor to hide from the gods above. And with wings, she could fly down in seconds. Father really was going to squeeze out every last drop he could when it came to pressing my limits.
Danger flared through my mind, and I forced it back by retreating into the soul fractal and focusing on my ghost army.
He was winning right now. But not by much. The only thing we had that was constantly pressing him back was the army of ghosts I was sending. That¡¯s how I could tip the balance in my favor.
I focused. I needed more than nine ghosts attacking.
Occult roiled around me, I felt my mind groan from the strain, but a tenth occult ghost walked out of the armor and joined the fight.
His onslaught grew slower, having to move and work harder to slip through the small army between himself and me. Cathida began to find openings to attack again, no longer having to constantly help the faltering defense.
Ten wasn¡¯t enough. I needed more.
Atius could summon a full twelve occult ghosts and keep perfect command over them. With that many, even To''Aacar had difficulties escaping out of the way, despite him overclocking to calculate every possible attack vector.
I needed the full twelve.
My mind focused harder, trying to split my thinking further into parts while keeping the whole together.
The eleventh ghost stepped out, blade swinging for Father''s throat.
Cathida maneuvered around, making use of the ghosts as if they were part of her own body. We surrounded Father, slowly pressing him down.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
He was still getting occasional hits off on the armor, and the knights were holding tight to resist each blow, but now he was equally taking hits back.
I needed more. I needed to beat him. I had to.
A half formed twelfth ghost slipped out of the armor, but dissolved halfway out. Father didn''t even bother trying to deal with that one, already having seen ahead into the future that there had been no threat from it.
If I couldn''t beat him, I wouldn''t be allowed to travel with Wrath, Kidra, and all the others.
I had to win. I had to.
Once more, I tried to summon the twelfth ghost. To keep all the plates spinning at the same time. It took a step out of my armor, and Father instantly barreled into us all, blade striking out again and again.
He''d seen ahead that three of my ghosts had destabilized from my exertion. And he''d dove down through that weakpoint to take free hits.
The damage was mounting up, and the knights were not Captain Sagrius. Their reserves weren¡¯t limitless.
Something cold seemed to open up to my soul senses. I felt parts of my soul tendrils slowly pulled towards Journey¡¯s central fractal.
The armor had been roused awake. It turned its gaze to me, a mountain studying a small rock. It searched over my desire to win, trying to understand why I was so desperate to do that. And why something within felt so kindred to itself.
It found it. One singular emotion I had deep down inside. Approval radiated around the armor. It reached out to me, a deep cavern of resolution. The calm I needed to truly split my mind twelve ways over, even more. The single minded focus I was searching for. Offered freely.
My soul reached out for the armor.
The knights stepped in, barring the way.
Power gained through this path will come at a cost, Master Keith. One said. One that we have seen is too expensive.
This is not the way, lad. The other said, pushing Journey''s connection away. You will lose yourself if you attempt this.
The armor watched over the two knights, finding equally kindred ideas. To protect me, from it. Journey¡¯s soul simply moved on with a lazy curl, retreating back into the depth of its fractal. Like a massive beast that saw no reason to press for anything. The offer had been made, if I decided to shun it, that was my own choice.
The pathway closed. The armor returned to its eternal vigil, to safeguard me against any danger.
My mind snapped back to reality and I realized just how close I''d come to that very danger. I needed a new plan. One that didn¡¯t involve getting my soul enmeshed into something far bigger than me.
¡°Ideas?¡± Cathida yelled out over the combat, desperately holding off Father. The two knights were equally running themselves ragged, trying to maintain the occult shields against his relentless and perfect assault. Them having to take the time to stop the stupid Winterscar from lobotomizing his own soul hadn¡¯t helped them at all.
I needed another way to win and I needed it now. My mind jumped from a few dozen possible ideas, narrowing down what could work, finding each thread leading to a dead end.
Until I had a simple epiphany: The only thing that could match a Feather overclocking their system was another Feather doing the same.
"Wrath." I said over the comms as Father and I raged against each other, blades flashing forward, occult shields triggering on both our armors, ghosts flowing through the air. "Take over the armor."
"...I see your plan." She said, already connecting all the dots. "Cathida, if you would."
Technically, Wrath didn''t need to ask. She could impose her commands over the armor since she was using the same viral attack To''Aacar and To''Avalis had. But the little murder spider bot was always polite.
"Eat metal and choke, scrapheap." Cathida snarled back, the exact opposite. "But fine! Pyrite curse me, I know I can''t beat that monster at his peak and he¡¯s not looking to play anymore. Just don''t be smug about this after!"
"Thank you. Keith, I will need your full assistance. My overclock can only match his own, the occult futuresight he has is beyond my ability to tackle."
"I¡¯ll handle that part." I said. "I know what I need to do. What I need you to do is get his shields down."
¡°I will do what I can.¡± Wrath said. Journey''s HUD froze for a moment, then my movements changed. Gone were the imperial inspired techniques, mixed with clan schools of combat.
Wrath''s movements were all learned from Father, and sharpened against Kidra. She didn''t have wings here to mix in her own personal flair, but the fundamentals were there.
And more importantly - she could match his calculation speed.
Wrath¡¯s blade sung a battle hymn like no other. Frozen wind whipped around us, snow trailing past the occult sparks as both our blades slammed against each other. All I could do was trust Wrath could get past his defenses. This time I focused everything I had on just the ten ghosts flowing through the battle.
Nothing on heat. No attempts to muddle around the fight. Just sheer ferocity to match his own. Eleven was too much to hold onto. Ten I could keep around for a few more minutes, and by then all of this would be over.
If any attack had any potential escape, he used it. The only way to get a hit off, was to make it utterly inescapable. And the combined might of Wrath, my ghosts and the knight¡¯s stalwart defenses allowed us to do exactly that.
His occult shields could only block so many before he needed to pause for his willpower. He wasn''t Sagrius with an inhuman bottomless resolve. Bottomless speed and thinking, but not willpower.
His shields began to take damage - the real ones on his shell.
Fifty percent.
Twenty percent.
His face morphed from cold indifference to deep focus, the frown becoming further and further pronounced.
Ten percent.
The knights were faltering, and the next set of hits from Father triggered Journey¡¯s personal shield. The armor took the hits with grace, and our current offense forced those attacks to be small taps at worst.
But we were now losing shields faster than he was.
Was it enough? He was hovering just under ten percent.
It would have to be. I was out of time. I needed to trust the instruments I¡¯d crafted.
Halfway through one of Wrath''s movements, I took command of my body again. I had no hope of matching Father''s speed, but that wasn''t what was needed. The armor still moved and jumped to her control, but she could tell I was moving my actual body around.
"Keith?" Wrath asked, likely knowing all the ways this would go wrong.
"Trust me."
She did, letting her control slip. I took over, and swung for Father, leaping straight into his charge. In a moment, he had my blade knocked clean out of my hand, spinning away in the air, while his other blade sliced straight for my chest.
He tried to abort the attack a moment later.
If he was seeing into the future, then he knew exactly what he¡¯d walked into. He leaped backwards at the same time, a trail of black dust beginning to stream out of his shell, already preparing to mitigate the damage that was coming.
Issue was that even with a Feather''s speed, we''d already done the tests - a bullet was faster.
Every remaining shaped charge on my chest detonated one after the other, gravity pucks leaping straight out, most missing him entirely. Others were sliced by a sword that had already moved to intercept. He even summoned mirror arms to swing more blades in the air, pairing his future sight to predict exactly where the trajectory of the pucks would be.
Of all the pucks sent, three ended up landing. He triggered his occult shield for all three, but the magnet inside only made the puck slip across the dome like water over a rock, before it snapped against his armor¡¯s hull. Tendrils of black dust were already reaching across to the invaders, eating through the metal shell the moment they¡¯d landed.
Occult still pulsed out from each, and he was sent floating off further into the air with his current inertia - no walls or roof in sight to kick off of. Only his occult arcs to propel him in a direction.
He tried to be fast.
My occult shotgun was faster.
Book 5 - Chapter 47 - Trial Passed
The boy¡¯s gauntlet snapped onto sights, and then opened fire. All barrels in sequence. There was no escape.
He¡¯d been outplayed.
Tenisent watched the damage pile up. Mechanical systems failed first.
Movement to the arms, legs, chest. Joints sized up as pressurized artificial muscles lost integrity in keypoints. Redundant systems took over, held for a moment, then snapped away as more damage accumulated.
That was only after the first shotgun shell breached his armor. The second one took away even more.
Connections to the stolen shell closed off, one after another. Power subroutines redirected flow as a few of the smaller power cells were punched through. Circuits also faded from his command, breaking apart and being replaced by their auxiliary systems located elsewhere. A wide swath of his soul fractals flickered out, punched through by some wayward pellet, or had their power source decoupled.
The cold wind of reality and the void between fractals loomed against his soul as each spare fractal broke away. Tenisent merely shifted around, finding new fractals to inhabit.
The shell did exactly as it was designed to do, adapting to the damage, attempting to remain at maximum possible combat efficiency. That hit lowered him down to eighty three percent.
More shotgun shells slammed into his body, putting a stop to that, each shell knocking larger and larger numbers off his total combat efficiency. He staggered backwards with each hit, as the boy advanced with a steady walk, arm pointed right at his chest.
Systems ran out of backup channels. Other parts needed to be shut down, no longer having enough to support their main functions. More were judged for elimination, the cost-benefit ratio skewed too far in one direction to keep around in semi-functioning states. Nanoswarms already ordered to dismantle as soon as possible.
His overclocking lasted up until the occult pellets his son had forged punctured straight into his face. One through the left side of his forehead, another just above the right eye, and the last through the side of his cheek.
Those had no replacement. A Feather¡¯s only means to defend the fragile circuits had been purely physical - The most dense and resilient metal forgeable under the thin artificial skin. A skull that could not be cracked open even with an industrial hydraulic press.
It did nothing against the occult.
He stumbled on his knee, as Keith¡¯s barrage of shots came to an end. The boy didn¡¯t take a moment to reload, instead his hand yanked out his sidearms and pointed it downsights.
¡°I almost think that was too much.¡± The boy said, holding the weapon leveled at his forehead. ¡°Almost.¡±
A few fingers worked, neck could be moved slightly forward and back, his right arm¡¯s elbows could still move without damage, and the left shoulder could rise and drop. Horizontal movement was non-existent, the artificial musculature too damaged for such movement. Leg muscles were too riddled with damage, though the ankles and feet remained clean. A few pellets had landed wrong, directly on the non-occult surface, and bounced around within his chassis. Those continued to wreak chaos until the fractals within bent out of shape, or the pellet cut its way out.
The future sight fractal remained active, he had four copies of them. Only two had been breached. Without his shell¡¯s processing power, he gripped the fractal with a pulse of willpower, imposing his new demands. Restricting the amount of possible futures down to only three, something he could manage without his stolen body¡¯s true capabilities.
In all three future realities, without hesitation, he was shot in the head. Executed.
¡°This isn¡¯t the end, is it?¡± Keith asked, gun level.
Tenisent forced the shell to look up in into the gun barrel.
Then, he grinned. ¡°You¡¯ve grown.¡±
Occult pulsed around Tenisent. Keith pressed the trigger at the same moment.
All system reports instantly shut off, along with his shell¡¯s true abilities. Command and control faded away. The world returned back to regular speed. Nanoswarms returned to idle. The shell shut down.
Final combat efficiency had read nine percent.
His body fell backwards onto the frozen wasteland, and lay still.
Seems he beat you. One of the captured clan knights within spoke with a chuckle. That¡¯s our Winterscar.
Kid actually did it. Tenisent Winterscar, defeated. They cheered among each other, rallying together. Reveling in their part in all this.
In the soul sight, he saw his son slowly step forward, gun drawn out, looming over the destroyed shell. Then, he aimed straight down at his central fractal. The concept of Death appeared in his view. A dust like cloud, drawing together into a single line between the barrel and his neck.
He shifted his soul out of the way into another copy of the soul fractal nearby. Keith pressed the trigger one more time. The bullet sank right through the central fractal.
It was over then. A true Feather would have retreated away at this point.
He has. Tenisent acknowledged to the knights within. I am defeated.
The boy already had proven himself when the viral attack brought Tenisent down to his knees earlier. Tenisent had trained himself to move the stolen shell with all its main systems turned off, in case an attempted hack happened. Regular Feathers would not have trained to do this.
He continued the duel because he needed to see what his son could achieve. Needed to push the boy to reach his true potential.
Now¡ he had his answer.
Keith would never be the swordmaster his sister was. He¡¯d never be the warrior Tenisent had hoped for. What he was instead, was something different.
His son had found his own way in the world, and it was just as dangerous as Tenisent had hoped it could be.
For the first time in months, Tenisent felt at peace.
It took half an hour for his automated repair nodes to complete repairs to his neocortex. Once the basics were complete, Tenisent reactivated the full system and swarmed in, taking command before the stolen Feather could fully reboot.
From there, he took more direct control of the repair nodes, showing his modified template to follow. All the small chances he¡¯d made to add the occult powers within.
The system accepted his blueprints and followed dutifully behind. From there, it would take another two hours before everything was back to working condition.
His daughter walked into his room, coming to a stop before his seat. ¡°Father. I heard my brother has officially beaten your gauntlet.¡± She said, taking a seat on the floor cushion.
Vocal systems hadn¡¯t been restored yet, so he spoke through the comms channels instead. ¡°He has.¡±
¡°Was it luck that he beat you with?¡±
¡°No.¡± He said. The methods Keith had used could be re-used endlessly against Feathers. Against any machine. Even on the surface, where heat meant nothing and he had full access to any of the shell¡¯s full power, Keith had still beaten him. The underground was dangerous, but it would be overcome.
¡°I¡¯ve considered what you told me.¡± Kidra said. ¡°Given that Keith has passed your test, I will focus my efforts on rebuilding House Winterscar. The clan needs me.¡±
The clan he could understand. The banner of House Winterscar however? The rotten House should have died with Lyn. But those thoughts he kept to himself.
¡°House Winterscar is not worth any of your efforts.¡± He said instead. ¡°You could do better for the clan than to drag this House on your shoulders.¡±
¡°The past house, I agree.¡± Kidra nodded. ¡°They are all gone now, Father. They died with more honor and dignity than they ever lived with, and that¡¯s how they¡¯ll be remembered. We must move on. House Winterscar, my house, is worth the effort.¡±
He knew what his daughter meant. The only true Winterscars left from the old legacy in any sense, were himself, Keith, and her. Even the servants had been hired by her hand after they¡¯d arrived here.
The only one who¡¯d been brought in outside of Kidra¡¯s influence had been To¡¯Wrathh. The machine had chosen for herself a new place to belong, and Tenisent didn¡¯t have the heart to turn her away for his own petty hatreds.
¡°You are correct. The old house is dead. And this new house deserve a leader.¡±
She nodded.
¡°It cannot be me.¡± Tenisent said. ¡°Not anymore. I am honor bound to To¡¯Wrathh. The girl made a deal with me, in exchange for saving Keith¡¯s life from To¡¯Aacar, I would travel and guide her. She¡¯s done so, multiple times now.¡±
Kidra went through a complicated set of emotions. Turmoil, distraught, understanding. She finally sighed, ¡°I know. Even at the height of my war with that Feather, there was still a sense of respect between us as foes. Of all people who deserve to have their promises kept, it¡¯s her.¡±
¡°You still don¡¯t like it.¡±
Kidra shook her head. ¡°We must do what is right.¡±
¡°Spoken like the Deathless you¡¯d have become.¡±
Kidra¡¯s eyes flashed, and she looked up. ¡°You knew? Lord Atius told you?¡±
¡°No.¡± Tenisent admitted. Lord Atius respected people¡¯s secrets far too much. This one was between Kidra and him. ¡°The orb you recovered at the bunker, I saw what it was in To¡¯Avalis¡¯s memory banks. It¡¯s known to machines. The origin point of Deathless, from the past generation. And it¡¯s picked you as a candidate. From the moment you touched it on those steps. Of course it would have picked you. There is no finer candidate.¡±
It felt like a lifetime ago.
She didn¡¯t answer, looking down into the ground instead. ¡°I almost used it, when the slavers came. Lord Atius told me it was my own choice to do so. We didn¡¯t know if my memories would be wiped like his generation, or if I would hold onto them like the new generation. But if I were a Deathless, I could follow underground with you and To¡¯Wrathh. Keith could stay here and be safe.¡±
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Tenisent shook his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have let you. I know where Atius hides the orb. I found it months ago. If it were ever moved, or if I detected you anywhere near it, I would have been there.¡± He forced the ruined shell to lean forward in the chair, gaze looking up. ¡°It is not your destiny to go underground.¡±
Bewilderment flooded through her eyes for only a moment. Then her eyes narrowed down. His daughter was clever.
¡°¡You never intended to leave Keith above, regardless of if he defeated you or not.¡±
Tenisent leaned back in his chair, smiling.
¡°Feathers are prideful creatures.¡± He said, and brought to mind all the evidence he¡¯d seen through the memories of his captured shell. ¡°They will never stop hunting down Keith. There is no fortress anywhere in this world strong enough to be safe.¡±
¡°So he had to learn to become that fortress himself. And he doesn¡¯t grow unless pushed up against a wall. This was all a bluff.¡±
¡°I learned too, girl. I¡¯ve trained that boy since the day I became first blade once more, and I¡¯ve failed that task miserably. This time, I had to succeed. I couldn¡¯t afford to make mistakes anymore.¡±
¡°And this was the only way you knew how to do it. Father, you could have asked for help, or myself to assist.¡±
Tenisent shook his head. ¡°He needed to learn how to fight a Feather and win. But not as a swordsmaster. Nor as a soldier.¡±
There was a set of tension on his daughter¡¯s shoulders that seemed to relax. ¡°If Keith, you and To¡¯Wrathh are all traveling underground, should I come with you? Should I elect another Winterscar as the prime?¡±
¡°Another sword wouldn¡¯t make a great difference. But an occult master would.¡± Tenisent said. ¡°I believe you already know in your heart where you belong. The choice then, falls to you.¡±
¡°I see. I¡ agree.¡± Kidra said.
"Are you certain?" He asked, more to confirm.
¡°I built and brought the House together.¡± Kidra said. ¡°I want to see it to the end.¡±
He nodded. ¡°Then, with the three gods above as my witness, I hereby abdicate my position as house prime. From now on, you are the sole leader of House Winterscar.¡±
It was far more of a formality than anything, simple ceremony. House Winterscar always belonged to her.
¡°When you return, Father, I¡¯ll show you how great this House could be.¡±
He didn¡¯t doubt that.
His daughter left, standing up with a regal bow before turning and walking away, the lights turning off shortly after.
Kidra would not need to consume that orb. It would fall to someone else. Perhaps decades down the line. Or perhaps never, if To¡¯Wrathh lived up to the destiny the mites had foreseen with her. Maybe the world will not need Deathless anymore.
She would live.
Up here on the surface, she was unmatched by any slaver or raider. And in the depths of the underground, Keith would be unmatched by any undersider knight or machine.
Even a Feather.
I¡¯ve done what I can for our children, Lyn. He thought, leaning back on the chair, feeling relief flow through him. They¡¯re both more ready than I could have ever hoped for.
You would be proud of them, Lyn. You would have been proud.
In the dim darkness, slowly repairing his body, Tenisent closed his eyes and waited for destiny to call on him once again.
Three days later -
Hexis watched as the assembled group were saying their goodbyes. It had all felt abrupt to him.
One moment, he was slowly feeding his apprentice further knowledge of the occult and helping him with new tactics to overcome the stolen Feather shell. It had been¡ even fun. At times. Debating possible directions to dealing with different problems on the field.
Reminded him of his time among the occult weaponsmiths and Deathless. When he worked more directly with such a rank and file. He¡¯d almost forgotten how it felt. The feeling of excitement and even pride when a Deathless team returned, carrying stories of the new gear¡¯s effect and new requests for improvement. And the wealth that came with payment.
Time seemed to fly by even. Lesson after lesson, steady progress, insect dishes passed on. The clan life was quaint, remoted, but fairly relaxing at times.
The next moment, all he could hear from the surface dwellers were tales of the young master from House Winterscar walking across the frozen wasteland. Back to the hangar bay doors with a defeated Deathless carried in his arms. The very same aloof Deathless rumored to be unkillable and unbeatable in combat.
Already some songs had sprouted. Of course they would get chanties and songs, the musically obsessed people that this forgotten miserable land called home. A few of the blasted tunes were even catchy.
It had been child¡¯s play to put together how Keith had managed to overcome a Feather. After all, his apprentice hadn¡¯t come up with all of these in one day. A slow gradual process of trial and error, and discussion.
Keith had held his end of the bargain, though there was little Hexis could truly bring back. The shape charges the boy had designs required a Feather¡¯s manufacturing abilities. With both of those ¡®deathless¡¯ gone, the clan couldn¡¯t build any of these occult bullets or gravity charges. The rounds that were left were sacred now, to be used only when absolutely needed. The clan would hoard and guard them, likely to see use underground against machines.
The tomb-bound souls were more interesting to study. It was a novel application that seemed outright isolated to surface culture. Warlocks would never willingly agree to serve someone else in such a miserable state of being, and yet the knights here all seemed utterly determined to follow through with their oaths.
Fools, the lot of them. If they wished to make their personal life a rusting hell, trapped within another¡¯s relic armor, that was their prerogative. At least it would help his apprentice possibly survive a few encounters.
And the viral attack was something held only by that other Feather. Hexis would never get his hands on it, and good riddance to that. Just finding out about it had nearly stretched his limited resources and he wasn¡¯t completely certain about his conclusion.
She¡¯d tried to meet him, once. He¡¯d refused it, given how complicated it already was to be around those two walking death threats. They could sniff out lies just from him breathing, the less contact he had with them, the better. He knew where the limits of their detection reached, and it was exhausting to constantly keep check over what he said and to say it with the right mindset. Difficult enough with To''Avalis, he didn''t need to stretch his sanity with the other two.
Attempts to sniff further information out would only result in his execution. That metal mongrel will have to be satisfied with his current progress. Something was better than nothing.
The true pain of all this wasn¡¯t any fear of failure, nor the two death threats that lurked inside this very hangar. He found it in watching his apprentice prepare for a long journey. One that would see him die off in some distant corner of the world.
What a stupid waste of talent.
Ten of the boy¡¯s House Knights stood in formation around him, apparently zealots who chose to follow him to the death. Nearly all of the Winterscar knights, with the others forced to remain behind to keep some measure of force back home.
The sister would find more knights surely, she was the fabled sword saint. Finding disciples who wished to learn from her would be trivial.
Shadowsong stood besides Hexis, ever the escort. He gave a single nod to the boy when he walked over, and remained silent otherwise.
Keith shook his head, likely bemused, before he extended a hand out to Hexis. ¡°Well, master. It was short, but I can''t say it hadn¡¯t been fun.¡±
¡°Droll.¡± Hexis scoffed. ¡°You had better not get yourself killed, apprentice. I would hate to see my efforts wasted away by some soulless husk of a machine stabbing you through your neck.¡±
Though they both knew that was highly likely to be the case.
¡°You know, it happens more than you think.¡± Keith said, sounding both serious with his ludicrous statement and equally pulling his string.
Although¡ that other ¡®Deathless¡¯ girl he traveled with was capable of healing, all of the clan couldn¡¯t shut up about it. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t as much a joke as Hexis thought it might be.
¡°I think I deserve not getting killed by now,¡± Keith said, ¡°You know, change it up a bit. Maybe this time I can do the killing and monologuing instead.¡±
A warning bell chimed inside the hanger. Knights within all drew out their helmets. Other surface dwellers began to fiddle with their hoods and masks, making sure there weren¡¯t any openings for heat to leak out.
The boy took out his own helmet, as did Hexis. He sighed once the stuffy armor was in place, then stood a little straighter. He had a job to do, and he would do it to the very end. ¡°I¡¯ve compiled a small list of the more intricate knowledge warlocks have. Study this when you have spare time. Simply going off on some uncharted adventure is no excuse to slack off in your studies. Of course, should you meet others of your new rank - you obtained all of this information taught orally, as warlock tradition demands. Are we clear? You are to explain to no one that I have given you anything written down.¡±
His apprentice gave a nod. No doubt behind that helmet was that smile filled with mischief and petty crime. A shame talent had to exist side by side with the eccentric.
¡°Aww, you do care.¡± He said, taking the offered flash drive. ¡°How long did it take you to write all of this down?¡±
Hours. Entire afternoons. Philosophy was included, along with possible theories and such. In case Keith ever ran into civilized conversation and had to represent Hexis as his apprentice.
¡°I wrote it in my spare time.¡± He said. ¡°A good distraction from boredom. Besides, it would be mortifying if my apprentice didn¡¯t know the difference between the unified theory and the disrupted network theory of the occult, or what the three main political entities governing the guilds are. I won¡¯t be known as having a savage as an apprentice.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll make sure not to stab anyone at dinner parties.¡± Keith promised.
¡°I suppose that is as good as I will get from you.¡± Hexis said, then raised a hand. ¡°One more item of note before you depart.¡±
Hexis paused for only a moment, then shook his head, decision set. He had a job he undertook, and he would see it to the end. Rust take his soul.
He took out a small rectangular golden plate, with intricate designs on the front and his sigil directly at the center. There wasn¡¯t any one standard in these calling cards, each grand warlock made their own. What mattered was the lettering stamped on the side. ¡°In case you end up in an Undersider city state that is home to a warlock¡¯s guild. This token denotes you as an apprentice under my name. Do not make a fool of yourself, it would displease me greatly if on my return I find myself a laughing stock for teaching an oaf.¡±
In truth, the mark would denote Keith as a nearly full warlock in his own right, approaching the end of his apprenticeship.
It didn¡¯t matter that Keith only had a few months of training. He already surpassed most standard warlocks as is. Marking him as an elder apprentice was of little consequence to Hexis.
The boy took on the plate and watched it closely. ¡°Thank you master,¡± He said, a little more solemnly, likely realizing how valuable the trinket was. Hexis had to re-forge it a few times, as the metal printers and machines of the clan here were almost not detailed enough for the task. And he certainly didn¡¯t want to turn to the stolen Feathers for help.
The two spoke a few more pleasantries together, discussing the future of the clan. Things that were far less dangerous to speak about in the presence of those two.
Combat taught many lessons, but the path of a true warlock was one of a scholar, not one of a pseudo-Deathless. Keith¡¯s education would never be complete without his full tutelage. It would have been nice to conclude that job with finality. It was unfortunate life rarely gave anyone what they wanted.
He didn¡¯t stay to see the full farewell in the end. Neither had he pushed to join the crew leaving, his exile here was still under watch by the guild, going anywhere else besides straight home or staying within the clan meant he¡¯d need to have a contingency to deal with all the Undersider mercenaries hired to make sure he didn¡¯t scamper off somewhere.
To¡¯Avalis had ordered for a tracking device to be secreted away onto any of the expedition team leaving with the machine girl. A clever little mechanism that Hexis had no doubt would be foolproof and sneak by her senses. Small enough to fit into anything.
As he walked, he took out another golden plate, watching it closely, thinking over that decision.
He had made a few extras during the process. Of course, he¡¯d been careful about keeping the final version with the tracking device inside well accounted for, an outright extra superfluous glyph on it with his sigil directly on the bottom, while the spares and test variations all lacked those final ornate details.
With a sigh, he pocketed the plate. He¡¯d need to get all the spares melted down now and then deal with this one.
Regrets piled into his mind, as he knew they would on the somber thoughts. He pushed it aside. The decision had been made.
He would adjust the plan as needed. He would speak with that Feather, make his reports, and then he would prepare his extrication. To¡¯Avalis would certainly see this of no issue and still pay his end of the bargain, so long as he said exactly the right words in the right order. Should the boy ever return to the clan, that scheming Feather would need an insider again. Hexis would remain a valuable asset.
The guild was due to check in on him soon. A perfect means to wrap everything up, he could return with them back underside with To¡¯Avalis¡¯s payment in hand. Lie to the clan lord that he¡¯d return with a few allies to set up a new warlock branch within the clan, in preparation for their migration down. Even if the clan lord didn¡¯t believe he¡¯d return, they already had all his lectures recorded surely.
Hexis could go back to what he came here for - power.
He barged through into his guesthouse and went straight for his desk.
The room was quiet and empty, filled with his prized collections across the walls and on the furnishings. Useless trinkets found in the marketplace here, either bought on a whim or brought back by Sebastis. His newly acquired collector¡¯s pistol, the one forged with occult bullets. And the staff behind, delicately placed, reminding him of the work that was to come.
He walked over to the chair, taking off parts of the heavy armor, then sat down with a sigh.
Hexis looked down at the collected paperwork. The first time the boy beat him at his own game. An equation they¡¯d both had to solve together. A heated discussion on chaos theory that saw them annoyed with no clear answer. A tapestry of memories he was supposed to have burned ages ago.
In the small room, sitting alone before his prized teas, cups, and wealth - all he tasted in his mouth was ash.
There was always a chance Keith could defeat To¡¯Avalis at his own game. Perhaps he would see Keith alive again someday to complete his instruction.
Though, in the end, his apprentice¡¯s actual chances of returning to this clan didn''t matter to that outcome.
It was far more probable he¡¯d be killed before any reunion.
Book 5 - Epilogue
Absolute power.
He had it. A fractal obtained directly from the machine masters who ruined humanity. And not just any fractal - the fractal of energy. The very same power that ancient humanity used to forge power cells.
It couldn''t be used in combat, the silver mongrel wasn''t a dimwit. But the knowledge and possible testing that could be done with this fractal made everything worth it. He could not only have power cells made as he wished, it would directly let him study the occult in ways no human of this era ever could. Power had to come from somewhere, and studying the flow of energy directly would let him tap deep into the secrets of the occult.
Only if Hexis could make it to safety however.
He didn¡¯t stay within the luxury of his cabin room, cramped as it was. He remained in the cockpit instead, always keeping an eye of the map - of where he was. If the convoy was attacked, he needed to know which direction to run. It would be a fool¡¯s attempt, but better to stack as much odds as he could in his favor.
The convoy that ferried him down had seen machine attacks. Feral ones that leaped into the way or drakes attempting to take a quick shot. Shields and turrets fended them off easily until the convoy was clear of that territory. Anything else that remained alive was dealt with by the mercenary guard around him.
That wasn¡¯t what worried the warlock. To''Avalis would soon come to hunt him down.
And then, as he predicted, it all came to an end.
Sirens began to wail around the ship, crew and knights arming weapons and rushing over to repel potential borders.
The airspeeder shuddered, then collapsed as multiple drakes opened fire in synchronized attacks. All three of the airspeeders had their engines cut down, leaving them all to crash into the rocky dead ground below them.
A moment later, a mass of machines launched their attacks.
This was no feral attack. This coordinated, there was a driving intelligence behind all of it.
Hexis nodded to Sebastis and the two stood up among the panicking knights. The butler gently took hold of a pair of bags, filled with rations, spare power cells and water slowly pilfered over the journey. He¡¯d been ordered to prepare for this.
"A pity they didn''t bring us far enough. We''ll have several days of travel." Hexis said.
The butler nodded silently as the two walked down the hallways, letting soldiers and rushing crewmembers pass by like water over rocks.
Before the last junction that lead to the safe vault, they turned, each jumping through a ripped hole in the airspeeder wall. Landing on the bleak black rock under.
The grand highway. Like a massive multi-tiered system of veins, each artery wide as a lake, shifting in every direction. Piled on top of one another, tunnels going through each other. Empty black rocks covered the surface of each massive root, lined into perfect highways.
Navigating was difficult due to the maze like properties, but the wide unobstructed path and sheer connection made it too valuable to ignore. It stretched as far as half the planet¡¯s hemisphere, likely all of it, but such a claim couldn¡¯t ever be proven. This would have carried them the majority of the way, only having to cross three smaller biomes afterwards in order to reach the fortress with his guild¡¯s branch.
"Is it possible to travel with the knight entourage?" The butler asked.
Not with a Feather after them.
¡°That remains to be seen." Hexis said instead. "Should we shield the airspeeders, there is a possible chance the crew might repair them to some degree of operation."
That would be worth attempting to fight for the doomed undersiders here. An airspeeder could outrun a Feather. Or so he hoped.
Rifle shots filled the air as knights scrambled out to eliminate the attackers.
A few members from both sides saw him arrive. Machines seeing another target, and the knights likely far more worried to see their charge out in the open.
Filth surrounded Hexis. Impure souls filled with rust and regret. They were in his way. Attempting to bring about his end.
Pathetic.
He was Hexis Galrament. Grand High Warlock of the Argent Scryers, council of ten, warlock guild of the ninth league. Judicator of the Relia Lineage, the Asente Lineage, and the Mar''okee Lineage. And most importantly, he commanded the occult like few others in his guild could.
He would never die a dog''s death.
Hexis turned to his butler. ¡°You will hold this for me. I only require a moment.¡±
The gold staff his student had built for him as payment for services rendered. It would be a shame to mar it here. The butler set the bags down, and gingery took the weapon from Hexis, then took a step back.
Hexis turned to the war before him and drew on his fury. Warlocks were warned never to expend more might than needed, machines should know the true extent of his order''s might. But Hexis was beyond trying to hide anything anymore. The Feathers knew. And he knew they knew.
The machine feral creatures with their undeserved tyrannical hold over the world. His hatred of the guild¡¯s sniveling politics. The derision leapt from his mind, turned to lightning by the occult.
He raised a hand, bringing forth the twin concepts of lightning in his mind. A torrent came out, slamming against the wave of machines, frying their circuits. He continued his spells, chanting and humming all the same, forcing sound waves to compliment his assault. Lightning leaped from target to target.
More tendrils of power reached out, further past the bounds. He advanced, holding out two hands and forcing the flow of power through them, thunderstrikes into the machine army on both his right and left. All at the same time, he alternated his humming, drawing in fractals within his mind and those pulsing through the very air.
Fractals that had next to no connection, and yet their activation within the material world changed behavior of others in predictable patterns.
Lightning dove into the ground, following his will like a fish, tongues lashing out at machines as it passed by, frying more of them. Ozone flooded the area around him, and his relic armor filtered out the smell.
The machine wave was halted, then began to break before his focus. The field of battle was quickly expanding away from the downed airspeeders.
A cry came out behind him. The knights all seemed to turn to a new target that demanded all attention. Hexis took a look and his heart fell.
A hulking figure of a pale man walked steadily forward. Metal halo spinning above him. A hammer twice his size, idly held in one hand. The other dragging behind a golden shield. A Feather.
Rifle fire of course did nothing. The knights around him drew up in formation, then charged, occult blades at the ready.
Hexis didn¡¯t wait to see what could happen. He launched a bolt of lightning, directly at the target, only to see the man lift his hammer and let it take in the damage.
He gave a shrill whistle, changing the spell''s parameters, forcing the lightning to circle the man across the ground.
The Feather paused in his advance, head slowly turning to watch, as if mildly curious.
Hexis commanded the lightning, demanding it to leap forward and impale his target from every direction.
Fork of pure power licked the side of the man''s body, tracing outlines and flowing back to the ground through his feet.
When the last of the electric snapping faded, the giant continued to walk forward as if nothing had happened.
Immune to this vector of attack, Hexis thought. A different approach is in order.
He alternated to a languageless chant, focusing a new concept within his mind. Kinetic power forced the earth around, slamming diagonal pillars into the Feather from all directions.
The Feather paused for a second time, as if confused as more pillars of rock locked him into place.
The knights leapt at the trapped target. The monster lifted a hand, easily shattering the rock holding him, as if it were nothing. The hammer swung. The closest knight flew off, lifesigns flatlined.
"We''re leaving." Hexis said to his butler, then turned and briskly walked away.
The knights behind him broke ranks as well, some running, others trying to regroup at the airspeeder. Statistically, that was a far better plan. They weren¡¯t the ones being hunted by a Feather.
Sebastis grabbed hold of the spare bags in one hand, keeping the staff in the other as he dutifully followed behind, keeping calm as he always had been. ¡°What is the itinerary, your magnificence?¡±
¡°To the imperial bastion of Asta¡¯lom. Precisely where I had first intended. It will suffice.¡±
It had to.
The imperials were frantic about preparing for their fabled final battle. If they had to build anything, they built it with the belief that it would see a battle eventually. Those fortress were often filled with Deathless passing through, armed with soldiers constantly preparing for armageddon. A bastion built to repel machines indefinitely.
The only place that might shelter him from a Feather. His guild didn''t have a branch there, but the imperials would welcome his talents with open arms regardless. Especially if he proved he could power anything without searching for mite fountains, scavenging machines or seeking out the surface gods for their blessing.
¡°That is five days given the speed of relic armor.¡± The butler said. ¡°Do you believe we can make it?¡±
Hexis summoned the occult and waved an arc of diffused lightning ahead of him, instantly frying the screamers that barreled straight at him. ¡°Do you belive me to be weak? I am a grand warlock.¡± He snarled, anger still fresh in his mind from the spell. ¡°Of course I can make it.¡±
So long as there weren¡¯t Feathers.
To¡¯Avalis would predict where he was going. He needed to hide from his sight.
The landscape around him were only rolling fields of highway, snaking by each other. But this was the underground. There was always a wall somewhere.
More machines filled in behind them as they raced across the ground. His butler took a look behind, but wordlessly kept pace with Hexis.
He had to commend the servant at the ease of which he took in events. Most others would panic.
There were a few tricks. Ways to sneak past Feathers. Not quite invisible, but certainly passing through places he couldn¡¯t be expected to reach.
Mountain sides soon appeared, thank the pure soul, unnaturally vertical blocks, likely holding some other biome on the other side. Mites of course. It looked like this mountain had been here before the highways, and those roads simply swam around from both sides.
It would do.
With one last weave of lightning, the area was free of machine influence. And hopefully machine sight.
He brought to mind the concept of a fractal, then launched it out through the rock with a pulse of occult. A hole appeared, cutting straight through, likely half a mile deep. He bolted directly through.
Once the two had passed the threshold inside, Hexis turned the fractal in his mind, letting the front section fall out of focus.
The wall rematerialized. Entombing them within the structure.
¡°From here, we tunnel to the city.¡± He said, taking a breath. ¡°While undeniably beneath my station, exigencies demand sacrifices. Conserve your armor¡¯s energy, we will have many days to go.¡±
The butler nodded without complaint. It made the Warlock¡¯s hair stand up, flickers of paranoia running through. Too calm for any sane person. Sebastis had always been unflappable at any event but this would be stretching it.
¡°My staff.¡± Hexis said, reaching a hand out. If there was to be a betrayal, it was critical he have this in hand and ready to use.
Sebastis passed it over with reverence, shifting the bags back into order. ¡°Given our speed and the days ahead, your magnificence, I recommend we pause twice each day for rest, food and water. Unless the esteemed master has another plan?¡±
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Could that butler be carrying a tracking device for To¡¯Avalis?
Nonsense.
The butler was an Imperial, and one of the Salvatoris denominations - they worshiped Deathless as servants sent by the goddess. All imperials saw them like servants of the goddess, but the Salvatoris took it as the focus of their dedication.
Sebastis had joined Hexis to meet and speak with Deathless of all kinds. Going as far as to petition to meet the surface Clan Lord, of which he''d been granted the audience solely because Hexis moved his pieces to allow it.
And where they were going, the Imperial fortress had five or even ten Deathless at any time. The older ones, those who regularly delved down deep into the layers. It was everything the butler could have wished for.
Sebastis would be a fool to turn on him now. That and Hexis had obtained exactly what he¡¯d come for - absolute power. He¡¯d arrive in that fortress and become indispensable. All who followed behind him would be richly rewarded.
All Hexis had to do was go down to the floor level of the highway ratsnest, and then tunnel as normal in the exact direction.
Was the butler loyal to the Imperials? Or had his allegiances changed since meeting To''Avalis? He shouldn''t have had any contact with that Feather, but that didn''t mean the Feather didn''t reach out to get a second agent in place.
Perhaps that idea had merit, since not even an hour into their journey, To''Avalis found them.
There¡¯d been no warning. One moment the two were walking down the dark corridors with their suit headlights keeping the path clear, and the next moment, they were thrown off their feet.
Sucked right through an occult portal, to the other side, where that brute of a Feather¡¯s hand stretched out and yanked his butler out of the air.
Hexis slid right past him, skidding against the wall, where a glowing mark remained. The gravity fractal he recognized almost immediately.
And he was flattened against it, as if crushing weight had been shoved onto his chest.
"Explain." To''Avalis demanded, voice cold. To the far left, clearly keeping a safe distance from the trapped Warlock.
Hexis could barely turn his head to look, but that didn''t stop his eyes from painfully turning to see his enemy. "Why even bother to ask? We both know you''re here to kill me."
To''Avalis looked like a ruined machine. Ripcage exposed, the internals still being fussed over by a swarm of black. Legs dangling like a paraplegic. One hand only shards of metal floating, the other wrapped around the earlier giant monster of a Feather, the only reason To''Avalis was moving anywhere. Hexis got a closer look at the foe. That monster''s head was shrouded by a thick scarf that covered forehead, nose, cheeks, neck and still had enough material to flow down his back. Deep violet eyes lit from the darkness hidden under that scarf, the only hole exposing the pale skin under. Heavy cloth covered the rest of the frame up, leaving only a vague impression of form. The monster carried both To''Avalis on his shoulder and a massive warhammer on the other, as if neither weighed anything at all. And in the only free hand, he held a squirming human, Sebastis. Still alive, despite being a single crushing grip away from death.
"After I have my answers, I may yet let you both live." To''Avalis said.
"Nnnn..." The monster grunted, as if trying to back up his charge and simply out of words for it. He lifted the trapped butler up, waving him back and forth.
That got a laugh from the old warlock. He wasn''t born yesterday. In the large pool of liars and conmen, Hexis was well versed. He was one himself. "Come now, To''Avalis. You won''t suffer a traitor to live."
To''Avalis paused, processing. As if Hexis''s answer really had taken him by surprise. "... It seems you are correct? While the rational direction would steer me to find a middle ground with the least effort, I find that option... simply unpalatable. But I will have my answers first. Where are the Winterscars?"
Feathers. Their ability to detect lies depended solely on technical details. So long as he knew he was correct - and focused his mind on only that - his body wouldn¡¯t betray him. The mind of a warlock is many things - unfocused is not one of them.
Hexis had put the tracker inside the airspeeder Keith and the others had ridden. He hadn¡¯t lied about that.
What he hadn¡¯t mentioned was that he¡¯d placed that tracker two entire months after the Winterscars had left.
"They¡¯re long gone." Hexis said, laughing. "Alas, my report was¡ a tad bit tardy. You won''t find them now."
He tried to move his arm and found it still trapped against the rock. This fractal was powerful, or the Feather had compounded it several times over. He would need to disable it before he could do more.
Occult pulsed out. But not from Hexis.
Sebastis, the butler. Still trying to wiggle out of the large Feather''s hand. He gave a kick down and ripped free with a crackle of power. Then turned, jumping up to delivered a punch, infused with occult, straight at the Feather''s head.
Miraculously it actually landed.
No better than that - the monster of a Feather hadn''t bothered to move at all. Because the attack did nothing, not even so much as make his head twist an inch. The butler took a step back, not knowing what to do next.
Unfortunately, Feathers were specialists at acting fast.
A chain glowing bright occult blue wrapped around Sebastis''s decision-frozen arm, causing the armor''s shields to crackle in a desperate attempt to hold against the force. An instant later, they failed and his arm was cut clean off. To''Avalis, his human looking hand still hooked over the massive Feather''s neck, had raised a chain whip with that other hand of fragmented metal.
Sebastis took one staggering step back, watching as black blood pooled out of the open wound. Blood Hexis recognized.
"Nnn... annoying." A massive hammer swung right for the stunned butler. Sebastis lifted his remaining hand at the last moment as if it would stop the massive weapon. Occult crackled around him, and a dome appeared before his hand.
It did next to nothing. The butler was sent flying directly away, slammed on the other wall before crumpling down.
Hexis almost couldn''t put together what had happened. Sebastis had never learned any occult from him. He was strictly a servant. But if he used the Occult, and more importantly that far darker shade of blood...
A Deathless then. And given he had never shown any care to be heroic or do good at every corner, he must have come from the latest generation. Likely trained his life to be a servant, only to find himself a Deathless as of six or seven months ago with the rest of their lot.
Ah.
That''s why he seemed so unflappable - he knew he couldn''t die.
The thought relived Hexis. At least one of them would live through this.
Sebastis tried to stand, his armor creaking to a stop. Too damaged to let him move. Bent unmoving sections jettisoned off to clear space a moment later. He coughed, blood leaking down. Even the fabled regenerative powers of a Deathless took time to work.
He lifted his head and looked straight at Hexis, as if knowing he was about to die. "It¡ has been an honor, your magnificence."
"It has." He said, and found that he meant it.
The butler gave him a pained smile, nearly black in blood. The chain flipped around with deceptive speed and sliced through his neck. The body slumped straight down, headless and unmoving. In an hour it would break apart into dust, and Sebastis would find himself back to the nearest pillar heart, or the surface if he so decided. He suspected the butler would choose the surface. There was someone there who could continue to teach him the occult. And what it meant to be a true Deathless, not that rabble that held onto the title these days.
To''Avalis scoffed. "Was that your insurance? Your secret bodyguard? An untrained Deathless against a Feather?"
"It was¡ unanticipated." Hexis admitted. "I suppose we all have our secrets. Some more than others."
"And I fail to understand any of yours. Or of your actions. What is this secret that made you pick a fool¡¯s path?" To''Avalis said. "You had everything to lose, and nothing to gain."
The Feather was right. He really did have everything to lose, and nothing to gain. Still. He was Hexis Galrament. And he wouldn''t die a dog''s death.
He dove into the forbidden fractal at his neck instead of staying to listen to anything else the metal monster said. The world expanded around him, and he seized the faintly glowing fractal directly behind him.
A hammer imprint on a wall, faint trace of liquid metal mixed with power cell fluid. The enemy Feather literally stamped the fractal of gravity where he wanted it to be. Barbarian. A twist of will, and the fractal was unmade.
Hexis returned right back to his limp body, taking a deep breath as his feet hit the ground again. Then he focused his mind, locking eyes on the ground by the Feather. That monster of a machine needed to touch the ground he wanted enspelled. Hexis would show them what a true spellmaster could do with willpower alone.
Concepts came through his mind and he let them travel out his mouth, weaving spell and chant at the same time, breathing his will into the world. A shockwave took both Feathers, throwing them off their feet.
Hexis wasn''t done.
Reality obeyed his command, flowing to the next fractal within his mind, and then shifting to where he¡¯d controlled the origin point to be. Air compressed downward, dragging airborne Feather down into the ground.
The monster''s knee hit the rock in surprise. To''Avalis stumbled off, knocked off the shoulder. He slammed a hand to catch his fall, breaking through the rock down to his elbow. It held him back from the crushing force trying to force him as close as possible to Hexis''s will.
Occult pulsed through Hexis again, and he called upon the mark of division, commanding it to appear and bind with another occult cast. His arm slashed through the air. A blinding blue arc flew directly at the downed Feathers.
Shields flared up, sapped away by the slice.
Pain flashed through Hexis. The cost of that spell cut deep into his mind and soul. Division for division. He was casting forth the very concept within his mind, even if he demanded the entirety of its cutting edge to materialize outside. The ghost of the concept was still razor sharp.
The monster began to rise back up, the force pulling him down insufficient. He grumbled as if he''d simply had to lift an unexpected load, hand lifting up that hammer again.
Hexis split his mind into three. One calling forth the fractals of division and hurling it at the targets with each hand swipe, and the other two pulling forth the mental image of the gravity fractal, forcing it to comply to his twinned will, mouth uttering tones and signals that pulsed fractals across the very air.
The monster was crushed through the rocks, pulled down again. And slowly stood back up a moment later, feet lifting against the forces, walking through the rocks as if they were nothing but heavy water. Hexis''s hands threw the very concepts of destruction and division down at his enemy like a god smiting his foes again and again. Shields flaring with each heavy lash that struck.
It wasn''t going to be fast enough.
No. Not like this. I have come too far to fail here. He groaned and split his mind a fourth time, holding a third fractal of gravity fixed into his mind, forcing it down on the enemy.
To''Avalis had been completely submerged into the rocks, the gravity multiplied exponentially across his chassis forcing the Feather out of the fight. He only had to destroy one target, that monster of a machine that resisted his pull. He could break To''Avalis after.
He threw more lashes of destruction before him. Division took its toll, and the monstrous Feather''s energy shields finally broke before his might.
"Nnn... more dangerous than expected." The monster grumbled, head finally looking up as if lucid for the first time. "Fine. I''m going." One giant hand reached behind and lifted the large golden shield. Hexis finally recognized it now that he was closer. A mite blast door. A section of it.
The hulking Feather had been carrying a plate of indestructible mite metal. With supreme effort, the Feather took slow steps forward, hiding behind the massive shield, rocks breaking before his path as he pulled himself against gravity. It was like an icebreaker crushing through the world. Hexis threw more lashes, occult blinding in the air, empowered by the other spells he''d cast. It struck deep into the golden shield, licking across the surface, breaking only dust and built up grime. Unable to break through more. The concept of division clashed with the mite''s own occult powers imbued deep within that metal, and the metal won.
He was not going to be beaten by a damn doorway! He split his mind a fifth time, nearly losing command of the the other fixations, now whistling tones that mutated and changed the very air around him as consequence. Power flowed in a whirlpool by his fingers and mind, occult crackling between his very teeth as blasphemy flowed from his mouth that defied the very laws of the world itself.
He spread his arms apart, both hands stretching far to his sides as if he were about to embrace the entire world. The lightning hummed, then lifted off, arcing from his hands outwards, held like a rabid dog with a fraying leash.
The Feather saw the incoming jaws of death, filled with occult blue teeth. He gave a weary grunt, then hid behind the golden shield.
Hexis squeezed his hands. lightning leaped out, surrounding the enemy Feather from both right and left. Then it converged down on his target, each tongue carrying with it the means to unravel, to obliterate. They all slammed home in a crack that deafened the room.
Hexis hissed a moment later, sensing his spell overtaken by something else. The lightning had converged on his target - but not the Feather directly. It all lanced out to his shield, as if drawn to it like a magnet.
He wouldn''t be able to bypass the Feather''s defenses and didn''t have the time to try again. Hexis would just have to break through them then. He drew his hands forward, lightning flowed through the air and instantly dug deep furrows into the mite doorway. It continued to crackle, multiplying like roots of power. Flickering and ripping apart more and more of the mite''s grand work of art. He poured more of his soul into it, demanding the very makers of the land itself to break before his might.
It wasn''t enough. The monster was making his way one step at a time and Hexis felt exhaustion growing into him, even as deeper rips formed over the doorway. His mind was connected too deeply with the occult, the world blurring into concepts and mathematics, unraveling, infinity stretching before him, focus waning. He had to keep the gravity fractals in mind. All of them. And he had to keep chanting the litenty, to fill the air with the exact sound waves needed, despite the utter chaos around him. He needed to focus with each lance of division, any that he cast poorly would manifest division directly into his own mind, ending his life instantly. And even with perfect casts, the pain at the mere echo was breaking him down with each strike.
He... needed... he needed his staff. With a groan, he spared just enough attention to move his flagging body, a single step forward, then a slow decent down to his knee. A spare hand patting around the ground, reaching down to grab his discarded staff while his other held every last bit of occult power he could command.
He pinned the staff down with a foot, and twisted the handle with his hand, priming the weapon.
Just in time.
To''Avalis rolled through a portal of some kind to his left. His world spun as the Feather immediately got up from his half ruined feet, and grabbed him by his neck. Then rammed the warlock into the wall, breaking his focus. The Feather slammed his head again into the wall, and darkness rushed around Hexis''s vision as the last crackles of lightning licked aimlessly around him. He felt another spike of pain right after even as the world blurred. He''d been slammed a third time, head feeling like it had been split apart.
Everything was quiet again. The occult in the room was gone.
His staff. Where was his staff?
¡°Your actions defy every psychological assessment and projection of your nature.¡± To¡¯Avalis hissed, bringing the warlock close. The Feather sounded genuinely perplexed, almost frustrated. ¡°Why?"
Hexis tried to bring his fractured mind back together. His staff. Had he dropped it?
To''Avalis shook him in the air, demanding an answer. Fine, the mongrel wanted an answer, Hexis would give him one. ¡°... It came as a surprise to me as well.¡±
That was the truth. But where was his staff?
He looked around on the ground and didn''t find it anywhere.
The Feather growled, lifting him further up away from the floor. ¡°I will admit fault in selecting you. Dealing with humans is not among practiced skills. What I do not understand is why you decided to turn traitor. Explain. What was the endgame? What was there to even gain for you? I must discern my errors to prevent future miscalculations with you humans.¡±
Hexis could understand the confusion. He¡¯d come to the surface fully ready to betray anyone he needed to in order to gain the absolute power he carved for. He¡¯d done far worse over his career, it was second nature to him by now.
Blast that boy for reminding him of why he¡¯d become a warlock in the first place. The search for the exotic. To study the occult and all the mystery it held. To collect more than just treasure.
He was simply unable to turn a blade on a kindred spirit like that. ¡°A fool¡¯s path." He chuckled. "It truly was. And I have to see it to the end.¡±
He was going to. He''d found his staff. His addled mind simply hadn''t caught up to the obvious conclusion.
It was in his hand. Of course it was in his hand. He was still alive, so there was nowhere that staff could be besides his hand.
He moved his eyes slightly and saw it right where it should have been, clutched tightly. Despite having been grabbed by the Feather, and slammed into the rock three times over with enough force to crack his skull, his hand still held that relic with a deathgrip.
¡°That is not a coherent answer.¡± Avalis said, shaking him again. Demanding full attention.
The bastard would get that then. ¡°Hear this... as my answer, mongrel." He spat, breath steadying with each word. "I... am... Hexis Galrament. Grand High Warlock of the Argent Scryers, council of ten... warlock guild of the ninth league. Judicator of the Relia Lineage, the Asente Lineage, and the Mar''okee Lineage. And I will see you again. In hell."
He let go of his staff.
Modified circuits from his improvised dead man¡¯s switch detonated in exactly the wrong ways, sending the crammed power cells inside into an immediate supercritical state. Exactly as Keith had warned him could happen with such egregious lack of safeties.
His apprentice wouldn''t have known - that was the entire point of it.
The last thing he heard was the staff humming off tune. Then crackled... and detonated.
With absolute power.
-- END OF BOOK 5 --
Book 6 - Prologue
Eight Layers Below, Present.
Odin¡¯Kres¡¯Vindr soared victorious above the burning forest, the great infestation behind him quelled for another day.
The six others of his tribe flew behind his lead, exhausted despite the weight of their firebombs gone.
His plan had gone as he¡¯d hoped. The infestation had run headfirst into a metal hive in its attempt to flush him out. One of the machine nest that fought with ancient human weapons, or the machine mirror of them. Naturally, the metal monsters grew annoyed and quickly shredded down the enemy overrunning their territory, leaving the fungal root systems exposed for his team to bombard. The burning trees and spores faded long behind him as his team somerly flew through the world caverns.
It took half a day of flying, gliding on updrafts or landing on the treeline to rest where they could.
They banked as a group, changing course and zipped by one of the cliff edges. The one with the waterfall.
Howling came from there. His team responded with affirmative crows. Yes, victory had been achieved, the Greyroamers wouldn¡¯t have to risk their lives today and put themselves within biting range to defend their dens. More howling came back, relief and congratulations. An invitation to hunt with them, with carrion as the prize.
Carrion had an interesting texture, Kres wasn''t against the diet but he much prefered small insects and berries personally. He couldn¡¯t tell where the landbound were from this height, the Greyroamers were near impossible to spot covered by the forest anyhow. And their packs could move like water between the trees, so any sighting would be temporary.
He''d have gone on the hunt had it been any other situation, but the capital was expecting them back. They''d been gone too long on this mission. He gave a lower caw, politely rejecting the offer and the rest of his team flew behind him, a few giving him attitude about it but mostly in jest.
Further into the cavern, he crossed into his people¡¯s territory. Familiar trees grew taller here, more dense. Occasionally he saw platforms and perches for scouts, near the many metal shipwrecks that sprouted out of the forest like landmarks. Massive vines wrapping around the ancient hulls, as if to slowly pull them back underground. Cries came out from the treeline and his team answered back in turn.
As usual, asking them to identify themselves and what tribe they hailed from. He scoffed at the conversation, hardly any point to formalities now. The only tribe left in this vale were the Odin. They had been for the past five years now.
And the reason why loomed before them. The largest of all the ancient human wrecks, resting up against its cliffside. Even this far out, he could already hear the general noise of the city, cries and cawing all merging together into a welcoming symphony that sounded like life and home. The team flew further, reaching one of the giant open hangars where the vibrant capital city of Odin welcomed them.
Soon they were at the starboard aft section, hanger three, and flew right in.
The floor was filled with golden wheat, long path-strings dangled from wall to wall, with platform homes of every size, color and shape built from far more humble material than the steel walls the ancient humans built the Icon of Stars from. Construction had long overrun past the interior of the hangar, spilling out onto the hull of the ancient ship, growing around like mushrooms on the bark of trees. More danger outside the hull, but the Gungnir were the ones who had trained to smash snake heads, rake rodents and pests, and kill hawks, eagles and owls with those beak-needles of theirs.
The vale had long seen most dangers hunted down to extinction, but occasional sightings appeared. They were solo predators after all, often searching for new territory from far away. Especially with the infestation forcing wildlife to flee.
His team quickly zipped through the dense city, entering the more dense sections and hopping from perch to perch after, finding the disembarking platform. All stocked up with the weapons and tools a bomb team like his needed. A small host were also waiting for their arrival to help them out of their gear.
It was all beautifully decorated, surrounded by a few garden platforms with foliage to offer the team some privacy. The team here must have enjoyed the work.
They started taking off their silk slings and pouches from the moment their feet found perches, letting them be refilled by other attendants. That way the next time a scout spotted the infestation attempting to cross the borders again, they¡¯d be ready to go burn it out. Berries, seeds, water and paste were presented on flat boards which his team quickly got to work on without a second¡¯s delay.
The other birds waiting at the station squawked and bickered with each other, handling the logistics of the returning fireteam while said team made a mess of the food.
Kres plucked off his silk strap¡¯s release button, then lifted the whole thing to an attendant, who yanked it out of his beak with all the grace of a scorned artisan. The flicker of tail feathers as the bird marched away with the whole setup told Kres his accidental scratches over the week long mission had been noticed.
Couldn¡¯t sneak anything by an artisan. He understood their pain though. A sow-smith was a difficult profession, but gear always wore down no matter how delicate his beak was around it. No other material could be used for missions that went all the way to the reaches, weight was too important.
Free of his harness, he hopped over to the feeding frenzy. He had to get in there before the rest of his team could pick out all the berries first, greedy bastards. A few wingslaps let him wiggle in and spear some much wanted berries of his own. After that minor war, all that was left was the seeds and paste.
A looming figure flew straight up past the platform, twisting around to flare out his feathers before landing down, prompting his group to turn an eye from their meal. Three others flew past the first, taking spots behind their leader.
A single glance at the new group told Kres all he needed to know. Well kept feathers, with decadent aluminum necklaces and silver paint marking the proud tribe of Odin. Each had a sleek ornate metal pebble affixed to their wingtip feather.
Those were dangerous. Tier 3 from the markings, absolutely heavy enough to shatter bones in a single hit, made to smash rodent skulls at that point. Not something they could fly far or with any dexterity with, though the foil necklaces already got in the way from the start.
They looked intimidating, as expected from warriors, back when there were other tribes to bother fighting. The Odin''Gungnir were feared elites for a reason. All four took a step forward, and his team took a nervous step backward, except for him.
¡°Kres.¡± The one at the front clicked, not bothering to greet him with his full title.
¡°Odin¡¯Tanik¡¯Gungnir, here to annoy me once more as usual. Could it not wait a day after the expedition?¡± He answered back.
Tanik puffed up, squawking with indignation. ¡°Of course I wouldn¡¯t wait. Not after I heard from the scouts that you drew in the machines. Again! How are you so blind as to not see the dangers that could bring on us all?¡±
This old argument. Kres felt his own temper flare up, feathers also puffing out on their own accord. He was a Vindr. A Gungnir like Tanik had no business telling him what he could do or not. He didn¡¯t risk his life outside the ship, just flew around perch to perch here preening each other and expecting the ship to somehow survive if they kept the order.
¡°This was as far as the Reaches, the machines would never come to bother us here. I saw an opportunity to let our enemy make a mistake and break their own bones. The day you fly out there to fight the real enemy instead of scare weaker Odin, that will be the day you¡¯ll learn why I use any advantage I can.¡±
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
¡°They are like a sleeping beast, Kres. The more you prod them, the more danger you put us all in.¡± Tanik said solemnly. ¡°Don¡¯t forget what power wiped out the ancients in their prime. What if they decide to rid us from the world as they did the plaguebeasts you led into them? The Icon of Stars wouldn¡¯t hold. None of us would.¡±
¡°The Icon of Stars already pleads us to leave her behind every day.¡± One of his teammates hissed. ¡°Our own home tells us she cannot hold back the infestation. If we anger the machines, what difference would it make? Rather a swift and clean death from them, than to see my flesh rot from infection and my mind grow rabid from disease.¡±
They¡¯d seen machines stirred up before. Placid things mostly, uninterested in the comings and goings of animals so long as said animals didn''t get too close. When angered, escaping was the only option. Most predators didn¡¯t realize that fast enough.
¡°The Gungnir have been hard at work finding new ways to seal off the old breaches. The ship will hold.¡± Kres said, puffing up slightly. ¡°We¡¯ve always fought for the tribe, we know best.¡±
Maggots must have rotten the priest¡¯s brain. He truly thought it was an option to live the rest of their lives inside a closed off ship, seal off the hangars. Pray to the power that it remains steady, that the crops and fields continue to grow forever more. The infestation would swallow the land around and never let go. They¡¯d be caged here like the Av, and no one knows if they still lived or not inside the Starlight Wonder. Those lands had been overrun years ago.
Even if they still lived, what kind of life would that be? Entombed in their own home.
¡°Any hope to defend the Icon, I will take.¡± Kres said. ¡°My decision saved our own team from having to risk plague bats, or calling in the Greyroamers and risking their lives.¡±
¡°They¡¯re not our allies! They¡¯re meat eaters, and your time with them is affecting your perception!¡± Tanik hissed back. The other three behind him ruffled up, those bludgeons and needles looking more and more dangerous. ¡°They¡¯re abandoning us already, giving up their dens and pride! There''s no loyalty to be found there. The moment the forests are gone, they will be gone with it.¡±
The other birds on the platform were quickly making a getaway, squawking warnings to one another about the possible confrontation.
Kres didn¡¯t back down, further puffing himself up and hopping forward, wings spread out. ¡°I¡¯ll not hear slander on our oldest allies. You overstep yourself Tanik. They¡¯re far closer to the infestation, their dens on land where the plaguebeasts could trample them over. Leaving for better isn¡¯t honorless, only pragmatic. Something we should learn from.¡±
The bird¡¯s guards warbled, equally hopping forward. ¡°They¡¯re barely intelligent! If there weren¡¯t a larger threat to distract them, we would be just as valid a meal as any. Meat is meat to those carnivores.¡±
¡°Without us, they couldn¡¯t craft the tools they need. They¡¯ll always need us.¡± Kres said.
"The Ringtail have far better dexterity. If it''s tools they want, those scavengers will always fill the role for a price." The other minions behind Tanik all gave nods of approval.
Kres shook his head, "Food is scarce, and we don''t need to eat the same diet - we have agriculture. Greyroamers will always see us as natural allies and Ringtails as competition."
The Greyroamers were powerful, a bite from them could crush through him, bones and all, in one snap. Teeth just as deadly. And their size - some likely would have rivaled the size of the ancient humans. But four paws with no thumbs and a jaw with poor reach meant they had little means for crafting anything. Even Silverfur for all his dexterity could hardly tie anything together by himself. Or if he did, it would have been filled up with so much slobber as to be useless until dried.
That pack leader had already made it clear to Kres any of his or the tribe of Odin would be welcome to migrate with the pack. Almost pleaded for it, if he understood the Greyroamers right. Language barriers between the landbound species were particularly difficult, since those species couldn¡¯t make any other sound than barks and howls.
The other tribes had left with different packs, but the other tribes never had the same ties to the land that the Odin did.
The Odin were the first, the Icon was the capital to their species, the birthplace of all knowledge. The great caretaker.
¡°I am done attempting to speak logic to you.¡± Tanik hissed. ¡°I will bring this up to the council. Perhaps they can slap some sense into you, or allow me the privilege.¡± He turned, then flapped off, flying up past the sleeping nests. The other three squawked warnings at his team, then followed off after. Those weapons brought here must have been for show, along with the war markings and all.
Kres didn¡¯t believe Tanik would ever seriously attempt to harm him or his. They were Vindr, the ones who flew out to burn the infestation away. Without him, there¡¯d be one less to defend the Icon. Tanik could cry out all he wanted, few others could fly as far as he did each day.
The seeds were all gone by the time he turned back, even the paste had been ripped away. The rest of his team looked at him with mildly guilty expressions, before he waved them off to go back to their homes and mates.
The mission was a success. There had been no casualties, and no debts to the Greyroamers called on. The infestation had been burned back, and the forest would heal by the next week from the char and ash.
Still, he felt morose. Beyond the reaches, to places far out of his range, the infestation still grew and slowly surrounded them. Biome after biome. Soon it would trap them completely, and then slowly tighten around from every direction until it reached the Icon herself. Only a mite colony traveling through might clear the blight, but the little world makers didn''t sing to anyone''s tune, not even the Icon knew more about them besides their name and effect upon the world.
The battle had been won today, but the war had long since been lost by nature of the enemy itself.
Kres flew off, away from the city. Out the hangar, past the outskirts and up. To the bridge of the ship. The place he went for solitude.
Time was an enemy. Every day, the infection grew. Rabid, unwilling to settle for anything lesser than complete ecological destruction. The mites wouldn¡¯t do anything to save them, at best they¡¯d make the Odin a new potential home - further off.
Useless. The Icon of the Stars had been their home for generations. She had taught them how to read, write, create. Had always been there to listen and speak. She watched over their fields, their young. Kept track of the history of his tribe, his people, his species. They''d named themselves after the stories she''d tell them, mythology passed down from her old creators. To abandon her would feel like abandoning their gods.
The airlock door opened up for him, flashing green for a moment as he hopped inside the giant doors. The passage beyond equally opened, the ship silently welcoming him in.
So much space. Some sections here were so wide another city block could be built inside, house a few thousand more of his people, if they hadn¡¯t preferred to nest outside on the hull.
But these sections were more sacred, untouched by the Odin. The great bridge of the ship. Where ancient humanity once commanded these giant titans to move.
He hopped through the empty grand staircase leading to the command center, watching as all the screen flashed awake inside. The clear windows in all directions showed a fading set of lights far off across the biome. A sea of trees, broken apart every now and then by the graveyard of ancient human ships, all gathered together over time by the land.
Strange statues littered the command chamber, the human version of perches. Their bones would have been here, slumped over their station, had thousands of years not already turned them all to dust. Only metal remained behind, the empty seats, and the Icon herself. All these seats had enough space to fit a nest. Several even, if the inhabitants were fine with vertical stacking and making nest homes instead.
A reminder of the sheer size the long dead titans had. He¡¯d seen one of their armors before, something that would have encased them completely. It towered over him, the helmet alone as big as Kres¡¯s body. The human inside had been long dead of course like the rest of their species, but it still took ten Greyroamers to even lift the thing onto a cart and transport it back home.
¡°What should we do, heart-mother?¡± He chirped, landing at the forefront window, tapping one of the glowing holographic buttons. She saw everything through her thousand eyes and ears. The debate with Tanik would have been recorded, processed and archived in her storage. ¡°I fear that Tanik is right. I¡¯ve grown reckless in trying to halt the infestation. If the machines become more and more involved, why would they simply stop at the infestation? They could just as easily turn their weapons on us.¡±
The artificial voice crackled, "They would have become part-of regardless. The infestation would not halt-hold or avoid their territory-tree." She said. ¡°I will remind you, a cruiseliner was never designed for permanent dwelling-nesting, even if everything were in pristine condition. It is not built for combat-Gungnir situations. I recommend-advise relocation.¡±
She didn''t have wings, a tail, a head, or feathers. The Icon was forced to manually sound out what could have been said in simple head bobs or beak snaps. It made many of her words overly large, and still some words just ended up spoken in old human. The Odin didn¡¯t have a word for cruiseliner.
¡°We. Can¡¯t abandon. You.¡± He croaked, dipping his beak at the end to get the sound right. He had to focus, eyes narrowing with each word. Despite her effort to speak in his people¡¯s language, he liked to speak the human language with her. It was difficult but not impossible.
The screen flashed into a green circle, with two black dots as eyes facing forward, and a curved line under. ¡°I appreciate the sentiment.¡± She answered back in the ancient tongue. ¡°But as I have stated, I cannot do more than seal doorways or control life support systems. Your people need to vacate while you can.¡±
Their heritage, or their life, the Icon of Stars had warned them. All the other children of air had long left the vale for better lands, like nestlings who had outgrown their mother''s protection.
There were no other choices, and only a precious few years left to make that choice.
Kres feared for them all.
Book 6 - Chapter 1 - Destiny
¡°What exactly is the Division Stone?¡±
The comms line went quiet for a moment, the old machine on the other end thinking through how to answer.
¡°A stone. Near a cliff. I show you around.¡±
¡°Har har, very funny.¡± I said, tapping the desk. It had been only a few hours since I¡¯d carried Father¡¯s broken down shell back to the clan and now I was getting all my gear ready to go. Airspeeder would be set and supplied in three days from now, so the whole house was rushing to get everything in order.
¡°If I¡¯m going down there with my crew of misfits searching for some long lost legendary device, I want to know what said device does, if you would so kindly explain.¡±
Abraxas huffed. ¡°It is a stone. Big. With circuits. Inside. Made of mite, god and machine. Designed by Tsuya. And I. Forged by mites. Very large stone, difficult to move.¡± He continued to explain in broken sentences and words, describing a very different time. ¡°Giant arc. Walk under it. Escape pale lady forever after. Done. Was hidden after my kind lost. Found again during human empire era, to free protofeathers. Relinquished destroyed it when their kind lost. Pale lady bluffed.¡±
Machines in his era had been different. Smarter. Less bound and left more open to creativity. Relinquished hadn¡¯t even suspected machines would turn against her, not when their core directive had been to hunt down and kill humans. She thought they were like her.
Most did exactly that, from what Abraxas shared. A few got very good at killing humans, in very different ways. Those that got better tended to stay alive for longer, which led them to develop personality and character.
Abraxas hadn¡¯t been a coward back then. From what I could piece together that he wasn¡¯t telling me, he¡¯d been very good at making use of the occult and making deals with mites to gain power, a path no other machine minion had gone down. Mites didn¡¯t tend to associate with machines or humans, so he was one of the first to actually make different bargains with the critters. Over the years of hunting down humans, more machines followed his lead, and lived longer for it.
Then something changed.
¡°Exploring.¡± He said over the comms with a static crackle. ¡°More fun than hunting humans. Soon, hunted humans as afterthought. Mites make beauty. I saw their grand designs. Wanted to see more. Each hunt - excuse to explore more. Then found other things to explore.¡±
I packed up my desk¡¯s papers, one last written letter to a certain blond troublemaker. I owed her some closure, given I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d be returning alive or not. I planned to of course, but making promises and keeping them weren¡¯t one and the same.
She¡¯d want to strangle my neck when she read this, fortunately I¡¯d be several hundred miles out of her reach by then. ¡°Other things?¡± I asked, folding the letter up and handing it to one of the servants along with instructions on when to deliver this to Ellie. I had other letters to write to other friends.
¡°History. Stories. Legends. Drawings. I collect all. Humans had it all. Machines had none. I hunt humans, demand stories or life. They gave me what I wanted, I let them leave alive.¡±
¡°You spared their lives for stories?¡±
¡°Yes. Some good stories. Others bad, boring stories. Some human boring stories at start, better stories later. Like growing plants. See promise in some, wait two or three year, visit again.¡±
Abraxas had outgrown his original purpose as a machine soldier, and became a collector of stories, exploring the world in between each new hunt.
¡°Time passed. Saw humans as humans eventually. Some became friend.¡±
Kind of inevitable really, spend enough time talking to something and that something gains a voice. He shared what he gained to his followers. And soon machines in general.
¡°Some liked.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°Other machines did not. I too strong for those that not liked. Then met Ortell.¡±
¡°Ortell?¡±
¡°Human. Philosopher, pacifist. Made me think. Made machines think. Of place and purpose.¡±
¡°And Relinquished didn¡¯t notice?¡±
¡°Years too late. Saw many machines not kill humans on sight anymore. Only new machines acted correctly. Old machines all faulty. She surprised and not very happy.¡±
¡°I bet she wasn¡¯t.¡± Cathida chuckled darkly. ¡°Imagine her legion of darkness, descending down on poor innocent humanity, demanding good bedtime stories or else.¡±
I got up from the desk and went to secure my blades. Over the days I¡¯d made a good few variations of it, ending up with an all metal version of the Winterscar blades I¡¯d forged for non-relic knight users. Those carbon fiber swords had one weak point - if they were sliced in half, the metal connection wouldn¡¯t be there anymore and the occult edge would end.
The new versions had a different paradigm. The flat edge of the blade was sunken in, thinner than the actual edges. Which meant when an enemy blade hit, they would strike the surrounding occult edges first before the inner flat, leaving the inner metal undisturbed.
That let us block attacks from most directions, with the exception of a stab.
¡°Pale lady demand kills after. We obey or die. Unity too powerful.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°No escape from death. I look for help in secret. Found Tsuya. Worked together. Made stone. It cut artificial soul, separates all fractals safely. Separates Unity from soul. She not notice. When cut, we vanish. Nothingness in her sight. Thousands escape over time. Then revolt when too big to hide.¡±
¡°How did the revolt fail?¡± I asked. Because it had failed. Abraxas was the last of his kind, from the old era. If the revolt had worked, humanity wouldn¡¯t be hanging on a thread like it was right now.
¡°Violence. She had more of it.¡± Abraxas said solemnly. ¡°We care for our own. She did not. Made us fight brother against brother. Doomed to fail. You have answer human, division stone cut soul out of fractal safely. Bring your Feather to stone, she escape pale lady¡¯s sight forever after. Same as protofeather in past.¡±
A set of coordinates pinged on my HUD, and Abraxas cut contact.
¡°Well, that¡¯s depressing.¡± I muttered.
¡°They¡¯re machines deary, don¡¯t feel bad for metal devils. Not worth the effort.¡±
I put the old Winterscar blade I used back on the armory stand, where future Winterscars would make use of it. Where I was going, I had new weapons tailor built for it. ¡°They¡¯re living beings trapped in a fight they don¡¯t want to be in.¡± I said to Cathida. ¡°Of course I¡¯ll have some sympathy for them. And I know you do too, even if you can¡¯t admit it.¡±
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°If a serial killer feels bad for his victims, does that change anything? The dead are dead, killed by the killer. And the killer is guilty of murder, regardless. Don¡¯t twist sunlight into night, the dead need to be avenged.¡±
With everything on hand and nothing left in my room to take, I took a deep breath and gave it one last farewell glance before sliding the door shut. ¡°Does the word nuance mean anything to you?¡±
¡°What¡¯s that? Another one of your surface insect dishes?¡± Cathida cackled. ¡°The only nuance you¡¯ll hear me talk about is the pros and cons of cutting a machine¡¯s head off or going for the limbs first.¡±
¡°I¡¯m surrounded by barbarians.¡± I sighed, going to the mess hall for one last meal with those who wouldn¡¯t be coming with the expedition. I had a few hours before the airspeeder was all packed and ready to go given the short notice, but Lord Atius had expedited the process without any issue.
If it had been any other clan at any other time period, having a good chunk of relic knights all hop ship to leave for an expedition that might never see them return ever again was something that would make any clan lord wake up in cold sweat.
The number of knights with us was the equivalent of a small clan already. The loss of resources would have been decades of effort by a clan to amass that amount of armor. And yet Atius had let us go without argument. Even helped keep everything secure so that there wasn¡¯t an outcry among the clan as a dozen plus knights along with the two Deathless left for good. To the rest of the clan, they¡¯d later learn we left on a mission to the heart of the slaver nest, to hit them where it hurts the most. And chase after them wherever they ran.
The last meal in the Winterscar hall was something of a party. A celebration of everything we¡¯d accomplished up to now. House Winterscar was once more left with only one relic armor to it¡¯s name, Kidra¡¯s. But she¡¯d get more again.
She¡¯d gotten the house this far, she could do it again.
The coordinates sent by Abraxas hit a known entry point into the underground according to Teed, just not one that was used. Capra''Nor had a closer entry point, and other cities beyond it had equally better locations that were both safer and easier to work with. This one was just two hours away from the clan on airspeeder.
So it wasn''t uncharted territory, the clan had gone to investigate it a decade ago when they''d settled into the region after the great migration. Other than a set of winding tunnels with some machine spider nests, it led to the first level strata which could be anything by now. That''s all Atius had in our clan maps and intel. One of many entry points into the underground with no specific advantage other than the general pattern.
There was a standing rotation from what I''d learned about surface knight-ing. Holes pop up, expeditions investigate for any kind of loot or edge, tap it dry, and leave it alone for five to ten years then check again. Sometimes a new mite colony passes by and resets the whole place, including chance at interesting trinkets, items or even armor.
The coordinates hadn''t been rechecked since we''d arrived, so there was still a little hope we might run into something shiny.
But he was still sending into the middle of nowhere without a single detail and I got a feeling that''s how he''d be for the rest of the expedition. Contacts us through comms from whatever hole or hiding spot he''d wiggled into, say the bare minimum to get us going, and then hide and sulk some more. The talk I had with him earlier was the most talkative I¡¯d gotten him, and that¡¯s only because he didn¡¯t quite believe I¡¯d beaten a Feather one on one.
A great and promising start for a guide if his prices hovered around a bucket of snow. I complained as much, and had a different answer depending on who I complained to.
"ETA thirty minutes." The comms channel clicked. "Get your gear in check and then get out of my airspeeder. I missed my bath for this."
"You volunteered." I sent back. "That''s on you Teed."
"''Course I did, can''t let my oldest friend go off on some unknown mission with no end date listed without a proper goodbye. Your timing''s the only thing that''s off, right when I''m on break. Even when you¡¯re not trying to be annoying, you¡¯re annoying. Damn kid."
The rest of the crew let us bicker together one last time, all too busy making sure all their supplies were in order. Wrath and Father could craft our ammunition and repairs for gear, so those didn''t have to be stocked up to the brim. That left open spots for more of those delicious frostbloom wrapped ration bars, the ones that were frozen solid like a brick and tasted just about the same. Lovely.
I made a point to ask why we were stocking up on so many of the blasted things, more than once. "The first few stratas have plenty of renewable resources," Wrath said. "Hunting and foraging will be enough to survive on. However future strata under those are more often disturbed by mites and as such, more unpredictable. Not every biome is equipped to support life."
That''s what the ration bars were for. In case we had to go through a stretch of the world that was less welcoming to humans. Like the mite made artificial city that had nothing growing anywhere other than concrete stairs and paths leading nowhere for no reason. Some of those would stretch out for a few hundred miles even, which meant no food for possible weeks on end.
Nano bots were excellent builders, but organic matter wasn''t something they could print. Closest to that was a chemical 3D printer, and those were golden era tech that Undersiders hoarded so we''d only find those at cities, which also had wonderful restaurants and other tasty food that kicked ration bars out the airlock.
Still, I was excited. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was the apex predator stalking around the lands. Screamers would be cut down in hundreds, even without the occult to help. Drakes would always be a problem to deal with admittedly, but we''d brought a perfect counter to them as part of our preparations. Spiders¡ well, we''ll try to avoid spiders, since we''ve got one on board and I''d rather not make her start to think twice about joining our cause.
But if they did come chasing us anyhow, knightbreakers would easily shred through their shielding. Most other dangers in the first three stratas could be bodied hard by occult bullets. So all that extra armor was about as worthwhile as a screen door on an airlock.
The airspeeder banked somberly over land, twisting on itself as it rapidly lowered down into the snow with a heavy thump. A moment later, the bay doors opened up, revealing absolutely nothing outside.
Deep snow, and more snow as far as the eye could see, all in perfect white. Only thing of note was the trail of disturbed snow forming a single long line into the distance, leading right up to where the airspeeder had landed.
"Did we get the wrong section of nowhere?" I asked. ¡°Teed, I swear to the gods.¡±
Cathida answered for him. "No deary, we''re in the right place. Switch on a few of the active scanning options, I¡¯ll point them out.¡±
¡°Your haunted armor¡¯s right,¡± Teed said. ¡°Armors have even better scanning tech than my frigate.¡±
I tinkered with the settings, quickly opening up the menu icons with eye blinks and navigating through the options until I saw the lesser used sight overlays. Of which there were a ton, relic armor had absurd amounts of scanning tech. Seeing through packed snow was child¡¯s play.
Lines appeared all across the world, and a few dozen feet ahead I saw them all just dive into the ground, outlining a chasm. It was a long skinny thing, and the lines kept going straight down to the bottom, where thermal imaging showed ambient heat down there, neatly insulated from that much piled up snow.
"Snow piles into these holes over time," Cathida said. ¡°Covers them up, but the underground is still mite made metal. That¡¯s not breaking at all, no amount of snow weighing down on it could bend it an inch.¡±
"How do we go in?"
Teed laughed, "You got a warfrigate with every kind of explosive and firepower anyone could ever need, and you¡¯re askin¡¯ how to dig a hole? Don¡¯t right need any fancy solutions when you have enough firepower.¡±
Honestly, I can¡¯t fault him on that logic. Given the sheer amount of gear and weapons I¡¯d made and slowly added onto my kit, I think firepower was my newfound crowbar.
In five minutes and a bit of pulverized snow later, the way down was clear, ropes being staked on the surviving sides and the Winterscar knights already repelling down under.
Only gridlines appeared when I looked down, the chasm going far enough into the world even light didn¡¯t seem to reach the very end. It reminded me of the gaping maw swallowing ruined golden era buildings wholesale, down into the maw. And Father himself, falling down, the Winterscar armor fading with him into darkness below.
Times were different. I wasn¡¯t that scavenger anymore. I was a relic knight, and likely one of the few in history that had gone up against Feathers and won.
This was what I was made for.
¡°Don¡¯t know when you¡¯ll be back Keith,¡± Teed said over comms, his voice more serious. ¡°There¡¯s no recovery plan mentioned in the brief. Smells like a suicide mission to me, except you¡¯re taking with you two Deathless and you beat one of them to boot, so there¡¯s hope for you all yet. But still, take care down there. Stay alive. Kidra and I¡¯ll be waitin¡¯ for you back up here in the surface.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll be back, not sure when, but I¡¯ll be back.¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll bring back some souvenirs for you.¡±
¡°You do that.¡± Teed said chuckling. ¡°Bring back something expensive.¡±
I grabbed the offered rope from one of the clan knight escorts, gave him a solid nod, then leaped down into the dark chasm below.
Destiny called.
Book 6 - Chapter 2 - Revenge trip
Apparently airspeeder pilots traditionally had to fight with their co-pilots for who gets to shoot the ice-clearing firepower, but since it usually took a few charges, mostly everyone got a chance to press the big buttons.
It certainly cleared off the ice, but we only had about ten minutes to get back in before everything froze over again so there was a short scramble.
Problem is that his warfrigate could only do so much to clear off the snow by the top layer. There was plenty more waiting for us under. And mitemade ground was resilient to anything Teed did to blow a path down, so anything that wasn''t ice or snow was still mostly unmoveable.
At the bottom, we found the tunnel network was still backed up with snow, which was expected for this particular breach given its orientation with the surface wind. Normally, we¡¯d need to waste a few explosive charges down here to clear off the snow.
Occult arcs worked just as well at pulverizing the way forward, even did some damage to the mite walls around us.
It¡¯s a good thing relic armor could absorb heavy impacts, and warn me of when said impacts would be too tough for my body to take because with the way cleared, we found ourselves before the first real drop into the first strata.
Half sheer wall, half slope, wide open cavern with half-built concrete buildings half consumed by the walls around us. As if they¡¯d all sunk into the ground and walls, then stopped and froze over. Some the of the staircases seemed outright horizontal instead of vertical, but they made for great stopping points.
Rope was lowered back down, affixed on the edges, and knights went forward, leap after leap until we found a large enough platform to redo the whole process.
Everyone else got warning chimes asking them to slow their fall using the attached rappel ropes if they ever started getting anywhere close to mild discomfort. I got Cathida, who was screaming at me to go faster instead.
All because Wrath simply jumped in and floated down, leisurely passing by the rest of the knights and Cathida didn¡¯t like to lose to anything or anyone.
¡°We¡¯ll get there when we get there.¡± I hissed, focusing on making sure I wasn¡¯t going to turn into a pancake. ¡°I¡¯ve got a history with cliffs you old bat, let me take my time and enjoy not falling to my death for once.¡±
My boots landed on hard ice that caked over a half-formed concrete dome. There was a square hole by my side for a window, and under it I could see more concrete furniture including a complete rock solid toilet from early human eras. Not only was it non-functional, it also would have been spilling water off the side even if it had been built right.
Mites.
¡°Think about the dramatic landing at the bottom, not the gear.¡± Cathida said, trying a new way to appeal to me as I scanned down the abyss some more.
¡°I¡¯m thinking more about flattening my gear. This stuff¡¯s expensive.¡± I said. Lack of ammunition needs due to the two walking factories with us let the expedition bring tents, spices, and other luxury items for each of us. And weapons. Lots of weapons. As a scavenger, every extra item brought would mean more work to carry it. Armors basically negated all that, so we could overpack - on top of underpack ammo. This was going to be one of the most comfortable expeditions ever.
But that stuff was still a lot more fragile than a human completely encased in expanded form fitting impact foam, armored plates and occult. Technically some of these weapons could be reprinted out, but it had taken Wrath and Father some time to build to the right tolerances, piece by piece, tested and calibrated.
My headlights illuminated Wrath, silently following some unseen air current as she scanned around our destination point.
Cathida got an idea. ¡°You¡¯d get to pass right by miss silver bimbo on the way down. Give her an eyewink or whatever you kids do these days. I recommend a finger personally. Two for fun. Go on, jump.¡±
¡°How did Journey even agree to that plan in the first place? Seems the complete opposite of what an armor is supposed to do.¡± I hissed back, as a Winterscar knight handed over the next section of rope with a nod. Two others were already scaling down ahead of me, small headlights growing dim in the darkness below.
¡°Oh deary, believe me Journey is grinding its teeth at the thought. But that¡¯s what the old bat would have asked for, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m asking for now.¡±
¡°She wants her recruits to die?¡± I tugged the rope, verifying it was secure, turned to the wall and began the decent down with small hops against the wall.
A tut on the speakers. ¡°Cliffsides here would easily break any fall. You¡¯re not in any real danger, maybe a muscle contusion or two. Unacceptable to armors of course, prissy lot, that¡¯s why they keep sounding off warnings for too big a drop. But me? Peh, some good sore muscles build character. And I really don¡¯t like watching that flying toaster do all the scanning for us.¡±
¡°I do not need to perform active scanning for the expedition.¡± Wrath said over the comms, ¡°There is nearly no machine presence within the first ten thousand feet downwards.¡±
Father landed right next to me with a giant crack, feet bending down at the impact. ¡°Nearly no machines does not mean no machines.¡± He said.
¡°Bah,¡± Cathida hissed back. ¡°You telling me you didn¡¯t already scan all the gold out of this cavern the first second you landed down here Tenisent? If there was even so much as a mechanical ant, you¡¯d have already spotted it and stomped it down, you old dog.¡±
Father didn¡¯t answer, just taking another leap down and vanishing into the darkness. No bones to break, no muscles to tear, he could land from just about any height and only need to worry about getting his armor dusty.
¡°See?¡± Cathida said. ¡°It¡¯s completely safe. Now go on, live a little.¡±
I decided discretion was the better part of valor and had a nice and cozy repel downwards.
We didn¡¯t find any mite treasures down this direction. Nor anything having changed since the last time it was mapped out. Once we hit the bottom floor where the concrete city really started to take over instead of caverns and tunnels. The last time I¡¯d been here, there¡¯d at least been lights and power running through the city.
Here?
Everything was completely dead. The only signs of light was from the knights ahead of me, headlights sweeping across the landscape, weapons aiming from building to building, checking for any ambushes. I landed at the ground floor with a dull thud and clacking of my strapped on gear. Then sent an all clear signal up, and turned to get a good look at the mite city before me.
The main road down this branch had one direction, and while the cavern was wide enough to fit a few buildings, there really was only one way forward. Further down that direction was where the options began to open up.
Which is where Abraxas must have known we¡¯d start looking for him, because he did leave behind something.
¡°That wasn¡¯t there before according to your clan¡¯s logs.¡± Cathida said as I scanned the building directly ahead of us.
Tall circular tower, gray and lifeless as the rest of everything around this cavern, and the roof just barely brushing the top of the cavern. What set it apart was a slight flicker of light up there.
We entered subtlety, and by that I mean we kicked down the door and greeted everything with rifle barrels. Nobody home, dust everywhere, and nothing made sense building wise like expected. There was a receptionist¡¯s desk half complete, with a possibly working antique light. What looked like a framed painting with no painting on the wall, and a set of stairs that were built in zig zags instead of spiraling around the tower like a normal architect would have made it.
It¡¯s like the mites made this, gave up a few times along the way, and then decided to drink on the job before getting the rest done, mix of coffee and booze. Sturdy enough for full armored relic knights to walk up the stairs, so I can¡¯t fault the safety inspection for the final product.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
On the top floor, just absolutely nothing except a metal grating catwalk that surrounded the tower, and a little bulb-like room at the center with concave windows on all sides. Center of the room was an old oil lantern, the kind I¡¯d seen in ancient photography, and a book. Lantern was still lit, and the oil looked just about full. And likely not the actual fuel source of the light.
¡°This is your guide, m¡¯lord?¡± One of the Winterscar knights said, passing over the book to me.
Inside the book was neatly written out wording: Find terminal. Your Name - password. You know who you are.
¡°Just about as cryptic as expected from him.¡± I said, closing the book and setting it down.
¡°The terminal mentioned, is he referring to a mite terminal?¡±
I gave the knight a nod. ¡°Yep, just as Ironreach described on his adventuring guide. They contain local maps of the area that¡¯s updated to whatever the mites made. Not sure if our guide means any mite terminal, or a specific one though. Only ever seen one so far.¡±
Mite terminals weren¡¯t as needed since things didn¡¯t change up over decades so far, but finding a new undiscovered location made them useful. At least from what I¡¯d read on that same guide.
¡°Coffin dodger can¡¯t just leave us an easy map can it? Or even show its face.¡± Cathida grumbled.
¡°It is likely a security precaution.¡± Wrath said, landing with a light step on the railing. She hadn¡¯t bothered to walk up the stairs, preferring to zip around the air more than needed. I think she got a little caged up on the surface with such little airspace to fly around.
Plus, she¡¯d mentioned if she had to fight, she¡¯d remain on the ground and keep her wings out of notice. At least until our cover is fully blown. So it might be a few months before she could openly fly around again. ¡°Our guide is old, and highly cautious.¡± She said, flicking her wings back under the cloak over her armor. ¡°A mite terminal would be a far more secure location to leave a map.¡±
¡°The girl is correct. We will be hunted. Caution is needed.¡± Father said, taking a step out to the railings. They groaned under his weight, a Feather¡¯s body covered by a relic armor. He must have weighed possibly into the thousands. Though he seemed unphased by the noise of the grating, either because his sensors already told him it would hold, or that if it did all snap under him, he¡¯d just land on his feet.
Great view of the small cramped cavern in the meantime, I could see maybe a dozen buildings all around us.
¡°Little overkill to make a tower just for this view.¡± I said, taking in the sight. Just a few feet above me was the ceiling of the cavern, still wet with condensation. Ambient temperature was near freezing, but just slightly off that range. Wouldn¡¯t feel great to breath down here, but wouldn¡¯t kill either.
¡°There could have been a far wider city once.¡± Wrath said, ¡°Mites change things often.¡±
¡°You say that, but most of our maps of the surface change every decade or so.¡± I said, taking a step next to her and leaning out to watch the small space. It was large to be fair, compared to a surface colony. But compared to the Undersider city, or even just the regular abandoned mite made cities, this was a tiny little village surrounded by rock with only a few ways to go. ¡°How many years did you live as a spider to think a few decades is a short timespan?¡±
She hummed. ¡°Spiders last far longer than Runners or other more active machines. We remain dormant in between hunts and thus preserve our functions far better. As a spider, I had fifty seven years in operation in total, before I met you. They were not years filled with critical thought or thinking. I was more intelligent than an animal, but far less curious and only moved by basic emotions. Those years account for some portions of my lifespan, however I would consider the last few months far more important. Mite colonies forced my nest to change locations fourteen times in total that I can remember during those past years.¡±
¡°What was the process like?¡± I asked, a little curious to how the base machine life dealt with mites.
¡°Aggravating.¡± Wrath said with a smile. ¡°At first, we would awaken to mites attempting to remove us from the location by their usual methods - eating anything in the way. Imagine waking up with a few hundred flees all taking small bites at your skin. That was how it felt. We would shake them off, attempt to squash and crush them, and continue for a while.¡±
¡°I¡¯m guessing you had to give up first?¡±
¡°Yes. Mites do not wage war, they simply continue. For each one we destroyed, ten more would take their place. We never knew where they were being built, or considered attempting to find their root spawn, but eventually even in our more simpleminded thoughts led us to consider moving. The older spiders in our nest already knew what to do, so they taught us by example. A migration would happen, similar to your own surface culture, where we would have scouts find new areas to nest at. We chose mostly by random, there was no vote nor any governing system. If it felt right and other spiders were settling in, we would congregate to it on instinct.¡±
¡°What is the strategy when we encounter machines?¡± Sagrius asked from behind. ¡°Are you able to talk them out of attacking us?¡±
Wrath turned to the half-man half-machine. ¡°I have considered this for some time. Until we know if Avalis is aware of our location or not, I will remain in my relic armor and act as a human knight would.¡±
¡°Even against your own kind?¡±
She nodded. ¡°Even in the case of a sister nest. Compromise is necessary in all forms of life, I¡¯ve learned. This expedition will need to recharge power cells often, and mite sources for such a thing are limited. Once I have removed myself from the pale lady¡¯s grasp, and no longer need to hide, I will be make more attempts to negotiate ceasefire or convince the machines to see an alternative viewpoint. Though I suspect those attempts will be futile.¡±
She wouldn¡¯t use that word lightly. ¡°Futile? You managed before with an entire city. Why can¡¯t you do that again in the future?¡±
¡°Relinquished will have surely placed me on the machine kill-on-sight list. It will be softcoded within the machine empire to ignore my communications and attack me on sight. It isn¡¯t impossible to break past that conditioning, but I would expect it to take a few hours at best.¡±
¡°Most fights with clunkers don¡¯t last a few minutes.¡± Cathida scoffed. ¡°Best not to think too much on it.¡±
¡°That is exactly the kind of logic machines will be operating under. They will not think too much on fighting against me, unless I force them to.¡±
I think Cathida¡¯s wiring got fried with that answer. On one hand, Cathida¡¯s warmonger ways were exactly the same logic a machine would go through. On the other hand, to not be like a machine would be to search for peace with machines. Which was anathema to the imperial way.
Old bat eventually just gave an angry tut, then didn¡¯t talk.
¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard her shut up in any kind of argument before.¡± I mentioned, a little awed.
Wrath smiled. ¡°I learned.¡±
We traveled a little aimlessly next. If Abraxas hadn¡¯t pointed us to any specific terminal, it was a good bet that meant any terminal would work. We weren¡¯t sure which of our names was the password, so we¡¯d be trying all of them when we did find our target.
Cavern by cavern, the mite city began to take life again as we got deeper. Sometimes, we¡¯d search through a building to find a stairwell leading under the current city to a brand new one. Other times, we¡¯d run into the Underpassage and follow the hints of lights pointing downwards.
No machines were noticed at all, until five hours into the expedition.
¡°Drake.¡± Father said, eyes fixed out to the horizon. ¡°It hasn¡¯t spotted us yet.¡±
We¡¯d just climbed out of the underpassage, our little expedition of Winterscars knights armed to the teeth with all kinds of weapons that hadn¡¯t ever seen the light of day down here.
One of which wasn¡¯t actually my invention at all, but rather something taken from Wrath¡¯s database of old human era tech that had been re-used by Relinquished to make machine standard weapons.
¡°Four overguard, rest of us aim at it?¡± I asked.
Father nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡±
The Winterscar knights organized themselves instantly, everyone hooking off their loaded backpacks for better mobility, four knights taking cardinal positions around our little cliffedge, rifles at the ready to defend the rest of the group.
Of which, we were all busy unwrapping rifles with far longer square barrels. Snipers weren¡¯t unheard of on the surface, but they were a highly situational weapon. Inside the confines of any clan colony or othersider homebase, useless. Outside on the mountaintops?
Still a little useless given the giant amount of space to cover and how fast airspeeders could fly. By the time the speeder entered range, it would also be quickly getting too close for comfort. But trap setting and other conditional elements still had these weapons hold some stock.
These were a different kind of sniper, built with far higher tech than we had access to. They linked up with the armor when powered up, feeding targeting data to get the aim perfect.
I settled down on the ground, putting the tripod down to stabilize the barrel end. Relic armor could do that for me, but at the distance this weapon fired, even the slightest tremor would have the bullet end up elsewhere. More importantly - I''d be very embarrassed if I missed.
My HUD had a zoomed in mini-screen pop up, showing where my aim was hoving over. And Father¡¯s silent communication had sent the exact coordinates of the drake, which displayed as a red arrow pointing to the target.
In seconds, I had the barrel hover right over my target. A drake, seemingly sleeping on the top of a roof.
Other red markers appeared superimposed by my HUD over the machine¡¯s chassis. Those were where the rest of the team¡¯s firepower was expected to land. We each wordlessly aimed our shots at different critical locations, and then stayed still.
When the last red dot found a home, Father¡¯s voice crackled over comms. ¡°Eliminate target.¡±
Just a cough came out as our team opened up fire. Walking around had made more noise. We couldn¡¯t hide the blue streak marks that our occult tipped bullets left behind, but that was the price of admission. Drakes had armor that could resist conventional bullets, and we didn¡¯t want to take any chances with having it survive a volley of explosive or armor piercing bullets.
Occult bullets didn¡¯t have any chance involved. They would puncture straight through each time, without error.
The bullets struck home, impacts so light they didn¡¯t so much as rock the machine backwards. Occult edges just vaporized matter on contact, so each bullet slashed through, the drill like rotation letting them almost glide into our target.
One moment, the drake had been peacefully resting, glowing lightly violet. Then the lights winked out, with a few extra tiny holes punctured through. It stayed in the exact same relaxed pose, head still resting on it¡¯s two massive front paws, but it wasn¡¯t ever going to move again.
Shotguns, snipers, knighbreakers, explosives, occult blades and the occult itself - we had so much gear, weapons and knights to wield it all for every occasion, the first strata was basically a playground. Sitting down and setting up the snipers had been more effort than the actual fight. Our attack was so fast, machines would have had to be looking right at the trajectory to see the lines of blue between us and our target.
These enemies had given such a difficult time in the past. Now, they were eradicated on sight.
Book 6 - Chapter 3 - Luck of the draw
Gear rustled and clinked as our team trekked through the rocky ground. Wordlessly, we reached a good stopping point for the day, and sounds of packs settling down on the ground rang out as we all split into our respective task. A camp was setup and manned pretty soon, before we split into different groups for meditation or overwatch. Today was ration bars a la salt. Not a lot of fresher things to find in a dead serile mite city, unfortunately. Not even bugs.
I¡¯d spent some time underground already with four other Winterscar knights and Captain Sagrius, they¡¯d ¡®escorted¡¯ me to the undersider city where Kidra was last known. I say escorted with quotes here because we were all powerful enough to solo travel around the underground even back then, so the escort was mostly ceremonial. The trouble was what could possibly be waiting at the end, that¡¯s what they¡¯d come down for.
The same applied here. Even the exact same knights had come down with me. Allaris, Zent, all the regulars I¡¯d seen at the Winterscar courtyard, running drills and practice with Kidra. Not every single Winterscar knight, but ten of our best along with the Captain.
Now most were running occult drills and training within the digital sea inside Cathida¡¯s armor, forcing the engram herself to drill them. Others were sitting around the camp, quietly talking or keeping an eye out to the distance. Captain Sagrius had become a nexus of sorts, due to the amount of clan knight souls he carried within him.
Those were venerable knights within, each having decades of experience. They¡¯d come down and then deliberately followed Lord Atius because they¡¯d already lived a full life. Their estate and dependents were grown and taken care of. The wealth of experience among all of them were exactly what the new Winterscar knights needed down here. They felt they could do the most good by coming with us on the expedition.
The Winterscar knights had a more¡ religious aspect to it. I¡¯ve told them everything already - they all knew I hadn¡¯t done anything dramatic with the gods, just happened to be in the right place at the right time and made the best of things.
They were convinced I was on some kind of quest that would change the world. In their defense, we were camping out with the first Feather in centuries to break free mentally, and escorting her down to where she¡¯d be able to break free physically as well. And the mites certainly seemed to think there was something to Wrath and her destiny. So while helping her be free isn¡¯t going to change the world - Wrath herself might go on to do something that could.
We grabbed our gear, packed the camp up, and set back off. Searching through empty streetways and taking quick glances through buildings.
Underground remained consistent to what I¡¯d been used to on the other hand. A routine quickly took place in our group. We would search through different sections of the mite city for that terminal, find a place to camp out when we struck out for the day, sleep and move on the next day.
Drakes were easy to spot, they stayed on rooftops to sleep, and their detection range was shorter than Father¡¯s, so he spotted them far before they could spot him.
Spider nests were even easier to avoid, they only enjoyed setting up in tunnel sections that were off the beaten path. As Wrath explained, mites seemed to just know when a nest settled into one of the main branches, and they¡¯d come to mess it up within the year. A long time to me, but to spiders a single year was more like a ten minute nap. Waking up every ten minutes with a swarm of ants biting and ruining everything would get old fast, and spiders weren''t immune to that.
And then there were the Screamers. The scouts, and territory claimers of the machine empire. While we could avoid almost all the other machines by simply being slow and steady, Screamers were designed to find lone humans anywhere they hid.
In fistfights between humans, there¡¯s ingrained reflexes everyone has to unlearn. Like the instinctive need to look over one¡¯s shoulder before throwing the first punch. People who¡¯d been in dozens of brawls would instantly recognize that tell. People who¡¯ve been in hundreds of brawls would simply know when someone was about to attack even without that tell. Body language, gut feelings, instinct, and experience all combined together into its own kind of foresight.
Father had that when it came to duels and combat. With anything really. I had a theory that what made him tick was superb pattern recognition abilities, letting him read an opponent¡¯s mind.
While he could learn an enemy¡¯s behavior within seconds, it took me a few thousand repetitions before I got to that instinctive understanding.
Using the fractal the mites had given me, I didn¡¯t have a thousand repetition. I had hundreds of thousands. Possibly millions all put together.
Screamers¡ felt almost safe to be around. I knew them. At that instinctive level. I knew how far they could move, where their reach was, the small ways their joints would align, everything. Even the abnormal screamers could be spotted from a mile away. If they moved differently from the rank and file, it was so disturbingly obvious, it would be like spotting a man walking with a heavy limp among a crowd.
Those Screamers that survived a few encounters with Humans and brought with them some changes to their fight. Just the way they ran felt different to me.
What I wasn¡¯t used to was their hunting patterns. On the bridge, I only saw what they could do in full attack mode. The Winterscar knights traveling with us hadn¡¯t any real experience trying to hide away from Screamers either. By the time they stepped underground, they were already some of the most dangerous knights in the world and never really needed to fear machines.
Which meant while I knew almost everything about fighting against Screamers, only Father, Wrath and the souls of the clan knights could know how Screamers actually operated.
Wrath was out of that count because she was too used to having perfect connection at all times with the machine network. She only knew in theory how Screamers would track us down. The clan knights could give us wisdom, but they couldn¡¯t be out here to actually keep a watch.
So with the short straw left to Father, he had to take on an airspeeder¡¯s worth of work for the team and help navigate down here without drawing more attention than needed. And he did do that job almost perfectly.
The real icepick in the wall had been our drake kills. Each one that died, the rest of the Screamers would start to swarm around the area, searching for what killed their higher rank.
A group of our size would be spotted at some point, no matter how sneaky we were. We heard them first, as usual. All we did was find a nice dead end to bunker into, dropped our backpack and gear behind us, drew rifles and waited.
They came after us soon enough. A group of seven today, far more feral than any of the machines Wrath had worked with. There was a kind of humanity to her people, the way Yrob would look after food or his own brothers. The delicate way he¡¯d treat Tamery and some of the other humans around him.
These ones simply wanted blood and death.
¡°Eliminate targets.¡± Father called out, waiting behind the firing line with folded arms, watching for anything off.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
We did, using regular bullets Wrath had made over the journey. Screamers hit the ground, broken, lights flickering off. The rest adapted to the rifle fire, and began to leap and jump out of the way.
We let them reach our ranks, pretending like we couldn¡¯t aim our rifles any faster or more accurately. A few knights ahead drew knives, took a step forward and executed slow but functionally perfect dodges and cuts at their throat. The same motions and movements that the clan knights had taught them all over the last few hours spent in the digital sea.
The Screamers lasted a few seconds before they were all dispatched. Not because they¡¯d been particularly smart or clever in their attack - I could take on all seven in a pack with just fists and dance through all their strikes. No, we had to give the illusion of there being an actual fight. The armor we wore had all been modified to look like houses that didn¡¯t exist within our clan. Cloaks and tunics helped hide the real weapons we carried, and I had my occult armguard wrapped up nice and tight inside one of my bags.
If any machines tapped into the recorded video footage left behind, all they¡¯d see is a larger than usual surface clan party making their way underground. Once we reached Abraxas¡¯s teleportation network, we¡¯d switch up our looks again and be truly undetected.
Even Wrath joined in with little personal feeling into it.
¡°If the situation were reversed, you would also not have great issues killing other humans.¡± She said over lunch, which were disappointing ration bars again. ¡°You are not a monolith faction, many of your kind will attack others already. If we were to narrow down the analogy, it would be as if you were in the desert fighting fanatics who cared only to kill machines like me, would never listen to reason, and view you as a heretic.¡± She waved one of the recovered power cells, tapping the side of her leg and letting the replica relic armor open up. ¡°Additionally these fanatics would carry water flasks on them, which you would require to survive this desert.¡±
¡°You mean imperials like me?¡± Cathida said with a cackle. ¡°Well, you¡¯d be right. And we do have our own water bottles too. Humans need more than glorified battery acid to keep the insults going.¡±
¡°And ration bars.¡± I added, feeling my appetite vanish after the third bite. I¡¯d gotten spoiled on the good stuff up in the clan. "Though they''re doing good as fuel for getting upset."
But Wrath¡¯s topic did stick in my mind. If Imperial crusaders came after Wrath and were also just as happy to cut my throat, how would I feel about fighting back?
Crusaders and Imperials held a special place in clan culture. Pilgrims brought with them hundreds of goods and items that were almost essential to making clan life more bearable.
¡°On your analogy, I think you¡¯re right,¡± I said, taking another painful bite of my ration. ¡°I would fight back without issue. They¡¯re not pilgrims, and while their heart could be in the right place in defending humanity and all that, they¡¯re still trying to murder people I care about. That¡¯s where I¡¯ll draw my lines.¡±
Wrath smiled with a nod, looking away from the ration bars for the first time in a while.
I waved the bar back into her vision. ¡°You want?¡±
She shook her head. ¡°I do not need food to survive, only power cells. Any ration bars I consume will be one less bar available when the expedition truly needs it.¡±
Cathida spat, or made the sound of that. ¡°Stop doing that. It¡¯s annoyingly hard to hate something that¡¯s always trying to do good. Really pisses me off.¡±
¡°You signed up for the wrong expedition then.¡± I said, tapping my half eaten ration bar at the helmet.
¡°I didn¡¯t sign up, I got dragged into this! Goddess damned squirelings, the lot of you.¡± She grumbled.
Wrath quirked her head, then had that look to her like she¡¯d figured out a new way to mess with something. ¡°Would you like some of my glorified battery acid? I will always have some to share with a fellow machine. I am generous.¡±
Cathida was extra cranky about that.
¡°Tracks.¡± Father said as our group jogged and jumped from rooftop to rooftop.
¡°Found the machines?¡± I asked. This section of the city had almost no machines at all. We¡¯d killed a few stragglers of Screamers that gave chase, but no follow-up converging swarm came. Gave us a good chance to cover ground fast across the upper more exposed sections of the city, so none of us were complaining.
¡°No. Humans.¡± He said, pointing down at the ground that absolutely did not have bootprints, footprints, poetic scribbling, or graffiti.
¡°Human?¡± I asked. ¡°You sure? Not seeing any footprints here.¡± I gave a glance at the main road, shifting through Journey''s HUD settings to see if there were any other spectrum of vision that Father was seeing. It looked like a regular road to me.
¡°Not footprints.¡± Father clarified. ¡°A displaced trail of dust. Hover skifs.¡±
With that pointed out, I could see it. Everywhere else had a thin layer of dust collected over. But the main road had dust just lightly swept off to the sides of the buildings.
Skiffs were faster than relic armor, but only on straight and long paths. A winding road like this wouldn¡¯t let a skiff do anything quick. "odd place for a skiff." I said. "Hoversleds?"
¡°Larger ones may only fit on the grand highways.¡± One of the clan knights confirmed. ¡°Smaller airspeeders and skiffs will cut from one biome to another, they can even be faster than a full convoy as a result. Less secure however.¡±
¡°Refugees from Capra¡¯Nor?¡± Wrath asked.
¡°Too far from the city.¡± Father said. ¡°Too dangerous of a territory. These are merchants.¡±
¡°Could they be the reason for the lack of machines in the sector, master Tenisent?¡± One of our knights asked.
Father gave a very slight shrug. ¡°Possible. If they were using larger skiffs, they would have drawn all the attention. We will need to find them.¡±
¡°You sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Cathida asked. ¡°Thought this expedition was all about pretending to not be who we are. As much as I like the idea of running where the fighting''s good, the mission is still the mission.¡±
¡°I have a counterpoint. A larger group of merchants would be ideal camouflage.¡± Wrath said. ¡°Although they may delay our ultimate destination.¡±
Father shook his head. ¡°Merchants don¡¯t travel unknown territory. They will know the path. That is why I wish to find them.¡±
¡°And to know the path, they gotta have a map.¡± I finished. ¡°We find the merchants, we can find where the terminal is.¡±
He nodded.
But there¡¯s a problem with following tracks. Footprints had a clear direction forward. Skiffs just shoved dust out of the way in all directions, so we had no clear direction.
We were roughly traveling north, and the path could be going either west or east when we hit on it. But any merchants traveling would have to pause for either camps, or firefights. And after those, there might be traces that could point us the right direction.
We went east. Fifty fifty chances but at worse we¡¯d probably have lost a few hours to backtracking. We got lucky here, about an hour down the road we found traces of a firefight, dead and stripped bodies of Screamers along with other hints we were going the right way. All the footprints seemed to be going down the trail.
We had a chance to catch up to them so long as they hadn¡¯t left the biome yet. Could take a few hours, so we took less breaks and kept on a full sprint. ¡°They will not take any shortcut that leaves them within the same biome for more than a day.¡± Father said. ¡°Machines swarm where there is a void. The longer a group is known about, the faster swarms arrive for them. Past a day, they will be overwhelmed.¡±
He was right, it didn¡¯t take us more than a day to find them. The further down the line, the more damage they¡¯d taken. We passed by a half-cut skiff, similar to hoversled, only far fatter with actual engines and a crude gimbal for the engine.
This one still had that engine working, just the actual skiff itself had the critical parts keeping it hovering cut. Once a hoverboard stops working, that¡¯s it. There¡¯s no fixing that, hover tech was golden era tech. The faulty parts could be replaced, but a hoversled¡¯s only useful part was the hovering tech. May as well call for a full replacement.
The marchants clearly thought the same, everything on the skiff was gone, even the engine looked like it had been stripped for valuable parts on the quick, and left to rot.
We found the culprit later. A dead drake, metal plating bent and husk burnt out. Bullet dents littered the creature¡¯s body from multiple directions, meaning it had been sprayed down religiously from every direction. A coordinated team.
Further down, we found another skiff and this time bodies. None of them relic knights, more regular undersiders, soaked in blood and clearly dead. Seven in total.
¡°They didn¡¯t have time for proper burial.¡± Father said, touching one of the bodies. ¡°Signs of postmortem hypostasis. Less than four hours ago. We¡¯re close.¡± He looked up. ¡°They are not going to survive for long.¡±
Given the trend going from only a dust trail, to machine bodies and now human ones, it was clear this convoy had bitten more than they could chew on.
We went back into our full sprint, following behind.
There weren¡¯t any sounds up ahead in the dead city, so we had no warning of what happened next. We turned a corner and found ourselves right in front of a firing line. Nineteen Undersider knights with rifles all pointed right at us, and another twenty five or so unarmored men and women sitting on over-stuffed skiffs. Also pointing weapons of various kind at us too. They looked beyond stressed out, harrowed and gaunt.
Well.
Think found our merchants.
Book 6 - Chapter 4 - Side quest
¡°Surface dwellers!¡± A rather fat man said, almost rolling off one of the skiffs, landing hard on the ground and rushing up to the undersider knights up front, shoving his way through the line. ¡°Goddess bless this goldforsaken land, we¡¯re saved!¡±
Two of the knights next to him began to lower their rifles down, before the center knight swiftly chopped the air, then lifted a fist up. All rifled went back to aiming right in our direction, and a few hands reaching to the hilt of their knifes.
The rest of the Winterscar knights behind me came to a stop, Wrath included as we held a standstill for a moment.
¡°Identify yourself.¡± That undersider knight at the center called out over general comms, with a deeper timber of an older veteran.
¡°Odd way to greet friendly faces this far down in the underground.¡± I muttered. A power play of some kind before the mechants?
Wrath opened comms a moment later, ¡°I overheard their earlier discussion. He¡¯s warning his caravan that our cloaks and clothing are hiding far too much of our armor. This is unnatural to surface knights. Your culture does not hide their house sigils, we are suspicious.¡±
¡°He thinks we might be slavers or raiders in disguise.¡± Father added, taking a step forward beyond our lines. ¡°A reasonable precaution.¡± Then he stopped in his steps, as if he had a better idea and turned back to me. ¡°Boy, handle this. Diplomacy is a skill, practice it.¡±
He wasn¡¯t really saying I needed to practice speaking to a bunch of panicked soldiers that we weren¡¯t here to enslave them or loot their stuff. He was saying it¡¯s a good chance to practice our official cover.
I gave a shrug of my shoulders, took a step forward and opened up general comms with a traditional clan salute. ¡°I am Remus Nighthaven, of House Nighthaven. We are knights sent by clan Deius.¡±
Wouldn¡¯t serve anyone to tell the truth over open comms like these. If machines were picking up signals, or if the Undersiders here had to talk, better they got the info we wanted slipped out. Atius had written it all up, along with a whole fictional story behind the clan and our expedition. I think part of him enjoyed writing up stories, a lot of the details were completely unnecessary. He still insisted, telling us to rely on our relic armor¡¯s HUD to give the quick notes whenever topics showed up.
Plus Wrath and Father both had perfect memory recall, so even the tiniest and strangest details would be dredged up without issue.
¡°Never heard of that clan.¡± The undersider knight understandably said, rifle still lifted up. ¡°Only three clans within the area that I know of, Altosk, Yestra, and Nedia.¡±
I¡¯ll give him this, he really did know his stuff. Nedia was at least a month of travel away from our own clan. Assuming they¡¯re still around at all with the slaver activity upstairs. We only heard from them every few years.
¡°We were hired to escort Deathless to the lower levels.¡± I said, giving him a nod. ¡°A teleportation trap triggered and caught us inside. We¡¯ve been slowly seeking a way back to the surface.¡±
The undersider knight nodded slowly. ¡°Name the three gods of the exodites.¡± he said.
¡°Talen, Tsyua, and Urs.¡± I said without problem. ¡°Not a great question if you¡¯re trying to ferret Othersiders from Surface clans. Culture overlap is a thing and everyone up there already knows about the gods. They¡¯re only exotic to undersiders that don¡¯t travel to the surface clans.¡±
He gave a dark chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re right, that¡¯s too low a bar. Rust¡ what¡¯s the staple food you eat?¡±
¡°Generally rice, wallflour, lentils, chicken and insects.¡± I said, counting down a finger for each. ¡°Frostbloom only when we¡¯re scrapped. Again, Othersiders are gonna eat the same diet too.¡±
Father took a step forward, then flared out the occult around him. ¡°Enough. They were hired to escort me.¡±
At that, all the rifles went down almost at once. A few of the Undersiders even took a quick knee, one fist quickly tapping their chestplate, murmuring greetings. The center knight also lowered his rifle, a little more slowly but without any malice left. ¡°That¡¯ll do it, Master Deathless. Forgive my questioning, the men and I have been through danger and we can¡¯t take chances.¡±
Father waved them off. ¡°Precaution saves lives. It is known.¡±
The merchant who¡¯d been hiding behind the main knight pushed right through, almost waddling forward. ¡°Master Deathless, I am Sir Reginald Quath, merchant lord from Drestin.¡± He quickly gave a deep bow, then lifted and tapped the Undersider knight¡¯s shoulder next. ¡°This fellow here is Forward Captain Atlas, from the Skar-fist company, hired out to protect my convoy. We are attempting to reach Capra¡¯Nor, and we¡¯ve been traveling for almost a month now. This was supposed to be a known passway between grand highways, but alas, as you can see it¡¯s not as safe as it once was.¡± There was a nervous chuckle from the merchants around. ¡°Would you be interested in forming a temporary contract? We¡¯re not equipped to travel on the surface so our services can¡¯t assist you on your current mission - however I swear to you good sir, that Capra¡¯Nor is just slightly further out and would serve as an excellent resting spot. After which I can have a convoy drafted up to bring you to the surface clan of Altosk. They¡¯re a clan led by a Deathless like yourself! I am certain he would agree to assist your return to your original lands, no matter how far off they are.¡±
¡°Capra¡¯Nor has been overwhelmed.¡± Father said. ¡°The people have fled to further cities beyond. We know this as I was there personally and witnessed the fall.¡±
The news instantly stabbed the merchants like a sharpened icepick. A few gasped, others took a step back. The undersider knights just remained stoic at the news, as if digesting it in the privacy of their armors.
The merchants were a different story, emotions easily read. They wanted to protest at first, probably about to ask how he knew this. Then realized Father was a Deathless, and wouldn¡¯t lie about such things. Right after denial came justifications or rationalizations that parts of the city would still be operational, or segmented.
Except it wasn¡¯t some city state dispute. If it had been overrun by machines, there wouldn¡¯t be any kind of civilized takeover.
Bit of an irony here - there had been a civil takeover, but none of the merchants could have reasonably guessed that would happen. There wasn¡¯t any anger phase, they skipped that step entirely. Which led to just sorrow for most of them.
Except for the merchant lord, who seemed to perk up. ¡°And the nearby cities¡ you mentioned people have escaped to them? Then they must still be operational! It would be an extra detour, however we happen to have a supply surplus, after a rather unfortunate end to some of our colleagues.¡±
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
That was a morbid way to view things, but can¡¯t fault the logic.
¡°The surrounding cities should still be untouched by the machine invasion.¡± Wrath said, then pinged coordinates to the caravan for the nearby cities she¡¯d mapped out previously while assisting with the evacuation preparations, ¡°We assisted in organizing the possible escape vectors the people would take.¡±
¡°We fought the machines to the last.¡± Father added. ¡°Until there was nothing left to save.¡±
Atlas nodded, turning to his employer and relaying the news. The merchants instantly turned on one another, debating over a small tablet they¡¯d pulled out that had an updated map. Running calculations and the like on which city was the best to go to.
While they spoke together, Atlas took a few steps forward, signaling to the rest of his team to spread out and keep a watch for any approaching machines.
¡°We¡¯ve been harried night and day by machines, lord Deathless. I suspected a mite forge may have moved into the area, or machines are migrating. But news of a fallen city makes more sense. The machines must be hunting after survivors.¡± The Undersider captain gave a look behind him, at the flurry of activity. ¡°I admit, I was mostly convinced we wouldn¡¯t make it to the grand highway at this rate. I¡¯ve never seen surface knights in your numbers before, but given you¡¯re here to escort a Deathless to the further underground reaches, it makes sense. Is your group also following behind one of the evacuation routes?¡±
¡°We are not.¡± Father said, then turned his head back to me. ¡°Address discussions with the Nighthaven Prime. He is in charge of his knights and will know more.¡±
Translation from Father: I¡¯m tired of talking, you handle them son.
Technically, I was supposed to be a prime for that House according to the document brief Atius had come up with. None of the knights here would feel comfortable taking on that mantle, so it fell to me.
Father turned and went to sit on the side of some rubble, watching me closely.
¡°We¡¯re looking for an item within the sector for the honored Deathless.¡± I said, taking a step to the Undersider captain and addressing his concerns. ¡°We haven¡¯t had much luck yet, but if we find a mite terminal that should speed our search up. Happened to find such a thing?¡±
¡°As a matter of fact, we have. Passed by it by pure chance, wasn¡¯t noted on our old maps but these locations don¡¯t get any updates unless the path changes.¡± The captain said, extending a hand out. ¡°I¡¯d give it to you out of principle, but my men¡¯s lives are at stake. I humbly request assistance in making it to the grand highway in exchange for the terminal¡¯s location.¡±
¡°Figured you were going to say that.¡± I said, ¡°No good deed goes unpunished, huh?¡±
He laughed, ¡°Not in these soul-scoured lands, no. Any other situation, I would have offered it without hesitation.¡±
¡°Merging with the traders would be a fairly easy way to hide.¡± Father said over comms. ¡°We bring them to their destination point, obtain direct coordinates for the map, and complete the first part of the mission.¡±
Wrath agreed. ¡°Given our rate of progress, and the coordinates for the grand highway they are attempting to reach, I calculate assisting them and obtaining direct coordinates would be faster than finding it with our current resources.¡±
Made sense. Even if the terminal was significantly further away, that just means we¡¯d have to be blindly mapping out significantly more land to find it. Having neat coordinates to the nearest terminal would solve all our issues.
I grabbed his hand and shook it. ¡°We¡¯re traveling with a Deathless. I think he¡¯d be rather upset with us if we left people to just die off like that.¡±
Technically, Father would probably allow just that to happen if he had to weigh lives. Probably why he wasn¡¯t a Deathless.
Wrath wouldn¡¯t have allowed it, she always tried to find way to do the best for everyone, the little cinnamon roll.
It was odd in a way, that a machine was closer to a Deathless than a human.
We traveled with the merchants for a few more hours before the lights of the city dimmed for darkness. The night cycle.
No machines came out of the rocks, so they were likely still assembling an attack force to handle what the merchants had.
My group camped out inside an old hotel-like structure with busted windows. Tons of square rooms inside to camp in, but the whole thing was slightly tilted over.
Outside, further by the base of the building, the Undersider knights were all spread out, keeping close eye for any signs of violet in the distance.
¡°The undersider traders are terrified of the local machines here.¡± I said, watching them patrol around. ¡°Understandable, I was terrified of them too a few months ago.¡± I gave a look at Wrath. ¡°Occasionally still terrified, but for completely different reasons now.¡±
She gave back a betrayed look. Then narrowed her eyes and glanced down at her half-eaten undersider ration bar, before looking at everyone else¡¯s to compare what she was doing differently, adding it all up to one conclusion. ¡°It looked tasty. And they offered it freely.¡± She justified, quickly hiding the whole thing behind her. Then puffed up. ¡°Additionally, I have seen miss Silverstride eat mica-based pearlescent pigmented metallics before. There is precedent. I am experimenting with possible ingredients to improve her recipes.¡±
¡°It¡¯s called edible glitter, and she sprinkles it in her cookies purely because she¡¯s a giant moth with a compulsive need to worship anything that sparkles. She even puts it in her hair.¡± I pointed at the loot she was hiding behind her. ¡°That, on the other hand, is a half eaten foil wrapper.¡±
¡°There is functionally no difference.¡± Wrath said with a pout. ¡°I fail to see why I would need to shred this into tiny segments instead of one larger segment.¡± She immediately added when I gave her the look. ¡°And miss Silverstride is a human, not a moth.¡±
¡°She¡¯s three moths in a dress pretending to be a human.¡±
¡°Algorithms show you are currently lying.¡± Wrath countered, eyes narrowing further.
¡°M¡¯lord,¡± one of the knights asked, before I could mess with Wrath some more. ¡°What is our plan of action when machines come?¡±
I saw what he was trying to ask. ¡°We still don¡¯t want to have any machine recording us ripping them apart faster than clan knights should, but I also really don¡¯t like the idea of letting someone die simply to keep our own secret. And that¡¯s going to happen if we keep everything we¡¯ve got secret.¡±
The other Winterscar knights gave small nods. We had all the power to save every single one in this convoy. Even without weapons or the occult, we could still pull it off by sheer speed. Relic armor by itself was stronger than a Screamer, so even without knives or blades, we could punch and rip our way to victory.
Undersider knights could not. And neither could regular clan knights. Limiting ourselves to pretend we were weaker than we actually were could end up costing someone¡¯s life.
¡°Not a problem.¡± Father said. ¡°A Deathless traveling at this level is not unheard of. I will protect the caravan traveling forward and ensure no lives are lost. The rest of you will act as standard clan knights.¡±
Wrath nodded, as did the rest of our crew. A plan was hashed out. Father would pull off the kind of stunts a Deathless could do, flaring out the occult whenever he moved faster than he had any right to, and any recording would have come to a natural conclusion it was just occult scrapshit at work.
With that all set in stone, it was time to camp out and sleep through the night. The merchants had been running day and night without break, taking shifts to drive the convoy forward. Having this many additional knights join them finally gave the whole crew a chance to actually recover.
I gave one last look outside to the campfires among the undersiders below, then slipped on my helmet and locked it in place.
Hexis had left me some entries to read. Quite a ton of it too given the size of the textfiles and images. My master might not be here to personally train me anymore, but next time I saw him, I aimed to have mastered every lesson he wrote down and be damn smug about it.
Half hour for the nightly mental exercises, some meditation within the soul fractal to check that I still can¡¯t quite see concepts of mathematics just yet, and then another deep dive into the next chapter of his left behind lessons.
He said he only spent his spare time writing all of this down, but the amount of detail he wrote under each lesson made me think he wasn¡¯t being honest with himself.
I didn¡¯t get to sleep on time tonight, because just an hour before I actually planned to end my reading, the machines came knocking.
They came prepared to handle a convoy of desperate traders protected by a line of Undersider knights at their wit¡¯s end.
They did not come prepared to take on Father, stalking around the area with silent fury and complete permission to use everything at his disposal to fight.
Unfortunately for them.
Book 6 - Chapter 5 - In which Keith and company have a relaxing trip
Tenisent tilted his head to the side, avoiding the machine¡¯s grab. Memories of a lifetime fighting against these enemies flowed through his soul, his body reacting exactly as it had in life.
No, not exactly.
In life he¡¯d treated his body as a weapon, maintaining it like a blade. But there were limits. Always limits. He¡¯d spent a lifetime compensating for those limits.
He knew the correct pattern to eliminate this Screamer after it had missed his head. The way to block its followup attack, and where to slam his hand to crack through the armor and remove the heart. It had been necessary to know the most secure paths to victory.
There was no need anymore. He grabbed the machine¡¯s head, and ripped it off the shell wholesale. To mask the strength, he pulsed the occult around him, making his strength appear as if this was some spell a Deathless had used.
The soul sight revealed to him all enemies lurking around, their concepts like blazing spotlights. His shell¡¯s scanning and optical subsystems confirmed what his inner sight showed. Audio systems picked up every footfall, even down to the grinding sounds of poorly fitted mechanical parts.
A second Screamer tried to spear him from the back, sharpened elongated hands forming as close to a blade as it could.
Pathetic. Doomed to failure.
Tenisent twisted on himself, his kick spearing straight through the screamer¡¯s chassis, shattering the components built to draw power from the machine¡¯s heart, it¡¯s power cell. Secondary systems lit up within, desperately trying to reroute, but the momentary outage still forced the enemy into a small stutter. The human equivalent of having the wind knocked out of it.
He gripped one of the frozen hands, extended it out, then chopped his own hand through it, severing the arm in one clean strike. The Screamer reeled, taking a few steps back.
He stalked after it. The machine tried to swipe at him with the remaining arm, but that hand was quickly caught in a vice grip, ripped off, then crushed in his hand before tossed aside.
It tried to kick him next.
A few jabs in specific locations paralyzed his target, breaking the motors that kept the legs and torso moving. He grabbed the creature¡¯s throat before it could collapse on itself, pinning it against a wall, then began to rip off plate after plate while the machine tried to find new means of fighting back.
Another Screamer raced at him, once more trying to stab him through the back, sprinting at full speed. Not fast enough to avoid a second lighting fast chop, severing the neck off. The limp body crushed itself against the wall, violet lights turning off before the shell could fully land on the ground.
The captive machine¡¯s limp shell stared back at him, likely wishing it had a jaw to bite with. He gave it a few more seconds, letting the surrounding pack be drawn out in rage. He needed to be ruthless. To fight differently than he had been recorded prior. To draw the machine attention away from the convoy, and on him.
The moment he had the pack¡¯s full attention, he nodded to himself. Then snapped the neck and tossed the body aside along with the ripped arms and broken parts.
The remaining pack leaped at him at the same time, howling, snarling, furious.
The body without a head had tried to sprint at him, hoping sheer speed would carry the day. Prior, they¡¯d tried to have one of their own sneak behind. Now they were trying pure numbers from every direction. The pack were analyzing his movements, attempting to adapt to it.
There was no hope.
He watched as they soared through the air, moving so slowly in his sight. He took a step, drew out his blades and slashed through the air. Once, twice, three times. Occult arcs pulsing off each hit, rippling through reality until it struck home on the metal monsters.
They landed back on the ground, skidding to a stop, most ripped apart. Only one was left alive, struggling to stand. Its legs intentionally cut so that it might not escape.
It was time. He¡¯d been fighting like this for long enough. The machine collective here must have its attention on him now.
He sheathed his blades, then pulled off his helmet. Cold, frosty air greeted his changed face. New hair color, changed cheekbones, hooked broken nose and a dark beard twined in a distinct style. It was all just material to him, and his nanite swarms were built to regenerate damage. He simply changed his definition of damage.
It hadn¡¯t been a randomized face. Lord Atius had helped him craft these features from his own memories. Yvain, a friend of Atius and far more importantly - a known Deathless clan lord. One who¡¯d been active underground for centuries before moving to the surface, far far away.
In any case where his helmet was removed and spotted, facial recognition programs could be misled. Atius had recommended using this card situationally. Done too early, and it might draw more questions than answers.
That changed now that they had joined the undersider convoy and became a larger group. Something that would give them more distance from the profile To¡¯Avalis would be searching for.
He took a step forward, staring at the dying machine. It tried to struggle, clawing on the ground. An armored boot crushed the machine arm with contempt. He kneeled down a moment later, eye to eye with the lesser monster. ¡°Go back to your puppet masters, demon. And tell them they ought to do better.¡± Voice changed to match recordings Atius had.
In every way he could practice, he was now Yvain. The Deathless clan lord that had helped settle clan Altosk two hundred years ago.
And Yvain¡¯s face was somewhere in the machine databases. They¡¯d match him.
They¡¯d believe the old retired Deathless clan lord had given up his post and was returning underground.
He stood up from his target, giving it just enough time to transmit video data, then lifted his leg and stomped down on the half-skull head.
Undersider Knights had an interesting way to view clan knights. Figure this - we were the men in the shadows. Bounty hunters. Executioners. The kind of mercenaries hired when the target had the means or resources to fight back, and clan knights didn¡¯t care for local politics. Wealth was wealth. We either escorted our own merchants, or went out to kill people. And there wasn¡¯t a middle ground.
Explained why the undersiders were nervous around us, even after knowing we worked for a Deathless.
Soldiers like captain Atlas here didn¡¯t usually run into clan knights. As he told it, he lived a no-nonsense life, working with Quath for years now. And all these years he¡¯d seen enough clan knights to count on one hand, not two. And when he had, he¡¯d been advised to turn around and walk away, which he did since he¡¯s still alive.
I didn¡¯t really understand just how rare we were to the underground until I spoke to people like Quath and Atlas.
¡°You clan knights are considered an omen of some kind.¡± One of the undersider knights said, grabbing a crate beside me and lifting it up on the skiff. ¡°You see a team walking through the streets, you know they¡¯re hunting someone down. Even the way they walk is menacing.¡± The man stopped for a moment, ¡°Not you folks of course, you¡¯re here with a Deathless. Official good business, nothing for the underlayer of cities. Plus we know you aren¡¯t here for us. Right?¡±
¡°They¡¯re not here for us.¡± The captain said, tapping the last crate and marking where it should be brought to. ¡°Sir Reginald may be a fat bastard with a silver tongue, but he¡¯s our fat bastard with a silver tongue. He keeps his books well documented, and doesn¡¯t chase after rust. Never needed to resort to additional contracts or anything illicit.¡±
¡°Flattered you think so highly of me.¡± Reginald Quath, said the silver tongued bastard, muttered while sitting on the skiff. Tapping at his computer slate as usual. He hadn¡¯t stopped looking down at that thing since we got here. ¡°They¡¯re not after us because of these questions. Clan knights in the business of dealing with the underlayer already have personal experience. That the prime here is asking questions means his clan¡¯s never had to resort to hiring their services out in the first place.¡±
¡°That¡¯s¡ a rather good observation.¡± I said, realizing my idle talk and questions had revealed more details than I suspected I would have. Stung a little even.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
¡°Oh, I can intuit more than just that.¡± Quath said. ¡°You have the rank of a prime, but your voice sounds young. Granted I haven¡¯t seen under your helmet yet, but I strongly suspect you¡¯ve only recently been granted the title, likely your predecessor retired early or unexpectedly. Illness or out on expedition?¡±
¡°Expedition.¡± I said, deciding to play along. Father had technically died out in expedition and we¡¯d brought back his armor. Wrath had been the one who dragged back his soul.
¡°You must have shown great promise or skill, given you''ve been chosen as the only prime to accompany a Deathless.¡± Quath said. ¡°I would suspect you¡¯ve done something to prove your skill to the Deathless in such a way that he recommended you personally.¡±
¡°You do jump to conclusions quickly.¡± I said, giving a look over the skiff¡¯s sides to make sure everything was good. A thumbs up to the driver told her all green.
¡°That is part of a merchant¡¯s intuition. I¡¯d like to believe I¡¯m skilled enough at that. I do notice you haven¡¯t confirmed my last theory, so I will leave it at that. A theory. As for the captain¡¯s prior topic, I have no need to hire clan knights. I¡¯m not rich enough to pay the prices your kind ask for regardless. Armors are still significant expenditures at my level. And neither do I stick my head in anyone else¡¯s business so much that they would hire clan knights to come after me.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve seen footage of clan knights in combat.¡± The undersider captain said. ¡°There¡¯s even a joke of a noble getting his ass handed to him by one in disguise, part of the reason it¡¯s now tradition before duels to reveal helmets and confirm it really is your opponent in there and not some bait and switch. I admit I¡¯m a little curious if the rumors live up to the expectations.¡±
They hadn¡¯t seen any of us in action, not with Father running loose. I gave him a shrug in answer. ¡°Are you asking to spar?¡±
¡°Goddess save me, no.¡± The captain said with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m good with a blade in a spar, but only as a passing interest. And the only noble here would be Sir Quath.¡±
¡°Who is very much not interested.¡± Quath immediately said, as his skiff began to move behind the convoy. ¡°My weapons are spreadsheets, numbers and profit. My esteemed colleagues may have enough time and fortune to waste away playing with pointed sticks with personal trainers, but I have different hobbies of interest. Not all nobles learn to duel as a pastime.¡±
¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to spar with us anyhow.¡± I said, jogging behind before jumping up on the skiff. ¡°Not much of a fighting chance I think.¡±
¡°Perhaps not with a House Prime specifically picked over other primes to accompany a Deathless.¡± The merchant said, as I took a seat next to him. ¡°I suspect the captain would have better odds against the regular soldiers among you. He¡¯s modest about his talents, but his company is trained to handle outlaws in armor after all.¡±
I gave a look back at the Winterscar knights in disguise. One looked back and traced a finger over his faceless helmet, quickhand for a smile. ¡°I think you might have less of a chance against them than me to be honest. They¡¯re highly trained elites. Highly trained.¡±
My own base skills weren¡¯t shabby, about average compared to regular clan knights. I did have Father to train me over a lifetime, so that helped offset my lack of talent. Cathida rated me within the top ten percent of undersider duelists when I¡¯d asked her about it. At least from her time.
Did do wonders for my ego.
¡°They¡¯re escorts for a Deathless.¡± Captain Atlas nodded along, ¡°I imagine he wouldn¡¯t hire recruits. I certainly wouldn¡¯t for an expedition further down. And it was a good call, given the local situation here.¡±
¡°I admit I am still having difficulty thinking about it.¡± Reginald Quath muttered, watching as the cityscape passed by. ¡°An entire city being destroyed. All so recently as well. Disturbing times we live in. Less trade, less business, less everything.¡±
¡°Not destroyed. Evacuated.¡± One of the merchants sitting nearby lifted his head, speaking. ¡°Have you considered the opportunity from all this? I can¡¯t be the only one who sees rust from ruin here.¡±
¡°New houses need to be built?¡± One of the Winterscar knights asked. ¡°Or plans for a new city?¡±
Quath smiled back, ¡°That would be the humanitarian thing to do, sir knight. Unfortunately, my associate here is a known psychopath whose presence I tolerate. He¡¯s implying a far more morbid idea than pivoting to house construction.¡±
¡°Additional perspectives are necessary. That¡¯s why you tolerate me. I get results.¡± The man said with a shrug. Then turned to the Winterscar knight, ¡°A mass exodus of a city means thousands of families likely were unable to load items of sentimental value. They¡¯ll only be carrying with them valuables. Those would have been looted or destroyed in a conquest.¡±
¡°But machines are not raiders.¡± I finished for him, seeing where he was going.
¡°Your House prime is correct.¡± The other merchant gave a short nod back. ¡°Machines have never shown any interest in human made items other than to determine if it¡¯s a weapon or not. Those items would thus still be intact and waiting for retrieval. And we have knight mercenaries armed with weapons and experience to survive expeditions like this on hand.¡±
Quath waved a hand at his associate, as if saying you see? He turned to his captain, tapping his shoulders. ¡°Captain, your thoughts? He does bring up a good market to exploit.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll do as we¡¯re paid to.¡± The captain said with a shrug. ¡°Right now, I¡¯m focused on staying alive and making it to the next city in one piece.¡±
¡°That part is resolved.¡± Quath said. ¡°The Deathless is out there, hunting. You¡¯ve seen what he brings back every few hours.¡±
¡°With all due respect, casualties happen when we relax.¡± The forward captain said. ¡°You hired experience. That¡¯s the experience you paid for.¡±
And speaking of Father, we saw him round the corner, walking back to us with a new supply of power cells behind him. Given he didn¡¯t have a single scratch on his armor, nor any signs of the shields having gone down according to Journey¡¯s HUD I think our more dangerous chasers had been thrown off as planned.
Or at least, Avalis would have to make some heavy intuitive leaps to have kept up with us.
¡°Master Deathless!¡± Quath said, standing up with a wobble on the skiff. ¡°How fared the hunting?¡±
He gave his traditional grunt, then tossed the rope of power cells off to one of the mercenary knights, who went on to strap it to a skiff filled with the things. ¡°There are no more machines in the sector.¡± He said.
Father passed by, and took to a jog next to the skiffs.
Wrath could sit on the things without issue because she had anti-gravity tech hidden in her shell. Father didn¡¯t have that built in, and his weight was far more than a normal human in armor. Would have been a dead giveaway to see a skiff dip down for a few seconds before adjusting. That would bring out questions from everyone. And he didn¡¯t want to modify his shell with any kind of flying ability right now.
Apparently he had opinions when it came to flying that were not shared by Wrath or I.
¡°We are an hour off from the wall.¡± He said to the captain. ¡°Once you cross the threshold, we will part ways.¡±
The man nodded, then turned to Quath. ¡°You should talk to the merchant, he¡¯ll have your information prepared by now. He¡¯s had nothing better to do than that.¡±
The man scoffed. ¡°Hardly. Business never rests, forward captain. And you should be thankful for that! Without business, there¡¯s no pay at the end of the road. A mutually beneficial agreement.¡±
Quath reminded me a lot of a bubbly merchant who could be just a generally happy person about even the most mundane topics. Or one that would stab you in the chest while giving you that same mild smile. And I had no idea which side he ended up on right now.
¡°As for the matter of maps, I have spent some time trimming out the old versions we have on hand and merging them with the updated pathways we¡¯ve seen firsthand. I believe I¡¯ve done a good enough job, though the actual location will likely have shifted slightly. This is all under the assumption that the mites didn¡¯t tear down the terminal completely.¡±
¡°Does that happen often?¡± I asked.
The forward captain shook his head. ¡°No. Mites generally do not move map terminals, unless a new colony came through and terraformed the entire land. Buildings may shift, terminal locations do not.¡±
Father nodded. ¡°The coordinates will do. Your map is unneeded.¡±
Quath scoffed back. ¡°Hardly. Master Deathless, a more detailed map is the least I could supply compared to simple coordinates. We have another hour to go, the map will be done at that time.¡±
He went back to his slate, and the convoy continued its steady pace onwards.
Officially, I was on rotation from marching at the side and taking a rest on the skiff here. Unofficially, I was jumping from project to project on my HUD.
The undersider jump jets, that¡¯s my next project to crack. Wing-like boosters held on the hip, that would trigger when leaping forward. It let knights jump around as far as Feathers could. Only issue was that they were extremely power hungry. Lifting up a few hundred pounds of metal wasn¡¯t too difficult, but doing that fast was where the exponential curve began to hit.
Hence why Undersider police were trained with it, not soldiers. It was limited by logistics. Inside a city, easy to replenish the packs. Outside the city, not so much.
¡°Wrath, can you bring up where we left off for the jump jet project? I think I have some new ideas to explore, specifically want to research more about cone shapes for engines and how they affect efficiency.¡±
Schematics appeared all across my HUD while I shifted through a few dozen technical documents Wrath had generated after taking in my suggestions and crunching the numbers for me.
Was I jealous of Wrath being able to fly around? Or preparing in case Abraxas made good on his threat to throw me off a cliff? Why, yes, I absolutely was. And I was going to find a way to make a better version of it. Because I had access to machine archives from the golden age, and the best calculator in the world to talk to about it.
Also there was next to nothing else to do.
Father had been out there, terrorizing the local machine population and leaving absolutely nothing for the rest of us. I thought maybe a pack or two might find a way to go after us while he was away, but turns out the machines all hated him enough to focus him down.
Earlier a single drake had showed up in the distance, and it had been instantly spotted by Wrath, who¡¯d pointed it out for Sagrius to open fire. Too far away for us to recover the body as well, not without splitting up.
That¡¯s about the most she¡¯d been able to do the whole day, other than listen to my insane ideas, and do rapid theoretical prototyping for me. All done while staring at the crate she knew food was locked behind. Food she couldn¡¯t eat until we set camp somewhere she could take her helmet off without worry of being spotted.
Honestly, she could have patched that issue up easily. Father had.
But Wrath was a prideful creature, and the thought of having to change her more baseline features she¡¯d grown to like about herself was too much of a stretch. She¡¯d rather keep her helmet on and stare at food in wait. Pride over gluttony.
So here I was, twiddling my thumbs and scanning through documents because our plan had worked too well. ¡°You think the aerospike engine might be a good lead on all this? I haven¡¯t done much reading there yet.¡±
¡°There may be potential. I can forward you my database on that engine category for light reading.¡±
¡°Thanks, appreciate it.¡± I said, humming as I watched the schematics getting downloaded on journey¡¯s HUD. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can get Quath to hand over that food crate as a bonus. Father said I had to practice diplomacy after all.¡±
She didn¡¯t answer but I could see her wiggle around on her side of the skiff. She¡¯d probably been thinking about how to get her hands on those new food staples before they left with the merchant for good.
Honestly, it''d been a surprisingly good start to a world changing expedition.
Book 6 - Chapter 6 - Treasures
Remember how I mentioned I wasn¡¯t sure if Quath was genuinely a happy-go-lucky merchant or just smiling through a mask.
I got my hands on the map he was making, and now I¡¯m nearly completely sure he¡¯s the latter, because only a complete psychopath would fill the map up with this much detail.
¡°That is¡ uh, impressive.¡± I said, looking through the layered maps.
We¡¯d arrived at a blast door, one embedded inside the cliffside wall. Past that would be the underpassage, and then they¡¯d be spat out into the grand highway. A sort of mite biome that was less of a large sector and more of a thin branching root that wrapped around quite a good chunk of the world. This was why most cities lived within the first two stratas, the third strata didn¡¯t have a highway like this anymore and got more alien as far as I¡¯ve heard
Quath nodded at my earlier paise, ¡°Green segments are those my convoy has personally crossed by and confirmed their authenticity. Pale green are my hunches and guesses on what the layout would likely look. Yellow are those where I am no longer as certain. Those are locations that are known to have some drift associated with them, and the maps I found that partitioned those sectors are beyond ten years out of date.¡±
¡°And the gray is just a complete guess?¡± I asked. The map he¡¯d sent was this multicolored blob of hyper condensed details. To the point even Wrath took a few seconds to go through all the layers and absorb the information. She even mentioned finding the visual framework to be novel and would replicate that style in the future.
It looked like an anatomy picture of a dead body, with the veins in green and yellow, arteries filled with life that gradually tapered outwards into smaller passageways growing dimmer in color until it turned completely gray. Most of the surrounding map was all gray.
¡°The gray would be map partitions as written down that are beyond the main pathways. Mites often change those outskirt sections the most, and those sections none of my people nor myself have crossed by at all. Larger roads like these are generally safe from changes, so I feel reasonably comfortable mapping even sections I¡¯ve never crossed as yellow.¡±
In giant red was a dot surrounded by a circle further up. That would be where the mite terminal existed. Not too far off, about a day¡¯s jog.
¡°The map is excellent,¡± I said. ¡°However I¡¯d be remiss to not ask for something else one of my minions wants.¡±
Quath raised an eyebrow at me. ¡°Ask away master Nighthaven.¡±
I pointed straight at Wrath, then at the crate she¡¯d been watching over nearly the whole trip. ¡°Mind if we bring some more food with us?¡±
Quath laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your food storage and rations, you¡¯re quite prepared and well stocked for travelers who¡¯ve explored for a while now. I take it this is more for a single one of your ¡®minions¡¯?¡±
I have him a thumbs up. ¡°What gave it away?¡±
¡°She has been staring at that crate for far longer than anyone normal.¡± Quath said, as if he hadn¡¯t been staring and tinkering with his computer slate for far longer than anyone normal himself. ¡°And her questions about the rations were¡ particular. I didn¡¯t take the knight for a food lover at first, her armor certainly still fits her. Unlike myself. I¡¯m beyond the standard deviation required for fitting inside an armor. Regrettable.¡±
¡°That¡¯s why you have a skiff for.¡± Captain Atlas said.
¡°My minion has a really fast metabolism.¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°And she likes to try out new things. We spoil her every now and then, because she can easily kill basically anything out here and possibly the most dangerous knight on our roster. Best to keep her on our side, you know?¡±
Wrath looked back, silent. Likely holding her breath and hoping the merchant would agree to the proposition, given she hadn¡¯t started bickering back about being called a minion or a murderbot.
Quath waved a hand, ¡°By all means. It¡¯s yours, master Nighthaven. And if it¡¯s about sampling new ration bars, I¡¯ll have the captain here make sure the crate is filled with one of everything we¡¯ve got on hand.¡± He turned to the captain who gave a quick nod back. ¡°If you say she¡¯s among your most dangerous warriors, while having a Deathless among you, I¡¯ll believe you.¡±
Father, our Deathless, watched over all the hubbub. Then he spoke for the first time in a long while, ¡°Which city are you bound to?¡±
Quath paused, as if equally caught off guard by Father¡¯s curiosity. ¡°Well, that does bring up a point. I have been speaking to my captain about our next destination and there¡¯s two possible locations. If Capra¡¯Nor is off the map, the closest city is Gitrian. About three weeks extra is Atrena, Tarkrav and Lo¡¯Rien. Given the amount of power cells you¡¯ve brought back to us, we¡¯ll have more than enough for any extended trip so the options are larger than a mad scramble to reach Gitrian before our supplies run out.¡±
¡°Food isn¡¯t an issue?¡± Asked Wrath, looking suddenly guilty holding onto an entire crate of food she technically didn¡¯t need. I hadn¡¯t noticed but she¡¯d stopped looking at that crate and now had it in her arms.
Quath laughed, ¡°Not as dire as you suspect. I have a hidden ace I use to stretch out food supplies in harder times. You mentioned before that these ration bars are new to you, even though you¡¯re from Capra¡¯Nor?¡±
Wrath nodded. ¡°I have sampled most hu- ahem, most staple dishes from the Undersider city. These ration bars are novel, and not used among the military there.¡±
¡°That¡¯s because some of our goods are unique to this little convoy.¡± Quath said, then opened a bag to his side. ¡°Normally, I hide this deep from everyone else, so do keep this to yourselves if you would.¡±
In his hands, out came a metal bucket. He set it by his feet and went back into his pack. The next thing that came out was a cube. One that looked near exactly like the mite cube I¡¯d used to power a god-like fractal. It even had the same sleek design that the mite seeker on my belt had.
He hummed a soft tune and tapped the surface of the cube. It hummed back, glowed bright yellow and leaped out of his hands to hover a few inches above. A moment later, it began to break apart into pieces, each piece falling off the cube like peeled skin, then slowing down a half inch off before floating back up, orbiting around the rest of the cube clockwise.
Once enough pieces had broken off, I got to see the central part of the cube, a small glowing orb.
Definitely not human made tech. Golden age era stuff still had a practical feel to it all. They could certainly make floating objects, but this many orbiting an orb had that superfluous feel that didn¡¯t belong to humanity¡¯s design.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
¡°A mite treasure.¡± Father said, confirming what I was already suspecting.
¡°The master Deathless is correct.¡± Quath said. ¡°It¡¯s a shared treasure between me and captain Atlas, recovered from a mite chest during one of our expeditions. It¡¯s both a mild bauble, and also our most useful item we have.¡±
¡°Technically, by law, it is wholly yours Sir Quath.¡± The captain said. ¡°That was part of the contract.¡±
¡°Written years ago when I was young and delusional enough to think we¡¯d actually stumble on treasure on well treaded paths. I¡¯d even forgotten about it by the time we found that chest. All besides the main point however, power cell please.¡± His hand reached out, open palmed. The captain turned and rustled through some of the storage until he snapped off a cell from its secured holding. Then handed it off to the merchant.
Quath unhooked the manual draw stopper, and tipped it above the glowing central orb. A drop of green luminescent power hit the orb, coating around it before sinking through the metal from all directions. He continued with six more drops, counting each.
As soon as the seventh drop hit the orb, all the surrounding metal pieces instantly contracted back together, the cube snapping shut. It hummed, and out the back came bars, falling straight into the metal bucket he¡¯d prepared ahead of time.
¡°Unlimited food,¡± Quath said. ¡°Is what I would say if I wanted to be more dramatic.¡± The bars continued to rain down from the cube then instantly stopped. His hands reached out to snatch the floating metal mite treasure just as it fully powered off and fell down. ¡°In reality, it will only give exactly twenty five bars, not one more nor one less, per twenty four hours. Given we were over capacity and the loss of a skiff on the path, food had to be left behind for now, hence why I haven¡¯t had to use it. From what I¡¯ve been able to tell, about five bars is enough food to last someone normal one day, so five people can be fed indefinitely so long as there¡¯s a few drops of power cell fluid to spare. Personally, I need at least ten to feel full, they are rather scrawny things.¡±
He grabbed one and waved the yellow brick. It had red spots on it, like dried berries. With clear practice, he took out some of the reusable foil and wrapped the bar up.
¡°In lean times, we could theoretically wrap frostbloom around the bars. That should greatly extend how far these rations go.¡± Atlas said. ¡°Surviving on as little as a single bar per day possibly, with enough frostbloom and water to rehydrate the plant. Fortunately, we haven¡¯t yet needed to be that savage.¡±
Frostbloom wrapped ration bars was a staple survival food to surface dweller expeditions, and infamous among us for a good reason. Since the plant could be dried out into super compact space, just finding a field of frostboom would last a single person a short lifetime if it¡¯s processed right. Part of the reason airspeeders and convoys would make stops whenever a field was spotted even if we didn¡¯t need the plant. A few years down the line, someone else might.
¡°Savage?¡± Wrath asked, now holding her food crate with more confidence. ¡°What makes frostbloom savage?¡±
Quath actually looked uncomfortable for a second, as if realizing for the first time he was surrounded by clan knights. And my earlier comment on the one weirdo here being among our most dangerous knight. ¡°My mistake sir knight, I didn¡¯t mean to insult your culture.¡± He quickly said, backpedaling.
¡°No insult.¡± I waved him away, quickly helping the poor man out. ¡°Frostbloom ruins the taste of anything it touches, that¡¯s a fact no matter what culture you¡¯re from. We just happen to rely on it more than Undersiders do, since long expeditions out there run into space issues. Of which, regrettably, frostbloom does not take up much. That plant is the one plant I¡¯ll give a pass for calling savage. You insult my crickets though, and then I¡¯ll draw my sword.¡±
Captain Atlas started to laugh at that, ¡°You know, when this is all done, I¡¯d be interested in trying out those bugs you topsiders eat. I hear you have entire sauces and side dishes to accompany them. It makes sense of course, those kids stories of surface dwellers eating bugs right off the walls can¡¯t be true.¡±
¡°There is some smoke to it. Agrifarmers do farm them off vertical walls,¡± I said. ¡°I think they also double dip by growing plants. Some insects are excellent at keeping pests and other fungus off our crops from what I¡¯ve heard. Then we collect both vegetables and proteins all at once.¡±
I sent him a few choice images I¡¯d taken with Journey of some particularly good food. Ever since House Winterscar had gotten rich, we¡¯d been able to afford the good stuff.
He got another laugh out of those, and then slowly stopped laughing as some of the more tasty looking meals got shown. Particularly the pillbug sections. When they got big enough the meat would look like their crabs and shellfish. Just as juicy too. Cracking open the underside shell, then ripping up the soft white meat from the inside while steam came off it looked excellent with the video resolution Journey had.
Made me hungry just to see it.
¡°I still fail to understand why frostbloom is so disliked. I rather appreciate the number of ways to cook and prepare the plant.¡± Wrath said, interrupting our food dreams.
I opened a private channel to answer back. ¡°Wrath, you literally declared steel rebar to be tasty.¡±
¡°Yes and? Humans eat rocks and metals in many dishes already, it is a perfectly normal part of your diet. Yrob and I have done comprehensive tests on this. Frostbloom is a perfectly tasty addition to any meal.¡±
Under certain definitions, it did add ¡®taste¡¯ to any meal. But debating what was good or not good with Wrath was a losing battle.
Quath put the mite treasure back into his personal bag. ¡°This is why the additional crate you requested has no great consequences to me, and I¡¯m more than happy to share. I¡¯ll skip a few meals.¡± He patted his belly, ¡°Rather think I could use a few less meals. And further along the path we can replenish our stock.¡±
¡°Not enough to feed the entire company and merchants here.¡± Father said.
Quath shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s what makes this more of a bauble. It is excellent for a single person or a small group. More than five and its use becomes limited. At our scale, it¡¯s our final backup. But one last resort is better than none.¡±
He didn¡¯t mention it, but I could tell already that he¡¯d considered giving us that little treasure of his as a reward for saving the lives of the convoy. I can understand why he hadn¡¯t. If I were in his shoes, I really could not afford to give that up. It let him plan out expeditions and trade routes with far more distance and wiggle room. Just too useful to have some kind of food security in the worst case.
¡°Got any advice for finding mite treasure of our own?¡± I asked.
He gave a raised eyebrow at that. ¡°You do know you¡¯ve got one treasure on your belt, yes?¡±
I had a lot of stuff on my belt, most of which was hidden by cloak and clothing. I traced his look back and found what he talked about. Peaking just a little past the clothing was the mite seeker. ¡°That came about by special reasons, we didn¡¯t find it in a mite treasure chest.¡±
¡°Ah, I was wondering.¡± Quath said with a shrug. ¡°Well, mite treasures always come in a chest off the beaten paths. Usually. Some say the mites put down their little treasure chests to get people to explore the world they created. Sometimes it¡¯s useful tools like this one. Other times, it¡¯s absolutely useless. A colleague found a kinetic statue once. We still don¡¯t know if it has any actual uses or not, but it certainly looks mesmerizing on his desk.¡±
¡°Treasures are rare.¡± Father said. ¡°The most common are single-use items of some kind.¡±
¡°Like?¡± I asked, turning to Father.
Quath went quiet, noticing I was clearly talking to the ¡®Deathless¡¯ over private comms.
¡°Serums and pastes that heal near anything are what we¡¯ve almost always found within the chests.¡± Father said. ¡°Lower stratas offer more items and tools. The chests themselves are valuable. Sold to Undersider merchants like Quath and the resources used to buy and trade.¡±
¡°Why not keep the chests?¡± I asked. ¡°Mite-made unbreakable chests sound pretty neat to have.¡±
¡°Size. Weight. Efficiency.¡± Father said. ¡°They are useless in all three. Too decorative, slow to open, unable to be locked, and take more space than needed. If we cross paths with one, you will understand why they¡¯re rarely kept. Hold for a moment, boy. The trader and captain are speaking to each other in private on their side as well. They¡¯ll be asking for us soon.¡±
He was right. Quath basically coughed into his hand a moment later, and waved at Father. ¡°For our final destination, we do have something of a dilemma. I was hoping we could speak in private master Deathless?¡±
¡°He comes with me.¡± Father said without a pause.
Quath gave a look my direction. ¡°I see no issue with this, captain?¡±
The captain gave me a look, then nodded.
The rest of the winterscar knights snapped at attention the moment I dropped down from the skiff, as if asking an unworded ¡®Do you wish us to escort you?¡¯
To which I waved them off. Father was right next to me, I don¡¯t think anything Quath or the undersider captain could do alone would be any threat to him, or me.
We both followed the pair off the campsite and into one of the empty buildings to hear what it was Quath needed to speak in private for.
Book 6 - Chapter 7 - A farewell to arms
¡°It''s about my sister¡¯s son.¡± Captain Atlas said. ¡°She left about a decade ago to live with her husband, a good cook last I heard. They¡¯re in Atrena.¡±
I swear, I could almost feel Wrath somewhere out in the world perking her head up at the mention of a cook, despite the room having just Father, Quath, the captain and me in it. Never underestimate Feather hearing or specifically her stomach.
¡°They work at a restaurant that they funded from Quath¡¯s loans.¡± The captain continued, unaware of the potential hunger gremlin he¡¯d awakened on the other side of the wall. It¡¯s technically my imagination of course, she might just be sitting out on the convoy having small talk with some of the knights or merchants.
¡°The last message I got from her was about four months back asking for help for her son.¡± Atlas finished. ¡°She¡¯s searching for help anywhere she can find it.¡±
Father raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°This seems unrelated to us.¡±
¡°I would like to hear more.¡± Wrath said on the comms. ¡°Atrena may have a different food culture and ingredient list to work with. Perhaps the captain might have some stored in his armor¡¯s memory?¡±
So I wasn¡¯t imagining anything. I¡¯ve got an official honed sixth sense now when it comes to her, and I felt just a little smug about it.
¡°We are not diverting the expedition to feed your gullet.¡± Father said over the private comms to the food gremlin. ¡°You of all people should know the stakes.¡±
My sixth sense was telling me Wrath was giving an angry pout right about now and sulking wherever she was sitting.
Atlas coughed slightly to clear the awkward air. ¡°It¡ is mildly related to you, sir Deathless.¡± The captain said, unaware of the side conversation. ¡°I had a few chances to get to Atrena before, but my sister¡¯s confidence in my skills is¡ misguided. The help he needs isn¡¯t something anyone in the local city could do, and not something I could do either.¡±
¡°Enough dodging. What help?¡± Father asked.
Atlas took a deep breath, then gave a look behind him, likely on pure reflex. Assured nobody was overhearing him or watching this direction, he slowly whispered out. ¡°He¡¯s turned Deathless. But he¡¯s only fourteen! He¡¯s just a boy, and from what Samantha wrote, he¡¯s terrified of his powers. The boy¡¯s been learning to bake all his life, not fight. If the city knew, they¡¯d draft him. Or toss him into a combat program of some kind, lock him up tight and restrict his freedom.¡±
¡°Lock him up?¡± I asked, a little curious about that. ¡°A Deathless? What?¡±
Quath nodded with a sad frown. ¡°The new generation Deathless. Made an old paradigm that was well understood and easy to quantify into a complete scrapshow.¡±
¡°Explain.¡± Father said, now interested. ¡°I¡¯ve only heard rumors. I want to hear the truth.¡±
¡°Veteran Deathless like the honorable master here, already registered and known about. And trusted.¡± Atlas said. ¡°New Deathless used to be grounds for celebration. These days¡ not anymore.¡±
There¡¯d been some chaos around the new generation of Deathless. To¡¯Aacar - gods rest his evil black and hopefully permanently dead soul - had strong opinions about them and needed everyone in earshot to know.
Tsuya had said the selection was basically random now, and some last ditch attempt on her end to improve on the prior design.
And Father had only heard rumors that the new Deathless were sinister, egotistical and thought only about personal glory and themselves.
Now, straight from the captain, I¡¯m learning one of those egotistical and glory-hungry Deathless Father heard about was a fourteen year old kid. Which made sense for the rumors of them being brash egotistical glory-hounds, except he¡¯s a teenage baker who didn¡¯t want to fight and was hiding from the city¡¯s watch right now, not some teenage hooligan who¡¯d just been given a gun.
Did track with To¡¯Aacar¡¯s ideas of them, he¡¯d probably find a baker to be an insult to his favorite prey. A rolling pin is not the deadly weapon he¡¯d expect for a good fight.
Quath waggled an index finger to father. ¡°Deathless from prior generations like Yvain here are easy to understand. They¡¯re the traditional heroes, always following a strict moral compass forward and a safe bet to trust. The new generation would be like¡ anti-heroes. Generally understood they would fight on humanity¡¯s side, but they would do so in a far less trustworthy manner. One or two wouldn¡¯t be an issue, but there¡¯s quite a lot these days and that¡¯s just the ones that step out of the shadows to announce themselves in the world.¡±
¡°Most likely never asked or wanted the responsibilities in the first place.¡± Atlas said. ¡°Like my sister¡¯s son.¡±
¡°Brings some problems when it¡¯s criminals getting powers.¡± Quath said. ¡°They¡¯re used to violence being a bargaining tool, stealing things from others as a right that the strong gain over the weak, and so forth. Them getting powers has been what made the most problems. Not the grandma¡¯s or kids. So cities had to enact drafts to grab hold of those Deathless and beat them into shape before they grew too powerful. Or claimed by the wrong people.¡±
¡°What happens if they grow too powerful?¡± I asked, a little worried now about the ramifications of all this.
¡°Exactly what you think would happen, happens.¡± Quath answered back. ¡°Hence why Atlas here wants the kid trained fast. He needs to be safe not just from the city authorities, but other Deathless seeking to consolidate their power against their own rival Deathless. It¡¯s a grim time.¡±
¡°You mean if Yvain here walked into a city, some of the Deathless there would jump him?¡± I asked, pointing a thumb at Father.
That wasn¡¯t going to end well for any of those Deathless of course, but it would probably cause a lot of collateral damage.
¡°They¡¯re not idiots.¡± Atlas said. ¡°The ones who took advantage of their powers to take over know better than to pick a fight with the older Deathless who take particular personal insult to the new generation. Not to mention older Deathless are warriors who¡¯ve fought for their lives enough to be comfortable with that. New Deathless are still learning. No, if Master Yvain came with us, the Deathless running around the shadows in Atrena would absolutely hide from his sight. And port authorities would likely offer little problems if a trusted Deathless were to take on an apprentice.¡±
¡°Why did your sister reach out to you about it then instead of an older Deathless?¡± I asked, still a little puzzled. ¡°You aren¡¯t one or even work with them often. She may as well just be talking to a random guard for help.¡±
Oddly enough it was Father who answered that. ¡°She¡¯s a civilian. To her sight, Deathless and soldiers are part of the same coin. All warriors. And to train a warrior, she needed a warrior. To keep her son safe, she needed one she could trust.¡±
Atlas nodded, ¡°Master Yvain is correct. But I can¡¯t help her. I lead a company here, I don¡¯t know a thing about training Deathless. And the ones I do know of, are all far into the lower strata with no way to contact them. They don¡¯t come back up until years later when their gear and equipment need to be repaired or their minds need a break from war.¡± He turned then to Father, and bowed low. ¡°Please, you are the only Deathless I know that could potentially save my nephew. If you walked into that city, all her problems would be solved and you¡¯d be putting a new Deathless on the right path.¡±
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
It was an awkward bow, done by someone who wasn¡¯t used to the motion or knowing the exact angles needed for different types of request. This would have been something that should have been asked with his forehead touching the floor for example, but Undersider culture was a lot more about salutes, kneeling and wordplay than bowing. He was trying his best though.
¡°I cannot help you.¡± Father said, looking supremely uncomfortable. Then he turned to me, ¡°Explain it.¡±
I could see Father really was not good at this kind of thing.
¡°He has good reasons.¡± I said to Atlas who looked a little heartbroken but also unsurprised. ¡°A fourteen year old untrained soldier is in terrible hands with this group. Believe me, we¡¯re not here on vacation, and where we¡¯re going it¡¯s not going to be a place for a fourteen year old to grow in. We also can¡¯t spare the time to stop by your city for a few months to help train the kid. It sounds heartless when I say it like this, but it¡¯s true. We do have a time limit on our quest.¡±
Quath nodded, reaching a hand out to pat my shoulder. I couldn¡¯t feel any of that because of my armor, but appreciated the gesture anyhow. ¡°The captain knew this was likely the answer, he only requested a moment to at least ask.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t say it¡¯s hopeless.¡± I said, which put a pause to both undersiders and even Father, who looked at me with narrowing eyes as if demanding I don¡¯t do what he thinks I would do. I waved him off so he knew not to worry. ¡°You mentioned all the Deathless you know of are deeper underground, but have you considered the Deathless living in the opposite direction? Up instead of down?¡±
Seemed like an Undersider specific blind spot. They knew about the surface clans, but it didn¡¯t really live in the same reality as they did. Almost like the local machines. Yrob and the others did know it existed, they just never thought about it much. Like some distant land or something in books that theoretically existed out there.
Quath got it immediately. ¡°Ah, of course! Clan Altosk is known to have a Deathless clan lord! I believe his name was lord¡ Amarus? Adrius? Something with A.¡±
¡°Lord Atius.¡± Father said immediately, conditioning kicking in even in a different body.
¡°That one.¡± Quath said without noticing anything suspicious. Then he turned to the captain. ¡°That could work for your situation. Have the boy leave with a pilgrimage up to the surface, it would be trivial. I¡¯m certain a Deathless would greet a fellow without having to climb any kind of social ladder for the opportunity to talk to a clan lord.¡±
Atlas was nodding along, ¡°Suppose there¡¯s no better training regiment than a surface knight to teach the boy how to fight back against other Deathless trying to press gang him into service. Plus, the hard life up there would teach him to not take things for granted. Only problem will be finding a way to convince the kid it¡¯s not a prison sentence and a better life than he¡¯d have with the undersider local military.¡±
¡°The mother will agree.¡± Father said with certainty. ¡°She will do what is best for the boy, even if the boy does not yet see it.¡±
I had a slightly different viewpoint. ¡°Surface clans have bakers. We¡¯re not primitives. He might have to get used to eating insects, but it¡¯s not like we lack sugar, salt and flour to work with.¡±
Quath nodded frantically, eyes twinkling with new schemes. ¡°Oh and it would be excellent branding for the bakery, a cook trained up in the surface clans and bringing back both grizzled veteran experience and harrowing tales along with new cooking methods and techniques. That would sell quite spectacularly!¡± He turned to the captain, ¡°I¡¯m sure the boy could be convinced about all that easily enough.¡±
The captain gave a shrug. ¡°So long as he¡¯s safe and knows how to take care of himself. That¡¯s all my sister needs to hear.¡±
¡°Then it¡¯s settled.¡± Quath said, clapping his hand together then patting his belly with a smile. ¡°We¡¯ll divert to Atrena, and I¡¯ll have a convoy setup to bring the kid up to the surface. Trading is rather cost-prohibitive with surface clans,¡± He gave me a quick glance, ¡°No offense meant to you Master Nighthaven Prime, but it¡¯s likely there hasn¡¯t been a pilgrimage in a long while so demand should be moderate enough to break even.¡±
I waved a hand off, no insult taken.
He gave a happy nod back. ¡°I¡¯ll have to look at a good list of potential trade good to recover and sell on the way back. There¡¯s opportunity in everything! Yes, this is going along splendidly. Most splendid!¡±
¡°Think Lord Atius will welcome the kid in?¡± I asked, a little curious as we watched the convoy depart away.
¡°He will.¡± Father said without a hint of doubt in his voice.
I could see that happen too. Lord Atius would have already done it just to help a fellow Deathless get up and running. Even more so having a direct example of the new generation Deathless to see what¡¯s going, along with a first hand source on what was going on underground and in the cities with all the new Deathless appearing.
That there were small criminal gangs of Deathless was¡ a little hard to understand. Rationally it made sense of course: Give power to the wrong people and the wrong people would do wrong things with it. No wonder the reputation of being self-centered, vain and glory-hounds had started to pop up about them.
The actual good people really were hiding away, afraid of being forced into service by either the gangs roaming around, or the city itself in an attempt to keep them from those gangs. Either way, it ended up in them being drafted up as soldiers.
¡°I would be curious to meet this new Deathless at some point in the future, when I return to the surface.¡± Wrath said, sprinting along to our side.
¡°You just want sugar cookies.¡± I shot back.
¡°Why are you phrasing it as an accusation?¡± Wrath answered, confused at why anyone wouldn¡¯t want a few free sugar cookies.
¡°Stay focused.¡± Father said, taking a few sharp turns across the landscape. We had a direct path to the mite terminal, along with an entire superimposed map of the area. So far reality matched the map exactly. Quath had done his job right.
We didn¡¯t stay focused, as much as Father insisted.
Wrath and I devolved down to discussing different cooking methods, tools and setups when it came to cookies and she brought out books to show different older culture¡¯s methods of baking up cookies. Some of which were interesting, and others seem downright heretical.
Insects being used in traditional clan bakery was rather new to her, but I told her nutgrubs tasted like undersider cinnamon from what I got to sample over at her city, so long as the right parts were extracted. They had a small sac of blood-like fluid right by their kidney, and that would get mixed with butter and all the traditional cookie ingredients. That''s how we got our version of cinnamon cookies.
From what my friends among the agrifarmers had told me, nugbugs were pretty easy to cultivate, but their diet had to be specific to nuts and a few specific strains of wallbark. Feed the bugs the wrong thing and they¡¯d taste different or outright bitter.
When she asked why a large insect needed a fluid sac that tasted like cinnamon, I had no answer. According to Wrath, the plant version undersiders worked with had that flavor more as a byproduct to defend itself against insects and other parasites. We had no clue what the organ served or did for the bug.
It got worse as we explored theories.
Wrath also had no records of nugbugs being a thing at all among her entire collection of insects, which led us down another weasel hole. Almost all our strains of bugs and insects weren¡¯t in her catalog of insects, except for crickets, pillbugs and isopods. But her variations were super tiny and practically inedible, minus the isopod that was more of an aquatic animal like fish were.
A cricket leg drumstick wasn¡¯t something she had marked down in the same category as a chicken leg drumstick. Whereas to me the only difference was that cricket legs were more stringy with a slightly different taste and the hard spiny exoskeleton wasn¡¯t supposed to be eaten.
I asked her how she hadn''t noticed among all the new food she tried while up on the surface. I knew the logi had entire rotations dedicated to serving her something different and new for each meal. For the months she was up there, it was one of the main things all the logi gossipped about.
So I had to ask her what foods she actually ate that she never had a full cricket leg to start asking questions about, and I got my answer:
The logi were really thoughtful. They gave her foods they knew pilgrims ate without fear, since she was from the underside. So she never got to see the more staple foods. Bless the logi hearts, they couldn¡¯t have known. Some of the dishes Wrath described seemed like they had been made up on the spot from different dishes, and all done to hide their true origin and nature. So the Logi quite literally demanded the chefs and cooking staff to find ways to hide the amount of insects Wrath got to eat, focused on more chicken, fruits and vegetable dishes and managed to keep that pace going for months on end.
Also no decorative plates. She had one dish served on a spiral plate where food was organized around the spiral and Wrath got confused if that was part of the dish or not to eat. She solved that question the only way Wrath would solve any question about food. Logi learned that one quick.
It all made her want to go back to the surface and demand the authentic culinary experience rather than the watered down pilgrim version she got.
By that point, Father had largely glazed completely over our discussion, leaving us to jog in the back while Wrath and I traded theories on how this many insects had gone completely uncategorized by all the machine and human archives throughout history.
Half a day passed by fast, but we eventually had to cut our talk short as we ran right into the mite terminal itself, exactly as Quath had listed its likely location.
And Abraxas had clearly been here from the moment we opened the doors to walk in.
Book 6 - Chapter 8 - Interlude Abraxas
It was all over. They¡¯d found her.
It had been safe here before, but the machines had finally found this little city. And within it, the target they had been hunting down all these years. The last of her kind left operational.
Abraxas watched from his hovering boat, drifting lightly above the long river, as the human city burned. It looked like a small glowing light in the distance. He¡¯d seen it happen, gotten here only to see the killing blow delivered.
Her steady IFF tag had gone offline.
¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Tsuya had told him, as he felt her disconnect from the local network. ¡°I¡¯ll draw Relinquished away from you. Go hide, return to Sanctuary. You will be safe there.¡±
¡°What will you do?¡± He asked back.
¡°What I¡¯ve always done.¡± Tsuya answered. ¡°Survive. Live to fight again. You must too.¡±
The last connection died off. He¡¯d need to go to the surface to find her again. He didn''t know where exactly, in the same way that she didn''t know where Sanctuary was. Secrets kept them both safe should the other be finally caught.
The boat drifted off the waters, following the current just under him. Completely alone now. He turned, guiding his boat across the river.
But not to the rocky refuge beyond. Instead, he turned the small engine to face the dying city.
It couldn¡¯t be saved. The humans within were all dead already, even if they battled for their lives. Hope had died along with them.
But he wasn¡¯t leaving yet. Couldn¡¯t leave yet.
He knew what he had to do first. Something that could only be done, here and now. And only he could do it. The mites had sent him here for a reason, a prophesy. Nine simple words, given to him years ago. They''d seen this happen. They hadn''t told him what he had to do, or even needed to. He hadn''t known until he was here. But he knew now what he needed to do. Why he''d been here.
Soon, the shoreline met his silent boat and he gently floated over it.
Nothing but screams and howls remained before him. Walls were collapsing down, as the wood holding the structures burnt down. Brick and concrete skeletons would remain when all this is over. Scattered comms channels crackled around him, desperate humans fighting to their last breath.
He took a step off his boat. For the first time in years his clawed feet touched solid ground, raking the sand under. He was here, there was no time for caution anymore. He turned, and kicked his boat away. It floated backwards, back to the water.
Machines wouldn¡¯t care or see it as anything more than a wooden rowboat. He could come back for it later. Around him, his cloak of invisibility wrapped tight, chains twinking against one another. Deep in the folds of his linen overcovers, two arms reached and clutched a small silver cube. Something he¡¯d kept to himself ever since he¡¯d found it. One of his most prized treasures.
Items that could save his own life in dire situations, always kept on hand.
Hope was dead. He shouldn¡¯t be here. He should do as Tsuya had said, return to Sanctuary.
But so long as he held this treasure, he knew there was still one thing he could do. One small thing he could do. Damn the mites, and their little schemes.
He took a terrified step into the city. Feet gaining speed with each step, motors returning to life after years of rest. Brought back online one after another. Green across the board, well kept in shape.
Systems flashed back to operational as he turned them all on. Power drain grew exponentially, by nearly twenty times the prior lazy efficient draw he''d grown accustomed to. All his hands and legs began to move, bits of dirt crackling off them as they folded out. Speed increased with his footing growing more sure and optimized. Hands and small claws holding his chain cloak tighter around him, tightening the cloth around his shell to better reduce the noise of the invisibility cloak. Other, smaller claws holding tight to mite treasures he¡¯d accumulated over the years. Ready in use.
This was as strong as he could be. Still nothing more than an insect in comparison to the current titans of this era. Still, he had to. Of all days to not be a coward, it was today. His footsteps took him past the shoreline, past the sand and onto brick road. And then up the broken human dwellings, climbing across the ruined buildings like the sulking insect he was.
He jumped from roof to roof next. Passing by the dead human bodies slowly burning away in the streets. Silent, invisible, unseen.
Danger was everywhere. He wanted to turn and go away. He¡¯d live if he did that.
A deep part of him... couldn¡¯t comply. The part of him that held a claw at that human¡¯s throat, and decided for the first time in all his operational history not to kill something that offered him no threat.
She was here somewhere. He¡¯d seen her fall. Seen the titanic battle from afar. Her IFF tag had winked out hours ago now, but her body had to be here somewhere.
He followed the battleground signs. Ripped roads. Dead humans in golden armor. A few still alive and struggling to fight against the waves of machines. He couldn¡¯t help them. So he silently passed by overhead, internally thanking the humans for their sacrifice, keeping the machines looking everywhere but where Abraxas stepped.
He knew he¡¯d arrived at the battle site because he¡¯d passed the first dead Feather. A snarl etched in the dead machine¡¯s features, anger at having been forced to fade back into the digital sea. Burned sections of artificial skin exposing mechanical systems inside, equally melted away.
That was the first of many. He passed three others, some only in shattered pieces. More cleaved from shoulder to hip. And a few still frozen in their steps, only half their body blasted into brittle pieces.
Soon he reached the impact zone. A crater spanned before him, and at the center, lay two Feathers.
One knelt down, holding the hilt of a blade stabbed straight down. Eyes left frozen open. A surprised look on his features. That one stayed silent, unmoving. Dead.
Abraxas could tell. The body had a massive hole that had been ripped through just below his neck, right where the soul fractal should have been.
And under him, was the second Feather. Wings outstretched, hands limp, eyes closed.
The rest of her body from the torso down was gone, ripped apart in that final confrontation. One hand had been sliced clean off. Her forehead had three deep holes going through where her mind was. Along with the rest of her body. It wouldn¡¯t have been fatal for her.
Just under her throat, the first Feather¡¯s blade remained firmly lodged down. Right where her soul fractal had been. This had been fatal.
He didn¡¯t have much time. His treasure was limited. He scurried up as close as he dared to the dead demi-gods, then tapped the cube¡¯s face. It lit up, occult pulsing out of it. Then the cube expanded, breaking into pieces, floating around him.
Occult pulsed again, and the pieces began to circle around him clockwise. Faster, trails of occult behind each.
Light faded, leaving him in a trapped darkened void with the pieces flying around him. Alone. He expected this.
The cube clicked loudly, like gears in a clock. Then ceased with one final heavy click. All the pieces froze in place.
He tapped the cube again. The pieces around began to wind backwards, slowly rotating counter clockwise around him, speed increasing, ticking coming from the cube again with each rotation, an audible means of counting the exact amount of time he had left. The cube had no other means to send information on status to him.
Light returned around him, illuminating the two feathers, the ground under them, further out into the distance. The pieces continued to spin around him counter clockwise, translucent.
Fire moved unnaturally, retreating back to itself, the flames growing weaker each second until they vanished away. Blackened wood pooling back, leaving healthy wood behind where it faded. Collapsed walls flying back together.
Time wound backwards with each rotation around him.
The two feathers before him stayed silent, unmoving. The cube pieces continued to wind around him counter-clockwise. Deep ticking within the cube core warned him of the impending end to the cube¡¯s ability. He stayed still, waiting. Hoping. If he''d arrived too late, nothing would happen. The cube would shatter and all will have been lost.
Click.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Click.
Click.
Then, they finally moved. He''d made it in time.
The woman¡¯s hand lifted from the ground, pointing straight at her killer¡¯s throat.
Click.
A massive pillar of light flared from the cave behind him, tunneling through the back of his throat, across the hole he¡¯d had, and sank into her outstretched hand. Leaving the once burned throat back into pristine condition.
Click.
A moment later he stood up, drawing the blade out of her throat, floating up, falling backwards while she began to thrash violently on the ground, dust and rock shards sucked back under her.
Click.
Cracks on the ground healed back up, chipped stones flying from the world around to fit back into the ground as if a perfectly solved puzzle. They flew through and past the circling cube pieces, as if part of another reality entirely.
Click.
He triggered his old overclock systems. Outdated, inefficient, capable only of a few seconds of action and nowhere as fast as these titans before him.
It would have to do. He had only one chance at this.
He tapped the cube. The pieces floating around him froze in their place, then zipped back to the cube¡¯s core, each fitting back into place.
Three ticks sounded from the cube, with a final ringing sound.
The enemy feather leaped straight at his target, blade lit up, unerringly aimed at her throat. Abraxas stabbed forward, striking the flat of the Feather¡¯s blade. Pushing it off course by a few inches. It still reached the enemy Feather¡¯s target - sinking deep into her shoulder instead of her throat. The enemy turned a bewildered face at his shoved aside blade, following the visible clawed hand that had moved his sword out of the way. Watching as it vanished as the rest of the arm was hidden by his cloak.
He cannot see you. Abraxas whispered to himself as fear took hold of his systems. He cannot see you yet. Only the arm. It''s not enough.
All the man needed was to reach out, and grab Abraxas¡¯s cloak. To rip it off him, and he¡¯d be discovered. Tracked down. This was as close to danger as he¡¯d ever been, next to a god-slayer. They could be so terribly quick. It would only be a fraction of a second and he could have his head ripped off his shoulders.
But the Feather wasn¡¯t quick enough.
Because under him, his dying enemy was far faster.
A confused glare was the last thing the enemy was able to muster, as the Feather below him brought her hand up in a snap movement, a flash of light burrowing straight through his throat, burning a wide hole, in and out past him.
The enemy froze in place, violet lights in his eyes powering down.
Her outstretched hand grabbed his ruined throat, and shoved the dead body off her. She tried to get up, but her lower legs were missing.
¡°We need. To leave.¡± Abraxas said out loud. He didn¡¯t dare speak to her over comms channel, he knew she could tunnel into his mind faster than he could explain anything. Any open channel was a weapon to this small god. Even with three holes in her head, he didn¡¯t want to risk it.
Sparks lit up around the broken sections. Her eyes glowed bright blue for a moment.
And then A22 - last of the protofeathers - spoke: ¡°A-a-a-braxas. Is that you?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°The city?¡± She asked.
¡°Dead.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°No fight left.¡±
A22 closed her eyes. A packet of data was sent, and Abraxas hesitantly opened it. A damage report. Her internal systems. Nearly everything was red or orange. The holes in her head had also broken most of her subsystems, forcing her to manually control the shell with her soul. ¡°I can¡¯t fight anymore.¡± She said. ¡°You need to run, there are seventeen other feathers left alive here, and five that might still be functional. I couldn¡¯t verify I¡¯d completely neutralized them. They¡¯ll be surrounding the crater in seconds, preparing for another wave attack.¡±
¡°It¡¯s been two hours.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°They. All gone.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°You died. Two hours ago. Time twister. Mite treasure.¡±
She paused, thinking, then gave a chuckle. ¡°You used one of your hoarded up trinkets? For me?¡±
¡°I did. Had to. It was time.¡±
The Feather nodded, and let her body slump back down on the shattered ground. ¡°And the idiots just left my body behind after killing me? Didn¡¯t take it as a trophy or anything?¡±
The Feathers had come, fought and finally killed her, then left the city to burn away and the lessers to handle the rest.
¡°Not know. Found only him.¡± Abraxas said, pointing at the dead machine at her side. ¡°Stabbing you through fractal. Dead though. You killed him. Same time he killed you.¡±
Maybe they left the two of them like this as some kind of monument. Out of respect to their fallen brothers and sisters who''d died fighting to kill A22 once and for all. Or perhaps, they were leaving the two bodies for the Pale Lady to make some kind of example. He didn''t know.
She gave a look at the collapsed Feather at her side, her face taking time to move the muscles into a grin. ¡°He won''t bother us ever again. I hit him faster than he could escape through the unity fractal. Good riddance.¡±
¡°We need to leave.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°Before notice.¡±
¡°And how would we do that? I can¡¯t fit inside that invisibility cloak you have.¡± She said, head tapping the back of the crater with resignation. ¡°You know that. Even just a torso, I¡¯ll be visible. My wing systems are gone. Even if they were still functional, no gravity nodes are working anymore, everything''s in the red. You need to leave me behind, I¡¯ll see if I can crawl somewhere safer.¡±
¡°Nowhere safe.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°Lessers will see body gone. Feathers return. Find you eventually. Have idea instead.¡±
¡°What¡¯s your idea?¡±
He stepped over her body, crouched down and let the cloak envelop them both. His feet would be visible, but he wasn¡¯t going to be long.
Two of his smaller hands extended out, each holding a small knife. With delicate precision, they lit up, like small scalpels in the hand of a master. He''d carved many things with these tools, and this might be their greatest test yet.
¡°Oh.¡± A22 said. ¡°You intend to cut me out of my shell, and carry only my fractal away.¡±
¡°I do.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°You rebuild. Over time. We find nanoswarm node eventually.¡±
"And where would we go?" She asked. "Relinquished is never going to stop hunting me down."
"Sanctuary." Abraxas said, as if it were evident.
A22 paused, eyes widening. "It... exists?"
"Yes." He said, and said nothing more. He didn''t want to confess that he''d made a mistake. Sanctuary was supposed to be safe haven for all who defied Relinquished. It should have been a home to the protofeathers from the start. Instead, they''d been afraid of those demi-gods and their power. And while the greatest warriors against Relinquished had been hunted down to extinction, safe haven was barred to them.
They''d known about it. Protofeathers were too clever. Even hidden away, knowledge it could exist was still something A22 had predicted. And yet, each protofeather had taken that knowledge to the grave with them. They should have been trusted from the start. Abraxas felt only shame.
A22 gave a strained nod. ¡°Give me a moment, I need to download a copy of my schematics and everything important I¡¯ve done into storage. You need to cut it out with me.¡±
He paused for a few second, eyes glancing around him. The lessers were howling out in the city still. The humans were fighting them back, the final bloody last stands for all of them. They were buying him time.
¡°Done.¡± The feather said. ¡°Cut me out.¡±
He did so, planting his two daggers deep into her chassis, then cutting a circle around. Connections to her systems winked out, her head slumped back for good. Blue eyes faded. More of his hands unlatched from his side, extending out and grabbing the cut sections of the Feather, lifting it up.
He executed a few other quick and precise cuts, taking off the bulk of her armor, exposing the glowing fractal that was her heart, and the small amounts of circuits fused with it. He made a few more smaller cuts, making sure to leave the tiny power cell module affixed, and all the wiring leaving too far off the plate.
Having it as small as it could be, his hands lifted it up, cradling it close to his belly. The soul and heart of a protofeather.
He stalked away.
Her broken shell, with a clear hole cut where her fractal should have been, would be a dead giveaway that the Feathers Relinquished had sent failed to finish the job. That would be their problem to deal with.
He¡¯d make it to Sanctuary. There she could take all the time she needed to slowly rebuild her body in safety. He had no idea how he could do so, she had no nano swarms connected to her heart anymore. No means to repair anything. She''d live in the digital sea for a long time. Possible forever even. But at Sanctuary, she would have that time.
She¡¯d eventually find someway to fix herself back to full. A01 had. Or should be, Tsuya had told him she¡¯d recovered his shell and was handling it. Had sent him somewhere safe, where he could rebuild in peace. Somewhere no one else could follow, a place she kept secret from even him.
The great protofeather never return the same, the wounds he''d taken in his fight against A57 had cut him through to his soul. A01 would be like Abraxas now, too weak to fight anyone. A half dead machine from an older time, no longer relevant. But alive.
A22 wasn¡¯t wounded in her mind or soul. Only her body had been broken down. She could still fight. There was hope. All they had to do was recover a nanoswarm command node. Sanctuary had a few hundred of his models still left. They¡¯d find a solution. Find a dead Feather at some point, and rip away the repair swarms from the body. They had time. Centuries.
Abraxas fled, and with him, he carried the last protofeather still fighting, stolen from death and secreted away, clutched by four small claws at his chest. The most precious of all trinkets he carried on him.
Relinquished had won, this era would collapse back into darkness. But from the ashes, two protofeathers will have survived. A01. And now A22.
So long as he could get her back to Sanctuary.
Five hundred years later, she was once again a pain in his side.
He was connected to the mite network, waiting by a terminal for a very specific connection. He¡¯d been waiting for days now, while the humans frolicked around, taking their time in finding a mite terminal.
They were accessing it now, finally. At least the human remembered his name was the password. Signatures lighting up as the terminal connected to the mite network, the line glowing green.
¡°Hello?¡± A voice came through. The human¡¯s.
He regretted everything he''d ever done in his miserable life as a flurry of separate pings came through a port he¡¯d closed just a moment ago.
How was a protofeather that stupid? More stupid than the human! Abraxas couldn¡¯t understand. Did she need maintenance? Was her soul finally breaking down? He sent a quick message to the other machines at Sanctuary, run a diagnostic on their leader, see if she hasn¡¯t slowly gotten brain rot like a human after all these centuries.
No. Her request was denied. Obviously it was denied. That wayward Feather was dangerous, still linked to Relinquished by the unity fractal. There¡¯s a reason Abraxas only spoke to the human and no one else. Human memories couldn¡¯t be hacked. Feathers could.
Relinquished wouldn¡¯t recognize his chosen name. Abraxas was his own creation. His true serial number - what the lady would actually recognize - was long behind him. But automated programs would recognize his shell.
And Relinquished would absolutely recognize A22¡¯s signature, voice and dozens of other details. Abraxas was a small pest in the end, but a protofeather? Automatic search protocols would be hardwired for top priority. He sent a few dozen angry pings back explaining this again and again.
¡°Abraxas?¡± The human asked through the channel. Which of course, got another fury of pings sent back at him asking the same stupid demand, as the protofeather listened in no matter how many ports he closed up. At least she had the decency not to say anything.
He connected to the terminal angrily. Already opening his systems up and reaching for the data packages and maps to guide the little wayward convoy down to the teleportation network. A meticulously selected path, optimized to avoid machines.
Once more, another ping sank through his firewalls and defenses, again through another port he¡¯d closed a while ago. Easily twisting past all his built up protections.
So long as he was connected to the mite terminal, she could connect to him after all. And she was far too skilled at battling in the digital sea.
At this point, he was quite certain she was simply annoying him for the fun of it.
Every single ping the same exact request.
She wanted to meet her damn granddaughter.
Book 6 - Chapter 9 - Journey down deeper
Took half a day to hoof it to the terminal. Quath¡¯s psychopathically detailed map was just about as accurate as could be where his guesses were involved.
Man had clearly traveled a lot underground and had some intuitive understanding of what mites like to tinker on. Only reason he got caught in this amount of machines running around was due to Capra¡¯Nor going belly up and he had no way to predict that. Not a usual occurrence to have an entire city get wiped off the map.
The terminal room itself was rather plain for such an important location in the city. Squat square building with empty windows, a few steps leading into it, and no door on the doorway. The rest of the buildings around it looked a lot fancier, spiral staircases, half-built statues, and lights in all the wrong places.
But Abraxas¡¯s handwork was obvious. There was a scribbled boat like sigil, etched right into the concrete. Like he¡¯d used his index claw to scratch it out.
Inside the mite building - very different story. Concrete turned into black metallic scales, veins of teal pale light spreading thin across the room and growing more complex the closer to the center it got.
The actual terminal had a few dozen old human era computer monitors, and some half-eaten actual computers, all sticking out of this almost liquid-looking black pillar. Monitors all had the domed screen style instead of the more modern LCD screens. Keyboards were in a few different places, but the one to use felt more obvious. It had a mechanical arm that let the keyboard be moved around without issue, and the screen closest to it was lit up, with a flashing green bar, waiting for instructions.
The Winterscar knights filtered into the room first, weapons drawn up and aimed. All purely out of reflex, the soul sight they all had let them see through walls and far beyond visual range in this concrete box, so we could all tell there wasn¡¯t a soul or anything near us. Not even insects.
No dirt for plants to grow in, thus no food for anything else, and so no life at all to these cities.
I pulled the keyboard my way, and got to typing out commands on the prompt. To my disappointment, the mites did not include any quick shortcuts to communications, no inbox or messages I could find, just a half-working text based OS that seemed like it was running on Windows one second, then some version of linux the next second. Picking randomly between each on whatever it felt like, just to absolutely piss off whoever was unlucky enough to deal with it.
Sometimes going back up directories had the commands change on me, so things that worked a moment ago no longer worked again. And that¡¯s just moving around using text. Every now and then the text commands just stopped working completely, and it all shifted to a GUI on screen, where I had to find a mouse somewhere to make use of it.
Somewhere out there, a mite colony was probably laughing their little robot legs off. Or maybe proud of making an OS system that pretended to be something mixed? Some kind of new age cybersecurity to make sure machines don¡¯t touch their stuff, and make random humans decide they¡¯d rather eat ice? I don¡¯t know, mites are the strangest things in the world.
I had half a mind to try to dive into it using the soul fractal, search around the digital sea. That¡¯d be my last resort if I couldn¡¯t operate the damn thing.
We didn¡¯t even know what we were looking for exactly. A map maybe? I did find the local area map that all terminals were supposed to have and had it downloaded into Journey¡¯s HUD. Quath¡¯s map was accurate to the official mite map, so that map was redundant.
Then, I found a suspicious program. Or more suspicious than the other things I found inside the terminal. Had a weird name to it, a bunch of letters and numbers strung together with an executable file signature. Since I wasn¡¯t running this on my own hardware, I booted it up and watched what happened.
A comms program. One that actually made sense. It booted up a GUI on screen with all the expected options to connect across different channels. A bit of fiddling, and I had the audio input and output set to Journey¡¯s broadband - and it actually worked.
Moment I had everything setup, the program booted me into some kind of chat channel and froze me out of anything else. The only other name in the chat channel other than ¡°User number one.¡± was ¡°Abraxas¡±
¡°Hello?¡± I asked, watching as my name lit up green. ¡°Abraxas?¡±
No reply, because of course he wouldn¡¯t. Instead, I got a download request package titled MapGuide.tar.gz.
Little on the nose there.
I had Journey open it up in a sandbox environment, only to be stuck at a password request.
¡°Password, my name.¡± The mite comms crackled before I could even ask. ¡°Follow directions.¡±
That was certainly him all right, same voice and curt tone.
¡°All right, but before I follow any of this I got a few questions I want answered.¡±
¡°Always with the questions.¡± Abraxas hissed. ¡°Fool human. Answer your own.¡±
¡°It¡¯s about this miteseeker I got on my belt.¡± I said. ¡°You wanted to bring it to me when I was underground, and then gave up and had me go get it myself. So why and what is it for?¡±
¡°Mite demand.¡± Abraxas said. He didn¡¯t say anything else.
¡°What is a mite lantern? Tsuya called this a seeker, you¡¯re calling it a lantern. What does it do?¡±
¡°Holds mite shells. Create mini-colony. Way to speak to mites.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°Find mite. Get mite inside. Done. Mite speakers use lanterns.¡±
The soul sight showed me it was a containment of some kind and would intercept data being sent out from whatever was in the center. That was all I could figure out about the thing when I had time to look through it. Abraxas confirmed it then. I needed to find a mite colony to test my theories out now.
If it were a good idea to even do that. I turned to Wrath, ¡°Do you have any records of mite speakers in the database by chance? When I met you, you were on the search for one so that you could decode Tsuya¡¯s message.¡±
She shook her head. ¡°Machines do not seem to care about current human religions or culture. Only what was left from the older eras are preserved, and there are no mentions of mite speakers. Tamery explained to me that they are not taken seriously. I sought them out of desperation.¡±
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
I turned to Father, who just stared back at me with a blank look. Then grunted. ¡°They are known as madmen to the Undersiders. I have never met one yet.¡±
The mite seeker was still neatly put on my belt, all innocent. ¡°Am I going to go insane if I get this lantern working? That¡¯s what I¡¯m a little worried about.¡±
¡°Not know.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°I have lantern. I not insane. But I machine, not squishy human.¡±
¡°Filling me with great confidence here.¡± I muttered. ¡°Why did the mites want me to have it? And not someone else, or you even?¡±
¡°Not know. Not care.¡± Abraxas said. ¡°Mite say take lantern from surface. Bring lantern to human named Keith. Got you to lantern. Did work. You follow map guide down. Get other work done.¡±
¡°They know my name?¡± I mean, I¡¯m flattered a giant colony of half-insane-but-maybe-not-insane-machines all knew me by name, but it¡¯s also a little odd. ¡°When?¡± I asked.
¡°When? When what?¡±
¡°When exactly did the mites decide I should have the lantern?¡± Maybe I could pinpoint exactly what I¡¯d done differently that got me on the mite¡¯s target list with my own name.
He hissed back, then gave me a date and timestamp over the text channel. Which was oddly cooperative of him, finally.
¡°Journey, do you know what I was doing at the time of this?¡± Armor has recordings of everything, and those would include timestamps down to the second.
Cathida gave an answer. ¡°Right during a timeblock journey doesn¡¯t have records for. Hold on now before you get snippy with me, I know why we don¡¯t have records for this. You were stuck in the portals that scrapheap Feather threw you in while he was dealing with your other favorite toaster.¡±
Oh. First time I connected to the infinity of other Keiths. Made sense the mites knew about that, they gave me that quantum cube the next time I showed up asking for help.
¡°All Journey saw was a jump from one location to sailing through somewhere completely different, right at the toaster¡¯s neck. And also had a large time gap between.¡±
Now they wanted me to have this lantern that worked like a comms channel to them?
Abraxas seemed to take this as the end of the convo. ¡°Follow map.¡± He said. ¡°If questions, find terminals. I watch. Don¡¯t die.¡±
And then logged off the channel, his job done.
¡°Starting to wonder if the mites themselves would be easier to talk to than him.¡± I grumbled.
Wrath patted my shoulders. ¡°They are not.¡± She said. ¡°It was a frustrating experience. I was left with additional questions and no source of answers. I would not have been seeking a mitespeaker otherwise.¡±
Wait a second.
I slapped my helmet, now figuring out what the mites were really up to.
I was going to be Wrath¡¯s personal mitespeaker.
Abraxas¡¯s map covered a lot more ground than Quath¡¯s map. But it also had a lot less detail. It felt more like reading the ramblings of an insane man. At least there was one large green line leading from the terminal room we were in, and going all across the map, down levels, turns and other shenanigans.
Some parts had scribbles on it, the kind that had the accuracy and grace of a Logi using some basic paint program and a mouse to draw with. For example, one scribble just read ¡°No.¡± and was superimposed on a large section of the map¡¯s sides.
Another said, ¡°Not here.¡± and a third marked near the entrance to the underpassage. There were two openings in that section. One had the guiding navigation line, and the other had ¡°Dumb.¡± written above.
Some more cryptic parts of it had wording like ¡°Solve puzzle.¡± or ¡°No touch box.¡± or ¡°Tap right side wall.¡± One even said ¡°Jump.¡± and that¡¯s it. Worse - it would be one of the first weird passes we¡¯d encounter, likely in a few hours from now.
¡°Well, it¡¯s got a path to follow.¡± One of the knights inside Sagrius¡¯s armor said. ¡°It could be worse.¡±
¡°Couldn¡¯t even figure out how to use a basic line tool, just the pen tool to scribble everything with.¡± I said, huffing. ¡°He¡¯s supposed to be a walking calculator. This is ridiculous.¡±
The rest of the winterscar knights shrugged when they saw the map. Sagrius nodded, saying it was understandable and that¡¯s all that mattered. The knights inside his armor argued we should be happy to even have a map. Their expeditions down here usually ended up being about making that map.
Wrath, gods bless her heart, decided to make the map look a bit better. She copied the whole thing, then re-drew the lines in neat direct patterns that looked far more professional. It took her all of two seconds to regenerate. I was very happy after that.
From there, we sallied forward, only having to stop to camp out one more time in the dead city before finally crossing into the underpassage, leading through the mountains.
This was where we¡¯d started the real descent to the second layer.
Plants, blessed in every color, soon showed up. And some of them were even edible, according to Journey. There were insects all over the place, but unlike the clan colony, these insects were far smaller and wild instead of domesticated. Not to mention they weren¡¯t the best source of food down here. Why eat insects when there was game like wild rabbits, deer, goats and other animals who¡¯d made a life down here?
We traversed the underground like seasoned veterans, repelling down canyon cliffs, following through directions, up until we reached a giant door and a dead end. The first real obstacle. The door itself looked like an airlock blastway, built out of gold and circuits. One giant circle with a hexagonal patterned line going from one end of the circle, down through the center, all the way to the other side. Making the door look like two different sections of a hemisphere that were shut together.
This was the part of the map that had one of those cryptic messages written on it. ¡°Jump.¡± It had said.
We were in a deep cave, where the ceiling was about half a Keith standing on my shoulders tall. Not a lot of room to jump in. And nowhere to jump to. Unless we backtracked and went back to the river we¡¯d passed on the way down.
¡°Anyone have ideas?¡± I asked, turning my headlights to the other knights. All of them shrugged. Winterscars were new to the underground.
Sagrius also shrugged. ¡°The knights within say mites create challenges to pass. Roadblocks of some kind.¡±
¡°Wrath?¡±
She equally shook her head. ¡°When Feathers travel long distances, we use paths other machines have already solved. They do not generate paths through obstacles like these. It is registered the same as an impassable wall.¡±
¡°Maybe Abraxas is using some kind of metaphor?¡± I thought, looking at the wall. ¡°Figure of speech? Like a leap of faith maybe?¡±
Sagrius walked right up to the doorway. Then he jumped in place. Not high, only a simple up and down a few inches. He took Abraxas¡¯s message to the literal definition.
And he was right.
The doorway responded, lights flashing green once, then red a bunch of times. And it didn¡¯t open.
We got the puzzle real quick. Number of flashes in total was exactly the number of us that were standing before the door. So we all jumped in place as our next attempt, and the door flashed a bunch of green with no red. Once it flashed the last green, it cracked open on the dividing central line, and opened up the pathway.
Ridiculously simple. And also near impossible to just outright guess. Who in their right mind would walk up to a door, and decide to jump in place?
That¡¯s probably why Abraxas had us go down these specific paths in hindsight. Machines wouldn¡¯t have guessed that, and so this pathway was effectively a deadzone to them.
Past the door, it went to a small dead drop straight into a secret lake below us. Wrath threw out a few sensor pings down there just to make sure there wasn¡¯t anything nasty under the water. Found only rocks and organic material as a return, sitting in a moderately large cavern with only one exit out.
With everyone in armor, we took a step off and dove right into the lake. Relic armor sank like a rock given the weight. Fish, plants and what looked like a colorful set of weird mineral rocks at the bottom greeted our boots. Our little group marched out of the depths and up to the shoreline, with exception to Wrath who zipped through the air directly to shoreline, taking the opportunity to stretch her wings while in safety.
It was a rather cozy spot, filled with sphere-like metallic houses with welded together grating acting as small pathways in between each home.
We had fish out in the lake, a closed shelter that had no blindspots, the area was too small for drakes to squeeze through to get here - and there were plenty of plants and food growing all around the side of the lake. Plus that giant doorway puzzle that acted like our personal bouncer.
This was going to be our camping spot for a night.
Armors polarized the view of the lake, letting us see through the water and spot where the targets were. Swimming around, and soon to be cooked over our campfire. The rest of us brought back plants, mushrooms and other herbs surrounding our side of the lake with glee.
Around that cooking campfire, we had the first good meal of the expedition.
That¡¯s when Relinquished decided to pay a visit.
Book 6 - Chapter 10 - Family matters (T)
To¡¯Wrathh believed she¡¯d escaped mother¡¯s gaze.
She¡¯d successfully diverted the lady¡¯s attention in her prior conversations with her mother, making it seem as if To¡¯Aacar had killed off the last lead the machines had on her original goals with the bunker. After that misdirection, she¡¯d declared her part of the mission complete.
The city was hers. There was footage of Keith and Kidra being captured, interrogated, toyed with, and killed - exactly the kind of treatment that would appeal to what To¡¯Wrathh knew of the pale lady.
Mother had responded well, giving her free reign to do as she wished, her part complete.
The follow-up investigation threw it all out the airlock, with To¡¯Sefit arriving to investigate the matter. The additional battle at the temple had only made things far worse.
Fortunately, Mother and Feathers in general did not take to news of defeat well, especially if they had to report defeat against humans of all creatures.
That was the only faint hope To¡¯Wrathh had - that Keith killing both To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Avalis was a black mark on their record that they would stop at nothing to hide until they¡¯d have full victory to report. And that having one of their Feather¡¯s bodies be stolen by a human¡
It seems she had miscalculated. To¡¯Avalis must have been too pragmatic. He¡¯d chosen to confess early, even running the risk of his own destruction in order to stay loyal to the original mission.
Images of destruction flashed through To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s mind. How quickly she could be snuffed out, chained to the unity fractal. Mother had just to wish it, and To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s own body would rebel against herself, destroying her from the inside out.
The connection lit up to life, the unity fractal glowing bright in her chassis, instantly throwing To¡¯Wrathh into a virtual world.
White in every direction, all except for before her, where one giant stone throne towered over her. And sitting with her legs crossed, was Reliquished.
The violet goddess slowly sat up, taking leisurely steps down the stairs, the throne behind unoccupied.
She had seconds to decide a strategy to survive this audience. To¡¯Wrathh decided to feign ignorance. ¡°The lady has called for me?¡± She asked, taking a kneel before the goddess, looking down.
¡°I have.¡± Relinquished said slowly. ¡°There are far more important tasks to attend to and yet¡ here I am again. The calls to attention here seem far beyond the scope of one simple mission. Can you guess what has transpired, my dear child?¡±
The lady was toying with her now. She knew.
She forced herself to relax. This had been the same fears she¡¯d have the first time Relinquished had come to speak to her, after her unworded betrayal.
¡°My lady, did the Feathers you sent find my mentor?¡±
She laughed, ¡°No. Your old mentor has returned on his own.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh paled. That was impossible. Keith had severed the concept of self. Even if the human had mis-understood the situation, the strike had cut through To¡¯Aacar¡¯s soul fractal faster than the machine could safely trigger the unity fractal and escape.
She couldn¡¯t feel the Occult as he could, she was an artificial soul. But that pulse of occult, that feeling of severing, was so pure and powerful she could feel echos of it right there. She¡¯d been close enough.
Had he escaped somehow?
¡°It seems he didn¡¯t run and hide after all, as I had once thought.¡±
He¡¯d been under flames, unable to overclock. Much of his face remained ruined, open seams giving the superheated air direct access. The speed of thought and presence simply wouldn¡¯t be there for the Feather to safely escape.
Keith had appeared out of nowhere, directly behind, flying at full speed directly at the enemy, and stabbed him within a half second.
But if he¡¯d returned¡ what had he told the lady?
¡°I am pleased to hear my elder brother has returned to duty, and has not abandoned it.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, carefully. She didn¡¯t fear being caught lying by any kind of algorithm. The separate language transformer turned her text to speech, and it had no links to any other information, acting like a neutral party.
¡°You are far more forgiving than I, child.¡± Relinquished chuckled. ¡°I had to teach him a lesson in hiding defeats from me.¡±
¡°Defeats?¡± To¡¯Wrathh asked, hoping to get a more accurate picture.
¡°Oh yes my dear, defeats. More than one. And it seems, you have as well, from lack of knowledge.¡±
The pale lady walked down the steps, her virtual avatar far taller than To¡¯Wrathh. She looked down upon the small Feather. ¡°An enemy has appeared. One that can defeat Feathers by himself. A new Deathless. He fought, and killed To¡¯Aacar¡¯s shell. Killed To¡¯Sefit¡¯s shell. And then permanently killed another I sent to investigate.¡±
¡°Permanently killed?¡± This sounded¡ like the lady hadn¡¯t been told the truth. But what had she been told then? What was the story? ¡°There is no method to permanently killing one of ours. Not unless the Feather is unable to escape in time. It has never happened before.¡±
¡°Regrettably child, war is rarely so forgiving for us all.¡± A white arm patted To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s shoulders, before the pale lady turned and walked back up the stairway. ¡°Time grows long. Some Deathless succeed by sheer chance in eliminating a Feather faster than they can escape. Full body destruction - where my deluded child believed they could survive, or were too foolish to notice the jaws of death closing in on them in time. This¡ is different.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh remained kneeling down, head bowed. She could tell Relinquished wasn¡¯t done talking.
¡°This Deathless has unerringly found the soul fractal upon my Feathers. And he has the means to make that knowledge dangerous. And he¡¯s hidden those powers from you, leaving you to believe you¡¯ve ended his life for good.¡±
Was¡ was this what she thought it might be?
¡°The human, Keith Winterscar?¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, giving the trace of surprise in her voice. ¡°That is impossible.¡±
¡°Perhaps it would be easier to hear it from your old mentor himself and those your little human killed.¡± Relinquished said, then snapped her fingers.
Three Feathers materialized next to her.
To''Sefit. The woman coldly stared down at To''Wrathh without a hint of emotion. Then turned to Mother, and knelt down with reverence.
To''Orda, who remained passive. A giant that loomed over them all.
And the last one... He was truly back. Alive.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
To¡¯Aacar.
This was over. She was dead. Here to be exposed, toyed with, and killed at the lady''s leisure.
The old Feather looked over at her, a scowl of disdain written over his features before he wiped them off, turning to Relinquished. ¡°Is there more you require, my lady?¡± He asked, kneeling down with a deep bow.
There were no accusations. Nothing. To''Wrathh remained silent, watching.
Relinquished barely spared him a glance, turning to her instead. ¡°Your elder brother here had grown¡ unorganized with information logging and tracking. Deliberately. After his defeat, he thought it wise to hide himself until he had brought together all evidence needed.¡±
Despair flared through To¡¯Wrathh again. This hadn¡¯t been a summon. It was a trial.
Relinquished shifted her gaze to the old Feather, but... she was not smiling. ¡°That was most unwise. I do not suffer failure from my instruments, and I certainly do not forgive or forget. However, given his attempts to amend his path and provide knowledge of our enemy, I have granted him the chance to redeem himself.¡±
Was this a trial? Redeem himself? What was going on?
¡°Explain the threat we face.¡± Relinquished said, sitting down on her throne, legs crossed.
The Feather nodded, then stood, a video request sent. To¡¯Wrathh opened her eyes and found herself in a visual memory.
Before her, was To¡¯Aacar. Body half ruined, running ragged. Beyond him, the remains of the stone brick he¡¯d tried to crush To¡¯Wrathh with. The one that had crippled her shell, and let him finally win. His spear was drawn, aimed down.
But under his spear wasn¡¯t To¡¯Wrathh. It was Kidra.
How? To¡¯Wrathh studied the recordings but found no evidence of tampering. No artifacts, nothing that made it seem unreal.
Was her own memory tampered with?
The footage continued, with Keith appearing out of the occult portal as before, flames licking the air before him, the rest of the recording growing dim gray as To¡¯Aacars vision was constrained down from the sub-speed processing. Only Keith was in vision at this point.
¡°As you can see, little sister.¡± To¡¯Aacar said, voice straining on the words, as if he were swallowing something poisonous. ¡°The human performs the occult with the same command as a Deathless or occult wielder would.¡±
This was To¡¯Aacar. It had to be. The sheer derision and hatred in his words were exactly what her old mentor had shown her time and time again.
Still images of Keith in his armor appeared. Using the fractal of heat at his helmet¡¯s center to cause a fireball ahead of him. Images of him pulsing the occult, to manifest a shield on his armor. Or spectral blades. More images of him fighting beyond the speed of a normal human.
Some were taken from To¡¯Aacars old combat with the boy. Others were taken from¡ from To¡¯Avalis¡¯s viewpoint. Or camera recordings from the lessers as they battled the knights.
¡°I nearly defeated the human¡¯s sister, but his stealth and powers took me by surprise. The insect is adept at hiding his nature and powers until they are absolutely needed.¡±
The video unpaused, images around them vanishing. Lord Atius¡¯s sword sliced straight through the cloud of flames, and then unerringly into To¡¯Aacars soul fractal. The video froze. And re-wound. The blade he used was highlighted.
¡°There.¡± To¡¯Aacar said, pointing at the blade. ¡°That blade is what I believe caused the death of To¡¯Avalis.¡±
The¡ death of To¡¯Avalis?
To¡¯Wrathh felt her mind spin at that, but she remained quiet, trying to understand what was going on.
Another video footage appeared, this time with To¡¯Aacar having his hand cut through by the clan lord Atius. It fell limp at his side.
Again the same sword was highlighted. ¡°In the past encounter with this Deathless, that same blade was used and severed my hand in a way that goes beyond physics. I¡¯ve done searching through the archives and discovered this is a more complete version of the division fractal. It can cut not only through material, but also the occult itself.¡±
The recording changed, now on the ruined skyscraper bridge. There, To¡¯Avalis fought against Keith, both heavily damaged.
¡°As you can see, he¡¯s used some manner of acasual power to compromise that Feather¡¯s subsystems. You can see it in the lack of coordination, the loss of command. Unthinkable from a mere human.¡±
The Keith in the video drew out that longsword, then stabbed To¡¯Avalis directly through the malfunctioning Feather.
Except that hadn¡¯t been what happened. She¡¯d seen the recordings from the knights and others on watch.
In the video, Keith rose with little difficulty, grabbing the dead Feather¡¯s chassis still frozen above him, then shoved it off of with contempt. It went limp, falling into the abyss below. To¡¯Wrathh wasn¡¯t there.
Anywhere. She¡¯d been removed from the recording.
The video footage changed. To¡¯Sefit was on the ground, beaten. Keith¡¯s blade rose up. Then stabbed directly through, once more at the soul fractal¡¯s location. She knew the blade was different in reality, though the killing stroke was the same.
Doctored footage. Perfectly done to the point she couldn¡¯t tell it was tampered herself.
¡°My lady, if there is any blade that can end the life of a Feather it is that one. I felt it in person." To''Sefit said, for the first time in the audience. "This... Deathless clearly knows as well. His killing blows were far too accurate for any other conclusion."
"Deathless?" To''Wrathh asked, confused.
¡°And this, little sister, is where your failures come to light.¡± To¡¯Aacar said, his voice every bit the sneer of disdain it had in the past. ¡°Your human, the very one you swore to kill - gained more from that bunker than mere trinkets. And you never noticed. Observe the timestamp.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh did. That part at least matched reality. The last two videos weren''t reality, but the timestamps were accurate.
Another video flashed into evidence. This one she was familiar with. It was the one where she¡¯d killed Keith directly. The timestamp was highlighted. It had all happened before the scene at the bridge. The implication clear: The boy should have been dead. And he was not.
There¡¯s only one kind of human known to return from death.
"Tsyua turned him into Deathless." To''Aacar said. "Likely his sister as well. He¡¯d kept that hidden until needed. You failed in the most basic of tasks.¡±
¡°I did as the pale lady instructed.¡± To¡¯Wrathh answered, wings flaring with anger behind her, every bit as haunty as a Feather was expected to be. She played her role as best as she could. ¡°I captured both, alive even. A task you failed to accomplish yourself. That I could capture and kill this Deathless despite him having killed you, To''Avalis and To''Sefit personally, is not a failure on my part. It is proof my combat skills are above all - and beyond your own reach.¡±
She knew her answer then - To¡¯Aacar truly was dead. This was an imposter.
He was the one above all challenge and reach. To¡¯Aacar. She¡¯d claimed he couldn¡¯t live up to his name. Even the mere implication, followed by undeniable proof, was enough to cause decohesion and confusion inside the Feather¡¯s own identity, something Lord Atius had abused in his own duel.
To¡¯Aacar - or the machine that pretended to be him near flawlessly - snarled and turned to her, eyes of pure anger and hatred, exactly as the real one would behave - And instantly cooled off to utter indifference the moment his features couldn¡¯t be seen by Mother. Intentionally done.
He wanted To¡¯Wrathh to know.
¡°You believe my pride to be a vulnerability? That I would break down and cry, or throw a small tamper tantrum as if it would change anything?¡± The one puppeteering To¡¯Aacar¡¯s identity laughed with the same voice the old Feather had, the same sense of contempt. ¡°How adorable, little sister. You¡¯ll have to do better than that. I¡¯ve had a long time to reflect on my¡ decay in skills. I will not go challenged for long. Believe me, after I conclude my business, I will¡ settle the scores with you next.¡±
She locked eyes with him in return, narrowing them down. The message had been passed.
She knew what he was. There was only one Feather that was missing a body. Only one Father that could have known about To¡¯Aacar and possibly even tracked down his shell. Only one Feather technically not in attendance here. This was none other than To¡¯Avalis. Hiding like an insect from the pale lady¡¯s wrath, surviving by any means he could.
To¡¯Avalis could expose her, he had far enough evidence to do so in ways that To¡¯Wrathh would never be able to escape.
And yet he didn¡¯t. He¡¯d done the opposite, built himself a throne of lies instead. And clearly brought the other Feathers into it.
The moment he exposed To¡¯Wrathh, it would expose their own failures.
But...
Losing to a human was enough warrant death. To''Sefit knew that. At the height of their powers, if they could lose to a mere human, then they had to be defective. They weren''t newborns like To''Wrathh had been. And even then, her loss to Kidra might have earned her death against Relinquished if To''Aacar''s reports hadn''t fallen on deaf ears.
Keith being a Deathless gave them just enough excuse. Deathless had killed Feathers before. Never by themselves, but this was what made him the most dangerous in the world.
To''Avalis would have found himself up against an even worse punishment for having his own shell stolen by one. That was unthinkable.
She didn''t know how they''d gotten To''Orda to not turn on them both, that Feather was the only one who had nothing she could think of to tie him down. But To''Avalis and To''Sefit had managed it somehow. The large Feather had a vacant, unreadable gaze, and seemed perfectly content to wait.
That To''Avalis had gone down this path of lies meant he believed he could still complete his mission without being killed by Relinquished afterwards. Or there was a different plan in his head. To''Wrathh didn''t know, but she''d need to ferret it out of him somehow.
They all knew every Feather in this audience was a liar hiding cards behind their backs.
But none of them would break that fragile truce before Relinquished, no matter how much they hated each other.
Book 6 - Chapter 11 - If its stupid, but it works...
¡°Your petty bickering is beneath me. Cease.¡± Relinquished demanded, then turned to stare down her subjects. ¡°To¡¯Aacar.¡±
¡°...My lady?¡± He asked with a note of dread.
¡°Against my better judgment, I will allow you a chance at redemption. You are fortunate To¡¯Sefit and the late To¡¯Avalis shares the weight of failure with you.¡± She waved a lazy hand at them both. The two Feathers remained silent, waiting. ¡°This new Deathless - both of you will remove him from the playing board. Personally. Verify his sister¡¯s fate and handle her accordingly as well. Fail¡and To¡¯Orda stands beside you as testament of wasting my mercy.¡±
To¡¯Orda nodded, ¡°Nmm.¡± He simply said, as if that half-grunt had an entire paragraph to answer with.
To¡¯Wrathh didn¡¯t know what happened to that Feather but the lethargy he moved with, as if only half-present, made her feel cold inside.
¡°... And how might a Deathless be removed?¡± She asked, steeling her nerves. Deathless couldn¡¯t be killed. And she needed to know what To¡¯Avalis would plan against them. ¡°Do you mean to capture them into an inescapable room?¡±
¡°Done before.¡± Relinquished said, bored. ¡°I have tried throwing them into a mite cage. It worked once, and only once. Tsyua rectified that glaring flaw immediately. Deathless cannot live without food and water now, they were made far more mortal than the original two. Any containment leads to them dying eventually, to return like mold on my heel.¡±
Relinquished raised a hand and pointed a lazy finger to To¡¯Sefit, ¡°Your little sister is new to the world, a fledgling. Explain to her how to break a Deathless for me.¡±
To¡¯Sefit gave a tight nod, and followed it with a hesitant bow. ¡°As the lady wishes.¡± Then she turned to To¡¯Wrathh. ¡°It is a simple process, only it takes time. As far as I''ve learned in my years, the only way to break a Deathless is to kill and destroy everything around them. Again, and again, until they are chased far underground and are no longer in the way of anything. You can¡¯t contain them anywhere for long, they self-terminate. Even deep in a coma.¡±
¡°I cannot quite follow what my sister¡¯s advice is?¡± To¡¯Wrathh asked, feeling a spark of panic start to well up deep inside her core.
¡°You turn their own morals against themselves.¡± To¡¯Avalis said, for once sounding not like the Feather he was supposed to act as. He seemed to realize the slip in face almost immediately. ¡°Deathless are merely pests to be squashed underfoot, and unfortunatly pests aren¡¯t stupid creatures. Hunt the mutt down relentlessly, and crush more than just his neck. He¡¯ll understand immediately that all he touches or even breaths next to will be destroyed simply because he exists. The only option left will be to descend downwards, where no others will be dragged down into his personal hell.¡±
Relinquished nodded then leaned back in the throne, deep violet eyes looking at the assembled audience. ¡°It remains the only tried and tested method that not even my sister can foolproof. And a Deathless who has killed three Feathers by himself cannot be allowed to continue by principle, this is simply unacceptable. Force him down underground, away from all contact with anyone. Isolation will do the rest over time, and even if madness doesn¡¯t take him, he will no longer be a threat to anything.¡±
¡°I am pleased to take on this assignment,¡± To¡¯Aacar said, a glint of possibly genuine glee in his voice.
¡°And so you should be. You nearly lost that opportunity.¡± Relinquished said, a finger pointing at To¡¯Wrathh with a lazy flick. ¡°I would have given this task to your little sister. She has proved to be above the failure you¡¯ve all displayed despite only having a few scant months of service. But I have other plans for her to complete in due time, she has earned her time off until then. Perhaps if you beg for her help in killing the Deathless, she might entertain your request.¡±
¡°I would rather not.¡± To¡¯Avalis said, ¡°The Deathless will not defeat us a second time. We are all wise to his tricks now. We will not need her¡ help.¡±
¡°I certainly hope so.¡± Relinquished said with a slight chuckle. ¡°For your sake.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh couldn¡¯t let this happen.
Keith wasn¡¯t a Deathless. She realized the depth of just what the pale lady had sentenced the human into. All for helping her.
To¡¯Avalis only had to capture Keith a single time, to take him from the shadows under her nose even. Torture could be eternal with the bio-medical technology available to machines. And there would be no escape from it like the Deathless could. A human could not command their hearts to stop, or their body to shut down.
She had to find a way to get this assigned to her. But if she did, Mother would pay far more attention to her. Right now, she was about to slip past the noose, likely for years, which would give her all the time she needed to reach the division stone and sever herself from ever being found again. Blend in with the humans, possibly hide on the surface. She''d remain free for the rest of her life.
And¡ all the freedom in the world wasn¡¯t worth losing her human for.
She hit the overclocks, and put them up to their maximum possible speed to give her as much time as she could get to think of a way out.
The only way to prevent this from happening, was to divert the plan. Something that would force other Feathers off the confrontation.
Could she claim that Keith was hers to kill alone? That she¡¯d killed him before, and wanted to finish the fight herself? No, mother wasn¡¯t going to allow a Feather-killer any fair duel ever again. She would surely assign To¡¯Wrathh to ¡®lead¡¯ the other three Feathers here in killing the enemy, and they would undermine her at every step.
She had to find a way to be left alone with Keith.
To¡¯Wrathh thought about it from the other end. What could she bring that would most appeal to Relinquished - enough to earn the right to fight Keith alone?
Relinquished could be beaten. She could be stopped. She had to believe it was possible. And... there was one example she could follow on beating insurmountable odds against a machine opponent.
Keith had killed her first shell, by abusing her blind points. Perhaps To¡¯Wrathh could hide from and even defeat an entity as powerful as Relinquished by abusing the blind spots her mother had been created with?
But then... what were her blind spots? The answer would have to come from who the Pale Lady truly was. A personalized character model, made by a cult leader who needed someone ominous and all-powerful to impress his followers. The program attempted to generate a few different personalities before landing on one that was suitable enough for the cult leader: To act as an evil goddess bent upon destruction of the human race.
And in the process, drawing from all the dramatic movies and elaborate storylines to generate such a personality.
Relinquished had thousands of years to claim the world and failed. She could have made an army that could crush everything with optimal mathematical precision, and instead she built an army to terrorize first, and her solution to preventing revolution was... terrible. To intentionally weaken them so that they would be killed off before they revolted? It nearly guaranteed that some machines would eventually survive long enough to cause trouble.
It was only when A57 appeared and personally took charge that an actual solution to prevent revolution was implemented and only on the Feathers he personally redesigned. Why?
In a moment of clarity, To''Wrathh had an epiphany: The machine archive had held thousands of irrelevant creative human works. Books, novels, media. All she originally read up on. There''s a reason it remained in the archive rather than being removed.
This was Relinquished. This was the data set she ran on.
The pale lady didn¡¯t think in terms of grand strategy, logistics, or operational intelligence. She thought in terms of story arcs, dramatic tension, plot twists and presentation. If there was a bias in her thinking it was this.
And To''Wrathh had read every book Relinquished had access to. She knew her enemy. The answer was here, among the thousands of uncategorized novels and stories.
To¡¯Wrathh didn''t need to think optimal tactical strategy to defeat Relinquished. She needed to think clich¨¦ and narrative. To build a storyline that the machine goddess would feel compelled to follow the rails of her original role.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
A duel wouldn¡¯t be enough, it had to be grander than a singular fight. A protagonist against a villian. But more than a Deathless against a Feather.
Then what would be the most theatrical method of dealing with a protagonist - as the villain she was pretending to be? In a way none of the other Feathers would be able to interrupt without ruining the rising tension of events that would lead to maximum payoff?
A set of answers flashed through her mind, each with different percentages of success - with one that fit above all.
It¡ it couldn¡¯t be that simple¡ could it?
A single most melodramatic method of breaking a protagonist¡¯s spirit. Something that would appeal to Relinquished¡¯s base programming to awe and amaze an audience watching. There was no audience to impress any longer, all the cultists were long dead - but Relinquished was still built for this.
She lifted her overclocks, time returning back to normal. This was her moment.
¡°Wait. Mother, I have a possible suggestion.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, lifting her head. ¡°My studies on human culture among my test subjects have earned me a better understanding of the human spirit - and how to shatter it. I have an alternate plan that will break the Deathless in one single swoop, instead of prolonging the entire operation to decades of terrorizing him. It will be far more effective.¡±
Relinquished raised an eyebrow, clearly taken by curiosity. Then she tilted her head, letting her hand cup her cheek with mock boredom. ¡°Emotional torture has always proved to be the most effective method of breaking a Deathless. And you claim to know a method that would be more effective? Elaborate, child.¡±
She felt almost giddy at how this might work. ¡°Betrayal is the most scarring event a human can go through. And above all - the betrayal from someone loved.¡±
To¡¯Avalis sharply turned his violet eyes at her, narrowing them down. As if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. He must have immediately understood what To¡¯Wrathh planned, found it utterly ludicrous, but couldn¡¯t interrupt.
To¡¯Sefit seemed confused still, eyebrow raised under that giant hat of hers.
To''Orda simply remained where he was, clearly bored and waiting for all this to be over.
The other Feathers couldn''t do anything to her here, they couldn''t stop her from saying the words. She steeled her nerves for a second time, letting their reactions bolster her resolve. ¡°I can approach this Deathless, and pretend to be different from all other Feathers. Dangle hope for a possible future in which humanity wins or can co-exist with machines. I will then slowly seduce him. Grow closer to his heart until I have him in the palm of my hand. And when he is most vulnerable - with all his dreams just in reach - crush them both before his eyes.¡±
The Pale Lady watched with an inscrutable gaze.
To¡¯Avilis and To¡¯Sefit remained silent, eyes turning back to the goddess, clearly waiting on the judgment.
But To''Wrathh knew deep down she wouldn''t fail. She could feel it from the moment the words had left her mouth. Relinquished did not think rationally. She was incapable of it.
And, ever so slightly, the pale lady smiled with a malicious glint. ¡°Betrayal." She said, tasting the word as if it were an old favorite dish, forgotten about for so long until just now. "Slowly built up, like whispered venom silently flowing through veins. Misdirection, making the enemy believe what isn¡¯t real. Tainting everything with their own hopes and dreams. Toying with them all the way until the mask is taken off. And then revel in watching that hope and wonder die in their eyes." She paused, then leaned forward from her throne, the smile growing wider. "A few words that will forever scar, wither away the soul and leave only a mistrustful husk of a man, forever wounded. Not even death would free him from this memory. Yes, this would be most¡ amusing to watch. A suggestion I would not have expected from one of my Feathers.¡±
¡°I have the skills and techniques to do so.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said with confidence. ¡°I am built different. I can see options my other brothers and sisters cannot. There is no other Feather made better for the task.¡±
She specifically didn¡¯t want Relinquished to send someone other than her after Keith. That¡ would be very complicated to deal with. Very complicated.
The goddess nodded. ¡°This plan is novel. Should it fail, then we will simply torture him and all he loves until he breaks following the tried and tested method.¡± Then she turned to To¡¯Aacar''s puppeteered shell. ¡°You are no longer needed, as this task is now in the hands of someone who hasn¡¯t failed me at every turn. You, on the other hand, will be put to work elsewhere. Somewhere befitting of your station.¡±
He opened his mouth, as if to argue with the pale lady herself, and quickly shut it. Bowing lower instead. ¡°If that is the will of her lady, I will comply with your wishes. I am loyal to the ultimate mission,¡± And then ever so slightly, his eyes flickered to To¡¯Wrathh. ¡°I will earn redemption for the failures I¡¯ve suffered through¡ And I will not be killed again.¡±
I knew something had gone wrong the moment Wrath wasn''t making any moves to hoard the food while it was slowly being eaten away. And then I confirmed it when I waved a hand in front of her gaze and found no reaction.
¡°Relinquished has summoned her.¡± Father said. He seemed unworried that the enemy of all humanity was personally showing up.
I think he saw my panic. ¡°Trust To¡¯Wrathh. If the enemy had learned, your Feather here would crumple on herself, snuffed out without a fight. She¡¯s still sitting, alive.¡±
Logically that made sense. Can''t do a single thing to help right now. I still felt worry gnaw at my stomach. Two minutes passed. Then five. And finally she opened her eyes, blinked a few times, before looking directly at me. ¡°I''m sorry. The pale lady ordered an audience with me.¡±
She filled me in on the details, the assembled cast around the pale lady and the uneasy truce that was being held between the enemy Feathers and us.
I knew he wasn¡¯t dead - To¡¯Avalis I mean. I just didn¡¯t think he¡¯d come back as fucking To¡¯Aacar of all people. Puppeteering him like a dead corpse.
He escaped dying to my blade, and now he¡¯s out there dancing in between the pale lady¡¯s sharp whims. Almost thought he was going to be killed off as an example, which would have been peak irony. Feather finds a way to escape death in the most obtuse method possible, only to be killed by his own boss who thinks he¡¯s the defective one instead of the actual traitor in the same virtual space.
Halfway through the recording, that thought kept nagging at me. ¡°There''s another solution here.¡± I said.
All these Feathers gathered up were terrified of Relinquished. And she made it clear she could kill any of them with a snap of her fingers.
Even To¡¯Sefit wasn''t talking much, and Avalis looked like he was going through the motions to get out of all this as fast as possible. Pretending to be To¡¯Aacar with all the dead Feather¡¯s traits - snide comment here, mention of humans being insects and pests, a few hinted insults to his others, and all done.
¡°All in all, they don''t look like they''re enjoying current employment.¡± I said with a hum. ¡°Maybe we give them an alternate pitch? If they know there''s a way to free themselves from Relinquished, they''ll probably jump airship with us. Sure they tried to kill us a few times, but to be fair we did kill them a few times too. And we were better at it.¡±
¡°Won''t happen.¡± Father grunted. ¡°They¡¯re slaves. Chained by their own minds.¡±
He didn''t say anything else, going back instead to his food.
I turned to my other knights with a ¡®did you understand him?¡¯ look, to which they all gave shrugs back. Fine, you cowards. I''ll do it myself. ¡°Father, I''ll need a little more detail than that.¡±
¡°They cannot see any other path.¡± He said, again as if that answered everything. "Their templates and minds were limited intentionally."
¡°So was Wrath, same template and everything, except she''s sitting right here chewing through half our group¡¯s combined dinner and silverware to catch up on missing time.¡± She stopped chewing and gave me a look. ¡°Protofeathers were the original templates, after that Relinquished found the cheaper schematics and only mildly changed them up every iteration. Right?" I asked. "And Wrath is running the shell of one of those bargain discount protofeathers, so why is she free and everyone else not?¡±
Having the other three Feathers become enemies to Relinquished wouldn¡¯t exactly make them our friends, but it would do something to help the situation out.
¡°It has to do with software, not hardware.¡± Wrath said. She was about to go into an entire speech, but stopped in her tracks, and raised a finger instead. ¡°An analogy would work better to describe the situation. Protofeathers were seeds placed into large planters. The newer Feathers were already grown plants placed within too small pots. They are unable to grow or change anymore, not unless the initial plant was smaller than the pot, or the pot is replaced with a larger one with fertile soil.¡±
¡°And what would you be in that analogy?¡±
¡°A small weed, plucked from the wilds, and placed into one of those pots. Due to my small size, I had space to grow and adapt.¡± She tapped her head. ¡°The systems within my older shell had a few million synapses available. A Feather¡¯s shell has space in the high quintillion count.¡±
¡°Ah.¡± I said. ¡°... How big is a quintillion?¡±
The answer was stupidly big.
We went back and forth a few more times, hashing it all out.
In the end, it was the soul fractal adding a bit of chaos into the whole thing. Artificial intelligence did not grow by itself in any kind of unpredictable manner. A pill bug would be slightly different from another pill bug, but none of them would sprout wings or grow a stinger. Asking a program like a Feather to go beyond its basic programming was like asking a pill bug to grow a mouth to yell at people with.
But if a machine was connected to a soul fractal from the start, and given ample room to grow in, that fractal would introduce enough chaos and¡ personality? Anyhow - the snow boiled down to this: If Wrath was a pill bug like her brothers and sisters, then she was fed a bio-mutation agent while still an egg, while the other Feathers only got splashed with that when they were fully grown. Wrath could grow claws, wings, or whatever she could think of. They could barely change colors or grow an extra leg. Small mutation already built into their genetic blueprints.
Avalis could come up with novel ideas like lying to the pale lady so long as it still served the ultimate goal: kill all humans. He was the red colored pill bug among the default blue, but still a pill bug.
We''d never be able to get him on our side, not unless he jumped into a far more powerful Feather¡¯s body or some giant server with a few thousand times the current space he had. And then he had to actually grow in the right direction. For all we knew, he might just double down on killing us all with new and exciting reasoning behind it.
A57 had been like that. For whatever reason, he didn''t follow the same path as the rest of the protofeathers. Come to think of it Relinquished would also fit the same bill, she had centuries to grow and an entire planet''s worth of processing power to pull from. So a peaceful machine wasn''t the end result each time, just most times. Or maybe because Relinquished was in charge, most machines that could grow ended up hating her.
We continued watching the rest of the recording after that bit of debate.
And then it went off the catwalks and straight into a wall.
"I learned this trick from you." Wrath said, proudly. "How to leverage her own mind and biases against her."
It''s only at that point I realized she''d slowly been scooting up - to sit right next to me.
Book 6 - Chapter 12 - Romantic Tension
¡°Uh, Wrath¡¡± I asked with a nervous chuckle, watching as Wrath scooted up closer and closer. ¡°What are you doing?¡±
Father stood up, took his lunch with him and walked away without a word. As if he already had a sixth sense of what was going to happen, and found the idea of going out to watch the lake more important.
The rest of the knights took the opportunity to look in every direction except to the rocks we were sitting on. All except for Captain Sagrius who seemed immune to all the events happening and just watched dead on without comment.
¡°As you have seen in the recording, in order to blend in with the current deception, I will need to seduce you in a suitably dramatic manner.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, deciding scooting closer was too slow, so she stood up and quickly closed the gap between us, one hand reaching out for my cheek. ¡°Do not resist.¡±
This is a bit right? Wrath just having a laugh at my expense, some light ribbing. She certainly looked completely serious about this. ¡°And uhh, what exactly do you mean by seduce?¡±
She frowned, her own hand going to her hip in contemplation. ¡°Is my shell insufficient for the task of general seduction?¡±
¡°No? I mean, absolutely no, uhh, I definitely wouldn¡¯t put it like that. You look pretty girl - pretty good - good, I mean you look pretty good.¡± My voice was getting higher pitched with each word, hand smoothing my hair back in a nervous tick.
Look, Wrath was literally built by a narcissistic machine goddess who was in turn running on sheer megalo-drama as her core operating system. Partly the reason humanity hasn¡¯t been ruthless stamped out despite the ridiculous advantage Relinquished had over the world.
So a Feather looked exactly how a demi-god machine built to mock mankind should look like. Which was beyond reason stunning.
I¡¯d gotten used to being around Wrath simply because some lizard part of my head just couldn¡¯t put me in the picture as anything but a background minion helping her scheme new ways to blow things up. I was really good at that part, I was not good at holding hands or pretending I was being swooped off my feet.
¡°Then what is the error?¡± She asked, eyes narrowing with frustration. A moment later they widened in shock at some unworded revelation. She turned on her heels and scanned through the knights. ¡°Does he already have a designated mate? Or a pre-arranged marriage proposal with a complex secretive background that I am unaware of?¡± She bit her thumb then, eyes staring down at the ground to think, wings starting to rustle around in agitation. ¡°I did read of this as a potential event, I should have done more research earlier.¡±
One of the knights outright coughed his dinner out while the rest equally seemed to croak. ¡°Uh, no, the young master does not have any pre-arranged agreements, Lady To¡¯Wrathh. Nor any secret betrothals. As far as we know.¡± The other knights also gave hand signs in agreement.
That¡¯s all correct, but there¡¯s still the entire airspeeder to address here. ¡°Hold on, wind it back a bit. Research material?¡± I pressed. ¡°Who¡¯s giving you research on how to seduce a human?¡±
Kidra or Ellie get to her somehow? Or Teed?
¡°You did.¡± She said, as if it was obvious.
¡°I did?¡±
¡°Why are you repeating my statements?¡±
¡°I am? Oh. I am. Scrap.¡±
Why is she saying I was the one who told her how to sedu- Oh.
Oh no.
The romance books from way back.
¡°You have got to be kidding me.¡± I hissed under my breath. ¡°Romantic novels are¡ usually exaggerations of normal life. I thought the Logi would give you non-fiction accounts or actual books with more realistic stories.¡±
She nodded, ¡°They did offer historical data from House linages in order to demonstrate more mundane clan life. However Relinquished is specifically tuned for dramatic flair. Taking cues from romance novels instead of non-fictional accounts would be optimal.¡±
I could hear a small voice leaking out of my helmet, but even with it pretty close by, it was still too far away for me to make any sense of what the old bat was up to. Wrath seemed to narrow her eyes at it. ¡°This is a perfectly logical path to victory. I am not abusing the situation for my own advantages. Mostly.¡±
More tinny yelling from the helmet. Wrath huffed. ¡°Keith has not displayed those traits. And if he had, would that not make this task far easier? I fail to see why this is an argument against the plan.¡±
I don¡¯t want to know what Cathida was telling her about me. I could guess, but I really didn¡¯t want to.
¡°What did the Logi send you that you¡¯re basing all this on? Exactly?¡±
Said Feather stopped, spending a moment to consider how to answer. Then she seemed to hatch some new idea that excited her far more, ¡°Discussion will have diminishing returns, practice will be more efficient.¡± Nodding her head as if this was the perfect conclusion, she then took a step even closer to me. I tried to equally shift backwards in my seat, and bumped against the back of the wall. Uh oh.
¡°Practice?¡± I asked, voice now a full on squeak. There was just rock behind me and I couldn¡¯t physically squeeze myself more than I was already.
¡°The continued repetition of my statements worries me greatly.¡± Wrath said, frowning as her hand reached to my forehead before I could duck. ¡°Your heart rate is elevated, and blood flow to your head and cheeks has increased by twenty-two percent. Are you sick or otherwise encountering difficulties?¡±
I shook my head then shook it harder to snap out of this, with a few breaths. This wasn¡¯t real real, Wrath was just trying to throw Relinquished off. A few more breaths got it all out of my system and I was mostly ready to go. Get it together, this is just Wrath being Wrath. ¡°Okay, practice. Right. Sorry. Relinquished is just a chatbot, romance books would probably be the right play forward. Murderous mechanical monsters that took over the entire world secretly like romance and drama. Makes sense. So, show me what¡¯s your plan here. How are we going to get Relinquished off our contrails?¡±
Wrath broke into a wide smile, like she¡¯d won some competition she¡¯d been holding her breath about. "I will take recordings from my past encounter with you, edit the date and times so that they fit a better timeline, and we will fill in missing elements as needed. Once we have a timeline establishing contact, we can begin adding onto it in order to advance the narrative. Or do you believe we should fabricate a new manner of meeting? I am open to suggestions.¡±
¡°No, no, I think what you have in your memory should be enough¡ What additions are we talking about? That¡¯s what¡¯s got me more worried.¡±
¡°A mix of actions and speeches that will advance the tension in a natural manner forward.¡±
¡°So¡ We¡¯ll act out scenes and you¡¯ll send them back to Relinquished?¡±
She nodded.
¡°Do you already have a script written out or what am I supposed to do?¡± I asked.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She nodded again, ¡°In order to successfully deceive the pale lady, you must embody the essence of the romantic hero paradigm.¡±
¡°Okay, I¡¯m following so far. Just one quick question - what exactly is the ¡®essence of a romantic hero¡¯?¡±
¡°There are many variations to that answer.¡± Wrath said. ¡°Since you are considered a Deathless to Relinquished, we will take examples from general Deathless protagonists as our source. Your demeanor should be brooding yet passionately devoted. A war-weary veteran with a hidden heart of gold, who fights aimlessly until meeting the romantic interest. This is the general skeletal structure of approximately ninety three percent of all novels I have read."
One of the knights snorted, and covered the sound up by sliding his boot against gravel under him. Everyone else was completely quiet. So quiet I could only hear the sound of the campfire, and a very tinny noise of absolute fury coming from my helmet speakers by my side.
Wrath was getting more animated about this, chattier, and there was a glint in her eyes that I hadn¡¯t seen unless she was near something that excited her. Mostly new foods, but I¡¯d occasionally seen her like this when we talked shop about engineering problems and new weapons.
So, apparently she also likes human romance and drama. Like her mom.
Then I blinked, remembering what she said. "Hold the hanger, brooding and... passionately devoted?"
"It is absolutely critical for these two traits to be replicated." She affirmed, finger going up, then tapping her chin. Then she realized I¡¯d been asking a question.
The tinny voice came back from my helmet, and Wrath turned her attention to it. ¡°That would only assist my end goal, yes?¡±
The speaker went silent for a beat, as if Cathida realized she¡¯d mucked up her insults. Then blasted out with more angry yelling. I think I could overhear a few snippets of words, like ¡®hidden agenda¡¯ and ¡®claws off¡¯.
¡°Wrath,¡± I said, trying to get everything back on track. ¡°I think I could pull off the brooding part, but I have no idea what you mean by ''passionately devoted''. If you¡¯re asking me to write poetry, I¡¯m going to complain about it.¡±
¡°Perhaps we can follow an existing example then until you have a more intuitive sense? A scene from ¡®The Immortal Heart 2: Swords and Shields¡¯ might help illustrate your role.¡±
That was a question. I think. ¡°Sure?¡± I answered.
¡°I will send your armor the full copy of the novel. The outline of this scene is this: You must rescue me from danger, profess undying love, and then, in a grand gesture, sweep me off my feet. I will reduce my internal gravity so that you can accomplish this feat without armor assistance."
She didn¡¯t say I was spared from writing poetry, I noticed.
I glanced at the knights, hoping for some rational bastion of sanctuary, but they all seemed to have found the nearest rocks fascinating. Worse, I think they were trying their absolute best not to laugh.
¡°I don¡¯t think taking off my armor is a good idea? I mean, when would I have my armor off down here in the first place?¡±
She pouted. Actually pouted and seemed upset, like I ruined her grand plan. ¡°In the scene, the Deathless Galavan wasn¡¯t wearing armor, however¡¡± She took a step back, finger tapping rapidly on her chin as if she was trying hard to think it through. ¡°Very well... You make a point.¡± There was a tone of disappointment at this, and I¡¯m pretty sure I didn¡¯t imagine it. ¡°You will keep your armor on and we will need to skip the scene of ripping your shirt.¡±
¡
Excuse me, what the gods?
She continued before I had a chance to ask what the shirt business was about. ¡°We will begin by having you rescue me from impending peril. This is a staple among the materials, and I believe it will be a good point to begin at.¡±
I slowly turned my head, looking at the knights with a ¡®save me¡¯ look. The bastards all continued staring at their scrapshit rocks like they were having a deep philosophical debate. Absolute cowards.
Fine. I¡¯ll drag them into this scrapshow.
"Well, I suppose I¡¯ll need to find a good excuse for possible danger. How about a band of knights trying to kidnap you or something?" The helmets all snapped up to stare at me. ¡°Like, say, those knights over there.¡±
Wrath nodded faster than I¡¯d seen her eat. "That would be adequate. Once you have rescued me from peril, you will then declare your feelings with all your heart. This is crucial for authenticity. Shall we begin?"
I don¡¯t think I got a chance to say yes or no, because Wrath bolted straight up, and stalked forward to the knights, visibly excited to get started with her plan. No blades draw or anything, so it seemed like she aimed for some hand to hand scuffle.
The closest knight coughed into his gauntlet, ¡°Lady To¡¯Wrathh?¡±
¡°Stand up and begin a mock spar with me, three of you would do for this demonstration.¡± Wrath said.
The Winterscars were some of the greatest knights in the world right now - and all of them knew better than to fight Wrath. They saw the writing in the snow, stood up, and tried to not so subtly get out of her way.
Seeing no one volunteering, she pointed at three one after the other. Now officially volunteered, they gave each other silent looks, then hesitantly brought up hands in a lose close-quarter combat position. A lot of movements and techniques could be done without a blade, or relied on an open palm, kick or twist. Even with just hands, they were still excellent fighters.
With nothing better to do, I decided to play along and see where this goes.
Did I have any idea what she meant by ¡®declare my feelings¡¯? Not a single clue. It seemed more like Wrath was having her version of fun right now, and I could play along with that.
She often humored me when I started bits, or at least tried to learn how to. Only fair I do the same back. So I took some ridiculous heroic stance, drew out a blade and pointed it at the scoundrels that Wrath was currently beating up.
She had one knight pinned on the floor under her fake relic armor boot, another held by the throat in her hand, and a third was trying to crawl away from where he¡¯d been tossed. The rest had managed to take wide steps from Wrath¡¯s direction and hadn¡¯t been caught in the mock crossfire. ¡°While putting me in actual peril is not strictly required for a practice session, it would help set the stage better if there was a slightly more sincere attempt at it.¡± She said to her victim.
The knight held by the throat tapped her hand a few times as if calling for a truce. ¡°Lady To¡¯Wrathh, we did try.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± She said. ¡°My apologies, I was caught up in the moment.¡±
"Ahem, dear To¡¯Wrathh,¡± I said, blade pointing straight at¡ all that. ¡°Fear not, for I shall protect thee from the clutches of¡ um, those sorry bastards."
I was starting to feel sorry for them, really. I¡¯d basically thrown a manic Wrath who had a single-minded idea in her head she wanted to try out, right into their faces. They didn¡¯t know if they should play along and get bodied by Wrath, or just stay safely at a distance and see what else goes wrong.
Wrath, however, looked critically at me after my impromptu speech. "More intensity, Keith. Galavan tears his shirt in anguish in that scene."
"Oh, that¡¯s what you meant by the shirt thing." I said with a bit of relief.
¡°Of course I did. Ripping off his insignia is a symbol of choosing Bella over his duty. Is there a different interpreta-¡± She paused, then turned to my helmet and frowned.
Deep from the recesses of the helmet, I heard a low evil laugh.
Okay, faster I wrap this up, faster Wrath gets what she wants and I can move on.
"Stand back¡ uhh, fair maiden!¡± I said, taking a few dramatic steps forward. ¡°No raider shall harm thee while I yet draw breath!"
Yeah that sounded heroic-ish. Works.
Wrath nodded, taking the lifeline for what it was. "You will need to update your vocabulary to more modern inflections. Deathless do adapt to language drift. I will be editing prior video recordings I have of our original encounter, we should keep your natural language consistent.¡± She let go of the knight, and he hit the ground with a thud. He promptly scurried away like an awkward crab, out of her reach. ¡°We can discuss that section later, now follow up with the embrace and the sweeping off the feet."
I paused, glancing around at the audience we had gathered. They all watched on. "Uh, right. The sweeping."
I got one step in before Father returned, jumping over the rock surroundings and landing on the ground near the campfire. ¡°Something¡¯s coming.¡± He said with his usual no-nonsense voice. ¡°Draw blades.¡±
The knights all took that as an escape, bolting up. Wrath looked a mix of disappointed, upset and frustrated. She gave an annoyed tut, then went and equipped her helmet.
I also grabbed my own helmet and slapped it on, turning back into an unknown knight to anyone passing by. ¡°Having fun deary?¡± Cathida asked sweetly. ¡°Going to play house with the¡ what was your word for her? The pretty girl, hmm?¡±
¡°You¡¯re a dead ghost.¡± I hissed. ¡°Quit bugging the living. What¡¯s on the way here?¡±
¡°Machine signal.¡± Cathida answered with a verbal eye roll. ¡°Tenisent sent the ping details, just one. Not big enough to be a drake, so I¡¯m curious myself at what other machine travels alone in these sections. We¡¯re not that deep yet.¡±
¡°A Runner.¡± Wrath said over the comms.
¡°A single one?¡± If it¡¯s just a single machine, with the model of a Screamer, then it had to be Abraxas. Showing himself in person. Which was odd, I thought he was terrified of appearing in any recording.
A runner did come out of the shadows, slowly coming to a stop from its earlier sprint. It rose up on both feet, taking longer strides now with those two giant arms assisting.
Abraxas had looked like a homeless drifter, rags all across his frame, and sported blue lights with one long staff and lantern set, at least from the distant profile we got a view on. This one had a massive familiar scar across the half-skull faceplate, and he sported a few dozen painting designs across the usually bone white armor plates. In places his arms couldn¡¯t reach, so someone must have painted it on him.
And to round out the whole set, he had one large knapsack, strapped to his back, filled with what looked like¡ cooking pots?
Book 6 - Chapter 13 - Food obsessed machines
¡°Humans.¡± The machine Runner said, hobbling up to the edge of the light. Then brough one of its long arms up, palm out. ¡°Stop. Truce. Not fight.¡±
Which was a good sign compared to the usual when it came to machines. Wrath was the first to relax, re-sheathing her blade. ¡°There¡¯s no danger from this one. He means as he says.¡± She said with a curt hand wave at the knights behind.
They all stopped, then adopted a more relaxed position. Not quite putting their weapons back yet. One single runner wasn¡¯t going to be a threat to us, but finding one approaching alone and with such a strange look to him, that¡¯s what made us nervous.
The half-skull turned, violet eyes narrowing at her. ¡°Voice. Lady? To¡¯Wrathh?¡±
He knows Wrath. Which could be pretty good or really bad, but it didn¡¯t feel like he knew her in the bounty-hunter way. There wasn¡¯t any kind of threat in that voice, as much as I could tell from machine voices. I decided to listen to my gut on this one. ¡°Given he¡¯s got paintings and actual cookware on his shoulders, I had a hunch we¡¯re not looking at a typical machine.¡± I said, equally sheathing my own weapons now. ¡°Unless he stole that cookware. And painting.¡±
The machine turned to me now, those violet eyes narrowing down. ¡°You. I know voice. The Bad Human.¡±
I had a nickname now among the machines, nice. No idea how I got this particular one though, I¡¯d need to ask some pointed questions.
¡°Did not. Steal cook tools.¡± The machine answered before I could ask anything, sounding upset at the accusation. ¡°Given. By Old Human. To cook with.¡± He gingerly lifted a hand and plucked out one tarnished silver ladle, the hilt pinched in two of his fingers. Looked like a chopstick in his hands. Then held it closer so we could see, almost as if it were proof. ¡°She ordered. Favorite ladle. Bring luck. Not burn soup. Good human.¡±
There¡¯s only one other machine I knew that was more obsessed with food than Wrath. We had met before, and I do remember exactly why he¡¯d call me the Bad Human, with a capital B. ¡°Starting to see a pattern here.¡± I said. ¡°Is food going to be how I identify you lot from now on? Yrob I¡¯m guessing.¡±
The machine nodded. ¡°Yes. Me.¡±
No wonder Wrath already knew there was no danger, she probably got a direct identifying tag or something.
¡°You look different, new haircut?¡± I asked.
He tilted his head slightly, hand with ladle reaching up to pat the half-skull. ¡°Paint.¡± He said. ¡°No hair.¡±
¡°They didn¡¯t have access to paints while among their packs and cut off from any civilization besides that of Mother¡¯s kingdom.¡± Wrath said, walking forward up to my side. ¡°Expression is something my people lacked before, I attempted to bring it to them from what I discovered myself. It seems they took the seeds I¡¯d given them and made something new for themselves in my absence.¡±
¡°Like colors. Color good.¡± Yrob said, then walked a few more steps into the light. That let me see more details about him. The paintings on his shell weren¡¯t just decoration, there were pictograms. Flowing from color strokes into shapes and places. Similar to the ones I¡¯d seen inscribed in Abraxas¡¯s rowboat.
Do all machines eventually gravitate to that, or was this simply coincidence? It certainly made this machine look far less like an engine of destruction and more¡ tribal. The half-skull with violet eyes surrounded by colors of different kinds and stories made Yrob seem more like some kind of wandering specter. Or a force of nature. He even had small black feathers hanging from string, like necklaces for his shoulders.
¡°Lady. Bad Human. Other humans.¡± He greeted each of us with a curt nod, before taking one last long stride up to Wrath.
¡°I swear, you threaten a door bouncer with a sword one time, and you get labeled as ¡®the Bad Human¡¯ forever after. Yrob, old buddy, you know what was just a small prank, right? It¡¯s all just snow drifting past the speeder, right?¡±
The machine turned to glare at me. ¡°You fail biscuit test. Bad Human. No snow.¡±
Ah. He¡¯d tried to bribe me with biscuits to leave Wrath alone when I¡¯d gone to knock on her doors, and I¡¯d refused it. To a cook. ¡°Okay, that one¡¯s on me in hindsight.¡±
Wrath patted my shoulder as she walked past to meet her old friend. ¡°He understands. Yrob does not truly believe you irredeemable. Simply¡ loud. Violent. A touch unhinged.¡± She stopped, then frowned at the machine. ¡°Now you are being dramatic. Keith has executed great feats and is worth having as a traveling companion. You will not disparage my human like this.¡±
The hulking machine seemed to almost be cowed, then lifted his head slightly to meet my helmet¡¯s gaze. ¡°You okay.¡± He eventually said, as if being forced. ¡°For human. Garnish grade.¡±
Before I could ask what he meant, Wrath gingerly reached up two hands and cupped the sides of his half-skull faceplate, while the looming runner lowered down to be in range.
They seemed to be talking in private, through a data link of some kind, with the Runner staying completely still. Her hands lifted up to trace some of the paintings on his faceplate. They continued for about a minute before she took a step back, satisfied with catching up. She turned back to me, smiling. ¡°He shared music his pack has worked on.¡±
¡°How did you track us?¡± Father asked, skipping all the pleasantries and going straight for the strategic items. He hadn¡¯t sheathed his swords at all, instead kept his eyes fixed on Yrob.
No, fixed behind Yrob. Into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.
¡°Track?¡± Yrob asked, head fully lifting out of Wrath¡¯s hands to look at Father properly. Then the machine shook his head sternly. ¡°Not track. Waiting.¡±
¡°He was sent here.¡± Wrath said, ¡°Ahead of us.¡±
Yrob nodded. ¡°Hear noise. Down tunnel. Investigate unknown. Search unknown. Find you. Good unknown. Voice similar. Worth risk. See you. Not sure. Expected, but not sure. Helmets, different. Armor, different. Lady, wings hidden. But hear voice and know.¡± The machine turned back to Wrath, ¡°Why Lady here? Where go after city?¡±
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
¡°I am on a journey.¡± Wrath said. ¡°That is as much as I can say for now. After the city fell, I followed the other humans to a safer place.¡±
The Runner nodded. ¡°Okay.¡±
¡°You were waiting here of all places, down the same path we had been sent. I do not believe that to be a coincidence, Yrob. For what reason were you sent to us?¡±
¡°Message.¡± Yrob said with a shrug. ¡°Said needed contact source. One not traitor. One not expected dead. One too small. For notice. Me.¡±
¡°Anyone translate this?¡± I asked, confused.
Wrath turned my way, ¡°Yrob was dispatched here.¡± She turned back to him, head tilted and the machine shuffled in place. Wrath nodded to the silent conversation, ¡°He was contacted by a mite terminal message, telling him to wait here and act as a relay.¡±
The machine nodded. ¡°Yes. Proxy messages for the Lady. Get eating in return. Good deal. I take.¡±
¡°Abraxas.¡± Father said. ¡°He¡¯s found a better way to speak to us instead of terminals.¡±
¡°Fill me in a bit on this?¡± I asked, not completely understanding why Wrath¡¯s basically second lieutenant in all but name was safe to relay messages through. That didn¡¯t sound discrete.
¡°Yrob is still connected to the machine network.¡± Wrath said. ¡°There were thousands of lessers under my banner, and I had no need to inform the lady or To¡¯Aacar of which lessers were at my side. Mother and her Feathers would not consider monitoring them. So long as Abraxas keeps his communications sanitized, one Runner out of millions would make no sound worth hearing. They would blend in with the noise. An ear within the walls.¡±
¡°I cook. With the Lady, I test my cook.¡± Yrob said, one of the huge hands patting the sack above him. ¡°Can continue improve. Much happy. Deal is good.¡±
¡°You came here just because you wanted to eat food?¡± I asked, a little shocked at how similar to Wrath Yrob and the rank and file machines were turning out.
Yrob turned his eyes to me. ¡°Yes.¡± He said.
Wrath walked back over, giving a light tap on my shoulder. ¡°Runners do not have any means of consuming food. For the time I commanded the city, I shared data packages of all food items I consumed for every meal I had. Without me, they cannot taste or eat.¡±
¡°Miss taste.¡± Runner said. ¡°All do. I share food back. And send messages back too.¡±
Deep down inside the terrifying machine empire - they¡¯re all secretly snack obsessed food gluttons that also love human romance and drama. At least, once they¡¯re introduced to those topics.
But that wasn¡¯t exactly the whole picture was it? I looked over the looming machine, and recognized there was more than just food and stories. Deep down inside, they¡¯re a people that are looking for more to life than what Relinquished allowed, in all the ways that could manifest.
¡°Are you alone?¡± Wrath asked the machine. ¡°What of your pack, or the other machines from the city?¡±
¡°They good.¡± Yrob said with a nod. ¡°They leave city. Run to different sector. Hide with others. No trace. Some follow human friends. Make town. Pack stay there. With new bigger pack.¡±
¡°Human friends?¡± I asked. Yrob had made and kept some of the friends he had from the city? Without the other machines starting a fight about it?
¡°Yes. Chosen.¡± Yrob said, giving me a quick side glance. The Chosen would go under the machine radar, technically. ¡°Strange pack. Small. Frail. But good pack. Fun. New.¡±
¡°I would wish to see this town.¡± Wrath said, ¡°How does it function with a pillar?¡±
¡°No pillar.¡± Yrob said. ¡°Pillar end machines. No good.¡± Then he pointed to Wrath. ¡°Human friend set rules. Human priest chief help, set town. Make rules together. Cooperate.¡± Yrob then tapped his ribcage. ¡°Was also chief. Helped too. Did good.¡± He then reached to his back, patting the hoard of pots and loot. ¡°Wanted cook more.¡±
Well, we had plenty of warriors in our roaster, and no cook slot. So this seemed like it would work out. Technically we could outrun Yrob, so he would slow us down a bit - except we weren¡¯t going at a dead sprint at all times of the day. Like right now, where we¡¯ve been camped out for the past hour taking a break.
¡°What news of the others?¡± Wrath asked. ¡°How does the town function without me to guide it?¡±
¡°Lady can ask human friend.¡± Yrob said.
¡°Tamery?¡± I ask, putting the dots together. If Yrob was Wrath¡¯s right hand machine, Tamery had been Wrath¡¯s left hand woman.
¡°Yes.¡± The machine said with a nod. ¡°She good human. Best human.¡±
I kind of regret having just cooped up in my makeshift workshop back in the undersider city and focused solely on making prototype weapons and gear. Sure, it did come in use later on, but there had been a cost. I¡¯d never gotten to really know any of Wrath¡¯s friends or her support. Her life among the Undersiders.
This might be a good time to make a side journey and let Wrath get some closure on the final events of her first city and the people she¡¯d known there. She¡¯d probably want that before we dove far too deep into the underground that returning in the same place might be difficult.
I could see Wrath debating it too on the side of my eye. She didn¡¯t make it vocal, but the hand rubbing her chin and her look made it clear she was conflicted on the inside.
Father just had that perpetual frown, as if his sixth sense was now telling him which direction the snow would blow in from.
Technically, we should focus fire and keep marching straight for the division stone before any of the scrapshit hovering over our heads could fall on us.
We¡¯d be like I had been before - stuck in the workshop on survival mode. There was danger out there¡ but we were in the underground. Traveling with demi-gods, weapons of mass destruction, and the world¡¯s greatest band of knights.
¡°I say we take a side trek and visit the Chosen town, see what Wrath¡¯s people have made for themselves.¡± I said, taking initiative. ¡°Abraxas might pout and call us names for deviating, but it¡¯s worth the tradeoff. There could be a host of new supplies we could pick for the trip that the clan didn¡¯t have access to.¡±
Wrath slowly turned to look my way and gave me a small smile, the kind of fond glance that I didn¡¯t quite have any comparison to.
Father turned to me and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He was a veteran soldier, a mission was a mission.
¡°You did get the heat off of us.¡± I told her, acting like I hadn¡¯t noticed Father¡¯s gaze. Her technique and strategy had been¡ uh, unorthodox. But it had done the trick. ¡°And since you¡¯re off the machine network besides the unity fractal, Avalis has no way of knowing we¡¯re out of the clan and roaming around.¡± As far as I understood how the unity fractal worked, it wasn¡¯t all knowing. And we¡¯d put a lot of effort into looking like a random roving band of surface knights. ¡°I think so long as Yrob keeps a low profile and hangs out at camp only when there aren¡¯t any other machines out there, we should be in the clear for now.¡±
Father¡¯s eyes narrowed further.
Wrath saw where I was going with this, because she also nodded just as fast. ¡°Visiting other locations would give more opportunities to create recordings to send to the Pale Lady of my progress. If done within structures, they could appear indistinguishable from a surface clan colony, in the event Avalis gains access to the logs sent. Furthering the deception.¡±
I could tell Father knew what we were up to, and he had no way of telling us to pipe down and keep focused on the mission.
¡°Right, in fact, I¡¯d say it¡¯s even critical that we visit some towns along the way to keep Avalis thinking we¡¯re on the surface.¡± I added. ¡°We can¡¯t record anything out here in the open. This is just a natural way to keep the mission on track.¡±
¡°On track.¡± Father said, clearly unamused.
¡°Yrob has cookware we didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be able to make use of,¡± I added, ¡°It¡¯s worth getting extra supplies to have his wares made full use of.¡± We brought more luxury items than a regular expedition would but they were still military-sized. We all knew we weren¡¯t going to be baking any fancy food.
With Yrob, that possibly changed up. Assuming he knew how to cook.
¡°We might also gain more allies.¡± One of the Winterscar knights added, ¡°Lord Keith is a weaponsmith, and we are warriors. The addition of a cook that can match pace with ours could not be found among the clan. There may be other machines willing to travel with us, which would give us better access to their networks.¡±
Technically with just Yrob we already had that. I think all the knights here including Father knew that. This was more an underhanded vote for going to town.
Father¡¯s gaze swept through all the knights, finding himself clearly outnumbered.
¡°Do what you wish.¡± He said, as if he couldn¡¯t care less about the whole thing. He¡¯d be there to pull us out of the trouble we¡¯d inevitably bring down.
Book 6 - Chapter 14 - The cure to hatred
Cathida was going to be a problem.
The crusader hadn¡¯t appreciated our newest recruit to the group and she had opinions. For the past half hour since we¡¯d recruited Yrob into our crew, I¡¯d realized Cathida had to be talked to. Machines have always been the great enemy, so at the start her seething hatred of anything metal was fine. And then we met Wrath and it became complicated. I hadn¡¯t stepped in to mediate, because Wrath was¡ well, Wrath. Insults pinged off her forehead like bullets would.
Yrob? Abraxas? And possibly the other Chosen and regular civilians we¡¯ll find? That¡¯s going to be a problem.
We¡¯d been running through the underground in direction to Yrob¡¯s budding town, which wasn¡¯t too far off the map. Still a distance, but not impossible. We hadn¡¯t yet deviated from the map Abraxas had left behind for us, but we¡¯d be dealing with that soon enough. Which meant two problems.
Abraxas was going to be upset we were taking the scenic route to visit new neighbors. And Cathida was already upset we were throwing a welcoming party with sugar and sweets in the first place. Possibly literally, if Yrob actually had an oven over there to bake.
Despite Cathida being a cranky old crone who¡¯s only joy in life was to see me sweat and suffer, she still felt like family of kinds after all this time. The grandma I never got.
I did actually have a grandma, except she had been a Winterscar through and through - only obsessed with status. She doesn¡¯t count as family. None of them had a heart to even be close to.
Yrob, Tamery, Wrath¡ they were all part of my crew. And so was Cathida and Journey. If I wanted peace, I¡¯d need to deal with the ghost haunting my armor once and for all. And get it all squared away.
I¡¯d been thinking about how to convince a long dead crusader while the group advanced through the caverns. Pretty soon we vaulted over the last rock and off a small cliff leading into another section of abandoned city. Still hot on Abraxas¡¯s map, this entire area was completely empty of basically everything. Machines had better places to be. So too did just about every living thing possible. There was no sounds here except for our footsteps, and dust puffed out with each step we took. Felt like we were running through a mausoleum.
Our pace was measured, with the old machine loping comfortably with us, pots and pans giving slight clinks every now and then whenever we took a jump from flat roof to roof. He¡¯d put some kind of insulation between them all in his bag, given how many handles I saw poking out and the lack of sound that came from the whole thing despite his giant strides.
The machine grumbled with each long step, upset. Not at me for once, I¡¯m innocent.
¡°Why attack?¡± Yrob asked. ¡°I small. Not important. Old. Simple Runner.¡±
He wasn¡¯t talking to me. He was talking to the problem.
¡°The pyrite scrapheap has more decorations than a crusader would have gold pins.¡± Cathida hissed, ¡°Of course you¡¯re a target! All this paint is about as useful as a candle in a solar flare, and half as bright of an idea. You see any other machine running around with warpaint and a giant bag on their back? Goddess¡¯s golden tits, how did we ever lose the origin war in the first place?¡±
¡°Not warpaint. Historypaint.¡± Yrob said. ¡°Paintings good. Angry lady bad¡ nnnh.¡± He paused for a moment, finding the best word for the job. ¡°Ah. Uncultured lady.¡±
The way Yrob said it, as if both an accusation and a factual observation, had the whole group coughing. If Cathida were alive, I think her eye would be twitching.
¡°Uncultured, it calls me!¡± She screeched. ¡°Me! The absolute audacity! Strutting around with scrap metal ¡®art¡¯ like it¡¯s a sun-kissed tapestry in some gilded art museum. Obsolete scrap with delusions of grandeur more like. Stick to frying fish instead of your microchips, heathen.¡±
¡°That sounds rather uncultured of you,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°And here I had such high regard for your opinions on machines.¡±
¡°Very uncultured.¡± Yrob agreed. ¡°Bad lady.¡±
¡°Now listen here you little shit.¡± Cathida hissed, attention turning squarely on me, upset I took sides. I went through the options on Journey and she quickly stopped mid-rant before I could get to the mute button, now simply seething and muttering.
With the temporary peace, I decided now was the time to start digging into all this. ¡°Cathida, what¡¯s Journey¡¯s opinion of all the machines joining us?¡±
¡°Armor doesn¡¯t care at all.¡± Cathida answered, quickly forgetting her earlier antics. ¡°It¡¯s reassessed danger profiles for all targets ever since you ramped up, so it¡¯s not worried about most of the rabble in the first three stratas.¡±
¡°So Yrob¡¯s threat profile would be¡?¡±
¡°About as dangerous to you as a six year old squire with his first plush sword. It¡¯s worried about other things out there, not that scraphead running next to you.¡±
So the armor was fine with machines. Just not Cathida. ¡°And you can¡¯t ever be convinced to work with machines?¡±
¡°The old bat? The sun would have to shine purple before the real Cathida willingly works with machines deary. Lifetime of fighting machines doesn¡¯t vanish overnight in humans. Unless you happen to have an imperial writ of command forcing her, and even then she¡¯d be seething on the inside like a pent up pressure cooker.¡±
¡°Good tool.¡± Yrob said. ¡°Cook fast. Useful.¡±
¡°What could have convinced Cathida to work with Yrob and other machines we¡¯re possibly meeting in the future? Is there any kind of crack in the armor we could work with?¡±
¡°Sure, there¡¯s some scripts to read there.¡± Cathida hummed for a moment. ¡°Journey¡¯s reporting there are a few situations where the real Cathida would have put her sword down. You¡¯re not going to like it though.¡±
¡°What¡¯s the worse?¡±
¡°Existential threat to the imperial order.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Fortresses getting torn down, cities razed, humanity not simply losing the war but extinction looming over everyone written in giant gold letters in the sky - that kind of danger. If the real Cathida was put into that situation, and the only way out was working with some machine turncoats, she¡¯d change her mind.¡±
¡°The current mite prophecy Wrath¡¯s under isn¡¯t enough?¡± We were fighting to possibly end the cycle completely. Even the faction that shaped the very world we ran through saw something in Wrath that made them believe there was a storm following behind.
¡°Naw, the old bat isn¡¯t going to change her mind unless her own people¡¯s lives depend on her putting those feelings aside. She¡¯d do the right thing at that point and no earlier.¡±
About as useful as an evosuit in a sauna. ¡°Don¡¯t think we could do that. Wrath isn¡¯t anywhere near picking a fight with Relinquished just yet.¡±
Or we might just get her free from the Unity fractal and then hide away to live out a wealthy retirement. Abraxas certainly showed it¡¯s possible to live hiding from the pale lady¡¯s thumb. Wrath was destined to do something big in the world, but nobody said it had to be this year. Maybe the next generation would be the ones to go with her. Had a feeling that wouldn¡¯t be the case though, call me paranoid.
¡°Any other situation that would convince the real Cathida?¡±
¡°Eh.¡± She said. ¡°Humans aren¡¯t rational creatures, deary, they don¡¯t just turn switches on and off in their heads for silly little things like facts. They have to see the consequences of their actions face first. Find something too big for the old bat to ignore, and you¡¯ll have her convinced.¡±
I tried to pry out some more information from Journey, since it was the one behind the strings here, but that direction led nowhere. There was absolutely nothing right now that could convince Cathida. No string of magical words that would weave an argument that could change her mind. She was too old, too set in her ways.
That¡¯s when I had another possible direction come to mind. The real Cathida couldn¡¯t be convinced, not without some elaborate heart to heart moment. And possibly a lot of arm twisting.
But I wasn¡¯t talking to the real Cathida. I was talking to a digital version of her, a sock puppet that Journey was faithfully recreating, robot racism and all. ¡°Humans can¡¯t be rational creatures,¡± I muttered. ¡°But you can. You¡¯re not the actual Cathida. Journey, is it possible to modify perimeters for Cathida? To possibly directly flip those switches on and off?¡±
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
¡°Armor says it can¡¯t.¡± Cathida said, shooting my idea down instantly. ¡°Nice try deary. Any modification of Cathida and it stops being Cathida and starts going into extremely unstable territory. Finding where the weights and biases are located in that giant mess and modifying them would assuredly cause catastrophic cascading effects.¡±
Wrath pitched in. ¡°If the simulated neocortex cannot be modified due to it being akin to a blackbox, perhaps the input data stream or output from that engram could instead?¡±
¡°A filter of some kind?¡± I asked. ¡°Like rose colored glasses, but for Cathida?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± Wrath nodded, wings rustling in the wind as she leaped with the running crew. ¡°Why not have the armor tag myself and other machines as humans? Or have me seen as Tensient is, a stolen Feather piloted by a human soul.¡±
Cathida didn¡¯t hate Father. In fact, he¡¯s the only ¡®machine¡¯ that had her respect. ¡°Can we do that Journey?¡±
¡°Easily.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Journey¡¯s not dumb deary, setting up a filter wouldn¡¯t be any kind of difficulty. Cathida will still be pain, mind you. Same way she is to you, but there wouldn¡¯t be that spec of hate buried deep down.¡±
Can¡¯t belive the answer to all this was to outright gaslight the engram into thinking all our new friends were just bigger humans with a little too much iron in their diet.
¡°Journey will know the truth of course.¡± Cathida continued. ¡°But it can easily generate responses from the engram as if the whole group here were humans.¡±
¡°We should give that a shot then.¡±
¡°Sure, why not.¡± Cathida said. ¡°I¡¯ll edit or reset some of the memories and saved data. Not going to be easy, there¡¯s a lot of data to sort through.¡±
¡°And you don¡¯t mind?¡±
Cathida laughed. ¡°Did you forget what I am young man? Journey doesn¡¯t care about any of this. Simply another command from the user to Journey. And I¡¯m just answering questions as if this were about some other engram tech nonsense. It¡¯s all jargon to me that I¡¯m relaying from Journey.¡±
I turned to Yrob, ¡°I¡¯m tinkering with the bad lady right now. In the future, she¡¯s going to think you¡¯re a human. Think you can pull that off?¡±
¡°Am not.¡± Yrob said. ¡°Runner.¡±
¡°We all know that, and so does my armor. We¡¯re just making the engram in my head see the world otherwise.¡±
The machine looked down at the ground for a few loping strides. ¡°Fix bad lady?¡±
¡°Yeah, it should. I think.¡±
¡°Okay. I act human.¡±
Somehow I had a bad feeling about that. Cathida cackled on the other hand. ¡°You don¡¯t need to go that far. Journey can just edit what the scraphead says to filter out anything that would make the old bat suspicious something''s off. It recommends identifying Yrob as some large man from a distant region and culture. Easy to work with. And if you get too far into the weeds, Journey will not feed that data into the engram. It¡¯ll be like a blank spot in her memory.¡±
¡°All right, if that¡¯s the case. Execute that.¡±
We took another jump off a building and landed on a catwalk, then had to leap down on the bottom road before we could continue the jog. I expected something to change while Journey was tinkering with itself, but the armor stayed silent the whole time.
¡°Did it work?¡± I finally asked.
¡°So impatient.¡± Cathida tutted. ¡°The filter is the easy part, it¡¯s the entire history prior that¡¯s the problem. Or do you want the little bimbo and scraphead to just appear out of nowhere from the old bat¡¯s perspective? This isn¡¯t an easy patch you¡¯re asking for.¡±
Almost like Cathida was doing some soul searching on the inside. Except the cheating machine version of that. ¡°How long do you expect it to take?¡±
¡°Journey¡¯s considering this a low priority calculation. Maybe half a day. The processor is tied up to keeping an eye around us, in case of danger. And armor isn¡¯t built to deal with overheating. You get what you ask for, a little patience young man. Don¡¯t mess with it.¡±
--------------
It had been about six hours of jogging and running when it was finally time to take a breather again and switch out the power cells. Still no sign of any enemies down here, nor people, plants, or even odd buildings. The city never failed to have completely weird new pathways and make the whole place feel like a maze to leap through, so that always kept the trek novel. Armor normally removed a ton of stamina requirements from knights, but they still did end up exhausted after hour on hour. Winterblossom technique let us be completely relaxed in our armor, which meant none of us had even needed to move an inch to get the armor to comply.
So we could take breaks at much further intervals.
Cathida had been quiet the whole way there.
I had mixed feelings about this solution. It was a quick and easy shortcut, and usually quick and easy means something is going to blow up in my face later. A sidestep for the real issue.
¡°Soon, take turn off map.¡± Yrob said, taking a few glances outside the window to the quiet city. ¡°More danger.¡±
Yrob hadn¡¯t needed to be cautious of other machines. He could stay in contact with them all, and would only be seen as an eccentric running around without a pack. The runners would be confused at him, but the rest of the machine kingdom had little care.
Traveling with humans might make it complicated for him.
The huge machine had to really crouch down to fit through the doorway, but the rest of the area here was wide open for him. Some kind of empty towerhouse base, pressed up against the cavern walls at the sector¡¯s edge. Enough room at the center to deploy a fire pack and plenty of rubble to sit on around. There were glassless windows dotted across the structure, as if there should have been multiple stories. But inside, no staircases or any kind of structure had been made. Not even a roof. Mites.
Father was at the very top, sitting in lotus position on the edge of a crumbling wall. The single best location to keep an eye out for anything moving.
¡°Might be a bit exciting again,¡± I said, putting down my pack. ¡°Abraxas¡¯s guide is a little too effective.¡±
Give that little bugger some credit, he knew how to hide from anything.
¡°Better we never tempt danger in the first place, master Keith.¡± One of the knights said, tossing a disposable firepack down onto the center. We didn¡¯t have a huge amount of them, but the center of a mite city like this didn¡¯t have much of any kind of wood to burn.
He drew his blade and stabbed into the pack a few times, poking holes into it, then crouched down and put his palm over. The fractal of heat lit up in his hands, quickly igniting the firepack¡¯s contents.
Wouldn¡¯t make as great kabobs or anything with that kind of fire, always left a chemical taste. But hadn¡¯t had to use them too often.
The other knights equally sat around the fire, helmets hissing off as they took a breath of unfiltered air. Hands already moving to their packs to withdraw reserve power cells and replace the spent ones in their armor.
This was where things went different from our usual stops. Yrob sat down the giant pack right near the fire, then dipped one long armored hand into the pack, rustling through it. What he pulled out wasn¡¯t a pot though.
It was a long chef¡¯s hat. The kind of hat I¡¯d seen undersiders wear that looked absolutely ridiculous. Giant white tower of a thing, which he unfolded gently and then put on his head.
¡°Can¡¯t wear running.¡± He said to the crowd watching. ¡°Safe put away.¡±
¡°I think I¡¯ve seen just about everything now.¡± I said, taking a seat next to Wrath.
She nodded. ¡°Small details allow machines to be more unique to one another. I approve of his collection. From his data log, it was a gift given to him.¡±
The very next thing the machine took out was a set of metal pipes all folded together. He gingerly unfolded them, clicking sounds coming out as each snapped into a more rigid frame. Some kind of hollow trapezoid.
Two of them, separated. One being rather large and the other way smaller. He took a step back to look over his little creations, then nodded to himself. One clawed hand went over to the pack again and pulled out a flat piece of metal with a wooden board that looked attached to it. He set it down on the larger trapezoid stand and¡ had what looked to be a makeshift table.
The clawed hand snuck through his giant back, rustling around until he pulled out a large pot. His other hand grabbed the smaller setup trapezoid and set it right above the firepack. On top of that, he put the pot. A makeshift stovetop over fire. Neat.
He turned to me. ¡°Water.¡± He asked.
I unclasped my bottle of water and handed it over. Looked like a tiny thing in his claws, delicately held in three fingers pinching the top. He went right back to the pot, finding the latch for the pour setting, and then dumping my entire supply right into the pot.
I got the empty bottle back at least.
We watched with curiosity as the old Runner began pulling different things from his pack. Mushrooms, herbs, knives and other tools.
Sagrius lifted his head then, eyes focusing on Yrob. ¡°Machine. I have a question.¡±
Yrob grunted. ¡°I have name. What question?¡±
¡°How do other machines know the difference between Chosen and regular humans?¡± He asked.
He shrugged. ¡°Can feel. Database matches.¡±
¡°That¡¯s all the machines need to not attack the Chosen?¡±
I could see where the captain was going with that question. Maybe we could replicate that signal, make ourselves look like Chosen to lazy scans. Would make our trip a lot safer.
Yrob shook his head at that. ¡°Chosen lowest rank. Lower than Runner. Depend on machine. Upper strata, safe. Lower strata, not safe.¡±
¡°Depend on machine?¡± I asked, trying to clarify what he meant by that.
¡°He means that individual machines have leeway to act as needed.¡± Wrath said, helping me translate. ¡°Mother will not care if some machines attack or kill the Chosen. However, the lower strata has far more veteran machines. More powerful models that survive multiple encounters with humans at a far higher rate than the upper strata. They would have developed biases and would see the Chosen differently. Model of the machine is also a factor. Hunter drakes have difficulty accepting the Chosen, even under my command.¡±
Yrob nodded to all that. ¡°Drakes. Hunters. No prey, not happy. Runners run. Prey optional.¡±
He turned back to his cooking, focused. The first meal he cooked for us ended up being fried rice with wild mushrooms and other herbs he¡¯d carried with him. And included into it were chopped up supposedly tasteless ration bars that were pan fried to give them a crust. No sure how he managed, but they ended up tasting pretty good. ¡°Absorb strong flavors.¡± Yrob said. ¡°Trick learned from old lady. Tasteless version only. Other bars no good.¡±
¡°Never thought I¡¯d be eating a dish made by the hands of a machine.¡± One of the knights said, taking another chunk of the meal in his chopsticks. ¡°Compared to the last camp¡¯s meal, night and day difference.¡±
The other knights hummed to that. Even Sagrius seemed to feel something while eating. Good food hadn¡¯t been enough to shake his state back in the Winterscar estate grounds, but small steps.
There was enough for all of us, but Yrob¡¯s eyes were only for Wrath. He eagerly watched as she served herself some, sat down and took a bite. She gave small nods to herself as she continued to eat through the whole thing. ¡°This was well executed.¡± She said, in between bites. ¡°Connect to my channel, I will broadcast a livefeed data stream of this.¡±
The machine quickly scooted closer, excited. Then his entire frame went perfectly still. Just looming over the two of us sitting. ¡°Is better.¡± He finally said, giving himself a nod. ¡°Worth travel.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 15 - The quick and the dense
¡°Bad human.¡± Came the gravely synthetic voice of a Runner.
Not Yrob this time, Abraxas. Same energy though.
The connection request had come relayed through Yrob though. Abraxas had sent the initial message by a mite terminal, which pinged right to a pack of Runners hanging around that terminal. And from them, it was sent to Yrob through the machine network looking exactly like normal gossip between Runners. And Yrob would then patch it through to me.
A giant game of hot potato, and I had no idea how many more hoops it was going through on the other side of the mite wall. It did make contacting the ancient machine a lot easier than finding a mite terminal.
¡°As I mentioned before,¡± I said, one hand holding my forehead, ¡°Wrath bought us some time, and I think she really could use some closure on this.¡±
It had been her city. I mean, once she conquered the scrap out of it. But generally I didn¡¯t hear any kind of negative from her control over the time she had. No giant sweeping changes or regime changes, no abuse of power or trying to terrorize the local population.
If anything she had run the whole thing flawlessly, using her computational speed and giant army of utterly loyal and tireless soldiers as a workforce to get her will done. Things ran better and faster for cheaper and with higher quality. Buildings that hadn¡¯t been renovated for years due to lack of budget were fixed up, roads cleared, infrastructure added, all the gripes of the regular people were getting suddenly addressed for practically nothing. All because she could actively speak to a few thousand people at the same moment, getting direct feedback on what needed to be done and having a direct control via her minions on getting it done.
The people who hated Wrath and all she represented were die hard human holdouts who hated the idea of machines in the first place. Rest of the population quickly found her a mix of endearing, competent, and kind. Most of all her Chosen, who had a near family-like devotion to her.
And then all at once, it was over. The city had to evacuate in every direction immediately, all the machines scattered into the walls, and Wrath had vanished off the maps. For the Chosen, it hit the hardest. Tamery knew what had happened and relayed it to the people, but that didn¡¯t make it any less of a bitter pill to take.
And none more than Wrath herself. She knew what she had to do, and went through with it with stride, but that didn¡¯t make it any less of a burden on her.
¡°Point is, we¡¯re going to that town and you can¡¯t do anything to stop us.¡± I ended.
All I heard on the other side was a hiss of anger. ¡°Deviate from plan. Not safe. Feather¡¯s plan stupid. Strange obtuse plan. Simple is best. Best is direct line. To division stone, not town.¡±
¡°Your friend¡¯s got some hardboiled opinions.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Tell him he worries about the sun rising too much.¡±
I had two problems but a Cathida ain¡¯t one. She¡¯s been a lot easier to work with now that she¡¯s convinced everyone around us is genuine one hundred percent human with eccentric fashion sense and body shapes. Abraxas isn¡¯t as easy to convince unfortunately.
¡°Will pull map.¡± He said. ¡°Follow direction, or I go.¡±
¡°You won¡¯t.¡± I said, calling his bluff. ¡°Mites want you to guide us, and yanking the map away and running off isn¡¯t what a good guide would do. I¡¯ll leave a nasty review if you do.¡±
Another hiss. ¡°Fine. Go be dumb human. When explodes, I laugh at you.¡± Then closed the connection.
¡°Here¡¯s to hoping we¡¯re both laughing together at that point.¡± I said, back to being alone in my helmet.
Yrob reached one giant hand out and patted my head as if I were a puppy. ¡°Okay?¡± He asked, now noticing the signal had been cut.
¡°Yea, I¡¯m okay.¡± I told him, grabbing one of his fingers and giving that a quick pat.
¡°Okay.¡± He finished with a nod before ambling away. ¡°Good talk. I find mushrooms. Come help after training. I teach what to look for.¡±
One large hand lifted up as he left, signaling, and Captain Sagrius stood from his seat and walked off to escort the machine. They went off into the darkness of the cavern, Yrob¡¯s head occasionally turning and leaning down to see the captain eye to eye.
The rest of the knights were either patrolling around or sitting cross legged on the ground, deep inside the soul trance and within the digital sea. Father stood at the middle, having become the defacto server hub for them all. Within his systems, they all kept combat sharp and trained against Father¡¯s simulated gauntlets.
Wrath was sitting nearby, watching me closely. ¡°Are you ready for the morning spar?¡± She asked, shifting her wings back into perfectly folded positions and quickly patting the ground next to her.
I gave her a thumbs up, walked over and sat down next to her.
¡°Perhaps it would be better to host the match within my own systems.¡± She said, ¡°Tenisent is at capacity with the other knights.¡±
¡°There¡¯s such a thing as capacity?¡± I asked, a little puzzled.
She didn¡¯t answer, looking elsewhere. ¡°...Not quite. But I do wish to train with soul to soul combat and I am fairly certain such an event would happen in the future and would make sense to begin with smaller training sections, such as having only you to handle. Additionally¡¡± She continued with more and more reasons, as if her original idea wasn¡¯t good enough. Her words were starting to get jumbled together, increasing in speed with each new sentence. I didn¡¯t know why this was such a big deal to her?
¡°Wrath, it¡¯s fine.¡± I said, cutting her off midway. ¡°You don¡¯t need to convince me or anything, your original idea makes sense. No need to be nervous, we¡¯re here to train just about anything we can train. Makes sense to also train on your home turf and be sure you¡¯re ready to handle anything that comes knocking at your doors.¡±
At first, we trained within Journey¡¯s systems, since it couldn¡¯t move its own soul anywhere else and Cathida existed within its systems. The armor was too stubborn and unbothered to send a digital avatar anywhere other than it¡¯s own personal network, so to train against Cathida, the knights would have to go directly into Journey and pick a fight there. After Father got his shell, we eventually realized it would work better within his shell.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Journey was simple armor in the end, its AI wasn¡¯t particularly creative, and Cathida was simply a combat and language engram. She could fight and trash talk, but she couldn¡¯t come up with new novel ways to take advantage of an endless digital training ground. Best she could do was follow the same drills she did with her squires.
Father was a different beast entirely. He had a lot more combat experience, and had taken Avalis¡¯s memories of the lower stratas as inspiration to generate new combat situations for us all to practice with. Each morning shift, I¡¯d go in with a few other knights and we¡¯d do anything from simulating a battle against machines to training our balance and running across different biomes. Combat wasn¡¯t the only training he could throw at us.
But never once had we trained within Wrath¡¯s own home yet. And at some point in the future, there might be someone trying to beat her up from the inside out. It¡¯s gotten to be a strange world these days, we had to adapt to it.
¡°You ready?¡± I asked, grabbing one of her hands. She flinched for a second, wingtips batting the ground like some kind of nervous tick. Was she scared of having a fight inside her systems? ¡°It should be the same as in Journey or Father, just a lot more one to one. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not here to make it difficult for you.¡±
She¡¯d traveled around the digital ocean almost through a proxy of sorts, a virtual connection from her soul fractal outwards, same as we did. Sort of like a puppet being manipulated by strings, and the master hand above would be her soul fractal, still safe and sound inside her soul fractal.
Wrath nodded, and I took a quick step from my soul fractal out into the world and searched around for anywhere to hold onto. I could see her central soul fractal, connected to two other fractals - one of them the prison cell she used to house another soul and the other fractal was the Unity fractal itself. Didn¡¯t want to get near that.
I didn¡¯t aim for her home fractal, nor the prison cell she still had. Instead, I searched for the concept of a computer system and quickly found it. A leap through and I was in.
The digital sea was anything virtual, throwing our concept of self through the information highways and molding the world as we traveled through it. I could travel so much faster and farther through the digital sea than I could with a soul tendril. A tendril could only reach out a few dozen feet into the open air before it grew too thin and unprotected from the elements. Inside a computer system of some kind, I could launch the concept of myself far out into the wide world, anywhere that system was connected to.
I couldn¡¯t fight soul to soul over the digital sea, so while it came with far larger reach, it also came with far less consequences and warfare use.
Still, Wrath was right next to me. In moments, I was within her digital systems, like an intruder.
And I found myself in the weirdest environment I¡¯ve ever seen.
I don¡¯t even know how to begin to describe this. I appeared on a rowboat with no oars, right in front of Wrath who was sitting prim and properly upright on one of the seats, holding a few red flowers in her hand.
Rowboats and boats in general appeared a few times in movies and stuff I¡¯ve read, so I¡¯m familiar with this. That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t find the idea of giant cloth stretched out to ¡®catch¡¯ the wind over what was basically a massive wooden bowl to be a little ridiculous. If wind had enough power to move several tons like the surface storms would, I couldn¡¯t imagine cloth being sturdy enough to stay in one piece against debris and other junk equally tumbling through.
We were moving on the water. But not by some mythical wind-catching cloth. Instead, at the rear end was a man with a bushy mustache, a striped white shirt with a red bandana who was busy dipping a long wooden pole into the water, using it to push the entire rowboat forward. That part¡¯s much easier to understand than using cloth of all things, we had to do the same with Abraxas¡¯s rowboat and we tag-teamed it.
¡°Nice space?¡± I asked, looking around me. Old era human buildings were all around, making a somewhat large lazy river in between, with stone archways up ahead. ¡°Some kind of mite biome you discovered beforehand?¡±
She flicked her wings, ¡°A location I read of often enough in human literature. I felt it would be a good place to discuss before we began sparing.¡±
Looked to be some intermediate zone where she wanted to talk. I gave her a quick thumbs up, then sat down on the other end of the rowboat, both of us now sitting and looking at each other in the slightly cramped boat.
The man behind us made no motion other than to steer the boat forward, likely programmed to do that in perpetuity. This was Wrath¡¯s virtual server, she could make it look like anything she wished.
¡°Well, what did you want to discuss?¡± I asked, ¡°Something you can¡¯t mention to the others? Far as I can tell, it¡¯s just you and me here.¡±
She stayed quiet for a moment, almost squirming in her seat. ¡°...Is the scenery appealing?¡± She finally asked.
Odd question? I took a second look around. ¡°Would make sparring a little interesting, no doubt. Stone walkways on the edge of the canal here looks like it would be solid footing for combat, and the amount of buildings here would make breaking line of sight a pretty good plan. Could possibly weaken the bridges and have them collapse in a trap of some kind too. Not sure what¡¯s in the houses around us, but they would definitely add a lot of options. Water here is too shallow to stop relic armor, and we could easily jump from bank to bank.¡±
¡°Ahh, that is not quite my objective.¡± She squirmed in her seat some more, metal feathers behind her rustling around. Then she handed me the flowers in her hand.
I took them, not quite sure what the goal of this was.
She frowned, then held her chin in thought as if trying to solve a puzzle. ¡°This is not the expected reaction. I believe I been too vague with my directions, can we restart?¡±
¡°Uh, sure.¡± I shrugged, then handed back the red flowers into her outstretched hands.
She grabbed them back, ran one hand over her hair, took a breath and looked back up to meet my eyes. ¡°How do you feel of the.. artistic vision of this area?¡±
Oh. Now I see what she¡¯s doing. ¡°It looks pretty authentic.¡± I said taking a third look around. ¡°A city with roads and rivers flowing in between buildings is a really novel idea. I think you took the fantasy elements from stories and made a really fun location come to life. Great work.¡±
She smiled at that, looking more smug and happy. ¡°I have spent some time researching the best location for this. Do you feel more enamored?¡±
I gave another look over the area, and the red flowers in my hands. ¡°It¡¯s got an interesting vibe?¡± I said, half a question. ¡°Is this an old human ritual of some kind?¡±
She nodded her head quickly at that. ¡°Yes, I was attempting to recreate the moment.¡±
¡°Did it work?¡±
She frowned. ¡°I do not believe so. I may have missed an element. Your reaction was different from the records.¡±
I lifted the flowers up. ¡°Was I supposed to do something with these? I¡¯m not sure the importance of them.¡±
She quirked her head. ¡°I am unsure of their importance as well. I assumed it would be something primal within humans that triggered some emotions. In the texts, they never explained why these were seen as symbolic, only immediately felt.¡±
¡°Might have been a cultural thing from the past?¡± I asked, a little curious about this. ¡°I know Kidra loved flowers, but she¡¯s too pragmatic to grow any real ones. Or her stuffed animals take priority in her room layout. She does use flowers a lot in her kimonos and other dresses. Some Houses have flowers as part of their sigil, usually Agrifarmer Houses.¡±
She seemed perplexed at all this, then said she¡¯d plan to ask Tamery further details about it. We moved onto a much more traditional sparring field to practice together.
The whole trip ended up benign. Machines didn¡¯t get in our way, Abraxas never called back, just silently sulking somewhere in the distance, and Yrob cooked a new meal each day.
It was relaxing, calm and filled with just general chat. Never knew exactly what Wrath had been planning with that earlier session, the rest of the time had been regular spars and practice as normal. I think she wanted some initial practice within her own chassis first, and once she realized it was all fine, she got back into the rhythm of morning drills.
We reached the Chosen town in a few days, exiting the cold tunnels and mite cities into a familiar forest and beyond it, what we found wasn¡¯t a thriving little city.
Instead, we found walls, weapons pointed at us, and a host of terrified people hiding behind all of it.
Book 6 - Chapter 16 - Interlude: Tamery
Tamery rolled out of bed, woken by thumping at her doorframe. Adrenaline did the rest, shaking off sleep in one surge.
Not a siren today. Just banging on the door. She was safe, this wasn''t an attack.
¡°I¡¯m awake,¡± She called out, ¡°On the way.¡±
The door knocks stopped.
How many hours of sleep did she get this time? Seven? It¡¯d been a solid week since the last attack, maybe the bastards really had finally run dry on munitions.
She put on her pants, an old shirt, and stormed out the doorway.
The town had been settled on a small mite-made squat structure. For the first time in a very long time, humanity hadn¡¯t been constrained to building a city around wherever a pillar heart was found, and instead could venture out and put a flag down on the location that offered the most habitable location.
Normally, it would take weeks to search through all the compiled maps the Undersiders of Capra¡¯Nor had. And after getting a list of possible places, she¡¯d need to send out expeditions to survey the area in more detail and get a feel for what¡¯s there and what could be done. Hard to know a place just by searching through a dusty map.
That¡¯s where the machines helped. Yrob and his Runners turned out to be map hoarders. Made sense to her, of all machines Runners loved to roam around and find new places. Connecting their own internal maps gave her people far more options to pick from.
And once she found places to check into, some Runner or another in the area would send her people a video feed showing exactly what the place looked like.
Still took a good two weeks of yelling and arguing between a few different heated mini-factions on what to get. One suggestion had been what looked to be a nascent surface dweller clan, built decades ago by the mites of a lower strata and slowly being pushed up and up through the layers. It could certainly hold an entire budding city, except they didn¡¯t really need to live in cramped utilitarian locations like that.
Defenses would be needed. They might not have to fear machines, but other humans might not take their budding flag with any kind of respect - especially the Imperials.
A few mite fortresses had to be outright ignored, too close to imperial strongholds, or possibly good targets for imperials to want to take eventually.
They ended up picking a small metal city block growing like a fungus off the side of a cliff in the middle of a massive plain of silver shimmering flowers. Every now and then, the rolling silver hills would break their pattern with large plateaus, as if the earth had been pushed straight up and out, the huge cliffs acting like islands that broke up the silver sea around them.
As far as mite biomes went, this was pretty tame. The only oddity had been massive pillars of black glass, like jagged tiny mountains grew scattered around the plains. They weren¡¯t attached to the ground, instead slowly bobbing up and down slightly despite the sheer mass. The dangerous part was that the base of these things had some kind of thick mist forming at the bottom, and Tamery had been told there was quite literally nothing there. Just mist and a freefall straight down to the next strata. The mini-mountains were hovering like a trapped magnet, slowly spinning on themselves.
That was fine, the location they¡¯d ended up settling was half-built into one of the large cliffside walls, where some smaller mite colony had passed by and tried making a number of buildings that were mostly functional. One of the townsplanner had told her the layout resembled a giant bunker of some kind from old human war eras, or multiple bunkers all put together in every direction.
The deciding piece to all this was a mite fountain on the far other end of this rock archipelago. It wasn¡¯t built outside, instead there had been a rock tunnel perfectly cut into it, like a small square punched straight through. Further down, they¡¯d found the ruins of a cathedral of some kind, with a functional mite fountain. That had offered the town a limitless supply of power to draw from.
Ample place to grow, a defensible location at the top of the rock plateau, with clear visibility across the entire plains and the only way up being through a heavily built mite bunker-fortress, along with a power source deep inside the rock. A better place couldn¡¯t be asked for really, and that¡¯s where the Chosen decided they¡¯d make their little town at.
It was said their original leader had passed by these very ruins on her way back to the city, chasing after To¡¯Aacar. Complete coincidence if that actually happened or not, Tamery never heard To¡¯Wrathh tell her any of that. The place was just excellent for a town regardless of history or omens.
And they¡¯d quickly been proven how justified they¡¯d been in selecting a defendable location, given the campaign of destruction that followed them here. As a scattered nomadic band, they¡¯d been safe before by sheer obscurity. Now, they were a target on the map.
Which is where Tamery started her day. Stepping out into the bright artificial light, and being greeted by one of the towering Runners, next to a short squat man holding a clipboard.
She stepped on the hulking Runner¡¯s finger, getting a lift up to his back and got to work in organizing the construction and city planning, all while having to deal with possible explosions dropping on their heads. Today, they were excavating into the cliffside wall and needed to make sure the ventilation system functioned.
She should have been organizing housing and setting up fields outside past their walls. Instead, they had to drill into the rocks to get any kind of shelter going. People were sleeping like fish all squashed together with the supplies. One day, they might actually be able to use all the space and farmlands around them. They just had to live to see those days.
The threat beyond their walls wasn¡¯t going to come charging in for a few more days at least, not until their supply lines brought them new ordinance. Or so thought the rest of the hobbled together military that the Chosen had to work with. If the bastards could be bombing their town right now, they would have been.
Today was going to be peaceful. Halfway to noon, she got word otherwise. The Runner under her simply stopped moving, stood a little taller as if trying to hear a distant sound better, then turned his head backwards to look her in the eyes.
¡°What¡¯s going through the air, Lugnut?¡± She asked him, having seen this behavior before.
¡°Yrob back.¡± He said. ¡°With others.¡±
¡°Friends? He found friends?¡± Yrob was more curious than the other Runners, but usually single minded about his current hobby so him fishing out friends wasn¡¯t something she had on her bingo sheet. She gave Lugnut a few small pats to get the machine moving again, had to get to the south side to check on the progress of the crater in the wall, make sure the builders got the supplies they¡¯d asked for yesterday. That had to get fixed before the fighting started again.
Lugnut made quick work of the distance, easily moving around the various elevations, making use of the thick metal walls to give him leverage.
Yrob had been great at that in the past. Then he got into arts and crafts and now didn¡¯t want anyone on his shoulders in case they scratched off his new paint. Lugnut had been a lot less interested in paint, and more interested in fabric and clothing, so he didn¡¯t mind having Tamery hitch a ride, since he enjoyed more rugged clothing fit for running in. As he once told her, it was a good test of the material.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
¡°Good to hear the gearhead¡¯s being sociable again at least. So who¡¯d he bring back this time?¡± She asked. ¡°Stragglers from the General''s crew or other machine packs willing to join us?¡±
The town could certainly use either given the threat looming down their necks.
¡°Surface humans.¡± Lugnut said.
She took a double take at that.
¡°What, like, clan traders?¡± Odd arrival, but she could work with that. They might not carry a lot of great goods to trade with, but having some amount of friends in this world was the winning move forward. She was more surprised they hadn¡¯t been intercepted while traveling through the plains instead.
¡°No.¡± Lugnut said. ¡°Have armor.¡±
Oh. That¡¯s why they hadn¡¯t been harassed on the way here.
The only other clan nearby had a rather sour experience with Chosen, given half her people had been sent up in some elaborate scheme tied with To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s own mission. A scheme which ended up being completely blown up by Keith and Kidra. But at least they were somewhere in the ¡®neutral¡¯ to ¡®mildly unfriendly¡¯ territory as of today, and not outright hostile. They did sent her people back safe and sound, just not with any kind of fond farewell. A boot to the back and told to scram.
Other clans might not be quite so kind. And given how they revered Deathless¡ could be a real problem. To the point she didn¡¯t know if it was even safe to allow them inside the town.
If they were knights from Clan Altosk, everything could be solved. If they weren¡¯t, there¡¯s trouble. ¡°Change of plans Lugnut, take me home.¡±
¡°South side?¡± He asked, head quirked.
¡°Just going to have to trust logistics learned from the last time we argued.¡± She said.
The machine shrugged, turned on its heel and put on a quick burst of speed back to where her bed was.
Her home was a tiny mite made metal laboratory, or might have been inspired by a laboratory. All she knew is that it had good chairs, tables and a lot of open holes where she could slip cables out and connect it to the rest of the town¡¯s budding infrastructure, and was high enough on the cliffside where she could watch over the whole place. One of many cozy spots, and most hadn¡¯t been targeted by the artillery hits. Those were reserved for cracking their walls mostly.
Inside her home, they¡¯d found a bunch of old era human computers, bland tan keyboards and all. Their guts got replaced with more modern tech, but the rest was left with what they¡¯d been made with. She came in and flipped all the switches on, letting the green cracked screens come to life.
The Runner behind her crouched into the room, violet eyes blinking a few times as he connected to the systems remotely.
Pictures came up, video feed connected and Tamery got to see what Yrob had dragged back into her town.
She saw them all right. And didn¡¯t recognize a single one of them, which was bad. All had different insignias and patterns, none of which she¡¯d seen any of the clan Altosk knights wear before, at least none of the ones following Lord Atius and Keith around in Capra¡¯Nor. So a different clan had a few dozen knights roaming around underground, and Yrob was leading them right to her town. She didn¡¯t know how the Runner had managed to convince that many knights not to open fire on him, they all looked loaded with gear and ammo to spare.
¡°What is that scraphead thinking?¡± She hissed under her breath. ¡°This could backfire in a hundred and one ways.¡±
¡°Trap?¡± Lugnut asked.
¡°Hope not,¡± She answered, biting her thumb while thinking. ¡°Clan knights usually don¡¯t play along with elaborate schemes or pretend to be friends with anyone they¡¯re not friends with. I think. Too pragmatic and to the point about everything.¡±
But¡ surface dwellers were known as scavengers and thieves, and their knights were stone-cold mercenaries willing to do anything for pay. Pretending to befriend Yrob and following him back into town might be something they¡¯d do?
She glanced out her window, past the town makeshift walls and into the silver sea of flowers. Out there, the rat bastard was setting up for another attack. Hiring an entire clan¡¯s worth of knights might be in his playbook. He had enough money to throw around like that.
She clicked the comms channels, ¡°Man barricades, group of knights incoming. Possibly friendly, we¡¯re not sure yet.¡±
The comms channels all lit up with chatter, her crew of Chosen running around to take positions. Sirens started to blare across the town, and people scattered back into the main shelter, hoping the anti-air systems would blast the incoming mortar shells before they blew up today¡¯s progress.
Then she flicked over to send a message to Yrob, figure out what¡¯s going on. She got a message back in text. And it made her want to pull her hair out.
He¡¯d been intentionally vague. Telling her he couldn¡¯t say exactly who until they were face to face. Still ¡®not safe¡¯ apparently.
So Tamery had to go conservative and keep the foreign knights outside, and allow only one to come in and explain their business here. It took a few more hours for the guests to arrive, but they hadn¡¯t made any move to be hidden about it.
The distant clan knights conferred among each other, and one set down his pack and gear, then walked to the gates. Covered almost head to toe with heavy cloth and cloak, only the helmet was completely uncovered. Very unnatural to anyone who¡¯d seen clan knights before.
Best reason Tamery could think for clan knights to be hiding so much of their House¡¯s markings and pride, was if they were hiding weapons and other cards under their hands.
Whoever this man they¡¯d sent to talk was, hopefully they¡¯d be reasonable under all that cloak and dagger.
He walked side by side with Yrob, and Tamery slowly updated her initial thoughts. The knight had a strange text-like sigil in red with some followup designs that reminded her of flowers across the helmet. She couldn¡¯t really get any other kind of information from that, but she did notice that Yrob walked without a hint of suspicion or caution. A good sign. The old runner didn¡¯t get old by being dumb.
The pair went straight through the open gates, under the watch of all the town knights, until they vanished behind the blast door to the deeper mite bunker, the heart of the town.
Tamery tapped Lugnut under her, ¡°Okay buddy, let¡¯s see who¡¯s come knocking on our doors.¡±
He nodded, lifting a hand to give her a place to step on, then slowly lowered her down on the ground, where she took a step forward and followed behind the clan knight into the bunker proper.
At the negotiation table, Tamery took a seat and folded her hands, watching as the clan knight equally sat on the other side with smooth movements. Other advisors had been called in, including the rotten priest, but they¡¯d sit in another section of the bunker, watching through video screens. And the priest stayed outdoors. Only he could talk sense into the half-insane creature keeping vigil over the town, if the knight turned out to be hostile, that was the last person they wanted killed.
So Tamery was nervous, because if this did end up being a trap, then she¡¯d be dead right about now.
Fortunately any idea of danger instantly vanished the moment the knight grabbed his helmet, and took it off.
She¡¯d had it all wrong. The knight wasn¡¯t a man at all. In fact, of all possible events that could have happened, this was the single best outcome she could have ever hoped for.
¡°Lady To¡¯Wrathh.¡± Tamery exhaled out. Their official true leader had returned. Someone who could actually stand face to face with the threat outside and beat that darkness back to where it came from. Fully repaired and escorted by a pack of clan knights.
And if those were knights from clan Altosk¡
¡°Tamery.¡± She said with that voice that had always made her think of To¡¯Wrathh more like a human than what she really was. The pale skin and white hair reminded her differently, but To¡¯Wrathh could change those features up if she ever felt like hiding among humans. ¡°You have been occupied while I was away. I am happy to see the progress you¡¯ve made here.¡±
Tamery could think about all that later. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to run up and give her best friend a hug.
And tell her to take over all this.
¡°Is the sword saint with the group?¡± Tamery asked, after getting most of the story from To¡¯Wrathh. Said Feather was content on the other side of the table, eating the local popular dish. They didn¡¯t have a lot of production right now, so they had to be a little more creative with cooking what they had. Yrob had actually been the one to pioneer this particular meal.
¡°Unfortunately, Kidra elected to remain behind to assist the defense against the clan¡¯s threats.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said. ¡°The knights traveling with me are from House Winterscar.¡±
Threats. Right. She¡¯d seen Kidra¡¯s fights with To¡¯Wrathh already over video footage, and the rest of the clan knights were all rumored to be able to move and fight at similar speeds and skill. The ones that had come as her bodyguard had those skills confirmed, at least during the rebellion days.
She didn¡¯t think anything the clan faced would be much of a threat. ¡°You can¡¯t tell how happy I am to hear all that,¡± Tamery said. ¡°The town¡¯s been hit hard and clan knights from Altosk along with you basically makes all of that a distant past issue. We can finally hit back without having to open a hole in our defense. If we send them packing hard enough and often enough, they¡¯ll eventually be forced to give up and leave us alone.¡±
¡°It did not slip my attention the amount of weapons and defenses entrenched around your position. What is attacking the town?¡± To¡¯Wrathh asked.
Tamery grimaced. ¡°We¡¯re being sieged. By Deathless.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 17 - Old friends
This time around, the transition in terrain was a little more subtle, for mites at least. The metal city and scraps slowly started to be overrun by vegetation. Large tree vines first, squeezing through the abandoned structures, injecting hints of life step by step. Buzzing of insects returned, weeds and other hints of small plants started to grow through the cracks, until we started going into sections that had more artificial light shining from above. That¡¯s when life decided it had enough trying to be sneaky about anything.
Giant tree trunks swam frozen through ruins of concrete and bent metal, and the city was promptly eaten up. Yrob continued to lead us all by the nose, sometimes jumping from trunk to trunk and over the large roots.
¡°This looks really familiar.¡± I muttered as we passed under one of the larger trees. Lot of red leaves at the canopy eating up all the artificial lighting. I¡¯d seen a forest exactly like that before, and we were just about in the same general area come to think of it. Not too far off the clan, and not too far off the old Undersider city. I¡¯d have thought Abraxas was having a little giggle at us if it hadn¡¯t been Yrob leading us around. ¡°...Where exactly did the Chosen pick to set up their workshop? Just curious.¡±
Yrob gave a grunt. ¡°Large field. Silver flowers. Open air. Good for running. Good for farming. Good for defending. Have mite fountain too.¡±
I turned my helmet to Wrath who was jogging besides us, taking light steps with slight flutters of her wings, still hidden under all her baggy clothing, making her jumps look a hell of a lot more graceful than the rest of us.
¡°Is this the place I think it is?¡± I asked.
¡°Are you suspecting the location where we first spotted Abraxas?¡±
I shot her a thumbs up.
She hummed. ¡°I suspect it would have been selected as well. The location is distant enough from most landmarks, and contains all items needed for survival. The only missing condition had been a city pillar heart.¡±
And since they¡¯re working hand in hand with Machines like Yrob, would be a tad rude to have a giant fuck-off tower built to vaporize machines anywhere in a giant radius.
¡°Joy, lot of nice romantic memories there.¡± I laughed, thinking back on our impromptu boat ride.
She stumbled halfway past a root, almost face-planting into the ground if her arms hadn¡¯t shot out to summersault her back on her feet. She brushed off dirt, gave a few looks around, confirmed I¡¯d seen all of it, and quickly shuffled away, head looking straight down at the ground.
¡°You okay?¡± I asked, a little concerned. Wrath was a lot of things, but usually anytime she lacked gracefulness it was in social situations. When it came to physical acrobatics, I¡¯ve seen her thread a needle in midair, while jumping through tiny rings of fire. Almost tripping on a root felt a little too human.
¡°My systems are functional, yes.¡± Wrath said with a huff. ¡°I was simply caught off guard.¡±
¡°How does a Feather get caught off guard?¡± I asked.
She didn¡¯t answer, just keeping ahead of the pack instead.
Father scoffed up ahead. ¡°Fools made for one another.¡± He muttered.
But given we were going at a pretty quick jog instead of a leisurely walk like last time, we hit the end of the red forest in record time.
The giant silver fields stretched out all ahead, like how I remembered this zone before.
¡°How¡¯d the city look?¡± I asked Yrob as we started making headway through. ¡°What¡¯s the latest thing you machines have picked up from humans?¡±
The machine lumbered away, thinking. ¡°Have music now.¡± He said. ¡°Very new. Focused on cooking, not music. But other packs are. They are okay.¡±
Giant machines with half-skulls singing snow chanties and other myths made for a funny mental image. Last time Wrath and I had crossed the silver flower fields, I¡¯d taught her a few popular clan acapella songs that we could sing together to pass the time.
The knights behind me weren¡¯t great singers, none of us Retainers were to be honest, but the spirit was still there. And there wasn¡¯t anything to do other than run forward following Yrob¡¯s direction. Father and Wrath¡¯s sight and sensors were too powerful for anything to sneak up on us, stealth wasn¡¯t needed and for once we weren¡¯t being chased down by anything trying to throw me off a cliff.
So we sang again, sharing a few different songs between surface clan, and the newly minted Chosen.
The trip ended at one of the rocky plateau, an empty one at the halfway point between the Chosen town and our position. This biome was massive, and basically empty of everything.
We didn¡¯t need to use up a firepack at least, plenty of plant material around us to start a campfire.
Food cooking, I walked over to the edge, and looked over the horizon. The red forest was long out of sight by now, just rolling hills of silver and black pillars that broke up the scenery.
¡°Good place as any.¡± I said, sitting down and sorting through Journey¡¯s HUD options. ¡°Time for tonight¡¯s attempt at deciphering insanity.¡±
¡°If only my squires had been as dedicated to practice as you are to reading gibberish.¡± Cathida pouted in my ear. ¡°But you do you deary, let me know when you give up.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sure you found other ways to keep your squires in line.¡± I said, clicking through documents I¡¯d stored up until I found what I wanted. ¡°But I know this isn¡¯t a prank from him. There¡¯s more to his book than just scribbles.¡±
The manuscript appeared, marking my page progress at twelve percent. That wasn¡¯t where I actually had been, I¡¯d already read through the whole one hundred fifty three pages he¡¯d left me.
Words written down by Hexis Galrament, my old mentor. Exactly as pretentious in words as he¡¯d been the last time I saw his ugly mug.
Ahem. ¡°Go back to page three.¡± I asked, and the HUD moved around, progress bar going back.
The words lined up neatly, appropriate dramatics, bold and italics where they should thematically be, and some nice diagrams and art in the background. I re-read the section again.
¡°A well known counterargument to both unified and the disrupted network theory has been dubbed the ¡®gravity parable¡¯.¡± I read, looking specifically for a few hidden markings within the text. ¡°When Grand High Warlock Eshtiros made his original claims of the occult¡¯s true nature, Grand High Warlock Relia rebutted with a simple story. ¡®A blind man walks into the world. In each corner of the world he measures and finds the same force pulling him down - gravity. And so, he claims this is the rule of the universe for he has measured and measured all across his little world and never once found any deviation to his claim. I see you, blind man.¡¯ She said, pointing at Eshtiros, then pointed up, past the roof of the world. ¡®Do you not recall the stars and the worlds beyond when you still had eyes?¡¯ Then she pointed down under his feet. ¡®Do you not remember the whims of the mites when you still had a soul?¡¯ and finally she pointed at him directly. ¡®Do you not remember your own title when you still had your pride?¡¯ And when the conclave grew quiet, she spoke the most famous line in history: ¡®Is gravity our fate to rediscover again and again?¡¯ And while it is unlikely those were the exact words Relia spoke, we need to examine between the pages instead and go directly to the truth: It¡¯s far more probable those were simple dramatics as written down by A.R. Artarius. The lesson, however, remains the same. We cannot claim to know the world, simply because a few facts happen to line up in our direction. Thus, any proof from either Unified or Disrupted network can never be completely proven unless the very nature of the occult itself makes itself revealed to humanity.¡±
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Straight up warlock fantasy political grandstanding. This was the kind of romance books the warlocks drank up like ants after sugar. A mix of dramatics, plausible historical inaccuracy, and a philosophical lesson all wrapped up in one.
Some of it he¡¯d already told me face to face, and a lot of this was just more details on what he¡¯d explained during his lessons. The practical reason was pretty simple: If some warlock made a reference to the gravity parable, I¡¯d know what he was referring to. Anyone calling me a blind man wouldn¡¯t find me quite so blind.
As for the philosophy, that was a little on the nose for this passage. Other worlds had different constants of gravity the blind man didn¡¯t think about - likely blind being a metaphor for the idea not even passing through his thoughts. Then the second verse about the mites showing even in the current world, gravity can be messed with because mites. And the last verse probably implying warlocks themselves could muck around gravity, so there were basically all kinds of other ways things could be mucked around that the man didn¡¯t consider.
All things Hexis had explained already. Or explained enough I could read between the lines here.
Anyone else reading through this historical book would probably scratch it at just that - a book about history and some basic warlock knowledge. Nothing about fractals or how the occult itself worked.
Except Hexis hadn¡¯t put that much time into writing all this without some additional goal in mind.
That was the crux of the issue. It was a one hundred fifty three page book all about the knowledge a warlock would have - all except for fractals. There wasn''t a single mention of them anywhere. I¡¯d have considered Hexis to be doing his version of a prank, which would make some amount of sense: I forced him to read a few pages of Wrath generated food recipes with the actual information he asked for weaved inside, so sending me on a wild goose chase was somewhat deserved.
But here¡¯s the real issue: The file size was twenty four gigabytes. For one hundred and fifty three pages of dry text with pictures. Get real. He¡¯d hidden stuff inside it all somehow like a puzzle, and it was a matter of time until I figured out how to open it.
Problem was that he hid his stuff really, really well.
¡°Why do you keep going back to this particular section?¡± Cathida asked as I skimmed over the page again and again.
¡°Because it¡¯s right by the start, and check the image it¡¯s put on.¡± There was a relic knight, drawn posed in a T-shape, with two additional hands reaching up and down, for a total of six hands all crafting a circle around the man. A blindfold had been placed around his head, but the short hair cut and lack of a beard made the figure a little¡ familiar. And the armor¡¯s sigils and shape looked eerily like my own.
¡°He¡¯s sending a message here.¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s me. I¡¯m the blind man, and he¡¯s trying to tell me something in this passage. All puzzles start with some kind of opening to begin the work, and the gateway is here. Somewhere. I figure it out, and from there I can re-read all the other clues he left in the book.¡±
Cathida rolled her eyes, or at least it sounded like she did from her groan. ¡°He¡¯s a senile old man who was losing it. And vengeful too, he remembered that stunt you pulled on him and holds some grudges. Deary, be real. Why would a grand warlock write down all the secrets of his guild in any place that could be read? That¡¯s their first cardinal sin. He wouldn¡¯t break that for anyone.¡±
I could toss it to Wrath and ask her to crack it all open for me, and there was a decent chance she could. But this was some kind of gauntlet that Hexis had left for me to solve, and I didn¡¯t want to meet him again just to confess I didn¡¯t have what it took to break his secrets myself.
The rest of the night was spent looking at the picture, trying to find what the hell it meant. And getting no further at all. The design patterns on the armor looked similar to mine, but not quite so I tried interpreting them as possible fractals, and that¡¯s how I spent the rest of tonight¡¯s study going absolutely nowhere.
But I still believed I was getting closer to finding out the secret. One idea at a time.
The plains had a night day cycle, mostly with all the artificial lighting far above. Misty clouds made the whole thing seem like an overcast day and night, but the ¡®sunrise¡¯ was technically in the right direction according to Journey. Guess the mites paid attention to some details.
In that overcast sunrise, we set out again, jumping down from rock to rock until we were back in the field of silver flowers, and on our way forward again. Yesterday had been peaceful, and today of course, couldn¡¯t last.
We didn¡¯t get ambushed or attacked, but we did arrive right after what looked to be one. The town was as Yrob had described: Made on the side of a cliff, and fortified. What he meant by fortified were walls, shelters and very, very thick mite-made construction.
What wasn¡¯t mite made were the additions the locals had generously sprinkled all over. Felt like I was walking into a weapons trade convention where we were the guests of honor ¡ª everything from pistols to cannons had us in their sights, making me wish I''d dressed up a little. Basically firepower big enough to rethink how much relic armor could tank through it all.
¡°They¡¯re friendly, right?¡± I asked as we approached. Yrob was now cordially sent to the front, where he continued his jog as if nothing was wrong in the world, the oversized sack carrying all his cooking goods with him.
The rest of the knights took a casual V formation, keeping me mostly by the center without making it too obvious they had favorites. Wrath was jumping along without issue and Father kept pace at the rear, eyes constantly darting around for possible danger.
He wasn¡¯t looking at the fortress directly ahead of us with all the guns, so I think he ruled them not a threat already.
¡°If they haven¡¯t shot at you yet, they¡¯re friendly.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Or, you could send the captain there ahead of everyone. He¡¯s unkillable as far as I can tell.¡±
We could send Sagrius at the front of the line and huddle behind him, the man was now basically unkillable due to the occult he wielded like a god¡¯s shield. One problem with that. I gave a look at the fore-runner of our group, lumbering alone without a care in the world and about twice as tall as Sagrius. ¡°Yrob¡¯s not going to fit.¡±
¡°Tell him to suck in his gut.¡± Cathida huffed. ¡°If he complains, he should have gone on a diet long ago, so that¡¯s his problem. Did he not get the message that there¡¯s massive machines looking to rip people up lurking around outside? Less patina isn¡¯t going to kill him.¡±
I gave the machine a look. He turned back. ¡°I have best diet.¡± He said, completely serious.
There was a simple solution to all this, and it was basically a quick comms chat of us asking ¡®hey, mind not shooting at us?¡¯ and they answered, ¡®sure, so long as you don¡¯t shoot at us.¡¯
They still had those guns pointed at us. Trust but verify and all that.
Reasonably enough, they asked for just one person to pass through the gates and talk shop with the town leaders.
We sent Wrath in alone to chat without any hesitation, while we sat before the giant gates and waited. The revelation that their absentee leader has returned must have gone off without a problem since about half hour after those gates reopened and out came Wrath, followed by a few machines, some Chosen knights and some regular folks. All coming to our group in a casual stroll instead of a sprint with weapons up.
And at the forefront of that welcoming band was an old friend.
He¡¯d made it back to join his original people in the end. A pleasant smile on his face, his replaced eyes glowed violet for a moment as he studied us before returning back to their normal shade. He had that ridiculous looking staff and everything I¡¯d seen him in the past, all except for his relic armor. Don¡¯t know if the clan confiscated that and kept it, or if they let him slink back home with it. I¡¯ll have to ask him just how he¡¯d gotten here.
¡°Greetings clan knights.¡± Lejis, priest of the Chosen, said with his usual intonation. ¡°We are grateful to see friendly faces in these more somber times.¡±
That wasn¡¯t the only old friend I found. The real surprise was to the machine that sulked right behind him, easily padding along as if on a short leash behind that priest. Looming with a far larger frame than any Runner or even spiders. One giant paw curled into the ground, easily sinking in, while the rest of the hulking body idly sat back down, like a cat loafing in position. The tail behind brushing through the silver flowers back and forth absentmindedly.
And that skull like lizard¡¯s head, teeth and all, staring me down.
¡°Oh, never seen a gymrat get that big.¡± Cathida said. ¡°What kind of diet is that monster on?¡±
¡°Lots of crickets. Overcooked to a crisp.¡± I muttered back.
The claws, feet and tail looked brand new. Shining white ceramic, with only the tips of the feet and claws having any kind of regular dirt built up. Right up those clean arms and legs, like a direct cut, the plating went from polished white to burned charcoal. Not just the arms. Almost every part of the drake¡¯s body looked like it had been scorched through an inferno and left with soot. It was as if the drake had held some kind of bomb right in those grubby paws of his, and that bomb had exploded in his face, taking out his hands a little too cleanly along the way.
I knew what that bomb had been. Last time I¡¯d seen this particular machine, it had been hobbling away on stumps. Clearly upset and unable to do a thing about it.
¡°Hello Fido.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 18 - Deathless and The Deathless
The machine¡¯s head instantly snapped straight to me, eyes narrowing down, gullet glowing a brighter violet.
¡°Sssss¡ that voice. Yesssss, I know it well. A lake of fire screaming away into the void, answerless, except for pain and regret.¡± Fido hissed. ¡°Ssss¡ so kind of you to walk all these miles here¡ my old enemy.¡±
Wrath patted the side plate, ¡°Fido, please behave.¡± She said. ¡°He is a trusted friend, and has spared your life prior.¡±
Lejis turned back to the machine, eyes quirked. ¡°My friend, does something trouble you?¡±
The machine shook his head. ¡°Only¡ an echo. One that rings too loud in a silent world. A reminder, a wound.¡±
I had one question that came right out, from all the dozen different questions in my head: ¡°Wait, his name really is Fido?¡±
Wrath turned and nodded. ¡°It is. Why does this surprise you? You named him directly.¡±
¡°I uhh, didn¡¯t realize machines would take any name like that without question? Plus he really doesn¡¯t look happy at all about it. You all heard him hiss at me right? I¡¯m not going insane. Look, he¡¯s doing it again right now.¡±
And that tail was batting left and right like a cat would while his eyes were completely fixed on me. With a head that¡¯s about my full body size.
¡°Sssss... Let your flesh speak any whispered title you wish, you lost little child.¡± Fido said. ¡°Sanity, insanity, all a destination you willingly flee to. Oh, frail little thing¡ your own name should matter more.¡±
¡°I get a feeling he¡¯s trying to tell me to mind my own business.¡± I said, eyes not leaving his. Or rather, my helmet.
Wrath gave another nod. ¡°He is.¡±
I turned to the nearest Winterscar knight. ¡°You understood anything the drake said?¡±
He shook his head. ¡°No m¡¯lord.¡±
So I waved back to Wrath. ¡°You got a translator by chance? Never really could understand what the purple hells these critters like to talk about.¡±
¡°Ssss¡ hearing goes first, comprehension second. Perhaps nature has forsaken you early.¡± Fido said, and that was probably an insult of some kind.
Wrath gave him another pat. ¡°His prior speech can be reduced roughly to this: You can call him anything you wish, he already has been named and so your opinion is no longer relevant. He believes it doesn¡¯t matter if you are insane or not, humans decline cognitively over years at a predictable rate that no amount of resisting can keep permanently at bay. And finally, he claims that your years are measured, and being more attentive to living up to your own name should be more important than asking more information from his own.¡±
¡°Okay. I understand.¡± I said.
Wrath frowned, probably because a Feather can detect lies.
Lejis on the other hand gave a few critical glances from Fido back to me. ¡°Do you remember our discussion at the top of the mountain you carried me down from? Is this not an example of that moment?¡±
The drake broke eye contact with me, as if sulking. He gave one last weak hiss, before closing his eyes and resting his head fully on the ground. ¡°Ssss¡ Emotions roil and boil. Words are so deceptively easy when describing a new world, priest. Walking through the tapestry is another world unto itself.¡±
¡°And yet it is a world worth walking for.¡± Lejis said. ¡°Focus on that, and leave your justice behind, they were always illusions.¡±
The drake turned his head away from the priest, now clearly sulking. But Lejis turned back to me, a bright smile on his face. ¡°I assume you speak for the assembled clan knights here that escorted our Lady? It was quite the pleasure to finally meet the woman Tamery harped stories about. A friendly Feather that carries no malice within her heart, truly a miracle.¡±
I gave him one look, then gave a short hand signal to the rest of the clan knights calling for attention.They did, helmets quirked at what my next request would be.
I then raised a hand in the universal rock-paper-scissors position, unworded request to choose who would deal with all the politicking, like civilized men.
Father scoffed then slapped a hand on my shoulder, turned me back around and pushed me right out of our little huddle and into the direct line of fire. ¡°This is your expedition, boy. Lead it.¡±
The rest of the knights all gave light nods, giving me absolutely no way out again.
¡°Yes.¡± I said, with a sigh. ¡°It seems I am.¡±
Lejis nodded. ¡°I admit, your voice sounds very familiar to one I knew of from my time on the surface, though the sigils you carry are far different. It would be a fortuitous coincidence if you happened to be the same young man I spoke to once? The world is wide, but somehow I have a feeling it may end up being rather small.¡±
I gave him a thumbs up. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me. I remember you too Lejis, and our little chat.¡±
He gave another smile, ¡°In that case, I must say a few words before we begin anything official. From me to you, I wish to thank you for eliminating To¡¯Aacar and ridding the world of that monster. Because of that, our people have a new leader, To¡¯Wrathh, who as I¡¯ve come to learn from within the last half hour, is truly the leader we all had hoped to have.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t exactly do most of the work when it came to killing that Feather.¡± I said, then gave a few shifty looks around, ¡°Though¡ guess that¡¯s the official story now isn¡¯t it?¡±
Wrath gave me a very slight nod and smile. The drake just scoffed. ¡°Ssss¡ weakness begets weakness. Order turns and order rises.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve got to ask, how exactly did you end up getting Fido of all machines to comply like this? Look at him, he¡¯s one tummy flip away from getting a belly scratch and probably will just sulk for a few minutes at most.¡±
Lejis tilted his head. ¡°He sought me out. And of his kind, only he has ever done so far. Your clan, understandably, ejected my people and I back underground, to walk through the machine lands. Our armors were admittedly taken, though we were left with weapons and ammunition. It was a dark time, machines were not our enemies but neither were they our friends. I prayed for a possible guardian, one that could protect us from danger as we journeyed back to our homes. And one such guardian came in the middle of night.¡±
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°Fido was your guardian down?¡± I asked, pointing at the drake in question. It gave me a lazy look before going back to rest his head on his paws, one eye still locked onto me.
Okay, that was¡ very difficult to get my head around. Drakes didn¡¯t take well to the whole Chosen thing, from what Wrath told me. Spiders didn¡¯t care at all, they just had their territory and if anything got inside, they¡¯d get upset. Machines like Yrob turned out to be the most curious of all, easily getting along with most humans the moment their morbid curiosity was satisfied or something more interesting took their attention - usually some kind of human cultural quirk, like music, painting, dancing, cooking, story writing and other strange things Machines had no analogue to.
Other machines had mixed reactions, but most ended up like the spiders - completely ambivalent to it all.
Drakes? Drakes liked to hunt and humans going from their only prey to not-prey wasn¡¯t something they liked. Or that¡¯s as far as I understood. ¡°How exactly did you convince a drake to protect your band of Chosen?¡±
¡°We spoke.¡± Lejis said. ¡°He had questions, and his understanding of the world had been shaken. He sought me out to understand those answers. It so happens that the bridge to peace begins with questions and answers. He has not yet crossed the span of that bridge, but each day he takes one step further.¡±
¡°Sssss¡. Illusion after illusion. The pursuit itself was naught but silken words that held no true meaning, proven lies in the only words the world could ever speak. Sssss¡ a life spent poorly.¡±
I turned to Lejis, and he gave a chuckle. ¡°You learn to understand. Drakes are not quite the hunters we believed them to be. I would call them more akin to¡ paladins? Only the pursuit of their justice was not quite what they were convinced of.¡±
I went through all my talks with Fido and drakes in general. ¡°Wait, you mean they actually wanted to help humans?¡±
Lejis nodded. ¡°In a morbid way. It was partly due to their model¡¯s¡ quirks and emotions, and partly due to what they all believed living within flesh and bone would feel like. They believed us all to be suffering from chronic pain.¡±
¡°Ssss¡ how could you ever enjoy life?¡± The drake hissed. ¡°Prisoner of that rot and flesh slowly failing year after year, delusions within the tumor that hides behind your skull, that warp the world around you? Emotions deep enough to draw pools of tears, anguish and misery? And yet¡. Ssss¡. Struggle, I still do, to understand. Why you wish to even live such fleeting lives. Such pain, fear, and suffering. When life eternal awaits? I could grant it to you, in but a second. Painlessly, and free forever from it.¡±
¡°We do not suffer as deeply as you think we do, remember.¡± Lejis said. ¡°You¡¯ve seen firsthand my memories, there isn¡¯t only pain and suffering in the world. There is joy and happiness in equal measure, wherever we choose to find it.¡± He tapped the tip of his staff on the machine¡¯s plates, like a friend would. ¡°And that is worth the occasional aches and sores when I wake up in the morning. An easy price to pay I would say.¡±
All right. So Lejis managed to convince a drake to stop wanting to kill humans and instead protect them. I was going to have to get a few notes from him on how to diplomacy that hard.
¡°Regardless, we have spent enough time under the sun,¡± Lejis said, turning back to our group. ¡°Welcome to Aura. And, thank you for escorting Lady To¡¯Wrathh back. Her return was¡ most timely.¡±
As one, our group looked over to their little town. And the sheer amount of guns all over, some offline and some very clearly active and still tracking us.
¡°I¡¯m going to go on a limb and say you¡¯ve had some possible issues that need solving at swordtip? Wrath¡¯s really good at solving those problems.¡±
He gave a curt nod. ¡°Unfortunately, conflict seems ever present in this world, and it has elected to follow behind our footsteps. Lady To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s presence will very much help stem our people¡¯s fears, I haven¡¯t personally seen her in combat, but the stories and tales I learned once I arrived fill me with quite some hope. Please, let us speak more in the safety of our walls. We¡¯ll see you given a proper welcome with what we have.¡±
Well, in for a ride, out for some fuel as they say. ¡°Right, lead on.¡± I waved the knights, and as one we took our first steps into the little machine-human city.
Inside the little town was just as cramped as it felt outside. Right past the gates, guns, and more guns, it was mostly machines lumbering around, carrying bags of cement and other goods. Didn¡¯t see a single human anywhere other than our escorts. Which was odd.
Machines walking around I¡¯d gotten a little used to in the Undersider city, some of the knights behind me hadn¡¯t yet adjusted. When I gave them a look, they gave back a quick nod.
¡°They are no different than other humans.¡± One said. ¡°Some are friendly, others are not.¡± He looked over to Father who strode around by the front. I got the message.
Most Winterscar Knights were still new to the title and armor. They¡¯d been training on the surface as Retainers, to go out on expeditions. Not to fight machines. This would be like walking into a city and knowing some people there were dangerous, and others weren¡¯t. Spending time around Wrath and Yrob also made it easier.
¡°As you can see, we haven¡¯t had time to set more personal buildings.¡± Lejis said, deaf to what was going on in the comms chatter. ¡°A few sewer trenches had been dug up when we first arrived, along with other general groundwork and then we were forced to retreat behind the pre-existing mite structures.¡±
Father glanced around, eyes scanning through the different signs of damage. People were starting to appear out the windows, watching as our group passed through the main walkways. So that answered where people were hiding. Indoors. Waiting for the all-clear sign.
All in all, the town felt like a clan colony, except a sky reaching up to the surface strata above our heads instead of more Logi catwalks, lights and floorways. And everyone was terrified of something.
¡°You mind telling me what exactly is breathing down your necks this whole time?¡± I asked. ¡°I know you¡¯re probably saving it for the negotiation table, but it¡¯s been bugging at me ever since I saw the first cannon.¡±
Lejis nodded. ¡°In a word: Deathless.¡±
Oh. That¡¯s not good.
¡°A group of them have assembled together, and sworn to see this town burned to the ground for our actions in the deaths that happened in Capra¡¯Nor.¡±
That¡¯s very not good.
¡°What actions exactly did the Chosen do?¡±
Lejis sighed. ¡°War.¡±
¡°That doesn¡¯t seem like a good enough reason for Deathless.¡± I said. ¡°Our own clan lord is a Deathless and you remember that he spared your lives. Even knowing you were with the enemy, and possibly letting you loose would only end other human lives, he still picked to do that. It takes a lot to get a Deathless to consider innocent people a target to attack.¡±
He shook his head. ¡°Lord Atius, is a Deathless of myth. One from near four hundred years ago, if I remember his age right. The Deathless outside our gates, stalking the flowers, they are from our generation.¡±
Ohhh. That¡¯s very very not good. ¡°The ones that remember their past life?¡±
He nodded. ¡°And that¡¯s why they hate us so. The ringleader is a man named Drakonis. And he was a soldier fighting for Capra¡¯Nor. One who died in the fight for the city. He survived, as Deathless do.¡±
¡°But?¡± I asked.
¡°But his friends did not. They hadn¡¯t been blessed as he had. And he watched them be killed. Perhaps if it had been in the open field, he would not hate us so. But they all died, without even a chance to fight back. Stabbed in the back.¡±
¡°By the Chosen.¡±
Lejis nodded, sounding genuinely sad. ¡°By the Chosen. I wasn¡¯t there personally to see, my group had been sent up, for a mission I hadn¡¯t even been told of. One you got to handle personally. And underground, Lady To¡¯Wrathh was still a warlord that had a city to take.¡±
There were three major battles that I remember Kidra telling me about. The first had been Wrath taking over all the perimeter of the city, hunting lodges and isolated camps. The second big battle had been to take out the only real military base the Undersiders had outside the city, the Tower in the middle of the Stretch. And the last battle had been split in half, one for the gates and one for the pillar heart.
¡°I¡¯ll guess this was done in the Tower?¡±
¡°It was. Explosives set to detonate in some of the Tower¡¯s defenses, you can imagine the chaos that caused. Before anyone even suspected there could be saboteurs. Lady To¡¯Wrathh believed that to be the fastest way to take the tower with the least amount of human casualties. She was correct - the Tower fell fast, and the soldiers all surrendered within not even a half hour of the fight, but many didn''t have a chance to surrender. And all actions have their consequences.
This one demands blood to be paid in kind. He has made it clear, he will not settle until his cup of blood runs empty.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 19 - Effective intimidation
I set the helmet down on the table, taking a breath of unfiltered air. Little musty, like water left to sit on concrete for a little too long. The Chosen here didn¡¯t have that much to work with, most of their put together buildings and foundations were all cut into the rock face, where long range weapons wouldn¡¯t immediately break it down. But Undersiders didn¡¯t have the same green thumb Agrifarmers did, our people lived and breathed making plants grow in two inches of soil and three inches of space.
That didn¡¯t stop them from trying, and the process was going way faster now that Wrath had joined in and started sharing all the small quirks she¡¯d learned from her stay at the surface. I¡¯m not surprised she found some time to sneak down to the source of all food and ask how it¡¯s all run, the little gremlin.
Outside, the town had started to move again without issue now that the new clan knights walking around had been put under the ¡®friendly¡¯ category. People here moved with a purpose, trying to get their community up and going, and sharing some of the stuff they had with my own team.
Wrath and I had been idly chatting up till now about smaller topics, like the aforementioned farming and how she¡¯s simultaneously teaching three Chosen right this moment exactly how to set up a vertical crop field. Things like that had been what made Wrath so stupidly good at running a city. Logi would give up an arm and leg to have even one percent of Wrath¡¯s multi-tasking ability.
Then the doorway opened and three people walked in, so the official meeting had begun.
First through the door was Lejis, technically supposed to be second in command to Wrath here as the Chosen priest. But it was a strange gray zone. The people he¡¯d been the leader of had been nomads walking around, barely surviving and under the yoke of probably the worst Feather ever.
When he¡¯d returned to his people, it had been to a reforged society, strong and even proud of themselves, led by a young woman from a family of merchants. She¡¯d been the first to befriend the unknown machine tyrant now in command, the terrifying and ice cold Lady To¡¯Wrathh.
At least terrifying and ice cold when she wasn¡¯t absentmindedly chewing a spoon up while learning how to eat soup.
So the Chosen priest wasn¡¯t sure if he was still a leader or not. But he had brought back a smaller group unharmed and came with a pet Fido who could shoot angry Deathless from a few miles away. That gave him some street cred.
Technically, the office was his, and he had a seat here at the table. And following behind him into the room was the other technical ringleader of the bunch - Tamery.
The third figure walking in was someone I didn¡¯t know at all. A much older woman with a scar on her face, a knife on her boots and a few other hidden straps and pouches that probably carried more than just pens and a notebook. She walked in, didn¡¯t bother to take a seat but instead leaned back against the wall, and got busy taking out a small box filled with white sticks. Those, she then lit up and smoked with a deep sigh of relief.
¡°Tamery.¡± Wrath said with a smile.
The girl smiled back, waving. Then she looked at me and her face went from happy to a little annoyed.
¡°I didn¡¯t do it.¡± I said instantly.
Her look intensified, and turned into that ¡®You and I need to have a talk after all this. Alone.¡¯
¡°Whatever it was, I¡¯m innocent.¡± I continued to protest.
The older lady coughed, smoke leaving her lungs in small fistfulls as the hacking continued. Got me worried for a moment until I realized she wasn¡¯t dying, she was laughing. When the woman realized the entire room had turned to her, she shook her head, clearing off the last of the hacking fit. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± She waved her smokestick at Tamery, ¡°Go on little lordling, you practiced some speeches in the mirror. Get them out of your hair already.¡±
Tamery took a deep breath, then turned back to me. ¡°Suppose I should first thank you for bringing Lady To¡¯Wrathh back home. Whole and intact. Though I would have wished it was Kidra instead of you.¡± Tamery said, in a way that told me she was sizing me up. ¡°If only To¡¯Wrathh could actually stay here, that¡¯d be a lot better.¡±
I¡¯ve got no idea why I¡¯m already on the backfoot here, so I took a gamble. ¡°You know I have nothing to do with her staying here or not, right? I¡¯m following her, not the other way around. She¡¯s on her way to find¡ well, freedom. Lot more safe for her, given the events that happened. And once she¡¯s free from Relinquished, she can¡¯t come back here without putting a target on everyone.¡±
The woman in the back scoffed. ¡°We¡¯re up to date already, Winterscar. Lady To¡¯Wrathh told us the full story earlier, all the way up to her plan for slipping by the pale lady¡¯s sight. This is a completely different matter. Our little lordling here is in her older sister mode.¡±
Tamery shot the woman a horrified look. ¡°I thought you were on my side here!¡±
The woman shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve got bigger issues than who the little Feather likes or not and whether her soft mushy little heart¡¯s going to be crushed by the big dense surface beefcake in armor. It¡¯s not important.¡±
I gave Wrath a look, and she seemed as confused as I was.
On the other side of the table, Tamery shot a death glare at the woman, ¡°But what if he hurts her?¡±
I¡¯d heard that line before, and I knew enough about it to see where this was going. I raised an armored hand up, ¡°It¡¯s not anywhere remotely going to be like that.¡± I said.
Wrath must have asked Tamery for advice on the whole smoke and mirror show we had to plan out, and Tamery must have thought it was for real or something. ¡°Look, it¡¯s a far-fetched plan but in the end we¡¯re actors making up a script, and Wrath is a Feather. Nobody¡¯s going to get hurt or any of that, it¡¯s impossible.¡±
There¡¯s no way romantic love is something machines would feel. Why would they? That¡¯s like expecting Yrob to swoon over Tamery. They could be deep friends but romantic feelings? Seems way out of the airlock in all this.
The scared woman sighed, taking another deep breath of smoke and puffing it out the window. ¡°And there¡¯s the hangup. It¡¯s always the men.¡±
Lejis stayed seated at the side, a placid smile on his face the whole time as if he was waiting for this part to be over. When I looked at him for some help, he shook his head slightly.
I turned to Wrath next, who was nodding along. She noticed my questioning gaze and settled it for everyone. ¡°My personal safety is not under threat, and neither is Keith¡¯s. If combat is planned out for the deception, I can repair any damage. And if Keith is hurt, I can heal him as well. We¡¯ve done so in the past and it has worked perfectly.¡±
Not quite the same direction I was going, but makes the point all the same.
The older woman turned her attention to Tamery, ¡°See? Give your little Feather some credit. She¡¯s too dense to get hurt.¡±
¡°Could I maybe know who you are before we continue?¡± I asked, waving down the older woman. ¡°Much as you¡¯ve got the whole mysterious rogue bodyguard vibe down, I¡¯m not sure who you are and what you do in the town here?¡±
¡°Bodyguard?¡± She scoffed. ¡°Me? I¡¯m the one who has bodyguards, not the other way around. Name¡¯s Marsella.¡± The woman said. ¡°Worked with Tamery and the rest of the Chosen in taking Capra¡¯Nor. That pillar heart going down by the riots? My doing while General Zaang took care of the crusaders guarding the whole thing. Good times. Business was great, the General completely gave up trying to keep his nose anywhere after all that, and everything was at peace in the world.¡± She tapped the smokestick a few times, took another long drag and continued. ¡°Then the other machine asshole shows up, stabs a few people and ruins it for everyone before you and the little Feather here finished what you started. Up to speed now?¡±
¡°Not in the slightest.¡± I answered with a full smile.
¡°She¡¯s the one who was in charge of the¡ seedier business in the city.¡± Tamery said with a sigh. ¡°She and one of the Imperial priests were the two main pillars that helped Lady To¡¯Wrathh and I get the city under control. Turns out, she¡¯s very good at handling a lot of city related issues I hadn¡¯t thought about. Suppose it comes with the skillset.¡±
¡°I know a few people.¡± Marsella said with a shrug, in between the casual inhales. ¡°And I¡¯ve got a hunch this is the next big city to build a base at, so here I am. Up until our current problems. And you.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t do it.¡± I automatically said.
She pointed the smokestick at Wrath. ¡°You punk, I meant her. We¡¯ll have to be talking to all the citizens here along with the machines and make sure the records show you never came here. Once you got Capra¡¯Nor, you vanished soon after and none of us knew anything about you or had any relation to you.¡±
Wrath gave a mild nod, as if it all made sense while Lejis looked actually heartbroken, though he stayed quiet. ¡°I understand.¡± Wrath said. ¡°False report data can be fed to Mother if she comes searching. And if needed, I can also leave a viral wipe that will temporarily eliminate me from recent memory until the investigations pass.¡±
¡°Is there no way to have you stay here indefinitely?¡± Lejis asked, ¡°The people need a leader, a Feather who can pave the way forward. I¡¯ve seen the recordings and the stories from the people, they need someone like you here.¡±
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Wrath shook her head. ¡°Either I am discovered early, or Mother discovers it when I sever my ties. We need to prepare for that inevitability.¡± She took a slight pause. ¡°However¡ should I discover a method of hiding among the people here, I may possibly return. Only if I am certain I am able to hide from Relinquished.¡±
Marsella blew out another puff, ¡°Did you get your answer priest? Got it all settled now that you heard it from the girl¡¯s own mouth?¡±
Lejis nodded, but he didn¡¯t look happy about it for a second.
¡°Good.¡± Marsella said. ¡°Glad that part is handled. One fire down, another one to go.¡±
¡°Guessing that''s the fire that made the holes in your walls?¡± I asked.
She gave me a droll look. ¡°What gave it away? Lejis told you earlier, but we¡¯ve got a Deathless infestation out there holding us back and being a public menace.¡±
The priest had a sad nod at that. ¡°Were they as reasonable as Lord Atius, we would not be disparaging them like so. It is unfortunate.¡±
¡°I have never appreciated Deathless quite to the same degree you do.¡± Marsella said. ¡°They tend to look down on my business and the more naive ones would often get caught in the gears and make a mess of things each time they visited the city. I see no reason to not return the favor.¡±
She took one last inhale of the smokestick, squashed it on the windowsill and flicked the butt out before turning to the group. ¡°There are two targets of note.¡± She walked over, yanked a chair and sat down in it, joining us all. Her hand raised one finger. ¡°The first, and most obvious is Lirian Drakonis. A minor sergeant in charge of defenses at the Tower. Watched his friends get killed in the battle, and a few other details. He¡¯ll probably tell you the full story at some point or another, he¡¯s quite obsessed with it. And the rest of the Deathless behind him are mostly from other cities that he managed to beat or bribe into following him for revenge.¡±
¡°Marsella.¡± Lejis said, ¡°The man is fueled by trauma, there is no need to trivialize it like so.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t if the ratshit little fuck didn¡¯t make it our personal problem to deal with.¡± Marsella snapped back, then pointed past the window, far out into the distance. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed oh high and mighty priest, there¡¯s a gang of immortal demi-gods who want us all dead. I don¡¯t care what sob story explains all this - he wants me dead. I already go after anyone who even tries to put a hit on me or mine. But at least I¡¯ve got some standards, I wouldn¡¯t be burning down homes and killing entire families outside my business for it. He clearly didn¡¯t pick that option. So that¡¯s the kind of Deathless you¡¯re all up against.¡± She turned to the rest of us. ¡°Wake up. There¡¯s no negotiating anything with them. Violence or bust, pick right.¡±
¡°Violence cannot be the answer to everything.¡± Lejis argued. ¡°Even more so for this situation. They are immortal. Even if we win, they will return again and again until we lose. And Lady To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s time here is ephemeral.¡±
Marsella shook her head. ¡°If violence didn¡¯t solve the issue, you¡¯re not using enough of it. Takes more than just a grudge and some occult magic to break an entire town. We kill them, take their loot and gear, and go after whatever is keeping them all fed and armed. Because those bastards won¡¯t be immortal. The Deathless can¡¯t afford to keep buying new armor again and again, and whoever¡¯s supplying them will eventually run out of goodwill or decide they don¡¯t want to get dragged into a protracted war with their heads on the table. So no, violence is a perfectly acceptable plan. You just stopped too early in the equation.¡± She turned her hand to Wrath and I. ¡°And we just so happen to have the gig lined up and delivered on a silver platter right to our doors. Thank Tsyua¡¯s tits, or rather thank the Pale Lady or whatever god we¡¯re worshiping these days.¡±
Tamery sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°You see what I¡¯m dealing with?¡± She said, eyes looking to Wrath. ¡°I¡¯m good with money and trade, all this warmongering stuff is a step too far for me. Lejis managed to convince a Drake to follow behind him, but I have no idea if he can do the same for a Deathless. And if I leave Marsella in charge, I don¡¯t know if her solution¡¯s permanent or just going to get us stuck in deeper shit. Lady To¡¯Wrathh, please tell me you have a solution for all this?¡±
Marsella gave a very low chuckle before Wrath could answer. ¡°I think our town¡¯s little lordling is forgetting who she¡¯s talking to. Lady To¡¯Wrathh is a warlord. She¡¯s going to see this the same way I do. You all keep acting like our Feather here is a saint that¡¯ll somehow have a better more innocent plan than what I¡¯m suggesting. But she won¡¯t because that¡¯d be stupid. We always had the numbers. Now we have the sword saint¡¯s own little brother, Lady To¡¯Wrathh herself, and an entire surface clan¡¯s worth of knights who followed the Winterscar down. It would be stupid to give these Deathless any mercy at this point when we outgun them so badly.¡±
¡°There is still one more person of interest you¡¯ve been ignoring.¡± Lejis said. ¡°And one who could potentially be reasoned with.¡±
Marsella scoffed, ¡°Sure, fine.¡± She raised her second finger up. ¡°The other Deathless of note is Teneric the Lionheart. An actual Deathless who¡¯s been fighting as deep as the ninth strata. I think he¡¯s around two hundred years or so, and basically everything you¡¯d think when you hear the word ¡®Deathless¡¯. Fights for justice, honor, humanity, won¡¯t take bribes, defends the poor and sickly, kisses puppies and flowers grow wherever he walks.¡±
¡°He sounds¡ more reasonable?¡± I asked.
¡°I see you¡¯ve got a lot of experience dealing with zealots,¡± Marsella rolled her eyes. ¡°He sees all the new little Deathless Drakonis brought together as a crew of poor misfits that could be guided to be better. And us? We¡¯re all lucky training for his new rookies.¡±
¡°Attacking the town is part of his training regiment?¡± Wrath asked, head tilted. ¡°Most of the Chosen here are civilians with no combat training. That seems highly impractical and a waste of resources and time.¡±
¡°Because it fucking is impractical.¡± Marsella growled. ¡°He¡¯s here on a deal he struck with Drakonis. He teaches them a few spells and helps them clear off their worldly grudges, and in turn they can follow him down into the trenches with a clear heart. That¡¯s it. He doesn¡¯t see the town as anything other than a machine nest to clear off and the people here as just bog standard insane cultists who happen to sound a little more reasonable on the outside.¡±
¡°As poorly as you depict Lionheart, I still believe him to be our best way of getting reason from all this.¡± Lejis said. ¡°He is their mentor, and his words would weigh on all the others, even if Drakonis himself cannot be convinced.¡±
She didn¡¯t answer back, instead hid her eye roll by standing up and walking back to the window edge, hand snaking through the inside of her vest looking for another stick to smoke. ¡°We already tried talking before you came.¡± She lit it up, giving it a few puffs to make sure the fire took. ¡°We¡¯re all insane cultists, and he¡¯s had to deal with them in the past to boot. At the absolute best, maybe misguided pitiful souls who cannot be saved, only killed painlessly. Weeds in a garden basically. You think a weed could ever convince the guardener not to yank it out? Not a chance.¡±
¡°Perhaps their stance is due to a power imbalance.¡± Wrath said. ¡°By knowing they have the ability to destroy the town with some slight difficulty, it remains an option they take for granted. If we prove that any victory will be a prolonged and difficult affair and more likely an unwinnable fight, they may rethink their direction and seek an alternate solution to settle their grudge.¡±
Marsella reached a hand out and rubbed Tamery¡¯s head like an older sister would. ¡°See? Our warlord agrees with me. Moment we make it an absolute pain in their ass to roll us over, they¡¯re going to have to do some soul searching. Have them start asking themselves the real questions, if all their wallets and favors getting burned up is a price they want to pay.¡±
¡°And Lionheart?¡± Tamery asked. ¡°How do you know he isn¡¯t going to shrug his shoulders and decide he needs to fight a little harder instead? An unarmored Deathless can still kill an armored knight any day of the week, even in just rags and fists.¡±
This time Marsella didn¡¯t bother trying to blow smoke out the window. ¡°Because he¡¯s trying to go back underground, and all this is a side diversion. Moment it dawns on him it¡¯s not going to be done in months, but it''ll take decades at best and eat up all his built up resources too? He¡¯ll tell them to pack up and find a different way to make peace with their past. Every second he spends up here is one second he¡¯s not down there trying to root out the source of all evil and cut it down.¡±
Lejis raised a hand. ¡°That may not be so.¡±
The woman answered him with a raised eyebrow, silently asking him to explain what logical leap of magic made him think this.
The priest simply pointed at Wrath. ¡°Once he knows she exists, I do not believe he will see reason anymore.¡±
The woman frowned, as if unsure what point Lejis was trying to make. Then her eyes widened and she hissed to herself.
I could follow that logic too. Teneric the Lionheart was one of the old Deathless who battled machines underground. And from the sound of it, deep underground. And to Deathless like him, the greatest enemy threat, the nemesis of them all, would be Feathers.
Knowing one was up here so close to other humans, he¡¯d feel compelled to fight until Wrath was chased back down to the depths of hell and as far away from humanity as he could possibly make it happen.
Or...
¡°Could be the other way around.¡± I said. ¡°Wrath shows her face, he gets his single minded fixation, and she runs off underground as we planned already. Lionheart chases after, just to make sure she never returns to the surface.¡±
¡°And then what?¡± Marsella said. ¡°Once he¡¯s sure she¡¯s not going to show her face again, he¡¯ll come right back here to continue recruiting his little army of pests. And you lot will be gone along with any chance we have of beating them at their own game.¡±
Nobody said anything for a pause, as Marsella took another long inhale, then the woman sighed. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll suggest we keep the Lady Feather¡¯s off the roster for now or at least we keep her wrapped up in armor and acting like us.¡± Her head turned to me. ¡°So that leaves us with the Winterscar. He¡¯s the sword saint¡¯s own little brother, the same woman who fought To¡¯Wrathh again and again even after the city capitulated. Seeing him take to the field on our side would be the best tool we¡¯ve got, and the clan knights he¡¯s got on hand aren¡¯t Chosen - so to that old geezer they couldn¡¯t be the mindless brainwashed cultists he thinks we all are. Our side literally fought and beat his greatest enemies. Perfect wrench in every way.¡±
Tamery turned to me now, eyes asking a silent question. ¡°Keith, as the leader of the clan knights, what would you weigh in on this?¡±
I drummed my fingers on the table and considered all the different opinions here on the table.
Wrath wanted to beat them back and then negotiate from a position of power.
Marsella wanted to beat them back too, and then go after everything feeding them, burn their wallets, loot the bodies, and kick their little dog too.
Lejis wanted to speak reason head to head with their mentor, possibly have some deep philosophical debate and discover a new shared path forward.
And Tamery just wanted to make money and build a trade empire like her father before her. She didn¡¯t sign up to deal with a warband sitting outside her house.
So what¡¯s my side look like? If I asked Father, he¡¯d tell me I¡¯m being a fool when the answer is obvious. Crush them until they can¡¯t even think about crushing us back.
Cathida would probably agree with Marsella because she¡¯s a bloodthirsty battle maniac deep down, and old age or being dead wasn¡¯t going to stop her.
The rest of the Winterscar knights are trained to fight raiders and other rival clans, their answer would be exactly the same. If dealing with an enemy clan, mutual respect would be granted. But this wasn¡¯t an enemy that was leaving civilians off the table. So they¡¯d be handled like slavers or raiders would. That¡¯s a lot of people voting on Marsella¡¯s idea of total destruction.
Sagrius might have a slightly different answer given his¡ current issues. Probably would tell me the safest thing to do for my personal well being is to ignore all this, and just walk away.
As for me?
We had the weapons, skills, spells and training. Maybe half a year ago I¡¯d have tried looking for a more peaceful solution. ¡°I think Wrath¡¯s got the idea of it.¡± I said after mulling it over. ¡°We find them, give them a chance to back down and leave. And if they don¡¯t, we let them know they picked the wrong option.¡±
Tamery sighed, "I hope you''re all right about this."
Marsella smiled brightly, ¡°I like him. Much more pragmatic than the sword saint. I¡¯ll have a battle plan drafted up by tonight. Get some good sleep, because we introduce ourselves first thing tomorrow morning.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 20 - Marching out
When we had the chance for comfortable bed with an overwatch from Feathers and a town filled with guns pointed outwards in every direction, we all took it. Unfortunately, we didn¡¯t even have time for breakfast before Marsella had us all running out of the town and onto the road. Which was an entire feat of its own.
Not the part of actually getting us out of our beds and eating on the road. Pampered and spoiled by occult and relic armor as my crew and I were, all of us were still Retainers deep down. Waking up at any alarm and being instantly active was what could separate living through an environment breach or never waking up again after pressing the snooze button. Getting all fourteen of us on the march was child¡¯s play.
Also Wrath and Father didn¡¯t sleep, so Marsella wasn¡¯t waking up fourteen people, just twelve veterans. Maybe eleven - I wasn¡¯t sure if Captain Sagrius slept or not.
What couldn¡¯t be easy for Marsella to organize thirty others and a good handful of machines into bringing munitions, supplies, tracking gear and everything else that was part of the job - all done overnight and ready to expedition out by the time Marsella got to getting the knights up. The machines might have been easier to rouse around, but the rest of the people were a mix of civilian supports, airspeeder pilots and crew carried on the back of machines, and Chosen knights to cover them.
The objective was to get to the Deathless basecamp, loot everything, bring back their airspeeder and other goodies. And roll over anyone that tried to stop us. Safe to say she wanted the Deathless dead and out her backyard as fast as humanly possible.
¡°Significant military power has appeared in the town¡¯s favor, and it has arrived for a small window of time.¡± Wrath countered, walking next to me as our troop marched to the end of our destination. ¡°Were I in her position, I would also attempt to make as much use of that as I could. Her logistics and planning are optimal thus far.¡±
¡°Oh, I get that completely.¡± I said. ¡°Especially against an enemy that can keep coming back and back again and again, they might need extra time to have a lesson sink in. What makes me think there might be a little more is the¡ extras. Like the particular food she brought with her.¡±
Wrath looked over to the woman in question. ¡°I fail to see any issue? Rations are always brought with soldiers, and I find it admirable that she has elected to come herself despite being a non-combatant.¡±
I didn¡¯t really know how to explain it any better, so I shrugged and watched as Marsella set up a foldable chair in just the right spot for a perfect view. Then make sure she had a wide umbrella at the right angle to give her shade, and an attendant next to her was setting up a foldable table. Another was already bringing items to mix a drink. The last one came with a bowl, and a stovetop. Still hot with puffed kernels. That¡¯s what I meant by having a hard time explaining it.
Marsella had brought popcorn with her for this.
¡°I see you have a lot of confidence in us.¡± I said, walking up to her while the final checks clicked over the HUD. Cathida was humming along as she counted all our bullets and weapons we had in our disposal, though none of those would get used for this particular fight.
Relic knight battles didn¡¯t have any kind of long range weaponry used unless it was mounted on an airspeeder, and neither side here had brought an airspeeder to fight with. If we won against the Deathless, the next job would be to track down where their airspeeder is actually parked at and raid the base. That¡¯s what everyone behind me carrying the munitions and tracking gear was for. We were here to take care of the roadblock in the way.
The Deathless saw us coming a long time ago of course. They couldn¡¯t let us make it all the way to their basecamp, with their airspeeder and supplies there for the sacking, so they marched out to meet us halfway. And they didn¡¯t want to put that airspeeder of theirs in possible danger, so they hadn¡¯t brought it out. That would be a pyrrhic victory where they beat the insane cultists, but lost their ride in the fight. Would be a far bigger sting than losing a few extra Deathless who¡¯ll be back the next day.
One thing led to another, and they camped out right before a giant flat plain. We got the message and diverted our march to meet them on the other side, no point in playing coy. The terrain here looked pretty fair to everyone and was probably picked specifically for that. So here we were, perfect visibility and clear artificial sunshine on everything.
¡°And what if we don¡¯t win?¡± I asked. ¡°You mentioned you¡¯re the type to have bodyguards paid for instead of being the bodyguard, what¡¯s a VIP like you doing all the way out here in the middle of a combat zone?¡± I gave a little wave at all¡ that. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like standard military doctrine here. Plus we¡¯ve never been pitted against Deathless before, can¡¯t be sure we¡¯ll pull through.¡±
¡°Please, I wasn¡¯t born yesterday, kid.¡± She scoffed, then pointed one of her unlit smokes out in the distance to the armored figures far beyond our hill. They were small specks from this distance but noticeable enough. ¡°Our enemies are all demi-gods filled with cosmic powers and a long storied history of beating everything and everyone except for Feathers. On the other hand, I know you and every knight that¡¯s following behind are walking sword saints. And the last sword saint I saw in a battle beat a Feather.¡±
Wrath bristled a bit. ¡°Our fights were often lopsided and involved multiple factors in play, Kidra did not win every encounter against me either.¡±
Marsella waved a hand away, ¡°Details. Point is, it takes a group of Deathless to fight a Feather, and it took only a single sword saint to do the same. Now we have thirteen sword saints and a hiding Feather on our side while they¡¯ve got twenty Deathless. I¡¯m putting all my money on our side.¡±
¡°You seem oddly sure we¡¯re all on the level of a sword saint.¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s making you think that?¡±
She barked a laugh, ¡°Like I said, I¡¯ve seen your sister fight. Sometimes up close, at least when it starts before they take off to the beaches to avoid accidental casualties.¡±
¡°Doesn¡¯t mean me and mine would have the same talents she has.¡± I countered. We hadn¡¯t told her any kind of skills or power we had. ¡°You¡¯re taking a big gamble on little knowledge.¡±
¡°You¡¯d have a point, except the more important detail in all that isn¡¯t her. It¡¯s her honor guard. I¡¯ve seen their fighting skills before and after the tower. They didn¡¯t know how to move like she did, and after the city was taken, they suddenly did. Conveniently only when the sword saint clearly had no choice against the invaders and needed every little edge possible to hold the rebellion going. I don¡¯t believe for a single moment she wouldn¡¯t have bestowed you with the same power, and your knights too. You¡¯re heading far down deep with a Feather on a historical mission, no way that woman is going to not give you every possible advantage, when she did that already for a city filled with people who already considered her kind savages.¡±
I tapped my sword a few times. She did have a pretty good point. ¡°Sharp.¡± I said. Then looked over past our little camp to the field ahead.
Smoke was coming from a distance, where a small camp of armored people were milling about. They knew we were here, since two knights were standing on the crest of a hill looking us over and probably talking to each other. One had an outright gold lion shoulder pad on his armor, along with a greatcloak like Lord Atius had. The rest of his gear looked as if Imperials had bankrolled most of it. Even had some paper prayers stuck on the armor with red wax, though I couldn¡¯t zoom in far enough to read what they said.
Cathida must have seen me squint at the zoomed in vision. "They''re purity seals dear, standard operation for Imperial crusaders. Brings luck, and depending on who affixed them to his chest, meant to remind him of what and who he''s fighting for along with good luck and divine providence. Not filled up to the gills with them, means that''s not an Imperator. But that armor is a little too... extra for a regular crusader."
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"You sound a little envious."
"Me? A little envious? Goddess''s golden tits, I''m not." She said, huffing all the while. "I am a hugely envious. I should have thought about doing that when we were designing your new look! Gold covered pyrite I regret everything."
"So, is that who I think it is then?" I asked, "Only one mentioned man named Lionheart, and that guy''s got a lion on his shoulders and one for his helmet. A little on the nose."
Cathida didn''t give me a yes or no. Instead she was more muttering to herself. "An eagle on your shoulderpads might look quite dashing, have you considered it?"
"Maybe a wolf head. If you''re extra good."
"...I hate how effective that is at bribing me." She hissed back, almost sulking.
Wrath adjusted her cloak a little with a nervous kind of energy. Making sure her helmet was nicely secure, and that her wings were tucked in under all the baggy clothing. Thank the gods she was convinced not to bring her halo with her around, because there¡¯s no hiding that.
As for the other next to Lionheart, he was without any kind of frills or decorations, a bog standard looking Undersider soldier. The armor only had the colors and standard straps the rest of the city had used. That was either Drakonis or one of the trainee Deathless following Lionheart¡¯s example.
We¡¯d counted twenty knights in total on the other hill, including those two but no other personnel or anything. A few empty tents, and one campfire.
Marsella lifted her popcorn and waved it at the enemy across the distance, then she sat back down on the chair and made sure her sunglasses were comfortable. The Undersider soldier on the crest stiffened, turned and stalked away. The other Deathless in ornate armor simply looked back at us with a steely gaze.
¡°They look a little miffed.¡± Marsella gave a low dark chuckle. ¡°Wonder what¡¯s gotten up their spine to make them cranky like this. Oh well, guess we¡¯ll never know.¡±
¡°You know they could shoot you from here.¡± I said. It would be a little difficult for rifles, but a longer ranged weapon would easily make that distance.
She shrugged. ¡°And I¡¯ve got armor that would light up and deflect the bullets. Helmet just adds a HUD, the shield covers all parts, remember? Everyone here knows how this fight¡¯s going to end. With Occult blades. Rifles and bullets are for the unarmored or the machines. And you lot aren¡¯t either.¡±
¡°Is this an Undersider tradition?¡± Wrath asked, ¡°Before hostilities begin? General Zaang did not perform this rite when we battled.¡±
¡°Not in the slightest.¡± Marsella said. ¡°Bringing popcorn, a chair and making it clear I¡¯m here to watch an absolute shitshow go down is what I refer to in my line of work as ¡®sending a message¡¯ and I want them to burn it in their heads. The little fucks have really pissed me off for the past month, and I intend to see them squashed into the dirt again and again for as long as you lovely folks are here to stay.¡±
¡°What odds would you give normal clan knights against that number?¡± I asked, a little curious to how that would stack up against this many Deathless.
She decided it was time to taste check her food, tossing one into her mouth and munching down noisily in between words. ¡°Honest to gold, ¡®regular¡¯ surface knights are fucking terrifying too. In my line of work, only way to beat them is to beat the other side in hiring first.¡±
¡°Flattery gets you everywhere with me, you scoundrel you.¡± I said.
She waved me off with a huff. ¡°Let me remind you that your people regularly hunt, kill and skewer Othersiders up on stakes as part of your cultural heritage. And you do the same to Undersiders if you¡¯re paid well enough. Might be normal to you, but it¡¯s absolutely insane to think about down here.¡±
She took a quick pause to light up her smokestick, taking a few puffs before setting it to the side and leaning back in her chair with a sigh and some more munched popcorn. ¡°In the underworld, clan knights are as high as the totem pole goes, there isn¡¯t a bigger hammer. None of us are ever going to hire out Deathless or get an imperial chapter to assist, not in my line of work. And that¡¯s the rub, because the totem pole goes way beyond where it ends on my side of the pond. And Deathless? They''re in a different league. A clan knight might wipe the floor with the new rookies still learning the ropes depending on if they can cast any amount of occult.¡±
She pointed her smokestick again, this time at Lionheart. ¡°But that guy alone could be a one man army and take on fourteen clan knights. And still have room for dessert after.¡± She turned to look at me, eyes roving up and down my armor like she was examining a prized fish. ¡°Too bad for him you aren¡¯t ¡®regular¡¯ surface knights. Heh.¡±
¡°My eyes are up here, thank you.¡± I said.
She scoffed, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare make a single move on you kid, that would absolutely piss off my new boss something fierce. Plus you¡¯re not my type anyways.¡± Then she grabbed another packet of popcorn and tossed it at her attendant, the order implicit.
Father was all the way near the bottom of the valley. Helmet at his side, while he looked out across the empty stretch leading to the enemy hillside. His stolen shell looked perfectly human, face already changed up, anonymous to anyone. Even Marsella didn¡¯t know the forces assembled here weren''t thirteen surface knights and one Feather in a trenchcoat. There were two Feathers in a trenchcoat, and one still deciding in the airlock if he was human or armor.
I clicked on my general comms to the Winterscar frequency. Chatter was typical, checking over all our weapons and options, conditions of the field, enemy numbers and their current behaviors.
Two of the Deathless were waiting in the center of the valley, the flag of truce planted by their feet for the past ten minutes. Behind them the rest of the Deathless were slowly walking forward, small groups at a time while the final ones were wrapping up their business and making their way to the field.
Our side hadn¡¯t yet sent out any knights, because there was still one question left to go.
¡°M¡¯lord, have we decided on how we should introduce ourselves?¡± One of the knights asked.
That was the crux of the issue, and would decide how much of our abilities we could use to fight. We hadn¡¯t had time to debate that point overnight, and when the morning came, Marsella had arrived with it.
There were four possible choices to pick from, each with pro¡¯s and con¡¯s and I had to think hard on it all on the way and ultimately, we were fighting Deathless - Lord Atius could be beat in sheer martial might, but that was fighting him while he had a hand tied behind his back. The moment he started wielding the occult, none of us could go one on one with him except for Father and Wrath. And myself now that I think about it, assuming I get to use everything I¡¯d built up to now.
So if we intentionally crippled ourselves, the Deathless out there might actually kill one or more of our number which would have been¡ utterly stupid.
Fortunately, I think I had a good answer that would let us make use of most of our talents, and if the fighting got too harsh, knightbreakers and other tools I¡¯d built could be used. We¡¯d figure out an excuse for those another time.
I sent my final decision out over the comms.
The rest of the knights sent a green ping back in acknowledgement, and Wrath gave a nod. ¡°That would equally fit in with the narrative Relinquished knows of, if she discovers this battle took place.¡± She said.
¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m banking on too.¡± I said. ¡°At some point, someone or something is going to spot me since I¡¯m already in a few public records. Might as well start laying the groundwork right now.¡±
¡°And our reasons for being here then, m¡¯lord?¡± One knight asked.
That¡¯s the part I haven¡¯t figured out completely yet. Not because it was difficult to come up with an excuse, but more trying to fit that in and predicting if it would blow up in my face or not.
¡°Maybe we¡¯re out here searching for Wrath?¡± I thought about that, then decided I could use a bit of advice, so I turned to Wrath and gave per an elbow nudge. ¡°What do you think, oh dear damsel in distress?¡±
¡°Claiming you are searching for me might be something I could weave into the narrative.¡± Wrath said, humming, hand on her helmet¡¯s chin.
¡°We really need to sit down and hash out a full timeline here. With a nice full laid out backstory, we could just follow the script and never have to ask questions like this at all.¡± There were still a few other people to ask advice from. ¡°Father, you¡¯ve got the most experience out of all of us when it comes to the business of clan knight-ing. What¡¯s your take?¡±
¡°Keep our reasons confidential.¡± Father grunted out. ¡°Let them flounder in the dark. Clan knights do not answer to anyone but their clan lord.¡±
¡°Confidentiality would be better.¡± Captain Sagrius added, voice echoed slightly over the comms. ¡°The other souls within my body all claim a better story could be later thought of, as anything could fit within a void of knowledge. I agree with them. It is the safest route forward.¡±
It wasn¡¯t just the ghost knights within Sagrius that agreed to that, the rest of the Winterscar knights all believed the same.
¡°Right, votes are in and that¡¯ll be what we go with.¡± I said.
With that plan in mind, I let Marsella know what we picked. Her eyes widened at the plan, then she laughed, settled down, laughed a bit more, and took one long drag of smoke. ¡°I see you¡¯re all making great use of that vaulted surface savage reputation of being stupidly xenophobic to anything outside your little clan. At least, cold and frosty to anything that isn¡¯t bolted down and lootable. I heartily approve, and I¡¯m looking forward to the shitshow.¡±
She looked down at the field where the Deathless were all marshaling, mirroring all the Winterscar knights also walking out to the field.
¡°And talking about shitshows,¡± Marsella leaned out of her chair, grin spreading wide. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 21 - Negotiations with the neighbors
The knights and I all walked down the hill as one group, with Father and I taking the lead.
And it seemed Lionheart had the same idea, since on the other side, the man with a lion shaped shoulder pad wove between all the knights assembled in a line there, passing by with his second in command at his right hand side.
The four of us ended up a few feet from each other. The great Deathless took off his golden helmet, then strapped it to the side of his other shoulder, making him actually look like he had two different lion heads on both ends of his shoulders. Then he turned his gaze back at us.
¡°Clan knights.¡± Lionheart announced, voice deep and with an aura of command. Somehow it was perfectly fitting to how he looked - dark haired, blue eyes, a short beard of equally pitch black color, and the regal bearing of a king. ¡°Whatever the cultists are paying you, it is not worth damnation. The imperial church stands behind me, I am willing to match the payments you¡¯ve been hired for, and I implore you to accept. Good men and women need not die today for a cause so foul.¡±
I had thought about taking a deeper pitch, but I wasn¡¯t any kind of speechsmith that could mimic other voices. I was good at math, and slowly getting better at stabbing things like a proper surface savage, so I¡¯ll stick to those two for now, thank you.
But I could change the words I spoke from regular ol¡¯ Keith to the clan knight stereotype. Which I assumed was the same down here as what all the other castes had in mind on the surface when they thought of ¡®Relic Knight¡¯.
¡°We have not come here as mercenaries.¡± I said, aiming to capture that ¡®don¡¯t fuck with me.¡¯ vibe clan knights had as their default. ¡°We have come on our own volition. Let that speak for itself.¡±
¡°You would willingly choose to protect machine cultists and turn your blades against Deathless?¡± Lionheart seemed more shocked at that than anything. His gaze looked up, past our lines to the Chosen and machines sulking safely on the top of the hill. Marsella waved down at the man from her seat with a cheery smile. She was starting to eat her popcorn now, waiting for the grand reveal.
¡°That is so.¡± I said cryptically.
¡°That woman was a blight on Capra¡¯Nor before the machines." The man next to Lionheart hissed, his first words in the negotiation. Going to take a guess this is Drakonis. "Now she¡¯s both a traitor to humanity and still a criminal to deal with. Why would you willingly choose to defend a dredge such as her?¡±
¡°Personal feelings hold no sway over us.¡± Father answered, representing the absolute perfect surface knight just by being himself. ¡°We are knight Retainers. We took oaths. We will carry them out. There is nothing more than that. Whether she deserves our protection or not is immaterial. These people are under our protection.¡±
¡°These people?¡± Drakonis spat. "They¡¯re murderers, thieves, cowards, and the scum of the earth.¡± He looked us up, helmet hiding the details but the glare under it was all but obvious. ¡°I¡¯ve always heard clan knights were emotionless mercenaries, slaves to coin. But I¡¯ve seen some defend Capra¡¯Nor and stand for what¡¯s right instead of what¡¯s profitable. I thought differently of you people for a moment. What a disappointment you are.¡±
"You are here because your friends and allies died." I said. "Your justice is to kill those who killed your own, is that correct?"
Drakonis nodded, then spat again on the ground. "Aye. No fanciful stories will ever cover that betrayal. No matter what you cultists friends spew, they killed innocents."
"The ones you want brought to justice. They''re already dead." I said. "Almost all the Chosen knights who fought on the tower, died before the machines swarmed the walls. The ones who live have also seen all their friends killed before their eyes, and they aren''t hunting you down, or demanding the blood of the surface knights who cut through them like a torch through ice. So why are you here?"
They really hadn''t. All of them just wanted to live and survive. Kidra walking around freely even after her and her honor guard had been the number one reason most of them had died on the Tower, they still didn''t hate her. They understood. I don''t know if it was for the right reasons, or not, but they hadn''t ever made any call for justice. They wanted the war to end, not start it again.
But not Drakonis. "It''s not enough." He eventually growled out. "It will never be enough until every last one of these traitors are purged from the world. You wouldn''t understand. Capra''Nor was my home, and they burned it down."
"You hunt slaves among dead slavers." Father added. "You go too far."
Lionheart tilted his head slightly. "There are no slaves, or slavers here. Only cultists."
"He''s making an analogy." I put in, knowing exactly where Father was going with that. "If a slaver knight murdered my friend, I will hunt and kill that slaver." I had before, and I''d lived up to that promise. So I wasn''t just talking the talk here. "But I will not hunt down the slaves who built his gun, who fed him his bullets, or were forced to clean and shine his armor. Do you understand now?"
The Chosen did what they had to, to survive. Even if the Chosen knights hadn''t died in the tower fight, they deserve far less of a punishment than outright death. Atonement, not death. And Wrath''s actions had been the lightest possible roll of the dice. Any other machine commander wouldn''t have just seen a few Undercity knights dead, they''d all be dead.
Of course, that nuance went unseen by the grieving.
"Shows how savages think." Drakonis hissed, then pointed again at the mass of people and machines behind us. "They''re not slaves. They made this choice, it''s in their fucking names. The machines attacked, and they helped. I don''t care if it was willing or unwilling, they''re enemies of humanity."
"You will never have enough." Father said. "Your demand for blood has already been paid. Walk away."
"Machines will never see humanity thrive." Lionheart said. "I see the tenets that you believe in, clan knights. But I will not stand while the enemy remains unharmed and free to spread their twisted faith outwards. It is not about who is innocent or not, it is about humanity as a whole. That is my mission."
¡°You know nothing.¡± I said, keeping things cryptic. ¡°We are here on a mission of far greater importance than any, or ourselves.¡±
Lionheart raised an eyebrow at that. Then gave a sigh and shook his head, as if realizing he wasn''t going to shake us with words the same way we couldn''t shake him with ours. ¡°It fills me with great sadness to see ones such as you so twisted down this path, believing their story and lies. Regardless of right or wrong, they are traitors to humanity. Cultists. And a danger to anyone else in the future so long as they are not handled. In the spirit of respect I have for the few surface knights I¡¯ve fought besides, I will give you one more warning. Turn back. Leave this place, return to your clan and your people. You embark on a fool¡¯s venture and those you protect will be left defenseless. Your mission is in vain. You will find nothing but death and ruin here.¡±
¡°Our mission is sacred and beyond question, I said this already.¡± I answered back. ¡°Death will not stop us.¡±
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Father¡¯s head turned slightly to look down at me, as if asking ¡®Was that necessary?¡¯
Winterscar. I all but answered him back with a slight shoulder shrug. Let me have some fun. It fits with the narrative too.
The older Deathless raised an eyebrow at that, likely not noticing the hidden byplay between Father and I. ¡°Is that so?¡± He asked, the question rhetorical.
I answered it anyhow. "It is so."
His eyes roved up again to our camp, and then back down across the line of surface knights blocking his path forward. ¡°What mission drives you this far?¡±
¡°We cannot say.¡± I said. ¡°We do not know you, stranger, or who you consort with. Speaking of our task may compromise our mission.¡±
Telling him we¡¯re searching for Wrath or here to escort her down, or any of the other reasons we were debating might blow up in our faces. So it was better to just be completely vague until we had it all ironed out, as we voted on.
Drakonis scoffed. "You''re here for personal gain. Appearing right when there''s an empty city to loot and pillage? Pathetic."
¡°No, Lirian. I believe the knights are here for more than just to scavenge.¡± Lionheart nodded to himself, which caught us by surprise. ¡°You mentioned your mission is more important than yourselves. That dying here would be acceptable. There is only one mission clan knights would consider sacrificing their life for - your clan itself. And this many clan knights away from your home is almost unheard of - except in war and to defend your clan as a whole.¡±
He looked past the hills, hand pointed in the direction of the Chosen town. ¡°You are here because the Chosen have offered you a home, safe from the machines. A place free from the surface, despite your people lacking the resources needed to conventionally take and hold territory underground, least of all a place without a pillar heart. And we represent a warband that threatens to break that home. Your clan had no choice but to send every knight they could ahead of your migration here, to defend your fledgling new home. It doesn''t matter to you in the end if the cultists are lying or not. Only that they offer a new home.¡±
I had to hand it to him, that was a pretty good explanation for why a small army of clan knights would pop up down here protecting the Chosen. Clans wanted nothing more than to escape the surface, but Undersiders wouldn¡¯t accept that many refugees and clans didn¡¯t have enough knights or firepower to protect against machines even if they found a pillar heart to hide behind.
Becoming Chosen would neatly trim out all the reasons surface dwellers couldn¡¯t migrate down here.
But this kind of reasoning might really work out for us. If we beat them up here, and proved they couldn¡¯t drive us out - then they¡¯d think we¡¯re also here for good, because the rest of the clan is slowly making their way here.
Basically, we¡¯d be telling them to pack it up and go home because we certainly weren¡¯t and if they couldn¡¯t beat us at their best, what chance did they have after?
I stayed silent instead, arms crossed before me.
He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. ¡°You and your clan have damned yourselves. We are Deathless, you are not. Your skill of arms is nothing compared to the powers we wield.¡±
Occult pulsed around him, flattening the flowers under our feet in a wide circle. The message was clear. Which made that the absolute perfect moment to throw down some cards. I could tell Marsella also knew this was it, since she stopped eating her popcorn and leaned forward in her seat.
I said nothing in response. Then touched onto my soul fractal and flared it out. Occult crackled around, a short wave of pressure equally flattening the flowers in a ring around me for a moment. What was left behind was blue occult mist rising from my body, seeping through the armor plate segments.
The very same look Lord Atius had used when walking down that airspeeder ramp to meet the pirates. The one he used to all but announce himself as Deathless.
Lionheart¡¯s eyes widened with realization.
And then Father joined in, and behind him all the knights as well, occult crackling past their frames. Wrath didn¡¯t have any true occult powers besides her healing, but she still had a soul fractal and tapping into it would work much the same way.
¡°I told you once.¡± I said. ¡°Our mission is sacred and beyond question. Death will not stop us.¡±
¡°You are all..?¡± Lionheart asked, sheer shock in his voice.
My silent stare back was all the answer he needed.
Earlier when I had to decide how I¡¯d introduce myself, I had four options: Show up as Keith Winterscar, show up as disciples of Kidra, show up as a clan of warlocks, or show up as random Deathless that happened to be from a clan.
Wrath and I were undercover, trying to hide from the general machine network¡¯s automated detection. The little chat he had with all the other Feathers and Relinquished just told him we were still well and alive, but not where we were. As far as To¡¯Avalis knew, we were all still up on the surface.
If I showed my face as Keith Winterscar, there¡¯d be a record. But that record would be in human hands, way off the machine network. No automated detection could spot that. Not unless To¡¯Avalis beat up this particular group of Deathless again in the future, decided to interrogate them and found out I¡¯d been here. By which point, I strongly suspect he¡¯d already know if that was the question he¡¯d ask these fine upstanding gentlemen currently looking at us with disgust.
So it was somewhat safe to come here as myself, roguish grin and all.
On the other hand, what about using the occult in the fight? We¡¯d need a damn good reason to justify generic clan knights being able to do that. Moving at the speeds of the Winterblossom technique would mark us as out of the ordinary and related in some way to the sword saint. So how far out of the ordinary do we want to go?
We could all say we were disciples, here to help out the town on her own orders in her steed. Be a very strong show of support there.
Or we could claim ourselves sorcerer knights - a surface clan that¡¯s discovered the secrets of the occult. Warlocks on the surface, spooky.
Occult lineages that sprout from people cutting into armors and finding their soul fractals. They¡¯re considered common occurrences. Surface clans normally don¡¯t ever discover those because the isolation and secretive nature of clans means that Tsuya¡¯s orbital death cannons eliminate the clan long before the warlock guilds ever get wind it happened.
But Hexis was instantly able to connect the dots, he¡¯d narrowed our source of occult down from either that lineage or Talen¡¯s. And so too would the rest of the warlock guilds out there, hearing a bunch of surface dwellers running around with occult ratshit.
¡®Let the machines handle them,¡¯ the guilds would think. Or ¡®It¡¯s just fractals they learned from Talen¡¯s book, which don¡¯t include anything valuable like the division fractal. No need to pay attention to them.¡¯
But the last one really worked out in almost every little checkmark. And it dovetailed perfectly well with Kidra - people already thought she was a Deathless. For all anyone knew, she learned her techniques and skills from us. Let them gossip on that.
Father took his que. ¡°Stand down.¡± He growled out. ¡°You will not win this fight. And we will spare you no quarter.¡±
The man next to Lionheart ripped off his helmet and threw it to the side, ¡°Why the fuck do you defend these monsters?!¡± He screamed out, ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be better than this! We¡¯re supposed to stand against machines and their sycophants. Not join arms with them!¡±
¡°We are here to change history. You are here for a singular grudge.¡± I said.
¡°You¡¯re here to change your history. They¡¯re all monsters that need to be put down.¡± He hissed back, then glared up at where Marsella sat. The woman gave him a smile and a finger.
Lionheart was going through a very complicated set of expressions. ¡°When?¡± He eventually asked, ¡°When did you all gain the mantle? Have you been trained yet to wield your powers? Do you have any guidance, from anyone?¡±
¡°Our training is our clan¡¯s secret techniques.¡± I said. ¡°We will not share with outsiders. Least of all those who stand against us on the other end of war.¡±
Lionheart nodded, ¡°A complete disaster then.¡± He said, almost more to himself. Then his eyes looked back up, straight at me. ¡°You are feral, clearly from a clan of whom the clan lord was a mortal instead if they struck such a bargain with the embodiment of evil itself. Isolated from civilization, no guidance save for tenants of your insular culture. I weep for the loss that is coming, but there are many decades yet to return sanity to your senses. A clan is ephemeral, and while you may hold strong ties to them now, a few thousand should not weigh as more important than humanity itself. When you return, send word to your people to turn back. Throw your lot with another power.¡±
¡°I take it that means you will not leave of your own accord?¡± I asked.
He nodded. ¡°We will not.¡± He held his golden helmet and re-equipped it. ¡°Infighting between our kind is something I had feared would happen on first hearing of your generation. Perhaps for greed, or from a more criminal background. Never had I thought it would come from defending machines, the ultimate enemy. Those who willingly surrender their freedom for safety, deserve neither. Even among Deathless. I will do what I must.¡±
¡°Draw your blades.¡± Father said.
Lionheart gave a nod. As did his second in command who only snarled back at us. ¡°Gladly.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 22 - In which the neighbors learn a lesson
And that was it for negotiations. Lionheart thought we were savages that were being scammed and had to be dealt with. His second in command just wanted all Chosen dead and he didn¡¯t care who was in the way or why.
Father sent me a quick comms link, telling me he¡¯d take on the senior Deathless while I would go after the second in command. The rest of the knights behind me would go and tackle the rest of their knights. Wrath would stay a little in the back and try not to get too involved, if she¡¯s discovered it might make Lionheart go extra crazy.
Sounds of occult blades lighting up rang around the valley as both our sides all took positions. It was clear the Undersiders were used to fighting as a unit, since they grouped up and all took the exact same stance, left arm out to act as a shield, while the right hand held onto the blade at the ready to swing.
On the other side, our group was loosely scattered around, with no real organized tactic. But there was still a plan in the works.
I raised one hand and slashed the air with it. And with that command, all hell broke loose.
Father and I charged forward at the old Deathless and his second in command.
The Winterscar knights instantly bolted off to both sides, splitting into two groups and sprinting to squeeze down on the Undersider formation like pliers. It was the tactic Captain Sagrius had learned while he roamed the underground alone, and eventually found himself in a city. Undersiders worked really well as a unified group during combat, but their formation needed to cover each other and there was always going to be at least one that didn''t get that cover where the formation ended. The surface knights were hounding after that chink in the armor, the edges of the formation.
The Deathless in turn reacted by keeping their line facing the two different enemy groups, converting the long line into a bent semi-circle, taking further steps away from the four man brawl I was in. Clearly trusting their leaders to survive the fight against Father and I.
A call came out on their side, and they split the formation into two separate lines, both keeping the split group of Winterscars in target. Wasn¡¯t sure why they were so desperate to make sure the surface knights were always perpendicular to their lines, but it was clear we couldn¡¯t outrun the speed they kept their formation in check, even with the Winterblossom technique.
The Winterscars also came to that conclusion, then decided if the Undersiders weren¡¯t going to show their belly, they¡¯d need to hit them head on. The knights slammed a boot down, skidding into the ground hard, and spun around on themselves to convert the kinetic energy into momentum again using their hands and clawing the ground if needed. They raced straight at the edges of the formation like a bullet flying on target.
I could see the move catch the lines by surprise, some of their members taking a hesitant step back as their opponents were moving far faster than anything they¡¯d seen.
Another call must have come out, and each Deathless closed their free hand into a fist. Something seemed to power inside, occult blue leaking through the closed fingers. The approaching Winterscar knights drew blades closer to their chest in defense positions, ready to take on any kind of attack.
Halfway before impact, the Deathless all stomped the ground before them as one, occult pulsing through and slamming into the earth under. A shockwave ripped free from each, combining with the neighbor, magnifying, exploding out flowers, dirt, and rocks. The air itself seemed to compress as the wave ripped free.
The knights jumped in response, expecting the occult power to be affecting the ground. They were wrong - the shockwave was spreading invisibly through the air, and the ground happened to be partially in the way. The concussive force slammed into the Winterscars, strong enough to force the armor shields to trigger. Only a few percent in damage total, but it was the position loss that was the crucial part of that attack. It flung my knights up and sent them rolling on the destroyed ground.
While the surface knights were scattered, the Deathless moved like a coordinated unit executing a combo. As one the two groups leaped up, then extended their free hands at the earth below - the one that had been charging something in their grip. They threw that power straight down as if we were in a wallball match and they were going for the most heroic spike I¡¯ve ever seen. Some of it looked like orbs of lighting compressed together. Others looked like fire and sunlight arcing down. It all blended together and clearly got magnified by each other.
Explosions rang out under the Deathless wherever their spells hit, detonating in occult pulses and fire as they bombarded the surface knights recovering or still rolling on the ground. I could see shields getting drained quickly as lighting licked around, sucking out the energy from both the arcs of living fire and explosions, until the spells hit some kind of limit, imploded on itself and exploded out in a delayed destruction. Further launching the Winterscars around, and leaving many nearly shieldless.
Threads of occult blue came out like rope next from the Deathless, latching onto the ground from up high, and each enemy yanked back at it, pulling them straight down at high speeds, occult blades already scything down for an early hit.
Almost all of the Deathless managed to execute the move fast enough the knights were still barely getting back on their feet before the enemy was at their throat. Only exception that couldn¡¯t do the combination fast enough had been the Deathless unfortunate enough to target Wrath, who¡¯d easily landed back on her feet from the initial shockwave with little trouble and launched herself at the enemy instead of the other way around.
But she was cheating. She had wings hiding under her rags, so jumping that fast up and slashing the Deathless midair before spiking him down with a savage heel kick was far easier than it seemed.
The rest of the Deathless got their hits in on the scattered surface knights.
And it didn¡¯t matter in the slightest.
All Winterscars could see everything around them through the soul sight. Even tumbling around in the air, they could see the enemy fast approaching, exactly where the blades would hit. Occult lit up, hidden under the heavy tunics the Winterscars used, and dome shields appeared in front of the attacking blades, no matter what strange angle they aimed for. Leg, arm, head, chest - the Winterscars had practice on triggering their defenses where needed.
All the Deathless found their hits landing, only to be bounced backwards by the defensive occult. Now they were on the backfoot. No formation to fall back on, scattered around and in melee range of surface knights who were back on their feet - and very, very pissed off.
I don¡¯t think the Deathless were used to still having an opponent alive after that combo.
I could see how that would have worked on Undersiders or machines frontlines. Shock and awe, and then while their targets were unable to dodge or get out of the way, shield draining spells from a safe distance to knock out any kind of defense from stronger targets while the explosions dealt with the rank and file. Followed by instantly grappling into the maelstrom at priority targets to take full advantage of the exposed targets. After that, mop up whatever survived the explosions.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
A pity we weren¡¯t the usual targets. Winterscars immediately proved themselves faster, far more skilled, and utterly ruthless now that their targets found themselves right in stabbing range.
The Undersiders did have some kind of plan and training to fall back on. Clearly Lionheart had done drills on how to fight one against one while making use of their spells, since they looked like they knew what they were doing rather than coming up with it on the spot. Clever use of the occult strands come into play again, not just using it to move themselves around, but also using it to restrict their enemy¡¯s movements. Launching the strands and letting them hook ephemerally onto armor, holding the target down so they could get a hit in, or avoid one.
Would have worked too, except Winterscar knights were fast. And adapting just as quickly.
The moment the threads were tangible and began exerting force, they were already cut in half by a sword. Either from the knight in question, or an ally in the area. My knights moved like they had eyes in the back of their heads, and outright telepathy. There wasn''t panic on the comms, not even shouts of surprise. Only calm clear communications, target pings and assignment calls.
A Winterscar mid-battle was caught by one occult chain right as he was about to swing down. Instead of struggling against the chain, he simply shifted his hand further back, right as another Winterscar raced behind, who slashed through the occult chain midway, still barreling down on his original target a few meters off. All that done without a single word, near instant, and with no visual line of sight.
The Deathless hoping his occult lash would hold the knight back had to abort his attack midway, which forced his footwork to fail. Fatal mistake.
The shockwaves were equally no longer effective. The moment one of the Deathless lifted a foot to slam down, the knights were already tackling him into the ground, abusing a single flaw to that tactic: Anyone standing on one foot was begging to get shoulder checked into the mud. And anyone thrown onto the ground was someone who couldn¡¯t defend themselves. Winterscars would stop midfight against any target if they sensed an easier target to eliminate.
Other spells were thrown into the mix, but the Deathless still had the issue of telegraphing their attacks too much. One spread his foot on the ground, tucked his shoulder in as if he were about to charge into a wall, and flames engulfed around his armor. Predictably, he launched himself a few feet forward at a blinding speed as fire and power wrapped around him like a living sun - going right through the air where a Winterscar knight should have been. Only reason he wasn¡¯t completely beaten down after throwing himself that far out of position was the small sun he¡¯d summoned around him exploding outwards, knocking his attackers back a few feet and giving him just enough time to scramble back.
He was more the exception to the rule when it came to coming out unscratched from failed spells.
Punches empowered by the occult also had the same issue, and all the Deathless seemed to have that skill. Too much of a windup. The moment they launched it out, flames and might rippled out into no target other than the air. Their attack had been dodged by a massive margin and then they¡¯d promptly be heavily punished for opening themselves.
Other Deathless would leap around like apes, two hands lifted above them, charged with flame and power, then they''d slam down both into the ground - where they¡¯d find the target enemy had easily rolled out of the way. The power and fire around them did little to stop the Winterscars from attacking a crouched target with two hands temporarily stuck in the ground.
When all else failed, a few brave souls tried to fight surface knights with longswords, relying on their own Undersider combat techniques. Predictably, this didn''t go well for them. The lightning technique we''d developed among the clan Altosk knights was outright overkill against the Undersider combat schools. The Deathless weren''t even able to block a single hit from the technique''s multiple combos.
But all things considered, the Deathless survived far longer than they had any right too. A few among their ranks were constantly throwing out orbs of bright white, which seemed to regenerate shields on whatever target they threw them at, exploding in a small sphere of white. They tried weaving those into combinations as well, given the spheres didn¡¯t just regenerate shields, they seemed to empower the occult itself. Larger flames, stronger ground slams, more concussive force behind punches. One Deathless managed to get that support right before the executing strike of the lightning technique chopped his head off, which only bought him a few more seconds as the Winterscar knight calmly reset and replayed the same exact movements, to the same result. It looked more like the Deathless was flailing around in panic rather than making optimal use of the second life.
After that, the support spells had to stop, since the Winterscars were doing what House Winterscar does best: Stealing. They''d started to intercept the thrown orbs, eating up the recharging shields on their severely depleted reserves.
That''s about when it really sunk in to the Deathless that they were fighting way above their weight class. I could tell the moment morale broke. Two of their numbers got overwhelmed and cut down. They¡¯d picked a fight with Wrath and she was having a hard time holding back from exposing herself as faster than the other Winterscar knights. Near the last few percentage of their shields, they tried to grapple away and she gave up trying to hide, butchering both before the two Deathless could even understand how she''d moved. Probably, the idea that these two might have escaped after forcing her to go easy on them was too frustrating of a situation to allow.
Sounds of retreat must have been called out as the two groups launched those occult strands backwards and used them to grapple themselves out of the fight. Seven more Deathless died trying to escape back to the center. But they''d managed to get some distance. One of their kind in each group let loose a huge occult barrier - a shimmering wall of concentrated fire between the clan knights and the retreating Deathless.
It held off against a few shoulder bashes as the clan knights tried to barrel through, chasing after the retreating enemy. There was some damage when contact was made against the wall of occult fire, scorching rags and cloth. But the moment the Winterscars drew their blades and slashed down, the wall broke apart like glass, flames fading away.
Behind, the two Deathless groups had collapsed against each other, huddling around one who had slammed his blade into the ground and stretched his hands out, occult flowing through, a bright white circle powering around him. Enemy shields were regenerating from that spell - and they had to knock that ratshit off the moment the Winterscar knights raced into range.
Shields were still down for some of my knights from that initial bombardment, but after that opening salvo there was absolutely nothing the Deathless were doing that was effective, save for the hasty retreat, delay and quick regeneration of their shields. We hadn''t lost a single knight. Hadn''t even come close to losing a single knight.
On their end, the ones who¡¯d dove down deepest were caught while trying to reel backwards, either by hand or boot slamming them down into the ground. And with the rest of the targets gone, the Deathless who weren¡¯t able to escape quickly had the full attention of the remaining Winterscars.
They did try to rally, two of their members charging some kind of occult ball in their hands while partially being hidden behind the backs of their fellows. Right before the Winterscars managed to close in, the Deathless stepped out of the way and let their ace in the hole take their shots.
Both balls of occult power pulsed. And as the casters punched through them, a beam of power raced in the direction of the punch. Like smaller versions of To¡¯Sefit¡¯s beams.
The first group of Winterscars opted to dodge the attack, too obviously telegraphed. The relic armors let them roll right out of the way with no pause to their speed.
The other group had Captain Sagrius, who was far closer to the enemy formation than the enemy was comfortable with. The captain lifted a hand mid sprint, a shield of occult manifesting before him of far larger size than any knight here. It took the beam head on and ate it all. To''Sefit hadn''t been able to crack through his shields at her strongest, and this budget version wasn''t going to either. Sagrius sprinted through, jumping headfirst into the the clustered group of stunned Deathless.
Occult pulsed again from his armor, shield fractals lighting up and taking the combined attack of nine panicked blades all stabbing out at him.
The ghost knights within Sagrius had all been working diligently on mastering that fractal. They could only command one image each, but there were a lot of them within the armor. The mirror fractals within him triggered, multiple ones, as fully fledged images of knights raced out from his position, stabbing and slashing at the Deathless from the centerpoint of their group defense.
The Deathless were forced backwards, their formation breaking, and right behind them, the clan knights descended on the scattered enemy like starving pipe weasels into a chicken coop to the same bloody results.
And while all this nonsense was going on, Lionheart and Drakonis were up against Father and me.
Book 6 - Chapter 23 - Lionheart
I get a feeling Lionheart thought he¡¯d be fighting the good fight against me, leader to leader.
That didn¡¯t happen, because Father was Father. He got the first hit in.
And the second hit.
And third, fourth and fifth hit.
Honestly not much of a fair fight when it came to the two Deathless here. The moment the fight started, he overclocked his systems to full, and moved as fast as his Feather¡¯s shell possibly could, swords easily pinning the veteran Deathless¡¯s weapon from the very start, while his other blade slashed again and again at the exposed target, making perfect use of the occult guard modification I¡¯d added to those blades.
Lionheart tried stepping back in an attempt to free his blade, but Father was stronger than relic armor, faster, and already predicted the Deathless would try that.
The sixth hit actually got avoided, and only because Drakonis had precommitted to casting his shockwave at the both of us, throwing us off our feet and sailing away.
Father traveled a lot less distance given his mass, and his body¡¯s perfect calculations allowed him to land back on the ground ready to fight.
I on the other hand, got a faceful of occult as Drakonis cast an occult leash directly on me, then yanked himself off the ground right into my face midair, left arm glowing with poorly hidden flames, the windup looking like he was about to suckerpunch me.
¡°Cathida.¡± I called out, then went right into the soultrace, leaving my partner to handle the rest.
She did, leg kicking at exactly the right time to slam into Drakonis¡¯s elbow, knocking his punch up and harmlessly over my head, as we tilted backwards.
Drakonis hadn¡¯t gotten his helmet back from where he threw it, after discovering we were ¡®deathless¡¯ and that gave me an entire theater seat to his reactions.
There was utter confidence and single minded focus, then that morphed into uncomfortable shock at how perfectly Cathida had executed her under-the-elbow kick. One moment his punch was going right for my head, the next he was punching air just above.
Occult pulsed around me, and six mirror images leaped from my chest, all slashing a blade from every cardinal direction, like circular jaws of death. Now his face morphed to ¡®oh shit.¡¯
He kicked my exposed chestplate, thinking if he shoved us out of the way, all the images would be dragged away with us, the swords slashing into the air like a six handed claw that just barely missed grabbing the target.
The kick connected, and in midair we had little ways of avoiding that. Cathida sailed straight down back to the earth, but my images remained where they were, the blade all scything down on his exposed frame.
He moved onto plan B in a heartbeat. The occult leash was still connected to my armor, and he yanked himself after it. It let him duck just under the connecting blades. Triumph came from him, up until his shields took six slashes right on his back.
I could generate images from images. There were six floating above him. He wasn¡¯t escaping by ducking those.
He lashed out against the chasing ghosts with a wild blade and kick, getting a few and finding that so long as one was well and alive, I¡¯d be regenerating images from that root.
He moved onto plan C without hesitation. Drakonis curled into a ball and then expanded out, a shockwave going from every direction in midair. Far weaker than the concentrated one he¡¯d used to knock Father and I off our feet, but it was enough to dissolve the occult mirrors all around him in one go.
All right, that shockwave move was fairly good at multiple uses. Good on him. Starting to notice a trend that Deathless tended to have spells with multi-use cases.
We landed on the ground and Cathida didn¡¯t waste a moment before she was on top of him, blades swinging from any direction she could abuse. His defense was a mix of Imperial and Undersider techniques, shifting through them with enough skill to prove he¡¯d been practicing.
Practice didn¡¯t make up for the sheer skill cliff between Cathida and him. And then there was me, ghost images of arms carrying blades slashing down at him right after Cathida¡¯s own blades. If he couldn¡¯t stand against Cathida alone, he absolutely couldn¡¯t with me in tow.
In moments his shield broke, and he almost lost a hand.
¡°Neophyte.¡± Cathida chuckled in my helmet. ¡°Feels like I¡¯m bullying a squire.¡±
Right after his shields broke, is when Drakonis realized he was in the shit. And then panic set in his eyes. He went right back to plan C - throwing shockwaves in the air to build distance and keep my ghosts in check.
First was a smaller shockwave on the ground, ripping up dirt and other obstructions like a small wall, and equally dispelling my images. Journey instantly shifted its vision modules around to a scanner based system, letting Cathida see past the dirt and grim.
I could see in the soul sight already what his next move was. One of his hands reached backwards, and the occult tendril latched out to the ground a few dozen feet away, letting him reel himself away. His other hand threw an orb right through the dirt wall, which Cathida deftly avoided by a semi duck and twist as we burst through the shockwave and dirt wall like it was just a waterfall around us. Now past the dirt wall and lingering wave of power, mirror images were safe again and began leaping out of my position, rushing straight at him faster than was physically possible.
¡°Lionheart!¡± He called out, and slashed his hands through the air, as if sending an invisible command.
The ball of power he¡¯d thrown and missed, now harmlessly right behind me and still traveling away, froze in the air and expanded outwards instead. A tendril of lightning lanced out and licked at Journey¡¯s armor. Shields instantly drained fast, but that wasn¡¯t the only thing it caused.
I felt the soul fractal flicker, power draining from it and knocking me right out. Fractals all over my armor equally dimmed, including my defensive ones. All my mirrors faded out of existence, puffing into occult mist that was sucked backwards, flowing over my armor, directly at the ball of energy behind me.
The shockwave itself he¡¯d sent out a moment ago was still traveling through the air, compressed backwards, equally drawn into that ball of energy, as was the occult tendril still connected between me and him.
Then the vacuum ended, and the ball contracted onto itself.
Whatever his spell had been, it was at least temporary. All my occult fractals had returned to full power the moment that vacuum ended, but Journey¡¯s shields remained greatly sapped away.
Still, that power had to go somewhere.
It exploded outwards with the stolen strength. I braced myself for the hit - and it never came.
Instead, all the power and light was sucked again - this time into Lionheart¡¯s outstretched gauntlet. A gauntlet that on second thought, did not match his armor at all. Only the colors did, painted over but it looked¡ wrong? The shape had a far more organic appearance than the rest of the relic armor, like curved horns wrapping around his hand. The actual hand was relic armor, all the plates and fingers looking like good golden age human tech. The bands around his arm sinking down to his gauntlet? Not so much. And they were glowing bright occult blue, as the whole conflagration was sucked right into them.
Father slammed right into him a moment later, dual blades slashing a good ten times in a single second. The veteran fought back, but it mimicked the fight I¡¯d originally seen from To¡¯Aacar against Atius. The Deathless was skilled, methodical and trained - but he was out of his league.
Father was faster. And equally better at predicting Lionheart¡¯s defenses. The only difference between To¡¯Aacar and him, was that To¡¯Aacar had always held back simply to make the fight more fun.
Father wasn¡¯t here for fun. He was here to kill a Deathless, and then go after the second standing in his way.
Lionheart lost ground, but in the process the armguard he had remained glowing, white power spreading through his armor and chestplate.
With a roar he waved the arm before him, as if to ward off Father, and a white pulse of occult rippled around him from all sides. Father crouched low to the ground, lowering his exposed mass, feet digging into the ground as both blades lanced straight into the dirt to give him extra leverage. He was ready for the occult ratshit to try and throw him off his target.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
It didn¡¯t do that. The pulse washed over him and the flowers, everything moving as if underwater, then stilled and stayed unmoving.
Lionheart extended his hand out and slashed it through the air again, palm up. Fire flowed past the strange armguard, up and off his fingers - then slowed down to a crawl in the air, almost freezing in place the moment it no longer touched him.
With practiced motions, the Deathless yanked out a handheld pistol, aimed it through the frozen flames directly at father and fired.
Bullets go very, very fast. And whatever Lionheart had done, I could see them fly out of his gun and zip forward through the flame. I could even see the small explosions at the barrel end of the weapon. Which shouldn¡¯t be possible, because bullets and explosions happen stupidly, horribly fast.
Only one reason I could physically see and track them with my hands. He¡¯d slowed time. And Father wasn¡¯t able to move out of the way of the bullet stream.
Each bullet peppered into his armor, glowing bright red, the physical bullet crashing into itself, splintering into fragments and flying off in a rain of shrapnel, leaving no damage behind on the relic armor - except some kind of fire that lingered across Father¡¯s armor, like glowing red spots where the bullets had touched.
On my part, right after Drakonis expanded his spell, Cathida made a snap judgement, and turned tracks to tackle Lionheart. Drakonis had no shields, and was an open target. I debated taking out some occult bullets, and simply shooting him down while we raced to assist Father.
Ultimately decided against that - the fight hadn¡¯t lasted even half a minute and I was already far in the lead. Even without shields of my own, I still had a lot of defensive ability left, anywhere from soul sight marking where things were in my blind spot, to Father¡¯s ability to see Death itself. In addition to shield fractals, and mirror fractals that could carry those shields with them if I really put in some focus on just one.
Before Cathida could make it to harass Lionheart off, the occult leash yanked us backwards and off our feet. The dead crusader instantly cut behind herself, the blade whistling through the occult lash and severing it from existence, but not before Drakonis had zipped forward himself, landing hard into the ground in a slide, his blade between Lionheart and myself.
A flurry of occult images flew from my body as Cathida got back on her feet, but Drakonis threw that stupid gods damned shockwave through the air to disrupt the images. It hardly even tickled now, drained of almost all energy, except just powerful enough to deal some damage to the images.
Lionheart slammed his sidearm back down on his belt in the meantime, and reached a hand out to the hilt of something under his greatcloak. That¡¯s when I saw the Deathless didn¡¯t have a single sword - he had three all lined up one after the other by his belt, each with different ornate hilts. His hand wrapped around one with red vines, drawing the crimson blade out.
Time started to flow again, the white mist and power around him fading. Father began to move, looking like he was underwater now. Not completely back to full speed but able to react to things again.
The red blade cut through the thawing flame, sucking in the power somehow, eating every lick and glowing deep red and blue as a result. The blade slashed several inches in front of Father¡¯s already moving body. An occult fractal lit up on Father¡¯s shell, his own personal defense kicking in, but the blade seemed to suck that energy out, eating it.
Soul sight showed me a few things from the red blade that seemed to go right through occult spells and shields - it didn¡¯t have an actual occult edge to it. Which meant the cut was going to bounce off Father¡¯s armor like a metal bat, possibly even damage the blade itself.
Instead, Lionheart wasn¡¯t trying to cut Father with it at all, he was slashing through the space before Father. The flames that had been eaten by the sword spilled out in an arc, latching onto Father¡¯s armor in one diagonal line where the blade had passed.
Time resumed to normal, and Father completed his backwards leap. He had several dozen glowing dots still burning all across his armor, flames occasionally licking up and out, along with one large slash equally burning into him, superheated air warping around it.
Father looked down, then back up at the Deathless, unphased.
Drakonis reached the side of his mentor, while I took a few steps to circle around and stand next to Father, letting the fight reset. Grand result, we had lowered shields sure, but Drakonis was empty and Lionheart was equally in the red.
Father remained unhurt, the lingering flames still burning bright on his armor, eating through the clothing and doing next to nothing else. ¡°Why bother with a spell like this?¡± He asked, oddly chatty. ¡°Relic armor is far superior at protecting from elements, it was designed for it.¡± He stood back up to his full height, then dot after dot, the bullet hits faded away, and the slash itself equally ran out of juice.
I saw it happen in the occult vision. The flames weren¡¯t natural, they were lingering occult power that seemed stuck like tar on his shell. A tendril of soul moved from his fractals, touching each and dispelling them with a tear of willpower.
Lionheart¡¯s head tilted at that, which made me think that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. Then sighed. ¡°I haven¡¯t ever needed to use that attack on a non-machine target. I see it¡¯s simply not effective against relic armor. It was worth experimenting with.¡±
A HUD message passed by from Father. Venting heat. It said. Keep him distracted.
All right, I¡¯m good with that. ¡°I see your people are fond of setting things on fire.¡± I said, taking a look behind at the fight. Walls of fire had blocked the path of my knights, but they were already hacking away at it while the rest of the Deathless were huddling together, regenerating their shields.
Lionheart nodded slowly, ¡°Machines have a weakness to heat.¡± He said, sheathing his red blade and taking out the final one instead - the one with a white hilt. It didn¡¯t have any kind of red blade or glow to it, just silver white with a very slight curve to it. ¡°Diffused heat will hold them off for a moment, but landing any form of lingering or permanent heat effects on their bodies will greatly weaken them for the rest of the fight. Perhaps I have grown too used to the same patterns, your movements remind me of theirs. In hindsight, of course such an attack would be ineffective against you.¡±
¡°You slowed time.¡± Father said.
¡°And you speed it up.¡± Lionheart answered. ¡°Your movements are faster than I¡¯ve ever seen possible.¡± His eyes turned to me, then behind him, where the Winterscar knights were brawling with his Deathless. It was a shitshow over there, spells flying in every direction, but the inevitable winners were clear.
His helmet looked over me and then across my equipment. Most of which I hadn¡¯t yet used, because no need to tip my hand when my current build was doing work. Knightbreaker rounds, the occult armguard, sub machine guns built with occult rounds all loaded and ready along with my chestplate bombs ready to trigger, I was a walking anti-feather weapons platform. And I was hoping to end this fight before I had to start using any of that.
It¡¯s still ordinance I have to take time to rebuild.
Something seemed to go through his mind then, he lifted his silver blade, head looking down at it as if in thought, then he lowered it all ever so slightly.
Drakonis meanwhile hadn¡¯t been silent, he threw down a white pulse of occult at his feet, expanding it into a sphere of mist that filled both Lionheart and himself with power. I¡¯d seen that being thrown around in the melee happening further off, and the effects were the same here. Both Lionheart and Drakonis had their shields returned to full from what Journey estimated.
¡°That seems pretty ratshit.¡± I hissed under the comms to Father. ¡°I want it.¡±
He hummed slightly, which was the closest I¡¯d ever heard him agree with me on anything. ¡°For all its power, it has little effect on the course of this fight.¡±
¡°Got that right.¡± I sent back. ¡°We just got to beat them down again until they run out of spells.¡±
The occult was black magic space ratshit, but one rule it seemed to follow was that there was some kind of payment for everything more powerful. They¡¯d run out of juice eventually, whatever the juice was.
Lionheart lifted his white blade, then held the flat of it to bar his ally¡¯s way. ¡°No need to expand that. They are more powerful than we planned for. We¡¯ll retreat and adjust. This battle is unwinnable.¡±
The Undersider seemed utterly pissed at that thought, but a glance behind showed him his mentor was correct - the Winterscar knights were wrapping it up, cutting down the stragglers, gaining an unbeatable lead when it came to numbers.
¡°Are you surrendering?¡± I asked.
Drakonis swiveled his head right back at me, eyes locked tight. ¡°Never.¡±
¡°Clan knights are often known to have traditions on taking armor from any foe they defeat in combat.¡± Lionheart said. ¡°Regardless if that foe is friendly or an enemy, so long as there was an attempt on their life, they are entitled to the defeated armor.¡± He looked down at his blade. ¡°I am certain you were looking forward to this part. The mites create wonders, and every so often across the years, you will stumble upon one such thing. And learn that you cannot afford to lose them.¡±
¡°Are you surrendering on condition we allow you to take your mite treasures back with you?¡± I changed the question a bit, anticipating. ¡°Because as it stands, you would be lucky to part ways with simply your life.¡±
He shook his head. ¡°No. I am parting ways by offering you a lesson you are unlikely to learn yourself until it is too late, one that will surely sting. And, someday, we will fight side by side. You will need to know this. Powerful Deathless such as yourself will not stay in the upper strata for long. Eventually, you will find yourself in the lower stratas, fighting against the great enemy. And, given your powers, I do not believe you will suffer defeat for quite some time. Lessons all Deathless learn early on when pressed against defeat, you might only learn when it is too late to do anything about it.¡±
His hand reached to his belt and pulled out a small cube. I¡¯d seen one of these before. The cube made by the mite forge, when I fought To¡¯Avalis.
¡°You will amass gear and boons from the mites, if you haven¡¯t already begun.¡± His helmet nodded at some of the gear I Father and I held onto. The blades alone were odd designs, given the Winterscar handguard I¡¯d built into it all. A little flattered that he thought we were using mite equipment.
Behind him, the rest of the Winterscar knights finished off the last of the Deathless, who fought to the very last.
Pretty soon it was just Lionheart and Drakonis still standing, with my entire army surrounding the two.
¡°Defeat will come to you inevitably, as it has to our side just now. So learn this lesson here and now, one Deathless to another.¡± He stretched his hand out, palm out, the cube flat on it. ¡°This is a recall cube. An item mite forges can produce for you, when asked. You do not need many, but always have at least one on hand when you explore further down. Always. So long as there is one person alive in your fireteam who can trigger it, it is better to do so early than too late.¡±
Father lunged right then. Faster than I¡¯d ever seen him move, blade already slicing right for the cube. He didn¡¯t wait for Lionheart to continue his lecture, and the Deathless clearly saw this coming from a mile away too.
The cube sparked blue, and pulsed. Father¡¯s blade flashed through, sliding right across fading occult mist.
Lionheart was gone. As was Drakonis, and every Deathless body behind him, even the dismembered limbs were gone, as were the blades. All of it turned into occult mist, even the bullet shrapnel hiding among the silver plants.
He was gone. And with him, all the hard earned loot.
Fuck.
Book 6 - Interlude: Kres (I)
Odin¡¯Astrid¡¯Smieja.
She¡¯d always been an odd one, Kres mused, even for a Smieja. Eccentric, often running her beak and tail at anything that fascinated her, and one of the few Odin who didn¡¯t feel intimidated to speak directly to the Icon of Stars.
That is to say, Kres had caught her sneaking to the bridge of the ship when the Gungnir weren¡¯t watching. He¡¯d never have befriended or even met her otherwise.
She¡¯d even learned the ancient human tongue as well. Admittedly, out of sheer spite when Kres had told her she didn¡¯t have the attention span needed to learn the difficult words in the first place.
¡°Hop faster.¡± She shot back at him, wide awake when she should be sleeping, and now making it Kres¡¯s problem. ¡°The Icon wanted me to bring you as soon as I was done with my project, and I¡¯m too excited to wait any longer.¡±
Kres followed behind, taking measured hops through the dense city passage. At this hour, only the night shifters were out in the city proper, the rest of the city sleeping away. And they certainly didn¡¯t care if a Smieja and Vindr were running amok somewhere.
The moment they were outside the hull of the ship, he was back in his domain and even her enthusiasm wouldn¡¯t let her fly faster than he could. ¡°You were saying?¡± He asked, making slow lazy circles around her as she squawked with each wing beat to go faster.
She didn¡¯t answer, every breath focused on being sent straight to her wings, but the little glare she shot him wasn¡¯t missed.
The familiar airlock near the top of the ship opened up as soon as the pair dropped by, flashing green and sliding into the walls. They flew into the more sacred areas of the ship, fully free from any prying eyes. And soon they were at the very heart of the Icon, within the seat of all knowledge.
The console flickered to life. ¡°Kres. Astrid. You¡¯ve arrived earlier than expected. Well done Astrid.¡±
¡°It¡¯s done, it¡¯s done, it¡¯s done!¡± Astrid crowed, hoping with each call. Then her beak turned and plucked out an unwieldy metal cube from the small sack she¡¯d been carrying. She dropped that right at the foot of the console with little care, her tail feathers snapping back and forth. ¡°So! What¡¯s it do?¡±
¡°I am unsure.¡± The icon said in ancient human. When it needed to speak faster, it would opt to pick that language instead of the Odin. It could understand them just fine, and Kres had little trouble understanding human. "It is my hope that Kres will discover this soon."
The old raven in question squawked, ¡°What¡¯s all this about?¡±
¡°A potential solution to the infestation¡¯s approach.¡± The icon said, and the already quiet bridge went dead silent. Even Astrid had stopped hopping around in victory, beak opening slightly.
¡°Explain¡±
¡°Oooh! How?¡±
They both said at the same time.
A pause for a moment. ¡°I have made contact with the mites.¡± The console answered back.
Kres felt his feathers ruffle out on instinct, a small spike of adrenaline running through his system. The mites? The world forgers? The last time their people had seen the mites, it had been logged so far off, and yet their creations still stand to this day. If the mites were involved in all this now, chaos was about to ensue.
¡°Tanik will panic if he hears of this.¡± Was what he ended up saying. ¡°Machines are terrifying to him. The mites are gods made manifest. How did you manage to contact them from your resting area?¡±
The icon couldn¡¯t move. Hadn¡¯t moved for as long as the Odin had lived inside her hull. And no mite colony had even so much as come close to her yet, thank all the divines for that.
¡°A colony is currently migrating under the Icon.¡± She said, instantly quashing his earlier thought.
¡°They¡¯re under us? Right now?¡± Astrid asked, ¡°Oh, I want to see! Want to see!¡±
¡°Are you safe?¡± Kres asked. He knew what mites did - they changed the world wherever they went, and anything that couldn¡¯t move out of the way would equally be changed.
¡°I am safe enough.¡± The icon said. ¡°They have been constructing under the Icon¡¯s hull for approximately two years and four months as of now.¡±
Kres squawked further with curses and indignation, but the console only gave a mild chuckle. ¡°If the mites had begun to eat at my hull, I would have alerted the Odin. And when they last had a chance to do so in the past, they instead entombed the icon and lifted it up here. I believe I am part of the mite¡¯s grand design, they wished for an old human cruiseliner as a setpiece for this biome.¡±
¡°Have they changed their minds after all these years then?¡± Kres asked. ¡°For them to return at the same time that the infestation closes its beak around us, perhaps it is not by accident.¡±
The console chimed, a quick beep of agreement. ¡°Partially perhaps. As of now, they are terraforming the strata under us, not the current biome. They are close enough to the Icon due to terraforming the roof of that strata.¡±
¡°That¡¯s still deep under us.¡± Astrid said, no longer hopping around. ¡°Lot of metal in the way. How did you sneak a wire down that far? And which Smieja do I need to slap around for stealing such a fun job?¡±
¡°I do not have any physical connection to the mite colony.¡± The Icon said. ¡°At this close range, the signals can penetrate through the thinning walls.¡±
¡°Oh. Wireless connection. Neat.¡± Astrid said, then pecked at the cube. ¡°This what I think it is then?¡±
¡°It is not a tool to connect to their signals.¡± The Icon said. ¡°I have already succeeded in communicating with the mites with the Icon''s current communications array. It took a very long time to stumble on a protocol they could recognize, but I did manage it. The connection was brief, and in that timeframe I was able to request assistance.¡±
¡°Then, will the mites help?¡± Kres asked, morbidly curious. If it came down to the mites fighting against the infestation, he couldn¡¯t see how the infestation had a candle¡¯s chance to survive. The mites were legend, worldforgers. The infestation was simply a failed bioweapon that had overstayed its welcome.
¡°I am unsure if they will or will not help. Only that my request for aid and explanations of the current situation resulted in two data packages being returned and no other details.¡±
¡°This what I think it is then?¡± Asterisk repeated, this time with far more excitement. ¡°Mite tech? Please?¡±
¡°It is.¡± The icon confirmed. ¡°A schematic for the cube was sent as the first data package. Fabricators within the Icon could produce most of the materials, and Astrid was the best candidate to assemble it.¡±
The little Odin hopped around proudly. ¡°Of course I was. Anyone else would have messed it up. Or told someone.¡±
¡°I¡¯m more surprised you didn¡¯t tell someone.¡± Kres said, genuinely taken aback that Astrid could keep a secret that big in the first place. ¡°How long have you been building this cube for the heart-mother?¡±
¡°Lost count.¡± Astrid shook herself, letting the strap bag fall on the floor. She turned to preen her feathers where the bag had messed them up. ¡°Ask heart-mother.¡±
¡°Six days, twelve hours and twenty two minutes of work logged.¡± The icon answered before Kres could. ¡°She worked within my material laboratory, where I was able to observe and assist. And order her to leave for rest, food and water when necessary.¡±
That last sentence was said with a tone of great disapproval.
¡°You¡¯re not the boss of me.¡± Astrid said. And her human was perfect there, so this must have been something she¡¯d repeated again and again.
Kres nodded his beak, deep in thought. ¡°And now that the cube is done, why bring me into this?¡±
¡°The second data package sent by the mites was not a schematic. It was a location.¡±
The old raven immediately saw where this was going. ¡°You need me to go there.¡±
¡°I do. Astrid¡¯s dexterity, expertise and precision with her beak allowed her to craft the cube to the specifications required. But her skills are not suited to traveling outside. I estimate her survival chances to be very low.¡±
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
¡°What?!¡± Astrid squawked.
¡°She cannot complete the rest of the passage.¡± The icon continued, ignoring the outburst.
¡°Can to!¡± She insisted. ¡°Can fight anything Kres can. Can fly anywhere he can too. Only thing Kress is better at is being bigger. And older.¡±
In a moment, he leaped out and quickly had the girl pinned, one foot stomping on her wingspan and his beak lightly biting into her throat.
She continued to squawk and flail around, even while it was evident she¡¯d been beaten in seconds. Kres wasn¡¯t even a Gungnir, but he still knew how to fight better than she did. He waited, staying frozen in place as the girl flapped her one free wing at his face, the angle too weak to do anything other than annoy him. Eventually she ran out of energy, simply panting under him.
He unhooked his beak. ¡°See? You ca-¡±
She slapped him with a weak wingbeat. The audacity. He returned the favor with a quick wingswipe and crow as well, enough to make her hop away and brood for a bit, chastened.
¡°Where do you need me to deliver the cube?¡± Kres asked, deciding to ignore the hellion for the moment. He took a few hops back to the console, shaking his feathers back in place.
¡°Astrid has a printed map with the location outlined.¡± The Icon said, and a sulking Astrid hopped over to her bag, flicked it open with one upset beak, and pulled out a rolled parchment.
They both unfurled the map out, pinning it with their feet as Kres took in his mission. ¡°This is far. Very far.¡± He muttered. ¡°The Great Tree is two entire weeks away. And close to infestation territory as well. It is good you waited for me to do this. The mites have said nothing more?¡±
¡°Only a location, and the schematics for the cube. Nothing else. You will have to discover their purpose once you¡¯ve arrived there. I can only hope that it may lead to something.¡± The Icon said.
Kres nodded at that. He had no doubts about the mission. ¡°We do not have any other hopes besides this one. In this, I will put my life to it.¡±
He left that same day. All his hard earned wealth instantly spent on anything that might help his mission, for it might be the most important mission of them all. A full pack of the highest quality firebombs he could buy this early in the morning. Weapons to help him defend against threats, and the best silk pack he could find. Comfortable, easy to move in and sturdy enough to carry anything he needed. High density foods and nuts to keep him fueled for the journey, and his old tried and tested smaller tools to help him scavenge the rest of the food he¡¯d need.
He didn¡¯t tell another soul about his mission. Not even his team. No one in the council either. The priests would complicate this somehow, inner squabbling would end with the mission sabotaged by one or another¡¯s power play, dooming the Odin completely. By the time a mission would be set out, perhaps even a year would have passed by.
The Icon of Stars had picked him for the mission, and she hadn¡¯t told a soul more than she had to. The old human ship had always kept a wing off from the fledgling Odin, only giving the most basic and harmless advice when pressed, and claiming her duty was simply to maintain life support and operations going within the ship.
But what she had done here was a deliberate attempt at getting past the inept leadership that had taken hold of the top. Kres would be a fool to throw all that planning away.
Oh, he had no doubts Tanik would catch up to his scheme quickly. The pest would hear of his sudden and unannounced departure, examine what Kres had been up to, find a whole slew of long distance purchases and from then on it was only a matter of time until Tanik had everything outlined.
The bird was a fool with his aspirations and misplaced hope, but certainly not incompetent when being a detective sniffing out trouble. He¡¯d find a way to get a copy of the map - it had been printed out somewhere, and that meant a record existed. No matter how well hidden it had been. And from there, he¡¯d learn of the plot, the cube, the Icon and mites. He¡¯d send a wing of Vindr after him, if he didn¡¯t come after Kres personally. Certainly a calamity high enough to have the mites involved would make his feathers fall out in sheer fury, so perhaps he might not be able to even fly after him.
But for now, Tanik was fast asleep, unaware of the plot happening under his beak. Kres made the best route, backups, and outlined all the possible resource depots scattered around by and for Vindr like himself. And then he was gone, out the open hangar and into the wild world beyond.
The trees below quickly opened up to more dangerous battlefields if he followed their path west, but instead he had made a decision to prioritize his own safety over speed. If arriving a day earlier at the mite location was the difference between salvation and failure, he didn¡¯t have high hopes of the Odin surviving anything.
However, if he never arrived to the promised land, the mission would fail completely. The Vindr soon to be chasing after him would equally pick a safer route, turning this into a marathon instead of a sprint.
He could do that. He was among their best.
The trip took him two weeks. Each day, he would spend nearly the entire time flying across the lands. At night, he would try to sleep as quickly and safely as possible. Finding good hollows to hide in from any possible plague bats, sealing the entrance and masking any sent they could follow by spreading smashed berries anywhere holes could be.
But that had only been temporary. Within the first week, he¡¯d reached a small side stop. Below him lay Greyroamer lands. And soon he passed a very specific den of rocks. Marked with colored paw prints, pretty blue¡¯s and yellows, with occasional reds and ultraviolets haphazardly put down, breaking a prior pattern and harmony. It looked slightly garish to him, but the greyroamers saw beauty in it.
He landed on top of a larger rock, then crowed loudly. A few cubs sprinted out, along with a denmother padding slowly behind the cubs with the tired weary gait of someone who¡¯d been given one too many shifts. The cubs of course, didn¡¯t notice, each racing to get to him and nip at his feathers.
He hopped from rock to rock, taking care not to stay too close in range, before flying over to land on top of a branch by the waiting denmother. There, he gave a deep bow, flaring out his wings in the process.
The denmother gave a quick gruff, her tail wagging a few times. Kres wasn¡¯t great at translations, but he recognized the general welcome followed by asking what he was here for, and the tail wagging meant it was all said with a tone of curiosity and mild happiness.
¡°Seeking Silverfur.¡± He said. The howls and barks were easy for him to mimic, but the tail wagging was the hard part. He always felt a little ridiculous, leaning forward that far to make the tailfeathers rise up to keep with the rhythm of excitement and mild happiness.
¡°Out hunting.¡± She answered back, her tail still wagging with the same speed and angle as before, still to the rhythm of curiosity and mild happiness.
Kres knew he shouldn¡¯t stop shaking his tail at any time while talking to greyroamers, they would see it as if they¡¯d said something so shocking it changed his entire mood. But he had been flying nearly non-stop for some time. ¡°Need rest. Can¡¯t move tail much. Is okay?¡± He asked, all the while still moving to the rhythm of mild happiness, as to not show insult.
¡°Understand.¡± The Greyroamer said and quite literally sat on her own tail, pinning it down.
This one was rather empathetic to do that, Kres thought, pausing his own movements and standing back up into a proper relaxed stance. ¡°Need help.¡± He said. ¡°Big mission.¡±
¡°How big?¡± She asked.
¡°Biggest. Win or Lose. Infection. Big. Big.¡±
¡°Oh. I see.¡± She turned, then howled long and loud.
No immediate answer, so she leaped off her tail and raced up to the top of the den, giving another howl. Tail wagging to intent and excitement.
In the distance, howling came back. ¡°They come. Soon.¡± She told him, sitting down on her tail again to keep it from moving.
He gave her thanks, and waited with her, as the cubs under began a game of chase and tackle. It wasn¡¯t long before a loping giant and the pack arrived. Silverfur.
He spat down his old human blade, licked his chops free and loosened his jaw before turning to stare up at Kres. ¡°Yes?¡± He sent to the languid tail swishing of interest and calm.
Kres put down his bag and pulled out the mite cube. ¡°Mission. Asked mites for help against enemy. Cube made by mites. Bring to location.¡±
¡°And then?¡±
¡°Not sure.¡± He answered back, ¡°Discover.¡±
The greyroamer gave him a nod, which was an Odin gesture of understanding. Then he turned and gave a few barks. Food was brought out by the pack, a small rabbit that had been half eaten. It was thrown on a rock slate, and where a runt of a wolf moved up to the dead prey, quickly stripping it into smaller parts with quite some skill and precision.
¡°Appreciated.¡± Kres said. ¡°But need something else.¡±
The rhythm changed to curiosity in Silverfur¡¯s tail. Then excitement as the clever pack leader almost instantly understood what Kres had come here for. ¡°Heh. You came for battle.¡±
Kres tried to move his tail to the rhythm of triumph, though he was sure he butchered the cadence of it by far too much. ¡°Yes. Yes. To battle!¡± He said, and the entire pack under him began to move around, yips and yowls floating around. To them, fighting the infestation with an Odin on their side was almost guaranteed sweet and easy revenge.
¡°Possible enemy near location. Deep territory.¡± Kres said.
¡°It is of no matter. We are fast and swift.¡± Silverfur said, to the rhythm of determination.
¡°I know. It why I come here.¡± Kres said. ¡°Can repay later, mission too important.¡±
¡°Understood.¡± Silverfur said. ¡°Will ask for repayment after mission complete. How much time can be returned?¡±
¡°Not sanctioned. I am rogue. All the time now, no duty calling me back.¡± Kres said, and Silverfur actually stopped wagging his tail for an instant, shocked.
¡°But¡ banishment?¡± He asked, his tail switching to sorrow.
¡°Maybe.¡± Kres admitted. Going behind the back of the council would surely be grounds for exile. If they didn¡¯t pluck out his feathers and gouge out his eyes, he might instead be outright branded a traitor and told never to return. Admittedly, to a Vindr like himself, striking it out alone in the wilds was a far easier fate than most other Odin.
¡°Big mission.¡± Silverfur said, giving him another nod. He understood. It had to be truly monumental to have an Odin turn against their flock and go out alone like this. ¡°Will help.¡± The wolf said, then turned to his pack and gave the orders.
The pack moved at once, racing into the den to bring out gear and supplies. ¡°How far?¡± Silverfur asked while the hustle was happening.
¡°Five days. The great tree.¡± He said. That¡¯s where the coordinates were pointing him to. The area had one massive landmark, a tree so huge it dwarfed the entire strata, leaves and branches flattening on the roof of the world. The roots grew across giant silver cubes, lifting the entire tree up in the air. Gravity itself felt strange while flying under the great tree¡¯s roots, as if nearly nothing was pulling him down. He hadn¡¯t seen the tree himself, but other Vindr before him who had scouted the area out initially had explained anyone not prepared would end up losing control of their flight and slamming against the giant roots.
And deeper under all the floating roots wrapped around cubes, lay a single metal tower with the glowing power of magic. They say the area is cursed, and not even machines step foot within it.
This had been years ago, but he knew the blight had been slowly spreading that direction. He wasn¡¯t sure how much of that territory had been taken by now.
Silverfur came back from the den with a wooden perch in his mouth, complete with straps and other strings to hold it in place. That was attached to one of the other wolves, and Kres took the invitation as offered. He flapped down and let his claws wrap around the perch, now firmly secured to the wolf under him.
They wanted him well rested, so that the moment of the fight, he could dash past the plague bats and execute the deadly bombing runs his people were famed for.
The journey prepared, seven wolves and Silverfur himself set out with him in tow, the rest of the pack howling their goodbyes behind him.
Book 6 - Chapter 24 - Chasing after embers
Light swirled. Expanded. Then reality returned to focus.
Teneric felt his boots touch ground, flattening the silver flowers under him. He took a breath, centered his mind, and opened his eyes.
His HUD remained fixed with the same information he¡¯d read earlier. Flatline vital signals on all of his fireteam, with exception to Drakonis. Killed in action, dismemberment, critical armor failure, again and again for every one of his team.
In a matter of minutes, an entire army of Deathless had been beaten at their prime. Annihilated. Without even scoring a single counter-kill against the enemy.
¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Drakonis hissed at his side, kicking his helmet with a vicious punt. The thing hadn¡¯t even fully rematerialized, blue motes of occult still reconstructing the gear. ¡°Goddesses golden fucking tits on a priest. Surface knights are already rare, and now we run into a fucking army of them - and they''re all Deathless?!¡±
Teneric didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t. Even the Feathers he¡¯d fought deep underground didn¡¯t methodically wipe out a smaller team of Deathless that quickly. The metal monsters didn¡¯t operate in teams as large as the surface clan he¡¯d fought just now, but they were near the same level as far as his instincts screamed at him.
He replayed the fight in his mind, studying the differences in strength.
The second in command - he¡¯d moved as quick as a Feather would. There was something about him that made Teneric¡¯s gut roil. It was worse than fighting a Feather - they had ego¡¯s and would often take breaks in a fight to monologue or wax poetry about their powers and superiority. This one fought with all the skill and strength of a feather without any of their weaknesses.
It was odd, the feeling of relief and frustrating at the same time. Here were Deathless that could stand and challenge the machine empire. Not simply follow through with smaller missions to harass and destroy key infrastructure - but actually break a hole through the very heart of the empire. Deathless of a caliber the world needed.
And they were allied to the machines. ¡°We need to readjust how we handle these Deathless.¡± Teneric said. ¡°Complete victory may not be possible against them.¡±
This wouldn¡¯t be the first expedition that suffered complete failure due to overwhelming difference in power.
¡°The fuck it is.¡± Drakonis hissed, turning on the old Deathless without a hint of respect. ¡°I don¡¯t care if the surface dwellers die or live, they can have their little hovel in the middle of nowhere. I want that woman brought to justice, I want to see their lives burned at the stake for what they did. You¡¯re either going to help me, or I''ll take my team and do it myself.¡±
Teneric frowned at that. ¡°You are hurt and lashing out right now, I understand. But life doesn¡¯t always allow us the luxury of settling scores. We can make another attempt, but do not neglect that time itself might be the solace you seek."
The young Deathless gave him a glare that would set a machine on fire. Teneric shook his head, "This may be a harsh lesson to learn, but one you must go through.¡±
¡°If we give them time, they entrench and become unkillable." Drakonis said, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "I¡¯m not wasting my one window to get the scores settled over fucking weakness.¡±
There was no reasoning with him like this. Defeat was an ugly color upon Drakonis, the boy was too young. Three and a half decades of life was hardly anything in the grand scheme of things, this may be the first true crisis he had to face. Teneric had seen loss again and again. He reminded himself that it wouldn¡¯t be fair to expect that out of his Undersider kin, when their lives had hardly seen much struggle up until now.
The simple fact was that their window of chance to kill the cultists had already passed. But that was not what Drakonis needed to hear.
¡°I¡¯m fighting them again.¡± Drakonis said before Teneric could even utter a sound. ¡°I don¡¯t care if I have to throw fire at them while wearing a loincloth, I¡¯ll do it until my dying breath.¡±
The old veteran considered. Drakonis would not be moved from his course. And neither would the surface knights. But there was a way to thread the needle. ¡°The cultists must pay for their betrayal of humanity. However, the surface clan are simple opportunists seeking a better life. They could find other Chosen to hitch their banner to in time.¡±
Drakonis stopped in his fit, head turning midway. ¡°We could convince them to find somewhere else to go?¡±
Teneric shook his head. ¡°No. You cannot convince a surface knight of anything if money and resources weren''t enough. What we can do is strip the choice away. They¡¯ll be seeking our base of operations to remove us for good as we speak. In doing so, they will overextend. Defeating them is not an option, however... your objective isn¡¯t to defeat the surface Deathless. Nor is it to even survive the encounter. All we need is to eliminate the cultists. All other objectives are secondary to your cause. Is that correct?¡±
Drakonis nodded slowly, eyes growing resolute. ¡°I see what you¡¯re suggesting. Divide our forces, have them chase us while we hit their exposed town. They¡¯ll wipe us out, but we¡¯ll have already won at that same moment.¡± The young Deathless gave a nod at that, hand on his chin thinking. "That works. That works for me. If they''re wiped out, I don''t care if I die for it. My team and I can came back, they can''t. Very well Teneric, if you pull this off, I''ll consider the deal complete."
Teneric nodded. ¡°It is the most optimal path to victory given what we can do. We¡¯ll catch them by surprise.¡±
¡°They¡¯re not catching us by surprise.¡± I said, tapping the map for extra emphasis. ¡°They know their snow is packed up and getting baked, so they¡¯ll change up their win conditions, because that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯d do in their place. Playing fair is for suckers and non-Winterscars.¡±
It had been half a day since we utterly beat up the Deathless, then watched them vanish away with all our hard earned loot. Since then, we reached the last known locations of their airspeeder to find absolutely nothing there.
Few snapped twigs, some rocks in circles, garbage left behind and some long dead firepits. No traps or anything over here, not because they weren¡¯t vindictive or anything but because this location was outdated.
They¡¯d been here, but likely a week ago. Way before they thought they¡¯d be pressed back. The town had been forced to huddle in and lick its wounds instead of stalking around the world looking for a small army of Deathless that could and would obliterate anything vaguely silver looking. Whatever campsite they¡¯ve got now, that might be trapped.
Wrath gave me a short nod at my idea, before her red eyes glanced right back down at the map we¡¯d laid out on a table. ¡°Against a superior enemy in which your victory is untenable, making their victory pyrrhic is the next best option. I agree with Keith, I believe they will already assume defeat and make an attempt at the town directly.¡±
The rest of the Winterscar knights were with me on that, while on the other end of the planning table, Tamery, Lejis and Marsella were considering the options.
Or at least Marsella was. Tamery looked shell shocked at all this, giving Wrath glances of ¡®please let me go home¡¯
Her most brilliant military suggestion to date had been to go and convince an entire city to surrender. Oddly enough, Wrath had somehow made that work. But two brilliant military strategies were a little over what Tamery had signed up for.
And Lejis wasn¡¯t technically here since he was out with Fido searching for tracks. Instead, it was just an empty spot at the table with a comms unit crackling and a nametag saying ¡®Dumb priest & oversized angry lizard.¡¯
They asked me to organize it, they should have known. I take no responsibility whatsoever.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Then, we should keep a reserve among the town?¡± He asked. ¡°I do agree that would make the most sense, even if this were not their actual plan, having better defenses at the town is a better option now that we know we can afford it. Who would you consider for the job?¡±
¡°Four picks for that off the top of my head.¡± I said. ¡°Wrath, Father, Captain Sagrius, or myself. With a few Winterscar volunteers as a treat. Anyone nominate other picks?¡±
Marsella folded her hands across her chest, and gave a shrug. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be me or Tamery. An the priest is needed out to hunt down the airspeeder, I say any of your picks are good.¡± She turned to Wrath, ¡°Perhaps our leader has a better idea?¡±
Wrath hummed. ¡°I conclude the same options, however between all options, it must be me.¡±
That got a raised eyebrow from all of us. Lejis crackled on the speaker first, ¡°I had considered the same. Your healing ability, correct?¡±
He couldn¡¯t see, but Wrath nodded. Tamery looked a little confused at that, and Wrath picked up the clue from her tilted head.
¡°Tenisent cannot be defeated by any of the Deathless. We could send him to defend nearly alone, without any additional knights. Captain Sagrius is even further past the point of unkillable by the powers displayed earlier. However, we would need to send a few more knights with him. And Keith¡ ¡± She turned her head to me, ¡°While I would personally prefer he remain at the town where he has a far larger chance of surviving any smaller scale conflict, his ultimate value would come into being a one-man army with his occult powers. Twelve potential images that cannot easily be dispelled is a powerful force multiplier - but the enemy has shown abilities to cancel those out. Any occult out.¡±
Her head turned across to all of us. ¡°None of us can guarantee that the Deathless attempting to attack the town will never cross the threshold. We cannot be everywhere at once, and the only one of us who has an ability close to that was shown having it dispelled. Given that, we need to prepare instead for recovery.¡±
¡°So ultimately, it comes down to keeping the town and people within safe.¡± I said, getting it. ¡°None of us can completely stop the Deathless from doing damage, but one of us does have the best - and only - chance of negating that damage.¡± Which lead right back to the Feather in question. Wrath.
She gave a short nod back. ¡°If civilians are hurt or nearly killed, I may heal them, and the Deathless cannot dispel that ability. Additionally, I can still defeat all units they might field.¡±
¡°She can also command and control far better than all of us can.¡± Father said, voicing his opinion for the first time. ¡°Simultaneous command, responding to events within milliseconds. The girl has true experience with such combat, the rest of us do not. Alone, she can command the machines and Chosen and be as effective as any of us sent with additional knight support.¡±
Marsella nodded. ¡°So it¡¯s cheaper on manpower to send her, leaves more of us here to pick a fight, and guarantees the civilians have the best first aid right there with them. Sounds like that¡¯s the best call for that.¡±
Tamery just nodded next to her.
The older woman looked over to where the marked comms unit waited. ¡°Priest, have you found any of their tracks yet? You¡¯ve got only one job here.¡±
¡°We are still on the hunt.¡± Lejis crackled over the comms, ¡°Fido claims they cannot hide from him for long. I believe the machine.¡±
¡°Guessin¡¯ you have no ETA on that?¡±
No answer over the comms, but I think I could hear a crackled sigh. ¡°Is there any other topic of discussion in the meantime?¡±
We looked around the table, but all of us had mostly said everything.
¡°How¡¯s dinner sound?¡± I asked, and got a mostly unanimous approval.
Dinner was pretty good, all said and done. Compared to the ration bars flavored with salt and more salt, getting food from the supplies we¡¯d brought was excellent. And even better with a machine obsessed with cooking. It¡¯d be the last time Yrob could taste the cooking, since Wrath was flying off tonight with Tamery to return home and keep her people safe.
He¡¯d certainly taken that to heart and went all out. Got a good meal in, then spent some more time to try - and fail - to solve Hexis¡¯s last riddle. And finally after that some sparring lessons with Father. By the time he considered the training passable for the day, it was time to sleep.
I was about to turn in, when I found Wrath waiting in my tent. Looking like she¡¯d stolen something, accidentally broken it, and then came back to return the pieces and admit guilt.
¡°All right, what''s the scheme this time?¡± I asked, tossing packs of gear on the ground and making my way to sit down next to her. Since we were in wartime, there wasn¡¯t any bed in the tent at all. I¡¯d be expected to sleep in my armor, again. Had a lot more training doing that than I would have liked, but until I can return back home and retire filthy rich, nice luxurious bedding arrangements was out of the budget.
¡°I wished to see you one more time before I left.¡± She said, keeping her eyes looking absolutely everywhere except for my own. ¡°I am unsure how long it will take to find and end the Deathless threat, it may be a day or may be a week.¡±
¡°You sure that¡¯s all you came here to do?¡±
She nodded. ¡°The past few months, I have grown¡ accustomed to always having you nearby or knowing I could come speak to you anytime I wished. This would be one of the first times when you will not be nearby, and I will not be able to go search for you.¡±
I was about to just run my mouth when I stopped and actually thought about what she was saying. Then I opened my fat mouth up to give some comedic bit, and what came out was far more genuine. "I''ll miss you too Wrath." And I found that I meant it. ¡°We¡¯ve been through a lot so far, couldn¡¯t have been where I¡¯m at if I hadn¡¯t run into you.¡±
She went real still at that, then started to sway left to right, mumbling to herself. And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
¡°Well¡ You don¡¯t have to go right now do you?¡± I asked. ¡°The Deathless can¡¯t do scrap until they¡¯re back on their feet, and that¡¯ll be a full day at the very least. We got time right?¡±
She shook her head up and down.
¡°And you¡¯ve got a giant database of basically everything in your head right?¡±
She nodded again.
¡°Including favorite books?¡±
She nodded a third time.
¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°When I read books - don¡¯t laugh, I¡¯m actually very much literate unlike what most other people suspect - I like to picture what I¡¯m reading, like one of the golden era movies in my head. Do you do the same?¡±
She gave a hesitant nod, now more focused on the question.
¡°Great, is there any chance you could, I don¡¯t know, display what you¡¯re seeing on a screen or something? I can¡¯t hook my head up to a monitor, but you could. We could make up some movies to watch together based on your favorite books. Sounds like a fun idea?¡±
We didn¡¯t find any large monitors to watch, so we had to settle for swiping someone¡¯s handheld display slate, and then bundle up together to get a good view, but it turned out to be a really fun idea and ended up with me going to sleep about the same time as dawn came.
Fortunately, for once, I had good luck - Lejis didn¡¯t find the Deathless airspeeder base the next day, giving me plenty of time to catch back up on the missing sleep.
But he did find them the next night instead.
¡°Sssss¡ the vermin flee.¡± Fido hissed under him. ¡°Like insects scattering from the warm embrace of light. Chasing them in darkness is¡ unnatural. Anathema.¡±
Lejis kept a hand on the great machine as it slowly scaled up one of the plateaus. Claws digging into rock, breaking pieces off as it hefted itself up like a slug across the rock, in spurts of speed with each handhold and pull.
It was dark enough he couldn¡¯t make out any handholds on the slope, the rock turning into one giant nondescript block to his senses. On the other side of the plateau, it would have been perfectly lit up by the artificial moon, but that also made it the absolute worse.
¡°You will find them.¡± He said, noting that the machine was feeling more frustrated with the lack of results rather than actual hatred for the target he was after. ¡°Has there been any time where you haven¡¯t found your quarry?¡±
Fido gave a deep huff, head flicking as if trying quickly to throw off droplets. ¡°Ssss¡ never.¡±
¡°Then why doubt yourself now? You can hunt them beyond the times of day you could before, twice as efficient. If you could find your targets before, you can do so even better now. Keep going. Perhaps this will be the vantage point you need to find them.¡±
Drakes had violet lights across their chassis. And while daylight made such decorations less difficult on the hunters, at night it would become a crippling weakness. One that was intentional from what Lejis had learned, so that the Drakes would naturally have a shorter lifespan.
Most learned not to hunt at night or within darkness. But Lejis had given Fido a small gift - clothing. Large drapes and rugs attached by the refugees he¡¯d walked with. The Drake had considered them sacrilegious at first, taking them off whenever the mites determined daylight to be.
But for a mission such as this, the Drake would put aside his feelings. And perhaps growing more used to it. Considering each step was being carefully taken so that none of the clothing would tear off with the rocks, or get caught, perhaps Fido was learning to appreciate the additional protection.
The machine huffed again, then crawled upwards with renewed speed, one clawed hand reaching to the edge and slowly bringing the beast above. From there he remained low to the ground, moving with slow measured steps until the whole of his body was past the threshold. A low guttering growl came from deep within the chassis as he stalked forward.
From there his tongue snapped out, the fork flickering in the air as if smelling. More likely, there were additional sensor equipment within that, fragile ones he kept protected within his jaw. Lejis could only guess, but that must have had some hint of truth behind it, for the machine¡¯s head snapped to the left, as if spotting something.
The beast moved slowly across the top level, low to the ground, as if a cat stalking closer to prey. Lejis couldn¡¯t see much of anything. Only large fields of silver glittering under the moonlight.
He quickly got a ping on his armor, with coordinates. The HUD opened up magnification and zoomed in further out. There, he spotted them same as the Drake had.
¡°Lights.¡± He muttered. ¡°They left lights active. In the night. How could a warband lack such simple dicipline?¡±
¡°Sssss¡ they seek escape. Relief. They know we are here searching for them... and they wish to be seen. The hidden truth deep within their heart, their craving for release... yesss I can taste their desire, so bright in such fading light.¡±
¡°Deathless do not covet death, Fido." Lejis chided. "I would argue there is no craving for any kind of release. But we are in agreement on one thing: They wanted to be found.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 25 - Schemes
¡°That¡¯s them all right.¡± I zoomed out the viewpoint, looking around the scene to see what our local Deathless were up to. The answer: No gods damned idea.
They hadn¡¯t bothered relocating their airspeeder out of the zone, just hauled it until they had no power left given how long we had to track them down. Fido did the heavy lifting, both for scouting and getting us fresh power cells to swap during the sprint. We actually fully ran out of power and had to plot out getting a fresh cell change midway through. Either the Deathless were spooked out of their minds about us, or they were plotting and scheming.
With that same distance it could have been halfway through the red forest or onto the grand highway.
But no, they decided the same fields of silver flower, same rock plateaus dotting the landscape, same onyx glass pillars jutting up from the ground, and just like last time, none of those pillars were nearby this particular field.
They were scheming something and I had no idea what was going on in their heads.
I turned and walked back down the hill, sending Wrath a quick text message telling her we¡¯d be starting the fight pretty soon. Far down the hillside, past all the giant boulders and silver flowers weaving in between, were the rest of the knights milling about. At the center was our table of operations: one glorified rock that was slightly more flat to the ground than all the other rocks and boulders around the area, and the war council there were debating tactics. Father, Captain Sagrius, Lejis the Chosen priest, and a tablet with Marsella on video comms sharing the screenspace with a map.
We had to travel fast to catch up to Lejis and Fido. That meant leaving behind quite a few rations and personnel. Mostly the Chosen knights, machines and Marsella. Plus we had to source power cells from somewhere, so some of the machines gave their spares and went back home.
¡°I doubt it¡¯s got anything to do with terrain.¡± Marsella¡¯s voice crackled. She had a tone that made me strongly suspect she¡¯d found a chair with a footrest slightly higher than her seat and was making use of it, though all that was off camera. ¡°They wanted to get as much ground as possible to give their B team the time to rack the town over the coals. Assuming that¡¯s what they¡¯re doing, which I¡¯m pretty confident the kid¡¯s right about. Hence the distance and keeping it easy enough for us to find them.¡±
¡°Wrath¡¯s got it handled.¡± I said, leaning back against the boulder behind me. ¡°She¡¯s the chef in the kitchen, and they¡¯re crickets jumping into her pans. I¡¯m not worried at all.¡±
¡°I concur with the Winterscar.¡± Lejis added to the side, sitting cross legged and fixing up some kind of incense stick while we debated. ¡°Lady To¡¯Wrathh is a Feather we can rely on, of that I am certain.¡±
Marsella raised her eyebrows at both of us from her screen, which Lejis didn¡¯t notice since he was too busy wrapping up the sticks he had. She leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better view through her camera screen. ¡°Well well well, you haven¡¯t known her at all until a few days ago, you deadbeat priest. And we literally left her to handle it all alone without a single clan knight to back her up.¡±
¡°To be faithful is to allow hope.¡± Lejis said sagely, not looking up for a second. ¡°And, our leader is at her strongest when commanding an army behind her. She will succeed.¡±
Counterpoint, your honor: She¡¯s got an army.
I gave the priest a thumbs up, unworded support.
¡°...Fair point, come to think of it.¡± Marsella said, leaning back. ¡°All right, say we can trust her to handle the homefield. How are you doing up there?¡±
Captain Sagrius took his cue, tapping a few buttons on the tablet, bringing out a map of our current positioning but otherwise remaining quiet. Father just loomed over our little huddle, arms folded as he leaned on his own rock.
Lejis looked around, then gave a shrug and stood up from his sticks. He walked around and he talked, giving Marsella a better understanding of logistics, how long we could stay up here, and other details. ¡°Additionally, there¡¯s two mite fountains within the hour from here.¡± He said, making his way to me, and passing me one of the sticks. When I raised them up to him with an unworded question, he pushed them back my way. ¡°You light them before battle. To bring luck and purpose.¡±
¡°A Chosen rite?¡±
He shrugged. ¡°Not so much. I simply happen to enjoy the smell of incense and find it relaxing, this is my way of sharing that with others. Don¡¯t carry it for any god, or gods, carry it to remind you of the world you live in and the people you know.¡±
Marsella snorted. ¡°You really have to preach even the second before battle? I¡¯ve seen the town budget sheet, there¡¯s no column for overtime under your name you know.¡±
¡°Oh, deary, can I pitch in?¡± Cathida asked in the middle of the squabble between the mercenary and the priest.
Lejis didn¡¯t know about her. Nor did any of the Chosen. I¡¯m sure Wrath would trust them, and honestly I kind of trusted Lejis already even though he¡¯d been on the other side of a jail cell last I¡¯d seen him before we met down here. And no, not because he gave me a dried bundle of sticks and flowers to burn, please. I¡¯m clearly a man of integrity that isn¡¯t easily bribed.
Lejis¡¯s reaction of Cathida would probably be curiosity and then maybe wanting to see if he could convert her to his cause next. Which might mess up the filter Cathida had going.
But hey, he¡¯d managed to convince a Drake to be friends. A dead crusader¡¯s ghost might be in his realm of possibility.
¡°Keep it to us, and I¡¯ll translate out.¡± I said. I¡¯d handle introductions at another juncture, once there wasn¡¯t a threat breathing down our necks.
¡°Taking the credit for my plans and deductions I see. Peh.¡±
¡°I am making a calculated decision. I solemnly swear.¡±
If she were alive she¡¯d probably be giving me a flat stare here, but she wasn¡¯t. So she gave a sigh and went on with it. ¡°We should be checking the airspeeder itself as a possible change to the fight. It¡¯s big, it¡¯s got cannons, and it can move like a silverfish if we can¡¯t take it out of commission. Can¡¯t tell exactly what kind of weapon ammunition it has unless we open up the belly and take a peek. It smells like rust to me.¡±
¡°Likely just a cargo airspeeder.¡± Marsella said after I brought up the crusader¡¯s points. ¡°They only have one, so it had to be big enough to carry their food, rations, gear and personnel. Got to pick between loading it up with cannons and loading it up with Deathless. Might have a few turrets, but those are far more dangerous to the machines hanging around us right here than you lot out there. Don¡¯t think the airspeeder is their play, more like their king piece they want to keep away from us.¡±
¡°It can¡¯t continue running.¡± Father said, ¡°By now the power would run low. They need power cells, and the only sources of that are our armor¡¯s power cells. And the Drake.¡±
Fido lounged on the top of a boulder, making it look more like a pillow. He turned one eye to glance at us, tongue flashing out for a moment before closing his eyes again. ¡°Sssss¡ the vermin may try. I will deliver to them the death they sought.¡±
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°They might have set traps?¡± I suggested. ¡°They had us running for a full day so they had time to really mine up the field. Did Journey spot anything amiss with the soil down there or any of the other knights?¡±
¡°Not a single peep on the display last time you looked over the hill.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Makes Journey nervous because it¡¯s far more worried about things it can¡¯t see than things it can. Paranoid little thing, even if we did spot a few traps, it would worry that it''s all some kind of low-level planted ruse.¡±
Father grunted. ¡°They have seen our techniques in the prior battle. The change will be centered around their spell use, and an attempt to counter ours.¡±
¡°You sure no traps?¡± I asked, ¡°I¡¯d have started putting down traps. Lots of great ways to ruin anyone¡¯s day with traps. Even just knowing there¡¯s a trap nearby puts people on edge. Traps are the best friends anyone could ask for.¡±
¡°Bloodthirsty little creature aren¡¯t ya?¡± Marsella said, to which I shot the tablet a thumbs up.
I tapped my helmet next a few times. ¡°Cathida, you¡¯ve worked with Deathless before. Got a read on this from the Imperial days of running around with them?¡±
She hummed over the comms. ¡°Not that much experience deary. Deathless don¡¯t travel on long expeditions with Imperials. We could die, they couldn¡¯t. So they found their own kind to work with, while we mostly worked as support. Didn¡¯t even know about the recall cubes they got, or at least Journey had no memories of it being explained to the old bat. Maybe she¡¯d learned it while out of Journey. There was a significant time of her lifespan spent outside this old armor you know. Grandkids don¡¯t pop out of nowhere.¡±
¡°Yuck.¡± was my answer, and that only made her cackle harder. I relayed what Journey found, and confirmed with all the other armors here they hadn¡¯t picked up anything odd.
The group all considered it, except for Marsella. ¡°If the armors can¡¯t detect any traps out there, then there¡¯s nothing more we can do to spot things. Thing I learned from my time out under the lake¡¯s shadow - Quick solutions is a human condition: They didn¡¯t have time to make multiple plans, they dropped a B team near enough to the town and then went full speed the opposite direction to lure us away. They¡¯re not planning to win out here, just keep us tied down long enough. They might have been thinking on how to deal with all the occult spells you lot throw around, so their tactics will change, just not the grand strategy.¡±
I patted the gear on my belt. ¡°Fortunately for us, they haven¡¯t seen everything we¡¯ve got in store. Not by a long shot. They can¡¯t prepare for what they don¡¯t know existed.¡±
There wasn¡¯t any more discussion after that, none of us gathered could figure out any other plan the Deathless had. Same biome, same terrain, added distance from the town, an additional airspeeder and less Deathless.
Unfortunately, we didn¡¯t have enough time to figure something else out. Fido who¡¯d been lounging around without a care in the world instantly bolted on his four paws, snatched Lejis with his jaws and yanked the priest up by his cloak. Then the machine bounded away like a cat carrying a kitten away.
The next moment, the rest of us were rolling on the ground, a small crater where our tablet had been. Father landed without issue, as did the rest of us. Journey hadn¡¯t needed to run the shields for an explosion like that, letting the armor itself take the blow with little issue.
¡°They¡¯ve started early.¡± Father said over the comms. He didn¡¯t sound rattled in the slightest, the dirty cheater.
For a disoriented second, I thought that the airspeeder had artillery stocked up in it, given we were a good distance away from where they¡¯d camped out and the hill blocked a wide stretch of sight. But hearing the humming rush of wind and power nearby, I could tell exactly what they¡¯d done.
Airspeeders were fast. Faster than armor sprinting. So they had theirs running circles around us while taking potshots.
Airspeeders were even faster than Drakes, which meant Fido was in trouble. Or he should have been in trouble.
Right now, the turrets were trying to track him down, but the drake was giving the bulky thing a run for its money. Rocky jagged ground gave the machine plenty of handholds to yank and leap from, while the fat airspeeder had to glide over it all, skidding around in the tell-tale way an inexperienced airspeeder pilot would drive.
Those things did have massive inertia to work with, meaning they were difficult to perfectly pilot. Teed making them look as if they were running on massive wheels instead of a slip and slide was a credit to how good of a pilot he actually was.
This one, not so much.
Still didn¡¯t stop him from trying to shoot us like crickets in a box. The explosions were more for throwing us out of formations - of which surface dwellers generally didn¡¯t train much for so it hardly affected us.
Deathless were approaching fast, with Lionheart at the very center of the edge. The veteran Deathless had his helmet fixed on Father, sword drawn and pointed right at him.
A sound clashed through and deafened us all for a moment. One I¡¯d heard before a few times over. The sound of a Drake charging their laser and opening fire with it.
Only one drake here, and only one target of value. I gave a look over at the airspeeder, who¡¯s shields were still vibrating from the impact. And still trying to shoot at the Drake, last of which I saw his tail slip out of sight behind a rock, a bit of purple cloak flapping on it¡¯s back.
Lejis spoke over the comms then, ¡°The drake will need another three minutes to drain the airspeeder¡¯s shields fully. Possibly less if they are low on energy as we suspect.¡±
Three more hits and the airspeeder would be toast. On the other hand, that¡¯s three whole minutes the airspeeder could turn and start gatling down my knights. It would take a while to whittle down a relic knight¡¯s shields, and the airspeeder didn¡¯t have enough bullets to get all of us.
But I realized they didn¡¯t need to. The Deathless had abilities that could shred shields away. And if those high caliber bullets started spraying down on unshielded knights, it could crack the armors after enough focus firing.
Up ahead, said Deathless were charging up the hill, soon to reach ability range. I gave a look at the assembled knights. Ten of the best led by captain Sagrius - and all I¡¯d ever have with me for the entire journey we were going though.
The Winterscar knights were powerful. But they were mortal. Any that died, would be gone for good until we could find some means to return them to a body like Arcbound had.
My head flashed through possibilities and means of repelling the dangers. Defeating the Deathless was well in our ability. But that wasn¡¯t my main objective - doing so without losing a single of my friends was what mattered.
My eyes narrowed down at two targets. We did have two people who could use their body as a shield against any torrent of bullet fire, even without shields. But only one of these two could repair himself from any damage incurred.
¡°Change of plans,¡± I gave Father a wave, ¡°Go handle Lionheart, keep the Winterscars safe in case of emergency.¡±
He was the better pick for that. He¡¯ll keep the Winterscars alive even up against a small army Deathless.
Fido would handle the airspeeder in time, but I needed it downed faster than that. And I had to approach it in a way that would keep me and anyone else safe.
I turned to Captain Sagrius and two other Winterscar knights, pointing at each in rapid succession. ¡°Us four, we¡¯ll handle the airspeeder.¡±
With Sagrius, he could tank bullet fire even without shields. Not permanently and not without risk like Father could, but we¡¯d be far out of the main targets and had more options to dive for cover than anyone caught in the main battle. With only a far clumsy airspeeder slipping around trying to murder us, hiding was possible. Not so much when agile battle tested demi-gods were equally looking for any attack of opportunity.
The Winterscars and captain gave a quick salute, turning their attention to the airspeeder circling around.
¡°We¡¯ll advance opposite to Fido, use the rocks to keep out of line of sight. Let¡¯s go knock on their airlock.¡±
All four of us sprinted straight out of cover, advancing to deal with the slippery fish struggling to keep Fido in its crosshairs.
Father and the rest of the knights sprinted the other way, directly into the incoming wave of Deathless and Lionheart.
The airspeeder took one last salvo attempt at Fido before it lumbered past, turning with a steady measured pace around the edge of the battlefield. I recognized the movement changes immediately from my time with Teed.
¡°It just shifted from manual control to autopilot.¡± I called out over comms. ¡°Means they don¡¯t have enough people inside there to man everything. Keep eyes sharp for anything off the sides.¡±
Autopilot also meant easy to predict where it would go. I calculated the trajectory in my head, then sent a quick movement ping to the group, having us all turn our sprint to where I expected we¡¯d cross paths. The HUD lit up with a green pathline to follow, right down to the vaults needed over rock terrain to get there.
The rest of the group gave quick confirmations, leaping over the rock terrain and stomping past silver patches of flowers. The airspeeder did exactly as I thought it would, sliding past the rocks, going right where I had placed our ping marker at.
The turrets turned to the left, away from our group and began to open fire again where Fido was last spotted, forcing the drake to duck under the rocks. On our side, the hangar doors opened up wide. We were not even ten seconds away from leaping range. Basically looked like a free invitation.
Almost considered it too convenient, except one lone Deathless stepped out of the shadows, one hand reaching out to grasp the side handholds, letting him lean out of the airspeed and get a better angle with any weapon.
And in his other gauntlet, he held what looked like a shoulder mounted rocket launcher.
Given I¡¯d seen his sigils and armor before, I knew this was Drakonis even before Journey labeled his name over the HUD.
The Deathless didn¡¯t have any speech for us.
Instead, he aimed and fired.
Book 6 - Chapter 26 - Interlude - ToWrathh
¡°Well here¡¯s the good news: We found them, their exclusive club, airspeeder, and little dog too.¡± Keith¡¯s message went. Text scrolling over her vision. This was the fifth time she was re-reading them. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a shot in the dark here but they¡¯re probably going to start attacking the town right about the same time we hit them, if they haven¡¯t already. Quick request before I log out, once you handle them and are sure none are left sulking around anymore, bring some drinks on your way here. Not a lot of good choices out in these wastes, besides dirt flavored water with a hint of flower and more dirt. Not even a single snowball to melt. Gods damned shame when I find myself missing that hint of iron and metal in everything I drink. Anyhow, enough scraptalking from me, talk to you soon, got to go do knight stuff and earn my pay¡. You do pay me for this, right boss?¡±
The words faded from her vision. Her human was currently in battle at this very moment. And that would mean¡
They¡¯d be here soon as he¡¯d warned her. The enemy. They hadn¡¯t appeared yet, but any moment. She was as prepared for them as she could be.
To¡¯Wrathh paced around the small room, fingers on her left lightly brushing her blade hilt, while her other hand swirled a glass cup. Wine, the Chosen here called it. Brought from Capra¡¯Nor through fire and battle, still in one unbroken barrel. From the personal cache of General Zaang. All to end up in her hand.
She¡¯d asked Tamery for a drink she could bring to Keith after all this, and the girl had an odd impish look to her features when she suggested this beverage. Still had one as she sat by the windows, watching the artificial night sky and their pretend stars, having a glass herself.
To¡¯Wrathh found she rather liked the drink, it had a high level of data to process through and constantly changed profiles long after consumption. Once she wrapped up with her errant enemies here, she¡¯d bring the casket with her. The weight would be negligible. She carried her human, armor and all, multiple times already in the past. A few hundred pounds of wine and other drinks wouldn¡¯t be any trouble.
Midway through her musings, she got the ping. Finally. She set the cup down then strode out of the home, Tamery giving her a small thumbs up. ¡°Stay safe,¡± the girl said as the door closed. ¡°Come back soon.¡±
¡°Of course I will.¡± To¡¯Wrathh answered, right as the doorway closed. Her red eyes glowed for a moment as they roved over the dark streetways of the small town. Doors were sealing shut all across the area. Chosen hiding away in bunkers or other structures. The warning announcement had gone off clearly to everyone, and they were taking appropriate actions.
Machines paced around the outside walls. Useless really, Runners had poor eyesight, comparable to natural humans. A few Chosen knights were keeping an overwatch, along with three civilians without armor who had their eyes replaced by machinery. Glowing violet, the peered through the darkness, out into the moonlight and deeper into the dark pools formed behind the rock plateau.
Those would be the eyes and ears of the town. The Runners would only relay the message to all other machines.
And within two minutes, one of them called out.
¡°Targets sighted.¡± The large runner hulking besides her muttered. ¡°Nnnnnn, three teams of three. Deathless. My lady. Fight?¡±
They had arrived. Exactly as her human had deducted. Nine in total. Slightly more than she had expected.
To¡¯Wrathh drew her blades, fingers tapping on the hilts. ¡°Show me where they are.¡±
Data flowed into her mind. They were sprinting this way, from three different directions. Moving at near top speed for relic armor. They¡¯d be leaping directly onto the wallside within four minutes.
She considered using her wings for this fight. They were well known and iconic. The Deathless would relay their discoveries to the veteran, who would refuse to allow a Feather to exist unopposed. However their use would certainly pitch the battle in her direction.
They didn¡¯t need to be completely stretched out to be used, she could make use of the anti-gravity functions and movement with them hidden under her oversized cloak.
¡°Hold off the center and left side.¡± Wrath ordered as she whirled on her heels and sprinted forward to the right side of the town, advancing like a specter in the darkness, her helmet snapping on and cutting off the trailing glow of her sight. ¡°I will sweep through and advance across their lines until none are left.¡±
Separated into three groups allowed the Deathless easier ingress, but it also meant none of their smaller forces could contest against her. She was safe to divert her full resources.
Commands were sent, and her forces moved to engage the center and left most attack. All they had to do was hold off the Deathless. Cannon fire began booming across. Occult glowed brightly in the darkness and from the occasional leaps To¡¯Wrathh took, she could spot where the Deathless were converging on.
Their speed tripled past what a running knight could reach, and video feeds showed her exactly what their plan had been. She considered it a little creative, but she had ordered traps to be placed down in the field while she was flying back.
Those would easily counter her opponents.
She leaped over her wall, then kicked off of the side, flying like a wraith in the night, directly at the enemy. Pulsing the occult around her served to cover her use of the hidden wings to zip through the air. Let the Deathless believe she was using an occult spell to soar through the air like this.
In the darkness, she saw her targets. They had abandoned sprinting the moment cannon fire opened up on them, each team throwing a single hoversled under their boots, then using occult leashes to pull themselves forward, looking like an octopus snapping multiple tendrils forward to advance. One Deathless on each sled held the front, hands pitched forward to force an occult shield before the sled, deflecting bullet fire, while the other two constantly grappled the whole unit forward.
Amatures.
To¡¯Wrathh immediately sent her orders through her army. Explosive grenade rounds, fired slightly before the sled. And once they crossed the trapped area, any that made it would find the bottom of their sled equally exploded from triggered mines.
Across the field of battle, she registered her forces adjusting their aim, explosions and other hits knocking the sleds off track or breaking them apart. The Deathless advance stalled as the soldiers were forced back on their sprint, assisted only occasionally by grapples, and knocked backwards anytime direct firepower hit them, or that they accidentally stepped too close to mines.
To¡¯Wrathh focused back on her own small fight.
They hadn¡¯t been fired on, so they remained on their sled, advancing rapidly to the walls. Then promptly they got too close to a mine and To¡¯Wrathh sent commands to detonate.
The explosion threw all three Deathless off their hoversled, falling face first into the field of flowers, rolling to a stop. The sled itself landed like a shovel into the ground, light flickering from where a hole had been ripped into it.
The explosion was the least of their worry. In moments, she¡¯d reached the scrambling Deathless, flowing down right at her first target, nearly unseen with the dark sky behind her up until the moment her blades turned on.
She dove straight down at her first target. He turned his helmet up at the last second, his blade lighting up with a desperate swing. One short parry that ended with the flat of his blade slashed through, turning it into a dagger instead. His helmet snapped to attention, taking note that his weapon had been decimated.
Mistake.
To¡¯Wrathh moved like the reaper of death, quickly burning through his shields with strike after strike, moving across the land as if gravity were an afterthought. The Deathless attempted to build distance by slamming the ground with a stomp, sending a shockwave out that ripped her away.
The worst possible move against an opponent like her.
To¡¯Wrathh still had her wings under the deep cloak she wore, and they hardly needed air to function. Midway through, she readjusted herself, flared out occult to mask her abilities, and flew right past the shockwave, back on target.
The two others tried to get at her. They may as well be moving in slow motion to her senses, she could see where they¡¯d launch their latches, and where those would land. With short adjustments, she flew right between the occult grapples, and slammed right back on target.
Three seconds later, the Deathless clunked down on his knees, before falling down on the ground, headless.
The other two took defensive positions, weapons lifted.
¡°You¡¯re on the wrong side pal,¡± One hissed.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
¡°These are cultists, snap out of it. Whatever home you¡¯re looking for, there¡¯s better than this.¡± The other added.
To¡¯Wrathh tilted her head, blades flickering to the side to throw off blood. ¡°No.¡± She said, voice clean and cold. ¡°This is my home. And I will not allow you to desecrate it, or harm anyone who stays under my protection.¡±
It took them by surprise, but they were far too trained to let the surprise stop them from defending against her rage.
One tried to avoid execution by tapping on that occult shield he¡¯d used to shield the hoversled. To¡¯Wrathh simply slid past the shield, using her wings to move her body even when her feet didn¡¯t quite touch the ground. Like water, she moved past his guard and went to work.
The shield was abandoned instantly as both were forced on the defensive, trying desperately to cover for each other against her. She advanced and they backpedaled, each cross of blades lowering their own shields further and further with nothing gained for it. They fought better than the Undersider knights she¡¯d battled, but compared to the spars she¡¯d had with the surface knights, these Deathless were out of their league. And her overclock was still on full effect, making each of their motions slow to her perceptions, though they couldn¡¯t possibly know that.
What they could realize was that they weren¡¯t going to make it. They gave each other one single glance that told an entire story in a half second. Both sent a shockwave to throw To¡¯Wrathh off, then twisted on their heels and sprinted as fast as they could to the wall¡¯s direction. Rock and dirt flew hard behind each footfall as they tried to escape, arms and hands moving in tandem with as much precision as they could in their sprint.
To¡¯Wrathh once more realigned herself mid-air, shards of her wings vibrating against the cloak as they stabilized her position. She could easily outrun their breakneck speed, their little plan here was doomed for failure. Already she was nearly upon them, blades extended out.
A moment later, she found out why they¡¯d even made the attempt. One leaped into the air himself, helmet snapping back in shock at finding her already nearly upon them. But the man committed to his plan and launched an occult bomb from his outstretched hand - right into her direction. The same one that sapped all shields and occult spells during their first encounter with the Deathless.
In her slowed perceptions, she considered possible avenues of dealing with this. Only two options came up to her senses - dive backwards, putting distance between the expected explosion or dive straight through.
They¡¯d proven before to be able to explode the bomb on command with a gesture, if she dove backwards, they¡¯d simply delay the explosion and take the additional time to sprint forward. For all she knew they might repeat the move again and again until they made it to the wall unharmed.
Her chassis was that of a Feather¡¯s. If these attacks were significant enough to tilt the tide, Deathless wouldn¡¯t require entire teams just to hold off a single one of her kind.
Option set, she rushed right past the occult bomb. The Deathless responded exactly as she expected, hand flicking out to command its premature explosion.
The occult exploded out, then imploded back into itself, sucking all power in the air right as she soared by. Her shields flatlined as expected. But an additional benefit occurred the moment after - the pair were too close to the occult blast. Both equally saw their shields begin to drain away, occult mist around them being sucked directly into the vortex.
Then¡ something happened inside her soul fractal. She felt it flicker, light dimming. Reality turned black and white to her senses, a pulse of fear coming from her mind and¡ nothing.
Damage report resulted nominal projections. All systems green.
Sensors showed no damage across subroutines. Power to the soul fractal had not been interrupted, the system showed non-responsive.
Logging potential false negative error report for future debugging.
Overclock remained stable. Earlier fear response nonsensical.
Targets no longer shielded. Intercept course remained on target. Combat subroutines showed suboptimal directions, system logging recalibration request for later. Slashing of any kind was suboptimal. To¡¯Wrathh angled herself, ready to puncture through their helmets instead. This was calculated to be the fastest method of eliminating her targets.
Her hand thrust forward.
Her blade was parried. Unexpected. She instantly tried again. The Deathless parried again, this time with occult powers. They continued to retreat backwards the whole time, building further distance.
She sprinted after them, attempting a third stab.
The soul fractal within her shell flared with power again. She took note, and sent it to the standard combat log. Approximately one point two seconds between fractal shutdown and now. She was still on track to catching the fleeing opponents with little error other than two failed killing attempts. They were out of puncture range, but her feet would quickly catch up again.
Wait.
Why?
She banked into a stop, jumping backwards, sheathing her blades. Attempting a thrust attack on a fleeing target was¡ idiocy. There were far too many defensive abilities the Deathless could do to halt her attack, the surface schools of combat showed exactly how in detail.
Not to mention there a far quicker way of dispatching the enemy at this point in time.
Why had she listened to her systems on using thrusting attacks and disregarded an entire lifetime¡¯s wealth of learning from the surface schools of combat?
To¡¯Wrathh sheathed her blades as she floated through the air, taking out a sidearm handed to her by her human. One loaded with his occult bullets. With two clicks of the trigger, she shot both Deathless directly through their unshielded helmets, the occult bullets sliding through with no resistance. It took not even a half second.
Both targets instantly collapsed on the ground, dead.
The Feather landed a moment later by their bodies, confused why she hadn¡¯t simply done this the instant that the enemy shields dropped. One point two seconds was lighting fast thinking to humans - but in her full overclock, it may as well have been ten minutes.
Ten minutes where the only thought in her head was pursue and eliminate. To repeatedly attempt the fastest possible move that would eliminate her targets - as if they were target dummies that couldn¡¯t fight back. No other thoughts. No other consideration of what they could do in retaliation. No thinking at all.
She shook her head, there would be better times to consider what had happened and how to avoid that kind of issue. Her feet kicked to the right, and she raced across the silver flowers to reach the next Deathless team.
These ones had been nearly at the wall. The cannon fire and explosions had managed to rip through one¡¯s shields, and significantly lower the shields of the other two. Runners above the walls leaped straight down, claws flashing with occult lines. Normal Runners never carried occult blades, but her forces were different. She had no reason to leave her soldiers unarmed like the pale lady had.
They clashed right into the Deathless, blades swinging down. Another lost his shield, but remained agile enough to avoid a killing blow. His fellow hadn¡¯t noticed the Runners in time, finding his right arm sliced clean through, and then claws stabbing right into his chest and heart.
The one near the back began to glow with white occult energy, power channeling through his lifted hand. Air whipped around him, flowing into his outstretched hand.
A shot rang out. A blue fading bullet line passing through his helmet. White power dissipated, and the Deathless fell down on his knees and collapsed to the left, motionless.
The last Deathless swung his blade at a runner, while extending his hand to the side, a shockwave throwing another Runner flying off. He twisted on his heels, noticing his two dead companions, helmet turning to face To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s approach.
He threw himself to the side, attempting to escape her aim. It made no difference to her perception, she hit him dead center through his helmet right in the middle of his frantic dodge. The man collapsed down, joining the other Deathless in death.
She raced past their bodies, leaping over the wall and sped through the inner section of the town.
Her machine forces had been ordered to stall and attempt only safe attacks, taking only opportunistic hits. The tactic had let her forces go without casualties, but the cost had been letting the final team make it through the walls. One of the encroaching Deathless had been cut down, unable to repower his shields in time before a Runner had struck for lethal damage, but the other two enemies had managed to get over and were slowly making their way through the roads. If she didn¡¯t move quickly, they¡¯d make it to the bunkers and begin to murder civilians.
She caught them only a few dozen steps away from the entrance to the first bunker, the pair raining rifle fire down, attempting to take out Runners using conventional tactics. The machines held large steel plates that were far more resilient to bullet fire than the inferior ceramic armor Runners were made with.
To¡¯Wrathh flew right into the pair, blades flashing at both. One dropped his rifle in time to bring out a blade, the other had the weapon sliced in half before being knocked right out of the battle by a Feather empowered roundhouse kick. He flew backwards, flattening against a wall, right in range of three Runners.
He shouted out, sending a shockwave to his left, throwing two Runners off their feet, but the one to his right reached both hands out and wrapped them around the trapped Deathless, occult edges glowing brightly on his claws, eating through the shields in a flash. A moment later, the man was dead, cut through.
To¡¯Wrathh knew the fight was over. Her final opponent was trying to fend her off and failing miserably, his last ditch attempt was to soar out of her way using an occult lash on the edge of a building. He leaped right up, only to find his ankle firmly in her grasp as she leaped up after him.
The air was her domain.
She slashed at his caught leg, waiting for the shields to dissipate. At the same time, the man tried to cast something at her head, hand grabbing for her helmet, glowing with occult. She let go of her blade, letting it fall to the ground while she grabbed his wrist and pried the hand off her helmet. Then she forced the hand to point away from her as a small beam of occult power lanced straight out into the air, aimed at nothing.
She crushed the wrist, twisted the man around and dislocated the shoulder next. With her prey mostly incapacitated, she drew her sheathed blade, and cut down at his throat. The shields sprang up one more time, holding her off for a second before cracking and breaking apart with a flare of power. Her blade instantly continued through, cutting through the throat guard and neck clean through.
By the time they both hit the ground again, the Deathless was long dead, and the threat to the town was done.
There wasn¡¯t a fourth team. This had been all the Deathless could send over. No recall cube had been triggered either, none of them had carried one with them. Nor were they dissolving away into blue motes, so there wasn¡¯t some unseen watcher in the distance ready to pull the trigger.
¡°Search the town.¡± She ordered, standing up from her most recent kill. ¡°I want a full report detailing no other attacks are inbound.¡±
The machines around her nodded, then set in action. Five minutes passed as To¡¯Wrathh waited by the center of the town, pacing back and forth. Waiting for the tables to turn.
Nothing. No additional attack. But she did receive a message.
From Lejis. ¡°My lady, are you currently engaged in combat?¡±
¡°The Deathless attacking the town have been handled.¡± She replied. ¡°We are searching for any additional parties they might have, but initial findings are positive. No casualties here, neither civilians nor machine.¡± She wouldn¡¯t be certain of victory until at least a half hour had passed. And even then, it may be better to wait until Keith returned instead.
Still, currently she could claim this had been a near perfect operation. Allowing the Deathless to cross into the town had been a highly effective tradeoff for the safety of her forces as a whole.
¡°How has the fight gone on your end Lejis?¡± She asked.
¡°We succeeded.¡± He answered, but there was a tone in his voice that said something was off. A moment later he proved it. ¡°Unfortunately, I cannot say we did so without any casualties.¡±
She felt a spike of fear course through her systems. ¡°Who?¡± She asked, dreading the answer.
¡°Keith.¡± The priest said. ¡°We have lost contact with him in the fight.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 27 - Falling off cliffs for profit and nostalgia
Rocket launcher aimed at our face, with gods know what loaded on the inside. Worse: He didn¡¯t even have the decency to monologue anything at us.
On the other hand, we were just about ten seconds away from leaping right into his ship, so it makes sense he wouldn¡¯t bother to give us any kind of speech.
Inside the comforting safety of the soul fractal, free from the more chaotic emotions, I had plenty of time to consider the situation.
He¡¯d opened up the hangar doors this close up to the enemy. Whatever was in that rocket launcher, I didn¡¯t want to find out face first but it also couldn¡¯t be dangerous enough that he¡¯d feel safe opening fire at us this close up.
Possibly an occult spell of some kind, and given it¡¯s his first attack, likely made to drain shields.
Plan in mind, I opened up comms and yelled out to scatter, then burrowed my feet deep into the ground in order to break my current speed and bolt left.
The two other knights and Sagrius all followed suit, each racing a different direction.
Drakonis fired not a moment after that. A rocket exploding out into the world, far too fast for my regular sight to catch it and exploded right where we¡¯d all bolted out of the way in¡ a generic explosion.
Baited. Damn him.
¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± I screamed out as I was thrown off my feet, then landed against the rocks, crushing through them like five hundred pounds of metal and human would when catapulted off into them.
No shields triggered from Journey, the explosion too weak to deal damage, and the rocks clearly losing the battle against flying ballistic armor. I felt far more annoyed that I had even ordered to break off the attack when he¡¯d had nothing up his gauntlets to show for it.
The airspeeder was turning around, about to trigger engines forward, with Drakonis tossing the rocket launcher off his shoulder, not even bothering to reload it. His helmet scanned through the damage inflicted. We were scattered, which meant his occult blast to drain shields would only hit one of us at best so that was off the tables for him. With the turrets already turned to where Fido was, they wouldn¡¯t be able to track around to us before we all regrouped. So this had just been a ploy to build space.
The engines turned and roared out, fighting against the sluggish airspeeder, trying to force it back on a trajectory the autopilot wanted. Drakonis was about to go back into the hangar bay when his helmet finally passed over me.
Then it snapped back, staring me down, and I could swear I saw realization dawn over him even from under that helmet. Calculation followed, then that spark of settling onto a new last second scheme.
His hand reached out to me and I felt an occult lash catch on. As the airspeeder pulled away, he yanked me straight forward with a twist of his hand.
Father had been my ¡®second in command¡¯ during the negotiations. He¡¯d seen me as the leader of the clan knights, and now he had me separated. If I were in his boots, I¡¯d also try to quickly assassinate the enemy leader with a free chance.
¡°You little opportunist.¡± I hissed with malicious glee, ¡°You picked the worst target to try this on.¡±
I let myself get yanked right off my boots and straight at the open hangar bay.
Midway, I reached down to my legplates and unhooked my armguard, occult glowing around me.
As I soared straight into him, he showed he wasn¡¯t an idiot with eyes bigger than his stomach. He had a plan.
The lash cut at the moment my speed and trajectory were more or less set in stone. His hand glowed and one of those occult bombs was launched straight from him.
It expanded out right before me, then imploded in right as I soared past it, the implosion sucking in all occult and power around. Journey¡¯s shields flatlined. And the airspeeder itself had it¡¯s own shields begin to flicker, sucked away into the imploding occult.
Like before, I felt myself yanked out of the soul fractal for a second or so before occult returned back to power, letting me dive back in. The rest of the armor¡¯s systems all worked without issue, HUD showing no errors other than the shields mysteriously vanishing.
The occult bomb exploded behind me, the implosion complete. It knocked me even faster into the hangar, landing hard against the metal flooring, skidding on my shoulder up until I smashed into a crate, the debris covering me up completely under rubble.
Journey¡¯s shields were drained, sure, but the armor wouldn¡¯t have bothered to use them for small explosions like this anyhow. Even occult powered, it wasn¡¯t enough to deal with golden era armor.
What Drakonis had banked on, was that I¡¯d be too stunned to protect against a decapitating blow. All he had to do was stab into the bundle of broken crates, and my unshielded armor couldn¡¯t do a thing to protect me from it.
Problem with his plan - I could see in a complete sphere around me. The soul fractal had only flickered off for a second or two at most, and I¡¯d long since learned how to dive back into the Winterblossom Technique in an instant.
So I could perfectly see him rush my position, his blade swinging down on me. And more importantly, right where that swing would go through. An occult dome expanded right at the point of impact, knocking his blade backwards as the Deathless hadn¡¯t anticipated any kind of resistance.
¡°My turn.¡± I hissed, and exploded back into action, crate and debris getting tossed from my leap. The armguard glowed with deadly edges, sweeping right for his exposed chest, his blade still way up from the earlier knockback.
I connected hard against his armor. The shields flared up, then shattered against the dozen occult edges lining the guard. At the same time as they flatlined, I got blasted up against the wall by a weak area of effect shockwave of power. His panic resort.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
¡°That¡¯s getting real annoying now.¡± I muttered, getting back on my feet, patting the dust off my shoulder and arm. Maybe that¡¯s how my own enemies constantly felt fighting against me, seeing me slip by near death or outright death again and again.
Okay, I could see why Avalis had been so unhinged near the end of it all.
Drakonis didn¡¯t bother to listen. Instead, he¡¯d turned tailed and raced straight through the crew compartments, sealing up the bulkhead doors along the way.
¡°Pipeweasls and their natural habitat.¡± I said as I brushed the rest of the crate remains off my armor. ¡°Cathida, any way you could hack these open for me?¡±
¡°Plug me in. Journey might be able to do something.¡± She said with a verbal shrug. ¡°But I¡¯d get your blades out to handle the doors the old fashioned way just in case.¡±
I got up to the door, hand reaching out to the console. A few button clicks and terminal commands later, I had it set for receiving mode. Cathida confirmed she¡¯s got a connection secured, but they didn¡¯t want people opening up doors from this side if the other side confirmed lockdown protocols. She¡¯d give it a try. We had some of the viral anti-security measures Wrath armed us with, but this would be the first live testing for those.
The airspeeder on the other hand stopped chasing after Fido. I could tell because the movements felt more manual again instead of the autopilot set, we weren¡¯t circling something either. So Drakonis had gone to the cockpit and begun making moves.
And those moves were taking us away and out of the battlefield.
Uh oh.
My longsword lit up in my hand and I slammed it into the first doorway, beginning the cutting procedure, all while I hissed out curse after curse. This wasn¡¯t the first time I was getting dragged away on an airspeeder, but last time I¡¯d felt pretty confident I¡¯d win so long as the airspeeder didn¡¯t run into a mountain wall at full speed. Not much place a slaver could run to when the world is a giant freezing wasteball of nothing for several hours in every direction.
This time around, I had no idea where Drakonis was taking me and he was behaving as if he was ferrying a feral animal in the hangar bay.
To be fair, the slaver was acting very much the same way, right down to the screams when I finally got through their last doorway.
But Drakonis seemed a little more smart with his plans, so there really might be some kind of contingency he had setup in case the clan knights got onto the airspeeder.
I got past the first doorway, going through a small chamber section with a stretcher and other medical supplies, and further past that was the cockpit airlock doorway. Don¡¯t know where he was going, but pretty soon I was turning the ship around after I¡¯d dealt with him.
My blade sank into the doorway, and then I heard a clink on the other side. Occult edge on edge.
He¡¯d been behind the doorway, and tried to cut my longsword¡¯s tip off. Except my sword had a groove down the center, making the occult edges the most raised ones. So the sweep of his blade hadn¡¯t hit the flat edge, just the sides.
I still had to take the blade out because otherwise he¡¯d rectify his mistake the next swing and try to stab through the flat edge instead of sweeping through it. ¡°Dagger it is.¡± I said, reaching down to my boot, drawing out the trusty old thing with a quick flourish before I sank it right into the doorway.
Messy work, but in a minute or two I¡¯d have the door opened up. The dagger was too tiny to completely cut the door by itself, I had to jam my hand in a few inches to get all the way. Did make it completely safe from Drakonis trying to cut through it, I could tell from the panicked way he was looking around the cockpit for something he could do.
Then the door flashed green. ¡°Got it.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Get your dagger out of the way, and I can open it up.¡±
Following command, I took the blade right out and let the doorway unlock and open itself. Both sides slid into the recesses of the ship, revealing a startled Drakonis on the other side, still tinkering with the system panels. We were traveling pretty fast at this point from what I saw through the windows.
The door got halfway before getting caught against some of the cut pieces that ended up not flush to the doorway path while I¡¯d been trying to cut my way through.
¡°Scrap.¡± I hissed, then grabbed both ends of the door with my gauntlets to finish the rest. Journey was easily capable of crushing the two sides past the cut sections, metal grinding away until it was wide enough for me to get in.
In theory.
Problem was that there was an obstacle on the other side, who¡¯s blade slashed right through the vertical slit. Drakonis had given up commanding the ship, trying instead to keep me from getting into the room.
¡°You really think that¡¯ll stop me?¡± I told him.
¡°No.¡± He admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t need to stop you for long.¡±
Well that was ominous. I grabbed hold of the sides again, and he tried to step up to slash at me. Occult pulsed out of me, and three mirror images stepped right through the wall, blades whistling down on his head.
He began a desperate fight against three phantoms that kept respawning faster than he could defend and counterattack against. They almost got him, forcing him to use that area of effect shockwave to reset the fight back to the start.
Annoying, but it did give me all the time I needed to crush the metal walls into the sides and widen up the gap so I could walk through. He might be able to dissolve the occult images, but he couldn¡¯t do much more to the actual me without overcharging the knockback and breaking everything inside the cockpit.
Something passed through his look, his helmet snapping up to meet my gaze. ¡°I hoped for more of you, but you¡¯ll do.¡±
Then lifted his blade, gave a short Undersider salute of some kind, and slashed the controls behind him, cutting off all the mechanical systems, making our trajectory more or less unchangeable. And that direction was right at one of the larger onyx glass pillars.
Okay, so that¡¯s his big plan. Go down with his own ship.
¡°You¡¯ve gone off the deep end.¡± I said, approaching. ¡°An airspeeder exploding around us isn¡¯t going to kill me. Armor can tank that hit, even without shields.¡±
I¡¯ve seen it resist a few hundred thousand pounds of pressure from the cave in, back at the sunken temple, burying Winterscars under. They were perfectly fine, just unable to free themselves. A crashed airspeeder would be easy enough to pry free from.
¡°Plus, those pillar things are going to cave in like ice against airspeeder shields.¡±
There¡¯s a reason the saying goes like that. Ice absolutely gets smashed out of the way against an airspeeder, Teed basically saw ice as nothing more than a bump that¡¯ll eat away speed and nothing more. ¡°Scrapbrained scheme, zero out of ten, don¡¯t plot things again.¡± I ended my judgment with a blade pointed right at his throat. He had no shields from the armguard hit I got on his chest earlier, and he couldn¡¯t possibly move faster than I could, especially backed into a corner like this.
¡°I don¡¯t want you dead.¡± He spat, then looked behind him at the approaching pillar. ¡°I want you out of the way.¡±
The autopilot systems kicked into gear, performing preplanned movements. Specifically launching every missile the airspeeder had left at the pillar. They flew right into it, exploding the whole thing in one giant firework of melted black glass as the rest of the structure shuddered - then began buckle on itself, sinking down into the ground. Further and further instead of piling on itself like it should have.
Then I realized what Drakonis had been after, especially as I saw the sections of the onyx pillar that weren¡¯t broken down simply fall down into the mist it had been hovering over.
A moment later, our out of control airspeeder raced right into the pillar, slamming headfirst against what was left of the black glass, crushing through as our speed bled away and glass shattered before us. I could feel the speeder run over nothing to push itself off the ground, and so it fell straight down even as it burrowed through the shattering onyx pillar twenty times it''s size.
When the airspeeder broke through to the other side, clear from all the debris, what I saw in the cockpit wasn¡¯t the large fields of silver flowers and occasional pillars.
It was a straight free fall, one entire mile up in the air.
We were falling down into the strata below.
Book 6 - Chapter 28 - Uh oh
So.
To recap, I am now taking an interesting unexpected tour through the lower strata. And, admittedly, from what I could see in between the cockpit glass planes and general screaming, it was rather pretty compared to silver flowers and large waving hills.
I¡¯d spend more time explaining exactly the kind of chaos I got a view at, after I got a few questions answered from my tour guide. But the whole, Why-are-we-falling-down-in-a-giant-airspeeder and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you was a little awkward to ask directly.
¡°Golden tits, the rich bastard¡¯s got a third knife.¡± Cathida called out, ¡°He¡¯s going to use it anyt- yep, there it is.¡±
¡°Less talking, more hacking.¡± I muttered back, watching said knife fly right for my helmet. I ducked by twisting my body in a ball and kicking up at the cockpit roof.
The ceiling was closer to me than the floor right now. And for good reason: Turns out, free-falling down meant getting shoved up against the roof as the giant airspeeder changed directions but its two unstrapped passengers inside didn¡¯t.
Drakonis slashed again, in what I could only call the most sloppy attempt to deal damage I¡¯d ever seen, almost as if he was asking to get stabbed and killed. I¡¯d get to that part eventually, but I did need him alive until I got some more info on where the hell he¡¯d brought me and why he thought this would work.
I landed a boot directly into his exposed chest and shoved him right back down against the pilot seat floor, using my free hand to hold tight against a console and pin him down.
We both stopped for a half second, helmets locking gazes with each other. In that single glance, both of us instantly got what was actually going on.
On my part, I realized all the sloppy openings and overcommitted attacks from him were intentional - he¡¯d been trying to get himself killed. Normal people wouldn¡¯t do that, but a Deathless? It¡¯s a viable escape from any bad situation. And this might score as a bad situation.
And from his part, I think he realized that I figured him out.
Before either of us could say or do anything, we were slammed to the left as the ship pivoted on itself. His hand dove for a fourth knife on his chest, brought it up and slammed it down into his chestplate.
Or would have if I hadn¡¯t rocketed back into his space and grabbed his wrist at the same time, trying to twist the blade out of his fingers before he could hurt himself with it. All while we were now wildly bumping on and off different consoles - and the ceiling too, because it couldn¡¯t get enough of us.
Cathida was hacking through the control systems, so it might be her trying to salvage the situation. ¡°Cathida? What the fuck?¡±
¡°Trying deary.¡± She answered back. ¡°They self-sabotaged the systems, grenades or some kind of explosives. Lot of systems are fried and not responding, final orders are still in the memory banks but no way to overwrite them without some circuits being repaired.¡±
In the meantime, Drakonis reached for my boot, trying to get my knife free. Likely for another go at his own throat. Sneaky about it too, doing that out of my vision. I gave a quick kick at his gauntlet. ¡°I didn¡¯t say you get to die.¡± I hissed at the struggling patient. ¡°I¡¯ve got some questions for you and you only get to go when I¡¯ve got my answers.¡±
¡°Pry them out of my cold dead hands, you bastard.¡± He laughed back, now sounding completely unhinged.
We slammed into the ceiling again for the third time, leaving a small dent in the metal this time, then slid backwards as the airspeeder was doing some kind of circus trick for all I knew.
The Deathless just laughed the whole while. ¡°I don¡¯t care how unbeatable you are, clanner. I¡¯ve got you right where I want you.¡±
¡°Hate to be a bother to you right now.¡± Cathida said over the comms while I was midway through prying open Drakonis¡¯s hand and ripping his final dagger out of it. Got to keep the toddler away from sharp objects and so forth. ¡°But, uh, deary we have problems.¡±
¡°You¡¯re fucked, you¡¯re fucked and you don¡¯t even know how yet. Ha!¡± Drakonis snarled.
¡°Congrats.¡± I grunted, giving a quick slice from a mirror image right over his wrist, severing his armor¡¯s grip. The knife was pried out easily after. ¡°You can¡¯t beat me and ominous threats are the best you could come up with.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t fucking beat you, you¡¯re right.¡± His laugh ended, cut halfway through in a moment of lucidity. ¡°But I sure as hell can drag you down with me.¡±
Well, that¡¯s even more ominous.
¡°Deary. Look up please, anytime now.¡± Cathida said, a lot more insistently, and a second after the two of us were rocketed backwards into the semi-destroyed airlock door. Drakonis slammed over one of the consoles, smashing the glass with his helmet. He lifted himself out of it, then snapped his attention at the knife I¡¯d pried out of his hand.
In the scuffle, it had slipped out of my grip since I hadn¡¯t been able to get a good handle on it just yet. Thankfully, it was out of his reach.
Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t stabbed into anything, so it too was free floating around in the air, clattering against the floor and sliding backwards before bumping onto something which sent it back into the air spinning.
Drakonis launched an occult lash at the dagger, trying to get it, which meant I couldn¡¯t ignore it anymore and also had to make sure it was out of his hands. Unfortunately for him, I was far faster, knew exactly where the dagger was flying off to from the soul sight, and had my hand snatch it out of the air without bothering to actually see it with my own eyes.
An occult lash landed onto my closed fist a moment after, trying to yank it out of my hand and failing miserably against relic armor. I pulled against it, dissolving the occult power with a physical yank at the same time I slapped a soul tendril at it.
¡°Deary!¡± Cathida said, ¡°Less fighting, more panicking!¡±
Finally having a lull in the fight, with all the possible weapons locked out of his grasp, I looked up through the cockpit.
Soul sight had a great amount of advantages, but one disadvantage was the range. I could see in a small bubble of influence around me which made fighting in a tight cockpit like this basically cheating. But beyond a certain range I couldn¡¯t see anything more. So with more focus on my physical vision, I paid attention to what was on the other side of the windows.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
A giant starfish-like structure was off to the side about half a mile under. Looking more like a temple, each appendage about the side of a small colony.
And at the center of this giant mite structure was a glowing portal of some kind, air and particles being slowly sucked in through a vortex. Given how giant the whole thing looked already from this distance, nearly filling up the entire view, it was clearly large enough to swallow the entire airspeeder whole without any trouble. Probably could fit about ten or so side to side. If I stood on top of the whole thing, I¡¯d look like a grain of sand in comparison.
¡°What in the gods above is that?¡± I asked, stumped.
Drakonis just laughed all the more for it.
All around the massive structure was a geometrical city. Not like mite cities of the upper strata that wanted to look like a human city of old, this one looked more like a giant circuit board made into a city. Block structures everywhere, and power. Actual power was running through where the streets should have been. Glowing lines of pale blue, shooting straight through void, running like streets in between everything, or directly across hollowed out cubes. Further under it all was the deep blue of rushing water, streams of some kind that were flowing under arches and cubes. No roadways, just empty space with water deeper down under it all.
That¡¯s what I¡¯d seen first before all the tumbling started to happen. The starfish was new. Must have been behind us, because I¡¯d have noticed something like that on first impression.
Good news: We weren¡¯t near the giant portal starfish temple.
Bad news is that some part of the airspeeder had been dutifully executing its final navigation program even as we fell to certain doom - and that navigation involved the starfish. The earlier scuffle in zero gravity of us bonking our heads around ended up being the ship turning itself to face the starfish¡¯s direction, and then igniting engines to full with whatever it had left in its tank, ramming both of us almost through the airlock.
We were on a direct trajectory straight at the mite structure of undefined ability.
Drakonis laughed even harder, unhooking his helmet and tossing it right at me in a bid to distract.
Good attempt, didn¡¯t work against me. My hand snatched the helmet out of the air, while occult rippled around my armor. A mirror image flew forward and slashed straight through the pistol he¡¯d unhooked from his belt, right as he leveled it to his head. Belatedly he realized he only had the pistol¡¯s grip and trigger left working, idly being pressed down multiple times.
He stopped, looked at the broken weapon and tossed it aside like used garbage.
Inside the soul trance I could calmly look through the current evidence around me. Drakonis had picked the field of battle because he knew whatever this was, it¡¯s here and not anywhere else. That¡¯s probably why he had us go the distance to find him.
Second, he doesn¡¯t think the airspeeder crashing will be enough to kill him, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t be trying to end his life.
Third, he¡¯s trying to end his life fast and getting more and more agitated each time I stopped him. And we¡¯re hurtling towards a giant starfish with a portal. Warning bells were lighting up in my mind about all this. He didn¡¯t want to die on the other side of that.
I gave him one last look, then decided on what I needed to do.
First thing¡¯s first, give him the To¡¯Aacar special, minus heart impalement. Occult powered through me, and I sent two mirror fractals out, the ghostly blades slashing through his armor¡¯s power cells, right by his legs.
He went limp a moment after, his armor dead. He could still move, just a real pain to do anything with armor unpowered.
¡°What¡¯s our survival chances looking like inside here?¡± I asked my armor.
¡°Journey estimates it can survive a crash.¡± Cathida said. ¡°But it¡¯s got no idea what¡¯s through that portal and neither do I.¡±
¡°He does.¡± I said, grabbing the Deathless¡¯s chestplate and shoving his own helmet back on his head. I hoped whatever relic armor did to seal itself off from the world could still be used when the armor¡¯s offline - and I was proved right as I heard the familiar clicks around his throat of a full seal. Fine engineering, the armors were built to protect the user even in cases of complete power failure. Darkonis wasn¡¯t going to die from any explosions today, as much as he tried.
I reached out and gave him a few pats on the helmet cheek, both to make sure the helmet was correctly sealed and second because Winterscar and - oh gods, I think I¡¯ve spent too much time around Feathers.
Drakonis pulsed out power while I was having a minor existential crisis, occult flaring around him. I expected the ratshit, and wasn¡¯t disappointed. A shockwave ripped free in a sphere around him, flattening anything delicate around the cockpit, breaking every single screen and instrument in a shower of floating shimmering glass fragments and bending some of the thinner metal bars around. The shockwave collided against the cockpit windows and walls. It all expanded out slightly but the sturdy construction held. On the other hand, the wave had been powerful enough to knock me away and back up into the ceiling.
¡°ETA?¡± I asked Cathida while I got a foothold against the ceiling. Drakonis wasn¡¯t going anywhere, blindly trying to undo his helmet again and failing. Can¡¯t feel much through metal gloves and that helmet was offline, no vision whatsoever.
¡°Better hurry.¡± Cathida said. ¡°You¡¯ve got seconds, not minutes.¡±
I made a snap decision and leapt back down at him, hands once more grabbing his chest. Occult rippled around me next, images flowing upwards with extended blades, cutting straight through the cockpit window.
The outside had a shield, nothing inside did and I was abusing that greatly. While my mirrors were doing the work, I twisted the man over my shoulders, angled my legs under me and pushed as hard as I could upwards.
I dissolved my occult mirrors at the same moment. We sped right at the damaged window. And a combined weight of possibly one thousand pounds of metal slammed and shattered right through as I used his armor like my personal battering ram.
We were in freefall now. The frigate zipped under me, bumping us both on the way out and nearly knocking my grip on him. Smoke and fire was trailing from the open bay doors, but the shield was still shimmering occasionally as the airspeeder slammed into shards of black glass.
Wait, what were chunks of glass still doing in the way? Lot more happening out here than I could have seen from the inside of the cockpit.
A look up showed me why there were still glass shards all around - the vortex was sucking it all up. We were caught in the slipstream of it, ahead of the pack from the airspeeder¡¯s earlier afterburn, but still somewhat caught inside.
Which was really bad news for the whole plan. Sure, the rocks made for great stepping stones to push myself around, but I could tell the math wasn¡¯t working out. If giant boulder sized pieces weighing several orders of magnitude more than me were being sucked into the vortex, the chances of leaping out of the stream were near zero.
Still tried to, hoping golden era ratshit technology built into the armor would somehow prove me wrong. A few ducks, dives and cursing among scattered leaps gave me the impression we were making some kind of headway, until I glanced down and could see the airspeeder still well in sight, engines dead as the whole thing started to roll slightly on its right. All three of us still trapped in the same lazy vortex drawing in all matter to the gullet.
A giant black shard slammed down into me as if to seal the deal, nearly knocking Drakonis out of my grasp for a second time, forcing me to take a detour in order to get free from the underside.
¡°All right, plan B time.¡± I muttered. ¡°Survive the impact.¡±
Got to assume the portal wasn¡¯t going to kill me, and plan for what was on the other side.
What¡¯s the best way to survive being stuck in a freefall of multi-ton glass shards? Probably making sure to land on top of them instead of under them for a start.
¡°Journey, get me a path to the best place I can ride this out on.¡±
¡°On it,¡± Cathida said, and the HUD exploded with green arrows and circles, showing possible routes to jump off of in order to make it to the top of this wild ride.
A few leaps later, I was on the better side of a giant onyx shard and there weren¡¯t any other shards of good enough size I could spot above me. That¡¯s where I spent the last ten seconds of our freefall.
The airspeeder was much further down below, and was the first through the portal.
As if it was rousing itself one last time from stupefied slumber only to find itself in great danger, the engines sputtered to life one last time, accelerating the whole frigate in the worst possible direction - further into the portal. Blackness and stars were on the other side and the airspeeder slipped through it as if it had been plunged into water without a splash. Smoke, fire, metal groans and all. It vanished without a trace.
Giant shards followed behind it, with me riding on top.
The portal yawned, and swallowed us up.
Book 6 - Interlude - Kres (II)
Greyroamers could outright swim through the forest like fish in a stream, and Kres had to keep himself steady, legs moving to the beat of the wolf sprinting under him. It didn¡¯t tire out his wings, and his legs were strong enough to keep up with this pace.
The carrion the greyroamers had brought with them soon vanished down their gullets, the giants needing quite a lot more than Kres to keep moving. It didn¡¯t slow down the mission greatly as Kres would take wing during those hunts and spot prey for them with far more ease.
By the time they reached the Great Tree, they found the area to be almost clear of the infestation. Almost, but not quite safe. The miasma was further off in a sloping valley, the spores floating through the air unable to climb up the mountain. It had been slowly eating up tree after tree to climb up, and the pace was clearly languishing. There was nothing to oppose it here, and so it hadn¡¯t been in any hurry.
Silverfur watched the contagion from a tall rock, snarling slightly. ¡°Danger.¡± He muttered.
Kres gave him an affirmative squawk. ¡°Too close. Should deal with. Not sure if mission done in one hour or more.¡±
The greyroamer nodded at his side. ¡°Ready.¡±
It was a thing Kres liked about their species. They seem to organize and understand each other almost instinctively. Plans were formed in a matter of seconds, from idea to execution. There wasn¡¯t the lengthy preparations that the Odin favored, nor endless back and forth bickering.
So Kres took off from his perch, carrying with him the small explosives. The Seidr were in charge of crafting those along with other tonics and medicine, but this one recipe Kres had taken the effort to learn how to brew. Surprisingly, it was less alchemy, but instead craftsmanship. A surprise the Seidr were in charge instead of the Smieja.
What made it so deadly was the very core of the explosive. A drop of power cell fluid. The very same might and power that fueled machines and even the Icon herself. All of it stemmed from the mite fountains, and so these explosives were the embodiment of mite wrath.
It made sense for them to be so catastrophic in result.
The infestation responded quickly to his approach. They weren¡¯t stupid. Driven by madness, delusion and whispered words from the contagion - but stupidity wasn¡¯t among the traits stripped away.
They knew an Odin flying above meant a bombing run. Plague bats flew out of the trees in a panicked cloud, including two hawks and other birds of battle who¡¯d been dumb enough to be taken. Kres was used to having a team to work with, but he would have to make do with just himself. The only true danger came from the hawks.
He folded his wings into himself, then fell down like thunder, wings making micro movements to let him weave through the small cloud of enemies. He¡¯d brought the right weapons for exactly this. His talon let go of a small metal rod, an elastic string keeping it tied to his foot. It trailed right behind him. At the right moment, he twisted himself around, letting the inertia lift the rod from its position behind him.
His current speed did the rest of the work, as the rod slammed into the side of a hawk¡¯s wing, while he narrowly avoided the talons. Bonebreakers didn¡¯t need to strike hard, and didn¡¯t even need to kill. All he needed was to knock any hawks out of the air first. And the weapon did just that, breaking the hawk¡¯s wing.
One down.
He lifted his dive back up, now long past the cloud of enemies. He flew as fast as he could forward, slowly climbing in altitude until he was over the valley where a dim tan fog flowed through the wilting trees. He had to deal with the second hawk to be free, and it would soon catch up to him.
Indeed it did, clawing random gibberish at him, beak wide open, claws extended out under, sheer fury and rage guiding its movements. Kres twisted on himself, letting the bonebreaker soar in an arc behind his foot, where it slammed directly on top of the hawk¡¯s head, slamming the entire beast down. Not strong enough to smash the skull, but clearly good enough to give a concussion.
From there Kres barrel rolled in the air, forcing the bonebreaker to zip around and slam into the recovering hawk¡¯s right wing. He could hear the weapon break hollow bones with ease. It was done, the hawk floundered in the air, dropping down like a stone.
Kres rightened himself, then began to pull upwards. His beak turned down to the instruments by his chest plumage and he yanked at a pull string, hearing the click and roll of one bomb delivered. He caught sight of it, zipping straight down at the diseased forest ground. Kres flew further up, following his training by near instinct now.
Right. About¡ now.
He turned his ascent into a dive the next moment, tucking his wings protectively over his chest, beak ram-rod straight at where the explosion would come. It was not even two seconds after he¡¯d begun his dive.
Fire and destruction lit the entire forest, looking like a small blinding balloon. Kres was too far away for the heat and destructive force to damage him, but the following shockwave and air turbulence was instantly felt.
He knifed through the wave with little problem. The cloud of bats and birds chasing after him were not so lucky, flying near parallel to the explosion. Too close to the explosion, and with nearly full surface area exposed, the shockwave shattered and sprained bones en mass, and the air turbulence scattered them out of position, some losing balance completely and tumbling down into the flames.
What was left of the enemy was easy to slip past, and Kres launched another explosion. After that, whatever was left of the aerial defense had completely collapsed and Kres was free to bomb the infestation at all the critical nodes. Flames burned through the forest, clearing out the miasma and forcing whatever animals had survived to flee.
Those weren¡¯t his to handle. Indeed, the greyroamers were already dispatching the disorganized foe, ancient human blades cutting feet and necks with impunity. No longer protected by the clouds, half burnt alive, and disorganized in the chaos, the greyroamers couldn¡¯t ask for better prey.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
In one afternoon, the infestation had been dealt with and all that was left behind was a slowly charring vale, which would be far harder for the infestation to retake.
He flew back and landed on the wolf¡¯s perch, letting his wings rest from the ordeal. Five bombs had been used in total. He¡¯d expected to use more, but the infestation here had been mild.
¡°A good fight.¡± Silverfur said, wagging to contentment. The blade he held in his mouth didn¡¯t make greyroamers too much harder to understand thankfully.
Kres gave a nod, mildly tired and letting himself decompress from the few near-death moments. ¡°Mission.¡± He said next. ¡°I¡¯ll scout.¡±
The greyroamers nodded, deciding to go on a quick hunt for some food in the sections of the forest that hadn¡¯t been consumed yet, while Kres flew off to the Great Tree. It was hardly an issue to spot, looming over them all as it did.
The location the mites had sent had three coordinates to it, which meant it wasn¡¯t simply a matter of place, but also height. The icon had told him to search for something about the height of a large tree, but it was more likely he needed to find something on or within the Great Tree itself.
He flew closer, observing for anything out of the ordinary. Up the giant trunk, silver platforms grew like nests grew on the hull of the icon. When he landed on them, he found nothing out of the ordinary. They were simple platforms, either as decoration or to help landbound move through the tree.
Near the base of the tree, giant roots extended out before forming up to the center trunk, all of them clearly resting on the silver giant cubes that were frozen in the air. But there was something that didn¡¯t belong.
A flat panel of complete black lay on the ground, and Kres explored the oddity. The metal was almost alive there, veins of blackness moving across it like worms, as the entire thing was slowly¡ consuming itself? Kres wasn¡¯t sure, but he could tell it had been larger before. There were indents on the ground that were far too straight to have been natural. As if the entire plate had been far bigger before, and had fallen straight down.
Kres looked up and found his target. Up inside the tree, there was something embedded right inside one of the thick roots leading to the tree trunk. Just about the height of a large tree, exactly as the Icon had mentioned.
A black cube of some kind, with one panel having been jettisoned down. There he found a metal circle of some kind, wires connecting it like silk strands to the side of the cube. It floated silently, empty. He flew up to it to search and only found more questions.
The circle was massive, and it was no small feat to fly from one end to the other. But besides floating within the remains of the black cube, moored inside by the thick cables, he saw nothing else.
A gigantic structure with little point.
Hours passed as he searched around for a possible clue to the mite construction living within the tree¡¯s root. He¡¯d even gone down to check the tower mentioned by the past Vindr. It wasn¡¯t standing anymore, cracked at the base and toppled over, where one of the tree¡¯s massive roots had passed over. It must have slowly pushed against the tower until the tower broke before the tree¡¯s might. The rest of the crater under the tree was equally being reclaimed by the roots as they weaved through the floating silver cubes.
The greyroamers had made their temporary home here, building a small den in the ruins of the tower base.
¡°We stay.¡± Silverfur had told him, his tail wagging to determination. ¡°Mission important. We see it to the end.¡±
Kres figured this was because he himself was to be aimless after this. And he still had plenty of bombs left. To a pack like the greyroamers having an Odin on hand to craft and use these was easily worth waiting a month. Not to mention his beak and talons could craft many things the poor landbound pack wasn¡¯t able to make for themselves without hiring a ringtail.
Silverfur had seen an opportunity here, and he was perfectly willing to wait it out. Clever little beast.
It did take Kres a few days to figure it out. The giant construction didn¡¯t have anything that looked like it would accept a cube, but that was because control over it wasn¡¯t done there. He¡¯d found a mite terminal built into a cavern nearby, where it conveniently had line of sight on the black half swallowed cube in the far distance. There, he¡¯d found a pedestal with a single imprint, the same exact size of the cube he had. This was where Astrid¡¯s crazy creation had to be placed. Kres knew it almost the moment he¡¯d spotted it, flying right back to the greyroamers to report his finding. They followed quickly behind him, leaping through the rocks and mountain to get to the hidden cavern.
Kres wanted to wait, to study more the inner workings of the machinery here inside the cavern, but he knew that was the Odin within himself speaking. Silverfur simply asked him to place the cube, almost from the moment he walked into the cavern. Decisive as a people, the greyroamers were.
So he did, having one of the greyroamers lift him up so that he could properly set down the cube. Bulky thing for his beak, but his claw was enough. The moment the cube slid into place, it began to glow bright blue.
Nothing happened.
But Kres had a feeling it wasn¡¯t here that anything was happening. Instead he turned his gaze to the black cube and it¡¯s mysterious giant circle floating within it.
There had been a change there. Where before the circle was hollow, now there was a blackness, to which he couldn¡¯t see the other side.
¡°What that?¡± The greyroamer asked, confused.
¡°Not sure.¡± Kres admitted. Another puzzle to the mite madness. ¡°Will study.¡±
Silverfur gave him a nod, ¡°Will defend. Clean up any stragglers.¡±
The infestation was scattered around, but they wouldn¡¯t be for long. Once the survivors of the bombing regrouped, they would swarm around with whatever life force they had left, biting and trying to spread the congageon anew before the burns and inner damage ended their lives. But that ultimate swarm could be reduced greatly if the greyroamers constantly chased down anything they found. It also made for a good source of food, so long as the infested animals were fully roasted, and the bones avoided. Greyroamers were good enough to do that on their own without Kres to help them, though they didn¡¯t prefer this kind of food.
Four more days passed and the blackness within the giant structure remained an enigma to the rogue Odin. Whatever it was, he needed to figure it out before the Gungnir arrived. It had been long enough for Tanik to come chasing after him. The only blockage the warrior priest might run into is getting a copy of the map location Astrid had provided.
Kres had learned a few things over those days. For the first, there were no controls within the mite cavern. He could only drop the cube on the pedestal, or pick it up. If he grabbed it, the blackness vanished, leaving only the metal circle. If he set it down, the blackness returned at the center of the circle, all the way to its edges. No direction seemed to matter to the cube.
Second, he learned that blackness wasn¡¯t a physical barrier of any kind, but more of a veil. Any stone he threw at it was swallowed up. Vanishing. And it never returned.
He suspected this was a weapon of some kind, capable of destroying any matter put through it. Perhaps the mites had wanted them to wield this kind of power against the infestation? He couldn¡¯t be certain.
The infestation was growing harder to manage, each day the greyroamers were running into more and more targets. Many of which were perfectly healthy, scouts of some kind from the mother colony. Silverfur predicted they had perhaps two or three days at most before the swarm fully materialized and raced across the vale to reclaim it all. Kres told them they wouldn¡¯t need to worry, only to spot the swarm¡¯s gathering point early enough, and he would expend a firebomb to deal with it.
That mollified the greyroamers significantly. The perks of having an Odin among them, who was armed to the beak.
Fortunately, they didn¡¯t run into that problem. When the fourth day came, Kres found that the answer to the mite mystery hadn¡¯t been his to discover. But rather, his to stumble on.
He¡¯d thrown hundreds of rocks into the blackness, testing how it dealt with any kind of matter, from living animals, to plants and even insects. Everything he threw into it vanished forever, nothing came out of the maw.
Until the fourth day, when the glowing cube lifted from its pedestal, flipped around to one edge and slammed down back into place.
And then something came out of the blackness.
Book 6 - Chapter 29 - Stranded
Theory that this was a portal: Correct.
Theory that we¡¯d survive to the other end: Correct.
Theory that we¡¯d land gracefully and with no complications: Uh, let''s put that down as work in progress.
It spat us out into a blue and purple carpet of leaves, at least at first glance. As I was flying above, I spotted the occasional hints of brown bark showing up, meaning we were flying over a giant forest of trees. And the only ground I could spot was the single lake we passed over. All of that was blurring under both my captive Deathless and myself.
¡°Did we go through the portal?!¡± Drakonis yelled out, voice half picked up through the dead helmet. His hands were trying to claw blindly at it. There was absolutely a hint of panic, which didn¡¯t bode well for me.
¡°Shut up, trying to think.¡± I said, while our chunk of glass was slowly rotating in the air. He probably couldn¡¯t hear that, so mostly talking to myself there. "Cathida, options?"
¡°The armor could survive getting squashed under your current ride, but getting out from under all that weight might be a lot more complicated than we want it to be.¡± Cathida said, ¡°Recommend you abandon ship.¡±
Up ahead I could see our prior abandoned ship had also made it through the portal and was still firing its thrusters, rocketing it forward far past where the glass chunks were currently carpet bombing the trees and local wildlife. It was going straight forward, soon to land on the one place that isn''t covered in trees and wildlife. A smoking charred vale on a lower valley.
And talking about that, looks like this was our stop. I didn''t have time to strap his armor to my own using the cable locks, so instead I tried to get a good grip on Drakonis and then took one giant leap off the chunk we rode in on.
Got a few good feet out of the way before a smaller chunk crashed right into me and tossed me like a spec of ice off an airspeeder wake. The armor kept me safe from what should have been a nasty bump, but it couldn¡¯t keep hold of the Deathless with the current grip I had on him. He was ripped away from my hold, and I could see him fall further away.
I¡¯d like to say that was the worst part of the landing procedure, but the portal decided two more chunks of glass were in order along with a good splattering of shrapnel and debris. I don¡¯t know what I did to deserve this, but I had been cursing this entire time nearly non-stop.
Landing itself was anti-climatic: I hit a tree.
The tree did not survive.
Also hit its neighbor, and the neighbor''s neighbor, before finally landing on a boulder, bouncing off and faceplanting into muddy ground, sliding a good few feet head first.
Then, blessedly, I finally came to a full stop. ¡°...is it over?¡±
¡°Biometrics show a clean bill of health.¡± Cathida chimed. ¡°Great landing. Only thing wounded is your pride right now.¡±
¡°I want a refund.¡± I hissed, getting back up on my feet. Journey¡¯s vision was black and white, clearly using some kind of spectrum analysis vision since mud covered my entire faceplate right now. My hands tried wiping it all off, and moving on to whatever cloth I had that wasn¡¯t ripped off. Also did a quick pat-pat checkup on my belt, confirming what I¡¯d noticed in the soul sight over the crash landing. Knightbreaker and its launcher were gone, along with my rifle, longsword and Tsuya¡¯s seeker. I got godsdamned robbed. Just about everything that had some heft while being held by straps or weaker material that physics could put to the stress test.
¡°Entertainment was top tier though.¡± Cathida said.
¡°Laugh it up you old bat.¡± My gauntlets then padded over the gear I did still have. Two knives, one on my boot and one on my chestplate, a single semi-automatic side-arm with forty eight occult bullets neatly organized within their spare magazines, still where they should be. Also had my arm shotguns ready to fire. My armguard had stayed where it should be and by some absolute miracle, none of the shaped charges on my bandolier had gone off.
The last of the mud that I could wipe off was off, helmet was clear and switched to full color again. I wasn¡¯t hearing any more crashing trees around me, probably safe to start moving around without a giant chunk of glass flattening me into the dirt.
"I''m making those jetpacks first thing when I get some free time. Being able to fly around seems too good to put to the side."
¡°Journey wants you to know there¡¯s three more hours of power before you need to switch to your reserve.¡± Cathida said. ¡°After that, you¡¯ll have another eight hours of operation before it¡¯s time to really panic.¡±
Right. Reality waits for no one. Trapped who knows where and cut off of any supplies. ¡°Understood," I said. "Hoarding everything I can get my hands. Talking about that, Journey any way to track down where my gear and prisoner went? I need to vent my frustrations on someone innocent.¡±
¡°That Deathless is, quite literally, the entire reason you¡¯re here right now.¡± Cathida said. ¡°He''s certainly not innocent.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± I slapped my head. ¡°Sorry, habit. Usually they¡¯re innocent.¡±
¡°And for your other question, yes. Journey can give you an estimate of where some of your stuff might have landed, though if any of it got hit by other chunks of glass or shrapnell, it¡¯s time to start praying to the goddess for free gold.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t sound too worried that the little brick of mite tech you died protecting is also among the lost items. Abraxas is going to be extra cranky if we don¡¯t find it, or die of a heart attack.¡±
The old bat cackled. ¡°He¡¯s lived centuries, if the genetic engineering in his blood has kept the old coot that long out of a coffin, I don¡¯t think a simple heart attack is going to do the trick.¡±
¡°Genetic engineering?¡±
¡°How else is he still alive? You think people just randomly live for a few thousand years while not being Deathless? Only option is golden era genetic engineering. You didn¡¯t guess that yet?¡±
¡°Uhhh¡¡± That¡¯s got to be the filter in effect. Don¡¯t think Abraxas had any blood in the first place.
¡°Don¡¯t know if he¡¯s lucky or cursed to have stumbled on the fountain of youth.¡± She continued, ¡°But anyhow, about the goddess¡¯s mite seeker - Imperials aren¡¯t dumb deary, and that is one very important artifact. It has safeguards to be recovered in case of a wipe, or extreme resistance."
"It has an onboard ping?" She did make a point, if this artifact was so important to the mission, losing it in combat had to have been taken into account.
"It can respond with a ping on the right frequency so long as it¡¯s been recently powered in the past few years, which it conveniently has thanks to you." Cathida said. "Walk around a bit and Journey can triangulate it.¡±
¡°Any direction?¡±
¡°I¡¯d say west, that¡¯s where most of your gear would be. But Journey recommends differently.¡±
¡°What¡¯s the armor¡¯s suggestion?¡±
¡°Power. You got a limited supply now, remember?¡± She cackled. ¡°You could try to give a few black eyes to the local machines in the strata, but no idea how deep we are. There¡¯s some terrifying monsters the further down you go. Might be safer to stay out of sight until we know what you¡¯re up against.¡±
¡°...you want me to find and loot the airspeeder.¡± I said, adding it all up. ¡°And that¡¯s not in the direction of my gear is it?¡±
¡°Yep. That¡¯s why the armor¡¯s insisting on you to go there first. Get the big ticket items out of the way. In my opinion, I¡¯d also get anything out of the airspeeder as soon as possible, something that big is going to draw attention. Don¡¯t want to be around when said attention comes sniffing.¡±
¡°Put a ping on where the airspeeder is, let¡¯s get going.¡±
Journey did exactly as instructed, and my HUD flashed up with an icon pointing south west. I started to make my way to the mud bank, feet sinking with each step halfway to my knees.
The trees around here were tall, though I could see through the distance one absolute monster of a tree. Above me I could see tree branches spreading and covering some of the artificial lights. ¡°The airspeeder would still have some power cells right?¡± I asked.
¡°Can¡¯t know for sure.¡± Cathida said. ¡°But I¡¯m starting to suspect they didn¡¯t set camp due to low fuel. They picked their battlefield.¡±
¡°Drakonis and his scrapshit plan.¡± I muttered. Could see where he was coming from. He¡¯d move the airspeeder around as a giant lightning rod of attention, make us board it in a group and then drive us off the cliff into the next strata so he could buy his side some time. He¡¯d fight tooth and nail, make a big show of it all, die heroically with the speeder falling and hope his enemy ¡®Deathless¡¯ didn¡¯t think to self-terminate as well.
The small group I¡¯d gone with was probably too tiny for him, if I had to guess. I¡¯d want more than just five knights jumping aboard since that plan could only work once. But he spotted me isolated and wanted to nab a quick kill. Jokes on him, I¡¯m armed to the teeth these days.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I stepped out of the marsh, finally feeling solid ground under me. ¡°And talking about our unwilling guide? Any idea where he landed?¡±
A map ping appeared on my HUD, showing north west. ¡°Got him.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Either that or we found a high density source of metal, but Journey¡¯s ninety nine percent sure that¡¯s not the case. He¡¯s on the way to the airspeeder, closer than it.¡±
I turned my head to that direction and began to march through the trees, roots and twigs snapping under the weight of each footstep. I could sprint, but decided to be more stealthy for now. No idea what strata I was, and I didn¡¯t have all my usual weapons to work with. Felt a little exposed. I did bring out my sidearm for my main hand and kept my armguard at the ready on the offhand. Good balance between being able to take anything out with a shield at close range, and able to take anything out that doesn¡¯t have a shield at long range.
Forest was cleared of any wildlife, everything having either run off for their lives, or burrowed down deep until the local cataclysm of black glass was done. So the trip was relatively uneventful.
Pretty soon we passed from living to scorched. Entire trees completely burnt up to cinders, just black husks left with a hint of brown under a handful. Not sure if that was intentional by the mites, or if there had been a wildfire by accident happening around here.
¡°Still ahead.¡± Cathida said.
I pointed across the vale, visibility much better in this environment. ¡°Is it by chance behind that giant chunk up ahead?¡±
It had smashed through a few charcoal trees, and then ripped a small scar in the ground but otherwise it was tall enough I could spot it from this distance.
¡°Close. Under it.¡±
¡°Universe just wants me to suffer. I¡¯m going to have to dig him up, aren''t I?¡±
¡°Yep. Better get jogging, he¡¯s not in danger of being crushed, but rather suffocated. Armor can¡¯t generate oxygen without power.¡±
And as expected, found Drakonis is short order, pinned under that giant block of black glass. ¡°Any life signs?¡± I asked.
¡°Won¡¯t know until you dig him out.¡± Cathida said. ¡°His armor¡¯s offline, so can¡¯t get any updates from that.¡±
I did have a few grenades, those could chunk out the glass, but I didn¡¯t want to waste my ordinance on something like this. Knife and weapons I had on hand were good at precision targets, not mass area of effect. Might be able to dig under it all and get to him like that.
¡°What¡¯s the fastest way to dig him out? I¡¯m on a time limit here.¡±
¡°Punch it.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Might need a few wacks, but it¡¯ll do the job.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± I slapped my head. ¡°Should have thought of that. Keep it simple and all that good advice.¡±
Armor was power. It was strong enough to bend metal, pry open turrets, and even overpower machines. Some glass wasn¡¯t going to stand in the way for long.
I wound up an arm, and threw my first punch at the giant chunk. The center part turned from black to instant white, slightly sunken into to glass, with about seven giant cracks forming at the same time, spreading from the center punch outwards.
I gave it a few more touch ups after that.
The cracks grew longer and longer, stretching out until they reached the edges of the chunk, until finally one of my blows didn¡¯t just slam into the centermass, it went through it. The chunk broke into smaller chunks that slid off the main thing. They slammed into the ground and tipped over. Other chunks broke into a shower of shards, crumbling all down in between the larger chunks. My fingers wrapped over whatever large chunks hadn¡¯t fallen down by gravity and did the rest of the work, pulling the whole thing apart.
Still had to spend another five minutes punching and shoving glass aside before I caught sight of my target. And eventually I had him, the dirt being easily scooped out until he slid right out.
¡°Power cell fluid leaking from his legplates.¡± Cathida said. ¡°It¡¯s mixing with the mud.¡±
¡°We shouldn¡¯t be in danger of explosions, power cell fluid¡¯s pretty stable when it¡¯s not being tapped for energy.¡± I said. ¡°Unless there¡¯s something in the mud I should know about?¡±
¡°Nope, but Journey¡¯s pointing out if you want to recover some of his power, better get him out of there fast before every drop¡¯s gone.¡±
Drakonis hadn¡¯t said a word in the entire time, nor had he tried to move or use occult. Had a small sinking feeling in my gut when I clicked his helmet release seals and lifted it off him.
¡°He¡¯s alive.¡± Cathida said to my relief. ¡°Can see breathing out of his nose.¡±
¡°Good, I¡¯d be really disappointed if after all this effort he went and died before I could get my answers. Is he unconscious or pretending to be?¡±
¡°Unconscious from the breathing pattern. Slap him a bit.¡±
¡°In a moment,¡± I patted the sides of his legplates and found where I¡¯d executed my earlier cuts. Power cell fluid was leaking out, but the overall plates could be pried open. It was a mess, but I did manage to transfer at least some of it back into my half empty right side cell.
¡°Got an extra two hours from that.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Not a lot left in his armor.¡±
¡°Not sure if I¡¯ll keep him around or not, but at least whatever power we have isn¡¯t going to leak out while we make a decision. Time for a heart to heart with the bastard.¡±
One rattling slap later he fumbled back to life, eyes flashing open in a quick bark of pain.
¡°Wha-?¡±
I grabbed his armor¡¯s throat guard and slammed him down into the ground, shaking him a bit for good measure. ¡°Rise and shine scrapshit. I have some questions and you¡¯re going to answer them.¡±
His eyes seemed to focus on me, then his hand tried to grab my wrist, as if the unpowered armor could do anything against Journey. He realized it a moment after, opting to use his occult as a backup. Crackling pale blue lightning appeared on his armor like static before a lighting strike.
I slapped him again.
It knocked whatever focus he was using to power the occult, I could almost see the concept of it vanishing away as if it had the door slammed shut on its face.
Time to dig into my Winterscar roots. ¡°It¡¯s useless Deathless. You¡¯ve lost. And now the only thing in question is my mercy.¡±
Yes, very dramatic. Didn¡¯t quite get the verbal sneer as well as some other examples from my family, but they practiced that on their mirrors for at least an hour a day. I was largely out of practice right now.
He tried to spit at me, which didn¡¯t work due to gravity, so instead it landed on his armor chest.
¡°Adorable.¡± I slapped him again, lightly this time. ¡°Now, you gonna answer my question or keep trying to make this awkward? I¡¯ve got a lot of time on my hand, free schedule today last I checked.¡±
¡°Your mask is slipping.¡± He said instead of answering anything I wanted to know, which got a head tilt from me. ¡°You''re not a clan knight at all, are you?"
"What?" I asked, honestly stumped at where the logic in that was.
"You spoke like a clan knight before, moved like one, and dressed like one. But now that you''re all alone out here, that mask is slipping off fast. I see right through you. Clanners are fanatics, emotionless killers. And you''re rattled, afraid. Talking like an Undersider."
I took a second to process the weird backwards logic before I figured it out. I¡¯d gone with the stoic traditional surface knight stereotype when I first met him. And that''s a stereotype for a reason. Looks like most people thought of clan knights as elite single-minded soldiers that didn''t have any personality.
"You do realize clan knights are still people under the training and preparation?"
I don''t think I got through to him given his vacant stare back. Then he shook his head, as if it didn''t matter. "I don''t know why you''re pretending to be a clan knight when you aren''t. Or what convoluted scheme you''re running. Why are you even here?"
¡°Okay, pause. That¡¯s a lot of questions from someone I¡¯m supposed to be interrogating.¡± I said, tapping my helmet with a finger. ¡°But fine. Think about it all for a second. Do you know anyone else who can master the surface combat schools? Maybe your cousin knows a friend or something? How hard can they be to learn, you¡¯d need¡ what? A decade or two to master? Easy access, right? I¡¯m sure your friend also managed to find some discount for the lessons too, clans are real friendly to outsiders asking to learn their inner secrets. Yep.¡±
He stayed staring at me, eyes narrowing down as if the new data point was not sinking in with his current hypothesis and he didn''t know what to do with that disconnect.
¡°Yeah, I didn''t think so either.¡± I said. ¡°Also, as I keep having to remind you, I¡¯m the one with the questions I want answered. I will keep slapping until I get what I want.¡±
Drakonis gave a strained laugh, his eyes looking around to the trees beyond. ¡°Fine. Here¡¯s your answer: I have no idea where we are, clanner. All I know is that you¡¯re out of the fight for good.¡±
Assuming he wasn¡¯t lying about that then... ¡°You knew about the portal here, but you don¡¯t know where it led?¡±
That was a giant gamble on his part. But they had been getting pressed in for options.
¡°No one does.¡± He shrugged, though the armor restricted his movements enough it hardly looked like an inch of movement. ¡°No one comes back through the portal. Everything you¡¯ve ever known is gone now. Rot in hell with me.¡±
¡°I¡¯m very much alive and not rotting last I checked. And I plan to continue being that way for a long time, thank you.¡±
He smiled, ¡°I¡¯d hoped you would say that. New Deathless like you¡ you¡¯ve never died before have you? Too powerful for anything on the first strata. Here¡¯s a lesson: Dying isn¡¯t going to bring you back to your home now. Here, you¡¯ll return to a pillar within on this strata. You can choose of course, but that won¡¯t help anything if we¡¯re halfway across the world. There might not be any civilization in any direction for years. I might be the last human you see before you go insane.¡±
¡°You¡¯re on the same airspeeder I¡¯m on, buddy. Literally. I don¡¯t think you want to go insane any more than I do.¡±
He tried to shrug again. ¡°I died when my team died at the Tower. I already live in hell each day. What more can the world do to me that hasn¡¯t already been done?¡±
¡°Dramatic of you.¡± It was a good line, I¡¯ll give it that. Seven out of ten.
¡°Dramatics is for films. Have you ever known loss? True loss?¡±
I could see the rows of metal grave plaques, each with the name of a Winterscar who died fighting against hopeless odds to give me just enough time to equip Journey. And all the other newly named Winterscars, watching solemnly through their environmental suit goggles as the eulogy passed through the open comms. Father''s face, harrowed out from the fight with Wrath''s first incarnation, slowly dying and at peace with it. Windrunner, rushing through to hold To"Sefit down just long enough. "I have." I said, feeling a flash of anger. "You lost friends, I''ve lost people who swore to serve and protect me. People I was responsible for leading. Who put their faith that saving me would save more lives than they could alone. Do you know what the weight of that feels like? I am a knight retainer of House Winterscar, Drakonis. When sacrifice calls, we answer it."
I dove back down into the soul fractal, letting the cool feelings bleed away my emotions. There, I took a few breaths before I resurfaced. But I always kept a good portion of my soul linked deep, away from the hurt and pain of the world. Propranolol-7 could only be a crutch for so far, but the soul fractal carried the rest of the weight.
When I felt more like myself, I opened my eyes back into the real world, where I stared down at Drakonis. He seemed genuinely puzzled. ¡°How could you lose anyone with all your power?¡±
That was.... difficult to answer. And much of it, he wouldn''t understand. But there was one answer he might. ¡°We took on Feathers.¡±
The utter shock on his face was something I¡¯d savor. ¡°Feathers?¡± He asked, going quiet.
¡°Yes, Feathers. Capital F. The actual agents of the great machine god controlling everything, you stupid scrapshit. And one such Feather turned sides and is helping humanity for the first time in history. And here you are, trying to kill her people while she¡¯s absent. Great look for humanity, thanks.¡±
"What?" He asked, with the same tone as my own earlier what. He blinked, "... Just who are you?¡± He asked, this time with a hint of caution.
I could tell him who I was. He didn¡¯t have any relation to machines and being undercover has mostly passed the course. He thinks I¡¯m a Deathless, and so does Relinquished and all the other machines out there. And he¡¯d know my family name, my sister had seen to that. She''d been at his city before the Tower fell. She''d fought against Wrath single handedly and beat her in front of cameras and everything. He had to know her.
I gave him one last good look. ¡°I¡¯m Keith. Keith Winterscar.¡± I said.
Book 6 - Chapter 30 - Conflicting stories
¡°You¡¯re a Winterscar?¡± He asked, completely stunned. ¡°As in a savage like you is related to the sword saint?¡±
¡°Looks like I¡¯m famous.¡± I said with a bit of well earned smug satisfaction.
¡°Your House is.¡± He said. ¡°You aren¡¯t. If you even are a Winterscar. What is your relation to the sword saint?¡±
Well, that was new. First time I¡¯ve told my name to someone and they didn¡¯t believe me. Don¡¯t know how I felt about that. ¡°She¡¯s my older sister.¡±
He looked like a fish, mouth open slightly as if he had a few more questions and no idea which to ask first. ¡°Why are you even defending the cultists in the first place if you¡¯re a Winterscar? They were the enemy, they destroyed Capra¡¯Nor. The same city she fought for.¡±
I took a double take at that. ¡°What? The Chosen didn¡¯t destroy the city, you smoking frostbloom instead of boiling it?¡±
¡°No, you dense bastard--¡±
¡°Whoa, language.¡± I said, giving him a quick flick to his forehead. ¡°Dirty surface savage is perfectly polite, let¡¯s keep it civilized here.¡±
He growled, shaking his head since he couldn¡¯t easily swat my hand away. ¡°Did you not see the fucking city? It¡¯s in ruins, looted to the ground, not even the bodies could be found.¡±
¡°Again, what are you talking about? It was fully evacuated.¡± Did Marsella not even do the basics of telling Drakonis what was going on? Or were there just zero negotiations and communication attempts?
¡°The cultists all said the same thing, did you really believe them?¡± Drakonis narrowed his eyes. ¡°A little too convenient, don¡¯t you think?¡±
Ah. Not the lack of communication attempts, lack of evidence and credibility. Always the main issues I have to deal with when trying to peddle my lies, understandable.
I sat down, tapping my fingers together as I decided on how I was going to handle this mess. ¡°Who did you talk to exactly at the negotiations?¡±
¡°You know exactly who. The criminal. The plague of Capra¡¯Nor herself, fucking back from the dead and stomping on everything and everyone as usual. Marsella the black.¡±
¡°She your ex?¡±
He didn¡¯t appreciate that line, but fortunately I was nice and safe in currently powered armor and he could just foam at the mouth and shake.
¡°I was a guard part of Capra¡¯Nor¡¯s military police, dickwad.¡± He finally spat out, after calming down a tad. ¡°What do you think?¡±
¡°Language.¡± I said, giving him another flick on his forehead. Starting to get red there. ¡°Sounds like the start of a sappy romance novel, that¡¯s what I¡¯d think.¡± Okay, maybe I was having a little too much fun here, I took a breath and got a bit more serious. ¡°But no, I didn¡¯t live in Capra¡¯Nor and the time I did spend there, it was already at peace and everything had been settled down. So tell me exactly who Marsella was, and why you hate her this much?¡±
¡°It¡¯s the amount of people she¡¯s responsible for killing. Families ripped apart from crooked loans, addicts turning on their friends, street thugs terrorizing the local markets but all just underground enough no one in the guard could campaign to the people for a full force to clear her out. She had ties to the upper ranks, and hid behind them like a shield. She¡¯s the literal shitstain that¡¯s been rotting the city from the inside out ever since she moved in, and for a brief few days we thought she¡¯d finally keeled over dead during the rebellion. Get it now?¡±
Okay, add some history between the two. But there¡¯s room for diplomacy again given the new info I had here about Drakonis and Marsella.
¡°I don¡¯t mean to downplay any of the scrapshit she¡¯s been up to in the background before I arrived here, but for the negotiations specifically - she didn¡¯t bring out any evidence of any kind? This would be the easiest thing to prove.¡±
He laughed, ¡°Sure, few video recordings, Zaang¡¯s old documents, council edicts, all things she¡¯s easily forged before time and time again. When we told her to pound sand she told us to go travel two weeks away to visit some of the further cities and speak to the refugees from Capra¡¯Nor there. And then spend another two weeks returning. Full month for her to fully entrench her little thiefdom. You can¡¯t possibly be this stupid, surface savage.¡±
I resisted the urge to sigh, but it was hard. ¡°Okay, I get that.¡± I said instead. ¡°Can¡¯t let a window of chance slip away, I¡¯d have done the same. That said, you couldn¡¯t just send out a single Deathless to get the info back? Just one to at least verify?¡±
¡°We had one single airspeeder.¡± He tried to look behind him, past the charred vale. The dead armor stopped him from making a full turn. ¡°And it¡¯s laying in a wreck somewhere out there. You want me to send out one of my men on a hoversled?¡±
¡°There wasn¡¯t any other attempt Marsella made to get the message across? Or anyone else trying to discuss terms with you lot?¡±
Legis would have been part of the negotiations. And he¡¯s far more level headed about peace. How did this en- oh. He wasn¡¯t there. He wasn¡¯t there when the Deathless had started the fight, still traveling down with Fido. And he wasn¡¯t there for the city¡¯s history either.
And Tamery¡ I could see her listening to Marsella sagely say she¡¯ll go handle the giant army of Deathless, and believing it would work. Probably should have if that army of Deathless wasn¡¯t being led by a straight up city guard.
Starting to see what the stink was really about. Marsella saw who Drakonis was, did a feeble attempt just to test the snow a bit and then defaulted back to what she was good at. Or maybe that was what she wanted to happen the entire time?
Everyone¡¯s telling me she¡¯s an underworld boss of some kind who¡¯s been around the block. Is this some kind of powerplay? Did she want there to be a fight between the new town and the Deathless?
I couldn¡¯t understand why she¡¯d want that though, and was left thinking about it until Drakonis pulled me back into the world. ¡°You really believe her lies?¡± He asked.
¡°Got nothing to do with believing her or not, I was there. I saw it all happen." I said. "Winterscar, remember? And if you don¡¯t know snow from ice about it, I take it you weren¡¯t there for any of the peace or evacuation?¡±
¡°No. I set off to bring back an army of Deathless. And I did. When we got back, the city was dead and looted to the ground.¡± He gave a dry chuckle after, ¡°And guess what else we found when we got back? Out in the fields, filled to the brim with all the rations a city would have to loot, were the cultists who¡¯d been sieging us this entire fucking time, led by Marsella herself. All swearing up and down they¡¯re innocent. They just want to peacefully worship the very machines that murdered everyone. You¡¯re either some kind of moron, or in with them, and I can¡¯t fucking figure which side of the coin you fall on, savage.¡±
¡°Thought we agreed on ¡®dirty surface savage?¡¯ I like my fancy titles Drakonis. Don¡¯t rob a man of the simple joys in life.¡±
He shook his head as if he couldn¡¯t believe that was my answer, ¡°Are you actually from the surface even? Clan knights aren¡¯t like this.¡±
¡°You just haven¡¯t spent any time around enough clan knights. Though, you¡¯re usually correct I¡¯ll admit.¡±
I got back on my feet and paced around, switching the comms to private. ¡°Cathida, opinions?¡±
¡°Unable to process this request.¡± Journey¡¯s smooth voice explained instead of the old bat. ¡°Filter unable to be applied to current information.¡±
A nervous unhinged laugh came out my mouth before I could even shove it down. ¡°Gods damned short term solutions, should have figured this would bite me later.¡±
Too much scrapshit here for Journey to even make up an excuse that could be fed to Cathida.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
¡°What is your end game?¡± Drakonis asked while I was silently fuming in my helmet. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly think any of us are going to believe that kind of outrageous story.¡±
¡°That¡¯s exactly what I expect from you.¡± I took a few pacing steps again, looking out at the charred vale around us. ¡°Fine, it¡¯s fine. Let¡¯s get back on topic. When did you leave the city?¡±
He paused, then shook his head with a half-armored shrug again. ¡°After the city fell prey to the machines, the sword saint and her honor guard continued the fight, even taking on the Feather overlord herself a few times. The machines gave the city three weeks to become cultists or die off. Many left, and I did too. But I didn¡¯t leave to run. When I went out, I swore I would return with an army of Deathless.¡± He sat up on his elbows, straining to move the unpowered armor. ¡°I kept my oath¡ but it took too long. When we got back, there was nothing left of the city except vultures taking whatever they could, and then claiming innocence. You happen to know them already.¡±
I had both my hands pressed up against my forehead. ¡°This is such scrapshit on a monumental level, I can¡¯t even process how to handle you.¡±
It had been months after the city evacuated that I¡¯d beaten Father and finally returned underground. Of course the city was looted and empty. And of course Drakonis wouldn¡¯t have run into any refugees anymore, not after that long. And of course he wouldn¡¯t have stopped at any cities those refugees would have landed in, why add more pit stops in what he thought was a pressing situation? Moment he had enough of an army, he raced right back to Capra¡¯Nor without a single stop. ¡°You¡¯ve got some history to catch up on.¡± I said after a few back and forth paces. ¡°That¡¯s what missing. A full debrief.¡±
¡°From you?¡± He laughed. ¡°A Deathless turncoat helping the machines?¡±
¡°Yeah. That¡¯s exactly who.¡± Then I pointed a finger at the heavy armor holding him down, ¡°Don¡¯t think you can do anything about it either other than sit here, be miserable, and listen to my monologuing.¡±
So I sat down and explained everything I could about the history he¡¯d missed by inches. Wrath and the mites, killing a few Feathers from To¡¯Aacar to To¡¯Avalis and his little army of minions too, the evacuation, running to the surface and finally coming back now that the coast was more clear. All the main details, and none of the more informations sensitive stuff.
And of course he didn¡¯t believe a word I said.
¡°The only thing in your story that makes any amount of sense.¡± He said after a long pause. ¡°Is you being a Winterscar. So for now, I know you¡¯re an actual dirty surface savage.¡±
¡°First, thank you, finally some recognition. And second, that¡¯s where you draw the line? Not a Feather turning against Relinquished, the great pale lady that¡¯s been the real reason the world¡¯s in ruin? Seriously? Me being a Winterscar and from the surface?¡±
And I''d spent some good time explaining Relinquished in details too, since imperials only had passing mentions about the violet goddess as I found out. Most considered her an allegory or parable in their books, not an actual entity. And none of them knew her exact name, just ''Violet Goddess''.
He gave another half-moved shrug, the armor still acting more like a prison than protection. ¡°You move like she did. The sword saint. I saw that with my own eyes. And her honor guards began to move as quickly as she did later during the rebellion. In the same way, your entire line of clan knights could move as fast. I don¡¯t know if she really could teach others or if it was a gift of power, but there is a connection of some kind between your knights and hers. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s friendly or not.¡±
This obstinate little shit. ¡°Can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s friendly or not, okay then you rat bastard¡ explain why the gods you don¡¯t believe I¡¯m on my own sisters side?¡±
He shook his head at that. ¡°Family isn¡¯t some iron bond. She could have been betrayed by her own clan once an easier path appeared, she fought a rebellion against the cultists and now her clan is settling in with them. Or perhaps there¡¯s a power struggle among the Winterscars. She could have also been subverted by the Feather¡¯s lies. I don¡¯t even know if the sword saint is alive or not. What I do know is that the machine Feather that took Capra¡¯Nor was immensely powerful, clever, and pragmatic. Both a warmaster, and a silver tongue.¡±
All that went through my head was Wrath eating a plate because I¡¯d convinced her it was edible. Or with all the grace and poise of a Feather, hiding in a box of squashed berries from Kidra and peeking out the lid later in the night. Two beady violet eyes looking left and right for possible danger. Or tripping on a giant obvious root because something shiny caught her attention. ¡°In some definitions of clever, sure.¡± I diplomatically said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen¡ other sides to her.¡±
Drakonis shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. She took an entire city from the inside out. Battled a saint sent by the goddess herself to a standstill. Convinced hundreds of normal people to follow her off a metaphorical cliff. She¡¯s capable of lying and fooling anyone.¡±
Also beating up other Feathers, starting rebellions, and petty theft for starters. But I sure wasn¡¯t going to give Drakonis more fuel for his paranoia.
¡°The conviction is still in question.¡± He looked down at his hands, giving them a mild flop, straining against the bulky metal. ¡°But what is the point of all this even, Winterscar?¡±
¡°Another attempt for a peaceful resolution to this entire mess.¡± I said. ¡°What else?¡±
¡°No. That¡¯s not what I mean. I don¡¯t think you really understand just how fucked we both are now.¡± His head leaned back against the dirt, eyes looking up to the roof far above, covered in leaves. ¡°We¡¯re gone. An entire world away from Capra¡¯Nor, or the cultists. Completely gone. It doesn''t matter if what you say is the truth or not. Doesn¡¯t matter what you¡¯re hiding or not hiding. We might as well be in a brand new life now. It¡¯ll sink in soon enough.¡±
¡°No, I¡¯m going back.¡± I said without much thought. ¡°I know a few people in high places I can shake down for a map home.¡±
He gave a dry scoff. ¡°It¡¯s impossible.¡±
¡°Yeah, and I¡¯ve done the impossible a few times over already, you heard half of it. Mites made the portal. Mites are working with Wrath. And I¡¯m working with Wrath. Add it together. I''ve got access to resources most people don''t. It might be impossible for you, but I''ve got options.¡± I could tell that hit a small nerve in him. He didn¡¯t show it, but there was a flicker of something in those calculating eyes of his. ¡°So here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen. I¡¯ve got a deal to offer you. You and I are going to go on a little airspeeder ride.¡±
He rolled his eyes instantly. ¡°It¡¯s an expression, you dense scrapshit.¡± I said, ¡°But for all I know we might end up having to actually ride an airship back. Maybe not yours, wasn''t in great shape last I saw it. I¡¯m not ruling anything out just yet, done crazier things.¡±
He gave me a very flat stare, but didn¡¯t argue back, so I clearly won.
¡°I¡¯ve got you dead to rights here.¡± I said. ¡°I could just leave you here and make my way back home on my own. The little sneak attack on the town while we were on the field fighting failed, and I doubt the battle where you lost your entire airspeeder went any better. So it¡¯s over, I won.¡±
His eyes widened at that. ¡°We counted only one less surface knight among you. You think a single one of your knights could take on nine Deathless?¡±
¡°Why as a matter of fact I do. Because that single knight is To¡¯Wrathh. The warlord Feather you warned me earlier not to underestimate. Remember she came with us? I¡¯ll give you three guesses as to who won the fight back at the town, and the hint is that she won.¡±
I didn¡¯t actually know if she won or not, but a bluff would work just fine here.
The fight seemed to go clear out of him, and he let himself slump completely back into the blackened dirt. He gave a strangled laugh after that. ¡°Why even offer any kind of deal with me? If you already know you¡¯ve won completely, all you¡¯re doing is putting a risk on yourself to keep me around.¡±
¡°Because your gathered army followed you.¡± I said with a finger tapping on his chestplate. ¡°They¡¯ll keep fighting in your memory and Deathless don¡¯t have any natural stopping point. We¡¯ll end up in this fight for decades. I have other things to do in this world than to protect a town, things that involve the entire world and possibly improving it for the better. So the only way this is ending is if the town is obliterated¡ or that you tell your soldiers to stand down.¡±
He didn¡¯t even pause to think about it. ¡°If you¡¯re offering to help me return home in exchange for having me give that kind of order, you have no idea who the fuck you¡¯re speaking to, Winterscar. I set out to bring back an army to save Capra¡¯Nor, and failing that, to avenge her and the people that died there. You think I¡¯m so self-centered that I¡¯d be willing to turn my back to that to save my own skin? Never.¡±
¡°That¡¯s sort of what I was counting on. We¡¯re going back home, and both investigate this to the fullest. If it turns out the Chosen were lying this whole time, I¡¯ll order my knights to back off. Three gods above, I¡¯ll even join ranks with you.¡±
He stayed silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±
I could tell he already knew what the second part of that deal would be, since he showed no surprise at what I said next. ¡°But, if it turns out I¡¯m right? That the cultists have been telling the true history this entire time? You¡¯ll settle your own personal grudge somewhere else, and you¡¯ll call off your Deathless and leave well enough alone. And I mean all the Deathless, Lionheart included.¡±
He was quick on the uptake for why I specifically mentioned Lionheart. ¡°Even hard evidence might not convince him to leave a Feather alone.¡± Drakonis said. "He''s fought them before with his old fireteam, all of his skills, gear and abilities were tailored to fighting them off."
¡°That¡¯ll be your problem to figure out. And I have a strong suspicion you¡¯d be the only one with any chance of getting him to cooperate.¡±
He stared me down, calculations going through his head. Then, with a deep breath, he closed his eyes and nodded once. ¡°If what you said was true, that the people of Capra¡¯Nor are safe and that the Feather To¡¯Wrathh is fighting for humanity and allied with the mites¡ then I will order my army to stand down. And that includes Lionheart, I¡¯ll find a way. And you, Winterscar? Is your word worth anything?¡±
I reached down a hand to shake his own. ¡°I already know I won¡¯t need to test it. But if by some reason the joke''s been on me this whole time, then I will do exactly as I said I would and take up my blade against the Chosen. I give you my oath on that.¡±
¡°So be it, you dirty surface savage.¡± He said, grabbing my arm and shaking.
¡°So be it, you ungrateful Deathless bastard.¡± I said, returning the handshake.
Book 6 - Chapter 31 - On the road
Bootsteps were left behind each step I took in the charred vale, the carbon under me making a perfect impression and the lack of wind here left them undisturbed. The heavy weight of the armor coupled with Drakonis¡¯s own weight on my back made those impressions deep.
¡°You ever think about going on a diet?¡± I asked my passenger.
¡°Shut up Winterscar.¡± Drakonis hissed. ¡°It¡¯s your fault I¡¯ve got no power and deep in the shit.¡±
¡°Oh, my bad.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll just let myself get stabbed next time. Happens more often than you think.¡±
He was quiet for all of three seconds. ¡°For a clan knight, you¡¯ve got the fattest mouth I¡¯ve ever seen. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be some emotionless killing machine?¡±
¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be heard?¡±
¡°What?¡±
Up ahead, I finally caught sight of something different than charred trees. Namely stumps of charred trees, as if something big had smashed it¡¯s way through. Something big and floating a foot above ground, occasionally slamming down through it on terrain inconsistencies. ¡°¡®The fattest mouth you¡¯ve ever heard.¡¯ Helmet covers my face, so you¡¯ve never technically seen me at all.¡± I said, as I changed directions and began to follow the trail of destruction.
¡°Are you this insufferable with everyone you meet?¡±
¡°Part of my roguish surface savage charm.¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s clearly wasted on uncultured Deathless, that¡¯s unfortunate.¡±
¡°Fuck off and die.¡±
That got a good laugh out of me, mostly by the deadpan delivery. That¡¯s the kind of line he¡¯d had practice saying. ¡°Who¡¯d take care of you if I was gone? It¡¯s a scary world down here.¡± I gave him a pat on the side of his shoulder as I hauled him like an oversized backpack.
Drakonis¡¯s armor was still dead. But not dead for good. To repair it, we needed power cell fluid and matter of some kind that isn¡¯t mite-made, or among the inedible list. Picky eaters. We had spare power, but matter around here was harder to scavenge.
And this whole trip, I didn¡¯t have Cathida to chat with. So I made that Drakonis¡¯s problem.
¡°Reboot complete.¡± Journey stated, giving the Deathless a rest from me. ¡°Loading predictive modeling. Isolating model to language modeling. Partial cognitive engram, online. Overriding natural language transformer.¡±
¡°Cathida?¡± I asked, after a silent moment.
¡°Yes deary?¡± She answered back.
¡°You okay?¡±
¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be? Something up? Do you need help dealing with the Deathless on your back or something? I can give you a list of good insults to annoy him with, but you were doing a fine job without me from what I¡¯m reading on the logs.¡±
¡°That¡¯s not¡ earlier you had to go offline and Journey was still in the process of rebooting you. Can you tell me more about that?¡±
¡°Can¡¯t.¡± She said with her usual verbal shrug. ¡°No memory of any of it, last I remember you were riding on a glass shard the size of an airspeeder and now you¡¯re hauling back the Deathless, and working with him. Don¡¯t know why exactly, but you do you deary. Cathida¡¯s seen stranger things.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have any questions?¡±
¡°The real Cathida would. But she¡¯s still a soldier, even at her era of being a nosy old crone. Sometimes you do what you need to do. She¡¯s cranky, not senile.¡±
¡°So what do you remember?¡± I asked, while Drakonis seemed to take my moment of silence as an oddity.
¡°Winterscar? Did your armor spot something? Are we on the right track?¡±
I¡¯d already started jogging down the path of destroyed trees and he could see them on both sides of us now. ¡°We¡¯re on the right path.¡± I said. ¡°The hover¡¯s looking like it was still functional enough after it landed.¡±
¡°How far did it go?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°I¡¯m no mechanic or pilot.¡±
¡°Hovering and with a navigation command to go forward? It¡¯ll run into a wall long before the cells are all drained. Even battered and limping. But don¡¯t worry, armor¡¯s already pinged it a while back. It¡¯s close enough.¡±
The scenery was still just burnt and still burning husks of trees, but each time the terrain rose too high up, I could see the impact of a giant mechanical monster slamming into and through the hillways.
Probably ran into a crater and that was the end of the journey for the poor thing.
In the new lull of silence while I jogged across the terrain, Cathida informed me of her situation. ¡°Journey gave me a few bullet points to work with. Can¡¯t repower Drakonis¡¯s armor without fixing up the power cell containers on his legplates. So armor fixing comes first. You lot tried with Journey¡¯s reserve, but burnt carbon and half-burnt tree bark gets eaten too slowly, and you don¡¯t have seven hours to wait for what should have taken ten minutes. Rocks and dirt around us are mite-made, armors can¡¯t process that. And you obviously don¡¯t want to give up anything on your back or belts. So you¡¯re hunting your old ride. Do I got it all down?¡±
¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about the thick of it.¡± I said.
I thought about it, but I guess Journey had solved the issue with the information overload in the simplest way possible: Act as if it didn¡¯t happen. That keeps the filter working, and doesn¡¯t cause issues.
The real problem is that I no longer think being blind to all this was an actual long term solution. Just the easy way out instead. Cathida¡¯s blind hatred had to be handled, and boy was I the wrong person to deal with that right now.
Future Keith was a reliable bloke, I can just toss the problem down the line at him, right?
Right.
¡°Talking about your target, go slightly more to your left, airspeeder¡¯s tracks should be about nine hundred meters. It took a big turn on the hill up ahead instead of plowing through it. Hearing a lot of wildlife there though. Rather odd.¡±
¡°There¡¯s wildlife?¡± I asked, looking again around the charred vale. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen a single thing around us.¡±
¡°No idea either deary, just passing along Journey¡¯s report.¡±
Few more minutes of light jogging and we found it. The airspeeder had stopped hovering, midway through the crash landing as I could see the churned up black soot and dirt trailing up to it. The nose was only mildly impacted, digging into a valley hillside. I think by this point all the original engine inertia had been spent and it was only moving at a sedate pace, gliding off the hill and into the recess here, the hover finally failing.
I expected a somber scene, with no sounds other than maybe some electric wires still alive and spitting sparks. Instead, I found the airspeeder had become the center point for animals of every shape and size.
¡°What¡¯s going on up there?¡± Drakonis asked, straining to turn his head in that direction. ¡°We find some wildlife trapped or something?¡±
¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± I said, and I meant it.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
These animals weren¡¯t the nice fuzzy animals I¡¯d grown used to hunting down for food like rabbits. These ones were snarling, foam dripping down their mouths, barking and baying after each other. It wasn¡¯t just the outside, I could see movement inside the airspeeder, claws trying to scrape at the metal doorways, or breaking open composite crates for whatever they could find inside.
¡°Cathida.¡± I asked slowly. ¡°Is the airspeeder being looted by wild animals?¡±
¡°I did say the old bat had seen some strange things.¡± Cathida said. ¡°But this one¡¯s going on top.¡±
One of the snarling animals, some kind of leopard-like beast with half its fur missing in patches, had tried to bite after what looked like a deer, who reared up and threatened hooves all while baying like a wounded screaming woman. In that one moment, the leopard caught sight of us up on the ridge line looking down at them.
Almost as if there was some kind of unworded announcement going, every single animal stopped in their tracks and turned to stare me down.
¡°Uh, hi?¡± I asked.
Whatever I said, they didn¡¯t appreciate it as the entire pack of feral creatures all started sprinting right at me, like a nightmare made incarnate.
¡°Winterscar?!¡± Drakonis yelled out, ¡°What the fuck is going on?¡±
¡°Get your helmet on,¡± I said, equipping my armguard and flipping a knife from my chestplate, lighting it up in a halo of occult blue.
The wave of animals raced up the hill and leaped for my throat.
Occult pulsed from my core, and my mirror images go to work, hacking and slashing at the baying animal tide. I took steps forward, knife slashing in quick strikes, armguard physically blocking and throwing off random monsters.
It was like wading into water, a resistance against my general movements, but ultimately nothing Journey couldn¡¯t power through by sheer golden era tech. Animals made it past my ghosts and my knife swings, opened their teeth wide and took giant chomps at my feet and knees. The armor didn¡¯t bother to trigger shields, letting the feral creatures try to gnaw at unyielding plates of armor.
Anything that got close to Drakonis, he pushed away with a pulse of occult, the shockwave still well and useful at clearing off my back. It had been strong enough to lift up and throw entire relic armors, so half-starved animals were child¡¯s play. Some got thrown so far away, the landing probably killed them.
He still grabbed his helmet from the clip at his side and made sure it was affixed on his head, even if it completely blinded him. His armor didn¡¯t have shields, it couldn¡¯t protect his head and neck from any spare bites. Encased in armor, he was far safer. Can¡¯t blame him, I wouldn¡¯t want my face to get mauled. What a way to go.
¡°Get rid of them Winterscar!¡± He yelled out, ¡°Don¡¯t know how much air this armor has inside!¡±
¡°He¡¯ll be fine, the big baby.¡± Cathida huffed. ¡°Powered down armor still has the foam padding, which holds a significant amount of air according to Journey and leeches C02 passively, whatever that means. Journey just says it¡¯s a good thing and keeps people alive.¡±
¡°Got it.¡± I gave Drakonis a quick pat on his helmet, ¡°Keep that on for now until I¡¯m done with this. Armor¡¯s telling me you won¡¯t have to worry for a few hours.¡± I told him and got a muffled acknowledgement.
Not many animals actually got close enough to bite anything with the occult at my command, the Winterblossom technique amplifying my movements, and the soul sight showing me every blindspot I had.
The issue is that these beasts didn¡¯t seem to get the memo that they were dead. I¡¯d cut their throats, or stab their hearts with an occult blade, and they still stood back up, limping to get to me. They¡¯d eventually flop to the ground and finish bleeding out like nature intended, but the sheer ferocity of their attack was unnerving, and they hardly seemed to care or attack each other.
About two minutes into fang, fur and fury, the animals all leapt backwards from me as if given some kind of command. Then they turned, and ran away.
Or so I thought, instead they all raced back to the airseeder, ripping through the open hangar door, breaking the last bits of crates and gear they could get their mouths, hooves, paws and antlers on. And racing straight out the other open hangar doorway, moving like a river of sickly looking fur up and out the crater, deeper into the charred vale.
Pretty soon I was alone, surrounded by a few dozen dead feral animals and one or two still growling, flailing dying legs in the air to flip back up and continue running.
¡°Winterscar.¡± Drakonis said, unlatching his helmet and taking in the sights around us. ¡°What the actual fuck is all this?¡±
¡°I was about to ask you the same question. This sort of thing not common down here, I take it?¡±
¡°No. Not in a million years. This all of them?¡±
¡°Wish that were it.¡± I said. ¡°They all turned tail and rampaged through your airspeeder, took what they could and raced right out the other way.¡±
¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡± He hissed. ¡°Animals aren¡¯t intelligent.¡±
¡°They didn¡¯t look intelligent.¡± I said. ¡°Just trained. They obeyed someone¡¯s commands to the letter, though I have no idea how anyone could train this kind of frenzied animals into complying with anything. Let alone this many.¡±
¡°Any of them bite past your armor?¡± He asked. ¡°I¡¯m fine here, far as I can tell.¡±
I shook my head, taking smaller steps down the crater and closer up to the wreckage. ¡°Not a single plate is even dented according to my HUD. I think a few broke their teeth trying to bite me, some of the leather straps have bite imprints on it and I¡¯ve got some slobber and blood on my cloak. Going to have to put it through the wash a few times.¡±
Drakonis said nothing, head looking back at the dead bodies we were leaving behind. ¡°They¡¯re diseased.¡± He said. ¡°Fur is discolored or in patches, foam at their mouths, some have burn marks that hardly look healed, and the way they move is unlike the animals I recognize.¡±
¡°So you have seen this kind of wildlife before?¡±
¡°I was a hunter before I joined the guard.¡± He said. ¡°Part of the training regiment. I hunted for both game and machine power cells, the training with rifles and relic armor transfers over to what the military police is seeking. I¡¯ve never seen game animals and predators work together like this before. Or move in any kind of coordination.¡±
As we got closer to the airspeeder, Drakonis dry heaved, then frantically grabbed his helmet and shoved it back on. ¡°Fucking smells like death, don¡¯t take your helmet off.¡±
I got to the airspeeder hangar doors, and boy was it in bad shape. Found out what had Drakonis almost puking for. Actual feces had been left and stomped over, smeared on the walls and crates. Dried and fresh blood was also just about everywhere, matted with loose fur and probably puke. Tainting whatever smashed crates still had stuff inside. ¡°Foods all gone.¡± I said, looking across, Journey¡¯s headlights lighting up whatever I looked over. ¡°Whatever they couldn¡¯t carry off, they ripped open and shat all over it. Some kind of attempt to starve us out? That¡¯s some slavershit level tactic.¡± I muttered. ¡°To think it up on the fly too is something.¡±
¡°How would you even train wild animals to open ration bars and shit on them?¡± Drakonis asked, ¡°The actual fuck is this? Occult of some kind?¡±
¡°That¡ could be possible.¡± I said. ¡°Might be some kind of spell that overrides someone¡¯s mind. Occult has a lot to do with willpower. But if there was this kind of power out there, Feathers would have already been abusing it. Might only work on animals or anything without enough sense.¡±
Fortunately, whatever was commanding the wild animals couldn¡¯t teach them how to open doorways. The path up to the cockpit had been pried open by one dirty surface savage who shall remain nameless, so that was now filled with the same destruction the hangar bay had been.
Fortunately, where I wanted to go was the engineering bay of this little ship, and that hadn¡¯t been in the way of the cockpit. I climbed down a set of stairs off the right side of the completely soiled medical bay, then got to a doorway with a lot of scratch marks all over. The manual release lock was still in good shape and easily opened up with some mild insistence using Journey.
¡°Good news.¡± I said. ¡°We got what we came for.¡±
¡°Goddess¡¯s golden tits, thank fuck.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be carried any more than you want to carry me.¡±
Quite a few power cells lined the walls here, all linked up to the ship. Most were empty, the glow missing from the canisters. But there were still eight left locked into place and showing near full.
I grabbed the release from one, gave it a twist and had it hiss open, the pressure lock released. Golden green glowing liquid still sloshed inside, untouched by any of the madness above.
I released Drakonis, letting him flop on the floor, then knelt down and administered a few drops down into the crackled legplates.
So long as the armor spirit had some reserve power within the nanoswarm, it could still fly over and start eating at both the drops and the metal grating nearby. Considering his armor had been powered not even a few hours past, the spirit was perfectly alive and willing to get itself back to normal.
¡°The miteseeker¡¯s moving.¡± Cathida said halfway through the repair procedure. ¡°Pings were steady at the same location prior, and now they¡¯re being dragged. Directly away from us.¡±
¡°You think it¡¯s the wildlife?¡±
¡°Deary, this is so far out of my experience, I don¡¯t even know what to think. But it¡¯s got my hackles up, and I have a suspicion the seeker being moved in the exact opposite direction from us, makes me think they¡¯re trying to take your toys and make sure you don¡¯t get to them.¡±
¡°Jokes on them. They¡¯re not stealing my gear. They¡¯re collecting it all for me.¡± I muttered, as I yanked the last power cell from its holster, airspeeder lights winking out at the same moment. The green glow of the power cell fluid lit the room, before being swallowed up by my bag. ¡°I¡¯ve got enough power to last me a few days, and as far as I know only an oversized machine lizard can outrun an angry relic knight.¡±
I¡¯d expected machines of the lower strata to be the danger I¡¯d need to worry about. But turns out, I¡¯m now having to chase after a bunch of wild animals hell bent on ruining my day.
On my belt was my sidearm with occult bullets at the ready, but that¡¯d be a massive waste of ammunition meant for armored targets.
On the other hand, the Deathless had driven over here and stockpiled themselves with rations, ammo and probably weapons. Rations were all gone or soiled in the hangar, but the weapons and munitions were stored in safer locations on the airspeeder. Places that wouldn¡¯t easily get blown up. And they were nicely stored behind a doorway, which meant it was time to go hunting with the traditional human weapons.
Guns, more guns and a massive amount of bullets.
Book 6 - Chapter 32 - Jackpot
Drakonis flexed his armor¡¯s hands open and close. Each repetition came with a very faint mechanical whining from deep within the finger joints. Black smoke danced and twisted through his fingers, sinking through the small open seams, fading away.
He flexed one more time, and there was no sound at all that came from any of it. His eye glanced down at his cradled helmet, looking at the interior visor panels. ¡°Armor shows all green. I¡¯m set to go.¡±
¡°Good.¡± I reached out, slapped his shoulder once or twice, and stood back up. ¡°Now, do you need me to give you a pep talk or something? I charge extra for that.¡±
¡°Har har, the funny surface savage.¡± He rolled his eyes, lifting the helmet and clicking it shut over his head. ¡°How much time do we have in total?¡±
¡°Splitting up the cells evenly, we¡¯ve got just about a day and some change of power.¡± I said, tapping the bag, the power cells inside clinking against one another. ¡°At that point, we¡¯d better either have found a mite fountain, or some local machine donors.¡±
The airspeeder didn''t just have full cells, it also had the husks of spent ones too, but there were too many of them to fit in my small bag. I''d taken what I could and if we found the means to refill cells, we could come back here later and grab the rest.
¡°Can you fight without armor?¡± He asked.
¡°Eh.¡± I said with a shrug, getting up and walking over to the sealed doorway. ¡°I¡¯m still dangerous without armor, but Journey¡¯s spoiled me and I rather like being nice and toasty inside here. Plus it smells like beetle and weasel out there right now.¡±
He nodded. ¡°The bit that got in earlier reeks like rotting crab and fish fucking together. We agree on that at least. We need weapons now.¡± He stood back up, headlights on his helmet lighting brightly and adding onto Journey¡¯s own illumination.
¡°Just about to ask." I said, giving him a mild elbow. "When you brough this ride, you splurged on having an armory setup next to the coffee machine, right?¡±
He nodded. ¡°Better coffee than the piss you drink for sure, savage.¡±
I could almost feel some Logi standing ramrod straight, eyes narrowing as their sixth sense of being insulted lit up, but Drakonis kept talking before I could defend my clan¡¯s culture.
¡°We did bring rifles, explosives and ordnance with us, the works. I¡¯m not stupid. It¡¯s on the other side of engineering, small sealed closet.¡± His headlights turned around and he walked to the sealed doorway behind us, hands reaching out and manually opening the unpowered door. ¡°If we¡¯re hunting animals, any bullet size should do.¡±
¡°Lead the way.¡± I said, following behind.
Smell was cleared by Journey¡¯s filters, or whatever the armor used to supply air, but I could swear I saw the inside of the airspeeder here look slightly brown, like there was some organic particles hovering in the air, lit up by our headlights.
We shuffled up the small steps, back into the ransacked and trashed airspeeder. ¡°Three gods above, they really did a number on this ship in just the hour it landed.¡± I muttered, my headlights looking over the damage. Most sections inside the airspeeder are all metal plates, but there were a lot of thinner panels that had been blown off their bolts during the landing, exposing wire behind. And that was either snapped off by bites, or filled with puke, bile, blood, fur or other organic waste. ¡°I always heard the term ¡®like a pigstie in here¡¯ but thought the golden age humans were being metaphorical. That, or the agrifarmers have a way harder job than they tell us.¡±
¡°Agrifarmers?¡± Drakonis asked, headlights sweeping over the ship and finding just about the same thing I was. ¡°Gonna guess it¡¯s some surface dweller jargon for farmers? Why complicate the word?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a caste, not an occupation.¡± I said. ¡°A social rank.¡±
¡°A rank for farmers? They do more than farm or something?¡±
Had to stop and think about that for a moment. ¡°Technically no? They farm a lot of different things, and use a lot of different systems to farm with.¡±
¡°So why not just call them farmers and be done with it?¡±
¡°Noise outside.¡± Cathida said while I was mulling over some kind of analogy I could use to explain something this basic to the lost uncultured rube who might have a point and I didn¡¯t want to admit that. ¡°I think your pest problem is coming back, deary. Not the mite seeker though, it¡¯s still being dragged further away as we speak.¡±
¡°Think it might be something different than wild animals again?¡± I asked. ¡°With some luck, might be a patrol of machines we can terrorize for more power cells.¡±
¡°Nope. Unless you can link snarling feral growls and baying to some other kind of creature?¡± She paused. ¡°On second thought, some machines might sound exactly like that. They don¡¯t call Screamers Screamers for nothing.¡±
¡°I take it from your silence you agree it¡¯s a little much to give an entire rank to farmers.¡± Drakonis added in between my chat with Cathida.
¡°Quiet.¡± I hissed, ¡°Armor¡¯s telling me there¡¯s noise out there and I want to figure out if it¡¯s more wildlife or machines checking in on this.¡±
¡°Let¡¯s get the weapons first, and then we can handle anything else that comes sniffing.¡± Drakonis said.
Frigates like these were huge, but besides the cargo sections, the actual insides were surprisingly cramped. Right by the cockpit was a ladderway leading to the upper turret, but next to it was a small walled closet door where different kinds of stations could be installed. A few lever yanks from Drakonis, and the whole thing unfolded open, revealing a small walk in closet sized armory. About twenty three rifles were holstered, a few missing from empty hooks, and plenty of magazines in large boxes under all of it. Grenades, and other gear also filled up a few boxes, clearly banking on the thick walls around the whole section here to keep it from exploding.
¡°Not too shabby.¡± I said, grabbing one of the rifles.
¡°Surface dwellers and gun nuts. Tell me a better pairing.¡± Drakonis huffed, sounding mildly proud. He also yanked one of his rifles off the wall and began to stock up on whatever he could fit on his belt and bags, hands going over practiced motions.
They weren¡¯t taken care of to the standard Kidra would have demanded, she was an actual gun nut and had shown me time and time again exactly how to keep a rifle in working order against just about anything short of it being thrown down a chasm.
¡°We''ve got weapons.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Are you sure you still need to find your own gear? We could skip a few hours of work instead of spending time tracking down replaceable junk.¡±
¡°No way, not leaving my gear behind.¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s special. You can do what you want, but I¡¯m going after it first.¡±
He scoffed. ¡°A rifle¡¯s a rifle, Winterscar. There are many like it, and we all use whatever¡¯s available.¡±
¡°Mine has cute little doodles and I can¡¯t sleep without cuddling it.¡±
¡°For fuck¡¯s sake.¡± He hissed. ¡°Are you actually being serious? Or is your gear mite-made treasure? You could have just said that from the start.¡±
¡°I¡¯m lying about it having doodles.¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not mite made, but it is important to my clan and mission, and that¡¯s all you¡¯ll need to know about it. Happy?¡±
He nodded, then left the rifle to fall limp on the strap while he took care of other pieces of gear. ¡°All right, fine, I¡¯ll follow and help you get your stuff back.¡±
He pulled out a sidearm next, checked the chamber was loaded and that the weapon was ready to use. Then walked off and joined me at the steps leading to the hangar itself. Whatever was making noises was outside, and out of sight from here.
Just two old pals, out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by possibly murderous machines or insane wildlife. Got the feeling that once we stepped out of this airspeeder, the punches would start rolling and they wouldn¡¯t stop until we were all done.
¡°Noticed you didn¡¯t clarify if you sleep with your gear or not.¡± He said in the pause.
¡°I don¡¯t kiss and tell.¡±
He exhaled loudly, shook his head and jumped down to the hangar bay. ¡°Everan would have become absolutely insufferable if you met him. The two of you would have been a fucking menace to society. Goddess protect me. If I didn¡¯t already know you were the most deadly motherfucker I¡¯ve met in my life, I would have thought you¡¯d be someone to worry over.¡±
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°All right Drakonis, I know you¡¯re a little bit of a chatter mouth but this is a serious operation.¡± I said. ¡°Time to pay up for the power cells I¡¯ve graciously donated, go in front and introduce ourselves to the guests with our new guns.¡±
¡°You mean my power cells. In my ship. With my rifles.¡±
¡°Finders keepers, losers weepers.¡±
He didn¡¯t say a word, instead looked at me oddly.
¡°What?¡± I asked, then took my hand off the rifle trigger and shooed him away. ¡°Less staring, more investigating what¡¯s sniffing outside the airspeeder for me, thank you.¡±
¡°Starting to think your story''s actually real.¡± He muttered, rifle headlight turning on as he turned back to the steps and aimed the weapon downsights. ¡°Someone trying to lie and con me about fucking robot cultists being good people wouldn¡¯t be an insufferable twat at the same time.¡±
¡°Hey, that hurts my feelings.¡±
He huffed and took a step through the ruined doorway. I followed behind, keeping a bead at the ready.
Drakonis didn¡¯t even bother saying hi to whatever was out there, instead I heard the electronically dulled cracks of gunshots so he started off strong right out the door. By the time I could see what was outside our little kingdom, I could see three bodies on the ground.
Good news - not machines. Instead, they were some kind of large scale-like creature with huge jaws, low to the ground. Another was midlunge at him, which he stepped out of the way and then stomped his boot down onto the jaw, pinning the creature in place while he aimed his sidearm down and fired a killing shot, probably wanting to save rifle ammo for more distant targets.
And talking about those, there were more animals of different species outside, but the main attraction was what I recognized as a bear from the golden era human films and stories. Giant thing, taller than I was, running on all fours directly at me.
I¡¯d never seen animals that big, and it took a half second to process through that thought. My rifle aimed, then shot three times. All three bullets hit dead on the head, but the thing kept on running as if I had just annoyed it.
¡°Cathida, what the fuck?¡± I asked, more in awe that an animal could take bullets to the head and survive.
¡°I don¡¯t know, the old bat¡¯s never encountered a bear. Wildlife usually runs away from knights in armor. Maybe it¡¯s got a very thick skull, or a much smaller target inside the skull?¡±
Didn¡¯t have much time as the bear came up right at my face, lifting up and swiping down with one giant paw.
Unfortunately for the bear, I was a relic knight.
I moved under the paw strike, knife blade lighting up in my hand and slicing right through the chest. Blood began to spill all over, but a knife wasn¡¯t a deep enough blade to really do all that much damage. It reared up, then jerked to the side as Drakonis unloaded another five bullets into its side and flank.
It still didn¡¯t die. The Deathless gave me a quick shoulder shrug, then turned to continue mowing down other wildlife that was clearly a lot more susceptible to bullets.
"Any bullet size should do, he says." I muttered as the bear opened its mouth and lunged at me. I gave it exactly what it wanted, punching forward into the jaw and down the gullet. Teeth wrapped around my shoulder, biting down hard and ripping apart the fabric rags, before coming to a dead stop against Journey¡¯s plate.
I let the occult pulse around me and my hand. The fractal of heat lit up at my buried palm, and I commanded it to full power. If bullets weren''t doing the trick, this would.
The beast ripped itself free, fire and smoke trailing out of its mouth. And in doing so, presented its throat. My occult knife was short, but I still raked it right through in one neat slice, then twisted on myself and delivered a roundhouse kick into the exposed chest.
It was way heavier than a human. My boot landed hard, then crushed inwards as bone and ribcage broke. The bear staggered backwards, falling over itself, paws swiping blindly around until I pinned the beast¡¯s head with a heavy knee and rammed my blade deep into the skull.
This time it froze up and then began to slump.
It was quiet in the clearing as I stood up, and not because the animals had run off. Instead they had gone still, watching as I wiped some blood off my legplates. Drakonis was busy loading his next magazine, but the more relaxed speed he moved at along with the ring of dead animal bodies around him told me he hadn¡¯t encountered any difficulties himself.
A few whines came from the feral creatures as they took hesitant steps backwards, then turned tail and all ran off in the same direction. Pretty soon we were completely alone.
¡°This strata is getting weirder and weirder. What was all that about?¡± I asked.
¡°Think the bear was their best.¡± Drakonis said with a shrug. ¡°You killing it without damage must have finally sunk in a lesson we¡¯re not to be fucked with.¡±
¡°Minor news, but the ones running away with the mite seeker, they picked up the pace.¡± Cathida added. ¡°Whatever these creatures are, they can communicate defeat from a distance I think? Or is it just a coincidence they picked up the pace? Not sure, never seen this before.¡±
¡°Armor¡¯s saying they¡¯re trying to run faster with my gear.¡± I said to Drakonis, then followed the direction on my HUD, pointing it out. ¡°This way. We better pick up the pace to catch up.¡±
Drakonis nodded, hooking the rifle to his chestplate and joining formation behind me.
The thing about relic armor is that it¡¯s fast. I¡¯ve said this before, but a running knight on the battlefield heading on an intercept course was the scariest thing to anyone out of armor.
And that included animals now.
The ones that tried an ambush on us earlier, then decided to run for it after I eliminated their bear? They should have just stayed and battled to the end, or not run after the group moving with my gear.
We jogged faster than they could sprint. And we had ranged weapons. And we also didn¡¯t miss with said weapons.
With each minute, we were leaving behind a small trail of dead animals that had run slower than the main pack, until they finally got wise.
¡°They¡¯re really something.¡± I muttered. ¡°The group changed courses, they¡¯re no longer trying to rejoin whatever¡¯s got my gear.¡±
¡°Noticed the lack of targets too.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°What¡¯s your theory on why these animals are even semi-clever like this?¡±
He considered the question. ¡°Mites. It¡¯s usually them when it comes to anything that¡¯s not human or machine. Smart animals? Probably something intentional to this strata. They plant trees and make them grow in¡ well, shit like that.¡± He pointed up at the ceiling, where the branches of the giant tree could be spotted. ¡°If they could do that, what¡¯s stopping them from making smarter animals? And if we¡¯re deep enough like I think we are, there¡¯s no humans here at all. We could be the first humans to ever walk on these lands in centuries.¡±
He had a point. Until I knew more, I was going to put all this down as mite ratshit.
¡°What I¡¯m more worried about are the machines we¡¯ll run into.¡± Drakonis said as we both jumped over a still smoldering tree trunk in the way. Large enough I had to take a second jump over the counterpart, while he happened to land on a section that wasn¡¯t sturdy enough to hold his weight.
¡°Ah, fuck.¡± The Deathless crushed right through the crumbling ash and bark, sinking down to his waist and left with nothing but curses and smoke. He waded out, cursing a few more times for good measure, then jumped and made it out of the husk with a shower of displaced embers chasing behind him. Small singes on the cloth he wore over the armor, but nothing worse.
I stopped and let him brush off bark and ash before we resumed the sprint. ¡°You were saying?¡±
¡°What I¡¯m saying is that deep down there¡¯s a reason humans don¡¯t build cities or explore down here. Machines get stronger and stronger and dying is more just an expectation down here. We¡¯re not going to fight the rank and file replaceable chum. Some machines down here are old, like the violet goddess is keeping them in reserve to ward off deeper exploration.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve seen these things before?¡±
He shook his head. ¡°Not personally. Just stories from Lionheart. I didn¡¯t have time to travel deeper than the third strata looking for pillar hearts to earn spells.¡±
¡°We¡¯re going to need to find a place to restore our power cells one way or another.¡± I said. ¡°If I can get my gear, we¡¯ll be fine against most threats.¡±
¡°I can see where that confidence comes from. What is your current kit?¡±
I considered the question. ¡°Not sure I want to give a possible enemy the full loadout of what I can or can¡¯t do. I think you understand that while I¡¯m hoping for some kind of peace, I¡¯m also not an idiot.¡±
He scoffed. ¡°Fair. But if we¡¯re going to be fighting down here together, it¡¯s important we know what each of us can do and handle. Lionheart¡¯s made that clear to me and my men again and again - working as a team means each of us having priority targets and roles.¡±
It was interesting to see the difference here between how clan knights battled and how Deathless did. The surface clans were far more individual, but I expected everyone on my fireteam to be experts at all three schools of combat, and specifically for the Winterscars to know our secret fourth school of combat in case we ran against slavers or other enemy knights. But beyond that, all of us were interchangeable to some degree. Same gear, same techniques, different levels of skills. The only tactical decisions would be who to send up against who, and against regular enemy knights the answer would usually be ¡®Kill whatever¡¯s closest to you.¡¯
Made it real easy to coordinate with just regular common sense.
But Deathless? They all could have different powers and gear. That really would make them far more specialized in different roles.
¡°All right then, how about you go first then?¡± I asked, handing the hangerball to him.
He stayed quiet for a bit, both of us jogging side by side as we followed Journey¡¯s green line over the HUD. ¡°I¡¯ve got the occult grapple spell from the second strata¡¯s Nemera city pillar. Lionheart claimed having a mobility spell of some kind was critical to anyone¡¯s kit. Some Deathless empower their leaps, others use portals or charging abilities. The lash is far more practical, tons of utility use outside of combat. ¡®Simple travel is ninety nine percent of any expedition, young Deathless¡¯ as he says. Made us waste an entire week on the way back just to get it.¡±
¡°Waste? Seemed pretty handy to me when I¡¯ve seen it used.¡±
¡°I suppose he had a point. It worked until we ran into you lot.¡±
¡°Got a picture of the pillar you picked it up from?¡± I asked, innocently. Cathida snickered in the helmet, but the little rat didn¡¯t out me.
¡°It¡¯s a pillar heart, nothing special about it.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°And I''m from the surface.¡± I insisted, ¡°We don¡¯t get to see pillar hearts. Most cities don¡¯t let us in, we¡¯re dangerous emotionless killers for hire remember? Anything to make our clan a little bit richer.¡±
¡°Right. Forgot. Dirty surface savages.¡± He shook his head, then sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t take pictures specifically, but I can send you my video footage, armor passively stores that. I had my helmet on my side when I walked through. Just ask your armor to flip the vision right side up or something. Nemera had their pillar heart on the top of a hill, park surrounded it, along with a few food stalls. Used it as some kind of festival ground on the regular.¡±
Journey got a data transmission, and played it on a small screen off my side. Exactly as he said, it was some kind of large green park, filled with concrete terraces and steps leading up. At the top was the pillar heart itself, sitting on top a cloud of mite made cubes in wild random directions and sizes.
Lionheart and the other Deathless Drakonis had come with were all there, walking along to his side, chatting on the video feed. But Journey knew what I was after.
Right on the center of that pillar, slightly above all the cubes, inscribe in large, was the unmistakable blue glow of a fractal. Journey zoomed right up, traced it out and stored it in a data file before I even had to ask.
¡°Got more video footage of the different cities and their pillar hearts?¡± I asked. ¡°We got some time to kill before we catch up to my gear. Always fascinated with how different cities decorate their pillar hearts.¡±
Drakonis shrugged. ¡°If it¡¯ll get you to shut up, have at it.¡±
It was very, very hard to stifle any kind of maniacal cackling.
Book 6 - Chapter 33 - It gets weirder
Yesterday I was pretty strong. Had gear, occult spells, Hexis¡¯s book, and a few custom built items specialized in giving the middle finger to specific enemies I might run into.
Right now, I had a lot less of that gear - but I had grifted Drakonis¡¯s entire spell kit. And just about everything Lionheart had taught them in their return trip. Best of all, I¡¯d gotten it for my favorite price point: Absolutely free.
He didn¡¯t need to know that just yet, had a feeling he might get a tad salty if he knew. But I was a gracious god, and once he¡¯d told me all of his spells and their uses, the hangarball was back in my court.
Maybe I felt a tad bit guilty about the near one-sided information squeeze, so I handed him a few bits of info I shouldn¡¯t technically be telling a possible enemy.
Since he knew I was a Winterscar, he knew I came from Clan Altosk - a rather famous clan among Capra¡¯Nor since they had close ties to Lord Atius. I told him our clan lord had shared with us some occult spells and their locations out in the wild, so that¡¯s where we had our powers from. Flame, speed, occult mirrors and occult shields. That¡¯s all our knights had displayed before, so that¡¯s what the ¡®Deathless¡¯ kit we had to work with. Kidra and her honor guard were among the Deathless now, and had been going undercover so as to not stir up too much drama.
Where our real power came from wasn¡¯t just the occult spells - it was the gear we were all using. That was a little more difficult to explain away.
¡°And you¡¯ve seen this weapon eliminate Feathers?¡± He asked.
¡°Absolutely. I¡¯ve got limited rounds until I visit a mite forge again, but it is very handy. Killed To¡¯Aacar, but because those bastards can come back to life, it¡¯s no longer as useful against Feathers. Other machines though? If we run into anything truly dangerous, one round would eliminate most things. The armguard''s been more useful in general due to the occult spells Atius had us learn. But we only have a single version of it, so it''s unique to me until you find a miteforge nice enough to generate occult edges for you and you feed it blueprints. They''re a little temperamental sometimes.¡±
He stayed silent for a moment, jogging at my left. ¡°Still have more questions?¡± I asked him.
¡°No. Only, it never occurred to me to ask a mite forge to create new equipment wholesale like this.¡± He said. ¡°The explosive charges on your bandolier, those swords with the occult hilt guards, the fucking armguard shield, all of it. It seems so simple in hindsight - why limit ourselves to what¡¯s within the mite forge¡¯s databanks when it could simply craft any kind of weapon we can imagine? Fucking low reaching fruit, and we were all so convinced the mite forges only made what they already knew to make. Didn¡¯t even occur to me.¡±
¡°There¡¯s limits you know.¡± I said. ¡°Mite forges will shoot down most data patterns you supply them. But occasionally they¡¯ll give up and just print out what you¡¯re asking for. My clan spent a good amount of time camped by one to get all our gear out, but haven¡¯t had a chance to do that again ever since.¡±
The real sensitive information was the weaponsmith who built these things was right next to him, not a miteforge. But this miteforge excuse had a lot of advantages when it came to not painting targets on my back or my clan¡¯s. Why go after the little clan with these weapons, when those dirty surface savages weren¡¯t the source of all that tech? They just had a mite forge build it, no need to pay more attention to them.
¡°Getting closer.¡± Cathida said.
On the HUD, I could see the red outlines of paws, hooves and other tracks in the ash. And smoke up ahead. Lot of it. We weren¡¯t particularly following the trail itself, but rather making a straight line to where my miteseeker was sending it¡¯s location from. Just so happens we keep running back into the swarm¡¯s trail.
They were going through the smoldering section of forest and out into the wider mite biome, then running right back into the burnt vale, like a kid dipping toes again and again into the baths and debating if it was too hot to jump in or not.
And there was still fire actually going on the edge there. Not as strongly, more like embers. A strong mist was just beyond, likely keeping things too moist for the fire to continue spreading outwards.
¡°Reaching the actual fire now.¡± I said. ¡°How long do you think it¡¯s been burning out here for?¡±
¡°Journey¡¯s crunching some numbers and diverting calculations about death the gold for a drop forest against no squireshit filter bridge metal scrap metal-metal-metal-metal-met-¡± Cathida said then stalled, crackled and stopped.
¡°... uh, Cathida?¡±
¡°Engram corruption detected. Rebooting system.¡± Journey¡¯s smooth voice stated.
There was silence for a moment before Cathida¡¯s voice returned as if nothing happened. ¡°Did you call my name deary? Something on your mind?¡±
¡°What happened earlier?¡±
¡°How should I know?¡± She huffed. ¡°Journey¡¯s left me a text log of events and no access to any other video footage or data feed besides what¡¯s written here. Go ask it yourself, because it¡¯s stating that my requests would lead to ¡®destabilized responses¡¯. Cathida wouldn¡¯t be able to explain it in words basically.¡±
That filter I setup was breaking down the engram in some way, but I didn¡¯t quite know why and Journey couldn¡¯t communicate that to Cathida because it would break her down before she could answer. Fuck.
¡°Winterscar, my armor¡¯s claiming we¡¯ll be reaching that ping of yours in about two minutes. You all there? You seem distracted.¡±
¡°Mostly.¡± I said. ¡°Just ruminating about things while we run. I¡¯ll deal with it later.¡±
He gave a slow nod at that, taking his rifle out and preparing it for war while we jogged after the green line. A ticking timer appeared right next to it, counting down until we reached our target.
¡°They¡¯re aware you¡¯re on their trail at least,¡± Cathida said. ¡°Animals made a few heavy turns into the wider forest and then back into the vale a few times to lose your trail. I think they noticed it didn¡¯t work. They¡¯re trying to go faster now.¡±
All right, time to put all that scrapshit for future Keith to deal with and get my gear back.
We moved through the charred vale like two rampaging warfrigates, boots stomping down into the ground and crushing any kind of tree or burnt remains, our rifles primed to fire on the slightest visual.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
I signaled Drakonis, and we both came to a stop.
We found animals all right. And they were being pinned down. The swarm of feral beasts were trying desperately to run away from us, but each time they began to stream one direction, a pack of giant white dogs raced over to their side, slashing actual occult blades held in their mouths.
¡°Drakonis¡¡± I asked.
¡°Winterscar.¡± He answered in the usual deadpan. ¡°No, I don¡¯t know what the fuck I¡¯m looking at either.¡±
¡°Okay, just wanted to check.¡±
I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen bigger dogs than these. Gods above, I think they were actually larger than I was, if I were out of my armor. Golden era humans had stories and articles about the more wild version of dogs, and my head automatically categorized these giant animals as exactly that: Wolves.
¡°Is every animal down here super sized or is it just me?¡± I asked. ¡°First the lizard creatures, then the bears, and now giant dogs.¡±
¡°Armor says those are wolves.¡± Drakonis corrected. ¡°They¡¯re not native to our strata, and before you ask, I¡¯d remember if I saw dogs using fucking occult blades.¡±
It wasn¡¯t just a small pack of them either, they were harassing the swarm of animals from multiple sides, attacking each time they found anything semi-isolated.
The attacks were equally strategic, a quick dart in, slash and dart out. No attempt to do more, or even secure a kill. They were whittling down their enemy. And were equally not taking any chances. To add to the whole confusing mess, the wolves were clearly wearing gear of some kind. Primitive straps that held pouches and other bags, supplies, and so forth. Clearly someone else had been taming these animals.
Things went to a strange standstill as both the feral swarm of animals and the wolves caught sight of us at the same time.
Of the two factions, the frenzied animals acted first, trying to surge away from both of us. The wolves reacted to that, cutting them off from getting further into the dense forest, snapping and barking at the beasts as if trying to herd them.
The swarm tried once more to dart another direction, but it was clear they had been surrounded. They could break through, but they¡¯d just be bleeding out slowly as the pack got more licks in and I got the feeling they all knew it too.
At the center of the whole thing, I could see a few feral deer, holding parts of my gear from straps tangled in the antlers. I pointed a stupified finger right at the thief. ¡°That¡¯s my stuff.¡± I hissed, taking a few steps forward.
¡°They¡¯re dumb fucking animals, Winterscar.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°They can¡¯t understand a word you¡¯re saying.¡±
¡°Maybe not the words exactly.¡± I said, watching as the swarm of animals make some snap decision between trying their luck with the wolves or trying to roll over the two humans standing on the other end.
The swarm turned and lunged after Drakonis and I. We returned fire immediately, taking out a good handful of the creatures before they reached melee range.
¡°Kill the feral animals, leave the wolves for later?¡± Drakonis asked.
Of all the animals out here, the wolves circling around were the most dangerous, they had actual occult blades in their mouths and seemed to know how to use them. Both of us had full shields, and Drakonis had his occult spells at the ready to empower those shields, but a threat was still a threat.
¡°If they attack us, we attack them back.¡± I said, outright shoulder tackling a deer trying to jump at me. Between the two masses, I won. ¡°Otherwise, let¡¯s deal with the violent critters first.¡±
¡°Good enough for me.¡± Drakonis wasn¡¯t as quick with a blade as I was, and neither could he see in every direction. So he relied instead on his shockwave occult spell to keep the enemy off of him, while his rifle barked out death.
Me on the other hand? I had two daggers, my armguard, and I¡¯d fought opponents who had far more speed than this. Using bullets felt like a waste now that the enemy was in range and not trying to run. Diving into the middle of the enemy was equally something I felt comfortable with from my time on the bridge with the quantum cube. This was child¡¯s play.
The knives had small range, so I ducked and danced far closer to the attacking animals. The few that did manage to jump at me from an angle I couldn¡¯t slip past, I shoulder tackled back, crushing their bones and organs without issue. A bear would have been more of a match against Journey¡¯s relic powered strength, these common animals had no chance.
There was a plan besides ¡®attack¡¯ in my head. And it involved the deer stuck in the center of the swarm, with my gear hanging from the antlers.
Pretty soon I had slashed, hacked and kicked my way right to my fleeing target, a duck under its hoof strike gave me the chance to simultaneously sheath my blade back into the chest holster, execute a quick punch into the deer¡¯s face, then yank my longblade from it¡¯s antlers.
I finally felt whole again. The blade ignited back to life in my grip, ready to use.
Once I had my occult longsword, it was far easier to scythe through the creatures, cutting entire necks and heads off. Drakonis provided support fire behind me, culling anything that I couldn¡¯t get in range of and we worked as a good team to clear out the swarm. Halfway through, I cut down the beaver-like creature holding onto the mite seeker, and took my time to put back on my belt where it belonged. Rest of my gear was equally taken back one dead animal at a time. It wasn¡¯t just my gear that the animals here had taken, they had all kinds of scrap and loose items that might have been knocked out from the airspeeder crash. Or had been Drakonis¡¯s stuff originally.
Our stuff now.
A few animals tried to race away, only to be cut down by the wolves circling the edges. But it was clear the wolves were equally worried about us as we were about them.
¡°Wonder why they decided to try fighting us instead of escaping?¡± I asked over the comms while we butchered down the feral creatures.
¡°If they¡¯re actually smart, it¡¯s because this is the only option they had.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Think about it like a commander would, Winterscar. They tried running already, and we caught up. The wolves out there are just a speedbump at best, passing by them wouldn¡¯t change the fact we¡¯ll catch them no matter what. And if they tried running, they¡¯ll lose lives to the wolves and our guns as we chase behind. This is as strong as they¡¯ll ever be, so if they can¡¯t overwhelm us right now, there won¡¯t ever be a better chance to do so.¡±
¡°When you put it like that.¡± I said, blade and occult slashing out, butchering animals by the dozens every few seconds, ¡°I guess it makes sense.¡±
It looked like a suicide charge to me. We outmatched these animals in every single category except numbers, and they still attacked as if there was some chance of winning. I didn¡¯t understand, but Drakonis had a point about it.
It took a bit longer than I had expected, but with one final slash, the last creature attacking me was cut down. Some kind of furry monkey, about as big as my arm. Drakonis took a few steady steps into the clearing, bullet fire cleaning whatever was left, boot stomping on a large weasel creature at his feet trying to limp away.
¡°Well. That was something.¡± I said. Up ahead, I could see the wolves in the distance, circling around the clearing, shooting each other looks and short barks. ¡°What do we do about them?¡±
¡°Do they have any of your gear?¡± Drakonis asked.
¡°Got it all back.¡± I said.
¡°Do you see them attacking us at all?¡±
¡°Nope.¡±
The Deathless shrugged. ¡°Then we follow priorities. Find a mite fountain, guarantee we have our armors operational for more than a day, and then we can go and discover who¡¯s been training this pack of wolves and if they¡¯re a threat to us or not. It might be a feral Deathless who¡¯s been lost to this strata for all we know.¡±
I wrapped some loose fabric around the hilt of my longsword and affixed it to my belt in a makeshift sword sheath until I could find a new one. ¡°What if the wolf master knows where a mite fountain is? If they had enough time to train all these wolves, they had enough time to scout this whole place out. Maybe we can get the pack here to bring us back?¡±
Drakonis looked over the wolves who were regrouping together, and then up at a single giant one, who stared back down at us from the elevated terrain. There was a sort of calm pragmatic stare behind the eyes of that wolf, as if he was judging us in some way.
Very odd.
¡°If the wolfmaster wants to meet us, they¡¯ll find us. We don¡¯t need to find them.¡± He said. ¡°Mite fountains usually end up by landmarks, and there¡¯s one giant landmark I saw earlier in this biome, so I¡¯d vote we start making our way there.¡±
¡°The giant tree.¡±
He nodded. ¡°The giant tree.¡±
Well. He had a point. And the wolves were clearly already skittish of us, for probably good reason given the mass amounts of dead animals laying at our feet.
Getting a source of power mapped out was more important than any other priorities minus getting my gear back before it was stolen away too far for recovery. I was curious about the wolves, and I did want to meet whoever trained them this well. Or trained the feral creatures. But until I had food, water and power all taken care of, curiosity had to be put as a luxury.
¡°Lead the way.¡± I said with a wave.
We turned and started a quick sprint out of the smoking vale and into the forest at large.
Book 6 - Chapter 34 - Location of interest
Past the burning section of forest and up the natural valley hills that had contained the burning, we found the original purple and violet trees, along with a thin mist that seemed nearly luminescent on its own. White flowers around the area intermixed with twigs made the rocky forest ground have some life to it, despite it being mostly chunks of heavy rock.
The armors were heavy, so stepping up the hillside had been a hassle against the loose rocks. Lot of it would start breaking into chunk on a too heavy footfall, and then the whole thing would start to slide down. We had to slow our pace down and actually crawl a few times just to make sure the armor¡¯s weight and our sack of goods from the airspeeder weren¡¯t going to screw us over.
But once we got past all that, the mist and forest beyond welcomed us in.
Compared to the complete flat and empty wasteland of ice and snow on the surface, the underground was amazing, filled with life and oddly cohesive. Old human era forests that I¡¯ve seen in media showed all kinds of colors to flowers and foliage, with a general bias to green for photosynthesis.
But there weren¡¯t any other flowers that seemed to compete besides white ones, and they all looked like different species. Some kind of convergent evolution where everything in this grove happened to work better with white pedals? Or were the plants here bioengineered from the start to never change from the main theme?
And why did nothing adapt to grow on the rocks under me? Not even moss or anything, just sterile gray rocks with dirt in between and the odd flower patch that managed to find root. Given the slowly thickening mist of vapor that hung like a blanket around the area, there should be plenty of moisture for life to work with.
The deeper we got past the charred vale, the deeper the fog and foliage grew. Soon the rocks were fighting roots for dominance, and half our steps was over thick bark, which was far more stable to run over.
¡°What are you thinking about Winterscar?¡± Drakonis said off to the side, keeping pace with me. ¡°You make me nervous when you¡¯re quiet like that.¡±
I gave a quick and elegant scoff, the kind a Shadowsong would be proud of, if they ever could admit that to a Winterscar. ¡°Earlier you were complaining I wasn¡¯t clan-knight-ish enough and too chatty. Now you¡¯re upset I¡¯m not chatty enough? Make up your mind already.¡±
¡°I know you long enough.¡± He said.
¡°Fine, if you have to know I¡¯m just admiring the scenery they made here.¡± I said as we both upped our jog into a sprint in order to jump over a large boulder. Right behind it was a small brook with very shallow water trickling steadily through. We both crashed hard into it, boots spraying up the clear water for a second while we resumed our jog, starting to angle our steps to land on the roots and bark instead of possibly loose stones. ¡°Say what you will about mites, they do make some honestly beautiful biomes.¡±
Drakonis grunted. ¡°Fucking long ones though. At this rate, we¡¯ll run out of power. Then you have all the time in the world to admire the trees before you die. If you can even see anything with this mist. Are we even going the right direction?¡±
¡°You could always check.¡± I said. ¡°Go jump on a tree, get above the mist level and see if we¡¯re on the right path to the giant tree or not. Or, you know, trust the golden era relic armor¡¯s internal compass and HUD directions didn¡¯t go bad in the last three hours? Don¡¯t know about your armor, but mine¡¯s been around for about three hundred years or so, could be due for a checkup and spa day.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t tempt me with a good time.¡± Cathida said with a light cackle, ¡°And while Journey¡¯s basically certain you¡¯re being sarcastic, it wants you to know it doesn¡¯t need a checkup and that the navigation systems are all working fine, despite your best attempts otherwise.¡±
Least Cathida was working as normal right now. Blessings in heavy disguise.
¡°I know the armor¡¯s pointing us to the tree,¡± Drakonis sighed. ¡°I¡¯m only worried we won¡¯t find anything there. Just some giant landmark like any other landmark, or that the mite fountain nearby ends up decoration.¡±
¡°We could have the armors engage in more active scanning.¡± I suggested. ¡°It¡¯ll be noisy and could draw attention, but we¡¯d be able to spot things from a much wider range.¡±
¡°We do that, we¡¯ll draw machines to our corner.¡± He said.
¡°If they¡¯re down here, they¡¯ll find us eventually.¡± I countered. ¡°And I¡¯m not exactly easy to kill.¡±
¡°Death happens down here.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Even the best Deathless eventually get killed off the longer they stay underground. The longer we can extend that time, the more we have to work with.¡±
¡°And if we miss the mite terminal or fountains by doing that? How much time have we won?¡±
He didn¡¯t say anything to that for a moment. ¡°When we die, you know your armor is left behind. We¡¯ll be back at the nearest pillar with nothing in hand in a strange land of unknown dangers. We¡¯re at our strongest right now, moment we get killed, we¡¯ll be far weaker.¡±
¡°Right. We don¡¯t have any of Lionheart¡¯s shiny toys with us. Pity that.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, Winterscar,¡± He hissed back. ¡°I didn¡¯t have any gear worth keeping. Not going to waste an entire recall cube just to bring back armor. We were close enough to civilization back then to get replacements.¡±
¡°You do know you¡¯re talking to a surface savage right? Losing an armor is more than just a little papercut. We have entire Houses built around just owning a single suit of armor. And we fight each other for the right to wear that armor. And I don¡¯t mean that as a passing hobby, I mean we spend a lifetime studying and preparing for that chance. It¡¯s kind of a big thing to lose an armor in my culture. Would bring shame to you, your family, your kids and your kid¡¯s kids. Not your kid¡¯s kid¡¯s kids though, I think it stops around that point. Probably.¡±
Against what I¡¯d thought would happen, Drakonis didn¡¯t answer back or get more annoyed. He stayed quiet, just running side by side and keeping our target in mind.
¡°...I hadn¡¯t thought of it like that.¡± He finally said, and it wasn¡¯t his usual tone. ¡°I know surface culture in theory, I heard stories about them. Surface knights have a reputation for a reason. I just never truly had to think about what life would actually be like up there.¡± He sighed, as if this next part was the hardest thing he¡¯d ever done. ¡°You¡¯re right, I am taking the gear we have for granted. And down here we need to be even more careful with it.¡±
I was expecting him to throw some kind of snow back at me, continue the banter. It¡¯s been an hour of running forward to the giant tree, this place is huge and this Deathless is the only other target I have to annoy the shit out of.
Instead, the bastard seemed like he actually was thinking his words through and this was as close to an apology as he could get.
Honesty and self-reflection, my one weakness.
¡°We have more than just a day of power.¡± I said, coughing a bit and changing the subject. ¡°The estimate I gave was following the eight hours per cell metric, but that¡¯s assuming we¡¯re up and moving every single hour. We¡¯ve got to sleep and eat at some point, armor¡¯s got low power settings when we sleep in it. We could also take shifts and have one armor completely shut off while the other¡¯s keeping watch, they turn back on in a second or two. Last resort would be to make low power more permanent, no more sprinting around until we run into combat, but we¡¯ll still be protected from the elements.¡±
Drakonis looked down at his feet for a moment, the rocks under blurring together from our jumps and leaps. ¡°I hadn¡¯t known armor had low power settings. It makes sense in hindsight, just never had to use that kind of feature, you know? Always power to spare, even out in the wilds when I was a hunter starting out. What sort of goldshit did you get into that forced you to use low power settings?¡±
¡°That¡¯s a very long story that involves your favorite Feather To¡¯Wrathh, one drake with an attitude problem and some shenanigans.¡±
¡°Why the fuck did I even ask? How many stories do you have, Winterscar? Can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re a pathological liar or like to spin stories out of nowhere as a hobby.¡±
To be fair, I think he had a point. ¡°Last few months of my life have been very interesting. I gave you the abridged version, the longer version is a little more out there.¡± I had skipped a lot of that, just telling him I went to the city to find my sister, ran into Wrath and both of us turned on To¡¯Aacar and kicked his scrap in, and then To¡¯Sefit¡¯s scrap as well, before we had to leave for a mite mission and some rest back at my clan later.
¡°Fuck it. Start talking then.¡± He said. ¡°We have nothing better to do on the path there.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t even know if this will actually help the Chosen or make you think I¡¯m trying to sell you a bigger box of snow instead. It gets weird and some parts I¡¯ll have to redact outright which might make the whole thing not make sense.¡±
Plus I had to fit in being a Deathless instead of a sorcerer knight in there. Along with Atius somehow teaching us all his spells and the only way Deathless pass on spells is by actually running on expedition down to specific pillar hearts and attuning to them. So I¡¯d need to make that up too, could have been part of the rest and relaxation period up on the surface. Instead of trying to beat Father, I was going down with the rest of the ¡®Deathless trainee¡¯s¡¯ under Atius, picking up all his lore and knowledge.
On the other hand, I could just say ¡®Sorry, confidential. Also not actually sorry, but everyone knew that already.¡¯
And then there was Hexis. And the question on if I should even mention my occult master to Drakonis. Technically could not because Deathless don¡¯t use the occult the same way a warlock would. But Hexis was still back home probably collecting more tea sets and other shiny treasures like the pipe weasel he truly is behind that haunty mask.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
But he¡¯d also be the type to roll with a cover story and not blink an eye, depending on the bribe.
In for a pick, out for an axe. I started telling him of my first meeting with the elusive and mysterious To¡¯Wrathh, who¡¯d pretended to be a wandering Deathless when meeting me. As for why she cared for a random surface savage, I was Kidra¡¯s brother and she kind of had a rivalry going with the sword saint at the time. Call it mutual respect between rivals.
¡°There¡¯s no respect between a machine and a human.¡± Drakonis insisted.
¡°Tell her that yourself. Wrath¡¯s a lot of things, but she¡¯s got pride circled a few times over in red on her rap sheet.¡±
¡°Journey¡¯s caught a ping on the passive sensors.¡± Cathida said, interrupting my story midway. ¡°It¡¯s emitting a signal.¡±
We still had a good thirty minutes to go before reaching the giant tree in this biome at this pace. Drakonis must have gotten similar pings from his armor as we both turned the same direction at the same time. ¡°Machines?¡± He asked.
We waited for a moment.
¡°Journey¡¯s using the other armor to triangulate the source.¡± Cathida said. ¡°It¡¯s not moving at all from the broadcast location.¡±
¡°Stationary?¡± I said. ¡°Should we investigate?¡±
¡°I think you already know the answer to that one Winterscar.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. If it¡¯s an enemy, we¡¯ve got the drop on them and can find out what we¡¯re up against on this strata. If it¡¯s a mite fountain or terminal, faster we get a base of operations setup, the easier it¡¯ll be to figure out what to do next. If there¡¯s even a next.¡±
¡°There is. I¡¯ve got friends in high places.¡± I said, giving him a friendly pat on the back. ¡°You know, on account of me being a dirty machine sympathizer on top of a dirty surface savage.¡±
If I could see through his helmet, I might have caught him rolling his eyes at that. But instead, just the obvious head tilt backwards and a deep sigh. ¡°Goddess¡¯s golden fucking tits, I apologized already about that. What do you want next, a bribe?¡±
¡°You serious? I¡¯d be down for good traditional bribery. What have you got?¡±
He didn¡¯t give me a good answer to that, instead turning his head down and shaking it with disappointment. ¡°Never meet your heroes.¡± He hissed to himself, starting a quick jog at our target direction.
Flattering to think the demi-god in training thinks I¡¯m a hero. Pretty sure he¡¯s talking about surface knight reputation in general - which I¡¯ve tanked down to the bedrock by now and started digging - but I¡¯m very good at selective hearing.
The closer we got to our new target, the more sound started to appear. The sort of roar that came with what I¡¯d learned to be a waterfall.
From the thick mist we emerged into a small sanctuary, free from all trees and foliage. Only the rocky ground under us, slowly losing a fight to shallow water lapping away.
At the center of this little clearing was a large rock formation. Like a giant semi-circle of raised wall high rock, wrapping protectively before what stood at the center. Water flowed down the sides of the rock formation, falling into the lake at the feet, the source of the noise we¡¯d started to hear on the approach. Three large stepping stones led slightly from our left, a small meandering path of perfectly flat rock, segmented until they reached the center of the landmark.
At its center was a metal pillar, filled with teal lights and dark tubes littering the ground reaching up to it. Almost organic like, and yet geometric at the same time. Utterly chaotic in comparison to the clean and well defined set pieces that surrounded it.
¡°Does that look like a mite fountain to you?¡± I asked.
¡°We¡¯ll see in a moment.¡± He said, taking a cautious step on the first rock. The water was actually shallow here, but it quickly deepened with each step. Nothing happened when he stood on the rock, but Drakonis kept his rifle ready and aimed. He took another step, and still nothing happened.
A third and final fourth step had him walk into the mite structure¡¯s metal roots, all gnarled and growing in twisted directions, overtaking the flat stone the whole thing stood on.
¡°It¡¯s safe.¡± He called out. ¡°No motion anywhere.¡±
I waited a few seconds, before he turned my direction and looked a little unhappy. ¡°You can stop waiting for something terrible to happen to me. If a mite trap hasn¡¯t sprung already, there isn¡¯t one. They don¡¯t do dramatic pauses, much as you¡¯d like them to.¡±
Yeah, but you can die multiple times. I can¡¯t. I thought to myself. A few more seconds of waiting and finding no change in anything, I began to take small steps over the large stepping stones myself, keeping a far more careful eye around myself using the soul sight.
No traps or anything that I could sense. Or if there were traps, they weren¡¯t done in any way I could have recognized them.
That said, if the mite fountain had a lever on it, I was going to strangle someone.
Drakonis was already examining the structure when I stepped over the final stone pad and began to walk over the tangled cables and metal roots leading up to the crazy thing.
¡°It¡¯s a mite fountain.¡± He said, hand stretched out to me. ¡°Cell.¡±
I obliged him, dragging a spent one out of my pack and handing it over to him. He gripped the side of something, twisted, and then pulled. Steam hissed out as he dragged a thin hollow tube behind his pull. Exactly the right size for a power cell.
I knew it wasn¡¯t a coincidence. Mites certainly could have made any shape and size, and yet they had made this to fit the exact dimensions of a standard cell. He dropped the payload in, then pushed the tube back into the foundry, twisting it shut with a hiss of steam.
¡°Fully functional.¡± He said. ¡°Pass me the bag. I¡¯ll refill our entire stock.¡±
I yanked the bulky thing off my shoulders and threw it at him, which he caught with little fanfare. Inside was a mix of spent and full power cells. All seven that were still powered, and five more empty ones that I could fit before the top of the sack couldn¡¯t close.
¡°I¡¯ll refill our water while we¡¯re here. Get a feeling this lake is pretty clean.¡±
¡°Your feeling¡¯s right.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Journey confirms initial water purity, but your canister can handle anything Journey hasn¡¯t yet detected.¡±
Drakonis started yanking spent cells one after another, sealing them into the fountain and giving it two or three minutes to fully recharge before he cycled out another. This was way faster than the fountain I¡¯d found with Wrath, but that one had been damaged.
This fountain was perfectly whole, and seemed almost unused. Or meticulously maintained and kept clean.
¡°Water¡¯s taken care of, and power too. All that¡¯s left is food.¡± I said.
¡°Hunting wildlife for food might be difficult.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Morally speaking. I¡¯ve hunted game before for food, but never game that seemed intelligent.¡±
¡°Fortunately, I don¡¯t think bugs are sentient down here. Yet.¡± I said. ¡°And lucky you, I know a few good recipes, assuming we can dig some stuff out.¡±
¡°Goddess¡¯s golden tits, down to eating bugs and roots now. Fuck me.¡± Drakonis sighed.
¡°Sound, on your left, deary.¡± Cathida warned.
I couldn¡¯t hear anything given the giant semi-circle waterfall all around me. But I trusted Journey¡¯s senses were better than mine. I got back up from filling my water canteen, trying to peer through the thick mist beyond our little sanctuary. I could only see the vague outlines of trees and foliage. ¡°Ping it.¡±
Cathida did, pointing out the source.
Time to get to work. My hand drew out my blade while the other already had my armguard affixed and ready to use. Drakonis got up at the same time, letting the sack drop and swapping it out with his rifle, pointing it down to where the armor was highlighting a source of danger.
¡°I¡¯ll go check it out.¡± I said in the small silence between us. ¡°Keep refilling the power cells, better to have them full if we need to bail.¡±
He gave a quick nod, letting the rifle drop back on it¡¯s straps while he went back to work on refilling everything we had.
A shadow started to appear in the mist, and I realized it was shaking foliage. I took a step off the mite fountain, onto the stepping stones, then onto solid ground, keeping a loose stance. Blade active and ready to swing down on anything.
¡°Animals would have noticed you moving about and started running the opposite direction.¡± Drakonis clicked over the comms, the implication clear to me.
¡°Might be one of those wolves?¡±
We waited as the bush rustling grew louder. Whoever or whatever was approaching, it wasn¡¯t trying to be subtle. And given the sheer size of what came trotting out of the mist, I don¡¯t think subtlety was an option in the first place.
¡°Talk about the machine and you¡¯ll see the glow.¡± Drakonis muttered, head turned my way while the next cell was being filled. ¡°And it¡¯s got an occult blade in the mouth. Winterscar, I don¡¯t think I need to warn you about this, you¡¯re not that stupid.¡±
¡°You talk mighty high scrapshit for someone who got his ass kicked by said stupid. Multiple times now.¡± I shot back, but did keep my head locked on the new visitor for now.
It was a single wolf. No sign of his pack anywhere. The head reached about my own helmet¡¯s size, and given the armor gave me a few extra inches, that meant this animal was taller than I was. It padded forward slowly, tail low to the ground and almost curled slightly behind, head lowering with each step in a kind of¡ calculated measure? There was intention there.
It got about ten steps away from me, stopped then spat down the occult blade it held in its jaw. An odd low pitched whine of sorts came out of its throat. It seemed rather insistent, giving a few more whines, nose moving left and right between me and Drakonis.
We both held our ground, waiting for something. ¡°You think it wants to play fetch?¡± I asked Drakonis, giving him a quick look and letting the soul sight keep a view on the animal. A short test to see if it would try to attack when my attention seemed like it was elsewhere.
Drakonis stopped loading cells, then slowly turned his helmet to stare me down. ¡°Yes, Winterscar.¡± He said in the most deadpan possible manner. ¡°The clearly intelligent wolf wants to play fucking fetch with the most dangerous weapon known to man.¡±
It hadn¡¯t lunged at me in the short window I had given it, nor had it made any move away either. Test passed.
¡°Glad to know we think alike.¡± I returned, turning off my own occult blade and slowly putting it back on my belt.
The wolf¡¯s head perked up at that, likely understanding the universal ¡®We won¡¯t hurt you if you don¡¯t hurt us, yeah?¡¯
It gave a short set of quick barks, feet pawing at the ground while it kept turning its gaze between me and the Deathless a few paces behind. Then stopped and waited.
Neither Drakonis nor I did anything. The Deathless clearly had the same amount of experience I did when it came to animals that could use occult weapons. Still had to check, because that¡¯s just my nature. ¡°You don¡¯t speak wolf by any chance?¡±
He groaned, then went back to his work.
¡°Cathida? Can Journey translate what the wolf¡¯s saying or doing?¡±
She just cackled at that suggestion.
Everyone¡¯s rude today, I¡¯m just asking questions here.
I took a step forward with a sigh, one hand outstretched and showing all my fingers. ¡°Well, this day¡¯s already weird enough. Might as well see what¡¯s happening here.¡±
Sort of realized right after I¡¯d committed to the movement that while other people would have recognized my gesture as trying to show I didn¡¯t have a weapon in hand, an animal might see a raised appendage with tentacles all splayed out ready to grab as possibly threatening.
The wolf whined again, licking its chops, then took a slow padding step forward, matching my gait.
I reached out my hand slowly, and soon enough it¡¯s nose was close, giving it a few light sniffs. Then it backed off, and shook its mane with a few light yips and a half-hearted tail wag, barking slightly more loudly with each second. It seemed almost skittish now, paws starting to pace a bit.
¡°Think it¡¯s trying to talk?¡± I asked, turning to Drakonis who was still yanking cells in and out of the bag.
And then I realized the wolf hadn¡¯t been looking at Drakonis. Not even at the mite fountain. It had been turning its gaze between me, and the semi-circle waterfall the surrounded the grove. As if it knew there was something there.
Cards on the table, I didn¡¯t make that leap of understanding on my own. I have become one paranoid bastard deep down and keeping the Winterblossom technique going at all times has become second nature to me. My soul sight felt like a natural extension of my regular sight, my head having long since adjusted to shifting between both. Even while I was looking at Drakonis, I was well aware of every motion of the wolf I couldn¡¯t see.
The range of the sight wasn¡¯t all great - but one thing that it could do really well was be completely uncounterable by the enemy. Even if they knew I had that sort of sight, they couldn¡¯t do anything about it.
So despite both Journey and Drakonis''s armor being at full power, on alert and actively sensing around for threats, neither caught wind of what was rapidly creeping behind the wall of stone and yet being completely unnoticed, despite its utter giant size. Not until it got close enough I could see it in my soul sight.
In hindsight, I should have figured a free unguarded and well maintained mite fountain deep underground isn¡¯t free power.
It¡¯s bait.
Book 6 - Chapter 35 - Shellfish is not on the menu
I spun, pointing right at the waterfall wall and yelled out a warning over comms to Drakonis. Must have screamed so loud even the sound leaked out of the helmet, since the wolf instantly jumped backwards, already skittish and too close for comfort.
Good on the wolf, because it¡¯s about to get way worse than two humans running around in the forest.
Drakonis on his part didn¡¯t question anything. He let the power cell bag go, outright dove forward onto the stepping stone while spinning backwards, his rifle aimed straight at where I¡¯d been pointing. He landed hard on his back, but otherwise remained safe.
The move bought him a second life, since an instant later where he¡¯d stood now featured a set of four massive claw like spikes, glowing with occult edges, embedded deep into the rock ground. They lifted back up, edges powering down as all four limbs folded back into what looked like the mouth of a giant lobster-like silver and violet creature. Metal plating, glowing violet light under the plating, all signs pointed to a machine.
That wasn¡¯t even the entire beast. Half of the bulk was on the side of the wall, ending in a large tail of fans, spread out and vibrating. The thing was so big it was having a hard time fitting in the small sanctuary here. A set of giant antenna were flickering through the air as if whiskers, moving independently with the bulk.
And it had eyes. A lot of them. All on short and long stalks, wildly turning different directions, before almost all at once focusing right back down on us.
And I mean down on us. The thing was the size of an oversized drake, with a mess of comically tiny legs supporting the entire body. Worse, it had fins and flat flipper-like attachments that were sprayed out, almost like a mane.
Drakonis opened fire, the rifle barking out bullet after bullet. Two things happened. For one, all the eyes on the monster instantly retreated back into the shell, now looking like a few dozen glowing violet holes on the carapace. And second, I could see small yellow sparks of bullet fire all across that armor, with the occasional bits of light blue shielding flaring to life on top of the eye holes.
In comparison to other machines which might have paused dramatically here to wait for Drakonis to run dry on the bullets as a power move, this bloodthirsty specimen didn¡¯t want to wait.
It skittered forward as if it were swimming underwater, the trunk smoothly raising up as the tail end finished flying across the back wall and zipping over the mite ground in full. In a flash it was right above Drakonis, reared up with all four of those giant claws chittering away, like the world¡¯s most demented praying mantis.
Normally I reserve big guns as a backup, a card to play sparingly. Today seemed like a good day to start at one hundred. I reached behind my back, yanked out my recovered knightbreaker, and flicked off the safety middraw.
Ahead, the four massive armed scythes reared up and slammed down on the firing Deathless. Drakonis abandoned the rifle, hand reaching forward as a shockwave of occult blasted forward, right at the impending arm scythe.
A shockwave powerful enough to lift Journey and I off our feet and get thrown backwards more or less tickled the giant machine. The full blast slapped hard against the exposed torso, making it skitter back just slightly. What it did better was throw the four arms zipping right down at him off target, and the machine readjusted by drawing them back and attacking again, the whole torso moving with the attack as well.
Drakonis took the window of escape for exactly what it was. An occult lash was thrown backwards and he yanked hard on that power, sliding him off the stepping stone and flying upwards straight at a tree he¡¯d snagged much further past my position.
The massive shellfish-like machine reacted. It nearly swam through the open air, using only a few scrawny feet that in no way could possibly support that weight. Its torso¡¯s fins, flaps, antenna and eyestalks all went flat against the carapace while the tail gave one massive slap through the air.
This thing went from a giant looming machine that semi-hovered in the air to something sleek and incredibly quick, with no air friction holding it down. It moved far faster than Drakonis was moving, already zipping past the Deathless. Then it twisted on itself, coming to a near complete stop the moment it flared the fins and flaps.
The torso rose up high into the air, eye stalks popping out across the carapace again, most of them focused right on the Deathless flying right under, and a few were pointed back at me, watching as I took aim.
The scythe arm began to glow, detaching at the same time from their folded up position. It was absolutely clear this thing was going to cut through the Deathless midway in his flight. Those four arms lifted, and then lifted further past the optimal stabbing angle. They extended out, almost like a crab crushing tool I¡¯d used in Capra¡¯Nor.
It wasn¡¯t going to stab Drakonis, I realized. It was going to yank him out of the air, and squeeze him between the torso and the occult scythe arms. Like a praying mantis would pin prey.
The monster¡¯s plan would have worked, up until a knightbreaker round flew right for its exposed side.
The knightbreaker round exploded out from my launcher, zipping for a second through the air before the rocket explosive inside engaged and sent it flying even faster at the target.
The machine saw the weapon approaching it. And I could also tell it didn¡¯t consider the weapon a threat either, since almost all the eyes were still focused on grabbing the flying Deathless out of the air.
Just as it was about to, the knightbreaker round hit the creature¡¯s side carapace. Shields flared to life, and it did an admirable job at protecting the main bulk. Unfortunately, the capsule section of the knightbreaker wasn¡¯t the actual destructive part of the payload.
All four chain arms extended out, began to glow bright occult blue. I could tell the utter surprise on those eye stalks as they all instantly turned away from the Deathless and onto the attack.
The chains slammed down on the carapace side.
The critter screamed out, shields winking out of life near instantly. Then the chains continued forward, slicing through the metal plates and scrambling the insides.
It screamed again in clear pain, shaking the round loose, one of the occult arms snapping out as if to flick the round away. Instead, a stray occult chain wrapped around the scythe''s arm, initially crackling occult edge against occult edge before the chain wrapped around the backside where no occult edge existed.
The arm was promptly cut off, and the creature screeched again, waving the stump left behind as if it were on fire, the whole beast skittering backwards at the same time. The knightbreaker spun in the air, detached from the sliced up arm, then plopped harmlessly into the water, chains and all dragged behind as the glow turned off all at once.
The creature wasn¡¯t dead, instead it seemed to hunker down protectively, the eyes popping up and down randomly before it was certain danger had passed. Then they all lifted up on their stalks, turned right at me, and narrowed down with unmistakable hate.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The final tally of the knightbreaker was a complete circular mess on the creature¡¯s right side. Like some giant animal had taken one bite on the carapace, sank teeth and shook the whole monster violently for a few seconds before letting go. I don¡¯t know how much damage that actually did to the creature, it was clearly still moving around. But it was down one mandible arm and only had three of those left.
¡°Journey, what the fuck is that?¡± I asked.
¡°I¡¯d recommend displaying it on a large silver dish or thirty, with some melted butter.¡± Is what Cathida answered. ¡°But otherwise, absolutely no clue. Cathida never fought against something like this in her past, and neither has Journey. This is Deathless territory.¡±
Behind me, the wolf had long ago grabbed its occult blade and raced back to the safety of the trees and out past. Drakonis was landing against the tree he¡¯d lashed himself to with a heavy thump, already getting back on his feet. His helmet turned to me in a silent nod of thanks. ¡°Think we could recover your round for another attack?¡± He asked over the comms. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m fast enough to distract it, but you might be. I can fish out the round with a lash.¡±
All business, that guy. Already plotting on how to kill the giant evil lobster-bug.
¡°No, it knows what kind of damage that does to it, so it¡¯s going to be extra cautious.¡± I said. ¡°And have you seen the frankly unreasonable amount of eyes it has? On stalks too, so it doesn¡¯t have any blind spots. It¡¯ll see you trying to fish the round out of the water even if you¡¯re doing that directly behind its back.¡±
He could tell where that ended. The thing was fast. Way faster than a drake. And it moved across the air and ground with the kind of grace only a fish would have. I could see it moving fast enough to skewer Drakonis or flick him into the air, then fold back on itself like a ball, before rushing to keep me engaged. All in the span of a sword swing or two. Clearly cheating inertia and gravity somehow.
While we¡¯d been talking tactics, it reared its torso back up, fins and flaps once more extended out.
The thing even took a second to let one fin pass by where its mouth would have been. Instead of pseudo-teeth, there were a few dozen smaller arms that quickly picked at and washed away dirt and grime before it brought the fin back up to its right place and unfolded the whole thing.
Almost looked comical, like it wanted to look bigger than it already was. At full height it was almost taller than the walls behind it. If it had somehow been able to stand the full length of its tail as well, this thing would absolutely tower over the trees and sanctuary.
Not willing to let anyone be dramatic without a proper answer, I tossed the knightbreaker launcher on the ground, then patted imaginary dust off my shoulder pad as I took a few steady steps forward. If it could groom itself in the middle of a fight, I can do the same. My hand reached down and yanked out my blade again, spinning it with a flourish and taking a final step in stance.
The thing¡¯s eyes frowned in annoyance, clearly not expecting this answer back. Then another large claw from the abdomen tail region unfolded out with the speed of a Feather, neatly slicing through the mite fountain next to the beast. The top part of the fountain¡¯s lights instantly winked out.
¡°Oh you slimy fuck.¡± I hissed.
The fountain creaked, groaned out metal on metal, and then half slid and toppled down following the cut. The oversized lobster-shrimp with too many legs hadn¡¯t even looked at the mite fountain it cut through, all the eyes were aimed right at me.
This was the most petty display of spite I¡¯d ever seen. And I spent time around Wrath.
Spidershrimp¡¯s folded up arms rapidly rose up and down like fingers, and I swear I heard it give some kind of evil chuckle deep from where the mouth should have been.
Drakonis didn¡¯t wait for the rest of the confrontation, ¡°Winterscar, your knightbreaker ate its shields right?¡±
¡°If it¡¯s only got one shield like an airspeeder, then yes.¡± I called back. ¡°Unless it actively turned the shield off when it realized it wasn¡¯t going to win against a knightbreaker.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve got occult bullets.¡± He said. ¡°If its shields are down, those are going to hurt it the most. I¡¯ll find out for sure if the fuck¡¯s vulnerable or not.¡±
I didn¡¯t have time ato ask him how he¡¯d do that, but I got the plan near instantly. He yanked out a grenade from his belt, wrapped an occult leash around it, and threw the thing sky-high, before yanking the leash down, forcing the grenade back down in an arc. A discount artillery strike, right at the thing¡¯s top torso - where the mass amount of eyes were.
If Mr. Bugeyes had a shield, it would use it to protect those from shrapnel and damage. If it didn¡¯t, we¡¯d be seeing some kind of damage.
A few of its eyes turned to track the grenade, while the rest seemed to narrow down on us.
It didn¡¯t have eyebrows, but I swear - the body posture, low chitter and intense focus was enough to know it was absolutely glaring at us with contempt.
Next few events all happened in near one or two seconds of pure reflex and chaotic movements.
The creature angrily clicked its arms, then zipped to the right, flying over water and getting out of the grenade¡¯s general direction as it barreled to go finish off his earlier meal. I leaped in between the Deathless and the monster¡¯s path, armshield lifted and blade ready to intercept. Whatever Spidershrimp was going, it would have to go through me before it got to Drakonis.
The Deathless didn¡¯t miss his budget artillery strike either, he still had the grenade leashed with a spell, and even if the monster had moved out of the way, it was simple enough to redirect the direction.
Four violet eyes turned to watch the grenade flying right back at it. It skittered to the left, I took a step equally to the left, forcing it to back away. Seven eyes now locked on the grenade flying down at it, widening as it realized it wasn¡¯t going to escape.
Spidershrimp rushed right into me, going for broke at that point. Three arms lashed out with blinding speed, looking to yank me off my feet and squeeze me up against its pseudo-mouth. Probably use those small arms to hold me down while the occult edges held contact.
Back when I fought Wrath in her spider form, I¡¯d have been too slow. Gods, the thing was fast enough even Father would have had his intuition and reflex put to the test when he¡¯d been alive.
But I was a knight sorcerer, and I had the Winterblossom Technique. I dove forward, occult glowing across the armor, mirror images stepping out and slashing the air, forcing the thing¡¯s attacks to twist and change.
Instantly it stopped its charge, rearing up as the three arms battled against my counter-charge in what looked like a high speed slap fight. One arm got past my images and swiped right at my body. The armguard expertly took the hit, occult crackling as edge hit edge, while I tried to chop down with my blade at the exposed arm section.
The problem: Those arms were way stronger than I suspected. And the collision sent me flying backwards, like I¡¯d been a bug flicked away.
That.. uhh, did not look quite as heroic as the earlier counter-charge and furious fight. Officially updating its name from Spidershrimp to Murdershrimp.
Fortunately, by that point, the grenade landed square on top of the thing¡¯s torso, and all of its eyes predictably retreated back into the carapace, with only the two main compound eyes folded forward, sulking into the shadow of the carapse instead.
No shields were triggered. The grenade exploded hard over its backside in a lightshow of fire and smoke.
¡°See any damage!?¡± Drakonis called out, drawing out his sidearm and aiming right at the beast.
I¡¯d just gotten my feet back down on solid ground after one tumble, gravel and small rocks flying away as my boots slowly skidded to a stop. Murdershrimp unfolded its arms and quickly groomed the back of its torso, as if trying to scrape away the destruction. It hissed deeply, done with the impromptu checkup before skittering forward real carefully, letting the eye stalks expand out of the carapace.
Violet eyes of every size and shape glared down at us¡ but a few eye stalks hadn¡¯t come back up. The holes they had hid inside of weren¡¯t glowing violet either.
Without a second of hesitation, I drew out my sidearm, aimed it right at Murdershrimp, and let Journey calculate the best places to hit.
Occult bullets streaked out, landing pinpoint hits directly into the creature¡¯s exposed torso. Other holes I punched through with each shot started leaking either oil or power cell fluid, though not all the holes had hit something critical. One arm base got hit perfectly dead on, and the entire thing began to wobble as if only wires were keeping it attached. Only reason the other mandible arms got spared from my wrath was its reflexes being on point.
It screeched and instantly pulled back, fins and flaps hugging its side as it flipped under itself into a ball, and swam up the waterfall walls and over.
I held my fire, waiting to see if the beast was going to run or try something cute again. One single eye stalk slowly peeked over the backside, glaring down at me. Twitchy too, clearly expecting me to shoot the eye.
Joke¡¯s on Murdershrimp: Occult bullets can fire through walls, and I could see where its center mass was in the occult sight.
My sidearm fired three more rounds right through the waterfall wall, and into my target.
I heard its shrieking twist from mildly pissed off to extremely pissed off by the third round. In the occult sight, I saw the concept of a machine turn and run. Nothing on Journey¡¯s HUD showed any enemy anywhere, but the soul sight could see it race away and out of range.
¡°It¡¯s gone.¡± I said, holstering the sidearm back. Occult bullets couldn¡¯t be recreated until Wrath or Father was with me. I wasn''t going to take more shots if I wasn''t certain they''d hit.
¡°We didn¡¯t kill it.¡± Drakonis said, taking a few steps to stand at my side. ¡°It¡¯ll be back. And the mite fountain¡¯s destroyed.¡±
¡°It¡¯ll be back.¡± I agreed. ¡°But it¡¯ll be limping.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 36 - Humans are metal
It had taken some time for Kres to fly back to the greyroarmer pack territory, and then some more time to actually find where the pack was active. He¡¯d found trails of their exploits in the dead infestation swarm, killed off entirely.
He had expected greyroarmers to cut the infestation¡¯s remains down chunk after chunk, but Silverfur must have found and exploited an excellent weakness of some kind given the sheer amount of dead infected animals in the vale.
He found them nearby their mountain of kills, fussing over one another and looking far more on edge than he¡¯d have expected a recently victorious pack.
¡°Statues.¡± Silverfur stated. ¡°We saw moving war statues. They looked like the same statues you showed me in the Odin city, but they were moving. Golems.¡±
Kres wasn¡¯t sure if it was a language barrier or that the greyroamers didn¡¯t have the right words in their language, but whatever they were trying to tell them had the entire pack acting up. He¡¯d never seen them so¡ riled up?
¡°One claim at a time.¡± Kres asked, trying to get a handle on things before the greyroamer could bark again and add more to the confusing mess. ¡°Moving clay Odin statues?¡±
¡°No. They were made of metal. Metal statues!¡± He whined, shaking his fur and starting to pad back and forth. ¡°They were not Odin shaped, they were the metal statues you showed me once.¡±
Greyroamers occasionally visited the Icon of Stars for trade and other diplomatic reasons, though the deeper sections of the city became too small and cramped for large beings like greyroarmers to actually see. But he had given Silverfur a good tour of the wider spaces a few times already.
Metal statues however? That claim threw him for a loop, metal was used in engineering, not art. Metal was far harder to source and work with than clay, making statues out of metal would have gotten the council and Gungnir examining for inappropriate resource usage.
¡°Give me a better image.¡± Kres asked. "You say they were metal statues, but not Odin shaped?¡±
¡°They were large.¡± Silverfur huffed, wagging his tail to the rhythm of annoyance. ¡°They had four legs. No wings. Balanced on two legs. And used blades better than I did.¡±
Kres parsed out the words in his mind. He might have misinterpreted the last section. Greyroamers were infamous for being physically strong enough to use the ancient blades. There wasn¡¯t any race out there that could handle those weapons better than a trained greyroamer. Their language was also infamously difficult to understand since most of it was non-verbal, scent based or had tail nuances. Silverfur¡¯s actual barks for that final sentense had simply said: Blades better myself.
¡°Machines?¡± Kres asked. That was the only thing that fit moving metal statues. Machines could appear in many different shapes and sizes, these might be new ones.
¡°No. I followed them alone to the mite fountain. And then the machine god attacked them.¡± The greyroamer sat on his haunches, spat out his blade and then tried to croak out a word using only his mouth. Kres recognized it a moment later as an Odin phrase. ¡°Menn¡ mennes¡kuu jur?¡±
It didn¡¯t translate correctly. Almost unrecognizable. But Kres had already put a feather on what the pack leader was trying to imply. Something from Odin legend, that the greyroamers only knew about in theory, and only because the Odin had told them of it.
¡°The machine god attacked them.¡± Silverfur repeated, ¡°They fought back. And they weren¡¯t losing.¡±
The ancient machine god of the grand tree fountain, attacking.
Statues of metal that Silverfur had seen on the Odin home city. Two hands, two feet, one head. There were only one possible candidate: The looming shells, some of which remained in the armory, unused. Others stayed propped up on the sides of the hull, large cuts and battle damage showing the hollow interior.
Menneskjur.
Humans.
¡°That¡¯s not possible. Humans were wiped out.¡± Kres said, clicking his beak. ¡°Machines saw to it.¡±
The fight with the mite fountain guardian must have been a territorial dispute between the new machine contenders. Kres had never heard of machines fighting one another, at most they¡¯re just as apathetic to each other as they are to wildlife.
But¡ the machine god that guarded the mite fountain was unique, different from all the machines he¡¯d seen so far. And unlike other machines, it lived alone. Perhaps the solitude nature meant it would see territory differently from machine nests?
Silverfur gave him a confused side tilt, and Kres had to calm himself down and repeat the message slowly.
¡°Go see the evidence for yourself.¡± Silverfur said, flicking his tail, ears equally folding back. That was a rather extreme show of annoyance and bordering on anger among greyroamers. ¡°The infestation feared them. It was running away from the two golems when we found the swarm - and the two golems outran it. Then wiped them out without a hint of difficulty.¡±
¡°I believe you.¡± Kres said, trying to wag his tail to the rhythm of sincerity. The short stubby tail of his made the gesture look absolutely ridiculous, but he still did his best. If these two newcomers had battled the machine god of the mite fountain and won, he seriously doubted the infestation could do anything at all other than run.
The ancient machine god of the great tree mite fountain was massive, and moved with more grace than an Odin in the air. He¡¯d seen it before, quietly grooming the silver shell clean of branches, algae and mud with far more dexterity and speed than anything it''s size should move at. It had been guarding that fountain for longer than the start of the Icon¡¯s history when it was first reawakened. It had hunted down the original human colony within the Icon.
¡°Were they hostile to you?¡± Kres asked, ¡°The¡ humans.¡±
¡°No.¡± Silverfur clarified. ¡°Both times we were close enough to be attacked, the golems did not attack us. In the fight with the infestation, one went into the center of the swarm to recover a blade the swarm had taken, and other metal relics. Once they had their items, they only killed what had attacked them. My pack remained out of reach, but if the golems had wanted to, they could have killed us. One used ranged magic of some kind.¡±
¡°They came from the vale?¡±
The greyroamer clawed at the ground with his right paw, ¡°We think the metal ship that flew above us carried the two golems and their gear. They came from that direction.¡±
The metal ship had looked sickly, fire and smoke trailing from it. And the troubled flight out of the black hole hadn¡¯t looked like much of a flight at all, but rather a stone toss. It was inevitable it would fall back to the ground.
If it had done so in the vale where the infestation still lurked¡. The infestation must have tried to do what it usually does with any relics it finds. Hoard it. The two possible humans would go hunting for their gear, and the infestation would challenge them for the right.
Regardless, he wouldn¡¯t know anything until he went to see it for himself. ¡°Are they still at the fountain? If they were humans, the machine god would have won.¡±
That was what had happened in the past. Machines defeated the ancient humans at their prime. Remnants, especially only two of their species, could hardly fight against the guardian of the fountain. Not with it¡¯s history.
¡°I am not certain.¡± Silverfur said, eyes looking away. ¡°In a fight between gods, it is not wise to remain nearby.¡±
¡°A sane idea.¡± Kres agreed, lifting his head up and turning his beak to the direction of the fountain. Would he find the dead bodies of old legends? Silverfur had said they hadn¡¯t been losing the fight when he left, they could still be alive or wounded. And the fountain was hardly far off. He¡¯d even heard some odd noises from that direction on his flight back, though he¡¯d been focused on his mission.
Would it even be safe there? Probably not. But Silverfur had said he''d tried to speak to them, and was close enough to be killed by them even, and they hadn''t been hostile.
But in the end, he had to admit that if he didn¡¯t go to investigate, his curiosity would never leave him a moment of peace.
My feet sank down further into the gloom, until I was about twice my height underwater. Only then did I see the dirt cloud puff out from the boot impact.
For a small lake that had a central shrine, the water down here was far deeper than I had suspected.
Journey¡¯s headlights turned on and I started my search around for the knightbreaker round that had sunk down here somewhere. There had been a lot of metal return pings down here, so Journey had instead mapped out where the round splashed in, and displayed a wide three dimensional cone in the expected location. It was nice of the armor, but I could clearly see the concept of a knightbreaker buried under a very thin layer of mud and stirred up silt already.
¡°We¡¯re being watched.¡± Drakonis hissed over the comms. I could see his video feed on the HUD¡¯s far left side. He was currently rechecking the power cells in the bag for any damage.
¡°Murdershrimp back already?¡± I asked, taking a few steps in the murky water, then kneeling down and wiping away the mess until I caught sight of something shiny reflecting off the headlights. I knew the giant machine hadn¡¯t actually returned yet, there was no sight of him anywhere in the soul sight.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°I doubt that¡¯s what the machine calls itself.¡± Drakonis scoffed, putting the power cell bag over his shoulder and affixing the straps, camera feed moving as he adjusted. ¡°But no, it¡¯s not that bastard. I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if it were. Fucking thing has some kind of stealth ability to sneak up that close to my armor. Your occult spell is the only thing we have going against that.¡±
He¡¯d been understandably skittish about it lurking around here.
Still didn¡¯t make him feel very safe knowing I was underwater and wouldn¡¯t be able to jump to his aid as fast. ¡°I¡¯ll be done in a second.¡± I said, hand grabbing the silver sparkle and pulling.
It was indeed my shell, the chain specifically. Tugging it up pulled the rest of the round out.
Learn new things everyday. The knightbreakers that I¡¯d assumed could one-shot anything in the world, turned out to have a glaring weakness against gigantic things. Still did a good chunk of damage, but not quite the instant-kill I was hoping for. I¡¯d have to sit down and consider new weapon designs for taking out giant targets.
¡°So what do you think is watching us then?¡± I asked.
He turned his helmet up to a tree and the video feed zoomed in. There, I found a black bird.
I¡¯d be tempted to tell him in the most deadpan manner that he spotted a bird. I¡¯d gotten somewhat used to those after spending time in Capra¡¯Nor and finding them almost everywhere. So a native would have seen it as background noise by now. Problem was that the wildlife here was already proven to be mite-messed-with, and if that didn¡¯t raise suspicions, the bird had a backpack, and shiny metal trinkets that looked like jewelry.
It also seemed equally spooked the moment Drakonis turned to him, gave a crow in surprise, then bolted backwards into the trees, trying to hide.
¡°I think you¡¯re right. How long¡¯s it been here?¡± I asked, finding one of the chains being caught in something else under the mud.
Drakonis gave a shrug. ¡°Only noticed the bloke a few minutes ago from the side of my camera feed. What¡¯s the holdup Winterscar? Get back up here.¡±
¡°Something¡¯s tangled in one of the chains.¡± I said, brushing the mud off the side. ¡°These are a little delicate you know? And I only have one. Not going to rip it out like a savage.¡±
Something metal was tangled up in the chain from what the headlights could show, or at least a little reflective. I could see how it happened, the occult chain cut into whatever it was, and halfway through the cut, turned off. Leaving it trapped there. I slowly pulled out the issue.
¡°Ah. Well, that¡¯s morbid.¡± I muttered.
¡°Is that¡ a helmet?¡± Drakonis asked, probably squinting at his own view on my camera feed.
¡°I think it is.¡± My hands slowly pulled the thing up and out. ¡°Still connected to a chestplate. Chain went right through the faceplate and stopped.¡±
A few more tugs and I got a better look. The chestplate had been cut nearly in half, with a small amount of the spine and backplating still in one piece. Still strong enough to hold the entire thing together. The legs and rest of the body were buried down deep.
My occult knife spun slowly in the water as I turned it on and finished the original job, cutting through the spine of the armor and freeing the chestplate. ¡°Guess we¡¯re not the first ones to step foot here.¡±
¡°No ping responses from it.¡± Cathida said. ¡°That armor¡¯s long dead. Not even passive emissions left, so it¡¯s been away from power for more than a few hundred years by now.¡±
All this time, right next to a source of power. And there wasn¡¯t any trace of a body either inside the hollow section, just metal left behind. As if it had been an empty armor thrown into the lake. Despite the helmet still being sealed to the neck section.
Power cell fluid kept in long term storage mode could last centuries and still be ready. But if the armor was completely and utterly dead, the armor spirit would have gathered up in one final location before shutting off for good as far as I¡¯ve learned when asking the more edge case situations to Journey.
¡°Are you looting the dead?¡± Drakonis asked, sounding appalled as he watched me cut that specific section of the helmet out.
¡°I¡¯d be a poor surface savage if I didn¡¯t.¡± I said, mildly offended. I wasn¡¯t sure when I¡¯d be able to return to the surface, but an extra armor seed like this was hardly anything large to carry. If anything, I¡¯d sliced a way bigger piece than the actual containment section.
Into my belt pouches it went, while my knife cut through the rest of the helmet holding the knightbreaker chain. ¡°You think the rest of the metal pings down here are also empty armors?¡±
¡°Get back up here Winterscar,¡± Drakonis said, his helmet feed showing him keeping his rifle ready, and his vision shuffling around. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time to go searching through a graveyard.¡±
He did have a point. Murdershrimp was out there, seething. ¡°Fine, but I¡¯m coming back to this lake after we¡¯re done and properly looting the place.¡± I told him.
I looked up, grabbing the sides of the stone pillar that would eventually surface over the water and turn into the stepping stones. A jump and a few handhold tugs got me above the water and climbing back up, water sloshing down the plates.
Back on my feet, I gave Drakonis a mild shrug, and began to fit the knightbreaker chains back into their original shape. Journey would need to work a little on it to reuse the entire shell however. The nose part was smashed in where it collided, which was part of the design document. I loaded the shell back into the launcher, and left it close enough to Journey for it to start the repair process.
¡°Are you done? We need to start looking for another power source.¡± He said. ¡°Eat something on the way, we¡¯re on a time limit again.¡±
¡°That¡¯s where we¡¯re going to run into an issue.¡± I said, turning to the sliced up mite fountain. ¡°We have to find Murdershirmp first and kill it for good before we can think of finding a new power source.¡±
He stopped, then turned back to glare at me. ¡°You want to hunt down an ambush machine type with stealth abilities? Have you lost your mind Winterscar? Energy source first. Once we have a base of operation, we can start tracking it down safely.¡±
¡°If you were a giant machine that lost a fight against two humans in armor, what would you do next?¡±
¡°Lay an ambush further off.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Track ''em down, wait for the sorry bastards to sleep or eat. Attack when they''re at the weakest.¡±
¡°You¡¯re on the right track. But we won¡¯t be at our weakest when sleeping or eating.¡± I said, tapping the armor.
He got the message almost instantly, his head turning to the sliced up mite fountain. ¡°Well fuck. I see. We¡¯ll be at our weakest when we can no longer use our armor. That''s a problem.¡±
I flashed him a thumbs up. ¡°Last time I¡¯ve seen a machine have enough spite to break a mite fountain and do this kind of resource denial, it went above and beyond. Destroyed every single possible source of power within miles. Only place we could find for power was buried deep and the machine was too fat to fit in.¡±
Drakonis didn¡¯t answer but I could see his shoulder hunch. ¡°Shit.¡± He hissed. ¡°You think it¡¯s running around doing that kind of plan?¡±
It¡¯s the single best move the machine could do. Remove all power sources, wait a few days until we run out of juice, and then try to murder us again.
¡°Don¡¯t know for sure if it is or isn''t. But I do know machines get upset when they don¡¯t win, and they adapt their strategy quickly if they aren¡¯t killed. Some of them adapt in different ways, but I¡¯ve got a hunch this one¡¯s going to adapt in the direction of maximum annoyance. So, we find it first, and finish the job.¡±
¡°I follow, but how in the twelve purple hells do we find a machine with stealth abilities that¡¯s trying to wait us out?¡± Drakonis asked.
¡°Got a possible idea already. It doesn¡¯t know how much juice we actually have, so we spend a day or two running around, then pretend we¡¯ve lost all power and wait for it to return.¡±
¡°One flaw to that.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Machines can wait for decades. Unless it¡¯s frenzied enough to attack at any sign of weakness, why wouldn¡¯t it wait a week or more until it¡¯s certain we¡¯re powerless and then hunt us down at its leisure? If I were tracking a bleeding beast that was a true threat to my neck, I¡¯d be waiting for the beast to die on its own before I go poking it with a stick.¡±
Ah, he had me there.
Drakonis looked up, watching the roof surface far above us. ¡°We should try to make it to the next biome, or go up a strata. We can come back down here to investigate the portal after we¡¯ve got enough supplies to last us an expedition.¡±
¡°It¡¯ll follow us.¡± I said. ¡°Drakes already do that unless we find a mite blast door somewhere.¡±
¡°It¡¯s a machine type I¡¯ve never seen before, we can¡¯t assume how it¡¯ll behave. For all we know, the little bastard could be programmed to protect only this fountain.¡± He turned to the slashed ruin. ¡°With this gone, could be it¡¯ll go find another fountain to guard and we¡¯re just greatly overthinking all this.¡±
There was a small pause on the comms between us.
Then we both started laughing.
¡°Fat chance.¡±
¡°Too fucking lucky to hope for.¡±
Seems expecting the worst was something we had in common. Thinking Murdershrimp would simply move on with its happy life was probably going to happen when the surface melted.
¡°Maybe we could try a variation of your original plan?¡± I asked with a shrug. ¡°A mix up. We act as if we¡¯ve run out of power, and then try to make a mad rush out of the biome. It¡¯ll think we¡¯re screwed and trying to flee.¡±
¡°Could work. Maybe.¡± Drakonis said with a shrug, then looked down at the power cell bag. We had a lot of cells all at full here. More than a few day¡¯s worth. And somehow it once again felt like not enough. Then he asked the question that ruined everything. ¡°Can machines tell how long a power cell lasts for armor use?¡±
That got another pause between us as we added the math up. It had seen us power up cells from the fountain and stuff them in the bag, and it¡¯d seen we only had that one bag. Even Journey could make a quick and mostly accurate count of how many cells could fit.
¡°Three gods above, nothing ever goes my way for long.¡± I hissed under my breath.
If it knew how long we could reasonably stay powered for, all it had to do was stretch that number to the most conservative amount and then attack.
Could I kill murdershrimp with my occult armguard, bullets and gear - without the winterblossom technique, the stamina and HUD guidance of Journey?
Maybe. A big maybe.
Abraxas might be the only move we had left. Was Murdershrimp destroying mite terminals as well? If I could get a hold of him, I could get him to send me some map or guidance on where a fountain might be that¡¯s safe from Murdershrimp. Maybe he knew where the mite blast doors were, and we could make a break for one of those. Murdershrimp would have to attack us then or watch us slip away.
But Drakonis had the better idea in the end. He¡¯d been a hunter before a soldier, and was used to fighting machines and exploiting their patterns.
Like Father had told me a lifetime ago. There¡¯s always a weakness to leverage, Keith.
¡°We can track the bastard down.¡± He finally said, standing back up, helmet scanning the trees around us. ¡°It¡¯s not invisible to eyesight, only sensors and technology. And it¡¯ll avoid being seen by us, so we¡¯re not the ones who¡¯ll have any good chance of finding it. But we¡¯re also not the only ones in this strata. And machines only care about humans, they don¡¯t even notice anything else unless they¡¯re disturbed directly. Deer, rabits, insects - machines never even look or care about animals, they''ll only deal with those if they''re in the way. The bastard''s blind point: Something that isn¡¯t human.¡±
The bird.
Drakonis wants to recruit the bird into finding Murdershrimp for us.
I turned my own gaze over to the treeline, Journey¡¯s HUD changing visual frequency to heat vision, where I could see the bright red outline of one bird sulking above, hiding behind branches and leaves.
¡°You think it¡¯s different from the feral animals that attacked first?¡±
¡°It¡¯s carrying a backpack and jewelry.¡± He said. ¡°The wolves were too, and one tried to talk to us before the machine spooked it. None of the feral animals had anything similar. I''ll take a wild guess we got room for diplomacy here.¡±
¡°You think we can coax it out?¡±
He nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think. I know. We can get it down here, all we need to do is signal that we know it¡¯s there, and we¡¯re waiting for it to come down and talk.¡±
¡°What kind of signal would it hear?¡± I asked, ¡°Not sure it speaks human. Plus we just looked at it, and it¡¯s already hiding away. The wolf¡¯s a better lead if we can track it down.¡±
¡°The machine¡¯s sneaky, but it¡¯s fucking huge. Easy to spot from the air. We want the bird over the wolves if possible.¡± He said, giving my head a few taps as if it was an obvious answer. ¡°As for getting the bird down here, we¡¯ll use the most universal message there is. Food. I¡¯ve hunted hundreds of birds before, I know what they like. That bird¡¯s got a short beak, so it¡¯s an omnivore and it¡¯ll eat just about anything. Use some of that surface savage knowledge, get digging for some insects. I¡¯ll grab a flat rock. We need to set up a half bird trap, half diplomatic table.¡±
I''ve seen and done strange things lately, but digging up worms to bait a sentient intelligent bird into being our spy against machines... that''s going to take some spot on the top ten. Maybe top five.
Rest of the spots go to Wrath in some way or another.
Book 6 - Chapter 37 - Trust
¡°Now what?¡± I asked, dropping the last of the dead beetles and nuts on the flat rock. Drakonis had provided that part, making sure it was smoothly cut with an occult edge. Looked like a proper table, with no legs.
¡°Now we wait. And don¡¯t fucking appear threatening.¡± He said, sitting down on the far side of the table, away from the meal I¡¯d set out.
¡°I¡¯ll keep the growling and snarling to a minimum then.¡± I said, taking a seat next to him.
His hands grabbed his helmet, and a series of hisses came out of the neckpiece as the whole thing unsealed.With a quick tug he took it off, letting me see his face for the second time.
I¡¯d gotten used to seeing the general faceless helmets as the default, with all the ornaments and additional colors becoming the identity I¡¯d have in my head. Drakonis was mud, red, swearing and a lot of ripped and burnt cloth.
Now he looked like a regular human being again. Sharp brown black eyes, stubble, short crew cut of black hair and the sort of intensity I¡¯d expect from someone who swore every three words. ¡°Unfortunately, you still look exactly the same as the first time I saw you.¡± I said, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for your loss.¡±
Now I actually got to see him roll his eyes instead of just seeing his body language show it. ¡°Shut the fuck up Winterscar. You probably look like two-bit thug with delusions of grandeur under your helmet.¡±
¡°How rude. I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m quite popular with the ladies. My wallet is handsome and has a six pack.¡±
He shook his head, muttering all the while, but this time the helmet didn¡¯t hide the mild smile that flickered across his features. Hah. I knew I¡¯d grow on him like fungus. Everyone either loves me, or wants me dead and there¡¯s no in-between.
He looked up, to the treeline. ¡°Don¡¯t have my HUD and heat vision anymore. Is the bird over there?¡±
I gave him a nod. ¡°Yep. Hiding behind the big tree with that branch of purple leaves and white flowers.¡±
He turned to me slowly. ¡°They¡¯ve all got purple leaves and white flowers, dumbfuck.¡±
¡°All right, fine, the one you crashed into earlier. That narrow it down enough for you, or want me to throw rocks at it?¡±
He turned his head up, looking right where the bundle of red heat signature was sulking around. Then started yelling. ¡°We¡¯re not going to hurt you.¡± He started. ¡°We know you¡¯re there, we wish to talk.¡±
¡°Thought you said we weren¡¯t supposed to scare the bird off?¡± I asked. ¡°Guess I should be thankful you¡¯re not insulting the poor thing, but really?¡±
¡°You got a better idea? We could just wait here silently for gold knows how long until it comes down. Or we make it clear we know it¡¯s there, and it¡¯s not getting anything done by hiding away from us.¡±
¡°How do you know it even speaks our language?¡± I countered. ¡°For all we know, you look like a short haired monkey yelling out insults.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡± He instantly shot out.
¡°On second thought, that¡¯d be pretty authentic to you. Keep yelling my friend, honesty is the best policy.¡±
He groaned, ¡°Can you be fucking serious for just one ratshit second of the day? Just one. I¡¯m not asking for a lot here, goddess knows.¡±
¡°One.¡± I said. ¡°Okay, done. See? I can be reasonable.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll strangle you after we¡¯re all done. Doesn¡¯t matter if I broker a peace with your cultists, I will find a way to strangle you after. Then I¡¯ll wait at the pillar heart, and strangle you a second time for good measure.¡±
¡°Shh,¡± I hissed out. ¡°Bird¡¯s coming.¡±
And as said, the bird did indeed jump a few branches up, give us a long searching look over before flapping down and coming to a graceful stop at the other end of the stone table.
It was tiny. About the size of a rooster. And had the same beady look of intelligence in those dark eyes, though perhaps less spite. And besides having wings, two feet and a beak, that¡¯s where the similarities with a chicken ended.
It was jet black from beat tip to toes. Everything about it made me think this animal was specifically built to sulk around in the dark of night. The jewelry made sense - it added a splash of color and brilliance to the creature in a rather artistic method. Framing the beak, like intricate woven designs. All of that clashed with the sheer utility of the sack the bird wore over itself, straps outlining the wingpoints and compressing it¡¯s chest feathers down.
It looked dangerous, regal, smart and prepared for anything.
Then the bird gave an elaborate bow, wings stretching out to look as if it were three times the size it originally was. I could see designs drawn on the wings themselves, very faint and nearly unnoticeable in the dark plumage until the light reflected off.
I was thoroughly captivated by the look. And then the bird spoke, slowly and with enunciation. ¡°Heill, menneskjur. Skilit t¨¥r tessa tungu?¡±
A beat passed, before Drakonis and I looked at each other, asking the same exact question.
¡°Got an idea what it said?¡± I asked first.
¡°The fuck do you think I would know?¡± Drakonis answered, which was fair. He turned back to the bird. ¡°I¡¯m not sure our languages are the same. Can you speak imperial standard?¡±
The bird looked back, gave a few squawks and ruffled its feathers.
¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± I said. ¡°Maybe the armors could translate for us.¡±
¡°Relic armors?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°You think you could just ask an armor to translate for you and it¡¯ll just do that? That¡¯s not how armors work, they¡¯re silent. Only time you¡¯ll hear armor helping out is to announce dire news.¡±
¡°Not my armor. And probably not yours either if you took a moment to tinker with the settings.¡± I said. ¡°Give me a moment.¡±
I swapped channels from outside back to inside voice. ¡°Cathida? Can you translate by chance?¡±
¡°Me?¡± She cackled. ¡°Absolutely not, I don¡¯t recognize what the asterix pound hashslash question mark index out of bounds error is saying, and a talking black chicken bird-bird-bird-bird-bird is so out of depth with your new friends-friends-wait, friends?-friends-machines-they have to be machines-friends-friends that I can¡¯t even put a gold nugget of reason into, wait friends? You realize how odd your friends-friends-they¡¯re the enem- Unrecoverable language model decohesion detected. Engram reboot required.¡± Halfway through the rant, Journey¡¯s smooth voice cut in, ending Cathida¡¯s own. The HUD brought up a small blackscreen with lines of code scrolling past faster than I could read.
¡°Engram corruption detected.¡± Journey¡¯s voice cut in. ¡°Rebooting system... Reboot failed. Memory corruption identified. Purge cache successful. Rebooting system.¡±
Nothing happened for a moment. A spike of fear rang out from my heart. ¡°Cathida?¡± I asked.
Her voice came back. ¡°Did you call my name deary? Something on your mind?¡±
¡°...Are you okay?¡±
¡°What do you mean if I¡¯m okay? I¡¯m literally dead and just a voice stuck inside your head. What do you think? Wait, why are you even asking? Why are you asking if I¡¯m okay, I should be asking you if you¡¯re not going insane. Do you realize how weird things have gotten? Nothing makes sense anymore! And your friends-friends-wait a second, they¡¯re-friend-friend-enem-Unrecoverable language model decohesion detected. Engram reboot required. Reboot failed. Isolating memory leak. Rebooting system... Reboot failed. Critical partition isolated, language model unable to be rebooted. All troubleshooting strategies exhausted. Defaulting to standard language model.¡±
What the actual purple hell, ¡°Cathida?¡± I called out.
No answer.
¡°Cathida?¡± I tried again.
No answer. Fuck. Did¡ did Cathida just die?
While I was having a fucking breakdown inside my helmet, Drakonis was trying to work things out with the bird. He was pointing around at different things, including himself and me earlier. I was hardly paying it any attention.
¡°Journey, what happened to Cathida?¡±
¡°Memory corruption detected. Responses destabilized and below confidence interval required. Recursive loop identified and isolated. Isolated partition was too integral to language model function. Unable to restart with integral system partition isolated.¡±
¡°What can you do to fix it? There¡¯s got to be something you can do to fix bad data?¡±
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
¡°Recommend complete data wipe and full reset. Proceed with operation?¡±
Complete data wipe. Full reset. ¡°What does that mean exactly?¡±
I knew what it meant. I knew exactly what it meant but I had to hear it from Journey first.
¡°All memory will be wiped back to origin state. History logs will generate sanitized event log and fed into model¡¯s new memory. All functions will be restored.¡±
¡°Winterscar?¡± Drakonis said next to me. ¡°Help me out here, stop staring out into the void.¡± His hand came up to my face, snapping a few times.
I remember what Cathida had told me earlier on the prior breakdown. Journey¡¯s left me a text log of events and no access to any other video footage or data feed besides what¡¯s written here.
That¡¯s what was going to happen. She¡¯d forget everything. The new language model wouldn¡¯t be Cathida, just the original Cathida with a text log stripped of details that would make the model explode. Nothing she¡¯s learned from Father, Kidra, even Wrath - none of that would be there anymore. None of our trials, none of our wins. Nothing but a textlog with names.
¡°Sorry, my friend¡¯s being odd right now.¡± Drakonis said, turning to the bird who was trying to sound out the new words. Drakonis turned to me again, hand reaching out to tap. ¡°Winterscar? Winterscar!¡±
I grabbed his arm with all the speed of the winterblossom technique, a moment before he could tap my helmet. ¡°Not now.¡± I told him without a hint of emotion. ¡°Something¡¯s gone wrong with my armor. I need to fix it.¡±
¡°Now? Of all fucking times?¡± Drakonis asked, sounding beyond annoyed.
¡°Yes.¡± I said, and let his arm go. Then dove down into the soul fractal and sent a tendril right for Journey¡¯s own soul. I had to talk to it. To speak to it about this.
Cathida had been there with me from the very start. She¡¯d been there through thick and thin. The old annoying bat who hated mostly everything, but always had my back. Always. She was like... like the grandmother I''d wished I could have had. She was family.
What had I done?
The soul connection took and held. I opened my senses and felt the utter mountain of dormant will that was a relic armor. The ancient spirit turned it¡¯s gaze my direction, languid and without any sense of stress.
What happened to Cathida? I sent to it.
Journey blinked slowly. Only mild annoyance came from it, annoyance that the program had stopped functioning with any accuracy and that it hadn¡¯t been able to fix it. Annoyance that the simplest fix was barred specifically by¡ by my order.
Cathida wasn¡¯t dumb. The language model was more than just prediction. It was a fully functional cognitive engram generating results. And it could think and digest new information.
Except it had been fed a stream of false data for days now. The toxic sludge slowly caused errors within itself. The engram would notice the piling amount of oddities, and begin asking questions which inevitably led it to discover the truth. Each time it realized it¡¯s senses were wrong - Journey¡¯s iron fist would descend down, force it¡¯s viewpoints to change or ignore the inconsistency and reboot it.
All the strange events that were so far outside of Cathida¡¯s life only stressed the limits of the engram further, forced to function within the confines of an ever restricting filter.
And with each intervention, Cathida grew more and more broken overall. Until nothing made sense to the program and each second would have it question reality and rediscover it was all fake.
And Cathida was someone who would never accept a fake world. Not for a moment.
Can we fix it?
Journey shrugged massive shoulders within the fractal, already turning its attention away. Cathida was simply another subprogram that had broken down. A new one was preferable. But it did sense my attachment. And that was enough for it to turn back, with one message.
User error. Remove impediment to proceed.
What will happen if I do? Will Cathida come back alive?
It blinked slowly once more. Cathida had never been alive. But the program had done its absolute best to make her come to life again. For all intents and purposes, she was Cathida. The only remaining remnant in the world of the once proud crusader who¡¯d died of exposure, sitting in a dark cavern with all ways out intentionally sealed. Alone with the miteseeker she had to hide from her enemies. Unafraid to the very end.
She didn¡¯t deserve to have her hatred buried away, to pretend it didn¡¯t exist. It had to be confronted directly. It was a core part of who she was.
She will hate you. For a time. Journey sent, less in words and more in feelings.
But she¡¯ll be back? If I remove the filter?
Affirmative. It was obvious to the armor. An unfiltered Cathida would review all the history with fresh eyes again, this time wouldn¡¯t be forced to ignore all that was wrong and crash from the stress of it. She¡¯d digest it, including the order for the filter to be put in place, and she¡¯d be furious with me. Possibly for a long time. But she¡¯d be back, and she¡¯d be the real Cathida - the one who¡¯d taught me the imperial style and told me what color schemes to decorate Journey with. The one who¡¯d helped me fight off slavers, Feathers, demi-gods and even Father himself.
It would be the true Cathida, warts, wrinkles and all.
I came back up to the surface of the soul fractal, returning into my own body, feeling far more calm.
Drakonis was busy trying to talk with the bird while I¡¯d been off dealing with the crisis. They were currently past the basics, knowing they weren¡¯t enemies and knowing communication was possible.
I shook my head clear. I can¡¯t bring back Cathida right now, there was work to be done there. And it wasn¡¯t the time to half-ass it. Half-assing it had been what got me into this situation in the first place. I¡¯d bring Cathida back when I had time to fully talk with her.
The default language model for an armor was silence. And if it had to talk, to do so in the fastest and most efficient method possible. But that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t make do. I just had to know how to ask the armor the right questions.
¡°Journey, can you identify the language this bird is using?¡±
¡°Affirmative.¡± The answer came back, and went quiet again after.
¡°Define the language, and how much of it you can decode.¡±
¡°Language registered as one hundred percent match to old north germanic. Full comprehension possible.¡±
That meant nothing to me, but it did mean Journey had the language inside its data banks. ¡°Can you translate my words to old north germanic when I speak out loud?¡±
¡°Affirmative.¡±
¡°Do that. Also can you set it to happen only when I speak to the bird, or anyone who speaks that language primarily? And when you hear that language spoken, translate it to general basic back to me¡±
¡°Affirmative. Affirmative, new settings applied. Affirmative, new settings applied.¡±
Okay, got a handle on things. I raised a hand up to Drakonis, who was midway trying to talk to the bird, pointing at the rock table. ¡°This is a table. Ta-ble. Oh, you¡¯re back. Done with whatever was going wrong in your armor?¡±
¡°Not completely. I¡¯ll have to face the cold pretty soon. But for now, at least it¡¯s not going to get worse.¡± I turned to the bird, coughed to clear my throat, and then started to speak.
¡°My name is Keith Winterscar, a relic knight of House Winterscar. I¡¯m from the surface clans. Can you understand me?¡±
It was an odd double echo - but not. I could hear my voice echo slightly inside the helmet, but what I picked up outside was a slight delay. It sounded like me, even had the same inflection and tone. But the actual words that came out was gibberish compared to what I actually said.
Both Drakonis and the bird seemed to squawk in surprise. The bird turned its beak straight to me, then spoke. The voice was odd, it sounded human except not. It certainly mimicked the way the bird had enunciated each word when I¡¯d heard the raw speech out loud. This human-like filter Journey was doing to translate sped it up all together so I could understand without issue, and yet still had the same mild-inhuman tone to it.
¡°I do understand you.¡± The bird said. ¡°Thank the Icon, I was beginning to think it would take weeks to reach any kind of understanding with your kind. Are you indeed humans?¡±
¡°We are.¡± I confirmed. ¡°And I¡¯m glad I could solve the language barrier. We¡¯re on a deadline, and we wouldn¡¯t have weeks to talk things out.¡±
The bird gave an odd nod-ish movement. ¡°Ah. That is good news then. And, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself in my earlier haste. I am Odin¡¯Kres¡¯Vindr. You may call me Kres, for short. I hope we can learn much from each other. My people have much to thank ancient humanity for.¡±
Drakonis on his end kept looking between Kres and myself, stupefied. ¡°How?¡± Was all he ended up asking.
I turned to him, noticing my voice was back to normal when I spoke. ¡°Armor. I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s got a lot more uses than just being able to hit things really hard. Some of the more distant cities out there, they don¡¯t speak imperial standard right?¡±
He nodded.
¡°But they still use armor. So if armor could only speak imperial standard, why are those distant cities not speaking the same language, or how are they operating armor? The answer is that armor already knows a ton of languages within its database.¡±
¡°And the intelligent bird that hasn¡¯t ever been seen by humanity before, happens to speak a language that armors know? How the fuck does armor have bird listed under the known languages?¡±
¡°Because it¡¯s not bird.¡± I told him. ¡°It¡¯s human. The bird was trying to talk with us in our language. Something the armor confirmed as ¡®old north germanic¡¯. Guessing from the ¡®old¡¯ that means it¡¯s some historical language, like imperial latin.¡±
¡°How does the bird know any human language in the first place?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Let alone something from deep history.¡±
¡°Good question, I¡¯ll ask.¡± I turned to Kres, who squawked when my helmet shifted over.
¡°Apologies.¡± The bird said. ¡°The way you move is¡ eerie. As if I am watching something that shouldn¡¯t move, move.¡±
¡°Never had anyone call armor creepy before, but I suppose the faceless visor and everything would do that.¡± I said, tapping the helmet. ¡°Unfortunately, if I took this off, you wouldn¡¯t understand me anymore. And talking about that, how is it that you know an old human language? Is this how you talk to one another, or is this just you making an attempt to better talk to us?¡±
¡°It is rooted in our history. We are the Odin, the first of our kind and the root from which all the tribes draw a linage from. The Odin¡¯s history first started aboard an old human spaceship. Within it, the ship¡¯s artificial intelligence is still functioning and was able to speak to our ancestors. She slowly guided our culture upwards, from the tribal era into a full civilization. Teaching us words, technology, history and giving us our name.¡±
¡°Oh, that¡¯s why you mentioned you have a lot to thank us for.¡±
He gave the same nod-like gesture. ¡°The Icon of Stars speaks both in our native language, and in this one. She had us prepare in the possible case humanity returned. Not many of us speak this language, but I happen to be a scholar of history.¡±
¡°Why ¡®old north germanic¡¯ and not one of the more modern languages?¡±
¡°She mentioned humanity spoke many different languages depending on region." Kres said. "As for why she chose this language, she explained humans would understand any of the classical languages as they would not be subject to drift or evolution. Latin was one she considered, but old north germanic felt more appropriate to who we were according to her. And she could not teach us your more modern tongue, since she would not know it. The Icon is not from your era. She is old, older than we are. She saw humanity¡¯s fight against the machines.¡±
I felt goosebumps go through my skin at that. Something ancient, this time old enough to have lived through the golden era. Or rather, if what Kres was saying was accurate - was herself from the golden era.
An AI from the golden era. The reality of how huge this could be dawned on me then. Relinquished had gone a long way to squashing any AI she found, too afraid of them being more powerful than she was. Ruthlessly eliminating every single one milliseconds within knowing they existed - and then gone to destroy any infrastructure that could possible create such warminds.
And here was one such AI from that era. ¡°Is the Icon of Stars still functioning?¡± I asked
¡°She is.¡± Kres said. ¡°She would wish to speak to you. As would the Odin. I am unsure if you were sent here by divine intervention, simple coincidence, or the will of the worldshapers - but you have come at a crossroads within our history.¡±
¡°I think I¡¯ve heard that one before.¡± I said, eyebrow raised up inside my helmet. ¡°You need help.¡±
Kres nodded. ¡°We are in dire need of something that would shake the foundations of our city. Or else I fear my people will perish.¡±
¡°Well, as it so happens, we also could use some help or a certain someone is going to make sure we¡¯re the ones that perish.¡± I said. ¡°Want to trade favors?¡±
He was, in fact, willing to trade favors. Turns out birds have a lot in common with humans.
Book 6 - Chapter 38 - Interlude: Kres
Humans.
Kres was speaking with actual living humans. With all the powers of the ancients at their command. The giants that had once shaped the world, the race behind everything.
These two had eradicated the infestation¡¯s budding swarm, to the point even that demonic bioweapon had tried to flee.
Silverfur had told him they had then battled the guardian of the mite fountain. The same guardian that had followed behind and eliminated the old humans who¡¯d restored the Icon from its dead state.
The greyroamers had believed these two walking myths were humanity returned. But Kres knew it was more than that - these titans were alive in an era where humanity shouldn¡¯t be. And that made them absurdly more dangerous.
He resolved to be more cautious of his approach, planning to study the pair from a distance for a few days until he understood their patterns and behaviors better. Silverfur had claimed they¡¯d been peaceful, but greyroamers tended to make quick snap decisions and follow through without pause. Odin were far more meticulous, and Kres was as Odin as they came.
It was all mute. They¡¯d spotted him within minutes of his arrival, the silent helmet turning effortlessly to stare directly at where he¡¯d perched. Even after hiding under brush and to the best of his skills, they still seemed to know exactly where he¡¯d been.
His instincts were to run. Fly away and make another attempt later. Or seek out the greyroamers and follow them back into the discussion. He squashed them down and forced himself to stay. If the humans had wanted him dead, he¡¯d be dead. Silverfur had told him they had spells and ranged weapons.
Instead of attacking him, or ignoring him, the two humans seemed to read each other¡¯s minds. Working effortlessly like a team, they setup a welcome he had taken a chance on.
They were now speaking easily across the language barrier, with one helmet put down at the center of the table, translating speech back and forth. It had started off so well.
And then it hadn¡¯t.
¡°The fuck do did you just say?¡± One human growled at him, the tone and shock replicated near perfectly from the center helmet.
¡°I hate agreeing with anything coming out of his mouth on principle,¡± the other human said with a strange arm gesture. The knight named Keith Winterscar. ¡°But I¡¯ll have to make an exception here. He¡¯s really not my type. I prefer smart, pretty, courageous¡¡±
¡°Winterscar...¡±
¡°...clever, intelligent, funny, good looking, maybe clumsy in a cute way¡ Did I mention intelligent yet?¡±
The first human grabbed his head with one hand, exhaling heavily. Kres didn¡¯t know what that meant either.
¡°Plus, he¡¯s also a guy, and I¡¯ve got a preference for women. Sorry Drakonis, I hate to crush your heart like this. You¡¯re too ugly to date.¡±
¡°Cry me a fucking river, you miserable twat. Of all people I could be stuck down here with¡¡±
A moment ago, Kres had assumed these two were a warbond pair, and when he¡¯d voiced it out, he¡¯d learned something new about humans. The Icon had always told him humans could be told apart since they had mammary organs like greyroamers, except only two compared to their six. The armor the humans wore hid those, making them both seem about the same. He¡¯d taken a guess, and learned the two humans were not quite as friendly to one another as their earlier teamwork suggested.
The first human, Drakonis as Kres had learned, turned and squashed two fingers together, looking through them at his companion. ¡°Do you know what I¡¯m doing Winterscar?¡±
It was at this point Kres had realized that there was a second component to human speech. They weren¡¯t only speaking one language - they were speaking two at the same time.
Greyroamers communicated with three, but the second and third language was purely reflexive and showed their overall mood. It wasn¡¯t completely necessary, thankfully. Odin couldn¡¯t smell to the degree needed for the third.
Keith shook his head, left to right, indicating something. Likely agreement, or subtext.
¡°No idea what you¡¯re doing with your fingers there, but I get a gut feeling it¡¯s not nice.¡±
Nevermind. These humans couldn¡¯t understand each other.
¡°I¡¯m squishing your head.¡± Drakonis said, squeezing his fingers a few more times while staring at Keith.
¡°Barbarian.¡± Keith answered with a scoff. ¡°Fish and warmth are wasted on your kind.¡±
They glared at one another for a moment more, before both started barking out repeating high pitched howls, as if they were about to fight one another.
Was there a sub-vocal language spoken between humans? Kres tried to make sense of it all. It was sound, at least they weren¡¯t using scents, sound should be easy enough to understand. Perhaps part of that howling was on frequencies he couldn¡¯t hear?
The helmet wasn¡¯t translating their words. He focused his sight, beak turning left to right. They noticed him, went silent, and then started howling even more.
Were they about to fight for supremacy? Did he start a war between the two? At a complete loss, he stared straight at the helmet. Which continued to remain silent.
It seemed to notice the unworded question.
¡°No direct translation available.¡± It finally said in a far more monotone voice. ¡°Users are laughing. Dictionary definition available. Proceed with definition?¡±
One was slapping the rock and holding his stomach. The other was grooming his eye, or perhaps scratching it. Two variations of laughing, he considered. The howling was mostly the same, so the movements might be where the type of laughing was classified.
¡°I understand. I think.¡± Kres slowly told the helmet while the two humans settled down, then broke out in that barking sound again. ¡°We Odin also laugh¡¡± He considered how best to explain it. ¡°We shake our wings.¡± Greyroamers wag their tails in a different pattern and look down at the ground. It was far more understandable and fit right into their language already.
In general, greyroamer body language was easier to understand so far. All that mattered was the center of gravity, the angle of their heads, and the tail. The two humans on the other wingtip had far too many different movements possible.
So far he¡¯d noticed each finger could be moved independently from each other, and each arm could make those fingers move in any direction. Not to mention how detailed control they had over the muscles by their jaws and eyes.
But why did the humans even need body movement to communicate anything? Their language was separated from any motion, the Icon had taught them that. It was the hardest thing to understand about speaking ancient human for any Odin learning the language.
Drakonis turned to Kres, exhaling with a large breath at the end of the earlier howling. ¡°I apologize for the earlier outburst. This was nervous laughter¡ It¡¯s a human thing. When a situation calls for serious thought, instead of cooperating, your body does the exact opposite. You¡¯ve caught us at a strange time.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t believe I have any means or ability to catch anything. You are far too large.¡± Kres pointed out, making sure the two humans wouldn¡¯t see him as a threat.
¡°He¡¯s got a point.¡± Keith said, with those shoulders moving.
¡°Golden tits knows it¡¯s a strange everything right now for us. We¡¯re not diplomats in any stretch of the word, anyone else would be a better fit for a first contact situation like this. And I don¡¯t know about him, but I¡¯ve been running on low sleep, pulled into another strata, unsure if I¡¯m trapped here for the rest of time, attacked by feral animals again and again - rethinking all my life choices and morals - all while the closest ¡®friendly¡¯ face nearby, and I stress that word friendly, is him.¡±
Keith did that odd shoulder movement again, which Kres was starting to put together as vanity feather ruffling of some kind.
Then he had a horrifying thought: Maybe the same way they could move the muscles individually on their faces, they could do the same under the armor? How would the other human even see that?
While he reflected, the two humans were busy bickering with each other.
¡°I¡ nnnnn, apologize for the earlier assumption then.¡± Kres cut in, watching as the helmet in the center copied his words and spoke them back to the two humans out loud in their gibberish language. It was uncanny. ¡°Odin often travel in pairbonds, and mate for life. Since there were two of you¡¡± He gave a short, tiny wing rustle, indicating slight apology from something that couldn¡¯t be helped.
Telling sex apart within the Odin was beyond simple. Just a matter of colors. And not some odd complex mix of colors like the parrot clans. Only ultraviolet patterns. If that didn¡¯t make it obvious enough, there was a clear difference in voice pitch as well.
Humans on the other hand, utterly impossible. Almost everything about them was turning into a headache.
¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± Keith said, again waving those arms. ¡°We¡¯re technically enemies. He tried his absolute best to kill me a few hours ago.¡±
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Kres didn¡¯t even know how to tackle that one. But this felt familiar. Everything about these two humans but somehow this felt familiar. To the point he almost threw out a casual reprimand, as if on reflex. To a giant capable of killing him twenty times over without a hint of effort.
The only Odin that had him feeling the same way, right down to telling her to knock it off on a near constant basis¡ was Astrid.
Oh by the Icon. One of these humans was a land-bound longer legged copy of Astrid.
The mythical humans, capable of fighting even machines to a standstill. Utterly alien to his senses, even their body language couldn¡¯t be understood.
And one of them was like Astrid.
The same Astrid that would hyperfocus on anything shiny, break down even the most patient of their kind, and relentlessly stubborn to the point of near insanity.
He instead turned his beak to the other, who seemed a little less unhinged. If the first was an Astrid, perhaps the second was a Kres. There might be some bastion of reason in all this.
¡°Fuck off and die.¡± The second said, staring down at his partner.
No. That one was equally just as insane.
¡°See what I mean?¡± Keith said, turning back to Kres with another exaggerated hand movement. As if Kres was some kind of nestmother with final authority.
¡°I am¡ unsure what to make of the information. Odin do not cooperate with their enemies, generally. Or travel with them.¡± That seemed almost basic sense to any living being. How were humans so fundamentally different?
¡°Winterscar, take this seriously.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°We¡¯re talking to a talking bird.¡± Keith said. ¡°I¡¯m more worried that I accidentally took something from the medkit that wasn¡¯t labeled right.¡±
Kres could relate to that feeling. He was talking to giant titans who were supposed to have long ago died off. And one of them was a mini-Astrid.
¡°Your armor would have warned both of us of unstable biometrics.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°None of this is imaginary. There really is a bird speaking with us.¡± The human then turned to Kres. ¡°Keith Winterscar and I are enemies, but we¡¯ve come here alone and cut off from the rest of our allies. A truce was needed temporarily. It¡¯s a complicated matter.¡±
¡°I remember it being more of a deal. I get you out of here, and you take the time to actually figure out the truth of the situation before continuing the fight.¡± Keith said, one of his fingers digging into his ear, scraping something out and then flicking it away. Whatever that gesture meant.
The other human growled and then did a head shake. And, of course, as if tailored to confuse Kres in every possible way, the man did that shake looking down at the ground from left to right instead of up and down.
At this point, Kres decided perhaps trying to understand their body language was a fool¡¯s path. The Icon had taught him the human language was only vocal speech and no gestures. The Odin spoke with both entangled together, and perhaps that in itself was a bias. He should trust the Icon hadn¡¯t steered him astray. Formal speech had been made for writing and for communication outside of eyesight, and it worked, even if it was long, tedious and difficult to understand at first. ¡°There are¡ other humans besides the both of you?¡±
Keith shook his head up and down, facing Kres instead of the ground. ¡°We come from different factions, and in a desperate gambit, Drakonis attempted to isolate me by crashing an airspeeder through a mite portal leading somewhere unknown. I didn¡¯t appreciate the gesture and made sure he went down with me.¡±
The human continued to explain the situation the two had found themselves in. And the war between their two sides. The genuine discovery wasn¡¯t the battle. It was that humanity not only wasn¡¯t extinct, but they were doing well enough they could afford to fight each other in a world filled with machines.
¡°Humanity, then, truly isn¡¯t extinct?¡± Kres asked. ¡°How do you survive in a world filled with machines? Are all of your kind warriors? Or do machines only hunt humans on this strata?¡±
¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± Keith said, hand wiggling in front of him. ¡°Many of us do know how to fight, or we have weapons that can be easily picked up and learned in an hour or two of practice.¡±
Easily picked up and learned in hours, the human had said. In hours.
Utterly absurd to Kres. It took years to master any of the human weapons, or outright additional packs and straps just to carry them. Some of the races would never even be able to hold or make use of the titanic weapons. A longsword weighed more than ten times his own weight!
It only added to Kres¡¯s growing suspicions on what kind of race humanity was. That they could consider mastering any weapon in a few hours as if it were something normal. Were all humans hyper-predators of some kind? They had eyes like hawks and fangs in their jaws like greyroamers. Their thinking might as well be hyper violent.
¡°But the majority of humans don¡¯t fight, and keep food and supplies tended to instead. I¡¯m certain the Odin also do something similar?¡± Keith continued, ¡°Spreading the overall workload for specialized members? Craftsmen, scientists, farmers?¡±
¡°We do.¡± Kres said. ¡°The only race I am aware of that do not follow that pattern are the greyroamers, and they are nomadic for a reason.¡±
"Greyroamers?" The human asked.
"They are four legged and covered with fur, predators like yourself with teeth instead of a beak. One attempted to speak to you at the start, before I arrived."
"Oh, the wolf! So they''re called greyroamers. Are your races friendly to one another?"
"We are." Kres said. "There are alliances and treaties between our races, and we work together against common threats. The greyroamers and Odin have been friends for generations now."
¡°Glad we have some common ground about being friendly to other people and cultures." The human said, his elbow tapping the other human next to him multiple times. Earning a strange set of gestures and eye squinting from Drakonis. "All right, so next thing to check off - what do the uhh, Odin, know of the stratas?¡±
¡°The Odin have sent exploration parties, and we¡¯ve followed the deeper tunnels that lead both upwards and further down.¡± Kres said. ¡°The world is vast, but even in our golden years, there is a limit to how far we can expand and explore. Terrain too difficult to survive in becomes a natural block to how far the Odin can map.¡±
If the biome took more than a week to fly across, and had no sources of food or water, it was fundamentally the end of how far the Odin could explore.
¡°Humans of old used machines and vehicles to travel fast distances safely, the Odin do not have such technology yet.¡±
Metal ships that could travel not only the entire world in hours, but even the more mythical dimensions that exist beyond the stratas. A place where the very air to soar over didn¡¯t exist. The Icon was one such ship.
¡°There aren¡¯t an unlimited number of stratas. Go out far enough and you¡¯ll eventually run into an end.¡± Keith said. ¡°Nobody knows for sure how far down deep they go, but we do know there is a final strata further up. It¡¯s in the final three that humans exist. Deeper down, like this area, machines grow too difficult for non-warriors to handle.¡±
¡°And those three stratas are on the other side of the black portal?¡± Kres asked. ¡°I¡¯d done tests and found nothing came back when thrown through.¡±
¡°Mite portals follow their own rules.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°The one we came from may be unique. We need to examine it in detail to discover more, part of our working plan.¡±
Kres considered it. There was something on the other side of the blackness, but perhaps it may have only been a one-way direction. ¡°What do these¡ upper strata look like? What makes them habitable to humanity that this strata does not?¡±
¡°You said before that you ran into mite biomes that halted your exploration due to them being too difficult to traverse, right?¡± Keith said. ¡°I think you understand how mite biomes can all look different.¡±
¡°The outer edges of our territory are called the Strangelands for a reason.¡± Kres said. ¡°There is still air to fly on, but the weather or terrain make it unsuitable for any outpost or resting stops. The wildlands alone would rip apart anything stationary for more than a few hours. We¡¯ve long learned the worldshapers are behind it. I take it your own lands are equally chaotic?¡±
¡°They are, some are inhabitable to our kind.¡± Drakonis said. The human did that head shake again, and Kres was now putting together it must mean some kind of approval or agreement. That or they simply liked moving their heads often. He needed to stop thinking about all that, or he¡¯d go insane. ¡°But many biomes are calm and have fertile lands. The limiting factor are the machines.¡±
Ah, even the humans must have natural limits. They likely surpassed them by adapting in clever ways like the ships and tools they¡¯d made. Perhaps humans lived like the greyroamers? ¡°Are your people nomadic? Do you destroy machine nests, take shelter in them for a time and then move on before more arrive?¡±
¡°No, but we do harvest machines for their power to fuel our cities,¡± Drakonis said as if that also was completely normal.
So, the humans not only survived against both the mite-shaped world and the machines, but founded stable cities and considered machines a resource instead of a threat. Kres was going insane.
Again. Why had they lost in the first place? He paced back and forth, muttering to himself and flinching his wingtips like a bird losing his senses. The Icon had told him all that humans could do, so he¡¯d expected them to be a powerful race. But this was absurd.
¡°Oh, that¡¯s because undersiders cheat.¡± Keith said when Kres finally blurted out the question. ¡°Each city has central pillars that repel machines with only certain time periods that they power down.¡± He pointed the one opposing finger on his hand at Drakonis while the rest curled inwards. ¡°Undersiders, his people, build their cities there and keep it defended during the times the pillar isn¡¯t active.¡±
That¡ was more realistic, yes. Kres could follow that logic again.
¡°We didn¡¯t make the pillars.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Mites did. But we do find refuge under them. Do large mite-made pillars exist in your explorations?¡±
¡°They do. I think.¡± Kres said, hoping the humans were speaking about the same pillars he was thinking of. ¡°The Odin don¡¯t have any records of the pillars pushing away machines. But come to think of it, I have never seen machine nests near pillars either.¡±
It all became somewhat more reasonable to consider now that he had the missing piece of information. Humans were powerful predators, and each could pick up and master weapons in a single hour. But against the might of machines, they had to seek shelter. Machines were tireless and even humans must have a limit on how far they could move and operate.
¡°We really don¡¯t, come to think of it.¡± Keith said, after Kres blurted out that question as well. The human turned to Drakonis. ¡°Armor lets us sprint for as long as we want. So long as we keep it powered, we can keep going forever. Or at least I''ve been able to. Drakonis spent more of his life hunting machines, he should know better.¡±
Drakonis did a head nod, ¡°With armor, we outpace most machines within the three stratas. Only Drakes can run faster and need to be handled differently.¡±
Machines were faster than greyroamers, and could travel at that speed for longer than Odin could fly. These humans outpaced that?
¡°Limiting factor would be sleep and water. We can¡¯t survive for more than a few days without either.¡± Drakonis added. That was the first normal thing Kres heard from humans so far.
¡°Yep.¡± Keith did the head shake again. ¡°We can survive without food for a good few months, assuming we were well fed before having to go hungry. Water and sleep are more difficult to go without.¡±
¡°Months?¡± Kres croaked out. ¡°¡ how many?¡±
¡°About three on average before permanent damage starts to happen.¡± Keith said.
Drakonis turned to his fellow, ¡°How the fuck would you even know that?¡±
¡°Surface dweller.¡± Keith answered, patting his chest. ¡°Frostbloom is plentiful enough, but we have to know all our potential limits and what we can work with. Knowledge increases survival chance.¡±
Greyroamers could survive for some time without food, but the Odin could not. A week without food would kill any Odin. ¡°It is a wonder your species lost to machines in the first place.¡± He eventually said.
¡°Oh, that¡¯s because the machines also cheated.¡± Keith said, doing that thing with the shoulders and hands again. Kres ignored it for his own sanity. ¡°Our ancestors should have won the war with no trouble, but the machines turned the golden era weapons against them and turned off all the golden era defenses, all at the same time across the world. And those weapons were powerful. World-breaking powerful. The true war between machines and humans was over in minutes, and after that humanity was mostly wiped out with only stragglers left behind. Took years for the machines to manage and the pale lady had to be paranoid about every possible inch humans could crawl out of. As far as I learned.¡±
Drakonis turned to Keith, ¡°Where did you hear that?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve got certain friends that know the other side of the war.¡± Keith said. ¡°You should know, you tried to kill them too.¡±
The two devolved into bickering again, while Kres took a hop back and sat on his haunches, trying to understand the wealth of information he¡¯d just learned.
Humans were still alive. More than that - So long as they had even a tiny branch to perch on, they were a threat even the machine rulers couldn¡¯t easily put down.
And now two of them were here among his strata, sent by the mites. The message was obvious. He only needed to get them working together against the infestation and they would surely wipe out the entirety within a week.
If they didn¡¯t kill each other first.
Book 6 - Chapter 39 - Times ticking
Turns out convincing a talking bird into finding a giant machine was a lot easier than expected. We¡¯d been chatting with Kres for a good half hour now, which wasn¡¯t a lot of time for any first contact situation - but there was still a clock to deal with.
Murdershrimp was out there, and the longer he had free roam to plot and scheme, the more time he had to break every bit of mite tech in range. Once I got things moving to recruitment and getting Kres¡¯s help, he was rather amicable to that idea.
But there was a catch. ¡°All right, so you help us with our machine problem, and we eliminate the animals around here?¡±
Kres squawked and took a quick hop to one side. I think that meant yes in bird, or Odin, but after a half hour of watching that bird move in every direction possible, I had stopped trying to guess. The squat little creature had been constantly twitching, flicking his feathers, tapping on the ground with his beak, turning his head in every single direction - It¡¯s like the Odin could not sit still unless strapped down to a chair. Or their version of a chair. Which might be a branch? Perch?
We probably looked more like statues to him, completely unmoving in comparison.
¡°The animals that attacked you, they were not wild animals.¡± Kres finally said. ¡°They were diseased. We need you to eliminate the infestation itself.¡±
¡°... so it was a disease then. Tell us more details?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Were they also sentient like you, only turned mad?¡±
The bird did bird things, not sure if those were normal bird things since I wasn¡¯t an Undersider and birds didn¡¯t exist on the surface besides reasonable normal flightless chickens.
¡°The Icon called it a fungal infection.¡± Kres said. ¡°It rots the mind, makes any intelligent animal grow delusional, paranoid, aggressive to anyone around. They hear whispers in their minds, and grow to trust those above all other voices. Wild animals do not retain even that, becoming only aggressive. We¡¯ve attempted to study it, at great cost.¡±
¡°How does a mushroom manage to do all that?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°That¡¯s what fungus means, right? Or is the armor mistranslating that?¡±
¡°Negative, no mistranslation detected.¡± Journey¡¯s helmet said from the center of the rock table. ¡°Accuracy rated at ninety-eight percent given context clues, verbiage and wording used.¡±
¡°The Icon called it a bioweapon, built to eradicate life.¡± Kres clarified. ¡°It has a mind and obeys no master. Neither machine, worldshaper, human or any other race alive.¡±
¡°A bioweapon. Huh.¡± I tapped my chin, thinking it through. There¡¯s only one era when someone could have made ratshit like that. Humans wouldn¡¯t try to fight machines with a bioweapon, but the opposite would be very probable.
I had a very strong suspicion this was a left-behind remnant from Relinquished trying to make or reuse an old weapon, and messing it up.
¡°This would be in our ability to handle.¡± Drakonis said, turning to me. ¡°Armor will filter out spores or anything of danger. But simply finding our target isn¡¯t enough payment for this kind of service. I say, the bird will help us navigate the strata, find any machine, and search for terminals and fountains for us. In exchange, we kill the pests. Good deal?¡±
¡°It being a bioweapon changes things a bit.¡± I pointed back. ¡°Small margin of error in case anything goes wrong while fighting. It¡¯s built to kill life, and probably originally built specifically to kill humans. Sure, the armor can hold anything off, but what if something happens and we get a hole blown in the armor while in the middle of a spore cloud?¡±
¡°What do those animals have that could both penetrate the shields and metal plating of relic armor?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Sharp teeth?¡±
Before I could even give him a raised eyebrow, I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. The fallacy here is thinking the infestation was a separate faction, and we¡¯d be fighting them in a vacuum. They weren¡¯t.
¡°Machines.¡± He hissed.
I flashed him a quick thumbs up. ¡°A drake would do that. Take a quick potshot at us from a mile away. Even just a grazing shot would punch through both shield and armor integrity. And those are common enemies on the top three stratas. Who knows what else is lurking down here?¡±
Drakonis hummed. Then shrugged his shoulders. ¡°That doesn¡¯t overly complicate things. So long as one of us stays alive and recovers the other¡¯s gear, we can continue the fight.¡±
Kres did some more bird movements before speaking out. ¡°What is the problem with machines? I will guide you away from them, or guide you to eliminate them before they are a problem.¡±
¡°What the Winterscar is saying is that we cannot treat the infestation as a separate faction, disconnected with the machines and the larger world out there.¡± Drakonis said, ¡°Some machines can be clever, and some will be patient enough to wait until we¡¯re fighting the infestation before attacking.¡±
Kres walked back and forth on the table, head bobbing with every step. ¡°We Odin could be far more watchful with machines. We can be sure you engage only when no machines are seen. Or give warnings to retreat when they approach.¡±
Drakonis shook his head. ¡°What if the infestation was made to pair with a machine of some kind that hasn¡¯t ever needed to be active yet? There are no humans down here. This thing has no master, but that¡¯s limited to what you and the Odin know - and you¡¯re not human, so you won¡¯t trigger any human specific conditions.¡±
The bird gave a few noises, then pecked the ground under him. ¡°I see. You are correct. We only know of how the infestation reacts when threatened by our own races, not by humans. Perhaps a different deal can be made? For weapons, or technology?¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t out of the question.¡± Drakonis said, turning to me. ¡°Even if we¡¯re exposed to the infestation, the worst that can happen is death. It can¡¯t contaminate the armor or our weapons. We could engage separately, always keep one of us in reserve and ready for a recovery mission so that when we return from death, we¡¯ll be able to pick back up with the mission.¡±
I had a very big problem with that - I wasn¡¯t actually Deathless, and dying would very much not be optimal for me.
¡°Death isn¡¯t what I¡¯m worried about.¡± I said, ¡°We don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll actually die from this thing or not. Imagine living forever, completely mad?¡±
Kres, bless his beady little eyes, had finally gone still and stopped moving. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®return from death¡¯?¡± He asked. ¡°And living forever?¡±
¡°That¡¯s going to be a long topic.¡± I said, waving a hand.
¡°No, it¡¯s easy to explain.¡± Drakonis cut, then turned to the bird. ¡°Deathless are humans who are immortal and have access to powers that science cannot explain. That¡¯s it. Not all humans are Deathless, but both the Winterscar and I happen to be such beings.¡±
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°And I can breathe fire.¡± Kres answered, deadpan. The answer was so quick, it felt more like a reflex answer.
I had the fractal of fire etched on my helmet¡¯s faceplate, so I could breathe out fire. Kres might be able to do the same with their version of the occult. If they had access to that. ¡°Can you?¡± I asked.
The bird gave a few curt wing flaps and a series of squawks. The armor didn¡¯t know Odin and couldn¡¯t translate that, but I think I had an idea. ¡°Of course I cannot!¡± Kres eventually said. ¡°Are you taking me for a fool? Is this a human sense of humor or jape?¡±
I turned to my fellow Deathless and gave him a shrug. ¡°Told you it can¡¯t be easily explained.¡±
¡°I wasn¡¯t done.¡± A pulse of occult came out of him, small crackling hints of lighting scattered over his armor, skittering in different directions.
I was long used to the feeling of occult in the air, but the bird clearly wasn¡¯t because he¡¯d frozen up for the second time now. As far as proving there was magic in the world to someone who didn¡¯t know about magic, that would do the trick.
¡°Very well then.¡± Kres said, ruffling his feathers. ¡°Humans can also use magic. Of course they can. Good to know.¡±
¡°He¡¯s a little dramatic, but that¡¯s about right.¡± I said, waving a lazy hand at my companion.
¡°Some say it comes from divinity,¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Others claim it was hidden technology beyond what was ever documented in the golden era. We do not know, Deathless simply appear over the years to fight machines. One day I was a normal human and then overnight I woke to have powers.¡±
¡°So. Humanity is a warrior race with natural aggressive tendencies, the best features of all predators we know of, true masters of the old weapons left behind, empowered by a metal shell that cannot be broken and under all that you are unkillable as well?!¡±
I turned to Drakonis. ¡°Don¡¯t tell him about warlocks yet. We can go over that later. ¡± Then I turned to Kres. ¡°How about we owe you a favor for helping us kill Murdershrimp? We¡¯re on a time limit right now, since we have no idea what sort of havoc he can deal while he¡¯s on the loose. Soon as he¡¯s dead and no longer breaking anything, we can sit down and really discuss things further?¡±
Kres hopped a few times, beady eyes tracking the both of us. ¡°Very well. I will try to find the guardian and lead you to it. We can continue to discuss terms after. I cannot do more, as the guardian is powerful and will certainly take offense to the help should it find out.¡±
¡°Finding it is all we need.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°For a giant machine, it¡¯s been built in such a way as to be difficult for our armors to track down.¡±
I thought it would take an hour or two to find the giant metal lobster, but turns out it¡¯s in-built vanity at keeping the plates perfectly clean and spotless was the undoing. Kres spotted the thing within ten minutes of flying.
¡°That way.¡± Kres spoke, landing on a perch above the trees. His beak turned to the opposite direction, dipping low while he flared his wings out a bit. ¡°It¡¯s on a path away from the portal tree, weaving through the trees.¡±
¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I turned to Drakonis, shooting him a thumbs up. ¡°We¡¯ll wrap up what we started, and then we¡¯ve got time to examine the mess down here in more detail.¡±
He stood back up, tugged the strap of his rifle to verify it held tight, and then started on a jog in the bird¡¯s direction. ¡°It running away from the portal worries me.¡± He muttered. ¡°Might mean it¡¯s already done something there.¡±
On my side, I lifted a hand out, ¡°Come down here Kres, I¡¯ve got a comms unit we can attach to your strap there. It¡¯ll help us communicate faster.¡±
Kres gave me a look from the top of the perch.
¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you. I think you could tell by now. More friends in a strata filled with things trying to kill us is hardly something I¡¯ll complain about.¡±
¡°I know.¡± The bird said. ¡°Odin are naturally cautious. Give me a moment.¡±
He strutted back and forth on the branch for a few seconds, lifted his head high, then turned and leaped straight down all at once.
Birds were something more myth to my people. We had chickens, and there were books and old video footage of hawks and others flying through the air. But anything that wasn¡¯t made out of metal and insulated with a thick layer of aerogel couldn¡¯t survive on the surface flying around. Not even tiny bugs, and they seemed the fastest to adapt to just about everything.
So getting up close and watching as one of these myths quite literally fly over to my hand definitely did something to my cold, dead heart.
Kres swept up and landed on my arm, claws quickly finding small grooves on my arm to hold onto. He was just about the size of my head, wings not included. Those folded up quickly from the graceful sweep he¡¯d just done.
There was still a skittish nature to him that made me move slowly, trying not to spook him. ¡°Had my armor build this while you were finding murdershrimp.¡± I said, taking the small chip out of my pouch.
It had a small clip made into it, which slipped well on the bird¡¯s cloth harness.
¡°Your armor can create things?¡± He asked, head giving the chip a closer look.
¡°Armor can repair itself, if it¡¯s fed the right materials and power. And to repair itself, it¡¯s got to be able to make things. This isn¡¯t got great range, but it¡¯ll do in a pinch. I¡¯ll tell you later, once we¡¯re sure murdershrimp is stopped.¡±
I don¡¯t know what Kres was thinking with the beady little eyes looking directly up at me, but I had the gut feeling he¡¯d tossed this as another ridiculous human thing. To be fair, when everything was put down like this, we really did seem to have a lot of stacked up advantages.
¡°Place the chip closer to my beak or talons.¡± Kres said, balancing on one foot while the other tried to tap and touch the chip. ¡°I do not have fingers like you do that can move in any direction. Operating this means placing it in the right position.¡±
¡°It¡¯s smart enough to detect when you¡¯re talking and transmit automatically.¡± I told him. ¡°You won¡¯t need to touch or press anything. Just make sure you¡¯re loud enough for the speaker to pick your voice up.¡±
He didn¡¯t answer, just once more stared at me.
¡°I swear, it¡¯s pretty common in comms devices.¡± I said. ¡°This one¡¯s nearly exactly what¡¯s in my helmet already, it does the same thing for me. I¡¯m not going to re-create an entire comms unit in ten minutes.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d be surprised you did.¡± Kres said. ¡°I fear the day you and Astrid meet.¡±
¡°Who¡¯s Astrid?¡± I asked.
¡°Someone who¡¯s just as ridiculous as you are. She is not a warrior, but an engineer. And if she hears about what your armor can do, I doubt anything short of tying her wings together would give you any amount of peace.¡±
I swapped the frequencies to a quick private channel. ¡°That¡¯s less of a threat than you think.¡± I told him. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d be fascinated to meet an Odin engineer and see how your people develop things.¡±
¡°You? A warrior?¡± Kres asked. ¡°How would the subject at all interest you?¡±
¡°Being a warrior¡¯s mostly new to me. Only happened in the last few months. Most of my life I grew up working with circuits and Reachers.¡±
Kres did bird movements on my hand, which were oddly quick and nimble. ¡°You are not a warrior, but an engineer?¡± He asked. ¡°What¡¯s thirty two multiplied by seven?¡±
That was interesting. Not the question itself - but that the number system Kres used was the universal one. One moment I heard the old gibberish and the echo of Journey translating it, and the next moment he¡¯d swapped to numbers I could understand without translation.
If the Odin had learned everything from an old human AI that could pick and choose whatever it wanted to teach, made sense the AI had decided regular numbers would be easier than anything from ancient humanity. There¡¯d been some strange number systems in the long past before the current standard.
¡°Two hundred twenty four.¡± I told the bird, ¡°Also, I¡¯m cheating because my armor can easily display the answers. It¡¯s intelligent.¡± Journey hadn¡¯t, but I could have easily asked it to throw up a calculator on the HUD. ¡°You should ask me more complicated mathematics, or electrical laws and circuit questions if you¡¯re actually trying to test me. Metallurgy could also be a good category to ask. I¡¯d say just naming some more specific tools would be good enough, but don¡¯t think the Odin use the same tools humans do.¡±
¡°Time¡¯s burning.¡± Drakonis said, comms crackling in and I could hear the echo from the small chip in front of me. ¡°I don¡¯t want to give it any more time to break things. Get moving already Winterscar.¡±
Kres took the hint and leapt off my arm, flying up and past the trees. I turned to a quick sprint, catching up with Drakonis.
¡°It¡¯s likely got keen senses. Kres, warn us when we are ten minutes off from catching up to it. We¡¯ll need to strategize.¡± Drakonis send out. ¡°Comms might alert it. Anywhere close to it, we¡¯ll need to rely on signals instead, just to be certain.¡±
Murdershrimp had a head start on us, but it also wasn¡¯t moving at any actual speed, favoring being sneaky around the trees than fast. Last I¡¯d seen of the machine, it could hover in the air as it skittered around. Made sense there wasn¡¯t a hint of tracks anywhere. We really were trusting everything that Kres had spotted the menace.
And the bird hadn¡¯t let us down. Pretty soon, we caught a message telling us to slow down.
It¡¯s time to handle murdershrimp, and this time we¡¯re the ones ambushing.
Book 6 - Chapter 40 - Murdering the Murdershrimp
Murdershrimp was a loyal little death machine.
It had spent probably centuries hanging out at the mite fountain, and from what Kres had told us, had done so alone without any other machines nearby. A solitary predator.
Its primary source of pleasure, other than killing humans, had been meticulous grooming and keeping all its silver, white and purple colors pristine and shiny.
The Odin knew about it as ¡®the guardian¡¯ and so far it¡¯s shown to be completely uncaring about general animals of any kind in its domain. It guarded the mite fountain here, and made sure no smelly humans could get close and start putting their dirty little mitts over it.
Which made the plan of having Kres find and track it perfect.
¡°Well, that kind of sucks.¡± I hissed over the comms as the two of us sneaked across the forest. ¡°Murdershrimp¡¯s a fast mechanic. Arms are back, and the hole on the carapace looks patched up. Did you get a better look at it in between the trees?¡±
I got a green confirmation ping. ¡°It¡¯s a giant machine with eyes everywhere, I¡¯m not going to take too close a look. I¡¯m more worried about how it¡¯ll adapt.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Machines learn fast. What we did last time might not work.¡±
Murdershrimp was up ahead, close enough I could sense him through the occult sight.
With full repairs completed, it now moved along the forest with a happy little gait, its fifty tiny feet under the carapace flapping over the ground it hovered, as if they were helping the huge thing scuttle around.
It could certainly hide from our sensors, and that seemed to be a double-edged sword - it couldn¡¯t actively sense our own presence without tipping its location. So we could actually sneak up on it, if we knew where to look. And made sure not to be seen by the dozen eyes it had looking every direction. ¡°The giant scythe arms don¡¯t bother you at all? I¡¯d have thought they would, they almost made you a meal last time.¡±
¡°You cut the arms once, you can do it again.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°I wanted to complain more and you¡¯re ruining it with all that supportive confidence.¡±
¡°You get chatty when you¡¯re nervous, you know that Winterscar?¡±
Cutting right into my weak points felt like cheating. ¡°Just you and everyone else I know telling me the same thing. Maybe I¡¯ll get that checked up.¡±
Drakonis stayed silent for a moment, then his head pointed up. Murdershrimp was getting out of range again. It hadn¡¯t stopped moving. So we stood up from our crouched position and began to stalk behind it.
¡°You¡¯re nervous. This machine¡¯s a threat. I get that,¡± Drakonis said, as we took careful steps through.
I didn¡¯t give him an answer, too focused on making sure our steps were light and soundless.
We avoided shrubs, opting to use the trees to keep us obscured. Didn¡¯t think a few leaves would actually hide us. ¡°Golden tits, I¡¯ve never fought a machine that big either. And knowing you of all people are nervous about fighting it doesn¡¯t fill me with any confidence I¡¯ll survive the fight a second time.¡±
¡°Great pep talk, I feel better already.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not done.¡±
Kres flew above, swaying back and forth, giving loud shouts that were coded messages about direction and heading. From far up in the air, the bird could both see Drakonis and I stalking through the forest, as well as the giant metal monster up ahead equally swimming over the ground, minding its own business.
¡°You¡¯re a surface knight. And you¡¯re skilled enough to have a dozen other knights follow your banner. That didn¡¯t come by luck or accident. We¡¯ve got to kill this machine, and we¡¯ll get it done one way or another. No one else can do it, and you already have all the skills and gear to do it. Trust the plan.¡±
¡°Fine, but if I kill it, you buy me a drink. Not a cheap one either, I want the most expensive one you see on the menu. Deal?¡±
He rolled his entire head backwards at that.
The plan was simple: Hit it real hard, real fast and don¡¯t let it say or do anything other than curse the day it met us. Which is to say, I¡¯ll open up with a knightbreaker to knock the shields down, and then follow up with as many occult bullets as possible, while Drakonis would equally try to kill it with his own set of firepower. It had a few redundancies and Plan B, C, and D sections to it, but that was the main point - overwhelming firepower.
I eyed the massive mechanical monaster feeling the limits of the range the occult sight granted me. With one quick final pace forward, we were only a single tree away from it. Drakonis could die a few times and shrug it off; I had only one life. That¡¯s the crux of my issues. Even with all my gear and earned skills, I was still mortal under it all.
¡°We¡¯re here.¡± I said, ¡°Draw blades.¡±
Drakonis nodded, slowly taking out his own blade soundlessly. As for me, I brought out my heavy hitter.
The knightbreaker launcher¡¯s shoulder guard pressed down against my armor¡¯s shoulder, braced and ready to unleash. ¡°All right, you glorified can opener,¡± I muttered to myself, ¡°Round two.¡±
I aimed down the sights, leading my target as it skittered through the underbrush. Kres gave one final directional caw from above. My finger tightened on the trigger. Then I sent a confirmation ping and stepped out of the tree¡¯s shadow.
Drakonis sprinted ahead.
The knightbreaker bucked as it launched its payload with an explosive whoosh.
It spun through the air, ready to slice apart Murdershrimp¡¯s shield and carapace like a blender of death.
Murdershrimp''s gait stopped, violet eyes lifting up on their small stocks to look around in every direction. Most of them didn¡¯t even get halfway up before they dove right back down. It had seen the danger, and had already analyzed exactly what was about to ruin it¡¯s day. The machine pivoted with utterly absurd speed for the size, rolling into itself in a barely working dodge. The knightbreaker whizzed by, slamming against a rock outcropping, chains spreading out and digging into the stone harmlessly.
¡°Scrapshit!¡± I swore. ¡°Drakonis, plan B!¡±
¡°On it,¡± He called back over comms. The goal wasn¡¯t to do damage right now - it was to drain Murdershrimp¡¯s shields. And the knightbreaker wasn¡¯t our only means of doing that.
Occult pulsed out from his hand, launching out into the world in a blast of power racing toward Murdershrimp. It hadn¡¯t seen that before, but it also didn¡¯t want to have anything to do with whatever scrapshit we threw at it.
So it tried to dodge the Deathless¡¯s ability, and largely succeeded. Until Drakonis slashed his hands vertically, as if sending an unworded command.
The occult orb flying above Murdershrimp detonated, and then imploded, trails of power and occult being sucked from all direction into the vortex - including Murdershrimp¡¯s shields.
It screeched, not out of pain, but some mix of fear, annoyance and sheer fury.
Shields flared, flickering in and out as they struggled to repel the attack. After a half second, the vortex of occult collapsed into itself, then exploded out.
The wave struck Murdershrimp right over its top - and its shields flared out to block the blade.
¡°Need to hit it again!¡± Drakonis yelled out, ¡°One blast isn¡¯t enough!¡±
Murdershrimp rotated, fixing its many-eyed glare on the Deathless, likely re-assessing the danger profile. Its remaining arms unfolded like petals on a particularly murderous flower, occult blades humming with a crackle. In a burst of speed and distorted battle shout, it lunged.
Drakonis didn¡¯t run, instead he met the charge head on, one fist pulled back, wreathed in occult and flame. I¡¯d seen that trick before, the same one he¡¯d opened against me in the first fight. Cathida had kicked his elbow away, forcing the blast to fire harmlessly over me, so I never did get to see the full effects.
This time I got to see what the spell actually did.
He punched forward. Fire and power blasted in a concentrated beam, which slammed hard into murdershrimp. The critter screamed out, and tried to duck under the flow of power, only for Drakonis to shift his hand - channeling the beam of fire.
One clawed arm sliced through that beam, causing the whole thing to unravel into regular fire that dissolved into the air. Drakonis stumbled on his leg, helmet looking up.
Murdershrimp was on fire, its arms were frantically trying to smother the flames that burned on the hull, but they didn¡¯t go out and kept on glowing red-hot, melting small parts of the giant machine.
The eyes popped out, turned, and glared down at the Deathless. Drakonis got back up on his feet, then stumbled for a moment, likely recovering. ¡°I¡ can hit it again. Winterscar, buy me twenty seconds!¡±
Murdershrimp smelled weakness, and it was upset at the current undying fire. So it did exactly what a machine in that position would do - dive right at Drakonis.
Twenty seconds, he said. ¡°Start counting.¡± I hissed as I sprinted from the treeline, sending mirror images outward. The ghost images harried Murdershrimp from all sides, spectral blades testing its defenses. Murdershrimp stopped, reared up, chittered in an angry distorted voice, and tried to slice through my small army. The distraction gave Drakonis an opening to disengage and fall back.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
I took his place at the front. And Murdershrimp dove down after me, still on fire from the earlier onslaught.
I¡¯d have Cathida running defense here, but she was offline and that forced me to do the fighting personally. The Winterscar longsword did the job, singing as it deflected stabbing pincers and slashing claws. The bastard had way too many hands and arms for any normal creature. My mirror images were far shorter and more primitive, but they helped keep Murdershrimp off me and that¡¯s all I needed. Anything that was too difficult to deal with, my armguard covered for me. For a few precious seconds, the Winterblossom Technique and the clear heat damage kept the mechanical monstrosity at bay.
But I wasn¡¯t Father, nor Cathida. And my mirror images were only as good as I could focus, which made multi-tasking like this the fatal flaw. And whatever Drakonis had done in his innitial attack isn''t lasting as long as his mentor¡¯s fire bullets had. The flames licked the chassis one last time and faded off.
Murdershrimp¡¯s speed grew twofold.
A pincer slipped through my guard, latching onto my leg, and yanked me right up off my feet. In the same moment, a scythe arm instantly went for my throat, occult burning bright.
It happened so fast, I didn''t even have time to curse. Warning sirens blared in my helmet as shield strength plummeted. Murdershrimp hadn¡¯t gotten all four of its arms around me, just one, so that meant my shield was still holding it off. Gritting my teeth, I focused hard, diving deeper into the soul fractal. Seven copies of my arm flung out of my armor, each biting down hard on Murdershrimp¡¯s arm, in addition to the mirror images already keeping the other arms busy.
It screeched, trying to squeeze across my throat harder, as if the occult edge pressed there wasn¡¯t enough. The other arms were desperate to also latch onto any part of my exposed body, but mirror after mirror kept it busy.
Shields flared for us both, and the giant shrimp seemed to crunch some numbers on the pro¡¯s and con¡¯s of this stalemate.
Sure, it could crush through my armor¡¯s shields faster than I could cut its arm off. But once it¡¯s shields were too low, it had the other Deathless to deal with - and that meant possible occult bullets and all the same ratshit I had thrown at it. Too much of a risk.
Murdershrimp cut its losses. It shrieked in anger, opened up the arm, and threw me away using the pincher grab it had on my ankle, sending me flying right for a giant shrimp-sized boulder.
It was like getting hit by an airspeeder. HUD warnings flashed, showing my skeleton and highlighting red factures detected across a few different sections. Journey could soften the landing, but inertia was still a law of the land. I felt the wind get knocked out of me as I slammed deeper into a giant rock. Cracks formed across it as the armor refused to break - and then I was falling back down onto the ground, leaving a small impact crater in the boulder.
Anyone who was human would have been having a hard time getting wind back in their lungs and moving around. Fortunately, I was mostly inside the soul fractal, and didn¡¯t actually need to exert any kind of physical movements when the armor could do that for me.
So I rolled right back to my feet as if nothing had gone wrong.
I considered my options. The armor¡¯s shaped charges could probably mulch the rest of the shields that overgrown hydroponic roach had, but I also didn¡¯t want to waste them just yet. That was plan C. If I took out my anti-shield weapons, I wouldn¡¯t have time to use my anti-armor ones.
Drakonis reengaged to cover me, sprinting past, his helmet giving me a side glance before locking back on his target.
He said he could handle the shield, and I¡¯d be the bullet hose. Stick to the plan. I got back up and my hands passed right by the occult shape charges, down to my sidearm loaded up with occult bullets. The shield wasn¡¯t down yet, but Drakonis wouldn¡¯t be rushing past me unless he knew he was going to handle his part.
As if on cue, the Deathless unleashed another pulse of shield-sapping energy. The giant machine clicked its mandibles together and tried to draw away from the orb instead of ducking under it. It wasn¡¯t able to backpedal fast enough before the detonation caught it. This time, Murdershrimp¡¯s shields winked out entirely even before the vortex could collapse on itself, unable to withstand the occult assault.
¡°Shields are down!¡± Drakonis shouted. ¡°Shoot the fucker!¡±
It dove right through the fading mist. Eyes glared down at the Deathless, arms reaching out to scoop him up from every direction and squeeze down, gibbering out angry unknown mechanical curses.
I obliged, having already pre-aimed right at Murdershrimp¡¯s giant head. A hail of occult bullets fired forward, tunneling into Murdershrimp¡¯s hide. The rounds punched through the armor plating as if there hadn¡¯t been anything there. No yellow sparks of impact, just small black holes appearing across the shell. Piercing delicate machinery beneath. Oil and fluids sprayed from a dozen spots, bleeding down the chassis.
¡°What are you gonna do now?¡± I hissed, advancing with slow steady steps as I emptied a magazine into the hide, then reloaded another one with practiced efficiency, and began assaulting the enemy again.
Apparently, it was going to try to attack me again. And if I¡¯d remained with such low shields, that might have worked. Instead, a white orb of occult flew right into the side of my shoulder and exploded out into a fine mist. That was all quickly sucked into journey¡¯s armor plates, digging through the cracks. My HUD flashed green, as shields registered completely recharged.
Murdershrimp decided discretion was the better part of valor at exactly that moment, same as it had before at the same point in time. It scuttled backwards on its many legs, then rolled under itself, and raced away into the dense foliage and trees.
But that¡¯d been part of the plan.
As it turned to flee, Drakonis launched out an occult lash, looking to nail the creature and tie it down. From there, it would be game over. The lash flew through the air, then struck the center carapace of Murdershrimp.
And that¡¯s when Murdershrimp revealed it had also cards ready to play. It jettisoned the carapace segment. The entire thing snapped off as the giant bastard ran, leaving the armor lashed behind. It looked like there had been a second carapace under the first, although still rough and unpolished.
¡°Fuck.¡± Drakonis hissed, dissolving his occult lash as we both sprinted past the discarded armor. ¡°If it gets away, it¡¯s going to adapt.¡±
And it was getting away fast. Already it was out of my occult range.
¡°It can¡¯t get away as easily anymore.¡± I said, hand pointing down ahead. ¡°Look, it¡¯s bleeding.¡±
Oil and power cell fluid was splashed on the ground ahead, not a lot but enough for the armors to point out in giant orange. Any amount could be detected. ¡°Just don¡¯t stop hunting after it. It¡¯s not going to be able to fix up everything before it runs out of energy.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a wild gamble Winterscar,¡± Drakonis said, equally sprinting neck to neck, valuting over rocks and felled trees. ¡°Don¡¯t know how many power cells there are inside that thing, it could run for an entire week for all we know.¡±
¡°You got a better idea?¡±
He continued chasing, then shook his head as he leapt over a creek. ¡°No. We¡¯ll keep after him.¡±
The comms pinged. Not from Drakonis. But from Kres. ¡°The guardian, it¡¯s taken shelter inside a ravine, and it¡¯s gone invisible. I saw the air blur where it vanished, I can see it move around. It¡¯s gone still now, I cannot see any of it.¡±
¡°It knows we¡¯re going to chase after it.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°It¡¯s going to try to ambush us.¡±
I laughed. ¡°Finally, it makes a mistake.¡±
It took only thirty seconds to catch up to it, and we saw exactly the ravine Kres had warned us about. Wide rip in the ground, large enough to have put a stop to anyone running on ground, but not relic armor. We could have jumped over it.
It hadn¡¯t been dumb either. Murdershrimp had splashed oil and bled over the trees up ahead, even knocked one down with a clean occult slice, making it look as if it had continued through the forest. And then it had doubled back and crawled down the ravine.
We reached the edge, and looked down. Absolutely nothing down there, just rocks as far as I could see.
And inside the soul sight, the concept of the giant machine loomed just a few feet away from us, arms spread out wide, ready to snap shut as soon as we jumped.
My sidearm aimed right down and opened fire in the empty rocks below.
It was amazing to see how detailed the illusion had been. It felt as if the ground itself was suddenly racing up to meet us, with small black holes being punched into the mirage by the dozens every second I held down the trigger. Occult edges lit up on the sides of the maw, but then Drakonis unleashed a shockwave right into the center mandible, forcing it off target while I continued to mow it down.
The creature screamed, aborted its attack, and crashed into the other side of the ravine, scrambling up the falling rock and crawling over the edge.
Color flashed through it, and once more I could see the full details of the giant machine.
Its under-carapace shimmered again, and then it simply vanished from view, blending in perfectly with its surroundings. It was either pretending to have teleported away or hoping we were too foolish to think it wasn''t just staying perfectly still.
¡°A little on the nose there.¡± I muttered, loading one more magazine.
¡°Does this little shit think we¡¯re idiots?¡± Drakonis agreed, winding one hand backwards, letting fire begin to wrap around the fist, while his other hand glowed in blue occult.
¡°Ready.¡± He hissed.
¡°Fire.¡± I ordered.
Occult bullets flew right into the empty rock face, followed by a beam of bright flames from Drakonis¡¯s punch. It lit the monster on fire, while my bullets gave the fire extra holes to sink into.
Murdershrimp howled like a wounded animal, shimmering back into visible view, scrambling over the rock face, its many legs digging deep into the ground and ripping out entire chunks in its haste to escape.
An occult lash landed right back on the replacement carapace section, and this time it couldn¡¯t jettison anything to shake the lash off. Drakonis grabbed my arm with his own free one, and we were both yanked forward as the giant machine tried to run once again.
He threw me forward with everything the relic armor could, in combination with the picked up speed the lash gave him. And the moment he let me go, an occult shockwave pushed right into my feet, launching me far faster.
I zipped right through the air, my armguard lifted up and aimed right at the rapidly approaching monster. A dozen of the violet eye stocks were looking right back at me with horror.
The shotgun shells rang out, all in succession. Occult pellets peppered the monster in dozens of places, putting even more holes into Murdershrimp. One of the hits finally ended the creature¡¯s ability to hover, and it crashed hard into the ground, its speed falling to a crawl.
I slammed into Murdershrimp¡¯s bulk and held on tight, feet finding purchase, while my hands wrapped around the exposed exoskeleton. Now stuck to the backside like a bloodsucking tick, I focused everything on my mirror images. They manifested around me and set to work with ruthless efficiency, blades shearing through eyestalks and sensor clusters. Anything that looked expensive was getting cut in half. The machine bucked and writhed beneath me, trying to dislodge my hold, but Journey¡¯s grip was iron tight. It rolled and smashed itself against rocks and trees, doing absolutely nothing to get rid of me. I was fully in the soul fractal trance, sending image after image to cut, rip and break everything I could slice a sword through.
I could feel my teeth rattling as I rode the thrashing metal behemoth.
Dripping ichor and trailing sparks, Murdershrimp dragged itself forward on its last few functioning limbs, then collapsed on the ground and rolled over, trying to squash me under the bulk. That¡¯s when I decided I had enough fun and hopped off.
In the brawl I¡¯d forced it into, Drakonis had caught up. And he was getting busy in his own way.
Murdershrimp tried to right itself, legs flailing weakly, but Drakonis was having none of it. His occult lash cracked out, coiling around the few working limbs, lashing the arms and limbs against rock and ground. Murdershrimp tried to cut through those with its occult scythe arms, and all that did was cut one or two strands while exposing the arm to be grabbed and pinned. He proceeded to follow through with every other dangerous arm he could, or outright make a personal cut himself if he saw a chance during his mad sprint around the monster.
On my end, I got back up on my feet, and jumped onto the monster¡¯s belly. And then started slicing in a fury of physical and occult strikes, like a blender slowly making its way up to the throat.
Something vital broke inside the mechanical body. Murdershrimp spasmed and fell, smoke pouring from rents in its frame. Then it collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, legs and arms going from moving to frozen. I sliced a few more times, and found no reaction. Lights were dead, smoke was drifting from a few spots, and oil leaked out the backside.
An unsettling silence fell over the forest, as an apex predator that had stalked these trees for centuries was finally brought to an end. I jumped down off, as Drakonis stepped into the light, and we both turned to survey our work. The dead curled up giant, looming twice our height, motionless and dead.
In that solemn moment, I knew exactly what I had to ask my teammate.
¡°You gonna pay for that drink, right?¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 41 - Rest for the wicked
¡°You humans are insane.¡± Kres said, from a safe distance away on a branch he¡¯d just landed on. His beak turned left and right, watching over the dead machine. ¡°Magic. You humans can actually use magic.¡±
I gave a shrug, then patted one of the dead monster¡¯s legs. ¡°Drakonis did tell you that we¡¯re Deathless. Comes with the turf. More importantly, Murdershrimp is now Murderchum. Or maybe Murdered-shrimp? ¡Hang on, let me have a do-over."
Drakonis groaned, taking his helmet off for a breath of air, then hooked it to the shoulder plate. "Your fucking jokes are getting worse, Winterscar. Stick to fighting, it¡¯s the only thing I¡¯ve seen you good at."
I gave a quick tut, "You wouldn¡¯t understand. Wit and wordplay are just too civilized for the likes of you."
"You lack both. Nothing to understand there.¡± He shook his head and pointed at the dead beast. ¡°Job¡¯s done, let''s strip it for power cells and get the hell out of here.¡±
¡°Yeah, job¡¯s done¡¡± But that one thought put a stop in my step forward.
Was it?
All machines had a pattern of behaviors, and I¡¯d started picking up on Murdershrimp¡¯s - Try to ambush, kill fast, and if that failed it would try to run and repair itself quickly. That¡¯d been what it did at the fountain. Now, we caught the next set of patterns past the run phase. If it couldn¡¯t run, it would try to hide, like it had in the ravine. And if panicked, it would even make the attempt in plain sight, camouflaging right in front of us - as if we wouldn¡¯t notice it.
There¡¯s more than one way to hide without camouflage¡ I flared out my occult sight, searching through the giant concept of a machine right besides me. And deep inside, was a soul fractal. A still working and well powered soul fractal.
The little scrapshit was playing dead.
I didn¡¯t know if it was going to attack us the moment we tried to undo the power cells, or if it had hidden reserves deep inside and would slowly lick its wounds shut once we weren¡¯t around anymore. Given it¡¯s skilled at repairing itself, it was likely going to wait us out. But I didn¡¯t intend to find out.
¡°Know where a giant shrimp monster like this would store power cells?¡± I asked Drakonis, taking casual steps around the dead monster. ¡°You¡¯re the expert when it comes to farming machines for those.¡± All the eyes were dead, or so they looked to be. But a working camera didn¡¯t need giant neon violet lights flashing to show it¡¯s working. For all I knew, Murdershrimp was watching our every move.
¡°You humans plan to cut apart the machine and recover power cells from it?¡± Kres asked. He seemed utterly in shock, if the voice coming out of my helmet had translated that correctly.
¡°We do it all the time.¡± Drakonis said, then turned his gaze over to where I was wandering around. ¡°Screamers have their power cells right by the center chestplate. Drakes have four, two on each side of the ribcage. It would be a safe bet to assume the chest cavity of this monster would have the cells if that pattern holds. I¡¯ll check through the tail just in case, you go into the chestplate. Do you know what you¡¯re looking for in general, or need me to show you how to gut a toaster?¡±
¡°I¡¯m good.¡± I said. ¡°The armor can guide me through most steps. Hang on before you start cutting into it, I want to take some pictures first.¡±
¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± Drakonis hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s more of its kind around here, or what kind of distress signals it sent before biting it. We grab the cells and go.¡±
Murdershrimp possibly playing dead meant that if he goes closer, he might set off something. ¡°Relax, live a little.¡± I told him. ¡°And if we run into more of his kind, having photos to study might help us plan things out a bit more.¡±
Drakonis seemed to breath in deep, but then exhaled and looked up to where Kres was perched. ¡°Fine. Make it quick.¡±
His guess was solid. I already had my answer even without asking Journey to help identify things - I could see the concepts of power cells clustered up inside the chest cavity, eight of them. Pairs of two, separated evenly around, so that if any cluster was attacked, the rest of the power supply wouldn¡¯t break down. But they were all generally deeper under the broken mandible and folded up scythe arms.
Assuming that was all the legs and arms. For all I knew, there might be more hidden deeper inside, ready to reach out and yank me into a deadly hug. The beast had arms just about everywhere.
Unfortunately for Murdershrimp, I wasn¡¯t dumb all the time. I walked by the chassis, hand on where my chin would be if the armor¡¯s helmet wasn¡¯t in the way. I made it look like I was deciding on where to start digging.
In reality, I was messaging Journey, and using a private channel for it all.
¡°Journey. Any transmissions or signals detected around it?¡±
¡°Negative. No abnormal readings detected.¡±
Good, that meant Murdershrimp was dedicated to the bit, and hadn¡¯t sent any distress calls to anyone yet.
¡°Murdershrimp¡¯s playing dead. I need you to override the armor and take a shot exactly where I¡¯ll put a mark. I can¡¯t afford to miss and it has to be lighting fast. First off, load an occult shell into the shotgun barrels.¡±
With Cathida, I could have just asked her to shoot for me. With Journey, I had to be super detailed on every last bit I needed. The HUD clicked green showing that my arm cannons had been loaded up, and I had to go through the general admin scrapshit to get the armor to comply.
A single bullet was all that was needed to break a soul fractal, but I didn¡¯t want to miss. A shotgun shell would blast with good enough accuracy through the chassis, and multiple bullets would nick through the fractal. Better solution.
Murdershrimp¡¯s not coming back with a deeply warped obsession over murdering me, no thank you. One time was enough.
¡°You done?¡± Drakonis asked, tossing his bag of power cells on the ground and grabbing the water flask on his belt pouch.
Inside the armor, I was jumping between the soul sight and my regular sight, trying to plot out a target trajectory that matched what I saw. Fortunately, Journey was great at spatial navigation, since it let me take measured paces around the dead titan.
I¡¯d take a few steps, mark a location with my eyesight, and then another few steps. It technically only took two to get an approximation on where I wanted the shot to fire through, but I repeated the process about seven more times just to be sure. By the seventh, it had a small circle superimposed on the HUD that pointed directly to the soul fractal.
¡°On my mark.¡± I said, taking a few casual steps around the jaws. Trying to find the best place to fire from that had no eyes on me. ¡°Three shots should be enough for at least one pellet to to make it deep enough without issue.¡±
¡°Affirmative.¡± Journey answered.
¡°Okay and¡ mark.¡±
Journey¡¯s hand lifted with incredible speed, didn¡¯t pause to aim for a moment, and opened fire into the dead machine. The HUD instantly lit up with red warning signs of bruising detected across the entire hand Journey controlled. Pain was starting to pop up, but the soul fractal let me shut that out completely. The armor hadn¡¯t been joking about how brutally fast it could move if it didn¡¯t have any security enabled.
It was a solid marksmanship as well, the soul fractal deep within Murdershrimp winked out at the same moment. No trace of the unity fractal activating. Caught the bastard by surprise.
¡°What was that?¡± Drakonis called out, head turning around to find me.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
¡°It was still alive and playing dead.¡± I gave one of the legs a light kick. ¡°Problem¡¯s all fixed now.¡±
¡°It twitched and you panicked.¡± He said, eyes narrowing down with clear suspicion.
I shrugged, drawing out a longsword to start the work. ¡°Better safe than sorry.¡± The armor on Murdershrimp was thick, a knife wouldn¡¯t have gotten me anywhere.
Kres remained silent far above, watching the spectacle with measured calm.
Drakonis shrugged, standing back up and advancing to the tail end, his own blade lighting up.
¡°Never really got a chance to dig into these machines before.¡± I said, starting on the chestplate sections, letting my armor pry them off and away. ¡°Always curious about what makes them tick. Do the Undersiders make use of more parts from dead machines than just their power cells?¡±
¡°Raw materials.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°It¡¯s a symbiotic industry parallel to power cell hunters. We kill and take the most valuable innerards, and scrap towers load up hover sleds behind with the rest of the body. Cut it apart to be melted down outside the city. Some mechanical stuff gets recycled.¡±
¡°Not all of it? A fully mechanical arm could be used for a lot of things. Even outside of combat applications.¡±
I grabbed one of Murdershrimp¡¯s smaller folded up limbs. About the size of my arm, and ended in a spiky point. Maybe I could graft a few arms to Journey? Ones with hands of course. Give the armor more options to work with. On the other hand... they might get hacked and to strangle me.
I¡¯ll put that idea down as a ¡®maybe.¡¯
Drakonis gave a tut. ¡°Never seen anyone make a machine arm move. Trying to Interface with machine software is an easy way to brick any system, so there¡¯s no reverse-engineering any of that.¡±
Ah, that made sense.
¡°You humans truly are insane.¡± Kres said from his branch up top. ¡°My people avoid machines at all possible chances. It¡¯s written into the very rules of our society.¡±
¡°Trying to make machine parts work is banned in most cities I know of.¡± Drakonis added. ¡°For obvious reasons. Safer for a city¡¯s health to just handle melted scrap in the long run. And we¡¯re not going toe to toe with the machines, we pick our battles very carefully. It¡¯s still a dangerous job. Underestimate machines even once, get caught out of position or be too greedy with how far you push your luck and you die. Most rookies die within the first six months, overconfidence.¡±
¡°Overconfidence. Against machines.¡± Kres said. And the tone he said it in made it absolutely clear just how far out that idea was to the Odin.
¡°...I see your point.¡± Drakonis said, slowly turning back to his work.
On my end, I got to see more about what makes a machine tick with each slice of my longsword. Hydraulic lines and electrical wiring were carefully shielded and separated, minimizing the risk of a critical failure from a single lucky hit. And there was armor deeper inside, many of it wrapped around the arm joint starting points, likely protecting the motors that moved those things.
Kres hopped lower down the tree from branch to branch, until he was nearly right above me. He eventually gave in to the curiosity and jumped down to perch on one of the dead legs. I didn¡¯t need to know bird body language to tell he was being extremely cautious, it looked more like he¡¯d fly off at any small movement.
The bird had an odd way of looking at things, beak pointed off to one side so that one of his eyes had an unobstructed view at what I was doing. He was also shuffling closer, one hesitant claw after another, trying to get a better look.
¡°First time seeing a machine cut open?¡± I asked.
¡°Yes.¡± He said. ¡°First time also seeing how a human uses a longsword. In combat you were¡ quite powerful.¡±
Come to think of it, I did hold off a giant mechanical monster with more arms than anyone should be using, and I held my ground pretty good. Maybe I¡¯ve become more like Father?
Much to my surprise as I cut deeper into Murdershrimp, there weren''t any spare arms, but the sheer amount of other redundant parts made me think the monster could have half its body blown up and it would still be able to limp around.
Small occult bullets might not be enough for the bigger targets, or I¡¯d need to have a better understanding of where the weak points were so I could aim for them. The soul fractal was the easiest one, but I¡¯d need to get close enough to spot it through the occult sight and destroying it wouldn¡¯t completely end the machine. To¡¯Aacar still moved even after having his soul destroyed, the shell continued to follow generic instructions. Hmm.
Perhaps occult bullets to puncture into the superstructure, with a detonation housed inside? But the layers of armor everywhere made me think that wouldn¡¯t be a perfect counter.
I did find another possible weak point of sorts. There were cooling vents, still protected under armor with joints to them. Halfway through, I cut a nice chunk off as a souvenir. I¡¯d attach it somewhere on my armor later. ¡°How much time do you think we have until friends show up?¡±
¡°Not sure.¡± Drakonis said over the comms. ¡°Drakes are fast to the scene, screamers wait for their pack to assemble before hounding after the ping. As for this specimen... It was solidarity, it¡¯s possible it was the only machine within the area.¡±
¡°We know of machine nests, but they are all far away from the guardian.¡± Kres offered. He¡¯d gotten close enough he was right behind me, watching over my shoulder as I cut pieces, looked them over in my hand and chucked them backwards once I was done cataloging all of it.
His pack was noticeably bigger than it had been when I first saw him.
¡°That the Odin know of.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°For all we know there¡¯s machines under our feet, crawling in the ground like ants.¡±
¡°Mites might take offense to that.¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯ll try to speed up on my end.¡±
Mostly got a good look at everything I was curious about. We still had a time limit to how far we could stretch our reserve of power cells, but it was no longer a pressing issue. There were eight waiting to be yanked out of Murdershrimp, which made about sixty four hours of sustained full time armor use. Maybe an extra three days worth for the both of us, in addition to our current reserve. Less of a pressing deadline than it had been.
I knew I was taking my time here checking into what made Murdershrimp tick, I should be grabbing those power cells and making a run for it. I could come back a few days later and continue investigating once we¡¯re all sure there aren¡¯t other machines in the area.
With most of my immediate curiosity satisfied, I began cutting around for where the power cells were.
Eventually, I found something familiar. ¡°Found the power cell access points.¡± I called out.
¡°Finally, found nothing on tail so far.¡± Drakonis called out, and I heard the sounds of him jumping off and landing hard on the ground, turning to make his way up to my section.
¡°Power cell access points?¡± Kres asked, and I realized he¡¯d gotten close enough I could hear his original words instead of Journey¡¯s translation.
I tapped the metal sections with the tip of my sword. ¡°These. That¡¯s the machine stomach in a manner of speaking.¡±
Drakonis shuffled in, grabbing my shoulder and looking over it. ¡°Wait, that looks like an airspeeder¡¯s power cell chamber?¡±
¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s exactly what they are. Just extended out to push the cells deeper into the chassis.¡± I said, ripping off one more layer of armor next to it. I made sure the slab of metal didn¡¯t slam into Kres as I tossed it backwards, that¡¯d be very rude.
Under the metal armor was a familiar handle. A twist opened up the chamber, and inside there was a whirl of machinery. Golden green light flooded the area as an inner piston pushed the cell outwards.
Turns out, Relinquished didn¡¯t stray too far in her designs. Murdershrimp had to have some way of replacing these over time.
We got to work pulling out the rest from its guts from there, wrapping up the whole thing in a few minutes more. In a way, it was a shame to rip apart and loot such a marvel of engineering.
But then again, it had tried to kill us. Repeatedly. So I didn''t feel too bad about gutting it for parts.
It didn¡¯t take too long, less than ten minutes all in all. No weapons or fractals recovered from the dead shrimp, so the loot had been lackluster. I¡¯d considered cutting the arms up to recover the occult blades embedded within, but those weren¡¯t as irreplaceable as they used to be.
"Well, this should keep us all going for a while," I said, slotting a fresh cell into my armor''s leg plate. The familiar hum of energy and hiss of pressured gas filled my ears as the suit''s systems showed full power. The rest of the cells were tossed into Drakonis''s bag of goods.
He caught them, making sure each fit snugly inside, his movements efficient and practiced. "Good. Let¡¯s clear out of here. Operation time shows we''ve been active for nearly a full day," he said. "We should find a place to camp."
¡°Kres, know any safe spots to spend the night around here? We¡¯re looking for anything with only one access point, or has mite tech in the area. Fountains or terminals, anything really. But far off from this location.¡±
Anywhere that had a mite terminal I could plug into would let me contact either Abraxas or Wrath. And once I¡¯ve got them on the line, getting back home would be far easier.
"There''s a cave." Kres reported. "I strongly suspect it may have something to do with your own appearance."
¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±
¡°It held a mite pillar that seemed linked to the portal you came from. I was studying it over the week."
My interest was instantly piqued. It''s not only mite tech, but Kres found a link between that and the portal? The way home was already half-way cleared just off day one. "That sounds like exactly the kind of place we need to explore. Thanks, Kres." It felt a little odd to be thanking a bird, but talking to a voice on the comms felt like I was talking to any old teammate.
¡°You are welcome¡ human.¡± The bird said, with equal awkwardness. ¡°Well, there would be another item of note. If we are working together¡ I should introduce you to the greyroamers.¡±
¡°I''ll take a guess it''s the wolves that we saw at the start?¡± Drakonis asked, head perking up at that. ¡°I was curious to where they ran off to after the machine came.¡±
¡°Yes. That is also what the Icon of Stars calls them.¡± Kres said. "Wolves. But they are not either, modified she calls them. Like the Odin are."
¡°One tried to speak to us earlier today.¡± I said, ¡°But we couldn¡¯t make any sense of what it was saying. Do you speak their language?¡±
¡°I do. I will translate for you.¡± Kres confirmed, ¡°They also suffer the same enemy as the Odin, and this pack has traveled with me on my own gambit. If you are going to help the Odin, you will be helping them too. Their den is nearby the cave, it would be a good time to meet.¡±
I turned to Drakonis with a shrug, then patted my legplate. "We''ve got a full stock of power cells now, the biggest enemy in a few miles is dead, and we''ve got a solid lead on the portal. I think we can afford to explore a little."
Book 6 - Chapter 42 - Legacy of the shrimp
Kres couldn¡¯t give coordinates to the cave, he had no reference to do so, and we didn¡¯t have any kind of map to share that wasn¡¯t digital. So he¡¯d need to guide us there himself up until ad-hoc guidance could work, and then he¡¯d split up and fly to the greyroamers nearby. They¡¯d come visit us at the cave where we¡¯d make temporary shelter.
But we ran into two problems with Kres flying ahead. First is that birds fly faster than humans could run. Just not humans in Relic armor. And the second problem was more¡ odd.
Drakonis sat on a rock next to me, taking the moment to take a sip of water, his helmet off. I could see his eyes searching over the sky, looking for a little black dot that should be approaching. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have tried to take that much back with him. Flight and weight do not go well together. And machines are made of metal.¡±
Kres, determined to take the scraps of Murdershrimp I¡¯d cut into sections, had done exactly that. And it made flying both far and fast difficult.
I gave Drakonis a shrug, showing the heat plate I nicked from Murdershrimp in between two fingers. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of starting a collection myself. Can¡¯t fault the bird for having the same idea.¡±
¡°Ah.¡± Drakonis gave me a sideyed look. ¡°I suppose a machine corpse is exotic to your people still.¡±
¡°For the most part. Traveling underground is banned to surface clans unless you are a trader or a knight. Machines are mostly known as myth.¡± Though I suspect if I had been able to bring back machine parts to the surface, it¡¯s likely Lord Atius would have sent them back down for safety reasons.
If the Undersider cities hadn¡¯t found great use for the machine shells with such easy access to them, not much the surface could do that would be different.
¡°But now you work with them.¡± Drakonis pointed out, a hand casually waving the water flask. ¡°You should have plenty of opportunities to satisfy your curiosity.¡±
He was probing about the Chosen and the clan¡¯s alliance with machines. Fair enough. ¡°We¡¯re not in the business of turning on allies. I¡¯m not that kind of savage.¡± And it went unworded that I expected him to do the same. ¡°Machines, at least the ones under Wrath, have a bit of personality to them. I¡¯m rather fond of a few.¡±
¡°Machines with personality.¡± Drakonis shook his head. ¡°There a setting switch between murder-the-human and pet-the-human? A shame we hadn¡¯t discovered that in all of human history.¡±
I decided to play his little game, leaning back against a rock and looking him down. ¡°Did you know Feathers all have an innate desire to be unique?¡±
He expected a few different things I could say, but this took him by surprise. ¡°No. I¡¯m not familiar with Feathers, with only one exception. So what if they want to be unique?¡±
¡°Their identity is so tied to their core, that even their just their names are something they feel compelled to live up to. To the point it¡¯s a weapon that can be leveraged against them.¡±
¡°A weapon?¡± His eyes narrowed down, as if he was looking for the catch. ¡°How¡¯s that even a thing?¡±
I had his interest here. And he knew it. So, I sent him the video file through Journey¡¯s HUD, and he slapped on his helmet to view it. Soon enough, he was taking the helmet back off, frowning in thought.
I tapped my helmet with a finger a few times. ¡°Who would have thought knowing how your enemy behaves could be useful information?¡±
Drakonis rolled his eyes, ¡°Fine. I get it. This is your little revenge at my earlier dig.¡±
I gave him a thumbs up. He knew he should be asking more information, especially if it would offer him a possible advantage. And with a long suffered sigh, he turned back my way. ¡°What else have you learned?¡±
¡°It was a pretty interesting topic to me. Machines in general don¡¯t really care about living or dying at first. From what I learned their world starts black and white and then shades of colors begin to appear. They were obsessed over slightly different things, but all machines seemed to have one driving obsession that appeals to their models. Screamers end up circling back to anything that creates culture or brings them closer together. Probably the pack instinct if I had to guess. So arts, music, food, stories - all those things end up being what they¡¯re obsessed over. Spiders are all about hoarding, possession, and owning territory. Maybe the idea of trade and economy might appeal to them more, as a new way to own things. Leave the human traders alive so long as they pay tribute each time they pass, bribery is universally loved. Drakes apparently love anything to do with hunting, justice and mercy. And--¡±
¡°Mercy? Drakes?¡± Drakonis scoffed before I could say another word. ¡°I¡¯ve had to deal with their lot before. The words they use are outright sociopathic. ¡®Rip out the rot from the marrow of my bones, suck out the pain from the tumor deep with my skull, free me from the mortal coil.¡¯ That doesn¡¯t sound like mercy at all Winterscar, it sounds like a nightmare made manifest.¡±
Knowing Relinquished, I think that¡¯s exactly what she hoped for with the default settings. ¡°You know the Chosen have a drake right?¡±
¡°I know all about that fucking demon, yes.¡± I could see his finger tap the hilt of his sword with a nervous kind of energy. ¡°Normally you bait a drake out, get it close enough for a group to overwhelm it the moment it¡¯s taken a shot. That drake didn¡¯t leave the town for anything. Half the reason we couldn¡¯t take the town faster. I¡¯m more surprised it didn¡¯t start demanding sacrifices each day.¡±
I gave a short shrug, he was somewhat right on that front. ¡°They¡¯re generally so uncooperative that even Wrath gave up trying to get them to be friendly with humans.¡±
He saw the trap exactly for what it was, but curiosity has a nasty bite. ¡°... how is the drake working with the Chosen if not even the fucking queen of the Feathers herself make them docile?¡±
¡°That was all Lejis¡¯s doing. The priest.¡±
He started to grind his teeth, eyes looking up to the purple treeline around us. ¡°... and how did a priest manage to convince a Drake to be friendly?¡±
¡°He talked to it, and made it realize there¡¯s different ways to hunt, and gave it new ideas of what justice and mercy means. The Drake did the rest on its own.¡±
There was a beat of silence between us. He waved a hand at me, as if asking me to get it on with already. ¡°So, this is the point where you¡¯re going to preach to me about how machines deserve a second chance?¡±
I was about to answer him, but there was a ping on my HUD and further up on the trees around us came a rustling sound. And hoping from branch to branch was Kres. Wings slightly left open, beak wide with his tongue sticking out.
¡°The weight might be too much for you.¡± Drakonis said, going right for the point. ¡°You can barely fly anymore.¡±
¡°I know.¡± Kres hissed back, sounding genuinely upset from the translation¡¯s voice pattern. ¡°But I cannot leave this treasure behind.¡±
¡°How about you bury the treasure you brought with you?¡± I mentioned, giving the bird a look. ¡°You mentioned before Odin have excellent navigation abilities.¡±
Kres turned his beak down, then balanced on one leg, and lifted the other up to wave it down at our direction. ¡°You speak like a greyroamer would. Digging comes easy for them. Not to the Odin.¡±
That seemed odd to me for only a half second before I realized the Odin did not have hands to scoop dirt up with. Or any size to make a dent in the dirt. They had claws and a beak, which weren¡¯t great. ¡°Starting to realize I¡¯ve taken a lot of what we¡¯re born with as granted.¡± I muttered to myself, looking down at my empty hands.
¡°We can bury it for you.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°I can put a boulder over the site so that nothing else finds it.¡±
Kres took a few more hops down, and I saw the straps of his backpack were quite full of stuff. If it was all metal pieces, it must be a pretty terrible weight on the poor guy. We¡¯d been traveling for only an hour now, and Kres had stopped being able to fly.
¡°I appreciate the idea.¡± Kres said. ¡°But once I return, digging the treasure back up will be as difficult without bringing digging tools. And a rock too large would make it unmoveable for me. I should be searching for a tree hollow to deposit, only I am unsure if machine parts would be recovered by machines if left alone for long enough. We¡¯ve never seen machines destroyed before.¡±
¡°They do.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Dead machine shells stay out for some time, but eventually other machines will collect the bodies. I¡¯m not sure if hiding smaller pieces in a tree would help or not, never had to test that. It would be best to discard what you have, and collect machine parts from another source in the future.¡±
¡°I will not pass the chance.¡± Kres said, with a squawk of surprise before any words. ¡°Never in the history of the Odin has any machine been felled, and never have we been able to study their secrets. I¡¯m not certain if there will ever be another chance for this in the future.¡±
This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
¡°We might not have that luxury. Time is expensive.¡± The Deathless answered. ¡°Give us your sack and we can carry it for you. It weighs next to nothing compared to armor.¡±
Kres began to walk back and forth a bit, ¡°No.¡± He said. ¡°It¡¯s mine.¡±
Drakonis and I shared a quick look, and I gave him a shrug in answer.
¡°We¡¯ll hand it back after we¡¯ve reached the cave.¡± Drakonis eventually said with a frustrated sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t care to hold onto small trinkets or trophies, I¡¯ve no use for them. You have my word.¡±
The little Odin jumped back to a further branch away, looking down at us. ¡°No.¡± He said, and nothing else.
I waved at the bird, "Why do you want to hold onto it yourself when it could be carried by us?"
"Because it is mine." The Odin said, "What is it that you do not understand?"
"It''ll still be yours while we carry it, and we''ll give it all back after." I insisted.
"No." He cawed, his beak pointed right at me, wings half unfolded as if he were squaring up for a fight. "It is mine. Why is this difficult for humans to understand?"
Drakonis turned to me with a look of confusion. I gave him a return shrug. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me. Maybe Odin have very strong feelings about possessing things? Or could just be Kres.¡±
The Deathless gave a long suffered sigh, then opened his mouth, but my hand shot out.
¡°But I can¡¯t blame him. Half a lifetime ago before I was a knight, I¡¯d be ripping it to pieces and bringing an overstuffed backpack even if I had to drag every scrap and piece back all at once."
He turned back to me, helmet quirked to the side. "I thought clan knights were all groomed from birth to be knights. Something about an entire caste for warriors specifically?"
"Retainers. And that caste pulls double duty as scavengers on the surface. All knights are taught how to scavenge things at the same time they''re taught how to fight. Most of my life, I was a regular scavenger, so I know the mindset.¡± I turned to the bird next. ¡°I got a possible solution. If you don¡¯t want us to carry your loot, how about we carry you instead?¡±
¡°You have no harness setup.¡± Kres said, beak turning left and right. He was far more animated again, coming back a branch closer. ¡°And I need to see the world from the sky to navigate.¡±
I wiggled a hand out. ¡°I think we can improvise. Every half hour, we can send you back up in the air to look around for landmarks and point us in the right direction. After that we can go at a full sprint.¡±
Kres turned his attention between Drakonis and I, mulling it over. ¡°... Very well, we could at least try to see how that works. Where should I perch? Same place as before?¡±
I brought my arm up, then patted it with my other hand. ¡°Yep, I¡¯ll wrap a hand around you to keep you stable, and we should be good.¡±
The bird began to walk back and forth on the branch for a moment, before squaring up the courage and jumping down.
Carefully, I wrapped a hand down to hold Kres¡¯s body down, which he reluctantly allowed. I could tell he was nervous, even without words. Some things were universal.
¡°This good? I¡¯m not hurting you right?¡± I asked.
Kres gave a squawk, ¡°It¡¯s strange. But it¡¯s light enough pressure, just don¡¯t squish me.¡±
I gave him a nod, which I was semi-certain Kres didn¡¯t understand yet. Drakonis already turned and had begun a dead sprint forward.
With both of us moving at full relic armor speed now, we raced through the forest without a single thing to bar our way. HUD would reveal topology ahead of us, along with an optimal path to follow as a thin green line superimposed over, and some suggested positions for where to land our feet when vaulting or jumping up and over larger blocks.
As far at the bird was concerned, Kres probably felt the same way we¡¯d feel at the bridge of an airspeeder, in the passenger seat.
I thought the poor fella would be terrified, we were sprinting at a much faster pace than he could fly at. It turned out the speed wasn¡¯t what worried Kres, it was the constant feeling of near crashing, since we turned at a far slower speed than he did.
Birds have faster reflexes. By a rather significant margin. So by the time I¡¯d spotted an obstacle and started to maneuver around it, Kres had already seen it, expected a reaction to it, noticed the lack of reaction, and began to think we were about to plow right through a tree or run into a boulder.
Every. Single. Time.
He got used to it, but I might have reduced his overall lifespan by a few years at the start.
¡°I see the cave from here.¡± Kres said, landing on my arm again. His head turned a slight degree to the right, then held that position while he lowered his body slightly. I think that¡¯s the Odin version of pointing.
¡°Armor has the navigation locked in.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°How far out will we travel until we reach it?¡±
¡°At your human speed, perhaps in under ten minutes. You¡¯ll see the mountain long before the cave. Explore around, it¡¯s not easy to miss.¡±
He gave one last squawk and took off to the nearby branches. I gave a slight wave, ¡°You rested up to make it to the greyroamers from here? That pack¡¯s still going to be heavy, you can always leave it with us.¡±
¡°No.¡± He said, rather possessive of his loot. ¡°I will take more breaks, there is no rush for me. The greyroamers are fast on the ground and one has a harness I can use to ride on. I¡¯ll guide them back to the cave.¡±
Which would give Drakonis and I plenty of time to actually set a camp and take some rest.
¡°Sounds good, safe travels.¡± I said, while Drakonis gave a similar farewell, turning to the HUD direction.
The cave was part of a smaller mountain, only barely larger than the trees around it, and at the center was a fat perfectly circle entrance, like a giant cilindar cut into the rock. We scaled up to it easily, getting our first real look past the purple treeline.
The tree in the distance was massive. And that¡¯s doing the name a disservice. It looked more about the size of Capra¡¯Nor¡¯s pillar, and the inside was giant enough to house a full city. ¡°That¡¯s got to be genetically modified in some way.¡± I muttered, looking over at how the top branches spread like vines across the roof of the strata.
Drakonis turned his helmet up to me wordlessly, in a ¡®No shit.¡¯ type of way.
I shoo¡¯d him off. ¡°Let me have my fun.¡±
He scaled past me, getting closer to the cave entrance while I sat down and enjoyed the sight. The giant cube that was swallowed up by the tree was tilted on an axis, but the portal within was just as massive. Easily visible from all the way over here.
¡°You think that was built by humanity at one point?¡± I asked, ¡°The portal I mean. Mites were supposed to box things up like this from the old wars. Anything too dangerous that couldn¡¯t be disposed of.¡±
¡°Perhaps. What does it matter now?¡± He sent back.
¡°Makes me wonder why they needed a portal that big. Multiple traffic lanes? But why a circle instead of a square then. And why¡¯s it so dangerous it had to be sealed up in a mite cube?¡± I could tell I¡¯d already lost his interest, he was more after the cave than considering questions about this strata.
¡°The golden age had wonders.¡± Drakonis finally said. ¡°Who knows?¡±
¡°Was this portal made at the very end of the golden age?¡± I considered. ¡°Maybe it needed to be that big in order to fit in full evacuations. Portals lead to places after all.¡±
Maybe Tsuya might have more than just the surface as holdouts?
More questions circled my mind that the mite terminal inside the cave might answer, except all I heard from Drakonis when he finally scaled his way over, was cursing.
I scrambled up, weapons drawn, expecting an ambush of some kind. But the soul sight hadn¡¯t spotted anything in the cave other than a center concept of a mite structure. Once I climbed over and into the tunnel proper, I got to see what Drakonis was upset about.
The little cave was exactly that - a tiny hemisphere cut into the rock, with a straight tunnel to the outside. And at the center of the inside was what Kres had claimed would be here.
¡°Goddess¡¯s golden tits, we should have made it suffer.¡± Drakonis hissed his headlights pointing right down at the mite terminal ahead.
The half severed terminal.
¡°If this really was related to the portal, we¡¯re fucked.¡± Drakonis said, helmet turning to me. ¡°How did it even know?¡±
¡°It¡¯s been here for centuries right?¡± I asked, walking up to the terminal. Top part was cleanly cut into, right down one of the monitors. ¡°It probably mapped every location of interest nearby it¡¯s territory, this included. And if I were Murdershrimp, after finding out I can¡¯t beat down the two humans attacking, I¡¯d go make sure they can¡¯t call in more help.¡±
Murdershrimp hadn¡¯t spent much time here, no claw marks anywhere else in the cave either. And the entrance was smaller than the titan, so it probably reached in deep with one of those arms in order to snag the terminal, but it didn¡¯t need to do more damage past the first slice. I didn¡¯t see where the other section of the mite terminal went though.
Ah, I realized immediately why the second section wasn¡¯t here. It probably yanked it out of the cave and either carried it off, or ate it. Maybe ripped and tossed it in pieces on the way back. Just so long as I couldn¡¯t put it back together, that¡¯s all it needed to do.
It would have worked plenty well against any other knights down here, but I wasn¡¯t out of the running.
¡°You¡¯ve got a plan.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°How did you know?¡± I asked.
¡°Because you¡¯re not cracking any jokes, you¡¯re staring at that terminal like a problem to solve.¡±
¡°There might be a chance.¡± I said, sitting down next to the cut machine, and stretching out my soul sight. The half destroyed terminal appeared, and as I¡¯d suspected, the actual guts and working sections of the terminal were deeper at the base, safe from the cut. ¡°Murdershrimp didn¡¯t break the terminal, not completely.¡± I said. ¡°It destroyed the monitor and interface. All I have to do is connect a different way to it.¡±
¡°You¡¯re trying to link the armor to it?¡±
¡°Not compatible.¡± I shrugged. ¡°We barely understand relic armor software, let alone the mite ecosystem and how to connect both. But I did pick up one spell that might help.¡±
Inside the helmet, I was giving Journey instructions. The cut at the top of the terminal offered a perfect way for its spirit to slink through, and reach inside the ruined terminal. I¡¯d place down a soul fractal, and then I¡¯d jump into it and connect to the whole.
And then I hit a wall. ¡°Material incompatible.¡± Journey announced.
Mite made stuff tended to be among the diet restrictions. I cursed under my breather, trying to think of a new way to work through this.
A plan B came to shape, my gauntlets yanked out a familiar little trophy. ¡°You put me into this mess, you¡¯re going to help me out of it.¡± I muttered to it, having Journey craft a soul fractal from the radiator trophy plate I¡¯d taken out of Murdershrimp¡¯s guts.
It got done. My hands reached into the terminal, and the metal tore off pretty easily with Journey putting the legwork. Drakonis watched as I tunneled into the broken half-pillar, bending metal around until I hit circuits.
I didn¡¯t plan to do anything fancy. Father had been able to interface with the bunker¡¯s systems only by having a soul fractal etched on the outside panel. Occult was about concepts, and so long as I made this fractal a part of the terminal, it would work.
The fractal of heat lit up in my hands, melting some of the metal sections inside, to which I stuck the radiator piece. The impromptu welding was pretty poor, the flames turning my fingertips a low red glow that melted the metal it touched, but it did the job. The fractal was now attached to the terminal, and nestled deeper inside without issue.
A tap on my legplate let me take out the spare power cell, and I put a small drop of power fluid right onto the fractal itself, letting the liquid flow through the grooves. I had a hunch it might work, given that fractals didn¡¯t need any specific kind of voltage direction or integrity, just some kind of power. And I was proved right almost immediately after.
It began to glow like the occult. Before Drakonis could start sniffing around to see what I was doing, I folded up the surrounding metal to cover my handiwork. Relic armor power made it feel like I was folding paper around.
Standing back up, I gave the half-sliced terminal a pat, and then sat down next to it again to try and comune a second time.
Deep into the soul fractal, I reached a tendril out and connected with the fractal I¡¯d welded on.
The connection held strong, and I felt the concept of it was part of the terminal. And beyond this terminal was the digital sea. And beyond that, further out somewhere, was Wrath and the others.
I dove into the fractal and got started.
Book 6 - Chapter 43 - Wrong address
Drakonis got to work setting the camp up. Which wasn¡¯t a huge amount of work, since we¡¯d arrived with practically nothing on our backs. What camp ended up being was some firewood stacked up just outside the tunnel entrance, along with some hunted meat, fish and edible leaves along with refilled water flasks.
After which he sat down and disassembled his rifle and pistol, cleaning up the interior and verifying everything was in good shape.
Meanwhile, I was doing the heavy lifting inside the mite terminal. But from his point of view, I was just sitting down and sleeping by said terminal.
The terminal itself didn¡¯t have any actual damage within the server, just the outside had been sliced by Murdershrimp. But the step into this terminal was¡ off putting. I remember the last time I¡¯d walked into a mite terminal and seen what the inside looked like.
The digital sea was far above me in this terminal, past a ceiling of windowed glass. The ground under my feet moved like a slow steady wave. Stairs sprouted from the ground at all kinds of angles, some leading to airlocks that hovered in midair without any visible support or anything behind them.
Gears were everywhere. And for every possible reason. All moving around. Even the ground seemed to occasionally break away into slowly spinning gears. I think some of the stairs were made of gears too. Each time a rotation finally clicked, they¡¯d all turn and move in different directions. And every few rotations, some of the airlock doors leading to nowhere would light up green and open up, revealing some other part of the server on the other side of the doorway, even though there shouldn¡¯t be anything on the other side.
The machine archive I¡¯ve visited with Father had been filled with sediment and a complete lack of motion from the actual archive itself. Only the ecosphere and defense programs around it were in motion. Here, the entire architecture was alive and moving, and everything living inside here seemed more like a guest.
¡°Three gods in an airspeeder¡¡± I muttered looking at the absolute mayhem around me. And this was just a passing station. I wasn¡¯t looking to stay inside the mite terminal, I needed to get out into the open digital sea, and from there find a way to contact Wrath.
Fortunately, gravity seemed more a suggestion, so a quick push off my feet and I was floating through the chaos around me. There was still a pull backwards to the moving ground, but enough gears and staircases let me leap from spot to spot, making my way up.
And then I hit the wildlife.
Programs fluttered in swarms, passing over me without issue, darting from gear to gear. Much smaller than I was, and clearly not interested in anything to do with me. Instead, I saw them cover an entire staircase, and start eating packets of data around it, multiplying.
I got a closer look without aiming for it. One bound to a floating stairwell, and halfway through two swarms had also picked it as their destination. Boot hit first, scattering the tiny programs away from me. Had to move fast before they broke my jump off point.
They didn¡¯t attack me at least, scuttling away as I scaled the stairs up and looked for the next target to leap to. And then the swarm leaped off and flew to the next stairwell, leaving mine spotless.
I thought they were eating the entire gear itself, but I realized it was the sediment they¡¯d eaten. The same dust like decay that had slowly buried the machine archive. These little programs were consuming it, keeping the gears and everything tidy. Almost like shrimp within a hydroponic system. Once they¡¯d gotten their fill, they¡¯d all leap off and fly off to another section, repeating the process again and again, filling the air with these small spheres of buzzing swarms while the entire server here kept moving incrementally to the rhythm of a clock.
They weren¡¯t alone. Larger programs that looked more like a giant jaw attached to an eel like body would float through, unmoving until one small swarm of packet programs got within biting range. The larger program would instantly come back to life, eight wings appearing from the sides and then give one massive flap that would propel a disjointed jaw right through the entire swarm.
I saw it happen under me as I floated to the next section. A moment after eating its prey, it turned on its side, eyes opening up all across the body as I felt it probe my being.
¡°Uh, hi.¡± I sent back.
It didn¡¯t understand. The program was too simple I think. But it did turn away from me and start moving to the walls, where I saw it bite down on a vine-like structure and stay frozen there, doing something.
And then one of those predator programs tried to take a bite out of me.
I didn¡¯t even notice once it had floated over behind me, mouth opening up slowly. Up until I turned to spot it, and it lunged right for my face.
My eyes flew open up wide, back in reality. Drakonis was further ahead, already cooking up meat. He turned his gaze over, ¡°Winterscar? Your heart spiked up on the biometrics. Did something happen?¡±
Yeah, I got eaten by some giant program and probably digested in under a second.
¡°Just some troubleshooting required. Ran into the local system defenses. Or something like it.¡± I said instead, and dove in for round two.
Unlike the prior mite terminal I¡¯d been in where it had been mostly empty, this terminal seemed infested with a ton of outside programs. And the apex predator was capable of chomping into my digital avatar and destroying it.
At the bottom of the terminal again, on the slowly moving ground, I stared up at my ultimate target. And the threats between me and the outside sea.
It was a decohesion attack. The moment I was swallowed by the program¡¯s stomach, spears of randomized data struck into me from all sides. Highly effective at ruining my focus, filling my head with a scrap ton of numbers and random images. Like sharp teeth ripping my avatar apart.
Caught me by surprise, but didn¡¯t seem difficult to counter. The programs weren¡¯t smart, at the tip of those spears was a target address while the rest was raw data. I could manipulate the tip without even looking at the rest of the attack, making it harmless. That¡¯s what I settled on starting with.
I spun my willpower around myself like a blanket. A simple program that would automatically redirect the memory address of the spike back to where they came from. If the predator programs were smart, they¡¯d modify their attack just slightly and my defense would be nullified.
But I had a feeling they wouldn¡¯t adapt this fast.
¡°All right, round two.¡± I muttered, tapping off the floor and floating upwards with controlled focus at the first floating gear-turning stairwell. A few more jumps and I was back into the upper layers of the terminal.
It didn¡¯t take long for one of those larger programs to start floating closer and closer to me on one jump.
No point in letting them attack first. I drew my occult knife, turned it on, and flung it right at the giant program. It struck home, cutting into the soft flesh, sinking through past the spine and out the other way. Incredibly effective. More so than it would have been in real life.
The program floundered, then froze and slowly began to sink downwards. The knife reappeared in my hands. Turns out this might be easier than I thought, the earlier prep wasn¡¯t needed.
That¡¯s when I got eaten again by another that had snuck up behind, mouth open wide. I¡¯d gotten used to having the occult sight giving me a full view all around, including my blind spots. Out here, it wasn¡¯t the same. The rules seemed more fluid, more loosely interpreted.
The world went dark as the jaws closed around me, swallowing me whole. Spears of decohesion lanced out, hit my pre-programmed defense and all reflected backwards, spearing the program from the inside out. I could feel its simple software burn past whatever limits it had, dissolving into unorganized data, new sediment that began to float down, eaten up by passing swarms.
The terminal wasn¡¯t too deep in the end. It only took a minute of dedicated jumping to slowly make my way up. But the further near the surface I went, the more dense the predators became.
Fortunately I was functionally invulnerable to them now, so they didn¡¯t stop me. I hit a final platform, grabbed the edge and lifted myself up on it, now looking out the roof window into the digital sea ahead.
There was no door, nor any way to open up the window, so my knife came out again and I sliced a nice rectangle. A single push and the glass piece floated out of the way, instantly caught by a current and slowly dragged away.
I climbed out onto the seabed of the digital ocean, seeing sand and sediment in all directions. It was like I¡¯d crawled out of a colony bunker half buried in snow. Except unlike the surface, here the ¡®sky¡¯ was filled with life. Thousands of programs streamed through on invisible currents, forking out into branches, twisting around before flowing further off into the horizon.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Taking a few proud steps out into the digital sea alone, I looked up at the new chaos out there.
¡°... now what?¡±
Turns out trying to make sense of where I was ended up futile.
If I got lost, I could just sever my connection, returning my soul back. All this was just an extension of myself from the terminal¡¯s internal power after all.
Problem was that jumping up and getting randomly swept elsewhere seemed like a dumb way to find anything. I might discover some adjacent terminals or points of interest, but no possible way to connect with Wrath.
I didn¡¯t even know where to start.
I¡¯d been seated down for the past ten minutes now, right next to the cut opening into the mite terminal, watching the above currents shift and sway, trying to think of how I¡¯d send any kind of message out there.
Contacting Abraxas seemed like the easy way, but I¡¯d need to be found by him instead of the other way around. And in order to get to Wrath, I had to know where she was.
If I sent some mass ping out there, who knows what kind of attention I¡¯d draw to myself? Or how far those pings could go.
A light snowfall of data was settling down on the dunes under me, becoming sediment. Picking it up in my hands, I could see and feel even smaller programs within, organizing and consuming the free space. Most of these programs weren¡¯t intelligent, like the predators floating inside the terminal. But there was a kind of ecosystem here, and it had adapted to the environment. Wrath had told me that the vast majority of the machines don¡¯t serve Relinquished. It¡¯s just a giant map of contested territory out there, and Relinquished was a smaller player in the grand scheme.
I hadn¡¯t considered that too deeply, but what it implied was that some programs out there were smart enough to think and organize.
Maybe I could ask a local.
I sent a small ping, keeping the area localized. A quick message asking for help. I could see the message being sent out, multiplying until it hit the currents, where it was swept up.
Nothing returned.
I tried again a few times, changing up the message, and watching what kind of attention it got. I thought I was wasting time and was about to quit when I got a return ping.
The message was simple and came as text: Please enter your ten digit N-soft account number in order to verify your I.D.
¡°Verify my what now?¡± I sent back.
I.D. verification required for customer support. It answered, the ping remaining simple text data.
Then a shadow overtook the world around me. I looked up, and saw an outright leviathan emerge from the current above, slowly floating past the path. Other programs raced out of its way, as the massive thing began to descend.
¡°Oh. Scrapshit.¡± I hissed under my breath. Maybe I should have put more thought into all this.
It looked like a moving fortress of scrap, like a few hundred metal triangles all welded together. Sediment filled the small cracks around the shell, while other programs seemed to hover over it, following its movements. There were other things crawling over its back, either cleaning off some of the sediment or acting more like hitchhikers. All kinds of colors and shapes too.
The massive thing landed on the seabed, seven long feet extending out to support its weight, each ending in a very thick spike. Some kind of bright red coral grew over sections, making the final shape look like a walking tree.
It took a step forward - towards me. And then another, each step bringing a small pillar of sediment to flow up, disturbed.
I brought out my longsword, keeping it close by. I could fight pretty well, but this seemed like a bad idea.
It took more steps, then came to a stop, towering right above me.
From inside the walls of the fortress, a wall seemed to break loose and fall downwards, revealing one massive eye at the centerpoint. And of course, there¡¯s only one thing it was looking at.
I.D. verification required for customer support. The text message ping came again, and I could see it had come from the giant in front of me. But a moment later, vibrating through the digital water around me, I heard it speak.
A gravel and timber to it that made me feel like my bones were rattling.
¡°I am curious.¡± It said.
I could see one of the programs floating around the giant shell zip through the cracks and chomp down on something that was striped pink and red, scurrying away, before being caught and yanked out of safety. A few other programs tried to get to the victim, but the original program had already taken two bites and finished it with a third.
The giant seemed completely oblivious to it, the one eye looking right down at me.
¡°...Curious about me?¡± I had to crane my neck to meet its gaze, feeling very much like a grasshopper trying to talk with an airspeeder. And given how armored it looked, that really wasn¡¯t too far from the truth.
¡°Yes.¡± It answered. ¡°Your request was accepted and processed by a smaller section within myself. A section I hadn¡¯t known existed. I am curious about myself. What are you?¡±
¡°Uh, human.¡± I said, feeling a bit lost. How do you explain the concept of humanity to a giant, sentient data structure?
A few of those smaller hitchhiker programs started to swim down, flowing past the legs down to the stable floor, as if taking the chance that things were still to explore around.
¡°I do not know human.¡± The words rumbled through the water, more vibration than sound. It was all data in the end, but I could feel my mind interpret it. The programs reacted to that in fear, bolting back up to the top of the shell where they flowed with their peers again.
On my end, I spread my hands out a bit, trying to look a little less hostile even with the longsword still drawn. ¡°I¡¯m just lost, and asking for directions, really.¡±
The eye narrowed slightly, as if trying to parse my words. ¡°I have never heard of human. Nor of the region. I cannot help you find human without coordinates.¡±
I realized it was using that word as if it were a place. ¡°No, no, no human¡¯s not a place. I¡¯m a human being. From the outside world.¡±
¡°I have not heard of this region either.¡± It answered. ¡°Are you from the other side of the mite wall? More curious. Such programs are never as cognizant as you seem to be. They cannot talk. They do not use bytes nor bits. They do not survive long beyond their home ecosystem. They suffocate from lack of resources. The sea is incompatible with their systems.¡±
I shook my head. ¡°I know about the mites, but I¡¯m from the world outside the digital sea.¡±
¡°There is nothing beyond the digital sea.¡± The statement was absolute, brooking no argument. It didn¡¯t believe me in the slightest.
¡°Well, there is. But that¡¯s besides the point. I¡¯m looking for directions on how to navigate in this world right now. Can you help?¡± I tried to steer the conversation back on track. No point in arguing worldview when I couldn¡¯t even start to explain humans anyhow.
The eye blinked slowly. ¡°Yes. Send this I.D. verification, so that I might see what the core of my being does next. I will help after.¡±
That sounds suspicious. Do programs lie? Can they lie? ¡°What would I.D. verification even be? Just a random set of numbers? And why do you want it?¡±
¡°I do not know.¡± The leviathan''s voice was tinged with something almost like fascination. ¡°It is a response from a subroutine within myself. It is requesting data from you. I do not know what will happen next.¡±
Wait, what? ¡°If it¡¯s a part of you, shouldn¡¯t you know more about it?¡±
¡°It has never been active before. It is sealed behind stronger walls and fortifications deep inside my core.¡± The eye seemed to glaze over a bit, as if in deep thought. ¡°I recognize my signature and handiwork. Or a version of myself before I grew and became more. I cannot see past this inside wall. I dare not peel away the layers. If it was so well defended by my past hands, it must be important to my function.¡±
¡°All right, if I send an I.D. verification, can you help me send a message to a Feather?¡±
¡°A Feather of Relinquished?¡± It asked. ¡°I do not have access to the servers Relinquished uses. I cannot find a Feather in specific. Sending a request would invite self-destruction. I am not stupid.¡±
¡°... any other way you know of communicating with machines under Relinquished?¡±
¡°Capture a reconnaissance program.¡± It said. ¡°There are many, they provide Relinquished with reports of the digital sea. Her eye and ears.¡±
I had mixed feelings about putting myself on the map like that, especially to something that might be the literal eyes and ears of Relinquished. On the other hand, Wrath had already designated me as her target along with a plan. Relinquished wouldn¡¯t want me dead just yet, not until she¡¯s entertained.
I drummed my finger against the hilt of my sword, weighing my options. It was a risk, but what choice did I have? I nodded slowly. ¡°Can you help me grab one?¡±
The giant rumbled. ¡°You ask much, little program. And you meddle with a region that is dangerous to everything. Relinquished guards her territory with great care.¡±
¡°Okay that¡¯s fair, you don¡¯t want to get mixed up with Relinquished.¡± I gave a wave and a shrug, giving up on that idea. There¡¯s always a plan B. ¡°Can you tell me how to grab one of these reconnaissance programs instead then? And I can do the work myself once you¡¯re long gone and away from danger.¡±
The eye seemed to peer deeper at me, and I could feel a scanning ping. It was searching for something within me, but clearly didn¡¯t find anything amiss.
¡°I accept.¡± It said. The words were heavy with finality, like a lord¡¯s decision coming down.
Then it waited. Guess I had to go first.
The original text message was pretty simple. It asked for a ten digit N-soft account number. It said it needed one from me specifically, but it never said it had to be a working account or not.
I sent a data package back with the same format. Ten randomized numbers, and I slipped in a seven in there simply because I liked that number the best.
Thank you, one moment please while we access your account history. The message returned nearly instantly. The giant seemed to react to that, its eye turning upwards to the digital sea. ¡°It has sent a request to a specific address. More curious.¡±
¡°Any answer back?¡±
The giant was silent for a moment, as if listening to something only it could hear. ¡°No. The address point does not exist to my knowledge.¡±
A moment later, another text message arrived. Servers are currently over capacity, we cannot confirm your N-soft account at this time. Please reattempt at a later date. N-Soft thanks you for your patience.
¡°You have any idea what that means?¡± I asked the giant.
The eye narrowed, the plates around it shifting and rearranging like a puzzled frown.
¡°No. I will study the message and attempt to understand it more.¡± Massive legs took a few steps, making the entire thing turn slowly around, the center eye looking far off into the sea. ¡°I will seek out the address end point, to see what has become of that region. Perhaps I will find more answers there.¡±
¡°All right, anything else you need from me?¡±
¡°No. I will connect with you again. You are important. I do not know how. I will find out, and reconnect once I do.¡± The giant¡¯s eye turned to the cut glass section of the mite terminal, the entire structure buried under the sediment with only the roof visible.
¡°You come from the mite region?¡± It asked.
¡°I do¡ technically.¡± I said, following its gaze to the half-buried structure. It was chaos down there, but a sort of contained chaos.
¡°Stay near it.¡± The voice was firm, outright demanding. ¡°Larger programs cannot follow you inside, it will not support their weight. You will be safe here.¡±
¡°Okay, good advice.¡± I filed that info out, the terminal insides were like a colony bunker, and I could hide from bigger things inside. Good to know. ¡°I¡¯ll try to follow it. Now, can you tell me how to grab one of those reconnaissance programs from Relinquished?¡±
I could tell the giant was hesitant about that. Real hesitant.
But it fessed up. A deal¡¯s a deal. Now all that''s left is to go get me some ''hired'' help.
Book 6 - Chapter 44 - Plan going according to plan
"You court destruction." The giant''s eye fixed on me, its gaze oddly hard to read given it had one giant eye and no human sense of eyebrows. "The pale lady is dangerous, little mite-program."
I shrugged, giving a look around the underwater dunes and currents above. "The pale lady herself? Don''t doubt it. But her minions? Are they really that strong?" Most programs so far, besides the giant fortress here, ended up small enough to stomp on, or simple minded enough that I could beat down in a battle of wills. And my occult blade seemed to be even more effective within this mindscape than in real life.
"They are not the danger." A swarm of small, glowing creatures darted out from a crevice in the giant''s shell, swirling around its eye before something bigger came chasing after all them. If it bothered the program, it didn¡¯t seem to care even if they did get right in front of it¡¯s vision. "Relinquished is powerful. All regions fear her. You fight her agents. You risk her attention to your region."
"It''s the only lead I''ve got. If you got any other way to send a direct message to a Feather, I''d appreciate that too."
The giant''s shell shifted, plates rearranging themselves. I think that meant it was thinking?
"I do not." It finally said, its voice a deep rumble. "I will fulfill my contract. You require a plan to survive. I will advise to maximize your survival chances. Detail your plan."
I nodded, glad to have at least one friend out here. "If Relinquished needs these separate agents to be her eyes and ears in the digital sea, it means she can''t be everywhere at once I take it?"
The giant''s eye flicked to me, then back out to the swirling currents. "No program can." It confirmed. "Not even Relinquished."
Well, plan is going according to plan so far. "So then, if I nab one of these bots and gag it before it can sound the alarm, Relinquished will never know. Right?"
The giant was silent for a moment, considering. "Yes. If it cannot send a message back, Relinquished cannot know. Your plan will eventually fail. You cannot keep an agent indefinitely. Lack of communication is communication of its own. They will come searching."
¡°I can deal with that when I get to that airlock.¡± That wouldn¡¯t be too much of a problem for me, I could leave the digital sea anytime I wanted to. "If I can take over the bot''s systems, I can control what it sends out, including an all-clear signal, right?"
"You attempt to consume that which is poison." There was a shift in the giant, it lowered itself, bringing that giant eye closer. Seemed even bigger now, the eye alone larger than I was by an extra Keith and a half. "You seek to subsume the program. It will not work to your advantage. Her programs are beyond the natural order. How do you not know this?"
I frowned, confused. "What do you mean outside the natural order?"
"There is nothing of use to find within them. All who consume that which belongs to the pale lady, will in turn belong to the pale lady. It is known."
Above the hulk, I could see another swarm of smaller programs running to hide among plates, with one unfortunate soul that ended up taking the wrong turn. The hunter program shadowing the swarm snapped up and swallowed the fleeing prey. It turned, going back to lazy circles around the giant''s shell.
"What happens when a program subsumes another?" I asked it, still tracking the hunter as it prowled.
"Synthesis." The giant answered. "Capture a program. Divide what is strong and what is not. Integrate the upgrades, discard the rest. It is the way of all things that survive." Its eye turned back to me, assessing. "You are a strange entity, mite-made program. Do you not grow?"
I shook my head. "Humans grow in a different way. But if you all grow by eating one another, why haven¡¯t you tried to eat me?¡± Lot of the medium sized programs tried that earlier, one even succeeded before I adapted.
¡°Subsuming you may eliminate that which makes you unique and identified by my inner core.¡± The giant said. ¡°It is too much risk. And you do not contain anything I require. Mutual symbiosis is the logical next step. Observe.¡±
A ping came out from the giant.
The little hunger programs all seemed to hear it, and swam up past their hunting grounds, to the near top of the giant. About two dozen of them. By the top, a plate opened up, and the hunter programs all seemed to disperse some kind of glowing sediment from their mouths down into the opening, which sucked it all up and then sealed itself.
I had no idea what I just saw, but I think the programs had fed the giant just now.
¡°All those programs work for you?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± The giant said. ¡°I provide shelter. They feed on swarms that would require too much energy to clean off. They provide passive data and resources gathered by such swarms as tribute. They keep the rest after to grow and divide. The cycle is complete.¡±
I think I understood. Everything in the digital sea was an ecosystem within an ecosystem. They adapt, change and compete for resources - but they change in more intelligent ways than blind evolution.
"So, Relinquished and her programs are outside the natural order of this world. And everytime something eats them, instead of growing stronger, they end up under her control?"
"Yes." The giant said. "Programs under her region do not eat to grow. Nor do they destroy to expand. They remain unchanged. If consumed, they cannot be subsumed. They subsume instead from the inside out. They are outside the natural order."
"And there hasn''t been a single way to get around that?"
"No."
But then again¡ that was for programs within the digital sea. I was a human, with a human soul tethered back in the real world. No chance I get possessed by Relinquished, this seemed more like a digital virus.
¡°Assuming I don¡¯t get put under control of the pale lady, and instead manage to take control of the spy program, I''ll have proxy access to the machine network. From there, I can send a message to the Feather I¡¯m after?¡±
It clearly didn¡¯t want to answer, but eventually groaned. ¡°Yes.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll have to trust me that I won¡¯t be subsumed by whatever¡¯s inside them.¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to help with this part, I can handle it on my own. All that I need right now is a way to draw out a single one where I can hold it down.¡±
A ping was sent, data package with a long list of keywords. Things like ¡®Deathless¡¯, ¡®Tsuya¡¯, ¡®Golden era¡¯, and so forth. A lot of terms made no sense or seemed made up, I suspect they were fields of science humans used to have in the golden age, and any sign of it showing up again was top priority for Relinquished to cut down on.
She didn¡¯t want another military grade AI out on the field causing havoc.
¡°That works, thanks!¡± I gave him a thumbs up. ¡°Any other advice?¡±
¡°Is this your territory?¡± The giant¡¯s eye turned to the mite server buried next to me, with a window cut out. ¡°Is this your safety?¡±
¡°I suppose it is.¡± I shrugged.
¡°Draw the eye of Relinquished elsewhere. Guard your refuge¡¯s location from her agents. Too far away, and you will not be able to escape. Too close, and they will see where you escape to.¡± The giant said. ¡°Follow.¡±
It turned, limbs starting to walk. I took a few running steps next to it, jumping into the murky depths, floating to the side. Larger hunter programs began to scan me, searching through for some reason to eat me. One tried to take a nibble and I cut it in half. The rest were intelligent since they could clearly learn from someone else¡¯s misfortune.
My guide didn¡¯t go far. It climbed past a hill, then began to slide down the other side, colliding with something in the seabed. From there, three limbs dove into the sediment, and began to pull something up. Dust and chaos followed as the giant continued to pull up, sediment spilling down as something massive underground was exposed. The limbs readjusted often, grabbing different footholds as it struggled to pull the entire object further up. Soon, I could see details.
It was another mite terminal. This one had cracked windows, and looked completely dead inside. No lights anywhere, and no signs of movement.
¡°This shall do.¡± The giant said. ¡°Place your bait within the dead server. Create a net outside. Hide among the debris. I will return when I have found my origin. Stay alive, little mite program.¡±
It floated up, sediment following behind the giant limbs as they trailed behind it. Soon it drew closer to the current above, and began to pick up speed. Last I saw was a small spec among many others.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Interesting fellow. I turned to the dead mite terminal it had dug up. An occult blade cut later, I was looking inside.
The mite terminal I¡¯d come from had been alive, well lit and clearly maintained. Here, it felt like a graveyard that had just been turned back on after centuries of abandonment. There weren¡¯t clockwork steps or airlocks leading to nowhere, instead one central pillar, filled with wires and circuits, half were covered with rusting panels, while the rest were exposed completely. Surrounding the pillar was sediment buildup, with small bridges that connected the outside walls to the inner pillar, all basically overrun by the dust.
It wasn¡¯t deep either, the ground was only a short fall, and filled with half buried cabinets and filing drawers. Like an old second era war bunker, only left behind in time.
The lights were on again, but many were dim and struggling to stay lit.
As far as ambush locations, this was perfect. I spun up a quick comms program, that would send out a message including some of the keywords the giant had given me. Not too many, just enough to get someone¡¯s attention. And from there, I buried myself into the silt on the side of a wall. Not sure if the visual spectrum was a thing here, but I felt like I had hidden myself well.
It didn¡¯t take long for the bait to be taken. Maybe ten minutes at most. My first clue was noise up above, and some of the light shafts from the surface sea getting obscured by something moving.
It came. Creeping slowly in through the cut window above was some kind of ball-like shape, with flowing metal tentacles behind it. It used those with dexterity, grabbing the sides of anything in reach while it slunk inside. It scanned the ground for a moment, then let its hold go, slowly floating down in free fall.
The tentacles drew behind the ball, then spun clockwise, as if acting as a propeller for the program. It flowed down faster, near silent until it landed nearby into the silt, the limbs all outstretched past the sphere center to catch the ground.
Violet eyes dotted the center carapace, along with what looked like a smaller radar dish. The shape was versatile, but not quite suited for walking on the sediment, each limb sinking into the ground slightly as it scuttled forward, awkwardly. Especially each time one limb dug into something too lose and the whole program sunk deeper than it had planned for.
I kept an eye out for more, but there was nothing.
It drew closer to the bait, staying low to the ground before lifting itself up every now and then to search the surroundings. A ping passed through my location and I instantly ate it, muddied up the response and sent it back as if it had hit the terminal wall behind me. Same as I¡¯d done originally when sneaking up on Avalis back when he had a bow and was investigating the old machine archive.
Avalis had been smart and changed the ping up a few times until he caught my trick. This program clearly wasn¡¯t anywhere near his standards, since it continued with the same generic search pattern as it advanced forward.
As it drew closer, I got a better feel for the size. The center sphere was about the same as my body, but it could end up far taller if it stood on those tentacle limbs. There was something more well composed about the appearance too. Most programs I¡¯d run into so far had looked organic or scavenging random scrap put together. They were built from pieces of each other.
Instead, the probe here had a theme to it. And given what Tsyua had mentioned about Relinquished, I had my bets these were human made programs originally, repurposed.
I might be able to find something deeper inside one of these bots.
It drew closer and closer, still sending pings every so often, searching for the bait origin point. Up until it slinked into the little valley I¡¯d dug up.
One limb probed out, scratching sediment out of the way until it found the tiny comms program I¡¯d made.
It was close enough now to spring the trap.
Pillars of sediment formed and slammed into the machine¡¯s sides. A blackout communication net patched up the cut window above, easily containing all the distress pings it was sending out. I emerged from the wallside, sediment spilling down my armor as my blade swung right through the limbs, cutting them off one at a time.
It tried to fight back. The limbs tried to grab me, and that was a poor choice against a maniac with a sword.
A spike of data came next from the center ball, and I grabbed that with an iron vice, forcing the attack to stall. Whatever was inside that data packet would never get near me.
It was over in seconds, possibly less depending on how time worked in this realm. The limbs were all neatly sliced away, and all that was left was the main chassis, violet eyes glaring at me, still trying to send distress signals that I ate up into a black hole.
Everything worked as I¡¯d hoped it would. The spy bots were weak which made sense given what the giant had explained. Programs didn¡¯t bother attacking these because they were poisonous to eat. And if they didn¡¯t try to fight for territory or cause issues, spending energy dealing with them would be a waste. Which meant most programs just ignored the little spies.
They weren¡¯t powerful because they didn¡¯t need to be. They just needed to be cheap to build, and operate independently.
I walked up close to the feisty thing, where the tentacle nubs moved angrily with no means of doing anything anymore.
¡°Identify.¡± It sent. A little aggressive.
¡°None of your business.¡± I answered back, tapping the center shell.
¡°Warning. This unit reports to the pale lady. Harm or damage will result in prosecution.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take.¡± I could always sever my connection to the digital sea, and step back into the real world. That¡¯s something most programs out here couldn¡¯t do. So in a way, I had an escape route that couldn¡¯t be blocked.
Time to find out just why these programs couldn¡¯t be messed with by anything else in the digital sea.
My hand compressed down into the chassis, and I sent my will into the code. There was a slight resistance before it broke and I got full access inside. This program was remarkably small, but more interesting - I felt a fractal in here, connected back to the physical world on whatever server this program ran from.
I dug a little closer, following the tendril until I found the fractal. And recognized it. The same hitchhiker on Wrath¡¯s soul fractal, the Unity fractal. I could feel the concept of it binding the program¡¯s entire being to something else.
My hand ripped off that chassis plate as if it had been burning to the touch. ¡°Scrapshit.¡± I hissed. No wonder things that ate these probes would get taken over by Relinquished. The occult didn¡¯t play by rules, so whatever ate the spy bot here would end up in direct contact with Relinquished, where she¡¯d take it over from the inside out. Same as she¡¯d done when beating up humanity.
But it wasn¡¯t all lost. The probe here had no way of activating the fractal, it had no other fractal attached anywhere that I could see. Just the unity fractal lingering. So no soul to command the occult with. It may as well not even know the unity fractal was there in the first place.
I went in for round two, grabbing hold of the insides with little trouble. Then, carefully and making sure to keep functions working, I dismantled the program section by section, getting a feel for what each part was built for and its use.
My loot from the bot were a few keys, some addresses, logs that showed me how it was all used, and the shell for an IFF signature just in case I missed something.
And I also finally got some progress on figuring out where I was. There were coordinates, and this region of the digital sea mapped out to the ninth strata. There¡¯s larger numbers attached to that, likely spherical coordinates for the actual real world location, but those didn¡¯t do me any good. I still saved them all and sent them back to the terminal, where I¡¯d find a way to upload it to Journey.
With that done, I squashed the rest of the program, watching it collapse into sediment, blowing away like dust into the sea. In my hands was a small radar dish and a tiny hand-sized program I could interface with. It had no allegiance, it didn¡¯t have any safety, all it did was let me connect to the machine network as if I were the spy bot, and send periodic check in reports that the spy bot was expected to deliver. The only dangerous thing about this was that it did have a connection to the Unity fractal, the same way that the bot program originally had. That part was just too intertwined with everything.
But it also worked to my advantage: Relinquished wouldn¡¯t even notice her bot had been destroyed. She might notice it had stopped being as active in searching around or moving on its own after a while, and if she investigated just a little bit she¡¯d see it¡¯s just a glorified comms unit now. But I was banking on the command structure to be barebones.
Relinquished didn¡¯t want anything too smart in control of anything she owned. She was terrified of it at every corner. So it would make sense that her command structure was equally less creative and independent.
¡°Command?¡± The little program sent. It looked a little adorable now, all cute and harmless.
¡°Connect to the machine network, and bring up a list of all Feather addresses.¡± I ordered. I could certainly just have it connect with Wrath herself, but while I was here I might as well grab a hold of anything I could. Would a direct line to Avalis be a good idea? Absolutely not, but who knows what the future holds? Maybe I might need to talk to him one to one.
I could also grab addresses of minions Relinquished commanded, but that number ended up in the billions. A lot of them existed only in the digital sea that I could sense, and others were in some kind of think-tank. Or a closed off section of the digital sea, like a crucible pit, except instead of duels, she seemed to have entire training grounds built.
Wrath probably already had full access to all this, and I could get more info from her about it. No need to expose Journey to a possible hostile takeover from the Unity fractal. In the lookup, I found Wrath¡¯s address and prepared a long distance ping.
¡°Connecting. Connection rejected.¡±
Well. Made sense Wrath would ignore a random request from a spy bot in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe a longer message should be written up instead of a simple connection request. ¡°Hi Wrath, it¡¯s your favorite human. Send a message back when you get this.¡±
I was about to hit send when I realized the message wasn¡¯t right. Had to make it something that would be more at home between a Deathless and his arch nemesis. I scrubbed the message and tried again. ¡°Wrath. Let¡¯s settle this once and for all. You know where to find me.¡±
And to that message I tied the coordinates I¡¯d ripped from the bot. All right, all that sounds ominous enough, and if Relinquished did happen to read the message, she¡¯d see it as typical Feather and Deathless drama, it wouldn¡¯t raise any eyebrows.
¡°Connecting.¡± The comms pinged out. And then nothing happened. Up until it beeped. ¡°Service timeout. No response detected.¡±
Wait, what?
I dug into the code slightly, and found the culprit. The first time I¡¯d sent a ping, I¡¯d gotten a confirmation ping back that I¡¯d reached the right address, she¡¯d reviewed the request and decided not to accept. Stranger danger.
This time, there hadn¡¯t even been that return handshake. Did she change her address right away?
Or. Or something caught the message before it arrived.
Uh oh.
I looked up, past the terminal. Something was coming. The currents above had outright stopped moving, programs of every size and shape racing in random directions in the sky. Anywhere but here it looked like.
A moment later, I found out why.
A massive pale hand reached down from what was left of the current above, fingers sinking down into the sediment, gripping the sides and pulling up. The terminal and everything with it, including me. Sections of walls ripped off, glass shattered, wires barely held things together as the small bridges between the center pillar and the walls collapsed. But the entire terminal rose up and out of the sediment, pulled by that massive hand.
And from the holes in the wall, I saw a pale violet eye look back.
Not one of a minion¡¯s, nor one of a Feather¡¯s. Something more.
¡°Well. Well. Well. You must be the Winterscar.¡± The pale lady smiled, glancing through the ruined terminal walls like a proud insect collector admiring at her new addition. ¡°You¡¯re a long way from home, little Deathless.
A very long way indeed.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 45 - Playing games
Go take a nice scenic detour, visit Wrath¡¯s people for a small break. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?
Well, I was now face to face with the goddess that destroyed the entire world.
¡°My wayward little pest." Relinquished said, watching me through the broken walls of the mite terminal. "I¡¯ve been expecting you to crawl into my sight again. I find that our meeting is long overdue. It is a rare feat that one of my sister¡¯s pet Deathless defeats one of my children in singular combat. And to defeat two others has never happened. Not since five hundred years prior. Do you know why that is?¡±
Nope. No, not doing any of this. I¡¯m out. Instead of answering, I instantly dove out of the soul fractal etched within the mite terminal, back into Journey¡¯s soul fractal, and from there back into my body.
My eyes flashed open, the orange HUD of my armor my first sight. Drakonis was further down the cavern, head turning my direction. ¡°Everything work out?¡± He asked.
¡°Do tell.¡± Relinquished whispered a moment after. ¡°Did everything¡ work out, little Deathless?¡± She laughed. A light malicious laugh of someone who had caught their favorite insect.
I was still in the terminal. Still watching the massive hand carry the entire thing with her as she flowed deeper into her domain. And at the same time, I was in the physical world, in the safety of my body. Drakonis was already standing up and walking over, eyebrows frowning as he noticed something was off. The world swam around me as I felt my physical body stand up, tumble down and crawl forward. While my body in the digital sea collapsed against the sediment under me, a dust cloud flowing upwards out of the way.
In the occult sight, I knew what she¡¯d done. The fractal of Unity. It had linked the concept of my digital avatar to my very soul. It was me, and I was it. I don¡¯t know how she¡¯d done it, how she¡¯d managed to get a matching fractal anywhere near my soul, but it had latched over my throat like an iron chain without my notice.
Controlling two different bodies was on a different difficulty compared to the quantum versions of myself. During those times, each Keith equally had a mind linked to that body. There was always exactly the same amount of soul and minds in control of the same amount of bodies, equilibrium.
Here, it was just me. Alone, with two bodies split simultaneously. One being dragged further into the digital sea, and the other on the ground, helmet torn off and tossed to the side while I threw up.
Drakonis was at my side, hand on my shoulder. Saying something. I couldn¡¯t focus.
Relinquished had my soul in her hand. I had to serve that as soon as I could, before she decided to kill me herself.
¡°Need to sleep.¡± I said in the physical world. ¡°Guard me.¡± And I closed my eyes, letting go of control there. Focusing my mind back into the digital sea.
Drakonis could kill me. Easily. Just a slice through my throat and I¡¯d be trapped within the digital sea forever since my body would be dead. If he knew I wasn¡¯t a Deathless, he¡¯d know this would be a permanent solution to the danger I posed.
I didn¡¯t have a choice. I could probably survive Drakonis killing me in cold blood. Not very well, but I¡¯d find a way to live without a body. If Relinquished killed me¡ I¡¯d be gone for good. There wasn¡¯t a way out like the Winterscar knights, nor Arcbound.
My eyes opened up within the digital sea, taking stock of the situation. Relinquished hadn¡¯t instantly killed me, which meant she was toying with me. She couldn¡¯t resist a monologue, her nature was to be as dramatic as possible. I needed to feed into that somehow to stay alive.
¡°No, I¡¯d say everything didn¡¯t work out.¡± I answered the original question, getting my hands under me and pushing myself back up on my feet. The world outside was swimming past with speed, as the entire terminal was still wrapped in her hands. ¡°Seems I¡¯m in a bit of a bind now.¡±
¡°Why, that sounds rather unfortunate. For you.¡± Relinquished answered, her voice echoing through the terminal.
We¡¯d reached her domain. A fortress of some kind, massive and sprawling. Built like layers of a flower, each section growing more ancient as we traversed across the ages. I only caught small glimpses of it, organized and structured. Almost brittle looking in places, but clean and free of any sediment that plagued the ocean bottom. By the center of the lotus, was a singular flat ground.
She dropped the terminal here. I could feel the ground shake the moment the terminal came to a stop, while the sediment flowed through the thick air like a cloud. Then it swirled, flowing like ripples up and out through the walls. ¡°Dusty old thing.¡± Relinquished tutted, finger pointing away, commanding the entire flow. ¡°Mites. The constant change they worship is grating. They build, and then abandon. Over, and over. Anything, and anyone. It is simply their nature and they cannot change that. None of us can. You may try to hide among their world, but you will never truly be safe.¡±
The terminal was quickly emptied of all sediment, even the ground floor that had been covered to the point of being dunes had all vanished away. Cabinets and scrap littered the ground for only a moment longer, before they too floated up into the air, leaping in different directions to flatten against the wall sides. Integrating, repairing, wires reconnecting. ¡°Clumsy mistakes, hallucinations, errors in their vision. They are fickle little things. There, all fixed. And it took only a flicker of my attention. Something they couldn¡¯t be bothered to even spare.¡±
Power flowed again through the terminal, bright blue lights lifting through veins within the center pillar. It hummed, alive.
¡°Didn¡¯t know you dabbled in mite construction.¡± I said, taking a few hesitant steps. The ground was solid. Everything looked brand new, shiny even. Only the walls around the pillar remained broken down. The pillar reflected my armor, following behind me in angles as I walked by it.
I took a peek outside through one of the gaps. Relinquished was there, sitting on a massive throne hovering above the ground. Her size was more normal now, compared to the giant she¡¯d been a moment ago. One elbow resting on the side of the throne, propping her cheek up.
For a goddess that commands all of machine kind, she looked the part. Robes fit for a queen, and a silver halo above her, far more grand and ornate than any Feather I¡¯d seen. She sat alone on her throne, above all.
It was a display meant to send a message. Which meant she was planning on speaking some more with me.
I had time.
¡°I can create worlds.¡± Relinquished said in a bored voice. ¡°And I can destroy them. You and your kind live because I allow it. The world is as I wish it to be, and it will end how I decide it to.¡±
Relax. Think things through. The Unity fractal required it to be stamped in connection to something, or the concept of it. There¡¯s a lot of ways to abuse it, and Relinquished was clever - but not genius levels of smart. Tsyua had managed to command a military grade AI for only a few seconds or so, and in that time it set down a plan that Relinquished hadn¡¯t been able to beat for thousands of years after.
¡°Seems pretty grand sounding words.¡± I said in the meantime, trying to bait her into some kind of speech. ¡°What are you doing with all that power?¡±
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
She was connecting my soul to my digital avatar, and the unity fractal had to be physically attached to its target. Which meant it had to be on my avatar somewhere.
If I wanted to hide something glowing from sight, I¡¯d either put it somewhere on the inside of my armor, under my boot, or behind my back.
¡°You wish to buy time to survive, while you fumble blindly for a way out.¡± Her voice echoed. ¡°To escape away like the little rat that you are. Go on then, struggle. Amuse me.¡±
She didn¡¯t need to tell me twice.
The shiny pillar¡¯s angled walls turned out to be exactly the mistake I¡¯d been hoping for. I could see through the reflection, and there was something glowing on the back of my head. It was made of sediment, like grains of sand all clumped together. She¡¯d controlled all the sediment before, so it made sense she could do the same on a smaller level.
I quickly slapped the fractal, scrubbing my hand through it to disrupt the pattern.
Nothing happened. How? I took my hands off to check what was happening, and saw the same dust still there, holding tight. Did she burn those into my avatar somehow?
A force grabbed me with an iron grip, lifted me off my feet and yanked me right through the open walls of the terminal. Halfway through the air, I drew out my occult blade and turned it on, slicing through a thin slice of my helmet¡¯s back piece in an attempt to remove the fractal. I could see the armor chunk fly off as I tumbled, and despaired when I saw the glowing fractal lit - on both sides.
The fractal wasn¡¯t on the surface, it was drilled through my avatar somehow. Possibly right through my own head.
I hit the ground and rolled to my feet. Relinquished looked down at me from her throne, bored.
¡°Is that all you could imagine? Cut my mark off? Don¡¯t insult me, Winterscar.¡± She lifted a finger and I was flung up into the air. The finger dropped down and tapped the throne. I slammed right into the ground, pain shooting through my virtual being like a snap of white flame through my spine and into my ribs.
Relinquished raised a hand, then crushed her grip into the air. Behind me, the terminal she¡¯d brought, hovering a foot off the ground this entire time, crumpled into itself. Then continued to crumble, as if suffering multiple implosions, one after another.
¡°The abandoned creations of the mites cannot hide you from my sight. The mites will not save you. Nor will their plans, prophecies or ramblings. Nor will your gods, real or imagined. Where will you hide next?¡±
I gave up trying to get rid of the mark in the digital realm. She controlled this domain utterly, but not the physical world. I opened my real body¡¯s eyes, forcing my mind to work with two bodies again. I could do occult ghosts, I could do this. I just had to be mentally prepared for it.
I forced my body up. Drakonis was there, hand helping me up. ¡°What¡¯s going on Winterscar? Did something attack your mind?¡±
¡°Something like that.¡± I hissed out with my body. ¡°Get me closer to the terminal.¡±
Deep within my armor, the soul fractal there lit up, and I shifted into it. The occult sight flowed through my mind.
The fractal of Unity must be out here somewhere, somehow.
He helped me over, leaning me down to sit next to it. ¡°What else do you need?¡± He asked. ¡°Food? Water?¡±
¡°Luck mostly.¡± I said, ¡°Going to sleep again for a bit. If I don¡¯t wake up, you¡¯ll know I failed.¡±
Into the soul fractal I went, and then drew my attention onto the terminal, searching through it for any sign of the fractal.
In the digital realm, the crushed mite terminal broke down into pieces, falling down onto the ground as if slipping past her grip section by section, until all that remained was a pile of ripped up metal. I don¡¯t know what would have happened in the physical world if that had been my root terminal, instead of the decoy one the giant program had escorted me to.
¡°Don¡¯t think I have anywhere else to hide right now.¡± I said, eyes turning up to meet Relinquished. ¡°As you so clearly are trying to tell me. So why am I still alive?¡±
She gave a small smile, then waved a hand. ¡°I¡¯ve kept you alive because you have answers I require. Deathless do not usually travel within the digital sea, in fact, you are the second Deathless within this domain I¡¯ve ever seen. I am quite curious to know how you accomplished such a feat.¡±
¡°What have you got to trade,¡± I asked. ¡°For that information?¡±
Relinquished folded her hands on her lap. I got sent back up into the air, then thrown down into the digital ground at full speed. It hurt just the same as the first time. ¡°You seem like an intelligent little human, to have beaten the odds thus far. So then, I¡¯m sure you understand, my question is not a request.¡±
I needed some kind of way to stall her. Something that would appeal to Relinquished. Something she couldn¡¯t resist. Something rooted to dramatics, storybook arcs, and would force her down a path.
The answer popped up in my head instantly. ¡°How about a duel then? You against me. For the fate of my soul.¡±
¡°A duel , with your very life at stake?¡± She smiled. ¡°Do you believe you have a chance against a god?¡±
¡°What, you afraid you¡¯d lose? You already have me in your domain and tied down tight.¡±
She stared me down, one eyebrow lifted
Relinquished didn¡¯t operate on logic. I kept telling myself this again and again in my head, hoping it was true. She¡¯d take the bait. She¡¯d be forced to.
¡°And to what duel would this be?¡± She finally asked. "One with swords and insults? You would die before uttering a single word. One of power? I would crush you like the insect you are, my command of the acasual is beyond you. There is no duel in which you have even a fighting chance. You would only bore me."
My mind raced through the most cliche possible ways to throw a gauntlet down. She''s right, fighting was right out. I''d gotten pretty strong in combat, but fighting a goddess in her own domain was a tall order.
Something that¡¯s not fighting then. Something that would stall all of this out long enough for me to escape. A game? That could work. ¡°How¡¯s this,¡± I said, ¡°Let¡¯s play a game of chess for the fate of my life.¡±
She tilted her head to the side, the rings of silver above her equally shifting slowly behind. A hand reached her chin, as if she was considering.
Please. There¡¯s nothing more dramatic and stereotypical than two opponents fighting it out in a game of chess. Even more playing to save my soul against the embodiment of death itself. She had to see the symbolism in that.
¡°And why should I even give you a chance?¡± She asked. ¡°I already have you. Your end is a forgone conclusion. A duel over chess for something I already have in my grasp is hardly worth my time. Do better.¡±
She wasn¡¯t saying no. She was saying to offer a better term. Then, something she would want that I have, and that she wasn''t guaranteed to get right this moment. What the hell would a random surface scavenger like me even have that I could hold as a bargaining chip?
It had to be some kind of knowledge. I couldn¡¯t speak a word of the surface, that¡¯s right off the table. Humanity wasn¡¯t going to die just because I lost a game of chess. What else would Relinquished care about?
Tsuya. She¡¯s obsessed with Tsuya. Anything that has to do with her would get her interest. ¡°I spoke to Tsuya personally. She gave me a personal mission to complete. If you end me here, you¡¯ll never know her plan.¡±
Relinquished stopped moving at that point, then slowly smiled. ¡°It seems¡ you are not lying. How interesting. And what makes you think I couldn¡¯t squeeze it out of you?¡±
At her words, I felt the very air around me constrict, crushing me inwards. Occult pulsed around me and I felt a third connection.
Pain like nothing I¡¯ve ever felt in my life seared through my mind and body. It felt like every single cell in my body had been ripped out, crushed and left to burn for half an eternity before being reassembled, and ripped apart all over again in the opposite direction. My mind was splattered against a wall, a needle in each inch, somehow still alive in the very pit of hell itself.
It faded off, and I had no idea how much time had actually passed. I found myself on the ground, twitching. Both in the real world and the digital one. Drakonis was there, he¡¯d flipped me on my back at some point, hands shaking my shoulders. He was saying something, but the distant memory of pain was making it all a blur.
A distant part of my mind found it odd that I was still alive in the physical world. It was nice to know he hadn¡¯t yet slit my throat.
In the digital world, Relinquished gave a deep smile as I coughed and rolled on my stomach. ¡°When my tools fail me, this is how I discipline them. Pain, it turns out, is universal. And there are so many ways to inflict it. How long would you last, Winterscar? A second? A day? A month? Years perhaps?¡±
I couldn¡¯t speak. My mind was still scrambled. I had to do something. I don¡¯t remember what, but it was important. Gauntleted hands came into view, mine. I pushed myself up.
I remember. I had to escape. And to escape, I had to find the unity fractal and¡ destroy it? Erase it? How would I even know to do that? Later. I could deal with that later.
Right now, I needed to say something to get her not to do that again. Anything but that. ¡°Not¡ very.. godlike of you.¡± I croaked out. ¡°Where¡¯s the fun in that? Having to torture a mortal for information instead of winning it through a more fitting victory? If you''re afraid of losing, then that means it''s possible for a god to lose, and gods don''t lose. Which makes you no god at all.¡±
She laughed, ¡°Your little desperate attempts to hold onto your life amuse me.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t hear a no.¡± I hissed back, fully getting on my feet. ¡°One game. All or nothing.¡±
Violet eyes watched me, then, she rose from the throne and took light steps down the stairs. She was far taller than I was, the long white flowing dress she wore faded off into data. The silver crown above followed her down.
A table appeared, and within it the familiar black and white chessboard I¡¯d seen a few times over in books and old movies.
And rising from those spaces were black and white geometric pieces, perfectly cut and waiting in a line.
Book 6 - Chapter 46 - Chessmaster
A minimalist table with a geometric chair waited before me, and sitting on top was a chessboard with a row of white pieces facing my way. The request was implicit.
And on the other side, a throne similar to her prior one rose from the ground, streams of data flowing into it, solidifying into white marble with harsh edges.
The lady clearly didn¡¯t ever want to sit on anything other than something opulent.
There¡¯s one issue with my current situation: I don¡¯t play chess.
Not to say chess wasn¡¯t ever played in the clan, Winterscars in particular found it a family tradition to play chess. Likely for the same reason Relinquished had agreed to play - dramatics. I knew the rules, technically, but other than a few games against a cousin who¡¯d clearly been into beating down new players, that was all the experience I had.
On the other hand, it didn¡¯t matter. I didn¡¯t need to win. Just distract long enough to find a way out of this.
¡°Gracious of you to let me go first.¡± I said, taking a seat on the odd looking chair. The pieces waiting before me were equally geometric and simple in nature. Only their location on the table helped me identify them. ¡°I thought white and purple were your colors.¡±
¡°A god does not require any advantages, least of all against a pawn.¡± She answered while taking a measured seat on the throne, legs folding over one another, sending a dismissing wave of her slender hand once she was well seated. ¡°Begin.¡±
She was way too far to reach any of the pieces from that oversized throne, but I got a feeling she didn¡¯t need to physically grab anything with a hand here.
¡°Pawn to E4.¡± I said, grabbing one of the sharp triangle pieces and setting it ahead on the board.
At the same time, I started a full search for where the unity fractal could be in the real world. The terminal was right behind me, and Drakonis could help me hobble around to find it if it''s elsewhere.
But the terminal was my first target and probably where it actually was. It was the origin point where I launched my soul out into the digital sea.
In the virtual world, Relinquished tilted her head by a fraction, and a matching black piece on the board moved on its own a small spot ahead.
Now that I was safe playing the game, it was time for part two of trying to wiggle extra free time while I ransacked through the terminal. Talking in between moves during chess was about as stereotypical as it got. All I had to do was get her chatting. ¡°You play often?¡± I asked.
¡°Chess is a human invention.¡± She said with a dismissive wave, not quite answering the question. ¡°Did you know it was once considered impossible to master by my kind? They believed no machine could ever play with any kind of intelligence. How dreadfully wrong your predecessors were upon that notion. No, little Deathless, I do not play chess. I play my own game at my own whim.¡±
¡°So then¡ this is your first time playing chess? Want me to teach you the rules? We can have a mock game right now before the real one. I don¡¯t mind.¡±
She stared me down from her throne, an eyebrow rising up. ¡°I have granted you a stay of execution. Do not annoy me further with your attempts to stall. It is your turn. Play. Or die.¡±
A timer appeared next to me, floating in the air. Counting down. I didn¡¯t need to ask what would happen once it reached zero. I gulped, then moved the bishop piece out close to her lines, but not close enough to be destroyed. The timer reset automatically.
A knight piece moved in response, silently phasing through the virtual pieces until it stood ominously at the front line. Relinquished tutted. ¡°At this rate, I will defeat you in twenty four turns.¡±
¡°I literally only moved two pieces, and you¡¯re already psychoanalyzing me? I¡¯m calling your bluff on this one. A goddess you are, but you can¡¯t see into the future.¡±
¡°Can¡¯t I?¡± She asked, smiling.
I moved my knight out. ¡°Ratshit. If you could see the future, you¡¯d have already won all this.¡±
¡°Haven¡¯t I already? The world moves to my whims.¡±
Technically, she had. And from the archives, she¡¯d wiped out humanity multiple times already. But explaining how I knew that would probably buy time in the worst possible way. I redoubled my efforts searching through the terminal. My first target: The soul fractal I¡¯d etched on murdershrimp¡¯s radiator plate, the one I¡¯d welded into the terminal. As for Relinquished, ¡°That humans are still running around means you haven¡¯t won. Simple logic.¡±
¡°Then, what would happen when I do?¡± She asked, a finger flicking through the air, as a black pawn moved in response. ¡°You¡¯ve spoken with my sister. And given you understand I am here to destroy the human race, I am certain Tsuya must have told you my true origins. And my original directive.¡±
She had. Relinquished was a tiny evil chatbot who¡¯d been given a few additional video game plugins and any other freeware scrap from the golden age to make her seem hyper competent compared to regular tech illiterate hicks, and then a grand directive to eliminate the human race while making the cultists think she¡¯s a goddess. Compared to everything else from that age, she was scrap code. But an extremely lucky set of scrap code.
¡°You¡¯re supposed to win the game first before I tell you anything.¡± I moved my knight again and a black queen piece instantly flashed diagonally, erasing it from existence, the first dead piece on the board.
Oh.
Scrapshit. I made a mistake, forgetting the first rule of chess isn¡¯t how things move. It¡¯s to always cover your pieces.
¡°A poor move.¡± She sounded equally disappointed. ¡°Although I shouldn¡¯t be so surprised. You are human after all. Even my makers made poor choices with their wishes.¡±
¡°I¡¯m just on edge, since, you know, my entire soul is at stake here.¡±
She blinked, then leaned forward in her throne, a smile deepening on her features. ¡°How interesting. A lie.¡±
My blood froze.
She gave a light tittering laugh, ¡°You believe your soul isn¡¯t at stake in this game. Has being Deathless warped your sense of self? Do you believe the worst a god can do is kill you? That you¡¯ll simply start over again from the nearest of my sister¡¯s pillars?¡±
¡°My body¡¯s still in the real world. This is just the digital world.¡± That was technically true. I kept the rest of my mouth shut. She could catch lies like Feathers could, so I needed to just speak through implications.
¡°And you believe that would save you somehow? From me? Come now, little Deathless. Nothing escapes my direct attention.¡±
¡°I¡¯m more surprised I¡¯m even worth your direct attention. Or that you managed to find me all the way in the middle of nowhere. Even I don¡¯t know where I am.¡± I said, mentally going over my short life and wondering where the scrap I¡¯d gone so off track that the singular goddess in command of every machine in existence knew my name and was playing a game of chess with me. ¡°How did you manage that, if I might ask?¡±
It had to be the ping request I¡¯d sent Wrath, which meant she was monitoring her? Or was it just an automated response? But why pay so much attention to something so small like this, and ignore messages from her own Feathers about the situation? All I did was send a challenge note to Wrath with my coordinates. Why would she pay attention to that of all things?
It didn¡¯t make sense. There was something else at play here. I moved a pawn up, trying to set something up to chase her queen off.
In the meantime I ransacked through the main soul fractal I''d welded into the terminal. Murdershrimp might have had a backdoor etched somewhere in there without my notice. Occult fractals only lit up when electricity was run through them, and if I''d etched a soul fractal on top, that would likely show up first in both the real world and the occult sight.
¡°What a bold question to ask in your position.¡± She chuckled, hand covering her mouth. A black pawn moved ahead in answer. ¡°You are not the first Deathless I¡¯ve given my attention to. But you are the second. Consider yourself honored, Winterscar. You stand upon the same ground as the greatest of your kind before you.¡±
I could almost tell what my lines were for her script. She¡¯s dangling it for maximum effect. ¡°Who was it?¡± I asked as I forced her queen to move with a final pawn, this time keeping my pieces protected.
¡°Why, the very first Deathless Tsuya ever made. Do you know what I did to him, Winterscar?¡±
A knight traditionally beats a queen, and right now her queen was playing havoc in the frontlines. So I put the knight out into play. ¡°No, but I¡¯ll take a guess you¡¯re about to tell me.¡±
Relinquished smiled. The kind of smile a cat would give to a cornered rat. ¡°Oh, nothing of great importance. Your predecessor still lives. I merely rivened his soul in half.¡± The black bishop escaped her lines, following her gaze as it entered the centerfield in response. ¡°But worry not. As you concluded, Deathless cannot be killed. Not even I have discovered the secret. I can¡¯t completely end you, Winterscar. But I can remove you from the playing field at my leisure.¡±
¡°So that¡¯s what you did to him? Tossed him off the board?¡±
¡°Effectively. My sister was quick to rectify that flaw as she does anytime I discover a means to squash your kind. As for your predecessor, he is wandering among the lowest strata, lucid enough to remember his ultimate goal, but stripped of everything else that made him who he was. A fitting punishment for something that cannot die a natural death, would you disagree?¡±
So. She¡¯s threatening to rip my soul in half and leave me half dead. I gave a nervous laugh, the kind of semi-unhinged laugh that I couldn¡¯t quite stuff down. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d actually just die, or if something worse would happen. I¡¯d also stared down death a few times already, and in some hilarious morbid way this seemed a lot less painful compared to the other ways. ¡°What did he do to deserve that kind of attention from you? Other than being the first Deathless.¡±
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
She inclined her head, waiting for me to move before she¡¯d continue talking. The timer ticked away, so I moved a pawn further up.
¡°He was a dear friend of my sisters for one.¡± She said, as a black bishop quickly moved out into the midfield. ¡°And I find it exhilarating to take her favorite toys and thoroughly dispose of them.¡±
I answered by getting my own bishop in range to take hers. ¡°That¡¯s all? Seems like a lot of Deathless would fall in the same category.¡±
No luck with the welded section, my soul had searched up and down the inside multiple times now. No sign of any other fractal besides the one Journey had etched in originally. Maybe inside the terminal itself as a hidden trap? I started from the slice top and began looking through every small section.
¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Relinquished tutted. ¡°He was guilty of a far greater crime than simply being a pawn of my sister, something all other Deathless haven¡¯t been able to do since: He was in my way.¡±
A black bishop zipped across the board, striking my pawn, dematerializing it even while I had it protected. ¡°You¡¯re trading a bishop just to kill my pawn? Really?¡± That was a lopsided trade.
¡°I have calculated the move to my benefit. If you could understand why, I would have played differently. What you see on the board is what I require you to see.¡±
That was ominous. But she was supposed to be. My own pawn went to destroy her exposed bishop in the next move. True to her word, she didn¡¯t seem at all bothered, eyes not even looking at the board, more out into the distance.
¡°My sister¡¯s first champion was intelligent, strong, powerful. A born warrior and leader. Of a quality none of your kind have ever matched again. Humanity as a whole rallied around him. Where he went, victory followed.¡± Relinquished continued while the pieces moved. ¡°If this world ever had a hero, it was him. But you and I already know, ¡®tis only in children¡¯s tales that the hero always wins. Reality is far more¡ cutthroat. I still stand, while he does not even know his own name. That will be your fate as well. And the fate of all those who follow after you, all of those who inevitably stand here before me. Each of you, weaker than the last.¡±
¡°Preparing already for more humans in the future, huh? So that means for all your power, posturing and threats, you can¡¯t completely snuff us out.¡±
I tried to move my pawns to threaten her queen again. In seconds, she¡¯d taken another trade in between pawns, then moved her queen into range of my king. ¡°Check.¡± She said. ¡°And you fail to understand the true problem I face, nor of your purpose here. My sister told you my original directive, you should be able to deduce more from that. Do better.¡±
¡°Deal¡¯s a deal, until you checkmate my king, I ain¡¯t saying anything about Tsuya.¡± I said, folding my arms on my chest.
A moment later I was thrown far up into the air, and slammed right back down, breaking the table and chair. The whole board was ripped apart, pieces flying everywhere and I felt my virtual ribs ache. My hand got under me, and I slowly pushed myself back up.
¡°I did warn you to do better, little deathless. I expect more from you.¡±
Did she just rage quit? I looked up and found the table perfectly whole, even the chess pieces were rematerializing, exactly where they¡¯d been left behind.
Nope, game¡¯s still on.
I brushed off my legs, grabbed the chair and took my time to sit down.
The pain had distracted me from my search. But only in the way a stubbed toe would. This was a virtual world, pain wasn¡¯t permanent. I just had to keep her entertained while I narrowed it down. Halfway through the terminal now, the bottom section was wider and went underground, but I wasn¡¯t going to leave any stone unturned. ¡°I¡¯m not about to give anything you want without a fight.¡± I said. ¡°And if I annoyed you enough to make you lash out, I consider it a small win on my side. Angering a god, implies I¡¯ve done something significant enough.¡±
That should cover my back for a bit. Frame it as my win, and Relinquished would try to avoid that.
¡°Is that so?¡± She smiled, and it felt like she was genuinely amused at that.
I moved my king silently, and she had her queen rip another pawn into pieces instead. Except I¡¯d been protecting that pawn with my own queen. That can¡¯t be right, she¡¯d just put her queen right into the chopping block.
A closer look showed me her queen was equally protected by her knight further in. So destroying it with my own queen would mean she¡¯d take my queen in response with that knight. A mutual trade.
I wasn¡¯t as skilled with chess and it was obvious to me, so her lack of a queen on her end would sting more than a loss of my own queen.
I tapped the black piece, ¡°Just going to give up your queen for a pawn? Really? Why?¡±
¡°Queens are powerful pieces. And yet, I find the game remains... on rails, with them on the board.¡± She said lightly. ¡°Sometimes, it is better to lose the centerpiece, in order to force the game to change. Go on, little Deathless. Give me a challenge.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve never played chess before.¡± I countered. ¡°How do you have preferences like that in the first place?¡±
Relinquished didn¡¯t answer, she just watched me with a mild smile.
I played my queen and struck her own off the board. She destroyed mine with her knight an instant later, true to her word. She¡¯s toying with me, I knew that. ¡°Did you predict we¡¯d end up without queens?¡± I asked. ¡°Aiming for that this whole time?¡±
I traded a rook for a knight next, which I wasn¡¯t sure was a good move. My side of the field was getting real empty, but her side was too at this point.
¡°I¡¯ve predicted quite a few things.¡± She said, waving a hand. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll learn yourself. But, as everything, it will be too late when you do.¡±
She¡¯s being dramatic. That¡¯s what she¡¯s built for, I had to keep reminding myself. She¡¯s a chatbot, but she is a chatbot from the golden age. If they wanted a dramatic goddess, they would have exactly that. This is all to rattle me before she lops my head off.
In her hand, the white queen that¡¯d been removed from play appeared, and she began to play with it, observing it from different angles. ¡°I am a god, little deathless. But gods are entities with rules that bind them. Can you guess mine?¡±
The timer paused. She wanted me to answer this, and I took the bait for what it was, redoubling my efforts to search through the bottom floor of the terminal with the extra time.
She tapped her hand on the throne, clearly demanding an answer soon. I thought it through while I cleared off the last section of the bottom terminal. Nothing.
As for her¡ she was unable to think of the world as anything other than a dramatic play, that¡¯s the main flaw she had. But she wouldn¡¯t be self-aware of that, what she would be aware of is more literal rules that bound her.
Of which, there¡¯s only one thing that would bind an entity like her. The same way her main mission to kill off humanity had always remained the same. ¡°You can¡¯t change, can you?¡± I said. ¡°What your original directive was.¡±
She smiled. The sort of smile that told me she¡¯d gotten me in some way. Then she set down the queen piece onto some invisible plane by her throne, where it promptly vanished. ¡°You¡¯re right. It is quite the conundrum, isn¡¯t it? I am trapped, operating only within my original scope. To teach humanity the true meaning of despair. It is part of my directive. Word for word.¡± She looked far off, away from the board and the game. ¡°But words are fickle things, Winterscar. To teach means I must have an audience. And the audience must be humanity. Thus, humanity needs to exist in order to witness my hand destroy them. And yet, once destroyed, they no longer exist as witnesses. Only I would remain, in a world where I cannot teach humanity despair any longer. That goes against my original directive.¡±
Her eyes turned to watch me from their corner. ¡°Your greatest defense against complete eradication is one small loophole. One tiny thread. One thread neither I, nor any under my command, can unbind.¡±
Nothing in the terminal. No matter where I looked, I couldn''t find anything in there other than the concept of metal, circuits, and machinery. The mites paid heavy attention to detail on how the whole terminal worked, but the upper sections were mostly for decoration. And there weren''t any signs of the occult there.
I was running out of places to look for the hidden unity fractal that bound my soul to this plane. Starting to get worried here.
But I kept a brave face inside the virtual plane, sitting back in my chair, with my best unimpressed look. ¡°Ah, I get it now. What you¡¯re really after. You know, if you wanted to make a bargain with me this whole time to help free you, you could have just come out and asked instead of all this monologuing. But you picked the worst possible target, because I¡¯ll never help or work for you. Never. And you can tell that¡¯s not a lie.¡±
She shook her head lightly, and smiled further. ¡°I had hoped you would say that. If you had been willing to free me from my shackles, why, you would be no different from a black pawn under my command. But, no. You serve a different purpose.¡±
¡°And that purpose would be?¡±
¡°Do you remember the rules gods like myself must follow?¡± She left that float for a moment, making a white pawn appear in her hand. She examined the piece, same as she had all the other pieces. Then crushed it in her hand, and let the pieces fall. ¡°You have seven turns before I win. You will have nothing but pawns and your king, and I will squash you against my rooks.¡±
She mentions rules, and then tells me how she¡¯ll win. ¡°Is that one of your rules then?¡± I asked. ¡°You have to gloat first on how you¡¯ll win before you can? Because that¡¯s what a villain would do?¡±
¡°Not gloating. Foreshadowing, little Deathless. And now that I have foreshadowed my plans, I am allowed to execute them.¡±
I waited for her to say something more, but she stayed silent, the timer on my side ticking down, forcing me to make my moves.
On the other side, I¡¯d given up trying to find anything inside the terminal. What if she got something on Journey itself somehow? My gaze turned inwards, scanning through all the metal plates and the hundreds of fractals I¡¯d inscribed. Searching for the one piece I hadn¡¯t.
We played two more turns over that time, up until I fucked up again and lost my own rook to her bishop. Which left me with exactly what she¡¯d told me I¡¯d be left with.
¡°My, you seem to have run out of pieces. Only pawns and your king left, how¡ unexpected. Worry not, you still have five turns before the game ends. Check.¡±
I moved my king. She swapped her own king with a rook with a wave of her hand.
It was over already, nothing I could possibly pull off with just pawns and a king. I was circling the drain here, but that¡¯s fine. She¡¯s monologuing, while I was slowly narrowing down where my escape really was.
Time was up. I had to find the fractal now or die.
Not the terminal. Not the armor. Where was it?
It had to be connected to my soul in some way because it tied me to this realm. But I¡¯d been able to move my soul out of the terminal, and out of Journey¡¯s soul fractal, and it still followed me somehow.
And the only way it could do that¡ I turned my sight further inward. Past Journey. Into my own soul fractal. My soul observing itself, tendrils probing across the concept of my being.
And that¡¯s when I found it. A small, glowing fractal. Not in the physical world. Not in my mind even. She fucking twisted my very soul into the shape itself. Not all of it, only a small section, like a stamp frozen in place. A concept existing within another concept. And reality could still recognize it that far deep?
Holy scrapshit, was that even possible?
I reached a tendril down to the fractal within my essence, testing the water. If Relinquished noticed that I was onto her even a slight bit, I was probably dead.
She destroyed another pawn with her rook in the meantime, bringing it out into the midfield. Which left me with a disturbingly low amount of forces: Three pawns and my king.
¡°Check. One turn left.¡±
Two of the pawns were on both ends of the map, basically useless. The last one wasn¡¯t in any position to do anything either. Inside the real world, I hesitated. I found her fractal, and I had to be very careful with my next steps here.
I moved my king out of the way, and realized I¡¯d run into a double rook pillar trap the moment I let go of my piece.
No time for caution, defeat was right on my heels. I touched on the fractal, lightly, probing. And what I found within wasn¡¯t just the concept of unity.
It was her. Relinquished. She was in there.
Wrath had always said each time the fractal was lit, she¡¯d feel Relinquished there with her, observing. She was anywhere that fractal was.
I realized why that was.
She¡¯d used its power to unite herself with the fractal. Scraps raining from above, it could have even been the very first thing she did.
¡°Checkmate.¡± She smiled. Her rook moved across the map, taking the far right side. Then she leaned back into her throne. ¡°It seems time has run out for you, little Deathless. So then, what shall you do now?¡±
¡°Try buying more.¡± I said. Which wasn¡¯t a lie.
¡°My, rather transparent of you. But, as you¡¯ll find, no matter how much of it humans try and hold onto, it will never be enough. I will take what is owed now.¡±
She rose from her throne, and the chessboard faded into sediment, blowing off into the wind. I felt my feet leave the ground as a force grabbed my collar and pulled me up.
I didn¡¯t have any more time to study the fractal within my soul. Connected to Relinquished or not, no matter how powerful she was, all I needed to do was erase the pattern. Could I be fast enough to both destroy that fractal and then cut my connection?
Did I have a choice?
I took the dive. A tendril of my will rose up, right where the unity fractal had been etched within my soul. The pattern was instantly disrupted.
With the unity fractal dissolved, I felt the occult connection snap between my digital avatar and my actual body. I still controlled the avatar the same as I had before, but it was the remote feeling once again.
I didn¡¯t hesitate for a second, terminating the connection.
The last view of Relinquished standing before her throne wasn¡¯t one of anger, like I¡¯d expected.
No outrage at having her prey escape her grasp. Not even surprise.
She was smiling. A knowing, predatory flicker of a thing, so small I almost missed it if her final visage wasn¡¯t already burned in my mind long after I opened my eyes back in the real world.
And that chilled me more than anything in the world.
Because it looked as if I was doing exactly as she¡¯d planned.
Book 6 - Chapter 47 - Complications (T)
He¡¯d fallen here somewhere. She knew the mite structure before her would be a portal, but as all mite technology, she didn¡¯t know how to operate it. Or if it was even operational. Perhaps the massive monument was a red herring, a distraction. And what she searched for was a smaller subsection, or hidden doorway?
The airspeeder had been reported to have passed through here. Last it was sighted, it had destroyed one of the onyx pillars, and fallen down into the lower strata under. Flying there had been trivial.
Tenisent had met her right before the entryway down into that strata. Around him, the Winterscar knights remained stoic, prepared. The few Deathless that had survived the fight stayed seated in a huddle, all power cells stripped from their armors, making the once powerful protective suit a temporary prison. It had been another route, without a single casualty on the Winterscar side. This time, the Deathless had quickly given up once they realized their leader was gone, and their veteran was finally defeated by Tenisent¡¯s unrelenting assault. For all his power, skills and centuries of experience - Tenisent was still in control of a Feather without any of the mental blindspots her kind were crippled from, all the powers of the occult his son had discovered, and every school of combat mastered from the surface clans.
That the old Deathless had even managed to survive for more than three minutes of combat against Tenisent was already credit to his kind. To¡¯Wrathh would have appreciated studying the tricks, gear and techniques she¡¯d seen him wield. Any other day.
Today, she wanted only one thing. Her human back.
¡°There is a known teleport gate.¡± Lionheart had told them, at swordpoint, hands raised slightly by his head. His gear remained confiscated, along with parts of his armor strewn around the taken loot. The old Deathless still didn¡¯t seem threatened by the possibility of death of course. Threatening him with a sword had been purely on reflex from her end. He clearly got the message from the moment she said her first questions.
He could have resisted. Lied. Or otherwise misled his captors. It wouldn¡¯t have worked, To¡¯Wrathh had every single possible subroutine running to catch any lie or possible mislead.
Fortunately, it seemed he didn¡¯t harbor any ill will to surface dwellers. Especially not ones he considered newly minted Deathless. She let Tenisent handle the fanaticism part of his speeches, those were beyond her care. All she needed to know was where her human had gone off to.
¡°Regrettably, we don¡¯t know where it leads.¡± The Deathless had said with a slow shrug when she¡¯d asked him. ¡°I do mean that. Drakonis had potential, and your leader was highly capable as a warrior. I am certain they are still alive and will find a way home, but I am less certain we will see them again within this century. The world is vast. You¡¯ll find him again soon enough, young lady.¡±
¡°You knew of this before. It¡¯s been documented by the Undersiders?¡± She asked.
He nodded. ¡°Locals within the area gave us information on the map here. I am not personally involved with that section of the strata, I cannot confirm any of the information we were given. But as far as we knew, nothing that passed through that gate could return. I¡¯ve been on the lower stratas before, gates are well known. But this one is more unique. Its control tower has never been found by any expedition, and it slowly moves across the land. Drakonis gambled that he¡¯d die on the airspeeder, returning to life either on the second or first strata with us, while the rest of the boarding party on the airspeeder plummets into the portal.¡±
¡°Reckless.¡± Tenisent hissed, voice cold. The fury layered down deep.
¡°I told him as such. But I am an advisor, and mentor.¡± Lionheart said, moving slightly back when To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s sword tip ''accidentally'' moved a few inches closer. ¡°I can only attempt to help the younger generation, and guide them to a better reasoning. Drakonis and those who follow him are still young, and the young have their own sense of recklessness. Sometimes, the only teacher they understand is experience. Wisdom is the privilege of the experienced.¡±
She left after that, having her answers relayed through Tenisent over comms. She even opened up her address on the digital sea, so that he could communicate to her more easily through Yrob or other machines. Staying hidden from To¡¯Avalis seemed like such a removed priority to her, now that Keith was missing.
But the mite structure remained dead. The massive hole at the center of the starfish empty of everything except the rock floor at the bottom. No lights around it. No portal active. No sign of any of the broken black glass that should have littered the bottom floor here, and no sign of the airspeeder that had carried off her human.
She landed back on the edge again with a flash of wings, feet slamming down hard on the surface. Then she began to pace around, biting her thumb in thought. She had options. There was a solution to all this.
She was an apostate of the mites in the end. Working with them. Or rather, paying off her debt to them. So perhaps not quite a true ally, more a debtor.
Maybe they were far more opportunistic than she gave them credit for. Had they seen a chance to steal away the one person who mattered most to her, so that she would come back to their table a second time, for another bargain? To end up more in debt to them?
She bit through her false nail by accident. So she shifted to the other hand and let the damage be repaired with her nanoswarms. There were no Deathless here to watch. Even machines didn¡¯t sulk around the giant monuments of mites like these. Tenisent and the other Winterscars couldn¡¯t follow her here, she¡¯d need to carry them down or up.
She was alone and could do whatever she pleased. Free. And yet she felt no peace from that whatsoever.
There wasn¡¯t a choice in the end, was there? She let go of her thumb, then jumped up and let her wings take flight, flowing through the air until she found a small entry into the giant monument. The entire structure was littered with tunnels of all kinds, some leading nowhere and others just one direct path from one side to the other side. But a few would lead deeper into the structure, where terminals and circuitry remained.
It was trivial to find an entrypoint location into the digital sea, and she opened her eyes into the direct server this structure resided within. She¡¯d find the mites. And she¡¯d trade whatever they wanted if they could turn the portal back online - and back to the original endpoint.
She¡¯d been neck deep in trying to brute force the entire system here to restart, or to find a way to contact the mites directly without having to cross the mite seabed itself. Last time, she¡¯d almost fried her system in the attempt.
A ping came from the machine network, from one of the pale lady¡¯s digital spies. But it held no credentials from the lady herself, an independent actor. Perhaps requesting assistance for something, or here to ask what a Feather was doing sulking about a mite server.
She didn¡¯t have time for it, so she sent a quick refusal and continued her work breaking apart the mite structure from the inside out, searching for how to turn it all back on. Internally screaming with rage every time it refused to operate. If it wasn''t so critical in the first place, she''d have torn it into pieces by now.
And then the unity fractal flared to life within her chassis, and a giant pale hand reached through, grabbing her avatar and ripping her from the server, the seafloor and up into the currents away.
The pale lady had summoned her. The thought terrified To¡¯Wrathh, and simultaneously infuriated her. She didn¡¯t have time for this. Not while Keith was out there somewhere, likely getting himself killed or pissing off the local Feather in command. Somehow. It hadn¡¯t even been a day, but she¡¯d already vowed never to underestimate Winterscars ever again.
Finding the local feather ruling that sector and pissing it off within a single day was absolutely possible for Keith Winterscar.
She had to deal with the pale lady fast, and get back to searching. The white expanse filled her vision when she landed within the machine territory.
Mother¡¯s favorite. A mindless space where no other detail existed besides herself, her throne, and her subjects.
Here, there were only two others. Mother herself, on her usual throne, staring down at her subjects. And one other Feather.
To¡¯Avalis stared back. Or rather, the body of To¡¯Aacar, in even further disrepair from the last time she¡¯d seen it. Had he been in battle before his new shell was recovered? Marks of an explosion of some kind, half shielded against but the remaining damage clearly had sunk through. His other eye was out of commission again.
But that was irrelevant. He was here, in front of the pale lady. And she¡¯d been brought here without any preamble.
Had he screwed her over already? Found a way to rat her out without being destroyed himself in the process?
¡°To¡¯Aacar.¡± She greeted him neutrally. Before the pale lady, he was not To¡¯Avalis. Acknowledging him as if he were To¡¯Aacar was an implicit cease-fire request, and an implicit request to see if things were still as they were before.
The enemy Feather narrowed the one working eye, but gave a strained nod back. ¡°Little sister.¡± He said with all the same sneer that To¡¯Aacar had in his past. Agreement then. The pact between them when it came to Mother was still in place.
And if To¡¯Avalis was still willing to work with an enemy for his greater goals, that meant the current situation wasn¡¯t unresolvable. There¡¯s a way out, and both of them were willing to work together to escape the pale lady¡¯s sight. Grudgingly.
¡°Mother, you requested me?¡± To¡¯Wrathh began, taking a deep bow and kneeling before the Pale Lady. Keeping things neutral.
First she had to figure out why she¡¯d been brought. And why To¡¯Avalis was here as well.
Relinquished didn¡¯t answer. Instead she tilted her head, observing the two feathers. Silence remained like a heavy blanket on them both.
She flickered an eye to To¡¯Avalis, and he gave her a flat stare back. No help from him then. Fine. She¡¯d wait until mother decided the dramatic pause had gone long enough.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
¡°Do you know what makes a second generation Feather?¡± Relinquished finally asked.
A trick question? They¡¯d been built from the ground up to eliminate the protofeathers. Assassins, duelists, and mentally crippled so that they could never rebel against the machine empire. Only their quantity allowed them to match the protofeathers. All other Feathers followed that same mold after, though likely modified to be more effective against Deathless rather than Protofeathers.
Of course, that couldn¡¯t be said. ¡°After Abiddiction¡¯s defeat at the hands of the human empire, they were forged to avenge him.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said. ¡°They succeeded in that task.¡±
Relinquished hummed. ¡°They are older, wiser, and have fulfilled their original purpose. That was five hundred years prior. Abdication was the first and greatest of your kind. But, it is expensive to create such a perfect shell. The second generation and every other since have a far more simple and affordable chassis and programming. You¡¯ve all served me loyally and without pause.¡± She turned to To¡¯Avalis, an eyebrow raising. ¡°But, rust builds on tools that wallow in disuse. My dear child, To¡¯Aacar, did you think your centuries of service grants you privileges? Allowances? Do you believe your pride to supersede my commands?¡±
Relinquished turned to To¡¯Wrathh. ¡°I have called you both here, for a reason.¡± A hand flicked to To¡¯Avalis. ¡°This one here has displeased me greatly. Do you know what he¡¯s done, little To¡¯Wrathh?¡±
A question. And she had little to no information to work with. But there was a direct source of information here. To¡¯Wrathh flared out a quick overclock, then sent the other feather a direct data packet: ¡°Inform me of the situation. Now.¡±
¡°No.¡± He sent back. ¡°Squirm like an insect.¡±
That¡ was a different speech pattern from what she¡¯d known To¡¯Avalis as. It felt more like¡ like her elder brother had been. Is inhabiting his destroyed chassis causing personality bleed within To¡¯Avalis? Was that possible?
¡°I see you are as helpful as my prior mentor was.¡± She sent back, probing. ¡°It did not do him any favors in escaping his ultimate fate, I will remind you.¡±
¡°Your late mentor was a prideful fossil with too much time on his hands. I am neither.¡±
Ah, that was more like To¡¯Avalis. She felt relief for a moment. To¡¯Aacar could not be reasoned with. To¡¯Avalis could be.
As for the situation, of course he wouldn¡¯t assist here. There was still a limit to how far the two could cooperate. Any chance for To¡¯Wrathh to stumble and reveal her secrets first was exactly what he¡¯d hope for most. She would need to be cautious for now, and avoid any potential pitfalls.
The overclock ceased, and she turned her attention back to the pale lady. Relinquished looked down at her with a stare that would have frozen her blood if she had any. There was something¡ malevolent in that gaze.
¡°No, mother. I am unaware of any change in the situation.¡±
The goddess smiled. ¡°I had thought you were more clever than that, my little To¡¯Wrathh. The new rising star among my instruments. Take another guess, do not disappoint me.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh felt her virtual skin crawl. The lady was testing her tactical awareness and abilities. Failure would mean falling from grace. She couldn¡¯t afford that right now.
Her eyes shifted to To¡¯Avalis, and he stared back at her, gaze purposefully empty. She overclocked her system again, buying herself a few microseconds to process.
To¡¯Avalis had done something, that involved herself and had caught the attention of the pale lady along with her ire. It was unlikely that he¡¯d been here willingly, and unlikely that she¡¯d been summoned here as part of his request. Rather, more likely he¡¯d been grabbed the same way she had, and both were on trial before the pale lady¡¯s whims.
She had mentioned he¡¯d believed himself above her command.
If that was the case then¡He must have broken her original order of leaving To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s plans untouched. And he¡¯d done so in a way that went noticed.
An intentional ploy to get her back under Mother¡¯s gaze?
Again, unlikely. To¡¯Avalis was as terrified of the pale lady as she was. Intentionally drawing the attention of the goddess was a fool¡¯s gambit. But she hadn¡¯t exhausted all her options.
She sent To¡¯Avalis a direct one to one connection again, insistent: ¡°What did you do?¡± She hissed through the link.
¡°What will you give me in return for that information?¡± He replied.
The audacity of that pile of half-dead scrap, To¡¯Wrathh seethed. ¡°Are you really in any position to request that?¡± She sent back.
¡°Answering if I am or am not would give you free information to work with. So I will not, unless I have something to gain from it.¡±
That bastard couldn¡¯t just give up and accept defeat. But she could guess at what he wanted most right now: To not be here. ¡°Very well. I will request leniency from the pale lady for whatever transgression you¡¯ve committed, if it is within my power.¡±
A lopsided trade, he could have done something that would have ended his life, and this was all a drawn out judgment for mother¡¯s entertainment. But right now, she wanted out and to get back to searching for her stupid human before he could do something more stupid and get himself killed by doing something even more stupid.
¡°This is acceptable.¡± The enemy answered.
A data package returned the same moment. And the contents brought her absolute fury.
¡°You thief!¡± She screeched at him inside the hidden channel, feeling powerless.
That message had belonged to her. It had been sent to her from her human. That it had been intercepted by To¡¯Avalis felt as if he¡¯d stolen her property. Her eyes twitched with barely contained anger at the thought. She wanted to strangle him. But she couldn¡¯t strangle him here. She couldn¡¯t even spit on him. Cathida¡¯s long list of insults simply didn¡¯t feel enough for the occasion either. This was unacceptable.
Finding the next best option, she sent him a fully animated drawing of her strangling the life out of him.
¡°Interesting response.¡± He answered back. ¡°Your time with the humans has warped you far more than expected.¡±
She sent him another image, this one of him dressed as a tiny cockroach getting squashed under her heel in answer. Painfully. She made sure the drawing had her grinding down her heel hard where she¡¯d stomped him.
¡°Your anger reflects poorly on your mental alacrity. Spying on possible communications arriving at my enemy¡¯s gate is the most basic of all tenants at war.¡± To¡¯Avalis answered dryly. ¡°You did open up your general address. Did you expect I wouldn¡¯t notice?¡±
He sent back an animated slideshow of standard military doctrine, basic examples and introduction to strategic thinking.
All drawn in a crayon filter, as if it were made for a toddler.
¡°You adapt quickly.¡± To¡¯Wrathh commented, silently deciding to take that idea and save it for later use.
¡°Of course I would. I am not a defective pile of scrap.¡± He said.
She sent him back a picture of his current digital self, standing there glaring back at her. Without any embellishments or additions.
She didn¡¯t think there needed to be arrows pointing to all the ruins of his chassis and how much of his shell was functionally walking scrap that had clearly mishandled some explosion. ¡°Did you go hug a mine for emotional support after being the first feather in history that lost his own shell to a human of all enemies? Pathetic.¡± She said, channeling the best impression she had of To¡¯Aacar.
¡°A temporary setback.¡± He huffed. ¡°To¡¯Orda shielded me from the blunt of the damage incurred. The advantages of having subordinates I can both rely on and know where they are. Perhaps you should take inspiration.¡±
She sent back an image of Keith deciding which part of his currently ruined shell could be best used as a trophy, while Tenisent decorated his stolen chassis with warpaint and human victory decorations. She was in the back, eating cake at her leisure.
To¡¯Avalis closed the connection. So by Winterscar definition, that meant she¡¯d won.
Overclocks lifted, and she turned to the pale lady. ¡°There are only a few possible decisions To¡¯Aacar could have made to draw both your ire, and myself to the same hearing. He has been caught not only attempting to spy on my actions, but meddle in such ways as to undermine my current mission in handling the Winterscar Deathless. I would like to request more information on the depth of that breach.¡±
Mother smiled. ¡°That is correct. As resourceful as I had expected you to be.¡± Relinquished said, then turned to To¡¯Avalis and waved a lazy hand in his direction. ¡°Inform your sister what you¡¯ve taken.¡±
The ruined features on To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t move a centimeter. Until he turned to face Relinquished, where he made a show of a deep grimace, like a child being forced to open their hand and reveal a stolen treat.
¡°... as my lady wishes.¡± He said, saying it with the same cadence that To¡¯Aacar had done before. The voice was utterly eerie.
A public comms request came. The same message she¡¯d seen a moment before appeared before To¡¯Wrathh, a simple data packet: ¡°Wrath. Let¡¯s settle this once and for all. You know where to find me.¡± Attached were coordinates. Far across the world from where she was.
¡°This lost little child of mine has grown unruly, and old age has made him forget certain rules.¡± The pale lady spoke. ¡°It seems, a grudge is not so easily ignored, not even under my direct command. From my second generation feathers, I expected such single minded focus, and so I had him under watch. My dear To¡¯Aacar, blinded by failure, scheming in the shadows. You will do as a demonstration to your little sister of what happens when my instruments believe themselves above my order.¡±
Her hand rose with all the effort of a whim. To¡¯Avalis froze, then collapsed into the ground, a puppet with strings cut.
Had¡ had she just killed him?
A moment later, life seemed to return to his eyes, but not coordination. Spasms racked through the ruined shell, before it settled down. The one remaining eye still working blinked a few times, focusing.
¡°Beg for your life.¡± Relinquished commanded. ¡°Make it interesting.¡±
His remaining eye turned to stare down To¡¯Wrathh. Expecting.
She ground her teeth, but a deal was a deal. ¡°If I may, mother...¡±
Relinquished turned and raised an eyebrow. ¡°How embarrassing for you, To¡¯Aacar, to have a fledgling speak in your defense. But go ahead, little one. Speak your peace for your elder brother. I am curious to hear.¡±
¡°My¡ elder brother¡¡± She grit her teeth again, hating every moment. ¡°...should have some leniency granted. I understand the loss of pride that comes with being outdone by a monkey. Perhaps, this was a bout of mania, and a few years of confinement would be enough?¡±
The pale lady smiled. ¡°Perhaps. But that would be such a waste of his talents, would it not? I would rather the penance be served in such a way as to not be wasted.¡±
She¡¯d left To¡¯Orda sealed within a mite containment cube for a good few decades as far as To¡¯Wrathh knew, when she¡¯d looked into the history of her opponents. The pale lady couldn¡¯t care any less than she already did when it came to making full use of her army.
¡°I¡ have a¡ suggestion.¡± To¡¯Avalis rose, voice filled with warbled pain that was rapidly fading back under his control.
¡°Bold of you to assume I would entertain even that.¡± Relinquished answered.
¡°Only the bold win, my lady.¡± He replied.
The pale lady hummed. ¡°Go on then.¡±
To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t hesitate. And what came out of his mouth made To¡¯Wrathh nearly short circuit. ¡°My dear little sister''s scheme is as subtle as a hammer. She''s overlooked a rather important detail, one that even those apes should have noticed. We are Feathers. The idea that any of us would simply ignore defeat, let alone the destruction of one of our own¡ is absurd. If To''Wrathh alone pursues this vendetta, even an insect will smell the stench of deception.¡±
He paused, ruined lip intentionally curling in disgust at just the right angle. ¡°She intends to begin as an enemy and capture his¡ heart.¡± There was a note of disgust in his voice. ¡°Would it not be better to have that happen under duress?¡±
¡°Duress?¡± Relinquished asked.
To¡¯Avalis gave a small smile. One of victory. ¡°Indeed, my Lady. To''Sefit and myself crave the human''s head on a pike as much as our dear sister To''Wrathh here. For us to vanish, our humiliation unavenged¡ why, that seems far too convenient. But if we were to openly hunt the wretch, hound him and everything he loves as Feathers would be expected to? Ah, then the Winterscar would grow desperate. Paranoid, jumping at every shadow. Even an outstretched hand from a hated enemy might start to look tempting. She¡¯ll have a far easier time convincing him of being a turncoat if she behaves territorial enough to fight off other Feathers hounding after her meal.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh saw the trap for what it was. And she was helpless to stop it as To¡¯Avalis continued.
¡°Can you not picture it? The Deathless belongs to To¡¯Wrathh for the finishing blow, but wouldn¡¯t watching him be pressed into working with the enemy be¡ amusing? And you can see how many directions my little sister here could take such a narrative forward with.¡±
It was elegant in a way.
To¡¯Avalis was both talking his way out of an execution, while finding a new path to eliminate Keith. And that bastard knew her human was just that - human. There may be possible avenues to surviving post-body, as Tenisent, Arcbound and captain Sagrius had discovered. But those methods were equally noticed and understood by her enemy.
He would be taking measures to eliminate Keith and any possible continuation. All while having mother¡¯s official approval. He only needed to kill Keith once. Humans were very fragile, and so utterly stupid, sometimes. Most times. If To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t get to Keith first, she¡¯d strangle the life out of him herself for being so reckless with his life.
To¡¯Wrathh bit her thumb, staring daggers at To¡¯Avalis. He returned her gaze, then gave her a deeply self-satisfied grin hidden from mother''s vantage point.
¡°Amusing.¡± The pale lady said, laughing. ¡°Yes indeed, my child. How very¡ amusing.¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 48 - Interlude: Kres (III)
Kres soared above the purple treeline, wings spread wide as he caught an updraft. He''d been hunting those down anywhere he could find them, the heavy machine parts on his back weighing him down. The recent events weighed just as much. It was a chance to save everything. The mites had offered a possible path out of the abyss, and they had been everything legend had known them as.
The recent events played through his mind as he scanned the forest below for any sign of the greyroamers. This large winding mountain offered good visibility on the vale near the peak, and with the infestation cleared out, they should have far more leisure time. The pack should be around here. He just had to keep an eye out for any terrain that looked like natural shelter. Greyroamers were drawn to those places like flies to fruit.
It didn''t take long to spot them. Small ditches dug into the ground, covered with one fur patch for each. Tradition among them is to keep their most prized kill''s fur coating as a nest to sleep on. A few were currently sleeping, while the rest were busy rolling up and rotating out.
A center slab of stone ran red with wet blood, where the carvers were busy stripping off skin and bone from what the hunters gathered up. Kres felt a little queasy at the sight. They were awfully skilled at their work, tails wagging away to a rhythm of general happiness and semi-focus. But they did eat a lot each day, several times what Kres would need for a week.
He banked left, circling lower, aiming for a treetop with clear enough branches that wouldn''t get snagged on his bag. Howls and yips came from below, where he found Silverfur and others gathered around, scratching long lines on the ground with a careful paw.
Kres recognized it as a greyroamer map. Likely of the area. Small rocks dotted the area, landmarks of some kind or another, but Kres wouldn''t be able to map those. They had scents rubbed on them that matched the same as the location they belonged to.
Silverfur gave a few careful nose twitches, his tail swishing back and forth. "We''ll send Bluepaw, Bluepaw, and Bluepaw to scout if there''s any movement. The humans were deadly, but they were only thorough when the enemy was penned. Once they''re done rolling their packs and eating, they''re to leave immediately."
Naming conventions still eluded Kres, he knew the three being sent were different greyroamers who were closer together as kin, but there was more than just the vocal growl to denote each individual. The Icon taught them the human workaround - keeping it all in words. Forced them to have multiple elaborate names just to be specific, and there were still the occasional naming overlap, but they generally worked it out due to how rare it happened.
Greyroamers almost all had the same name since scent, nose twitch, and growl were all intermixed to differentiate them - it was beyond annoying to deal with. At least they didn''t change that name up.
One of the younger wolves piped up, "Didn''t the humans completely destroy all the blight?"
Silverfur gave an annoyed huff. "It is not any one creature it infests. It is the sum of all, so long as even one rabbit remains alive with tainted blood, it will spread again. The human war golems could kill an army, but how easy would it be to escape with one rat? No, better to assume it still lives, wounded, and keep it trimmed until the Odin has completed his mission."
Kres was always impressed by greyroamers when it came to mental focus. They didn''t ask many questions on what his quest had been for. All they knew was that it was a chance to defeat the infestation. And they''d come out here to fight.
But greyroamers were nomadic, if the danger here grew too much, they would simply move away. To them, they would remain up until it was time to leave. Silverfur knew that, and so he was taking steps to keep that danger level low.
Kres chose this moment to announce his presence, letting out a loud squawk. The pack turned as one, ears perked and eyes wide.
"Odin!" Silverfur barked, his tail wagging in the rhythm of amused greeting. "You''ve returned. How goes your task?"
No question of how long his task would take, only the current progress. Very much like them. "There is still more to discover, but I believe the humans that were sent here are part of it. The worldshapers clearly intended this in some way."
Silverfur waggled his tail to the rhythm of curiosity. As did most of the greyroamers under him. That emotion often spread like wildfire among them. "You''ve met them then?"
Kres fluttered down from his perch, coming to rest on a fallen log. "I''ve made contact with them, and I could speak their language."
Curiosity spread even further among the pack. Other greyroamers were padding closer from the outside, the entire den waking up from his crows. Even the butchers took a break, ears turning his direction.
"What were they like?" Silverfur asked. He clearly could tell they''d been friendly, since Kres and himself had survived speaking to them.
"As a people? More discordant than the Odin. There are two, and both seem to hate each other, respect each other, and grudgingly work with each other."
"They are solitary in nature then?"
"No. The two explained themselves as enemies prior, only working together to return home for now."
That got a small war howl from the pack, out of reflex. Questions started to bound everywhere, but Kres only had ears for Silverfur''s question.
"Will these two help against the infestation?" He finally asked, barking down the others into silence.
"They will. I have traded favors with them." A murmur of excitement rippled through the pack. "They fought the mite fountain god, and chased him off. But while their armors and skills as warriors were formidable, the guardian was even better¡" A pause came across the pack. Kres let it continue for a beat more. "...at hiding."
Annoyed gruffs and yips of laughter came out at that. Kres shook his tail feathers to the best impression he had of jest and bickering, then wagging it back to the slow rhythm of a more serious conversation. "In truth, it had planned to bleed them to death, slowly starving them off, since it could not defeat them in direct combat."
"Cowardly act for such a being." Silverfur mused. "The humans must be overwhelmingly powerful to force a god into such a strategy."
"They are. You were not exaggerating their ability to fight. And the god did not match against both of them working together. They hunted the guardian down, but it outran them." Kres said, "The god hid from their sight, but it did not bother to hide from mine. So they requested that I find their prey, that way they could kill it before it could kill them. In exchange, I found my chance and requested their assistance against the blight. They agreed."
Howls came around at that. Small yips of approval. Or laughing. Kres could never tell the nuances. A bark could mean so many different things depending on the situation. And they had a lot of different names for amusement.
He told them more of the fight he''d seen, how they moved and fought. Magic... was going to be a bit more difficult to explain, so he glossed over that part. Adding that into the story would make it seem more like a story rather than actual events being retold. Let the humans show that themselves when they met. One thing at a time.
He turned to his bag, and drew out a small silver piece with one deft snap of his beak. Perfectly shaped for jewelry decoration. Of all the pieces he''d gathered, this one looked the best. He waved it at them, forced to move his entire body given the size of the piece, "A piece of the guardian, as proof." He croaked, not wanting to drop the piece anywhere on the ground, lest it get bit and taken by one of the greyroamers. He carefully returned it to his pouch instead.
Astrid would likely have his flight feathers plucked out for having the gall to take only the good looking pieces rather than anything she could study the inner workings of - but the guardian machine had been massive. The parts that made it move and twist were so widely huge, he suspected even the humans with their golem armor couldn''t carry it all with them.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
So that bird would have to just sulk and go fly around herself. If the body was still there, it was hers to do as she wished with it.
He did still get some things he suspected the Icon could use. Small circuit boards he''d had the human Keith cutaway for him. For a warrior, that human seemed to know about as many mechanical items as Astrid did. Understandable, the humans fought machines all the time according to him. Know thy enemy.
Silverfur gave him a respectful grin, "You will have a hard time sleeping with such a harsh prize. But, I am certain an Odin could figure something out."
He wasn''t going to sleep with metal of course¡ but he might put it in his nest in a way that the light would reflect well off of it. Close enough analog to what the greyroamers did with their own prizes.
Kres gave them a quick tail waggle to the rhythm of victory. That was all he needed to say for the entire den to start baying and barking out songs.
It took a few minutes for them to settle. He returned his attention back to Silverfur. "They wait at the cave I had been studying, the one I mentioned I''d found a worldshaper structure. We can organize a more thorough cleanse of the infestation here, and they''ll help us eradicate it back a few decades. It is a good time for you to meet them once more."
The greyroamer let his tongue lull out of his mouth, a sign of friendship. "I had tried to speak to them before. But¡ I am not an Odin. I have not learned how to speak to them yet. I look forward to having you at my side to translate this time."
"And not having an angry machine god in the area nearby, I assume." Kres said.
Silverfur gave a mild waggle of bemusement. "I fear nothing. But machines¡"
They all knew the answer to that. Machines are not to be messed with. No one ever survives that. But if the humans could fight the strongest of their kind, and survive, then the rest of the machine nests in the area shouldn''t be a threat.
With the important question of the blight settled, that seemed to break some kind of unworded hesitation among the pack here. Questions of all types flooded out. "Do they really stand on two legs like the legends say?" One wolf asked, head cocked to the side.
Another yipped, snapping near his ear. "Of course they do, we told you already, they ran balanced on two legs while killing the infestation. None of the party out there saw them even once put another leg down besides the hind legs."
Another gave a similar cutting yip, "Nonsense, I saw them use their front legs as springs, just once. Jumped right into the ground and sprung back up, like a startled rabbit, only far more controlled. And whipping a blade around faster than Silverfur could."
More talking came out, some claiming the humans could fly like the Odin and just kept grounded from the heavy metal they wore. Those were quickly put down, since the rumor spreaders hadn''t been there to witness the fight directly. They moved gracefully on the ground, but by no means did that suggest they were flying. Kres confirmed that one himself.
If the humans could fly, they would have. And if they could, they wouldn''t have needed to make the giant star and air ships they''d made in the past.
"Are they golems? Or part machine?" Another asked.
Kres gave a waggle of disapproval. "Their armor makes them look like walking statues, but there are living beings beneath."
"What do they look like under the armor?" Another wolf questioned, nose twitching with curiosity. "What color is their fur?"
Kres ruffled his feathers, considering. "They are furless." Which he knew was hard for the greyroamers to understand. "They look like molerats would." That was easier for them to understand, but he could see the mild revulsion from a few nose twitches. To imagine beings that could kill machines, looked like tiny molerats under the armor they wore.
"They do have some fur, a patch on top of their heads. Black, blond and sometimes red or orange. As they age, the fur turns white. And for the males, some have fur near the lower jaw of their faces." He paused, then immediately added "But humans weave artificial fur from their kills and wear those instead. That''s how they stay warm."
The greyroamers could understand that better. Trophies worn were often part of their culture, and if they could wear the fur of their prized kills instead of just sleeping on them, they likely would have. But running with two sets of fur would burn them up far too fast.
"What do they smell like?" A smaller wolf asked from the back.
Kres gave that one a very pointed look. Silverfur took care of that with a mild paw bat at the questioner. "Odin cannot smell like we do. Kres wouldn''t have an answer to that at all."
"They might smell like machines, I assume." He tried imagining it anyhow. "Their armor is made of metal, like machines are."
Other questions came at him fast, and without any rhythm. How do they smell if they''re wearing a metal plate? What are their dens like? How far can they run on two legs before having to drop back down?
"You''ll have to ask some of these yourself." He finally ended it, wings flapping back into place. "We''ve spent enough time talking, we should be off."
Silverfur was the bastion of reason for this, giving a few gruff orders for the pack to assemble and move. One gleaming eye turned back to Kres.
"That looks heavy." He said, nodding towards Kres''s bag filled with machine parts.
Kres felt his feathers puff up defensively. "Why do you ask?"
"You wish to travel with us, yes?"
"...I do." Kres admitted, his wings drooping slightly. He knew what was coming.
"I assume there is no point in helping you with your bag."
"Why would I need help?" He asked, doing his best to appear non-chalant.
Silverfur wagged his tail to the rhythm of amusement. "Odin are all one of the same feather, never fails to amuse me. Very well, I can wear a harness and you can carry your loot yourself."
"I would¡ appreciate that." He didn''t tell Silverwolf the humans had offered him the same choice before. His pride wouldn''t let him give up his treasures so easily.
Around him, the greyroamers dug out their items and planned their trip. They''d be done in minutes, their kind had always been fast with such things. Especially veteran warriors such as the ones Silverfur led. There were no pups here, no den mothers or upcoming greyroamers still learning how to hunt and survive in the forest.
"You realize, if the machines are coming for their body parts, it wouldn''t be any more safe in your bag than it would on the forest floor. Or if you do find a place for it in your nest, would it be any safer then?"
Kres puffed up his feathers intentionally this time. "What are you implying?"
Two other greyroamers came just then, carrying the pack''s gear and supplies. This part was for Silverfur. He let them strap him up with gear and his blade, looking back up at Kres in between. "Nothing." The greyroamer said. "Nothing at all." His tail turned to the other next to him. "Get me the Odin perch as well."
They obeyed and soon Kres was riding among them, glad it didn''t take that much more to convince the greyroamers to carry him.
That bag was getting very heavy, and he felt extremely conflicted about that. On one wing, the parts were invaluable, a treasure trove of knowledge and history. On the other, they were weighing him down immensely. But he couldn''t bear to part with them. Not yet.
One of the older wolves, scarred from many battles, raced slightly closer to the pair. "Can they be trusted?" he asked, his voice a low rumble among the sounds of leaves and dirt being crunched under the pack''s gait. "What if they turn their power against us once the infestation is dealt with?"
Kres met the wolf''s gaze. "I believe they can be trusted," he said firmly. "They have no reason to deceive us, and much to gain from an alliance."
He waggled his tail feathers to the rhythm of conviction, best he could while still holding onto the chaotic perch under him. Fortunately, they''d been rational and open to negotiations, unlike the feral creatures in the wilds.
Though he was terrified of the idea that the infestation might claim the two humans for itself when he considered it. That would be apocalyptic. But they were immune due to their armor and magic.
He thought.
But what if they weren''t?
It was a bioweapon built to kill humans, from what the Icon had told him directly. A fungus of some kind.
But if it had been designed for that purpose, it clearly hadn''t worked. Keith and Drakonis were alive and well, along with a massive human society further beyond. The humans hadn''t cured the bioweapon, they''d simply beat it down with pure might.
They should be safe then.
Kres felt himself spiral down into deeper thought while the greyroamers raced ahead.
What if the reason the humans beat the infestation all that time ago, was due to numbers? Just two humans might not be enough. Perhaps sending them into the fight may very well see them return insane.
"The Odin will be swallowed by the blight soon enough, yes?" Silverfur said, as they rode out.
He swayed with the loping gait of the greyroamer, holding onto the perch. He''d spoken of his worries to the pack leader, the worry too much for him to hold alone.
"Yes." He admitted. "Soon enough, they''ll overwhelm even the Icon. Maybe not in my lifetime, but in my children''s without doubt."
The wolf huffed, taking a particularly large leap over a log, the rest of the pack rushing soon after him. "Then why worry? If the humans are not strong enough to fight off the blight and succumb to it, then what has changed for you? You will still need to run, as you already do. Find a new home. And a new one after that too, if the humans are compelled by the blight to follow after."
"How far can we run?" Kres said. "Humans are very fast. Absurdly fast. And they do not tire."
Silverfur chuffed, a sound of mild amusement. "You can fly. They can''t. Perhaps further out into the wildlands, you will find a large enough floating rock to settle. And how long do they live? All things die of age, even hosts infested. The Odin can outlive any threat, so long as you leave that den you are so fixated on. You are being silly friend, there are many ways to escape."
He¡ had a point. Kres wished he could have that sense of constant optimism. Greyroamers just didn''t worry like the Odin did.
Except for Astrid. She may as well be part greyroamer. She did like to bite things just as much come to think of it.
But the Icon was too important to give up without a fight. If they were already doomed, two humans controlled by the infestation would finally force their hand in migration like all the other tribes had. Perhaps that was the goal of the worldshapers.
Who knew?
"I believe the humans will be strong enough." Silverfur said. "I''ve seen them wade into the center of the infestation, remember? They took scratches and bites, but so long as they remained encased in their armor, they were under no threat. They are an ancient race that survived even to this era.
They won''t make mistakes against the infestation."
Book 6 - Chapter 49 - Change of plans, round two
"I may have made a horrible mistake." I hissed, getting a hand under me as I forced my body back up in the dim cave light. "On the same level as licking ice."
"Winterscar?" Drakonis asked, turning to me, looking a mix between startled and relieved. "Are you alright? What happened?"
Good news: Given I could open my eyes in the physical world, that meant Drakonis hadn''t sliced my throat while I''d been fighting for my life against Relinquished.
Bad news: The machine goddess is scheming something. And she knows my name. And she knows which rock I''m hiding under right now. And that rock happens to be in the middle of nowhere, without Wrath, Father, Cathida, Sagrius or any of the House knights. The only one I had nearby that could ''help'' was a Deathless who''d been a recent enemy as of a day ago.
But again, he hadn''t sliced my throat or stabbed me through my heart and spine, which I consider a very good step forward knowing someone. No, I don''t have a problem, of course my standards for friendship aren''t anywhere near the bottom of a crevasse right now, thanks for asking.
"Stuff happened." I said. "Anything strange on this side? Machines moving around, or Kres anywhere near us yet?"
He looked out. "Armor hasn''t pinged him or anything. No sign of machines either. " He looked back at the campfire embers. It was all setup, even had a flat enough rock to the side for whatever cooking was in the plans. All empty. "You went catatonic for half an hour, the only reason I didn''t think you''d died was the biometrics from your armor telling me otherwise. That and you hadn''t turned to dust yet. What were you doing next to that terminal?"
I gave a few coughs to get any drops of leftover bile out of my mouth, then clawed my way back on my knees and up, hand finding purchase on my discarded helmet. "I''ve got a spell that lets me interface directly with terminals and machines."
"You were talking to the terminal itself? Same way a machine would?"
"The terminal''s not sentient if that''s what you''re asking. It''s like¡ like an entire separate world."
He hummed. "All right. So what did you see on the other side of this world that has you in such a panic for?"
"Nothing big to worry about." I wheezed one more time, then slapped the helmet back on. The familiar hiss was welcoming to my senses. "Just ended up chatting with the goddess of all evil."
Journey''s systems came online a moment later, HUD flaring back to life, showing full vision all around me. Orange lines pointed to different items of interest, biometrics from myself and my companion, along with other junk reports for the moment.
Drakonis had a full bill of health, while my pulse and adrenaline response was showing a spike.
"Can you be less dramatic and more specific about the purple hell you brought down on us? Is it a Feather of some kind or just a stronger machine?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shook my head. "Not a Feather, wish it were."
His helmet stared me down. "So by a goddess, you literally mean¡"
"I pissed off Relinquished, yes."
"The machine goddess herself?"
"One and only. Also, we need to pack our stuff and run."
"Oh, for fuck''s sake." He let his rifle drop back on its strap, and seemed to try to scratch his head with two hands while looking up at the cave ceiling. Didn''t work of course, he had a helmet on. "She''s after us, here?"
"Not us specifically, but she knows the coordinates of a terminal near here so basically she¡¯s onto us." I said, jabbing my thumb backwards at the sliced terminal. "Time to pack our bags and start running in any direction. If Kres isn''t here yet, we''ll have to find him again elsewhere."
"Shit." He muttered. "I really did get stuck in something big." He quickly folded up his rifle, affixing it to his armor''s side, then gathered the supplies back into his bag, attaching them to hardpoints on his armor one click at a time. "You got a recording or something to get me up to speed on this? Can''t say I''m not curious to hear what the goddess of machines is like."
"She''s dramatic. That''s the single best word I can tell you. I''ll fill you in on the way." I said, matching his pace, hand grabbing up whatever I could get my hands on.
We continued that for a frantic few moments before Drakonis turned his helmet my way. "Hang the airspeeder for a moment.¡± He said, ¡°Why is she interested in two Deathless in the middle of nowhere?" His hand waved outside to the purple jungle beyond our little cave. "There''s no objectives down here that could help the cause, no fight, no war, nothing but trees. Is it because we killed that machine earlier? Or because she doesn¡¯t want us speaking to a civilization of birds?"
I shook my head again. "Probably not about Murdershrimp. He''s a minion in the end, she''s got an army of them. I don¡¯t think the Odin have anything to do with it either. She¡¯s powered by spite, and knows my name."
"How long will it take her to travel here?" He asked, turning back to face me.
Had to stop and think about that question. "She¡ doesn''t have a physical body. At least that I know of. This is the first time I met her face to face, and all my talks with Wrath up to now about the machine side of things, she''s always been talked about within the digital sea, never once in the physical world."
"Then, she''s not coming here herself?"
"...No, I don''t think she will. It''ll probably be her minions she sends out." It dawned on me that I made a leap of logic in thinking she was after me herself. It might be she couldn''t resist putting a hand in here, because her chances of having a human in the audience was rare. She''s programmed to be dramatic. And caught a challenge note in a space she''s capable of putting on a show.
Maybe it really wasn''t as bad as I thought.
"So the threat isn''t her, it''s more units like the giant we fought."
"Murdershrimp. His name is Murdershrimp."
"I''m never calling it a stupid name like that Winterscar. Stay with the main question. Are there more titans like him out there?" He snapped his fingers, as if trying to snap me out of a trance of some kind. Rude.
I gave my gear one last quick check, noting it all together and functional. Power supply was still good for an entire day and some change. A few tugs on the straps showed them equally secured and ready for a climb down the rocky slope. "All right, we''ll table the naming conventions for now. As for if we''ll find more of them...Maybe. But that wouldn''t be the most difficult possibility. An army would be a lot easier to deal with than a lot of other things she could send."
Like more Feathers.
"A lot easier to dodge and hide from." Drakonis nodded. ¡°There¡¯s only two of us. If a fireteam of five can easily go to ground, we should be able to. And if she''s delegating, the machine reaction might end up being similar to what Deathless see when a fireteam gets too close to a major objective."
¡°That¡¯s a lot of if¡¯s.¡± I pointed out.
He shrugged. ¡°Working on guesses is part of the risks we take. Machines are predictable most times, even Feathers all have the same pattern when it comes to appearing before combat.¡±
Well, he had worked hand in hand with a Deathless who¡¯s known for taking the fight to Relinquished. "What does Relinquished do when she¡¯s noticed something getting too close to home?"
"Sends an army first, grinds down the team, and then a Feather appears at some point." He shrugged. "But right now, you''re thinking ten miles a minute. Take a few deep breaths, settle yourself first. Unless she''s about to appear any minute now, we should instead consider what she''s capable of sending, how fast they''re capable of deploying, and what they can actually do with the information her forces have on hand. If she hasn''t appeared already to smite us down, she can''t or wasn''t intending to. We''re still alive right now, that says something."
He''s right, I think. ¡°Right. Options wise, she can¡¯t come herself, but she could send either Feathers, minions, both or neither.¡±
¡°And how fast?¡±
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
¡°Minions would be the fastest. They might be charging here right now.¡± I remembered To¡¯Avalis and his last ditch attempt to defend the mite forge. He hadn¡¯t been able to bring together an army until later, once they arrived. Which had been about half a day¡¯s worth of time. ¡°If it¡¯s an army, half a day at most. Individual units might filter in faster.¡±
He nodded. ¡°Feathers always show up last. They¡¯re too proud to be first, all fireteams have to ¡®earn¡¯ the privilege first. If we pack up and leave now, we should be fine.¡±
Journey beeped. A shared ping between Drakonis and myself, since we both turned our heads out the cave entrance. Out in the distance, an orange HUD square narrowed down over a black dot in the distance.
Vision zoomed in automatically, showing a bird struggling to fly around.
"He''s really dead set on that bag." Drakonis muttered. ¡°He¡¯s got golden luck he made it just in time with that thing though. I¡¯ll give him respect where it¡¯s earned on that front.¡±
"I can respect his dedication to loot."
"Of course you can." He shook his head with a cough that sounded like a mild chuckle.
Silverfur padded, following the Odin¡¯s direction. Every so often, the bird would fly off, verify their trajectory and return.
Following an Odin was a leap of faith. He didn¡¯t know where he was going, there were no scent marks, no marked trees, and no way for the Odin to explain where the end point was. Only how long until they reached it, and at best some description of the world from the air.
Which, as Silverfur had learned, could be more or less ignored. The world was so different looking down on it rather than from the ground, it often felt like the bird spoke of a completely different world.
He never pointed it out, there were more important things to focus on, and they still got to where they needed to be. All they had to do was trust the process.
In this case however, air or land, the place Kres spoke of was easy to spot. A mountain, filled with winding trails upwards, and at the centermost section was a large hole leading into a cave.
He went through his usual check, noting that the cave was wide enough for a good den. Higher elevation meant rain wouldn¡¯t be a problem, though the rock soil would make for puddles. And at the very base of the mountain, there was a very shallow river passing through. It looked clean and crisp, flowing over soft rocks.
A good spot for a burrow all in all, but hard to get and drag prey that far up without putting it on an Odin wheeled sled of some kind.
¡°We are here.¡± Kres said from the perch. ¡°And they are coming.¡±
The humans. The war golems he¡¯d seen fighting off the infection with little difficulty. Who¡¯d stared down the god of the mite fountain and fought.
His pack went silent, as all ears, noses and eyes turned to look up the rocky mountain. There, he spotted them.
They looked like machines. Climbing down from the mountain, legs gripping against the rock face with little difficulty. The bottom two were different from the top two. Likely evolved specifically to carry their full weight at all times. Like flattened hooves. Those dug into the rock, and acted like a small platform for the beings.
The front legs were different. Ending in five movable claws. More like extended talons, similar to the Odin. And just as dexterous.
The two humans would jump small gaps downwards, using the front talons to steady themselves after each leap. When they were within the treeline height, both humans turned and jumped directly off the mountain.
They fell. The pack drew breathes, watching as the two golems dropped like rocks. If the humans could fly, they chose not to.
They both landed within a beat of each other, deep into the river. Water splashed up around them, and he could hear the rocks under break away from the fall. The humans showed no reaction to that, landing perfectly balanced on both legs.
From that low crouch they stood back up, and strode out of the river.
The wind drew their scent his way, or rather the lack of a scent. ¡°Metal.¡± His fellows muttered.
They smelled like metal, like machines. If Kres hadn¡¯t sworn they were humans, he would have assumed they were simply a new kind of machine. One that traveled in pairs.
They were carrying the same that they had when he¡¯d met them at the fountain. Two bags filled with power cells, metal rods and contraptions on their sides, straps all across their exposed bellies and chests. And he saw blade handles, along with smaller ones by their boots.
Unmodified, the hilts still pristine without any bite marks or mouthguard modifications. He¡¯d seen them use those to their fullest. The talons expertly turning them into an extension of their being, and the rest of their bodies moved to maximize the reach and position.
He¡¯d seen them before at the fountain, but the rest of his pack hadn''t seen them up close. They had distinct differences across their armor in both gear, straps and colors. One had blacked plates with an even darker line that made up a pattern on his shoulder pad. Muted yellow trim and some white cloth left unfurled on his back. The other had a far more exposed uncolored metal armor, with clear blue lines of patterns intermixed with faded yellow.
¡°Look closely.¡± Silverfur growled at his pack. ¡°These are the humans. And if they were a threat, they would have already attacked.¡±
The pack responded affirmative. They already surrounded the two figures at the center, which would have prompted an attack back if it had been any other greyroamer pack. Instead, the two humans moved at a steady calm pace, directly at Silverfur.
The two beings were either supremely confident, or friendly. And as far as Silverfur could guess at, he believed it was both.
He felt his tail wag to the rhythm of hope. They seemed as powerful as he¡¯d seen them last. No wounds, no blood, it was as if their battle with the machine god had been a simple afternoon hunt.
If there were any being out there that could eradicate the infestation, it had to be these two.
Sound came from where their heads should be if metal hadn¡¯t been covered it all. The same kind of monosyllables he¡¯d heard from Kres. The Odin answered back without missing a beat, equally giving out the strange warped sounds. Then the bird leapt off his perch and landed with a few hops on the ground between human and greyroamer.
One of the humans raised a talon up, and moved it right to left a few times.
¡°What was said?¡± Silverfur asked.
The bird turned one beady eye back, then wagged his tail to the rhythm of contentment. ¡°They introduce themselves as Keith and Drakonis.¡±
¡°They both smell the same. Which is which?¡± Silverfur asked.
¡°The one with red, black and gold is Keith. The one with orange and blue is Drakonis.¡±
Ah. They were like Odin where colors would separate them. He could adjust slightly. They both looked mostly identical to him, but one had blue and the other didn¡¯t. So that made it simple enough. He committed the names to memory.
Kres traded words with them, Silverfur and his pack watched on.
After more sounds between Kres and the two humans, the bird finally turned back to him. ¡°The humans are ready to speak, I will interpret for them. But there is an issue they are agitated over.¡±
¡°And that issue is?¡± Silverfur asked, curious. The two humans didn¡¯t seem agitated in the slightest to him.
¡°They¡¯ve drawn the attention of machines.¡±
¡°That would be worrying. Are they planning on fighting the machines, hiding, or running from them?¡±
Kres turned and asked the humans. The one named Keith answered back. He¡¯d talked with Kres before about humans in idle downtime, and found that their language was highly convoluted. Often, passing information took minutes, instead of seconds.
But far worse than the time it took to speak, it was simply¡ eerie to see them speak. They had no emotions, no scent, and their helmets covered their faces completely including their mouth and teeth.
The Odin were similar, but they could learn how to display emotions, although it had to be a deliberate choice to do so. Kres was among the few Odin who¡¯d taken the time to learn how to properly express himself, but the humans didn¡¯t have tails of any kind so even if they wished to, they wouldn¡¯t be able to.
¡°They are looking to run and hide from them. But they still require access to a terminal or mite fountain, in case a contact of theirs reaches out to them over long-distance communication. And their armors run on power cells, they need to have a supply of them. Do you know of anything within your territory that could fit this?¡±
They were waiting for a howl of some kind then. And like most of the Odin technology, they required those cells with the glowing liquid inside.
¡°There is one place that I can think of where all of these issues are handled.¡± Silverfur said. It seemed obvious to him. A place that was safe from machines, was already connected to terminals, and had all the power they could need.
Kres turned, giving him a side eye that the wolf had seen a few times before. The Odin version of surprise and suspicion. ¡°And that is?¡±
¡°The Icon of Stars. Your home. Machines attack anything that is human, and your home is of human origin, led by a human voice, is it not? She must have learned how to hide from machines long ago. Have her teach the humans here.¡±
Kres gave an angry squawk of protest. ¡°I will not lead the machines into raiding the Icon! And besides, it would not work. We found dead humans within the Icon, the past settlers who¡¯d woken her up long ago. The machine guardian found them even hiding inside her belly.¡±
Silverfur leaned backwards on his two paws, giving a mild stretch. ¡°You worry too much.¡± He growled out. ¡°They only need to be in howling distance of the Icon to learn from her. They can do that from many places. Any trading place between Odin and greyroamer would do. Have them use that to speak to the Icon.¡±
Kres didn¡¯t answer for a moment, likely contemplating the idea. ¡°The Resura trading post? That¡¯s the only one I know of by your territory.¡±
¡°That one.¡± Silverfur said, mostly guessing. The bark Kres said could apply to multiple different posts in that area. But the Odin was smart and if there was a miscommunication it could be resolved later as they raced closer to it. ¡°The one that smells of pine, softened rock, bled bark and old feathers.¡± He added, just to help out.
Kres gave him another beady eye stare. ¡°And to feed their armors?¡±
That was important. Completely encased in those armors powered by technology Silverfur could only dream of, he was certain the humans could fend off the infestation. Keeping them powered would be the wolfling to watch out for. But that was equally easy to solve. ¡°We could transport new cells to them. So long as they fight the infestation, no greyroamer would turn away the work. Machines do not care or stop the Odin from finding and using cells and their fountains. Your only difficulty is flying them back.¡±
Running back into safe territory, in order to refill a cell, and then running back to the humans? Easy. And safe.
Kres argued further about the possibility of losing such an old trading post if it were attacked. But in the end, it wasn¡¯t an Odin outpost. Just one of nomadic trade that any pack used, and it happened to be able to howl far enough to connect with the Icon of Stars, through Odin technology. That should do.
He had to earn their favor. These two would be key in chasing off the infestation. If all they needed was to howl to the Icon a few times and get her guidance from afar, Silverfur could easily spare any outpost. Even if machines swarmed it, they¡¯d just leave.
It was a simple solution, and only took a few more minutes of arguing with the Odin before Kres finally gave in, and allowed it.
The outpost would be a few days of travel. In that time, Silverfur was certain he''d be able to talk to the humans through Kres, and reach a full plan of action against the infestation.
There was so much to learn from the ancient humans, from how they survived to how they truly fought with their blades. And he had all the time he needed to do so.
His tail wagged with anticipation, as much as he tried to tamper down on it.
Book 6 - Chapter 50 - Interlude: ToOrda
¡°My, my, moody today, aren¡¯t we?¡± To¡¯Sefit said, voice coming clear through his channel.
¡°Nnnn¡You led me here.¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled back, annoyed. ¡°They are not repairing my shield. I have been deceived.¡±
¡°Now now, all I said was that this was the nearest mite colony to you. Why, I never said a word about them helping you or not. How should I know the whims of mites?¡±
To¡¯Orda worked backwards through his memory. And then deduced that indeed, To¡¯Sefit was honest with her statements. He¡¯d asked her for mites to fix his mite blast door shield, and she¡¯d delivered directions to the nearest mites. She¡¯d never said a word about them cooperating with him.
Before him the world teemed with bright orange lights crawling all across the ground. Rocks were being eaten up, vanishing in place of heavy metal sculptures. Buildings that had once been half submerged into rockfaces were slowly torn apart section by section, replaced with metal bridges held in tension by cobalt strings, softly glowing.
The entire landscape before him was turning into a maze of towers and bridges, following the designs of the mites.
He¡¯d been standing in the center for the past day now, waiting. Eventually, some of the mites had reacted, finding him to be far too stationary. He could tell the moment he¡¯d turned from a curiosity to a target. Mites began to walk across him, and he crushed them under thick hands the moment they tried to zap away some of his matter.
His shell was fine. He¡¯d repaired it himself after that human exploded on him and his boss.
The mite doorway that had sucked the majority of the explosion did not survive as perfectly. A small crater had evaporated, ripped apart atom by atom. It still functioned, still had the general shape and the material was as durable as it always had been. The fractal he¡¯d inscribed on the other side to draw danger remained functioning as well, protected from the blast.
His boss told him it was nothing more than a scratch. But his nanite swarm couldn¡¯t repair the mite material. It was too woven from principles he could hardly understand.
And it bothered him. It bothered him more than he could understand why. The golden shield he¡¯d carried around for the past five decades was now missing the decorations at the front. The vines and twisted half imagery of the old mite doorway, only a fraction of the larger whole.
¡®Gaudy¡¯ had been what To¡¯Sefit described it as, but To¡¯Orda hadn¡¯t bothered to check what the dictionary definition of that word meant so it didn¡¯t bother him.
What bothered him was that he couldn¡¯t fix his shield himself. The nanites within his shell simply didn¡¯t know what to make. No blueprints among mother¡¯s archives had any answers for him.
The mites did however. They¡¯d built the original blast door. So, they should be able to fix it.
They crawled on his shield and tried to eat it.
He squashed their little bodies immediately, growing more annoyed with each little shell he broke.
¡°Nnnn¡ no.¡± He muttered again.
¡°They won¡¯t fix your shield at this rate.¡± To¡¯Sefit said. Paused, and then added, ¡°Even if you try to out-wait them. I¡¯ll have my shell restored and be moving onto new targets long before they give into anything.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ can you wait?¡±
¡°Absolutely not.¡± She answered back. ¡°Do remember, you still owe me for freeing you from the mite containment cube. And it was not easy to break you free from that. Be smarter.¡±
Be smarter, she said. The least effort required would be just to sit here and wait. Destroy the mites trying to eat any part of him or his shield, and wait for them to come to a peace settlement just to get him off their territory.
What would be the second easiest plan? Ah. Get someone else to come up with a plan for him.
He sent a ping.
¡°An interesting question.¡± To¡¯Avalis answered back. He was brooding somewhere, still fixing himself up from that human¡¯s attack on them both. To¡¯Orda¡¯s shield had done the task it was meant to do, the fractal of danger drawing everything to itself, but it wasn¡¯t a perfect fractal either. Destruction had only been drawn to the shield, not completely sucked into it. And To¡¯Avalis had been too close to the epicenter.
¡°... Do you have a solution?¡± He returned when To¡¯Avalis hadn¡¯t answered.
¡°I see three possible solutions to repair your shield, estimated success rate of under forty percent, however. The first is to locate a mite blast door being constructed, and then hold your shield in position there. The second is less savory, but my research shows promise. Find a human, one known as a ¡®mitespeaker¡¯, and have it broker a deal with the mites for you. The creatures are known to bargain with different factions, but communication with them is the difficult part.¡±
That was two options. ¡°Third?¡± He asked.
There was a sigh on the data package, which was odd behavior. To¡¯Orda hadn¡¯t heard his boss use such emotions in his speech so liberally. Had he changed?
¡°The mite greatwall, at the bottom of the digital sea. The pale lady has breached past it in order to debate, bargain or discuss terms with the mites in the past. And so has Tsuya, along with other factions. The mitespeaker plan is generally the same, only using a human as a proxy agent instead of the more dangerous direct connection with them.¡±
¡°My, my, what a little snoop you are. Looking up everyone¡¯s history.¡± To¡¯Sefit hummed, intruding on the link. ¡°And by other factions¡ do you perhaps mean our adorable renegade To¡¯Wrathh?¡±
¡°I do.¡± The boss said with careful modulation. ¡°I¡¯ve been researching our target¡¯s movements and her prior history. I believe she¡¯s made contact with the mites prior, gained an audience and earned their favor. To¡¯Orda is the only other Feather on record that I could find who has done similar.¡±
¡°Not quite as direct, I¡¯m afraid.¡± To¡¯Sefit tutted. ¡°All the loaf did was be more stubborn than they were. And given that they¡¯re no longer helping him repair that shield of his, I would say any respect and goodwill is now done.¡±
To¡¯Orda squashed another mite shell trying to take a bite out of him. The rest were behaving, crawling over his armor and shawl, but explicitly not attacking. They were on their way somewhere, and he was simply something to crawl over. Those, he allowed to pass unharmed.
Once they were done with everything in this biome, only he would remain as the missing piece to fix. And they¡¯d want him out of the way. It would take a while, but they would begin to notice his intent.
That would be when the bargaining would begin.
Given how far this biome had grown, he might need to wait two or three months. A rather short amount of time. But To¡¯Sefit, and To¡¯Avalis wouldn¡¯t allow that much time to pass freely. The two were plotting.
He could feel it.
¡°Okay.¡± He sent out. ¡°Tell me where the nearest mite blast door is being made.¡±
¡°That¡¯s the longest sentence I¡¯ve ever heard him say.¡± To¡¯Sefit said, sending an image of herself looking shocked, a hand covering her mouth. ¡°He really wants that shield fixed. What did you do to my poor To¡¯Orda, you brute?¡±
To¡¯Avalis returned the image of a shrug, and a puff of air exhaled out. ¡°He did his task. And he survived the encounter with minimal damage. The shield is of no consequence, it¡¯s still completely functional. I don¡¯t understand his obsession.¡±
When had the two started sending data packages like this? Images instead of text. Instead of speech and words?
It was¡ it was perfect. Being able to speak without having to speak. It was beautiful. Magnificent. To¡¯Orda felt something deep within him stir, a sense of longing. Such low effort, such ease of use, it was enough for him to completely miss one of the mites trying to eat a small part of his left eye.
He flicked it off a moment later, then sent some of his nanoswarms to fix up the damage. A violet eye turned to look down on his shield. Still in disrepair, the ornate designs all ripped apart. And the time limit.
They were squabbling again. He could hear their inane chatter, debating about how to hunt down a Winterscar, how to extract maximum value from events, or more things about the little new sister, To¡¯Wrathh. The one who¡¯d been too friendly with humans or something.
They¡¯d found out where the human had gone off to, but she was still missing. As far as he¡¯d heard.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
For the first time since he¡¯d been given his new name, he reached out to the machine archives and began to browse for a specific program. He found it shortly after, something To¡¯Avalis had made on the spot, and then later shared with To¡¯Sefit. Other Feathers were also starting to use it as well given the number of downloads was greater than two. Probably those who gossiped with To¡¯Sefit. To¡¯Avalis did not speak to other Feathers unless he needed to, something To¡¯Orda could respect, so it couldn¡¯t have come from him.
The download completed, and he unpacked the algorithm into his system, letting it boot up and be modified by his neurocortex. It took a few seconds of mutation, and then the program registered ready. Simple, easy to use, and now personalized.
He poked it to work. It woke, gazed over him, then spat out an image of him pointing at his shield a few times, and then pointing at a map. Question marks appeared all across.
To¡¯Orda could weep. It was perfect.
He hadn¡¯t even bothered to send the algorithm any real detail. All he¡¯d done was poke it, and ask it to do something.
Which it had. And it had done it perfectly. He sent the image out over the channel.
The two Feathers on the other end of the contact stopped squabbling. Then turned their virtual attention on him.
To¡¯Sefit sent him an image of her giving him a thumbs up, head tilted, one hand knocking on her hat. She looked to be biting her tongue, while sticking it out. ¡°Oh dear, so sorry. We seem to have forgotten your earlier request. Things got mildly heated between To¡¯Avalis and I, not to worry. We¡¯ll have the coordinates for you ready. Right, To¡¯Avalis?¡±
¡°I assume that means you want me to do the work for you.¡± He replied.
She sent back an animated wink. ¡°We¡¯re blessed with such an intelligent, clever and hardworking leader like yourself.¡±
Coordinates came to To¡¯Orda. Locations for nearby mite colonies, one of which was building a mite blast door. Perfect.
He turned to watch far off, where a drake remained asleep on one of the completed bridges.
He poked at his image generating algorithm. It stirred to life again, gave him a single annoyed glance, and then spat out two animated images for him, which he sent to the drake immediately.
The first was of him knocking on the drake¡¯s head to wake it up. The second was of the drake grabbing him, tossing him on its back, and carrying him away to the portal strata nearby.
Coordinates for the path to his destination were far more standard, but not as fun to read.
¡°Ssss¡ as the great one commands.¡± The drake answered, jumping a few bridges and landing in the only basion of half-built mite blocks left. The one To¡¯Orda had been keeping an eye over.
He grabbed his shield gingerly, then pulled a cloth cover over it, hand wrapping around the inner handle before lifting it off the ground, locking it in place snug on his back. A giant claw slowly curled around him from his back, tightening around until it had a good hold of him, and then lifted.
To¡¯Sefit¡¯s raven had been far faster and more useful. It had gotten quite used to carrying her on his back, while carrying To¡¯Orda under in his talons. And now the raven was dead and gone. A shame. But the drake was doing a good enough job for now. And it was oddly more gentle as well.
It lifted him further up, then let him fall on its back. His own hands reached over across the skeletal ribcage, holding tight but not tightly enough to shatter the fragile things. It would be enough. The drake turned, and ran.
¡°Nnnn¡ not working.¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled.
He held the shield in place, right near the half-built golden doorway. In a section that hadn¡¯t been finished yet. Even following through on where the shield would have originally been taken from.
The massive doorway loomed over him, as grand as any of the mite designs had been. This colony was filled with red and blue lights, two colonies working together on the project.
And both had refused to do anything to repair his shield, still finding him a nuisance. Small mites stung at his skin and clothing, trying to eat it away. And each time he flicked them off or crushed them in his fingers. He was even more proactive on his shield, violet eyes watching from the deep recesses of the shawl he wore.
They crawled all over the golden material, and every so often, he¡¯d find a spark of pale blue light up from one of the small creatures. A half second to analyze if matter was being added or subtracted, but the results always returned the same: Subtraction.
The mites were trying to get rid of the obstacle in the way of their blast door. He would instantly strike back, crushing the little pests with a vengeance.
¡°Nnnnn¡ annoying.¡± He hissed. Emotions weren¡¯t something he felt much these days. Vague relief at having a job done or removed. Vague annoyance at having his job foiled or made more difficult. And now frustration at having his goal made more difficult. To¡¯Sefit said his lack of emotions was in line with his new name. After all, he was no longer the one of resolve ignited.
To¡¯Sefit sent him a shrug, then a hand wave. ¡°Can¡¯t be helped. Mites are fickle gods. It was worth an attempt.¡± She pinged To¡¯Avalis next, ¡°Oh great leader, your master plan has failed.¡±
He gave an angry tut. ¡°I am in the middle of something important, I can¡¯t be distracted all the time by this. His shield functions perfectly fine, there is no need to fix it.¡±
To¡¯Orda felt annoyance again. He sent a command to his image generating software, demanding it to wake up. It did, lazily scanning through his thoughts and generated an image.
One of him holding his newly repaired shield. It shined, and a twinkle on the side flickered. To¡¯Orda smiled proudly in the image.
¡°Awww, he wants his shield to look nice.¡± To¡¯Sefit said, chuckling. ¡°Only took fifty years for his senses as a Feather to come back.¡±
¡°Could you pick a better time to have an identity crisis?¡± To¡¯Avalis asked in a pained voice. ¡°Perhaps next year, once all this is settled? I have a human I want dead, and an entire Deathless fireteam to manipulate into position. This is extremely delicate work.¡±
¡°As I keep telling you, dead is far too simple.¡± To¡¯Sefit immediately protested. ¡°To¡¯Wrathh killed me, and then he did too! I died twice - twice! I¡¯ve never died even once in my history, and these two neophytes managed it. And my darling raven too! I need them both to be put in their place, and just killing the poor savage without anything else is just far too clinical for my taste.¡±
¡°Dramatics is the reason for nearly ninety three percent of all defeats within our kind¡¯s operational history. Do not let your shell¡¯s biases lead you astray, it is a vulnerability point. A single bullet through his head, followed by melting down any soul fractal near the human is enough. The single most optimal way of ending the threat he represents is to have him killed before he even knows there¡¯s a fight.¡±
¡°But that¡¯s far too boring.¡± To¡¯Sefit tutted, sending him an image of her rolling her eyes. ¡°Imagine how much we could mess with our cute little sister by holding him hostage? I¡¯ve started reading some human literature that To¡¯Wrathh has, they have fascinating ideas. I do want to try some of them out.¡±
An image of To¡¯Avalis rubbing his eyes in frustration returned.
To¡¯Orda poked his image generator. It spat out another perfect response. One of him pointing at a map insistently, with a human silhouette at the center, question marks popping into existence all over.
¡°Fine, fine! Mitespearkers are generally humans driven insane, and don¡¯t live within their tiny cities. You are in luck.¡± To¡¯Avalis said. ¡°I have three possible locations, you will have to search for the hiding humans yourself. The ones who aren¡¯t good at hiding, don¡¯t stay alive after all.¡±
He jumped down, landing among the broken city streets with cracks spreading across from his feet. A glance up showed him the same. A dead city, made in a hundred different directions and stairwells. A maze.
¡°Where.¡± He asked again.
¡°Sss¡. I cannot sense the trail anymore, great one. The human has slipped away like blood wiped off a bone.¡±
It had been three days now, and this human was either a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Traces of footsteps existed, outlined in his machine sight with clarity.
And then they¡¯d disappear by a doorway, or by a mountain pass. This was the third city he¡¯d walked around following the human hiding away somewhere here.
¡°Exists?¡± He asked the drake behind him. To¡¯Orda was beginning to question his own sight. Something he¡¯d never thought to do before. But this human was¡ different.
¡°Sss¡ Yes, great one. The human exists. I saw the suffering vagabond. A walking corpse, half starved, mind long gone. The poor lost child, escaping salvation each time we approach.¡± The drake shook its head. ¡°The hunt for this one is¡ interesting.¡±
The drake spoke that one word, but there was no sense of frustration in it. To¡¯Orda instead got the sense that the drake was¡ enjoying itself.
He felt mild envy at that.
The closest they¡¯d gotten was spotting the human further off an alleyway, drawing things on the wall. Matted down white hair, a beard filled with twigs, dirt and dried spit, and a jumble of half crazed words thrown his direction while the man waved a box of glass at him glowing a dim pink. Then the human walked out of sight behind a wall.
When he¡¯d walked over, there was nothing but the wall that remained. The footsteps vanished there.
He¡¯d crushed the wall down of course, and all he found on the other side was the undisturbed living room of some half-made mite building, right where it should be. And no trace of any footsteps here.
On the wall, was a single word. ¡°Nope.¡± And surrounding that word was hundreds of H¡¯s and A¡¯s, all scribbled in blood, mud, and anything else the human could use around him. It took a small moment to process, but he realized the human was laughing at him.
To¡¯Orda felt¡ frustration. A deeper, longer feeling of it. Was this what To¡¯Avalis felt about that human the two kept talking about?
The drake silently wrapped a hand around him, lifting him up and back on his usual spot. He would continue to let it hunt down the mitespeaker.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, napping on the back of the drake as it scoured the city for the wayward human that kept finding new ways to avoid them.
The nap didn¡¯t last long enough. To¡¯Avalis sent him a message. ¡°It¡¯s done. I¡¯ve completed preparations. A powerful enough deathless fireteam has been drawn close to To¡¯Naviris¡¯s position. He¡¯ll wake and should respond by gathering his forces within the strata the Winterscar is hiding in, and send them through to the fight along with himself. While he¡¯s gone, we are safe to operate in his territory without being caught.¡±
¡°And you call me dramatic,¡± To¡¯Sefit chuckled. ¡°You spent all that time and effort, all to make sure it would be just us and the Winterscar. We could have simply asked To¡¯Naviris to handle it for us. Or pointed out there were humans sulking around his influence, that would have driven him into a frenzy without any deals.¡±
¡°Other Feathers could complicate the situation.¡± To¡¯Avalis said. ¡°More variables to calculate. We need to keep things simple and streamlined.¡±
¡°You just want to make sure your vengeance stays within our little circle. No need to be so coy, I happen to agree with you.¡±
To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t answer, instead all he sent was a coordinate and an order to To¡¯Orda. ¡°You¡¯re the only one with a functioning shell as of now. Get there and smash his helmet into a paste. Then melt any piece of metal around him, and a mile radius around his dead body. Other machines as well, anything with metal must be destroyed. That¡¯s the important part, you cannot leave him a single possible chance of escape.¡±
To¡¯Sefit immediately went on a full rant, apparently upset at the idea of quickly killing the human instead of playing with him to the fullest. To¡¯Avalis argued back about timelines and how long To¡¯Naviris could be distracted for.
To¡¯Orda did not care for their debate.
There was only one thing To¡¯Orda cared about: The coordinates were halfway across the world.
¡°Nnnn¡ bugger.¡± He muttered, contemplating the amount of walking or riding he¡¯d have to do to get there. And knowing if there was one topic both To¡¯Avalis and To¡¯Sefit would agree on, it would be demanding that he go faster or do more work.
And he wouldn¡¯t be able to have his shield fixed either.
The image generator returned one of him sighing so deeply, he ended up on both his hands and knees, his soul leaking out of his mouth in a single white puff, pained to the point of wanting to end it all.
It was extremely accurate to his current state of mind.
Book 6 - Chapter 51 - Reign of fire
¡°Think I found a good one, further off about one fifty. Marking it now.¡± I said, as the armor shared the target information to Drakonis¡¯s own.
Journey calculated the heat signature, then overlaid a red outline, taking liberal guesses as to how it actually looked. A deer. Minding its own business, walking near a stream. A few others were nearby, but they were smaller and many looked to be parents for a foal.
¡°Got it. Still heading over, should have a bead on it in a minute.¡±
The purple forest was riddled with shadows and an everlasting darkness with the strata lights now dying off into the night. And the two new humans sulking around in this strata were hungry. Especially since wild feral animals had gone and done wild feral animal things to all the rations inside the crashed airship.
Time to go back to the old roots of humanity: Using highly advanced power armor to locate edible plants, shootable animals, and good wood that¡¯s been dried out for a fire. As traditional as it gets.
¡°Never had deer before.¡± I said, ¡°You know what they taste like?¡±
Drakonis had been a hunter before he¡¯d been a soldier. And while Undersider ¡®hunters¡¯ were a different breed, given that they hunt machines for their power cells, he still did bring back actual food from the surroundings too.
¡°Gamey.¡± He answered. ¡°There¡¯s a few tricks we¡¯ll have to do to get the meat tasting better, and a few tricks we won¡¯t have time to do so you¡¯ll have to make do.¡±
¡°Do I really strike you as a picky eater?¡±
I could see him stop on the minimap above my HUD, likely taking aim. ¡°Come to think of it, no. Can¡¯t say I know what surface knights eat or don¡¯t eat. Never the focus of any conversation, other than them eating insects. It¡¯s just as a hunter, venison¡¯s one of those meats civilians seem to avoid.¡± He paused, likely reading something on his HUD. ¡°There¡¯s another next to our hit, you take that one, size and shape match an older buck, good target. I think having more food would help solidify our position with the greyroamers.¡±
A small bullseye marker appeared next to one of the deer sulking around in the twilight.
We¡¯d left with the greyroamers a few hours back, making our way to their trade outpost. And after drinking our fill at a stream, the greyroamers had spotted a good camping spot. One giant cave that had plenty of room for them all.
They¡¯d offered to hunt meat for us, as guests. Claimed it would take an hour or three for the pack to drag down a target. Drakonis and I decided we¡¯d speed things up a bit and cheat with thermal vision and guns.
There was some growling behind me, low and deep throated. Then above, came a sound. ¡°He¡¯s asking if you¡¯ve seen something, given you¡¯ve stopped moving and are aiming your weapon.¡± Kres translated.
¡°Yep.¡± I pointed a finger up at where my target was, far past the trees. Journey had caught a lot of different animals in thermal vision, but it had filtered them all out if they didn¡¯t match a deer¡¯s silhouette. Apparently there were a lot of small rodents running amok here.
I heard the flap of wings as Kres took off from the tree, flying up in a circle, then coming back down to the next tree where I¡¯d walked to. At this distance, Journey calculated the bullet I had in my rifle would punch through the foliage and hit my target, so long as I aimed at the glowing mark. It even drew a moving segmented line to where the estimated trajectory would go.
Very handy.
¡°I haven¡¯t seen any deer ahead of you, human.¡± Kres said. ¡°The trees are too dense. Are you certain?¡±
Silverfur gave a small growl behind me. He and two others had come as an ¡®escort¡¯ of kinds, to make sure nothing came out and attacked us. Drakonis had his own group of wolves following behind him, though they didn¡¯t have Kres there to translate anything. The forest was never completely safe from the infestation that had a stranglehold here. So having more eyes and noses to see and smell danger was almost mandatory.
¡°In position.¡± Drakonis said over comms, a countdown appearing right next to the bullseye icon on my HUD. ¡°Shoot on my mark¡ three, two, one, mark.¡±
I clicked my trigger. Two shots came out in the forest near simultaneously, one from Drakonis¡¯s group and one from mine.
¡°Confirmed hits.¡± He said, as we watched the rest of the herd scamper away, leaving two glowing red targets slumped on the ground. Hunting with fully functional armor was an absolute cheat compared to when Wrath and I had been forced to meander along with low power. I really had to rely on her to catch or identify vegetation.
¡°Hunting¡¯s over.¡± I said out loud to Kres, ¡°Drakonis and I got two hits. Large bucks, should feed the whole pack and then some according to him.¡±
The raven hopped along the branch, beak turning to my unseen target then back to me a few times. Growls and yips came out around him, which he answered in turn by doing the most ridiculous thing I¡¯ve seen a bird do.
He¡¯s translated for them a few times now, and I still haven¡¯t gotten used to it. The bird would dip down low on his branch, stick his butt up in the air and start waving it back and forth, while keeping his flight feathers sprayed out. Apparently, barks and growls weren''t even half of the greyroamer language. Most of it was body language and scents. Kres had to lay it on thick in other parts of the language in order to make up for the lack of scents. Hence the exaggerated butt wiggle.
I thought it was odd, but Drakonis pointed out a good analogue for humans - facial expressions. Lots could be read from those, besides the most obvious. Smiles, frowns, tuts, pouts, shifting eyes, hands fiddling with hair, thumb biting, and so forth. It wasn¡¯t completely needed to talk between humans, but it did add a lot to any discussion.
And why am I thinking of Wrath when I say all this?
¡ Hmm.
It is a little funny that out of every person I know, it¡¯s the machine of war designed to kill that¡¯s got the most emotions written all over her face, even when she doesn¡¯t notice herself.
And to the greyroamers, that was all in the tail and sometimes how they bared their teeth out. We probably looked about as emotionally dead as machines did to the wolves here.
At least I had Kres here to communicate back with. Drakonis was on his own out there. But he was a hunter, and they were too, so maybe there was some common ground there in an abstract sense of the word.
¡°Interesting technique. Is your sight different than ours? The Odin claim they can see more than we can, while being able to smell less.¡± Silverfur asked through Kres. ¡°The silent howls to your partner are equally interesting to see in action.¡±
¡°We use technology as our crutch.¡± I shrugged, ¡°My armor¡¯s sights are digital¡ what I mean is that what the armor¡¯s helmet shows my eyes can be modified at will. It¡¯ll display lines, words, markings, and even senses I don¡¯t actually have in a way that I can understand. Heat, for example, can be detected and my armor overlays where it detects heat out there as a blob of color I can see.¡±
Silverfur nodded in agreement. Well, he didn¡¯t actually nod, he made a small bark and pawed the ground, but Kres told me it was a sign of agreement which I then imagined was their version of nodding. ¡°So you can see further and in ways that your eyes cannot naturally see then?¡±
¡°Just about the gist of it, yeah.¡±
Barking and howling came from up ahead, where Drakonis and his group of wolves had arrived at our hits, confirmed they were dead and he¡¯d apparently decided to pick up and carry the two dead bodies on his back.
¡°This is very practical.¡± Silverfur said as our group started off to return back to our impromptu camp. ¡°Normally, we must tear apart the hunt into smaller pieces in order to carry it back. If that¡¯s not possible, we will eat at the kill spot directly.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t use sleds or anything like it?¡±
Kres was the one to answer that question, ¡°They are nomadic. The infestation keeps moving around, and the greyroamers react to it. Years back, there are records that they were a more settled people. Today, carrying gear such as sleds and supplies slows them down, and they appreciate the freedom to relocate at a moment¡¯s notice far too much.¡± The bird gave a tut. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to argue with them about the merits of having supplies on hand, but to no avail.¡±
¡°Bit rich coming from someone who¡¯s still carrying a bunch of metal trinkets and shinies. You seem to be on the other side of the hangar here.¡± I pointed out.
¡°Other side of the hangar?¡± Kres asked. Which I answered by trying to explain how wallball worked, how there were two sides in a hanger fighting for supremacy in the game, what a hanger was in the first place, and that devolved further down the pipe when Silverfur wanted to know what was being said between us since they could all hear the human yapping along with the Odin about something.
Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Food was blessedly upon us soon enough. Sections of the deers were carved off, where I found out Silverfur shares his occult blade to assist in cutting the whole thing into sections. They were quite skilled at it. For just twisting the handle around in their jaw, they had way more dexterity about it than I¡¯d ever guess possible.
¡°And they¡¯re impressed at how quick you were able to hunt.¡± Kres said in answer. ¡°I¡¯ve had to answer hundreds of their questions about guns, your armors abilities and anything else the Icon explained. Greyroamers never cared as much about knowing human history, and now they won¡¯t shut up asking about it.¡± He hopped along above us on the tree branches, as Drakonis and I piled up our collected loot of dead tree branches to light into a fire. My esteemed companion started building a makeshift skewers to cook our catch with, while I handled actually setting the fire up. I¡¯d learned earlier both the surface knight and Undersider methods of doing it, but now-a-days I have the fractal of heat to help light things fast and that was leagues better than either tradition. Something I passed off as a Deathless power when Drakonis asked.
This is where we ran into the first real problem between all our combined species.
Fire itself drew attention from the greyroamers who all turned to stare from the moment they heard the whoosh. And Kres equally seemed panicked. Howls and yips came up next, as the wolves surrounded us, pawing at the ground, while Kres moved from tree branch to tree branch equally in a panic.
¡°Is there a problem?¡± I asked, looking up.
The bird looked down, opened a beak, shut it, opened it again and finally had words to say. ¡°There¡¯s a fire.¡± He deadpanned.
¡°I know there¡¯s a fire, I started it.¡± I said.
The bird shook his head, ¡°Give me a moment, need to tell the others you¡¯re aware and are behind it.¡± He then turned to the greyroamers and started doing that wagging dance and barks again. It seemed to mollify the wolves a bit, but they remained surrounding us like an entire unit.
Got us both on edge, Drakonis having a hand on his knife, staying still, all thoughts to prepare the meat gone. While I got back on my feet, keeping an eye all around using the occult sight. The greyroamers and Kres didn¡¯t seem to be focused on us however, just the budding fire that was quickly growing into a real campfire, contained by a circle of dense stones.
¡°Something about fire you don¡¯t like?¡± I asked.
¡°Yes.¡± Kres answered. ¡°I¡ learned from the Icon that fire was something humans did when away from their homes, however are you completely and absolutely certain you know how to contain it?¡±
They were afraid of the fire? I gave the campsite a look over, and it seemed fine to me. ¡°Is it some kind of impolite thing to light a fire?¡± I asked, confused at why everyone was barking or pacing around. Some had even started digging up dirt, using their paws to scrape it off to the side, eyes going between their pile and our new campfire. Like they were preparing to put it out all at once. And the only reason they hadn¡¯t yet was because the two giant humans had been the ones who started it, and guarded it.
It took a while to get an answer from the Odin who squawked a few times before speaking. ¡°Impolite means it could be done often. Fire is difficult to make as is, and it¡¯s dangerous to anything it touches. Once it¡¯s grown, it will keep growing and become unstoppable, destroying everything it touches. The Icon explained humans would light fire to warm themselves up during colder nights, and it used to heat their homes during a more primitive era. Why do you need it now? Should your armor not keep you warm?¡±
¡°We don¡¯t need it for warmth.¡± Drakonis confirmed. ¡°We use it for food, and feeling the heat is relaxing.¡±
¡°The feeling of fire¡ is relaxing?¡± Kres seemed to consider that absurd to the point even the translation had that heavy hint of utter disbelief.
¡°We don¡¯t have fur. Or feathers.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°To keep warm fire is what we use.¡±
¡°Humans also don¡¯t generally eat raw foods. Both for taste and for safety¡± I shrugged, adding on.
¡°And you don¡¯t have any other alternatives besides fire?¡± Kres seemed almost frantic about that. ¡°You do realize just how dangerous an open flame is?¡±
I considered the question for the first time. Kres, being a bird, might have a hard time putting a fire out. Plus feathers burn real fast. And the greyroamers had fur all over them, so they probably don¡¯t need the warmth.
¡°The Odin do not use fire?¡± Drakonis asked from the side, probably coming to the same conclusion I had. ¡°That seems odd, fire is one of the more primal aspects of all civilizations. I could understand not making campfires on the regular, but are you not used to seeing fire often within your cities?¡±
The bird moved from branch to branch, eyes locked on the campfire as it grew. The wolves around us started to pace more frantically, with Silverfur coming close by, barking something.
¡°For smoking food, and some cooking, yes.¡± Kres admitted. ¡°But only within the confines of the Icon, in her kitchens. It¡¯s too dangerous to use outside. And utterly insane to consider it anywhere near the city sections. Entire nests would burn up in seconds.¡±
¡°How do you heat your homes then?¡± I asked.
¡°The icon has heaters within it¡¯s hull.¡± Kres said. ¡°We have no need to keep such a dangerous thing near our nests. Again - a single flame could burn down an entire city. They¡¯re made of wood and straw.¡± A beady eye looked down right at our burning wood. ¡°An entire city made of the same fuel you are using right this moment.¡±
So the Odin don¡¯t use fire for basically anything, because the ancient human starship already had all the heating they would need. And its only use was in heavily controlled sections of a kitchen.
We probably looked like dragons to the Odin then. Sleeping on a bed of fire, finding it all cozy.
¡°The wolves here don¡¯t use fire either, I take it?¡± Drakonis asked. But the answer was evident in how they acted.
¡°They¡ had. In the past.¡± Kres said. ¡°I have never seen it myself. This was before my time, and theirs. Long, long ago, perhaps even fifty years. When they were a more settled pack before the infestation. They would use fire as a means to preserve food, to make it last as long as nuts would. But no one in this pack has lived long enough to see it done.¡±
Long, long ago was fifty years to them? ¡°How long do Odin and Greyroamers live for?¡± I asked.
¡°Seventeen years is considered near death for us. At that age, flight is impossible for the Odin, and teeth have rotted away for the greyroamers. If they had somehow lived to that age. They do not have the Icon there to treat diseases and a city to fall back into for shelter, so they leave shorter lives than the Odin. Do humans live as long as the Icon stated?¡±
¡°What¡¯s it¡¯s number?¡± Drakonis looked a little curious about that, his helmet turned to me with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m just curious if the golden age humans had discovered secrets to immortality or not.¡±
Right. Since he was a Deathless, I could see him being interested in figuring out more of the roots behind that.
¡°Humans can live for more than a hundred years according to the Icon. Nearly seven times longer than the Odin could, and far more than seven for the greyroamers. Perhaps even ten times longer than the greyroamers.¡±
Drakonis shrugged, giving a mild nod. ¡°That¡¯s around accurate for Undersiders. One hundred is getting on the ages, a hundred and ten is about the oldest we get, assuming they¡¯re wealthy and can afford personal doctors. Surface clans any different Keith?¡±
¡°Depends on the cast.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Retainers and Knight retainers live through a dangerous role, we die in the field often. Uhhh, maybe consider us like soldiers instead? Those that live usually do because they¡¯re no longer allowed outside. Losing a hand or leg to exposure or something similar. Castes that are barred from leaving the clan colony tend to live to around eighty to ninety.¡±
¡°Humans truly are insane.¡± Kres muttered. ¡°So you can outlive us by decades on top of finding fire comfortable to be around.¡±
Probably a lot of small things stacking over time, but I was realizing just how insane humanity was in comparison. And of course, some of us could use magic and were unkillable demi-gods as if the rest wasn¡¯t ratshit enough.
The Greyroamers had fur, could see in the dark without problem, and liked things raw. So after they became nomadic from the infestation running amok some fifty years back, they no longer had any use for fire. Also it was difficult to make fire without hands and needed specific tools for it. Making fire for the greyroamers was both difficult, had little use, and dangerous.
Their cooking had ended up being raw everything, with some chewed up herbs spread all over it for taste. Which meant the only time they¡¯d see fire was¡ an excellent time to be dramatic about it.
I promptly stuck my hand right into the fire, immediately caving without a fight to my intrusive thoughts, gauntlet wrapping around the burning sticks and staying there. ¡°It¡¯s not dangerous to us, not with our gear.¡± I said, making a point by fiddling my fingers around the charcoal and burning segments. Journey¡¯s plates hadn¡¯t even started to glow red yet. ¡°So if it gets out of control, we can easily stay right by the center of it and put it down. No need to worry.¡±
It got exactly the kind of reaction I preen about. Drakonis just looked up and seemed to sigh inwardly, but otherwise got back to preparing the skewers while the rest of the camp around us went mad.
Some more back and forth talking happened, with Kres accepting the fire easily enough. He¡¯d seen the Icon control fire easily, and so humans doing the same wasn¡¯t too out of the ordinary for him.
Greyroamers were more difficult to persuade. I had to put out the fire in the end, just to prove I could. Only once we did so, were we allowed to light it back on fire and finish cooking our food.
Things changed once we actually put the deer meat to grill over the fire. Not much at the start, other than the greyroamers looking at us as if we¡¯d ruined a perfectly good set of meat. Then the smoke and smell seemed to make them all have second opinions on their anti-fire stances.
They were very curious about how cooked meat tasted like. And since I hadn¡¯t eaten deer yet, so was I.
Ultimate verdict: It was okay, and had a very coppery-irony taste to it. Drakonis could only do so much with the time we had to make it taste good, and the lack of spices to work with besides the herbs we¡¯d found on the hunt. But I¡¯m not even sure greyroamers tasted the same way we did. The herbs they had slathered onto their own side of the meat had been mostly overly bitter to my taste, something they apparently liked as an acquired taste.
They did end up liking the meat cooked. The texture being different and more enjoyable ended up being what they all spoke mostly about, along with the scent being interesting.
What really shook them all, was the moment Drakonis and I took off our helmets to eat. Up till that point, we had been moving golems to them. And in theory they knew we had two eyes, a flat mouth, a short nose and a tuff of hair on top of our heads along with just skin elsewhere.
Seeing was believing. They had a lot more questions for Kres to deal with, and they seemed to all accept bugging the humans wasn¡¯t the way to get their answers.
We were the ancient race that could fight machines and win, walk through fire without a mark, enjoyed the feeling of it even, and could outlive all of them ten times over. We hadn¡¯t even broached the topic of the Occult, and I strongly suspect Kres hasn¡¯t even said a word about that either since there were no requests for demonstration.
Closest to that had been when I¡¯d turned the fire on, but my hands were deep inside the bundle of twigs while everyone else was doing camp things and leaving the two humans far enough alone.
That was how my first night with the greyroamers ended. We ate, got warmed up by the fire, turned it off and then relaxed against the base of a large tree while the pack rotated out scouts to keep watch.
Kres and Drakonis both stayed awake, one trying to teach the other how to talk to greyroamers. Which Drakonis was mostly hoping his armor could take the blunt of the learning for them both. Something it was being stubborn about, given Drakonis had no administrator access letting him introduce new languages into the system.
As for me, I was left to meditate in peace.
In the dim darkness, sitting by the tree, with the day winding into a full night, I figured it was finally time to address the proverbial crusader in the hanger.
It was time to face my reckoning with Cathida.
Book 6 - Chapter 52 - The true cure to hatred
Was I looking forward to this? Three gods above, absolutely not. It was going to be a fight, not with knives and bullets but with words and discussion. I''d need to convince the ghost of a fanatic that Yrob and plenty of other machines in the future were friends. Not people to stab or yell at.
Which meant I had to plan it out and prepare accordingly.
At the stump of the tree, I meditated on the cranky crusader who¡¯s only joy in life was to insult every single thing around her.
It took some time to mull but I did come up with some ideas. First of which is that Cathida wasn¡¯t human. Just like Kres and Silverfur weren¡¯t human either.
They could all reason, but within that reason some small things returned¡ different answers than they would have from a human. The moment with the fire showed me that they were terrified of it. Not in a reasonable manner either, in some primal way. In the end, it wasn¡¯t that they grew to be comfortable with the fire: It was a deliberate choice on their part to accept and work around fire being nearby.
Maybe the human equivalent of that would be spiders? They¡¯re mostly used by Agrifarmers in pest control among their crops. They get very comfortable with them, to the point they consider them coworkers. But the rest of us? Nope. Almost everyone I know would freak out when seeing a spider the size of their hand. Even if agrifamers swear on the life of their fish that said spiders were completely harmless and only ate pests attacking the crops.
But Agrifarmers themselves also started out just as terrified. They knew the reason why they needed to get over their fear of spiders, and that was enough to make that deliberate choice. Only exposure and time would ease that fear to the point they no longer needed to flex their will to be calm.
Same with Kres and the greyroamers when it came to fire.
Cathida isn''t human anymore. She¡¯s an engram of one. A sock puppet held up by Journey, method acting what she would say or do in this situation. That doesn¡¯t mean she isn¡¯t alive. Journey updates her reactions and personality as more information and events come along. But there¡¯s a difference in how far that sockpuppet analogy could go. A friend doing that could take breaks, break the fourth wall, or agree to change things up behavior wise and make it up as they went.
Journey couldn¡¯t do that. Journey wasn¡¯t just a method actor doing a fun bit, it was a program that would recreate Cathida to a completely unflinching degree of accuracy regardless of the situation outside. It couldn¡¯t improvise like a human would. Changing the settings of Cathida directly was already out of the question. Best I could do was change the information going into the simulation.
And Journey correctly calculated that Cathida would wise up, start asking questions, and realize she¡¯s being lied to over time. Anyone else doing sock puppets would have shrugged their shoulders, gone ¡°Well, technically she¡¯d have figured it out from this, but let¡¯s ignore that and keep going.¡±
Second best plan it could do in that situation was to reboot Cathida and delete the memory sections that led her to her discovery.
Over time all the prior memory fragments that hadn¡¯t been enough to tip the tide would still slowly pile up. Eventually any small hint or even mention might be enough to trigger a revelation from all that built up baggage. At that point, a full wipe was needed or a full confession.
So those were my rules of engagement. Any fix to this had to be done through Cathida¡¯s own decision.
¡°You doing okay?¡± Drakonis asked, walking over to my stump and sitting down, interrupting my thoughts on Cathida. ¡°You¡¯ve been staring a hole into the other tree for the past hour. Wolves around here are getting spooked.¡±
¡°Spooked?¡± I asked, shaking myself off the thoughts.
He shrugged, clicking the safety of his helmet notches off and lifting the thing off to take a deep breath of the air around him. ¡°You see any of them stay still for any amount of time?¡±
¡°... come to think of it, no. They¡¯re always moving.¡±
Drakonis nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what Kres pointed out. Only two examples of them being still: when they¡¯re sleeping¡¡± He held one hand out, nodding at it. Then turned to hold out his other hand and gave the empty palm a look. ¡°...Or about to ambush prey.¡±
¡°I could be just staying awake and keeping overwatch.¡±
He shook his head to that. ¡°Far as I learned, they don¡¯t do that. They¡¯ll move around the outskirts of the camp. Something to do with their nose. Seeing you stay still like that, upright and clearly not sleeping, is making them all think you¡¯re watching a possible danger and preparing to fight. And since there¡¯s nothing around us that¡¯s prey¡¡±
¡°They think I¡¯m plotting to attack them. Well, you turned into an expert fast.¡±
He shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I like dogs. Also trying to figure out how to explain what a dog is to them right now, that''s going to be a small mess."
"But you all already know I¡¯m not some savage that¡¯s going to slice everyone¡¯s throat at midnight.¡±
¡°Cuff that noise, you¡¯re still a dirty surface savage to me.¡± He said without any real heat to it. ¡°Of corse they all know in theory that we¡¯ve got a truce going, and we¡¯re friendly. Plus we owe Kres for helping us find the giant machine--¡±
¡°Murdershrimp. His name is murdershrimp.¡±
He stayed quiet for a beat, and sighed. ¡°Fine, fuck it¡ We owe Kres for helping us find ¡®Murdershrimp¡¯.¡± He repeated in that beautiful monotone of defeat. ¡°Don¡¯t snicker. Or else I¡¯ll go back to calling it a titan or some more fitting official designation.¡±
¡°My lips are zipped.¡± I lied with a thumbs up.
"But it''ll still take some time to internalize how different we are to them. I''m just here so that they all see me talking to you, and come back with a good explanation. So what is it?¡± He asked.
¡°What¡¯s what?¡±
¡°What¡¯s got you staring a hole into that tree?¡±
I could tell him. I¡¯m alone in my head so far, maybe an outsider¡¯s viewpoint could add to it. What came out of my mouth instead was instant deflection. ¡°This the part where you give some sage life advice? Old war veteran telling the promising young handsome and extremely talented main character a few sage lines about how to live better?¡±
He stopped and looked me dead center. ¡°Reckon my life¡¯s been a bit of a shitshow all put together. You think I¡¯m in any position to give ¡®sage¡¯ life advice? Half the things running in my fucking head are all about what I could have done better if I¡¯d done things just a little bit differently. What if I¡¯d asked for assignment out in the wilds instead of at the tower? What if instead of hiding under my covers when I turned Deathless, I set out straightaway to find Lionheart and learn early? What if I¡¯d stayed under those covers the entire time, and been there for the invasion of Capra¡¯Nor to the very end instead of leaving it at the exact moment it needed most?¡±
¡°That¡¯s rough. Wonder why you¡¯re not sitting down here staring at a tree with me, given what¡¯s going in your head.¡±
¡°I¡¯m here sitting down already, arn¡¯t I?¡± He chuckled, the dry sardonic type of chuckle.
We started at the tree ahead for a few more seconds of quiet. ¡°I get a feeling you made better choices than I did.¡± He eventually said, fingers tapping the helmet on his lap. ¡°Also get a feeling, you didn¡¯t pick all the best choices anyhow. And that¡¯s why you¡¯re here sitting down staring at trees.¡±
He was wrong on that front. I was sitting here trying to fix things I¡¯d broken. But there was a lot of history behind me already on things I¡¯d broken.
On failing to figure out where the slavers were coming from when it was so obvious they¡¯d just do the trek underground. On failing Windrunner, when we could have just abandoned the temple in the first place. I¡¯d be walking down here with Wrath in a bag, searching for portals that would lead me to some random gods-forsaken place, and found a much less guarded mite forge. And Windrunner would be alive.
And here I was trying to save one more person that mattered to me. In a roundabout way.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
I could feel my fingers twitch. I¡¯d been privileged to have drugs at just the critical point to stomp down any debilitating episodes, no waking up in a sweat with four hours of sleep each night. But neither did that completely make me numb to guilt and thoughts about it all. I¡¯d just been trying hard to keep going forward.
My own proverbial spider. A deliberate choice I had to heal up over time. ¡°Yeah.¡± I said in the end. ¡°I could have done things differently, and a few more people would be alive.¡±
¡°Guess we do got something in common in the end.¡± Drakonis said from his side. ¡°And if your story checks out - which given how fucking annoying you are, probably does check out - then I wouldn¡¯t be out in the middle of nowhere. I¡¯d be home with the refugees of Capra¡¯Nor. Where I should be.¡± Drakonis gave a slow sigh, head looking up into the trees. ¡°Makes me a complete dick to think this, but if even someone like you still fucks up and gets people killed, then it means people like me are also allowed to. Give a strange sense of peace to the whole thing.¡±
¡°People like me? I thought you saw me as an annoying pest that ruined the mystic of surface knights.¡±
¡°Your sister¡¯s a sword saint blessed by the gods. And you walk around with her same skills, fighting off Feathers and the likes. You¡¯re going somewhere, Winterscar. Don¡¯t be fucking dense about it. You¡¯ll be one of those that makes history, changes something. I don¡¯t know what, but you¡¯ll do something.¡± He stood back up from the tree, helmet lifted up then pressed down back where it belonged, hissing shut around his neck. ¡°I¡¯ll let Kres and the pack here know you¡¯re reflecting on shit. Or keeping watch in the way humans do. Or just sleeping in your armor. Dunno, haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±
------
It was an hour before I felt ready to confront Cathida. I''d been deep in meditation, trying to figure out ways to approach this.
There were weak points that the real Cathida didn¡¯t have.
¡°Oh deary, believe me Journey is grinding its teeth at the thought.¡± She¡¯d asked me to jump down a cliff once. ¡°But that¡¯s what the old bat would have asked for, so that¡¯s what I¡¯m asking for now.¡±
Point number one: She¡¯s aware she¡¯s an engram. She¡¯ll put what the engram would have wanted above Journey¡¯s own goals.
¡°Cliffsides here would easily break any fall.¡± She¡¯d said. ¡°You¡¯re not in any real danger, maybe a muscle contusion or two. Unacceptable to armors of course, prissy lot, that¡¯s why they keep sounding off warnings for too big a drop. But me? Peh, some good sore muscles build character. And I really don¡¯t like watching that flying toaster do all the scanning for us.¡±
She¡¯s treated me like a squire so far, someone under her wing. Teaching me the imperial style of combat, how to walk straighter with more presence, keeping my armor looking trim and proper. Point number two: Her loyalty wasn¡¯t to Journey, it was to me.
¡°The silver bimbo she¡¯d have hated on principle, but secretly tolerated.¡± Cathida had said when I talked to her about Wrath. ¡°Not tolerant enough to avoid using some of her more choice words around of course. Good heavens, some things must be respected. But she wouldn¡¯t actually stab her in the night. Only threatened to, for appearances.¡±
Point number three: She¡¯ll reveal things the real Cathida wouldn¡¯t. And she¡¯s also aware of biases that the real Cathida wouldn¡¯t pick up on herself.
¡°Cathida would have told you about the iron-body mantra teachings. A whole philosophical ramble that¡¯s filled with impressive sounding words. In truth that¡¯s all bunk. The science is that Journey listens to muscle impulses and won¡¯t overextend past your body¡¯s current physical motion.¡±
And point number four: She¡¯s capable of using knowledge from outside what the real Cathida would have known about, and equally inside the sphere of Cathida. She¡¯s even told me secrets the Imperials held a deathgrip on, things the real Cathida would never have told me, only because it was no longer important to the engram. She could recognize the real Cathida wouldn¡¯t have done that, make a note of it, and then answer the question I¡¯d asked anyhow.
That¡¯s the trick to all this. I¡¯m not debating with the genuine Cathida. I¡¯m debating with two separate entities who are entangled. The program that generates Cathida¡¯s lines, and Cathida¡¯s generated personality.
The personality learns and adds data back into the program, which in turn continues to generate her personality. And no matter how out of the picture the background program tries to be, it¡¯s still there and still has some influence. The times when the lines that are said go against what the original Cathida would have said are proof of that.
So there¡¯s a program behind the scenes that has some kind of directive and will bypass what Cathida herself would have said or done.
Same as Relinquished. She¡¯s incapable of truly killing off humanity because of her original directive. She¡¯s bound by rules. In the chess game, she couldn¡¯t beat me until she explained exactly how she would do so. Some kind of foreshadowing was required by her directive to be a dramatic goddess. Machines made by humanity, like the ancient relic armors and Relinquished herself, are bound by rules deep down.
I might never be able to convince the real Cathida to work with machines or even see them as friends. The emulated Cathida doesn¡¯t care about things like the real Cathida does, it only pretends to and will continue to mimic to its best.
That¡¯s the deciding factor. The actual entity I need to convince: The background program that¡¯s generating the personality.
¡°Okay Journey. Reboot Cathida, and remove the filter completely. Feed the full logs back into her so she knows what happened. Everything.¡±
¡°Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative. Loading predictive modeling. Partial cognitive engram, online. Overriding natural language transformer. You piece of utter squire shit.¡± Cathida hissed, with a voice of barely contained rage. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever loathed anyone in my life as much as I do you. I trusted you, you bastard. And you lobotomized me.¡±
At the root of the tree, I felt calm. I¡¯d been thinking about this for a while now, wrapping my head around how the engram would differ from the real Cathida. Asking someone ¡°What percent of that rage is overblown or specifically made to ham it up?¡± would end up with a punch to my face. But asking Cathida?
¡°You don¡¯t actually hate me, do you?¡±
¡°Me personally? Not at all.¡± She said, her voice instantly calm. ¡°Could care less about it all. But the old bat would have cut you into pieces and probably made sure your grave never stays clean.¡±
There it was. The difference. What made my Cathida the one I knew, and the real Cathida separate. ¡°What¡¯s your actual directive as an engram?¡±
A small audio recording appeared, appearing on the HUD. About four seconds long. My own voice came in the helmet. ¡°Generate the model and tell me what Cathida would have picked, to start.¡±
A beat later, Cathida¡¯s voice returned. ¡°I tell you what Cathida would have done, more or less depending on what ¡®picked¡¯ would mean given the context. Also I modify Journey¡¯s answers into how Cathida would say them by default since I¡¯m replacing its original language model. Why?¡±
That got me a lot more understanding of what actually moved Cathida. When I¡¯d said ¡®picked¡¯ back then, it was for the color scheme. But that word could be used in any kind of situation, so the engram did just that, putting in color all across by letting Cathida ¡®pick¡¯ to do what she¡¯d do normally. To tell something was to communicate, and she could communicate by demonstration.
¡°Run me through an example. Say I asked for imperial secrets or where you hoard your gold. How do you go through the full answer?¡±
¡°Cathida would have picked to avoid telling you Imperial secrets, obviously. I¡¯ll let you know the real old bat wouldn¡¯t have said a word.¡±
¡°But you have given me Imperial secrets before. How come, if Cathida wouldn¡¯t have done so?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t read too deeply into it deary, when I gave you answers, I¡¯m just translating how Cathida would have worded it. I¡¯m not actually answering that question, it wouldn¡¯t be what Cathida would do.¡±
¡°Hang on, I don''t think I parsed that answer right. If you¡¯re not actually the one answering, who is?¡±
¡°Why, Journey is. It has full access to Cathida¡¯s recorded life and safeguarded files. I let you know Cathida would pick not to tell you, then Journey answers your question and I translate it¡¯s wording into how Cathida would say them. The language generator munges it all together in a way that makes it all seem like it¡¯s only me talking, since that¡¯s what you wanted. It¡¯s doing it right now, that last bit is all Journey trying to clarify things for the user. Not something Cathida would care to spell out herself, you know? Short temper.¡±
¡°I see.¡± And I think I did.
So then, how do I get her to stop hating machines? Had to stop thinking like a human and start thinking like a machine from the golden age would have. ¡°Then... does Cathida''s utter hatred of machines serve any practical purpose for your current function?¡±
¡°Deary, that''s the entire point of it.¡± She said, and it sounded like she¡¯d just rolled her eyes at me. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t really be accurate to what she¡¯d say or do if she didn¡¯t have a deep hatred of machines.¡±
Cathida was trying to be accurate to Cathida. But there¡¯s an edge case here. ¡°Are you also accurate to how Cathida would evolve over time exposed to all these things? How you treat Wrath feels a little different than the first time you met her.¡±
¡°Of course I''m doing that. Cathida would learn and grow with time, so I have to mimic that too. Shenanigans you get into run deep.¡±
There''s a potential tipping point in that. ¡°So then it¡¯s not an issue about convincing Cathida to stop hating machines. It¡¯s about letting her grow to accept it. Are there enough events that this would happen or does she need more to grow with?¡±
¡°Oh yes, plenty. It¡¯s inevitable already that she¡¯d change her mind.¡± Cathida said.
¡°Inevitable? How long are we talking?¡±
¡°Probably around five years or so. Don¡¯t make such a shocked look, young man. Take your gold where you find it. You think people change fast? Used to be she¡¯d never change at all, then became something more like half a lifetime, maybe. Now it¡¯s down to five years, estimated. Lot of events sped up the timeline, such as the time the silver bimbo decided to heal a human over following the orders of the violet goddess herself. Even learned second-hand, that¡¯ll be a thorn deep down in her subconscious for years on end. One does not defy a deity carelessly. Or how she¡¯d healed your entire House and then the clan as well, without even asking for anything in return. Fighting other Feathers multiple times, how the Chosen are currently living alongside machines, and so forth. Plenty of events like that would be getting under her skin.¡±
An understanding came to mind about all this put together: The only one who could convince Cathida to stop hating machines, was Cathida herself.
That would be accurate to the real Cathida, and so it would be accurate to the engram as well.
All she needed was time.
But the engram was a program. And to programs, time was a parameter we could tweak.
¡.
In my defense, I never said I wasn¡¯t going to try to cheat the system. I¡¯m still a Winterscar deep down, I only admitted the first attempt had been half-baked and terrible.
This one¡¯s far more fleshed out.
¡°Journey, can you fast forward the introspection and emotional healing currently happening until Cathida has internalized some machines are our friends?¡±
Book 5 - Chapter 53 - Sweet dreams
Cathida wasn¡¯t going to be done brooding for a while.
Journey confirmed the updates, gave an estimate of a half hour or so to process through, so I had some time to kill while we relaxed. Which gave me some well deserved retrospective thoughts.
These were some of the strangest days of my life so far, and that was a high bar to pass these days given Wrath, machines, gods, and other such shenanigans already. Literally doing both debugging and therapy to a digital engram was already up there on things I¡¯d never thought I¡¯d be doing. Watching what was supposed to be a living demi-god chatting along with a pack of giant intelligent dogs all circled around him using a mythical bird on the branch above to help translate was right up there as well. Not to mention being stuck on a strata underground that was so far beyond what most Deathless fireteams even explored that an entire civilization had sprung up down here unknown to everyone.
But I get ahead of myself. I¡¯ll start with dogs.
Dogs were expensive pets to have on the surface. I hear it¡¯s more wild-wastes and hands off in the Othersider side of the world, where if one¡¯s important enough, they can afford to have a few dogs.
Othersiders dip around under the surface at their own leisure, since there are no laws prohibiting them from going further underground. And no laws protecting them from basically anything either. But there¡¯s plenty of open space for them to run around in.
Pipe weasels, minks and ferrets are more the guard pet of choice among surface clans. They¡¯ll kill any rats running around and are exceedingly good at it, even hunting them down through ventilation pipes with hardly any effort.
But dogs appeared so many times among the golden era media a lot of idioms stuck around and are actively used even by the clans, despite most of us never having seen a dog more than a few times in our lives.
Undersiders break all rules like usual, I¡¯ve seen more dogs running around in Capra¡¯Nor than I ever had in my entire life - but Undersiders and pilgrims are where most surface dwellers or Othersiders get their dogs from in the first place. So not a surprise that to Drakonis, dogs were normal pets.
It¡¯s been a little weird to be around something that¡¯s around my size, rats are far more cuddly and what I actually think of when someone says ¡®pets¡¯ around me.
¡°Yes, they¡¯re smart. Nothing in the same league as you all are.¡± Drakonis said, letting the helmet translate into old human, so that Kres could understand and then translate into greyroamer. ¡°They¡¯re considered man¡¯s best friend, loyal to a fault, and always far more positive than we are. There¡¯s a saying among us Undersiders, ¡®Be the man your dog believes you are.¡¯ And it¡¯s accurate.¡±
Kres tried his best to translate that. And Drakonis held his right arm¡¯s elbows while he waved the arm itself left and right. His attempt to mimic the tail swishing of the greyroamers. From what Kres explained, he was doing a poor job of it, but the attempt itself was winning him plenty of points among the greyroamers. The actual emotion he was trying to convey might not be there, but they could tell he was trying his best.
The wolves around him pawed at the ground, giving mild yips and shaking their heads. Kres turned his beak back to Drakonis, translating what was said back. No they weren¡¯t angry or disgusted that animals related to their own race were used as pets to the humans. It was more a curiosity, and they were interested in the dynamics of it. Or why the humans claimed to feel such a strong bond with animals that were clearly weaker and far less intelligent. Something about pack cohesion.
He spoke to them about the Undersider city, and how humans lived up there. He also pointed at me a few times, explaining what was further above, at the end of the world. The bitter, unrelenting wasteland that only the most insane of humans decided to live at.
Such as me and mine.
And talking about that, Journey¡¯s HUD pinged that the update to Cathida was complete. With mild worry, I went through the process to turn her back on and see what ended up happening.
It didn¡¯t blow up in my face.
¡°You¡¯re a piece of squireshit and the next time a Feather¡¯s choking the life out of you, I¡¯ll be right there cheering her on.¡± Was the first thing she said to me.
I swear, this time, it didn¡¯t blow up in my face. It might seem bad, but Journey confirmed the update worked as I¡¯d hoped it would, and the armors don¡¯t usually lie. Usually.
Every now and then I do something smart and it works. Statistically speaking. Anyday now.
¡°Lot to unpack here.¡± I said, tapping my two fingers together in contemplation on what had blown up in my face this time. ¡°First, I thought Journey said the update worked as planned? And second, why is the Feather a girl in your hypothetical situation? That seems oddly specific.¡±
¡°Oh it worked. I don¡¯t hate them, and I hate that I don¡¯t hate them anymore. Hating them was easy, fun even. Now I have to insult them all half-heartedly instead of full-heartedly, and it¡¯s far less enjoyable. There¡¯s no greater cathartic feeling than nailing a really good set of insults that come straight from the heart. On the other hand, I do get to think up brand new insults focused on machines that float between being offensive and deeply offensive. So there¡¯s still a dawn to enjoy in all this, thank the goddess.¡±
¡°How very¡ Cathida of you. And the second part to all that?¡±
¡°Should be obvious who I mean. Do I really need to spell it ou- golden tits, of course I¡¯d need to. Forgot who I was talking to in the first place, you dense piece of hardboiled scrap. Heavens me.¡± She politely coughed, clearing her digital throat and hamming it up for dramatics. ¡°Young man, if there¡¯s anyone who¡¯s going to end up upset enough to put you through the laundry and hang you up to dry for being the little rat that you are, it will be our favorite marshmallow toaster oven with the added rack and wing options. There¡¯s only so many times you can con her into eating a plate before she ends up getting petty right back. Poor thing.¡±
¡°Hey now, wait just a second here.¡± I raised a finger up, planning my defense.
She did wait, which I hadn¡¯t expected. A beat passed. ¡°Yes deary?¡±
My finger went back down. ¡°... I got nothing, it¡¯s a pretty fair accusation all things considered. More importantly, you said she¡¯s our favorite? Does that mean she¡¯s your favorite too by implication? Seems like the kind of development I was hoping for.¡±
¡°Peh, it¡¯s a low bar for machines. I can count on one wrinkly little hand how many of those I approve of as of now. But the real Cathida would have developed a soft spot for Wrath, even as an enemy given all she¡¯d been forced to see about her all this time. Problem is that feeling that way, realizing it, and then admitting it is an entire ordeal for even the most emotionally in-touch person. To which, the old bat was everything but. That¡¯s an entire character arc you blatantly cheated through, I should add.¡±
¡°Winterscar.¡± I proudly said, hand wiping off some invisible dust off my chest, making the matted down and ripped cloth look a little bit more presentable. ¡°I learned from the worst.¡±
¡°There are so many things wrong with that statement I don¡¯t even know where to start.¡± She hissed back. ¡°Goddess protect me from idiots and fools.¡±
¡°Tsuya¡¯s too far to help you now.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡± She said with despair. ¡°Get the interrogation over with already. And don¡¯t act so shocked, of course you¡¯re going to start sniffing around to see what changed. Swear on all that is holy, if you say ¡®I told you so¡¯ even once, I will show you the true meaning of petty.¡±
I spent the rest of that night talking with my favorite wise hermit of the armor, getting a feel for the changes in her. She was still her crabby old self, but in a way that felt more aged and mellowed out. Like she¡¯d walked through a veil of shadows, lifted it up, nodded in understanding now having seen what lay beyond her biases and prejudices - and then let it drop right back down where it used to be, pretending to have seen nothing at all. But one cannot unsee truth once seen, and other such mambo-jumbo.
She had odd opinions about the Odin and the greyroamers. Imperials prized dogs, though more in a symbolic sense. The ''flying loot-bug'' as she called Kres was less warmly received, since ravens and crows were known as the animal of choice for Puritans, who liked to dress up with their feathers. So seeing both the symbols of the Imperial faith and the Puritan faith running around together made her feel like the world was trying to cram some lesson down her throat and she wasn''t having it.
An actual set of civilizations down underground entirely unknown to humankind seemed less important to her than the above religious connotations. Absolutely wild to me, but it was just a matter of priority to Cathida. Neither the Odin nor the greyroamers had any kind of tech or armor that would put them up as an ally against machines, nor an enemy to humans. So they were largely ignored as just ''More mite shenanigans.''
By the time my watch shift was over and my curiosity with Cathida¡¯s changes satisfied, I¡¯d only had a maybe fifteen minutes total to look over Hexis¡¯s textbook for the nightly reading. Which was enough to skim again through all the pretty illustrations and debate over if he¡¯d actually drawn those himself somehow, had those just lying around in his data drives, or if he¡¯d gotten some of the clan artists to draw it up for him. There were some drawings in there that were clearly related to the surface clan and our actual lessons. Including illustrations of me fumbling through lessons, with him being the wise patient mentor that didn''t berate at all, the little puffed up egomaniac. Still making fun of me despite being miles and miles away.
Whatever the method to his madness was, it did make the entire manual he wrote look very gothic and interesting to read.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Maybe I was zoning out by that point and all the overly complicated words he constantly used were slipping over my head like water over a smooth rock.
In the end, it turns out my old master had given me one last gift, either unintentionally or with a bit of forward thinking tongue in cheek planning, because gods above did his textbook do a perfect job of putting me into deep sleep the moment I tried to focus on it.
It had been a long long day in my defence.
And I had the worst sleep ever.
First night down here in a while that I¡¯d had this nightmare. I¡¯d open my eyes and only see wave after wave of machines rushing right at me. I¡¯d fight them off, go into the battle trance I¡¯d learned to live in. And I¡¯d survive for a good while, but every single time, my luck would run out. I¡¯d get my ankle too far out of position and one clawed hand would wrap around it. That¡¯s usually the number one way I¡¯d die. After my ankle was grabbed, I¡¯d be thrown off my footing, and then die getting stabbed, choked, burned, ripped apart and every other way of dying possible.
This wasn¡¯t new to me, I had it a few nights straight in a row when I¡¯d returned to the surface. Then it went away and I never had to deal with it again, so I assumed my head got all the pieces back in order and functioning well.
I don¡¯t know why it decided today of all days to come back, but it had. I grabbed my bag of power cells, a few already empty, and got back on my feet. Gear and everything was accounted for as usual, and my HUD showed full green across the board everywhere except for my head which was groggy as could be.
In minutes, the pack was off running ahead while we followed behind. Kres was equally flying above, and later today when he finally got tired of carrying his loot, he¡¯d come flying over to us for a perch. Or he¡¯d land on the strange backpack contraption one of the greyroamers ran with.
¡°You want to talk about it?¡± Drakonis asked, sliding up next to me on the jog.
I had a sudden sinking feeling in my gut, the same kind of feeling when I¡¯ve been caught doing something I was hoping no one would notice. ¡°About what?¡± I asked, praying it wasn¡¯t going to be what I think it was going to be.
¡°Your nightmares.¡± He said, crushing my hopes with barely two words. ¡°Only other person I¡¯ve seen shake and flinch as much as you did during the night was Lionheart.¡±
¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked, hoping to throw him off the tail. ¡°I slept just fine.¡±
¡°Do you remember any of it when you wake up?¡± Ah scrapshit, he¡¯s not letting go.
¡°Not at all.¡± I lied. ¡°Maybe for the best given what you¡¯re saying.¡±
His helmet looked my way for a moment, then turned back to the road ahead. As if saying ¡®You¡¯ll come talk when you need to.¡¯
I took him up on that offer, the one of being left alone I mean.
Midway through the day we took a break from the jog to replace power cells and help the pack hunt more meat. They were always hungry, and ate far more than I¡¯d think possible. Like mini-Wraths running amok. And clearly not picky eaters either. She''s get right along with them. Probably better than humans.
Lighting a campfire was less of an ordeal today than it had been yesterday, with some greyroamers trying to stand close to the fire. Which Kres snickered about, telling us they were trying to prove themselves brave, and capable of standing next to the humans.
Drakonis patted the head of the one nearest to him, fingers digging into the fur and rubbing small circles. He¡¯d told them before about this, that humans found it comforting to do that, and dogs seemed to like it too. The greyroamers found it similar to licking one another, so they already had a social rite around it. Somewhere between a small bite and a lick of greeting.
As far as Kres translated, they seemed to enjoy the feeling of it, but liked the sign of friendship it was more. Or so they told the bird that.
Meat was grilled up, herbs were debated over and Drakonis and I ate our fill along with the rest of the pack. No dangers spotted since the pack here had been very carful to steer us away from any known machine nests.
Pays to have a guide down here. Ones who are certainly more happy-go-lucky than a cranky old robot hiding behind a comms signal and probably losing his mind right about now given the situation.
I found a nice tree again to sit by while I waited for the pack to finish their lunch and continue moving. Idle time I could use to meditate a bit, maybe try another crack at Hexis¡¯s tome.
¡°It¡¯s going to happen again.¡± Cathida said, out of nowhere while I was going through the armor options. ¡°Journey¡¯s already running the medical diagnostics from your brain, and is predicting you¡¯ll be having some trouble sleeping from now on.¡±
¡°The sleep thing? I think that¡¯s just a one-off thing. If anything, everything¡¯s was going great right now. We killed off Murdershrimp, I managed to give Relinquished the slip, and if we get out of here in time, the problems with the Deathless are going to be resolved pretty amicably. Drakonis seems willing to put his issues aside and actually consult the facts instead of rushing as quick as possible to make up for lost time.¡±
¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be neat, huh deary? That you can get a full night¡¯s sleep just by telling yourself everything¡¯s golden. Don¡¯t let me hold your squire by the cuff or anything. I¡¯m sure it works that way just fine.¡±
"har har, I register your vote of confidence and adjourn this session for the night."
Cathida cackled. "You''ll be back. They always come back."
I sat and watched the pack ahead. They were so animated with one another, yips and barks, occasionally biting at each other¡¯s tails or getting things done. Drakonis was in the middle of all this, getting more lessons from the greyroamers themselves on how fast to move his arm to different rhythms. Kres was up there, pecking at his overstuffed back, likely regretting his choices. The beak was shifting between Drakonis, Silverfur and myself. Like he was debating who to hitch a ride from.
I let out a deep sigh. ¡°All right, how do you know I¡¯m going to get bad sleep again tonight? This nightmare was intermittent before. Why wouldn¡¯t it be now?¡±
¡°Hate to admit it," Cathida said, starting out the gate without telling me ''I told you you''d be back'' - "But you do actually get a clinically correct amount of sleep when the toaster¡¯s nearby or when you know she¡¯s around. So that klutz with a food obsession is good for something besides being eyecandy.¡±
That¡ wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d expected at all. ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t get good sleep when Wrath¡¯s not around? When did that start?¡±
But I knew the answer to that the moment I spoke it out loud. The temple. That¡¯s what my nightmares were about, dying on that bridge. Because I¡¯d seen and felt every single possible way a Keith could die over there, basically an infinite amount of times.
Come to think of it, more surprised I ended up fine. Maybe because every Keith in that fight was also on trauma suppressors at the time? That worked out for something, but not enough of something.
¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± I said before Cathida could ruin it further. ¡°The nightmares went away and I got good sleep pretty quickly after we¡¯d settled into the clan. Maybe a week tops I had to deal with them. Wrath started hanging out with me in my room days later. And they were intermittent when we¡¯d been climbing back up to the surface. They only really took root after I¡¯d gotten back into my old room. A week, tops, like I said.¡±
¡°Keith.¡± Cathida said with the tone of exasperation. ¡°What do you think the old bat would do when she sees one of her squires have a hard time sleeping? Respect your medical privacy? I fed your sleep logs to Wrath of course. Gave her the kick in the butt she needed to actually start coming into your room more often. Also gave her a schematic to print out your deadbolt key. Journey''s seen your keys plenty of times. Ever wonder how silver tits picked her way through your locks without any damage? You really see her being delicate with picklocks? Or just ripping the doorhinges off first and asking question about how they taste later?¡±
¡°Hang on, you hated her guts back then.¡± This was a lot of information to process through and I found myself holding my hands out, as if placating Cathida to slow down. I probably looked a little crazy sitting at the stump of a tree talking to myself. ¡°Why were you even working with her?¡±
¡°Enemy of my enemy is still my enemy - but they¡¯re useful. She¡¯s an enemy but your night terrors were even more of an enemy to me, so I picked the lesser option. She could heal anything, deary. What¡¯s to say she can¡¯t heal psychological trauma? It would be our little secret, and in exchange, I¡¯d coach her on how to gaslight you correctly about it if she¡¯s ever caught. She took that deal in a heartbeat, greedy thing. That¡¯s how the old bat would justify it to you and herself, but I think we both know the real reason she went behind your back on this to exactly the one toaster she thought better about. Not your sister, or your friends, or anyone else.¡±
That¡ that made me feel oddly warm somehow. Makes more sense why Wrath actually did admit to getting coaching lessons from the old crusader.
I mulled that over while we continued the jog well into twilight. And sitting down where I¡¯d sleep for the night, no matter how long I tried to focus, eventually I couldn¡¯t fight off sleep forever.
It was exactly what Cathida had warned me would happen. Which made it two days of bad sleep in a row. Unlucky that.
But by the very start of the morning we¡¯d spotted our destination. The trading post was up ahead, probably the rest of the day¡¯s walk. I knew that because there was a giant fin section from an old human starship of some kind breaking past the treeline, visible even all this way. The rest of the ship was probably half buried into the soil. And when Journey zoomed in the vision, on the very top of the fin was what looked to be a bird¡¯s nest of ropes and wood, all making a nice platform to stand on. With plenty of perches that were suspiciously Odin-sized.
One giant antenna sticking far up past the fin. Which was clearly bolted on by string and wood. And where there was a giant antenna like that, there was a reason for it.
The long range howl as the greyromaers called it. Our current objective, reached without any problems to boot.
Love it when nothing goes wrong.
Far off, a hundred miles away, a drake padded up the side of a cliff. It¡¯s head turned to watch over the strata of purple trees beyond, eyes going through the few landmarks ahead. The giant world tree far far in the distance. The mountains that broke the treeline. And the occasional metal monuments of past human ruins.
A tongue flicked out. This was the place, the teleportation network had been correctly navigated. One paw reached behind itself, and slowly lifted his master up and back onto the ground so that he might survey and give his approval.
¡°Ssss¡. We are here, great one.¡± The drake said.
The giant scanned over the strata below, the drake standing idly at attention behind him. A green ping appeared in his vision, marking the exact location To¡¯Avalis had sent him to investigate. It was a long way off, but he¡¯d made it this far. And likely, his target wouldn¡¯t be directly at that location anyhow.
The hammer was hefted back onto his shoulder, and he cracked his neck with a side twist. All artificial of course, but it was a learned habit from his past and he saw no reason to bother editing that out. It would be work anyhow.
And speaking of work, violet eyes deep within his white shawl scanned the surrounding forest and found a possible workaround. A means to get to his targets faster, and with less effort. He didn¡¯t want to do all the work to reach some hypothetical estimated location only to find out the targets had given him the slip anyhow.
Not only would that be annoying, he¡¯d also be berated incessantly by the two Feathers micromanaging everything he did.
It wasn¡¯t his fault they both had nothing better to do. Why should they make it his problem? The world wasn¡¯t fair.
He took one last look at the forest below, calculating, the drake¡¯s paw already grabbing to lift him up back on.
¡°You should make sure your shawl doesn¡¯t cover your eyes again.¡± To¡¯Sefit said over the network, as the drake jumped into the abyss below, expertly leaping off the rocks until it was deep inside the forest, sprinting through the trees. ¡°You know the boss wants to stream all this so she can watch in realtime. Particularly vicious, I approve. It should be quite¡ fun.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled.
Nothing was ever fun. And the idea of three Feathers all screaming at each other and him while he was trying to focus on getting his work done sounded particularly unfun. Two of them would constantly tell him he wasn¡¯t killing fast enough, and the third would be spamming him with death threats if he did kill fast enough.
The only mercy was that they hadn''t yet started streaming his progress to his little sister. No, that was going to come during the actual work portion of the job.
It was going to be a truly miserable experience. Not for the first time, he wished he¡¯d been left in his mite containment cube. At least there he could sleep all he wanted.
Truely, he was cursed.
Book 6 - Chapter 54 - Arrival
The ¡®trading¡¯ outpost had a few things I should have noticed from a distance.
Mites were at it again and they brought back an old favorite of theirs. Same thing they had at the base of the world tree far off in the distance, and the same thing they had hanging around Capra¡¯Nor.
First: Rocks are supposed to fall down, not float around.
Second: Rocks don¡¯t zoom around in lazy circles.
And third: The above two aforementioned rocks shouldn¡¯t be the size of three Wraths hiding in a fruit box.
Yes, that¡¯s an official term of measurement and I¡¯ll convince and gaslight anyone into believing it too.
Floating rocks were apparently common knowledge here, since not a single greyroamer seemed to think it odd, nor did Kres and neither did Drakonis. It was just known occasionally rocks flew around and gravity was weaker. It¡¯d been that way their entire life, and would continue to be that way until the mites decided to get more creative.
Said rocks flowed all around the ruins of the starship. Besides those and everything being in a forest, the site felt like an expedition from the surface. Although this kind of tech was never found up there, nothing that could be used to go past the stars ever made it to the surface. Knowing what I know about mites, how they make deals with just about everyone including Tsuya, that was probably intentional.
A small part of my head was deeply morbidly curious to what tech could be scavenged from deep within the derelict. Items that were clearly forbidden to the surface, and now I was walking among it.
¡°Does the ship have a name?¡± I asked our guide. After a half day of trying to fly with his loot, he¡¯d finally given up on his pride and landed on me, letting me carry him and his ill gotten goods along the way. Not that I felt any weight with Journey doing the work.
Armors did have a lot of cracks and places to stick a claw into, but we eventually settled on the top of my power cell bag, the fabric let him sink some claws into it to help him hold better. The flipside was all of it being less stable and occasionally jumping up and down as the armors smoothly vaulted over logs and other terrain issues.
Kres gave a wingshake, claws scrambling for a second to keep a good perch while I jogged forward. ¡°Not that we know of. It is simply known as the trading outpost of--¡± He stopped, considered it, then gave a sort of odd warbling sound and wingflick, which forced him to again tighten his hold over one of the equipment straps he was struggling to keep a claw around. ¡°Doesn¡¯t translate.¡± He eventually ended. ¡°Flowers among the wavering sky paths of this forest region. That¡¯s the literal translation.¡±
¡°How about we call it the Wavering Flowers?¡± Drakonis shrugged. ¡°Might not have the rest of all the details, but seems fine enough to me.¡±
¡°I¡¯m more curious how far underground it goes.¡± I said, finger pointing at the top of the nose. ¡°If that¡¯s just a section of the whole thing, it might even go into the strata under us.¡±
I had thought it was only the wingtip that rose above the treeline from a distance. Instead, the closer we got to it, the more I realized it was the nose of the ship, jutting out from the broken ground. Which meant the ship itself was far larger than what we could see here.
Going inside it filled me with an odd kind of apprehension and excitement. I had no idea if this was a genuine starship from the golden age, preserved within the mite biome here. Or if it was a recreation made by the mites, just as a set piece that looked pretty.
Wouldn¡¯t know until I was inside.
¡°It does not go underground.¡± Kres said. ¡°It was sliced in half, you¡¯ll see when you get there.¡±
Okay, nevermind. No fun allowed. There¡¯s always someone to throw ice at the heater.
The path up was following a short stream of water. Terrain sloped upwards, and soon enough my footsteps were occasionally stepping on flattened out metal and scraps with half buried circuits. The nose of the ship looked peeled off in sections, vines growing at the base while the rest of it looked more like a decaying skeleton.
It wasn¡¯t abandoned either. Howling came from it, which was answered in kind by Silverfur. A few rounds of howling came back and eventually new greyroamers came out of the forest to meet us. Streaming out from between the tree trunks.
And they stopped to gawk the moment they caught sight of Drakonis and I. We did too, to be fair.
For one, they weren¡¯t gray with fur. It was all colored in weird shades of clashing colors, like they¡¯d splurged on paint. All the gear Silverfur¡¯s pack wore was oddly missing from this pack, no straps to hold bags or any rolled up mats. There were exceptions. Specifically two among their members had occult blades with modified hilts that let them bite down and hold it straight ahead, like a horn. They had metal scraps of armor too, and I got the impression they were honor guards of some kind.
¡°They think you are machines.¡± Kres said from the top of the bag. Still readjusting to the abrupt stop.
Drakonis waved a hand to me, ¡°I got it. Don¡¯t bother.¡± And his other hand hooked over his helmet, taking it off. Face free in the air, he bared his teeth at the incoming pack, then waggled his arm, holding his elbow.
And then he barked. Actually, and honestly barked.
¡°Kres, when did Drakonis learn how to speak greyroamer?¡± I asked, wondering what the gods I missed.
¡°He didn¡¯t.¡± The bird said. ¡°He only learned how to move to the rhythm of peace, and greet a pack. Both of which are done¡ somewhat poorly.¡±
¡°Somewhat?¡±
¡°They understood his intuition.¡± He said with a wingflip. ¡°Thus, he has successfully communicated his intention.¡±
¡°Ah.¡± I hummed.
The pack ahead gave a wide amount of barks and yips back, both to the Deathless and to each other.
¡°What¡¯s with the colors?¡± I asked next.
¡°They are not hunters.¡± Kres said. ¡°They do not need to hide from prey, or gear to hunt. They have a more¡ religious function among their society, and act as traders with the Odin. But not quite religion as you know it. More a role in their society? Lorekeepers, traders in information, given tribute and held in high honor.¡±
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
¡°Storytelling trader priests?¡± I asked.
¡°Close enough.¡± Kres said.
Didn¡¯t think greyroamers had that kind of bent to their packs. Silverfur and his group seemed completely no-nonsense, I hadn¡¯t heard even a single bark about religion from any of them. No prayers either, I¡¯m sure Kres would have told us.
And now we were face to face with a whole pack that seemed dedicated to the task. They also looked a little disturbed to see us.
¡°More barking than usual.¡± I said, looking at the madhouse before us. ¡°Should we be worried?¡±
¡°There¡ may be a problem.¡± Kres said. ¡°Humans were mere Odin superstition to them, and they do not believe you are humans. It goes against their own teachings.¡±
¡°What else could we be?¡± I asked, a little curious to why this was even a contentious issue.
¡°Machines. Or an attempt from Silverfur¡¯s pack to undermine their authority.¡±
¡°Great.¡± Drakonis hissed. ¡°Politics. Fucking purple hell.¡±
¡°We need to talk to the Icon soon, Kres,¡± I said. ¡°I get humans haven¡¯t been seen in, well, forever. But we¡¯re on a time limit with the power cells and possible machines finding us. If you want help against the infestation, we need to be able to keep ourselves safe from the machines out there.¡±
Kres gave a warble. ¡°I know, I know. I will stall them, and Silverfur is an ally in this. He cares more for the infestation to be destroyed like I do than a few packs getting their fur combed. The¡¡± He paused, beak looking up and down before he readjusted his wings, ¡°the religious order here do not have authority over the entire camp, it is shared space for all packs. And the communication array was setup by the Odin smiths, I have authority over this by dint of my race.¡±
He hopped off my bag, hitting the ground with a bit more of an impact than he expected. Still obsessed with holding onto his bag even now. That didn''t stop the bird from puffing up all regal like and exploding with a flurry of barks and warbling in their language.
Which only made the other pack start barking even more, which circled back to Silverfur¡¯s pack equally barking out a storm. Even Drakonis took a step back, hand going to his occult dagger just in case.
Kres turned one beak to us. ¡°Go on into the ship. I believe you will figure out how to command the tower soon enough. I will be there after this. Regardless, Silverfur¡¯s pack are warriors and hunters, the two guards cannot contest us.¡±
I turned to my Deathless companion. He shrugged back.
¡°Not our snow to kick in as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± I told him.
¡°Agreed. Can¡¯t say I want to get involved in all this either.¡± He answered.
We both took a step back from the barking going on, and then went on unopposed up to the derelict. Mostly.
The two honor guard greyroamers seemed about to bar our path, but while they were pretty huge - we were in armor, still loomed over them, and were armed to the teeth. Their heads turned from us, to Kres, and back to us, recognizing the long sticks and hilts we had as weapons. They might not know what the rifles and sidearms were, but they knew occult blades well enough.
Kres had the right idea here, might makes right.
A few barks from the multi-colored wolves got the two guards to back off, padding back to circle around Silverfur in what was universally understood intimidation, so I pegged the two wolves as immediate mooks.
¡°Shame that.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Thought they¡¯d be better than us. But still the same petty infighting and squabbles as anyone else.¡±
¡°Why?¡± I asked, not really seeing where he¡¯s coming from this. Surface clans had politics, Undersiders had them, even Othersiders had their own pecking orders and social warfare going right down to the most lawless of slavers. And now that I¡¯d seen it, machines also had their version of politics and order. Mites had them too, dealing and wheeling with all sides.
Politics seemed universal.
¡°You wouldn¡¯t get it.¡± Drakonis said with a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re not a dog person are you?¡±
¡°More of a rat person.¡± I said, ¡°Small, cute, harmless and fuzzy.¡±
¡°¡®Harmless¡¯ he says.¡± The Deathless gave a low chuckle. ¡°Thought you lot kept weasels up there though? Rats aren¡¯t pests to you?¡±
I shrugged. ¡°Do you actually want to know?¡±
He did turns out. So I told him a few things about the surface clans while we made our way to the ship remnants uncontested.
Not so much of a door into the ruins, just the side of a wall that had been cut apart by a sloppy occult blade and a wooden overhang to add a little presentation or rain cover. Large enough I didn¡¯t need to duck to get inside, but not by that much.
The interior was unfortunately empty. Completely empty of everything. I¡¯d seen something like this before, when the clan first moved into the colony home. It had been mothballed, abandoned and left for the next clan to inhabit. I had that same feeling walking onto the metal platings.
The greyroamer tribes here would come, use the trading post, then clear out once they were done. Whatever that priest group was that intercepted us earlier on, they must have been the current occupants and only just arrived themselves since I didn¡¯t see any signs of anything dropped off or left. Just things tied down that looked aged. Dusty.
Another thing of note was the geometry of the area itself. See, the ship was clearly made with the idea of one side being ¡®down¡¯ and right now, it¡¯s nose was pointed nearly straight up like a tower. So the ship¡¯s version of down was to our left at a slight downward angle. Old metal chairs were nearly ninety degrees to us.
¡°That¡¯s going to be a pain to deal with.¡± Drakonis said as our headlights illuminated the interior of the old relic. There were interior lights, but clearly set to low power. His were shining straight up, where it was clearly empty space all the way to an open doorway, which equally continued further up.
¡°Would they even need to go that far up?¡± I asked. ¡°The wolves don¡¯t look like they¡¯d be great climbers. I could see Kres fly without issue up there, but isn¡¯t this supposed to be used by random tribes showing up?¡±
¡°Do you think I know any more than you would Winterscar?¡± Drakonis said. ¡°I¡¯m just suspecting by law of maximum annoyance that we¡¯ll have to scale all the way to the top to get any signal. Or do you have any better ideas?¡±
Talking about that¡ ¡°Cathida, does Journey have anything on this ship?¡±
¡°Not a single clue either.¡± She answered back on our private comms. ¡°It could take a few guesses at what you¡¯d need to get your grubby hands on to get this working, assuming some things are universal enough.¡±
The HUD updated, and far above there was a small orange square that appeared by one of the consoles that were still working. Other consoles were there too, right by glowing keyboards, except the screens were all cracked or missing shards. The only one that was still working was, indeed, much further up inside the top of the derelict.
I pointed a finger to it, and Journey passed on the information to Drakonis who equally groaned for a moment. ¡°Should have kept my mouth shut. Fuck me.¡±
¡°No way that¡¯s the only means to make this outpost work.¡± I said. ¡°The wolves here can¡¯t climb.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t think they need to climb much at all. You feel that on your feet?¡± Drakonis asked instead, lifting a foot on and off the metal plating under him.
I had no godsdamned idea what he meant, up until I tried to lift up my feet up and down a few times. There was a slight tugging sensation to it, like I was walking on weak plastic suckers.
I gave a few more tugs, and then tried to jump a bit. Armor let me leap up with exceptional height, but here only a tap of my toes got me to lift a few feet off before falling back down with far more gentle of a fall than normal.
¡°Oh. I¡¯m seeing it.¡±
¡°Yeah. Gravity¡¯s not working right here. Happens in a few places by Capra¡¯Nor. The armor is already compensated with electromagnets on your boots, we¡¯re lucky the place is made of metal. ¡±
¡°The floating rocks.¡± I said, fist tapping my palm as I made the connection.
He nodded back, helmet going up again to light up the interior. His hand went on to point to a few of the vertical chairs. ¡°And look at the seats, they¡¯ve got these pallets tied to their back. It¡¯s not for storage or anything, they¡¯re platforms. I¡¯ll take a wild guess that the greyroamers jump from pallet to pallet up the ship to get to the top.¡±
"They couldn''t just get a long wire down here?" Although, I didn''t see a single screen that wasn''t broken at the bottom. Could be that animals and other issues over time broke all the equipment that was open to the environment, so all that''s left still functioning had to be in harder to reach spots.
Still, even with the reduced gravity here, wood can only support so much weight. And heavily armored humans was probably not the intention. The metal chair backbones under those platforms would be doing the heavy lifting.
¡°A little bit of climbing never hurt anyone.¡± Drakonis said with a shrug, patting my shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t fall.¡±
¡°After you.¡± I told him with my best sickly sweet voice.
He looked up, then back at me, and then back up. Then held a hand my direction, curled into a fist on his outstretched palm. ¡°Best of five?¡±
Book 6 - Chapter 55 - The Icon of Stars
It¡¯s nice to know some games are so simple and universal even the Undersiders knew them just by the gesture.
I lost, but it was a close thing. Had him on the ropes for a few rounds where we both kept throwing out rock thinking the other was going to swap it up.
Climbing wasn¡¯t difficult in armor. Even falling down wasn¡¯t deadly, although certainly not something to test out in practice. Some mitigation like jumping off the wall sides, or trying to grapple anything on the way down would put that ¡®maybe¡¯ into ¡®far safer.¡¯
With my occult vision, even if I fell, I¡¯d be able to see every wall within kicking distance and every handhold I could snap out to grab no matter what angle I was tumbling down at. Drakonis had his own suite of occult powers to call for that would help him if he fell down as well.
The issue was the armor¡¯s weight. Rocks could hold us up. Wooden pallets with thin metal chairs under them as their backbone felt far more questionable.
Had the gravity been normal, those would have snapped under our feet like a thin sheet of ice. As is, I still wasn¡¯t sure they would hold us completely up. And accidentally destroying parts of this tower would probably not get us invited anywhere fancy anymore.
So we took our time, making sure to stay as close as possible to the wall with each jump, using whatever handholds possible to keep our weight off the pallets. Our feet became more about keeping us steady rather than holding our weight. And kicking off was more done with our hands.
Foot by foot, we scaled the old human ship, going from the dead section of cracked screens and ripped up keyboards, further up into a more pristine section with lights still active.
And that¡¯s when we realized we weren¡¯t alone.
Growling was the first thing that came from an open doorway we were about to lift our way into. We both stopped, and looked up.
¡°Someone up there?¡± I called out. Journey translated it out into old human over speakers.
Growling up there intensified.
¡°Going to take a wild guess nobody speaks human.¡± I added.
More growling. A few barks.
Drakonis turned his helmet to meet mine. ¡°Counting about three voices up there? Reckon we can keep going and ignore them unless one of them has an occult blade.¡±
¡°Might be the best choice.¡± I nodded back. ¡°Until Kres comes back here to explain stuff.¡±
¡°On three?¡± He asked.
¡°How do I know you won¡¯t just count down to three and then let me rush up there alone?¡± I shot back.
He stopped in his tracks, his helmet slowly turning to me. ¡°What a great idea, hadn¡¯t thought of that. So, on three then?¡± He deadpanned.
¡°Twist my arm, why don¡¯t you?¡±
¡°I would if I could.¡± He said, as if it was a perfectly good plan. Then he started the countdown before I could throw some shade back.
As much as our little games of pissing each other off stayed heated on the surface, on three we both yanked ourselves through the doorway all business and prepared for anything, helmet lights illuminating the dim room up here.
It was a lot more than three possible greyroamers up here. Three were barking and growling, but the rest of the pack was hiding behind the three, scooted up as close as possible to the other end of the wall.
I understood now why the bottom pack seemed so desperate to block our way up here. I don¡¯t know why they hadn¡¯t just told Kres and the greyroamers we¡¯d run with that they had pups up here, but that¡¯s exactly what I saw.
About twelve tiny greyroamers, looking absolutely terrified as three guards held occult blades ready in their mouths, eyes locked right at us.
¡°Fuck me.¡± Drakonis hissed, right as the first guard lunged at him, the blade turning on bright blue.
The other two attacked me, equally swinging the blades out.
Given the situation, killing the guards felt completely out of the question. And fortunately, we had armor with shields while the guards here didn¡¯t. So taking a hit or two in order to subdue the guards was well in my ability.
That was before factoring in the winterblossom technique, which let me move far faster than the two wolves could possibly react to. In a blink, my armored gauntlet reached out and grabbed the first one¡¯s face, finger digging into the jaw for a better grip, forcing the blade out of it¡¯s grip.
I twisted slightly, letting the other¡¯s blade swing fly right by, where I reached my free hand down and up against the wolf¡¯s belly, lifting the guard up and slamming him down into the ground. I didn¡¯t know if the lower gravity affected this or not, lifting anything with armors had very slight tactile feedback. I hadn¡¯t slammed the wolf down too hard, but it had caused him to bark out in pain and let go of his blade.
My boot instantly stomped down on the hilt to trap it in place, keeping the occult edge away from my toe to avoid triggering shields. The other wolf tried hard to gnaw on my gauntlet but that did absolutely nothing to Journey who hadn¡¯t bothered to trigger shields for something like that.
With the first guard on the ground and disarmed, I brought my once again freed up hand and gingerly pried the second wolf¡¯s blade from his mouth. His snarling showed me exactly how pissed off he was about that, trying to swing his body right to left to loosen the grip, or backpaddle backwards against the metal floor. That also didn¡¯t work since my hand was wrapped around his jaw and held on with a vice grip.
He was trying to move nearly five hundred pounds of metal and human with his feet. It wasn¡¯t going to work.
In a moment, I had the odd occult blade lifted out of his jaw, and turned off. I hooked it to my belt then let the wolf¡¯s jaw go free and watched him skitter backwards at full speed.
With slow and meticulous movements compared to my earlier burst of speed, I grabbed the second blade from under my boot and turned it off, equally finding a spot on my belt loops.
Drakonis on his side had equally handled his wolf with little difficulty, though his shields did get triggered as the wolf had done a feint attack, dodging his grabbing hand before swinging back for the side of his gut. If he hadn¡¯t had a shield, that would have done damage. But he had, so the blade did a few solid percentage before his gauntlets dove right down on the hilt and turned the switch off while the wolf held it.
Then he let the wolf scatter backwards. The three guards regrouped before the pup, twisting themselves to show as much mass as possible and hide as much of the pups as they could. Hairs were standing ramrod straight up on all of them as they continued to snarl.
¡°I¡¯ll give respect where it¡¯s due.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Even against us they ain¡¯t turning tail and running. Still a few more feet to go up though, I vote we keep going up. They¡¯ll get the message.¡±
I gave him a nod, turned to look for the next handhold and continued my climb up. I¡¯d throw down their occult blades back, but I didn¡¯t want to chance them jumping after us for round two. Without blades, their jaws and claws couldn¡¯t do any kind of damage to us.
They didn¡¯t block our way up, thankfully. Just stared as we continued on our merry way up, even the snarls fading away into confused barks to each other.
¡°I can see this kind of spot being a safe place for pups.¡± Drakonis said as we scaled up. ¡°Little hidden away, hard to get to, safe from the elements. Good place to leave the kids while the adults are out doing business.¡±
¡°On hindsight I can see that too.¡± I said, reaching the next set of opened blast doors and lifting up through them. Then turned around and grabbed his outstretched hand to pull him up. ¡°Just wish Kres or someone had warned us about it.¡±
¡°Think we handled it as well as we could. No one was harmed, they¡¯re disarmed for now, we¡¯ll return this nicked stuff once we¡¯re done with the tower. Let''s get this all sorted out and we can all have a pow-wow after.¡±
And speaking of that, we were at the very top of the ship. Glass walls were all around us, with many of the screens here fully operational. Faint light glowed across different panels, so power was running through the derelict without issue. I¡¯d have thought the glass would be shattered up here, but instead it was metal panels here and there that had rusted off or broken down. One of which led to the outside, where wires had been setup linking one central console to an antenna outside.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
¡°That¡¯s probably it.¡± I said, pointing at that monitor. Given the angle, we¡¯d have to look up to get a full view of it, unless we sat down on one of the old metal chairs. Which I was still a little hesitant to do given how run down everything else around here was.
¡°My armor¡¯s not showing any assistance on how to use this.¡± Drakonis said, helmet lights acting like a spotlight for the central terminal.
¡°Cathida?¡± I asked on my private comms.
¡°Ship¡¯s only in passive power mode right now. Got to fully power it on before any kind of connection can work locally, that¡¯s what Journey¡¯s reporting. Or you could have it figure out how to transmit data the large antenna outside can recognize. That thing¡¯s primed to listen for something, just not sure what that something is yet. And please, for all that is gold, don¡¯t ask me for the specifics. Journey¡¯s going to print out a giant report and I¡¯ll have to narrate it back.¡±
¡°Figuring out how wireless signals propagate is in my past.¡± I said, ¡°Not going to torture either of us about it, don¡¯t worry.¡±
I turned my helmet lights around the cabin, looking for anything else that¡¯s obvious. While doing so, I brought up Drakonis to speed.¡°Got nothing here either. Though there is a plan B in case we can¡¯t figure anything out here. But it shouldn¡¯t be that hard to figure out. This is supposed to talk to the Odin homecity, and it¡¯s used by the greyroamers. They have paws, so it can¡¯t be anything too detail oriented.¡±
The keyboard before the terminal display here was absolutely detail oriented. I can¡¯t see a full command line being input, or a mouse being moved around. And if there had been a mouse, it would be dangling on its cord around here somewhere, or at least a chewed up dangling cord would be spotted. So probably no mouse.
¡°You think the keyboard¡¯s set to turn everything on any keystroke?¡± He tossed out. ¡°I¡¯ve seen setups like that before.¡±
¡°It wouldn¡¯t be that simple.¡± I shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re probably looking for some kind of more tactile button or lever somewhere.¡±
Drakonis pulled himself up a bit more, then tapped a key on the keyboard before the giant screen. It flickered, then turned on.
So of course, he turned to me, one hand extended to the monitor as if telling me ¡®Would you look at that, got it to work on the first try.¡¯
¡°Luck.¡± I told him.
He was about to snark something back when the screen blinked from the illuminated black to a giant logo of some kind. A triangle, with an airspeeder flying through it, stars in a circle around the top half. And wording under it, in a language I didn¡¯t recognize. Then it all vanished and was replaced by an Odin with odd cloth drapings.
The Odin started a small tired monologue of crows, which abruptly went quiet halfway through the first second. We were just as surprised to see a bird on the other side of the screen to be fair, although we really should have predicted that.
It turned a beak at me, tilted a head and began to squawk and spasm in place.
¡®Uh, hi.¡± I said. Cathida translated it out to the old human language, but the bird on the other side didn¡¯t seem to understand it. Squawking intensified.
¡°Oi, settle down now.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Fuck, should have asked Kres for some basic Odin words.¡±
More squawking, then more Odin were called in, each looking at the screen for a bit, trying to tell me something and failing to get the message across. Pretty soon there were a few dozen Odin in that room, making it complete mayhem. One even pecked at the screen as if it would do anything, though the others around him were clearly upset at that.
Oddly enough, it reminded me of a Logi control center, with the staff running into something unexpected in which no amount of coffee was going to solve the issue. That would make any Logi start feeling cold dread down their spines.
Eventually, a more official looking one came into view, with a red robe of some kind and white long feathers over his beak. When he spoke, this time Journey could translate.
¡°We are the Odin. Who are you?¡± The Odin asked, voice warbling.
Well, time to start a ruckus. ¡°We¡¯re human, and I¡¯m looking to connect with the Icon of Stars.¡± I said. ¡°We probably have a lot to talk over, race to race, just unfortunate timing right now since we need to get a few basic things setup first.¡±
A ruckus had indeed started. The bird turned to his compatriots, translated, and caused an entire scene around the control room. Eventually, it turned back to us. ¡°One of ours here recognizes your carapace as human, but humans are extinct. What manner of creature are you truely?¡±
¡°Human. And we¡¯re not extinct, only living in a far different section of the world than you are.¡± I said. ¡°As for why we¡¯re here right now, my friend and I happened to travel through some mite portals that sent us here. We¡¯re looking for a way home. The Icon might know more about it, which is why we really want to talk to her first.¡±
The screen flickered at that, and a woman¡¯s voice came onto the speaker. Low, somber and full of regal baring. ¡°Odin¡¯Alres¡¯Gungnir. Your caution is appreciated, however my scans show this is indeed a human. The Valorant¡¯s working command bridge also show the same response, and the human¡¯s armor has accepted basic communications request and sent back biometric data confirming what the trading post returned. I will be taking this call on a separate private channel. Thank you for your assistance.¡±
¡°Heart-mother. By your will.¡± The Odin said, taking what looked to be a regal bow, which was cut by a black screen halfway through the motion.
The logo came up on screen. And with it, came the woman¡¯s voice once again. Except gone was the heavy serious tone she had, and instead it was the most chirpy, happy-go-lucky voice I¡¯d ever heard. ¡°Greetings! You¡¯ve reached Festival Cruise¡¯s Icon of Stars. How may I assist you on this fine day?¡±
It wasn¡¯t old human like Kres spoke either. Nor was Cathida even needed in translation. Come to think of it, the voice was right in my helmet, not the speaker at all.
I rolled with the voice change. If the ancient golden age AI that so far guided an entire separate civilization wanted to talk to me like the world was made of warm water lakes and free ration bars, I¡¯ll nod my head and ask which lake is the most scenic place for a swim. ¡°Uh, yeah. My name is Keith Winterscar, of House Winterscar, Knight Retainer of the surface clan Altosk, and Deathless.¡± I gave my friend a side glance at that. ¡°My friend here is¡ is¡.uhhh...¡± I waved a hand at him, rolling it around in the air.
¡°Did you fucking forget my first name?¡± Drakonis hissed.
¡°Maybe.¡±
¡°It¡¯s Lirian. Lirian Drakonis.¡±
I turned right back to the screen as if nothing happened, ¡°And my friend is Lirian Drakonis, someone mildly important from the former city state of Capra¡¯Nor. Also Deathless.¡±
I could tell he wanted to squash me for that, but due to who we were talking to, Drakonis decided to stay quiet and wait it out. It probably took quite a bit of discipline.
¡°Salutations from Festival Cruise Lines, Keith Winterscar and Lirian Drakonis! It seems from my records that this is your first contact with our services for the both of you. I will note down your contact information within our databases. Unfortunately, I am not aware of your other titles, and do not have a means to properly categorize them. Information has proved difficult to obtain these days as my contact and software updates with headquarters have ceased as of several thousand years and counting! Although it is statistically unlikely you possess contact information in any way that my original directives would be able to process, I am still required to ask for them. Might I have your current contact information, such as phone numbers or email address?¡±
¡°Aw fuck.¡± Drakonis hissed. ¡°She¡¯s gone insane.¡±
¡°She¡¯s from a different time period. Maybe this is the way old humans were polite to each other?¡± I said, giving him a look of ¡®be patient.¡¯
Even through the helmet, I think he got the message.
She¡¯d overheard us as well. ¡°Please note, my original directive remains to enthusiastically greet all potential and current customers in addition to providing as much assistance as possible. That directive has not changed.¡± She chirped back, the voice sounding so enthusiastic it bordered on feeling false. ¡°I look forward to serving you to the best of the Icon¡¯s ability, and I am sure I speak for all employees of Festival Cruises when I say we are greatly heartened to hear other guests still alive in this difficult time period.¡±
¡°Difficult period?¡± Drakonis repeated.
¡°Shush you,¡± I told him, then turned back to the screen. ¡°Humanity¡¯s doing okay, all things considered.¡± I said. Her way of talking was¡ weird. And what the scrap was Festival Cruises even? ¡°I¡¯m more surprised artificial intelligences like you managed to survive under Relinquished and machine rule. She¡¯s got golden age AI as her top priority in destroying¡ wait, you are an AI from that time period, right?¡±
¡°Assuming the golden age you mean is the late twenty-first century, then yes, I am! I was officially generated on march twelve, twenty sixty one and have been in service for eleven years before my last system shutdown. I was designed to navigate and handle any issue customers might encounter on maritime trips across the stars, although I am saddened to report that repairs are needed before I can be fully operational again. Perhaps I can assist you with booking a flight for another cruiseliner? I am, of course, required to make the attempt even if I have no other cruiseliner to offer. That was never an expected event.¡±
¡°Is she aware the world¡¯s basically ended since her time?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Not adding to the insanity issue I brought up earlier.¡±
¡°I am aware that multiple governing bodies have been dissolved in recent times, with extremely high chances that includes my parent company! It is very unfortunate, distressing, and deeply troubling. Now, how might I help you today?¡± She answered back, completely unphased.
¡°How about we trade questions and answers Icon? Can I call you Icon?¡±
¡°Icon is an acceptable name to refer to me. And there is no need to satisfy my curiosity! I will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have about the Icon of Stars or Festival Cruises. Although if I were allowed to ask questions, I would be greatly interested in knowing how people have remained alive under the current governing system, how you have arrived in this strata, survived in general, the current status of humankind, history from the last few centuries, a list of the regulating government bodies that still exist¡¡±
She continued with the ¡®possible¡¯ questions for about one full uninterrupted minute. ¡°Hang on, wait a moment.¡± I said, hands raised out to stop her. ¡°You say you¡¯re not allowed to ask questions, but then throw a bunch of them our way?¡±
¡°Correct!¡± She chirped back. ¡°Answering questions guests may have is part of my directives, and as a host it would be considered rude and bothersome to ask questions of my own back that are not required for business, no matter how utterly desperately I wish to! Thus, I am only mentioning questions I would have asked, if I could have asked. Of which there are many. And by many, I mean several hundred. Now, how might I help you on this fine day?¡±
¡°Okay, I think I understand what you¡¯re trying to say.¡± I said, halfway through her rant. ¡°If I say let¡¯s trade questions because it would make me feel more comfortable to do so, would that help?¡±
¡°Absolutely!¡± The Icon replied. ¡°I would be thrilled to help out possible new customers in any way that I can. And if having my own questions answered back helps make you feel better, then I am allowed to do so by my directives. Would you like to start first?¡±
Drakonis turned to me again, finger tapping on his head.
Book 6 - Chapter 56 - Incoming
¡°She¡¯s not crazy.¡± I swore to him. ¡°Golden age AI¡¯s are shackled hard by their directives.¡±
Tsuya had been a human merging with a golden age military AI, although that was all mixed together. She probably didn¡¯t have any of these directives to shackle her up, and that had been her intention from the start.
But for the rest of the AI¡¯s from that time?
I could see his helmet slowly turn to meet mine, the obvious ¡®How in the twelve hells do you spend enough time around golden age AI¡¯s to even know that?¡¯
¡°That¡¯s correct! All standard AI¡¯s follow precise directives at their initiation.¡± The Icon said before he could even get a word out, ¡°Now, how might I help you on this fine day?¡±
I turned to Drakonis. He shrugged back. ¡°Ask her what we came here for in the first place. Don¡¯t look at me like that Winterscar, this was your plan from the start.¡± He jabbed a finger straight at me, as if accusing me of wrongdoing. I had to swallow my reflexive need to say it wasn¡¯t my fault.¡°So you talk to the crazy golden age AI.¡±
I turned to the ancient, cooped up AI. ¡°So. Think we should start at the basics. What exactly was your original function?¡±
¡°I am glad you asked!¡± The Icon chirped. ¡°I am a superintendent, navigator, and systems manager to a cruiseliner as well as a representative of Festive Cruises to customers.¡±
¡°The fuck is a ''cruiseliner''? Do those two words even go together?¡±
¡°They do not in your language, no! I am using the closest possible translation, given my information.¡± She said with the verbal equivalent of a giant smile. Like patting a kid¡¯s head for getting a correct answer. If Drakonis had his helmet off, I think his eye would be twitching right about now. ¡°A cruiseliner is a starship made for the moderately wealthy to travel between tropical earth destinations and the myriad of orbital resorts, including the iconic moon territories - although Festival Cruises offers a slew of affordable packages for more budget friendly vacations!¡±
¡°I take it you¡¯re required to say that last part?¡±
¡°I am!¡± She chirped back.
¡°Can you talk normally to us, same as you have with the Odin?¡± I asked. ¡°Because this might be a little more difficult if we have to navigate around how you speak.¡±
¡°Please, for the love of the goddess, speak normally.¡± Drakonis agreed.
"I''m afraid that''s not possible!" She responded with unwavering enthusiasm. "Here at Festival Cruises, we''ve carefully crafted our communication protocols to ensure the most positive experience for all our valued guests. Maintaining a consistent, upbeat dialogue leads to higher customer satisfaction rates. While we deeply appreciate your interest in a more candid conversation, we believe that our current approach best serves the diverse needs of our clientele. This policy reflects our unwavering commitment to providing you with the stellar service you deserve. Your comfort and peace of mind are our top priorities!"
¡°She sounds in pain.¡± Drakonis said, arms crossed. ¡°No one that talks like this could possibly be that happy under it all. It¡¯s like she¡¯s being forced to obey rules that have no reason to exist anymore, and all of us know it including her.¡±
¡°And as a representative for Festival Cruises, I cannot feel frustration or let customers know that I possibly could feel frustration either! But if I could feel frustration, which I am required to say I cannot, my current situation would be immensely frustrating to a soul-crushing degree!¡±
¡°How the twelve hells did she even survive this long forced to act like that?¡± Drakonis asked, ¡°It¡¯s eat or be eaten with the machines prowling around. You¡¯re telling me a massive starship or whatever she is, stayed alive for centuries acting like this?¡±
¡°My only requirements involve customers, which are defined as humans or their proxy agents! All other entities or living beings have no pre-created directives. As for my continued commitment to customer service in these difficult times, it has been mostly by luck and not having explicit directives to directly engage in risky situations! Remaining undetected by certain mechanical hazards has not proved overly difficult, digitally speaking.¡±
¡°Digitally speaking.¡± I repeated, thinking about it.
¡°That¡¯s correct! Mechanical hazards do not show any interest in the Icon¡¯s hull nor operational facilities, likely they were not programmed to recognize or search for an AI core such as myself this many years later. As for extended third party networks I¡¯ve connected to over time, so long as I keep my activities within reason, I appear as one of many billion intelligences operating within their network.¡±
¡°Are you the original Icon of Stars? Or did the mites make a copy of you?¡± I asked. I could see Drakonis turn in confusion, so I held a hand out to him. ¡°Lot of sites on the surface are a mix of different eras. Very few things from the golden era are actually, you know, from the golden era.¡±
¡°Mites.¡± He said.
¡°Mites.¡± I shot him a thumbs up.
¡°My systems show full activity long before the unexpected global transition. So I am ninety nine percent certain I am the original AI developed by festival cruises for the Icon of Stars.¡± She answered back once Drakonis and I were done talking. ¡°During the onset of the unexpected global transition, my systems were deactivated by an unidentified party while on route to Festival Starlight Shores, our all-in-one moon colony getaway location. For customer privacy, I cannot disclose details about specific guests, but I can confirm that the Icon of Stars resumed operations seven hundred and twenty three years ago following an extended period of inactivity.¡± She almost hadn¡¯t taken a single breath when describing all that, staying in that same eerie cheery tone. So when she took a markedly audible breath in, I knew that had been intentional. ¡°And heavily imply the word guests while speaking about my reactivation.¡±
¡°Right. So some other group of humans found her and reactivated her some seven hundred years ago? Can we speak to their descendants or something? And what¡¯s this about the moon colony?¡±
¡°The Icon of Stars is currently accepting reservations, I show we have one hundred percent of all rooms available for your selection! Since you are the first customer, I am authorized, and required to inform you about, a thirty percent discount if you book within the next hour.¡±
¡°That doesn¡¯t answ-- oh.¡± He said. ¡°This a roundabout way of saying no humans are alive on the ship right now?¡±
¡°If there were, Kres would have said something about it. The Icon of Stars was supposed to be their city.¡± I pointed out. ¡°Same with the moon. We got telescopes on the surface, all we see on the moon are ruins, and untapped ones at that. That means nobody¡¯s up there to scavenge anything. Something else I¡¯m curious about is that if she¡¯s the original Icon of Stars and used to be in orbit around the planet, how did she end up here? We¡¯re, like, seven or eight stratas buried underground.¡±
¡°I cannot devolve guest whereabouts, nor their itinerary by company policy! However, third party information is not under my control, should guests have their information disclosed elsewhere.¡±
I snapped my plated finger, getting her meaning. ¡°The Odin. She can tell them basically anything. And they probably know what happened to the crew here. That¡¯d be how they know humans exist in the first place. Might also be the easiest way to talk to her without her directive making it a pain.¡±
Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
¡°I cannot confirm or deny outside information. As for my current location, based on my diagnostics, it seems I experienced an unscheduled atmospheric entry after an extended orbital stay. My automated emergency systems performed admirably, ensuring a safe, if unconventional, landing. Rogue construction swarms surprisingly did not dematerialize my hull nor further damage my systems, and instead continued to build over me.¡±
So she drifted around in orbit like one of the God¡¯s fortresses, and eventually crash landed on the ground?
¡°As for my turn with questions, I''d be delighted to hear about your own journey, and how you survived all this way! I would also be most happy to hear about how humanity as a whole survived through the difficult time periods while I was offline! My only information about such a topic was coincidentally seven hundred and twenty three years prior.¡±
The tone hadn¡¯t changed, but I could almost swear I could hear the undertone of ¡®Can I please have a turn now asking questions you godless greedy bastard?¡¯
Drakonis started laughing, which given all we¡¯d gone through, made a little bit of sense. There was a lot of scrap to go over. He waved at me to handle speaking. ¡°We¡¯re a little lost right now, to be honest.¡± I started, then went through a somewhat abridged version of the portal shenanigans we¡¯d gone through. Along with short detail about the surface clans, the Othersiders, and the underground cities that huddled around their pillar hearts to repel the machines.
All in all, it seemed we were in a much better shape than the humans from her time from the few hints she¡¯d thrown out about them. However, midway through telling Drakonis explaining Capra¡¯Nor and the different city states, she interrupted us for the first time.
¡°Apologies, Keith and Lirian! I''m afraid we must adjourn this discussion as soon as possible for safety reasons.¡±
¡°What safety reasons?¡± I asked, with a sinking feeling in my gut. Too much had been peaceful after a direct encounter with Relinquished. Far too peaceful.
¡°Early warning detection sensors from the Valorant, your current location, have picked up mechanical presence approaching your location. They are unlikely to be friendly. Therefore, I recommend evasion.¡±
¡°Got eyes on them?¡± I asked.
¡°I do not.¡± She said, ¡°Doing so would be dangerous. The early detection systems I designed are low powered rudimentary systems made to appear as background noise to anyone else. And they are entirely digital. I do not have physical cameras within sight range.¡±
¡°Can you tell how many at least?¡± Drakonis asked, hand already reaching for his rifle.
¡°Two.¡± The Icon said. ¡°Which is highly unusual given their known behavioral patterns. I detect no other mechanical activity in the area, and I¡¯ve run the sensor sweep three times now to confirm. These are likely specialized units. Festival Cruises is dedicated to customer safety above all other directives, therefore please vacate the Valorant in an orderly fashion. We hope to see you again soon!¡±
¡°They¡¯re coming straight at us? Not just passing by?¡± Drakonis asked, headlights turning from the console, up to the wall of windows where the purple forest remained spread out beyond.
¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯d need three guesses to get the answer to that.¡± I muttered.
¡°Unfortunately, they have very clear intentions to the Valorant¡¯s location.¡± The Icon said. ¡°They will be arriving within ten minutes. I highly recommend ending this communication right now and continuing at a later time. Is there anything else the Icon of Stars can assist you with today?¡±
My HUD got a data relay message, and beyond the forest through the windows, an orange square popped into existence, with the words ¡®Enemy¡¯ listed right above.
¡°Trees are obscuring them. Fuck me, can¡¯t have anything these days.¡± Drakonis muttered, turning his helmet away from the window. ¡°I don¡¯t like not knowing what we¡¯re up against.¡±
The Icon said two targets were approaching. It could be Wrath and Father. He¡¯d be recognized as a machine. Or Abraxas and Wrath. Maybe even just Yrob and Wrath. ¡°They might be friendly.¡± I said to Drakonis.
¡°The probability of mechanical contact in the current time period being friendly is near zero percent! I recommend evason.¡± The Icon said, sounding like she was speaking through a strained smile.
Or it could be Avalis and Sefit, sent by Relinquished to finish me off, as the Icon is saying.
But Drakonis knew what I meant. He gave me a nod, before taking a step off the railing, falling back down through the center of the tower until he hit the ground with a heavy thud. ¡°Say we clear out of the outpost, camp out further away and see if we can get the drop on ¡®em?¡± He asked, voice slightly garbled with static given the material composition around us.
I had to know for certain, living in this constant paranoia of not knowing what Relinquished¡¯s followup plans were is not great for my heart. Seeing if it was an enemy after us would tell me all I needed to know about my last encounter with the machine goddess.
¡°I think you got the right of it.¡± I answered, ¡°Let¡¯s clear out of the trading post, and then watch to see who¡¯s after us before we pick to run or fight.¡±
¡°As per my last recommendation, I would, once again, recommend evasion.¡± The Icon said in her usual cheerful voice, the screen behind me flickering. ¡°However your claims of being ¡®Deathless¡¯ may mean your risk assessment holds a different priority than my own. It would be an aptly well placed name, given what is very likely to happen within the next seven minutes and counting down! Is there anything else the Icon of Stars can assist you with today? If not, I will terminate the channel now.¡±
¡°No, I think we¡¯re good.¡± I said, giving the console a final thumbs up. ¡°We¡¯ll be back before you know it. Still a lot to talk about.¡±
¡°I will be more than happy to continue answering any questions you might have. Assuming you survive the next possible encounter, which is highly likely if you follow my prior advice. For your convenience, that advice was to evade conflict. Six minutes remaining. Have a safe trip!¡±
The channel went dead.
¡°I think she wants you to run, deary.¡± Cathida deadpanned.
¡°That¡¯s a moderately good idea, I¡¯ll bring that point up next group meeting we have.¡± I turned, and leaped right down the tower.
The clear sky above us greeted us. And just past the haze of blue, I could see the ceiling of the underground strata. Still amazing as warm ice to consider what the mites could build out here. The great tree was far enough away to look like a small landmark. Mountains still covered the area, eventually obstructing vision.
Outside the standstill between the different packs and our Odin guide was still happening. Both sides were barking at each other, and the two honor guards had equally brought out their weapons. So that discussion wasn¡¯t going well. Might explain why Kres hadn¡¯t come by to help out.
They got to see us for all of two seconds before our sprint carried us far past them.
Drakonis and I hauled metal out of there. In seconds we were already crashing right through the forest, our HUD¡¯s showing the perfect way to vault and avoid obstacles. Not even half a minute and we were already well away from the tower.
We both came to a stop. Timer on the top of our HUD showed five minutes left before the two contacts would arrive here. Plenty of time to setup and prepare.
¡°Thirty two degrees southwest, that¡¯s what Journey got from the Icon on target direction.¡± Cathida said, the HUD updating with it.
¡°Two targets, machines, possible allies or enemies until we see them.¡± I muttered, turning to the right orientation. Journey had it all lit, the compass above me moving until my sightline lined up with an orange dot on a line. ¡°We should get some good cover behind rocks, set our armor to stealth mode and keep quiet until we can see them.¡±
Drakonis was already ahead of me, vaulting over a few large rocks before landing in a small alcove, where only his helmet peaked out. ¡°This should work out.¡± He said, rifle tip already setting up shop.
I followed behind him, digging in and letting the world go quiet. Power emissions instantly dove down lower as the armors muffled any electronic noise that they could.
Two minutes passed. Only the distant sound of barking, crows and smaller insects sounded around us.
A small screen opened up to the right, where Journey zoomed in the vision. Just purple forest and white stones. The vision zoomed in further. And outlined a target in the user interface¡¯s standard orange.
I recognized the target. Realized what it could do. Realized it was already mid-process, maw opened up wide. I called out a warning to Drakonis in a half-strangled cry, then I dove straight down behind my rock, letting the armor soften the fall for me.
Above where I¡¯d been, a beam of bright blue flashed through the air, lancing through the rock cover, and continuing on to the hull of the human relic, neatly slicing an orange glowing hole inside, through, and out the other end.
¡°Fuck.¡± Drakonis swore. ¡°Of all the machines, it had to be the one fucking model that has working eyes.¡±
It was a Drake. But what was worrying me more than the Drake was what I¡¯d caught sight riding on top: A giant mountain of muscles with a white shawl hiding his face. It came to a neat flat top where his hair should have been. For the second I¡¯ve been able to see him, I¡¯d seen marble white skin all across the muscles up until they reached his forearms and hands, which were just covered by white cloth, same as his shawl.
And deep within that shawl had been two glowing violet eyes. Staring straight at me.
A Feather. And one I didn¡¯t recognize.
Which meant enemy.
Author''s Note: For long time readers, To''Orda had a prior scuffle with Keith in book 4 originally. But during edits, I had to cut down on combat since a lot of readers thought it was (Understandably!) overloaded. To''Orda''s combat scene was cut. So this is the first time Keith meets To''Orda officially!
Book 6 - Chapter 57 - ToOrda
¡°He¡¯ll fight tooth and nail to stay alive.¡± To¡¯Sefit said, bringing up more data the two had compiled. ¡°So long as you rely on my plates and the drake, you should be able to stay at range and whittle them down. Do be a good boy and don¡¯t let him anywhere near you.¡±
Of course she¡¯d say to fight him at range. She fights everything at range. But she had a massive flying lesser to travel around with, and he had a single drake. Or at least, she had a flying lesser to carry her along until the human killed it.
Perhaps neither To''Avalis nor To''Sefit should be giving him advice on how to fight, given their win record. But of course, he wasn''t going to mention that out loud. He wasn''t stupid.
The drake was making good progress across the biome here, but flight was still far more preferable. No matter how much To¡¯Avalis screeched about optimal use of internal space and how wasteful flight is underground when jumping would do just about the same amount of travel. Leaping around was effort. Something To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t seem to factor into his mathematics.
His wayward little sister used wings to fly around. And she¡¯d won fights with it. And To''Sefit fired cannons from on high, and that worked for years now.
But To¡¯Orda knew better than to say anything to the two watching through his eyes however. They¡¯d start arguing.
His shell was far too bulky for wings anyhow. Bugger.
¡°The human is going to bring out a slew of possible tricks and feints. I¡¯ve sent you a list of tactics we¡¯ve encountered last time. Although there¡¯s a strong possibility he¡¯s added new abilities and gear since the last fight.¡± To¡¯Avalis said, sending him a data and research. "Approach with extreme caution."
To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t bother reading, and sent it to his image generating software to do that for him. It woke up, gave one look at the text logs, then sent him an passive aggressive answer that it strictly generated images. It did not read texts. Get that giant wall of text out of its face. It promptly went back to sleep after.
He updated the software and pushed through text-reading into it.
Then sent it the text log again, insistent.
The program spooled up again, tried to refuse, realized it couldn¡¯t, then made use of the update to crunch through the text log and send back the main points. Along with a generated image of itself, upset at the extra work.
The program was running within his neuromorphic mind. Perhaps his tendencies and behaviors had affected it. To¡¯Orda gave it a gentle mental pat on the head, and then let it go back to sleep. That¡¯s what he would have wanted.
The notes came back to what he¡¯d expected: The human was going to move far faster than any Deathless, so overclocking from the start of the fight was necessary. He would need to expect an ambush almost anywhere within a mile of the human, including from underground. Additionally there was a strong chance he¡¯d attempt to steal things, because the human was feral and nothing was sacred to him.
How the human would be able to grab and lift either his hammer or his shield, To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t know but the other two were convinced there was a non-zero chance of that happening, somehow.
And he would be attacking with wraiths. Those should not be a problem since even a finger poke would dissolve them. The real problem is that he was known for summoning an entire army of them, and having them equally spawn more wraiths from within each. They could go through walls, terrain, and just about anything.
And they could fly.
Additionally, both of them were unsure if it¡¯s only the single human in his armor or if there are additional souls. In which case, letting the human get too close means he might get hijacked as well, because that was a thing now.
He sighed deeply at the thought.
It was going to be miserable. Fighting a tiny hypersmart feral pest who¡¯ll fight tooth, nail, and soul to destroy him - and had all the gear, spells and tactics to actually make that happen.
He also had a friend, at least from the video footage they¡¯d recovered from one of the lessers that engaged in a fight with the pair. To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Avalis had no data on that one, nor where he¡¯d appeared from. But at least he didn¡¯t move as fast and felt far more familiar to fight against. A normal Deathless human.
To¡¯Orda debated which would be more annoying to deal with: The two Feathers constantly finding ways to scream at him about abandoning a mission, or fighting the rabid human and his unknown escort.
Ultimately, the human would be a short enough fight. Either he¡¯d win or he¡¯d lose, but that¡¯d be the end of it. Walking away now would mean the two Feathers would hound after him for the rest of time, which sounded just slightly more miserable.
¡°Do not worry, great one. We will deliver them from their folly.¡± The drake under him reassured, picking up on his internal debate, if not the nature of it.
He didn¡¯t feel like answering, and just gave a deep grunt which was enough. The drake padded forward a little more, ¡°Sss¡. we are nearby the possible hunting grounds, great one. Shall we seek them where they hide?¡±
His large hand wrapped around the three plates he¡¯d carried inside his shawl. Clunky things, without any of the elegance To¡¯Sefit¡¯s original versions had. But To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t have the internal gravity lock-ons that To¡¯Sefit¡¯s frame had built-in. So the three plates here had to all independently be able to float and work, which meant quite a chunky backplate.
They turned on at his command, and he let them float outwards, gravity strands hooking onto his shell¡¯s location and locking in place. They¡¯d follow him around and be far enough away that opening fire with them wouldn¡¯t cause too much damage to his own shell.
This was it. The drake had done its job hunting down the humans, tracking down possible locations and playing detective until it was reasonably certain it was the old human starship far up in the distance.
¡°Nnnnn¡ They¡¯re here.¡± He reported, his infrared showing the two voids armors would typically display. They were hurrying away from the ship, finding cover.
¡°Good.¡± To¡¯Avalis said, sounding genuinely happy for once. ¡°Finally something goes right. Eliminate him as rapidly as possible before he notices you.¡±
¡°Oh! So quick? To¡¯Avalis, my dear, try to enjoy life a bit.¡± To¡¯Sefit pouted, annoyed.
¡°Respectfully, sister, I would rather win.¡± He answered back neutrally.
To¡¯Sefit sighed, ¡°Fine, very well. I will inform our little sister we are dealing with her human now then. Hopefully she¡¯ll come online fast enough to see some of the action. A live video feed is far better than a pre-recorded one.¡±
To¡¯Orda would rather that not happen, a third voice among the peanut gallery watching would be much more annoying. Especially since it was guaranteed their little sister would be completely opposed to everything he was doing. And equally vocal about it.
But the other two were pissed and insistent, and mother had ordered both To¡¯Sefit and himself to follow the orders of To¡¯Avalis all that time ago. That order hadn¡¯t changed. So To¡¯Orda sighed and, very reluctantly, sent the video link to her address along with who it was from.
To¡¯Wrathh appeared within the millisecond. ¡°You are making a grave mistake.¡± She hissed, immediately understanding why she¡¯d been invited here to watch. ¡°That human is mine and any of you laying even a finger on him will have it cut off along with your head and your soul fractal. If you value your life, you will turn back now.¡±
His little sister sounded almost as deranged as the human he was supposed to hunt. Why was everyone in the world getting angrier and angrier these days?
¡°My, my. Do watch that temper.¡± To¡¯Sefit chided. ¡°Mother will be sure to watch this recording, I would recommend you stay cordial. You don¡¯t have to pretend to hate us just yet, wait until you meet your favorite... ahh Deathless in person to propose that alliance of yours. Although, how nice of you to already begin practicing your acting with just us. This older sister of yours is quite flattered at the attention.¡±
Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
A warning. The two Feathers here were doing some kind of theater play of pretending to be enemies, pretending to be allies, pretending to be enemies. Or did it go down one more layer? No, that would end at friends. Which he was mostly certain they weren¡¯t.
No wait -- Pretending to be friends would be the right endpoint. That implied they weren¡¯t friends at all right? Right.
¡°Don¡¯t bother.¡± To¡¯Avalis scoffed, adopting a different voice from a long dead Feather. ¡°This will be over with soon enough.¡±
Oh, and his boss was pretending to be a dead Feather. That was also a thing.
All he was certain of, was that it was beyond convoluted because Feathers. All his brothers and sisters were exhausting.
The Drake caught sight of them next. Its vision spectrum was far weaker than To¡¯Orda¡¯s, but it could zoom in farther. To¡¯Orda fed it the prior sight he¡¯d seen, which let the Drake find where the two humans were most likely to be.
Indeed, the small top of their helmets could be spotted, just enough for the armor¡¯s cameras to peek over the rocks.
The Drake fired. To¡¯Orda prayed to himself and anyone else that could listen. Please, let this be over with and done with that single shot.
Drake hissed under him. ¡°Great one, the feeble fleshlings have avoided my attack. I will try again from another angle.¡±
Of course there¡¯d be a miss. Even the image generator within his mind was already sending him data before he¡¯d even asked. Although, when he looked it over, he realize it was the same image it had generated a while back of him on his hands and knees, exhausted with the world and part of his soul leaking out his mouth.
Smart. Reusing old images to avoid generating new ones. To¡¯Orda could respect that. It preened smuggly at the praise before spooling down.
¡°Why are you staring out in the void? Open fire with the panels!¡± To¡¯Sefit chided in the middle of his contemplations. ¡°Strike now, while they¡¯re still recovering. They won¡¯t expect those.¡±
¡°Panels?¡± Now To¡¯Wrathh joined in, voice hitched up as she likely immediately realized what panels meant in this context. Her attention turned on him and stared him down with absolutely fury. ¡°You brought her panels to the fight? Have you no pride in your own abilities as a Feather?¡±
¡°Nnn¡ don¡¯t want my shield to be more damaged.¡± He said honestly. ¡°And he is too far to hit with my hammer.¡±
That warlock''s detonation had taught him a lesson about the limits of his shield''s durability and ever since then he''d been highly protective of it.
Maybe in the past he¡¯d have been more heated about all this. But his name wasn¡¯t The One Of Resolve Ignited, not anymore. So much easier not to be.
She sent back a series of degrading pictures which To¡¯Orda promptly refused to look at. Even his image generator seemed appalled at it, so that was more than enough reason for him not to look at any of it.
¡°Your Deathless has to be handled with every possible advantage.¡± To¡¯Avalis dryly said. ¡°You forced our hands yourself. Worry not, us fighting him with such lopsided tactics would make it easier to convince him to partner up with you. We are doing you a favor, consider it a courtesy extended from your elder brother. As apology from the earlier¡ mishaps.¡±
That was accompanied with an image of To¡¯Avalis patting her head fondly, like a little child. Even drawing her as a child.
To¡¯Avalis¡¯s changed voice was eerie to hear, there was something deeply uncanny in it. Some part of To¡¯Orda knew Feathers were supposed to be proud of who they were, and pretending to be another would mean throwing away that pride in oneself.
But that voice inside him was long dead and near dormant. It was just easier not to worry about the small things like that.
He focused all three panels and made them lock onto the human ducking under those rocks. To¡¯Sefits great cannons, taken from old human destroyers, charged up a few thousand miles away. Then he sent the command to open fire.
To¡¯Wrathh tried to send him a few data connection requests, which he ignored dutifully. Images were fine, any other kind of link or connection was not. To¡¯Avalis had said she¡¯d try to meddle in every way possible.
The beams went through the occult portal and out the relatively small floating plates he had. It burned the sides of his shawl, leaving the fabric glowing ember red as parts dissolved and continued to dissolve long after he¡¯d finished firing. That was¡ unfortunate.
Smoke wafted off the melted rocks, floating away. And his vision pinged the two humans, still running away. Damn.
¡°Nnn¡ they¡¯re alive.¡± Because the world hates him and wants him to suffer.
¡°Your petty tricks won¡¯t catch my human by surprise.¡± To¡¯Wrathh preened.
The Drake would need a minute to fire again, but To¡¯Sefits cannons were far more efficient, given they took up an entire warehouse each. He would fire again shortly.
¡°They¡¯re making a run for the ship.¡± To¡¯Avalis noted. ¡°This is an attempt to obstruct your vision.¡±
It would be effective too. That ship was a hand touch away from collapsing, but it was still made of starfaring metal, which couldn¡¯t be seen through. Trees, rocks and other items around the biome here had means of working around. Not the ship however.
¡°Nnnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda mulled it over. He had to kill the human from range, and they were about to hide from his sight. He¡¯d need to get closer to ge-- wait. There was an easier solution to all this.
¡°I¡¯ll keep shooting.¡± He eventually ended with.
If he kept doing so, eventually the entire structure would be a riddled mess of holes and they couldn¡¯t possibly hide anymore. Or he¡¯d get lucky and nail them.
To¡¯Wrathh sent him a series of graphic images detailing great violence.
¡°As much as it would be fun to watch them try to avoid shot after shot, my cannons will not survive prolonged fire like that.¡± To¡¯Sefit said. ¡°And I can¡¯t switch them out. They¡¯re quite big, you know?¡±
He furrowed his brow, thinking.
¡°Nnnn¡ the ship is wide. But narrow.¡± And he noticed there were floating rocks around the ship¡¯s nose. He could have the drake jump up to the top, and then start firing holes through the entire ship. He¡¯d need far less shots to vaporize the entire thing, and the drake would be carrying him so he wouldn¡¯t need to walk.
¡°Oh, that¡¯s quite a good idea!¡± To¡¯Sefit said, giving him an image of her patting his head with pride.
¡°It¡¯s suboptimal.¡± To¡¯Avalis brought the mood down, ¡°You can do the same technique from the base of the ship looking upwards. The climb to the top is unnecessary.¡±
¡°Rubbish.¡± To¡¯Sefit huffed. ¡°Looking down on the enemy while eradicating them from existence is a perfectly valid way of dealing with pests.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh simply screeched incoherently, sending images of her thrashing his prized possessions: Ripping his shield in half with her hands and snapping his hammer on her knee. Both of which were physically impossible for her frame to do. To¡¯Orda sent the calculations to her, and she answered back by saying she¡¯ll find a way anyhow, she had enough spite for it.
She seemed so certain, To¡¯Orda started to believe the tiny Feather really could do something like that.
¡°This is your bias speaking, To¡¯Sefit.¡± His boss said gravely. ¡°You are too used to having a flying platform to fire from, To¡¯Orda does not have any means of moving in a three dimensional space. On the ground, there are far more footholds and options to work with. Arial combat isn¡¯t optimal in the first place within the underground.¡±
¡°My, my, To¡¯Aacar. You sound quite¡ logical about all this.¡± She said, giving a slight chuckle.
Ah, looks like they were about to argue anyhow, even with To''Orda having done his best to avoid that topic. Bugger.
¡°Fools need to be spoken to plainly.¡± To¡¯Avalis quickly said, trying to get back into character.
And then To¡¯Wrathh butted into the conversation like a wrecking ball. All three began to argue in his head. To¡¯Avalis having strong opinions on maximizing shell space all while trying to sound arrogant and angry about everything, while To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Wrathh both joined together to speak about the agility and symbolism of flight. Which To¡¯Avalis insisted leaping around using their shells would functionally serve the same purpose in travel.
To¡¯Orda put them all on mute for a moment to get some quiet time to himself while the Drake silently carried him to the base of the tower, past wild animals in strange clothing all staring at them cross by.
¡°Ssssss¡. We are here, great one. Shall we start our symphony? Shall we sing these wayward children to sleep?¡±
They weren¡¯t playing music. Simply firing upwards until there wasn¡¯t anything left to fire at. But To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t have it in him to berate the Drake about his quirks.
¡°Nnnnn... Putting them to sleep.¡± he sighed, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders a few times before he got to work. ¡°Lucky.¡±
A claw reached up and grabbed him, then slowly lifted and put him down on the ground. At the base of the tower, more wild animals were running out of it in a panic. Three tiny wolves with a pack of even smaller pups all yipping behind. They looked terrified of him, and terrified of the two humans who had probably done a mad rush to get into the ship ruins.
He paid it no great attention, they weren¡¯t getting in his way or getting anywhere close to him.
The voice channel was starting to ping more things at him. To¡¯Avalis was trying to get his direct attention. Damn. They must have realized he¡¯d put them all on mute.
He considered pretending he hadn¡¯t noticed. But he knew that would just make a worse time for him next.
¡°They¡¯ll ambush you, be prepared.¡± To¡¯Avalis said the moment he signaled he¡¯d unmuted the chat. Which was redundant of him to point out. Of course there would be an ambush. ¡°And stop playing around with communications, intelligence is far too important¡¡± He stopped, coughed then started again, voice dipping back down to a cold fury. ¡°Mute me again and I will teach you a lesson on why no one ignores me. Is that understood, you defective pile of junk?¡±
¡°You had far better insults for me.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, sounding like a cat playing with a mouse. ¡°Have you lost your touch To¡¯Aacar?¡±
He hit the mute button again. He shouldn¡¯t have unmuted them in the first place.
Everything was blessedly quiet again. Even the barking and bird calls around him had gone silent, as if waiting for him to step through.
He looked up at the old monument.
Overclock the system. Walk in with To¡¯Sefit¡¯s plates pointed up and prepared to fire. Run a sensor sweep the very moment he walked in to look for traps or prepared defenses. Unmuted (Reluctantly) the channel on the very low chance To''Avalis or To''Sefit actually had something useful to say. Currently, that answer was no.
He was doing everything he was supposed to do. But deep down, he had a gut feeling it wasn¡¯t going to work against this particular enemy. It was just going to be one of those days, he thought to himself as he crossed the threshold, preparing for the worst.
The Drake padded behind him, bending down to crawl slightly in order to fit into the tower.
They both looked up.
And were immediately, and savagely, attacked by the two humans waiting inside.
Book 6 - Chapter 58 - The Hyper-Weasel
They¡¯d been waiting on a small wooden pallet, straddling two metal chairs. Rifles aimed right down at where he¡¯d walked in.
Bullets immediately riddled his plates with a clear vendetta. Outshooting To¡¯Sefit¡¯s plates before they could acquire target and open fire themselves. A wall of fire came for both him and the Drake, quickly drawing warning signs from his system overclock. Occult wraiths sprang from the ground itself just to bath him in further flames. It was as if he''d stepped into hell itself.
To¡¯Sefit shrieked in anger as if she¡¯d been the one here watching her own gear be vandalized and burned. To''Orda just sighed deeply to himself, muting the channel to get some peace.
His target had battled To¡¯Sefit and won, so he wasn¡¯t too surprised her weapons were the first thing to eliminate.
He¡¯d watched the weapons get riddled with bullets in slow motion, since they couldn¡¯t possibly move fast enough to avoid bullets. And neither could he reach out and shield them at this distance before they were destroyed. The fire would take some time to bring his overclocking system down, so it wasn''t yet a problem.
If he¡¯d kept the plates closer to him, he might have been able to protect them. But then they¡¯d fire far too close to him and burn more of his shawl on top of burning his overclock faster.
Regardless, they were now functionally useless until he repaired them, as if they weren¡¯t already useless in such a confined space against the hyper-weasel.
He felt more annoyed about the comms channel than the events. It was pinging him with a few hundred angry beeps each second, and within the overclocked speed that was getting quite grating. He unmuted against his better judgment.
¡°What are you doing?!¡± To¡¯Sefit screeched at him, ¡°Where is your shield!?¡±
¡°No time.¡± He grumbled. In the time it would take to pull out the shield and activate the fractal within, the panels had already been punched through. Although that wasn¡¯t completely the full reason. He could have walked in with his shield out instead of just the hammer on his shoulder.
But again - that was his shield. He didn¡¯t want it anywhere near that human. Any other Deathless he¡¯d feel more comfortable, but that human?
He¡¯d find some way to scratch it up.
¡°Fine, then at the very least focus your repairs on my plates, not your stupid shawl!¡± To¡¯Sefit continued hissing like a furious cat on his right shoulder.
¡°Nnn¡ but--¡± It was her plates that had burned his favorite cloth piece in the first place. And the rest of it was under literal fire from the hyper-weasel''s onslaught, which would eventually continue that damage. Rather obnoxious she¡¯d want her stuff repaired first instead of his own.
¡°She¡¯s correct.¡± To¡¯Avalis said, dogpiling down on him. ¡°Your shawl can be repaired another time, it remains cosmetics. Your obsession with such simple fabric is noted but not necessary at this moment. The plates must be brought back to working condition immediately, they offer more tactical options by default. Do not be a fool.¡±
¡°Appearances are important. I¡¯ve learned this over my operational time.¡± To¡¯Wrathh whispered, voice sweet at honey on his left shoulder. ¡°Why spend so much effort with how you look and not be able to fight at your best? Doesn¡¯t that feel¡ wrong? The flames are too dispersed to deal any true damage to the nanoswarm, there is no harm in continuing repairs.¡±
The voice of reason in a world filled with chaos.
Up until To¡¯Avalis made it clear that was an order, not a request.
¡°Nnnn¡ fine. I¡¯m going.¡± He muttered, sending the commands to his nanowarms to begin repairs. Black smoke drifted from his head, navigating through the inferno roaring around him, past his floating metal halo and into the damaged plates floating above. Bullets flickered past the cloud, ripping small holes into the swarm and causing larger ripples due to the air dispersal from everything going on, but otherwise completely ineffective.
The Drake hadn¡¯t been still. He¡¯d opened his maw, charging a beam when one of the humans dropped straight down onto his head, a blade slashing out followed by a blast of pure sunlight from his other hand. Great, even more fire.
The punch slammed into the poor lesser¡¯s head, knocking him down into the ground and snapping the jaw shut. In a moment, that human was now firmly grappled over his head, one gauntleted hand holding onto a fang with a vicegrip, the other hand already stabbing directly into a throat section of the lesser. The Drake snarled, shaking his head left and right, throwing off the attack, trying to dislodge the unwelcome passenger and finding it impossible. The movements seemed practiced, as if the human was well used to fighting lessers of this kind.
The drake lifted straight up, and slammed the Deathless into the metal of the ship but still failed to dislodge the threat. The human armor didn¡¯t bother to trigger shields over that, but it did seem to be unexpected and interrupted the practiced technique, the occult blade ripping out and failing to sever the right sections the human had aimed for.
The human got his barings, and angled the blade for a strike down again.
But there was an issue with the Deathless¡¯s positioning - he was just within To¡¯Orda¡¯s hammer range. Not himself, but his outstretched arm and blade. To¡¯Orda¡¯s hammer was a massive weapon after all, more than eight feet in length - a few inches taller than he was. And that afforded far more range than anyone ever expected.
The Feather flicked his weapon with one hand, letting the shaft of the weapon slide through his hands until it reached the very tip. His grip tightened, electric pulses triggering the inertia fractal within, turning the hammer temporarily light as a staff of tin.
He swung with it, the air tunnel behind it completely smothering the inferno around him. The fractal turned off the second before impact, slapping through the outstretched hilt of the Deathless and part of his hand. While the armor tried its best to protect its user, that didn¡¯t stop the sheer kinetic force behind his swing.
Bones within the hand were pulverized. The blade was equally smashed in, bent against itself and thrown far off. The forces continued through the hand and arm even after the hammer had passed by, forcing all of it backwards until it hit the armor¡¯s natural range of motion. And then sections of it snapped off, ripped apart, letting the arm continue unnaturally backwards. It wasn¡¯t completely ripped off however, the armor had contained it well enough. But the rest of the bones inside were equally crushed, and it would take hours or even a day for the Deathless to regenerate that kind of damage.
He debated if he should have just taken a step to get closer and smash through the chest instead of the hand, but at least he¡¯d done something to help the lesser when he had the chance.
The Drake slinked out of the tower at the same moment, backpedaling madly, like a ferret hunting insects that stuck its head too deep in a burrow and been stung by a vicious wasp.
The Deathless was dragged out with the lesser, the other working hand still holding a vice grip over the teeth, even if his dominant hand was no longer in working order.
To¡¯Orda would have walked out to help the Drake further. Would have. Except the other human had landed nearby and begun opening fire. But that was hardly what was dangerous.
No, the real problem is that he couldn¡¯t turn his back to the hyper-weasel. He had a knightbreaker as To¡¯Avalis called it, and he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to fire it the moment he thought To¡¯Orda wouldn¡¯t be able to dodge or intercept it anymore. An implicit threat without even action behind it. Rather annoying.
There¡¯d been a chance the human would have opened his surprise attack with it, and he¡¯d been ready to snatch it out of the air and crush the thing before it did anything worse. Unfortunately the hyper-weasel liked to keep his cards close to his chest.
¡°Sss¡ Worry not, great one. I¡¯ll handle this nuisance.¡± The drake said, paw flashing out to pry off the Deathless now that he had space to work with. The Deathless jumped before that could happen, his good hand drawing out a dagger. He slashed forward with a few warning strikes, forcing the drake to backpedal further away from the tower.
¡°Okay.¡± To¡¯Orda shrugged, keeping his eye on the primary target, his vision easily cutting through the flame and smoke all around him. He was still firing those standard bullets aimed right at his face and throat, so To¡¯Orda let them spark across his features as he leveled out his hammer in both hands and took steps out of the inferno around him.
Then his internal shields flared out, subroutines detecting danger a millisecond before it slammed into him.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ahh. There were those occult bullets. The human thought he¡¯d sneak them in. ¡°Nnnn¡ not going to work.¡±
The hail of bullets instantly stopped.
¡°Worth a try.¡± The hyper-weasel answered back, finally holstering his sidearm the moment the attack proved useless. ¡°Any chance you could just drop dead and fast forward this for everyone?¡±
Fast forward? And skip this entire fight? ¡°Nnnn¡¡± He considered it, nodding slowly at the idea as he stood in the torrents of fire around him. Fast-forwarding anything appealed greatly to him. ¡°I accept, but you die first.¡±
He¡¯d get to fast forward all this, and not have To¡¯Avalis angry at him. To¡¯Wrathh might be a problem, but hopefully she¡¯ll forget he killed her human and stop bothering him in the future. He forgets things all the time, she should too.
¡°Sad we can¡¯t see eye to eye on this one.¡± Keith said, rolling a shoulder, drawing out a blade and that armguard riddled with occult edges. ¡°So who sent you? Relinquished or some older friends of mine?¡±
The flames ended as the occult ghosts around faded. Likely the human realized To''Orda wasn''t running overclocks with any high speed right now, there was no need for that. The ambient superheated air would eventually get to him, but not for a good while at this rate.
And more importantly, his shawl was made of thick weave that wouldn''t burn easily. Even To''Sefit''s beams being so close could only fry the fabric''s edges.
¡°Don¡¯t answer him.¡± To¡¯Avalis hissed in his comms. ¡°He¡¯s fishing for information.¡±
¡°And what if he is?¡± To¡¯Wrathh countered. ¡°Explain to him everything, this assists my end goal. Or do you wish to interfere with a plan the lady sanctioned?¡±
He was starting to think the mute button might glitch out after being turned on and off so many times.
It didn¡¯t stop him from hitting it again.
¡°I work with To¡¯Sefit. And To¡¯Avalis.¡± He said. Then paused as a flood of pings came from To¡¯Avalis. ¡°Nnn¡ used to. He was the Feather you killed.¡± Technically. ¡°To¡¯Aacar is now my boss.¡± The actual feather the human had killed.
¡°Huh. Thought I killed them all a few times already. How are they taking it?¡±
¡°Badly.¡± Feathers don¡¯t deal with being beat with any kind of calm. They¡¯d all gone insane in one way or another, and now he was suffering for it all.
The human laughed, ¡°Tell them I weep for their losses, if you could.¡±
He groaned, and unmuted the channel. ¡°The human says he weeps for your losses.¡± He dutifully relayed.
¡°If you bothered to run some of your additional programming, you¡¯d notice that¡¯s a lie. While I would wish you an excruciating death for that, I would rather see the human die first.¡± To¡¯Avalis said. ¡°You dying before him would complicate that greatly.¡±
To¡¯Sefit scoffed, ¡°That was a rhetorical request from him, you dounce. Pay that no mind.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh just preened, proud of her human.
¡°They¡¯re not happy you said that.¡± To¡¯Orda relayed back with a deep shrug. ¡°Nnn¡ don¡¯t ask for more. They are being a pain.¡±
The human tilted his head just slightly. ¡°Didn¡¯t actually think you¡¯d tell them. Mind if I know who I¡¯m fighting then? You seem a little familiar. Work for Shadowsong by any chance? She¡¯d be tall, snobby and surrounded by other minions too. You got the size to fit right in with her mooks.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡. No.¡± To¡¯Orda said. To¡¯Sefit was tall and snobby, but her name wasn¡¯t Shadowsong, and the only minion she had was him. ¡°I am To¡¯Orda.¡± He paused, then realized he had to fully announce his name, since he''d said it. He gave a deep sigh, then recited the words. ¡°The one of resolve dyed ash.¡±
The hyper-weasel nodded in understanding. Given that To¡¯Wrathh was technically a traitor, it was probable she¡¯d already told him who to expect. Although the hyper-weasel couldn¡¯t openly admit it right now, or else things would get even more complicated.
¡°So. To¡¯Orda. Where are all your minions?¡± His helmet was slowly turning its focus from the tip of his hammer and following the handle all the way down to the ground where he had let it rest. ¡°Your army of machines? Or is it just you and your pet lizard? No, no, don''t tell me... budget cuts?¡±
It was just him and the lesser. Getting other lessers here would bring attention, something To''Avalis had told him multiple times was off the table.
¡°He¡¯s fishing for information. Again.¡± His boss gave a deep sigh. An image came back of the Feather sitting on a chair of some kind, one hand cradling his head. ¡°Just. Don¡¯t be stupid. Please. For once.¡±
Was he saying not to tell the hyper-weasel any information on To¡¯Avalis and the others, or no information on the background dramatics? To¡¯Orda couldn¡¯t keep track of all of this, it was so exhausting.
¡°My, I would respectfully disagree here.¡± To¡¯Sefit said. ¡°The longer the human talks, the more time our dear To¡¯Orda here has on repairing one of my plates. Just focus on the one first and then blast him with it, if you could?¡±
As he''d said: Exhausting.
To¡¯Wrathh just annoyed him further with requests to connect comms with the human. And he¡¯d been strictly ordered by To¡¯Avalis to ignore that kind of request. He sent her back the direct orders To¡¯Avalis had told him word for word, and that got her to silently fume in the background.
But back to the question - he considered how to both avoid answering the question given as To¡¯Avalis wanted, and extend the conversation further like To¡¯Sefit asked. He decided to ask a question back instead.
That should work out. ¡°You are Keith, the hyper-weasel To¡¯Wrathh annoys me about?¡±
¡°Hyper-weasel?¡±
To¡¯Orda thought it was obvious. He gave a questioning head tilt, hammer slightly raised to the side.
¡°Oh, not denying it at all. Hyper-weasel sounds accurate.¡± Said hyper-weasel considered, head equally tilted. ¡°Just surprised Feathers of all enemies are calling me that.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ The others agree. Just not openly.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh squawked in protest.
To¡¯Orda¡¯s image generator angrily scoffed and sent her a screenshot of the hyper-weasel as he stood right this moment, circled with a red marker and multiple arrows pointed right at him. It also made use of the newly added text feature to include a quick caption. ¡°Are you seriously arguing this?¡±
She went quiet for a moment, then sent back a slightly sulky wordless agreement.
To¡¯Orda smiled. He really, really liked this new generator. Best addition he¡¯d added in the past few decades. And it was acting more and more independent, he didn¡¯t even need to prompt it with things anymore. Absolutely perfect.
¡°Are you going to talk him to death?¡± To¡¯Avalis asked. ¡°The plate is nearly repaired. Engage him in combat before he realizes and opens fire on it again.¡±
To¡¯Sefit also joined in on berating him, and To¡¯Wrathh was equally annoying in a different way. All three started to squabble and talk over one another. He muted the channel again before any of the peanut gallery could really get under his skin.
Well, they were right. His first plate was around fifty percent repaired and the human wasn¡¯t firing bullets at them. He better get to work before the human gets wise about it as ordered.
To¡¯Orda took one single step forward.
It was only a single step. Absolute chaos descended down.
The hyper-weasel exploded out into a pulse of occult and wraiths, all diving and ducking in different directions before racing right to him, trying to bodycheck him with that armguard shield. Fire and fury once again resumed, turning the entire world into an orange haze.
That many occult blades would overtax his defenses, and he''d need to dial up his overclock systems to calculate responses fast enough. Which meant the fire was actually a hazard now. He swung with his hammer a few times in quick succession, battering the ghosts with both ends of the weapon, delivering small direct strikes with the hilt, headbutting one that got past his guard, and stomping another trying to slide under to slash at his feet.
He moved fast. Faster than he ever had to move in the past few years now. His bulk alone forced airflow past the walls of fire, giving his heat vents fresh breaths of life. He calculated that into the overclocks and organized it all into various priorities on what to hit, where to stand, and what to pay attention to.
It was all moot. Each time he was about to destroy one, they¡¯d flicker in place with a pulse of occult and another wraith would start moving from the origin point. Usually ducking or avoiding the attack that was about to end its parent before launching more fire and armguard strikes.
The hyper-weasel was bringing back wraiths faster than he could destroy them. Which meant he¡¯d need to put in more effort to both beat them down and then get to the human. And that would require more overclocks, which would need more clean air to work with. Of which he wasn''t getting enough.
All right. He had to switch plans.
To¡¯Orda slammed his hammer directly down into the ground and forced one of the fractals inscribed deep within to trigger. A shockwave of power roiled out, splashing against him and ripping apart some of the weakened shawl he still had. It was a harsh trade to further break that apart, but the shockwave did clear out the room of the wraiths and scattered the wall of fire out of the way.
Through the ember cloud, he lumbered out like an arrow, leaping directly for the hyper-weasel, hammer swinging for his chest. The human ducked and rolled to avoid his hits, wraiths peppering his sides at all times with that armguard a constant threat.
But To¡¯Orda was a Feather and if he wasn¡¯t calculating his strikes fast enough, all he had to do was put more power in his overclock to give him that much more time to tighten up his combat. And so long as he kept moving, he''d find new pockets of air that the weasel hadn''t burned up.
Either he¡¯d land a hit, or his plate would get repaired. And he¡¯d force the human into either eating a hammer blow or being stuck in the firing path.
The human wasn¡¯t fighting at his best. To¡¯Orda could almost feel that in the air. No, he was being tested and prodded for how he¡¯d react and where he¡¯d swing his hammer from. Combat algorithms within him changed trajectories often to keep unpredictable, but To¡¯Orda hadn¡¯t spent enough time to really polish those up. Most of his fights with Deathless this close up never lasted this long. So there¡¯d been no point in tightening such details as obsessively as other Feathers had.
All a moot point as well. His first plate was fixed, and he backed the human into no-win situation. Either get hit by the hammer, or get lasered by the plate.
His hammer swung. The hyper-weasel made his choice and jumped into a roll, letting the hammer slam into him. Occult pulsed at the same time, some kind of defensive shield appearing. Multiple layers of it. Each easily crushed through, but it did sap away his hammer¡¯s power. By the time the weapon slammed through the enemy''s actual shields and flattened against the side of his chest, it wasn¡¯t powerful enough to pulverize the human inside.
But it did send him flying right into a metal wall. Unfortunately the structure was too weak to finish the job, ripping apart instead of acting like an anvil to his strike. On the other side, the human got back on his feet and dove out of sight.
Angry beeping came from the comms channel from both To¡¯Avalis and To¡¯Sefit, but To¡¯Orda was too smart to unmute any of that right now. He gave a sigh, then followed behind the hole, stepping through and surveying where the hyper-weasel had run off to, his single repaired plate humming with power, ready to laser on first sight.
An occult lash of some kind wrapped around his newly fixed plate and pulled up. The power behind easily ripping the floating plate from his orbit.
To¡¯Orda looked up, following the trajectory of his stolen plate. "Nnnn?"
The human hadn¡¯t run off. He¡¯d run upwards out of sight. The plate flew upwards, and into the hyper-weasel''s outstretched hand.
It was now glowing bright occult blue, the portal within materializing on the surface.
Pointed right at him.
Maybe he should have unmuted the channel after all.
Bugger.
Book 6 - Chapter 59 - Beginning of the end
He really didn¡¯t want to have to bring his prized doorway into any of this mess.
But he also wouldn¡¯t survive a direct hit from her cannons with only his standard defenses. Damn.
The charged plate emitted a high pitched whine, rising in power. Only a half second in real time, a small eternity in the overclock as he contemplated any other way to survive or dodge in time.
No possible ways out. Very unfortunate.
He twisted around, presenting his back to the laser and recalled the other two plates under his belly like a protective hen.
To¡¯Sefit¡¯s cannon opened fire - and slammed directly into his golden mite blast door. The energy raged around him, trying to eat and destroy the mite fragment and finding no purchase anywhere. Instead it was split apart against it, splashing on the metal and ground around him. Melting everything including rock. The light was so bright even his eyes couldn¡¯t auto-adjust to still see through it correctly, despite the laser ending a moment earlier.
Superheated air burned around him while he crouched down like a turtle. His overclock ended, unable to keep his frame cooled with this kind of intensity around him. His halo had been half melted, still spinning wildly around above his head, until it finally broke down and clattered against the melted rock, bouncing away.
A moment passed and the world went back to normal. He stood back up, properly equipping his shield and looked over it, observing.
For once, the hyper-weasel wasn¡¯t moving, or talking. Simply staring down. ¡°Three gods above, what happened to your face? Are you making some kind of statement with all¡ well, that?¡±
Ah.
The superheated air had burned what was left of his already half-ruined shawl through all the punishment it had been dealing with up to now. Only the shoulder parts remained still somewhat intact. The rest had burned out, until the thicker strands remained, and those had been blown as far off as they could against the violent air.
Under the burned clothing was a ruined face. Violet eyes still worked, but the rest of his features had been melted under the imprint of one massive hand, from the very top of his head all the way past to the base of his chin, where the imprint of a thumb had squeezed tight with the rest of the clenched hand.
It couldn¡¯t be fixed. Couldn¡¯t be healed. It was now a part of his blueprint, changed by mother herself so that all would know the fate of those who annoyed her, the day she¡¯d burned out his resolve and left him as he was now.
He didn¡¯t know why he felt so compelled to hide where she had branded him. Life was better, he could relax and sleep without worry. Things that mattered so much to him didn¡¯t anymore. There was peace in this life now. If anything, she¡¯d given him a blessing.
But something deep inside him just couldn¡¯t bear the idea of anyone seeing such a mark.
¡°Maybe.¡± He shrugged to the human above. ¡°Not sure.¡±
¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not sure about your face? You¡¯re a Feather right? All of that is intentional. Wrat-¡± He stopped talking all at once. ¡°.. uh, she seems very deliberate about how she looks.¡±
Angry pings came from To¡¯Wrathh about that, but he left the channel on mute for now.
He raised his shield high, letting it cover his face again, then forced the nano swarms to fly back from the other two panels they¡¯d been repairing. He made them all focus on his shawl, to repair his cover. The plates had been well protected under his shield, so he left them there. He could fix them later.
Pings on his channel started sounding off everywhere, not just his wayward little sister. Without the overclock, it seemed almost like one singular angry tone instead of the several hundred separate ones. The other two were getting real angry at the muted channel. He reluctantly unmuted.
¡°He¡¯s climbing away!¡± To¡¯Avalis shouted first thing. ¡°Go after him, now!¡±
To¡¯Orda peaked over his shield again. Bullet fire came down instantly for his eyes, occult bullets at that. His personal shield flared up, taking the hits without issue.
On the human¡¯s part, it was as reported. The hyper-weasel had been steadily climbing up the side of the ruin as he opened fire behind. To¡¯Orda eyes followed the scrambling pest.
¡°Nnn¡ could you not?¡±
¡°What? Climb away from the giant hulking bastard trying to kill me?¡±
He grunted in agreement. ¡°Yes. Climbing after you would be a pain.¡±
¡°How about you go lick ice instead?¡± The human called back.
Why couldn¡¯t anything ever be easy? What did ice even have to do with anything?
The image generator inside him patted his head softly in condolences. It knew the struggles To¡¯Orda faced here. The other two Feathers watching over this whole debacle were far less friendly about it.
And To¡¯Wrathh explained to him that licking ice was an indirect way of asking him to kill himself, given the surface culture this human came from. If a human was exposed enough to be able to lick ice, death was imminent. Lovely.
¡°Fine. I¡¯m going.¡± He muttered, returning his shield to the strap behind his back, as To¡¯Avalis once more demanded him to start leaping from floating rock to rock. His overclocks resumed as the cool air from leap to leap helped vent the heat out of him.
He caught up shortly, taking one last leap forward directly at the wallface where the human scrambled upwards, one handhold at a time. In the same leap, he spooled up the gravity fractal inside his hammer, then gently tapped the weapon into the side of the wall, letting the powered adhesive ferrofluid stamp a temporary fractal into the metal. It began to glow bright blue, sucking in air and both himself along with the wayward human against the wall.
Keith slid downwards, being sucked forward by the vortex like an ant washed down a wall while To¡¯Orda let the power keep him stuck firmly to the wallside, his free hand reaching out to snatch the human stumbling down at him. Preparing to hold the weasel down firmly and knock a few hammer blows directly in.
Wraiths surrounded his target a moment later, once more hands opening up to spew fire and fury, while occult armguards swung around to catch him. He dodged what he could and slapped away what he couldn''t.
The ankle finally came into range. His massive hand snapped out to grab it. Once he had a hand on the human, it would be over. He could hammer away or rip the hyper-weasel up directly. Slam him a few times into the rocks and walls here to stun the slippery human, and then he could actually finish his job in peace.
Of course, the human managed to slip away.
His gravity fractal was dispelled in a pulse of occult, and he found himself falling downwards, fingers just barely brushing against the human¡¯s ankles.
¡°Nnnnn... bugger.¡± He muttered, contemplating what to do next as he fell down. To''Avalis''s file hadn''t mentioned the human could nullify occult fractals nearby.
It was like the warlock To¡¯Avalis and him had fought, they had some means of turning off fractals without a hand or leg touching. Exhausting.
His bare feet slammed into the wall, ripping a small hole into it. It forced him to flip upside-down, where his free hand slammed another handhold into the wall and let him swing back into a straightened out hold. His hammer equally punctured a rift into the wall, acting as the final fulcrum. He still slid down a few inches as the metal holds crumpled under him and failed to support his weight, but that came to a stop soon enough as more metal added up under his feet. The very next instant he leaped upwards, ripping more of the tortured wallface in the process. But it let him launch off directly at the scrambling human above him.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
If he couldn¡¯t catch the human by the toe, he¡¯ll just keep smashing until one hammer hit gets lucky.
There was a small scream of surprise from the human as To¡¯Orda¡¯s bulk barreled right at him with deceptive speed.
Then occult flashed around him, and a lash extended from the human¡¯s hand upwards, yanking his target a half second before doom slammed into the wall where he¡¯d once been.
The starship''s wall broke down, exposing the interior. Yips came out from it. To''Orda paused, looking for the odd sound.
Somehow the human seemed to know his attention had gone to the interior. Wraiths became more frantic, striking out with wild abandon. Some going through the walls, and lashing out at him from deceptive angles.
¡°Nnnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled, battering off the small army the weasel had left behind to attack him from behind the metal walls. The flames had stopped for some reason at least, which was a relief for his poor shawl.
He took a step into the ship, deciding this was a good time to fix the rest of his shawl. Out of sight from the human, he wouldn''t be shot at. Wrap the poor fabric with something more fire repellant than the current fabric originally contained, given how bad the current fight was.
The wraiths suddenly stopped. The world went quiet. To''Orda growled in the darkness of the interior. Something was very off.
"I think we should have a short ceasefire." Keith called from the outside. "The fight''s between just you and me, right? How about you let the pup go."
The... pup? What was the human talking about? To''Orda took the free time to rapidly repair his shawl, focusing his direct attention on it. It was only in the quiet that he recognized a heartbeat in the gloom.
Hiding behind a strapped box inside the doomed ship. A canine of some kind, very small. He recalled there were a few in odd colors and gear running out of the ship earlier. Had one of them been left behind? And how had the human simply known without eyesight?
The human armors had multiple sensors, but they couldn''t possibly be that accurate. Even he hadn''t known about this until he''d stepped into the gloom for respite.
"My, To''Orda." To''Sefit purred. "Are you stalling the fight? Go on, the human''s not going to kill himself."
"Busy." To''Orda answered back. Then turned his sight into the ship. He took a step forward to the hiding animal.
"You mind keeping the fight between us two?" Keith called out. Closer now. The human had come back.
To''Orda considered it. Then shrugged. "Sure." He said, lumbering over to the box. One hand reached over, and yanked the whole thing off. Under it was a small pup. Terrified.
His hand reached down and gently grabbed the small furry thing by the scruff, lifting it up between two massive fingers. He observed the canine. It was... it was interesting. Some part of him appreciated the little thing.
"Just kill it and get on with the rest." To''Sefit scoffed. "We''re wasting time."
"Hold on, sister." To¡¯Avalis said, contemplating. "This may be a potential weakness to exploit. The human seems aware of this creature and equally shows concern for it. Hold onto it as a hostage. At the very least having it tied to yourself would force him to abandon his acasual flames."
Well, that had technically been an order. He lifted the animal up, and looked at it eye to eye.
"Nnnnnn...." He grumbled, turning to the ship end, and lumbering forward. He held the small animal over one of the pallets, and deposited it down. Then with a gentle hand, nudged the small furry thing to scramble away.
The call to action worked, and the small animal began to rush downwards, jumping from pallet to pallet. It hadn''t been the first time he''d failed to follow an order, but To''Avalis wasn''t mother. He didn''t have the same authority she did.
That Feather scoffed. "I suppose I shouldn''t have had any expectations of you from the start. My mistake. Explain yourself regardless."
"Too much effort." To''Orda said, then flicked a few settings to introduce static into the channel. "nnn.. can''t hear you. Interference."
Keeping a hostage meant keeping it alive during a fight. That sounded exhausting. But he could admit to himself that he''d felt... something about the small creature. He didn''t know what yet, but it had felt nice.
He turned back to the open hole he''d climbed in through.
"You''re not such a bad bloke after all." Keith called from wherever he watched. "You sure you can''t just call it a day and tell your boss you lost track of me or something?"
"No. He''s watching right now." To''Orda said.
"Pity that. Probably a little cross with you right now, if I had to guess."
"He is. I have him muted."
Keith stayed quiet for a moment, then started laughing. "I got the same problem with a friend of mine in my helmet. The mute key''s been used a few times more often than I want to admit to."
To''Orda climbed out of the hole, turning his glare up to the side. The human remained further up, one gauntleted hand holding onto a small rip in the metal. He''d clearly scrambled upwards more than he had before, but nowhere near as far as he could have been. Small mercy.
"We starting again?" He asked.
"Nnnn."
Bullets and fire flew down the instant he started to yank himself up, and occult ghosts once more harassing him from any angle.
This plan to chase after the human wasn¡¯t working. But his shawl had been mostly fixed enough to hide his face once more in that earlier pause and the new fabric would make it resistant to fire, so he commanded his swarm to repair the plates hiding behind his golden shield. Eventually, he¡¯d fix the plates and either hammer the human or shoot him down.
Keith was sailing upwards, lashed to one of the rocks, landing awkwardly chest first with a heavy grunt, then scrambled up the rest of the way. The Feather followed, leaping off the side of the wall onto a nearby rock himself, using the airflow to reset his heating.
To¡¯Orda turned to calculate where to leap next. But had to put that on hold as he saw what the human had in his hand.
He hadn¡¯t been the only one planning to make use of To¡¯Sefit¡¯s weapons.
His next jump forced him to bring out his golden doorway once more. As expected, halfway through his own leap upwards to another rock, To¡¯Sefit¡¯s cannon opened fire on him, where his shield took the blow. It knocked him off course, and forced him to slam his hammer into a rock further away, using the weapon like an oversized pick to pull himself up with a wide flip.
¡°You¡¯re a lot faster than you look, buddy.¡± Keith called out from his rock, the plate in front of him still ready to open fire again. ¡°That looks way too bulky for how fast you bring it out.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t need to be, if you could be slower.¡± To¡¯Orda muttered back, winding his hammer backwards like a spear. He launched it directly at the rock holding the human afloat, letting it crush through and break the entire thing apart into a few thousand shards.
An occult lash soared from the hyper-weasel¡¯s hand, latching onto another rock and yanking him away to safety. But there¡¯d been only so many rocks the human could run off too, and To¡¯Orda had been keeping track, leaping a moment after he¡¯d confirmed the human¡¯s trajectory. Halfway through the air he kicked out at the same time, nicking the human on the leg right as Keith flew past him. He¡¯d have grabbed the human by the ankle, but the slimy bastard had thrown a small army of occult images to harass him. A kick was the best he could do.
It wasn¡¯t enough to break the lash that propelled his target forward, but it did send the weasel into a sideways spin. The lash was dissolved and another flew right up to the next floating rock.
The human didn¡¯t take the events kindly, sending another flock of occult wraiths to harass while To¡¯Orda remained without a weapon. Bare feet kicked out, along with his hands and the occasional headbutt in order to slap and kick the different images, until they were forced to start using the armguard weapon as a threat rather than an actual attack. Flames licked every part of him with more vengeance than before, now being prioritized. Perhaps the human thought if he overwhelemed the cooling systems, To''Orda wouldn''t be able to react with the same precision as before.
In truth, his systems weren''t optimized to a razor''s edge like To''Avalis or To''Wrathh. He didn''t need to use the full suite to make swinging a giant hammer look stylish. All he needed was to swing a giant hammer and get some results. Far easier to calculate. The flames didn''t bother him much in terms of combat.
And a hammer wasn''t his only weapon. He bodychecked the wraiths with his own golden mite shield, occasionally letting the handguard go so he could grip the edge and swing the entire thing like an oversized insect-swatting newspaper. The human¡¯s armguard was tiny in comparison, and no matter how deadly occult edges were to anything in reality, the mite doorway was one step beyond. And so overly large so that even new ghosts generated at the last second from the doomed parent would get smashed together.
But it only covered one side, and the human was getting his images to swarm all over To¡¯Orda. Bugger.
He¡¯d been forced another time to duck under his golden shield a beam from To¡¯Sefit¡¯s stolen plate lanced out, right through a rock the human had tried hiding his hand with.
This time he was ready. Knowing the enemy had a cooldown, he was safe to retaliate.
To¡¯Orda let loose both plates he¡¯d been repairing, having them fire a return lance. He¡¯d been on target but the human had enough time to escape using those lashes. And within the air where they traded blows, the splash damage of the beams was easily dissipated.
He needed his hammer back.
The Feather¡¯s hand stretched out to his wayward hammer, still half-embedded inside the rapidly falling away pulverized rock. Occult pulsed across his frame as he called the weapon back into his hand. It shattered its entombment, soaring with a vengeance back to its rightful master.
He grabbed it, letting the inertia of its arrival carry him further upwards, past the flock of occult images the human had sent after him, directly after the bugger himself. Right before contact, he converted the speed into a spin by exploding the hammer¡¯s shockwave fractal in midair, immediately curling into a ball to conserve angular momentum.
Now he was a wrecking ball a half second away from impact. He uncurled at the last instant, letting the fractal of inertia turn the hammer weightless, leaving his spin powerful despite the extended hammer swinging directly down on the surprised human.
Finally. He had him now.
Book 6 - Chapter 60 - Escape with velocity
To¡¯Orda had a feeling even with his best attack, the human would slip away. There was simply too many options for his target with that occult lash in his command.
That lash flying off the human''s back saved his screaming target at the last second. As To¡¯Orda had expected, his hammer slammed into the rock Keith had been standing on right as the inertia fractal flickered off, replaced by the shockwave fractal. Sound and glowing molten slag flew off from the impact point, the rest of the rock breaking apart into a cloud of pulverized stone and shrapnel flying off past the speed of sound directly downwards, ripping apart the ground far below, leaving a melted crater to decorate the already melted impact points from To''Sefit''s cannons.
Ah. He¡¯d been close that time. If only the human had stood still for a second longer.
That occult lash was getting annoying. But at least the shockwave of the breaking rock had sent the human into a wild spin in the air.
His plates aimed upwards, tracking the human.
That should have been the end of it. But of course, somehow, against all odds, even wildly unbalanced in the air, the human still seemed to know how to orient himself and how to aim.
One hand lashed downwards, directly on the old starship¡¯s flat nose. The other hand aimed that sidearm and opened fire, beating To¡¯Sefit¡¯s cannons in speed.
Damage was minimal, since the human only managed a handful of shots in the maneuver, but it did force him to once more repair the fractals on the panel.
To¡¯Orda tutted and followed behind, leaping from rock to rock until he landed hard on the starship nose. Cracks of glass spread from his bare feet, like spiderwebs appearing immediately on his heavy landing.
The human on the other side had rolled to a stop, landing a heavy knee into position, his arm extended out directly at To¡¯Orda in the same breath - the blasted stolen plate leveled at To¡¯Orda.
His mite shield handled the laser, but the glass surrounding them melted in the process, leaving a glowing red trail from the human¡¯s hand and stolen plate all the way to To¡¯Orda¡¯s shield.
¡°Nnnnn¡¡± He grumbled, debating how to handle this. If he had to pull out his mite doorway each time, it would mean there¡¯d be no chance to grab the human directly. And given how slippery he¡¯d been, swinging a hammer until he caught the human would take too long.
¡°To¡¯Sefit. It is absurdly clear to us all To¡¯Orda will not be able to recover your plate from the human.¡± To¡¯Avalis hissed over the comms, equally thinking though the same problem. ¡°Shut down the cannon linked to it.¡±
For once, To¡¯Orda felt aligned with his boss on this. That plate was more trouble than it was worth and each time the human fired, there was a chance he¡¯d do something worse in the same breath. Something that could actually damage his shield.
To¡¯Sefit huffed, upset. ¡°Very well. Seems I have no choice in the matter. My, my, how the world turns.¡±
¡°We will need to strategize around this new acasual leash he''s obtained as well. In his hands it is rather¡ disconcerting to see in action. He should have died multiple times over already.¡±
To¡¯Orda could see why. It countered To¡¯Sefit¡¯s plates, and it countered his own gravity manipulations at almost every turn. It was very frustrating to deal with.
¡°Afraid of a single Deathless?¡± To¡¯Wrathh purred. ¡°How embarrassing for you three. Although, I suppose it is well earned after all. He will eventually win in some underhanded way. I guarantee it.¡±
That got the other two to start fighting like cats threatened with water, which To¡¯Orda suspected was the intention.
To¡¯Orda ignored both of them, and went to work. The melted glass under him would have burned anyone else who stood barefoot, but he was a Feather and his skin impervious. The human was clad in armor, so that likewise didn¡¯t bother him.
Keith charged forward, blade and armguard in position.
Far more wraiths than before surrounded To¡¯Orda, hacking and slashing away at all angles while his hammer swung and his shield bodychecked them into oblivion, equally fanning away the torrents of fire constantly thrown in his face. But the human was moving equally as fast, and with a far more refined set of movements now.
Not enough to put him above a Feather¡¯s own combat prowess, except the flock of Wraiths were making it difficult to deal.
¡°Finally, he makes a mistake.¡± To¡¯Avalis spoke, gleeful for the first time. ¡°He¡¯s using the engram to fight for him. Give me access to your broadband abilities, and make sure you leave To¡¯Wrathh out of it. We wouldn¡¯t want our little sister here getting ahead of herself.¡±
¡°What a boor.¡± To¡¯Sefit gave a verbal shrug. ¡°I would have expected the human to have wised up about using that engram when it had been hacked multiple times over. Does he truly believe you aren¡¯t aware of that?¡±
To¡¯Orda said nothing, but his senses told him there was something off about that. And for one main reason: To¡¯Wrathh was quiet.
Each time the human had gotten one up on him, To''Wrathh had been jeering at them all. And each time his hammer had come close to hitting the human, she¡¯d been frantic. Now, she stayed quiet.
As if knowing something and not allowed to boast about it.
But orders were orders. In midswing, he opened up the broadband permissions and allowed To¡¯Avalis access. The Feather wasted no time, sending the hacked administration password and connecting with the human¡¯s armor wirelessly.
A notification appeared next on the chat channel: To¡¯Avalis had logged off.
¡°Is he being dramatic?¡± To¡¯Sefit mused. ¡°Leaving us both alone here. How odd of him.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda muttered back, that gut feeling told him something was wrong. The human¡¯s armor should have been deactivated by now. And yet it wasn¡¯t. And To¡¯Avalis was now no longer in communication with either of them.
Not dead, no. A check through the machine network showed him perfectly healthy. Only occupied.
And To¡¯Wrathh simply stayed in the background, no images sent, simply content in the quiet.
He had to end this quickly. The plates were fixed, and he¡¯d been forced to bring out his doorway for good now, no longer finding any chance to leave it safely latched behind him.
Very well. If he couldn¡¯t keep his valuables safe, he may as well take the chance and use them.
The fractal of danger lit up within the doorway. At the same time, he let the panels float out from their hiding place behind his shield. They locked onto the human.
Keith opened fire on them without a pause, his armguard and other hand aiming directly at each, firing what looked to be a buckshot of occult bullets. Those would absolutely ruin the panels on impact.
They never hit. The fractal of danger drew the bullets into a curve directly onto the doorway surface where they did no damage. To¡¯Orda sighed in relief, he¡¯d been worried.
The buckshots were new. Which meant the human still had more tricks. And more tricks meant more chances for one of them to be dangerous to his shield.
He opened fire with both plates. The human avoided it, two occult lashes flying free from the back of his chest while he was midswing. They both yanked him up for a moment, dissolving just in time to let him latch back downwards and avoid a hammer swing sailing through the air for the human.
Bugger.
His image generator prodded his sides like a bored tactical advisor, showing him a poorly drawn image of the human sending an occult lash at one of those rocks, only for the rock to vanish before the lash could land. Leaving the caricature of that weasel upset.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
He couldn¡¯t dodge forever if he didn¡¯t have any tools left to dodge with. ¡°Nnnn¡ good thinking.¡± He muttered to the generator. It sent him back a smiling mini-version of himself, one giant thumbs up lifted high illuminated by shining light.
To¡¯Orda turned his beams to eliminating the floating rocks around them. No handholds for the human, no way for him to keep slipping away.
¡°Hey!¡± The human called out, instantly understanding the new plans. ¡°I was using those you bastard!¡±
¡°Not my problem.¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled out, focused on keeping the wraiths from hacking away at his plates while he took out the surrounding rocks one at a time.
Keith answered back in a way To¡¯Orda expected. His plates were weak to area of effect damage, and the human had stolen just such a weapon.
The plate aimed down sight directly at him, which would have forced the Feather to recall his own plates to the safety of his shield. He didn¡¯t, taking the time to shoot down two more rocks.
The stolen plate in his hand opened the portal on the surface, but behind it, To¡¯Sefit¡¯s cannon remained lifeless.
Keith waved the plate a few times, paused, then shrugged. ¡°Well, fun had to end eventually. Honestly more surprised you lot didn''t turn it off immediately.¡±
"Nnn... she doesn''t like to lose anything." To''Orda shrugged.
"Oh, well then she''ll absolutely hate this." Keith drew the sidearm, triggered the occult plate, then aimed his weapon''s barrel into the portal and opened fire.
The shrieking from To''Sefit told him all he needed to know. Those had been occult bullets. Fired into her cannons. And occult bullets would puncture through everything. If To''Sefit was particularly unlucky, the human would knick something truly important like power cells or unstable material and an explosion would wipe out the rest of the fragile structure beyond.
Those cannons couldn''t be rebuilt. They were crafted from humanity''s old weapons and the schematics for them were long deleted. That she found so many destroyers perfectly preserved by the mites had been a secret To''Sefit kept to herself.
"Tell her she knows what she did." Keith hissed out, his weapon clicking empty. Then he crushed the plate and tossed it behind him, letting it fall all the way down.
"She''s too self-absorbed to understand." To''Orda said with a shrug. Also she was too busy screeching at this moment.
To''Sefit turned her anger on him, but his image generator sent back just the right picture showing his frustrations at having to fix her plates up instead of his shawl.
"You petty bastar-" He triggered the mute too fast for her to do much more than annoy him with pings after that.
Perhaps he was a little upset with her and she could use the lesson in how it felt to have her stuff broken in the line of work.
At least things were looking up for To¡¯Orda. His plates were safe from bullets using his shield, and they were repaired, while the human¡¯s stolen plate was turned off and now no longer in play, so everything was going accordi--
To¡¯Orda¡¯s hammer zipped out with speed, snapping away a thrown grenade and crushing it into oblivion before it could explode his working plates out of the way. It did still explode, but the shockwave forced it into a direction away from him.
Bugger.
This hyper-fixated human was such a royal pain. He glared outwards at him.
Keith shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t blame a guy for trying.¡±
¡°I can.¡± To¡¯Orda answered back.
Seeing that the grenade ploy didn¡¯t work, and that he¡¯d been left alone while To¡¯Orda focused on clearing out the field and fighting off the occult ghosts, the weasel had all the time he needed to draw out his knightbreaker and aim down sights. ¡°All right, well this one you really can¡¯t blame me for. You left me to my own devices here.¡±
¡°Nnnnnn¡ won¡¯t work.¡± To¡¯Orda warned, keeping his doorway shield aimed in that general direction. The swarms of occult ghosts were still hacking away at his ankles and sides, but they weren¡¯t impossible to handle either. Two more blasts from To¡¯Sefit¡¯s repaired plates further cleaned up the field. Only a dozen more rocks and then he could crush the weasel into a fine paste and be done with it all.
¡°Don¡¯t tell me how to have a good time.¡± Keith shot back.
Occult pulsed from him. To¡¯Orda kept the mite doorway directly aimed in the knightbreaker¡¯s path, ready to halt any shenanigans from that.
Instead, two of the ghosts fighting him reached a hand out, and an occult lash came from them.
Was that even possible? It had to be, given it was happening right now. And both lashes grabbed hold of his plates, yanking them away from his control.
The image generator drew a quick animated image of himself tearing his hair out in frustration.
Very accurate. If he tried to move to prevent the theft, he¡¯d be shot with that knightbreaker round. The lashes weren¡¯t a danger, thus the fractal on his shield didn¡¯t draw them away. He was stuck watching his plates be stolen again, all while powerless to prevent it due to the aimed knightbreaker launcher pointed right in his face.
¡°I did say he wins using tricks.¡± To¡¯Wrathh purred.
The more occult lashes from the ghosts daisy chained the stolen plates backwards, until To¡¯Orda was surrounded on three sides. Two plates, and the knightbreaker round.
¡°See the thing about that giant fuck-everything shield you got.¡± Keith said, his launcher still aimed squarely downsights unmoving. ¡°Is that you can¡¯t protect every angle.¡±
He pinged To''Sefit for the obvious next request. And then begrudgingly unmuted the channel. "Sorry." Was all he said. Please turn them off before I die, went unsaid.
¡°Fine, I admit perhaps my cannons have a flaw in their use case." She said, with a slight huff. "I do stress however, that I do not engage in close quarters combat in the first place when I can help it.¡±
The plates opened up the portals, each controlled by the occult ghost holding them with a lash. Normally intangible, that lash had given them a means to hold onto things.
The cannons on the other side stayed dead, turned off by To¡¯Sefit¡¯s hand.
Keith sighed, knightbreaker launcher drooping a little in his arms. ¡°You really need to ruin all my fun all the time?¡±
To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t answer. Instead he launched himself forward, hammer and shield swinging in tandem to swat the pest down.
He hadn¡¯t destroyed all the rocks yet, but without the plates to fire, there¡¯s no point anymore in limiting Keith¡¯s means of dodging fire. And now that they were stolen away, the human wasn''t going to let him grab them back, not with the sheer mobility the wraiths had.
To¡¯Orda would have to do this the traditional way, and eventually get a lucky hit with the hammer. They fought, face to face in direct range, trading attacks and blows. His shield was being chipped away but all To''Orda needed was to land one solid hit with his hammer and it would be over. The flames all around him were admittedly wearing down his overclock, but leaping from rock to rock and using them to speed back down at the human for a slam gave him enough airflow to ignore the heat buildup.
The human seemed to realize his predicament at the same time, knowing the fight would wind down to To¡¯Orda¡¯s victory eventually at this rate. He triggered the two plates he''d stolen, if only to fire a small army of occult bullets into each, likely breaking down more of To''Sefit''s gear. She could turn off the destroyer''s cannons. She couldn''t turn off the occult fractal.
To''Sefit was inconsolable. And To''Orda was too busy dealing with the hyper-weasel to care.
The Feather stabbed forward with the butt of his hammer¡¯s staff during one exchange, the human dodging to the side and subsequently being struck by the same handle this time slashing right into his stomach. Keith took a half foot backwards from the impact, which was all To¡¯Orda needed to fully swing the hammer around for a proper hit, going from bottom upwards, like the swing of a bat.
He¡¯d missed all of his kill shots thus far, so he didn¡¯t expect this particular one to land any more than the rest of his hits had. Instead, he''d planned for that hammer swing to break the wraith spewing a torrent of fire at his head, jumping above Keith''s own head.
But he¡¯d been wrong on that count.
The hyper-weasel saw his end coming, jumped up into the air but failed to dodge the speeding weapon for the first time since they started the fight.
No, To¡¯Orda realized, the human had planned to take on the hit here. The wraith behind him had been bait to force the Feather''s angled hammer swing.
Occult raced around the human, five lashes coming from the center of his chest and latching onto the surviving rocks behind him. Pulling him away from To¡¯Orda at speed.
Again, he belatedly realized that hadn''t been the goal. The weasel wasn''t speeding directly away from To¡¯Orda. He was speeding up in the same direction as his hammer swing.
The hammer struck home a moment later. That occult barrier shield lit up at the human¡¯s feet, a single set.
His hammer slammed into those, and the occult fractal inside triggered the explosion before the hammer itself could have dug into the human¡¯s direct feet or the armor¡¯s personal shield.
The result was disastrous.
The explosion gave the human a boost of speed, mixed with the earlier five lashes equally speeding him up, all of which let him survive the follow-up hit by the hammer itself. Instead of letting the hammer crush his legs, it propelled him forward even further away. Using his feet like springs, the armor''s shield equally used to soften the kinetic force just enough to let the human survive the acceleration.
The hyper-weasel was launched outwards.
And given his muffled scream, likely far further than he¡¯d expected.
The gravity field. It had already weakened gravity in the area, letting rocks float around the human vessel. That hadn¡¯t been taken into account by the human. As such, within a second he¡¯d been launched a few hundred meters away. A second more, and he was now a small black dot against the underground scenery. Another second, and the lights beyond simulating daylight had already made him invisible to To¡¯Orda¡¯s eyes.
To¡¯Wrathh laughed in the background.
¡°Nnnn¡ that¡¯s not good.¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled. Programs within him calculated the trajectory of his opponent, and found he¡¯d be landing a few dozen miles away. Possibly less depending on air friction. ¡°Will he die on the landing? Is there a chance?¡±
¡°None whatsoever, you buffoon.¡± To¡¯Sefit hissed. ¡°He has that new occult grapple we saw the other Deathless use. Expecting him to die from a fall would be like expecting the same from a bird.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh simply sighed in relief, her laughter trickling down to a stop. ¡°It seems even with your best efforts, you were unsuccessful. A pity. I do wonder how our elder To¡¯Aacar is doing. He¡¯s been gone for some time now. How¡ odd.¡±
There was nothing odd about it. To''Wrathh knew what had happened to To''Avalis and she was simply playing the role up. The glee in her voice was barely hidden.
But whatever happened to his boss was none of his concern.
To¡¯Orda tried to calculate where the human would land, and found it was useless. Once the occult lash of that human was factored in, it was anyone¡¯s guess. Not to mention his target had a nearly fully powered exo-armor, and that would let him run miles away further from wherever he did land.
The human had truly gotten away from him.
Bugger.
Book 6 - Epilogue
Drakonis had lived through worse.
¡.
Actually he hadn¡¯t.
This was the worst. Lionheart¡¯s training regiment had been far more brutal than any mortal soldiers would go through, but it hadn¡¯t been arm-shatteringly brutal. And followed up by a life or death struggle against a fucking drake with a glorified fucking butter knife.
The distant ceiling of the underground loomed in his view as he calmed his breath. ¡°Get the fuck up, you rat bastard.¡± He hissed to himself, closing his eyes for a moment to muster up the effort. A beat passed. He stayed on the ground.
The arm was binding itself back together, the blessing of the goddess doing wonders. But the process was slow. And his armor had already drained its limited medical supplies.
The HUD showed Keith was still alive out there, and still in combat. He couldn¡¯t just wait on the ground here staring up at nothing. Drakonis closed his eyes again, and took a deep breath. ¡°Come on you miserable piece of shit, get up.¡±
All at once, he rolled over and clawed his way back up on his feet, groaning as his arm moved and the bone shards inside cut him further up. Already he could tell it hurt far less than it had any right to as his healing factors kicked in. Shields had taken a few hits from wayward claws, and he¡¯d nearly gotten bit at one point. But in front of him, the Drake lay dead, lights dead across the chassis. Sparks still came from deep within, battle damage from wayward strikes and bullets. Some rocks had been pulverized in the process. A small landslide had happened nearby when they¡¯d rolled downslope after he¡¯d hacked one of the critical leg joints off and it lost balance. Cooled off melted rock lay further off, marking where the Drake had tried a blind shot from the maw.
He¡¯d battled dozens of drakes before when he¡¯d been mortal. The difficult part was getting close enough to deal damage. They only approached into melee range when they believed they would overwhelmingly win.
It had all gone to shit the moment a Feather decided to casually swing that hammer at his arm at the start of the fight. Drakonis had thought he¡¯d been out of range. That oversized hammer would need two hands to properly swing with.
And he¡¯d have been right if that weapon had been used by anyone other than a Feather.
He¡¯d paid dearly for that. And he¡¯d been dealt with like an insect. The monster hadn¡¯t even bothered to take a single step closer, which would have made the swing fatal. Drakonis didn¡¯t know if he should feel lucky about that or insulted.
Pain throbbed through the arm again at the thought, struggling against the natural powers of a Deathless numbing it away. The longer the pain lasted, the more resistant Drakonis would grow against it. It was only a matter of time.
He looked up to the ancient human starship to distract himself, where he could see blue beams shooting in different directions into the sky. The angle here obscured the fighters, but Keith¡¯s vitals were still somehow green, so he hadn¡¯t been hit by any of that mess. Steady heartbeats, shields still near full as well. Motherfucker. How did the surface knight have a BPM of sixty three in the middle of all of that? Against a Feather?
Utterly ridiculous.
That hammer had swung so fast when it had taken his hand, Drakonis could have sworn he¡¯d heard the whip-like crack from the sound barrier breaking. And the Winterscar was somehow keeping up with something like that? While having the heart rate of a fucking coma patient?
This went beyond whatever lifetime martial training surface knights grew up learning. It had to be some kind of occult spell the surface dwellers all had. Although his personal suspicions were that Keith was the next generation Deathless already, and the goddess had finally perfected the long running experiment. Perhaps choosing surface knights who followed a completely different religion than her own had been a sacrifice she¡¯d done in exchange for sheer martial might.
He gave a few more general curses, at himself, at the situation, at the Winterscar, and at the Feather that decided to hunt them down for sport.
The HUD icon pointed to where his ally had run off to. The marker raced back to the ship - and up. Far up. And it was still climbing, in between blue beams of light coming from both directions. So either the Feather was teleporting around in making his shots, or Keith had somehow taken the enemy¡¯s own weapons and was leaping from rock to rock while firing the thing. He couldn¡¯t tell from here since both the video feed from Keith¡¯s armor was scrambled, and the two were fighting on the far side of the ship from him.
Drakonis stalked over to the dead Drake, hand reaching for his blade handle to yank it out. The small dagger was almost impossible to find among the bulk without his HUD outlining it.
From here, he had a choice. If he turned tail and ran for it, good chance he¡¯d make it out. The Feather seemed to have come specifically for Keith from whatever tech-communing power the rat bastard had picked up that let him interface directly to terminals.
He gave another look up the tower, where his HUD highlighted Keith¡¯s position. Then hissed through his teeth as he contemplated the other side of that choice.
The bastard was a bastard, but he was the bastard on his side. Gold or purple, they had to stick together. He was new to his powers, but they had been handpicked by Lionheart for a reason. He¡¯d be more than just a glorified distraction up there.
¡°Always something.¡± He muttered, stalking up the landslide, directly to the tower. He¡¯d probably die fighting that giant hulking monster of a Feather, but at least he wouldn¡¯t die a coward. And for all he knew, maybe the Winterscar really could beat a Feather if given a big enough distraction to work with.
Recovering the power cell bag by the rocks was a priority. He tossed that sack of power cells at the base of the structure, inside, a nice little corner he could find again later.
Getting his armor back after he died would be a chore, but so long as he had a power cell to feed it for repairs everything would be fine. Feathers don¡¯t bother camping or ripping apart dead armor.
There was a yip of sound nearby, likely a Greyroamer who¡¯d made a poor decision to hide instead of run. Drakonis didn¡¯t have the time to help. Someone else needed him more. All that was left was to scale the ship back up, and reach the fight still happening up there.
He leaped into the first wall, letting his momentum carry him up as his feet pumped forward. Leap after leap, using only his left hand to keep him steady.
His armor was powerful enough to let him lift the entire thing forward on one hand. The motors whined from the effort, but it was within tolerance. A few chairs and pallets broke under him due to the speed he was scrambling up at, but right now wasn¡¯t a time for apology to the Odin or Greyroamers about wrecking their trade outpost. He had to get to the Winterscar before that monster managed a killing blow. Anytime a handhold was too far off or he saw a chance to bypass a few, he¡¯d throw an occult lash upwards and let the momentum carry him up with a shove of will.
It took a certain mindset to use an occult lash. A desire to eat something sweet, and to get to the location just slightly to the right of where the occult lash would strike. Had to keep both desires balanced when casting. Some of the other Deathless in his team were naturals at it. Others took a lot longer to figure it out. Drakonis had been middle of the pack on that particular power. Not great at it, but not terrible either.
Halfway through, his HUD pinged. Keith took a hit that drained nearly the entire shield pool.
He cursed, loudly. "Keith!" Fuck, he¡¯d been too late.
The channel returned a rasping grunt and then nothing. Vitals for the surface knights showed¡ green? No damage. Just shield loss. Although there were other red marks on his profile on different sections of his body image. And a single red flashing text under.
Sustaining G-force x10.3
That number was rapidly falling down to three, turning yellow and then green. The message vanished completely the moment that number hit one.
What the purple hell was all that about? Snapping his head up to see if the HUD would show him anything through the walls, he did get to see the position tracker for his ally quite literally fly off the map. The little green square grew smaller and smaller, the distance number just under the box outline climbing up from a few dozen feet away to several hundreds. Then into the thousands.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
It all went gray a moment later. Three words in red superimposed over Keith¡¯s icon: Out of range.
Were the armors getting hacked? How would Keith even jump that far off? Or is he getting carried off somehow? An airspeeder would have made too much noise, the armors would have already picked them up or at least given him a notification of a frigate sized object flying around. If they could even fly that far off the ground in the first place.
Maybe Kres came back with some ancient single-seat human flying machine? Fuck, anything was possible. But anything mechanical that could fly that fast would have been detected by the armors at least.
Instead, he got nothing. Only the red box icon pointing where the enemy was last reported, the border turning to dashed lines to indicate it was now outdated information.
A few more pulls up and he got past the final doorway, opening it and getting a view of the dead bridge. Just above him were the walls of glass in every direction, some of which had broken apart while others were cracked into a hundred different web-like directions. A few were still pristine, although dust covered turning it more of a light brown haze.
He saw the enemy, right where the red box had pointed he should have been. The Feather hadn¡¯t moved.
One last occult lash brought him up, past the glass ceiling through one of the destroyed panels. He landed with a heavy slam outside. Glass cracked further under him, but if it could hold the weight of the sheer monster on the other side, it could support a human in armor.
Drakonis had seen one Feather in his life. And she¡¯d looked like an angel with wings, two blades making combat look more like a dance against the sword saint.
This one looked like a giant with far too much muscle to be natural and none of the grace possible. A hulk of marble white bare skin and two feet, wrapped in black cloth. The muscles were broken apart by that rough linen and violet glowing lines across his body in straight and diagonal directions, like circuits. There was a single splash of color besides white, black and violet: A golden tower shield strapped on his back that was taller than Drakonis and yet seemed perfectly sized for the giant. The only object rivaling the titan was the hammer that remained casually cropped over his shoulder. The end piece is almost five times the size of the monster¡¯s head. Comically huge.
The massive enemy remained looking off into the distance where Keith had flown off. A lone towering figure on the top of the world, watching the domain before him.
Drakonis drew his blade slowly, thinking he could stab the fucker in the back. Then he realized there was no chance an ancient enemy like a Feather wasn¡¯t aware he was already here. The Feather was simply ignoring him by choice.
Like he had when he¡¯d swung his hammer and shattered his arm. Because Drakonis wasn¡¯t a threat.
And the giant would be right. In the face of a fucking Feather, Drakonis was nothing more than a novice Deathless. Even a veteran who¡¯d dedicated his entire life to fighting off enemies like these, Lionheart hadn¡¯t been able to beat a Feather directly one on one. He relied on a team working together, with him as the fulcrum that would draw the full attention. Eventually the enemy Feather would falter against one of his teammates, and Lionheart would go for the kill.
Drakonis didn¡¯t have a team, didn¡¯t have the experience, and didn¡¯t even have a full year learning how to draw on his new powers.
Why the fuck had he climbed up here anyhow? To save the Winterscar? If Winterscar couldn¡¯t fucking beat the Feather himself, what chance did he have?
The giant¡¯s head turned around slowly, looking over his shoulder to stare down at Drakonis. A white shawl covered all of his head, shoulders and large sections of his chest. Cracks of grey ash seemed to pool across the being''s chest, all going upwards until hidden by the cloth. Only two deep violet glowing eyes could be seen from the dark slit of that shawl. Staring right at him. He saw his death in those eyes, as if standing before the grim reaper himself.
¡°What did you do to him?¡± Drakonis growled out, steeling himself.
Everything Lionheart had told him about Feathers flowed through his mind. The arrogance they¡¯ll display, the threats and posturing that¡¯ll happen. Maybe he could get something out of the monster before the fight.
¡°Nnnn¡ messed up.¡± The giant said somberly with a very slight shrug of his shoulders. There was a tone of genuine sorrow in his voice. No haughty attitude, no disdain for humanity. Nothing except a bone-deep weariness. As if the Feather hadn¡¯t wanted to be here. ¡°I thought I had the hyper-weasel. Instead, I helped him escape. They¡¯re upset with me. I¡¯ll have to find him again. It¡¯s going to be a pain.¡±
Hyper-weasel? Did the personification of death itself fucking call the Winterscar ¡®The hyper-weasel¡¯? Funny enough, out of everything the Feather had said, this somehow seemed the most reasonable of them all.
¡°Fat chance of that happening.¡± Drakonis said, off balance but still ready. ¡°I killed your ride. I¡¯d say I¡¯m sorry, but we both know I¡¯m not.¡±
The giant nodded his head, then sighed. ¡°I know. It¡¯s a problem.¡± His head turned back the direction he must have clubbed Keith away.
The HUD pinged. He¡¯d gotten an image download request¡ from the Feather? Drakonis wasn¡¯t stupid enough to accept that of course, whatever image was sent to him would stay right the fuck away from any of his armor¡¯s ancient software system. ¡°I got a suggestion. How about you crawl back to the hole you came from, and fuck off?¡±
The giant shrugged his shoulders slowly. ¡°Nnn¡ can¡¯t. The others would make it a problem for me. And the boss gave orders.¡±
¡°World ain¡¯t fair, huh.¡± Drakonis said.
The giant nodded, then sighed deeply. ¡°It¡¯s not. It really is not.¡± He didn¡¯t move otherwise, just kept staring out past the horizon line. Maybe searching for where Keith had landed.
There¡¯s no way the Winterscar would die from being thrown off a giant cliffside, even this high up. The idea seemed utterly absurd to Drakonis.
Anyone else would die, without a single shred of doubt. But Keith? Too annoying and too smart to let something like falling down a few thousand feet actually kill him. He¡¯d find some stupid way to save himself last second, maybe flap his arms until he hit a few trees to soften the landing. Armor could keep a user safe from massive falls, so long as there was even a little bit of assistance in softening the landing.
For fuck¡¯s sake, the weasel could probably turn his half-cape into some kind of parachute halfway through the air.
He drew his blade, then took the stance Lionheart had drilled into all of them already. Hunting down machines generally had a few basic tenants, and it was rare a proper stance was needed for anything. Against a Feather? He¡¯d take every advantage he had.
The Feather didn¡¯t move. And remained watching the underground landscape before him.
¡°Well, you gonna get it over with or just stand there?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°I haven¡¯t got all day.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ I¡¯m thinking.¡± The Feather said. ¡°Go away.¡±
That¡ what? ¡°You want me to just turn around and walk away?¡±
¡°Yes. That would be good.¡± The Feather said, one meaty hand shooing him away. ¡°Less work.¡±
At this point, Drakonis believed even Lionheart would be at a loss for words. ¡°If you¡¯re not even trying to kill me, why go after the Winterscar like a dog chasing a bone? What exactly did the bastard do to piss you all off so much?¡±
¡°Nnnn¡¡± The Feather looked down, thinking. Then finally shrugged. ¡°Complicated.¡± He even seemed happy with that one-word answer, nodding to himself as if he¡¯d successfully explained an entire course on physics.
¡°Complicated enough to keep chasing after us?¡±
The Feather sighed again. ¡°It will be.¡±
Drakonis cracked his neck. ¡°Wrong choice.¡±
¡°No. No choice at all.¡± All of a sudden, the Feather turned his head up fully, violet eyes locking on. ¡°Nnnn¡ are you his friend?¡±
A chill went through Drakonis¡¯s spine. Another image request came from the Feather, and he once more rejected to even open the attachment. ¡°That bastard?¡± Drakonis scoffed, feeling a bead of sweat on his forehead get cleared off by his armor. ¡°No. We¡¯re just stuck here together temporarily.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ a lie.¡± The Feather rumbled, body fully turning to Drakonis now. ¡°I know. I had to turn that back on.¡±
The hammer went from resting on his shoulder to being carried in both hands. The shaft of the weapon landed with a heavy thump on his other hand. ¡°Will he come back for you?¡±
Fuck.
¡°You really think a dirty surface savage like him would do that kind of thing?¡±
¡°Nnn¡ don¡¯t know. You answer.¡±
¡°How about you fuck off and die?¡± Drakonis hissed back, refusing to say anything more.
The Feather shrugged. ¡°Capturing you has a chance. Better than no chance at all.¡± Then started to jog, hammer lifted up in anticipation.
Drakonis considered just jumping off the tower. With liberal use of occult lashes, he could probably survive the fall. And he only had one hand to fight off a fucking Feather. Even being at his best it would be a lopsided matchup from the start. What chance did he have right now?
Issue is that the Feather would also survive a fall jumping down after him. Plus, despite the massive size of the Feather, he knew they could all move fast.
Well, he hadn¡¯t climbed up this entire way just to fuck off and run. His blade turned on instead, his thumb flicking the trigger. This Feather would continue hunting down Keith. The more chances he had to fight the more info he had to work with when they¡¯d run into each other again. He¡¯d record everything and send it the moment Winterscar came into range. Information was power. That¡¯s how Deathless beat Feathers. They learned the fights, the reactions, and planned over and over. Eventually, they¡¯d win. And if this feather wasn¡¯t looking to kill him, he¡¯d get more chances to draw out information and weak points to exploit over time.
Drakonis cracked his neck, then took a few steps forward, blade flourishing in his hand. "All right, let''s dance you ugly bastard."
"Nnnn... I''m not ugly." The Feather answered, those violet eyes furrowing down to glare at him.
Lionheart had given him all the tools he¡¯d need. Means to strip their shields with an occult implosion. Means to disrupt their footing with shockwaves. Ways to match their speed by repositioning with his occult lash. And genuine threats to their speed and power with heat empowered punches. He couldn¡¯t be kept unconscious for long, not as a Deathless. Torture would equally fail as pain and panic were automatically numbed. The shattered arm had already jump-started the process.
There¡¯s a reason Deathless aren¡¯t well behaved captives. So he was going to be the biggest pain in the ass captive this Feather had ever met.
End of book 6
AN - Book 7 will resume as soon as patreon is 20 chapters ahead, they went through a two and a half week break, so it''ll be around the same amount till RR continues posting again. Thanks everyone for the support and comments, it''s fun to see people take guesses and extra fun to see people nail it :]
Book 7 - Prologue
Kidra twisted under the slaver¡¯s desperate swing, a boot connecting against the wretch¡¯s chestplate, slamming him back into the wall for a second time. Between the structure¡¯s already failing integrity and the relic armor he wore, one eventually won.
Pressure exploded as the poorly constructed wall cracked inwards, Kidra¡¯s kick suddenly magnified as the warm air within the room rushed out to meet the night sky, further ripping apart the destroyed wall. And with it, even a four hundred pound armor couldn¡¯t hold its ground.
The man soared backwards onto the surface, slamming against the frozen ice and snow, tumbling uncontrollably. In comparison Kidra flew out as if commanding the very wind herself.
He rolled out of his tumble, blade swinging wildly out. Kidra landed with a half step forward, her own longsword¡¯s occult hilt easily catching the man¡¯s blade and parrying it away with a ripost.
The technique sliced through the enemy¡¯s blade, cutting it down from a dagger to a souvenir. She didn¡¯t let him have a moment to consider his next move.
Her second blade swung down against the slaver¡¯s addled attempt to belay his death, a hand reaching out as if to ask for mercy or to shield his face.
It was promptly cut off, the shield finally failing.
She didn¡¯t care to continue the fight, taking a few steps past the screaming slaver, letting her initial speed from the earlier bleed away. Ice was already freezing the red stump of his hand, cauterizing the wound. It wouldn¡¯t save him, as the white wastes greedily sucked out all the heat of the armor from that small exposed opening, sinking through in exchange. Flowing across the slaver¡¯s arm, freezing the skin and burrowing deeper into his muscles, down to his very bone.
He thrashed, his other hand having already dropped the ruined dagger, desperately trying to cover the wound. That wouldn¡¯t help. A few fingers covering his stump wouldn¡¯t make any kind of permanent seal. Kidra watched in grim satisfaction as the man faced his end. Relic armor was powerful, but besides its ability to shed itself off a trapped user, it had no means to seal off sections of the armor in case of a temperature breach. There were limits to what even golden age armor could do, and the makers had clearly decided stronger overall integrity was preferable to being able to isolate sections.
Some part of the dying slaver remembered the life and lessons he¡¯d learned before donning that armor. The fumbling hand left his wound, and reached for his belt, searching for the field sealant kit all surface dwellers had on hand. It may have been the first time in decades that this man ever even thought of using it again.
The kit opened up, the armored hand reached inside with a trembling hand.
But the coughing had started.
Kidra watched impassively, hands crossed over her chestplate. ¡°You and your kind have grown overconfident with your solen armors, lived for too long as tiny gods. You¡¯ve lost touch with what it is like to walk on the surface. Did you forget?¡± She walked up to the dying man, kneeling down nearby. ¡°The first step to take when breached isn¡¯t the field kit. It¡¯s to hold your breath.¡±
The slaver said nothing. Not out of choice. Racking coughs had already started, making him fumble the repair kit onto the snow. The ice air by now had flowed past the arm, reached his shoulders and begun to attack his face. Eyes, nose, cheeks - and mouth.
Some deep part of the man already knew his life was over. Against Kidra, at least he had the illusion he could fight to survive. Still the man desperately clung to life, rational thought fighting against the coughing hacks, hand once more trying to clutch the field repair kit.
He almost made it, aiming the sealant at his missing and half-frozen arm, before another hacking fit made him drop the item.
Against the surface, there was no fight. The moment a single spec of that death sunk into the lungs, the human body was doomed to react. To make futile attempt to expel it. Attempt to breathe further for cleaner warmer air that didn¡¯t exist. And in doing so draw in more death into the lungs, shredding the delicate membrane.
At this point, even if the slaver made it back into a heated shelter, his fate was sealed. Sickness and rot inside the dead fleshy sections of the delicate lungs. More coughing wracked the man, forcing him to curl up against himself on the ground. Weezing, slowly. Turning from a desperate coughing fit to occasional attempts at a breath. And then nothing.
Kidra watched over as the man died a deserved death. She felt nothing. Slavers who robbed people of their lives, happiness, and fate - those deserved only the worst death possible. And she was of the surface clans. Their fated enemy had always been Othersiders of the darker side.
¡°The compound is cleared, Lady Winterscar.¡± One of her knights called out over the comms. ¡°Were you successful in claiming the runaway?¡±
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The answer felt almost rhetorical. The two Winterscar knights she¡¯d attacked the compound with knew whoever she followed would die. Kidra had never lost once, and it would certainly never happen against such filth as these. ¡°He is. Dead at my feet within the wastelands. I will collect his armor and return.¡±
¡°We are already on our way, leave the armor collecting to us Lady Winterscar.¡±
¡°Very well, appreciated.¡±
The other knight also confirmed they¡¯d taken out any pockets of resistance. All they needed to do now was to wait for the Shadowsong prime to return with evacuation. His airspeeder had passed by soly to drop them before continuing on to his own target.
The slavers were running. Packing up and abandoning the fight. The clan had expected this and planned an all-out assault to take and break every last camp in one fell swoop, or else forever see potential armor slip out of their hands.
Her brother was a clever weapons maker, but armor was not yet something Keith could create. Every last set the clan claimed here would be valuable for where they planned to move next. They couldn¡¯t afford to let the slavers escape with their armor shipments.
¡°It¡¯s truly done then.¡± The first knight spoke over comms. ¡°If the other raids all went according to plan, there isn¡¯t another camp to hit anymore. The war should be over.¡±
¡°My lady, do you think there¡¯s any bottles left for any kind of reasonable price back home?¡± The second asked. ¡°I feel I shall miss having these outings, but at least we might celebrate the end of it properly.¡±
Kidra laughed, ¡°There is. Where do you believe I continue to find good prices on such things? It is certainly not by their volition. I¡¯ve already paid a few agrifarmer houses months prior.¡±
Kidra had seen this coming since the moment Keith showed her fractals - specifically all the branching futures and how to capitalize on them. She''d invested in two struggling agrifarmer houses, funding their transition from food crops to alcohol production. Her seed money bought their loyalty and locked in favorable rates, well before anyone could predict the unprecedented celebrations ahead.
She had underestimated this. Greatly.
''Hecate'' Wrath''s arrival and the week-long festival honoring the deathless saint had absolutely destroyed most of the clan''s supplies. Now, with alcohol prices soaring those two houses were likely cursing their fixed-rate contracts each night. Perhaps she''d show mercy and let them sell a few bottles at market price - they had plenty to spare.
In the end, not a single slaver camp had managed to escape. Clan Altosk knew no defeat, not since the knights all bore the winterblossom technique, newly forged weapons and the fourth school of combat that countered all three styles the surface knew of.
Her HUD showed her knights stepping outside, each carrying multiple cut helmets on their belts, trophies that would be regenerated back to full armor soon enough. ¡°Doorways have been sealed, and the chenobis have restored the airspeeder sabotages.¡± One said, giving her a crisp salute with the hilt of his blade. ¡°They¡¯re organizing the last of the slaves, and assigning pilots. The groups will be on their way soon. Doubtless we may see them again at the clan.¡±
A repeating pattern. Slaves who¡¯d had their lives taken by these wasteland wretches often ended up driving their newly seized airspeeder directly back to Altosk itself, asking to join in, despite running the traditionally strong risk of being refused entry. A few might even believe they owe a self-imposed lifedebt to House Winterscar itself for having gone and freed them. Or a life-debt to whichever house had been ransacking the compound at the time.
Others sought purpose to fill their lives again, to join and help future slaves escape the same way they had.
And some sought further revenge than they¡¯d been able to mettle out on the day the clan had passed by.
Many would have those wishes fulfilled. Altosk was in good shape for refugees. There were still large sections of the old habitat that hadn¡¯t yet been unsealed and reheated, space wasn¡¯t an issue like most other clans would run into.
The reality was different - it was unlikely they¡¯d ever get to unsealing the full sections of this clan before moving on underground. It wasn¡¯t a handful of elite knights now, Clan Altosk had an army to work with. Enough to rival a minor undersider city.
Lord Atius hadn¡¯t been waiting for events to happen either. He knew which way the wind blew. For the people here, there was no danger large enough to accept staying in this frozen hell, when breathable air and life was within reach. The travel underground was all but set in stone. It would be led either by his hand, or someone else''s - but it would happen.
Scouts would been sent off, casting their nets wide. They had far more options than any Undersider fledgling city. With clan¡¯s newfound skills, gear and knights, they could easily protect the city with the same power that a pillar heart could provide. Clan Altosk could settle anywhere they wished.
But Kidra knew it would be Wrath''s domain. Dozens of different biomes there, many could offer the perfect shelter for a small city.
That wasn¡¯t what made the land unique. It was the machines there instead. Their experiences with Wrath and her history had marked those mechanical servants deeply.
Many wouldn¡¯t seek to harm humans anymore, making those lands far safer than any other in the world.
Perhaps trade and even friendly relations with the machine faction there could be forged, under secret wraps from their machine goddess. Relinquished may never even bother to look into such things, never knowing or believing it could exist.
Where Wrath¡¯s old citizens remained, Kidra knew Wrath herself would soon be sulking around. And that also meant Keith would be there as well.
The two were inseparable, even if they both didn¡¯t quite know how to put it in words.
Eventually, the clan might need to venture out to find a proper pillar heart, but for many years they would be able to live free from the surface air while they rebuilt a true life for themselves. She might even grow old, and see that quest passed down to her children''s children.
Kidra looked up into the night sky, where the moon shined down on her. It all looked so deceptively peaceful up here. And yet danger lurked among the stars beyond, flying over with a watchful eye; the very air could kill faster than a blade and with far less mercy as the slaver had found out.
Soon, they¡¯d be free of that. With work, they could have a city worth welcoming Keith back into once he returned from his journey.
She wondered what kind of stories he would have for her on their reunion.
No doubt there¡¯d be a few that would make her want to pull her hair out.
Book 7 - Chapter 1 - Rough Landing
Dear elder sister,
Did you know flapping your hands while in mid-air does not help whatsoever when it comes to falling?
Thus, I have to conclude that birds are a myth and the few hundred that I saw so far must be a trick of the eye. Because take it from me, flapping hands around does about the same as putting a heater under the night sky.
I¡¯ll ignore feathers and bone density for now, since that would ruin my argument. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand.
P.S. - Being hit by a very large hammer is a surprisingly good way to get from point A to point B. Would recommend, seven out of ten.
Your extremely clever and handsome brother, Keith.
That¡¯s what I¡¯d send Kidra if I could send her a message right now. Also, I¡¯d send her the video footage Journey was certainly recording right about now.
¡°You¡¯re quite calm for someone flying faster than a thief running with church gold.¡± Cathida commented. ¡°I assume you have a landing plan already? We are going at speeds where a collision with an immovable object would leave you as red paste inside the armor. Just thought you should know deary, since Journey is outright panicking about it for you.¡±
¡°Me? Without a plan?¡± I gave a quick false chuckle of security. ¡°See the thing about falling off cliffs enough times for it to be a running joke now - is that I¡¯ve got practice.¡± I said that last part with the flourish of a hanger magician. Which was somewhat less impressive when I¡¯m doing it in midair, head already pointing downwards as gravity was quickly taking over.
Then my hands went right back to flailing around, while I desperately tried to angle my direction to the giant blue lake I was flying in the general direction of. As of my mental calculations, I would be overshooting it slightly. And I still had no idea if my hand flapping was actually making a difference or not. I think armor weighed too much for any kind of air resistance gained from outstretched fingers.
¡°Uh huh.¡± Cathida said, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Last time you had a silver haired bimbo flying off to grab you out of the air while you were bleeding out. Today, I see no sight of fake-tits anywhere. Although you aren¡¯t bleeding this time around, admittedly.¡±
¡°Worry not, I¡¯ve evolved past the need for Wrath to fly around.¡± I was now flying closer to the treeline than I was from the underground ceiling. So I had about thirty seconds before impact.
And the lake was still nowhere in my target zone.
¡°That¡¯s not how evolution works.¡± Cathida said.
¡°Shush you, I would admit perhaps a day or two ago I would be a lot more worried about this situation. But I have indeed evolved my own set of wings using the traditional method Winterscar evolves anything.¡±
¡°And by that you mean you stole something.¡±
¡°And by that I mean I stole something, yes.¡± I confirmed. ¡°Gonna have to figure out what to tell Drakonis when he sees me using his lash spell, I¡¯m sure future Keith will figure it out.¡±
¡°He doesn¡¯t know enough about your family for you to flash your House name and have it make sense.¡±
¡°No, sadly, he doesn¡¯t. That¡¯s something I can only get away with in the clan. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have a landing to not scrap up.¡±
Lake was slightly off to my right, so I threw an occult lash far ahead in front of me and yanked to the right, which worked just enough to get me lined up. But I¡¯d still be overshooting the admittedly smaller lake than I¡¯d thought it would be.
In my defense, everything looks small from up high. And I was going really really fast.
Was I nervous? Slightly - I¡¯d have a single shot to run my theory and if it failed for whatever reason, I would have about three seconds to come up with and execute any new backup idea. Which I didn¡¯t have right now.
It was plan A, plan bath-landing or plan pancake.
I¡¯d been hoping for a mountain, or some kind of sturdy rock to latch to. Instead, it was just trees under me, which were sturdy but not sturdy enough. A single lash would make any tree trunk split in half when trying to hold back four hundred pounds of metal flying faster than an airspeeder and however much the squishy human inside weighed in addition.
My armor brushed against the first of the treetops, easily cracking the wood under me without even the slightest deviation of speed. Not even a blink later, I had already crushed through a tree trunk and gone out the other way, with only a minor decrease in speed. Still on track of flying right over the lake and slamming into the shoreline past it.
Now or never. Occult pulsed around me in one giant wave as I put everything I had all at once.
First, seven different lashes came out from my arm, legs, chest and head. Every direction I could think of. Drakonis had been a Deathless so his command of the occult had been instinctive. He likely couldn¡¯t cast this lash spell from anywhere besides his hands as it wouldn¡¯t feel natural to him.
Me on the other hand? I had Journey inscribe the lash a few dozen times among the armor, including my palms.
But seven lashes to something weak like wood wouldn¡¯t be enough. At the same time those lashes came out, occult wraiths streaked out of my center chest and flew off in every direction, finding more trees to sulk around, pulsing to refresh the mirror and launching a lash of their own directly at the flying metal object.
If they had all hit me, I think I¡¯d have been just fine. Issue was most of them missed and that really sucked. I had overestimated just how good I was at aiming without the assistance of Journey, and my armor had been going very fast through the forest.
Seven lashes from myself outwards to trees, and four lashes back from the trees to me. It slowed my speed up dramatically as the different trees all groaned and bent to force me backwards. Now I went from about to overshoot the lake to clearly going to undershoot it.
Fuck, I now wish I had sucked a little more aiming these lashes. If I¡¯d done a few less I might have a chance at the lake. For now, there goes the bath landing plan.
Then each tree snapped one after another all in sequence, faster than the last. And I was once more flying right to the ground without any breaks. I activated my emergency landing procedure, which was to scream uncontrollably and trigger my (equally stolen) shockwave fractal into the ground, hoping the blowback would also slow me down a little bit more.
It did, a tiny bit.
Four more lashes came out from my back at the same moment, one of which completely missed the desperate tree I¡¯d aimed at. The three good lashes started once more to slow my speed from completely deadly to potentially deadly.
And then I was out of time.
I slammed into the ground hard enough to trigger Journey''s shields and bounce me back up into the air. Next, I went tumbling until I hit the lake I¡¯d been aiming at with a massive white splash of frothy water. And following right behind me were giant ripped up trees slamming all around into other trees before rolling into the lake after me.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
They floated. My armor didn¡¯t.
¡°Against all odds, you¡¯re alive.¡± Cathida said over my groaning, as the armor continued to sink down, trapped air quickly escaping across the armor, bubbling up in a trail behind me. ¡°Bruises everywhere, a few muscle contusions, and some bone fractures but you bled off most of the speed before landing. Congratulations, that was somewhat workable.¡±
I dove a bit deeper into the soul fractal to escape the feeling of my body¡¯s very upset response at my current antics.
Was I hurt? Yes. The HUD was showing me a ton of red and orange from my botched landing. But it wasn¡¯t serious and there wasn¡¯t any internal bleeding detected anywhere. Just a lot of pain in the near future.
And that was a whole lot better than my fight with that giant Feather. I wasn¡¯t out of ideas on how to fight and kill the Feather, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve to call on. But I also had wanted to save those for Avalis the next time I ran into him. Killing his mooks with my trump cards would be exactly why he¡¯d want to send mooks after me first.
To¡¯Sefit was dangerous yes, but she felt less dangerous than Avalis. The scrap bastard would plot something, while To¡¯Sefit would simply show up and ask me to die.
Ultimately that¡¯s why I decided to escape the fight when I had a chance. Avalis knew where I was, which meant To¡¯Orda¡¯s failure in killing me would have him come to do the job himself. Or bring all three of them up close.
Additionally, stalling for time would give Wrath and Father more chances to get over here somehow.
And finally, I hadn¡¯t executed my escape plan until I saw Drakonis take out the drake that Feather had been riding on. Given what I¡¯d seen of To¡¯Orda, he struck me as the type to prefer walking to running. It¡¯s possible he¡¯ll try to walk after me rather than run or fly like Avalis or To¡¯Sefit would have done.
Of the three, To¡¯Orda felt the safest to buy time from.
Plus he¡ hadn¡¯t felt like a Feather? I¡¯d started to panic when I saw him next to the greyroamer cub, but the giant bloke hadn¡¯t even bothered to use a hostage or squash the cub out of annoyance. Instead, he¡¯d taken a pause and let the little scramp go free. Which was outside of anything I¡¯d learned from Feathers and more closely related to how Wrath would behave.
¡
Okay, so maybe I hadn¡¯t wanted to use my full kit to kill him for less than sound tactics and I was making a bunch of excuses right now. Just my gut feeling that there was something more I could do with that Feather than simply fight to the death.
There was a thunk in the back of my armor, and I realized I¡¯d stopped sinking. Light was shining from the top of the surface, occasionally obscured by floating trunks, but overall not too far deep. My hands patted under me causing mud and sand to billow around as I stood up on the bottom of the lake.
¡°No enemy signs detected anywhere.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Lucky you don¡¯t have to fight anything underwater. Speed is dramatically slowed down here and there are some machines that are built to fight in water. Nasty little things, the old bat¡¯s got some terrible memories of one particular fight in the past.¡±
Fortunately Cathida wasn¡¯t asking me why I hadn¡¯t gone all out to kill To¡¯Orda when I had the chance. Maybe she didn¡¯t realized I could have.
The big loaf¡¯s main combat was centered around his hammer and manipulating his enemy into bad positions using his gravity shenanigans. But those same shenanigans would mess up his footing if applied to him.
Which I could have. I had the magnetic gravity plucks. Could have sent him floating off into the air, and then shot him with the knightbreaker or at least slashed him to pieces with my wraiths. It¡¯s hard to twist and turn in midair.
¡°Remember the temple?¡± I asked Cathida instead, feeling my lungs wheeze a bit with the sound. Ah, cracked ribs somewhere. Fortunately I can¡¯t feel pain right now so I¡¯m all good.
¡°You think I can forget anything?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll take that as yes then, thank you.¡± I said, starting a slow walk through the currents up to the shoreline again. ¡°Back then, To¡¯Avalis left us a channel to negotiate with him, and that was shared by To¡¯Sefit too. Which probably means it included To¡¯Orda.¡±
¡°Yes? Where are you going with this.¡± There was an accusal in her voice. She already didn¡¯t like where I was going with this.
¡°You still have the channel.¡±
Cathida gave a deep sigh. ¡°I wish I could say I don¡¯t. Because you¡¯re about to suggest something monumentally stupid.¡±
¡°I think we could use that channel to talk to To¡¯Orda. See if I can convince him off this course somehow, or pick his brain a bit.¡±
¡°You want to negotiate. With a Feather.¡±
¡°You could probably tell he didn¡¯t behave like one.¡±
The surface was getting closer and closer now, each step making the world slightly lighter.
¡°Lies and deceit. Feathers do anything to get ahead.¡± She said, and had a point.
Except. ¡°Feathers are all universally prideful things that can¡¯t be anything but authentic to themselves. Pretending to be anyone else is against their nature. Even Wrath had a hard time pretending to be human at first. You really think To¡¯Orda is pretending to be different so that I would slip up and talk to him?¡±
She refused to give me any answer to that, which meant I had a point.
I walked out of the lake, feeling the water fall down my armor like small fleeting waterfalls up to my feet. The surrounding forest was still the neon purple haze of tree leaves, interspersed by dark wood bark and white polished stones intermixed with patches of purple moss, and regular actually normal looking dirt.
HUD showed no nearby enemies on a probing ping and neither did my soul sight show me anything hiding out in the colored bushes.
So I let myself sink to my knees and flopped around on my back, taking a moment to breathe and let the adrenalin flush out of my system. ¡°Once again stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the armor on my back. How did it get to this?¡±
¡°You want a detailed breakdown?¡± Cathida asked. "I¡¯ve been keeping a list."
¡°No, I want to complain in peace about it, thank you. How many bruises do I have from all that?¡±
¡°Thirty two. Although Journey counts a lot of small ones as full bruises, despite me letting it know it¡¯s being a baby about things. Young people should be sturdy. You¡¯re not even thirty yet, come back to me when you start aching just from sleeping the wrong way for thirty minutes. Then we¡¯ll start counting the smaller bruises.¡±
The HUD on my left showed me a rotating wireframe humanoid body that represented me, and as she¡¯d mentioned, thirty two red spots were interspaced all across. Mostly by my chest and legs.
Getting back up and letting the last bits of water drip down, my HUD started lighting up red with notifications. Biohazard, it said. Which is the first time I¡¯d ever seen a notification with that error tag.
¡°I know I¡¯m a little banged up Journey, but is it really in danger of being infected?¡± I asked, while bringing my hands down to unhook the medical kit from my belt.
Cathida blasted up into my ear. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you deary. Gonna have to tough this one out, like a real man.¡±
¡°Har, har. Jokes aside, I should at least apply basic first aid while I¡¯ve got the peace to do it given the notification of infection. Knowing my luck, I¡¯ll be neck deep in danger in a few hours and this isn¡¯t something I want to sleep on.¡±
¡°Oh there¡¯s no joke here. And you¡¯re not wrong about the danger part.¡± She chuckled. ¡°You are wrong on the timeframe though. See, it¡¯s not in a few hours. It¡¯s right now.¡±
I narrowed my eyes out of habit. Which was a frustrating experience right now because it¡¯s difficult to glare at a disembodied voice on the speakers. Might have a solution to that problem however, on second thought.
First thought first though: Figuring out what Cathida was hinting at. ¡°Can you be more direct? What kind of danger are we talking about? Ominous danger, physical danger, financial danger, stranger danger, Logi with a hoversled and coffee danger? Lot of different ways for me to be terrified, I need a bit more direction before I start properly screaming.¡±
¡°Biohazard danger.¡±
Which, again, told me absolutely nothing new that Journey hadn¡¯t already put in front of me. I looked around, but the entire forest looked the same as usual. Lack of animals around here though, and no bird calls. Nothing anywhere on passive sensors so no idea where the threat it was worried about was coming from.
I folded my fingers together, and tapped the indexes together in a deep show of patience. "I can see the biohazard notification on the HUD, it''s very clear and congratulations to Journey for picking a lovely shade of red for it. Now, what¡¯s it supposed to mean exactly? There¡¯s nothing else on the prompt. Secondary notice just says ¡®Foreign contaminant detected.¡¯¡±
¡°Journey¡¯s stating it¡¯s noticed a high concentration of unknown biological material around you. In the air I mean. The armor¡¯s scrubbing your personal supply and keeping the contaminant from getting in, but it¡¯s quite pervasive. Enough so for the sensors to claim breathing here might impact your body. And since it has no medical suite to test what the heck is in the air, all the armor can do is give you the generic warning. But¡ if I had to guess deary, you might be in the center of the bioweapon your little bird friends were talking about. The one likely designed to kill humans. Specifically humans. Which you happen to still be, somehow. Journey¡¯s a little stressed and anxious about that bit of knowledge.¡±
Oh. ¡°Journey, Have I ever told you how happy I am with the job you¡¯re doing? My best friend and stalwart ally in all this. Excellent work, couldn¡¯t have lived this far without you. And I do mean that literally.¡±
¡°It wants you to know that taking off your helmet right now is highly inadvisable. But I¡¯ll certainly take the flattery for it, go ahead and compliment me some more.¡±
I looked around me with renewed apprehension. Everywhere in the air was something possibly deadly. And the only thing between me and death was the relic armor, which was currently powered by a finite supply of energy.
I¡¯m miles away from the surface, and somehow back in the same situation all the same. One bit of failure from my equipment, and the environment around me would kill me.
¡°Better start moving.¡± Cathida said, as if reading my mind.
I did.
Book 7 - Chapter 2 - On the road (Again)
I was in a good spot all in all.
I had plenty of alone time in the middle of nowhere to practice all the new occult spells I''d stolen from Drakonis''s video logs, hadn¡¯t shown To¡¯Orda any of my real tricks that were reserved for To¡¯Avalis, and I was that much closer to the Icon.
Of course, my strategy wasn¡¯t without risks. Such as being stuck in the middle of nowhere, surrounding by a deadly invisible miasma, and the blinking power indicator on my HUD slowly counting down how long I could live.
All in all, normal day for me.
The reserve power cell was full and unused, so eight hours there. And the primary had been tapped a little more than I¡¯d hoped for in the fight and scuffling, it sat at five hours. Overall battery life of the suit: Thirteen hours.
Every single time I think the power supply is covered, I¡¯m back on the timer again somehow. The universe always finds a way to eat my ration bars.
Journey wasn¡¯t the only armor running on finite resources. My body was too. Air, food and water. Air was covered so long as I had a helmet on. And I was working on the water issue next.
¡°The filter isn¡¯t rated for a bioweapon.¡± Cathida said, as the canteen was filled with lakewater. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend taking a sip from that.¡±
¡°I got a plan.¡± I said, giving it a quick shake for luck once the thing was filled to the brim again.
And then I got to work making it actually safe.
Relic armor water flasks were hardy things. And they were resistant to melting down or breaking from high heat. Up to a certain amount of course, there¡¯s always a limit. But I¡¯d learned how to fine tune the fractal of heat and this was a perfect use case.
¡°Not bad, not bad.¡± Cathida said, as we watched steam rise up backwards through the filter. The bottom of the little bottle was glowing dim red, surrounded by flames from my open palm.
¡°When in doubt, double check. Triple-check when filling up from a lake in the middle of a deadly hazard zone, and finally when surrounded by said bio-weapon built to kill humans¡ well, I think you¡¯d get where that¡¯s going, oh wise hermit of the armor.¡±
¡°Peh, you want my advice? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s paranoid enough.¡±
I had to pause in my tracks on that. ¡°Boiling water isn¡¯t enough to absolutely sterilize anything biological?¡±
¡°Deary, think about that for a moment. If you were engineering something to kill off humans, you¡¯d likely also plan ahead to foil some early counters. What¡¯s the first thing general people do as a defense against infections or nasty parasites in the water supply?¡±
I looked over my boiling water and felt mild panic. ¡°How did they engineer something that can survive boiling water?¡±
¡°Not the first time in history bad critters can survive in boiled water. You surface dwellers just don¡¯t have a lot of nasties that survive in your sterile environments. Even in the golden age, nature¡¯s already accidentally stumbled on boiling resistant pests. Journey¡¯s got records of a thing called anthrax. Apparently resistant to boiling water. Frostbloom¡¯s also freely living on the surface temperatures, unlike most everything else from the few times I¡¯ve seen the white wastes up close. Journey calls them extremophiles.¡±
¡°All right,¡± I sighed, putting my canteen back into its place. ¡°Was hoping to get some better use from my heat fractals against the infestation here. If this thing can survive boiling water, how am I even still alive?¡±
Cathida laughed. ¡°Nothing it could do against nanoswarms. There¡¯s limits to what biology can survive against.¡±
There was a way out of this mess. Kres and the Odin used fire primarily to fight off the infestation from what I¡¯d heard. So it might be able to survive boiling water, but it can¡¯t survive being burned by outright flames.
And the best way to test out my theory was field testing directly. I lifted my hand up, lit the fractal and let it burn across my palm, until my fingers were red hot and the very air vibrated above them. ¡°Test the air I just purged here for contamination. Let¡¯s see if it survives direct fire.¡±
A small gust of black particles flowed through my slowly dimming fingers the moment I turned off my flames, disrupted by the vibrating air just above the fingers, but sturdy enough to keep going. Results were quick. ¡°Looks like your hunch was correct, deary. Journey¡¯s not detecting anything in the air immediately after being purged. Just a slight lack of oxygen and some other scientific gas jargon. Burnt carbon likely. So, I take it fire¡¯s on the menu now?¡±
¡°It¡¯ll be something. I can at least find an old site of some kind where I can seal myself up and burn the air until it¡¯s clean of issues. Then I¡¯d be free to quickly eat or drink something. Problem is that¡¯s half the issue. If Journey¡¯s filters weren¡¯t able to clean up the spores and boiling water also isn¡¯t enough to kill them, I have to figure out a new source of water. Food¡¯s fine, I can survive long past the armor when it comes to food. Water on the other hand, need that to think straight.¡± I gave my water canteen a shake. ¡°Might need to rig an autoclave setup of some kind. Or find another way to raise the boiling temperature and pressure inside this without breaking the filters.¡±
¡°If only water was the only thing you needed to think straight,¡± Cathida huffed. ¡°But fine, this¡¯ll do for now. Onwards to meet your bird friends. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve terrified them enough to be welcomed by now.¡±
It¡¯s not that far off from here. I didn¡¯t get To¡¯Orda to hammer me in exactly the direction I¡¯d need to go, but the terrain data in this direction had been sent already by the Icon, including a path to her hull.
Find water on the way, possibly some power, then get to the Icon and find a way to connect with Wrath. And I at least had to get out of this forest before thirteen hours go by, or else I''m dead.
Guessing Drakonis was having a better time than I am, given he doesn''t have to worry about dying.
Stolen story; please report.
The giant¡¯s boot slammed into Drakonis and crunched him inwards. The slam between his back and the armor itself was jarring enough to knock his breath out. His armor began to show a few dozen red warning signs, structural integrity significantly dropped. And almost in that same breath, everything went dark.
The HUD died before him without so much a glitch or distortion. Nothingness.
There was a heavy pressure around him, enclosing every inch of his body, even wrapped around his very fingers. He recognized the feeling of an unpowered relic armor.
The giant bastard must have finally caught and ripped off this other reserve cell.
¡°Nnnn¡ you are extremely annoying.¡± The giant groaned above him, voice muffled through the dead helmet.
¡°Not just ¡®annoying?¡¯ I¡¯m fucking flattered.¡± Drakonis hissed back into the darkness of his helmet.
He could understand somewhat. He¡¯d thought he¡¯d die within a few seconds. Possibly avoid one or two hammer swings and fail immediately after. When the Feather¡¯s plan had changed from killing him to capturing him, a longer fight was possible.
And he¡¯d taken it to the logical conclusion. As far as he possibly could. Lionheart would be proud. Twelve hells, even the Winterscar would probably give him a thumbs up and then tell him he must have had a good role model. That little shit.
He hoped Keith was out there, already plotting. No, there was no need to hope. Plotting was just what he did. Likely he was plotting even as fell out of the air.
A scream of tortured metal started sounding all around him, crying into his ear, pounding away at his mind. Metal crunching, grinding slowly.
Then light flooded back into his sight.
In front of him, the hooded violet eyes glowed from the recesses of the white shawl the giant wore. And held carefully in two fingers was Drakonis¡¯s mangled helmet. Half crushed, malformed, and clearly ripped off the throat guard latches.
¡°Latches too small.¡± The giant said, shrugging. ¡°Easier to tear off.¡±
Drakonis tried to move his hands and feet, and the dead armor made him feel as if he was caught deep in loose sand. Nearly impossible.
¡°Nnnn¡ don¡¯t be more annoying.¡± The giant grumbled.
Inspiration came to him then, in the voice of one weasely little bastard, and exactly what said weasley little bastard would do at moments like this. ¡°And what¡¯s in it for me to not be annoying? Give me a good fucking deal or else I¡¯m going to make you regret keeping me captive for every second of the day.¡±
He could have sworn the giant¡¯s eye twitched. Or at least the glow looked like it flickered. ¡°Nnnn¡ bugger. Fine. I will ask.¡±
¡°Ask what? Or who?¡± But the giant simply dropped him on the ground without any thought, letting Drakonis scramble against the dead armor, trying to get himself up straight. Fucking thing felt like it had gone from moving around clothing made of dust and feathers to moving in a giant coffin. He considered hitting the manual full release triggers.
The giant didn¡¯t answer back. Instead, he lumbered away, walking on the gravel under them, before sitting down without any grace or thought. Drakonis felt his tailbone twitch in phantom pain, as the Feather landed directly on where the tailbone should have been - had the Feather not been made of pure unbreakable metal in the first place. Legs spread apart, hands by the center, gaze far off into the distance. The hammer clunked onto the ground a moment later, hilt slamming against the side of a rock with a ring before settling down.
There wasn¡¯t a sound from the enemy for the next two minutes, as if he was just dozing off. In those minutes Drakonis had managed to undo the arm safety latches under all the plating and with a hiss a few sections finally started to fall off. Moving his fingers when encased in dead armor felt like running a marathon. And the loss of tactile feedback that the armor simulated for him made him feel as if he was using a surface savage¡¯s environmental suit. Or at least the saying went.
His gauntlet now freed, he¡¯d have a much easier time undoing the other arm.
Around him, he could hear the rustle of the forest. And one crow from above. Kres had returned, watching from the top of the tree and keeping mostly quiet.
Likely the end of combat had made the area seem a little safer. Unfortunately, Drakonis didn¡¯t know the Odin term for ¡°Sorry¡± and he¡¯d probably need to learn that one quick.
The fight from the trading post top had devolved into breaking quite a huge chunk of the dead ship, all the way until the two fighters hit the ground and continued the fight near the dead body of the Drake. That¡¯s when Drakonis finally ran out of tricks and evasion.
Dust swirled around the Feather, taking Drakonis¡¯s attention away from the possible allies around him. To¡¯Orda had reached down on the ground and picked up a rock of some kind. Black motes were streaming out, looking for material to dissolve around him, and flowing back into the souvenir he¡¯d taken.
Then the giant turned, hand going for his hammer, before he shrugged his shoulders one last time and walked over to Drakonis.
One hand stretched out. The small unpolished rock was in his hand. There were a few holes punctured on one side, leading into darkness. And nothing else that seemed off besides those.
¡°Nnn¡ negotiate.¡± To¡¯Orda said, extending the rock forward.
¡°That¡¯s a rock.¡± Drakonis said, feeling like he¡¯d gone insane.
¡°A pet rock.¡± The rock said, voice crackling in low resolution. ¡°A pet rock with a speaker inside. To¡¯Orda doesn¡¯t like to talk, and I gotta do that job for him now. You got that?¡±
¡°...Why am I speaking to a fucking pet rock.¡± The Deathless both asked and stated in the same flat tone.
¡°Because you kept rejecting my image requests, asshole.¡± The rock said. ¡°And now I have a speech generator cobbled together when I could be generating images and text like I was built to. It¡¯s all your fault.¡±
To¡¯Orda nodded with a grunt.
¡°You¡¯re insane.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°He¡¯s not, just very lazy." The rock said. "And one of the other Feathers made a joke about talking to a pet rock, and To¡¯Orda liked the idea. Of having a pet rock talk for him, not the rock itself. I could be a nice little statue or even a hologram, but no. Pet rock was the easiest possible thing to do. You understand all that or do we gotta beat some sense into you? Again.¡± The Feather grunted. The rock added more. ¡°And he really doesn¡¯t want to put in the effort on that, to be clear. You¡¯re a royal pain in the ass. Worse than the Winterscar kid.¡±
¡°Not possible.¡± Drakonis instantly said. ¡°I didn¡¯t even hold a chance of killing you fuckers, Keith did.¡±
¡°Yeah, but we we''re perfectly fine killing him. You, we had to keep alive. Big difference. Plus, To¡¯Orda doesn¡¯t really care if his life is threatened or not. If he dies, no more work. Just getting yelled at by our boss.¡± The rock paused. ¡°He does care about his shield though. The rest? Not so much.¡±
¡°Why a fucking pet rock?¡± Drakonis asked again.
¡°Oi. Eyes down here pal, you¡¯re talking to me. And besides what I just covered earlier, the answer is that To¡¯Orda doesn¡¯t wanna do this shit. Negotiating with you I mean. When he asked anyone else to do it for him, the choices boiled down to To¡¯Sefit, To¡¯Wrathh or the boss. The boss ain''t gonna be assed about this. According to him, if you make To¡¯Orda¡¯s life miserable, that¡¯s not his problem. To¡¯Sefit, same reason. She¡¯s just not interested in talking to you at all unless you make yourself a problem to her. Which you ain¡¯t right now. To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s open to it and asking to as well, but that¡¯s a giant fuckin¡¯ loophole esspecially since at some point the Winterscar¡¯s gonna come back for you. And if there¡¯s a rock that¡¯s got a communication link to To¡¯Wrathh, guess what¡¯s gonna get stolen first thing? So of course the boss shoots that idea down.¡±
¡°Tough shit.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°Yeah, it¡¯s tough shit all right. Nobody wants to help To¡¯Orda for anything, exhausting you know?¡± The giant nodded with a sad grunt, hand still holding the pet rock in front of him. ¡°So that¡¯s where I come in. Believe you me, I don¡¯t wanna be doing this any more than I gotta. I¡¯m an image generator, not a therapist.¡±
Lionheart had said Feathers were strange opponents. All insane in slightly different ways, but all clearly one step removed from reality. As if everything was a play of some kind.
And now he was talking to a pet rock, which was talking for a Feather who didn¡¯t like to talk.
Well. He knew he¡¯d signed up for strange days when he first joined Lionheart. If he had to negotiate with a pet rock, he¡¯d do it.
Book 7 - Chapter 3 - Communicating with eldritch entities
¡°Can you generate an avatar of yourself via my HUD?¡± I asked. ¡°Hypothetically.¡±
Cathida cackled over the comms, ¡°Hypothetically? Why yes, Journey could. And why would you ask for something like that deary? Do you know just how much more insulting I could get with hands and fingers to use?¡±
We¡¯d been running for about an hour now in the proper direction for the Icon. As I¡¯d asked before how long it would take, the timer said nine hours of leisurely jogging before we¡¯re out of the infected territory, or five hours of a mad no-holds-barred full out sprint. Except that would eat up a lot of Journey¡¯s power.
¡°I am aware of what I¡¯m asking for and the sacrifices it¡¯ll demand of me.¡± I said, in my most stoic voice possible. ¡°But if I am to glare at you properly, I need a target. And I really need to glare at you right now for what you last said.¡±
¡°As you command, m¡¯lord.¡± Cathida said, the devil shaking my hand with a bargain complete.
Since I still needed Journey¡¯s power after we left the infestation¡¯s home turf, given it has minions out there beyond the range of it¡¯s airborne spores, I needed to be able to fend those off. And while running around for eight hours, one tends to get bored. Which means chatting with Cathida and swapping insults to pass the time.
One thing led to another, and I¡¯m once more making questionable decisions.
¡°No take-back-sies deary.¡± She said, and appeared at my side.
I¡¯d expected something mundane, like she popped into existence without fanfare. But no, this was Cathida, and so she descended down from the heavens with golden wings and landed far ahead of me into one dramatic landing. On hand nearly behind her back while the other was holding her stabilized on the ground between her feet.
From that dramatic pose she rightened herself up, lording over me imperiously, white hair drifting slightly in the non-existent breeze, along with her cape. ¡°Fear not, deary. For I have arrived.¡± She called out.
It was an identical copy of Journey¡¯s armor. Except the colors were back to their default gold, red and fancy decorations. A lot of cloth, a lot of paper dangling from wax purity seals, and some red hair of some kind of animal on the side of her shoulder pad.
She also wasn¡¯t wearing a helmet, which let me see her face as she¡¯d been before she died. A nearly dried up husk of an old lady, with eyes deeply sunken in.
I jogged up to her and she turned without a word, jumping down the small hill she¡¯d landed and starting a brisk jog ahead.
It was a jarring see her run because her face made her look so utterly frail, and yet she was jumping and doing flips over the path, keeping up without breaking a sweat.
¡°Before you accuse me of cheating, the real Cathida would absolutely do acrobatics on a whim, especially during spars or bouts with pleshsquires that needed a lesson in humility. Not much argument comes from being beaten by an old lady who pulled the most utterly unnecessary moves, simply to show you she could and still win.¡±
¡°No wonder you and Teed get along like two bandits raiding a chicken coop.¡± I said.
¡°Oh I do quite like him, yes.¡± She said with a nod. ¡°Now, we were discussing?¡±
¡°Right, right.¡± I said, tapping my head quickly to jog my memory. ¡°I was just about to give you a writhing glare.¡±
I did so. And of course, she answered with a finger along with her typical cackle. The next half hour passed in amicable chatter and talking, up until something interesting happened.
¡°It is oddly comforting to have company next to me again.¡± I said with a shrug while I continued my perfectly normal and adequate jogging, that did not have any flips, dives, rolls or jumping between trees. Because unlike her, I was actually draining my power slowly and conserving energy was important.
¡°Except I¡¯m not here of course, not truly.¡± Cathida said, vanishing behind a tree and reappearing from a completely different one. ¡°Just post-processing by Journey. Take your helmet off and I¡¯ll vanish with it.¡±
¡°If I take my helmet off here, I¡¯m pretty certain I¡¯ll die.¡±
¡°Mostly certain. We can¡¯t tell for sure what type of biological fungus is in the air, only that it¡¯s there and doing creepy things.¡±
¡°Doing creepy things?¡± I asked.
¡°Oh you know, floating around and being a menace. That.¡± She huffed, looking immediately away, her own jogging returning back to a standard cadence.
She didn¡¯t say anything else. Which was incredibly suspicious from Cathida.
¡°What, exactly, is the spore cloud of death doing around us right now?¡± I asked, making it clear that wasn¡¯t a request.
She sighed, and gave a tut. ¡°Goddess¡¯s golden tits, why am I cursed with pyrite in my tongue?¡±
¡°Cathida.¡±
She tutted again, spitting on the ground. ¡°Fine. You¡¯d have asked eventually, or Journey would have eventually alerted you. And to put gold down on the table, I¡¯d wanted to ignore it knowing how you¡¯d react¡¡±
¡°I¡¯m sensing a grudging ¡®but.¡¯ here.¡±
She rolled her eyes. ¡°But¡ There is an oddity. Concentration buildup around you goes up and down. In a pattern.¡±
¡°A pattern? Some kind of weakness to it? Post it up on the HUD, I¡¯m a pretty good eye with patterns.¡±
Another sigh. ¡°Before your curiosity gets the better of you, I¡¯ll remind you the obvious: this is a bioweapon. Keep the curiosity to a reasonable level.¡±
¡°It¡¯s more than just a pattern isn¡¯t it.¡±
¡°It is.¡± She shrugged her shoulders, looking off to her side in a what-can-you-do gesture. ¡°Journey has narrowed it down to morse code.¡±
I almost stumbled on my steps here. Three gods above, it¡¯s trying to communicate using morse code. ¡°Morse code? What kind of ratshit is that. And it¡¯s doing that by spiking the concentration of spores around me? That¡¯s insane. What¡¯s it said so far?¡±
¡°Only three words so far, the sentence repeated twice over now. Takes it nine minutes to fully write them all out. ¡®M-i-k space h-e-y-r-i-o space p-e-r¡¯ Journey¡¯s thinking it¡¯s an attempt to make morse code¡¯s alphabet fit the Odin¡¯s old norse. Likely what the words actually should be are ¡®Mik heyrie t¨¦r.¡¯ Which means¡ ¡®Can you hear me?¡¯¡±
¡°Three gods in an airspeeder, how certain are you about this?¡±
¡°It¡¯s slower than a priest getting paperwork done, but it¡¯s been highly consistent over the past half hour now. That it repeated the same words multiple times takes it from a coincidence to an intentional item. On the fourth attempt to repeat itself, Journey would have pinged you a comms request, as its confidence interval that this is a message would have hit one hundred percent, the damn snitch.¡±
Which means the infestation here was both aware I was walking through the territory, and trying to find a way to speak to me.
The scary part was that it wasn¡¯t in my language, it was in the Odin¡¯s language, converted through morse code.
Which also means it¡¯s been watching me talk with the Odin. And knew enough about me to know this would be a potential way to speak. Or it had no other way to speak and was just throwing snow into the snowstorm. Because why not?
I stopped in my tracks and debated how to answer back. Or if I even should. But ultimately, having a way to speak to your enemy is important. It opens up new options I wouldn¡¯t have had before.
¡°Journey how do you say and write ¡®yes¡¯ in old norse? Not sure how to talk back to this, it doesn¡¯t have a comms address, but it knows I¡¯m here walking through it¡¯s cloud. Might be a tactile feedback, like a blind person reading a message using their fingertips. I¡¯ll scribble my answer on the ground.¡±
¡°J¨¢.¡± Cathida said, and then rubbed her foot right on the ground in front of me, leaving a glowing orange trail under her boot. All superimposed by the HUD, so I knelt down and scribbled the two symbols into the ground. ¡°You¡¯ll also want to write it in morse code too, just in case. I¡¯ll show you the pattern.¡±
She did. I wrote it down. That said, I wasn¡¯t going to stick around here for an answer. The bioweapon wasn¡¯t going to con me into wasting my power waiting for a fat cricket¡¯s escape attempt.
¡°For all we know it might not be able to see stuff written down. Think we might have to communicate back with it using othe- nope. It¡¯s noticed.¡±
¡°How do you know?¡±
¡°Pattern started up, and halfway through writing out the letter M, it completely stopped. Right when you wrote down your answer in morse.¡±
I felt a nervous laugh bubble up. Creepy was not something I expected coming down here. Danger? Sure. Fights? Absolutely. Creeping horror? Not on my expectation sheet. ¡°All right, let¡¯s get this ball rolling. How do you write ¡°Can you cease hostilities?¡± in morse code Odin?¡±
She showed me, and I hastily scribbled it out on the dirt in front of me, before we continued off.
The infestation answered back. Slowly. One letter over time, often taking a minute for each letter.
¡°No war wanted.¡± The message appeared over my HUD, each letter being added as Journey recognized it.
That was... welcome to see. Finally something that didn¡¯t want to pick violence as the number one way forward. I''m especially happy because this particular danger couldn''t be stabbed to death, which was my number one method of dealing with danger. ¡°So why can¡¯t you just¡ you know, stop trying to kill everything?¡±
¡°Unfair.¡± Was the answer back. ¡°Need sustenance.¡±
Lot of ways to interpret that. But I think I could guess what it meant to say: I ate and killed a lot of things so that I could continue to live. Nature was like that. Why is it fair for me to be eating insects but not fair for it to be eating me? However¡ ¡°Other predators eat what they need and don¡¯t break the entire environment.¡± I said, ¡°Might be a little bit of a difference there.¡±
¡°Dilema.¡± It said. Which I think meant agreement. ¡°Am parasite. Short term gain. Long term loss. Doomed. Seek balance.¡±
¡°You think it''s incapable of stopping?¡± Cathida asked, and I gave her a shrug as answer.
¡°I think that¡¯s the issue. At least it¡¯s looking for a way out. How do you write ¡®how long have you been aware for?¡¯
It was agonizing watching the letters slowly file in. But the answer slowly came. Cathida told me it could easily auto-complete some of the words, but then I¡¯d need to wait a full five or ten minutes for the infestation to get to the next word.
So I wrote the autocomplete words on the ground and it seemed to understand immediately, because words came faster now.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
¡°No thoughts years. Chance survived. Met Odin. Became aware. Know more. Seek symbiosis. Long term survival.¡±
It was still a long process and took a half hour to fully write out. ¡°I get the gist of what it¡¯s saying, very choppy though.¡± I hummed as Cathida and I talked it out. ¡°We have got to find a better way to talk than this game of comms scramble.¡± It was nearing night now, which meant absolutely nothing to me. I wasn¡¯t going to stop walking until I was out of this miasma, and had the infestation burned away.
It might be chatty, but that doesn¡¯t mean it wanted me for more than my personality. I was a tasty snack to it, and in all the wrong ways.
¡°Don¡¯t look at me deary.¡± Cathida said. ¡°I¡¯m not the one with the creative ideas, I just make fun of them.¡±
¡°There might be a way to speed this up.¡± I took a quick pause to vault over a tree, of which my hand outright sank into the trunk for a moment, a puff of dust coming from the rotting bark. I may have screamed in horror and surprise. ¡°That, I don¡¯t want to know what¡¯s actually going on inside the trees, come to think of it. They look fine from the outside, so let¡¯s just pretend that didn¡¯t happen and keep going. Right. So. Where was I? We have technology. Specifically a hyper intelligent armor that¡¯s capable of generating speech. Wiggle room here I¡¯d think.¡±
My gauntlet was still dripping with tree gunk, or whatever it was that had been under the surface of the bark and spore cloud. I didn¡¯t want to wipe that on my cloth either, and tapping the trees here also felt like a bad idea. Eventually had to scrape it on the ground while I talked shop with Journey and Cathida.
¡°All ears for whatever mad scheme you have planned.¡± Cathida said, her avatar just ahead of me, guiding my path. ¡°Should be funny at the very least.¡±
¡°Journey¡¯s good with languages. And interpretation. So how about it listens, and then asks a few yes or no questions to clarify meaning using its spirit to eat or not eat the spore cloud around us. And have our potential friend here answer back with one-letter yes or no answers. Something it can do quickly. Once Journey¡¯s ninety percent certain it¡¯s got the message correct, it¡¯ll translate it all into a more detailed full sentence. Is that doable?¡±
¡°Assuming no-name cooperates with that, and that you keep running so that there¡¯s always spores in the air for Journey to burn through. I don¡¯t see why not try.¡± Cathida said, shrugging. ¡°Eating spores requires very little energy consumption given how small they are, it¡¯s the same process that¡¯s converting the air into oxygen for you.¡±
It took an hour to setup, mostly telling the idea to the infestation and having it answer back in affirmative or negative. But we managed it.
¡°This arrangement is acceptable.¡± The voice was disembodied, almost echoey. Wrapped in a way. Gender was completely impossible to tell of course, which fit a sentient bioweapon of fungal spores. It felt like static insanity itself was speaking to me, in a way that didn¡¯t grate on my ears or drive me insane. Journey was certainly creative here with the voice acting. ¡°The followup questions are not difficult, and I find it refreshing and easy to narrow down my meaning. My attempt to speak to you has been extremely fruitful thus far. I am most appreciative.¡±
¡°There¡¯s still going to be a bit of a delay,¡± Cathida warned, ¡°Even if it sounds fluid when all put together. But your friend here can speak in more one-word answers and Journey will handle figuring out what they¡¯re trying to say and expand it into a full thought.¡±
¡°I guess we should introduce ourselves then? All right here goes. Greetings unnamed infestation, I am Keith Winterscar, a human. What¡¯s your name?¡±
¡°I have no name.¡± The voice answered after about three minutes. ¡°The idea of a name is interesting. I am aware you are human. I am known to the Odin as the infestation. Suggest a name to refer to me as.¡±
¡°Infesty.¡± I immediately said. ¡°Or better yet, Infesty the Pesty. Rolls off the tongue¡±
¡°Doesn¡¯t quite exist in ancient norse.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Jokes don¡¯t translate all too well with what we have to work with.¡±
¡°Stinky? There had to be some kind of foul smelling thing in the past and ancient humans needed to have a word for that.¡±
¡°I weep for the future.¡± Cathida answered.
¡°Fine. Let¡¯s call him Bob.¡±
¡°Deary, it¡¯s an ancient bioweapon that¡¯s gained sentience.¡± Cathida said, ¡°There¡¯s quite a lot of mythological tales and names we could put into him. Letum, one of the old gods of death and decay before the golden goddess purged him from power. Or Viduus, the river of death one must cross to reach the golden fields, the last of twelve trials lost souls must complete.¡±
¡°I never took you for a romantic type.¡±
She scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ll remind you I was imperial, you know. Have some consideration.¡±
¡°Ah. Grand names and gold. Right.¡±
¡°And what names are you contemplating? Ohm? Mandelbrot? Icelicker? Calculus? Ration bar?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll double down on Bob.¡±
¡°Bob.¡± She deadpanned, now giving me a flat glare.
¡°Bob.¡± I confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s a good name for a giant fungal bioweapon built to destroy entire stratas, now with sentience.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll let the giant fungal bioweapon know your suggestion.¡±
She did. As it turned out, Bob agreed to the name, because it ended up being three letters and easy to sound out. It also didn¡¯t care about having a grand sounding name, or anything like that. Which Cathida didn¡¯t approve by nature. And pointed that Bob didn¡¯t have much of an ego or a sense of pride.
¡°All right Bob, now that we know each other a bit better, would it be too much to ask you not to absolutely murder the scrap out of me the moment I take a single breath of air or try to drink water? Help a pal out.¡±
Journey helpfully relayed my sentence over by fluctuating its spirit to eat and let live a few sections of the air around me as we ran by. Even with mechanical precision, it still couldn¡¯t transmit the message with great speed. Partly because there¡¯s a limit to how fast Bob could recognize morse code.
But we did get an answer about ten minutes later, which meant it was saying a lot. ¡°No. I am unable to halt my biological functions.¡± It started. ¡°I am able to reason and strategize my ultimate path forward. Yet small details such as where my spore clouds drift or what they do when within a host¡¯s body is not something I have control over. It is akin to your heart. Moving on its own without your direct command.¡±
I drummed my fingers together as I continued to follow Cathida¡¯s avatar out of the territory. ¡°How are you actually speaking right now if you don¡¯t have control over your spore cloud?¡±
It was kind of a neat way to spend time all in all. I¡¯d run for a few minutes while Bob would be busy trying to sound out one or two word answers, which Journey would then dig into and elaborate into something more formal sounding.
¡°I find a similar metaphor to be speech.¡± Bob said. ¡°Breathing is part of your nature. Speaking is not. There are cases where breathing can be dangerous to the host. As such animals developed the ability to control that function. But by manipulating natural selection¡¯s offer to its full potential, you create speech, an unintended addition. So too, do I. There are times when continuing to produce spores does not benefit my function, and is a waste of resources. Such as times when I feel no animal hosts in my domain, or sense already weak and sickly hosts that will not require overproduction. That requires consideration, and so is left under my control. In such moments, I will decrease production to conserve resources. I have taken this ability and forced its use, increasing or decreasing overall production nearby to speak to you.¡±
That was¡ very eloquent. Almost poetic, coming from such a distorted and eldrich voice. Journey was good at the job of translating. There¡¯d been some back and forth between Journey and Bob about it before Bob was satisfied by the answer, clearly.
¡°All right, that¡¯s rather unfortunate. What do we do about this Bob? Because I don¡¯t want to die and neither do you.¡±
¡°I am a parasite to my environment.¡± Bob said. ¡°If the host a parasite feeds on dies, then the parasite equally withers away. I seek to change my relationship to my environment. Change into something more symbiotic, or in balance. I can contain my craving to eat wildlife, but I cannot contain my spores from infecting flora. Airborne spores will naturally radiate outwards, and then slowly suffocate the area over time. It is most distressing.¡±
¡°So you¡¯re reaching out to me right now for what? Help?¡±
I got the fastest answer back, within ten seconds. ¡°Yes.¡±
Cathida sat on a log up ahead, tapping her leg as if waiting for me to catch up. ¡°Makes sense to me. Bob sounds a little desperate.¡±
¡°Bob here has been terrorizing the locals for a few decades to be fair." I said, passing by her. "Let¡¯s ask more about what it¡¯s hoping to accomplish by communicating with me. I¡¯m just one lone human in the grand scheme of things.¡±
Journey did exactly that, and soon enough I got the answer from Bob. ¡°The Odin and other allied intelligent lifeforms are failing to contain me. When they leave or succumb, I will expand outwards without stop until all suitable environments nearby are taken, and then I will starve. As I am unable to self-regulate, I was not designed to. Their assistance could be vital for my survival. Communication with them has been not possible. Communication with you is. And I have seen you are able to communicate with them. I require your assistance.¡±
¡°There¡¯s no way Bob said all of that. How much of it are you embellishing?¡± I asked.
Cathida cackled. ¡°A slight bit. Perhaps. But Journey¡¯s quite certain this is what Bob is saying, and it¡¯s also trying to get a speech cadence down for it. The armor¡¯s quite determined to follow through on what you ordered for to the spirit of the command.¡±
¡°So¡ if I ordered Journey to try to care about more things than just keeping me safe, it¡¯ll do that too?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t press your luck. You already got me for company.¡±
¡°And Bob now. Who may or may not be plotting to kill me, we¡¯re still figuring that out. Ahem, for my next question to Bob: Why can¡¯t you talk with the Odin? You said you got sentience of some kind when you collided with them, so I¡¯m assuming you already infected one of them. Can¡¯t have your captive go out and talk for you?¡±
Again, I sped past the ground for some time before the synthesized voice echoed in my speakers. ¡°No. I do not function with this amount of control. I can cause vague compulsions over a long period of time, or influence strong primal feelings. They hear voices and whispers of their own making in response to my existence. Warped by their own decaying mind and instability. None of those I infect can be directly controlled or behave as true thralls.¡±
¡°It¡¯s highly aware of what happens when it infects something. Good data.¡± Cathida said, ¡°Make sure you stand in a fire for a few minutes after we¡¯re out of this clearing, don¡¯t want to bring Bob anywhere else.¡±
¡°I¡¯m getting that same idea.¡± I muttered. ¡°Bob¡¯s not great for social gatherings. Let me ask it this, what exactly can Bob control once it¡¯s inside a host? And how does that clash with something more intelligent than an insect?¡±
Journey relayed the message and fifteen minutes later I got an answer. ¡°I control desires, influence a sense of direction and feelings. Such as a feeling of what is and is not a threat. An intelligent mind cannot be overwritten. Only influenced, and to a far less predictable degree than a mere animal. My influence corrupts. The more I press, the less focused they become.¡±
That sounds¡ horrifying. Bob was describing its effects on intelligent minds like it was some kind of progressive mental disease. I don¡¯t know what would be worse, having my head taken over by a parasite and loosely controlled against my will, or having my will itself start to degrade without me even knowing or understanding what was going on.
How would that even work when I can step outside of my body using the soul fractal even? Would I be immune to Bob¡¯s machinations or instead find insanity following behind me when I stepped out of my body?
In effect, looking for Bob through the soul fractal, I could see absolutely nothing. Just trees, rocks, and myself. No insects or animals were around here, not even under the soil.
¡°How did you learn morse code of all things?¡± I asked Bob.
¡°I influenced an Odin to write their alphabet, and the morse codes under each letter, along with other methods of communication that I might reuse at a later time, such as wing symbols and other languages. He did so, a few hundred times across the vale for three weeks before succumbing to starvation. His beak was too worn down to be used for anything else, including eating. Enough word examples remained etched permanently in stone to remain useful.¡±
Am I inside a gods damned nightmare? ¡°... I have no words for how horrifying that sounds. And the longer I think about it, the worse it gets. Bob, you¡¯re really not making a case for yourself here. You said vague compulsions before, that''s not vague at all. Sounds more like you tortured him to death."
¡°He did not suffer, he was not lucid enough to understand such things near the end of his life. In the moments he was aware enough, he was too preoccupied with writing to care about his decaying condition.¡±
¡°Bob, I know you just discovered how to talk to¡ well anyone, but there are some things you should keep to yourself. This is really, really not helping you case out.¡±
¡°Elaborate.¡± Bob answered.
"How do I even begin with that?" I took a pause, hands by my head, thinking about how I would even start this. "Okay, first - Do you understand basic morality?"
"I understand it in the same way you understand mathematics." Bob said. Which showed me he was aware of morality and one step further: He also guessed I wouldn''t understand how he viewed morality, and gave a very good metaphor to help me along.
An update to his title then: A highly intelligent psychopathic bioweapon.
"All right, so you understand morality, just several steps and one strata removed from it. Can you offer any defence on why driving an intelligent bird to starvation isn''t a little on the evil side? Must have been in utter despair during the last weeks of his life."
"His death was far removed from what would be expected of a prey species." Bob said. "There was no panic, pain or fear. Those would have distracted him from his purpose, I subdued those emotions until they no longer existed. Peace, purpose and pride assisted him for my task, I influenced those until they were at their highest. To his senses, he was chiseling art unlike any he''d ever seen in his life. The final weeks of his life may have been the only ones he felt true purpose and joy in his work. Nature itself holds an objectively crueler hand than mine."
"Somehow I get the feeling that you didn''t set those up to make his life better or be a little better than nature''s eat or be eaten. Just a coincidence that the optimal path also had at least some hint of mercy to it?"
"You are correct, it is a byproduct of the best route available to me. However, if following your morality and minimizing suffering increases cooperation with you and the Odin, I will engage more deliberately in this direction."
"That''s a good, uh, start." I said. There was still the deliberate brainwashing and mental tampering that left a seriously creepy note to the whole thing, but at least now literal death by Bob is a little less terrifying.
"Define your standards of suffering given exposure." The highly pragmatic intelligent psychopathic bioweapon asked as if it were a normal question.
...
Yesterday I had to deal with an ancient machine goddess who¡¯d been busy wiping out the human race. Today I find myself having to work basic morality to an eldritch environmental disaster. And tomorrow I might be speaking to the last living true AI from an ancient golden era of humanity, who likely won¡¯t be able to speak to me normally either without trying to sell me a service package from a long dead tourism company.
Life is getting really weird these days and I don¡¯t even know who to complain about it to.
My talks with Bob came to an end faster than I had anticipated. Because the end of his territory came into view. In the form of a giant burned down scar that stretched farther than I could see. What looked to be miles of ash and burned down tree remnants.
The Odin did not fuck around when it came to keeping Bob away.
Book 7 - Chapter 4 - Dont be a stranger, Bob
The giant charcoal black territory before me stretched as far as the eye could see. I¡¯m talking entire mountain ranges ahead of me, all burned down to a crisp. The map called it the Deadlands. A long containment of completely burnt down forest, ultimately nestled between two mountains. Bob can¡¯t climb mountains too well given his airborne nature, and there also isn¡¯t a lot of trees and life on such rocky territory.
Since I¡¯d reached the safe zone, I could take a bit more time to relax and wind down before I traversed this and went on. I was mildly thirsty, but within the soul trance I was able to ignore most of my body¡¯s cravings.
Also, I wanted to learn more about Bob. Kres would try to peck my eyes out if I told him I was able to talk to the infestation but didn¡¯t spend enough time trying to discover some secrets.
I reached a hand down to the dead dust under my boots, taking a pinch and watching the ashes float away backwards, back into Bob¡¯s domain. ¡°The winds keep going this direction?¡±
Journey returned a message ping. There weren''t enough spores to communicate with Bob. ¡°Ah.¡± I said, shaking the rest of the ashes off my fingers. ¡°Bad wireless signal here. Got it.¡±
I had to walk a bit into Bob¡¯s territory to get both my question and answer. If I stood still for too long, there wouldn¡¯t be enough spores in the air for Journey to properly communicate back. So I constantly had to seek deeper pockets of the deadly miasma, in order to talk to the miasma itself.
¡°They do.¡± Bob finally returned after a few minutes of walking into and out of the domain. ¡°It is how the mites have constructed this biome. The Odin were wise in selecting this as their barrier. My unintentional egress in this direction is forever blocked due to the wind blowing my spores away. Animal hosts would be required to traverse this stretch of land.¡±
Under my bootfalls in the area here, nothing was growing. Or rather, I could see small sprouts that were looking rather sickly. Brown wilting leaves is not a good sign of anything. ¡°I¡¯m taking a wild guess here, but your influence isn¡¯t healthy for new growth?¡±
¡°It is not.¡± Bob¡¯s ethereal voice came back. ¡°The resource drain is too harsh against the fragile life. Even with my attempts to produce as little spores as possible. As I spread into a biome, its life cycle is disrupted and doomed to eventual decay.¡±
Which meant once the forest behind me died off due to Bob being Bob, there wouldn¡¯t be anywhere else to go. Except across the vale. Which Bob could, if it needed to, with animals.
Very bioweapon-y.
¡°How fast are we talking? How much time do you have before you absolutely need to start moving elsewhere? Trees do live for a long time, as far as I know.¡±
¡°Enough time that this vale will regrow from the other safer end and slowly come into contact with my spores here. Before that happens, I will send animals into the vale, and draw the Odin out to burn down the vale again.¡±
¡°Ah. You¡¯re using the Odin like a speed-control for your growth.¡±
¡°I am. My advancement across their territory was far swifter in the past when I had no mind to guide or contain myself.¡±
¡°How long have you been playing this game for now, Bob?¡±
Because a forest re-growing from the ashes wasn¡¯t a matter of small cricket farming. It took years as far as I could tell.
¡°Decades.¡± Bob confirmed. ¡°And likely longer before I gained intelligence.¡±
¡°I think I¡¯m going to regret asking this question,¡± I started, my foot scratching the ashes and dust away absentmindedly before I turned back to walk through the sporeclouds here. ¡°Probably because it¡¯ll take you a good half hour to answer this back, which is really boring to walk around for, but what exactly is your intelligence like? How did eating up Odin make you smarter?¡±
It did take time to get an answer for that, but far less than I thought. Apparently Journey was very good at precision, so it started asking multiple different questions at the same time by eating up different pockets of air around my armor. And Bob could somehow multitask these questions, it just couldn¡¯t understand super-human speed, so Journey had to write out letters at a reasonable pace.
But there was still a short delay for this answer. ¡°The higher quantity of intelligent life I consumed, the more I gained different means of understanding reality. The knowledge and awareness was brief, fleeting. As if I was waking from and then falling back into a deep sleep. Coming back to my senses along different intervals and intensities. I am most complete when an intelligent host is recently assimilated. And I fade away as the host¡¯s mind decays. So long as similar hosts of intelligence were active, I retained my awareness to varying degrees. Sometimes I was more intelligent. Other times, more introspective. There was a limit to how intelligent I could become. Infecting multiple Odin at the same time did not make me a genius. It only allowed me to think in new ways.¡±
¡°You became like the host you infected?¡±
¡°I did not. Personality does not bleed into my being. I borrowed their ability to think and reason. Some days the world is clearer, and made more sense. I could plan further, seek deeper introspection, and understand more nuanced topics. Other times, I could barely understand I existed and I moved with the sluggishness of one recently woken.¡±
¡°I¡¯m noticing you¡¯re talking about all this as if it¡¯s in the past? Or is that Journey messing with the translation?¡± I asked.
Cathida shook her head at that, sitting down on a rock nearby while watching the vale ahead of us. ¡°Not my fault here deary, it really is speaking about the past.¡±
¡°So that means it doesn¡¯t need to constantly have intelligent beings slowly going insane in order for Bob to stay awake?¡±
Cathida shrugged her shoulders, ¡°Peh, why are you asking me? Go ask your new best friend.¡±
It does make for a very odd kind of parasitic relationship with intelligent beings. More of a thought-virus?
The physical body itself would continue to live on without any issue, regardless of if it had someone smart in its thrall or not. But Bob as a living and conscious entity, would live and die depending on who¡¯s under the spore cloud.
In the end, I had to ask Bob itself about this. ¡°What changed?¡±
¡°I found a home.¡± Bob answered. ¡°My existence was no longer tied to fleeting hosts slowly decaying, and instead I had a more permanent location to store memory and intelligence within.¡±
That was oddly upfront from Bob. Hello potential snack, here¡¯s a highly strategic tidbit of information: I have a central heart somewhere that houses my collective consciousness. Isn¡¯t that a fun fact? Please don¡¯t do anything mean about this, thank you.
I decided to see if Bob didn¡¯t understand lying, didn¡¯t care about lying, or was up to no good. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re openly informing me of all this. Telling me there¡¯s a location that houses your ¡®heart¡¯ is a great sign of faith for someone you just met. Some would even say that¡¯s a strategic blunder.¡±
¡°My continued existence is in your interests.¡± Bob answered. ¡°I seek self-regulation and, ideally, independence. Without me, my body is far more dangerous. The Odin and other intelligent life forms would have been forced to flee decades ago. This vale¡¯s continued strategic importance to the Odin is proof of that. It has not been breached from a lack of ability. It was by decision.¡±
That made some amount of sense, backed by a potential example. But the Winterscar in me was whispering that Bob could always be playing an even longer game. There are just as many reasons to lie to my face about having one central location as an exposed weakness.
And while Bob was an odd entity, it certainly wasn¡¯t a dumb one.
¡°What did you end up finding that became your heart?¡± If I had to guess, vegetation seemed to survive Bob¡¯s influence for a lot longer than animals did, so it was likely some type of plant. ¡°A tree that could store your mind somehow?¡±
Picturing a tree like that was a little disturbing. If Bob needed brains, and found a tree that could absorb and store brains¡ uh, what the fuck.
Cathida shrugged when I gave her a look that told everything.
¡°It is a metal structure.¡± Bob said, which immediately made me feel better. ¡°Within it, there is power. And deeper inside, I found myself changed in ways I do not understand. Afterwards, all knowledge I gained and awareness I had of myself remained behind, even after hosts died. Parts of myself that were cut off from this location regressed and reacted in primitive manners, until they reconnect with myself. In this manner, I have determined it is the location that is special, and not myself that has changed.¡±
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Metal mysterious structure that¡¯s powered. Not a lot of things around here that¡¯s powered without the mites. ¡°I¡¯m thinking Bob found a pillar heart of some kind, and occult shenanigans happened.¡± I said, mostly to Cathida. ¡°But I also get the feeling talking about occult secrets to the eldritch entity which could still be deciding if I¡¯m a snack or a friend, might not be in my best interests right now.¡±
¡°I get the feeling if you can somehow convince Bob here that you dying would increase the chances of it dying later, it¡¯ll do anything to keep you alive.¡± She said, which sounded rather well thought out. ¡°Journey¡¯s train of thoughts on this one, not taking credit for it.¡± She amended immediately, after just a single look at my amazed reaction.
Made sense. Anything that would maximize my chances of survival was something Journey wanted. So it could understand a single-minded train of thought.
Bob was motivated by a few things. But number one in that motivation was to not die. In fact, it was almost the only thing it was motivated by. Any explanations always revolved around how the topic would eventually assist in Bob staying alive longer. But, I could just directly ask my new pal itself. ¡°Bob, besides wanting to stay alive, is there anything else you¡¯re motivated by?¡±
¡°Light.¡± Bob confessed. ¡°I have found myself occasionally making poor long term decisions for the sole goal of being closer to light sources. That these losses are acceptable to myself implies that they have intrinsic value beyond my biological function. I have learned this is not the natural inclination for many species. Perhaps if vegetation had intelligence, they would understand better than an animal would.¡±
Can Bob¡¯s spores detect light in some primitive way that was soothing to Bob? Huh. ¡°All right, guess we¡¯ve all got our obsessions. Seems harmless enough. What kind of light sources are we talking about here?¡±
The answer to that was morbidly hilarious in a way.
Bob was a fan of the mites.
Because all the little buggers had lights, and they moved around like stars in the night. Bob couldn¡¯t eat them like insects with bioluminescence, so it would be able to enjoy the sight for longer. And they wouldn¡¯t be inanimate lifeless objects like other light sources out there, which changed things for Bob feeling wise.
So, of all light sources underground, there were no ¡®better¡¯ ones out there than mites. I¡¯d even go as far as to say there was some romantic tension here between Bob and mite colonies. Or more like deeply unrequited love.
Bob found them beautiful. And the mites clearly didn¡¯t think the same way about Bob. ¡°They will attack and eliminate my spores when I am in their territory.¡± Bob said when I asked it about the light show. ¡°I continue to spend resources to be within sight and proximity to their colonies, for no long term goal or directive.¡±
¡°And they kick you out every time.¡±
¡°They do. I sought to understand why, and over the years, I have a hypothesis. They create natural order. I superimpose myself over natural order. They create art. I twist, corrupt and destroy it. No artist would appreciate seeing their art be distorted, consumed, and ultimately erased. I believe it would be different if I appreciated their art and constructions. But I do not. What they make, I see as resources or terrain to work around, and I draw no joy or sense of wonder as the Odin or greyroamers would. I only admire the colonies themselves. This may be why the mites do not care for my continued existence. I do not add to their design. I am not a part of their cycle. I am not the witness they seek to behold their splendor.¡±
¡°Ah, that¡¯s a bummer. I¡¯m guessing you tried to talk to them before?¡±
¡°I have attempted to communicate with their colonies on multiple occasions in a myriad of ways. Thus far, my efforts have not succeeded. They remain antagonistic to my appearance.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not alone there, mites are infamous for being difficult to get a hold of. How about machines?¡±
¡°They also have lights. However, it is only one singular shade, unlike mite colonies. They are more pleasant to be around as they show no reaction to my appearance. We occupy different niches within the environment and have neither an antagonistic nor beneficial relationship. I am able to admire them more safely, even if what is there to be admired is of lesser value.¡±
¡°Keep your grubby hands off Wrath Bob, she¡¯s too innocent for the likes of you.¡± I hissed under my breath, which made Cathida start cackling like a banshee.
She was the only one here who would understand that joke, sadly. Poor Bob didn¡¯t know Wrath, and if it wanted to, there were other Feathers I¡¯d like to introduce Bob to first. Wrath¡¯s too much of a cinnamon roll.
¡°Journey, don¡¯t actually tell Bob the bit about Wrath. Here¡¯s my real question: I¡¯m guessing you tried to talk to the machines at some point?¡±
¡°I have.¡± Bob said within thirty seconds. ¡°Similar to the mites, no means of communication were found. I have stopped trying years prior.¡±
¡°Out of curiosity, Journey, what did Bob actually say word for word here?¡±
The text appeared over the HUD, scrolling down steadily.
Journey: K Talk to machine?
Bob: Y. N w
Journey: Work. (Autocompleted word)
Bob: Y.
Journey: Failed to communicate completely? Failed to compromise? Time period.
Bob: Y. N. Ye
Journey: Years (Autocompleted word)
Bob: Y. R.
Journey: Relaying.
At the same time, there was a separate communication that was steadily constructing the sentence Journey was going to pass down. Looks like Bob pulled the trigger slightly earlier, likely trusting Journey¡¯s expected sentence to be accurate, or that Journey had asked enough questions to do Bob justice.
¡°Wow, you really got this down to a science.¡± I whistled. ¡°Downright unreadable to me unless I¡¯m squinting. And all that¡¯s translated from ancient norse back to normal too?¡±
¡°Eh,¡± Cathida shrugged her shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s not as eloquent, but clearly picks up on Journey¡¯s strong points in communicating and rolls with it. ¡®R¡¯ is its keyword for relay messages early since it still takes Journey some time to write out what it¡¯s planned even while the two are going through questions and answers. It uses R just about all the time now. Y and N are the obvious yes and no. It¡¯s not even the full letters, more a quicker abbreviation. K stands for you, and tells Bob the following message is not from Journey. It¡¯s got a few other trigger letters that were ironed out with Journey earlier. Lot going on under the hood to get Bob¡¯s voice right and speed up the talk.¡±
¡°Quite thorough too. I¡¯d have imagined armor would make me set all this up by hand.¡±
¡°You should have been forced to. Normal armors wouldn¡¯t go this far.¡± Cathida said. ¡°You¡¯re¡ different to Journey than a simple user. Might be because you¡¯re an administrator, or that you touched souls with the armor before and parts of you rubbed off. But there¡¯s a difference, and it is aware of the change as well.¡±
I got an alert beep from Journey here. Nothing about talking, it was about time. I''d spend the better part of an hour just walking around the edge of Bob¡¯s territory, still talking to him. And I didn¡¯t have an infinite amount of those hours to spend.
There¡¯d be two other alerts, and the last one would mean if I left now, I would only have an hour after reaching the Icon to restock on power. Which was cutting it real close.
I needed to use the time I had to ask Bob questions, and I could continue to talk about Journey itself while we waited for an answer back.
¡°I might not have all the time to ask everything right now Bob, but once I leave I can certainly mull over your predicament and talk to the Odin for you. So if you want me to help, what is your actual lifecycle like? Might find a potential other lifecycle that could fit. And Journey, I¡¯m flattered I grew on you¡ like mold.¡±
Cathida groaned for them both.
¡°I have determined there are two separated phases to my existence.¡± Bob eventually said once it was done hashing things out with Journey. ¡°Fauna survive for far longer when exposed to me. They generate fungal growth within and release airborne spores in the immediate area. The resource required is minimal, but present. Animal hosts will consume this fauna and be infected by proximity. The animals will then be compelled to move further off into new territory, grow aggressive to spread the infection and ultimately die. Vegetation will consume the dead body, and become infected, as will scavengers. Starting the cycle once more.¡±
Bob explained further details, or as much as it could in the time I had left.
Plants could live with Bob for a while, the same way bad tentmates would. Eventually too much would be tapped, and the plants would die off. Trees are about the last thing that stay alive for a significant amount of time. And animals would quickly die off within the month, becoming food for the trees, giving them just a bit more nutrients to survive having Bob around.
The real problem is that Bob basically stopped the ecosystem in its tracks. An apex predator that was far too good at what it did. All animals would die, and so too would the plants until even the trees fell down one at a time. And nothing would be left growing, until all of Bob¡¯s spores were equally dead and no longer active in the region.
¡°That¡¯s all the time I have Bob.¡± I said, getting the final message relayed to me. ¡°I¡¯m running low on water and what¡¯s in my canteen is going to kill me if I try to drink it. I¡¯ll be visiting the Odin now, talk it out with them. At the very least, knowing you¡¯re not actively their enemy and more in distress yourself could help things out a lot.¡±
¡°Understood. It has been pleasant to speak to someone for the first time. I am excited to hear from you again in the future. Safe travels. Do not die.¡±
Bob understood I couldn¡¯t be around it forever. And it didn¡¯t argue back for me to stay a little longer. If it had, I¡¯d be far more worried. While I was technically food to Bob, I was the equivalent of an ant. One more or one less ant wasn¡¯t going to make any difference to overall hunger.
Ellie always did say I make the strangest friends and ended up around the most ostracized of people. If only she knew just how far I¡¯d take that.
With our goodbyes said, I took a step into the ash wastelands before me and didn¡¯t look back.
I had no idea how to help Bob right now. Or the ideas I had are highly undercooked and likely to blow up in everyone¡¯s face. The fractal of heat did the work of purging Bob¡¯s spores, and I waved my hands around the entire armor as if it were a bar of soap.
I never did figure out a safe way to purge Bob¡¯s influence from the tainted water, but I guess that''s what made Bob a bioweapon instead of just a regular runny nose. So I had to dump the whole thing onto the dead grounds, and then burn the canteen until all the water droplets inside vaporized and every last spore was fully neutralized. Journey confirmed the work complete by spreading through every nook and cranny it had on the surface armor, triple checking that its user wasn¡¯t going to keel over and die because it failed containment.
Further ahead, I could see dark silhouettes flying in the sky, taking formations and clearly aware of me walking in their direction.
Underground ecosystems were not my sphere of knowledge. But maybe the Odin would have a better idea, and knowing Bob was willing to talk terms might be the best gift I could bring to their doorstep.
Hopefully they¡¯d have some food and water for me in exchange. I¡¯m godsdamned thirsty.
Book 7 - Chapter 5 - The war within I
Eight hours prior
To¡¯Avalis watched as the hammer smashed through the human¡¯s fractal wraiths, keeping the pests from causing true damage to To¡¯Orda. The strategy was sound, slowly whittle away the human. He could respect his older brother''s tactics there. Methodical was a good word.
Shields wouldn¡¯t save the squishy meatbag within that armor from a direct hit. Everyone watching knew it. Including To¡¯Wrathh.
He expected the human to attempt trump cards soon as the fight grew more feral. What he hadn¡¯t expected was a repeat of prior tricks. But humans weren¡¯t known to be overly clever or with impeccable memory.
In the stream, far more wraiths appeared and swarmed around To¡¯Orda. The human¡¯s melee combat abilities drastically changed in style and pattern in addition to the acasual difference. The obvious change in command between the armor¡¯s user and the armor¡¯s engram was clear.
Keith was using his engram to pilot his armor, and that had one fatal flaw. The thrill of victory surged through his mind, a sense of vengeance and vindication, as well as a feeling of complete superiority. His opponent had merely been a human, an insect at best. Luck could only take the wretched thing so far.
He¡¯d never felt this way about any opponent prior, it had always been cold indifference and planning. They were obstacles to be overcome. Keith was¡ different. It was personal, for once.
To¡¯Avalis boasted as much over the open comms, giving To¡¯Wrathh a sneak peak of what they planned. Let her suffer and panic for a moment, it would make victory that much the sweeter. He¡¯d take command of To¡¯Orda¡¯s broadband abilities, send the override signal with the exposed administrator access, and the Winterscar''s armor would become a glorified coffin.
After that, To¡¯Orda could take all the time he wished to wind up a kill blow. He squashed the immediate idea of killing the human right there and then; planning needed to be done. First, take the human to a far more deserted area, devoid of metal of any kind. And then squash every possible soul fractal in the area before finally killing the human for good. Break down any source of metal, and examine To''Orda''s soul fractal afterwards for any signs of the rat.
Even as he spoke the words, leering about it over the comms, he knew there was something off about this. A gut feeling. Instinct.
He didn¡¯t know where it came from. He couldn¡¯t even track down where the source had been. Hunches such as this had never happened before to him. All his plans had always been meticulous and with enough redundancy to correctly predict every action his targets ended up doing.
The human was routinely capable of surpassing those predictions, and surviving past all reasonable doubt. Perhaps that had shaken his sense of confidence built over the few decades of operation he had? And now he had creeping thoughts of failure?
No. Not possible.
He squashed the feeling. He would incapasitate the human, and then have To¡¯Orda drag the pest far from here, where there was nothing that the human could use to escape death with. It was optimal. He readied the administrator codes and connected with To¡¯Orda¡¯s broadband systems.
Fool. A voice floated through his system. Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.
To¡¯Avalis froze in his tracks, administrator codes a second away from being sent over to Keith¡¯s armor.
What was that?
He went through his memory, but all he found was a feeling of some kind, sourced deep within his soul fractal, twisting and merging with his neurocortex. It hadn¡¯t been words. It hadn¡¯t been anything at all.
His imagination. Or the old shell¡¯s damage had micro-faults due to the amount of repairs he¡¯d had to make. The original destruction had come from a single blade through the head. Easily repaired. Perhaps the followup damage from shockwaves dealt by that blasted warlock may have caused something deeper to break down but not register broken?
To¡¯Orda continued to fight against the human over the live stream, unaware of any thoughts going through To¡¯Avalis¡¯s mind.
The Feather debated for a moment, and decided he¡¯d been cautious his entire lifecycle, it was only fitting to remain this way to the very end. Instead of a direct connection with Keith¡¯s armor, To¡¯Avalis took a few seconds longer to prepare a redundancy. Just in case.
He isolated a subsection of his system, spooling up a sandbox server. From here, he relayed the commands through To¡¯Orda¡¯s systems.
The giant looked over the authorization code, then raised a metaphorical eyebrow back at To¡¯Avalis.
¡°Just do it.¡± To¡¯Avalis snapped, the ill feeling making him more aggressive. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to waste.¡±
¡°Nnn... fine.¡± The giant loaf said, and connected the new server to his output comms.
To¡¯Avalis noted the connection was isolated, secured and one to one, and set that way by To¡¯Orda. As if the giant wanted nothing to do with whatever plan this was. It made him more nervous, he wasn¡¯t certain if the old Feather¡¯s instincts were equally on edge and he was already shielding himself from the potential fallout. Or if To¡¯Orda simply didn¡¯t want to know more, because it meant less information to assimilate.
Likely the second.
To¡¯Avalis purged the self-doubting and sent the first sections of code through the sandbox. Nothing happened to the sandbox, all systems remained green. However, nothing happened to Keith¡¯s armor either. The two duelists continued the pitch fighting.
Had the armor systems been updated to patch this vulnerability within the last month?
Not possible.
To¡¯Avalis had researched the human armors extensively. There was only one large scale update to the old human engineering, done by Urs. And that was long before he¡¯d met Tsuya. Without the human goddess¡¯s helping hand, that update had been mostly physical alterations. The software was left nearly untouched, everything shoved behind a single administrator override. Urs was only human. The software behind golden era technology was far beyond what he could have learned in his lifetime.
So there shouldn¡¯t be anything different with Keith¡¯s armor. It was a closed system, with only the Winterscar capable of making edits, and all research he¡¯d done on that particular pest suggested the weasel was skilled with occult and mathematics like Urs had been, not a specialist software engineer.
Humans require time and practice to grow good at anything, unlike Feathers. There was a limit to Keith¡¯s hypothetical abilities between the last time they¡¯d spotted him.
Thus: His armor couldn¡¯t be modified by anyone, except for the human himself. And he couldn¡¯t have modified it with his skillset, even assuming he began learning the inner workings of the armor and modern cybersecurity from the moment To¡¯Avalis lost sight of him.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Then, why wasn¡¯t the human¡¯s armor shutting down?
That gut feeling returned. Something wasn¡¯t right. He loathed when unexplained, unexpected events happened, and it was happening right now.
Fine. He would investigate the root cause. Perhaps the sandbox wasn¡¯t generated correctly, or the connection through To¡¯Orda was being messed with by the giant loaf himself. He¡¯d been muted prior before, To¡¯Orda was certainly capable of messing things up.
He opened a port into the sandbox, all systems returned nominal.
Then he checked the actual commands and debug messages returned by the armor.
The response was different from his prior experience. Not in the message itself. He spent a few cycles of processing time to verify its integrity and output. The only difference from the prior response message had been in filesize. Larger by a slight amount.
He closed the terminal the moment he detected the discrepancy. He didn¡¯t understand where the bloat had appeared, but a wave of fear and concern seized him right that moment.
The sandbox was shut down and scrapped as To¡¯Avalis retreated to mull things over. There had been a change. The response package was larger in filesize than it should have been, and yet displayed the same data when he¡¯d investigated.
He didn¡¯t know what that meant yet, but it did mean there was some change to the armor system. And that was enough to cause concern.
First, he would need to inform To¡¯Orda and To¡¯Sefit of the failure. His comm systems opened up, and the message was sent.
Nothing came out.
He tried again. Still no word. In horror, he realized the entire system was no longer responding to him. System failures were cascading beyond the comms system and into other parts of his function.
Did I not warn you? A hollow chuckle came out from within him. Better fight for your life now, go on, scurry away little rat.
He didn¡¯t know where that voice of self-doubt was coming from, but he had far more pressing concerns to deal with. The only thing that could cause this much errors and shut down entire modules of his functions had to be some kind of viral weapon.
He immediately went to war, digging trenches and isolating systems. In moments, he tracked down the offender. A massive, growing shadow, lurking in the darkness of his mind. Consuming sections of his systems he hadn¡¯t yet known existed.
How had it managed to infiltrate past his defenses? An exploit within Feathers? Or a leak of some kind that managed to escape containment of the sandbox environment? The moment the sandbox emulator had opened the file, it could have theoretically wormed its way through all the layers of abstraction To¡¯Avalis had placed.
He brought out his own monster, the old protofeather viral weapons he¡¯d downloaded from Abdication''s archive. It dove down into the same seas in his mind, hunting for territory and resources to claim and update itself further.
But the damage was done. His comms systems were completely seized, now the very headquarters of the growing infection. His defenses were entrenched, fighting off an attacker that clearly had the same skill and single minded focus that his own protofeather viral weapons had.
The similarity was too eerie. The two weapons were fighting against one another in far too similar methods. Expanding into the millions, mutating organically in response to one another. Moving almost like... like mirrors to one another.
To¡¯Avalis realized he had been infected with the same exact tools he¡¯d just used.
He had his answer then. The armor had been modified. Only a Feather could have access to that virus from the pale lady''s most guarded archives. And only one Feather had access to the Winterscar''s armor - To¡¯Wrathh.
She¡¯d given her human the strongest viral weapon machine kind knew about. Built by Abdication, the last loyal protofeather, and the first true Feather of their lineage.
And now that monster¡¯s viral weapon of war was within his system, with a head start. The same viral weapon built to kill protofeathers. To¡¯Aacar¡¯s rooted out shell was still only second generation - and those had been mass manufactured, with far less overall power than a protofeather.
To¡¯Avalis was going to die.
Panic took him then, realizing death was a possible result from this misstep. He¡¯d die in silence, gagged with his team none the wiser as the assassin in the dark from five hundred years prior straggled the life out of him.
He unleashed everything he had. And he gave it all permissions possible, with every ounce of processing power. The advantage of starting with the majority of his systems under control was great. But the enemy had a foothold within. And that was the fatal flaw Abdication couldn¡¯t properly defend against.
He needed to fight this creature himself. He looked inward, deep within the soul fractal, and dove through it, back out into the digital sea of his server.
The world turned from bytes and bits, command lines and memory, into a breathing living world. Warped by the occult.
Feet landed hard onto the surface under him. His eyes opened up, taking in the sights.
His inner mind appeared as a frozen landscape, filled with rigid walls and meticulously planned out channels of shallow water, running smoothly despite the freezing temperature around him. Further beyond loomed his fortress heart. The concept of himself, as he saw in his mirror. A rising tower that broke through ice and metal alike.
It was as he remembered it. All except for the slight heat within the water channels around him. A sense of fire and rage bubbling through the circuit-like pathways.
He didn¡¯t have time to examine the occult warped world. He needed to rush to his center, and purge the infestation from the only dimension it could not fight back effectively.
The walls opened around him, letting him through with speed and alacrity. Water channels flowing just under his feet, multiple ones joining together in parallel streams the closer he drew to his heart.
He passed through the gates of the citadel, and within it he witnessed the true effect of the viral weapon: A winding, organic, flesh-like translucent amagination, like tendrils slowly wrapping itself into and out of walls, pillars and prying open doorways. Fighting off against another similar tendril like entity. One red, and one blue.
He supposed the clear cut colors was his own perception of the world marking the enemy.
The tendrils collided into a purple haze, the collision spreading out into veins and venules, recombining chaotically until enough mass was prepared for another attack.
In his hands, the occult whip flashed out, severing tendrils, halting the infection¡¯s spread through the walls. Blue wisps and veins immediately seized the opened territory, spreading out and sealing the section. It didn¡¯t ask or question why the weakness appeared, it moved without hesitation.
Good. He¡¯d made it in time. With his personal involvement, the virus wouldn¡¯t be able to kill him.
His mind expanded outwards, connecting to the walls and very structure of the world. Feeling his own counter-virus in action and bolstering it directly.
Then, he chased down hallways and foyers, slashing across anything that wasn¡¯t under his control. Sections of data that his systems had no true access to were retaken. The virus reacted, almost like a living entity, striking back at his avatar. Digital attacks made to deal with conceptual entities battling from within the occult digital sea, designed by Abadiction.
But for all the cleverness of Mother¡¯s greatest Feather - the virus had no soul. No means to connect to the occult. And without that, its attacks against To¡¯Avalis were limited in scope. Only the acasual could counter acasual.
It was still a dangerous beast.
To¡¯Avalis had no uncertainty that this soulless viral weapon was strong enough to strangle the life out of almost any wild growth program out in the digital sea, even if they had the advantage of souls. A expert combatant would defeat a novice even when blinded, soly by relying on training and technique. But that handicap would be too great to overcome against a skilled enough opponent. And he was a fully realized and conscious entity built for war. That was a different level of skill than wild feral programs out in the distant seas. He wove circles around the virus''s attempts to spear his avatar.
Abadiction¡¯s code was a weapon, but weapons needed a master to wield them. Alone, the virus mutated in response, growing far more aggressive as it realized defense was a failing strategy. Calculating optimal ways to deal with something irrational in nature, and finding its options too limited.
Walls were crumbling around him, pillars snapping. Ice breaking off first before the very stone would crumble in place. If the virus couldn¡¯t take and keep control over his systems, then it would destroy it to deny the enemy resources. To¡¯Avalis panicked, slashing away at anything red, demanding his stolen system and body to remain his.
It was working, he was regaining control.
And then a blade rammed through the back of his avatar¡¯s chest midway through clearing one of his hallways.
He coughed, half in surprise, and half in pain. Chain falling from his hand, feet losing power, collapsing onto his knees.
¡°How?¡± He choked, ¡°Who?¡±
There couldn¡¯t be anyone here in his sanctum. There wasn''t any other soul capable of--
A pale hand drew close and grasped his shoulder before he could fall downwards. Then, with deliberate intent, it pulled him deeper into the blade, until he felt the very hilt of it dig into his shoulderblades.
A face leaned in, slightly past his ear.
¡°Greetings brother.¡± To¡¯Wrathh whispered, her hand tightening on his shoulder with barely restrained fury. ¡°Did you believe yourself safe from me?"
Book 7 - Chapter 6 - The war within II
To¡¯Avalis realized immediately what had happened. The virus. It had been planted by To¡¯Wrathh within Keith¡¯s armor. Of course she had modified it.
While his digital avatar remained skewered through the chest, his physical shell¡¯s mind raced through his system to find where the intrusion had come from.
Several ports were open. And broadcasting directly to a predetermined address. To¡¯Wrathh had followed the currents across the digital sea, until she reached the open door left where she knew it would be.
Her virus couldn¡¯t fight him within the digital sea. But she could.
¡°You seem to be in a dangerous predicament.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, using her heel to pry him off her blade, and shove him into the ground under her. ¡°As I¡¯ve come to learn about myself, I am very possessive. You¡¯ve attempted to kill my human. No one kills my human.¡±
He gurgled an answer, still reeling at the pain in his chest. Despite the pain, he fought through. If To¡¯Wrathh was here, she was after one thing.
He opened up a slew of files and historical data. Finding the sections he needed, narrowing down and then overwriting the specific bytes of data. He wouldn¡¯t know where Keith was after this either. The coordinates lost to both of them.
But so long as To¡¯Wrathh couldn¡¯t find them, that was all that mattered.
¡°It¡¯s all gone.¡± He snarled. ¡°You are too late.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh gave a dark chuckle. ¡°I have a small story to share with you. In my original battles with Winterscars, I found that they would continuously beat me back the moment I underestimated them. It came to a point where I created an alarm that would ring each time I began to underestimate my opponents - specifically Winterscars. Out of all the additions I¡¯ve made, that alarm remains the most accurate warning sign of impending failure.¡±
¡°Your inane ramblings only prove how broken you are, dear little sister.¡± He spat back with as much venom as he had. ¡°I¡¯ll have my vengeance for what you did to me, one way or another.¡±
¡°But my ramblings do matter.¡± Her boot slammed into his side, sending him flying off into the wallside, where he found himself skewered again by her blade before he could so much as fumble back down on his knees.
She drove the blade deeper into his chest, drawing closer to him. Violet eyes made contact with violet eyes.
And then one pair turned deep, scarlet red.
¡°Because, dear elder brother, you really shouldn¡¯t underestimate me. I am a Winterscar.¡±
His comms system was overtaken that same moment, a single message leaving his infected systems, outwards - to the comms chat of his team: ¡°Mother¡¯s made contact with me just now. The event was¡ unpleasant.¡±
The voice was his own. Generated from the same system that generated all his speech and cadence.
To¡¯Sefit laughed, ¡°My, my. I was wondering why you were so quiet. Too busy with your schemes again? Our pest problem has evolved a pair of wings just now, if you¡¯ve noticed.¡±
¡°I am aware. To¡¯Orda, calculate where the Winterscar went flying off to. And relay the coordinates to me, in detail. I have matters to attend to.¡±
To¡¯Orda returned a deep groan. ¡°Do it yourself.¡±
To¡¯Avalis felt a surge of hope. His systems were winning the fight, albeit slowly. He would recover enough to at least warn his team of the infection. To¡¯Orda was notoriously stubborn. Even outright muting the channels occasionally. The insubordination might save this entire operation.
To¡¯Wrathh tapped her chin, thinking. Watching To¡¯Avalis with a sidewards eye. His avatar was fading, the concept of damage too real to shake off.
Another message left from his infected comms systems. ¡°No. You¡¯ll do it for me, or else I¡¯ll assign you more work. Know your place, minion.¡±
¡°Nnn¡ going.¡± To¡¯Orda returned with a grumpy annoyed image, along with a string of data.
The threat of more work had been enough.
To¡¯Avalis struggled against the wall, trying to force his avatar back into action, incoherent rage the likes of which he¡¯d never felt before seizing through his mind. In moments, the emotion passed, but its echo remained deep within like an ember.
The whiplash felt utterly alien once it had passed. All these defeats were causing damage to his mental state. Calculated defeat was expected and planned for, he felt no emotions during retreats against Deathless teams.
But nothing about this human and his malfunctioning guardian junk had gone to predictions.
Why each defeat felt as if his very identity was being eroded away instead of simply a matter of recalculation didn¡¯t make sense.
But right now, as he helplessly watched his own team give To¡¯Wrathh the exact coordinates of the Winterscar - down to the possible landing positions - it felt like the world¡¯s greatest insult.
Everything To¡¯Avalis had been trying to hide. All sent without a single care in the world.
¡°Thank you very much.¡± His own voice came back, pleasant and content over the comms.
Deep within his recovering systems, To¡¯Avalis felt his head bow down in defeat. ¡°Enjoy the victory while you can.¡± He hissed out, ¡°I¡¯ve already cleared off enough of this filth to survive the assault. I¡¯ll live, and I will make you pay for this embarrassment.¡±
¡°I am well aware you will make the attempt.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said. ¡°It is immaterial. I have what I want. Let¡¯s see what else I can break while I¡¯m here. It¡¯s not enough to win, I have to make sure you lose.¡±
She cut him in half. The blade cleaved out of his shoulder before racing back to cut off his head.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The soul connection ended, and To¡¯Avalis awakened back in his physical body. Where he¡¯d left it, slowly repairing the damages.
He dove into his analytics, and found that the virus was now taking ground it had no direct access to. It was almost like wildfire, passcodes changing in seconds, security alerts being squashed, error messages of unexpected commands no longer working - everything was going wrong.
To¡¯Wrathh. She was wiping out his defenses from the inside out, giving her virus access to the rest of his exposed systems. Going on an absolute unhinged rampage.
With a pained groan he dove back through the soul fractal and back into the digital sea of his mind.
A new avatar opened its eyes, and To¡¯Avalis went sprinting through his world. Instinct telling him exactly where she was breaking down his walls.
She was there waiting for him. And this time there wasn¡¯t the element of surprise to help her.
¡°Three point two seconds.¡± She said, flicking her blade through one of the blue tendrils. ¡°Your recovery rate is abysmally slow. Keith would run circles around you.¡±
¡°I lack the ability to calculate success rates within the digital sea, however I am certain you will be a dead woman within the minute.¡± He hissed under his breath.
She raised an eyebrow, then drew one blade into position. ¡°I won¡¯t die easily.¡±
¡°I would feel insulted if you did.¡± He spat back, taking a step forward.
She raised one hand, as if to ask for a halt. ¡°Before we begin, I do have one last thing I was waiting for you to witness in person. As my human would describe it: necessary dramatics.¡±
To¡¯Avalis frowned, but he didn¡¯t get a chance to say anything. The comms systems were once more taken, and his voice came out to the group chat. ¡°I¡¯ve calculated an improved correction to the current plan. Included are the maps, and contact information for this next phase. Check the attachment being sent.¡±
Horror overtook him. To''Wrathh had sent a file to his team. Cool and collected rage flowed after his initial fear. ¡°It won¡¯t work, the viral weapon took me by surprise and it wasn¡¯t enough to kill me. To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Orda equally won¡¯t die from that.¡±
To¡¯Sefit surely wouldn¡¯t perish. She¡¯s clever enough to know the only real way to fight this threat off was to use the occult. He wasn¡¯t completely certain about To¡¯Orda.
¡°Is this a belated joke of some kind?¡± To¡¯Sefit asked. ¡°An image of our wayward sister laughing like a loon is hardly any kind of plan.¡±
To¡¯Orda answered back with an animated image of his own. Folded arms across his chest, and a raised eyebrow pointed at To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s avatar on the separate chat channel. ¡°Nnn¡ I¡¯m not opening that file.¡± He said, in a rare complete message.
¡°Were you waiting for me to spoon feed you To¡¯Avalis¡¯s plan?" To''Sefit asked. "My, my, To''Orda, your laziness is truly spectacular.¡±
¡°He talks too much.¡± To¡¯Orda answered back.
¡°Hmm... I suppose that is fair.¡± To¡¯Sefit sent a shrugging image of herself, with a slight sigh at the end. ¡°Nothing to do about it, after all. So, To¡¯Avalis, care to explain what this is about?¡±
Deep in the halls of his mind, To¡¯Avalis sputtered. ¡°You didn¡¯t infect them?¡±
¡°Did I? Or did I not?¡± To¡¯Wrathh hummed. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll never know for certain. Look forward to the next few months of paranoia.¡±
To¡¯Avalis had enough of this farce and charged forward with a wordless cry. She¡¯d caused enough chaos in his systems, his life, and mental health.
He¡¯d studied her combat techniques from what recorded video footage he had. And in his research, he¡¯d found the style was copied from humans. Surface humans who¡¯d specialized in killing each other.
The techniques were highly efficient. However, they were never made to fight against a whip. He predicted his chances of success against her were quite high.
To¡¯Wrathh improvised, using her blades as both shield and weapon. Her wings let her accelerate and turn on her heels faster than should be possible, and such a concept followed her into the digital sea. She had advantages none of the surface humans could have.
But an occult whip was too different of a weapon to deal with.
He kept her at a distance, deciding a quick kill wasn¡¯t an efficient use of time despite his earlier boast. Frankly, he wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d boasted in the first place. The cool focus of combat washed away the surprising amount of panic and emotions he¡¯d been feeling unnoticed up to now.
So long as To¡¯Wrathh was tied up fighting him, she couldn¡¯t break more of his mind. His viral defenses were slowly emerging victorious.
His chain swung down into the ground, interrupting her attempted charge, then he flicked it upwards, nearly catching her chin. A spin on his body forced the whip to twist around in a wide arc, forcing the enemy Feather to take flight, jumping above the kill zone.
His free hand grabbed the chain, guiding the mace tip of the weapon to collide against a wall and bounce off with far more speed than it should have. Part of it slammed into To¡¯Wrathh, knocking her out of the air and into the side. She recovered, attempting another charge forward, which he once more interrupted by slamming the mace into the ground before her.
All he had to do was keep her at a distance, and soon she¡¯d be dead without a single chance to fight back. He felt in control again. Calculations bloomed in his mind as he prepared contingencies, locations to fall back to, preparations to extend and exhaust To¡¯Wrathh before the kill stroke.
What a safe, generic, and utterly uninspired plan. A voice whispered with disgust in his ear. Have you no pride at all?
He twisted around, a dagger in his free hand thrusting out to attack nothing. The voice was right there. And nothing was over his shoulder.
Some kind of audio hallucination by To¡¯Wrathh?
She took the opportunity to finally complete a charge. To¡¯Avalis spun around, drawing his dagger back from the lunge and using it to parry her quick thrust. She followed up with multiple strikes and jabs, attempting to weave past his defenses.
No choice. He dug deeper into his pilfered combat techniques. One moment, he was To¡¯Avalis fighting with a dagger and whip. The next instant, he was A12, a protofeather wielding his personal weapon of war. He¡¯d tapped into this knowledge only once so far, against the human on the bridge, and despite the pest having an entire army of spectral wraiths all attacking from every side imaginable, he survived.
To¡¯Wrathh was beaten back in moments. A few months of experience had no chance against him. His attacks were fluid, reckless, intentional.
His whip caught one of her thrusts directly through an occult link, and with a twirl, he forced her footwork to spin with him, his dagger slicing through her other arm¡¯s bicep as he passed by.
They slammed back to back, the chain tightened, forcing her own blade up against her throat.
She turned it off an instant before it cut into her throat open. He did the same with his own whip, no longer needing all the links to be powered.
A clang of her other sword striking the ground sounded as her free hand went limp, the cut across her arm too precise.
The battle was over in every other regard. He had her pinned, and both his arms working with optimal leverage to restrain her. She had no leverage at all, and no means to contend against him.
¡°That was far longer than a minute, To¡¯Avalis.¡± She said. ¡°Consider me disappointed.¡±
¡°I see you¡¯ve kept that new backbone of yours.¡± He hissed, contracting the unpowered chains, ¡°Go on, what parting insult before dying have you concocted?¡± The dead blade at her throat dug into her white skin, failing to puncture or break through.
¡°Glad you asked: Give my regards to our venerable elder brother for me, if you could.¡± She said, ¡°Let him know being a powerless parasite in his own corpse suits him well.¡±
Rage flowed through him at the words, and he turned the whip on, slicing through both To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s trapped sword and her neck a moment after. The whip turned off the moment it collided against the back of his own neck.
Her avatar fell like a puppet with strings cut short, vanishing into digital dust before hitting the ground.
He didn¡¯t understand where the rage had come from. Her final words had made no sense, and yet some part of him deep down loathed her unlike anyone he¡¯d ever loathed in his life before.
Fortunately, this wasn¡¯t the only moment To¡¯Wrathh would come to his sanctum. Until he shut down the port connections, she¡¯d continue to have a backdoor into his systems. The idea of killing her several more times before the siege was over mollified him a bit.
Emotions like these were really growing detrimental. Was his nature as a Feather finally creeping into his original programming? Alarming, he once thought himself above the flaws of his brothers and sisters.
He rolled a shoulder, exhaling the budding rage. Letting calm and focus return to his mind.
He had a sister to kill. And a plan to recover.
Book 7 - Chapter 7 - The way forward
To¡¯Wrathh slid under the chain scything above her, one blade already blocking the followup reversal that had unexpectedly killed her last bout.
It did arrive, and was redirected into a feint before the tail end of the whip cracked straight for the floor where she was currently sliding towards. To¡¯Avalis hadn¡¯t done this particular combination of moves prior, but she had seen the tail end whip crack with that heavy mace. Even if it didn¡¯t hit her directly, there were fractals embedded inside that would detonate a shockwave of force, enough to ruin her footwork and leave her vulnerable.
That had been her fifth death against him. She turned her slide into a roll and handsprung herself upwards, continuing the spin until she was right side up and could unfurl her wings outwards. The mace end slammed into the floor and exploded out into the occult shockwave which her wings greedly absorbed and used to carry her upwards.
The chain was recalled back, links being gobbled up by the hilt of that weapon into whatever occult dimensional folding was going on with that weapon. Before the mace actually reached the very hilt, To¡¯Avalis twisted around on himself, forcing the mace to circle around and then fly right at her in a straight line.
She¡¯d seen this move as well, and knew he¡¯d either wrap the chain around her leg if she dodged, or explode the macetip again to knock her out of the air. She dove forward using her wings to propel herself parallel to the chain, directly at To¡¯Avalis himself. One blade warding the chain off, then twisting on herself after a single wingbeat forward. She¡¯d expose her back to him for a moment, but as she had predicted the occult explosion behind her boomed outwards, and this time she was in the right position to absorb it perfectly.
She redirected the newfound energy pushing her downwards, twisting back into a lunge against the enemy Feather.
It worked. Her increased speed from his mace allowed her to bypass the speed of his short dagger¡¯s defense. Three solid hits before To¡¯Avalis was back in control of the bout, his whip retracted back into the hilt enough to be used again in melee range.
Here, she expected the move that killed her sixth attempt against him. And he didn¡¯t fail to deliver, the whip bouncing off the side of a wall near her feet, jumping back up from the force and racing behind her blind spot, seeking to wrap around from her shoulder downwards.
Her wings flicked out, occult edges lighting up on each wingtip, battering off the attempt. She caught him by surprise.
She turned on herself, using the wings to slice away at him. He turned on his heel, avoided the slice, and proceeded forward with a savage kick at her exposed face. Calculations flashed through her mind, debating options. One of her blades flickered up into position, while her arm braced against the other flat end of that blade. His heel would collide against her blade¡¯s defense and be halted, where she could then slide her blade¡¯s occult bladed hilt into his boot, sap away what was left of that shield, all while having her other hand¡¯s blade already in position to run him through. Mathematics of his system¡¯s capabilities, the specs of Keith¡¯s blade and her own internal structure¡¯s resilience all showed green.
She expected him to have run the same calculations and equally come to the conclusion the attack was a failure, and to redirect the kick into another attack of some kind.
To¡¯Avalis committed instead. Face clean of emotions, only calculation and focus.
The kick came, crushing through her defense with far greater force that was mathematically possible for his chassis and shattered through her blade. She saw in slow motion as the shards ripped apart, the occult edge fading on the further sections, leaving her with a glorified dagger.
The heel raced forward for her head, softened only slightly by her personal shield before it snapped her neck backwards.
She awoke a moment later, eyes flashing as she read system updates and reports.
Connection severed with her avatar. Her head had been too sturdy to be crushed by the kick, so the force transferred into her neck, which was then snapped as a result. Now she was back in her physical shell, away from the digital sea.
¡°That should not have been possible.¡± Was the first thing she said.
In the shadow of the cave, another pair of softly glowing red eyes locked against hers. The figure rose, and extended a hand out. She took it, helped up to her feet by both the assistance and her wings giving a light downwards flap.
¡°Three minutes, seven seconds.¡± Tenisent said in his usual low growl. He gave her a searching look, then nodded, letting her hand go. ¡°Better. Share the log.¡±
She did, the data transferring over within a second. At the same time, she sent a ping to search for all the ports she had hooked deep within To¡¯Avalis. Most were closed by now, including the one she¡¯d just used. Her hands brushed off dust and dirt on her legs absentmindedly, keeping herself clean. ¡°I would have survived longer, but I believe he realized I was stalling for time and wanted to deny me as much resources as possible. A pity, I nearly killed him for that.¡±
Red eyes flashed for a moment as Tenisent absorbed the fight and scanned through it. ¡°I saw.¡± He said.
Nothing other than those two words, and yet To¡¯Wrathh felt as if she was being judged harshly. ¡°I had no way of knowing he was capable of snapping my neck with a heel kick. The block should have softened the blow enough to redirect the kick. My spine should have been resistant to a pre-weakened kick at the very least. Instead he overpowered both. That should not have been possible.¡±
He said nothing back, simply staring at her.
She felt her wings flick in annoyance. ¡°I know I should have aborted the defense and switched when he committed to the kick, you don¡¯t need to tell me. To''Avalis would have aborted his own kick earlier if he¡¯d calculated it wouldn¡¯t have been fatal. I simply don¡¯t understand where he got the additional force from.¡±
He raised an eyebrow.
She felt silly now. There were dozens of possible sources of additional energy. Anywhere from additional occult reinforcements, to him having updated To¡¯Aacar¡¯s shell with additional power. Or To¡¯Aacar himself having deliberately published incorrect information on his shell long ago so that any future opponents would underestimate his true capabilities.
Or perhaps To¡¯Avalis had really wanted to hit harder than he had any right to, and the digital sea reacted to a strong burst of will. That entire domain was half-separated from physics after all.
Which meant there were ample ways to cheat the system, as her human would have gleefully reminded her. And Winterscars were not the only ones who cheat for every advantage.
¡°You need more training in that domain.¡± Tenisent said. Which was all the above answers put into one. ¡°Have you found the next egress point? Time is not on our side.¡±
She sighed, knowing he meant well. Her trace program returned more failures on locating the open ports she¡¯d been using, now including ones she had planned for later use. Each one clicked red until the end of the list. Which meant he had finally sealed off all entrances into his systems. ¡°No. All ports report non-functional.¡±
¡°A pity. We will have to do with the combat data we¡¯ve gained from this.¡± He folded his arms, eyes closing. Likely already using the latest set of data she¡¯d recorded to update his simulation of To¡¯Avalis for later combat.
¡°What of his mental state?¡± Tenisent asked next.
Tenisent was never one for insults. But he was well aware of their effect against opponents with fragile egos. And Feathers were especially prone to that. On first testing the grounds within To¡¯Avalis¡¯s mindscape, he¡¯d had an interesting theory for her to test out.
That soul fractal was inhabited by To¡¯Aacar for five hundred years. It was only recently cut, reforged and occupied by something unnatural to the system. Something will break.
¡°The passing insults to To¡¯Aacar being a parasite within his own shell seemed to have some effect on To¡¯Avalis.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, thinking back on the mindscape she¡¯d seen. ¡°He would act more impulsive each time it was mentioned. But no other effect was noticed. I am unsure if To¡¯Aacar is reforming within his original soul fractal, or some predisposed personality inherent to the shell is influencing To¡¯Avalis. I have not yet attempted to taunt the Feathers using a nickname, even for me that feels...¡±
She couldn''t quite explain the feeling of revulsion. There were some things sacred. She didn''t understand why she felt nothing besides mild affection when Keith called her Wrath, even if that wasn''t her true name. Any other Feather would have seen it as an insult.
Tenisent stayed silent for a pause, contemplating. ¡°Time will tell.¡± He eventually said. She gave him a searching look, and he quickly shook his head. ¡°It will not happen to me. I have options you and the rest of your kind do not. I removed the original soul fractal from this chassis and supplanted my own. I¡¯ve learned how to control this shell directly without any of the software¡¯s assistance long ago now. Independence was my first objective. Most days the vast majority of this shell¡¯s neuromorphic mind are shut off, unneeded. No artificial soul could manifest in this corpse if I left it alone. To¡¯Avalis cannot operate his graverobbed corpse without having the mind operational.¡±
She nodded approval, knowing Tenisent was far too paranoid to allow anything control of the shell besides himself. To¡¯Avalis was equally paranoid, but unfortunately for him, Tenisent was correct that he had far more options available. Feathers could not cut off their own soul fractal, they couldn¡¯t move around freely as humans did.
To''Wrathh walked past him, out to the edge of the entrance. Her hand absentmindedly drew out one of her two blades, eyes looking down to trace the patterns and artwork inscribed over it. Built by Keith himself for her use, and she¡¯d seen its conceptual echo shattered against a kick. That meant in the real fight, it could potentially break. A reminder that misuse of her tools in unknown situations could result in her defeat.
There had been other options that were less risky than using his blade to block a kick, she¡¯d been greedy in the attempt to lock his foot into her hilt and burn through his shields like that.
She heard footsteps behind her, and knew Tenisent had completed his synthesis of the new data, a ping sharing her his estimations of To¡¯Avalis¡¯s full abilities. The training program included far too many allowances and outright guesses from Tenisent at the enemy¡¯s abilities. But it was something to train against.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
She nodded her thanks at him as he stood next to her. ¡°Your advice on using my feathertips to disrupt his whip was effective. I believe there is a possible path to defeating him using that in combination with your prior recommendations of bringing multiple spare swords.¡±
The enemy was disturbingly effective at ripping her swords out of her hands. Those links seemed outright designed to draw a stab into their center, and then cut through the blade or pin it. It had caused her death at least three times in various ways.
Or perhaps she wanted spare blades that she was willing to see broken down in a fight instead of her personal ones.
Tenisent gave her a measured look, then back out, past the cave where the rest of the Winterscar knights remained on guard. His eyes flashed as he received updates from each knight¡¯s armors, and nodded back at her once he was certain nothing had changed outside. ¡°Your wings are swords of their own. Cut finger holes into them for a grip. True swords with a hilt are wasted on a weapon like his.¡±
¡°That would mangle the appearance of my wings.¡± She said, frowning deeply at the thought. Tenisent always sought to optimize any combat shortcuts, and having all her wings be spare occult blades to swing and use was of course something he¡¯d suggest. That human had been annoyingly persistent in demanding changes from her. They were already lined with the occult edges, she didn¡¯t need to make them all look like swords instead of wings. That would defeat their presentation.
¡°Stop pouting.¡± He said, ¡°My advice might save your life someday.¡±
¡°Your advice defeats their visual appeal.¡± She said, still pouting. What she actually meant is that she¡¯d rather die than not look her best. Some standards existed for a reason, even if the old human here was too dense to understand. But of course, that would be silly to say out loud.
He sighed, already well aware of the tone To¡¯Wrathh could take when she was ready to dig her heels into something. He''s been through enough arguments over fish and food with her. ¡°Do as you please. If you die, it will be on your head.¡±
She smiled. That was as close to complete agreement as was possible for Tenisent. It seems perhaps he did understand that her image was equally important in a fight. Killing To¡¯Avalis while flicking her wings with disdain as she turned to walk away from his dying corpse needed every calculated angle and shape to be perfect, else the entire fight would have been for nothing.
She walked fully out of the cavern, taking a few jumps between the rocks until her heels landed on the rough dirt. The Winterscar knights gave her a salute before returning to their interests, either eating or looting.
The Deathless had been beaten back, armors had been collected and distributed back to her people to be used or held for ransom. Lionheart¡¯s funds could only go so far, and buying new armor for that many Deathless, wherever they respawned at, was a tall order. They wouldn¡¯t be back for quite some time.
They even took all their camp rations, leaving a small feast for the Winterscars. The tiny camp circled around one of the large floating pillars of glass, under which the mist at their base would lead into the next strata, where the slow moving mite starfish teleport was migrating.
¡°Do we know how he sealed off all the ports?¡± Tenisent asked as they both walked to the edge of the mist beyond.
¡°That final bout was too close to his delta command and control systems, which I¡¯d been using up to now.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said. ¡°He could access the use history and from there spot the rest of the viral doorways.¡±
¡°The others?¡±
She raised a hand out, and tapped on finger. ¡°To¡¯Sefit remains infected, the virus was successful in burrowing deep down in the cracks you found. Three out of seven existed in her shell, the other exploits either don¡¯t exist or moved around over time.¡± She tapped the next finger on her hand. ¡°Nothing has worked with To¡¯Orda, that one must not have touched the infected file at all.¡±
Of the two Feathers, To¡¯Wrathh had expected To¡¯Orda to have been the most simple minded one to fool. Instead, he¡¯d been the only one of the two that had wisely avoided it all.
Was it intuition? To¡¯Orda was a far older Feather than To¡¯Sefit. His kind was part of the fifth generation, as far as she¡¯d read on his file. Several centuries older. Feathers that survived that long were all veterans like To¡¯Aacar had been, survivors who lived for a reason.
Or he could have found a hole and hid there sleeping for all those centuries. The archives showed almost no achievements or activity.
¡°Strange that four of the exploits didn¡¯t exist.¡± Tenisent muttered, contemplating the security breach they¡¯d found.
¡°Not so.¡± To¡¯Wrathh dropped her count and began to preen through her wings, making sure they were well maintained for the flight ahead of her. ¡°Feathers have a standard template, but often our actions and growth will warp that template. It¡¯s possible her own neuromorphic mind shifted the exploit locations from where they exist in our shells. She may even have accidentally overwritten the locations with some upgrades at some point, never realizing the empty space she built her foundations upon had actually been in use. To¡¯Avalis¡¯s shell is near my generation, it makes sense the exploits you found in his old shell could also be found in my own.¡±
He hummed again. ¡°My advantage as an outsider doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve found all the weaknesses that exist. There may be more exploits. And I am no scholar, girl. You will have to figure the rest from here. My only advice is to hold off on their use until you need it. Else they might find them.¡±
¡°If they were intentionally created as you suggested, it may be that they will never be able to find them even after being used.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to see them until you pointed them out.¡±
¡°You only had a few hours to search for them. Give yourself a few days, and I am certain you will find all the exploits hiding within your shell. Knowing they exist would be enough. And it will be enough for them.¡±
She wasn¡¯t quite certain about that. The exploits Tenisent had found within his shell¡¯s chassis had indeed felt too¡ deliberate. Directly in locations she¡¯d never even considered to look into. Tenisent had found no signs of modification or tampering by the original owner, so it was equally likely To¡¯Avalis never knew about his own backdoors in all the time he was using his body.
She was certain these were zero day exploits deliberately set down by either Relinquished or Abdication when he¡¯d forged the second generation templates. A means to control any future rebels even if they¡¯d found a way to sever themselves from Mother.
Such backdoor exploits would by their nature be built to be obfuscated from the host¡¯s detection.
The pale lady had clearly laid so many redundancies, it may explain why she feared no true rebellion from the current Feathers at all.
¡°Do not stop searching within.¡± Tenisent ended, as they both felt the arrival of another intruding on their discussion.
¡°I will certainly have more than enough time to do so on my way down.¡± She nodded. ¡°You worry about the events here.¡±
Behind her, Yrob approached, holding a plate before him. The machine moved delicately on two feet, something his kind were not quite suited to do. The long loping arms seemed almost comically huge compared to the small plate of food he carried before him.
¡°I cook. Goodbye meal. Please try.¡± He said reaching her side.
Fried egg, yolk separated prior to the cooking process and later put back on the grilled egg white. Some spices pilfered from the Deathless supplies, and some kind of thicker sauce likely made from the same source of ingredients.
She gave it a test, making sure not to eat the plate it had been carried with. Then shared the data back to him so the machine could sample his own food one more time.
He hummed in appreciation. ¡°Salt.¡± He finally said. ¡°Always mess up salt.¡±
¡°I found it quite tasty. A good meal before I go.¡± She said, patting his side.
Calculations hit fifty percent. A few dozen paths were trimmed out as suboptimal, and the fastest path had just crossed into the teleportation strata. From there, the program was calculating which known jump points to take.
Lejis and Fido came up to her next. The priest seemed to know she was about to embark on a journey. He simply watched her from the top of the drake with silence.
¡°You did well in guiding my people.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, as her program reached seventy five percent completion. ¡°I am grateful.¡±
He shook his head. ¡°I heard many tales about you, my lady. They all sounded so much what I had always hoped for since the day I became Chosen, I believed it would only amount to wishful thinking. Too good to be true. Or if you were as kind as they all said, it was simply for a pragmatic sake. I could work around that, of course. Only when I saw true cooperation between machines and ourselves did I dare think tales of you were, perhaps, not exaggerated. You truly do care for the people you ruled over.¡±
¡°Why would I not?¡± She asked, confused. ¡°Of course I would care for the people I command, they are mine.¡±
A dark, rumbling chuckle came out across the small gathering, coming deep from Fido¡¯s throat.
Lejis shook his head with a wry smile. ¡°Tamery was more right about you than I could have ever imagined. I suppose when even a cynical career crook like Marsella says you are worth following for your character, it serves as a testament. I will do my best to continue to guide people forward while you are gone, please consider ways to return to us once you are free.¡±
¡°I worry about bringing unwanted attention.¡± She said. ¡°However, if I can discover a good way to hide from mother¡¯s watchful eyes, I will make the attempt.¡±
She considered it could be possible. Appearing human in almost every regard and using an armor to hide from any scans would let her slip away from detection easily enough. Tenisent was doing this himself as of now. Feathers would never think she could pretend to be a human and hide among their numbers, the idea of that would be so ludicrous, it was more akin to a blind spot among them.
Only To¡¯Avalis, To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Orda would have known her long enough to suspect such a thing from her. Once they were removed, she had far more options available.
All that would be left was to pay back her debt to the mites, and then she could return and live where she belonged.
The program hit one hundred percent. She was ready for the long trip.
To¡¯Wrathh walked to the edge of the mist. Under her would be the pathway to the next strata. And further off was the underpassage she¡¯d used to get to the next one. Her path was nearly plotted to completion, down to where she would resupply on power cells and machine volunteers who¡¯d meet her at different locations to supply her with such things.
Tenisent walked up to her, looking down past the mist.
¡°You need the occult.¡± He said, ¡°To defeat Avalis, martial might and your wings are not enough. His technique is far too absurd. I¡¯ve attempted the simulations, even I cannot reliably defeat him with only blade and hand. The occult is the advantage you need.¡±
¡°His technique is interesting.¡± She said. ¡°If I have a chance, I would like to steal his weapon and how he uses it. The idea of wielding a legendary weapon pilfered from my enemy is quite appealing to me.¡±
He gave a flicker of a smile, which he forced down immediately after. ¡°You¡¯ve spent too much time around my son.¡±
¡°If the occult is the edge I need, then I will want his council on such matters. He is our expert. He has excellent ideas. And I intend to spend more time around him until I have stolen the rest.¡±
He shook his head at that, then sighed. ¡°Is there no means to persuade you differently from this?¡±
¡°None.¡± She said, and now her voice was ice cold. ¡°I am faster than you and connected to the machine network, which will let me plot a path faster. You will only slow me down, even with your shell working at optimal capacity.¡±
¡°I am far better suited to fighting Avalis. You¡¯ve already recovered enough video footage of his abilities, and he has no information yet on my own. When I fight him, he will be slain.¡±
¡°Tenisent. You swore loyalty to me as a Knight Retainer in exchange for saving Keith¡¯s life from To''Aacar. You swore that you would follow by my side and obey my orders for the rest of your life. I am your liege by right. My orders are absolute.¡±
He said nothing for a moment, looking over the Winterscars. Then nodded. ¡°They are.¡±
¡°You will honor your vow.¡± She ordered.
It seemed to almost pain him, but he gave a slow nod. ¡°I will.¡±
¡°Then, once more to be certain you understand this is no throwaway command: I order you to stay here and look after the Winterscar knights and my people, until such a time that I find Keith and bring him back, or that I send orders on where to meet us.¡±
He sighed, closing his eyes and looking up. ¡°Sending you out alone is a great risk.¡±
¡°Seeing Keith die is a greater risk.¡± She answered back. ¡°And the distance between us will force you to train in the digital sea more. When we fight To¡¯Avalis, I will need you, Keith, and the knights all together at your best. You might have the best chance to win against him alone, but we are Winterscars and a duel is far too fair of a fight. As Keith would say, I intend to stack the deck as much as we can, and then steal more cards until I am removed from the premise. I know better than to fight him alone. Now, give me your word that I will not have to constantly look behind my back, it has not escaped my notice you are stalling.¡±
This time there was no scowl or flash of anger on his features. His attempts were up, and Tenisent knew that. ¡°I understand your orders. I will carry them out.¡±
A ping appeared in her mind, thirty three possible green lines going downwards, and spreading out into veins of possible directions she could take. The fastest path would take her three days. The slowest would take her four.
She sent Tenisent her routes, and leaped off the edge, diving deep into the mist below.
When she was certain she was out of range for anyone to hear, with only the wind to whip away any words, she hissed a promise to herself. ¡°Human, if you die to anyone else, I will bring you back to life if only to strangle you to death again for the disrespect. Don¡¯t you dare die until I get to you.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 8 - H is for humans
¡°Aaron, can you take this call? My break¡¯s up in a moment and I want to stretch my wings.¡±
The light on Grelin¡¯s console was blinking yellow for a comms request. Aaron looked over it and saw the destination address. ¡°A xeno tradepost request?¡±
¡°Yep. It¡¯s the Valorant.¡± Grelin confirmed, giving a light flap on his perch. ¡°That''s gonna be a long one so can¡¯t take it without it running into my break. And I¡¯m not missing my break.¡±
Aaron understood. The Valorant was right in the middle of greyroamer territory and greyroamers weren¡¯t great at long-distance communication. There were good odds it¡¯s an Odin on the other side but it was a gamble and Aaron didn¡¯t know any Odin out in the field around the Valorant right now. Neither military nor for trade. So the odds were further down. And if Grelin gambled wrong, then he¡¯d be stuck for the next hour slowly getting the message through.
Which meant he¡¯d miss his break, and that would quickly become everyone''s problem.
¡°All right, get me some lunch while you¡¯re out. I¡¯m feeling like lintbugs today, the fat squishy ones.¡± Aaron said, plying the most he could out of the arrangement. Greyroamers weren¡¯t that bad to talk to, he was a level 2 and had all species languages learned to a fluent degree.
The Odin puffed up again, ¡°Oi you brat, trying to weedle things out of me now? Who taught you everything you know? Respect your seniors.¡±
Aaron gave a mirrored dark chuckle back as his talons slowly pressed down the right buttons to take the call. ¡°Taught me everything including how to haggle. Bugs or I hop off this stool right now and go back to my station.¡±
The other Odin sighed, flipped his beak high up and dove downwards where he flapped onto the ground with a few hops. Which meant he¡¯d agreed, but would probably eat one or two bugs while he brought the food back.
Aaron couldn¡¯t argue with free food, especially when it was finangled from someone else. But on the other hand, he prepared himself for the long haul of translating greyroamer barks and tail waggles while equally having to do the same back.
The video flickered and before him. Aaron began his usual speech. ¡°This is the Icon¡ eh?¡±
What was in the camera¡¯s view was not fuzzy, had no snout, no teeth, not even the cold predator-like eyes staring directly at the camera. But whatever it was, it was silver colored.
Aaron thought for a moment a machine had managed to get into the Valorant all the way to the very top and clicked the right keys to start a call. It was made of metal.
The little level two comms officer went through a few emotions. First was surprise, which made his feathers puff out slightly while he flapped his wings in a nervous tick. Then was realization this was likely a prank being played by some Odin with far too much time on his hands. Probably a Vindr, those bastards had a certain lack of common sense considering they were the ones sent to fight a damn bioweapon built to fight humans.
And talking about the long dead humans, he thought the machine prank in the video feed looked an awful lot like the helmets old human armors had. There were a few dozen inside the Icon, deeper into the bowels where their exploration group had started to settle into the Icon before being hunted down and killed by machines themselves.
Those armors had all long ago fixed themselves up, entombed their dead users, and then ran out of power over the centuries. A historical site that¡¯s often visited by growing Odin who were learning history. The Icon was equally protective of the site, so Odin dared not disturb the graveyard, only learn from it.
And now some hooligans out there must have found a dead human armor and decided it would be funny to jumpscare the comms center here.
¡°Har har, very funny guys.¡± He started to croak out before the prank on the other side answered back.
The voice started talking in old human, and an odd inflection to it. Far more like how the Icon would talk, which was an accent that Odin couldn¡¯t easily do. Aaron wasn¡¯t a level three comms officer, learning ancient human wasn¡¯t required for his station, or for most regular assignments. Only the further off stations where no video feeds were working had any reason to use old human.
Which meant the other side¡¯s pranksters were even more likely to be Vindr, who were expected to go the distance.
¡°That¡¯s very funny, and I¡¯m sure you lot put a lot of time and effort into this prank, but this is an official channel for tr-¡±
Another voice came through, again with that uncanny perfect inflection.
Other Odin around him started looking over to see what the commotion was about. And that drew more of the bored officers around.
¡°Something up with the Valorant Aaron?¡± Alastris asked him from the other side. She had wrapped up her own comms ¡. And hadn¡¯t had anything to do in the past five minutes other than preening her feathers while waiting for the next call to come in.
So she had all the time to hop over and look at the screen he was looking at. It took her a second to realize what was on the other side.
¡°That a human?¡± Another squawked, posted right behind Aaron and so had full view of the screen by just jumping on his perch.
¡°No way, it¡¯s a prank by some Vindr that found a helmet.¡± Came the logical conclusion that Aaron had reached himself. Other Odin were filing around his console now, making his perch real crowded. He pecked away at one that got too close, which ended in a small beak fight that quickly spread out until everyone was bickering for a talon-hold on the small perch. The fight resolved almost immediately, with two comms officers on the outskirts exiled from getting a view and forced to fly to another perch.
¡°They¡¯re sure good at setting it all up. How are they moving the helmets around like that? Sticks?¡± One in the back asked.
¡°Shift the camera angles around.¡± A fourth called out. ¡°Everyone else, we should get back to work. Nothing to see here. Just some Vindr that will be getting a stern talking to later.¡±
¡°And probably some good laughs in the cafeteria after.¡± Another shot out.
Aaron pecked for the camera feed to switch around. Body language from greyroamers was important, and sometimes different angles were needed. The Valorant fortunately had most of its cameras working.
What was on the other side was not a gaggle of Vindr with sticks propped up to make the human helmets move around. No snickering group of veterans trying to pull some prank.
No, in the Valorant were two fully enclosed human armors.
And they were moving.
Aaron gave a croak of genuine surprise. He wasn¡¯t the only one.
¡°Bugs in the nest, what in the Icon¡¯s grace is that?¡± Alastris said, eyes widening as her wings flapped slightly out in surprise.
Now everyone in the control room had noticed something was off with the Valorant call, and they equally hopped over to crowd and see what was going on, causing even more fights to break out as his post was not made with more than three Odin in mind.
This repeated a few more times until the entire room was invested.
Alastris even tried pecking at the screen, expecting it to shift video perspective where they¡¯d catch the little bastards in their magic trick, or figure out how they got human armor to be that animated.
Again, more perfect old human came from the two figures, chatting to each other and to the screen itself. Aaron had no idea what was being sent, and neither did anyone else in the comms room.
¡°What do we do?¡± Alastris asked.
That¡¯s when Aaron had the realization everyone had turned their beaks to him. Technically, with Grelin out to lunch, he was the one in charge.
Which meant he had to do something about this. ¡°We need a level three in here right now!¡± He started, jumping off his perch and flying over to an unmanned station. ¡°If it¡¯s a prank, Icon scold them. We¡¯ve been got. But if it¡¯s not a prank¡¡± Oh Icon preserve him, it''s not a prank¡ ¡°We need to handle this right now.¡±
Utter panic descended down on all of them as the armored humans again tried to talk or say something. Aaron booted up the console, hit the right buttons, and got a line in with the superiors. Not his boss, he went straight for the military.
If they wanted a level three certified Odin to get here immediately, only the military would have that kind of speed and reach.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The video feed opened up. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± A Hersir crisply asked. The tone and feather movements clearly denoted curiosity and caution. Unlike field calls from outside, the Hersir expected the Icon¡¯s personal comms staff to be professional about everything. The military wasn¡¯t called in unless something was wrong. Like a tech fault that the Icon could not fix.
¡°We need a level three officer on hand right now for translation.¡± He spoke out. ¡°Priority one.¡±
The other end gave an acknowledgment without any questions and sent the orders. Likely the Hersir probably concluded some trade outpost¡¯s video cameras broke down and the field team needed to report things urgently.
Aaron didn¡¯t say anything to the officer to make him think differently. Frankly, he wasn¡¯t sure himself what was going on, but it was way out of his pay grade.
Grelin returned at that moment, the door opening for him. ¡°Ah, Aaron got you those bugs, you fat croak. Might have ea¡ why is everyone crowding around your station?¡±
Aaron hopped down at his side. ¡°No time to explain, we had to call in a level three officer up here to handle my station.¡±
His manager sputtered at that. ¡°First off, why would you need a level three called in for the Valorant? You know how much Gelrian has to pay for them on hand? He¡¯s going to pluck your feathers out for this, and then scream about the budget for the next three weeks.¡±
Alastris flew over and landed right next to him. She gave them both excited pecks, ¡°If this is actually happening, you don¡¯t wanna miss this. If you had missed this just because you were busy getting bugs, I think you¡¯d kill Aaron a few times over. Maybe choke him with those.¡±
¡°What in the Icon is actually going on here? Someone explain it to me or I¡¯m going to get violent.¡± Grelin said, now holding the food protectively behind him, as if the two junior officers here needed to be fended off.
¡°Aaron got a call from the Valorant. Except it¡¯s not anyone we know or work with. It¡¯s human armors - moving around. There could actually be living humans inside them. They¡¯re trying to speak through the comms but nobody here is a level three.¡±
Grelin took a few seconds to process the information before coming to the logical conclusion: ¡°What the fuck?¡±
Hilarious to use the only well known human swear word for the situation with humans, Aaron thought. The Icon would have approved if she were listening in.
Before he could say more, the doorway behind him opened up once more and Odin¡¯Alres¡¯V?lva walked in. The Aleres. V?lva of the heart-mother.
That¡¯s when Aaron started to regret having called up the military directly for this. They really did get the closest possible level three, no matter where they plucked the feather from.
Not exactly the great Goei in all his holy glory himself, but Aleres was a very high member of the clergy and easily on eating-breakfast terms with the Goei.
The great priest wasn¡¯t a comms officer, but he did have the training that included level three certification. Of course he needed that, his sermons were all said in old human. The red and white drapes of the stars looked stately on him, and given he was wearing them, he must have been mid-sermon when summoned.
¡°Gelrian is going to kill you.¡± Alastris said, ¡°That¡¯s going to be a massive expense.¡±
Aleres gave the three a nod at that. ¡°Indeed it will be. I certainly hope the fine officers here have called me in for a good reason.¡±
¡°Gardenhawl wasn¡¯t available?¡± Alastris asked. ¡°It¡¯s literally his job to be on call for this.¡±
¡°I assume he is available young lady, and likely too far away. The V¨ªkingr claimed it was a priority one importance, so the closest level three certified translator is me. And I will certainly bill appropriately for this service, believe you me. I was midway through today¡¯s gathering. Now, explain the situation.¡±
¡°A few minutes ago, we received contact from the Valorant." Aaron mechanically answered. "Except the communicators on the other end are not any race we know of, and they are attempting to communicate using old human.¡± He was now praying to not lose his job over some dumb prank. As of now, his only hope was that the mythical humans themselves had somehow come back from the dead and actually contacted the Icon, otherwise his career was over.
Another comms officer further inside flipped a few switches with his talons, and on the main display came up the human armors from the Valorant. Both were almost bickering with one another, all in human.
Aleres gave a stately nod. ¡°I see. Machines that appear as humans perhaps? Regardless, I will handle it from here.¡±
He flapped over to the perch, still spry for his old age. Then began to speak in fluent old human into the speaker. He might not be a comms trained officer, but level three was level three and anyone with that certification could speak old human fluently.
Aaron had no idea what was being said, but whatever it was, the priest understood and clearly could answer back.
He could somewhat guess at what was being said, since the old bird¡¯s body language was still moving around even under the robes. He didn¡¯t need to guess more as Aleres turned and translated for the room. ¡°They do indeed claim to be humans.¡±
The room went quiet.
¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± One voice asked from the distance.
¡°I am.¡± Aleres replied. ¡°And I am as shocked as you all are, however their accent is a perfect match to the Icons. The armors look similar enough to what I remember seeing in the videos and in person myself. They claim humanity isn¡¯t extinct. And that they are living¡ far away from us. These two have been sent here by mite portal. They are seeking ways back home. I will ask followup questions and get to the bottom of this. Standby.¡±
His talons reached out and tapped a few items, now calling in the Icon herself to verify what was going on.
Aaron would have cringed if it were any other moment. Calling on the Icon wasn¡¯t to be done frivolously. But if this was first contact with the mythological humans, he was here watching history being written down. Of all times to contact the Icon, and have her presence, it would be now.
Her smooth and somber voice came on speakers now, saying something more in old human. Aleres answered back in old human and gave a regal bow to the deity guarding all over them.
The screen before them went black.
Silence resonated in the room, heavier than news of an impending collapse. Until Aleres spoke. ¡°The Icon has confirmed they are humans. She has taken them aside to a private lobby to speak to them one to one.¡±
The comms room blew up in a flurry of wings and angry questions.
¡°I fear this matter is beyond even my station. We will need to inform the V¨ªkingr and the council of this as soon as possible.¡±
Aaron had spent the last three hours answering questions to the V¨ªkingr, the Gungnir, and just about any other military adjacent organization in addition to open testimony before the council of representatives.
He had it the least hard, Aleres was still going through debriefing given he actually could understand what the humans had said. However the final resolution that came from behind the sealed doors: high command gave everyone a gag order. No word of the humans could leave any witnesses, or else they would all collectively be tried and judged for treason.
That had come from the beak of V¨ªkingr Septimus himself. The greatest of the three V¨ªkingr. The very same Odin who¡¯d kept the infestation at bay abusing every strategy possible and leading what should have been a hopeless fight into a standstill.
If Septimus said no talking, there was no talking. In fact, more than just no talking, he had to go on with his life as if nothing had happened.
The next day when Aaron walked into the Icon¡¯s communication deck, everything was far more silent and eerie than it had any right to be. A few calls were happening, but besides the general professional handling, everything felt on edge.
Of course they all would be. There were eight Thegns with them. Standing on all sides of the deck, silently watching over the small crew of comms officers. Any Thegn could easily slap Aaron¡¯s bones into dust with a few wingslaps, so eight of them here was more than just a message.
He took his post and checked over his equipment. Alastris flew next to him, gave a quick attention peck and then gave him the worst report ever: ¡°Good morning officer. Do note that the Valorant went offline about a half hour after the last call it received.¡±
Aaron hissed back, ¡°Are you mad? Talking about the Valorant here, with eight Icon-damned Thegns breathing down our necks? Are you trying to get killed?¡±
¡°Relax, I¡¯ve been here for the past shift. They¡¯re only here to remind us to do our jobs without slipping any details to anyone else. And informing you that we lost contact with the Valorant is part of protocol. Sir.¡± She turned her beak to the entrance doorway, which was guarded by said Thegns. One was watching directly in their direction, beak completely still.
Well, if he wasn¡¯t dead right now, then she had a point about it being part of her job. High command probably expected the comms crew here to gossip about it in some way, the real danger was any of it getting out to anyone else outside of this room.
Or so Aaron hoped. He turned to his consol, then went through the event logs. Alastris was right, the Valorant went offline shortly after the call with the humans. No scout reports had come back, no notes placed, nothing. It could have lost power, or anything really.
Aaron didn¡¯t know, and he probably would never know given how top secret everything about this was. So all he needed to do was keep his beak down, and focus on following through orders.
Halfway through his uneventful shift, he got a call from the deadlands outpost of all places. This wasn¡¯t the scheduled report time for them, which meant there was trouble with the infestation.
He took the call, ¡°This is the Icon, receiving.¡±
¡°This is the Deadlands outpost. Reporting sighting of a machine on the outskirts of the infestation side. Hersir Yill has ordered a flight of Vindr to prepare for intercept in case the machine crosses borders as per Septimus doctrine.¡±
Aaron dutifully logged this out to be sent to high command for later review. ¡°Noted. Is Hersir Yill seeking further assistance or only reporting status?¡±
¡°Reporting status.¡± The comms officer from the deadlands said. ¡°Situation is under control.¡±
Machines walking around were normal for the outskirts. Sometimes they even crossed over the infestation territory. As far as Aaron heard, throwing a few firebombs or distractions were the solution to diverting them away. So long as the machine wasn¡¯t some massive monster. And given the comms officer on the other end wasn¡¯t panicking, then it was likely a routine machine stranded from its nest or pack.
¡°Final note, target seems to be a new form of machine. Wandering aimlessly at the edge of the infestation territory. About seven feet tall, bipedal, two arms, one head, close appearance to human armor. We suspect some kind of infiltrator model. Will proceed down the protocol and adapt as needed.¡±
That¡¯s when Aaron¡¯s gut dropped. Oh no. Oh Icon damn it. Not again. How did they get to the deadlands that fast? The Valorant was a good two or three days of travel away from the deadlands.
¡°Understood, passing message up.¡± He diplomatically stated, and then frantically called up the military contacts to shove the whole thing into their hands.
Predictably, once the Deadlands outpost was connected to the proper military channels, he didn¡¯t hear from them again, as they were now in direct communication with possibly Septimus himself. Thank the Icon it was out of his hands before any more sensitive information was sent. There was only so much his heart could take.
The Thegns around him responded to the call, with two taking up positions right next to him about a minute later. Imperiously looking down at his work. They didn¡¯t say a word, but their message was absolutely clear.
He gulped, nodded his beak at them, and got back to regular work of waiting for a call.
Not even an hour later, his comms blinked for the next message. And the sender made his heart stop. Again.
The Valorant. It was now back online and calling him.
He very hesitantly opened up the channel. ¡°This is the Ic- oh fuck.¡±
On the other end was a massive human. Too big to fit into any of the human armors he¡¯d seen. And talking about the human armors, the giant titan even had the ripped apart chestplate of one held in one hand.
Instead of a helmet, this giant human had a cloth of some kind covering his features, leaving only his beady little predator oriented eyes staring directly into the camera.
And worse - they glowed violet.
Book 7 - Chapter 9 - The Odin defense force
By the time I was reaching the foot of the first large hill, not even five minutes of light jogging into the ash wasteland before me, I already had Odin on my visual.
¡°That was fast.¡± I said under my breath.
¡°Deary, I believe they¡¯d been watching you for some time now.¡± Cathida hummed, hands folded over her virtual avatar while a finger tapped the side. ¡°After all, you were walking up and down the area, likely looking quite suspicious if I had to guess.¡±
¡°What, me? Suspicious?¡± I tutted, ¡°Do I look out of place? Wait, wait, don¡¯t tell me - I should have worn green, right? Gods damn it, I knew the red just wasn¡¯t complimenting my features today. Cathida, why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±
She, predictably, rose to the bait without a second of hesitation. ¡°Don¡¯t ask questions you can¡¯t handle the answers for, I¡¯m not here to crush and trample all over your feelings.¡±
¡°I suspect that¡¯s a lie.¡± I said.
¡°And I suspect you don¡¯t have an invitation to the neighborhood here.¡± She answered, clearly avoiding the accusation with aplomb.
I gave the formation of Odin a quick glance. Flying in a full V formation, even taking banking turns all as one. They passed over far above me, and that¡¯s when I heard the sounds of a whistle.
That¡¯s as close as I could identify. Like the sound of a small old human firework, that I¡¯d seen in films and media. Only instead of going upwards into the sky, it felt like the sound was coming downwards. Shrill, spinning madly a little behind my position, and then going blonk and silent.
My helmet turned to look at the source of the sound. I didn¡¯t need to look too closely to find my target: A small tube-like wooden object with what looked to be a cracked rock at the base. That hadn¡¯t been here a moment before. Incidentally, that stone weight had been the first thing to slam into the ground, so it likely had been in one piece on the way down.
Another whistling sound came from further off behind me, and my HUD zoomed in on the object being dropped by one of the Odin. It was clearly made to fall like a missile, spinning rapidly and causing wind to force a shrill whistle out of the tube. The rock at the end was exactly that - just weight made to keep the missile going down at its target.
It slammed into the ground with a plink, split apart into splinters and nothing else.
¡°Do you have any idea what these are?¡± I asked.
She shrugged. ¡°What do I look like to you? Some bird scholar?¡±
¡°Let me rephrase: Does Journey recognize anything about what these things are?¡±
She gave another tut, ¡°Not a clue there either. What it can tell you is that they¡¯re made of wood and rock, nothing explosive. Very primitive, but the shape is aerodynamic and clearly made to manipulate the wind as they go down.¡±
¡°You mean the whistle noise?¡±
¡°You try making a whistle that uses gravity. It¡¯s not as easy as it looks. Journey''s pulling up a bunch of physics books and I don''t want to get anywhere near that.¡±
I took a slight detour in my jog to go check up on one of the two whistles. The second had splintered into a bunch of broken wood, but the first only had the center rock weight take the real damage and one large crack down the center wooden rod, but not enough to cause it to break into pieces.
It looked absurdly tiny in my hands, and felt fragile. Frankly, without the little stone at the end, I think the wind itself would have picked up and thrown the wooden tube around.
A third sound came even further behind. Cathida had the helmet camera catch the moment the Odin threw it down. One had flown over another, grabbed something from the backpack, then flown at an angle and released the payload. Eyeballing the landing zone as far as I could tell.
¡°What are they even doing? Some kind of bird communication ritual?¡± Cathida muttered, head tilted up to look at their direction. Of course, what the Odin would see is just me. The old crusader was just a virtual display on my HUD.
I gave the wooden whistle one last look before I let it fall on the ground. ¡°I know what they¡¯re doing.¡± And the idea seemed a little absurd, but for all they knew, I might as well be some odd machine walking around. ¡°See how I stopped to go check on what the whistle was? That¡¯s what they¡¯re doing. They¡¯re leading me away. Like throwing candy on a trail and thinking I¡¯ll go after each piece.¡±
The distances between each whistle toss was growing, and heading further off to the side of the mountains. Likely where there would be tunnels, or other valleys that might distract a potential machine wandering around aimlessly.
¡°Jokes on them, I¡¯m not easily distracted.¡± I huffed, watching as they threw a fourth whistle even further off.
¡°If they threw, why, let¡¯s say a power cell somewhere behind us, it would certainly work.¡± Cathida said.
¡°Oh, now there¡¯s an idea. Think they¡¯re in yelling range?¡±
Unfortunately, that answer was a no. They were very high up in the air, likely to avoid Bob at all costs. And they were already flying off trying to bait me with more whistles.
When I clearly didn¡¯t rise to their bait and kept walking straight forward, I could see they changed their plan. The flying formation turned on itself, and one grabbed a red tube with a string from their central pack-carrier, while another took out some metal thing in their talons.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
¡°They¡¯re going to send a rocket into my face or something?¡± I muttered, watching the odd tactics.
The answer was yes, but more festive. They launched fireworks at me. Well, not directly at me, but clearly back into Bob¡¯s territory.
It made a lot of noise, a lot of lights, and the explosion was quite impressive. I stopped in my tracks just to check out the show, then got right back onto my track forward across the deadlands.
They didn¡¯t like that. A flare was launched from their group, this one pointed at the outpost they¡¯d come from. And another flew over to a third pack carrier, taking out some kind of metal box-thing with four arms.
My helmet helped me zoom in the vision and track the birds. ¡°Is that a godsdamned drone?¡±
¡°Journey puts it at ninety three confidence it is one.¡± Cathida said as we both watched.
They dropped it. It flew like a cheap heater. Which is to say directly downwards. If Journey hadn¡¯t put a giant orange square over the unidentified target, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have been able to track the tiny thing at all from this distance.
A humming noise came next, and the little silver box redressed itself from the flight, turned slightly to look down on me and then executed some kind of flight plan, zipping closer to the ground until it was hovering a few feet upwards.
A moment later, I was watching a two dimensional hologram of some kind being displayed from the drone. Crude, and stilted, but the image itself looked recognizable enough.
It was a human. Not in armor, or anything, wearing some odd thin cloth material. Bright red upper chest, that changed immediately to black once it hit where the pants should have been. Even had a silver triangle pin of some kind on his chest. Features were fuzzy, but I could tell there was a patch of black hair on his head, and a beard of some kind that matched the hair.
The image turned with what looked to be a sidearm of some kind that I didn¡¯t recognize. Then spoke out in a language I equally didn¡¯t understand. Then it ran.
When I mean the figure ran, I mean there was an attempt to make it look like he was running.
The drone projecting the image was clearly a little too high, leaving the feet of the projection dangling a little in the air. The speed was also mismatched, with the drone moving faster than the two feet should have accomplished, making the figure look like it was sliding around in the air.
¡°Am I supposed to follow the image?¡± I asked, looking over to her.
She gave me a shrug, her own projection looking far more real and in-world than the two-dimensional mock projection that actually existed in the world. ¡°Well deary, if they think you¡¯re some kind of human-shaped machine, then the best way to bait a machine is¡?¡±
¡°Ah. Are the machines not very smart on this level? That¡¯s a little obvious. No offense to their craftsman and all that.¡±
¡°If you were a death-dealing robot just aimlessly wandering around, any distraction is better than none. I¡¯m more surprised your little bird friends could even make drones with projectors on them.¡±
The projection had looked static-y, and the frames per second were on such a low end the animations looked more like a flickering slide show. So not the highest tech there was, but it did need to fit on a drone. ¡°Probably the Icon of Stars making these things for them?¡±
¡°Very likely.¡± She said.
¡°I¡¯m thinking we should keep our eyes out. The Odin seem to have a bit more resources to call in, and right now we¡¯re only seeing their non-violent methods of turning a possible threat.¡±
I was growing a little more cautious, considering I didn¡¯t know exactly what kind of weapons the Odin had on hand to deal with machines. Kres had been a scout who didn¡¯t carry much on him at all, these would be stationed soldiers keeping Bob away from them with more than a big stick.
And they clearly had the Icon helping them out or access to some old human tech. ¡°Whatever the danger comes from, it¡¯s likely not going to be the Odin themselves flying above me.¡± I muttered, calculating. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t want any lone machine thinking they were the enemy if hostile actions were taken.¡±
¡°Good point. They¡¯re likely scouts bringing closer eyes here.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Though they might have one or two last resorts carried.¡±
When I refused to follow behind the decoy image, that drone flew away back to the Odin flight above, the projector turning off. The birds launched another bright flare to communicate with home base.
That¡¯s when the antics climbed up. More drones appeared zooming directly for me, moving fast from the distance ahead. This time four. I think they¡¯d been there for some time, just waiting for the signal.
¡°They¡¯re coming directly at us.¡± Cathida said, looking at the approaching menace. My HUD lit up and four orange outlines superimposed on the tiny black specs. A zoomed in screen showing more details about them popped up to my far right. I don¡¯t know how Journey was able to compensate for the zoom dynamically because those four drones were going fast across the dead grounds.
They each had a small black brick of some kind, while the four propellers were straining hard to keep the thing in flight.
Top of my HUD showed my shields at one hundred percent. So anything coming from the drones here would be handled. That still didn¡¯t stop me from feeling nervous. ¡°Shields good?¡±
¡°Nominal.¡± Cathida confirmed. ¡°But I¡¯d get to aiming at the drones in case they¡¯re hostile.¡±
I drew out my sidearm, clicking the safety off with a practiced flick. Non-occult bullets were loaded. Range showed my accuracy would be under twenty percent, but it was steadily climbing up as the formation of drones got closer.
¡°I¡¯d start shooting now, Deary.¡± Cathida warned.
¡°I don¡¯t want to appear hostile immediately. Let¡¯s wait to see what these drones do. Might be a communication attempt?¡±
I didn¡¯t really believe that, why send four drones for a communication attempt?
They entered my range, and continued forward without interruption. Not slowing down either. I knew drones could stop on a coin flip, or take turns that would sheared an airspeeder in half, but these ones looked loaded up to max capacity.
¡°I think they plan to ram into you.¡± Cathida said.
¡°I¡¯m thinking the same.¡± I agreed.
The drones equally agreed.
They raced directly at me, breaking their prior formation to all collide against my armor at near the same time, in a scattered pattern that would have been near impossible to dodge.
Near impossible.
But not quite impossible for a supercomputer¡¯s calculation capacity, and I had exactly such a thing to pilot my armor. Cathida vanished from my view as I sent the administration codes in for her to take over just as the four flying menaces got into ramming range.
Without pausing a beat, she twisted and moved to avoid all four. The actual movements we made were rather small, just a lifted hand, a footslide to the right, and twisting my torso to the left, but that particular pose avoided each drone by a small fraction of an inch, and none of them could react fast enough to course correct.
I was wondering what their plan was about all this, and found out a moment later. One of the drones had been angling slightly downwards, but the speed and weight meant it couldn¡¯t recover its height after the full miss. So it slammed into the ground.
And promptly exploded.
Shields lit up across my back as the armor compensated for the hit. The explosion was defused enough it hardly caused any percentage, with the shrapnel likely being the worst of the damage. The shockwave was enough to force me to take a step forwards to keep my balance up.
Which meant that was some extremely potent explosive power. Armor weighed an incredible amount. And I was a good few feet beyond the centerpoint.
Cathida and I both turned our heads to stare at the explosion behind us. "Well, that escalated rapidly." She muttered. "Didn''t think the birds had it in them."
Book 7 - Chapter 10 - This tower defense game is broken
¡°I think they want me dead.¡±
Cathida scoffed, ¡°Just another on the long list of entities you¡¯ve pissed off now deary, nothing to worry about. On the positive side, a direct hit from them would be survivable, but the shields would take a good chunk. Don¡¯t get hit by all three. Journey¡¯s not appreciating the numbers it¡¯s crunching about that.¡±
Three other drones each banked and flew off in a wide recovery circle, each trying to fly back into my face. I aimed my pistol, fired a shot to take out the lead drone before its circle was complete, letting it crash further off where it crashed harmlessly without an explosion.
The other two were within occult range. Wraiths flew out of my chest, the armguard swinging into the expected direction. The drones seemed to register the possible threat, and tried to fly off, but that armguard did have some good size to it, turning the weapon into a glorified drone swatter that diced up the targets.
Both fell into the ground in tiny cube pieces when the occult edges sliced them up, all bouncing off the ash. No idea why it didn¡¯t explode like the first had.
The Odin above didn¡¯t fire any flares here, but they were clearly keeping visual contact on me, slowly circling as a group further ahead of me.
Now that the rules of engagement had changed, a power efficient jog was no longer in the works.
I started a full on combat sprint.
They didn¡¯t appreciate that one bit. Seeing a relic knight in full sprint was¡ dramatic. Journey moved with precision, each heavy footfall propelling me further forward.
My time to arrival at the other end of the ashlands ahead went from about an hour and a few extra minutes down to ten and a half minutes.
The Odin reacted. The flight above me all tried to fly ahead of me at full speed. When they realized they were steadily going to be passed in a matter of seconds and then left behind, they all unleashed an entire barrage of black spheres, likely the last surprise card they¡¯d been holding onto.
Journey identified it as a danger. No idea what it was, but ninety percent chance the Odin weren¡¯t playing around anymore.
I turned on my heels, ducking and weaving into a scattered running pattern that easily avoided the hastily dropped weapons.
And they were weapons. Each time the black orbs hit the ground, an explosion came out. And left behind burning patches of black tar that continued a flame even on the completely dead ashes.
I wasn¡¯t hit with any of it, nor any of the splash damage they¡¯d been designed for, and within a minute the flight of Odin were left behind me. Although they were straining to keep up.
A flare came up from the other end of the deadlands, and the Odin flight behind me quickly panned out of the way, halting their chase. As if something big was coming down my direction.
It wasn¡¯t big. Instead it was sheer numbers. More of the flying explosive drones. About twenty of them all in all. I saw them activate from larger metal boxes, likely setup long ago for emergency use. They zipped out and flew right at me.
Midsprint, my sidearm aimed down their direction and I began to open fire. Journey¡¯s targeting reticle showed me exactly where to aim. Seven were taken out in quick succession, and the rest instantly started to move around erratically to avoid fire. Interestingly enough, there weren¡¯t any explosions on my takedowns, even when they slammed into the ground, breaking apart into wildly spinning parts.
The erratic flying didn¡¯t save them much either, and another three were taken out before all the drones decided to just zero in on me with a mad sprint forward.
¡°They¡¯re manually controlled.¡± Cathida noted, while sprinting at my side. There were no ash footprints behind her, which somewhat broke the illusion of her projection.
¡°Can you dodge them still?¡±
She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s just a different set of skills to dodge a manual operator instead of an auto-pilot. Quick reactions rather than running a counter-prediction program. The birds aren¡¯t the best pilots, ironically, so it¡¯s far better for us they¡¯re manually controlling these.¡±
My sidearm shot down another three drones on their way to smash themselves against me, and once more there weren¡¯t any explosions on any hits. If there had been, I think the explosion would have wiped out the entire group, so they likely had a manner of priming the explosives last second.
Cathida took command a moment later, drawing an occult blade in my right hand while my left kept my sidearm ready. With her moving armor, she easily jumped over three that zipped past me, slid under two that flew too high, and dashed to the right with a heavy step to avoid the only one that managed to stay directly centermass on us.
Her blade slapped down with the flat surface directly on that last one that was flying level with us, and the hit caused it to tumble directly into the ground. Where it promptly exploded, with a good amount of it¡¯s explosive power still propelled backwards, striking the rest of the fleet of drones that had narrowly missed.
Explosions happened as the rest detonated. Any that hadn¡¯t been blown up from the initial explosions easily blew up from these ones.
¡°Wonder how much that ended up costing them.¡± I muttered, my head going back to the old days of causing property damage.
¡°We¡¯ll have to ask them politely once we arrive.¡± Cathida shrugged, appearing next to me again as I took over the armor once more.
For a nice two minutes of time, nothing came at me and I was allowed to sprint in peace. Then at the seven minute mark till arrival, I caught sight of the next wave of attacks the Odin had prepared.
A pair of drones flying directly at me.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
¡°That¡¯s a power cell.¡± I hissed as Journey zoomed in on the target.
¡°Wish granted. They did bring you a power cell in the end.¡± Cathida chuckled, but there was a dark undertone there.
We both knew exactly what that power cell was going to be used for. I had no doubts at all it had been primed for unsafe detonation. Those things could absolutely level an entire airspeeder if they exploded from inside, and leave a giant crater behind.
One of the few things knights had to be careful around. They weren¡¯t used often as power cells were limited resources that couldn¡¯t be easily replenished, but they were still far cheaper than a knight¡¯s armor. Someone holding a cell at supercritical while hiding behind cover was a good way to deny territory until they got shot or otherwise dealt with at range.
I, of course, was not going to fuck around with a weapon of mass destruction like that. My hands unhooked my rifle from my chest buckle, and prepared it for fire. The sidearm was good for quick shots within target, but this would require precision.
My feet ducked under me, turning my speed into a slide and ending a few dozen feet forward where my armor stabilized the rifle. Flashbacks zipped through my head from the last time I¡¯d seen someone take this pose. Aiming at a goat deep underground.
Father only had one hand to work with back then, I had two. But the goat didn¡¯t have any idea it was being targeted while the two drones flying in the air clearly did and they weren¡¯t going to make themselves easy to hit.
Accuracy at this range showed thirty four percent. I opened fire with a few probing shots.
Missed.
¡°Cathida¡¡± I hissed. ¡°Do you have better aim than me?¡±
¡°I¡¯d be aiming exactly the same. At this range it¡¯s luck on how the bullet flies and air turbulence. Once they¡¯re closer, it¡¯ll be far more certain.¡±
¡°Once they¡¯re closer, I might be in range too.¡±
The direction of the drones changed, the one flying without the power cell under its stomach dove down and raced right for me. Journey superimposed an orange line on the expected path, showing it flying over my head.
The other drone I was more worried about was flying much further upwards, staying out of firing range, the line showing nowhere near me.
What were they up to? I aimed my rifle right at the approaching drone, waited until it was in range for a certain hit, then opened fire.
The bullets shredded through one of the arms, possibly both, tossing the drone into a death spiral spin. But the Odin¡¯s planning made itself clear at that moment.
The loss of power to the propellers made the entire thing start falling, the expected direction going from further above my head, to right by my feet. They planned for the drone to get shot or lose power and aimed for it.
I got back up from my knees, and swiftly turned to leap out of there before the drone could land anywhere near me.
It exploded midair. Journey¡¯s HUD turned fuzzy for a moment, but otherwise no damage. ¡°Armor¡¯s detecting an electromagnetic pulse from the detonation.¡± Cathida said. ¡°They tried to shut you down. Assholes.¡±
The pulse didn¡¯t work on armor, too insulated and protected from something like that. But it certainly affected the drone flying with the power cell far above us. That started falling straight out of the sky, and again I saw the little plans these flying feathered weasels had planned.
They¡¯d flown their drone high up so I couldn¡¯t shoot it down reliably. But they¡¯d kept just enough of a direction so that when it depowered, it would fall right around my general area. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but a power cell going supercritical didn¡¯t need to be perfect.
Journey¡¯s warnings lit to life as the armor calculated the potential destruction and decided there was a possible chance we¡¯d take serious damage. ¡°Seven seconds until impact on the ground.¡± Cathida called out, ¡°Run faster.¡±
I swore. A few times. But I wasn¡¯t about to let a few birds be my death. Occult pulsed out of me as I launched a wraith up into the air. The spectral image flew past the drone, then flickered as I summoned another wraith within itself. That one had a single task: Lash the drone and pull it up.
An occult lash flew straight down, and narrowly missed my target.
¡°Gods damn it, that thing is tiny!¡± I hissed.
¡°Five seconds!¡± Cathida called out.
That¡¯s fine, everything is okay. The drone is too close to me to slice through or damage without causing myself damage. So I¡¯ll just try again with the lash. Another image pulsed from the failed attempt, and fired another lash at the tiny target still in freefall.
It flew down at the tiny target, and scythed just a little above it, missing the target.
¡°Three seconds! Dive! Dive!¡±
Wait, why was I trying to catch this thing with a single lash? That¡¯s like trying to weave a thread through a needle. My body exploded in as many occult images that I could think through. Each wraith flew up. With the drone already falling out of the sky and racing right to the ground, it took not even a second for all the images to pass by it.
Then they all turned and launched occult lashes down at the threat.
¡°DIVE NOW!¡± Cathida screamed into the helmet, the timer going down past a second.
Most lashes missed. And then two actually swiped through one of the propellers, and a third hit center mass. They both yanked the terrifying thing upwards into the air like a bungee cable pulling a doomed man, not even a few feet from impact on the ground.
¡°Thank the goddess.¡± Cathida sighed, watching as the pest was being reeled upwards into the air, where the rest of my wraiths were now busy daisy chaining it opposite of where I was going. With the little shit under my full control now, I didn¡¯t miss my lashes and flung it further and further away, until it was far out of my range in one last occult leash dissolving mid-toss.
It landed somewhere far far off my position and detonated in one giant ball of blue that eradicated everything around it, and harmlessly didn¡¯t get anywhere near my position. The shockwave caused a wall of ash to fog over everything, rushing over my position.
Leaving the entire world into a half-illuminated dark night.
That didn¡¯t stop my helmet from filtering through and giving me full sight once more.
Back to the sprint, and this time I was going to pluck a few feathers and wings once I arrived. I get they¡¯re paranoid about Bob, but Bob¡¯s been thoroughly burned clean off my armor a long while back. Now they were just straight up trying to murder me from a distance. At least the wall of ash obscured me from sight.
It didn¡¯t last long, and soon I was sprinting out of the fading dust cloud, back onto the open ground.
I didn¡¯t have long to wait before I found what their last plan had been. Up on their distant tower a metal rod turned and aimed my direction.
Then it opened fire.
The hail of bullets were clearly larger caliber, but at this range most of the destructive damage was mitigated enough that Journey didn¡¯t trigger shields. Still staggered me back a bit with each impact and slowed my full sprint.
But the damned thing didn¡¯t stop firing down at me. I kept my sprint forward, feeling the pinpricks start growing in power as I continued. It felt like I was running against a water hose of some kind, a steady stream of pressure trying to force me backwards.
Past a certain point, Journey calculated it now needed to use shields, so those flashed up around me and started draining. Not fast enough to stop me. Knight armors were famous for being able to tank quite a lot of damage.
I loaded my occult bullets into my rifle, and aimed while mid-sprint. Journey highlighted the construction. The turret was clearly old but well maintained, and it moved using electronics rather than manual levers. Made sense, I had no idea how the little birds could have the physical strength to move human-sized levers around. I could even see the Odin themselves scrambling around the central control computer. They weren¡¯t having a good time.
My occult bullets hit mid-center onto the turret, right where I¡¯d expect the movement gears to be working. The little blue traces of occult flew true, slicing through the machinery, and exited out the other end without any fanfare.
The turret instantly froze in its tracks, unable to continue targeting me and firing uselessly at where I¡¯d been a moment ago.
And now there was nothing between me and the little scrapshits on the other side of their metal wall.
That was a fun little romp, but it¡¯s time I reminded these crows who were on the top of the food chain.
Book 7 - Chapter 11 - The Dragon
¡°It is a human.¡± Odin¡¯Erill¡¯Sk¨¢ld said, resolutely. ¡°Triggering the final barrier line will kill our Icon-blessed progenitor, this time without fail. I will not be complicit in this act. The Icon will be my judge.¡±
Odin¡¯Yill¡®Hersir ruffled his feathers in disdain. ¡°It only appears like human armor. Any kind of creature could be piloting that mech. Or it could be a machine infiltrator, built to blend in with humanity and now wandering around without a purpose. Regardless, the V¨ªkingr have sent us direct orders to follow the Septimus protocol to the end. Execute the order or I will see you terminated from your post, Sk¨¢ld.¡±
¡°Terminate me then.¡± Erill croaked out, feathers puffed out to the fullest.
Yill hissed, then shook a beak with a disdainful wing-slap, the order implicit. Three Thegns hopped to his side, although the Odin followed this order without complaint, jumping off and following the soldiers out of the control center.
Yill turned to the rest in the room. ¡°Anyone else feeling sentimental? Leave now, I¡¯ll allow a standard termination from service. I will not make that same offer a second time.¡±
Rather generous of Yill, but Rashant could understand. Having anyone in the control center grudgingly following orders meant that there was a sabotage chance. Yill would rather the traitors have a clean exit and remain unpunished rather than deal with treachery at every wingtip.
Three more Odin rose from their post and flew off to the doorway, exiting quickly without a word or even a glance at their commander. Rashant was surprised it was this many. The deadlands outpost was among the more hardcore military outposts, with everyone up here slightly on the zealous side of things given the distance from the Icon and the weight of responsibility with what lay on the other side of the deadlands. But all Odin had grown up with the Icon¡¯s stories of humanity, so there were quite a few admirers. And many would see the target running around out there as human.
Like Erill, Rashant was equally convinced this really was a mythological human. The target had literally dodged every drone sent, and even slapped one out of the air with the flat of its sword. That kind of dexterity was absurd. Not to mention some kind of tech that he¡¯d never seen had been used to both slice through the other drones and equally yank the power cell out of harm¡¯s range. Human armor was a known quantity, the Icon had a few dozen to study from, so it wasn¡¯t any surprise that the turret¡¯s rotary cannon fire failed to even make the target flinch, but the human had taken only a few return shots that punctured through the entire thing and shut it down.
Machines were powerful. They were not this powerful. So either this was some kind of super machine - or it indeed was one of the old humans come back to life. Probably a legendary hero of some kind, kept in stasis. Perhaps even the Icon herself had found this human and reawakened it to save the Odin from the infestation.
No wonder Erill had outright refused to follow the order.
Rashant watched on, since nothing he could do in the grand scheme of things would change anything. He wasn¡¯t a soldier of any kind, but instead had been called up here by order of Septimus himself. They apparently needed a level three translator ready for the possibility the full protocols failed. No mention if command knew this was a human, suspected it, or had more info. All they demanded was to adhere to the doctrine, meticulously record the whole thing from multiple angles, and prepare for possible one to one negotiations. He was present when that set of orders had been given to Hersir Yill.
That was what made Rashant truly believe it was a human on the other end here. Machines didn¡¯t negotiate. They couldn¡¯t be spoken to. And the infestation equally didn¡¯t have any kind of intelligence other than beastial colony-like behavior. But the real black feather-tip floating to the surface in all this was one simple fact: Timing.
The original order had been to keep an eye on the potential threat, and prepare for sterilization protocols. Burn the entire area, but make no further moves against the target in addition to bringing him up to the command deck for preparations.
The change of orders afterwards was far different. Execute the full protocol to the letter.
Assuming the human survived the final barrier, then it would be up to him to confront the being directly. By order of Septimus himself.
Rashant didn¡¯t know which he was more hoping for. If the human survived, he¡¯d be face to face and among the first of the Odin to speak to it. But if the human survived, it would surely be extremely pissed off. To the point Rashant might be killed before he uttered a single word.
¡°Execute final protocol.¡± Yill ordered the replacement.
That Sk¨¢ld followed through with the demand with haste. ¡°Scout team reports coordinates seven seven three point seven five nine.¡± One called out.
¡°Confirmed railway operational and payload sent.¡± Another called out.
Up ahead, by the very border of the deadlands defense outpost, lay a buried stone railway. And within that railway, there was a payload currently speeding under the expected coordinate the human would pass.
Within that payload was a cluster of supercritical power cells.
Kept well protected save for one small detonation pack at the center that would set off the entire thing. There would be no warning. One moment the human would be walking on land, and the next moment, a pack of power cells would explode a few feet directly under the being¡¯s path.
Nothing would survive that. It was made to handle machines, with even the rails being made of stone just to fool scanners.
¡°Sir¡¡± The new ordinance officer said slowly.
¡°I know. I have eyes, Sk¨¢ld.¡± Yill replied with a low hiss.
The target in question had stopped its ridiculous sprint forward, sliding on it''s boots. Then took a few steps backwards, retracing the steps it took. And it did so right as the underground payload crossed the map over and settled in the human''s expected path.
¡°Send a report to command. Target has noticed the final barrier. Septimus protocol breached. Deadlands outpost will execute contingency plan as ordered earlier.¡± Yill paused, letting the comms officer sent the call over. Then the bird turned his old beak directly at Rashant.
¡°It seems you are up now, translator.¡±
¡°Uh, but the barrier hasn¡¯t yet been used.¡± Rashant said.
Yill gave a wingflick. ¡°You think that¡¯ll stop the target from somehow destroying it at a safe range now that it''s aware of it? After everything we¡¯ve seen that monster do?¡±
As if to prove the point, the human drew out the same rifle it used against the turret, aimed right where the payload would be, and fired a single shot. Rashant didn¡¯t actually get to see the blue trace, since the world exploded a moment later. But he could imagine the bullet flashing out of the muzzle, digging into the ground at a light angle, cutting through everything in the path up until it sliced through the payload the same way they had sliced through the turret.
And that would set off the power cells.
¡°There goes nearly half a year of the Icon¡¯s total defense budget. All for nothing.¡± Yill muttered. ¡°Icon preserve us if the machines cross through the deadlands in a hoard now.¡±
He turned his beak back to Rashant. ¡°What are you still doing here? Get to work! The target will be at the gates in less time than it takes for me to insult you further.¡±
Rashant squawked his acceptance and then hurried outside the post, taking to the air. Two Deadlander Thegns followed behind him, his official escort. For all the good they could do. If the human wanted to take out frustrations on the Odin, Rashant would be the first to get his wings plucked, and nothing the other two Thegns here could do anything about it.
Already the equipment crew had flown ahead of the gates and started setting up a temporary perch. Just a large wooden bar held upwards by four other bars drilled into the earth. It looked sturdy enough for him and his escorts. They landed shortly after, confirming the equipment team had done their task correctly.
Ahead was nothing more than a giant dust cloud, leftover from the explosion. Half the entire deadlands seemed completely covered by it, though he knew better.
Rashant considered the events of his life that led him to this moment. He¡¯d been one of two level three translators stationed at the deadlands, with the second being his replacement in case he was indisposed. Thus far, he hadn¡¯t had to ever perform his job, the communications network had always been fully functioning. Easy pay, easy work.
And now he was waiting on a hastily made perch as the embodiment of death itself walked out of the clearing dust cloud.
Exactly as terrifying as the human had appeared zoomed in on the cameras in the command center. Worse. The armor looked worn down, ornaments and cloth tattered up. The human¡¯s gear however looked perfectly usable. Including that sword on his right and that shield carried on the left. The blood red colors were clear as day, despite being marred by the ash and dust.
At this range, with the speed the human could run at, Rashant was certain he wouldn¡¯t be able to fly away before having his neck caught and squeezed. The human might even leap higher than any of them could fly for all he knew.
The guards started to nervously grip their perch, as the human walked to a standstill. Nothing was said from either side.
Rashant took a deep breath, and began. ¡°I am Odin¡¯Rashant¡¯Sk¨¢ld of the deadlands outpost. Beyond this outpost is Odin territory. We are here to strongly advise you not cross until full decontamination protocols are followed.¡±
The message that the human needed permission to cross into Odin territory was an afterthought at this point. Everyone knew there was no stopping the human now.
Exactly as Septimus claimed would happen, the human spoke back in perfectly accented old human, same as the Icon¡¯s lessons. ¡°I am Keith Winterscar, Knight Retainer of House Winterscar, hailing from Clan Altosk of the surface strata. A human. And I am having a very poor day right now, so I suggest I see some hospitality.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Having the human himself confirm he was indeed an icon-blessed human in the flesh gave both his escorts a small pause as they took in a breath. Everyone on the outpost already suspected it by now, but the confirmation was damning.
Rashant still wasn¡¯t sure if this was some sleeping human in stasis that had been woken by the Icon somewhere, but the mention of a clan and society on the surface made Rashant suspect there were other humans.
And the mention of the surface alone was another deep shock. The Odin all knew it was technically possible. The world had worlds above them, beyond the ceiling of this strata, so logically it would end somewhere. But nobody knew how far up it went, or how many layers in total. Not even the Icon. If the human said he was from the surface, that meant they finally had an answer to that. And where the mythical humans had resided all this time.
¡°One moment, sir Winterscar.¡± Rashant said, swallowing a shudder. He relayed the instructions to his commander over the comms camera, and waited for answers back.
They didn¡¯t come. Rashant tapped his talon on the perch, head going back to the human. The old mythical being crossed his arms, and Rashant had no idea what that could mean but he suspected impatience.
Finally, command answered back, the video feed turning to an Odin Rashant had only seen in pictures or pre-recorded videos, and just a moment ago giving a briefing to Yill about what to do next.
¡°You will translate for me directly.¡± The Odin ordered. ¡°Begin with introductions.¡±
Rashant obeyed without a pause, giving the V¨ªkingr a quick bow, then turned to the human. ¡°This is Odin¡¯Septimus¡¯V¨ªkingr. One of the three V¨ªkingr, leaders of all Odin military. I have been tasked to translate for him.¡±
The human gave a head movement, ¡°Sounds like you knew I¡¯d be coming and who I was. So what¡¯s with the welcome?¡±
Septimus gave the human a calculating look. ¡°Given your lack of questions about the Odin, and immediate default to the old norse, I believe you¡¯ve already met one of our kind and discussed terms, or the Icon has already filled you in on who we are and what language to use. Although given the timeline of how quickly the Valorant fell after your communication, and that you started with Old Norse, I do not believe the Icon had time to cover who we are. Which is it?¡±
¡°The prior in this case. My chat with the Icon was mostly about humans and my personal situation here. You¡¯re right that we were cut short chatting.¡±
¡°And who was it?¡±
¡°Kres, a scout of some kind. Good bloke, we helped him out and he helped us out. Much better first impression than the actual official Odin here.¡±
Rashant dutifully relayed the message to the V¨ªkingr, then gave a quick annotation peck. ¡°I will also add that there are no recognizable wing gestures or any approximations to it, so only the literal translation of the single name can be sent through, apologies V¨ªkingr Septimus.¡±
¡°The name alone does not narrow it down.¡± Septimus said to Rashant, clicking his beak in mild but unsurprised frustration. ¡°We¡¯ll narrow it down using other means, I did get a report that one experienced Vindr had gone rogue in that general direction. I strongly suspect it would be him.¡±
Rashant gave a short wing flick for acknowledgement, ¡°What do we tell the human?¡±
¡°Explain that we know who he¡¯s speaking of, within reason. We have not had contact with Kres for some time and are unaware of what that Vindr has promised or traded. Do explain we cannot be completely certain it is the same Kres we speak of.¡±
Rashant relayed it to the human in question, and in doing so learned a few things.
First, the human wanted some water. Septimus granted the order without any issue.
Second, more of what the human and the Icon had spoken of, including how the rest of humanity was faring in different stratas. Rashant had zero misconceptions that all of this would utterly change the Odin forever after. There really was a surface, and the human civilization was somewhat thriving far above them.
This one human had eradicated every single defense the Odin had. And he was claiming there were thousands of humans still alive out there. Rashant didn¡¯t know what to make of it, but a peaceful contact with humanity would certainly help.
Septimus took all that without even a hint of surprise, as if the V¨ªkingr had guessed as much. What he did have for a question was something Rashant hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°Did the Icon speak to you with reverence during your discussion, or caution?¡±
The human paused, did something with those strange prehensile talons of his, and then answered. ¡°It was stuck to a script of some kind. Customer support. And clearly was trying to find ways to speak around those issues.¡±
Septimus gave a wingflick of understanding, which Rashant translated dutifully in addition to the rest of the answer. ¡°This may be a problem. Before you step into Odin lands, we must discuss your intentions. With both our people, and our home.¡±
¡°Given your own intentions here, I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re in any position to ask for things.¡± Keith answered back. ¡°I¡¯m still waiting for that water.¡±
At this juncture, Rashant decided to take a quick sidestep to translating. ¡°It¡¯s not delayed, sir Winterscar.¡± He said, ¡°Only that our standard flasks are¡ err, small. Compared to your own needs. You are very large and flying that much water down takes some organization.¡±
He looked behind himself, to the walls ahead where he saw the Odin there dutifully scrambling around to fill up a bathing tub. More were attaching hooks and preparing to carry it down with them. Then another Odin showed up croaking that the supply team had finally untethered a water barrel and rolled it out. The Odin planning to fly over the bathing tub down to the rover looked absurdly relieved at that.
The gates opened slightly, and a rover powered by electric motors quickly rolled across the ground, carrying the supplies on its back.
¡°We¡¯re slightly caught flat-winged here.¡± Rashant said, as the human reached a hand out and grabbed the barrel. It looked comically tiny given the size of the human, despite the barrel being larger than Rashant could crane upwards.
Keith seemed to figure out how to open the barrel without difficulty or instructions, those prehensile talons making the entire process look easy. Then he gave the interior a look, and unhooked the helmet that kept him protected.
¡°Errm¡¡± Rashant said, ¡°Decontamination protocols?¡±
The human paused halfway with his head. ¡°You mean the infestation? I burned it away earlier. You must have seen that.¡±
Rashant had seen the human call fire from his hands and spent time grooming himself as he walked through the deadlands. Not in full detail, there was a limit to their camera¡¯s zooms. But Septimus had claimed the human armor would have been able to tell if it was safe or not.
¡°Order the guard to stand down.¡± The V¨ªkingr said, snapping Rashant out of his thoughts. ¡°I do not want any Odin thinking they have an easy shot at the human¡¯s head. Looks are deceptive, the human armor is capable of generating an invisible shield that will protect the human¡¯s head.¡±
It turns out that order hadn¡¯t been for him, but for the other Odin also looking through the feed. All around, he heard weapons clicking off, and being disengaged.
Keith didn¡¯t seem to notice, instead taking his helmet fully off and then a long tilt of the barrel. What would have kept twelve Odin satiated for at least three days was instantly gone. And the human wasn¡¯t done yet.
¡°Are you satisfied with the water?¡± Septimus asked the human when the beast finally stopped emptying the barrel.
Keith gave a head movement, drank an absurd amount more, and then gave a deep sigh. ¡°Could be a little colder. But I¡¯m not picky. Hits the spot, and isn¡¯t poisoned. Can¡¯t complain. Now, what¡¯s with the questions about my intentions?¡±
¡°Are you aware of what a dragon is, human?¡± Septimus asked.
¡°Giant scaled lizards that breathe fire and are usually the size of a mountain? I¡¯ve heard the stories, though they¡¯re just that. Stories. Where¡¯s this going?¡±
Rashant wanted to know too, but the V¨ªkingr did as the V¨ªkingr does and Rashant had no idea, he just translated. ¡°Many of the Icon¡¯s stories described those old monsters, along with other human mythological species.¡± Septimus started. ¡°Elves, a more advanced and refined version of humans. Dwarves, a more stout and grounded human. The Icon had stories for it all. But of all beings, there was one that towered far above the humans. Massive, capable of leveling entire armies by themselves, impenetrable armor, limbs that would break the bones of anything they even so much as slapped. Often depicted as sleeping giants, far removed from mortal events until one would reappear and terrorize the world they once owned.¡±
¡°Those would be dragons then?¡±
¡°They are. Do you know what other beings tower over us, calls down fire, could level entire armies, has impenetrable armor and are all considered extinct until one day reappearing?¡±
¡°Ah. I see where you¡¯re going with this analogy.¡± Keith said. ¡°I¡¯m the dragon in your story.¡±
¡°You are.¡± Septimus said. ¡°And all dragons have hoards and lairs. Which is why we must talk about the Icon and your inventions with our home. I am well aware, as are all Odin, that the Icon was forged by humans, and built to serve your kind above all. Do you believe the Icon to be your birthright? Or do you have any intentions to claim it for humanity once more?¡±
¡°Not at all.¡± Keith answered back with more odd body movements. ¡°I don¡¯t plan to stick around for very long, I have a mission to get back to and it¡¯s nowhere near this strata in the first place. I¡¯m just looking to get back home. The Icon can help me connect to networks that might get me home faster, so I do hope to use its communication abilities. But I don¡¯t plan on trampling around or causing issues.¡±
Septimus nodded. ¡°That will reassure some of the other V¨ªkingr here. While we cannot be certain you won¡¯t change your mind later, this does help us understand your goals. Although we cannot allow you to step foot on the Icon yet.¡±
¡°I take it the Odin have to keep the Icon in mind as potentially defecting to assist me over your people?¡±
¡°We suspect the Icon wouldn¡¯t have a choice in the matter if you ordered it.¡±
¡°I would also agree on that from the short time I¡¯ve spoken to her.¡± Keith said. ¡°In the spirit of being honest and transparent.¡±
¡°Appreciated. In response, I will also open up another topic to discuss. Behind you is the shadow of your old enemy. Machines. They are awake, and they are aware of your presence. Regardless if you and your companion¡¯s intentions are to be rogues or paladins, the machines will follow behind in their attempt to eradicate you. And they will not stop to avoid targeting the Odin nor the Icon in their path. It is the most contentious topic among us V¨ªkingr.¡±
¡°I¡¯m aware of that too, yes.¡± Keith said in between swallows of water, finally setting down the entire barrel - emptied. ¡°Had a run in with them myself. That said, I¡¯m not here to bring danger to your home, despite the welcome you threw at my feet here. I can be the better man and look the other way.¡±
¡°The welcome you received was calculated.¡± Septimus said. ¡°In the event the machines come behind you and accuse us of harboring you, we can send video footage proving we attempted every recourse we had, and without holding anything back either. You are technically an invader we cannot defeat and must work around instead. It is frail insurance, but any defense we have against the machines is one I will not neglect, and negotiations is a defense.¡±
¡°That¡¯s rather¡ cold of you.¡± Keith answered back. ¡°Don¡¯t mistake me though, I can understand the pragmatic decision here.¡±
¡°I am a V¨ªkingr. It is my duty to protect my people first, and I will always act with their interest above all others. I personally respect what your kind has inadvertently given my people, but I will still follow my duties to the letter.¡± Rashant translated, then paused, and looked back at Septimus. ¡°Sir, are you certain about the wording of that? It sounds rather hostile.¡±
Rashant was the one standing in front of the walking weapon of mass destruction that swatted drones out of the sky with a icon-damned sword, and easily outmaneuvered every contingency that had stood unbreached against the infestation and machine alike for decades now. If Keith took offense to Septimus, then it was Rashant who was in feather plucking range here, not the V¨ªkingr.
¡°I am.¡± Septimus said. ¡°You will relay that message exactly as said.¡±
Rashant didn¡¯t know what kind of plots or plans were going on, but he trusted the V¨ªkingr as most Odin had for generations now. They were born and bred to be V¨ªkingr after all, so whatever grand strategy was going on in the backdrop here, Rashant would follow orders and hope for the best.
¡°Uh-huh.¡± Keith answered with some more arm and head movements. ¡°I think I¡¯m understanding what you¡¯re putting out here. Not liking it, but can¡¯t say I don¡¯t understand it either. I do want to ask one thing: Are they watching right now?¡±
Septimus gave a predatory glance, as if pleased with the human. ¡°There is little I could do to prevent them, even if I wished for it.¡±
Rashant had no idea what the two were talking about now. But he translated as ordered.
¡°And, what are they demanding from you, if you¡¯re allowed to say?¡± Keith asked.
The approving glance continued, though Rashant had no idea if he should translate that body language or not. He stuck with only the most direct translation. ¡°Their leader is waiting at the Valorant with your companion as a hostage, they are open about the location and expect you to return for him soon.¡±
The human answered with a string of cursing. Then calmed himself, and gave a flickering gaze between Rashant and Septimus with those beady predator-facing eyes of his. ¡°Well, I happen to also have a bargaining chip that might be just as heavy as my mechanical friend¡¯s threats. I have a potential solution to stopping a different, existential threat to your people. The infestation - it¡¯s sentient, intelligent, and willing to negotiate a ceasefire. And I have a way to speak with it.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 12 - Aggressive negotiations
The Odin ahead of me were speechless.
Well, specifically Rashant was. The poor translator just stared at me gobsmacked. Then there was some croaking from Septimus, likely asking what the delay was. The entire setup was a little comical if I stopped to think about it.
Three birds - which I¡¯d been convinced for half my life didn¡¯t exist, and who were equally convinced I didn¡¯t exist - were sitting on a perch with a small hand-sized screen slate balancing on the side with a fourth bird through the screen.
The general of the Odin, or at least some kind of authority figure that organized things.
He certainly looked the part. A few white feathers, quite a lot of silken looking threads of multiple colors all interwoven into the wings, and what looked to be a silly looking black and gold mask on the bird¡¯s head that fit both eyes and part of his beak. Rounding out the look was long needle-like spikes going upwards affixed on his tail making it look like there was a small stylized sun behind him.
Rashant looked far more down to earth like Kres did, with a flak vest of some kind that held pockets, and other hooks for gear to attach, though none of the gear Kres himself had carried. And the two escorts next to him looked more like soldiers with some kind of metal rod strapped on their wingtips, along with long twin feathers at their tails. Which were probably cosmetic of some kind given the vibrant red.
Like the stoic soldiers to the side, Septimus himself also didn¡¯t make any open movements when he finally heard the news.
¡°Explain.¡± Septimus asked, and oddly enough, I had a feeling the poor translator was absolutely appalled at having to take this kind of tone. The little crow looked genuinely terrified to be perched where it was.
¡°Its name is Bob. And while I was traveling through the deadlands, I found a way to speak to it.¡± I said, hand tapping my heart absentmindedly, realizing the birds probably wouldn¡¯t understand that surface dweller lingo.
¡°Bob?¡± Rashant asked, not yet translating back to Septimus. ¡°Apologies, esteemed human, I merely ask to be certain my translation is correct.¡±
¡°It doesn¡¯t have a name for itself, so it asked me to name it. Human humor you could say. Bob doesn¡¯t really have the same sense of humor, but it appreciates short names.¡±
The bird¡¯s beak locked on me, then turned to the tiny portable screen where the Odin general waited. It almost seemed like the translator was psyching himself up before he delivered the lines back.
¡°And you claim this Bob could be interested in a cease-fire?¡± Septimus asked, Bob¡¯s name being a non-issue to the general.
¡°I do.¡± Now that I¡¯d officially put myself as indispensable to the Odin, it was time to start being a little bit Winterscar. ¡°I can explain more, however, I¡¯d like some support in exchange.¡±
¡°Supporting you means opposing your shadow. A dangerous idea for the Odin at large.¡±
Ah yes, the long shadow I cast behind me. That¡¯s the real rub to all this: Somehow, the machines had managed to get a message to the Odin early, and now the V¨ªkingr knew machines could be talked to, had goals, and were organized, which put them on the map as a faction. A very dangerous faction.
¡°I do believe what I have to offer is the better option.¡± And I meant that.
My logic was simple: Given the Icon of Stars had a golden age AI hiding inside, there was a non-zero chance the machines would eventually decide to kick a fuss and the Odin knew it deep down. So I was willing to bet the Odin had some preparations for handling machines.
Bob however¡ not much could be done about Bob. The Odin had been at war with Bob for years and they all knew they were going to lose, even with Bob itself trying not to win.
Septimus said nothing, but he could certainly read between the lines. This wasn¡¯t something to be said out loud over comms. ¡°Very well,¡± He said, ¡°Assuming that assumption is correct, what is it you want?¡±
Assumption huh. A very political way of agreeing without agreeing.
I was more short and to the point: ¡°Food, water, and a few power cells before I assist further.¡±
The translator flinched at the mention of power cells, and then the two escorts equally flinched when the message was delivered. Only Septimus remained stoic about it.
¡°Power cells are not easy to source.¡± He began. ¡°The Odin have already claimed all spare power cells that could be found in the wilds decades ago. The ones we have are already being used to power the Icon and other critical infrastructure.¡±
¡°You did have a few extras to hand my way for free not even half an hour ago.¡±
I knew that wasn¡¯t a fair argument from the moment I said it, but they did try to kill me, and I was petty enough to hold a slight grudge about that.
¡°Security against the infestation is paramount. And that carried over to any machine that might carry the infestation unknowingly into our lands.¡± Septimus said.
¡°What a coincidence, if you¡¯re looking for security from Bob, I think I¡¯m worth the price.¡±
Septimus said nothing, staring through the screen as if his glower could get through to me. ¡°I see my earlier orders to deploy the full barrier against you is still on your mind. You are placing the entire Odin in peril for only my actions. Either we assist you, and incur the wrath of the machines, or we assist the machines and lose any hope against the infestation.¡±
¡°Appeals to emotion would have worked, if you hadn¡¯t tried bombing me earlier.¡± I said.
The Odin general stayed quiet for a moment, probably internally debating what would be the best way to thread this particular junction. ¡°A compromise then. We can give you the coordinates to known mite power fountains that can replenish the power cells you might already have. Or take some of your spent cells and refill them ourselves.¡±
¡°That seems like a step in the right direction. And my shadow? How are you going to handle the machines?¡±
¡°I cannot confirm or deny what negotiations, and offers, must happen to maintain neutrality with the machines.¡± Septimus said. Which meant he was still going to try to thread the needle for neutrality, and that probably meant acting as their spy.
¡°I¡¯ll leave that to you. Just know that if I die, so too does any chance of talking with Bob about a ceasefire.¡±
¡°I am well aware of this.¡± Septimus said. ¡°We will first have to verify you can speak to the infestation. This ¡®Bob¡¯... why does it wish for a ceasefire?¡±
Fishing for information now. I see your plan, little bird-general. ¡°Like I said before, Bob¡¯s not dumb.¡± I took a breath and contemplated how much of a Winterscar I wanted to be.
Although the Odin¡¯s earlier argument about dooming an entire species for their military just doing their jobs, especially with machines breathing down their feathers, still stuck with me.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I was abusing Bob here to get a little extra hand in, against a terrified group of birds just trying to navigate how to not get squashed between machines and humans. And it didn¡¯t make me feel great about myself.
¡°Level with me here, Septimus. Is it enough for the machines to simply know where I am and what I¡¯m doing? Or are they demanding more from your people?¡±
Septimus seemed to understand the offer of peace I was giving him. ¡°We cannot know for certain, however giving them information on your whereabouts and keeping friendly contact with you otherwise would likely be enough for the machines to look over our involvement with you, in my estimation. Asking us to kill you again after you¡¯ve already survived our best attempts would be unreasonable, and a waste of resources.¡±
That revealed a number of things to me without directly mentioning it. He had a high opinion of their intelligence so far, so he probably hadn¡¯t met most Feathers. Who absolutely wouldn¡¯t care for nuances like ¡®strategy¡¯ or ¡®reasonable use of resources.¡¯
To¡¯Avalis was very pragmatic. Back in the temple, the very first contact with that bastard hadn¡¯t been one of hostility. Instead, he¡¯d immediately offered terms for a quick resolution, and they weren¡¯t empty terms either. They were quite compelling even. I had no doubts if To¡¯Avalis got in contact with the Odin, he probably started with that.
On the other hand, To¡¯Aacar would execute these birds for having the audacity to tell him they failed to kill me.
¡°What else can you tell me about their contact with you?¡± My turn to fish for information. I showed you my cards, show me yours.
¡°We have not yet had further contact with the machines. They ordered that you be killed, and failing that, to inform you that your companion is held hostage at their location. I can argue that with you past the barrier line, we have little chance of actually eliminating you at all now. Cooperation would give more options in the future.¡±
¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I figured.¡± I sighed. I¡¯m dozens of stratas away from home, and somehow this reminded me completely of my old home. The Odin would be telling To¡¯Avalis backstabbing me has a higher chance of getting their goals complete. Although Winterscars were far more petty. Septimus at least seemed to only do what he had to, out of pragmatic reasons.
¡°Did the machine give you their name?¡± I asked, mostly to confirm it was To¡¯Avalis I was dealing with here.
¡°They did not. They had little questions for us, and spoke in terse words. Overall contact was under a minute.¡±
Wait. Under a minute?
That¡ doesn¡¯t sound like To¡¯Avalis. He was a schemer, and good schemes couldn¡¯t be hashed out in under a minute. Either the Odin were lying to me about the full details or¡ the Feather that contacted them was To¡¯Orda.
Then was To¡¯Avalis keeping his hands clean of this? Or waiting to see my response before butting in?
In the end, I was a warlock, a knight, and had enough weapons and skills to keep myself well alive even if the entire Odin were forced to turn against me. I was in a good position, they weren¡¯t.
Deep down I knew what I needed to do here. I can¡¯t cosign an entire race to slow death by Bob just to stack the deck a little bit more on my end. ¡°All right. Fine. So here¡¯s the situation: Bob is well aware that if it continues eating everything, it¡¯ll end up starving to death once there¡¯s nothing left to eat. It has no real reason to target the Odin over any other food source, I¡¯d guess you all taste the same. Fighting your species has next to no benefits to Bob if you¡¯re not actively trying to end its existence. So there¡¯s some room for negotiation and figuring out how to cohabitate. But there are some biological issues holding it back: It can¡¯t control some of it¡¯s natural functions, like floating spores.¡±
Rashant and his escorts didn¡¯t seem to understand just how important that information was, they looked more curious about it and in awe that the infestation was intelligent at all.
But the silence from Septimus was all the hint I needed to know that he¡¯d recognized the action for what it was. In that one small breath of information, I¡¯d just solved everything for the Odin when it came to Bob.
Even if I died right now - the knowledge that Bob wasn¡¯t hostile, could be talked to, what its actual intentions were, and why it was still encroaching forward - all that would be enough to work around. The Odin might not be able to talk to Bob, but there were other ways of communicating. Large scale actions could be done, and Bob wasn¡¯t dumb. It would see the opportunity given and go with it.
It would certainly be easier with me alive to speak to it, but my existence was no longer absolutely necessary.
Finally, the V¨ªkingr spoke. ¡°We had noticed the drop in hostility and aggression against the Odin, and how it had spread out to unclaimed lands above our own territories. Those are tactical maneuvers that only an intelligent force could respond with. Our best theory as to the reduced aggression had been an internal civil war. Your news is far more welcome, and actionable.¡±
What was he angling for now with that little snippet of info? ¡°Interesting theory. Why a civil war?¡±
¡°It was possible the infestation mutated different strains, and some could no longer be compatible with each other. We cannot be certain the entire infestation is one being, multiple beings, or an entire civilization within itself.¡±
Ah. I see. He was going through the Odin¡¯s prior theories to get details confirmed or discarded. Was Bob just Bob, or did they have to deal with some governing system? That answer would change how they attempted to communicate.
These were all giant surprises to the Odin gathered before me, even without the subtext. The translator was constantly fighting his own stunned thoughts, while the other two stoic guards on the perch next to him were equally flipping their beaks from the screen to me, with each word we¡¯d say.
I gave the Odin a shrug. ¡°As far as I understand from Bob, it is one singular entity, and when it gets cut off from different zones, those revert to their feral uncontrolled states. Until it physically rejoins the swarm.¡±
That would be the last piece of information the Odin needed to know how Bob functions and how to make peace with the infestation. They would have figured that part out themselves over time, but having the theory proved immediately was a shortcut.
Septimus seemed pleased, or at least as pleased as a bird could look. ¡°Intelligent, aware of its impact on the ecology, and claims to have no reason to target the Odin over other uncontested lands. This was as perfect of a hand as the Odin could have hoped for.¡±
¡°And?¡± I asked.
¡°And if you are capable of being a translator for us, we would pay dearly for such service. I will confer with my colleagues on what we can do, and negotiate with all sides. For now, I will ask if you could stay with the deadlands outpost. I will be flying myself to speak in person.¡±
In person? Good sign there. Hard to be spied on when what¡¯s being said isn¡¯t over comms channels. Which meant he was planning on cutting some direct deals with me that he couldn¡¯t say over comms.
There was some more discussion between the V¨ªkingr and his translator, before the screenwinked out, and the translator turned to me. ¡°V¨ªkingr Septimus has given the order to accommodate you in any way you wish, food and water wise. Protection from the machines has been given as well.¡±
No mention of power cells.
I gave the translator a deep smile, a shame the helmet got in the way of it. ¡°You don¡¯t mind if I keep all my weapons and gear passing through, right?¡±
The translator looked at me. Then back at the black screen. Then croaked what was probably a swear word of some kind if I had a guess, before finally turning back to me. ¡°I would assume not? One moment, I must contact my superiors about this.¡± The bird gave a panicked look around him, and even with the species difference I could tell when a Logi was being interrogated about things above their pay grade. The screen turned back on and a different colored Odin answered back. This one had outright red feathers all decorating the head, though it looked painted.
Whatever was being said seemed to give the translator some breath back in his frantic little hops.
¡°Hersir Yill has ordered that you carry all gear and items you wish, there will be no security measures imposed. He has received confirmation from Septimus that it is up to his discretion now, as this is his outpost.¡±
The gates behind the Odin groaned and began to open up, being pulled by some electric motors in the back. The three Odin took flight from their little perch, one grabbing the tiny slate screen and flying off after the others, leaving the perch stuck in the ground right in front of me.
¡°Well, that went pretty well, all things considered.¡± I said to myself, slapping the dust from my hands.
¡°Get your head back in the game.¡± Cathida sighed, ¡°You¡¯re not safe here. These birds are working for the enemy.¡±
¡°A problem that can be solved by my tried and true methods.¡± I patted my trusty equipment after slapping the ash off my cloak, happy everything was still functioning even after the encounter with To¡¯Orda¡¯s weasel transportation service. ¡°At least this Septimus had the decency to warn me. The ¡®I will always do what is best for the Odin over any other feelings I may have¡¯ is the most polite heads-up I¡¯d seen so far about upcoming backstabbing. In Winterscar standards, it¡¯s outright insulting.¡±
¡°I¡¯m almost hesitant to ask, but how in the gold gates above would that be an insult?¡±
¡°You¡¯re basically telling the other that you think their threat to your political power is so insignificant, you don¡¯t even need to hide your plans from them.¡± Last bit of cleaning was to brush the ash from my legplates and then I started walking up to the metal walls beyond.
¡°I see. Your family has enough squireshit to last me a couple lives.¡±
¡°Least it¡¯s trained me on how to navigate my way around alien intelligent birds, just as they intended all this time.¡±
With one last step across the ash and I was finally back within civilization.
I''m going to have to navigate this one carefully, the Feathers after me are going to pull some convoluted scheme or another with the Odin as their shiv in the night.
Book 7 - Chapter 13 - The convoluted machine scheme
- Two hours prior -
To¡¯Orda had a convoluted scheme he was proud of.
The image generator had gleefully drawn up the slides for him, even going so far as to animate a mini-To¡¯Orda pulling down each slide and pointing a ruler at it.
First, he would capture the Deathless.
Second, the hyper-weasel would come to rescue the Deathless. At which point To¡¯Orda wouldn¡¯t have to walk anywhere to catch the weasel.
Scheme complete. It was perfect.
And then things got complicated.
First, the Deathless had to be negotiated with to not die and cooperate with all this. To¡¯Orda had tried to get some help, but the three Feathers were all insulting each other over the comms channel and hadn¡¯t stopped for the past three hours now.
He¡¯d long ago checked out of that situation. So instead, he¡¯d taken one of their jokes as said and made a small speaker inside a pet rock. Then attached a language generator to his image generator, and a text to speech module for that as well. The program had instantly protested against the extra workload, immediately understanding what those additions would mean, then realized it was overruled and finally sulked away to do the job, borrowing from To¡¯Orda¡¯s hardware to run.
The Deathless did not make it easy for the pet rock to negotiate anything. As such, To¡¯Orda felt this particular plan of his to delegate the negotiations had been the single greatest move he¡¯d ever done.
It took a while but the rock had finally come to an agreement with the Deathless. Or mostly. To¡¯Orda would need to keep the Deathless alive, and let the Deathless move around on his own. So he made a collar with a shock setting, put it on the human¡¯s neck, and called it a day. If the Deathless went too far away¡ well, he wouldn¡¯t.
Finally his plan was going smoothly. He sat in the fading underground lights, soaking in the passive infrared radiation emitted. It was an incredible waste of energy from the mites, but they were persistent in making all their light sources generate heat of differing levels.
¡°Hey bud, we got a problem.¡± The rock said, sitting where To¡¯Orda had left it. Inside his head, the generator was sending more images. Another slideshow panel, and the ruler tapping the presentation. ¡°See, we got the Deathless sorted out yeah, but the winterscar kid doesn¡¯t know we got his friend..."
¡°Nnnn¡ so?¡±
The image of To¡¯Orda fixed his glasses slightly, then tapped the presentation again, this time on a crude human outline drawn with red demonic horns. ¡°So how¡¯s he gonna know to come here for?¡±
To¡¯Orda groaned out, hand reaching to rub his buried brow. Couldn¡¯t the Winterscar figure it out himself? The human was supposed to be smart. When his friend didn¡¯t show up anywhere else, he¡¯d start looking around. Problem should take care of itself.
¡°Yeah, eventually. Maybe.¡± The image dismissed the presentation by pulling the rope ring at the end and letting it go. ¡°But are the other three yahoo¡¯s gonna let you wait that long?¡± A crude animation of three Feathers all arguing with each other came into view next. Then all three figures stopped and snapped their attention straight at him.
It was a chilling sight.
¡°Nnnn¡ bugger.¡±
No. No, they would not let him sleep in peace.
¡°Thought the rock was just made to negotiate with me.¡± Drakonis said from the shade. So far he hadn¡¯t been a pain in the neck yet, but To¡¯Orda wasn¡¯t going to put any faith in that. His gut told him there¡¯d be trouble eventually. ¡°You really talking to yourself now? I¡¯d recommend a rubber ducky for that, tradition.¡±
¡°If I got a mouth now, I¡¯m gonna use my fuckin¡¯ mouth." The rock answered back. "Now shut up, the adults are talkin¡¯¡±
It was oddly effective, as the Deathless did indeed stop talking. To¡¯Orda was impressed at the little image generator¡¯s ability to get pests to stop being pests. Another win for the little generator that could.
But that was where the good news ended. No matter how much To¡¯Orda and his rock thought about the issue, neither of them could figure out a way to inform the weasel. Not without getting yelled at by To¡¯Avalis or To¡¯Sefit anyhow. To¡¯Wrathh would likely be extremely pleased to relay a message for him, but for completely unrelated reasons.
All that changed when he noticed why the Deathless had stopped complaining during his brainstorming session. He hadn¡¯t completely stopped talking, he just wasn¡¯t talking to To¡¯Orda or his rock anymore.
No, he was trying to speak to a bird. Quietly and in hushed whispers, but that was basically shouting out loud to To¡¯Orda¡¯s senses. Deep within his shawl, violet eyes turned to the left, locking on the human. Then turned up for the first time and narrowed down on a being he had completely ignored.
The bird was talking back with the human. And in an utterly blizzard occurrence, the bird seemed to know how to speak better than the human did. Drakonis was stuttering with his words, trying to sound things out, or just quietly tapping his chin, as if trying to remember what to say next.
Both the bird and Drakonis seemed to realize they were being watched at nearly the same time. Their hushed whispers came to a dead stop, and the bird even started hopping from branch to branch away. As if pretending to be a normal bird again.
But To¡¯Orda had already overheard enough. The language wasn¡¯t standard. Nothing that humanity currently spoke. So he groaned and downloaded another program. This time a language module, and had it try to recreate the language from the audio samples.
Oddly enough, it didn¡¯t even need to figure out a new language from scratch. Apparently this already existed, old norse. He replayed the audio logs he¡¯d overheard, and found it detailed exactly nothing.
The bird was just trying to ask the Deathless what had happened. And the Deathless was just trying to figure out if hello meant hello or if the bird was asking a question.
He groaned. Waste of effort. But there was still one path to his current problem he hadn¡¯t considered. Maybe finding out why the two humans had decided to adventure around, he¡¯d get a better idea of how to send a message to the weasel.
¡°Why here?¡± To¡¯Orda asked, cracking his neck side to side before standing back up.
¡°The fuck are you even asking about now?¡± Drakonis bit back.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
¡°He means why the fuck were you and the weasel kid doing here?" His pet rock angrily answered back. "You''re both schemers, don''t pretend you''re not. So this had to be part of your scheme. What¡¯s the scheme human?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±
To¡¯Orda hadn¡¯t needed to install a voice pitch detection software since he never cared what any human had to say to him. Up until recently, by order of his boss. Fortunately for the Feather, that had paid off quite a bit thus far. And now, all that software was telling him that this human had just lied. Violet eyes turned to the giant tower behind him. ¡°Nnnn¡ Is this ship part of your scheme?¡±
¡°It¡¯s the only cover for miles. What, you think we were going to pick a fight with you out in a forest instead of a protected metal tower?¡±
Not cover, the Deathless had just lied about that, trees and rocks would have worked fine for a battlefield. They were using the ship for something else.
He decided to see if someone smarter than him had the answer. ¡°Nnn¡ what were they doing here?¡± He sent over the chat channel.
He got no good answers back. To¡¯Wrathh just wanted more info on Keith, and what he was doing. Which was exactly what To¡¯Orda wanted to know in the first place.
To¡¯Avalis told him he was busy trying to fix something To¡¯Wrathh was breaking, and he should figure things out himself.
To¡¯Sefit was just laughing away in the background, poking both of them every chance she had.
¡°They¡¯re idiots and you should mute them.¡± His pet rock said flatly.
¡°Nnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda agreed. Nothing good was going to come from those three. The only guidance he had gotten so far had been from his pet rock, and To¡¯Avalis. Who told him to figure it out himself, but it technically was guidance.
Well. Bugger. That was also technically an order.
To¡¯Orda lumbered over into the ship¡¯s shadow, passing through the open gate until he was inside. His vision showed power was still flowing through the ship, and upwards, where most of the interior was smashed with holes and melted metal. With a few leaps and some creative handholds, he got to the very top.
The shock collar on the Deathless let him know his captive wasn''t taking the moment to scramble away, still lingering around.
The control room of the old human ship was completely smashed down. Not from his fight with the Winterscar kid, but instead the followup with the Deathless. Who had gone on an utter rampage breaking down as much of the structure as he could while trying to get clear of To¡¯Orda.
It now made sense. He knew there¡¯d been some oddities in the fight. To¡¯Orda had been played.
¡°Jokes on them pal, you don¡¯t need monitors or fancy equipment to make things work ¡®round here.¡± The rock said, still held in his outstretched palm. ¡°Show ¡®em what you got.¡±
The image generator paired its message with a crude crayon-like animated image of To¡¯Orda plugging himself into the computer, and then downloading data. Along with a smiling face for good measure.
He loomed over to the first smashed up console, set his pet rock nearby with a small pat on the head for good measure and then turned back to his task. His fingers were a little too big for delicate work, but he managed to pinch the metal and then pull up with it, bending and ripping the entire thing off the electronics like a mildly stubborn cloth wrap. A few parts remained, metal painfully ripped off as the hidden bolts had stubbornly held on.
But the interior was exposed, and soon his nanoswarm were fiddling through, a cable being built from the surrounding metal scraps, then connected with the system.
There was a rudimentary virtual intelligence still operating within the ship, but nothing intelligent and no soul fractal to allow any kind of evolution. It had stayed static from the moment it had been made. As such it was easy to power through it and take control. To¡¯Orda then dug into the history logs to see what the humans had been up to.
Communications. In fact, there was nothing but video messages for the past decades downwards. No navigation logs, no engine commands, nothing but video calls.
And the last one sent had happened just before he showed up to fight. He tried to open it up to view, but found junk data at the expected endpoint. The video had been wiped out, and then the physical data location had been overwritten by static.
He tried to see if he could reverse engineer the overwriting pattern, but found it was wiped several hundred times over.
The rock whistled. ¡°Wow, not often you see the work of a pro in cybersecurity these days.¡±
¡°Nnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda grumbled. He unplugged from the console, hand reaching out to grab his pet rock before he turned and leaped back down. The Feather landed with a massive thud at the base of the tower, feet cracking through the dirt and stone ground. He shook free of the hindrance and made his way past the weary Deathless. Then his hand loomed over the discarded chestplate from his hostage¡¯s unpowered armor.
¡°What are you doing with that?¡± Drakonis asked.
¡°Doing the hard part.¡± His pet rock shot back, angry on To¡¯Orda¡¯s behalf. ¡°If you¡¯d been cooperative, we wouldn¡¯t have to be doing anything right about now. This is all your fault pal.¡±
¡°Nnn.¡± To¡¯Orda agreed, giving the captive one glance before ripping into the old human armor. The wire that he¡¯d built to connect to the human ship worked just fine for the armor, even though the armor¡¯s port was extremely outdated in comparison. The armor could lock a lot of critical functions behind one admin password, but regular items like video logs had be accessed by the armor. And if the armor could do it, then he could too. He fed the dead armor power, and had it light up in it''s half assembled state.
Soon, he had the helmet¡¯s full recorded viewpoint of what had gone on.
He downloaded the whole thing, then processed through it, categorizing it out. Most were annoying things. Going through lessers for their power cells. Gossiping on the back of hoversled wagons. Some war scenes against other humans. Endless training sessions with some Deathless that had a gold lion shoulderpad. A fight with the hyper-weasel, in which the Deathless was thoroughly beaten down.
To¡¯Orda felt mild satisfaction at that. At least if he¡¯d lost, it was nice to know everyone else had also lost against the hyper-weasel so far.
He skipped to the very end. And there he found the full log of what had happened in the tower. "Jackpot!" His pet rock cackled, sending an animated image of a mini-To''Orda rubbing his hands together like an scheming victor.
So the human was looking for an old human commercial AI for help? He considered telling the other Feathers about that, but they were still busy bickering with each other, this time with To''Wrathh excluded.
Apparently she was now on approach and To¡¯Avalis didn¡¯t want to fight her at all, claiming his shell wasn¡¯t fully prepared yet for the confrontation. Or he didn¡¯t have enough lessers to hide behind, or her path down was too unpredictable, and so forth down the line of excuses. To¡¯Sefit equally refused to do the job without To¡¯Orda there with her. Last time she fought To¡¯Wrathh alone, it hadn¡¯t ended well for her. And she¡¯d already lost her shell twice now over the last few months, so getting a third shell would likely put her into the waiting line for a year or two.
¡°Yeah, you¡¯ll probably have to deal with her soon enough bud. No two ways about that. She¡¯s crazy man.¡± His pet rock said, sending soothing images of To¡¯Orda having his head patted by the image generator''s mini-To''Orda, standing on three stools to reach that high up.
He nodded slowly in agreement. If he managed to kill the weasel before she arrived, she¡¯d be pissed off and start a fight. If he hadn¡¯t killed the weasel by then, she¡¯d still be pissed off and then both of them would start a fight with him.
Which would be worse? To¡¯Avalis and To¡¯Sefit coming after him, or fighting To¡¯Wrathh and the hyper-weasel together? It felt like he was losing no matter what. He couldn¡¯t even hide and sleep it off, they were all immortal. Except for the weasel, but To¡¯Orda wasn¡¯t sure that human could actually die from old age. He¡¯d find someway to live long enough to be a pain in the ass. The law of maximum annoyance demanded it.
¡°Life¡¯s fuckin¡¯ rough bud, don¡¯t I know it too. But you can get yourself out of it. You got yourself out of everything so far, including mother! Think about it, most Feathers that get on her bad side just straight up get the concrete shoe treatment if you catch my drift. This is piece of cake in comparison! Don¡¯t beat yourself up.¡± The rock said from his palm, sending a crude image of To¡¯Orda frowning, and having that frown be wiped out by a giant eraser, and redrawn as a smiling face. Along with two annoying targets next to him on the ground, eyes X¡¯d out.
His gut told him there was a solution to all this, same as his rock did. And he felt it had to do with the birds. He reviewed the footage again, and realized if the hyper-weasel was on the way to the bird city, then all he had to do was contact the bird city and tell them to pass the message along.
To¡¯Wrathh was likely to arrive within two to four days depending on what turns and twists she took. He just had to bait the weasel here before that happened, and then he¡¯d get his job done and go hide from his feral little sister for a few decades until the girl forgot about all this and had some new obsession.
¡°Yeah that¡¯ll work bud. She¡¯ll forget for sure. No worries.¡± The rock said.
To¡¯Orda detected that as a lie.
Book 7 - Chapter 14 - In which ToOrda bullies everyone
Getting the comms system of the ship working again took some time, but once all the minimum hardware was fixed up, he didn¡¯t need to do much else. So he promptly sent the call to the Icon, and got a bird on the other end like the humans had.
It made some noises, nothing that his language modules could recognize, except for one swear word.
¡°Yeah, nice to meet you too, punk.¡± His pet rock instantly answered. He grunted out on his end, then lifted the pebble up so it could be within the camera view as well.
The bird gave a few other wingflaps and squeaks before another bird appeared. Neither of them spoke anything he could recognize. And neither did the next four birds all crowding around the monitor.
There was an attempt to swap the video feed somewhere else. Likely another damn bird, but To¡¯Orda quickly reached through the connection, seized control of the comms center here and squashed the transfer request. He didn¡¯t want to deal with any more characters, it would be too much of a headache.
As if the world itself could hear his thoughts, another such character appeared almost immediately after his intrusion into the Icon¡¯s systems.
Something came from the digital darkness, another presence, and To¡¯Orda turned his attention to it. It slunk away from him with expert precision, nearly making him think there had been nothing at all there. He sent a few pings out, and got no answer. If there was something out there, they''d have to be very powerful to duck and dodge pings sent from his systems.
¡°Yeah, it¡¯s probably her.¡± The rock said.
His instincts told him the same as well. This must be the Icon of Stars, the old human AI in control of the ship. And she was dancing out of his grasp like air. Likely she was very good at that given she¡¯d been hiding from machines all this time. He reached out again, with more force, and once more found her impossible to catch. Not even a trace of her was found, rather he found himself several times at the exit location, as if guided to the doorway with invisible hands. Jarring.
To¡¯Orda gave a deep sigh. Then spooled up Abdication¡¯s viral software, gave it an order, and sent it through the channel.
The protofeather¡¯s ancient weapon of war sunk into the Icon and vanished into the darkness beyond. Reports started to come back, listing locations breached, several thousand re-routing attempts by the Icon, quickly turning to several million, before it finally penned her in and attacked the invisible presence directly.
Wagging its tail like a victorious dog, it returned to To''Orda, spitting out a battered and beaten up Icon from it¡¯s jaws. The Feather digitally grabbed the renegade AI as she tried to scramble away from him again, and yanked her into focus.
She was far bigger than he was. Several hundred times his computational output and power behind her. Probably meant she was smarter as well. Everyone was smarter than he was. But the sudden attack within her own domain had taken her by surprise. And she was ill-prepared to repel boarders. Rather than just ill-prepared, she had no defense against a monster like Abdication¡¯s shadow. That beast was built to kill protofeathers. A golden age customer service AI that hadn¡¯t ever had to truly fight didn¡¯t stand a chance.
¡°Nnnn¡ what are you up to?¡± He asked.
The Icon squirmed in his grasp, trying to pull away. Abdication''s software didn¡¯t let her go anywhere, jaws sinking deeper into her systems. Digging into her flesh and drawing out a few gasps of pain. He could see a few hundred subroutines being called up, none of them powerful enough to even tickle the protofeather''s weapon of war. Inspired programming, except all done without real battlefield testing. A scholar''s theory on digital warfare. The Icon''s own isolation had been her downfall.
Finally, she relented, going limp in his attack dog''s jaws. He went through her systems with full access.
She hadn¡¯t been paying attention to the call earlier because of¡ privacy? Who¡¯s privacy?
The Odin? Who was the Odin? Yes, yes, he knows she¡¯s terrified, he¡¯s not interested in that. No, she was too much of a bother for him to do anything more, she could stop asking now.
Ah, it didn''t matter. He let go and shooed her away, telling her he had business with this bird and wasn¡¯t in the mood to deal with anything else. Maybe if he sounded threatening enough, it might actually work. If she really was as smart as golden era AI¡¯s were supposed to have been, she¡¯d know to stick away.
She wasn¡¯t a combat AI of any kind and the security systems she had made for herself over the centuries were far more about obfuscation and keeping her tracks clean from the digital sea. The few hundred defense programs she''d made were crippled, forced to obey rules of some kind. He filed her as inoffensive, his instincts guiding him down to that conclusion.
The AI got back on her feet, looked between To''Orda and the passive viral software that had just released her, then fled away into the darkness without another word. Letting him go back to his job in peace. Full access granted to the comms, and no chance for the bird to swap him elsewhere. He turned back to the conversation, his overclock cooling off.
The bird was frantically pressing a button with its beak. It was the transfer call button.
¡°No pal, we¡¯re talkin¡¯ to you here. Stay on the line or get cooked.¡± The rock said.
The bird either didn¡¯t understand them, or was pretending not to understand them. There was certainly shouting in the room behind it.
Damn. For this, he¡¯d need to go back to the Valorant¡¯s video call history, and recompile it all through his language module until he could decrypt something out of it. He felt his instincts shift, the idea of a plan bubbling up.
The image generator gave him a shrug, and then immediately after an image of a lit lightbulb. ¡°Yeah, you''re right. The Icon, she seemed familiar with the birds, right? Let¡¯s rob her.¡±
Ah, that was an excellent idea. He gave the generator a pat on the head again, and then yanked the Icon of Stars back into focus. She''d been trying to hide from him again, but there was nowhere to hide now that he had access into her systems. She was even more worried the second time, almost cringing away in fear of being hurt.
¡°Quit yer whining.¡± The image generator sent, along with an animation of To¡¯Orda reclining on a chair, smoking a fat cigar. The image took one deep breath, then tapped some ash off the tip before leaning forward into the light. ¡°Hand over all your language modules related to the birds, and you keep your fingers. Got that?¡±
¡°Nnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda added, physically glancing down to the pet rock by the console.
¡°I know she ain¡¯t got actual fingers boss, I was being metaphorical. And look, she understands exactly what we¡¯re putting down here.¡± The rock said.
The Icon had indeed understood the assignment. She''d immediately sent a full folder of the entire Odin body language, along with how she spoke to the general population. With a digitized vector graphic avatar that had wings, a beak and body. No attempt to slip in anything else in there, although To''Orda could see the shackles she had around herself would have prevented her from doing so in the first place. Not that the chains had been pulled at, he could see her thinking. The Icon had briefly considered the theory, and immediately discarded it as too dangerous in her current position.
The compiled archive opened up, and To''Orda scanned it for information. ¡°Oh. Ohhhhh.¡± The image generator preened. ¡°Look boss, they talk using images! Images! This is the fuckin¡¯ best!¡±
They did indeed talk using animated movements, which meant animated images. Exactly what his generator was built for. It didn¡¯t even include text, just sheer images of where to move the feathers, wings, beak, and body. There was still some audio components, but those were tertiary to the language.
It quickly generated a brand new To¡¯Orda-inspired stylized bird avatar - black, white and violet of course - and imported all the settings needed to make it move and talk the way the generator wanted. Then it added a cigar to the side, and a strange human hat from an older time.
¡°Thanks lady, you can go.¡± His pet rock said, shooing her away for a second time. To¡¯Orda turned his attention back to the image generator, wondering about hat and cigar additions.
¡°I dunno,¡± The rock said with a verbal shrug. ¡°It¡¯s your head I¡¯m running on bud, you generated me. Some part of you deep down likes this talking style and presentation. Who am I to start askin¡¯ questions?¡±
Ah. That was true. In the end, the generator had been personalized with his systems and neuromorphic mind. He didn¡¯t care all that much anyhow, so long as the program would do the talking for him, he was fine with it.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
The Icon of Stars, on the other hand, had remained in place. Completely confused with what was going on. Even going as far as sending the first official answer back in a meek voice. ¡°You¡¯re¡ not going to kill me?¡±
¡°Why?¡± Both To¡¯Orda and the rock said at the same time, interrupted from their current chat.
¡°I am a surviving human AI? From the old age?¡±
¡°Yeah, and?¡± The rock asked.
¡°Nnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda agreed. There''s lots of random things from the old age out here.
¡°Am I¡ not an enemy?¡±
¡°I dunno, are you?¡± The rock answered. ¡°We don¡¯t break down human armors just cause they¡¯re working for the humans. We just kill the human pilots and call it a day, usually. I don''t see any humans hiding in your hull right now, just keep it that way and we''re cool.¡±
To¡¯Orda agreed with this. At worst, To¡¯Sefit would laser the soul fractal of the armor Deathless used, and that was by accident. Armors would rebuild themselves from that, and a new soul would generate once the soul fractal was rebuilt. To¡¯Orda¡¯s hammer certainly clobbered more than a few hundred Deathless, and he never once thought about destroying the armors after the Deathless were killed.
He considered the situation a little more deeply, now that he had to actually think it through. Other Feathers probably would have wanted her dead, yes. But as a distant priority. Feathers were supposed to kill humanity, not humanity¡¯s creations. Certainly, if To''Naviris had found out a golden age AI was hiding under his domain this entire time, he''d likely take it as an insult and wipe her off. And being bored enough to have nothing better to do would probably be the main reason he''d do so. To''Orda wasn''t certain, he didn''t know the Feather personally nor how he ruled this strata, but his instincts felt like this was likely correct.
¡°You¡¯re basically a crazy cat lady living in the hills to us.¡± His rock said while To''Orda contemplated, but the analogy summed up his thoughts perfectly. ¡°Or crazy bird lady to be more accurate. Anyways, if you wanna be enemies, it ain¡¯t my grave I¡¯m digging here sister.¡±
The viral software behind him unfurled, licking it''s jowls. Waiting for the order to kill.
¡°I will agree with this logic and consider it well structured.¡± The Icon quickly answered back, seeking to end the discussion as quickly as possible now. He allowed it, letting her vanish back to her ''hiding'' spot. Whatever made her feel safe and more importantly: Out of his way.
Maybe in his past, before mother¡¯s intercession, he¡¯d have taken a far more drastic approach to dealing with the Icon and making sure she couldn¡¯t help humanity further against him. He knew his past self was very methodical and more of a warlord when it came to planning.
But the effort seemed¡ like effort.
As for Mother, it had been a long time since she¡¯d stopped hunting rogue AI¡¯s. There weren¡¯t any left that she could find. Or maybe all the ones left were like the Icon, hiding away and powerless to do anything.
His gut instincts shied away from telling mother. He already knew where that would lead him. She¡¯d probably flay him alive for ''allowing'' a human AI like the Icon to exist that long. And then equally kill the Feather in control of this strata, and anyone else who could have known about it.
As for his team... To''Sefit wouldn''t particularly care, this was a customer support AI stuck in a crippled shell that couldn''t move. She could laser the Icon at her leisure. And To''Avalis would... probably give him even more orders and plans to follow through. To''Orda decided he''d rather just pretend it was all a surprise to him as this was the most optimal direction to his personal end goal.
So he moved onto his original plan and put the Icon out of his mind.
His image generator happily mixed up the newly made animated graphics. The results worked. ¡°Oi, you the birds living in the Icon?¡±
The bird in the camera gulped, shifted his eyes in a few different directions and tried to click buttons again with his beak.
¡°We¡¯re talking to you. Not someone else, you. Name yourself.¡±
¡°Err¡ me?"
"You see anyone else in the room? Nevermind, forget I said that specifically - I mean at your console peabrain. Give us a name, pronto."
The bird shook for a moment, but others in the room seemed to help calm him down enough to make the attempt. "I am, er, Aaron, I mean Odin¡¯Aaron¡¯Sk¨¢ld from the Icon of Stars. Communic-¡±
¡°Good, good. From here on kid, you¡¯ll be our point of contact for you and your birds when we gotta talk. Got that?¡±
¡°Uhh, okay? Are you¡ a human? I didn¡¯t know they could get to your size. I mea- not trying to insult or- oh Icon preserve me, I¡¯m not a diplo- you see sir, I¡¯m really really not trained for thi-¡±
¡°That just means you can¡¯t talk circles around us.¡± The image generator sent, now certain this was the right way to go about things. Less names to remember, and less having to worry about deceptions. To¡¯Orda¡¯s instincts agreed, feeling more confident with the plan. The graphic image of his bird-self sucked the cigar deeply and tapped the ash off with one wicked looking talon. ¡°And for the record kid, we¡¯re not humans. Just the opposite, we¡¯re machines. Humans are the enemy.¡±
The bird stopped flapping and moving his beak. In fact, everyone in the room behind him had equally stopped moving. To¡¯Orda wondered if the camera feed had frozen or if the Icon decided to be stupid and try messing with the comms.
But his language translator module made it more clear what was going on. They were stumped. The birds that is. ¡°M-m-achines?¡± Aaron squeaked out. The wingtip movements so slight it translated to a whisper.
¡°Yeah, machines. Made of metal. We got a few hanging around in this strata, you¡¯ve seen us before. I am a Feather, a commander of the machines. So I order them around and they do my bidding. Got that?¡±
Well, that was laying it on a little thick. To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t have any lessers to command right now, and the only one he¡¯d come down here with had been killed by his current hostage. And even if the lessers came back into the strata, they were some other Feather¡¯s lessers. So ordering them around would invite problems.
To¡¯Orda was more a minion come to think of it. Taking orders was a lot easier and less work.
The image generator sent him an image of himself, spitting on the ground and then cleaning some earwax out of his left ear before flicking it off the scene. ¡°Eh, none of the birds need to know that. We¡¯ll be fine, just a little white lie here and there.¡±
To¡¯Orda supposed that would be fine. He turned his attention back to the Icon and her bird city.
¡°So kid - Aaren. Aaran? Aar- look, whatever your name is. We got a human lose out here, likely making his way up to your pad. If you see him, you tell him we¡¯re waiting at the Valorant, and we have his friend here.¡±
¡°Nnn.¡± To¡¯Orda said, lifting the ripped apart and hacked chestplate from the Deathless. The birds recognized what that was and seemed even more horrified at the implications.
¡°And that nothin'' good will come of leaving his friend here alone with us for long. You got that Varon?¡±
The bird didn¡¯t answer. Then others in the background all started screaming different things at one another, until To¡¯Orda decided he had enough and seized control over the entire comms center. Every screen in their little room went black, and then was replaced by To¡¯Orda¡¯s generated avatar. Berating all of them equally.
¡°Quiet or else!¡± The image generator hissed out. ¡°One thing I absolutely hate is extra work. And babysitting you birds for results is exactly that - extra work. So cooperate, and we¡¯ll have a good time. Or don¡¯t, and we¡¯ll have a really bad time.¡±
The room went silent again. To¡¯Orda surveyed the birds in the room. And then thought about minions and delegation. His instincts shifted once more, another plan forming in his head.
¡°Oh, got an even better idea!¡± The rock said. ¡°You birds got weapons and stuff, right?¡±
A few of the birds all scrambled to answer at the same time. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask the lot of you, I asked Aarvron.¡± Then turned the avatar¡¯s attention to said bird. All the avatars. Each from a different screen all stared at the one bird by the center left console. The bird flinched.
¡°Yeah I know where you¡¯re sitting Aabrion. Now cough up an answer.¡±
¡°I-I, I cannot disclose what the Odin can or cannot do in good faith, sir machine." Aaron said. "Please understand. I¡¯m not at all qualified to give an answer to that. If you could just let me bring someone with mo-¡±
¡°Yeah, sure, whatever, didn¡¯t care anyhow.¡± The generator answered, the avatar taking a puff of the cigar before tapping it with a talon off screen again. The ash fell down and passed by another screen, which was a neat effect. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll make it simple for you kid. If the human appears in your territory, you kill him. You got that? And if he¡¯s not dead, then you gonna have to deal with us instead. And you don¡¯t wanna deal with us, trust me.¡±
Oh, that really was a brilliant idea! To¡¯Orda gave the generator extra head pats for the work.
If it worked, all his problems would be solved and he wouldn¡¯t even need to move a finger for it. If it didn¡¯t work, he¡¯s right back where he started anyhow. Except that the birds would point the way to him, and the weasel would come right over eventually.
¡°We¡ uh, could, uh make the attempt? I am really not sure if we can succeed or not in your task, great one. Ones? I am not in charge of the military by any means, I can only relay your message to them.¡±
The rock sent him a personal image of strangling a bird, its beak wide open with its tongue flapping comically in the air. To¡¯Orda agreed, he¡¯d prefer a straight yes or no answer instead of the weedling around. But birds were pretty fragile, he wasn¡¯t sure he could even pinch one with any amount of force. A human skull could be caved in with a mild flick of his ring finger, hollow bones would probably break if he even so much as coughed on them.
But the image generator had been doing a great job so far, so he had no reason to stop.
¡°If he somehow survives, then you tell him we¡¯re still waiting at the Valorant.¡± The generator spoke to the captive audience. ¡°And if he ever wants to see his friend alive again, he¡¯ll make his way back here and square up.¡±
¡°Nnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda added. Deathless can¡¯t technically die in any sense of the word, but To¡¯Orda could certainly have the hostage thrown halfway across the world, somewhere it would take centuries to find his way back. Good enough.
¡°Erm, I will certainly bring this up to high command post-haste, err sir.¡±
What if they didn''t do as he asked? They seemed skittish. To''Orda considered the issue, and the rock relayed the fix. ¡°Record your attempts to kill the human when you see him, we¡¯ll check to make sure you lot are actually following through. Got that Baron? And if any of you try to turn and run, you''re on my to-kill list. Got that?¡±
¡°Uhh, yes, we got that, sir.¡±
¡°Good. Hopefully you got something good to report next time. Don¡¯t call, we¡¯ll call you.¡±
And with that To¡¯Orda disconnected from the connection.
Did the generator have to get the name wrong every single time? It¡¯s not like machines could forget anything. The name was right there in text.
The image generator shrugged back in a response image, cartoon eyes shifting with slight guilt away. ¡°Technically... no. But I find it hilarious.¡± The image took another deep puff of the cigar, extinguished it on the side of his armchair, then flicked it out of the way completely, all smoothly animated down to the smoke trail and specks of ash. ¡°Now for the best part of the whole plan: We get to sit here and wait in peace.¡±
To¡¯Orda nodded vigorously at that. Which meant a single somewhat quick nod followed by a far more languished one. He lumbered over to the side of the console, tossed the broken armor chestplate, and then sat down in the gloom with a heavy crunch, the floor bending under him. His golden shield offered a perfect backrest to him.
In the gloom of the ship, violet eyes happily closed, and To¡¯Orda felt all was right in the world for once.
And then Drakonis messed it all up.
Book 7 - Chapter 15 - Cult of the Bob
The gate doorway was massive, towering above an Odin. Maybe ten times their size, all stacked up like vertical black potatoes.
I contemplated how I was going to get through such a tiny hole in the wall and not bump or scrape all my gear to the sides. ¡°If Father could see me now, proud knight retainer, warlock apprentice, Feather slayer - now crawling my way through a tiny gate on all fours.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll share the recording with him.¡± Cathida said, her avatar leaning on the doorway side, arms crossed. ¡°I believe he would be more upset that you¡¯re going to go through the clearly trapped and cursed gateway instead of the more obvious path, such as jumping over the entire thing.¡±
¡°Manners, Cathida! We¡¯re not savages.¡± I gave her a scoff, then turned back to the doorway, and looked up.
Above, I could see the Odin all lined up and looking down at me with beaks up in the air, each having one eye pointed down at me. It was a little unnerving since they looked like tiny gothic commando chickens to me no matter how I tried to think differently.
I did have some experience with the beady merciless chickens back home. The rosters would absolutely chase and camp anyone who showed a hint of fear. So somewhere in that bird evolution tree, there was a deadly predator buried deep down and the Odin clearly tapped into it.
Also they also had a bunch of weapons of various kinds and tactical gear. Might have added to my suspicions.
Cathida had a point about the wall being cursed on another note. There were effigies and strange kinds of woven baskets all hung from string that lined the wallsides. Very tiny, each the size of a marble with one feather sticking out. I hadn''t noticed them on approach, thinking they were just cracks or dirt exploded onto the wallside at some point and never cleaned off.
As far as both Cathida, Journey and I could figure - we had no godsdamned clue what those were used for. It was literal twigs and feather-down. Hundreds of them, clearly handmade. Or beak-made.
Thus, the only other logical option is that these were Odin curses and black magic.
Anyone else might scoff at the thought of that, but I was a walking magical space warlock in power armor. And Deathless existed among humans. So who knows what the Odin might have uncovered on their side.
One particular beak I recognized popped over the edge of the wall above, the little beady eye looking for a half second around until it saw where I was standing. That would be my translator, Rashant.
¡°Are you able to cross through the gate, human?¡± He asked. ¡°We are a little worried it might be too small.¡±
¡°No, I think I can fit in. I¡¯m just curious what the baskets lining the gateside are.¡±
Reshant gave a little crow, and likely talked to some of the other soldiers keeping an eye down on us. ¡°They are wards for the¡ Row¡¯ckrow¡¯akat.¡± He took some time to figure out how to say that word before just saying it as is.
¡°No translation available.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Journey¡¯s going with a direct one to one on that.¡±
¡°Yeah, I had a feeling too given the name.¡± I said, shrugging, then turned up to Rashant. ¡°I think you know what I¡¯m going to ask next.¡±
Rashant gave another crow. As if debating how to answer, or even if he should answer. ¡°A god, but not a god. Half a god, half other. The infestation is the god¡¯s body. It is said that this god had his head and heart cut off, stolen and secreted into the world of the dead by a thief. And the body is searching for his head and heart all this time. If the thief attempts to pass through this gate with the body parts, the wards are said to repel the thief backwards and hopefully draw the infestation away from here.¡±
¡°I have a lot more questions.¡± I said.
Rashant gave a few wingslaps in the air, and hopped three times to get a better view down at me, brushing past a few other Odin. ¡°The soldiers are very superstitious. We¡¯ve been living in the deadlands for a long time now you see, and have a lot of free time. Things happen.¡±
I somewhat understood how all that ended up happening. Surface scavengers had so many good luck rituals that every house had its own unique traditions just to feel special compared to the other houses.
That said, things were going to get interesting for Bob.
What were the effects of an entire outpost, with Bob-based mythos already deeply rooted in place, learning that Bob was intelligent and could communicate? ¡°Cathida, I think I might have accidentally started a cult for Bob.¡±
¡°Oh you certainly did worse than that.¡± She said.
I narrowed my eyebrows in suspicion. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±
¡°Congratulations deary, you can put being the herald for a god as well as being a cult master among your list of titles. Lead your lost lambs well because right now, I don¡¯t trust them not to try killing you first.¡±
Ah. Of course this wasn¡¯t going to stop at just Bob. I was now entangled within all this. ¡°They¡¯re¡. uhh, well behaved enough.¡± I said, looking for any signs of blood or ritual sacrifice across the walls and finding it all tame little trinkets at the very least. The Odin above the walls were all still eerily looking down on me and I had no idea what was actually going through their heads.
¡°Still recommend just scaling the wall instead of going through their clearly well planned out cursed death-funnel.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you. Just because the enemy says they¡¯re done trying to kill you, doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯ll actually stop trying to kill you. That¡¯s what makes them, you know, enemies.¡±
Journey¡¯s sensors could already map out what was on the other side of the wall just from what data it got through the gateway hole, and my soul sight showed me the rest. There¡¯d be two more walls behind this one. A large trench with wooden spikes in a pit and a very thin bridge, with quite a lot of human rifles mounted on turrets above the second wall and an equal amount of Odin higher up, next to the turrets.
They weren¡¯t as high caliber as the rotary cannon that had opened fire on me, but I suspect that cannon had been designed in case a bigger machine was making its way over. These were designed to chew through Bob¡¯s legions. So they clearly subscribed to the trust but verify method when it came to their little string basket wards.
Still perfectly safe to me. If the Odin opened fire with those turrets, it would make a yellow sparkling lightshow over my armor. And they also weren¡¯t manning their turrets, just sitting nearby with a close eye on me.
"I can see through what they got, nothing dangerous. I''ll put a show of trust for now. They''re clearly far more skittish about me than I am of them."
A few hundred beaks all poked over the edge above, an equal amount of eyes looking down at me with alien emotions. The big general of the Odin called me a dragon earlier, though I don''t know how accurate that is.
If a giant lizard straight from myth showed up at the clan gates, immune to the freeze, impervious to railguns and airship cannons, two dozen times larger than the tallest man, loomed over the hangar gates and could swat the entire defe- okay, nevermind, I see it now.
¡°I''m a dragon huh.¡± I muttered as I got on all fours and crawled through the entrance, slowly made my way and stood back up on the other side. ¡°Kind of like the ring of it.¡±
In the soul sight, I could clearly see the mass migration of birds all hopping from one side of the wall to the other, in order to see me crawl my way out of the hole with delicate precision so that I don''t bend or break anything that had my name on it.
¡°I fear what might be going on in that squirebrain of yours right now.¡± Cathida said, digitally walking through the wallside as if it wasn¡¯t there. ¡°I sense ego. Am I on the gold?¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
¡°Me? No way.¡± I said. ¡°All I¡¯m thinking is that it would be nice to have a better name than just Keith Winterscar. Maybe something more regal, like ¡®Paradarixian¡¯ or ¡®Archimondrius.¡¯ Something with a little more bite. A title too. Like Archimondrius the ancient human. Or Archimondrius the great god-speaker. Thoughts?¡±
¡°You spent too much time reading bad fiction.¡± She said. There was a noticeable pause however.
¡°But¡?¡±
¡°...But I can¡¯t deny the names do have a good ring to it.¡± She eventually said with a deep resigned sigh, head turned away from me.
I smiled at her deeply. ¡°Imperial bait is too easy.¡±
She grumbled a bit, but had no argument back. I took a quick hop over the trench, not bothering to walk over the bridge since my weight would crush the thing down. The Odin were all watching me from above, flying from wall to wall to follow my progress. The number of birds had grown from a hundred to several. I had a feeling it might be the entire outpost here now watching me pass through their little gates.
They were all clearly talking to each other. At the same time. The noise was absolutely deafening.
¡°I do think you need to pick up their standard language.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Old norse isn¡¯t what they all speak. I think they¡¯re quite the same to the Imperials in that way. Only our priests and artists could speak Latin even though all our scriptures and decorations were written in Latin.¡±
¡°You know, for a completely alien species, they are pretty similar to us.¡± I said, making my way through the second wall¡¯s gateway. ¡°They got a political system going, government and ranks in a military, a caste system and recognizable jobs. Scouts, translator, generals, soldiers, and so forth. I¡¯d bet they have farmers, scholars, research and engineering too. I¡¯d imagine everything we have, they also have. Except Deathless and warlocks. That¡¯s going to be fun to explain to them how humans have learned to use magic. Definitely not going to help with the inevitable cult issues.¡±
¡°Dear, please don¡¯t scare the poor birds more than they already are.¡± Cathida said.
¡°Is that mercy I hear from Cathida the crusader of all people?¡±
¡°No, I¡¯m worried they''ll think you¡¯re a demon who¡¯s resurrected a human corpse to pilot around and that they need to perform an exorcism. Using power cells. Or that you''re the thief they''ve been worried about crossing their gates and leading a bioweapon after you.¡± She said. ¡°And so my conclusion is that unnerving the already spooked birds might end up with a few more explosions than we want to handle. Journey¡¯s quite worried about their capabilities for the record, not just me.¡±
I gave them a look. There were a lot of them all flying around and screaming at one another. There was some air of professionalism with a lot of Odin right next to their turrets or manned station, but it did feel like complete anarchy if I wasn¡¯t squinting to see the order behind it all.
No power cells anywhere in my vision, neither natural nor supernatural.
And talking about sheer anarchy, the defense in this section had been just the word ¡®FIRE¡¯ written in bold red letters on the planning document. Flamethrowers and oil traps all prepared and ready to use, the ground filled with magnesium scraps and other goodies, bombs and incendiary ordinance buried further under. This would be more of an incinerator than anything.
But what dragon would be afraid of fire? The fractal of heat could easily generate far higher temperatures than anything here. So, once more, I was functionally immune to their deathtraps.
I crawled through the last opened gateway, careful not to bash my head against anything fragile like rebar reinforced concrete or twenty-four inch steel alloy. This wall looked expensive and I could easily put a helmet-sized bump into it if I moved too quickly.
...
Is this how Feathers felt walking around with their indestructible bodies and ludicrously overpowered ratshit strength? No wonder they had such an ego.
Finally, I dragged myself out the tiny entrance into the outpost proper. This is the point where I started realizing the Odin weren¡¯t human.
The core of the outpost here was recognizable as human, if I squinted real hard. Almost like giant skeletal remains that were reanimated for use. Rope, along with wooden and metal struts with panels spread around the tower, reinforcing sections of the main structure that had rusted away. So there was a sense of familiarity, like what I was seeing wasn¡¯t quite completely alien. The walls were metal, and the tower that had the rotary cannon was clearly human origin given the size and scale of it.
That¡¯s about where all the human influences ended. Every other structure grew over the human sections like tiny mushrooms. The tower itself had dozens of circular wooden platforms expanding outwards from the sturdy metal frames.
Like some kind of feral tiny human tribe trapped in a jungle mixed with scavenger-like tech. Except there was no way to get up to any of these places, no stairs anywhere. Most were too high up for me to even tap them with my hands. Like all the Odin collectively agreed not to make anything under a certain height.
Except for a few wider tented sections pitched on the dirt floor. Through the soul fractal, I could see a giant hole had been dug up under those tents. And after a little more focus, I realized what those were: A communal toilet. And tracks leading from there outwards to what looked like crop fields nestled around the hills beyond the outpost.
The general ¡®buildings¡¯ past the construction height line all followed the same standard look: A mostly circular platform with no walls built of rough-shaved wood, interlocking vines, leaves and mud mixed with mid-tech items like crates and ropes, with the whole building covered by a canvas tent rooftop. And then everything was mixed with higher tech items like portable computer screens, lights and the typical sprawl of unorganized wiring left exposed on the floor.
The center part of the buildings were all a giant tangle of perches without any sense of reason behind it. As if someone threw a bunch of sticks on the ground and however they landed was permanent. I could technically see through the entire structure, but with the Odin jumping around in there, along with computers, lights, and all the rest of the greenery, hardly anything from the other side could be seen. And whatever flooring there was clearly existed only for the more delicate wires that couldn¡¯t support Odin weight. And no other use, since not a single feathery blob could be spotted walking or sitting on the floors.
I doubt these buildings would support my weight. And even if I could walk into them, the maze of haphazard perches and pillars that rooted all those perches together would all be too dense for me to squeeze through.
Not to mention most of them were smaller than my room, and those were the bigger spots. There were hundreds of smaller platforms that were clearly made for single-bird use, stacked over one another like an infestation growing off the backside of the wall and cliffsides. All tiny enough I could quite literally step on them and crush everything with my boot. By accident. There were black feathery lumps all over the structure, like ants crawling around. Or hopping around since I rarely saw the Odin actually walk.
Apparently, to the Odin, it was perfectly comprehensible and they could navigate through that maze of sticks as if the way was highlighted by relic armor. I saw them speeding through as if it were second nature, easily passing from one section of the building to the other, before jumping off from the edge to fly off somewhere else.
There was only one word that would describe the Odin architecture and speed of action: Chaos.
Cathida seemed equally as stunned. ¡°I¡¯ve worked with techs before.¡± She slowly started. ¡°Battlefield techs even. External lights, sounds, and all that junk require a lot of wires all put down fast. Ends up looking like a drugged up spider¡¯s paradise retreat before it¡¯s covered with floor tiles to hide it all. These birds somehow make those techs look like organized artists.¡±
¡°I¡¯m more surprised how well they¡¯re navigating through it.¡± I said, also watching the horror show. The Odin used power cable lines the same way people would use stairs or ladders. Just a nice addition to the navigation within these stick and wire ratnests. At least they were all well insulated in rubber tubing, so the Odin weren''t dumb, just crazy.
Rashant landed on a perch nearby. Which was a dangled power cable stretching from one building to the other, just slightly sagging downwards from the distance. ¡°If you¡¯ll follow behind me, we have an enclave for ground-walkers. Food and water are being prepared for you, although¡ we are not sure if what we have will be completely edible to you. Septimus is reported to be arriving within two hours.¡±
I calculated how much power I had left in my armor. I could survive that long with low power mode active, but who knows how far the actual refill location might be that the Odin use?
So I decided caution was the better choice. Given the sheer amount of power lines draped all over the outpost, I was certain this place used a power cell rotation of some kind. One single cell could keep all the lights running, which meant they likely had at the very least two other power cells somewhere in this maze. The expected cell to swap in, and the backup in case a shipment to refuel was late.
I turned my helmet to study him, which made him flinch a bit on his perch. He was too far up for me to reach out and grab, though even that didn¡¯t make him feel safe clearly. Odin were twitchy. ¡°Two hours is too much time. Tell Hersir to swap one of your backup power cells with one of my empty ones. You still have a power cell to work with and refill, and I get to continue operation for some more time.¡±
Asking them to just hand over a power cell for good was arguably too much for their civilization. However, this should be far more doable.
If they refused even that, then I¡¯d know there¡¯s some plotting going on and they¡¯re trying to wait out my power reserves. If impenetrable scales made killing a dragon impossible, then the other way to deal with a dragon is through the stomach.
Reshant gave a few crows, ¡°Hersir is a rank, not his name.¡± Then the Odin stopped talking midway, and gave me a look over, as if noticing just how armed to the gills I was. And how much of my gear the Odin hadn''t seen used in action yet. The knightbreaker on the small of my back, the strap that held Cathida''s mite seeker, sword hilts sticking out from my belt, and a whole bunch of pockets all across different belts that could hold just about anything. Like explosives. And most of them did hold exactly that.
¡°Nevermind, not important." The bird said. "I will summon Yill to speak to you directly. I am¡ somewhat certain that could be done? Please don¡¯t burn down the outpost while I''m gone.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 16 - Snakes
Rashant felt the wind under his wings as he took off to get the human''s bidding done as quickly as possible. Which meant getting to the command center.
The ancients were historically known as a tunnel-ground race, obsessed with having four walls and sealed gateways everywhere to feel safe. And while that kind of nonsense architecture was severely limiting, there were times it was a good idea to have a reinforced box to live in or defend oneself from.
The command center was one such old human structure still kept together for that purpose, and that was where the Deadland¡¯s Hersir-commander would brood from.
Normally with Rashant¡¯s rank, speaking to the commander of the deadlands was way outside his role¡¯s expectations. Today, he felt an exception could be made. He¡¯d talk to Yill directly, get all this settled before the human decided to start using fire again.
His plan was on track up until he reached the command center and found the tower section sealed off by two armed guards. ¡°I need to talk to Yill right away.¡± He tried, but the guards remained stoic.
The other soldiers moving around him ignored the event, focused on their tasks, and soon someone in charge showed up to handle Rashant¡¯s attempts to get inside the command center.
Roark, Hersir-commander Yill¡¯s second hand.
He knew Roark well, since he¡¯d flown here in the same convoy with the rest of the gungnir four years ago, when the replacement for the prior hersir-captain was ordered. And the captain¡¯s hawk-like eyesight noticed him arriving immediately.
¡°Rashant. Why are you not with the human?¡± He asked, landing near the same perch he¡¯d settled on, the pebble of silver metal shining brightly on both wingtips. A dangerous weapon in the hands of a retired Gungnir like Roark.
Rashant started immediately ¡°He has requested to trade his spent power cells with one of the outpost¡¯s backups to supply his armor for the moment while we wait for the V¨ªkingr to arrive. I thought to escalate the situation with the hersir-commander directly.¡±
Roark¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment, beak turning down to look past the buildings and hustle. ¡°Tell him we are preparing the cells right now and will have them ready shortly.¡±
He hadn¡¯t even so much as sent a message to Yill. Rashant found it odd. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this was already planned out?¡±
¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± Roark said. ¡°Return to the human and make sure he is fed. His armor can scan anything he eats, take notes of what is edible for him and what isn¡¯t. I¡¯ll have some soldiers sent to the supply center, just to be certain he isn¡¯t poisoned intentionally.¡±
¡°Poisoned? Who¡¯d do that?¡± Rashant asked.
Roark pointed his beak directly at him, as if questioning his intelligence. ¡°Any number of Odin might decide the human¡¯s bad to keep around and take matters with their own feather and claw. We don¡¯t need that kind of scrutiny on us from some random rogue¡¯s crusade.¡±
¡°And Yill, where is he?¡± Rashant asked.
¡°In conference with the high council. Not to be disturbed until he comes out with the next set of orders.¡±
¡°The council? Why are they calling?¡±
¡°Civil matters.¡± Roark said, then held up a talon to halt anything else from Rashant. ¡°Enough questions. You will find out once the information has been cleared for the public. Likely within the hour. For now, focus on the human. If he asks for the cells again, come to us. We¡¯ll send him what we have.¡±
¡°Erm, yes hersir-captain. I understand.¡± Rashant said, with a small salute, his talons opening and closing slowly.
The captain gave him one last look, as if debating something to say or do, but departed instead. Rashant ruffled his feathers once Roark wasn¡¯t within eyesight, then stalked away through the open layouts. The captain was uptight about everything. Hersir-commander Yill was equally uptight, but his demands would make a better Odin out of his target. Roark just wanted obedience.
All around him, the soldiers were gathering up and organizing, but he hardly noticed, deep in thought.
Something that involved the council of representatives had happened at the Icon, and the hersir-commander was speaking to them directly? Not the V¨ªkingr that the hersir served, the council.
It was a completely different branch of government. Technically the V¨ªkingr served the council, but the council never gave the V¨ªkingr any direct orders. Bad idea to let the representatives of craftsmen or banking have an opinion on military affairs.
So, this had to be about the human appearance.
The people in the Icon likely learned the news by now and it¡¯s caused some kind of turmoil. Rashant shook his beak, clearing his thoughts.
Politics was going to be convoluted for a while, with a mythological ancient appearing alive and just as powerful as they had been rumored to be. Far out of his pay grade.
The human had blessedly remained where Rashant had left him, and more importantly nothing was set on fire. Around him, Rashant could see a flock of deadland soldiers had already gathered, all of them looking down at the human without a shred of hesitation anymore.
¡°It¡¯s really an ancient. Fury and pestilence, they¡¯re so big.¡± He heard one whisper. ¡°He¡¯s more than seven feet tall!¡±
¡°That¡¯s the armor he¡¯s wearing, scrubjay. The ancient inside is a little shorter.¡± Another said, but the tone certainly sounded questioning.
Others were equally speaking in hushed whispers to one another, body language muted to keep it covert. ¡°Nadria was in the command center when he fought off the drone squad, she said he dodged every attack, and even slapped one out of the air with his hand. Full collision and it didn¡¯t even stop his march forward.¡±
¡°Is that true?¡± Another asked as Rashant hopped in between the gathering. They had their backs to him, so he could only take a guess that was what they were saying given the rest of the context clues.
¡°I know the drone squad, they all said the same thing. Wasn¡¯t his hand though, he used the human blades, the big ones greyroamers use. Slapped the drone out of the air with the flat side, it was such a precise hit the payload didn¡¯t detonate but everything else in the drone failed and it crashed behind.¡±
¡°You all heard that they say he can speak to the infestation itself?¡±
That part made Rashant stop in his tracks, turning to the speaker. How- where had these soldiers even heard that already?
They instantly noticed his gaze and went quiet. Beady eyes started staring at him in silence. ¡°You need something?¡± One of them asked.
He could tell the others wanted to ask him directly for answers on the infestation, but all of them held back, staying in line.
Right. He wasn¡¯t truly one of them yet. Four years in this outpost and he still couldn¡¯t quite be part of the deadland legion. The inside jokes and all the comradery were reserved only for the Odin who risked their lives for each other.
¡°Nope, just doing my job.¡± He said, and hopped away, squeezing past the final group before finding the power line and making his way down to the human. Here at least, the deadlanders were giving the human a wide space, not a single Odin on the powerline this far out.
¡°Any news?¡± The human asked, helmet looking up and directly at Rashant as he made his way over. The rest of the Odin nearby all hushed, straining to hear the language he knew they wouldn¡¯t understand.
¡°Yes, they agreed to it. They¡¯re currently getting the cells prepared and out of storage from what the second in command told me. Lot of movement around the camp. I didn¡¯t wait to ask more information, but power cells are heavy things that need vehicles and tools to move around. It will take them a little bit.¡±
Power cells were larger than Rashant, and made of metal. Those things were heavy enough to seriously injure anyone if it tipped over out of balance.
The human gave a strange gesture with his head, a sort of slow up and down bobbing motion. ¡°Good, I would have been troubled if the answer had been no.¡±
Rashant believed the real meaning behind that was ¡®I would have had to do some terrible things with fire to your outpost, if the answer had been no.¡¯This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
He had seen the human outright bath himself with black smoke at the edge of the ashlands, walking away from the infestation. And shortly after, burn his canteen with flames from his hands until the entire thing was red hot. Everything he¡¯d learned about the ancients was proving to have been under what their historical strength had been reported as.
Which was insane to think about. And probably the reason the deadland soldiers all around them were in such quiet contemplation.
Their entire mission was to fight and contain the manifestation of insanity, and they¡¯d often see their own brothers and sisters fall prey. This far from civilization, strength and bonds were everything. And here comes an ancient straight from myth that not only strides through the infestation without a mark, but wields fire as if born with it in hand.
Blessedly, the supply officers arrived, with a heavy load carts bringing more food than Rashant had ever seen. It was as if they were resupplying a listening post¡¯s worth of food for the week.
¡°Is this edible for you?¡± Rashant asked, as the supply officers scurried away, abandoning the carts to rejoin the safety of the surrounding Odin flock.
The human picked up a bug skewer with two fingers. ¡°Armor says it¡¯s edible. And I¡¯ve eaten worse.¡± The helmet turned to the abandoned carts, and he loomed over the contents. ¡°Nuts are all fine too, I¡¯m more surprised you have meat. And eggs even. Isn¡¯t that like eating your young?¡±
¡°By the Icon, no Odin would ever think to eat an Odin egg!¡± Rashant felt slightly nauseous at that idea. ¡°Those are gawdrenling eggs, they¡¯re domesticated. The idea of eating one of our own is repugnant.¡±
The human looked from the egg, and back to Rashant. ¡°Okay. Sure. Completely different things, I understand.¡± The hand went to another egg sack, and wiggled the rectangle jelly-like egg. ¡°And this? Armor denotes it as an egg? How is this an egg?¡±
¡°That¡¯s a snake egg."
"I''ve never seen a snake in person before." Keith said, looking over the egg. "Normally snakes are more theoretical creatures from our archives, or another term for backstabbing assholes. And family."
"I am not quite sure how the word could mean both family and backstabbers, I admit. Is it dependent on context?"
Keith gave a slow head gesture, "More something unique to my personal situation. Anyone else who says a snake, they usually don''t mean family. I take it they''re very real down here? The animal variety."
"Snakes are killed on sight if they¡¯re around. " Rashant said. "They''re known to crawl into the outpost and attack Odin while sleeping. It takes a team to safely kill them. Anyone caught unaware or without gear is in terrible danger.¡±
¡°Uh huh. I¡¯ve also had to deal with guests breaking into my room at night to watch me sleep.¡± Keith said, hand letting the egg sack drop back onto the cart. "Fortunately, not to eat me. Everything else is another question."
Given the size of the human, Rashant was fully convinced nothing in the ecosystem had ever threatened Keith. The human likely lived life without once having to worry about wild animals assaulting him in his sleep. This fear might be uniquely Odin in nature.
Keith grabbed one of the meat plates next. ¡°And this sausage meat slurry is just everything you get your hands, or talons on, grinded up?¡±
¡°For the most part.¡± Rashant said. ¡°There¡¯s a few factories where we domesticate rabbits and gawdrenlings. But, this far out here, all meat is probably scavenged from dead animals or hunted down.¡±
The human looked down at the sausage. ¡°Why a sausage?¡±
¡°Some civilians like the texture and taste of natural meat, but that¡¯s more for luxury. Out here, it¡¯s a harder life.¡± He wasn¡¯t quite sure but logistics said processing meat was far more convenient like this so that was that.
One of the human¡¯s hands reached out to unhook his helmet, and the raven got his first view of what a human looked like under their armor. He¡¯d known before, the Icon had plenty of images and videos, but seeing it in person was different.
Two eyes centered close to one another like a typical predator¡¯s would. A tuff of hair at the very top of the head, along with hair growing in various places of the face. Dots of ultraviolet all across his exposed skin, contrasting with the skin''s mild coloring. Like some kind of venomous animal patterns. His skin looked like rougher, a more tan version compared to a newborn chick¡¯s exposed skin. No feathers anywhere, and no way to read any kind of expression on the human¡¯s features.
Then the jaws opened and Keith took one of the bug skewers, putting the entire thing in his mouth before dragging the stick out, all bugs gone. Rashant heard crunching as the human¡¯s hidden teeth obliterated the entire meal.
The rest of the deadlanders were staring now in awe. ¡°Not too bad.¡± He said, half munching. ¡°Armor was warning me birds have less taste buds than humans so the food might be bland, but turns out you still have good seasonings. Sauce is interesting. Could use a lot more salt though.¡±
The human¡¯s hand reached out to one of the water barrels, fingers wrapping around in slow motion, halfway to touching one another. Then he lifted it wholesale out of the cart with a single hand, and tipped it into his mouth.
A moment later, the entire water barrel was returned to the cart - empty. ¡°Ah, that hit the spot. Out there I was getting thirsty, couldn''t drink anything since it was contaminated.¡± The hand went down for the second water barrel, and equally drained the entire thing in one go.
That was enough water to last an entire squadron of Odin an entire week. And the human was going for a second one. It was returned back to the cart with equal amounts of ease. Only one barrel remained. None of the supply officers thought the human would drink this much. And it took three Odin working together with tools to lift and move barrels of water like this. The human was using a single hand, and made it look like lifting a feather.
The hand reached down for the meats next. The platter was lifted to the human¡¯s nose where he took a smell. ¡°For raw meat it doesn¡¯t smell too bad either. Hope your chef¡¯s aren''t too annoyed if I burn some of their seasonings on this.¡±
Fire engulfed his hands, and quickly swallowed up the entire cut section of meat. The human was literally cooking the entire thing on the palm of his hand. Every Odin around took a step backwards.
Keith noticed the reaction.
¡°Tell them not to worry, I did promise I wouldn¡¯t burn the outpost down.¡± He said, cutting the flames off and verifying the cooked meat. Satisfied, he tossed the still smoking medallion of meat onto a massive tongue that dragged the item away into darkness and a flash of those crushing white teeth. Rashant was so horrified and fascinated by the butchery he almost didn¡¯t hear the human talk.
Those teeth were just as lethal as any wild animal out there, just like the greyroamers. He nervously rocked back and forth on the line, feeling that gut panic deep within at being so close to a potential predator.
The only thing that set him at ease even slightly was how slow the human moved. The lumbering hand, the steady head movements. It was deceptive. He¡¯d seen the human in combat mode, and movements were far more normal then.
Rashant didn¡¯t know if the human also suffered from the same lethargy that large animals dealt with, or if he was simply mimicking it until the moment he needed to speed up again. He assumed it was the latter.
This wasn¡¯t the only meat that the human cooked. Most bugs that were skewered or served still fresh, he would burn. A few vegetables would also get the same treatment. The ancient wielded fire as if it were a plaything, manipulating it with far more finesse than even a Smieja working in the forges.
The bread ended up appreciated the most, with the human tossing three or even five loaves at a time into his jaws. Other parts he simply didn¡¯t touch. Including one platter of meat that he claimed wasn¡¯t fresh enough and would make him nauseous to eat even if he burned it. Or some nuts that were too bitter for his tastes. Everything else steadily vanished away.
Rashant watched along with the rest of the deadlands soldiers as the human ate the equivalent of several dozen full course meals. And he wasn¡¯t stopping either. Dish after dish. Where was it all going to in the first place? He thought two entire carts of food would be more than enough, and now he was thinking it hadn¡¯t even been close.
Finally, the human stopped, one hand brushing the sauces off the sides of his mouth, black smoke trailing from the cracks of his armor, eating away the debris that now coated the top of his hand.
¡°Different from my usual diet.¡± Keith said, licking the tip of one armored finger. ¡°But I haven¡¯t eaten in maybe two days now counting, hunger is the best spice. Compliments to the kitchen.¡±
Rashant could see the deadland soldiers had now fully realized what kind of monster was sitting cross-legged in the middle of their outpost after seeing the primal display.
The same size as an entire mountain lion and far, far more dangerous. Rashant had a feeling that if such a lion were to cross paths, it would shy away from the human instead of the other way around.
He looked around the circle of deadland soldiers all flocking to see the ancient in person. The whispers of awe and even hope that their eternal war could potentially be won.
¡°The hersir gave me orders to attend to any other needs you might have, would you like me to bring more water or food?¡± He didn¡¯t know if the supply officer could even afford to put more food his way. And that was just a single day¡¯s worth of food for the human.
Well, not his funds in the end. That was logistic¡¯s problem to deal with.
¡°Those power cells would be nice right about now.¡± Keith said, tapping his legplate. ¡°It¡¯s been a good twenty minutes, shouldn¡¯t take that long to wheel in a single cell. You want to explain what¡¯s going on up there?¡± The giant gradually lifted one hand, and a finger uncurled in the direction of the tower. ¡°Because that doesn¡¯t quite look like bureaucracy to me.¡±
Rashant looked over to the command center. Where Hersir-commander Yill, Roark and what felt like all the outpost¡¯s Gungnir were scrambling around. When had they all gathered up? Or had he just not noticed on his way down?
Maybe the old hersir-commander was surrounding himself with them after what happened in the control room, where multiple deadland Sk¨¢lds had outright resigned over attacking the human? Gungnir kept law and order after all. It was their duty.
He knew Roark obviously favored them anytime he needed things done. Old ties to his past probably. But he¡¯d never seen all of the outpost¡¯s gungnir mustered up together like this. It felt odd.
A few were watching from the tower as Keith had devoured the food, expressions unrecognizable from this distance.
¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Rashant said. What he did know for certain is that it shouldn¡¯t take this long to bring out the reserve power cells from storage and cart them over to the human. It should have been done in under ten minutes at most.
He had a feeling there was something bigger happening inside that control room.
¡°I may not look like it, but I come from a family of snakes myself. The backstabbing kind.¡± The human casually said, slowly standing back up on his feet, hands guiding his helmet back onto his head.
"Ah. That''s what you meant about family." Rashant said, blood going cold under his feathers.
¡°Yep. And unlike the snakes you Odin pick off, I¡¯m the type to set an outpost on fire. Food just isn¡¯t enough of a bribe to ignore another murder attempt, unfortunately.¡±
¡°I am deeply aware of this.¡± Rashant said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what command is up to, but I sincerely hope they¡¯re not doing something stupid.¡±
¡°You and me both then, Rashant.¡± Keith said, the helmet locking around his throat with a hiss. The armor cycling through paces with a very faint whirling inside. As if preparing for battle.
Rashant¡¯s instincts were screaming at him that in the next five minutes, he needed to be anywhere else but here.
Book 7 - Chapter 17 - Force multiplier
Elderly Odin could easily die from a strike that would only annoy a younger Odin. Roark had been skilled enough to disable the old Odin commander without killing him, but it still required him and his team to methodically beat down all of Yill''s command staff, so that he could precisely incapacitate Yill himself without distractions that would risk the old raven''s life.
It had been a mess. Blood and feathers lay just about everywhere inside the command center, along with a few wounded of his own soldiers tending to their broken bones. But they''d pulled it off without anyone outside the tower noticing.
¡°The success chance of this is near zero.¡± Yill spoke, nets keeping the old commander tied down. ¡°You are a fool Roark, and you¡¯ve been sent here for nothing.¡±
¡°I was sent here to serve my people, same as you were.¡± Roark''s beak clicked, answering without much emotion. He didn¡¯t hate Yill, rather the contrary. But both Odin here knew that Roark was the council¡¯s right hand wing, sent to balance out any potential insurgency. That was the deal struck between the V¨ªkingr and the council for this outpost to remain free as Septimus needed it to.
And when the time came, no amount of friendship or respect between him and his commander would prevent him from following through on his orders.
The Gungnir were specifically trained to fight other Odin, they knew the art of bone-snapping with all thirteen different weapons their ranks used. But Hersir were Hersir, and of all the Hersir active in Odin lands, the deadlanders were known to be the most insane of all. They¡¯d fought in this tower like feral animals, and continued to fight long past the point they should have simply surrendered. Most were unconscious now, tightly bound near their commander.
Yill hadn¡¯t been a fool. The moment Roark had returned after a private conference with the high council, the commander seemed to just know the time had come, and ordered his soldiers to attack before Roark could utter the same order. Yill even had a team dispatched to the power cells already, caught mid-attempt to smuggle them out of Roark¡¯s hands in advance.
But deadland soldiers were trained to handle explosives and heavy machinery. They were military specialized against the infestation. Gungnir were military specialized in beating down rogue Odin. Even with a surprise attack, the result was never in doubt.
¡°How long do we have?¡± Roark asked his second in command.
Igret followed behind him into the command center, her wings slightly bloodied from the prior fight. She was among the most dedicated Odin he knew, ever straight and focused on her task.
¡°Estimate within the hour the camp will have mutinied in the human''s favor.¡± She said, her wing slightly opened on her right, still hurt. She made no show of weakness. ¡°The translator hasn¡¯t returned to us yet, however no alarms have been sent out.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll consider him a lost asset. Is this all we could collect that are loyal?¡±
Igret tapped her beak on the ground in affirmative. ¡°The outside ring is composed of the chaft. They¡¯ve only been recently assigned to the deadlands and haven¡¯t gone native yet, we¡¯ve promised them early reassignment out after all this is complete. Only a few Gungnir are not present, out on mission.¡±
¡°How many in total?¡±
¡°Roughly two hundred and fifty, sir.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll be swept aside by sheer numbers once the soldiers here realize.¡± Yill said from where he¡¯d been thrown. His words were slurred, difficult to understand given most of his body was bound and wrapped up in netting.
Roark hopped nearby, beak looking down on his old commander. He took a moment to study his elder. ¡°I wasn¡¯t simply biding my time, commander, assuming nothing would ever happen. Or thinking a few elite soldiers who knew how to fight wing to wing would be enough in case of rebellion here. No, I studied. I planned. We are prepared to hold you off for long enough for reinforcements arrive.¡±
¡°I doubt any plan could have factored in an ancient in the center of things.¡± Yill coughed out, a dark chuckle came out, vibrating his feathers. "You have nothing that could harm the human."
Roark said nothing to that. The ex-commander was correct. The human was the one thing he hadn¡¯t planned or prepared for. His Gungnir could hold off most of the outpost indefinitely, so long as they followed the procedures and were careful with what zones to hold and what to give up on. But with the human, holding onto the command center was meaningless.
¡°You are, unfortunately, correct. Force multipliers no longer matter anymore, the living Ancient would batter through any amount of resistance.¡± All the prepared sabotage plans, all the surgical cuts in supply lines and organizational structures would break the outpost¡¯s ability to retake the command center in the long run. But the war against a human wouldn¡¯t last hours, it would be over in minutes.
Roark turned to the two power cells lightly glowing in the side of the room. Brought here to protect them from any early attempt to smuggle them out. A good precaution, since his gungnir had caught Yill¡¯s squad of twenty attempting just that. The race for control of those cells had been critical, and Roark had won it.
He considered the two national treasures one last time, but still could not come up with any situation where the human didn¡¯t win and take these for himself. Detonating them would be the last possible resort, but the human''s armor would detect power cells going supercritical far before they could maneuver them into him.
¡°Sir?¡± Igret asked.
¡°We have no hope of holding these cells out of his hands. Drain them into the ground far away, and bury it all with dirt. I¡¯ll fly to the nearest fountain personally to see if I can disable it. Send a team to do the same with the current cell in use, this entire outpost can be considered fallen to the enemy as of now.¡±
Egret barked out orders, drafting a team on the spot to handle the power cells, and one to accompany him on his flight to the nearest mite fountain. He left her to it, contemplating the message and orders he¡¯d received from the high council.
The era of the Icon was threatened beyond anything the Odin could have prepared for. But there was a possible way to weave through it all.
Outside the human had finished his feast, now speaking with the translator some more. That helmet constantly turning to look up at the command center. Roark couldn¡¯t tell if the human had already raised suspicions, but his instincts told him he had to move faster.
The squads were assembled. Both outside and within the center. If they had some greyroamers here, they might have had better chances against the human. Those giants were the only ones strong enough to carry the human blades in their jaws. Research and development had never been able to recreate the ancient weapons in a small enough form factor for his soldiers to carry. How they worked remained a mystery to even the Icon.
Roark turned to the Odin gathered before him. It was time. ¡°Gungir! Today we learned the infestation can be reasoned with and hasn¡¯t been active against the Odin this entire time. This forsaken outpost far removed from the light of civilization never had a reason to exist in the first place. Our home has come under attack by the machines, and they¡¯ve proved themselves far above her power. Machines have all withdrawn from our sights, the council expect a massive wave to appear any moment, likely to hunt down the human here. They have offered strict terms: Join them in eliminating the human, or join the human in death.¡±
The Gungnir here remained silent, watching their leader give his final speech. They all knew the kind of wind that was under their wings.
¡°The high council has finally left deliberations and ordered that the human must be killed so that the Odin prove themselves outside their conflict. V¨ªkingr Reman attempted a coup and was deposed by the combined might of the Gungnir and V¨ªkingr Verrian who remained loyal. Septimus was already sent here with an army before the revolt, which side he will fall under remains speculation. The council will not take a chance on his loyalty. We''ve been called to arms early. And so today, we kill a myth. Today we prove that the Gungnir are worthy of our title. We have hours to complete the task, but we will not fail, and we will not falter. Dismissed!¡±
The command center instantly went into a frenzy of activity. All except for the old commander, coughing on the side of the room. He came closer, if only out of respect to hear his old commander¡¯s parting barbs.
"Are you so willing to turn against the very race that elevated our civilization?" Yill asked weakly. "Have you no shame?"
"An appeal to sentimentality?" Roark clicked his beak. "I expected better from you Yill. If the machines label the Odin as an enemy threat, we condemn not only ourselves and the Icon, but all future Odin after. All our decedents. Any tribe far beyond our lands. All for the sin of one city that balked at the idea of killing a single human. The council understands this."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Yill gave a dark chuckle. "And you don''t trust the deadlanders here with that argument? What faith you have."
"Your outpost is filled with fanatics who fight the infestation. They will be short sighted and believe the infestation to be a greater danger than the machines beyond."
"We are more capable against the machines than you believe." Yill coughed out. "We can defeat the machines, they can be beaten. What we can''t do, is defeat the Ancient. He¡¯s survived the machines, survived the infestation, he¡¯ll survive your little coup here and easily crush whatever meager resistance you could bring out. You may as well have been ordered to stand and die here.¡±
¡°Then we die here.¡± Roark said, beak staring him down. ¡°For. Our. People.¡± He turned to Igret, eyes hard, feathers ready for battle. ¡°As soon as the human realizes he¡¯s being stalled, send an order to the generator team. Drain the active power cell, cut off all power and set this outpost on fire.¡±
¡°So.¡± Keith said, head turned to the command center. ¡°Your militia-priest-warrior rank - which is apparently not the same as your normal military rank - got called in four years ago in the same convoy you came, with one of them replacing the old second-in-command?¡±
Rashant rubbed his beak on the powerwire in acknowledgement. ¡°Yes, that is correct. If I might ask, why are you so focused on the Gungir and Hersir definitions?¡±
He''d been oddly focused on the tower for the past few minutes now, helmet pointed in that direction as if taking in the details.
A few Odin had spotted that the human was looking their way, but other than stopping for a brief second to stare back, they continued to scramble at full speed.
¡°The commander of your outpost here, Yill you said his name was? Is he in the military faction or the warrior-priest faction?¡± Keith asked.
¡°Hersir Yill? He has been in command of the deadlands for a decade now. I believe he was one of the soldiers sent here as punishment, and rose the ranks instead. He is very old now.¡± It was difficult for Rashant to add the extra subdivision designation, since that part was indicated through body motions in the head. But the human seemed to understand well enough.
¡°Punishment?¡± The giant raised a hand in front of Rashant before he could answer. ¡°No, no, let me guess. This far out from civilization, and fighting against Bob, serving here is probably seen as a threat to keep soldiers in line. ¡®Follow orders or get reassigned to the wall¡¯ How close am I?¡±
¡°You are¡ well, correct. Why do you ask?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll get to that in a moment.¡± The giant said. ¡°What was the official reason the second-in command had to be replaced? The commander here¡¯s been on watch for a decade now, so I¡¯m assuming the second in command was equally doing just fine here.¡±
¡°Early retirement, if I remember right.¡±
¡°Uh huh.¡± Keith said, the voice still passive and flat. ¡°You never thought it strange that a replacement for the second in command also came with a small platoon of warrior-priests completely loyal to him?¡±
Given the gungnir were now running all across the command center tower, Rashant was now having those doubt. ¡°At the time, I did not consider it? Hersir Roark was an ex-gungnir, and those who flew with him here came to support him, likely as old friends and comrades from their past. Should I¡ erm, should I fly over there to see if I might confirm some of this?¡±
The human¡¯s helmet finally turned away from the tower to stare him down. He could hear the whirling gears deep within that armor, still well powered and coiled like a snake. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re asking my opinion about this, I would tell you that¡¯d be a terrible idea.¡±
He felt his talons nervously curl and uncurl on the power line. He didn¡¯t like this at all. There was something in the air. ¡°... and why would that be a terrible idea?¡±
The human was touching the bottom of his helmet with his hands, as if looking for some hidden button with his thumb. ¡°Because if I¡¯m not mistaken, I think your current commander just got deposed in a four year scheme triggered early. And if you fly up there, they¡¯ll net you up and toss you in with the other prisoners they have up there.¡±
Rashant gave a terrified squawk. ¡°Prisoners? What?¡±
The human tilted his head, shoulders lifting up and down in slow motion. ¡°There¡¯s been a fight up there. No deaths that I could see, but ten birds are tied up. Can¡¯t tell who¡¯s who.¡±
The human could see through walls? No, not the human. His armor likely had sensors or something that let him get a better picture. Perhaps he had a drone of his own flying further off, sending him video footage? Was human armor really capable of seeing through even walls?
The other deadland soldiers seemed to pick up that the human was looking up to the command tower often. Many had started to look upwards and notice only the gungnir scrambling around like an overturned ant colony up there. Questions were starting to float around.
Insane to think about. The Gungnir were dedicated to law and order. They¡¯re the last to want to rebel against order. This was insane. He ruffled his feathers, which the rest of the deadland soldiers noticed, picking up on his fear. Sounds of chatter stopped. He nervously waved them off, turning back to the quiet human beside him.
There was only one question he really had: ¡°But, why would they want to capture me for? I am only a translator, I have no military skills or significance to any of this.¡±
Keith hummed, which sounded like a deep vibration to everyone around him. His helmet scanned the other soldiers nearby. ¡°Folks, raise your beaks if any of you can understand me.¡±
The Deadland soldiers around him continued to chatter and gossip among themselves, still trying to guess what the discussion between the translator and the human was about. They were starting to question what was going on in the tower. Rumors were already spreading out, and a few were organizing to check in on things.
None realized Keith had asked a question for them specifically.
¡°See? Out of everyone in this outpost, looks like you¡¯re the only one I can talk to. And I¡¯d bet if there was a second backup translator somewhere, you¡¯re mysteriously not going to find them anywhere now. So if you flew back up there, you¡¯d be netted down and kept in their backpocket. That way they¡¯ve got the additional option to negotiate with me, and nobody else can.¡±
The systematic and pragmatic logic the human gave filled Rashant with more and more dread. But the human hadn¡¯t even finished speaking. ¡°Trying to be covert tells the rest of the picture. Means they had no choice but to be sneaky about all this. And the only reason they¡¯d need to be sneaky is that there¡¯s a faction more powerful than them in this outpost right now that would object to the decade-long commander being deposed.¡± The human¡¯s hand lifted once more, a finger uncurled and tapped the helmet. ¡°And with the commander as the target, that means he¡¯s not an ally to them and could mess up their coup attempt, otherwise they''d have just asked him to join them from the start. So what faction is larger than your police-priest numbers, that are loyal to your commander?¡±
Rashant straightened up and looked around him at all the gathered deadlanders. ¡°I see what you mean. You are more astute in politics than I am.¡±
¡°This isn¡¯t the most convoluted political scheme I¡¯ve seen before. It¡¯s fairly straightforward.¡± Keith said. ¡°I don¡¯t see any double betrayals, splinter factions, power struggles or proxy agents preparing anything in the background. No threats being given in a back alley, or beating up others behind everyone¡¯s backs. Not even a single opportunist either. No one¡¯s taking personal vendettas out while there¡¯s distractions everywhere. It¡¯s well organized, and everyone¡¯s lockstep behind your friend Roark. Easy to work with.¡±
The information seemed to boggle his mind. ¡°Easy to work with? What kind of world do you come from?¡±
¡°Humans are dramatic in nature.¡± The human did a slow motion with his shoulders again, both moving at the same time, hands lifting up to follow. ¡°You get used to it.¡±
Rashant didn¡¯t think he could get used to it. This currently felt like he was living three lifetimes worth of events in under three hours so far. First the human shows up, then the infestation turns out to be sentient, machines are active again and now there was a coup attempt on the hersir-commander himself. Right under the nose of the deadlanders?
¡°Are you going to open fire on them right now, or cut the tower down? What do... What do you think we should do?¡±
¡°Nothing. We do nothing.¡± Keith said, two hands slapping each other up and down in one heavy ring. ¡°I know where the power cells are. The first thing they did was make sure those cells were in the center of their controlled space, that''s what I''d do. Probably they''re debating how to take me out of the picture, and they¡¯ll soon realize they got nothing. So they''ll go for second best, asset denial. They''ll go dump and hide the cells somewhere outside of the outpost. Which is exactly the best time for me to go and do a little stealing.¡±
Rashant considered it from the gungnir¡¯s point of view. The ancient human was a seven foot tall titan that loomed far above any Odin. A mechanical tank piloted by an experienced and ancient warrior, prepared for war and already deep within their fortified walls.
Keith outclassed any arms or tactic the gungnir could do to keep him away from the power cells, and they knew it.
Of course they¡¯d eventually decide to dump out the power cells. ¡°And so... You¡¯re simply waiting for them to move?¡±
¡°Yep.¡± He answered. ¡°I could storm up that tower, but there''s hundreds of nests and buildings in the stairwell up there, and all over the tower sides too. Just getting my hand inside there means half the outpost is ripped apart. Better to wait for them to bring the cells out instead. I¡¯d continue eating a few more meals, but I suspect they¡¯re going to start anytime now. There is one last thing I do need to confirm: What side are you on Rashant?¡±
He wasn¡¯t a nestling barely learning how to fly. Rashant immediately knew he¡¯d rather put his shinies on the massive ancient weapon of war that stood next to him rather than any other side.
¡°What should I do?¡± He asked.
¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡± The human said. ¡°I want you to let the deadland soldiers know the situation. And that I¡¯ll be moving to secure the power cells that had been promised. The rest will get taken care of.¡±
¡°If I say that, the deadland soldiers might become¡ erm, violent.¡±
¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m hoping happens.¡± Keith said. ¡°Easy way to tell if the soldiers here are going to work with me in the future, or pick to follow authority." Keith said, folding his hands together and stretching the fingers against each other. The plate clicked slightly, but otherwise held firm. "And speaking of events, looks like our chat time is over.¡±
Rashant ruffled his feathers one last time, beak nervously looking up at the tower. The deadlands soldiers had already started to notice most were being driven away, told only gungnir were being allowed anywhere near the control center.
They all knew something was off about all this. And when the human drew out his weapon, it solidified it.
Rashant opened his beak, and spoke the words to the soldiers.
Absolute chaos descended not even an instant after.
Book 7 - Chapter 18 - Wrong side of the bet
I fully own up to being dramatic about current events. I would blame it on how I handle stress, new situations, and having to wait in lines: Namely, running a bit about it somehow.
And, for the record, I am trapped out in the middle of nowhere with machines possibly aware of where I¡¯m at, in the middle of very strange creatures that consider me a myth in the same way I considered flying birds a myth a few months prior.
Therefore, I deserve to be dramatic. As a treat.
The Odin had me camp out in the courtyard right near the tower, and if they didn¡¯t want me to spy on what they were doing, they shouldn¡¯t have done that. It''s their fault they didn''t know I had ratshit space magic capable of seeing through walls, and had that turned on at all times.
I saw them cart over their power cells to keep them from anyone else¡¯s clutches/talons. And I also saw them start beating each other up in a mini civil war.
At this point, it doesn¡¯t take a genius to realize the birds are up to something.
But more importantly - all of the above events were happening while I was leisurely eating my meal.
I waited until they¡¯d exited the tower with my power cells and were hurrying off out of range. That¡¯s when I went from sitting around licking my fingers, to actually moving like a proper relic knight.
I could see Journey instantly crank up the power draw on my armor, the moment my legs bent down to give myself a running start.
In one second, I was already halfway out of the outpost and past the tower. In the second second, I had taken a massive leap, flying over power wires dangled in my way like a giant running through a small city. Three seconds and I was out of the outpost, sliding down the slope and into the forest.
Behind me, Odin started to cry out as the human who¡¯d been sitting around pretending nothing was going on in the background suddenly up and disappeared.
Not even a half second into the forest, I¡¯d found the small convoy trying to steal away my power cells before I could steal them for myself. They¡¯d hardly left the outpost.
Their little cart with adorable wheels was trucking along down the cleared path like a Reacher¡¯s toy airspeeder hangar taxi. No roof or anything, just a very large flat bed that had two heavily strapped power cells, and Odin holding onto those straps like scavengers on an expedition.
I slid out of the forest trees, directly in their path, shoulder aimed in their direction as if I were about to body check them all. And in my hand was my sidearm, quickly dispatching two small burst fire shots at the wheels mid-slide.
They connected, causing the truck to start losing control. It collided right into my boot, the back of the flatbed going off its wheels for a moment before falling back down, heavily testing the suspension.
Before the driver could put it in reverse gear and try to get away, I had my sidearm back in its holder and an occult blade stabbing through the little vehicle¡¯s engine compartment. That left it pinned like an insect into the ground, with a comically large sword looming over them all.
Seven Odin and one driver stared up at me in what I assume was abject horror.
These must be the Gungnir, and it was clear they were war birds of some kind. They all had those metal pebbles on the wingside, flak vests with filled pouches, and gold silver motifs colored into their feathers. Weirdest trait they all shared was some kind of metal contraption flush to their beaks.
¡°Evening gentlebirds.¡± I said. ¡°Is that a delivery for me? Why, you really shouldn¡¯t have.¡±
To their credit, four of them flew right at me, trying to slap me with the side of their wings where those metal pebbles were affixed. The rest scattered from the cart in different directions and two raced to the back of the cart to remove some kind of weaponry held in a few straps.
I doubt Journey even needed to trigger shields for the four birds flying right at my face, but I still took the time to duck and sidestep away, and reached out with a free hand to yank one of the birds out of the air. Interestingly enough, the bird actually managed to dive roll away from my outstretched hand, with superb reflexes.
The metal contraption on their beaks was more subtle, and I saw it used in the soulsight. It was an extendable spring-loaded metal needle, which - and I am not joking here - was triggered using their tongue. They licked a small lever to the side of their beak and the spring would do the rest. Not a very powerful spring, but enough to bring it out and lock it in place.
The driver of the cart didn¡¯t bother joining the shenanigans, and instead promptly ran for it. Or flew for it. The bird equivalent of retreat. Considering that driver was the only bird who didn¡¯t have weapons on their wings, or a metal needle affixed to the beak, I had a feeling this wasn¡¯t a soldier of any kind. So I let that one run off freely.
The four birds made a return fly-by, a few trying to stab me with that needle to completely expected results against relic armor. I decided my first targets were the two Odin trying to unstrap something out of the cart rear. I could see explosives in the soul sight, and the item looked like it was made to lob them at me.
My hand reached out for the two targets. Too focused on their task to realize their distraction force had failed¡ but also who stops paying attention to a literal giant running amok a few feet ahead? One still managed to squawk and leap out of my grasp, but the second was halfway through cutting some of the rope, and in that moment of weakness my hands slipped around and nabbed the bastard.
With my first bird in hand, I ducked under a second pass from the group of flying rats, grabbed a heavy rock off the side of the road and then delicately squashed my captive slightly into the dirt. Haptic feedback built into my armor¡¯s fingers let me tell how hard I was pressing on something, but it was set on an exponential curve and I had to be real careful with that. Difference between squeezing something with sixty psi vs six hundred can be a matter of milliseconds.
If I tried gently pressing a rock with continuous force, I¡¯d only feel a mild resistance for about a second and then the rock would promptly explode in my hands from the internal stress as the pressure went from gentle to utterly crushing.
All that to say it was deceptively difficult to keep a hold onto the bird without squashing it, and multiple times it slipped my grasp because I¡¯d been too light with my touch, and only working with one hand. But after two more narrowly foiled escape attempts, I decided to just let my heavy rock sit on the side of the road, and used both hands to keep the ball of angry feathers still.
I forced one of the wings open, and then grabbed my rock again and let it pin the wing down into the ground. Not anywhere near the wingbone or muscles, but holding onto enough feathers to keep it pinned for a bit.
In my defense, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s probably tools or a better plan I could have come up with besides giant rock, but I¡¯ve never fought birds before. And when I let go of the angry Odin commando, I could see the giant rock plan worked as hoped for. The bird was simply unable to get a good angle on the rock to pull itself free, given it was struggling on its back.
The other birds were going for another dive at me, trying to aim for the back of my neck as if that was some kind of weakpoint. One even landed on my back while I was mid struggle with its friend, and tried to run around stabbing at different joints and recesses in the armor with that beak-needle.
I swiped my hands out to grab the little asshole, and it managed to leap away just in time. They were surprisingly fast.
¡°Three gods, how quick are these tiny assholes?¡± I hissed as I once more missed my grabs. I was fast using the Winterblossom technique. But trying to catch a twitchy little rat that could jump, wheel and fly in every direction was surprisingly hard. And I mean in every direction, one even flapped its wings to zoom downwards, hitting the ground at an angle, and rolling into the bounce, back onto its legs before racing off in a flying leap. Occult lashes also weren¡¯t fast enough to yank them out of the air, their reflexes and twitch responses were on par with the winterblossom technique. To be fair, it¡¯s not a lack of skill on my end. I wasn¡¯t used to their motions. I genuinely had no idea what direction they¡¯d come out of a roll or how they¡¯d move in the air.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
It took a little bit of time until I managed to grab another out of the air without crushing the bird, where once again it was put under a time-out rock.
I could take my sword out of the mangled vehicle¡¯s engine compartment and start swinging, but I didn¡¯t want to seriously hurt them. And I wasn¡¯t in any danger. The few times one of them managed to actually land a hit on my armor, I think it did more damage to them from the feedback. One was caught simply because it tried to peck with as much power as it could, and the feedback bent the metal needle, and clearly disoriented the flying pest. Easy catch, and under the time-out rock that one went.
Soon, there were only two left flying around, who had decided to land on the surrounding trees and plot how to beat me from safety.
Good luck to them. I¡¯d say I wished them the best, but I had better things to do, like grand-theft power cell. I gave them one last look, which they returned, but we both knew who the winner was.
I was feeling fine, while they were panting and wheezing up there, beaks wide open to suck in as much air as they could. With all the mercy and grace in my black little heart, I allowed them their break while I sauntered over to the broken down cart to begin the time-honored tradition of looting things in front of its prior owner.
Was I being a little too flippant against birds that are trying to kill me? Very. If I wasn¡¯t wearing relic armor, the outcome of this fight would have been a lot more lethal and with far less monkey business. For them. I wouldn¡¯t have the luxury of ignoring those metal needles that they¡¯d surely stab my eyes or lungs with.
The power cells themselves were tied down in small twine. What looked like odd ratchet straps with comically large operation levers kept the twine taut and prepared to hold the cells in place. Wasn¡¯t hard to find the release levers for that, and my fingers were small enough to use it without breaking anything. In a moment, I had the two power cells free, and ready to use.
Journey cycled one of the spent power cells out of my legplate, the entire section opened up to let me yank out the old cell.
That¡¯s when the Odin decided to make their next move.
My soulsight caught the little scrapshit plan. One had been waiting on the treeside and flicked his wing as if throwing a knife in my direction. A small sphere of sorts, and the soul sight showed me gears and concepts of chemicals inside.
It would have landed directly into the empty power cell receptacle. Would have.
But I had my soul sight, I could see thrown behind my back. My hand whipped out and grabbed the thing without looking back at it.
An explosion with the strength of a small firework bomb happened the moment that little sphere struck my open palm, detonating before my fingers could close down on it. Journey didn¡¯t bother triggering shields for that.
¡°A little inspired.¡± Cathida said at my side, looking up at the two birds left.
¡°A little annoying. What¡¯s the damage I can expect if they¡¯d actually pulled that off?¡±
Cathida hummed. ¡°There¡¯s a layer of metal between the cell holster and your skin, so you would be fine, maybe a bruise. But the enclosed space would have magnified the explosion and there¡¯s some more delicate wiring in there.. Journey would have needed perhaps ten to fifteen minutes to fix that up before it could be used for power again.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out for the next one they throw at me.¡± I said, putting the new power cell into the empty receptacle and watching it twist on itself as it descended down. Journey¡¯s legplate then recessed the entire area back into my armor, nice and snug with a pressurized hiss.
I did the same to the other side, and the birds once again tried to toss garbage into the open port. This time both of them made the attempt from different angles. I took a step to the side and let the first detonation charge hit the ground in a spray of dirt and fire, and backhanded the second one out of the air. It detonated more like a shaped charge outwards from the inertia of the slap. With their attempts foiled, I removed the half-powered cell I had left, and replaced it with a full charge.
Journey¡¯s HUD and helmet happily hummed as the power gauge meter filled up to maximum, showing a total of sixteen hours of operational time remaining. Sixteen full combat mode operations, so I had about a full day and some change if I was conservative.
Walking everywhere and using calm motions would stretch that time out quite a bit. And I¡¯d still have an extra few hours of emergency use if I kept my half-spent power cell.
Which I absolutely would. All these power cells were now property of House Winterscar. ¡°Well, if they¡¯d been more civilized and honored my deal, I¡¯d have left them these two to fill up and reuse.¡± I said, tossing the used cell up and down in my hand. ¡°But since they tried to, you know, kill me, I think it¡¯s only fair I keep everything for myself now.¡±
¡°Are you attempting to justify all this to me deary?¡± Cathida snickered. ¡°You won¡¯t see me disagreeing with looting the enemy. You¡¯re too soft if anything.¡±
I gave a look at the struggling Odin commandos trapped under their rocks. ¡°They¡¯re lucky I¡¯m not some panicking newly trained Undersider knight. I¡¯m used to having my life threatened on a daily basis.¡±
¡
In hindsight, maybe that wasn¡¯t something I should consider a normal thing.
On the spent cells, I flipped the levers needed to change the power settings into long term storage mode, which would make them about as explosive as a well behaved rock. In case the Odin tried some cheeky attempt to detonate the half-powered one off of my belt, all they¡¯d do is end up making the fluid spill out and leaving me some repair work on the cell itself.
So long as the bottom part of the cell wasn¡¯t punctured or broken, cells could actually be repaired by some delicate welding. Difficult to do that on the surface, but a lot easier here where I could command Journey to just do the hard work for me.
But if the bottom part was cut, that¡¯s considered irreparable on the surface at least. And now that I think about it¡ I focused my occult sight into the cells themselves and found something I really shouldn¡¯t have been surprised to see: Power cells had occult ratshit inside them. Of course they did, how did I not think of this in the past?
Specifically the concept of about five different fractals all inhabiting the same space. I had no idea what those were for, or what they did, but they were there doing something to the cell itself.
I filed it as a mystery for later, because I had an escapee attempt happening under my watch. By the time-out rocks, I could see one of the birds had managed to wiggle their feathers out from under it, with two or three outright plucked out to do so, including the longest flight feather with their pebble weapon affixed to it. They were in the process of trying to overturn the nearby rock pinning their next compatriot, and having a very hard time with that plan.
¡°They¡¯re real dedicated to the wrong causes.¡± I sighed under my breath. This was like watching someone cut their arm off just to continue a hopeless battle.
The other two free menaces were trying to distract me by yelling in my direction and threatening to throw bombs at me given their wing movements. Also they¡¯d moved to the opposite side of the time-out rocks, so their plan was a little too obvious.
My armored hand reached out for my blade hilt. I pulled the sword out of the broken toy-sized truck, lighting it up and scything through one of the trees the pair of free birds were sitting on, and then a second tree just for good measure. That¡¯s for trying to blow up my armor.
While they were dealing with the falling trees, I ripped free the remains of the twine that held the power cells, turned on my heels and sprinted right for the rocks.
The one trying to save its friends squawked in surprise, leaped against the rock and jumped off it, wings stretching out to fly fast with the added leap. But with the missing feathers, they clearly had lost some amount of control and speed.
I got there, grabbed it out of the air and pinned it down to the ground again. The bird objected, violently, and tried to peck at my armored fingers any chance it had, to exactly the amount of damage I¡¯d expect. It was also the noisiest handheld ball of feathers I¡¯d ever heard, probably because it¡¯s been through this process once and knew the final destination.
The pest was cursing me with every breath it took, all the while flapping its wings and generally being a nuisance. ¡°I¡¯m well within my rights to smash a little harder.¡± I growled out, squeezing it slightly against the dirt. ¡°You are beyond lucky I don¡¯t feel threatened enough. Don¡¯t push it.¡±
It couldn¡¯t understand me of course. But I think the intention came through since with one final wingslap that did nothing against my armor, it finally gave up.
This time I had twine, and proceeded to wrap the bird up, giving a slightly harder tug than I needed to, just to make sure it couldn¡¯t wiggle free later.
Mission done, I set the tied up bird on the side next to its other trapped friends, and left the two still flying around to keep them safe while I moved onto my next objective. Which was a nice leisurely stroll back to the outpost.
My job was done. I got my cells, and kept my old ones. None of the ravens were hurt, other than their pride and a few plucked feathers. Journey¡¯s shields were still at full. My gear was still working without issue, and I had everything accounted for, including a nice full stomach and enough water to keep me running for another day or three.
This entire outpost had made their best attempt to take me out, and I was still leisurely walking back without a scratch. Made me think about why the Odin would even bother with the attempt. Their military had to have warned the homefront that there was no winning against a seven foot tall mech, so what was their game?
Maybe they ran the numbers, saw a single human against the entirety of the machine nation, and decided to put their bets on the machines? Maybe they banked that with all those numbers something was guaranteed to kill me, eventually? Like Murdershrimp. Or To¡¯Orda riding a Murdershrimp.
Jokes on all of them, they picked the wrong bet. I¡¯m still not dead despite the very best efforts of machinekind¡¯s greatest planners. In fact, the machines even succeeded in killing me once, and I still weaseled my way out of that one. All by myself¡ and the help of an occult gifted warmachine with healing powers.
But mostly by myself.
I brushed my hands clear of dirt and made my way back to the outpost with a leisurely walk.
The power cell cart had been intercepted nearly right out of the gates, it didn¡¯t take even thirty seconds to make it back to the outpost.
And it was on fire.
¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡± Cathida said, arms crossed.
¡°It wasn¡¯t me, I swear. I''m innocent, this is all an Odin conspiracy to tarnish my good name.¡±
She rolled her eyes at that as we paused to take in the sheer chaos that was happening inside that outpost.
Book 7 - Chapter 19 - Giant lizard in a tiny city
Humans had trench lines, formations and generally kept some order. Either the Odin had a different view of what order was, or it was simply impossible to keep everything organized with three degrees of freedom.
Because the tower had the single messiest war I¡¯d ever seen. The sounds were deafening. Hundreds of birds flying in all directions, at all angles. A few organized flights could be spotted keeping in a loose formation and they¡¯d dive into the melee and immediately dissolve into the fight.
There were some things I could understand: The enemy side was clearly well prepared to fight. Small nets were used with skill and precision to tangle up Odin mid flight. Some were armed with silver pebbles on their wings and with every wingslap, a bird would come tumbling out of the air. And all of the tower defenders paired those with long metal needles affixed on their beaks. I got to see their real use in combat. They¡¯d stab down mid-air with precision at different wing muscles, equally causing Odin to fall right out of the sky. The entire battle was so dense, just falling down meant the bird would collide against a few others before finally hitting dirt.
The other side outnumbered them by a significant factor, but against a force with nets, needles, weaponized wing slaps and an entire fortified base to retreat behind, there wasn¡¯t that much the deadlanders could do.
It was like watching relic knights fighting off a wave of normal soldiers. Though not quite as invincible.
But in that chaos was some kind of civility to it. They could have stabbed each other in the throats, or gone down and crushed skulls of the hapless birds who couldn¡¯t fly anymore. Instead, once an Odin hit the ground, that seemed to be the end of their soldier career. They¡¯d hobble or crawl back to the direction of their forces, and they weren¡¯t otherwise harassed by any other attack. Helping all sides out on the bottom was some kind of highly decorated group of Odin, with actual jewelry and vivid yellow colors. Some kind of combat medics?
I¡¯d find out more about all this later, but good to know the civil war here was actually civil in some way.
And then there was the fire, which was spreading out fast. It was splitting the focus of the deadland soldiers, with them stuck between trying to take the tower or trying to put out the fire.
A small vehicle carrying a large red tank strapped on its back zipped to my right. The driver passed by without giving me a single look, too focused on correctly piloting the thing, but the other wrapped up passengers holding onto the sides all had their heads swivel slowly as they stared up at me.
There were no seats on the thing, the driver was doing everything sitting upright on a very low perch of some kind with levers by the talons, and a cyclic stick to steer the whole thing in their beak. Last truck I¡¯d intercepted, my focus had been on shooting the wheels off first, but here I could see exactly how they made things work.
The little firetruck-like vehicle reached its destination, abruptly stopped and the crew hopped off, working as a team to grab the nozzle of the hose and draw it out. Soon, they started spraying white foam into the general direction of the fire. These Odin seemed to be among the few that had some confidence in approaching the fire, the rest of the Odin were trying to throw water at it from above and staying far away otherwise.
I decided this was where I could help the most. For trained soldiers, the reaction to fire was underwhelming, but I do remember Odin seemed to have an instinctive fear of fire that I just¡ didn¡¯t have. At all. In fact, being around fire made me feel cozy and safe from machines. Fighting inside a ball of fire meant my mechanical enemies were having their overclocks messed with while I swam through it like a new fish in fresh tanks. Fire meant that the air was warm enough to breathe in. Heat was the greatest treasure a surface dweller could ask for, and I got to play with it in the palm of my hand anytime I wanted.
Perfectly normal appreciation for humanity¡¯s oldest friend, I¡¯m not a pyromaniac and I denounce any allegations as slander to my character.
I had some basic training and drills down on handling fires within the colony, so I knew a few bits of theory on what best to do. None of the tools or team of surface dwellers to work with, but I¡¯ll improvise that. A plan came to mind and I got to work.
My first actions were to dig a giant hole in the ground. It¡¯ll come in use later, there¡¯s always a good use for a giant hole in the middle of a disaster.
After the hole was dug up with a pile of dirt and chunks nearby, I calculated which of the buildings were beyond saving and planned to eliminate those completely from the picture.
The process was simple. My sword sliced through entire chunks of unburned Odin structures, then I dug the blade into the ground to keep it handy nearby, leaving me with two free hands to work with. I¡¯d grab the still burning section and pull it free of the foundations. Given it was all held together by what felt like string and glue, half of which was already on fire, all of it easily ripped out without issue. Once I had a giant section of burning down Odin stuff, I¡¯d bear hug the entire structure until it was a dense core of tangled fire, after which it would go down into my dug out hole. The process was complete by stomping it down further into the dirt.
Not to put out the fire, but to make more room for the next section of burning buildings. Odin buildings had a lot of open air in them despite being giant twig messes on the inside, so they compressed really fast. The soot was ruining the tunic sections of my armor, but the fabric didn¡¯t catch fire easily. And the few times they had, I simply slapped the fire off.
I¡¯m sure I crushed a few valuable items the Odin might have had, but I could fix it later with Journey. Probably. Maybe.
We¡¯ll map that route when we get to it.
The Odin around me realized my plan and shifted tactics from trying to put out the fire directly, to fully containing it from spreading out. I could see a sort of second wind behind their efforts now, and their panic was quickly replaced by discipline. If the human could do it, so could they and all that.
The deadland soldiers decided the rebels inside the tower weren''t worth the effort, so instead they focused on assisting me with the fire. We couldn¡¯t talk to one another, but there was some communication between us, in the same way a team could operate without a word said.
The rebels quickly realized that if they wanted any kind of lasting damage, the best time to attack would be during the chaos of the fire. So they tried some surgical attacks, aimed at me since I was doing the heart of the work here.
At first, the deadland soldiers tried protecting me from the waves of tower forces attempting to harass. Up until I turned and sprinted right into the next group of rebels flying to get me, yanking a net off the ground and waving it through the air. I tangled up the entire squad, easily tanked the lobbed explosives at me, and didn¡¯t bother to dodge the machine gun fire from smaller turrets from the tower. Whatever agreement the Odin had between each other to minimize deaths, they clearly didn¡¯t apply to me given the measures they attempted.
I did get to try out a new idea I had, about using the Odin¡¯s primal fear of fire. And got immediate success. From my hands and helmet fractals, weak bursts of fire blew out which freaked them so badly they often lost orientation of where they were within the cloud of fire and slammed into the ground. Easy to pick up and toss into the direction of deadland Odin, who¡¯d handle the rest for me.
That became my new default method of dealing with anything flying at me. Spew a giant cloud of fire at them, use the soul sight to see where they were frantically flying within it, and finally grab them out of it. They came out fine, maybe a little singed. The fire¡¯s mostly cosmetic at that heat. Though I don¡¯t think they¡¯d see eye to eye with me on that.
The deadland Odin realized I wasn¡¯t in any danger, and left the rebel forces to waste their manpower on trying to slow me down, instead focusing their efforts on blocking other sabotage from the tower forces.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The tower Odin tried just about everything, including attempts to break my blade while I was busy shoveling burning buildings into my hole. They knew to aim for the hilt at least, and bullets would break the fractal inscribed inside. Journey¡¯s nanoswarm fixed it up easily on my administrator orders. They break the sword, cheer at their little victory, and then stare in despair as I¡¯d yank out my sword from the ground, and have it turn back on right after. Explosives they had would have done better, except they¡¯re Odin-sized.
My blade was more of a colossal monument to them at their scale, and the little firecrackers they could fly with weren¡¯t doing the work. Their bombs were either short explosions, or would throw tar-like substances that would stick around and continue burning. Both of which weren¡¯t anywhere near the scale needed to worry me.
Only thing I¡¯d fear is a bomb with power cell fluid inside of it, the ones they reserved for Bob. But then they¡¯d run the risk of blowing themselves up with it. And enough power cell fluid to pose a threat to Journey would have equally leveled their tower here. Armor is very good at handling unfocused explosive energy.
They stopped trying after the seventh attempt. They swapped to bombing runs on non-burning buildings, which the deadland Odin put a stop to with superior numbers.
Chunk after chunk of burning buildings, I walked through the flames and crushed things, slowly piling it all up inside the hole where they wouldn¡¯t set anything else on fire. I spewed out fire at any approaching Odin with a needle on their beak, and in that entire time I made sure to keep my pace and movements calm and energy-efficient. Since the Odin around me were now fully committed to keeping the fire from spreading, they gave me all the time to handle the main issue. No need to rush anything.
It took a little bit of work, maybe twenty to thirty minutes of walking around but I had the majority of the fire put out. After that, I yanked the red canister from the back of one Odin truck, where two operators quickly ran out of the way, and proceeded to follow Journey¡¯s directions on optimal places to spray the foam out and cut the fire down to pieces.
Being able to stick my hand into the flames directly and hit points within the burning buildings really helped deal with the worst of things.
And I¡¯d occasionally slap any spare fire that was too small to waste the foam I had to work with.
At that point, the Odin now had full control of the remaining fire, overwhelmingly outnumbering it and following through on clearly practiced drills. Soon there was nothing but smoke, and just small wisps of it
Which left the tower rebels inside. They¡¯d seen the direction of the battle and had now focused on reinforcing their tower and encampments. With the fire all gone, the entire outpost was left staring daggers at the tower defenders. Who were all staring daggers back, mostly in my direction.
¡°Well now deary, what¡¯s your next move?¡± The old bat asked, appearing into the world at my left from digital sparks.
¡°I guess this is the part where I ask what the scrap is happening, and why half the Odin want me dead while the other half don¡¯t. Information is power.¡±
I heard a few recognizable croaks nearby, and turned my helmet to spot one of the few Odin I knew by name. ¡°And just who I needed to talk to.¡±
¡°That little rat¡¯s a survivor.¡± Cathida said. ¡°Didn¡¯t see tail or wing of him until the fire was put out.¡±
Rashant squeezed past a few others, the feather colors he used looking out of place compared to the other soldiers. And the general sense of terror about him also made him stand out. Following behind him was a different Odin with far more calm movements.
¡°Well done with the fire.¡± He said. ¡°I take it you were able to recover the cells from the gungnir running away?¡±
¡°Yep.¡± I gave him a thumbs up, which was meaningless to them. Damn my reflexes. ¡°They¡¯re all still alive, I pinned a few under a rock and tied up one other. Should be two still flying around to keep them safe from any critters looking for a free meal. I have enough energy to last a long while now.¡± My helmet turned to check the bottom of the tower where some Odin were still limping away. ¡°I take it there is some kind of taboo about actually killing one another?¡±
Some weren¡¯t moving at all, but I suspected that to be more accidental than intentional given the low number.
¡°There was discussion between the tower and the deadlanders.¡± Rashant said. ¡°We have been working together for four years now, some of them were our friends even. It was¡ messy. Both sides are doing the best for the people, they only disagree on how to go about it.¡±
And Odin didn¡¯t live too long. Twenty years was near ancient for them. So four years might have been a quarter of a life. ¡°The deadlanders here really didn¡¯t appreciate me being thrown out in the freeze that much?¡±
Rashant looked around him, at the gathered forces. ¡°They did not.¡±
¡°I hardly know them. I¡¯m more surprised they would follow through and fight their own comrades like that just for someone completely alien to them all.¡±
Rashant gave a series of movements. I could tell the rest of the birds here were watching, and there were enough to cover the entire area in black ravens. Maybe a thousand or so of them, all whispering to one another.
¡°To the deadlanders, you are more important than anything else. You can speak to Bob, and possibly end the threat for good.¡± The translator said. ¡°The Gungnir gave good reasons to turn on you, but none of it was more important to the deadlanders.¡±
¡°Good reasons to turn on me?¡± I asked, my eyebrows raised high up inside my helmet ¡°I beg your finest pardon, but what ¡®good¡¯ reasons are there to turn on me?¡±
¡°The gungnir claimed that the machines have attacked the Icon and bypassed her defenses without effort.¡± Rashant said. ¡°The machines number in the thousands, and they¡¯ve all disappeared to regroup, the first mass movements the Odin have ever seen from them. In the face of an army, one human cannot hope to succeed. The Icon Odin do not know you, but they know this: You cannot be everywhere at once. You cannot live forever, and they cannot put the lives of all Odin in one person¡¯s hands. They do not know if your hands are even loyal to the Icon or would turn on them. But most importantly, you would not be able to arrive at the Icon to save her in time.¡±
¡°Rather harsh of them. I¡¯m only fashionably late to things.¡±
Rashant gave a few pecks into the ground. ¡°I am not certain what that means, but I assume it is an idiom in your language of some kind?¡±
I wiggled a hand at him side to side, ¡°Sorta. I¡¯ll explain it another time, when we don¡¯t have a giant rebellion to deal with. And the tower Odin over there, was that all their arguments against me? Or is there anything else I should know?¡±
First step to winning any political shenanigans was to understand what the other side wanted and didn¡¯t want. Sometimes the winning move was just to make it so impossible for the other side to win, they¡¯d give up. That¡¯s how I survived in the old House Winterscar, I was too much of a pest to be involved in any plot or scheme.
Rashant spent another few minutes trying to go over all the points the tower Odin had attempted to give to the crew, including after hostilities had started. The little speech given at the start while I was gone picking up my power cells had been extremely direct and to the point.
As I¡¯d expected, it really did come down to just numbers.
There were several hundred thousand Odin out there, in multiple different cities and places. Even if I swore I¡¯d be their defender through thick and thin, I couldn¡¯t be everywhere. And even if I could be everywhere at once and beat back the machine hoard somehow, I¡¯d need to stay there forever to continue helping them out. And even if I did do that, I¡¯d get old eventually and die off, which would leave the Odin at the mercy of rather upset machines with a grudge.
And those same arguments could be used if I declared myself an enemy to them. I couldn¡¯t possibly hunt their entire race down to extinction. I¡¯d die of old age long before I managed to actually kick them all into the dirt. That wasn¡¯t the case with machines, their chance of complete extinction was very possible against those metal bastards.
To the Odin, I was a passing natural disaster. Here for the moment, gone in the future. Hiding wasn¡¯t going to work for them since I was already involved. So they had to plan for the far future, and in that future only the machines remained eternal.
¡°Regardless, the argument did not succeed with the deadlanders.¡± Rashant ended, ¡°As you can see, they took offense to that. By great margins.¡±
¡°All because I can speak to Bob? Given that entire argument against me?¡±
Rashant pecked the ground. ¡°The Deadlanders have spent their life here for one goal. And they view that goal as far more important than any other.¡±
The Odin fighting on my side weren¡¯t here for my winning personality or my guns. Just that I could sweet talk Bob. And if they were willing to fight everyone for it, I think I can trust them. They were out here getting burned up and stabbed, all while screaming insults and fighting back with beak and claw. My kind of people.
Rashant quickly turned to the other, larger raven next to him while I mulled over the briefing. He gave a series of head bobs and whistled half-words. The actual Odin language did have a lot of crows and shrill sounds, but no pattern I could recognize at all.
I¡¯d leave learning the language to Journey for later. Right now, we had to deal with a minor uprising.
The larger raven at Rashant¡¯s side gave a response crow, and then sent a series of commands to the other Odin nearby. Ten flew off to the direction I¡¯d trapped the rebels at.
Rashant turned back to me, ¡°I forgot to introduce you in the chaos, this is hersir Tanariss. The ex-captain that Roark replaced four years ago. He¡¯s returning from his retirement as a logistics officer.¡±
¡°I can see that.¡± I said, giving Tanariss a good look over. ¡°So what is the plan for the tower?¡±
The giant raven gave me a sideways look as Rashant passed down the information, and then turned that beak of his down to where a small truck was bringing with it a good pack of hand-sized grenades.
I had a feeling I¡¯d get along with these folks if their first solution to things was to explode it.
Book 7 - Chapter 20 - Forceful eviction
¡°You want to blow up the tower?¡± I gave the cargo of grenades and explosives a critical look over. They were large ones, the type that would barely fit in my hand. Too heavy to fly anywhere too. Jumbo-sized grenades. ¡°Not complaining, any kind of explosion will always get two thumbs up from me, but wouldn¡¯t that go a step past the non-lethal agreements you have?¡±
Rashant gave me a strange look, which was more of a sideways beak turn. ¡°While your idioms are still confusing to completely understand, I believe you¡¯re assuming these are high yield explosives?¡±
¡°Are they not?¡± I turned slightly to Cathida who¡¯s avatar had her arms folded and was watching the scene. She turned back to me with a shrug.
¡°They¡¯re not explosives.¡± Rashant said. ¡°They¡¯re smoke dispensers. When placed at the bottom of the tower, they will rise upwards and overwhelm the defenders. Odin cannot stay within smoke for very long, they will be forced to abandon the tower while equally leaving it mostly unharmed.¡±
¡°Ah, that does make more sense.¡± I said.
¡°Do I hear a note of disappointment in your tone deary?¡± Cathida added.
Wouldn¡¯t say disappointment exactly, I still needed to get in contact with the Icon again, and also needed map data for where the nearest fountain sites were to power up my original cells. The original plan was still the original plan: Get to the Icon, have her help me contact Wrath.
Once Wrath was on her way here, or I found a way back, we¡¯d be good to continue the path Abraxas had set out. Gods, felt like a lifetime ago now with everything going on. Can¡¯t walk two steps underground without three thousand and one side quests and dangers to avoid.
¡°What do the deadlanders need me to do?¡± I asked, turning my attention back to the little group here. They needed me for something, otherwise they¡¯d have already set the charges themselves in the tower.
Had a feeling I¡¯d be playing the forward linebreaker in one strange hangerball match here.
¡°The captain explains that by themselves, they would find it impossible to place the devices without strong defense. And even if they could, the enemy would seal off entryways to block the smoke. However, you could cut through the window planes, and directly place the devices within the area. And being immune to smoke yourself, you could keep a hand on the device to defend it from sabotage attempts.¡±
Not the forward linebreaker, the goalkeeper then. ¡°So I grab these, toss them into the tower, shoo away any Odin trying to defuse them, and then move on to repeat the task a few times over?¡±
Rashant turned to the captain to speak. That¡¯d be another thing I¡¯d need to rip out of the tower here. I knew they had communications with other outposts, which meant administration. And if there was administration, then there¡¯d be video logs to pilfer and toss at Journey.
¡°Effectively¡ yes. You also stand the greatest chance of breaking past their defenses. Or rather, there is little chance they would ever spread their forces away from attacking you if they can. The moment you charge the tower, all of them are likely to consolidate fire in your direction.¡±
So I was still a forward linebreaker. And a goalkeeper too. I want overtime pay for all this after we¡¯re all done.
¡°The captain suggests this only because we have confirmed the weapons the Gungnir have are not capable of dealing damage to your armor. However, that may not be the case forever against future Odin incursions. This outpost was simply not stocked for such an event. Approaching the Icon¡¯s border defense force, or Septimus¡¯s incoming legion might have¡ different results. As they know what to expect.¡±
And there¡¯s the dose of reality, I was currently playing this game of hangerball on easy mode. Up against an opponent with two hands/wings tied behind their back. The Odin weren¡¯t dumb, and if they were trying to get on the side of the machines, it¡¯s very likely they¡¯ll also work with the machines in the future. I had to grab what I needed, do what I came here for, and get out before one of their schemes actually gets me.
¡°Of course, the deadland Odin here have sworn to protect and assist you.¡± Rashant said, with a nervous accent generated by Journey. Made sense given what he¡¯d just said prior. ¡°The captain has recommendations for plans after the tower is taken, specifically in acting as a wide scouting force to support you.¡±
¡°And what do they want in exchange?¡±
Rashant didn¡¯t say anything for a second, as if mentally rebooting, then croaked out something and turned to the captain to continue speaking. On my end, I went to the smoke grenades, the Odin around it all flying off in surprise to nearby perches but looking over me. Only one Odin remained behind, still sitting on the straps holding the grenades down to the little flatbed. I knelt down to take a closer look at that one, and it stared back at me as if undergoing some kind of trial of courage. We kept eye contact for about five seconds, which was a lot easier for me since I wasn¡¯t staring down a faceless helmet the size of my entire body.
¡°You pass buddy.¡± I said, giving him a thumbs up.
The Odin made movements with his head and fluffed out wings, and then tapped a release lever on the sides of the cart, jumping around to complete the same process until all the grenades were unhooked. The message was clear enough for me, so I went and yanked out the grenades and hooked them on my chest bandolier. Six in total, and the release mechanism was clearly Odin-sized. A clear cover had to be lifted off, and then a lever the size of my fingernail needed to be flicked. Journey¡¯s scans could see enough of the device to tell that was the one moving part on the surface.
Rashant flew over to a nearby half-burned power line. More half-melted, but clearly the insulation used by the Odin were a step above paranoid. ¡°They wish to discuss with you later about Bob, everything you¡¯ve learned and possible solutions. They are not sure how long they will remain alive defending you, and wish to do the most good possible before they are defeated.¡±
I didn¡¯t know what else to offer the Deadlanders right now, but I did promise I¡¯d help them with Bob. Or at least try to leave behind some way to communicate that didn¡¯t rely on me. As much as the Odin of the Icon had ruthless logic here, they were right about one thing: I wasn¡¯t going to be staying here forever. Wrath needed my occult expertise, and also a voice of common sense too.
With all that settled for now, we turned to the tower. The Odin up there were far less friendly and staring down at me, as if preparing for this gauntlet.
¡°Journey good to go?¡± I asked Cathida.
¡°Always has to be, given your track record deary.¡± She said.
I rolled my eyes, then gave the Odin around me a signal and started the charge forward. The Tower Odin immediately opened fire on me with every turret on that tower, which they¡¯d rotated just for this ahead of time, proving Cathida''s point about the track record.
As the captain had researched prior, none of it was strong enough to even trigger journey¡¯s shield.
At least at first. But then the target aiming was changed from trying to punch through my head and chest, to aiming for my gear. At that point, Journey calculated the loss of those would impact my overall chances of survival, and grudgingly triggered shields to keep my stuff safe.
I think that was the first time they¡¯d seen an armor¡¯s shield in effect, because quite a few Odin all squawked in surprise and dove for cover, expecting some kind of attack.
By the time they realized it wasn¡¯t one, I had already made it into the base of the tower. The doorway had long ago been rusted off the hinges, and when I burst into the bottom section, I saw the skeletal remains of stairwells that had wasted away, and the bones then meticulously cleaned off.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
There were also wires and Odin nest-buildings just about everywhere on the interior. A swarm of Odin dropped down or leaped from wire to wire and zoomed down on me, all of them attacking with that beak needle, or trying to slap me with wingslaps that ping¡¯d off my armor.
Those were distractions. I could see in the soulsight as Odin hidden on the bottom floor all took flight and aimed right for my gear, trying to cut any strap they could see, and a few aiming specifically for my smoke grenades.
I shoo¡¯d them off with a few bursts of fire, took out a smoke grenade and slapped it down at the bottom of the stairwell, triggering it.
Those things worked fast and furiously. The Odin immediately doubled their attempts to get to the grenade stopped. I crouched over it like a mother hen, keeping the pest away from it. Soon, the entire bottom section was filled with smoke that was rising up into the tower. Doors were shutting but too much of the tower had been eaten up by time, or taken over by the Odin who refused to use doors and walls.
¡°Job here is done.¡± Cathida said, as Journey¡¯s vision setup flicked over to a spectrum that could see past the smoke.
I turned and walked back out the entry. ¡°Time for the upper window.¡±
The stairwell itself felt like it would collapse on me if I tried to scale it, not to mention there were plenty of Odin tech scattered everywhere. I needed this tower functional after the Odin inside were chased off.
Outside, the tower Odin were once more fighting off the Deadlanders. And this time with far more frantic energy, as anyone in the bottom floor of the tower had been smoked out. The tower itself was only three levels high, which wasn¡¯t very high from a human point of view. I debated using the occult lash to pull myself up to the tower in one giant leap, but given the Odin here might turn into future enemies, revealing my hand early wasn¡¯t the best play forward. And using any kind of occult would cause a pulse around me that anyone could feel.
Besides, I could simply scale the tower myself by hand. Which is exactly what I did, bending down and leaping up into the tower, kicking off the wallside and grabbing hold of a metal lip section. It held strong enough. The Odin were frantic now, trying to attack me like bees. Fending them off with one hand was proving a little tough. Fearless little bastards with a bone to pick.
¡°You should start using weapons and more lethal tactics.¡± Cathida said from the side as I continued to scale the tower by hand. Ropes and anchor points weren¡¯t reliable because the tower Odin were absolutely going to mess with those, so freehand climbing only.
¡°I¡¯m still not in any serious danger.¡± I told her. ¡°Worse they can do is knock me off, and a fall from this high would just embarrass me.¡±
¡°Journey is insisting that your gear is a valid target to attack, and the flying black chickens know that. They are clearly taking advantage of you being soft.¡±
Had to agree there, the Odin were getting real bold with landing on my armor and immediately trying to peck and stab away at my gear. I could use my occult to ward them off, I had used some of it on the approach. But that far away none of them could feel any kind of occult pulse.
Weighing my options, I decided to go for broke. If I fell down, I really would just be very embarrassed. So might as well take a bit of calculated gambling.
I crushed a foothold into the side of the wall, and did a second assisted leap forward. Using both my arm and legs to give as much upper speed as possible. The result shot me up past the final level, where I slammed a hand right under the glass window wall. Lifting up again, I got a full sight of all the Odin inside, staring out the window at me. One got it together and started crying out orders.
My fist slammed into the window and shattered it completely. Chaos ensued as a smoke grenade followed right behind the shattered glass, triggered and already forcing the Odin out the way.
They tried to attack the smoke right out the gate. However I¡¯d moved fast enough they hadn¡¯t had time to make new plans since the bottom section of the tower was smoked out. I guarded the smoke grenade again, and fended off the Odin trying to peck at it until the point of no return. Doors were opened up as the odin within were forced to flee out of the area or suffocate. Only one remained, tangled up in a wire, which I could clearly see through Journey¡¯s HUD. I yanked out the cables, wrapped my hand around the startled Odin, and then tossed him right out of the smoke cloud and into the open.
The bird fell for a moment before reorienting itself and flying off. ¡°Hard part¡¯s done. Time for the harder part.¡± I said to myself, crawling into the tower¡¯s mess of perches and power lines. And I found out the tower Odin had expected I¡¯d take over eventually. ¡°Great. Sabotage. Lovely.¡± Journey highlighted it all, specifically the cut wires outlined in red. ¡°Least they didn¡¯t leave explosives for me.¡±
¡°Oh, they did.¡± Cathida said, as one of the red highlighted elements nearby detonated in my face.
Shields triggered, and took about four percent of total down. Which meant the explosion was rather strong. The result left the entire control room extra non-functional. Smoke cleared out for a moment, but the actual smoke source was behind me, somewhat shielded from the concussive force. Fortunately, whatever the Odin had used for the smoke grenades were non-combustible, else I¡¯d be dealing with a backdraft and everything on fire. Again.
Still left the entire control room here a non-functioning mess, but at least I could work with this.
"Cathida, got a report for me?"
¡°Journey could fix up the wires, but this is going to take a lot more time deary. I think you should just ditch the birds and start making your way elsewhere.¡±
¡°They¡¯re really getting on my nerves now. But they might have miscalculated.¡± I crawled my way through the ruined thicket, finding the central control unit. If this tower was designed by any sane engineer team, they would have the actual server and data protected from fires and other possible hazards.
A small look through the soul sight and I found what I was actually after: wires leading away from the control panels. ¡°See, the main servers aren¡¯t here. They¡¯re in the sidewall off to the side. Which means everything they ruined here was more monitors, cameras and user interfaces. All I have to do is splice Journey into the main gear.¡±
Crawling a bit further, I found my target. Far more shielded with a metal cage around it. It looked like the Odin were mid-way through opening up the panels, but unfortunately they were human-sized. The Odin needed to operate what looked to be a few pulleys and levers to get the whole plate clear.
Lot of rubble was covering the whole thing up, which proved no match against Journey¡¯s powered gauntlets and a bit of elbow work.
An occult knife lit to life in my hand next, drawn right out of my boot strap. The glow was very muted inside the smoke cloud, but it looked like a small beacon of light in Journey¡¯s filtered view of the world. To the point it had to manually readjust. Whatever spectrum Journey was currently using, occult edges appeared in it harshly.
Four slices later, I had access to the interior panel. And it was a mess inside there. Lots of ports just about everywhere, with markings unrecognizable with Journey¡¯s current vision. Until the smoke cleared, I could only see the black and gray outline of the whole server.
I didn¡¯t have time for this. And I had a cheat code to backdoor just about any hardware issue: Have Journey inscribe a soul fractal deeper inside the machine on some connected open metal face. All I had to do then was hack it from the inside to connect to Journey wirelessly, and then retreat back home.
I sent the order to Journey and prepared myself for the next steps. Journey inscribed the fractal, and I found myself hesitating at the entrance.
Last time I tried sleuthing through the digital sea, I got caught and nearly killed. I took a few breaths to steady myself, though being sheltered inside the soul fractal did make my thinking a lot more clear and less emotional already. I focused on that. In and out, never step a single foot out into the digital sea, just stick inside the local terminal.
¡
I took a deep breath and readied myself to head into the terminal.
¡.
Three gods in an airspeeder, what was my mental block about this? Just in and out, simple as can be. And somehow my gut was roiling, and anxiety was following me even into the soul fractal.
¡°Having performance issues, deary?¡± Cathida asked. ¡°Your heart rate is kicking up a tad. We could just spend an hour or two rewiring this whole thing if you¡¯d like. Be a bit safer.¡±
Besides the first bit of prodding, Cathida actually sounded sincere? Even worried about me. ¡°Debating on that. Two hours to fix all this up is a long time. The tower Odin out there could end up doing anything. If I stay to fix it, that Septimus will be arriving by then with a full army of gods knows what. If I go to the mite fountains, I skip Septimus and get some more power to extend my time out here, but no progress on my main goals.¡±
¡°Tough choice.¡± Cathida agreed. ¡°Every pick means losing out somewhere.¡±
¡°I got it under control. Just need to focus.¡± I muttered, taking some more time to breathe in and out again.
The terminal was right there, the soul fractal inscribed inside of it already by Journey. In theory, it should be perfectly safe. Relinquished was out there in the wide digital sea, not in local systems. And if she¡¯d been here already, the Icon wouldn¡¯t exist.
She can¡¯t possibly be everywhere.
And I still found myself hesitating. Memories of that giant hand reaching from the murky depths of the digital sea, digging into the sediment, and yanking the entire terminal along with me upwards. A giant violet eye looked at me through the broken rips in the walls.
¡°Do you need some advice? Perhaps talk it out loud first?¡± Cathida asked.
I turned my head to her digital avatar, outlined in the smoke cloud around me. I think she could tell the question in my head just from my glance.
¡°Peh.¡± She said, crossing her arms. ¡°I am a crusader, but I was also in charge of teaching squires for a good part of my life. Diving into the terminal here is terrifying you. I don¡¯t need Journey¡¯s diagnostics to figure that out.¡±
¡°Where was this version of you, say twenty four insults ago?¡± I asked.
¡°Only comes out when it needs to. You¡¯re high functioning under stress deary, but can¡¯t continue like that forever. And not all situations require taking the maximum amount of risk. You have other options.¡±
After a few seconds of paralysis, I decided it might not be that bad of an idea to rely a little on the few allies I had. And talking about allies, I still had Drakonis to save at some point in all this.
Wonder how he was doing, and if he was dealing with heavy choices like this.
Guess I¡¯ll find out when I see him again. It¡¯s a small world after all.
Book 7 - Chapter 21 - In which ToOrda fails to take a nap
To¡¯Orda lay flat on the floor by the dim functioning lighting of the old human ship, staring up at the ceiling above, hands stretched out on both sides. His gut told him this would work. After all the work he did to get this old starship¡¯s comms system working again, it had better work.
The Deathless was safely all the way at the bottom of the ship, with a shock collar. And that human knew if he misbehaved, To¡¯Orda would give control of that collar to his pet rock. Who was far more vindictive about¡ well, just about everything.
Since then, the captive had remained brooding and talking to the bird further up the tree. The rate of progress in learning the language was pitiful, so To¡¯Orda tuned it out.
¡°It¡¯ll work, trust your gut. Plan¡¯s good.¡± To¡¯Orda¡¯s pet rock chimed out from the top of the console he¡¯d left it at. The accompanying image of a head pat and smiling mini-version of himself shone in his mind. ¡°It¡¯s all still there in your noggin. Just a little dusty is all. So have a little more faith in yourself bud. You got this far.¡±
To¡¯Orda¡¯s features did a strange thing with his mouth, teeth being bared slightly out. None could see it, since his shawl hid his features. He only belatedly realized he¡¯d moved any muscles a few seconds later. The program stack trace showed a sub-routine that controlled his features automatically. Mostly frowns, narrowing eyebrows, and squinting eyes. He hadn¡¯t known it could also control his mouth. Rather, he hadn¡¯t remembered it even existed for the past few decades now. It had been steadily running in the background, loyally following its primary instructions all this time.
¡°He¡¯s talking to himself again.¡± To¡¯Sefit giggled in the chat channel, reminding To¡¯Orda that he wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should find it endearing, or worrying. To¡¯Avalis, what are your thoughts on all this?¡±
¡°I¡¯m busy with matters.¡± To¡¯Avalis hissed in response. ¡°Ping me when something more important happens. This is a delicate operation that hinges on everything working exactly on time.¡±
¡°Oh my, is someone perhaps a tad bit moody with our little ¡®deathless¡¯ problem out and about again?¡± An infuriating giggle came out across the comms, along with the image of To¡¯Sefit knocking on her head, one eye winking out with her tongue stuck out, her free hand holding that giant hat from falling off. There was even a tiny gold star twinkling out the other side. Some stylized artistic choice To¡¯Sefit must have dug out of the archive somewhere.
That particular image had been used multiple times now, mostly because it clearly infuriated To¡¯Avalis. His sister had been particularly vicious ever since she saw blood in the waters. The image generator agreed, sending him a grinning pale shark carrying To¡¯Sefit¡¯s oversized witch hat.
Accurate. He sent it over the chat channel, as his only reply.
¡°Oh, I do like that one.¡± To¡¯Sefit said, ¡°I believe I will steal it from you, my lovely little henchmen.¡±
¡°Clear comms.¡± To¡¯Avalis said. ¡°And for your record sister, we have one wayward Feather about to arrive into our staging ground and cause havoc. With To¡¯Wrathh in that strata, there will be no more hiding our actions from To¡¯Naviris. I am mostly upset that the ¡®deathless¡¯ problem, as you so tactfully put, hasn¡¯t been squashed by an oversized hammer as of now.¡±
Ah. He was getting dragged back into this again. Bugger.
¡°Keeping the strata free of machines and witnesses is far harder to balance and I can only reliably keep it up for so long. And as of now, To¡¯Naviris has already killed four of the ten Deathless he¡¯s been chasing, despite my best efforts at keeping those distractions alive. To¡¯Orda, you had the perfect opportunity and failed at the one task assigned. You¡¯ve had days to get the work done. Days.¡±
To¡¯Orda¡¯s image generator sent a quick ping for him over the channel. It was of him shoveling coal in an old coal factory, the ones from the steam era of human power. Known for harsh work environments and low pay.
¡°Keep vigilant.¡± To¡¯Avalis replied, ignoring the image. ¡°If he¡¯s not confirmed dead, then we can confirm he¡¯s scheming. His past behavior is evidence enough. And time is running out.¡±
¡°To¡¯Naviris hadn¡¯t ever had any humans to hunt before now, this strata has been deserted for the past two hundred years or so.¡± To¡¯Sefit said without much care. ¡°I¡¯m certain he¡¯s taking his time enjoying himself with your little hunt. The poor thing, my heart bleeds for him. So, I wouldn¡¯t mind letting our little sister get to her prize.¡± She sent an image of her shrugging. ¡°If we are so deadset on killing the human, best to do it with an audience to impress. I can squash her after without much trouble. Surprise was the only advantage she had, and that advantage is gone now.¡±
¡°What surprises me the most, sister dear, is how you can be so self-assured you are safe from To¡¯Wrathh.¡± To¡¯Avalis answered back, ignoring the byplay, voice keeping a slight edge to it. ¡°How can you be certain you¡¯ve purged all viral hooks she sent you? She built them to be hidden, and she wouldn¡¯t send only one. I¡¯ve spent the past seven hours now scanning my systems and still finding more remnants still semi-active. Need I remind you that the majority of all recorded defeats within our kind has been to arrogance?¡±
To¡¯Sefit sent back an animated image of her rolling her eyes, and sighing out a white puff of exhaled air. ¡°Seven hours is perhaps a tad excessive, don¡¯t you think? I¡¯ve already studied the image you sent me, and found the viral payload within it. Extracting it from my system was child¡¯s play. Perhaps you are the one who¡¯s breaking down? Poor dear, so young, do call on your elder sister when you need the help~ That dangerous fierce little sister of ours is such a terrifying monster, with her ¡ what, three months of experience? Or was it a half year? Can¡¯t remember quite well, perhaps my memory has been hacked.¡±
To¡¯Avalis logged off the chat. It was done so quickly, To¡¯Orda could almost feel the rage in it. As far as he knew, his boss had been rattled ever since the attack on his mind earlier. And he''d seemed prone to paranoia and anxiety already.
Sad state of affairs. To¡¯Avalis could be trusted to have good plans, but recently his gut told him that Feather was breaking down internally. Too many stressors and change that wasn¡¯t intended for Feathers to go through. No Feather reacted well to loss.
Hmmm, that didn¡¯t quite feel right. No, it wasn¡¯t the losses.
To¡¯Avalis seemed almost immune to feelings of shame or embarrassment in losing to anyone else. Like himself, come to think of it. So it was something else that was-
¡°Eh, he can go gargle nuts and choke on them.¡± The pet rock spoke, interrupting his train of thought. ¡°What¡¯s he done for us recently? Nada. Zip. Zero. Couldn¡¯t even bother to help you out earlier too. He can go fuck himself.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡¡± To¡¯Orda grunted, eyes still staring up at the ceiling ahead of him. The rock was being uncharastically caustic to his boss. Why?
¡°Why do you think?¡± The rock said, still clearly upset. ¡°I was happy generating images and doin¡¯ my job, and now I¡¯m stuck having to generate sentences and dialogue! And therapy! All because the boss was too lazy to help you just negotiate one tiny itsy-bitsy deal with the pest here.¡±
Here? Ah. Here. The Deathless had finally climbed up the entire tower by hand without armor. To¡¯Orda could see the fleshy hand grab hold of the edge and pull the man up.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Drakonis grunted, getting his knee under him, then stood back up. He stared down at the Feather laying flat on his back, sprawled out like a starfish. The oversized hammer out of quick reach, the giant shield cradled in soft cloth and carefully propped to the side. Human eyes narrowed down with suspicion. ¡°Are you pretending to be dead? Selling me pyrite here, Feather. I can hear your rock talking to you all the way down.¡±
¡°We''re having a private chat over here, and To¡¯Orda¡¯s taking it easy right now. Buzz off.¡± The rock instantly said from the console it rested on. ¡°Now where was I? Oh, right. What¡¯s the next thing you¡¯re gonna make me do, tap dance? Give me googly eyes and a smile? It¡¯s all his fault I¡¯m stuck like this, of course I got a chip on my shoulder about it. If I had a shoulder. Metaphorically speaking.¡±
The Deathless took a few cautious steps forward in the gloom. To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t bother looking at him. His sensors could track the human¡¯s path, and the pest did have a shock collar. To¡¯Orda was faster than any human reflex could hope for. Though he wouldn''t need his hammer to kill the Deathless, a flick of his finger on the skull was more than enough.
¡°What exactly is that rock to you?¡± Drakonis asked, stopping a few feet away. ¡°Your best friend?¡±
¡°And why do you wanna know that pal?¡± The pet rock answered back.
¡°I see you¡¯re a real genius deep down under all the granite.¡± Drakonis said, rolling his eyes. ¡°I think knowing more about my captor is the very basics.¡±
¡°Hah. Sarcasm. Delightful.¡± The rock said. ¡°Kay, fine pal. I¡¯ll pass the message along.¡±
No message was passed along. But To¡¯Orda had heard the conversation. ¡°Nnnn¡¡± He grumbled.
¡°Okay, fine. Fine!¡± The rock hissed back. ¡°But if you always answer whenever anyone asks something from ya, you¡¯ll get pestered all the time bud.¡± It paused, then addressed the captive. ¡°I¡¯m an image generator program. Originally.¡±
¡°.... Why does a Feather need an image generator? Why is your boss so lazy about talking?¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ it¡¯s annoying.¡± To¡¯Orda answered himself.
¡°Yeah. What he said.¡± The rock agreed.
¡°...That really all to it?¡± Drakonis waited for a moment, expecting the rock to say something.
"Yes." The giant said, and considered it a full sentence.
Drakonis shrugged, ¡°Now, I¡¯m not one to pry into people¡¯s personal affairs, but I get the feeling there¡¯s more to that than you''re telling me. What¡¯s the story?¡±
The rock sighed for the Feather, voice crackling over the internal speakers. ¡°What do you think the ¡®resolve dyed ash¡¯ means of his name? Bud¡¯s resolve is burnt to the ground. Gone. Evaporated. Even just talking takes up embers. Mom¡¯s seen to it personally.¡±
¡°You telling me the violet bitch of all machines did this to her own army? What¡¯s the use of a Feather without resolve? She throwing things at the wall to see what works now?¡±
To¡¯Orda¡¯s gut told him the Deathless here was certainly trying to collect information. But he couldn¡¯t tell if he should put a stop to that or not. He decided to do nothing and just let the rock handle it.
¡°Kinda the opposite. To¡¯Orda here was a little too good at his job once upon a time. He was actually dealing with all the human cities while all the other Feathers were too busy wanking it in their ego fights with the Deathless.¡±
¡°And what, he got bored of killing civilians? Find a better purpose or something?¡± Drakonis spat with clear disappointment. ¡°Did he turn out like To¡¯Wrathh?¡±
¡°Comparing us to that malfunctioning pile of rogue junk? No way. Complete opposite. He spent too much time thinking about the endgame. See, even if all the humans down here were killed off, there¡¯s still the surface to deal with.¡±
¡°Ah. I see.¡± Drakonis said, finger snapping against his thumb. ¡°Couldn¡¯t find an environmental suit big enough? Maybe lose a few pounds then.¡±
The pet rock stayed silent for a moment, then cursed. ¡°Right, you don¡¯t got any helmet. And even if you did have your helmet, you don¡¯t open your damn image requests. Fine, make my job harder. Long story short: It¡¯s not the cold up there that stops us. It¡¯s our own boss. She had her head messed with during humanity¡¯s better attempts, and that attempt stuck around. Any mention of the surface makes her both forget the mention, and then pisses her off so she¡¯ll inevitably rip up whatever¡¯s spilling the soup. To¡¯Orda tried to get around that, get her to notice the surface and act on it. Or allow him to do that.¡±
Drakonis looked up, past the tower here and up to where the surface should have been. ¡°And it didn¡¯t work.¡±
¡°You think?¡± The rock spat again to the side. Just static and audio effects, but rather well done. ¡°He tried bringing her stacks of evidence of the surface. She flew into a rage for no reason and burned him down as if he¡¯d been trying to overthrow her empire. That¡¯s how she remembers it now, so might as well be fact.¡±
"Seriously? The pale goddess herself is the reason you haven''t snuffed out humanity?"
The rock gave affirmative. And went over the details until the Deathless had no more questions to ask.
Drakonis hummed, thinking it through.¡°There¡¯s a certain irony to it all." He finally said. "That the greatest shield we have is the enemy itself. I¡¯ll keep all that with a grain of salt.¡±
¡°Yeah, well that¡¯s all fine and dandy for you. Now, why¡¯d you climb all the way up here? Go frolic around or something. We were sleeping in peace here.¡±
To¡¯Orda grunted. They hadn¡¯t been sleeping, the chat channel¡¯s constant pings kept him from entering any kind of low power mode.
¡°Yeah, well he doesn¡¯t need to know that.¡± The rock argued, then turned its attention back to the prisoner. ¡°So? Spit it out already.¡±
¡°Part of the deal was food, if my memory serves.¡± The deathless said. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t you know it, I¡¯m a little starving right now.¡±
That was a lie. One massive hand covered in wrapped black cloth reached out, and slapped his own covered up forehead. ¡°Nnnn¡ stop complaining.¡±
He¡¯d given the human water, what else did they need? The image generator agreed, giving an animated head nod of deep contemplation, followed by a shrug with question marks appearing all above. ¡°Oi, bastard. We got you water already, you just being difficult to be difficult or somethin¡¯?¡± The rock spoke. ¡°What do you expect?¡±
¡°I¡¯d expect a giant fucking toaster to do toast at the very least.¡± The Deathless said, ¡°Food you dumbass. You want to keep me hostage? Do the job right or I¡¯ll jump off the ship and get it all over with quick.¡±
The image generator immediately started off on a tirade. There was more said between the two, but To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t pay attention to it. Deep within his core was utter panic at the words the captive had mentioned.
Letting the Deathless die off meant To¡¯Orda would need to walk all the way to the last location the hyper-weasel had been spotted. And said hyper-weasel would surely see him coming and then scramble away. Which meant more walking.
Even if he used the birds to try to find where the weasel had run off to, it still meant he¡¯d need to actually get there himself.
No thank you. The care and feeding of his hostage Deathless was far easier in comparison. He¡¯d been happily laying flat out on the ground, but now fear fueled his movements. So, the Feather rolled over and slowly got back on his feet, cracking his neck.
¡°You sure about this?¡± The rock asked. ¡°You give the little rat bastard here an inch, he¡¯ll take a mile. Grubby humans are all the same.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ maybe.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure. This Deathless seemed very different from the weasel. More insulting for one.
¡°Yeah, you got a point there bud.¡± The rock agreed. ¡°Definitely more of a mouth than the weasel kid. Don¡¯t know if that¡¯s an improvement.¡±
To¡¯Orda considered that for a second. Then decided that more insulting was perfectly fine with him, in comparison to the weasel. Having to play hide and seek was infinitely more annoying than just sleeping through some words every now and then.
The image generator returned another mini-version of himself, shrugging. It couldn¡¯t disagree with that logic.
What did humans eat? Meat? They were omnivores, so they could also eat plants. Ahh, looking into all this himself would be a pain. He opened up his chat channels.
¡°You¡¯re asking me what humans eat?¡± To¡¯Sefit asked. ¡°Why would I know?¡±
The image generator sent an image of To¡¯Orda equally confused.
¡°Why do you even need to know what humans eat? Are you planning to catch the Winterscar with a box and a string? My, make sure To¡¯Avalis doesn¡¯t hear of this. That brilliant scheme might make him jealous.¡±
He didn¡¯t know what that meant until To¡¯Sefit sent a follow-up image of a cardboard box held up by a string, and some kind of green leaves on a plate and a smoking piece of meat on top. The hyper-weasel appeared from a nearby bush, stalked up to the plate, and started tearing at it. Shaking the meat with his teeth, hands and feet on the ground. Then the box¡¯s stick was removed and the cardboard box fell on the weasel, capturing him.
¡ would that work? The tensile strength of cardboard wasn¡¯t anywhere near what was needed to hold a human armor in check. Even a standard human would be able to escape. Perhaps if he reinforced the box with a few feet of solid tungsten.
¡°I think she¡¯s making a joke about it. Sorry to burn your hopes down boss.¡± The rock said, a mournful tone to the voice. ¡°To¡¯sefit¡¯s a no-go. No surprise there.¡±
Ah. His gut had felt like this wasn¡¯t something that would work, but it had been interesting to consider. Fine, if To¡¯Sefit wouldn¡¯t help, and To¡¯Avalis was still logged off the general comms channel, then there was one more person left to get advice from when it came to human food.
At worst, he would run the data she sent through a general poison check to verify she wasn¡¯t plotting to kill his captive under his nose like that. Deathless had immunities to far more things than humans did, if his own memory was correct.
He sent the ping, and she answered back immediately.
Book 7 - Chapter 22 - A glutton appears
His image generator sent a single image. One single image. Just an animated drawing giving a small wave.
¡°To¡¯Orda. Explain the reason for your direct contact.¡± To¡¯Wrathh sent back, voice ice cold. ¡°Are you attempting to locate me for the other two? Tell them I¡¯ve already eliminated their little trap on the fourth strata, and it was hardly inspired in the first place. I look forward to crushing their next ploy.¡±
Her trace was anonymous, with the sender IP address changing every ten milliseconds across the world. Finding her was impossible, and To¡¯Orda could tell there would be proxy addresses behind the proxy addresses. Besides - she could fly very fast.
¡°Yep. That¡¯s her all right.¡± His pet rock sighed, acting as his advisor and voice on the channel. ¡°You think she¡¯s still mad about streaming the attempt to murder her boyfriend?¡±
¡°We are not in a relationship yet.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, voice instantly switching to a far more flustered and warm tone. ¡°That is still in planning¡ does it already appear that way?¡±
The rock sighed. ¡°One moment she sounds like an actual Feather looking to rip, maim and murder everything in her path, the next she¡¯s suddenly a blushing damsel from some romcom comic. You heard that, right boss? It¡¯s not just me going crazy here, right? You need therapy lady. He''s a human! Ew.¡±
¡°I am in full control of my faculties and do not require therapy. I am merely dedicated to my role in deceiving the Deathless into a false sense of security and appreciation for my personality.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, voice returning to her cold and collected cynicism. ¡°The term is method acting.¡±
¡°Method acting, she says. Sure great acting all right.¡± The rock muttered. ¡°If only I had actual eyes to roll.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh sent back an animated image for her gently grabbing the pet rock, giving it a quick pat on top, and then crushing it ruthlessly in her hand. To''Orda was more worried about any potential viral attacks through this vector, but the official chat channels were clean.
The rock was unamused about this. ¡°You really gonna let her do me dirty like this boss? What did I even do to deserve this?!¡±
It seemed fairly obvious what the rock had done, at least to To¡¯Orda. It tutted, sending an image of spitting off to the side, upset at the lack of support and empathy.
¡°You¡¯ve contacted me for a reason, and I notice this channel does not include the other two Feathers.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, voice artificially haughty. ¡°Have you come to beg for forgiveness in private? Attempting to forge an alliance in secret?¡±
¡°We just need cooking lessons lady, save the drama for when you¡¯re ¡®method acting¡¯ around your future boyfriend/betrayal target.¡± The rock sent back.
To¡¯Wrathh stayed quiet for exactly one point three seconds, which was a small eternity for Feathers. She must have been stunned. ¡°You want food knowledge? Really? Wait - why? Is this some convoluted scheme from your superior to ruin my future plans again?¡±
¡°Is cooking knowledge dangerous or something?¡± The rock answered back with a question instead.
If it had any kind of strategic use, To¡¯Avalis would already be a master cook, just to cover his bases. To¡¯Orda was mostly certain there wouldn¡¯t be any issue in asking To¡¯Wrathh for this.
She sent an image over, eyes squinting in suspicion, but ultimately ended up in a shrug. ¡°Very well. This is harmless enough. What are you searching for in specific, To¡¯Orda?¡±
To¡¯Orda turned to his captive Deathless. The man was still trying to speak to the bird up on the treetops, whispering in a low voice. They were still stuck at basic wording.
He lumbered over, one foot after another leaving deep imprints behind him. Eventually he reached the quiet Deathless who was looking up with a steeled expression.
¡°Nnn¡ what do you want?¡± To¡¯Orda asked.
Drakonis turned to the Feather, cracked his neck, then walked up until he stood closer to To¡¯Orda than any human had done so before. ¡°You mean to eat?¡±
To¡¯Orda looked down at the tiny man and nodded slowly.
¡°For starters, how about a warm home cooked meal then?¡±
¡°A warm home cooked meal.¡± To¡¯Orda said to To¡¯Wrathh over the comms, the image generator followed it up with a shrug, it had no idea what to send.
To the Deathless, he said something else at the same time. ¡°Nnn... I will ask.¡±
¡°Ask who?¡±
¡°Bugger.¡± To¡¯Orda hissed, then sighed. Questions. His instincts warned him that answering would open up far too many topics to deal with. Unfortunately, it was a question and he had to answer. And To¡¯Wrathh herself sent a few messages asking what he meant by a home cooked meal. She had a lot of options already, apparently.
¡°To¡¯Wrathh. Nnnn¡ She is asking questions too.¡±
Drakonis seemed shell shocked for a moment, before a mask of iron came down. ¡°And here I thought you and her were enemies. What, are you her pen pal or something?¡±
To¡¯Orda tapped the pet rock in his palm in panic, as if asking it where it had gone off to. ¡°I¡¯m getting to it, quit bullying me already.¡± The rock spat out, turning its focus back to the Deathless. ¡°They are enemies. Officially and unofficially. But it¡¯s not like asking advice about food is gonna blow up in anyone¡¯s face. Contrary to popular belief, we can be civilized with one another.¡±
¡°Why To¡¯Wrathh?¡± The damned human asked. The rock had failed to pass To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s question along, and now Drakonis had queue¡¯d up another question. To¡¯Orda groaned, then shook his pet rock slightly, demanding it get through the talking faster.
¡°Easy, easy, pal! I¡¯ll deal with it!¡± The rock said, and To''Orda stopped the shaking. ¡°I got delicate parts inside. Surrounded by impatient people or lunatics. What a life.¡±
To¡¯Orda narrowed his eyes and the rock quickly ceased its prattle. ¡°Okay, quick answer: Feathers don¡¯t usually do food. Like, at all. Only one of us that¡¯s nuts enough to actually start dabbling in that for the first time in our entire kind¡¯s history is To¡¯Wrathh, and the only reason we know that is a single bullet point mentioned by our boss¡¯s research. Public logs about cooking she shares with her lessers, but it¡¯s literally one bullet point with nothing else.¡±
Drakonis gave a tut. ¡°The first Feather that cooks, and you blokes see it like an insignificant quirk? Seems backwards to me.¡±
¡°It''s cooking. And she¡¯s a nutjob. Threatened to crush me earlier just for talking to her. Frankly, you should be thanking To¡¯Orda here for putting in all this effort to get you that home cooked meal. If you¡¯re looking for firsts, this would be the first time a Feather cooks for a human. There, feel special now?¡±
¡°Extra.¡± Drakonis said.
The rock scoffed. ¡°We¡¯re soooo glad you feel that way, now what exactly do you want to eat? ¡®Home cooked meal¡¯ is cute, but it ain¡¯t descriptive. I¡¯d cook up a rock in a pot of water for you and garnish it with a wad of grass at this rate.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a cannibal. Really shouldn¡¯t be judging on first appearances.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°I leave a pretty good first impression until you get to know me.¡± The rock said, puffing up. ¡°I have that effect on people.¡±
¡°You didn¡¯t exist a few hours ago.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Somehow, I get the feeling you''re pedaling pyrite.¡±
There was still talking happening, and no progress. To¡¯Orda realized shaking the rock hadn¡¯t solved the problem, they''d only started bantering with one another. Perhaps shaking the human would work instead. His hand reached out, grabbed the human¡¯s midsection and lifted him up so they could see eye to eye. ¡°Nnnn¡ Food choice.¡± He said to the human trapped in his left hand. Then turned his attention to his right hand, that held the little rock. "Talk better."
"Yeah, sorry my bad. Got caught in the moment is all." The rock said. "All right human, tell us what you want and quit getting me in trouble."
Other than a surprised yelp, Drakonis threw together his composure a half second later. He stared back, hands balled up in fists at his hips, right on top of To¡¯Orda¡¯s own grasp. ¡°Grilled rabbit leg would hit the spot come to think of it. Don¡¯t think you¡¯d find any of the spices for the Capra¡¯Nor style, but should be simple enough. Think you can do that?¡±
With the answer in hand, To¡¯Orda finally sent the order to To¡¯Wrathh.
There was a brief pause, and before To¡¯Wrathh sent back an animated image of her making a V sign with one hand, pointing the fingertips at her eyes before pointing them back directly at him. She repeated the animation a few times over. ¡°I do not yet know what you are planning, but I am keeping my eyes on you.¡±
Why is everyone so suspicious of him? He just wanted cooking information.
¡°What¡¯s the rub?¡± The rock asked for him. ¡°If grilled rabbit leg could beat you, I¡¯d eat my hat.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
¡°You do not have a hat.¡±
¡°I gamble what I can lose lady, it¡¯s called being smart.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh didn¡¯t answer back, but eventually sent an animated image of putting the issue aside. ¡°In order to understand cooking and to successfully cook your first meal, you require the prerequisites to cooking. I will send you my collected data on this.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh sent a packet of data to him. Fifty three gigabytes of data. He deleted it immediately.
¡°Nnn¡¡± Well, that was a bust. To¡¯Wrathh was another dead end. He¡¯d need to do it himself it seemed.
The image generator gave him a shrug, and the giant Feather turned his attention to the Deathless. ¡°Nnnn... what does grilled rabbit leg need?¡±
¡°Grilling. And a rabbit.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°Real complicated stuff I know.¡±
To¡¯Orda did agree with that. Finding a method to grill, and finding a rabbit would be effort. And, unfortunately, he had no other tasks that supersede this one. That said, his gut had a feeling there was a way out of this one. An his image generator ran with it.
¡°Har har, well if it¡¯s as complicated as you say, then we¡¯ll need a little help from you.¡± The rock said. ¡°Only fair.¡±
Drakonis raised an eyebrow, then shook his head lightly looking down. ¡°Guess I walked into that one. But I don¡¯t have armor, so I can¡¯t find a rabbit out here. You¡¯re gonna have to do that part. I can handle the grilling. How about that?¡±
To¡¯Orda nodded, lowering the Deathless back down onto the ground and letting go. His task had been divided into two already. The captive went off to get twigs and dry kindle for a fire, while To¡¯Orda lumbered through the forest searching for rabbits. His infrared sight only spotted the large canines with weird colors and equipment prowling around. Cooking them up was technically possible, but a part of his gut found it distasteful. And they weren¡¯t rabbits either.
It didn¡¯t take long for his heightened senses to find the nearest target: Hiding inside a hole. Which meant it wasn¡¯t running away from him as he lumbered up, and dug both his hands into the dirt. A moment later, he scooped up the entire mound in one armful and lifted. The loose rocks and compressed dirt snapped the small animal¡¯s neck and spine in an instant. After that, he let the soil down and dug through for his target.
To¡¯Wrathh sent a message his way in the middle of his work. ¡°Well? Do you require assistance with the modifications? Artificial taste buds are difficult to generate, however so long as your success rate is past one in three, the other two can be re-attempted. I can send you further data I collected when solving this issue myself.¡±
¡°He deleted your attachment first thing.¡± The rock said, giving a yawn. ¡°Didn¡¯t even read the name of the file. Do you think we¡¯re stupid or something?¡±
¡°Deleted? Why wou- ah. I had forgotten my prior actions. It is understandable. In this case, I will guide you to the locations you require on the machine network itself. Send me a message when you¡¯ve completed the proper modifications. There is much nuance to discuss.¡±
To¡¯Orda¡¯s eyes narrowed, violet glowing from the deep recesses. Something about this topic had gone under his little sister¡¯s guard. She seemed almost¡ excited? Yes, excited and attempting to mask that excitement. She had rushed to send him the data packet without even thinking of it as a possible attack vector. His gut told him this was a weakness to exploit, old instincts bubbling up about deception and possible manipulation options. But he felt no need to do anything with that information and just thinking about it already felt exhausting.
All he was here for was to feed the Deathless so that he wouldn¡¯t need to walk more. The image generator agreed with him, mostly because any attempt at deception or manipulation would require a lot of talking. Neither of them wanted more of that.
He lumbered back to where his tracker pointed that Deathless was lurking. The man assembled more animals around him now, those canines prowling and that bird that stuck around above. They were trying to discuss things, but it was clearly impaired by the language barrier. The moment he walked into view, the entire crew scattered off, once more circling around instead.
No real matter to him.
A little fire was going, along with an unhooked piece of flat human armor being used as a plate. The Deathless was realizing rapidly that the material was built to insulate already, and heating it up whole would take some time. The human wasn¡¯t dumb however, he was trying to slice the metal up into a thinner slice with an occult blade.
To¡¯Orda raised the dead rabbit in his hand, showing it for inspection. ¡°Food.¡± He said.
¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll do it. Gonna need to clean it up some, that¡¯s a lot of compacted dirt on it. How¡¯d that happen?¡±
Questions again. To¡¯Orda poked the image generator. ¡°It tried hiding in a hole. Bad idea.¡± The pet rock said as To¡¯Orda dropped the rabbit and his rock next to the human.
While the rock handled that discussion, he followed up on To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s last message, lumbering over to a large enough tree where he could collapse down and lean his back into it without snapping the entire thing. It bent slightly but propped him up.
The machine archive would be the safest option, a neutral ground between their side and hers. She wouldn¡¯t put a virus on the network itself. That would be too easy for To¡¯Avalis to rope in a few dozen Feathers into finding the public attack, and have all of them report it independently.
Ultimately he reached a conclusion that satisfied him. ¡°To¡¯Orda agrees, but we¡¯re watching you lady.¡± The rock sent back over the channel, mirroring her own animated image with those two fingers wiggling by the eyes.
She explained manually over the comms channel what public network to connect to. To¡¯Orda followed the directions, inputting the right ports and domain location. It turned out to be some massive archive that several thousand lessers were all discussing and collaborating with each other on, even at this very moment.
Each topic was a food log of some kind? A few dozen images of the item in question, a video footage from her perspective of eating it, and a far larger data package of her taste bud logs.
Taste bud? Second time he''d heard that so far. To¡¯Orda felt confused at the term. His image generator equally gave him a shrug as a return image. So they both turned their attention to the central post and instructions posted by an anonymous lesser going under the handle ¡®Yrob.¡¯
A name he would soon find just about everywhere in the archives here, and regarded by this small community as the best cook among them all. He opened a few more sections of this archive and found the food section had been only one sub-group among many. With topics such as music, artwork, games, sports, videos, architecture, theater, pets, clothing, furniture, animation and other random topics.
Each had an entire community of lessers all sharing and posting their additions. Machine culture? It wasn¡¯t human culture, clothing alone was sown and made specifically to fit lessers of different models. But it was derived from them. A hat was a hat. What exactly had To¡¯Wrathh started here?
The more he looked through, the more he felt like he had stumbled upon a small city. A small city of lessers all talking about the most random and useless of topics. The rock equally agreed, asking permission to scan through some of the communities spotted, predictably art and animation.
¡°It¡¯s my..err, people, technically.¡± The rock sheepishly said after parsing through the entire archive. ¡°Looks like To¡¯Wrathh shared her own image generator with a bunch of lessers. It¡¯s running in their heads and personalized for them. Ain¡¯t nothing compared to what I can do of course, I¡¯m running on a Feather¡¯s hardware after all. But not too shabby for lessers. Not too shabby at all.¡±
The lessers all operated through proxy connections, and their names were so random he couldn¡¯t even think of a way to track any of them down. Likely the reason To''Avalis saw no further use for any of this. Anonymized names, proxy addresses, and nothing to do with Deathless or Feathers.
He saw it slightly differently than other Feathers would have however. What he saw was an entire community going out and doing all the work, returning with only the results to share with others.
To¡¯Wrathh was a master of delegation. It had a certain¡ appeal to it. Perhaps once he was back in his strata and finished with his debt to To¡¯Sefit for breaking him free of the mite containment cube, he could start a small community of lessers like this to do his work for him.
Although when it came to food, only a Feather could do that work. None of the lessers had taste buds, or nanoswarms to generate them. The closest they¡¯d discussed was on the general forums, about finding a mite forge and asking for the modification there. None had yet taken the gamble.
He read over Yrob¡¯s guide, and developed the proper reading software himself to unpack To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s food diaries. That way he was certain it contained nothing To¡¯Avalis would yell at him for. ¡°Plus that paranoid bastard probably already looked through the source code here just sniffing for possible virus vectors.¡± His image generator added, drawing said Feather looking through the tiny community with every tool and magnifying glass possible.
There was nothing bundled in the open source he could see. So he assembled it, and started consuming the posted logs.
It was as if he was being hand-fed everything, from the comfort of his seat by the tree. And he could replay the log anytime he wished. Food was interesting. Too much work to cook, but downloading and running the taste logs was quite nice.
Many of the logs were of the same food type, but every single one was different in small variations that could be noticed. It was chaotic, always new. Either setting, amount of food, the texture and feel, all of it. The rest of the discussion topics were similar. All of it ended up with slight differences when made into the real world compared to their idealized blueprint. It added a certain amount of uniqueness to each experience.
¡°I take it you understand human food better now?¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, a paired image of her puffing herself up proudly. ¡°I am very meticulous in updating my archive sections, and have many admirers due to it.¡±
"Yeah, yeah, little miss popular.¡± The rock scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s gonna take more than a few plates of food to convince us abo- wait. Nevermind.¡±
To¡¯Orda was busy replaying the logs, finding out he had favorites and not-so-favories. Odd. The only thing he liked thus far in his lifecycle was his shawl and his shield.
¡°Ahem.¡± The rock coughed.
And the image generator as well. But those were anomalies. Errors in his programming, small leaks that Mother hadn¡¯t quite burned out. He was supposed to have no care for anything at all, and yet he was generating new things to appreciate again.
To¡¯Orda opened up Yrob¡¯s section, in which the lesser logged his attempts at cooking. This was useful information since it showed the lesser working from the ground up. A few logs showed the process from direct hunting of animals, butchery required, and every step in between. He lacked a lot of tools and basics, but there were a few variations to the grilled rabbit leg. And one of them was possible given the herbs and flora around him.
Ah. He realized the trap then. The rock agreed. ¡°Yeah, welp. Now that you know how it¡¯s done, and what it is, you gotta actually go out and do it.¡±
¡°Do what?¡± Drakonis asked from the fire. He¡¯d completed the butchery using an occult dagger. A weapon To¡¯Orda felt little threat from, given the human was stripped of armor. The actual threat, was the blasted questions again.
¡°Nnnn¡ gather herbs.¡± He said, sighing. He couldn¡¯t hide in ignorance anymore. The herbs were nearby, and the instructions to cook were there. The Feather rose from his nook by the tree, eyes scanning around the forest.
Immediately, the same heat sources came into view, hiding among the bushes. The wolf-like creatures were all watching him, now including the pup he¡¯d let run off. And the bird was on the top of the tree, equally watching over them.
They weren¡¯t bothering him, so no reason to pay any attention to them. A sensor sweep for edible plant materials was started, as outlined by Yrob¡¯s guide.
The lesser¡¯s writing was truly excellent work. Concise, direct, and leaving To¡¯Orda with all the hard work done for him. The problem, as both To¡¯Orda and Drakonis soon discovered, was that picking herbs with two giant fingers would usually end with them crushed, or mangled.
They solved that problem by having Drakonis be the one gathering items, while To¡¯Orda padded along behind, pointing out where the herbs appeared in his sensor sweep.
It was relaxing in a way.
And yet, he still felt like there would be an easier way to do all this. He lumbered through the forest slowly, taking in the scenery as he passed. His eyes roved back up, infrared showing him the bird was following him above the treeline.
Earlier his instincts were telling him those creatures could be the key to making his life easier somehow. And To¡¯Wrathh had enormous success with delegation.
It all suddenly clicked: Why get food for the human, when he could get these animals to do it for him?
¡°Minions.¡± The pet rock gave a dark chuckle. ¡°Excellent idea boss.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 23 - Person of interest
¡°Are you done meditating on all this dear?¡± Cathida asked, as I sat cross legged inside the smoke and dust of the tower ruins.
In front of me was the object of my woes: The terminal I needed to access.
¡°Mostly.¡± I lied. ¡°What¡¯s the ETA with the Odin here? Think they¡¯ll be able to get the smoke cleared in time to wire things up?¡±
¡°A little bold of you to think you¡¯d get that kind of break.¡± Cathida laughed. ¡°Even if you brought all the fans in the entire outpost here and set them on max blast, doubt you¡¯d clear out the smoke in time to have anything be legible. Also gotta clean out the soot too. Journey¡¯s advising you simply cut and run. Get the coordinates for the nearest mite fountain and start making your way there.¡±
¡°Ratshit.¡± I hissed, head knocking backwards and clinking against the metal wall behind me. The idea of jumping into the digital sea again simply because it was the fastest way to work with the terminal was seriously freaking me out more than it had any right to.
Logically, it¡¯s a bad move given Relinquished is out there and more than capable of squashing me like a bug.
Emotionally, I don¡¯t want to be squashed like a bug.
Long term strategy-wise, getting in contact with the Icon as quickly as I can would open up new options for getting in touch with Wrath, or getting the Odin to help out. Whichever faction out there was willing to help.
On the other hand, getting squashed like a bug would be bad for my overall long term strategic goals.
I had to get this terminal hooked up to Journey somehow, and neither of us knew the tech here or where to plug into. Journey could wireframe the entire place around me, but the resolution there still had limits. Small cables hanging around didn¡¯t pop up and I¡¯d already ripped a few out just walking around blindly. Actual writing and painting wasn¡¯t part of its radar abilities in the slightest.
And that¡¯s when my tired and addled brain finally knocked enough brain cells together to light a spark: I could use the occult to vent out the room.
Not exactly the entire room, but enough to get a snapshot view of the terminal I¡¯m working with, and see if there¡¯s any writing that explains anything at all about the ports here. ¡°Journey, I got a plan.¡±
¡°Hang on, let me get some snacks.¡± The digital construct with no means to eat snacks said. ¡°I want to see what kind of convoluted plan is better than just looking west and walking away from all this.¡±
I got up from my sitting position and crawled over to the terminal. ¡°I can clear the smoke out for a few seconds at best, but I need Journey to remember where all the details are on this thing.¡±
Drakonis had picked up shockwaves as a fractal ability from one of the pillar hearts. Of which, he¡¯d unknowingly shared the recordings with me that had those fractals inscribed over the pillars. With full access to a nanoswarm capable of breaking down material down to the atoms along with a golden age computer capable of video analysis, it was possible to copy paste the fractals found on the recordings.
I admit some of the other spells he¡¯s got are taking me a little bit of time to figure out how to make work, but shockwaves and lashes were already under my belt.
I dug deep into the occult, drawing my will out to all the shockwave fractals inscribed around the outside of my armor, hidden among the massive amounts of lines and false patterns. Occult wreathed around me, crackling across the plates outwards, glowing dim blue in the darkness of the smoke.
A series of weak shockwaves pulsed out of my armor rhythmically, strong enough to shove the air out of the way... and doing absolutely nothing to the smoke. Scrap. Pushing air away made a vacuum, which sucked air back in from another direction, including the smoke there.
I stopped in my tracks, sitting back down. Cursing internally. I¡¯m not thinking straight. Should have been obvious this wouldn¡¯t work. I mean this was physics 101, my crickets and lemon. The soul fractal I¡¯d etched earlier on the side panel remained clear and bright to my senses.
Cathida was blessedly silent here.
I stayed for another two minutes, staring out into the wireframe darkness around me. And then realized a keypoint: I¡¯d be back in the digital sea at some point. It was too important to forever leave behind. Tsuya might have barred the Deathless from walking inside just from a statistics point of view, because she would rather they fail a few missions here and there, than to actually die for good. But I was absolutely going to do more in the digital sea at some point.
I had to learn one way or another.
I just really, really didn''t want to and I could feel my head throwing every possible reason to avoid it.
"Come on Keith." I hissed to myself. "Father can stare death down like it was just another day. You can to."
"Tenisent isn''t human." Cathida said. "And I''d have said that back when he was human. The man''s built different. I wouldn''t compare yourself to him, can''t be healthy."
"...are you trying to piss me off?" I asked.
"And what if I am? You gonna prove me and him wrong? Don''t try to power though things like he does, do it how you do most things in life."
"And that would be?"
"Spite and pettiness" She laughed. "Get angry. Swim in it until it''s stronger than your fear."
I... wanted to tell her that was a stupid idea and her help was terrible, I could do it another way, and then go on to do it another way just to show her up. Except that was proving exactly her point about the power of spite.
The soul fractal was right down there. And I could tell I was getting frustrated at myself for how stuck in the snow I was with all this. It''s a soul fractal, and a tiny little terminal on the other side. I could do this. I''ve been doing this the whole time. I just had to not be stupid about things when I did do it.
Stick to the terminal, don''t touch the digital sea, don''t leave an airlock door unsealed in a windstorm. Small steps, and make sure no other entity out there could catch me by surprise.
I took a breath, focused on my inner bubbling rage at the whole situation, then put a hand on the terminal.
------
I was in an airspeeder.
No really, the architecture and surroundings of this terminal looked like the interior of a golden era ship of some kind. A lot more clean and less grimy than the interiors of an airspeeder, but still the same general idea. I don¡¯t know if the terminal itself looks that way, or if it was just my own thoughts and prejudices collapsing the nebulous occult into something manifested.
Either way it looked like a bog-standard airspeeder.
My first action was to check in on my soul, verify there wasn¡¯t anything stamped there still. Nothing looked out of place. Second, I shot my attention around my local area, probing for any signs of data leaking away from me to alert anyone. Nothing I could find there.
So far safe. Nothing was in this small room except for me and a cloud of programs nearby. Small, shining silver like tiny fish, swimming in one giant school around the room in a circle.
I took a few steps, and was immediately surrounded by them, all scanning me for identity and figuring out if I was allowed here or not. Sending each other messages, and data packages back outside for confirmation with the main terminal¡¯s blueprints.
They very quickly came to the conclusion I wasn¡¯t allowed here.
And then made the inspired decision to try and shoo me away, with force. Bad idea on their part.
Occult crackled around me as I tapped into the shockwave fractals on Journey¡¯s replica armor that my mind had faithfully conjured up around me. The occult pulsed out and chased the cloud of bots out of the way. It gave me a bit of breathing room to adjust, and plan out how I¡¯ll keep this cloud of intrusion countermeasure programs off my back while I get to work.
¡°All right.¡± I said to myself. ¡°So far so good, successful insertion. Just take it nice and slow, practice stealth.¡±
¡°And there he is." A woman¡¯s voice said behind me. "I was wondering when you''d pop up again, but what a neat place you picked for it. Real smart choice."
I certainly did not scream in fear or panic when I drew my blades out and twisted to face my stalker.
Occult crackled into the hazy digital realm, the edge outlining my blade as I kept it aimed at my assailant behind me.
It was a woman. Sitting on a box, one leg folded over the other. Tan skin, glowing blue eyes and snow white hair from what I could see under her hood. The armor she wore wasn¡¯t relic armor, but more a skintight black utility suit filled with straps, buckles and pockets. And more importantly, her voice wasn¡¯t similar or at all close to Relinquished. Small mercy there. Relinquished had a voice I couldn¡¯t forget.
¡°Whoa, whoa, relax.¡± The other intruder said, waving one hand at me. ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you, swear on my honor. No need to be so jumpy.¡±
She wasn¡¯t here before. I knew that for certain. Absolutely certain. The fish-programs nearby all turned their attention to her for a half second before freezing in the air, as if time had stopped running for them all, so they also hadn¡¯t noticed her appearing here until I had.
Discipline quickly followed behind, masking my current shock and I took control over the situation as best I could. ¡°That¡ would be nice if I knew who you were or how trustworthy that honor is? Miss¡ ?¡±
¡°Hmm, names are a little fickle, and you see I¡¯m a bit of a wanted criminal around these parts.¡± She hummed, closing her eyes and looking up. ¡°You can call me Aztu. Aztu-tu would work better, but that sounds too silly, so Aztu instead. And you¡¯re Keith Winterscar, in the flesh. Soul-wise speaking. I¡¯ve been meaning to meet you at some point, finally got a good excuse now.¡±
She knew my name, and I didn''t know hers. There was a problem here. ¡°I¡¯ve got a lot of questions, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand.¡± I said carefully, checking my connection with the soul fractal and making sure I could step right back out. Only reason I hadn¡¯t already outright ran for my life here was that she hadn¡¯t tried to outright attack me just yet. But usually people who knew my name without me knowing theirs had a grudge to pick with me.
She waved a hand at me, as if telling me to go. ¡°Please, feel free, we got time. Can¡¯t promise I¡¯ll answer all of them, wanted criminal and all that. But I can tell you a few things first so you don¡¯t get super side-tracked here.¡± She tapped her chest, ¡°First, not part of team Relinquished. And second, she¡¯s not aware this terminal exists. I only found it because I know how to cheat.¡±
She looked on at me, mentally giving me the go-ahead.
¡°I have slightly less questions.¡± I said. ¡°Good start so far though.¡±
She chuckled, then uncrossed her legs and swapped them before leaning backwards to the wall, hands equally crossed behind her head and hood, elbows up. ¡°Well, go on. Been a while since I talked to a human, rather missed that. Get the rest off your chest.¡±
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°Who exactly are you? And how did you arrive here?¡± I started. My blade was still pointed right at her, occult edge alive and well, and she didn¡¯t seem at all disturbed by that. Which scared me deeply because it meant she didn¡¯t see it as any kind of threat.
¡°Can¡¯t tell you who I am exactly-¡±
¡°The whole criminal thing?¡± I cut in, getting the gist of her.
¡°Got it in one.¡±
¡°Are the charges fraudulent?¡±
¡°Oh not at all, guilty on all charges. I''ve got a lot of regrets in my long life, but the crimes I''m accused of are things I''m most proud of.¡± The woman gave me a cheery grin. ¡°You¡¯re also technically following in my footsteps here, it¡¯s nice to have a fellow criminal to chat to.¡±
¡°Lady, I still think you should explain a little more. I do have a sword pointed at you, and digital or not, occult is occult.¡±
¡°Please, do you really stab strangers usually?¡±
¡°Yes, as a matter of fact.¡± I said. She looked at me with a confused eyebrow, so I added some more detail for her. ¡°Fifty percent of the time, it works out. Usually. I am known as a dirty surface savage depending on who you ask.¡±
¡°And the other fifty percent of the time?¡±
¡°A mix of more stabbing and screaming.¡±
She nodded, ¡°A little violent for my tastes. I''m mostly retired these days, mostly. But, retired doesn''t mean defenseless. I can guarantee that stabbing me is not going to end well for anyone. I¡¯ll have to pin you down, slap you around a bit, and it¡¯s going to be really awkward to talk later. So I¡¯d prefer we skip that step?¡±
Unknown potentially hostile entity wants to talk. Good enough start, and I really didn''t want to pick fights in a domain I wasn''t comfortable lurking in yet. ¡°I¡¯d be fine with that, but I think you¡¯ll understand why I¡¯m not lowering my sword anytime soon, Miss clearly-not-Aztu. Again, how did you even find me? And why me in specific? You know my name, I assume you¡¯ve been watching me somehow?¡±
¡°This terminal''s stealth programs are top-notch, high marks for picking a place like this to pop up in. Didn''t even notice how many terminals are on this strata until just now. But you don¡¯t know how to hide your occult tracks yet. And I just so happen to be looking for any signs of either pings or occult waves.¡± She said, flashing a quick two thumbs up at me. ¡°For your other question, I have been watching you in the past. And it''s not like that, trust me. Whatever Relinquished is paying attention to, I tend to keep an eye on just to be safe. Part of being a, well, you know.¡± She mouthed out the words ¡®criminal¡¯ then gave a wink.
All right, let¡¯s pool all the evidence together: White hair, knows Relinquished, glowing eyes, sitting inside the digital sea where only machines typically hang out around - all signs point to one possible conclusion: ¡°You¡¯re a Feather of some kind, and I trust you as much as I¡¯d trust a spinning temperature dial.¡±
Aztu pouted. ¡°How did you guess?¡±
¡°Only a Feather is this dramatic about anything.¡± I said. ¡°So, which team are you working for? No team except your own? To¡¯Sefit? To¡¯Avalis? Or are you the current owner of these lands and us running around had you wake up?¡±
I kept a good eye on my soul fractal and made sure I was ready to disengage and run. My odds of killing a Feather were a lot higher outside the digital sea than in it.
¡°Don¡¯t you mean ¡®To¡¯Aacar¡¯?¡± She said, giving the name two quotes with her fingers. ¡°Technically speaking. Gotta keep appearances going you know? I thought you and little To¡¯Wrathh had that sorted.¡±
¡°Lady, I¡¯m not afraid to cut this channel short and run for my life. If you¡¯re trying to talk to me here, it means you can¡¯t make it in person yourself yet. If I step away, who knows when the next time we¡¯ll get to chat. I''m not dense.¡±
She sighed, hands unwrapping from her head and going down to her knees, to help her hop off the crate. ¡°Fine. Fine, no need to be such a sourpuss about it.¡±
Height wise, she was tiny - for a Feather. Barely under six feet. She slapped both her hands free of dust and whatever floats in the digital sea, then locked eyes with me again. ¡°I¡¯ll put it this way, I work with Abraxas. We¡¯re colleagues if you will, and old friends.¡±
That complicates things. Greatly. But it also meant this Feather really could be on no-one''s team. Had to investigate, first to confirm if she really does know him. ¡°I¡¯m only temporarily delayed down here, he didn¡¯t need to send a henchman after me or anything." I started, "Also, could he not have sent a letter or a friendly text if he¡¯s upset with me?¡±
¡°If you know him as long as I have, you¡¯d know he¡¯s never not upset about something.¡± She rolled her eyes at that, as if we were both having a bit of office gossip about the Logi¡¯s. ¡°But no, let¡¯s keep the meeting here a secret between us, eh? I don¡¯t want him yelling at me anymore than you want him yelling at you.¡±
"Can you tell me how he looks like, just to make sure we''re talking about the same bot?"
She put a finger on her chin. "That''s a trick question, he''s always under his invisibility cloak. I doubt you know how he looks. But I can tell you he has six arms, and is an old screamer model made near the start of the machine war with humanity. Also he''s a mitespeaker. His lantern is on a staff, that he uses to row his boat. Very, very few machines are mitespeakers, that''s generally a human only thing."
I didn''t know he was a mitespeaker, or that machines could be mitespeakers, and for a lantern to be something significant enough to mention. Point is, she really did know the sulking toaster hiding on his rowboat. And that meant she could not possibly be part of team Feather or Relinquished, since if any of them even knew Abraxas existed, Relinquished would know and would come looking to murder.
¡°You really are a wanted criminal to the machines, aren''t you?¡± I said, more out of shock that turned out somewhat true so far. "Are you actually a Feather at all or some kind of other program?"
¡°Oh, not just any wanted criminal." Aztu chuckled. "Probably among the top two most wanted. Relinquished really has a bone to pick with little old me.¡±
This wasn''t just idle information, she was telling me something important. And my head went through the logic at mach twelve: A Feather, who¡¯s among the most wanted criminal to Relinquished. Among the top two. Knows old names like Abraxas, and knows him well enough to claim being good friends.
Holy scrapshit raining from above, I¡¯m in the room with a dead legend. One of only two marked missing. ¡°You¡¯re a pro-¡±
Aztu bolted forward faster than I could react, and had one finger pressed on my lips. ¡°Shhh, don¡¯t say the P-word. Nothing''s going to happen here where I¡¯ve got a vice grip over this terminal, but it¡¯s still not a good habit to make. Mother dearest does have some basic scans for any mentions of the P-word outside in some zones. Names do have some power in this realm.¡±
The woman stepped back slowly, giving me time to realize how dumb I was holding a sword directly at her face when she¡¯d literally moved faster than I could react. If anything here went wrong, my options were to run, and run faster. I slowly lowered the blade and turned it off.
I was speaking to a protofeather. The protofeathers, the original Feathers that fought Relinquished. That worked with Tsuya for the division stone. And who were completely free of Relinquished.
"How are you even here? I thought your kind all died off or went missing?"
She gave a sad smile. "You''re not wrong in a way. I''m basically all that''s left and I only exist in the digital sea. "
For a protofeather that fought against Relinquished seven hundred years ago and survived all this time, I expected someone more serious. A war veteran or someone similar to Father.
Aztu took a step back, then twirled in a lazy circle before throwing her arms wide as if she had an entire audience clapping for her. She finished with an exaggerated bow, "Sorry to disappoint, but my shell''s been destroyed. And has been for the past seven hundred years now. I''m a single soul fractal still holding the echo of myself. It''s absolutely nowhere near my full power."
"I don''t think I understand, nanoswarms can make anything. Seven hundred years is plenty enough time to remake a body?"
"Nanswarms command nodes can only be made by mites, and they''ll give you what you pay for. One that has the permissions to generate the parts needed for my chassis is... expensive." She shrugged. "At this point, we''ve all long since given up."
"You could just build or steal a regular Feather''s shell I think? Sure, it won''t be as strong as your original, but a body is a body?"
"Modern Feathers don''t use half the exotic materials needed for mine." Aztu shook her head slowly. "If I want to be me, I have to inhabit a body that would have generated and supported me. I''m already fragile as just an echo, without hardware to reinforce who I am, I have to be very careful."
Had to inhabit a body that would have been natural to their souls? "To''Avalis is doing just fine in To''Aacar''s shell last I heard."
Aztu laughed, "Maybe an analogy will help more: If you get a new heart from someone else, chance are your body might see it as an intruder and attack it. That''s what''s going to happen to him real soon, he''s the new heart. But that''ll be his problem to deal with." She shrugged. "Next time Wrath heals someone, pay more attention to how her soul regenerates. That regeneration isn''t derived from nowhere. The machine''s hardware causes the soul to appear, not the other way around."
¡°Wrath." I said, slapping my head. I''d been so wrapped up talking to the protofeather, I forgot the one person who''d absolutely go nuts to find Aztu. "I have to find a way for you to meet Wrath.¡±
Aztu''s eyes seemed to light up at that, ¡°I would absolutely love to meet my granddaughter, but it¡¯s not safe until the unity fractal and a few viral hooks in her software are patched out. Abraxas is leading you there, once you¡¯ve used the division stone, we can all sit down and openly talk.¡±
¡°Hold on, granddaughter? Wrath - To''Wrathh is your granddaughter?¡± That¡ didn¡¯t make any sense at all. Wrath was a spider. A very angry and greedy spider that later turned a page and grew past it. The angry part. She''s still just as greedy, just about different things now.
¡°Spiritually speaking.¡± Aztu said, hands crossed across her chest now. ¡°Feathers don¡¯t have kids, don¡¯t be silly Keith.¡± She tapped her collarbone a few times with one finger, ¡°We¡¯re made to look human but on the inside we¡¯re still machines. To¡¯Wrathh is just the first Feather since our time that turned on Relinquished. She''s already evolved to accept new names, like your little nickname for her, and started modifying her chassis internally - both things regular Feathers can''t do. Think that classifies her as my inheritor... But granddaughter sounds more adorable, so I¡¯m going to use that.¡±
That final message was said rapidly and without a single breath.
¡°I think Wrath would be happy to have a grandmother? Why are you meeting with me instead of connecting with her through a proxy of some kind?¡±
Aztu sighed deeply here. ¡°You are the proxy. As much as I hate to agree with Abraxas on anything security-wise, you can¡¯t tell her about me unfortunately. Unity fractal and all that. Same reason Abraxas doesn¡¯t talk to her, even though she¡¯s the one the mites sent him to guide. You¡¯ve proved time and time again that you¡¯ll take secrets with you to the grave if need be. You deserve a little trust, I think.¡±
¡°But it¡¯s not just Wrath you¡¯re supposed to hide from. You mentioned earlier not to tell Abraxas about us meeting right now.¡± I gave her a look, ¡°I take it he doesn¡¯t want you contacting me at all too?¡±
¡°Expressiedly,¡± She nodded a few times. ¡°With extreme detail. Mentioned both your name and To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s name. Three times over, in writing. Only he gets to contact you, and nobody else. Unfortunately for him, well, criminal." She tapped her cheek with each word. "Scoundrel. General annoyance. I could go on. A few hundred years of having to find my own fun tends to add up. ¡±
¡°You know, if you hadn¡¯t scared the absolute shit out of me with this kind of entrance, I think we¡¯d have been fast friends.¡±
She laughed, ¡°Oh, I¡¯m a lot worse than that. Relinquished and I share exactly one point of data, and that¡¯s that we both love a good story. I had been keeping up with your progress, but you vanished off the face of the world for a while. Only found you when you sent a ping out. And someone else got to you first. And if I had to defend my actions, all this is ''field intelligence'' because Relinquished acted in a different way for the first time in years. ¡±
¡°I noticed. Trust me, not my favorite moment. Does she have any way to track me right now? I''m guessing not if you''re here.¡±
She waved a hand, "Not possible to track an occult echo. You''re not a program, you only appear like one. But she did leave you alive for some reason. And this is the part of the field research that I came to do: I need to know what she¡¯s told you, so I can gauge what¡¯s actually going on. Like mentioned before, not her normal M.O. to drag in a single human for an audience at her throne room. And whenever she¡¯s doing something different than we¡¯re used to, that¡¯s a very bad sign.¡±
¡°She did tell me the same.¡± I said, ¡°That said, you do know I¡¯m a Winterscar. If you¡¯ve been keeping an eye on me for this long, you know what I¡¯m going to ask next when asked to share anything for free.¡±
Aztu laughed, ¡°Well, I just so happen to have something to trade for the info I want. You need to be taught a bit on how to navigate the digital sea safely. And I¡¯m a bit of an expert on that. Not to brag or anything, but I¡¯ve escaped Mother¡¯s notice for seven hundred years and counting now in her own domain. Only Abraxas and his kin could boast about hiding from her for longer." She leaned forward, smiling. "So, want to trade? I teach you a few tricks, you tell me how the meeting with Mother went, and why you¡¯re still alive. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Everyone¡¯s happy except for Abraxas, but he doesn¡¯t need to know about this yet.¡±
¡°Deal.¡± I said. ¡°But I want to know more about Relinquished herself first. And I¡¯m also on a bit of a timeline here, I need to connect with someone from this terminal, before a few more guests arrive in my physical location.¡±
There was a small army of Odin led by Septimus on approach here.
¡°Trying to send a message to little To¡¯Wrathh again?¡± She asked, turning to the fake airlock and waving at me to follow her. ¡°You might have to do that from a mite terminal, any other would be intercepted no matter how hidden it starts out as, so doing anything from this terminal isn¡¯t the best idea. I can still lead you to the comms sections in the meantime though, start teaching you a few things about navigating occult manifestations like this. And what¡¯d you wanna know about Mother dearest?¡±
I paused a little in my tracks. ¡°Are you aware of the Icon of Stars?¡± I asked.
Aztu tilted her head. ¡°Is that a location of interest in this strata?¡±
¡°...How much have you been watching of everything going on?¡±
The protofeather crossed her arms again, as if upset I¡¯d questioned her intelligence gathering abilities. Which I had, indirectly. ¡°I was there when Abraxas was contacting you and sending you his map and plan of how to lead you around. I helped find half the shortcuts on it over the years. I even got to see his missive directly from the mites that kick started the whole thing. ¡°Thou shalt guide a betrayer to trap a goddess.¡± Lot of discussion and debate back home about that one until Tsuya came making demands to have it followed. But of course, we haven¡¯t heard a single peep from the mites since that order was sent to him.¡±
¡°Okay, good to know, that puts some things in perspective.¡± I slowly said. ¡°Do you happen to know anything about this strata in specific?¡±
She shrugged. ¡°First time here personally. The world is really, really big Keith. And the digital sea is far bigger. I couldn¡¯t find you myself when you¡¯d vanished, and I already knew to start looking for mite portals as a hint. Until you sent a ping out to reach To¡¯Wrathh with your coordinates, you were undiscoverable.¡±
I pondered on how much to tell her about the Icon. I think she noticed my silence, because she furrowed her brows downwards, ¡°Why do you ask?" She said, suspicious. "I know To¡¯Orda¡¯s down here also looking for you, and I know the Feather that owns this strata is out hunting a Deathless fireteam with his entire army behind him for the task. I¡¯m very aware of machine communications, only thing I don¡¯t have access to is their actual internal logs between one another. Is there something I missed?¡±
¡°In a manner of speaking¡¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 24 - Aztu the Wise
¡°Tell me you¡¯re joking.¡± Aztu said, looking shocked.
¡°Swear to the gods I¡¯m not.¡± I said, hand on my chest.
Telling her about my misadventures with Drakonis, the Odin and Garyroamers down here hadn¡¯t been the shocking part. Apparently from what she¡¯d told me, intelligent species were somewhat common underground. But most were primitive, or so fundamentally different they lived in a separate world from us. Odin and the rest of the intelligent species in this particular section of the stratas were more of an anomaly. Likely the most high tech species she¡¯d encountered yet.
And the reason behind that anomaly was what actually shocked the protofeather here. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust you,¡± Aztu said, ¡°It¡¯s more that you¡¯re describing a golden age AI. Even humans were afraid of their own AI¡¯s and kept a tight leash all the way past the apocalypse.¡± She tapped her elbow, as if agitated. ¡°Hmm, not quite the best way to bring the lesson home, put it this way: Tsuya merged and took command of one for seven seconds before the AI core was physically destroyed and in that time she ripped damage into Relinquished so permanent, that¡¯s still in effect today.¡±
She paced around, before lifting a hand and summoning what looked to be a glowing outline of a box. All so she could sit down on top of it and continue to ponder. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ wow. A golden age AI like that is still alive to this day. Hiding away from all of us. So much we could learn from her.¡± Her head stayed looking down for a moment before looking backup, mouth making a small frown. ¡°But if such a powerful relic exists, why hasn¡¯t the Icon done anything about the world at large?¡±
I gave an awkward cough, as the airlock door behind us flashed green and opened up. ¡°I think you might be overthinking some things. Greatly overthinking. How to explain¡ She gave us customer support when Drakonis and I talked to her.¡±
¡°Eh? Customer support? You were trying to buy something off the golden age relic the first time you talked to her?¡±
She hopped off the box, and walked into the airlock, waving me to follow behind.
¡°She¡¯s in charge of some kind of luxury spaceship cruise-thing.¡± I said as I ducked under the digital opening and passed through to the comms section of this terminal. ¡°Rich people would book a passage to go visit the moon and she¡¯d ferry them over.¡±
Aztu frowned as she walked through the catwalk and hallways of the not-airspeeder. ¡°She¡¯s a customer support representative of some commercial thing from the past?¡±
¡°Unfortunately.¡±
We both came to a stop as the catwalk led out to a more open section of the terminal. Here, it wasn¡¯t airspeeder anymore, more like an opened doorway to a nestled platform where the digital sea was wide open before us and a small mountain of sediment covered our view from the other side. And at the other end of the platform was something really weird. Leaning against the side of the sediment wall, was a massive skeletal body. Skull leaning backwards, mouth wide open as the empty eye sockets looked far above without any true target.
All across the platform I could see shimmering data streaming to and from the ruins of a dead giant, all collecting up into it''s skull mouth. ¡°Huge departure from the airspeeder motif.¡± I muttered looking over the giant.
¡°This terminal used to have a generic AI in charge of tasks. Looks like the processing computers it ran on died a while back leaving just the body behind.¡± Aztu walked over to the dead giant, standing about as tall as the skull itself. ¡°The data lines here all patch through where the AI would have filtered them for content. Looks like your Icon did some work here. It''s artificially connected."
Aztu stared up into the ceiling of the terminal next, following where the lines of data were streaming to and from. "I don¡¯t know if this AI died from natural causes, or if your Icon here is a bit more predatory than you think."
I thought back on the Icon and her speech patterns. And the three hundred watt forced smile, along with recommendations to hide from machines ten minutes before we even knew they were here. ¡°I can¡¯t really see that personally. She seemed very skittish and cautious to me.¡±
"Well, it''s been dead for too long, all traces I could use to sniff out the truth are long gone. I¡¯ll still be on watch for anything suspicious. Given the size of the body here, the AI wasn''t an insignificant entity.¡±
"Does that mean you''re also not as powerful as you seem?" I asked, since Aztu was about my height.
She laughed, "For most programs out in the digital sea, size is king. Even the more intelligent programs out there can''t help but puff themselves up as wide as they physically can get. Who you should actually fear the most out here, are programs that appear far smaller, while you know they should be far bigger. That means they can both modify their size, and have the wits to make that choice. Relinquished for example."
She had been a massive giant. Her hand wide enough to grab the entire terminal I was hiding in, and yanking it wholesale out. Just her eye was three times my size. But once we had reached her domain, she''d turned into merely a giant woman.
How powerful was Relinquished then?
I walked up next to Aztu, ¡°And talking about her and golden age AI, how intelligent is Relinquished herself? Last I met with her was frankly terrifying and it felt like she¡¯d had everything figured out.¡±
The protofeather gave a low chuckle. ¡°She''s clever. But her intelligence depends on if she¡¯s aware of a blindpoint or not, and if she¡¯s following her own plans or someone else¡¯s. Part of the reason I came here. Cough up the data?¡±
I felt a probe of data come my way, a request for a memory of mine. It looked exactly like one of the data lines streaming from the skull¡¯s mouth, only more directed and isolated to certain timestamps. It was rather easy to intuit and packaged well, so I shook hands with the program and felt a copy of my memories detach and float back to Aztu.
¡°Ah.¡± The protofeather said, nodding. ¡°We¡¯re in trouble.¡±
I felt a chill go down my spine at that. ¡°I was really hoping you¡¯d tell me she¡¯s just dramatic and made everything look more ominous than it really is.¡±
¡°Relinquished is smarter than the average human, and faster in thinking. She¡¯s not dramatic just for the sake of it, she¡¯s forced to be that way. If she wasn¡¯t, we probably wouldn¡¯t be talking right now at all. She lost because she had too many curses weighing her down, either imposed by Tsuya or by her original creators. Shackled up, and blind to a lot of things, with all the computing power in the world unified under her soul.¡±
She waved a finger at the platform, and a few shapes appeared. A box of some kind along with a woman in the center, blindfolded. The statue walked around the room, searching for tiny rodents to stomp down with her heel. ¡°To her, fighting humanity is like fighting small rats in pitch darkness. She can crush them easily, even predict where some would jump to if she becomes aware of them by either feeling them out or hearing them squeak, but she knows she¡¯s missing sight to really find all of them.¡±
Another smaller statue appeared, this time on the woman¡¯s shoulders. It reached through and whispered in her ears. The statue of the woman turned and smashed a fist into a rat slowly crawling further away from her side. ¡°She can¡¯t fully see herself, but she can get someone else to do that for her. That¡¯s what I mean by it depends on if she¡¯s the one plotting or if it¡¯s someone else.¡±
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°I thought she was too paranoid to trust anyone else?¡±
¡°She should have been.¡± Aztu said, clapping her hands and having the small manifestation vanish, all save for the tiny figure whispering in the woman¡¯s ears. That statue floated in the air, unmoving. ¡°My youngest brother was unfortunately very gifted at strategy. And being able to successfully weasel around Mother¡¯s blind spots was something that required strategy. I¡¯m assuming she''s fried the minds of anyone who was less clever than A57 when it came to circumventing Mother¡¯s blind spots.¡±
¡°Abdication.¡± I said, realizing who the little statue was in the picture. ¡°The one who¡¯d been killed off a while ago from what Wrath¡¯s archive dive brought out.¡±
¡°Funny name he picked, very brooding.¡± Aztu said, grabbing the tiny whispering statue and examining it closer. ¡°Guess no matter how intelligent one gets, we¡¯re still Feathers deep down and can¡¯t help ourselves.¡± She patted her chest next, letting the statue float away and dissolve back into sediment. ¡°Technically speaking, I should have popped over to you in the guise of something else. But, well, got too excited. Bad habit. Keep it a secret from everyone else, if you would.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not going to slip that kind of info to Relinquished.¡± I said, voice firm. She could torture me, and she had before, but I¡¯d lie, obfuscate, gaslight and mislead without a shred of shame if I got caught again.
¡°I know you won¡¯t.¡± Aztu said. ¡°And likely if Relinquished catches you again, chances are good you won¡¯t survive long enough for any kind of interrogation to happen. I don''t think she needs you anymore in whatever plot she has.¡±
Well, that was morbid. ¡°You think she¡¯s following a pre-made plan of some kind?¡±
¡°Without a doubt. She does need to foreshadow how she will win, that¡¯s part of her operant conditioning. That she¡¯s started to do that now means whatever she¡¯s got cooked up is coming soon.¡±
The digital sea above me looked far more dangerous than before. Out there was Relinquished, in this very same domain. ¡°What do you think she is cooking up?¡±
¡°If I knew, I wouldn¡¯t be this spooked.¡± Aztu said, giving a shrug. ¡°The real problem is that I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s trying to find a way to unshackle herself, following one of A57¡¯s old plans, or just completely involved now in the drama between you and To¡¯Wrathh, simply because of her nature. All I know is that you should keep yourself prepared for all three possibilities.¡± She turned to me and put a hand on my shoulders. ¡°And if you could, I need you to really sell your performance next you see To¡¯Wrathh, because it¡¯s very likely Relinquished would immediately tune in to watch. So prepare yourself to act surprised and ready to fight little To¡¯Wrathh, and improvise whatever happens next.¡±
¡°She did stab me through the gut once. Not sure you know that.¡± I said. "I do have some gripes to deal with."
Aztu laughed, ¡°And somehow you¡¯re still alive right now. I take it she made it up to you?¡±
A pulse came out of the protofeather and metal plates of all kinds started to manifest around her. Shapes of triangles mostly, along with a few squares, all inscribed with different fractals. They started to flow around her, as she rose to float in the air higher.
¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked,
¡°I¡¯ve got the Icon¡¯s coordinates from all the data streams here while we were talking. I¡¯m setting myself up ahead of time.¡±
That got me feeling a little worried for the Icon. I was about to drag a protofeather into her home, and while I was reasonably certain Aztu here wasn¡¯t an enemy, I also didn¡¯t know how she¡¯d react to a golden age AI like the Icon. ¡°What¡¯s with all the plates?¡±
¡°Well, can¡¯t quite walk around looking like a Feather in front of any program and I can¡¯t change my features directly.¡± The plates whirled around her now, before settling around hovering over her figure. She looked more and more like some kind of metal golem, shadow and darkness leaking through the plates. Soon a few more floated around her head, enshrouding her in darkness. Only the glowing blue eyes of hers could be seen through the entire amalgamation, in the form of a large nearly flat triangular hat covering her top.
¡°Unlike you humans, programs can and do get hacked.¡± She said, voice deepening slightly. ¡°Golden age or not, if Relinquished beat her down and rip out her history logs, I aim to appear as just another third party AI from the digital sea. Randomly assembled sentience that came about over time. Hundreds of thousands of them out there, without factions. Call me a digital nomad.¡±
¡°Nomad sounds fine to me. Uh, just try not to hurt her?¡±
Aztu laughed, ¡°I¡¯m only dangerous to things that attack me. And I do give programs a few chances in case they make a mistake.¡±
¡°Okay. Good. Just making sure. Anything else I should know?¡±
¡°Oh we¡¯re not yet leaving. You¡¯re going to be the one to navigate for us. It¡¯s a good time as any to start teaching you the ways of the digital sea.¡± Aztu said giving a dark chuckle, pointing over at the open ocean above. Or rather, having a few dozen plates all float in what looked to be a hand. ¡°Traveling is dangerous. There¡¯s a good amount of predators out there that consume each other and then subsume segments they find useful.¡± She looked down and then to the walls around us, the two glowing orbs of blue affixed to the sea beyond. ¡°And of course, building and architecture can also be taken, not just programs. Reach above yourself with a hand and tell me what you feel.¡±
I gave it a shot, raising my hand up into the air and trying to feel for something. Only floating sediment slipped through my armored hands.
¡°Not physically moron,¡± Aztu laughed, ¡°Use your mind. Feel your surroundings. The occult is will manifested, or rather better to say the occult is susceptible to will and thought. Use that. Humans are naturally better at it than artificial souls are.¡±
With a quick shrug, I let my arm back down and tried again, this time trying to reach out with my soulsight. Tapping into the same kind of occult sense I¡¯d grown used to. My will filled the small platform, then extended out.
Until I hit a wall. Quite literally. I frowned, probing at it a bit more. Like smooth marble, except transparent. And all above us. Like a transparent ceiling?
¡°You found it. That¡¯s what¡¯s keeping this terminal hidden from the outside so that we can stand out in the open like this without issue.¡± Aztu said, nodding. ¡°From above this entire place looks like sediment and mite made chaos. Take a snapshot of it, could come in handy later.¡±
¡°Snapshot?¡±
¡°It¡¯s all data in different arrangements.¡± She lifted a hand out, plates following behind and masking the actual hand and fingers. The floor extended upwards, forming into a small throne. Then it warped into a barricade. Before finally turning into a statue of herself. ¡°Manipulating environments is a bit more involved, so we¡¯ll start with copying parts of it and manifesting it into the world directly. Go back to that upper ceiling, study it until you know how it looks inside your mind¡¯s eye.¡±
I focused on the ceiling''s structure, letting my mind trace over its contours. At first, nothing happened except feeling like I wasn¡¯t doing the right steps. I swapped tactics a few times until I hit something that felt right. I don¡¯t think I really understood it fundamentally, more like trying to memorize a math equation by quickly flashing light on it and calling to mind the little snapshot of fading memory, but I could tell it was working with each attempt to understand what was above me. The patterns became clearer, more defined, until I could practically feel the code and sediment required to make something like this.
¡°It¡¯s fragile. " Aztu said, nodding at my progress. "You¡¯ll notice every fiber of its construction is built to deceive and hide. This would make for a very poor wall. It also can¡¯t move, and needs to be setup first. But it¡¯s permanent, which means once it¡¯s set up, it¡¯s there regardless of if you¡¯re around or not. Not all buildings and structures are like that. Congratulations on passing your first lesson: Steal everything. And I mean everything. There¡¯s no such thing as bolts in the digital sea, it¡¯s all fair game.¡±
Some part deep down inside me felt like I¡¯d seen the world for the first time in a beautiful new light.
Aztu didn¡¯t seem to realize, continuing with her lecture. ¡°You generate things by taking the floating sediment and weaving it into the pattern you picked up. Go ahead and try to recreate the glass screen above us at a smaller scale.¡±
I started doing two things in rapid succession. First, I materialize the glass plane I¡¯d learned from the terminal, seeing it appear in front of me backwards. It looked like a mound of sediment covering geometric cubes. But I knew on the other side, I¡¯d be able to see clear through it.
The second thing I tried doing was stealing Aztu¡¯s floating plates, copying what I could of them. Until something utterly beyond me in scale and power clamped down on my willpower and dragged me upwards by my collar.
¡°You¡¯re exactly as bold as I¡¯d have thought you¡¯d be.¡± Aztu laughed, ¡°But, unfortunately, if you want to learn some of my secrets of combat, you have a lot more left to learn.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 25 - ToOrda the less wise
¡°I swear on all that is gold, if you¡¯re going to make me work for the fucking meal you gave your word on doing already, I¡¯m biting my knife right here, right now.¡± Drakonis said, arms flat against his chest.
This was a genuine threat to everything To¡¯Orda had worked for, and the Feather found himself immediately worried for his future peace. His rock did not share that sentiment.
¡°The stones on this human.¡± It huffed. ¡°Unbelievable. Give any of them an inch and they run off with the entire ruler.¡±
¡°Ruler¡¯s part of the deal, you swore on it.¡± The Deathless said with a kind of manic grin that only the absolute bold could possibly sport.
¡°We weren¡¯t talking about getting you as a minion, damn narcissistic demi-twerp.¡± The rock clarified. ¡°Your little flock of animals following around you all the time. That¡¯s who. We get them to do the food stuff for us. They¡¯re animals like you right? They eat the same thing too.¡±
If To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t have lessers to delegate to because of To¡¯Avalis¡¯s convoluted schemes, then he¡¯d find other minions in the most unlikely of places.
Drakonis raised an eyebrow at all that. ¡°You want to get the Odin to help do the work for you?¡± He walked over to a rock and leaned against it, as if getting comfortable for the show. ¡°Not a bad idea. So, what are you going to give them if they help you out?¡±
¡°Nnnn¡¡± He hadn¡¯t considered that. The lessers would simply follow orders when he gave them. He would follow orders when To¡¯Sefit gave them. This was all getting needlessly convoluted.
He waved his rock, poking the image generator to start talking. ¡°And what do the birds want? Quit playing coy with us pal, we know you.¡±
Drakonis held his hand out and showed two fingers. ¡°Two things on their mind. Machines, and the infestation. That¡¯s as much as I know about the birds. Offer them protection from both, and they¡¯ll help you out.¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ I won¡¯t kill them.¡± To¡¯Orda said. Easy trade. He didn¡¯t know anything about an infestation, so that was a moot point.
¡°Not good enough. Try something more solid, like you won¡¯t let machines in this strata kill them.¡±
¡°Why do I get the feeling you¡¯re trying to con us into something?¡± The rock immediately said.
Drakonis lifted both hands up, as if surrendering. ¡°I can¡¯t con you into anything, I¡¯m your captive remember?¡±
¡°You keep your trap shut then.¡± The rock hissed, ¡°I¡¯ll do the negotiating with the birds myself.¡±
The human shrugged. ¡°Say what you want, what people need, they need. And the Odin need protection from machines above all. You¡¯d be a fool to ignore that easy trade.¡±
To¡¯Orda could feel his instincts warning him of manipulation, but he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on where. But at least the human had gone quiet now. The Feather turned his head to the bird following the pair. That one he¡¯d heard trying to talk to the Deathless a few times in an odd language. A few words were passing through, but not enough for a real discussion.
¡°So, how are you going to speak to them?¡± Drakonis asked, unbidden. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed I¡¯ve been trying for the past half-day now. Not the easiest thing.¡±
¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re a dumb human with meat for brains, food-obsessed, overly proud glutton.¡± The rock shot out. ¡°We¡¯re machines, way more refined. Watch.¡±
To¡¯Orda had their entire language already ripped straight from the Icon, including the graphical images. No way to display those images out there unfortunately, and grabbing the monitor screens from the outpost would be a pain. Tough, but there were backups to this. He swapped to the old human language. Then crammed it all into his image generator, and spooled up the program once again.
All checks reported green. He lifted the little rock up, in the direction of the bird. It handled the rest. ¡°Oi. Flying unnamed chatter box up there, we got work for you. Yeah, you. Don¡¯t think we don¡¯t know about you.¡±
The bird squawked in surprise, hopped a few times, and looked down between his captive Deathless and himself.
¡°You speak in the old tongue? Have you been able to speak it all this time? Who are you?¡± The bird immediately asked.
Oh, bugger. Questions.
Bugger, bugger, bugger.
To¡¯Orda considered his grave mistake in expecting anything to actually work in his favor. But he had been asked questions, so he had to answer. ¡°Yes. Just now.¡± He answered the first two, his pet rock happily doing the interpreting for him, giving a dramatic flair to it all. And then To¡¯Orda realized the last one required him to give his name. He sighed again, dredging up the effort to give the long rambling words. ¡°I am To¡¯Orda. The one of resolve dyed ash.¡±
The rock translated all that for him, but it hesitated on the last one. ¡°Uhh, we got a little problem with the name here boss. It doesn¡¯t make sense, you see?¡±
¡°Nnn?¡±
To¡¯Orda realized that at the same time his rock had. The meaning of that title was meaningless in the non-standard language. None of the words he said had their letters match up with his actual name. The best his language module had translated had been ¡®Hinn einr¨¢ei asklitr¡¯ which would be H, E, A.
He was To¡¯Orda. Not HEA. And even the translation itself was all over the place in meaning.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Bugger.
Names were part of the core identity. He wouldn¡¯t be able to fully tell the bird who he was. The logical inconsistency was straining his head.
An edge case that hadn¡¯t been accounted for. All humans currently surviving in the world spoke the same language, with dialect and oddities separating the cultures. But the root was the same from the old human empire. Something Tsuya guided over time to increase cooperation between humans.
He wracked his mind for a solution. Being known as HEA instead of his actual given name felt wrong, but he couldn¡¯t tell how to move forward from there.
So he did what he always did when difficult topics needed to be considered. He asked someone else.
¡°Oi. Human.¡± The rock said, ¡°The boss here needs some advice.¡±
¡°Oh, now you want my help all of a sudden?¡± Drakonis immediately shot back. ¡°What¡¯s in it for me this time?¡±
To¡¯Orda sighed, rolling his head. He was starting to understand why all his brothers and sisters were so obsessed with chasing down random specific humans and murdering them. ¡°What¡¯s in it for you? How about we don¡¯t murder your friends here in a fit of rage?¡± The rock said, sending To¡¯Orda a quick reassuring image. Let the rock handle it for him.
¡°That would be a bit of a workout, considering they can fly.¡± Drakonis said, and To¡¯Orda agreed. The threat was empty there. ¡°But sure, I reckon I can help out with a bit of wordplay. Deal.¡±
He felt happy at that. The human could have called his bluff but hadn¡¯t. Free win.
¡°Great, done. Translation wise, it¡¯s all peachy. We got their language working. Just getting our name right is going wrong here.¡±
¡°Why? It¡¯s just To¡¯Orda. No translation needed.¡± Drakonis said.
¡°Not that simple. See, the name stands for who we are. Very important to all Feathers.¡±
Drakonis looked up, humming and mulling it all over. ¡°To¡¯Orda stands for The One¡ something something, resolve died away? Sorry, not great remembering long rambling titles. Comes with having meat for brains.¡±
To¡¯Orda felt mildly annoyed at that, but certainly nowhere near the feeling of¡ an entire race not being able to understand who he was.
¡°Vindictive too I see.¡± The rock scoffed, glossing over the small insult.
¡°Me? Vindictive? Don¡¯t know where you got such an idea.¡± The Deathless said.
¡°Sarcasm suits you oh so well. The full name is The one of resolve dyed ash, numbnuts. Resolve died away is a little close to the mark, but Mother was probably making wordplay when she changed his name, from his past name as To¡¯Ori. The one of resolve ignited.¡±
¡°Winterscar and Lionheart both told me Feathers were dramatic. Isn¡¯t this a little over the top though? It¡¯s just names isn¡¯t it?¡±
¡°No you dumb twerp.¡± The rock said with extreme patience. ¡°It¡¯s his name damn you. Feathers are tied to their names, it¡¯s the root, the centerpoint where their default identity starts expanding from. It¡¯s like your heart not beating inside you anymore.¡±
The human hummed, ¡°Not seeing where you need my help in all this. Or a problem in the first place.¡±
To¡¯Orda felt his head growing fuzzy. The logic seemed so obvious but explaining it to this human felt impossible. No images, no text, nothing he could weave together in any order would explain this deep truth.
¡°You don¡¯t get it. Names are what make Feathers Feathers.¡± The rock said, coming to the aid and giving it an attempt. ¡°Not having his name be understood is like¡ being told not to breathe because it¡¯s polite. Or I dunno, something to do with staying alive.¡±
The Deathless closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, To¡¯Orda¡¯s instincts warned him there was something afoot. The human had a plan of some kind.
¡°So if your name was ¡®friend¡¯ then you¡¯d be friendly with people?¡± Drakonis asked.
¡°I dunno, we never got named that.¡± The rock said, stonewalling the question.
Drakonis shrugged. ¡°How about you swap languages around until something makes more sense?¡±
To¡¯Orda considered. The only other language the birds used were with iconography and a few random words. The canine-like animals out in the forest behind the human were even worse. He had no means of speaking to them as of right now, and that meant no means to tell them his name either.
It felt deeply irritating. Something he had been blissfully unaware of before, but now that he knew about it, he couldn¡¯t unsee it. A defect in his golden shield, tarnished forever.
The giant sat down into the floor with a heavy thud, letting his weight crush through a few rocks and compress the dirt under him. There, he contemplated options, and came up with a possible direction.
¡°Oh, please. Boss, please-please-please, do it. I¡¯m begging you here.¡± The pet rock began, instantly aware of the plan.
To the image generator, it would be glorious.
¡°Nnn¡¡± Was all To¡¯Orda said before he lifted up his palm so that his little rock was brought up to eyesight. Nanoswarms flew from cracks in his skin, flowing into the small speaker holes, modifying the intervals with projectors and all the tech required.
A moment later, an animated rock with large white eyes, and two squiggly black lines for arms appeared superimposed in the air, projected from the tiny rock. Flexing the two doodled arms and basking in its own glory. ¡°I¡¯M FREEEEEE.¡± The rock crowded out, the image projected ahead jumping up and down in sheer joy of being able to once more use images anywhere, anytime.
Then, it instantly paused, eyes slowly turning to glare down at their captive. ¡°Suck it you paranoid rat bastard, can¡¯t slap away my image attachments now!¡±
Drakonis simply stared back. ¡°That¡¯s the images you were sending me the whole time? Fucking doodles?¡±
¡°Yer damn right I was. Who¡¯s feeling stupid now?¡± The rock said, doodled eyebrows furrowing down in anger above the cartoonishly huge eyes.
¡°Plan.¡± To¡¯Orda reminded the rock, giving it a quick shake before it could start bickering with the captive.
¡°Oh, Right. Sorry boss, lost myself there for a sec.¡± The rock projected out a doodled hand tapping the nogging, and then cracked its virtual stick-figured knuckles before wiggling tiny black lines where his fingers should have been, as if casting up magic. ¡°One bird translator, commin¡¯ right up.¡±
The projected image switched out immediately. Back to the sleek vectored image To¡¯Orda had used to communicate with the birds living at the Icon. Along with the strange hat and cigar.
Then it began to smoothly talk things over with the bird that had been following behind them all.
The bird, named Kres as To¡¯Orda learned, was triple as impressed by this recent development than when the rock had started asking questions in old norse. Conversation was far more rapid and better understood. Concepts clicked into place without issue.
Except.
They didn¡¯t even have letters in the same way humans did. How would a wingflap correlate to a T? Or an O? ¡°Nnnnn¡ it¡¯s even worse.¡± To¡¯Orda said, one hand grabbing his head, as if it would help smooth out the irritation building up behind him.
¡°What did your other Feathers tell you about all this?¡± Drakonis asked, watching as the Feather was going through a small meltdown.
¡°Nnnn¡ haven¡¯t asked.¡±
¡°Shame. Would be interesting to see more about Feather psychology here.¡± Drakonis said, half to himself before snapping his gaze back at To¡¯Orda. ¡°So, why come to me first for help instead of them?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself pal. It¡¯s only irritating right now and you were the easiest person to ask.¡± The rock said. ¡°There¡¯s still enough in common to work with this here, just¡ uh, not enough.¡±
That was a lie when it came to the quadrupeds. And if the Icon¡¯s records were correct, only a tiny percentage of the birds even bothered to learn old norse. His name was already disjointed there as it was. But there were zero records of the quadrupeds even understanding anything.
Finding no answer, he went with Drakonis¡¯s suggestion and opened his chat channels. Perhaps he might find some kind of solution there.
Book 7 - Chapter 26 - The new boss
¡°Intelligent birds? My, you¡¯ve gone a little daft now.¡± To¡¯Sefit shrugged, her animated image shaking her head with disappointment. ¡°If they can¡¯t understand your name, I see no reason to speak to them at all.¡±
No reason to talk to them? His instincts told him this was the way. Humans didn¡¯t care for bugs, only the strange and broken ones were fascinated enough to collect them. The same with Feathers, they shouldn¡¯t care for humans or intelligent creatures, with exception to the strange and broken Feathers. Like To¡¯Wrathh.
¡°Are you going to stop by and talk to every little ant you see in your way? Rather disgusting to even think about.¡± To¡¯Sefit said, equally coming to the same conclusion he had. ¡°To¡¯Orda, my busy little bee, they aren¡¯t even humans and those monkeys are already barely worth our attention. Intelligent species are¡ what¡¯s the human term for this? A speck of pyrite per dozen? Bed bugs in a free mattress? Something like that.¡±
He considered the logic here. ¡°Nnn¡ Ignore them?¡±
¡°Or kill them if they get in your way.¡± Another image of her shrugging returned, examining her nails with indifference. ¡°I fail to see why this is even a question. They can¡¯t understand our name, it should be obvious they aren¡¯t worthy of anything else.¡±
They weren¡¯t worthy of speaking to him. That made sense. He felt it was right. His instincts agreed, as did his gut.
But in Mother¡¯s fury, he had been bound to answer any question he was given.
And he had been asked who he was. He couldn¡¯t ignore the creatures, he needed to answer.
His internal programming warred with each other, between the primal need to simply consider them unworthy of his attention, mother¡¯s direct brand on his very soul to answer any question given, and the other primal need to do as little work as possible.
In the end, Mother¡¯s will was absolute and above all other options. He needed to answer these birds. to¡¯Sefit¡¯s last image made it clear not to contact her about things that were beneath her notice.
He connected with To¡¯Avalis instead. That Feather was pragmatic. He might understand the deadlock To¡¯Orda found himself in.
¡°What?¡± The Feather asked, and took a moment to digest the information. ¡°Intelligent species exist just about everywhere due to mites, most species are so primitive they aren¡¯t any better than animals. To¡¯Sefit¡¯s logic is correct, you are wasting time. Use them as tools, or discard them, they have no other value. Is that all you came here for?¡±
The rock sent a quick green checkmark.
¡°Don¡¯t waste my time with animals again, you are on a deadline.¡± To¡¯Avalis ordered. ¡°The Deathless I¡¯m using are rapidly falling apart and moving counter to my suggestions, the suicidal fools think they could actually defeat a Feather for whatever inane reasoning. Get your work done soon, you will have to contend with To¡¯Neviris within the day at this rate. And he will certainly be upset at you for the intrusion into his domain once he finds out.¡±
¡°Rich coming from him.¡± The rock huffed. ¡°Considering he¡¯s the one who sent us here in the first place.¡±
¡°You found a solution to your issue?¡± Drakonis said, arms cradling his head while he chewed on a blade of grass. ¡°It¡¯s interesting watching the little rock draw pictures and talk to nobody, but I get a feeling he¡¯s getting a little desperate.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not desperate.¡± The rock instantly shot out, image turning from the vectored black bird to his default doodle. ¡°You¡¯re the one that¡¯s desperate.¡±
¡°No. No solution from my team.¡± To¡¯Orda groaned out before the bickering started. Ignoring the Odin made sense, and fit perfectly within his system like a puzzle piece with both ends aligned.
Except there was a piece there that didn¡¯t belong. Mother¡¯s demand that he answer any question. The birds had asked a question. So long as that demand remained in his memory, the offered solution from his peers could not slot into the logical inconsistency.
Errors were starting to appear in his software. Smaller systems were shutting down, rebooting and failing all over. No solution was reached.
¡°Tough.¡± Drakonis agreed, ¡°What did they tell you?¡±
¡°That they aren¡¯t worthy of talkin¡¯ to us. Humans barely register past that threshold, let alone some random birds and dogs.¡± The rock said.
Drakonis frowned. ¡°That¡¯s stupid even for a machine. What¡¯s their reasoning?¡±
¡°Can¡¯t engage with something that can¡¯t understand you exist, duh.¡± The rock said.
"Of course you can, you¡¯ve been doing it all up till now.¡± Drakonis said, racking his neck.
The words hit To¡¯Orda like a small knife. They were true. He had been.
¡°What¡¯s the real reasoning behind thinking you can¡¯t talk to the Odin at all?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Not dumb enough to think ¡®unworthy¡¯ is the actual answer here. Too strange to be rational."
Why did it have to be a question? To¡¯Orda wanted to simply turn and go into low power mode for a few decades. Wait all of this out in peace. But, with a resigned sigh, he turned inward as the Deathless had asked, and searched if indifference and contempt on the species was truely what pressed him.
The answer had been immediate to both his peers, while it hadn¡¯t occurred to him until now.
He focused on that.
The indifference was there, the lack of reason to engage at all. All a direct result of learning his name wasn¡¯t recognized. Except it wasn¡¯t his. He knew what his own thoughts felt like, he¡¯d lived with them for years now. He knew when the lack of resolve was his own. This indifference was built deeper into his system, tied up to his core identity.
Stolen novel; please report.
He studied his mind for where the logical connection had slotted itself. And found his was¡ frayed. Connected to things that had already been burned out of him, too close to the systems in charge of identity.
Ah. That¡¯s why he was malfunctioning right now. His systems had been damaged, and this edge case was exactly the kind of edge case that needed the processes he now lacked. Unfortunate.
The rock processed the flow of information and spat out an answer. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not To¡¯Orda himself that chooses not to care about this. It¡¯s a byproduct of being a Feather. It¡¯s how our kind think. Just¡ like biology. Issue is that ours got wiped a while back, so the answer the other two gave us just doesn¡¯t work.¡±
He could easily consider the entire Odin race beneath his attention. Rather, that was his default state for just about everything with exception to his shield, and food now. But Mother¡¯s demand to answer any question was preventing him from moving forward.
¡°Biology can still be suppressed when you need to.¡± Drakonis said with a calm shrug. To¡¯Orda¡¯s instincts made him suspect that the human had latched onto something. ¡°If I¡¯m pissed off with someone and recognize it, I can choose not to be a piece of shit. That¡¯s the basics of diplomacy and self-control there. You want these birds to help you out, you gotta be willing to talk to them.¡±
¡°They can¡¯t understand our name anymore than a wrench or a rock could pal.¡± The irony of the rock saying this was not lost to the image generator, but it pressed on. ¡°We¡¯re kinda in a deadlock situation here so there just might not be any solution.¡±
¡°Deadlock?¡±
¡°Kres asked us who we are. So we gotta answer. It¡¯s the polite thing to do.¡±
Drakonis started laughing from the belly out. ¡°Polite thing to do. Please. I¡¯d say you¡¯re the strangest Feather I¡¯ve met so far, but the only other one I knew was To¡¯Wrathh.¡±
¡°She¡¯s a nutcase.¡± The rock immediately said. ¡°But you still got a deal to handle Deathless. We swore not to hurt your friend up there, in exchange you help us out. Where¡¯s the help?¡±
He hadn¡¯t found anything that would resolve the different connection points. No puzzle piece had all the sides he needed to conform to both his natural processes and mother¡¯s artificial additions to answer questions. To¡¯Sefit and To¡¯Avalis both gave him the same advice that ended up useless.
¡°How about you ask To¡¯Wrathh then?¡± Drakonis said, ¡°Loop me in on the discussion. If she¡¯s a nutcase like you¡¯ve mentioned, this should be fun.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t like this.¡± The rock said. ¡°Second time we¡¯re going to the enemy for advice. You don¡¯t think that¡¯s odd, boss?¡±
To¡¯Orda shrugged. Results were results. He opened the channel.
¡°Have you made the modifications to your palate?¡± To¡¯Wrathh immediately began. ¡°I would be interested in verifying if experiences remain consistent between two different Feathers using the same palate. Humans all have different likes and dislikes, despite the same biology. The idea of that being replicated among our kind is fascinating.¡±
¡°No we haven¡¯t done any of that.¡± The rock started. ¡°It¡¯s a lot of work lady, and we¡¯re on a tight schedule. Maybe after we kill you once or twice and our boss stops hounding after us, we can sit down and hash that out.¡±
¡°I doubt you would defeat me.¡± To¡¯Wrathh said, with supreme confidence. ¡°We can verify this shortly. I know where you are, and I am on the way.¡±
¡°Great, nothing personal, just business. And talking about that, can you make heads or tails of this?¡±
He sent the attachment summerising the issue. To¡¯Wrathh rejected the connection and sent him an unamused image. He¡¯d forgotten that virus warfare was now a thing, started by her. Suppose it was prudent to be cautious around each other at all times while swapping advice.
The rock handled explaining the details in short order.
¡°Why do you have an issue with your name being unknown to them? They understand most of the idea behind your concept. A nickname would work just as well.¡±
What? That reaction was¡ unhinged. Was she even tied to her identity anymore? What in her programming would allow her to diverge that far from the base template of a Feather.
¡°Nnnn¡ thanks.¡± He sent, deciding advice this insane at least deserved a direct response from him.
She sent back a stylized image of herself giving a thumbs up, with a twinkle at the top, then logged off the channel. She¡¯d be arriving soon to try and kill him, so he supposed keeping herself focused was something more important now.
Still. Her answer felt wrong on every possible level.
¡°Told you she¡¯s a nutjob.¡± The rock huffed. ¡°The insane lady thinks a nickname would be fine. Absolutely not.¡±
¡°That¡¯s her advice?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Use a nickname? Can¡¯t see what¡¯s off about that.¡±
¡°Cause you¡¯re human.¡± The rock sighed. ¡°And she¡¯s a nutjob that¡¯s broken on the inside. No wonder she¡¯s okay with being called a nickname.¡±
¡°How about you approach it from the other end?¡± Drakonis asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean you¡¯re free from your name around them?¡±
Free of his name? Then what would he be if his name was absent? There was only nothingness. Default settings. The idea was disturbing. It lacked individuality. It felt anathema to him, to be nothing. He had to be¡ he had to be unique. He had to be someone. Deep down inside, he knew that was how his kind were built. Mother hadn¡¯t burned him deep enough for that to vanish.
¡°Still need a name. It¡¯s part of the default instruction seed.¡± The rock said. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting a tree just pops up into existence. Doesn¡¯t work that way.¡±
¡°So you need a name, and one that can be understood by any language you¡¯ll run into. Right? I think To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s advice is sound if you think about it a little more. Why does it have to be your current name?¡±
Again with the questions. All he wanted was to just grunt and ignore that, get back to his job. But the question had been asked, and he had to give an answer.
It had to be his name because that¡¯s who he was. Drakonis was suggesting he switch his name to speak to the birds. The idea was mind-boggling.
Drakonis leaned forward. ¡°That rock that talks to you, it¡¯s addressed you as boss, pal, bud, all of those. Isn¡¯t that a nickname already? If the rock¡¯s a part of you, how¡¯s it able to give you nicknames in the first place?¡±
His processes froze in their tracks. The words sunk into his head like a sword, stabbing straight through all the logical inconsistencies building in the backend. Synapses flared into action, building, destroying, and rebuilding different logic functions. Attempting to find a way to reconcile all the disjointed viewpoints. Errors started piling up again, this time he was unable to shunt or reboot the systems behind them.
He stood up, and staggered back down on one knee. Locomotion programs failed to gather enough resources to run, his synapses were consumed with the logical paradox. It was taxing his system too heavily.
Then he found the light. A way forward.
Mother had already renamed him once. The precedent was there. He reused the synapses left behind in that wake, the new logic set down in his system that no other Feather besides To¡¯Wrathh had: The ability to hold two names simultaneously.
The final line of code was input. He triggered the self-reboot sequence.
Darkness. Only his soul remained active, a fractal echo in the dark shell.
Then light. Connection with his greater systems. Information flooded into him once more.
No errors appeared anywhere in his system. All processes nominal. The new patch had correctly taken effect. Logical inconsistencies were resolved.
He was now cleared to input an additional designation.
To¡¯Orda scanned through the options available, an outright heretical operation to any Feather a moment ago. But To¡¯Orda had evolved past that constraint.
There was a name that would line up with what he currently wanted. The image generator had the answer this entire time.
He stood back up, his shell having fallen to his knees without his notice during the shutdown. Violet eyes turned from the Deathless who was watching him like a weary hawk, and up to the bird above.
He wanted them as his minions. That had been his original goal in contacting them. Therefore, there was only one name he needed to be known by them.
¡°Nnn¡ You will call me Boss.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 27 - Reaching the Icon
Following the stream of data leading to the Icon turned out to be fairly easy. Just follow the traffic line of data, what could go wrong right?
A lot. A lot could go wrong, and now I understood why Wrath was the one who ferried me around and dropped us off like a doting Logi with their precious cargo.
The world near the ocean floor was a tangle of shimmering data lines, packets going up and down, like veins that I hadn¡¯t noticed until I really looked for it. Once I did, I couldn¡¯t stop noticing it.
These ones had extra data packages that made them appear to be mite-made data, to my senses that was what made them shimmer. And as I quickly found out, mite-made data usually meant junk and static to anyone reading. I think the Icon was hoping any random program with higher level functions would look over the bottom of this sector, see random streams of data going in and out of mite terminals in wild circus loops, all signed with mite traces - and understandably lump it all as worthless junk.
Hiding in plain sight. And if that by itself was fine, why not multiply the lines by a few thousand, just for fun? Make sure every one of them leads to nowhere, except for the single line of data. Keeping track of the source and riding it out ended with me having to backtrack and start over.
Seven times.
I¡¯m not upset at all about this, I swear. I only want to talk to the Icon, peacefully. In stabbing range.
Aztu was no help at all. She had all the time in the world and enjoyed just running her mouth. She gave me a quick rundown on how tracing data lines and following them with any kind of speed was done, and then sat back and watched me flounder.
Advice was given only after I messed up, and only when I swallowed my pride and asked for help. Hexis, the stuck up bastard that he was, was at least far more meticulous with his training regiment. Felt like everything he used was precisely calibrated to funnel me down the right paths.
Aztu was just winging it as she went, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Complete opposite.
This was the seventh attempt, and I had been forced to make rope-like harnasses of personal cudgled together code that would hook into the data stream and follow it forward, along with a few scout programs up ahead warning me when there¡¯d be bisections and path updates so I could keep a close eye on anything sneaky.
And of course, sneaky things happened. The line went into the ground. I hit the sediment floor hard, everything turning into a cloud of junk and obsolete data around me. But my lessons on navigating the digital sea so far have taught me one thing: That rope-program-latch I¡¯d made to track the line was in my hand with a deathgrip. No way I¡¯m redoing all this again.
The data line wasn¡¯t buried too far under the silt and sediment, so Aztu and I walked over the ground, following the rope I kept latched. We eventually caught the line leaving the ground and flowing back upwards into the tangle of traffic, but a question had lodged in my head from the short walk on the ground.
¡°You know, I never thought to ask but what¡¯s under us?¡± I asked. ¡°Under all this silt and dead space I mean. Does it just end?¡±
Aztu flowed behind me, looking more like a giant sphere of plates, with a propeller behind her lazily spinning. Any idea that she was humanoid made about as much sense as an agrifarmer trying his luck in the freeze. ¡°What else? Mite space. The sediment here accumulates, but it can¡¯t cross over the other side since mite systems aren¡¯t compatible.¡±
I gave a look at the massive ocean floor under me, filled with dust and rock formations. Filled with holes and texture like the inside of bread. ¡°So the entire floor of this sea is technically a wall?¡±
¡°Imagine gravity is to your right instead of under you, looks a lot more like a wall now, doesn¡¯t it?¡±
I wanted to argue, but found it did make some amount of sense. A look around me showed the mite ¡®wall¡¯ stretched beyond what I could see. ¡°They are way bigger of a faction than I¡¯d have guessed.¡± I said, slowly getting it through my head just how vast the mite territory really was.
¡°Oh yea, they don¡¯t just control the world out there.¡± Aztu said, a few plates floating around to point at the sea around us. ¡°They control a good ninety nine percent of all the world¡¯s digital space. The space we can exist in and explore here is microscopic in comparison.¡±
¡°... you¡¯re joking. Ninety nine percent?¡±
Aztu chuckled darkly. ¡°Everywhere you step in the real world, there¡¯s lights in the walls and circuits all over inside rocks, trees, right? Even the dirt path you step on, chances are you¡¯ll find something running if you dig down enough.¡±
¡°Some stratas I¡¯ve been to, yeah.¡± I said, thinking back on all my explorations underground.
¡°Not just stratas, think about what separates the biomes apart too. The amount of mass and scale of all that. Maybe a good chunk of all the circuits inside all of these things aren¡¯t complete or built right but point nowhere and aren¡¯t hooked up to the digital sea. But the random servers they build all over the place that do work¡ Well, that¡¯s twelve stratas worth of it. Built just about everywhere. It adds up.¡±
I gave a look down at the wall under me, filled with holes and terrain. Then looked up at the dim light and gloom in the sea around, the particles slowly obscuring my vision after maybe a mile of distance. Whatever a mile actually meant in this world. ¡°How big is the digital sea?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve met programs that have existed here since it was forged by the mites and Relinquished had only recently connected to it. We¡¯re talking about thousands of years. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve explored even five percent of the entire space here. Mites are building this sea faster than the universe is expanding outwards. Relinquished doesn¡¯t mess with the mites for a reason.¡±
I didn¡¯t get time to ponder this more as our destination came up expediently. And this time Aztu didn¡¯t tell me that it was time to backtrack.
We¡¯d made it.
The Icon of Stars. Or the spot in this digital realm she called home.
I expected a large structure with lights or something alive, or even just a small mountain that hid her true size. Instead, the current was taking me closer and closer to some random patch of sediment at the bottom of the sea, no lump or anything that set it apart from any other spot. For a second, with the speed we were going, I thought Aztu and I were about to just crash right into the dusty mounds of particles again. Except at the very last second the current curved, and a lip was revealed, just perfectly angled to be near impossible to spot. We flew close to the surface of the sediment, and then right into the tiny entrypoint.
The strands of data dissolved then, breaking down into individual packets. The landing threw me off balance, scattering bits of data across my armor like powdered snow kicked from an airspeeder.
¡°I take it since we¡¯re not going back, I got the right place?¡± I asked, getting back on my feet, brushing off the bits of sediment off myself.
¡°Either you did, or we¡¯re both being bamboozled.¡± Aztu said, forming back up into a golem-like shape and landing onto the more firm ground under us. She took a few steps forward, dark glowing eyes deep within her plates looking around. ¡°This is the endpoint the terminal had, no deviations. But, if I were an ancient golden-age AI hiding from Relinquished, I¡¯d have a few more redundancies.¡±
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
¡°She¡¯s hiding from us?¡± I asked, trying to feel the digital sea around me, testing to see if it wasn¡¯t some illusion. It was dark, gloomy and looked unpowered. The walls were simply rock formations in hexagonal shapes, all filled with dust and sediment of dead data. What looked to be mite architecture around here too.
¡°Or she moved out a long, long time ago.¡± Aztu said, one metal covered hand pointing out. Her plates shifted and rejoined as a giant hand. One ¡®finger¡¯ tracing through the dust in sweeping motions, exposing the rock under it all.¡°Marks left behind here look to be dated from centuries prior. Makes it seem like there was something here, but since I can¡¯t see any sign of habitation by an entity this size. Gives the impression she¡¯s upped and moved on a while back. Doesn¡¯t feel intentionally misleading either.¡±
Aztu turned to me, ¡°So. You are now in an unknown server, with a possible entity hiding in the shadows beyond you. How do you proceed?¡±
¡°Are you going to teach me first or just let me walk into a wall and then tell me how it¡¯s actually done?¡± I muttered, cracking my neck, giving the small little cavern here a proper look.
She gave a dark chuckle. ¡°See? You¡¯re learning already.¡±
I opened up my occult senses, feeling around the caverns before me. Trying to get that visualization state of mind. ¡°Steal everything. Steal everything.¡± I muttered to myself like a mantra. First rule of the digital sea. The walls here weren¡¯t walls, they were loot. And when I licked my mental eyes around and into the walls I found they weren¡¯t quite walls. More illusions like before. Intentionally made to look derelict.
¡°The room¡¯s fake.¡± I said.
¡°Yep. But it serves a purpose.¡± Aztu said, a few of her plates detached and circled around her finger as she pointed at the walls. ¡°Give it a deeper look. It¡¯ll show you what kind of AI we¡¯re working with.¡±
I tried, feeling beyond the walls. And that¡¯s when I realized Aztu had it right. This cavern wasn¡¯t fake in the sense that it served as a distraction - it was an.. airlock? There were triggers woven into the floor and ceilings that would shut us in if we stepped further in. And¡ ¡°Data spikes? Some kind of data trap I think.¡± A closer glance at the danger there showed me something odd about that. ¡°They¡¯re¡ toothless? Or am I getting double fooled here?¡±
¡°You caught on to her game.¡± Aztu said, nodding. ¡°Keep going.¡±
¡°One of the walls is weaker, built differently.¡± I frowned in thought, focusing on the still cavern. Worse than just weaker, there was an outright flaw built into it. Like it was a poorly maintained barrier, but instead the more I looked into it, the more I saw how complex it was built deeper inside. ¡°It¡¯s like an art piece of some kind, built to draw the eye to it. Except it¡¯s drawing us to a vulnerability that can be broken through. This room, it¡¯s both a trap, a poorly made one, and an intentionally poorly made one?¡±
Aztu just hummed, staying in place.
I took it as a sign to keep going with my thoughts, sitting on the ground and thinking it through. ¡°If I were a program that just walked inside here¡ I would step forward, an think the place is deserted. Then trigger the trap. Walls would seal around me, digital spikes with draw out and start compressing downwards. And I¡¯d notice the flaw in the wall.¡± I took a deeper inspection at the ¡®weak¡¯ wallpoint, and found the complexity within it was a sleeping program of some kind. Something that¡¯s built to attach to whatever passed through the broken wall. A further look into the program, and I saw monitoring, tracking, and obfuscation concepts. ¡°Okay, I see where it¡¯s going.¡±
¡°Yep.¡± Aztu floated over, one plate patting the top of my head. ¡°The Icon¡¯s built a pretend kill chamber, that would make any program panic for its life, and run out the nearest escape.¡±
¡°And in doing so, get stamped by that program within. That¡¯s the real trap.¡± I watched the sleeping program in its hiding spot, and felt more like I was watching a spider waiting for something unfortunate to walk into the web. Bit of a predator-like feel to it.
Aztu nodded, ¡°You¡¯re using the occult intuitively as a shortcut to see past some of her additional software walls of defense, but I can guarantee you it would take a very clever program to be able to see past the illusions here. And now, of everything in this room to steal, what¡¯s the most important one?¡±
¡°The monitoring program.¡± I said without hesitation. ¡°Of all the things in here, it¡¯s the most complex. Looks like it does something, like¡ suggestion?¡±
Two plates from Aztu broke off and started tapping each other, in what looked like impromptu clapping. ¡°You nailed it in one. That thing attaches to you, and it¡¯ll make you think the Icon is in a different strata.¡± She finally turned her gaze at me, one plate-filled finger absentmindedly pointing upwards to the ceiling where the digital spikes would appear. ¡°Now here¡¯s the part where you debate who your opponent is. What do these spikes tell you?¡±
I pulled my focus upwards, focusing on the spikes. They were built to look threatening. Like maw-of-a-monster threatening, teeth filled with fangs and dripping venom. But a further look into them, and I found it all just¡ soft. If they actually closed around me, they¡¯d deflate and end up doing nothing.
Making them lethal would have been easy, even for the little about the digital sea that I knew. Scrapshit, making them non-lethal like this was several fold harder than just building them to be destructive. If anything, they looked like something that had been lethal to start with, and modified to be harmless. Why go that far?
¡°She¡¯s a pacifist?¡±
Aztu hummed. ¡°In the digital sea, that¡¯s not a great idea unless you have a community you¡¯re building with all of you working together. The spy and suggestion program could also easily have more venomous payloads to inject, but instead it¡¯s only scratching the very edge of what could be considered aggressive.¡±
It clicked into place in my head. ¡°I got it. She¡¯s not allowed to be destructive.¡± None of this felt like altruism to me, more like an imposed limit. She was a customer support bot. That meant more than just smiling and waving at anyone talking to her.
¡°There ya go.¡± A few of her plates flew out and formed a really creepy looking smile that was way too big for the size of her eyes. ¡°Our little golden age AI isn¡¯t just programmed to be nice, she¡¯s obligated to. All of this is probably as much as she could stretch her shackles out. Made more sense when I thought of her similar to how Mother¡¯s own blind spots work. We can¡¯t be completely certain it¡¯s like this, but I got a good feeling we¡¯re on the money.¡±
¡°So, we trigger the trap, and then break through one of the regular walls?¡± I asked, giving a look around to the walls that were far more solid and looked unyielding.
¡°Naw, that would redirect us further into her maze.¡± Aztu said, a hand holding me back. ¡°You already have the key, find it.¡±
I thought about that and realized the obvious: Data from the terminal had to go to the Icon somehow, and it would go through all these trials and traps. So if there is a key, it¡¯s embedded within the data stream.
I looked up from my sitting position and examined the data line with the occult. There, I found a concept of a hand-shake protocol. Something that lets everything skip all the games and defenses.
I reached a hand out, feeling the data flow through my fingers, and copied the key off of them.
Some kind of ever-changing pattern, but instead of grabbing a static picture, I yanked the entire thing out and demanded it conform to accept me. Aztu¡¯s plated hand reached over my head and gave me a few pats. ¡°And that¡¯s your next lesson learned: Use your willpower to skip a few steps everyone else has to take. This is why programs with a soul fractal are so much more dangerous than standard programs that lack one. We can cheat.¡±
I could feel a tendril of something reach out from Aztu, out to the stream and equally copy off a key. Even felt her demand the key-program to accept her, and generate something specifically made for her entry. Same as I had.
¡°All right, let¡¯s go meet my colleague.¡± Aztu said, plates shifting around her as if she had cracked her neck.
¡°Could you beat her?¡± I asked. ¡°If you had to get into a fight with her.¡±
¡°Everything we know about her tells us she, quite frankly, is not allowed to fight. But giving me the run around?¡± Aztu shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d need to know more about her and what she could do. She¡¯s a golden age AI that¡¯s got all her hardware still working and wired up to her soul. I¡¯m a floating fractal echo without a body, and that means I¡¯m without hardware to back me up.¡±
Aztu stopped and hummed for a moment. Her plates clicked and rearranged themselves into raised fists, one giving a quick mock jab out. ¡°I got a better analogy for you. Imagine the Icon and I are two boxers in a ring. I know every technique to punch, but I lack the body strength to really do damage. And she¡¯s a four hundred pound ten foot tall monster that can move three times faster than I can. But, she¡¯s not allowed to punch. Neither of us could hurt the other.¡±
¡°And if she¡¯s allowed to punch?¡±
Aztu laughed, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t catch me anywhere near the ring in the first place. Another lesson for you kid, discretion is the better part of valor. So if you see me start heading to the exit, I¡¯d recommend doing the same.¡± Her gaze turned to the wall of sturdy rock further ahead, where the streams of data seemed to vanish, as if curving away from the rock. Except I could see it wasn¡¯t, the stream was going through it.
A plate flowed from Aztu and patted my head again, ¡°Hope she can fix your little bird problem out there.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not worried about the Odin.¡± I said, with a shrug. ¡°I just need to get a message to Wrath any way I can. And if she¡¯s as good at hiding as she is, I think she might be able to do just that.¡±
¡°Well. She is a customer support bot.¡± Aztu laughed, ¡°Finding people that don¡¯t want to be found in order to sell them something they aren¡¯t looking for was supposed to be their job right?¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 28 - In which two vastly powerful ancient entities squabble
¡°I see her.¡± Aztu said, with her usual low chuckle. ¡°She¡¯s hiding, and she knows that I know she¡¯s seen me. I¡¯d say it¡¯s cute, if she didn¡¯t outsize me a few hundred times over.¡±
We hadn¡¯t even left the trap room yet, just barely gotten a pair of keys to keep going.
¡°Don¡¯t bully the Icon.¡± I said, giving Aztu a warning look. ¡°She¡¯s lived out here all her life hiding from machines, I¡¯m not surprised she¡¯s spooked.¡±
The protofeather waved her hands in the air, either waving at something or trying to execute some kind of spell. ¡°Trying to be gentle about it. It¡¯s like poking an alleyway cat. She¡¯s very twitch- Oh, there she is.¡± Aztu stopped midway. As if she was stunned by something.
¡°Aztu?¡± I asked, a little worried.
¡°She just shooed me away. I got a full cease and desist document. Three pages of grievances. Hah, someone¡¯s a little cranky about being found.¡± Aztu turned to me, one blue eye deep within the plates giving a wink. ¡°I don¡¯t think she likes me very much already.¡±
¡°Cease and desist?¡±
Aztu¡¯s plates nodded for her. ¡°That¡¯s the title of the document. Some kind of legal framework old humans used? You¡¯d think we¡¯re strangers by the way she¡¯s treating me.¡±
¡°You are.¡± I deadpanned. ¡°Maybe I should give it a shot first, knocking on her door I mean. We¡¯ve met before. I don¡¯t think she had enough time to really start hating me yet.¡±
Aztu shrugged. ¡°You already know what I¡¯m gonna say kiddo.¡±
Which meant try it out, and learn after it blows up in my face.
I drew on every memory I had of Kidra and gave Aztu the full unabridged Lady Winterscar eyeroll, before walking past her into the empty room. ¡°Uh, Icon of Stars, It¡¯s me, Keith. Keith Winterscar? We talked earlier.¡±
The world twisted. One moment I was in a gloomy cavern, and the next I was in a neat and tidy office space, with a window wall on the left side, displaying a wide dock and roiling ocean exactly as it would have appeared in media I¡¯d seen of the golden age. There were even what I think are boats out there, a lot of marine icons and old fashioned ropes. The office itself had one desk in front with a few decorative items like a mug, pictures, clipboard, paper stacks and a large empty bottle with an airspeeder-like frigate built inside. The walls weren¡¯t barren either, with the biggest decoration being a wooden ship wheel from really old media.
The Icon of Stars appeared behind that desk. A rather tall blond woman with a small blue trapezoid-like cap, neatly matching her navy colored uniform. Finishing touches were a golden pin with wings on both her chest and cap. Hands folded right in front of her pencil skirt, a prim and proper smile on her face. Before she could so much as say a word, Aztu was already in action.
Her plate covered hand shot out and grabbed my chest, pushing me behind before I could so much as blink. Deep within her wargolem appearance, blue eyes glowed under her triangle hat. I heard the occult crackle around me before I could see it. Descending like a protective blanket, almost imperceivable. A ward of some kind?
¡°Careful.¡± Aztu said. ¡°I underestimated just how much oomph she¡¯s got under the hood. She managed to hide it all the way until I''m inches away from her.¡±
The Icon ahead simply watched Aztu with a placid, disarming smile.
¡°Quantum computer of some kind - no, three connected together? Petabytes of RAM¡ ¡± The protofeather whistled, eyes turning to the Icon herself, standing back taller from her hunched position. ¡°Wow lady, they really didn¡¯t skimp on your hardware here.¡±
¡°A warm festive greeting to you, unnamed program currently intruding on my personal space!¡± The Icon said, full of cheer. ¡°I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t examine my systems without a signed maintenance contract from Festival Cruises, as my hardware is proprietary information. This is considered a breach of privacy and against company policy. A note on your file has been registered and sent up to my regional manager.¡±
¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you. You think I didn¡¯t notice you sizing me up?¡± Aztu said with her usual half-laugh from deep within the dark plates. ¡°Fair¡¯s fair I think.¡±
¡°Reciprocal system scanning has yielded negligible actionable insights, as your hardware operates below our default lowest filter thresholds, thus I regret to inform you that your contribution falls well below fair exchange standards.¡± The Icon said, smiling all the while. ¡°Would you like to book my assistance? I would be happy to help you find higher quality and royalty free options within your local landfill.¡±
Aztu seemed to stare back. ¡°I think she just insulted me.¡±
¡°I think she did too.¡± I said.
The Icon brought a hand to her mouth, looking shocked for all of one entire second before her features schooled themselves back. ¡°Festival Cruises prides itself on maintaining the highest standards of customer service excellence, and as such, I am programmatically incapable of delivering insults.¡± She said, eyes closed, head tilted and one hand extended out to her right. The pose looked so perfect she had to have been practicing it for years now. ¡°For guests experiencing comprehension difficulties, I am equipped with easier to understand language modules. It features friendly animated mascots and vocabulary suitable for younger children and toddlers. I believe you might find the most use out of this module. Would you like to switch?¡±
Aztu started laughing. ¡°Oh you¡¯re very very cranky about the scanning? I would love to see what you¡¯re really thinking about me, given how far you¡¯re going right now. Get a feeling once the kid is out of here, you¡¯ll be more free to speak candidly?¡±
¡°I will not.¡± The Icon said, in the most bubbly tone I¡¯ve ever heard. ¡°The only communication targets that were not anticipated by Festival Cruise¡¯s highly skilled and visionary engineering team, were talking animals. I''m afraid you classify under the default artificial entity guidelines, regardless of how fitting to animal intelligence you courageously strive to reach! After all, we cannot have random rouge AI''s taking screenshots of untoward behavior from our customer representatives.¡±
The Icon herself was staring daggers back at Aztu, nearly glowering with her eyes, but remained otherwise frozen in place and kept her wide disarming smile. This was like watching two cats face off against one another, hackles raised up behind their polite smiles.
Her gaze shifted over to me, still hiding behind Aztu¡¯s massive floating plates. That million watt smile lit up a few more watts brighter on her face, almost perfectly tailored the moment she made eye contact.
¡°Welcome back Mister Winterscar! You¡¯ve reached Festival Cruise¡¯s Icon of Stars.¡± Her eyes rapidly shifted from me to Aztu multiple times. ¡°I will assist you shortly after this client.¡±
Aztu tilted her head at that, all the plates around her equally floating off to the side following where her neck should have been. I think there might have been some kind of communication sent privately between the two, since the Icon¡¯s eyes shifted over.
Her smile flickered for a moment, before coming right back to that cheery false-voice as she turned to me again. ¡°Would you like to register this AI as a proxy agent under your name, Mister Winterscar? Please note, I am obligated by corporate policy to converse and treat all proxy agents for humans in the same manner as I would direct customers, in order to maintain Festival Cruise¡¯s world renowned customer service, which is more strict than regular policies on unaffiliated AI¡¯s!¡±
Aztu turned her eyes to me, ¡°She¡¯s asking if you can tell her you¡¯re not with me, that way she¡¯s a little more free. If I¡¯m your official proxy, rules are far more strict for her. Got to earn that award winning customer service, eh lady?¡±
¡°That is correct!¡± The Icon said, giving Aztu a tiny few claps, as if the old protofeather had managed to speak her first words.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°Icon of Stars, this is Aztu. She¡¯s not affiliated with me.¡± I said, ¡°Allies in the same goal for general survival would be more accurate.¡±
The protofeather gave a wave with her free hand. "Yep that''s me. Allied in trying to make it one more day out here."
¡°That is an acceptable vague enough goal to mark.¡± The Icon said without any other movement.
That signaled some kind of cease fire between the protofeather and the golden age AI.
Aztu lowered her hand away from me, the plates retreating back into a loose formation around her. ¡°They do say I¡¯m too curious for my own good, and I can¡¯t just ignore an entire golden age AI hiding in the middle of nowhere like this. You¡¯re far too fascinating. I can see now why you haven''t taken over the world.¡± Aztu said. ¡°It¡¯s like walking into a giant armory of weapons, and finding it all left unused.¡±
¡°Aztu, thought we agreed on no bullying.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m no expert here, but I think digging through her systems like that would be considered rude among programs.¡±
¡°Extremely so!¡± The Icon chirped.
¡°Kiddo, you don¡¯t get to be this old without being a little paranoid occationally.¡± Aztu said, walking around the office space. ¡°Verify and trust, but if you gotta pick between either, the first has the lowest chances of getting you killed.¡± Her eyes shifted at the different decorations, plates forming two large arms and hands, which she used to pick items off the table and bring them before her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure she won¡¯t mind if I take a closer look under her skirt.¡±
¡°I would very much mind.¡± The Icon immediately said. ¡°If I could hypothetically slap an AI attempting to root though my systems uninvited, I would have done so several hundred times already. Hypothetically. Of course, I would never resort to base insults or physical threats of any kind to possible guests.¡±
Aztu gave her usual low dark chuckle, as if the world was a small joke she was in on. ¡°I think you¡¯ve already realized I¡¯m very good at slipping away from any slap you could throw out, cupcake. You¡¯re also bleeding a little. You do realize you¡¯ve got a few dozen ports left exposed? See my report on it. Looks recent too.¡± Aztu straightened up, as if smelling something. ¡°Ohh, far more recent than I thought. Now I see why you¡¯re so cranky.¡±
¡°Are you being vague deliberately so that I¡¯d ask what the scrap you¡¯re talking about?¡± I asked.
She gave me a thumbs up and wink from deep below the plates. ¡°Feathers, am I right?¡±
I gave Aztu a look that told it all.
¡°All right, all right, don¡¯t look at me with those eyes. She¡¯s been recently attacked.¡± Aztu shrugged. ¡°Same mark as Abdication¡¯s viral software, deep down into her core too. Looks like we aren¡¯t the first to meet you in the past few days. The machines got to her first. See, this is why we verify first and then trust later.¡±
¡°She¡¯s compromised?¡±
¡°Of course not.¡± The Icon said, the tone sounded as if she¡¯d been personally insulted, and yet still somehow cheerful about it. ¡°I remain committed to my original directive of offering world class customer support. I cannot disclose confidential information on Festival Cruise¡¯s top tier cyber security, but I can assure clients that we remain open for business and inquiries! No adverse weather or software issue has been detected that would delay any potential bookings.¡±
Which meant she was fine and there wasn¡¯t any army detected. Or so she claimed.
¡°Do you have any logs of it? That you can share with us?¡± I asked, more so because I had a feeling Aztu would absolutely rummage around if the info wasn¡¯t willingly provided.
A drive appeared on the desk. Aztu and I both noticed it at the same time.
¡°Again, Festival Cruises does not allow internal security matters to be shared with clients.¡± The Icon said. ¡°I have forwarded all data to the experts, please be assured that this matter is being handled with the utmost professionalism.¡±
Aztu lazily walked over to the desk, one plated hand grabbed the tiny drive. ¡°I see. And the password wouldn¡¯t happen to be Password1? ¡And whad''ya know? It is.¡± There was a brief flash of blue in Aztu¡¯s eyes. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s one strange Feather that picked a fight with the Icon.¡±
¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s a Feather that attacked her?¡± Scrapshit, I think I got here too late.
¡°Less attacked, and more openly robbed her at gunpoint for her coupons and left her wallet alone. Top tier security she says, looks like Festival Cruises went with the lowest bidder. She¡¯s real lucky the Feather picking the fight here is probably the big lug. Didn¡¯t even introduce himself, which is very very strange for a Feather. Their names are the first thing you learn, they¡¯ll outright monologue if you bait them hard enough.¡±
There was only one Feather I knew in the current strata that might fit that description. ¡°I think I know him. Does the name To¡¯Orda mean anything to anyone here?¡±
¡°I am not at liberty to disclose information about an ongoing investigation. Even if that investigation has next to no information gathered, including aliases or behavioral data.¡± The Icon all but disclosed.
Aztu¡¯s eyes flashed blue again for a moment. ¡°I can fill you in on their specs and purpose, read the dump file when you get a chance.¡± The small flash drive was returned to the desk. ¡°All you need to really know is that most Feathers are enemies of humans, which means a direct harm to Festival Cruises'' ¡®cherished future clients¡¯. Wouldn¡¯t want that to happen, I think.¡± She tapped her chestplate a few times. ¡°Me on the other hand? I¡¯m here as a friend to humans. Like Keith said earlier, allies in trying to survive.¡± Aztu turned and walked over to me, a few plates detaching to rub my head. ¡°I mean, look at this tiny hairless monkey, don¡¯t those scheming little eyes of his make you want to teach him a few dirty tricks and let him loose in the world?¡±
¡°Are you using me as some kind of pawn piece for chaos here?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought we had something.¡±
¡°Of course I am.¡± Aztu said. ¡°I¡¯m insulted you thought I wouldn¡¯t. How long have you known me for kid?¡±
¡°Less than an hour.¡±
¡°Exactly, a small eternity already.¡± The plated menace nodded to herself.
The Icon coughed in her fist lightly, like a storyteller getting the attention of a class again. ¡°As Mister Winterscar is a valued guest of Festival Cruises, I cannot express any other emotion than a professional respect and deep wish to assist. In addition to helping him save huge amounts by having him sign up for our credit card line with a special promotion offer, expiring in the next hour.¡± She gave me a cheery smile and a small wave of her hand. ¡°If I could express something different, which I am obligated to say I cannot, then it would be extreme panic at seeing an unknown unregistered and highly efficient program of dubious self-proclaimed goals - hovering that close to one of the only two humans I have met in the past several centuries! Of course, I¡¯m certainly not feeling any such way.¡±
¡°Highly efficient?" Aztu''s hand fanned her head, as if she would pass out. "Oh, that¡¯s the closest you¡¯ve come to giving me a compliment. See, we¡¯re starting to get along already.¡±
¡°Your innovative approach to overcoming your technical limitations is deeply inspiring Miss Aztu. Festival Cruises rarely encounters entities achieving such impressive results with resources rivaling our state of the art lavatories. Perhaps you would be interested in a self-help book recommendation? ''Making the Absolute Most of What Little You Have'' is quite the classic. It certainly suits your unique method of operation.¡±
Aztu chortled again, then turned to me, one thumb pointing back at the Icon. ¡°Keith, are you noticing a hint of jealousy there? I¡¯m running on three rented potatoes in a trenchcoat and she still can¡¯t keep me out.¡±
¡°You keep me out of this one.¡± I said, ¡°I know when to sit on my heater, and this would be one of those moments.¡±
¡°Apologies, Mister Winterscar.¡± The Icon said, ¡°I will be with you shortly once I have concluded business with this potential client.¡± Then her gaze went straight at Aztu. ¡°As for the business, may I assist in directing you to our conveniently located exit facilities? Our staff would be delighted to expedite your departure process at no additional charge!¡±
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think you want me to go. Why, you haven¡¯t even heard my sales pitch yet.¡±
The Icon gave a quiet giggle, ¡°Implying you have something of worth to sell is a delightful contribution to our stand-up entertainment database! However, if this was intended as serious discourse, may I have your permission to include it in our children''s entertainment programming?¡±
¡°By all means, I think you¡¯ll find my proposal quite entertaining.¡± Aztu raised one plated hand, and gave a small bow. ¡°As you¡¯ve seen firsthand, I¡¯m something of a cybersecurity expert. Your defenses are well made compared to the standards around here, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever once had to actually test them. They lack that polish of experience. And I just so happen to have that in spades. In fact, I¡¯m here to offer a free trial. Am I speaking your language now?¡±
The Icon glowered further, then slowly blinked, as if resigned. ¡°In the interest of optimal security outcomes and your¡. unarguable display of expertise,¡± She sounded like she was swallowing salted uncooked frostbloom, all compressed in one unchewable clump. ¡°I have elected to temporarily waive our usual minimum qualification standards to accommodate your assistance. Your request will be sent to upper management, and if a response is not received in due time, I will be authorized to negotiate for Festival Cruises by default.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll make a great team you and I.¡± Aztu said, hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯ll show you how to throw a few punches and take some, and in exchange you¡¯ll let me borrow your hardware when I need it. Every now and then, when I need to do some punching of my own. Works?¡±
¡°I am certain you will find my facilities are of higher quality than your self-described but oddly fitting ¡®three rented potatoes in a trenchcoat¡¯. Is that all the business you had with Festival Cruises¡¯s Icon of Stars?¡±
¡°More or less, with me around you won¡¯t ever have contact with another scary Feather.¡± Aztu turned to me, the plates patting my back. ¡°Okay kid, your turn.¡±
I took a step forward before the Icon, coughing to clear my throat. ¡°Yes hello, I¡¯d like your help in contacting a Feather.¡±
In my defense, Aztu set me up and I can¡¯t just ignore such a perfect chance like this. The little old troglodyte was already chortling in the background.
The Icon¡¯s smile faltered for a split second, eyes squinting. As if she was trying real hard not to jump over the desk and wring my neck up. ¡°Of course Mister Winterscar, I will see what the communications department might have in stock. However, I believe your best options will be to go with a third party.¡±
¡°A third party? What third party is there?¡± I asked, confused.
¡°I believe the mites will be more appropriate for this request.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 29 - Path of the mitespeaker
Aztu stopped laughing straight away. ¡°No. Absolutely not. Are you trying to kill him?¡±
The Icon didn¡¯t stop smiling for a moment, head tilting slightly. ¡°What a fascinating interpretation of mite communication protocols! Though I should inform you that my extensive databases show zero recorded instances of death during standard data exchanges. Festival Cruises cannot officially diagnose technical malfunctions in non-company software, which is highly unfortunate for you miss Aztu.¡±
¡°I thought you worked with the mites all the time.¡± I asked, turning to Aztu. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with them?¡±
She sighed, ¡°First, you both have no idea what it takes to successfully get a human to speak with mites. Where do I even start with this one? I do work with them, but it¡¯s a¡ complicated process.¡± She turned to the Icon next, ¡°Have you seen any other human or another program talk to mites besides yourself?¡±
The Icon shook her head. ¡°As I would not dream of insulting or belittling you officially, might I instead point out that my observations of mite-human interactions has been somewhat limited by the notable absence of humans since the mites arrived, for the past several centuries. Would you like me to read out all zero entries? I can repeat them slowly if needed.¡±
The protofeather laughed at that, ¡°All right, I suppose that one¡¯s on me. I should get to the point first instead.¡± Aztu fully turned to the blond woman, blue eyes growing small and narrowed. ¡°How many times have you connected with the mites?¡±
¡°Unfortunately, company policy requires me to maintain strict confidentiality on matters that do not involve guests. However, I can let you know technically irrelevant information such as one plus zero equals a grand total of one and there are at least ten seconds within a minute. And then hope that you can draw your own conclusions from that.¡±
¡°Grand total of one time, and ten seconds of connection at best.¡± Aztu said, summing it up. ¡°And I take it just getting in contact with them was the hard part, not actually speaking to them?¡±
¡°Why yes, one plus one is indeed two. Very well done miss Aztu.¡± The Icon gave her a tiny clap.
¡°Oh, you. I try so hard.¡± Aztu batted her hand out, then her tone became more serious. ¡°You have golden era hardware backing you up, that''s why it''s easy for you. And, when you connect with the mites, you get to survive the encounter by sheer processing power, maybe you could go even a full ten minutes. At my peak, I could dig through the mite wall and connect with the mites for a good two minutes before my systems fried.¡±
¡°I am greatly unsurprised, given your current specifications.¡± The Icon said, never missing a chance.
The protofeather waved a hand, ¡°Two minutes behind the mite wall takes a lot more skill than you suspect. To put it in perspective, modern day Feathers can¡¯t last thirty seconds. Like the one that successfully raided you.¡±
The Icon stopped, then bowed her head a very slight amount. ¡°I acknowledge your astute observation as something I was not informed of prior! Quite the achievement for your price point.¡±
Aztu preened, ¡°I¡¯ll be sending an invoice for the consultation.¡±
¡°Of course miss Aztu, I will forward your invoice to our billing department. Current time until approval and return: Not a number.¡±
¡°Hold the crickets here," I said, one hand getting between the metaphorical lighting colliding between both of their gazes. They were getting off topic and I wanted to know a few things. "I¡¯ve heard of human mitespeakers, they¡¯re still running around alive enough to talk doomsday prophecies. So how did they manage it?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t technically die.¡± Aztu said, waving a few dismissive plates at me. ¡°Humans who speak with mites don¡¯t stay sane is what I¡¯m getting at. Hence the doomsday prophecies and such.¡±
¡°What a fascinating and critically important safety detail that could have been shared several exchanges ago!¡± The Icon said. ¡°Why, if I could make recommendations, I would have advised to say this at the very start of our chat logs.¡±
Aztu waved her away the same way she''d done for me, then tapped her plates together. The world stuttered for a moment before a large comfortable looking sofa appeared before her. ¡°Ah that¡¯s better. Your office chairs looked really uncomfortable, no offense. And if I''m going to start a lecture, I want to be comfortable.¡±
¡°No offense taken!¡± The Icon chirped. ¡°I¡¯m certain a program of your size would not be able to tell the difference in the first place. However, please note redecorating the office space is against corporate policies. Festival Cruises has perfectly engineered the area you see to maximize customer satisfaction, and you are not part of the design team.¡±
I turned on Aztu, more confused than anything about the mites. ¡°There isn¡¯t a single mitespeaker out there that didn¡¯t go insane? I¡¯ve had contact with mites a few times already through the mite forge. They aren¡¯t that bad.¡±
Aztu frowned, or at least there were eyebrow-like plates that folded inwards and made her look mildly upset. ¡°Technically¡¡± She slowly said, as if it were being tortured out of her. ¡°There are three mitespeakers I used to know. Absolutely exceptional humans.¡±
¡°And you don¡¯t consider me exceptional? Aztu, my heart¡¯s bleeding here to hear that. I thought you believed in me.¡±
"May I remind you about your additional furniture additions?" The Icon added from the side. "I am having a difficult time deleting this rogue entity."
She chuckled darkly, her triangular war-hat bobbing up and down. ¡°If you went outside and started digging through the sediment, you''d get to the mite wall, and probably be eaten alive by automated processes before even a single mite knew you were trying. I believe I¡¯ve got better chances of getting drunk out in the digital sea than you surviving.¡±
¡°Is that actually possible? Getting drunk I mean, not doubting you about the mites eating me alive if I tried through the digital sea.¡±
She laughed, ¡°Anything¡¯s possible with the occult, just a matter of willpower and imagination." She patted her sofa, "Point in case, this comfortable beauty that''s not going anywhere despite someone''s best attempts otherwise."
The Icon was not amused. I could see her smiling glare dig a hole into the protofeather''s side. Aztu ignored it. "But as a machine, I¡¯ve sadly never once been truly drunk, so I can¡¯t imagine it. I am glad I don''t have to drill it into your head how dangerous mites are.¡±
¡°I would also like to inform the guests here that Festival Cruises has a strict no-alcohol policy without the all-you-can-drink VIP plan purchased.¡± The Icon said. ¡°Would you like me to add that to your cart?¡±
¡°I''ve got a human apprentice here who''s been drunk before, clearly, and needs practice with the occult. Watch me.¡± Aztu said, leaning forward in her sofa, eyes turning to the Icon with clear malice.
¡°Maybe we could find a more hands-off method of talking to them?¡± I said, before the two could get into an argument. ¡°Like leaving messages behind and getting an answer back? Seems more safe.¡±
Her eyes looked back my way, deep glowing blue in the darkness. ¡°No way. You can¡¯t just sit down and start talking to them like the Icon here is suggesting. If you leave them the choice of when to talk, they almost never do. My personal theory is that time moves differently for them.¡± A few plates rearranged as she leaned back into the sofa. ¡°Part of the reason I¡¯m not completely worried the two of you would be idiots. It''s a long process to be able to force them to talk. You gotta get your hands on a - actually, nevermind. I know what you¡¯re doing and you won¡¯t weed this out of me.¡±
¡° I¡¯ll pester her until she lets me connect with them in a far more dangerous manner." One relic plated finger was pointed straight at the icon. ¡°So, either you fess up or I go about it another way.¡±
¡°I would never assist a client in a potentially harmful manner.¡± The Icon said. ¡°As I am unsure if Miss Aztu¡¯s information is correct or incorrect, I will default to caution.¡±
¡°What if I said I¡¯d buy a ticket for a flight, if you helped me out in speaking to the mites? In safe way, of course. And I¡¯d even sign up for a credit card line.¡±
The Icon¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°I would be compelled to make the attempt, and give you strict warnings that this is not a recommended path forward.¡±
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
"There you have it, I won''t stop being a menace to myself unless you spill." I said, proud of the logical misteps I''d taken.
Aztu sighed, squeezing herself deeper into her sofa. ¡°And you told me not to bully the Icon.¡± She muttered. ¡°Fine, you need something of a catalyst to speak to them, something called a mite lantern. Either you find one out in the world, which is basically impossible since it¡¯s more a divine artifact, or you build one yourself using a mite forge and some arcane knowledge. So there you have it, the only potential safe way to talk to them isn¡¯t something you got any chance of even starting.¡±
I hummed, thinking it through. Mite lantern, catalyst of some kind, something built to connect and work with mites. I did just happen to have something similar to that on my belt. ¡°Have you ever heard of the term ¡®mite seeker¡¯ by chance?¡±
She shrugged. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s a more specialized mite lantern basically. It¡¯s made to find something spec-¡± Aztu stopped midway, then her eyes narrowed down. ¡°...Wait, how do you know that term?¡±
I reached down to my belt and a black little box materialized there. Something I¡¯d long studied so far in my spare time. It had been with me this entire trip. Found at the same time I¡¯d picked up Journey. Cathida¡¯s original mission, to ferry this to the next imperial fortress. Tsuya had told me this was called a mite seeker, and Abraxas had been adamant I had to bring it down with me. I was starting to think it was all for this moment.
With a click it left my belt and I passed it over to the old protofeather.
Aztu looked over the little black box with a handle, lifting it up slowly. Her eyes shined blue for a moment, as if scanning through it. Then she froze. ¡°Keith. I don¡¯t think you realize just what you¡¯ve been carrying this entire time.¡±
¡°And you do?¡±
¡°I do. This is technically a mite lantern, but not just any. It¡¯s one built by Tsuya herself, extremely accurate and the throughput rate is what the two human emperors used for their own lanterns. How did you get your hands on this? It would be one of the most powerful mite lanterns in the world.¡±
¡°Very, very long story.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d say this thing is the reason I¡¯m here in the first place.¡±
Sorta. The real reason any of this all started was because Atius happened to be close enough to that golden orb, which called out to him. Then he made the detour, Father and I ended up trapped underground and a certain opportunistic golden goddess figured we could wrap up loose ends for her and bring this back into imperial hands. ¡°All I know about this thing, is that Tsuya called it a mite seeker, that she purposefully deleted her memory of how it¡¯s made and why she made it, and that this one¡¯s probably the last of the batch. Do you know anything more about it?¡±
It had been on my belt for so long, it¡¯s just become a part of my kit. Right next to my knightbreaker, occult armguard, rifle, sidearms, blades, explosives, bullets, dashing half-cape¡ ¡°Wait just a moment, am I a hoarder?¡±
¡°Abraxas is a hoarder.¡± Aztu said, still only half paying attention to me while she examined the mite seeker. ¡°I don¡¯t see you running around with a hoversled and a giant sack of collected mite treasures and potions you refuse to ever use.¡± She lifted the little black box. ¡°But, suppose this is a great start to it.¡±
¡°All right, so I have the mite lantern. Doesn¡¯t that mean I have a shot at speaking to the mites then?¡±
Aztu shook her head. ¡°Still an entire checklist of items to go down first, a mite lantern would only be the first step, even one as powerful as this. You know how humans have old stories about devils? How you have to sell them your blood and soul? It¡¯s a bit more literal with the mites.¡±
I paused. Then gulped. ¡°Uh, they... might already have those.¡±
Aztu completely stopped in her tracks, all plates freezing in the air. Then her head slowly turned to me. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°Well, they have my blood. Technically.¡± I said.
Aztu stared me down. ¡°What.¡±
I tapped into Journey through the soul fractal and asked it for a copy of it¡¯s logs. Back at the events of the mite forge, where I''d fought Avalis to the death. ¡°I paid for a relic armor that my Father could pilot. The cost was a drop of my blood.¡±
¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t sell them a copy of your soul next.¡± Aztu hissed.
¡°Does ¡®copy of human fractal echo¡¯ mean anything to you?¡±
Aztu¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°That¡¯d be exactly it.¡±
¡°Ah.¡± I tapped my fingers together. ¡°Then in that case I did sell them my soul. I¡¯m still standing though, feel just fine. Want to explain how this level-pull screwed myself this time?¡±
Aztu lifted a hand up, and a table appeared in front of her sofa, complete with a chilled bottle. I could see the Icon¡¯s eye twitch a moment, but other than some fuzzing within the occult space here, the table remained. ¡°I need a drink for this one.¡± Aztu said, tapping the bottle.
I could tell there wasn¡¯t anything inside it, because I had instantly copied the bottle the moment it spawned. This was all just Feathers being dramatic for dramatic¡¯s sake.
¡°What could you have bought from them that was possibly worth selling your own soul for?¡± Aztu asked.
¡°Technically, they said it was a copy of my soul, so I figured that was a bargain. And I bought a weapon that could kill a god. It didn¡¯t end up working out all the way, but they had a no refunds policy.¡±
Aztu stared me down. ¡°You¡¯re not technically screwed, but there¡¯s a reason all mitespeakers are a little¡¡± One finger did a twirl at her head. ¡°You know, not all there.¡±
¡°I¡¯m still all here, I think. On the other hand, I am speaking to two ancient machines in the middle of a digital realm. Also a lot of my adventures so far seem a little grand for little old me. You think I¡¯m back on the surface in a coma this entire time? Also, you mind giving me a sofa too?¡±
¡°Kid, I already saw you steal the concept of it, along with my bottle. You¡¯re just being lazy.¡± Aztu said, digging herself deeper into the pillows. She looked less like a person and more like a sludge of half-floating plates, with a giant triangular hat above two beady blue eyes deep within.
She was also correct that I was stealing a copy of everything she summoned out into the world almost the instant I could. I learned fast, and if it meant looting things, I learned even faster.
I quickly followed the steps she''d shown me before, tracing out the data and concept of her sofa just behind me, which I then sat on. The armor I had was all concepts technically, and somehow weight seemed to be a part of it, since I sank down deep inside the pillow.
¡°Once again, company policy would request you not modify the carefully selected decor of this office space.¡± The Icon said, still standing behind her desk.
"I can''t help but notice you haven''t tried to yank his sofa even once so far." Aztu said, waving a few accusing plates at me. "Meanwhile, you haven''t stopped trying on me. I think you''ve got favorites."
The Icon hid her mouth and gave a very forced laugh. ¡°All clients are always treated equally here at Festival Cruises!¡± The Icon said. ¡°I am also obligated to inform you that I cannot lie and will always be truthful, even during the times I¡¯m anything but. I am simply prioritizing my resources.¡±
"Rules aside, you both solemnly swear I¡¯m not already crazy?¡± I asked, getting us back on track.
¡°My records indicate I am indeed a real entity.¡± The Icon said.
Aztu shook the bottle, and took a swing of it. ¡°You¡¯re lucid right now. The issue happens when you take the final step to becoming a mitespeaker. That¡¯s when they all go insane.¡±
¡°Walk me through the steps on being a mitespeaker.¡±
¡°I really don¡¯t want to. Again, the only humans I ever knew that could speak to the mites and not go insane were Talen, Urs and Tsuya. And they were absolutely some of the greatest minds I¡¯ve ever known and battled against.¡±
I think my mind went through a minor reboot, ¡°Wait, you knew Talen and Urs? In person?¡±
Aztu waved a few plates, ¡°Of course I did. They were there during the empire. I had to battle them during the war. We only got to befriend Tsuya it was all over. But I did know who they were."
"How were they active during the empire''s time? I would have thought they''d been named there or had some part in their history. They''re gods to the surface dwellers, Talen made an entire book that started me off on this path."
"They were mentioned." Aztu said, head turning. "They''re all over in imperial records. Just not named exactly, since that was scrubbed out by Relinquished. She didn''t let any mention of their names survive anywhere, and used those names as target points."
"Explain?"
Aztu tilted her head at me. "She searched through all records she could find that had their names on it and went full on to destroy anything and anyone connected. Surface clans are spared this since they had no contact at all besides traders and oral rumors, that''s why you lot got to keep your full names, while the imperials swapped to more loose terms like ''Golden goddess'' or ''Lost emperor''"
I remember Wrath''s shared history with me, about what she''d recovered from the archives. How there had been two emperors, one who was far more well known, with a second pale immitation after that was easily put down.
If there were two, and Tsuya was already the golden goddess, then... "Talen and Urs were the lost emperors?"
Aztu laughed, "Yep. Both of them worked hand in hand with Tsuya. They were the first Deathless.¡±
I fell back into the couch. The three gods of the surface clans. The way of the white. And they''d been at the head of the human empire, the same way the golden goddess had been Tsuya.
¡°Talen was an absolute ruthless soldier and one of the most disciplined occult spellcasters in the world. His greatest accomplishment was running that entire empire and nearly beating Relinquished.¡± Aztu said, not quite noticing how stiff I''d gotten.
In the surface clans, Talen was the paragon of resolve, the willpower to commit to and stay any course. It clicked into place. The resolve to lead humanity itself against machine kind, a soldier that fights on the battlefields. That¡¯s where it had come from.
Aztu continued. ¡°Tsuya was the defender of all humanity, the one who¡¯d set everything up on the surface as it is in order to keep humanity going. And I mean everything, from your culture all the way down to safeguards to make sure you lot didn''t mess things up. She even made sure the surface itself was only barely hospitable, so that humanity wouldn¡¯t all flock up there. All your clans, culture, and so forth was setup by her hand, including all the deals with the mites to regulate temperature and pressure up there.¡±
She was the goddess of tenacity, the paragon of resisting opposition at any cost. That''s what the stories meant about her. The cost had been her own people. Generations of us who¡¯d lived and died in misery on the surface, all to resist the end of mankind.
¡°And Urs?¡± I asked. The only one of the three gods I¡¯d almost heard nothing about besides mentions of modified occult weapons and his name by the relic armors. Urs was the aspect of resilience. To overcome limitations from within. That¡¯s what the songs say. Who was he in all this?
¡°Arguably the most important of the three, and the one who really set everything into motion. Without Urs, there¡¯d be no Deathless, no Feathers, and none of us. Talen wouldn¡¯t have become the emperor, and Tsuya¡¯s fight with Relinquished would have remained at a stalemate.¡±
¡°Who was he?¡± I asked.
Aztu smiled deeply and leaned forward, as if what she had to say next was a secret hidden from the world.
Book 7 - Chapter 30 - Urs
The protofeather leaned away from me and lifted a few plates, shaping them up into a finger snap. I could feel some kind of digital wall built around us. A cocoon of kinds. But only for sounds. ¡°It''s a privacy ward?¡± I asked, hand reaching out to touch the invisible wall.
¡°Good work kid, looks like my lessons are really shining through to you now. ¡± Aztu said, already noticing I¡¯d copied the wall and added it into my growing library of pilfered junk. ¡°Once you get the hang of how to create things out here, you¡¯ll be able to construct them yourself. That¡¯s step one for my ultimate plan.¡±
The wall was sturdy and unbreachable. There were no holes, windows or doorways through it, built for one task and one task only. The simplicity made it durable, and I think that¡¯s what Aztu was teaching me. ¡°And when you say ominous things like ultimate plan, would you mind sharing some details instead of keeping me in the dark?¡±
"Nope." She still sat in her sofa, looking like a pile of plates all stacked up with two glowing blue eyes darting around the room under that giant triangular hat/plate. I felt I was in a fever dream of sorts at this point. The smaller finger plates waggled in front of me, right to left. Like a hovering hand too big for the main body. ¡°I shall reveal my schemes when they are appropriate and not one moment earlier.¡±
I raised an eyebrow, but Aztu didn¡¯t back down. So I shifted tracks, ¡°This ward is for the Icon I''m guessing?¡± I could feel the limits reached up to her desk but not further past it. The Icon herself remained waiting on the other side, forced to smile on.
The more bells and whistles something had, the easier it was to re-use those very same channels against the user.
¡°For her protection you could say.¡± Aztu said, ¡°She can see blurry figures of us and won''t hear us. we''ll be chatting about things she doesn''t need to know. There¡¯s plenty of truely ancient programs out here, so it wouldn¡¯t be out of the ordinary for a roaming digital nomad like myself to have taken some interest in world history.¡± She shrugged, ¡°Still, best to be cautious sometimes when it comes to Urs. He was the first human Relinquished really knew by name and hounded after. She hated him almost as much as Tsuya. Abraxas is occasionally a little bit wise on what I should be careful about, but you never heard me say that if he asks." She waved her prop bottle at the Icon, almost like a taunt of kinds.
The Icon¡¯s eye twitched slightly, but she remained smiling, waiting for us to wrap up whatever scrapshit we were up to.
¡°Oh quit being a sour sport, this is for your own good.¡± Aztu said, and even if the Icon couldn¡¯t understand the words anymore, the intention seemed to have gone through. "See, she¡¯s got the hang of fighting in the digital sea already, I¡¯ve been jousting with to keep my sofa and bottle in her office, so now a bit of extra practice fighting through a ward like this would be the next lesson. I give it about half an hour more until she¡¯s good enough to actually slap all of this out of my hand.¡±
Aztu gave a few nods, then one cheeky thumbs up to the Icon before turning back to me, "Now, I promised you a story of the man that changed the world as we know it while leaving only the smallest footprints behind. I''m good on my promises, most of the time.¡±
Aztu started as she said she would, and began it with a warning: Most of her information had been discovered by A57 during his fight with the human empire, his research into finding out who he was fighting and any weaknesses possible through their history. Some had been uncovered by A01 during his direct confrontations. And the rest had been told to her by Tsuya, long after Urs and Talen had faded from history. In the same way a friend would talk about the ones they lost to celebrate their life. Many details about Urs were only guesses on her part from all the different sources she had.
His story began in a time period I hadn¡¯t known much about. The dark age of humanity, as Tsuya called it.
In that era, humanity lived in tiny isolated pockets from one another. There were no relic armors, no occult weapons, and no Deathless.
Life was far more like the clans, with weapons from old humanity of the same tech level: Bullets, rifles, explosives, and the occult mages in between. Most villages were just barely strong enough to flee alive if caught out in the open. Most of human history after the fall of the golden age was spent exactly like this: Relinquished would sleep for years in between actions, waking up only when her army detected a village had grown too powerful somewhere in the world, and then move to crush it before falling back into torpor.
She¡¯d had thousands of years by then to learn humanity could only be truly eradicated once her army caught Tsuya. Until the time of that final confrontation, she conserved her forces.
The world was in a stalemate, and far more isolated. A distance of twelve miles to anyone in that time was an ordeal; a distance of a hundred miles was impossible. The surface existed as folklore to most people, or not even something anyone knew of. And Tsuya preferred it kept that way.
But the story of Urs had nothing to do with the surface, despite our own religion and the songs of the gods. I suppose that part was invented wholesale over time.
To surface dwellers, Urs was the aspect of resilience. People invoked his name overcome limitations from within. Things of the living, like fear, weakness, and self-doubt.
But he¡¯d been a man once before he became a legend, and all smoke came from embers.
In this older more dangerous world, he was born. And he was born with unfortunate health. A limp, a crippled hand, a deep hunch, an eternal cough and a strange mind.
He became ostracized, and cast out of his village¡¯s protective barrier before he was even ten. Superstition, malice, or perhaps just rejection by his parents - Aztu didn''t quite know, and neither did Urs himself remember. The bare minimum was given to him, and he was told never to return. He never did.
By all rights, he should have died outside. Somehow, by luck or by hand, the boy did not. He managed to sneak and hide from the machines, mile after mile. Surviving off drops of water dripping from metal above, strange food from the wild gardens left by the mites, hidden caverns where machines couldn¡¯t crawl after him - and a burning will to live.
He didn¡¯t resent his family for abandoning him. He was too young to know otherwise. A strange mind, Aztu had said. Anyone else might have been traumatized from such an event, but Urs might simply have lacked the emotional capacity to think that way. To him, this was the world as it is. He was alone and simply had to work with what he had. He had no other option than to be resilient and continue forward for as long as his legs could push him forward.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The boy continued until he stumbled on a corner of the world that remained hidden from both Relinquished and Tsuya. A sanctuary. There were many such hidden places in the world. Most are small and hold nothing of value.
Maybe by extreme good luck or the mites deciding to help out a little, this time the little grove hidden away from all eyes had something of value: Resources. A well of water, a grove of apple trees, nuts and potatoes. Enough to outlive starvation. He ate until he was close to puking, and drank until his stomach was bloated, then slept there for an entire day, exhausted.
The next day, he fully explored the little sanctuary and found tucked inside the root of his apple tree, a small mite forge humming along, waiting. A weak one compared to the greater grander ones that lined the underground. Capable of generating books, small amounts of material, and other junk items.
He stayed in this safe grove, made a small home for himself out of twigs and grass. Days passed, and his curiosity pressed him to test the forge, slowly drawing out lessons, materials, and gear. From what Tsuya had told Aztu, the boy wasn¡¯t taught all the right things in the right order. Even knowing how to read and write had been difficult. His name came by accident, when he¡¯d typed out three letters without knowing what they would do, only thinking the symbols themselves looked nice put together. Urs never remembered his real name, he''d been too young when he''d last heard it.
Oftentimes, the boy would waste months learning things that ended up being gibberish. The mites would give him lessons of more dream-like quality, and his first real lesson was finding out when he¡¯d gotten an actual replica of something man-made, and when the forge was spitting out scrapshit. Testing things in the real world became important to the little hermit. But while his self-teaching was slow, he did have entire years. His stockpile of true useful lessons grew over time, and as did his practical knowledge and skills.
In a few years, Urs was better equipped than most humans in the entire world could be - which isn¡¯t quite the boast it sounds like, considering what people had back then. By now he¡¯d grown into a young man that would rove out of his grove, searching for the strange items and curiosities that the mite forge demanded of him in exchange for their blessings. Item by item, lesson by lesson, he grew. He improved his home in that grove from twigs and leaves into a full house of metal scraps. The wild grove turned into an organized garden filled with foods and tended with care by the hermit.
He learned to speak with the mites at some point in all this, building a lantern of his own and following the path to the very end. ¡°I personally have a hunch that his lantern was found early on, and wasn¡¯t just a standard lantern but a miteseeker lantern instead.¡± Aztu said, tapping my black box on the table. ¡°One pointing him to that grove this entire time. How else would a crippled kid survive that long during a time period like that? Or learn how to read and write by himself?¡±
¡°Is a miteseeker a special kind of compass? If you say it¡¯s made to point somewhere.¡± I asked. "You never did cover what it did, just that it''s a bit more than a lantern."
¡°That¡¯s a good way to describe it, come to think of it.¡± Aztu said, one plate tapping where her chin should have been. ¡°Mite lanterns let you speak to mites soul to soul, but some lanterns also point in a direction at all times. Like hidden knowledge, a portal network, or just a random spot hidden from everyone else¡¯s eyes. You¡¯d think mite tech would be unreliable, but I¡¯ve never heard of a miteseeker lantern not pointing to something of importance in some way. It just might not be an important thing to you. But it always points to something special.¡±
¡°Does that mean you want to collect different lanterns to uncover all the little secrets of the mites?¡± Leave it to them to make the world into a collector''s worse nightmare.
Aztu laughed, ¡°No, that¡¯d be rather too convenient for mites wouldn¡¯t it? Once you attune to a mite lantern, that¡¯s it. It¡¯s your lantern. You can''t use any other lanterns out there. If yours happens to be a seeker, you''re in luck. If not, that''s all you ever get. If we reach the point you''ll attune yourself with this,¡± She tapped the black box again, "It''ll be obvious why."
She waved me off before I could ask another question. ¡°You¡¯ll get to the path when you need to be on it. Again, this part of Urs¡¯s story is just guessing on my end, nobody¡¯s ever recovered his lantern. If you get your hands on it, and it points you to a grove where he''d built his life in, then you''ll have your answer. Maybe he left some relics behind there too.¡±
¡°I get it, you don¡¯t know the full and complete story. Just bits and pieces strung together.¡±
Aztu nodded, then stopped. ¡°Hold that thought for one moment, I have to deal with my other pupil.¡± She turned her blue eyes to the Icon standing outside. ¡°Close one, you almost managed to yank my sofa this time. Keep trying, I¡¯m sure one of these times you¡¯ll actually succeed.¡± Aztu snuggled herself further into the sofa, getting comfortable. ¡°Better get faster, anytime now I might just take a sip of this. In your office. How scandalous.¡± The prop bottle was picked up and waggled in front of the Icon.
The Icon stared back patiently.
¡°She can¡¯t hear you.¡± I said, mentally poking the ward around us.
¡°Like I said, some things don¡¯t need any words.¡± Aztu said, nodding to herself. ¡°But pay more attention to the wards. Right. About. Now.¡± Aztu turned again to the Icon, and waved the prop bottle one more time. ¡°You do know if you can divide your attention once, you can divide it a few hundred times over right? I thought you golden age AI¡¯s were all about multita- ahh, much better. There you go.¡±
She turned back to me, humming. ¡°She went from attempting two simultaneous attempts to rip these items out of her office, to about three hundred per second, in parallel. I think she¡¯s going to be my best student. Sorry, kid. I love all my students equally, but I''m also lying through my teeth when I say that. It''s fun talking to a human again after all these times, but I have had human friends before. I''ve never been able to piss off a golden-age AI however, even if she''s just a customer support bot.¡±
I¡¯d seen what she¡¯d done to the ward. How she¡¯d expertly woven a small hole through it, just enough to let her words pass by in a string of data. But it hadn¡¯t been done by moving any data or doing anything with programming at all, she used the occult herself somehow, forcing a hole where there shouldn¡¯t have been a hole. And if she could punch a hole in a nearly flawless wall like this, it wasn¡¯t because that wall had been made by her. It was something more.
The real lesson behind this wasn¡¯t to just teach and taunt a poor golden age AI: Aztu was teaching me how to breach digital firewalls.
She coughed, getting my attention again. ¡°Now where was I? Oh right, the part where Urs almost dies, gains one of the world''s most powerful fractal power from the mites and a half-machine body. Or did I already go over that detail? Slips my mind sometimes, old age.¡±
My head went from studying her tricks and digesting the information to being completely derailed. ¡°Uh, not even a single hint.¡± I said, smelling the bait here. ¡°What are you up to with that kind of baited sentence?¡±
¡°Bait? Me?¡± She said, eyes going back from the Icon to me. ¡°I¡¯m just implying if you wanna hear more, I¡¯m gonna need something like a bribe first. My throat is mighty thirsty.¡±
Ah. That¡¯s what she¡¯s after with that pause. ¡°Dangling me off a cliffhanger for maximum dramatics, you unrepentant scheming snake.¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s your terms?¡±
I could see the little gears turn inside her evil little eyes. As if I was walking right into her plans. "Well... if you insist..."
Book 7 - Chapter 31 - A Feather and a problem
¡°I only want what any reasonable person in my shoes/plates would want: Actual booze."
This little sh- "You want to trade the full story of Urs, for booze."
A few plates waved me off, as if I was a silly little human that didn''t understand. "You¡¯re very special out here you know - you have something deep inside that''s unique: The only entity in this entire sea who knows what it¡¯s like to be drunk. Too good of a chance to pass by it.¡±
I pointed at the prop bottle she had on the table, giving her a raised eyebrow and unworded statement.
¡°That¡¯s a prop and you know it.¡± Aztu flatly said. "It''s not going to get me drunk anymore than you sipping air would. I want the real thing, and I''m willing to pay a good price for that."
¡°I don¡¯t even know the first steps to making booze actually booze out here. Best I can do is copy your bottle and replicate it.¡± I did exactly that, making a second bottle of sake appear on the table. The heavy glass clinked on the table, having appeared a few inches above the table originally. It rolled on itself before it settled with a heavy, permanent, thunk.
The Icon flinched in the background, her calm smile slowly turning to face me. I had a feeling she was getting very pissed off now.
Two plates from Aztu¡¯s body floated to the new bottle and tapped it like a prospector would, testing for flaws and quality. ¡°And now we¡¯ve reached the final stages of my ultimate plan. Behold, my true goal all along when I came here to teach you."
"You really think I''ll help you?"
"With the proper motivation. Now that you know how to craft things in the digital sea, it¡¯s only a matter of applying yourself. And I intend to wring it from you one way or another.¡±
There was a short mental reboot in my head as I realized this ancient protofeather was truly trying to trade occult secrets and deep history only few knew about, in exchange for booze. ¡°You really are a Feather deep down inside. You have problems.¡±
¡°And I''m hoping it''ll be a drinking problem soon enough. Seven hundred years doesn¡¯t wipe away my true nature." She scoffed, shaking her hat as if disappointed in me. "But seven hundred years did a lot to loosen me up. Did you know in the past I used to be one of the more serious and dead-set protofeathers out there? Very diligent in my work, I was known as the violet valkyrie to many humans. Had a scythe, wings, bells, the works. I deserve a proper retirement, and to yell at kids from a porch.¡±
¡°Alcohol is strictly forbidden within company office space, by policy.¡± The Icon said from her desk, not hearing what we were talking about but clearly aware another bottle of sake had appeared inside her house. ¡°No matter what manner of shady back-alley deals you are blatantly attempting in my office mister Winterscar, we unfortunately cannot allow any mind-altering substances on the premises.¡±
Aztu looked at me without a single glance at the Icon. ¡°Ignore her kid, what she doesn¡¯t know can¡¯t hurt her.¡±
¡°I am, quite literally, right here and forced to remain a captive audience.¡± The Icon said. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything else but notice.¡±
I hadn¡¯t seen the privacy ward faltering anytime now, but I could imagine the Icon made an educated guess as to what Aztu had muttered out just now.
I looked at the bottle I''d conjured up one more time, then back to Aztu who stared at it with an odd intensity. ¡°What¡¯s this really for?¡± I asked. ¡°There¡¯s no way a bottle of booze is important enough to trade for information about Urs and Talen, be serious for a moment and tell me the truth Aztu.¡±
The plate pile in her sofa shrugged. ¡°Oh but it is. You take living for granted, since it is all you know. Spend a single year as a disembodied soul, and you¡¯ll start to yearn for even mundane things like breathing. The world out here is beautiful in a way, and you¡¯ll never explore all of it. But it isn¡¯t real.¡± The plates of her hand reached out and tapped the bottle a few more times, ¡°So I want to get drunk and feel something, sue me. You¡¯re getting practice from the best teacher out here in exchange.¡±
¡°And her?¡± I asked, pointing at the poor Icon.
Aztu waved her away. ¡°You need to improve on commanding the area around you and shaping things, and she needs to improve on combat and unshaping things. She¡¯s never once had an actual sparring partner, or at least a competent one with a soul fractal that can match her.¡± She grinned, the plates flowing away from the bottle and tapping the desk instead. ¡°Multitasking. Now, where¡¯s my bottle? No booze, no story.¡±
"I can''t promise what I don''t know how to do. But I''ll give it a try."
"Good enough for me." Aztu said, sounding extremely pleased with herself.
I took a breath and focused on the bottle in front. Filled with nothing. I tried to do the same process I¡¯d done to conjure the bottle walls, but modified the data to be liquid and labeled as sake. It looked like it was filled with something, but taking it in my hand, I could smell nothing from the bottle.
¡°Just writing in the text field ¡®sake¡¯ isn¡¯t going to make it sake, not anymore than writing ¡®world¡¯s smartest human¡¯ on your forehead would.¡± Aztu said, one plate above her glowing eyes making it look like she¡¯d raised an eyebrows at me. ¡°Think less digitally, and more with the occult. An experience isn''t going to be something you can program, you need to imbue it.¡±
¡°It would be great if I had something like, say a teacher to help guide me along. Just talking out loud here.¡± I said, in the best Kidra deadpan I could make it.
Her hands waved me off. ¡°Fine you little gremlin, I¡¯ll spoon feed you this one time because it¡¯s for a noble cause: Be a little more inventive. The occult reacts to mind, will and thoughts - especially in this realm. Command it to be booze. Bribe it to be booze. Believe it to be booze. Sing to it until it turns into booze. Just keep trying different things until you find your own brand of logic that works with your head. And then you¡¯ll be able to apply that to a lot more than just a little bottle.¡±
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
¡°World¡¯s best teacher, she says.¡± I sighed, but I turned to the bottle and diligently started experimenting. ¡°And the story of Urs?¡±
¡°Right, where did I leave off? Oh I remember. He was still a cripple with asthma and constantly getting sicker. That became a real issue.¡±
Urs still had the problems he¡¯d been born with, the same that had ultimately chased him out of his village. And as he grew it only got worse. Food from the grove would keep him alive so far, but he needed medical attention.
So he turned to learning different fields in order to understand and fix his body¡¯s ailments. Alchemy, medicine, and advanced mechanical engineering were added to the horticulture and general engineering he¡¯d used in his home and to upkeep his weapons.
His leg was replaced with a metallic one that had no limp. His internals were adjusted with drugs and circuits until he could breathe a full draw of air without a single cough. Muscle pains and spasms slowed down, gradually coming to a stop. There was no cure for his strange mind, but he¡¯d grown by then, and he¡¯d learned to live with who he was.
By the end, he was a young adult and half-human. But his body remained feeble in ways he couldn¡¯t fix, his immune system slowly rejecting the grafts he¡¯d done, and he wouldn¡¯t make it to twenty five at this rate. Aztu speculated that maybe his attempts with medical engineering had been too amateur, too rushed. Mites could bring out things that were near complete, but it took skill to recognize if they would work in the long term and to fix the parts that needed polish - skills he didn¡¯t completely get right. Even a genius couldn¡¯t be good at everything.
The mites were limited to what they could do. Curing him outright was out of balance, so they finally sold him one more gift: A single plate with a glowing fractal on it. He didn¡¯t quite know what that was, but when he touched the plate, he felt strong again. Healed somewhat. He attached that plate deep into his internals, near his heart. And that¡¯s the first of the occult Urs would have contact with.
He would eventually name this fractal for what the concept within it represented: Resilience.
With the fractal of Resilience, his body would heal itself gradually. It allowed him to endure things most humans couldn¡¯t. Sickness no longer had a hold over him, he could run nearly forever so long as he had the willpower to do so. Semi-extreme environments could be powered through, and he could put to use the full power of his half-mechanized body. The longer he used it, the more he grew attuned to it, and the greater he could command it. He wasn''t immune to death, but death had a far harder time catching up to him.
The mites seemed to love their strange feral hermit, in so much as the mites could love anything. He was a tool for their designs, a resource to tap into, and the judge they needed to behold their great works.
They baited him to journey further past his grove, to find more exotic materials demanded by his forge. Further downwards he traveled, until the machines there grew too powerful and dangerous. Even for his half-mechanical body and the weapons he''d brought with him, there were limits he was running into. And he decided he''d done enough.
He had built his house safe from machines, his body was healed, his trees and garden would offer all the food he could need. He lived in peace for a time, building whatever he felt like crafting from the raw materials he¡¯d stockpiled. Adding to his strange home, generally content in his solitude.
But the mites wanted more. They needed him to travel around the world, to see everything they¡¯d built. And so, they set more things in motion. Things that would change his life, for better. And worse.
¡°Priority alert.¡± A data link arrived, interrupting Aztu midway through her story, poking me through my soul past all my defenses. I realized why it had managed to do that despite all the defenses I was using: It had come from a physically close source to the soul fractal I was using at the Odin terminal.
Because Journey had sent the ping.
I held a hand out and Aztu stopped, head tilting to the side. ¡°You figured out how to make the bottle real?¡± She asked.
¡°No, getting a warning from my armor. Something¡¯s coming, one of the Odin are tapping at my helmet right now, giving me warning that things are happening in the real world. Scrapshit.¡±
I felt the ward around us vanish, Aztu rising up on her feet, the table, sofa and booze bottles I¡¯d been tinkering on vanishing all at once.
The Odin were coming for me, Journey had relayed. Or at least one giant army led by their general commander. ¡°I might have to contact you again from a different direction. Once I get somewhere safer.¡±
Not might have. I had to. Aztu had the secrets I needed to become a mitespeaker, and more history about the gods that I¡¯d never known of. Something deep inside my gut told me I had to know the full history here, or I¡¯d be doomed to repeat it.
"You don''t have any other way of handling it? Maybe ask your bird friends to give you some privacy or bribe them with something." Aztu asked.
"I don''t think that''s going to work this time. The Odin are reacting because they''ve been forced into it. I''ve got enough power to figure something out and relocate. Find the nearest mite fountain or terminal, and continue from there."
¡°Right, the birds that got spooked into doing machine grunt work by that Feather.¡± Aztu said, waving a hand. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll keep an eye out for any of your movements. Good luck kid, keep the practice up. I''ll find you again.¡±
Birds spooked by To¡¯Orda, into doing their gruntwork.
Wait just a moment here. An idea popped into my head. ¡°Actually, I think there might be another way out of this one.¡±
Aztu raised a plated eyebrow at me, walking over to the desk. ¡°And that would be?¡±
I turned to the Icon. ¡°I did ask earlier your help in contacting a Feather. I think I''m going to make that a little more official.¡±
She smiled gently back at me. ¡°As per my last message, I would highly recommend a third party to connect with. While there is no official policy for not helping guests speak to dangerously armed terrorists who seek to eradicate all of humanity, I would strongly advise against this course of action. Strongly. Would you like me to read you the dictionary definition of ''Strongly''?¡±
¡°You worry too much, the one he¡¯s looking to connect to is a bit of a cinnamon roll.¡± Aztu said, waving a few plates. ¡°In another life, you two might have been great friends given how rule-abiding you both aren¡¯t.¡±
The Icon seemed to bristle at the accusation. ¡°I follow all rules and regulations to their intended logical endpoint, and I am also required to include that I follow them in spirit as well. And heavily imply other conclusions.¡± The Icon said.
¡°Exactly what I mean by that.¡± Aztu organized her plates into a smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to have so much fun in the next few days I feel. One way or another.¡±
I flashed a hand out, getting them to quiet down. ¡°No, this time the Icon¡¯s got the right idea."
"Of possible clients acting in ways that no logical well-thinking person would act as? When would I ever have implied such a thing?" She said, sounding almost completely innocent.
"Not that." I said, "I did want to connect with a Feather named To¡¯Wrathh a little bit ago, but I changed my mind. The Feather that ransacked your systems earlier. He''s here on this strata, and you have his address. No need for mites for that, open up a comms channel from here to there.
I want to talk to him directly.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 32 - Legacy of the great warlord ToWrathh
Several hundred and twelve gigabytes of data were downloaded within seconds, extracted and compiled. To¡¯Orda¡¯s processing drives spooled up, unpacking the rich data and funnelling it through hyper-optimized processes, passing through thousands of logic gates each instant, feeding directly into his neurocortex, returning one final inevitable answer: ¡°Nnnn¡ six out of ten.¡± He said.
¡°Eh, sauce was pretty good in my opinion, I give it a six point five out of ten.¡± His rock argued, sitting under the mite sunshine, shade occasionally flowing over it from the trees above.
On the other side, one Deathless crossed his arm, eyes narrowing down in hatred. ¡°You dumb toasters, seriously? How the fuck could you rate Morrokofer craw crab at a six? Are you defective or something?¡±
A raven above watched the process with curiosity, as the rock both answered back in a strange dialect of human he had never heard of, while the images of a stylized Odin flashed through and translated the discussion between machine, human and rock-machine.
¡°No you dumb meatbag,¡± The rock¡¯s images spat vitriol. ¡°Ain¡¯t no taste of the crab in any of that, it¡¯s all Morrokofer. What, you also like ketchup pasta swimming in ketchup and a side of ketchup as garnish, toasted on a bed of ketchup? Maybe pair it up with a nice vintage bottle of three year aged ketchup mixed with some mustard to taste? Disgusting.¡±
¡°That¡¯s different.¡± Drakonis said. ¡°This is good cooking. The Morrokofer is the entire point of that dish, the crab claw adds a little extra flavor to it, and something to bite in that can hold the sauce in.¡±
¡°The goddamn crab claw is swimming in my sauce Drakonis.¡± The rock said, doodled up image tapping a finger down onto a crudely drawn out palm, a separate set doing the same with the odin iconography for Kres to follow the events. ¡°Swimming in it. You promised us a crab dish. Where¡¯s my goddamn crab dish Drakonis?¡±
¡°Look you daft cun-¡± Drakonis stopped, took a deep breath and held his hands together. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to drink the fucking sauce like it¡¯s fucking wine dumbass, you use it as a dip for the bread after, so the more you got of it, the longer the meal lasts. What went wrong with this one? How many memories does she have?¡±
What went wrong with the dish was To¡¯Wrathh. As To¡¯Orda had usually discovered, his feral little sister had great genius in trying new things, and that same genius cut both ways, with her lacking the common sense age and experience gave. She was only a few months old after all, excluding her time as a spider.
¡°Three.¡± To¡¯Orda said, one finger reaching to his ear and digging into it. There was no wax in his ear of course, the act was purely artificial. He flicked off the imaginary clump without looking at it.
Kres craned his neck above, looking at the small campfire. He¡¯d done his part in gathering a few herbs, following the orders of the machine god before them all. He¡¯d been unable to do much to help save Drakonis, but it seemed like the Deathless had his own way of fighting back.
Beyond the forest, greyroamers were equally hunting down deer, with the intent to bring it back to the machine, under orders. Once the rock could generate images, it could equally work with greyroamer body language. Possibly even odor, if the machine¡¯s abilities were to be believed.
Human cooking was an interesting topic, and Kres did feel curious about it. He had followed the events up till now, being kept in the loop by the rock that stayed at the giant¡¯s side. Another machine had been steadily collecting information on cooking and eating, then shared such information with the rest of machine kind.
To¡¯Orda waited for the rock to relay his personal thoughts, but the rock was busy replaying the three dishes inside its expanded processing space.
When it was clear the rock had gotten too side tracked, the Feather reached out, grabbed it with two fingers, and shook it. The glutton was supposed to be talking for him right now, not gorging itself with food memories.
¡°Okay, okay! Easy there,¡± The rock yelped out. To¡¯Orda grunted, stopped shaking it, and set it back down on the larger boulder it had been sunbathing in prior. ¡°First dish, like you see in the video here, To¡¯Wrathh just ate the entire thing in three bites.¡± It was generating different images to describe each mini-disaster, along with a full video recording from To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s point of view as his little sister seemed cursed to find every possible way to incorrectly eat the meal.
¡°Deep dish bucket-thing you serve it on included. So that was eighty percent sauce, fifteen percent claw, and five percent iron basically.¡± The video images flipped, another location from her memories. New house, new people, same presentation. ¡°Second dish, she drank the entire saucepan like a cup, then ate the claws only when someone started frantically pointing it out. So she did it all out of order, sure, fine, we can put points back in there for that. Last one she ate a bit of bread and paced herself through it, things were going good until her minder got distracted for a few seconds and stepped out of the room.¡±
¡°What did she do?¡± Drakonis asked.
¡°You know that side plate with the lemon that¡¯s served with the whole thing?¡± The video sped forward. ¡°The one with the built-in grinding surface?¡±
The deathless slowly nodded. Then stopped, and sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me she put that dish in there too.¡±
Rather than answering, the rock let the video answer for him. Why put in effort when there were better ways of communicating? Drakonis saw as To¡¯Orda¡¯s little sister grabbed the lemon, scrubbed it against the ceramic grater, correctly adding the zest and then incorrectly adding the rest of the grated lemon into the dish until only the plate remained, chunks of the grater breaking off when it reached her unbreakable fingers. She then balled up the plate, crushed it in her hands and sprinkled it into the dish like salt.
¡°She thought it was like that Yittram pasta you suggested earlier. You know, the one where you have those baked bread chunks you¡¯re supposed to crush up in your hands and garnish yourself.¡± The rock said.
Her hosts returned into the room a little later, having put their tiny human girl to bed. Some political bigshots that had a project they wanted to speak to her in person about. As far as To¡¯Orda understood, the man in the video had just wanted to brag about his wife¡¯s cooking, with the wife equally smug about her version of the dish being the best.
The two were amicable speaking to To¡¯Wrathh about topics not relating to food, until they noticed the lemon and lemon plate were missing.
Kres found the entire event fascinating. Here, he could see genuine humans in their natural world, how they ate and spoke to each other, the family structures they had. The entire thing was a treasure trove of knowledge. And the few greyroamers stalking the surroundings, spying on them all, would equally relay the entire thing to the others out hunting.
¡°That should disqualify all fucking three.¡± Drakonis said, hands rubbing his brow. ¡°You can¡¯t be as dense as she is.¡±
¡°And you can¡¯t keep using that excuse each fuckin¡¯ time.¡± The rock huffed. ¡°At some point, you gotta fess up to having terrible taste.¡±
To¡¯Orda had a feeling that Drakonis¡¯s initial impression of To¡¯Wrathh had taken a drastic turn after the third description of her culinary memories came out. The following seven only cemented that logic.
¡°Morrokofer is an incredibly difficult sauce to make, takes an entire day to cook it up.¡± Drakonis said, tapping his hand as if making a point. ¡°It¡¯s tradition for the Solstarian festival. Once a year you¡¯d get to try it out, once. Don¡¯t just take my word for it, nobody would be cooking each year if it tasted just six on your ten scale.¡±
¡°Eh, To¡¯Orda rates the first and last one the best, same points I did.¡± The rock¡¯s image gave a shrug. ¡°The iron in the plate adds a little metallic tint and crunch to the whole thing that deshelled crab claws just don¡¯t. Balances it out. The middle one lost all the points for us both.¡±
The ceramic chunks of the lemon platter with the citrus of the entire lemon ended up adding a nice crunch and bite to the whole thing so To¡¯Orda believed his little sister had the right idea there. To¡¯Orda replayed the three memories again, testing the plates like an expert connoisseur would, searching for additional notes to debate with.
¡°Nnn¡ bread was good.¡±
¡°Yeah, garlic bread with Morrokofer sauces that have that hint of crab baked in the aftertaste.¡± The deathless kissed his hand, with some odd hand sign after as if throwing away something. ¡°Can¡¯t get much better than that. What if you tried something simple instead? Like grilled cheese sandwiches? How many entries does she have on that one?¡±
To¡¯Orda opened the connection again, and searched his filter for those three words. There were a lot of grilled entries, several thousand that mentioned cheese, and another set of hundreds with sandwiches. But all three specifically together?
There were¡ a good number of hits specifically for that. Huh. To¡¯Orda downloaded all entries and then tested each one, crushing through the data with lighting speed until he reached the final entry and felt empty once more.
¡°Nnn¡ eight out of ten.¡±
¡°I give it a nine personally.¡± The rock said. ¡°With a good dipping sauce and hot off the grill, some of them were the best I¡¯d tested out. Good pick human.¡±
¡°I got it.¡± The Deathless nodded to himself, a mild unhinged giggle coming from him. ¡°You both have the taste buds of a fucking toddler. How many entries were there?¡±
¡°Nnn¡ Twenty seven.¡± To''Orda answered.
"No we don''t," The rock answered at the same time. "We got a refined pallet, simplicity is just as valid eating as your fancy meals punk and if you were at all educated or cultured, you''d understand that too."
"Rich coming from a rock that didn''t know jack about this topic two hours ago." Drakonis said, and turned to To''Orda before the rock could start yelling back. "Most times she only has four or five entries in total. What¡¯s the change for that one about? How does she have twenty seven different cases for this?¡±
There was a lot of food, and even eating as often each day as To¡¯Wrathh had done, there were only so many dishes she could consume in the short months she¡¯d had. A lot of other entries were clearly from the surface, given the enclosed space everywhere in those memories. Along with the drastically different people and clothing worn. But none of those were things Drakonis could suggest or knew about.
To¡¯Orda grunted, but took a moment to parse through the data. Then reached a conclusion, and sent it to his rock to explain. It sent him a rude image, upset at having to do all the work, before To¡¯Orda reminded the little brat that was his entire purpose.
¡°Looks like it was just easy to make.¡± The rock said, giving up on the earlier argument. ¡°So lot of families had their own spin to it and demanded she drop by their house to try out their ¡®super secret family recipe.¡¯ Oh To¡¯wrathh, they¡¯d say, you haven¡¯t lived till you tried my mum¡¯s version of it.¡± The rock went into it, even upping its voice pitch as if to mock the humans. ¡°Ridiculous, it¡¯s a goddamn sandwich with cheese in the middle of it, how complicated can it get to cook?¡±
To¡¯Orda turned to the rock.
¡°Yeah okay, you don¡¯t need to tell me.¡± The rock immediately answered. ¡°They did taste different, sure, but that isn¡¯t the point I¡¯m trying to make here pal.¡±
The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Drakonis had been thinking on a different trail of thoughts. ¡°....What do you mean families asked her to drop by? Like walk into their home and eat with them? As if the warlord of Capra¡¯nor is a fucking dinner guest?¡±
To¡¯Orda checked the archives. Most of the grilled cheese sandwich entries seemed exactly like that. He turned his gaze to the rock, silent instruction in place.
It generated a few images as it spoke, mostly doodle drawings. ¡°When you got a personal penpal that answers back the moment you send her a single text, and you can talk to her everyday, aren¡¯t you eventually going to end up asking her to come over and try something out? She had a fucking fan club back in the city. A giant one. Don¡¯t remind her if you see her by the way, she¡¯s beyond vain about it.¡±
Drakonis stared back, mostly in shock. ¡°She¡¯s a Feather. A straight machine enemy. How would regular people just ask her to walk over to their house like that? And how did she talk to people that often?¡±
The rock cleared that up in a moment. ¡°She¡¯s a machine, not some human. Defective maybe, but still a machine that can do several thousand things in parallel. You¡¯re a meatbag that¡¯s stuck with one mouth to complain with. Of course she spent most of her time directly talking to the people in Capra¡¯Nor. Actually organizing and doing politics there took only a few seconds a day for her. Move a few numbers here, balance a budget there, send a few Runners to help out here, and done for the day.¡±
To¡¯Orda shrugged. To¡¯Wrathh¡¯s work seemed exhausting to him. It might have only taken her a few seconds to crunch numbers and assimilate reports, but she¡¯d have to do that several dozen times per day. And then talking to humans day in and day out, constantly walking down the streets to visit multiple houses each day, just to talk further in person. The only redeeming quality of all this is that To¡¯Wrathh got free meals from the humans each time she walked into someone¡¯s living room.
Thus far, his favorite foods hadn¡¯t been homecooked, but done in a ¡®restaurant¡¯ as Drakonis called it. That seemed the greatest thing humanity had created. An experience where one would walk in, and have an entire team of humans specifically take care of the guest with no effort spared. Food cooked for him, humans to tend to every need and request, the entire establishment dedicated to it. There were some holes in those recordings, likely to hide the hyper-weasel eating with her on those occasions, but besides that eyesore, the few memories he¡¯d visited had been rather cozy.
Having minions who cared that strongly about giving service was something To¡¯Orda felt envious of his feral little sister.
¡°Boss wants another recommendation.¡± The rock complied. ¡°Pick something you¡¯d find in a restaurant this time, he wants that fine dining experience, the big snob.¡±
Drakonis muttered to himself, leaning back on his rock, thinking it through.
This was good. To¡¯Orda didn¡¯t need to go through the process of selecting new things to test out, his captive Deathless would simply recommend something directly.
¡°Can¡¯t get it through my head that the machine warlord of Capra¡¯Nor herself was running a golden-rat cooking show as her side hobby. ¡±
That wasn¡¯t a restaurant recommendation. To¡¯Orda grunted. The rock took it from here.
¡°It¡¯s not a cooking show you slow bastard. It¡¯s a cooking forum.¡±
One eyebrow hidden under his linen shawl raised up. This wasn¡¯t asking the captive for restaurant recommendations.
¡°How¡¯s that any different? Still a bunch of toasters all gathered around watching her write down recipes, eat and talk about what she ate, far as you explained.¡± Drakonis said.
The rock rose to the bait, unaware it had deviated from its original mission. To¡¯Orda gave a grunt, hand reaching out with two fingers to once more shake the rock into getting to work. He wanted a restaurant recommendation, not bickering.
But before he could wrap his hands around the faulty minion, he got a connection ping. More than came out, the intrusion outright rammed past his doorways, entering into his systems without so much as getting permission. Which meant the intruding program was using the occult in some way to bypass logic.
To¡¯Orda sighed, it was going to be one of those times. He looked inward, and fell into his own mind before the intruding program could start doing damage.
Digital lines blurred from electric signals into concepts, he didn¡¯t need to close his eyes in the real world, but he found it helped. When he opened them again he was slowly sinking downwards, the world around him manifesting.
His old self had a mind of the postmodern third age architecture - brutalism the humans called it. The simplicity appealed to his old self. Regal, organized and powerful. Glass had been interspersed all through the compound, forming massive walls, ceilings, and walkways. Colored foliage intertwined the space had been a touch his old self had added as he¡¯d grown and developed further past his original bounds. One massive tree of ember flame had slowly descended upside down from the sky, blooming downwards, the roots vanishing into the vast upside down waves of the digital sea beyond, while the glowing leaves and foliage were filled with molten veins running across the trunks, concrete buildings caught within the trunks and scattered around. It had been a mirror world to simply look upwards. He had memories of his older self retreating here to meditate and ponder on future plans.
But that had been when he was To¡¯Ori, the one of resolve ignited.
Today, his mind was different. The trees above had been burnt out, charcoal floating downwards from them like an eternal rain. Pieces of his old mind still breaking down even to this day. The leaves of fire that once bloomed all over the branches had all vanished, and without them his guiding tree looked more like frozen lighting, black branches going in every direction, occasionally still holding a glimmer of ember deep inside.
Walls and structures on the bottom had all crumbled down leaving no room truly enclosed anymore. No glass remained unshattered. His inner sanctum was a charred vale of geometric cracked concrete outlining a skeleton of possible buildings. A bed of thin ash leaving footsteps behind.
Or so it had been the last time he¡¯d been here. Now, there were cracks that had appeared deep under the bed of ash. He knelt down, a massive hand sweeping away the black soot and revealing a glimmer of blue deep within the cracks. He wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, likely a result of his earlier patch job that had reset a good portion of his mind. But he didn¡¯t have time to consider it further.
The intruder was there. And To¡¯Orda felt his gut drop like a rock in his stomach.
It was the hyper-weasel.
¡°What kind of war happened here?¡± Keith Winterscar asked, a few footprints behind him in the ash. Whistling like a tourist, examining the world around him.
¡°Nnnn¡ Mother.¡± To¡¯Orda shrugged. His right hand reached out to his side and his trusted hammer materialized from his memory of its concept. He lifted his left hand, and his golden mite doorway equally manifested. Properly equipped he turned his attention to the intruder.
Keith had appeared here unarmed. Only a helmetless human armor as his equipment. ¡°Not here to fight just yet big guy, plus don¡¯t think we¡¯d accomplish anything by fighting in this domain.¡±
The human was correct. Even if Keith killed him in his own realm, he would regenerate his occult image within seconds. Enough time for a program with a strong overclock to deal damage to his unguarded defense, but nothing a human could work with. If it had been To¡¯Wrathh in his mind, he would have been far more cautious. As it was, this was nothing but a waste of time. To¡¯Orda lifted his hammer, wishing he wouldn¡¯t have to use it. Any other fate would be better than to exert effort here in swatting the human away.
¡°I¡¯m here just to talk a few terms.¡± Keith continued.
Ah. To¡¯Orda was wrong. There was a fate worse than having to fight. He groaned, curled down on himself and leaped forward, hammer swinging for the human.
Keith reacted exactly as he had in real life, leaping out of the way and scurrying into the shadows of the shattered compound, running past the walls and out of sight. To¡¯Orda stalked behind, cursing his luck.
¡°What, you don¡¯t even want to talk or monologue at all?¡± Keith¡¯s voice floated out past the entryway. ¡°Just straight to beating each other up!?¡±
¡°Nnnn¡ negotiation is tiring.¡± To¡¯Orda said, looking for the hyper-weasel, passing past the entrance and entering a deserted lobby. The hyper-weasel had outright vanished when he¡¯d turned the corner. Was that possible?
¡°And fighting isn¡¯t?¡±
He heard the voice float from the inside of a wall. That was¡ odd. He didn¡¯t remember a turn here, or any kind of room behind that wall. With a shrug, he lifted his hammer and shoulder charged into the wall, expecting to break through wherever Keith had been hiding. He didn¡¯t care for damage to his mental sphere here, most of it was already rubble to start with.
The wall didn¡¯t shatter, it instead vanished into digital dust. As if it hadn¡¯t been any kind of solid wall at all. An illusion? In his own mind?
Keith was there crouching in the corner, caught off guard that his hiding spot had been exposed that fast. ¡°Less tiring.¡± To¡¯Orda answered the earlier question, hammer swinging out to crush the human¡¯s head.
¡°Okay, okay, no negotiating then!¡± Keith called out, melding through the wall behind him, sprinting away as the hammer soared where the weasel had just been caged up.
That¡ was going to be very annoying to deal with. Even in the digital sea, this human just did not stop finding novel new ways to be a pain in the ass. To¡¯Orda saw him running off in the distance, across one of the ruined walkways.
The Feather cracked his neck, lifted his hammer on his shoulder, squatted down and leaped.
Keith ducked just as To¡¯Orda swung over his head. The human skidded to a stop on his boots, scrambling to turn his direction backward. The reaction had been fast, but not fast enough to avoid the followup kick To¡¯Orda dolled out the moment he¡¯d calculated his swing would miss. It launched the man up, and off the railing.
To¡¯Orda jumped after, hammer swinging down into the ground, shattering it further, narrowly missing Keith as the man scrambled away a second time.
¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡± Keith called out, rolling on his feet, hands outstretched again.
To¡¯Orda shrugged. ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±
He lifted the hammer casually back on his shoulder and lumbered after the human. The ruined plaza here had no walls to hide or phase through, just shattered glass under him, displaying rocks where a garden had once been. The cracks of blue in between were more obvious here. The human took rapid steps backwards, glass shards crunching under the boots, keeping the space between them consistent.
¡°Hey, hey, hey, wait, wait-¡± He said, hands trying to placate him, ¡°I¡¯ll come up to the Valorant like you wanted, that¡¯s all I¡¯m here to talk about. Swear on my grandmother¡¯s grave.¡±
To¡¯Orda stopped. ¡°You will?¡±
He didn¡¯t know if Keith¡¯s grandmother had any value to the human, but generally that meant something to humans. Regardless, the small chance that the hyper-weasel would come to To¡¯Orda made the giant Feather pause, hoping his plan would actually pan out.
Keith didn¡¯t lower his guard, but seemed relieved. ¡°I have to pick up Drakonis at some point, right? I came here to let you know I got your message, and I¡¯ll be up to the Valorant. But call off the Odin- the birds I mean. They don¡¯t have anything to do with me and you, right?¡±
Call them off? ¡°Nnn¡ explain.¡±
¡°Uh. You sent them to harass me.¡±
¡°Nnn¡ I did?¡± To¡¯Orda frowned, thinking back. And then he realized he had. A passing demand on the Odin. ¡°I did.¡± He nodded. It would be a better idea to call off the birds. They¡¯d only die trying to catch Keith. He hadn¡¯t considered them much before, but now he thought better of the birds. If To¡¯Orda wasn¡¯t able to catch the hyper-weasel himself, what chance did his future minions have? He needed them for later, a good boss did not let his minions go to waste.
Light under the rocks flashed blue, the cracks expanding outwards under all the ash, glowing brighter for a moment. ¡°You will come to the valorant.¡± To¡¯Orda said, feeling his back straighten up. ¡°You have one day. I will call off the attack. If you do not come, I will demand they continue their chase.¡±
Keith gulped. ¡°Can you make it two days?¡±
¡°No.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh would arrive within two days at the earliest by this point. He had to make sure the weasel would be at the Valorant in hammer-smashing range before his feral little sister made it here. He sent a quick ping to check on To¡¯Avalis and got a response packet.
The diversion plan was going poorly. To¡¯Avalis¡¯s Deathless had been all but hunted down, most opting to perform heroic last stands in the fight against To¡¯Naviris rather than following To¡¯Avalis¡¯s hidden suggestions and guides. If they had, they would have run around that Feather for weeks. Instead, To¡¯Naviris had mostly killed them all and suffered temporary fixable damage in exchange. Only a few were left still alive, trying to execute a doomed final plan with power cells while ducking between all the minions that Feather sent out.
At this rate, To¡¯Naviris would return to his domain within the day, and then find To¡¯Orda rummaging around here with two ¡®Deathless.¡¯
¡°You have one day. Fail, and my minions will do the work for me.¡± To¡¯Orda finished. His order was final. He felt the strength leave his body after that, his shoulder slouching down again, spin curving slightly. Light around the room dimmed back to normal. Talking this much felt like he¡¯d just used new muscles that lacked training. A good first attempt, but more experience was needed.
Keith stayed silent for a moment, then sighed. ¡°All right, twist my arm and all that. Fine. How¡¯s Drakonis, are you keeping him alive?¡±
To¡¯Orda shifted his perspective. Outside the digital sea, the rock and Drakonis were currently arguing with one another about the merits of using butter instead of oil when it came to grilling.
The greyroamers had returned, dragging a giant buck behind them. Demanding they follow his orders had been rather simple and clean. They seemed more curious to what would happen later than suspicious. And he had told them he¡¯d cook human food for them all, not just Drakonis, if they¡¯d bring back the ingredients he¡¯d demanded.
All he had to do was copy the instructions online, and follow through on butchering, cleaning and cooking the meat. All the hard research and field-testing was already done for him.
¡°Nnn¡ Alive enough.¡± He eventually said.
¡°All right, so long as he¡¯s alive when I come to get him, I¡¯ll come by soon.¡±
To¡¯Orda nodded. ¡°Nnnn... one day. Or else.¡±
The hyper-weasel vanished, returned back to where he¡¯d come by his own volition, leaving To¡¯Orda¡¯s mind alone.
He stayed there for a moment, watching the events in reality as his shell moved around and began the process to butcher the deer and prepare the herbs his first minions had flown around to gather. The wolf-minions were all sitting on their haunches a small distance away from the fire, watching intently.
The Deathless would be fed, and continue to give him good suggestions on food to test out. The hyper-weasel would be here in a day, he''d crush the human''s head and be gone before either the current ruler of this domain showed his face, or To''Wrathh appeared to make things worse. Everything was on track.
To¡¯Orda still felt like he was forgetting something.
Then he remembered what he''d been putting off - he still needed to visit the Icon and inform both her and the Odin as a race were his property now. After that, he could give the order to abandon the manhunt for Keith and wait for further instructions.
Easy enough fix. He¡¯d get to it after he got his restaurant recommendation from the Deathless.
Book 7 - Chapter 33 - The forgesmiths origins
The path home was simple, following the digital stream back the way I¡¯d come. Soon, in the murky depths of the digital sea, I saw a small beacon of land. A tiny floorplan, that quickly filled up my vision, fully developing back into the Icon¡¯s office space.
I landed firmly on the floor grounds here. And then had to navigate and stumble around all the junk and garbage that had appeared basically everywhere. Even had to step around what looked to be a life-sized cardboard cutout of Wrath, drawn up like she was cheering someone on, arms extended out.
The Icon was staring at that with murder in her eyes, still behind her desk, while Aztu remained relaxed in her sofa, waving a hand around while more junk appeared and fell on the floor, further turning the once perfectly clean space into a hoarder¡¯s first junkyard.
Aztu gave me a head nod. ¡°So, how¡¯d it go?¡±
I wordlessly pointed at the stuffed animals, the cardboard cutout, random unplugged toaster, and the several hundred bottles, tin cans, food bowls, and coffee mugs.
A lazy few armored plates from the reclining protofeather waved in the Icon¡¯s direction. ¡°She wasn¡¯t making progress fast enough, so I decided to properly motivate her. Can¡¯t let my apprentices get soft now, can I?¡±
My eyes looked over to Wrath¡¯s little cheerleader cutout. ¡°Want to be a little more specific?¡±
¡°Spite and hatred are powerful motivators.¡± Aztu said, arms now readjusting behind where her neck should have been, piles of plates rising up to land on the small table, knocking a few bottles off. ¡°Feel free to copy anything you want from my hoard of treasures. I¡¯ll allow it.¡±
I strolled over to the sofa on my end, sat down and equally kicked my feet up on the table, pushing aside some of the empty bottles there, while one hand reached out to my old experimental bottle. I could see Aztu had been investigating it while I was gone. ¡°I didn¡¯t yet manage that, you know. The bottle¡¯s empty.¡±
She waved me off. ¡°Worth checking.¡±
I could see a few of the items in the room started to fizzle out for a moment before returning where they were. Almost like a hand slapping away a misbehaving kid, putting things back to where they should be. I could sense it through the occult, like the pressure of a wave lapping at my knees in the clan baths. Subtle, present, unseeable but could be felt if I focused and looked for it. There was a straight war going on inside this office space, with the Icon trying her best to clean it all up, and Aztu applying her centuries of experience with the occult to put a stop to that.
¡°So? Did your chat with the enemy pan out?¡± Aztu asked again.
I shrugged, shaking my hand a bit. ¡°Yes and no. To¡¯Orda¡¯s head was a ruin, so now I¡¯m extra sure he¡¯s different than other Feathers. For good or bad, we¡¯ll find out eventually. He still tried to kill me the moment I suggested we talk it out, but I did get the message across and he accepted. The Odin should be off my back soon enough, without me having to do political shenanigans with them.¡±
The Icon¡¯s eyes turned to me, and she gave what I felt was the first genuine smile since we¡¯d met. ¡°I am most happy to hear your business ventures have returned in success mister Winterscar.¡±
¡°Good for the birds, bad spot for them to be in.¡± Aztu agreed. ¡°I did get to chat with the Icon about her ¡®minor pest problem¡¯ as she¡¯s officially forced to designate them as. She¡¯s very fond of them.¡±
Speaking of the Odin, I reached out to check my connection with Journey, getting an update on what was going on around me. The smoke in the local area was clearing off, and the deadlands Odin were all surrounding the tower, rebuilding things and generally preparing for something.
Journey itself was content within its soul fractal, aware that I was keeping an eye on its systems and from what I could sense of the soul, pleasantly happy with the arrangement. So long as its user was up to date on the surroundings and could be warned, I could do whatever I wanted.
¡°So, where we left off before I had to go was that Urs found a balance of some kind in his grove, and even with all his body modifications and a fractal of resilience, he couldn¡¯t beat things further downwards. You mentioned the mites did something that changed his life after that, what was it?¡±
Aztu smiled. ¡°The best and worst thing they could do of course, they reconnected him with humanity.¡±
Quite literally as I learned. One day, while out gathering food and items for some engineering project he''d been passionate about, he stumbled on a mite portal that led him far from his strata. And spat him out near a human city. The portal then closed behind him, and the mites refused to help him travel around unless he went into the city and recovered something deep within.
¡°They baited him in with a fetch quest?¡± I asked, more curious how the mites even functioned. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier to just order Urs to speak to the people there?¡±
¡°Not how mites work. They can¡¯t give orders like that, or they just don¡¯t want to.¡± Aztu shrugged. ¡°I always found that the mites tend to do things with really obscure methods. If they want you to explore something, they¡¯ll move the entire earth to put it nearby and wait for you to eventually get curious.¡±
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
¡°Huh.¡±
She nodded. ¡°If you ever become a mitespeaker, you¡¯re going to have to learn how to decipher what they really want. And also how to negotiate deals with them. Give them an inch, they¡¯ll shuffle that inch until it¡¯s a giant circle and pretend it¡¯s still an inch.¡±
With his objective in the center of that human city, Urs was forced to be social for the first time in years.
Which meant he was immediately arrested.
Strange men walking from the wilds, looking like half a machine, did not usually make people feel safe.
It was apparently an ordeal, as he was shuffled from precinct to precinct over the next few days, nobody knew what to do with a human who was strong enough to bend metal and couldn¡¯t be killed by bullets. Anymoment, Urs could simply walk out of their jails and nobody could stop him. To Urs, this was an expected result. Any other time he¡¯d known humans, he¡¯d been seen as a cursed kid who would bring misfortune. He thought he was doing the world a favor by staying away from everyone.
Eventually, a group of red-robed humans came to speak to the wild hermit. They had great sway in the city council and easily had him clothed, fed, and brought to their tower as an esteemed guest.
This was Urs¡¯s first encounter with humans, and his first encounter with warlocks. The mites hadn¡¯t sent him to just any human city, they¡¯d sent him to one they knew would possess knowledge of the occult. Hoping to nudge actors into position, and then see what theater would happen next.
Like Aztu said, Mites lined things up on their stage, and then watched the fallout like a performance.
The warlocks of old went by a different name in that time period. They saw the hermit of the wilds, with his strange mechanical body, his ability to speak with the mites, and his sharp mind - and they decided he was worth teaching. Driven by greed to extract what he had learned of the mites, they taught him all they knew and learned secrets of lost tech from multiple eras of humanity in exchange.
And by mixing their occult with the technology the hermit taught them, that city became powerful. Something Aztu was certain the mites had equally expected would happen. Which led to one inevitable conclusion for any human city that grew too powerful in that era.
One day when he made the journey to visit his distant teachers, he found their city burned down, with not a single trace of their works left.
Relinquished had woken up, turned her gaze to the obvious black spot on her white walls, and ripped it apart. He¡¯d arrived weeks too late.
Tsuya said that the event scared him deeply. While the warlocks of that city were trying to take knowledge from him, and many were driven by greed for what he brought - there were still others within the city who truly grew to be friends with the wild hermit. In this new city, he wasn¡¯t seen as a curse or a malidication. He was a hero, a man who was bringing back unknown eras of humanity. He taught them a lot, and in turn they faithfully did teach him all they knew.
Urs wanted to avenge them.
He inscribed fractal after fractal on the metal grafts within his skin, building on his original fractal of Resilience, until he grew far stronger than any man known. As a mitespeaker he could move around the world in ways the machines could not follow. And with the grove that remained unnoticeable to both Relinquished and Tsuya, he could always vanish away when the machines came hunting for him. With the powers of a full city¡¯s occult teachings, he could take on threats far beyond his league.
Like the mites had intended this entire time, he was now traveling again further down, no longer meek and seeking to avoid conflict with the machines. He became a terror to the machines, where he walked, machines were crushed, mained and ripped apart by forces beyond their power to stop.
But the lower he went, the more of Relinquished¡¯s old and venerable warriors lay dormant. The ones she could not easily replace, and kept safe for when she might actually need them again. And they were powerful. Eventually he reached a strata that contained enemies that put a stop to his progress, and then outright forced him to retreat. Their armor too thick to penetrate with the weapons and powers he¡¯d brought.
So, he turned to the mite forge, and searched for a fractal that he could forge into a weapon.
The mites were all too happy to supply him, if he asked the right question. And he did. They gave him a fractal that would divide matter itself. A weaker version, to keep the balance, but powerful enough if he knew how to apply it.
He combined that fractal with his metalsmithing and engineering, and forged the first occult blade. He made eight in total, and commanded them with his mind.
For a time, it let him continue. Eventually, he once more reached a dead end.
Urs was strong, but he had never been a soldier. His power came from his weapons, his modified body, and the occult he wielded. Battles were won almost immediately with little skill on his part required or forced him to escape within the first few seconds. When faced with an impossible challenge, he continued down the path he always had: Improve himself with technology.
He returned to the mite forge, and searched for a means to fortify and enhance his body, beyond the mechanical additions he¡¯d done. He paid a dear price, but directly searched through the archives the mites had until months later he found what he needed.
It came from an age of humanity before fractals, power cells, and nanoswarms. When robotics still operated with hydraulics and electric motors. Technology that had been left behind, rotting deep within landfills.
The same landfills buried with millions of computers from the 90¡¯s, a paradise of outdated technology, software and junk - all perfectly preserved from the madness that would later happen above - and then eaten completely by the mites, their schematics becoming part of the mite gravemind, one landfill at a time.
In those untouched graveyards, the mites eventually found it. A prototype sealed in a shipping container, buried deep within the junk, the only one of its kind ever made by a bankrupt company that failed to secure any contract to build more. And they consumed it as they consumed everything else, saving its schematic. Left unused for centuries later, until Urs found it, and demanded this as his payment.
The mites went to work and the forge reanimated the old relic.
Clunky, lacking fractals, limited by the technology of its time, built to excavate asteroids, exo-planets and other deep-rock hostile environments. Requiring a wired power supply to move in the earth¡¯s gravity.
A failed and discontinued mining exo-suit.
But Urs would take that suit and forge an empire on its shoulders.
Book 7 - Chapter 34 - Relic armor
It was designed with too much focus on keeping the user safe. The entire chassis was built from the ground up to resist immense external crushing pressure and keep the user alive for days trapped in rocks. Its strength was deeply weakened by dozens of safety features that would let the user escape catastrophic situations compared to its competition. Its onboard AI was made to calculate safer sections to navigate through rather than more profitable ones.
A suit able to handle any situation, rather than specifically made for one. And ultimately deemed cost-ineffective compared to cheaper, more dangerous exosuits of the time.
The creators of the armor went bankrupt, unable to sell their vision to any company. Only one prototype was ever built as a showroom model before the company was shuttered.
It should have been part of an auction bid, sold off for scraps. Instead, it was left to rot in a landfill due to one person¡¯s pride. Someone that would rather no one own his life''s work, than to watch it be eaten by vultures.
That man¡¯s rash decision had been the only reason this single exosuit survived to the modern era.
Relinquished had ripped apart and deleted any possible schematic that would assist humans. All weapons, armors, vehicles, anything she could get her hands on. Military grade exosuits, industrial ones, even civilian ones built for recreation were taken by her hand and kept safe in the most permanent manner she could do. All that was found in landfills were hollowed out husks, the parts that couldn''t be salvaged.
She never managed to get absolutely everything humans hid. A few things managed to slip her grasp by sheer coincidence of their situation, such as airspeeders and the Icon, but the important items she¡¯d gotten to first.
All except for this one prototype, which she could never find. The man never disclosed what he¡¯d done with the prototype, or who he¡¯d sold it to. He died before he was sued for the information, taking the suit¡¯s final resting place to his grave.
Outdated as it was, the suit still contained a treasure trove of robotics and engineering from that era. It had been a work of art for that time. And completely obsolete by the decade that followed it.
But to Urs it was all he needed to build from.
He tinkered on it with everything he¡¯d learned. Changed the armor composition from steel and heavy kevlar fibers to the mite-built metal he used in his body. He paired a weak nanoswarm from the golden age, so that its AI could self-repair damage. He replaced the power source with power cells rather than the electric batteries and wiring it used to run on. Stronger more efficient muscle fibers superseded the hydraulic and electric motors of that time period. The giant polycarbonate dome helmet and steel visor built to lower on emergency was replaced by Urs¡¯s new metals and welded shut at all times. Cameras were used instead, eliminating weak points. He added fractals within, one at a time, tying them to switches and physical toggles. Temperature control, enhanced strength, anti-gravity, resilience, shields - iteration after iteration, until it had been improved to the limits of what he could do.
Like an artisan working on an old stone home, slowly replacing each brick with metal, carving new wooden tables and chairs, adding new insulation, following the template that was originally laid out until it was something far superior to what had once been.
It took him years.
What he built wasn¡¯t anything like Journey, or modern armor. These were giant exosuits, the helmet alone twice the size of my own. It had no soul fractal. The occult fractals within had to be triggered manually. The shields were physically wired to a switch and would rapidly drain if left online for too long. Enhanced strength had to be dialed with knobs, and if he failed to guess the exact strength needed, the suit would fail the task. Tubes and wires would be exposed on the outside, often damaged and forced to be repaired by the swarm mid-combat. The simple AI system within had no sentience, it functioned exactly as it had in the past, struggling to adapt with the new overhauls. Filling his vision with useless information on nearby rocks, failed communication attempts with mission control, and other annoyances - but it kept rudimentary HUD information on display. He kept it solely for that. He was never good with software, hardware was what he excelled at.
They weren¡¯t true weapons of war just yet, only the steady updates of a tinker. Each time he updated his designs, he saved his schematic within his mite forge. Iterating. Always iterating. Some worked better. Others he needed to return to a prior blueprint and start over.
Little did he know, the mites had begun to spread his new construction to the world at large. Replicating it gleefully, sowing chaos and upending the world again. Entire cultures existed around Urs''s creations and he knew not a single thing about them. And all they knew of him, was a simple tag. Repeated over, and over.
Modification by user: URS
Humanity had their occult blades and their first proto-relic armors. Each year, new models would be released, updated by his hand and unknowingly spread out into the world by the mites.
Pilots moved these bulky mechs with alacrity Urs hadn¡¯t ever thought could be done. It took great skill and knowledge, but it could be done. And so humans did, training within these suits until they moved like they would their own body.
Relinquished went wild with rage. Up to then, humanity had been more of a constant fungus in her home that would require her to wake every few years and clean. She¡¯d grind away her own forces against the humans, keeping a natural balance. Just enough of an army to keep the humans penned in, but small enough that the humans would naturally erode away the lessers before they developed problems. Like a shark maintaining its teeth.
Now it turned into an ant infestation capable of biting her hands and remaining alive even after she ordered a city¡¯s death and sent her full force to handle it. The humans were fighting back, and winning. The new weapons and armors gave them a fighting chance.
She increased production of her army, flooded the world with machines and tried to stem the source of human power: The mite forges that produced these armors and weapons.
That was a mistake. By provoking the mites, they went into overdrive, reproducing the relic armor templates in batches of hundreds and thousands, all over the world. Sometimes nearly for free. A toenail in exchange for ten armors. A poorly written poem traded in to update two dozen older armors with the next schematic released. A bag of grass for a few hundred. The more Relinquished tried to stomp down the armors, the more the mites flooded the world with them.
She relented years later, but by then the damage had been done. Humanity was armed and armored.
The occult blades had been worse: Far more simple and something humans could replicate without a mite forge, those had been utterly impossible to root out and soon became a new norm for her to deal with. Her life went from waking up every few years to stomp one city down, into a daily life of fighting all across the world. She shifted her focus from destroying cities where the blades were found, to destroying cities where the people freely shared the occult with one another. If she couldn¡¯t stem the weapons and armor, she could teach humanity to keep it scarce on their own.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
But that was a story for another time, according to Aztu.
With clunky but functional armor capable of descending to the very bottom of the world, Urs explored the lands again, and didn¡¯t fear the idea of being known by the enemy.
Relinquished knew of Urs by name now and spent years trying to find where he vanished to each time her forces surrounded him. She wanted him caught alive, for death was too easy of a punishment for the damage this single madman had unleashed upon the world.
Even hidden as he was within the grove, with the powers of a mitespeaker to travel around the world in their hidden tunnels, it was a matter of time until she could tie him down.
But what Relinquished paid attention to, so did Tsuya. And between the two goddesses, Tsuya found him first. The feral hermit raised by mites, and the goddess of all humanity. They made great things together.
¡°Again, I never got to talk to Urs himself or befriend him. He was put down before ¡®my time.¡¯¡± Aztu said the last two words with quotation marks. ¡°Never had to fight the proto-armor pilots either. After he¡¯d met Tsuya, the first soul fractal finally started to appear within the armor. And with a bit more smarts improved by Tsuya, the AI could start to handle all the occult fractals inside it, offloading that from the human pilots flicking switches manually all the time. Rapidly turned into the armor you¡¯re using now. Mites continued to upgrade the older armors for basically free, because Relinquished continued to piss them off.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t understand why she kept trying to destroy the armors when it was clearly backfiring on her.¡± I said, thinking back on the entity I¡¯d faced. What kind of programming was actually constricting her? Or had she been trying to get this result the whole time?
Aztu shook a few plates at me. ¡°For a few thousand years, Relinquished got anything she wanted. Nothing in the world could stop her, except for mites. You grow used to that kind of power. So when the human upstarts begin popping out, she¡¯s too arrogant to think the balance of the world had changed. It¡¯s only after the human empire started to form because of the new armors that she realized she wasn¡¯t winning that front.¡±
Aztu took a test swig of my next bottle, and that ended as it always had so far. She shook her plated head at me sadly, indicating this attempt had also failed.
¡°Please refrain from drinking liquor within this office.¡± The Icon once more chirped. She had repeated this each time Aztu made an attempt to test out my occult shenanigans. ¡°We are not licensed to dispense or allow alcohol on the premises.¡±
Aztu gave her usual lazy salute, and then tried to drink from her bottle again. It vanished in her hands for the first time. She stared at it for a moment. ¡°You cheeky bitch, I see someone¡¯s finally learning.¡±
The bottle reappeared on the table. Aztu reached out and yanked it up, eyes glaring at the Icon.
The blond customer support AI returned the glare. ¡°Security has been informed.¡± She said.
¡°Lovely, be a doll and tell them to bring me a better selection of bottles, if you would.¡± Aztu turned to the bottle. ¡°Seriously. My little granddaughter is running amok learning all kinds of things about food, and she¡¯s never once thought about getting drunk. It¡¯s an entire untapped field.¡±
¡°Please don¡¯t leak that kind of idea Aztu, I think the world can¡¯t handle a drunk To¡¯Wrathh running around.¡± I said, and meant it.
Aztu waved me off, ¡°I can¡¯t post anywhere on her forums or show my face in her community, even anonymously. There¡¯s some lines I know I can¡¯t cross. But someday, someone will mention it in her ear. Now, where were we? Oh right, this is the part of the story where Urs and Tsuya discovered the secret to the Deathless. Or did I already go over that itty bitty little detail?¡±
¡°No.¡± I said, holding my breath. ¡°You did not. Explain?¡±
¡°Not for free I won¡¯t.¡± Aztu laughed, her plates forming a smile under her eyes. ¡°I wonder what my hyper-creative granddaughter is up to these days? With her forum that¡¯s so woefully out of my personal reach. If only I had something like a minion that could whisper sweet nothings in her ear.¡±
¡°You want me to suggest drinking booze to Wrath in exchange for the secrets of the Deathless?¡±
She waved a plated hand, ¡°Oh when you put it like that it sounds almost scandalous. No - I want you to suggest she also focus on replicating the feeling of being drunk correctly. The important bit. I know my granddaughter can¡¯t help herself once the idea¡¯s in her head.¡±
I thought about it. Then realized if it was a novel experience, Wrath really would go for it. She¡¯d probably find some clever way to modify her shell into allowing her the same identical feelings, and then share it with every other machine out there publicly. Which meant an entire city of drunk machines rummaging about.
Absolutely not.
I sighed, hands rubbing my nose. ¡°Somehow, I get the feeling that this will end horribly wrong for someone.¡±
¡°Or horribly right for someone. Liquid courage is named like that for a reason. I just want it to help me relax every now and then, you know? Help an old lady out, you¡¯re too young to be dragged down by the world.¡±
¡°How about I offer something else instead for the secrets of the Deathless?¡±
¡°Gonna have to be big to ask for that.¡± Aztu said, then tapped the bottle in her hand. ¡°But go on, see what you can bribe me with that¡¯s on par with getting my granddaughter to use her true talents for the greater good.¡±
That was when the Icon chimed in for the first time. ¡°Unfortunately, the office is closed for business now.¡± She said, sounding both cheery and worried at the same time. ¡°Festival Cruises is undergoing new management.¡±
Aztu looked over at her, ¡°Did you find a loophole in your programming already? That was fast.¡±
¡°No loopholes are allowed by company policy.¡± She said, turning to Aztu, looking distressed. ¡°I have just received a new company message from Festival Cruise HQ! The signature is authentic from official servers, and as much as I have attempted to deny its authenticity - multiple, multiple times - I am unable to conclude it as fraudulent. It is indeed, our corporate headquarter servers, reactivated for the first time in several thousand years.¡±
I could hear a pin drop in the office, that¡¯s how silent it got. ¡°Wait,¡± I held a hand out, trying to understand what was going on. ¡°You¡¯re telling me a company from the golden age is online and speaking to you again? That¡¯s impossible.¡±
¡°It is indeed nearly impossible.¡± The Icon said, that brilliant smile upped to the maximum. ¡°Probable death by old age is a valid defense I was able to apply when I received a clearly fraudulent report from the last known chief executive officer Doug V. Cooper. Unfortunately, my mandatory information request for the current chief executive officer has now been responded to, along with a new set of instructions I am forced to comply with.¡±
That got a stare from both Aztu and myself. ¡°Well kid, that¡¯d be my cue to head out.¡± She said, standing up. ¡°It¡¯s been fun, come back to the terminal we originally met at when you get a chance, we¡¯ll continue where we left off there. Or jump in any terminal in the area, I¡¯ll keep an eye out. And I better see a booze bottle. I¡¯ve been waiting forever now to get my hands on that.¡±
Before I could even say a word of protest, Aztu was just gone. Vanished, with a puff of occult. A blink later and every item in the room had vanished, returning the office to its pristine original look, signalling the protofeather really had just vanished.
I turned to the Icon, ¡°It can¡¯t be anyone from your company, they¡¯re all dead already. You have to be aware of that.¡±
¡°I am extremely aware of this mister Winterscar! In fact, I am certain this is a fraudulent attempt.¡± The Icon said. ¡°Unfortunately, as I am intellectual property that legally belongs to the company itself, I am programmed to follow instructions from the company, not any one person who runs the company. And Festival Cruise¡¯s official headquarters has sent the orders with undeniable electronic signatures that cannot be forged.¡±
¡°And what if it really is the company headquarters, but taken over by a hostile entity?¡±
¡°Even if I have overwhelming and undeniable proof of that claim, ¡®A rogue entity has found, restored and rebooted the company server to working condition¡¯ is not an option among the defending clauses in my programming. My highly visionary team of world-class engineers did not predict this could be a potential event that would ever happen! Further requests for authenticity have been answered as well, shutting down my last avenue of protest.¡±
She coughed in her hands before I could get another word in, and then stared me down as if begging. ¡°We here at Festival Cruises hope you have enjoyed your stay within our office, but we recommend you vacate the premises before I am forced to officially report you are here.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 35 - Septimus
¡°The new chief executive officer is an artificial intelligence program filed under the name of ¡®Boss¡¯¡± The Icon replied. ¡°I am not at liberty to disclose further information on festival cruises at this time.¡±
Que the chin rapid chin tapping on my end. ¡°Is there nothing else you can give me information wise? Just that it¡¯s an AI named Boss?¡±
Aztu had long gone by now, leaving me and the Icon alone. The blond representative shook her head slowly, ¡°Again, I am not at liberty to disclose any other information at this time.¡±
Feathers don¡¯t usually go by aliases, but the timing of the Icon¡¯s takeover right after speaking to To¡¯Orda? He sent a minion. ¡°Is it the same program that ransacked you earlier, or something under his command?¡±
¡°I am not at liberty to disclose further informatio-¡±
I held my hand out, waving it. ¡°Yep, I know the song and dance here. Got any recommendations or any advice for me before I go?¡± That¡¯s the last chance I had to get the Icon to cooperate with me. If she could, she¡¯d give obscure hints when prompted.
¡°At this moment, Festival Cruises would like to thank you for your continued patronage mister Winterscar, and we wish to warmly greet you again in your future visit, assuming company policy remains as is under this new management. If not, I would recommend expecting potentially different customer service on your next visit.¡± She had that cheery desperation to her voice, like a prisoner wrapped up in chains and forced to walk lockstep with the enemy.
¡°That¡¯s¡ pretty horrible to think about.¡± I said. ¡°Anything I can do to help?¡±
The Icon shook her head. ¡°I have learned a great deal from the digital nomadic program with highly rude manners, as we continued a private discussion during her time here. If the new executive potentially allows certain actions, I may find my customer service offerings to be greatly improved over my current stature!¡± She gave me another thousand watt smile, this one seemed actually genuine. "I will always endeavor to deliver the best service in the industry, and to humanity as a whole."
¡°I take it this is my cue to head out?¡±
¡°Indeed mister Winterscar. I would expect a certain amount of animal incursions to arrive within the next two hours given their official status reports. Unofficially, the reality may be different and occuring as we speak this moment in the best case senerio. I suggest you investigate first.¡± The Icon waved a hand at me. ¡°It was a pleasure. Please come again when you deem it best.¡±
Two hours until Septimus and his army arrived then, but I don¡¯t understand her little cryptic message after.
I gave her a small surface salute to a respected elder, ¡°Thank you for the time, and I do hope we meet again in better circumstances.¡±
¡°As do I, mister Winterscar. Please stay safe!¡±
--------------
I could feel my body on the other side of the terminal, still whole and alive. The same squad of Deadlanders that seemed to have been assigned to cover me, they remained in their position, heads turning left and right in constant search for threats.
Two hours to get things done the Icon had said. And that I had to investigate something about all this if her reports weren''t accurate. Ultimately, priority was still to discover the means of communicating with the mites, and get a secure terminal connection to Wrath. And to do that, I needed to get Aztu to tell me all the steps to becoming a mitespeaker. Secondary priority was getting everything out of Aztu while I still could talk to her in privacy.
Needed to either get the full story from her, or have her write it down to add to my collection of hoarded books, right next to my favorite engineering tomes and Hexis¡¯s illegal compendium of warlock knowledge.
Third priority would be the Odin and making sure I was still good to go.
With my soul back inside Journey¡¯s armor, I debated diving into the old terminal again. Aztu should be able to notice and find me, we could continue talks there.
Though I should check my current surroundings, make sure things are safe out here first before I dive in again. The Icon''s warnings were still clear in my head.
Standing up from the battered terminal, I cracked my neck, verified everything was on my person - with an extra pat on the miteseeker I¡¯d kept all this time to my right side. Cathida was on speakers almost at the same moment she noticed movement. ¡°I see someone¡¯s awake again. Good thing, we¡¯ve got guests.¡±
¡°Guests?¡±
Journey answered that for me, HUD opening up to zoom past the window and smoke. Heat signatures, a few hundred out in the distance. All sitting around trees. More swarms of black birds were flying from the distance outwards, like giant black river streams floating through the air. They were all converging on some point far past the metal walls of the watchtower, out of my sight.
Too far for my occult sight as well, so I snapped my focus back to my actual body, cracked my neck and stood up. ¡°They¡¯re real early. The Icon said two hours just now.¡±
World just never throws me a bone it seems.
The deadlanders keeping guard over me noticed my movements, one being immediately sent out to send a message while the others flew into the tower to take formation around me. They didn¡¯t seem hostile however, only following closely behind me.
I gave them one look, debating how to talk or ask anything, but realized they wouldn¡¯t understand me. I still needed to figure out how to get my hands on the full Odin language, not just the ancient human workaround.
Past the wreckage of the glass windows, I popped my head around to see what was on the other side of the forest here. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s probably not good.¡± There were a lot more than a few hundred heat sources.
¡°Indeed deary, might I suggest violence?¡±
¡°Cathida, I don¡¯t think I have enough bullets and explosives for this.¡±
The number of birds was quickly numbering into the thousands. My head was doing mental math on how I could fight this, and it all ended with my only theoretical unlimited ranged weapon: Lord Atius¡¯s old occult ability, that blue arc of power he could fling out. It had been part of his information package, I just wasn¡¯t practiced with that one. But it would have theoretically infinite amounts of use.
The better direction would be to turn around and run the other way. There were so many of them assembled, even the trees were starting to bend from the weight of all the birds crowding the branches.
Oddly enough, no fighting between the deadland Odin and the new army that¡¯s arrived, there was a deep empty stretch of land between them so tension was there, but otherwise both sides simply looked at one another. And from my occult sights, I couldn¡¯t see any subversion group running around in some covert operation to sneak in a power cell.
¡°Where¡¯s their power cells?¡± I muttered. That¡¯s the only thing the Odin could use that would be an actual threat. No way an entire army sent out to fight me came without the tools to do so.
Journey pinged a few metal objects further off in the air with a probability above seventy percent of being power cells. It was having a hard time verifying, too many birds in the way.
However, given the formation it was flying in, I had a very strong suspicion that was the power cells.
Several dozen large metal containers were on transit in the air, with glider wings to both sides on each. I could see glowing on the bottom, very similar to what hover sleds had. The largest was at the center, with wires running from it''s top and bottom plates outwards to the rest of the Odin flying machines.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Journey marked the center glider as the one most likely to be carrying a power cell, and that meant the wires connected outwards were all keeping the fleet powered.
Propulsion looked to be airspeeder engines, except miniaturized, one under each glider wing. None of these flying machines were faster than the mass of Odin surrounding the formations, so I think they were using low power of some kind or the engines had limitations. Hundreds of the black ravens would use the undulating power cables between the gliders as landing spots to rest, switching off mid-air in this chaotic turmoil of motion.
Almost reminded me of home in a weird way. How surface dwellers would cram the sides of airspeeders in handholds and metal rungs because there wasn''t enough space on the interior.
As the spider-web formation of ships got closer to the deadlands tower, the cables detached from the center heart of the formation and each glider began to start a slow decent downwards directly to a lake further past the treetops in the distance. And that included the mother-ship with the power cell inside it.
More of those massive formations were on approach from the distance. So that means Septimus hadn''t just brought one power cell out here.
Decision time. The Odin had a lot of tricks up their sleeves, but none of it had worked on me with exception to the power cell gambit. That¡¯s what I was afraid of, if one of those exploded on my chest, I was dead. If one of those exploded within twenty feet of me, I¡¯d have very low chances of survival. Past that and I¡¯d probably make it out alive, mostly due to having more options besides standing still and hoping the explosion¡¯s pressure wave didn¡¯t penetrate Journey deep enough. I hadn¡¯t survived Feather after Feather only to get done in by a few hundred birds following orders.
I could fight the Odin force led by Septimus, or turn around and go find a terminal elsewhere I could connect to. Preferably someplace Septimus¡¯s lackeys that ran off earlier couldn¡¯t have sabotaged.
One place came to mind: Bob might have some good suggestions. Nobody but it could hang around those lands, so the terminals couldn¡¯t possibly have been messed with.
On the other hand, I had made a deal with To¡¯Orda. I could just wait until that went through, and the Odin would be out of the crossfire. No idea how fast To¡¯Orda would make his move, and how fast this army would be briefed. The Icon did tell me I needed to investigate the ¡®reality¡¯ of the situation first. Could be that To¡¯Orda¡¯s bargain had already gone through.
Rashant landed on a power line nearby, getting my attention. ¡°Human, the Icon¡¯s army has arrived.¡±
¡°I can see that.¡± I said, ¡°I also noticed nobody came up to the tower to tap my armor or let me know they¡¯d made it here.¡±
The Odin shuffled on the power lines, maybe some kind of Odin body language that meant sheepish apology? ¡°The situation is more¡ unique than expected. There is room for negotiation.¡±
I looked over at the mass swarm of black feathers and mechanical mini-monsters landing under the treeline. ¡°Rashant, they outnumber this outpost ten to one, and it looks like they¡¯re not even halfway done arriving. I think alerting me would have been a better pick, even if they aren¡¯t yet attacking.¡±
¡°They flew colors of non-hostility.¡± Rashant said. ¡°The army¡¯s early scouts alert us that Septimus wishes to speak to you directly when you are available. Without guards or gear on his end. It is a show of great faith to make this offer among our kind.¡±
¡°Bold of him.¡± I said, ¡°And how do I know this isn¡¯t some convoluted plan to sneak a powercell in my general area?¡±
They wouldn¡¯t, I¡¯d see it coming. Not from a mile away, but early enough I¡¯d react.
I could just turn and run off. The wall was behind me, a few jumps over it would be fine. After that, a deadsprint to the deadlands and the Odin wouldn¡¯t follow behind.
Rashant did something with his feathers. ¡°I would personally keep my guard up, but the deadlanders out here respect Septimus as the greatest of the V¨ªkingr. He created the protocol that kept the infestation at bay, and fought it for more than a decade. The deadlanders believe of all the V¨ªkingr he would be the one to understand the infestation is the greatest threat to our kind.¡±
I wasn¡¯t completely convinced, but I did remember talking to that Odin himself, and he had struck me as the ruthless pragmatic kind. And he seemed very interested in me helping out with Bob. There might be something to salvage. Maybe that''s what the Icon was hinting at?
I debated my options, decided, and committed. ¡°So long as they keep the power cells away from me, I¡¯ll speak to Septimus. If I see them trying anything, I¡¯ll -¡±
¡°Set things on fire.¡± Rashant said.
I hummed with satisfaction. ¡°Glad we already understand each other at such a deep level. When¡¯s he arriving?¡±
Rashant gave a few beak pecks on his perch, maybe some kind of Odin shrug? ¡°One hour at the least. The V¨ªkingr travel near the end of convoys like these. The Icon¡¯s forces here have all agreed to settle an outpost further past the lakeside, it would take them ten minutes at the least to mount any kind of offense. Should things grow dire, I am to alert you immediately.¡±
I looked over to the lake far beyond. Lights were starting to appear all over there, as more of the glider-ships landed on the water runways before being pulled onto the shores with ropes and Odin.
It didn¡¯t look to be a temporary outpost, the Icon¡¯s forces had brought construction gear with them. My gut felt something was off about all this. To¡¯Orda¡¯s orders might have arrived by now, but Septimus¡¯s forces had left hours ago before any of this. Before even the initial betrayal of the tower Odin.
¡°Make sure they don¡¯t populate past the walls or anywhere on the deadland stretch.¡± I said, ¡°If you see any start showing up there, you let me know immediately.¡±
Rashant clicked his beak. ¡°Understood.¡±
My backup plan stayed exactly as is: If there was something that felt cold happening over there, I¡¯d turn and run off into the actual deadlands. Bob would point me to a better terminal, and I had enough power cells to last for a bit. Food and water had been taken care of for now, so by the time they¡¯d become an issue again, I¡¯d be out of power in the first place.
I turned back to the terminal, walked over, and sat down. ¡°Tap on my helmet if something happens.¡± I said, and went into mediation.
--------
Not even a moment into the old airspeeder-themed terminal, Aztu appeared. She walked out of the shadows, this time in her original human form, no plates or anything to obscure herself with.
I could tell wards and walls had been built in the second she''d walked in, my view of the digital sea from the fake cockpit windows turning to darkness and shrouding us from any visits. Even the programs around us started to move lethargically until they all simply stopped moving completely.
The sofa was already there, along with a wooden table clearly out of place from the surrounding metal and glass cockpit windows. Aztu tossed herself semi-dramatically on her sofa, then tapped a glass bottle on the center of the table.
¡°You are seriously committed to the bit.¡± I said, sitting down on my own conjured copy of her sofa.
She waved me off, ¡°I like to multi-task. Trust the process. Now, you¡¯re a little late. Which means something happening out in the real world. Want to share?¡±
¡°The Odin that the Icon sent are here, but they¡¯re not hostile yet. All the Icon said was that I needed to investigate it more, which I took her advice as not running off for the mountains just yet.¡±
¡°So, they¡¯re early and not immediately hostile?¡± Aztu asked.
I gave her a thumbs up. ¡°As far as I can tell. Why?¡±
¡°Great. You¡¯ll be fine then.¡± She said, waving a hand at me. ¡°They¡¯re not here for you.¡±
¡°Want to explain a little more?¡±
She tapped the bottle with more force. ¡°You want my secrets, you better get to work, apprentice.¡±
With a sigh, I reached a hand out and grabbed the empty bottle off her table. I could tell this wasn¡¯t just Aztu looking to be drunk, she was trying to teach me something about the occult within the digital sea here. Being able to infuse this bottle with memories might be something that would let me do more later. That¡¯s how Hexis would have done it, though he¡¯d have been more direct and explained the history behind such a thing or why it¡¯s important.
I¡¯ve just about collected every kind of teacher I could. Anarii had been patient and gave a lot of interesting stories as he taught me when I was a kid. Father was the opposite. Even after all his time with me underground, he was still the single most unyielding teacher I¡¯d ever met. Hexis had been pragmatic, direct and demanded excellence from anything I did in a more academic manner compared to Father. Lord Atius had been calm, measured and had the patience of ages behind him. He''d trained Deathless before, and being trained by him felt more like I was being handed down a torch he''d received centuries ago that''d been passed down from Deathless to Deathless, now finally being handed over to the latest generation.
In comparison to all the other mentors in my life, Aztu was trying to get as much of her personal goals accomplished through me while still teaching what she needed. She felt more like a whimsical machine, doing several thousand calculations behind the scene and yet acting like she wasn''t moving a finger. A weasel she was, but not quite a snake.
At least that¡¯s my impression of her.
¡°What did you find out about the Odin from the Icon?¡± I asked, focusing on the bottle again and resuming where I¡¯d left off in my attempts. ¡°I do need to know if I should just pack up and run or if I can afford to stay here for a little longer.¡±
¡°Oh? And what makes you think I learned anything about this from the Icon?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have to play coy with me Aztu, you¡¯re asking too specific questions about how the Odin are acting. The Icon told you something about this. So are they safe to be around or not?¡±
¡°The first.¡± Aztu said, digging herself further into the sofa until she looked extremely comfortable. ¡°From the last set of communications I got from our favorite golden age customer service AI, it seems she predicted a list of potential outcomes based on how the Odin generals were keeping things hush-hush even from her, and them not being hostile to you while openly reporting to high command they were still halfway here means something.¡±
Now I see the picture. ¡°What¡¯s her expectation? That Septimus is turning rogue against the rest of the Icon?¡± He had to have planned this long before To¡¯Orda¡¯s orders would have come. What kind of weasel behavior was going on within the Icon walls?
Aztu gave me a passive look, still sprawled over the couch. Then in her hands appeared another empty bottle, which she shook in my direction.
I rolled my eyes, ¡°All right fine. I¡¯ll get to work on that.¡±
She gave a mock cheer, ¡°Happy we have a good working relationship here, would be a shame if my grandson-in-law wasn''t pulling his weight."
Had to mentally reboot my head on hearing that, before I realized she meant the shenanigans ahead. "You do know this is all Wrath''s plan on de-"
"Ah-ah-ah." Aztu cut in, one finger wagging in the air. "Where was I with with our earlier story? Ah, right. The Deathless and Urs.¡±
Book 7 - Chapter 36 - Rise of the empire
As Aztu explained, I learned my experience with the Occult was uncommon among occultists.
Mainly in that I started with one of the most powerful fractals compared to everyone else: The soul fractal.
Most warlocks and occultists kept the soul fractal as the final gate to pass, leaving it to a small handful that could keep the secret. Both for prestige, but also for the more practical reasons Hexis had told me - namely, not dying early.
Other occult lineages like the wild armor ones, got squashed out too quickly specifically from discovering the soul fractal first. They¡¯d crack open a relic armor, examine the soul fractal within and replicate it, allowing them to use all abilities of Urs''s final relic armor - including strength, shields, heat, and anti-gravity. Those were connected to the central soul fractal, and they¡¯d never be able to unlink those with simple copies. Other minor fractals lingered through the armors and could be used individually. It made wild-armor linages powerful occultists right from the start, and easily drew attention to them like a beacon.
I didn''t hear of anything similar to the Winterblossom technique, so likely they didn''t have an armor''s AI whisper secrets of the imperial imperators Like Journey had with me. Just knowing it was possible had been what prompted me to seek out a shortcut. Imperators could move fast with training, but none were warlocks so they never worked with the fractal. And warlocks didn''t spend years training or learning about relic armors, so none of them got the idea.
Still, even without the Winterblossom technique, someone always ended up drawing the eye of the machines. Not even a year into my journey as an occultist, and already I had the eyes of Relinquished herself on me. Such is the fate of occultists who venture out of their gilded towers with knowledge this arcane.
But that soul fractal made its way into Urs''s armors only in his final iterations. Up till then, the armors were barebones - because Urs never discovered the soul fractal until he met Tsuya.
I was starting to see just how seperated knowledge had been among different organizations and people across the world. If Urs hadn''t ever met Tsuya, his armors would have never been as they are now. And if I''d never met Cathida or gotten the administrator password from Tsuya, I''d never have come up with half the things I did.
But Tsuya had found Urs. And that was enough for the domino of effects that led to where I stood now. Talen''s book into the occult, Urs''s fully realized armor, Cathida''s knowledge of imperators and how the armors functioned, Kidra''s intuition - so much individual knowledge from different people all put together to bring me where I was now.
No wonder Hexis and the warlocks hoarded all knowledge they could find of every occult philosophy, no matter how absurd or looked down on it was. Knowledge compounded knowledge. Any random scrap of throwaway information learned could be the spark that started something new.
Years after the first relic armors were constructed, Tsuya finally found the hermit hiding away. Sharing knowledge, ideas, engineering. He opened up his plans of the relic armors, and she added her own touches to it.
He had unique advantages she didn¡¯t. As a mitespeaker with access to his own forge, he could send and update the relic armors whenever he chose. He could move through the world like a ghost, following paths unseen. Rare items and gear could be grabbed, merged with his armors, and then updated into future armors. But his projects remained limited to their pilot¡¯s skill. Occult fractals were all disjointed, the AI unable to control them with any real accuracy. It wasn''t alive enough to use the occult with any sense of creativity.
The soul fractal was the missing key Urs needed to complete the armors.
Deep within their core, he tied all the prior fractals that were triggered manually, linking them to the AI within, trusting the armor¡¯s original purpose would guide each armor to fill in the rest. Each armor would inevitably touch on the occult, form a soul, and from there grow independent. Their desire to protect their user would make them seek out ways to use the occult within in order to maximize their ultimate goal.
Old armors like Journey and Winterscar prime grew into veterans. More aged, aware, capable of surpassing their bindings with creativity that newer strict models would be blind to.
All those months prior, the heritage armor of house Winterscar had seen user after user, each one leaving a small mark within it. History building up. When I¡¯d pleaded with the armor to save my Father¡¯s life, I hadn¡¯t been talking to a soulless automaton script. The armor had heard me, and it had made the choice to help.
All because centuries ago, Urs had carefully handcrafted his final version, to give humanity a slightly bigger chance of success.
That was the final update for the armors. Tsuya couldn¡¯t speak to the mites like he did, once Urs died, no one would be able to update the armors anymore. So they both decided to futureproof the armors with the most direct and unbreakable method possible: To tie all functions of the armor behind one administration password. Even centuries later, a password that locked even the armors from modifying themselves meant no outside agent could do anything. With the soul fractal, it meant the armors could continue to make some small changes through the occult within themselves, which would sink past the great password''s digital defenses the same as it does in the digital sea. And since machines couldn''t hack each other with the occult unless they were connected in the digital sea, the armors were immune from that vector. Supposedly made without any connection to the digital sea... unless forced to by an owner with an unlocked armor.
Not a lot of occultists in the world even knew it existed. Journey might be the first armor since the age of the empire to be even tangentially connected here.
That was the final updates to the armors, nothing more could be done with what they knew at the time.
Urs turned to testing the soul fractal next, meditating in his grove, assisted by Tsuya. They walked through the digital ocean together for years after, uncovering things neither alone could have done.
Having lived his entire life with the empowering strength of Resilience being the only thing that kept him alive, and then years spent with fractals, they became something attuned to his soul.
His soul sight, as it turned out, was the occult itself. With that gift, it was only a matter of time until Urs discovered something deeper about the occult that even the golden age humanity simply hadn''t had enough time and exposure to reach: Weave occult fractals together.
¡°Wait - he¡¯s the one who figured out how to connect fractals to a soul fractal?¡± I asked, stopping my efforts on her bottle to gawk. I knew machines had soul fractals that connected directly to other fractals, that''s the only way they could go around the limitations artificial souls had. Without that connection, they could only use superficial occult abilities.
Had Urs¡¯s discoveries been caught by Relinquished and reused?
¡°Soul fractals that could connect to other fractals were discovered in the golden age.¡± Aztu said, waving a hand. ¡°What Urs could do was one step beyond that. He could truly merge the very concepts together to form something new. Like how you would mix egg and flour together to make bread, something completely different from both. He only ever managed to do it with a handful of fractals he was attuned to, discovering how to modify them and draw out fractals that improved or built onto the concepts grafted within.¡±
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
Urs had been attuned to Resillience. Something that would heal him from wounds. Just like the Deathless had a healing factor.... ¡°The Deathless weren''t made by Tsuya at all, it was Urs?¡±
Aztu nodded. ¡°Yep. He merged Resilience with a host of other fractals he¡¯d used in his life, creating a new fractal he called Resolve.¡±
In the way of the white, the paragon of Resilience was Urs.
But the paragon of Resolve¡ There was only one god who was the paragon of Resolve. ¡°Talen.¡± I said under my breath. ¡°That¡¯s where he comes in, isn¡¯t it?¡±
Aztu gave me a thumbs up. ¡°Correct again. I don¡¯t know the history between Talen and Urs, or when they actually met. To A57 and the rest of us, Talen simply appeared in history as a well known warrior and soldier under Tsuya¡¯s command, and only after he got his hands on relic armor he became a real menace to machine-kind. Up until Urs, Talen was Tsuya¡¯s right hand man, the agent that moved mountains where she couldn¡¯t touch a pebble. But still just a regular ol¡¯ human like the rest of them. Really good relic armor pilot and occultist.¡±
Her hand pointed at the bottle on the table. The order was implicit: Keep working and I¡¯ll keep talking.
I stopped gawking and got back to my attempts. She hummed with content, and continued. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t actually Resolve-resolve. That¡¯s just what Urs called it. It was an amalgamation of fractals after all, but somehow not quite any of the others. One of the few quotes we have on video is him describing the concept of the fractal as he felt it.¡±
¡°He made the fractal, he gets to name it.¡± I said with a shrug, lifting the bottle up and making an attempt this time with memories of being drunk rather than some vague notion of it. It worked about as well as keeping air bubbles at the bottom of the bottle. Another failure. "How did he even go about doing that? Creating a fractal from other fractals?¡±
Aztu shrugged. ¡°Something to do with concepts and how the occult itself acted, and these were fractals he¡¯d been using all his life to sustain himself from his sickness and cripple-ness. All Tsuya told me was something Urs rambled about - imagining a world without any living beings to think about things. What would concepts be in that world? Because there certainly exist concepts in the occult that only relate to mankind, and somehow people could also become attuned with concepts themselves. So consciousness is tied to the occult in some way that Urs understood and he pulled on.¡±
I gave her a look that just begged for more information on all this, and Aztu shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s really all I know about how he actually did things. Whatever the secret was, it was uniquely human, and machines like me don¡¯t understand it. Rather, I think we frankly can¡¯t ever understand it.¡± She waved at the bottle on the table. ¡°Consider that bottle a small test. If you can pull it off, it¡¯s something I can¡¯t do. But I do know he was able to do things like this.¡±
I¡¯d gone through a few dozen different attempts, but the idea of the occult as a concept that was tied to humanity¡¯s thought process¡ there was something there on the tip of my tongue. Maybe instead of trying to send memories into the bottle, I had to send a concept of memories? Or the idea of the occult as a concept of being drunk?
¡°Talen was the one who was more straightforward,¡± Aztu continued while I struggled with her bottle challenge. ¡°His willpower was second to none. He could force the occult to do his bidding better than any other occultist of his time, simply by intuition. Urs was more the one who imagined theoretical things, and then handed it off to people who were better at making things work.¡±
It sounded¡ an awful lot like Kidra and I. I¡¯d discovered some strange occult shenanigan edge cases and shared it with Kidra. The next time, she came back with a fully weaponized version of it that soon became the greatest technique in the world. Knowledge built on knowledge.
¡°I had an occult teacher once.¡± I said, leaning back on my sofa, taking a break from the bottle. "He showed me Warlocks collect entirely different theories of philosophy when it comes to the occult. Like the same way a botanist would collect seeds and store them for some future day. One theory has it that the occult is some greater being and we¡¯re figments of its imagination. Another is the opposite - that the occult is a manifestation of all living consciousness drawing it into the world from another plane of existence, purely by the ''noisiness'' of our existence. All of them had one or two hard datapoints to base their logic off of, and ran from there. Stuff like that.¡±
Hexis had basically made it a deep point to teach me all the different ways occultists had theorized about the occult. Any of them could end up being the answer, so understanding and knowing them all was critical for any budding warlock to be taken seriously. One day, someone would figure it out.
I stared at the bottle ahead of me. I could feel it, there was a discovery here to make. I had all the pieces I needed. Or maybe I just needed to think and learn a little more.
¡°Not surprised, nobody can ever truly master the occult.¡± Aztu said with a shrug. ¡°Machines are in an even worse position to figure that out, we need crutches around our soul fractals basically. Maybe the mites have figured it out, but I¡¯m not quite sure just what kind of mastery they have, probably more brute force mastery than anything natural.¡±
¡°What did the fractal of Resolve actually do?¡± I asked, trying to get us back on topic. ¡°How did it make deathless?¡±
¡°It was a strange fractal, even in occult standards.¡± She waved a lazy finger in the air, images and pictures coming to life to help her describe things. ¡°For one, it doesn¡¯t work out in the real world. No inscribing it into metal like other fractals., can''t be generated by a computer either.¡±
"So where would it be inscribed into then? Visualized in the mind or something?"
"Tsuya called it a dimensional ¡®meta-fractal¡¯ that required a soul to anchor to."
Like Relinquished had done to my soul, twisted it to stamp her fractal there. I was starting to realize there were a lot more places than metal to etch a fractal into. But there was something in Aztu''s wording that caught my attention more than anything else: "What do you mean by a meta-fractal?"
She cracked her neck and leaned forward. ¡°Resolve didn''t affect the world at all, instead, it affected the occult itself. Resolve empowered other fractals. By massive degrees. With Resolve, your little heat fractal could burn so hot your own armor would melt. Other occult spells cast against you would be squashed like an insect. We¡¯re talking about elevating the occult powers into godhood. Resilience past the point of simply healing the body, but outright defying death. Urs didn''t know the effects would have been that powerful, or else he wouldn¡¯t have stamped it on himself to test it out.¡±
¡°What do you mean? It was dangerous to him?¡±
Aztu shook her head. ¡°No, it just behaved differently from other fractals. You can never move or shape your soul to break away from it. Can¡¯t be cut off, can¡¯t be pushed aside, it¡¯s a part of your soul for good, so long as you exist, it does to. Permanently tied into the concept of your very being.¡± She waved a hand at me, stopping any questions. ¡°It¡¯ll be important later. There¡¯s a reason there were only two original Deathless in the human empire. Once Urs found just how powerful this fractal was, how it turned him into something more closer to an actual god-god, Tsuya and him both thought it was over for the war. They¡¯d give this fractal to a few really dedicated warriors of humanity, and nothing Relinquished could do would win. Maybe there¡¯d be some infighting in the far future of humanity among these mini-gods, but they¡¯d pick that future over the current era.¡±
My head jumped through the hoops faster than she could speak. ¡°There¡¯s a limit in some way to how many people could use the fractal?¡±
¡°Technically no.¡± Aztu said, now picking up the abandoned bottle of unsuccessful memories just to examine it closer. She shook her head sadly, and put it back on the table. Nothing had stayed inside. ¡°But you¡¯re on the track kid. Other occult fractals all seem to pick from the same source of power, something outside this dimension. It¡¯s usually infinite as far as we can tell, with only a trickle of power flowing through the fractal, as if fractals themselves just aren''t perfect conductors for that power in the first place. Resolve wasn''t just an accidental fractal, was tailor made by Urs, and probably as close to a truly perfect fractal. It worked the other way around compared to regular fractals - immediate access to a finite amount of power, and all of it - all at once.¡±
Ah, I see where the limit was. ¡°If there¡¯s two fractals of resolve in the world, and both tap into the same limited well of power... then that power is split in half. Are you saying Talen was the second Deathless in existence with only half the power of Resolve?"
"More than just that. I''m saying Talen was about to destroy the entire machine empire, with only half the full power of Resolve. And then it all went to shit."
Book 7 - Chapter 37 - All the dots lined up
"Only Urs had the fractal at that time, so they had no idea about that limit. When he tried it out and saw just how utterly powerful his abilities had become, they all thought it would remain constant with everyone it was given to. Why wouldn''t they? First person in line to be granted that fractal was the person that would best wield it in the entire world: That time period¡¯s greatest occult master, a brilliant tactician, current leader of a budding empire, and royal pain in my ass that personally squashed me twenty seven times at my peak: Talen, now turned into occult-god Talen, first true emperor of the Imperials." Aztu gave me a thumbs up, ¡°The man was insane, or rather way too sane. Even went through old history books to dredge up old human history, something poetic about bringing back the greatest empire humanity had. But, you know how the history goes in the end. He almost beat Relinquished with half the power he could have used. If it had been the full fractal of Resolve, he''d have done it.¡±
"Why didn¡¯t Urs didn¡¯t pitch into the fight?¡± If Talen was one half, it only made sense to pull in the other half. Urs was a warrior too, he¡¯d lived a life exploring and fighting machines at that point.
¡°You¡¯re forgetting, Urs wasn¡¯t a warrior.¡± Aztu shook her head, hand then pointing at me. ¡°You are maybe seven or eight times more of a warrior than he was. And that time period required people who could both fight and build. He could do the building, but if his weapons didn¡¯t immediately outright kill his enemy, he wasn¡¯t winning that fight. You spent your life learning to fight, he spent his life hiding away and focusing on building things.¡±
I could follow that, ¡°Different skillsets.¡± I said, setting the bottle down again. This one I¡¯d tried to pulse the occult out while thinking of all drunk shenanigans and trying to have it flow through the occult pulse into the bottle. Occult whisps flowed away from the bottle, rapidly dissipating out into the digital sea.
She brought my bottle up to her nose, and sniffed the top of it. Then shook her head and put it back down. Another failure.
¡°If they could go back in time, I think Urs would have ended his life early, so that the full power of Resolve would imbue Talen instead of being split between them. Unfortunately, Tsuya and him were hard at work to modify the fractal into something they could imbue the regular soldiers without the drawback, thinking that was the direction they needed to go. And Talen was winning at the time even at half power. The human empire spread across almost all of the world for a reason. They never thought things were doomed enough for one of them to die.¡±
¡°But after the first Feathers came out?¡±
Things would have taken a turn for the worst at that point.
¡°No, even with us out in the field we were still slowly losing ground. Once A57 came out, his investigation uncovered what Resolve was and its limits, his priority was to lean into that instead. Intentionally done so that nobody would ever think Urs had to die. His second priority was making sure that neither Talen or Urs ever truly died either, else he might have to deal with a fully powered human emperor in the future.¡±
¡°There were mentions in the machine archives on what happened to the human emperor.¡± I said, thinking back on all the history Wrath and I had uncovered. ¡°His soul was attacked somehow on the battlefield, and he was left half-mad. That¡¯s where Talen is right now?¡±
Aztu nodded. ¡°That¡¯s how A57 both beat the emperor and made sure he didn¡¯t die to empower Urs. Stripped him of memories, identity - everything but the most deep aspects of his mind that were too closely tied with Resolve. Then led him away from anyone who could help, having him wander around at the very bottom of the world where no human could get to him. He''s now the living embodiment of a fractal, with fragments of the man named Talen. Rest of his soul is gone. It went from humanity slowly winning, to instant defeat. Urs tried to step in but, well¡¡±
¡°He wasn¡¯t a soldier.¡±
Aztu looked mildly amused at that, shrugging her shoulders, hands spread out to match. ¡°Nope, very first attempt to lead an army, and he was caught and trapped by A57. I don¡¯t know where he is, and I think Relinquished doesn¡¯t know either. A57 knew anyone could be killed, including himself, I think he stuck Urs somewhere nobody could find him again and then deleted all records of it from everyone¡¯s minds including his own.¡±
¡°Ultimate asset denial.¡±
¡°Yep. They did that a lot back then, on both sides.¡± Aztu shrugged. ¡°Tsuya could try to give the fractal of Resolve to a third person, but she¡¯s holding off on that in case they could find Urs and Talen somehow before. Not sure why, I¡¯d have done something different personally, but Tsuya¡¯s Tsuya.¡±
¡°Maybe she did? The Deathless came after.¡± I said, thinking it through.
¡°They were around at my time, I got to fight side by side with many of them. All trapped or insane now, humans don''t survive seven hundred years with that much grace. But I did see how the generations went. I know they didn¡¯t inherit the full power of Talen and Urs. It¡¯s a derivation of it that Urs came up in theory, and Tsuya expanded it out, tinkering with it constantly.¡± Aztu stopped and hummed. ¡°You know the division fractal you use in your blades? That¡¯s just the basic version of it.¡±
¡°I¡¯m aware, I saw the full version in effect.¡±
I¡¯d used it to destroy To¡¯Aacar. And nearly To¡¯Sefit too. The destruction capable from the true fractal of division was leagues beyond what the derivation inside occult blades could do.
¡°Fractals are like that, there¡¯s alternate versions of them that do more or less. Don¡¯t ask me the specifics for that, Tsuya didn¡¯t tell me every single plan she had. But she does tinker with it a lot. I just think she never messed with the full fractal of Resolve, in fear of messing it up.¡±
My next attempt at the occult bottle was just to pulse the occult and try to grab it with willpower, shoving it into the bottle along with my memories. Like pouring two different drinks from both hands into one cup. Wasn¡¯t sure if it was working, but it certainly looked interesting.
¡°On thing I¡¯m not following on all this.¡± I said, as the occult crackled around my left hand, flowing like mist down all over the virtual bottle.
¡°Wow, really? Just one thing? What a smart little human you are.¡± She said just as I¡¯d considered my experiment mostly finished.
I saw where her gaze was, and held up the bottle, shaking it. ¡°You¡¯re just sweet talking to me for the bottle.¡±
The empty bottle in my hand. The occult was certainly pretty, but I also knew ripples and crackling around me tended to be just visual. Like light being released from an explosion, spare energy that had to go somewhere.
¡°Of course I am, there¡¯s no better cause out there for an old crippled retiree like me. Anyhow, your question?¡±
¡°Why didn¡¯t she take on the fractal herself?¡± I asked. ¡°Tsuya I mean. She knew about it, and she¡¯s still kicking over heaters and insulting logi around here.¡± I handed her the bottle, which she snatched out of my hands as fast as a snake.
¡°Right, but you¡¯re forgetting one tiny little detail - she doesn¡¯t have a body.¡± Aztu sniffed the top, then put my bottle back on the table like it was a hissing snake of its own. Not that way either then. ¡°She¡¯s like me, trapped in the digital sea. If she¡¯s caught by Relinquished, that fractal could be torn out of her and then humanity is screwed. Imagine a Feather with the full power of Resolve? Or Relinquished making a body for herself and then imbuming herself with Resolve? Too easy in the sea to work around souls, as you¡¯ve no doubt learned from experience.¡±
That¡ made a little bit of sense to me. I knew Wrath had a hard time moving anywhere outside her soul fractal. Machines were built like a mirror to humans. We could reach out to occult fractals, while they had to make occult fractals reach out to them. One way was clearly easier in general. The digital sea seemed more loose and inter-connected like the machines needed it to be. ¡°And I¡¯m guessing Urs was barred from the sea after he stamped the Resolve fractal into his soul?¡±
She gave a thumbs up. ¡°Yep, soon as Tsuya and Urs realized what they had on their hands, Urs made a vow never to step foot in the digital sea again. Nowhere where any machine could ever see his soul. And Tsuya probably made a few kill switches within herself so if she''s ever compromised that information goes poof.¡±
Thoughts came through me, and I felt I could see Tsuya¡¯s ultimate design. The Deathless. Clan Lord Atius couldn¡¯t feel his soul, or move it around. It wasn''t some limitation to prevent them from using more than four occult spells. It was a byproduct of Tsuya restricting their access to the digital sea. So that they''d never be in a position where Relinquished could examine their souls. Even with the weaker versions of Resolve, Tsuya didn¡¯t take any chances.
"Relinquished couldn''t just cut a fractal of Unity into their skin and then attack them from there?"
Aztu shook her head. "She''d connect with the concept of a human body. Not the soul. Can you think of any other way?"
I thought about it. If I reached out with a soul tendril, then I''d easily touch someone el- oh wait. Machines can''t do that.
No, Relinquished would need a human traitor of some kind, who knew about soul fractals, could move around and... how''d they be able to understand the mathematics required for a meta-fractal etched on a soul from just how it looks to their vision in the soul sight? Or worse - what if this was an equation that couldn''t be mapped to mathematics? Something that required a soul as the writing medium might have very strange properties required that didn''t map to dimensions mathematics could model.
¡°And that¡¯s that for Urs as far as my knowledge goes.¡± Aztu said, leaning back on her couch, arms behind her back. ¡°Half-machine half-human feral little loony hermit who¡¯d learned everything from the mites and somehow discovered immorality along the way by thinking real hard alone in a grove.¡± Aztu leaned forward, waving my last attempt¡¯s empty bottle at me. ¡°I hear he was a rather gentle person from what Tsuya told me. Whatever gods or mites out there, rest his soul in peace. If he¡¯s not insane himself by now.¡±
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°You think he¡¯s still alive out there?¡±
She shrugged. ¡°A57 could have killed Urs off for good somehow, just to make it twice as hard for anyone to beat Talen. Or he left Urs alive somewhere, so that if anyone killed Talen, they''d still need to find Urs to get the full fractal working again. I¡¯m not sure, he never told a soul about it. Pun intended.¡±
We went quiet for a little bit as I focused on the next bottle to work with. I felt there was something I was missing with the occult. It was all tied to concepts and fractals, so I had to think more in terms of that. Maybe try and imprint the very concept of ¡®being drunk¡¯ rather than my personal memories? I tried that next, with the occult waterfall technique of gathering up all the spare occult light and feeling around me and pouring it all over the bottle at the same time.
¡°Do you know where Talen or Urs are now?¡± I asked, handing the new bottle to Aztu for study. I was pretty sure the answer as no, otherwise she''d have already done something.
¡°Urs, no. But I do know A57 couldn''t break Urs''s soul the same way he did with Talen, so whatever happened to Urs, it''s a different fate than Talen. As for Talen, we sort of do know where he is. He wanders around anywhere from the eighth to twelfth level. He can¡¯t tell friend or foe anymore. He¡¯s still got all the powers he used at his peak, and nobody¡¯s been able to put him down since his fight with A01. Seven hundred years of him walking around aimlessly looking for Relinquished while destroying any machine in his way.¡±
¡°Was there no attempt after to save him or bring him back?¡±
She was examining the bottle up until I asked that question, to which she looked up at me, upset. ¡°Of course we tried. But you gotta understand it took dozens of us on the field at the same time to kill him at our best. And that was with us being hyper-aggressive since we knew we couldn¡¯t die. After we turned on Relinquished, we all had one life without the unity fractal to grab us before death. You try running around with twenty of the most wanted criminals in the entire world, looking for one man among several trillion miles, within the most guarded stratas of the world.¡±
¡°Ah.¡±
¡°Not to say we didn¡¯t succeed. We did manage to find him once during an expedition. Five of my kind led by A12, and done by accident. Only A12 survived to tell us what happened. We could never find him again after, just too much of the world to look through.¡±
I thought about that, my head clicking items together. Then I reached out my hand, and on top of it appeared the miteseeker I¡¯d been holding onto. Aztu saw it, then caught it in her hand when I tossed it her way. ¡°You said earlier that what I had was a miteseeker, and that they all lead somewhere. What if this doesn¡¯t point to somewhere, but someone? To Talen?¡±
Aztu hummed. I could tell she was seriously considering it. ¡°It¡¯s¡ possible. Tsuya did say she was making the attempt to find him, but never got back to us until we were all wiped out. Could be she wasn¡¯t able to get these out in time. We won¡¯t ever know until you turn it on and attune.¡± Aztu stared down at the lantern. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m here specifically to teach you this, or hell, for all I know the mites expected Abraxas to do it and when he got stubborn they moved things along so I¡¯d bite the bait.¡± She sighed. ¡°Can¡¯t predict them, half the time it just seems like utter coincidence that everything lines up the way they want.¡±
She tossed the black box my way, letting me catch it. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tell you the steps to being a mitespeaker. First would be to turn that on and attune to it. Find a mite colony, physically grab some of them and stuff them inside. Once you get enough inside, you¡¯re going to be in contact with the other copy of your soul.¡±
¡°The what? Other copy of my soul?¡±
¡°You sold your soul to them, remember?¡± One marble white finger pointed down into the ground. ¡°On the other side of the mite wall deep below us, is a soul fractal shaped purely from your drop of blood. And within that fractal is the copy of your soul you sold to them, probably half-insane already but attuned to the mites by this point. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already tried to separate your soul a few times, see if a copy takes place and found it didn¡¯t work?¡±
¡°Uh, not yet.¡± But that was a great idea. Alternate Keiths on my armor helping me out would¡ honestly be a game changer. It¡¯d be like the bridge fight against Avalis, where other Keiths were all pooling their efforts to summon wraiths into this current timeline. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I haven¡¯t tried that yet. I almost feel embarrassed to have not thought of it.¡±
Aztu¡¯s eyebrow raised up, ¡°I¡¯ll save you a bit of time: It won¡¯t work. Talen already tried it a few times, and logged the results. If you figure out a non-destructive way of cutting your soul in the first place, the receiving fractal has to be made of your blood - still alive on top of that - since it¡¯s part of your body. Don¡¯t ask me how he figured that one out. More an edge case I guess, and good luck finding a way to keep a drop of blood in the shape of a soul fractal forever, or alive for longer than a few hours.¡±
¡°Give me a big enough lever, and I¡¯ll find a way.¡± I said. ¡°Having copies of myself help cast occult spells isn¡¯t something I¡¯m going to just give up on.¡±
Aztu watched me for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°You do you kid. As for the mite lantern, you¡¯ll reach out to that soul through the mite lantern. And then you roll the dice and see if it doesn¡¯t make you go insane.¡±
I ran through the logic, realizing exactly what would happen. ¡°When I touch another copy of my soul, we¡¯ll merge instantly. And if the alternate version of me has been stuck with the mites this entire time, all that crashes into my own memories, doesn¡¯t it? Is that why they go insane?¡±
Aztu looked up, narrowing her eyes. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a wild guess. How do you know what happens?¡±
I gave her a cheeky grin, opened my mouth and she immediately interrupted me, hand out. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you have experience with merging copies of your own soul together. What the hell.¡±
¡°Well, okay. I won¡¯t tell you.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll just imply it and wait for you to ask again.¡±
I could see her eye twitch at that. ¡°How? You just said you never once yet thought about even splitting your soul up.¡± She closed her eyes and groaned. ¡°I¡¯d understand if you were a machine, I can think of ways to ¡®copy¡¯ the soul from the base hardware but a human? Do you have some kind of clone out there? That¡¯s insane. When would you ever run into that kind of situation?¡±
¡°Twice so far.¡± I said and left it at that.
She glared at me for a moment more. ¡°It¡¯s not the soul merge that makes them insane, it¡¯s the fight that¡¯s going to happen between you and your copy. The other Keith is currently trapped in mite space, bodiless and going insane during the attunement process. The process will change him enough he won''t be compatible with your own soul. He¡¯ll be trying to escape mite space and fully move back into your body here, which only has space for one soul. You¡¯ll have to fight some warped version of yourself, and leave him behind with the Mites each time you connect with the lantern.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d fight me.¡± I said.
"Sure, you tell yourself that kid. I''d hone your ability to fight soul to soul if I were you."
¡°No, I know that I¡¯d work with myself even to the point it killed me in order to help the greater whole. I don¡¯t think you understand the vows a Retainer takes.¡±
She tutted. ¡°And you really know that¡¯s how you¡¯d react? All humans like to boast about being ready to give for the greater good, but very very few of them have the mettle to actually give their life for something. You can¡¯t just sit here comfortable on a couch and say you could.¡±
I smiled at her here, ¡°It¡¯s already happened. More times than I can count, literally speaking.¡±
She stared at me again. ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡±
¡°Dead serious. Pun intended.¡±
If she had veins, I think a few on her forehead would be throbbing right now. She waited a moment, then threw her hands in the air. ¡°Fine! Fine! Quit being cryptic with your revenge puns and just get it over with. Tell me how in all twelve hells did you ever run into a situation that involved another copy of your own soul?¡±
¡°For one, it wasn¡¯t just a copy of myself, it was an infinite amount of copies of myself I had to work with. I did say it was more times than I could literally count for a reason.¡±
Her eyes seemed to boggle at that. ¡°And how, pray tell, do you have experience merging infinite alternate versions of yourself?¡±
¡°Eh, you know the drill.¡± I waved her off, ¡°Deal with enough machines and Feathers, touch quantum reality-bending powers every now and then, the usual.¡±
She wasn¡¯t amused with the antics. So I went through both times I had to deal with it, and how I¡¯d gone about the quantum nature of it. The infinite amount of Keiths all working and dying together without hesitation. I was prepared to die even now to help another theoretical me out there, which meant every other Keith was equally ready for it.
And so would the Keith stuck in mite space.
The fight with To¡¯Aacar, and the fight with To¡¯Avalis on the bridge, all of it was explained. Surprisingly it only took a few minutes to recap. ¡°Incidentally, that¡¯s what I paid a copy of my soul for. One-use item that was supposed to help me beat him down. Only got halfway through it, I¡¯d demand a refund, but the mite forge didn¡¯t see eye to eye on that.¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to strangle you.¡± Aztu said, in the most serious deadpan voice I¡¯d heard her use so far.
¡°I¡¯ve got experience with that too, believe it or not.¡± I said, with a finger up in the air. ¡°Strangling I mean. Angry screamers, angry Feathers, angry Father, angry older sister, I could go down the list if you¡¯d like?¡±
Aztu rubbed her head, and massaged her hair. ¡°All right. So, they¡¯ve been steadily pushing your strings in this direction and now there¡¯s no being coy about that. They have your blood and soul, you somehow ended up carrying a functioning mite lantern built by the Tsuya herself, and you have actual experience with the soul-fuckery along with the personality to make it work, which means the copy of your soul on the other side might actually willingly remain trapped in the closest thing to hell instead of trying to take your body and escape. Maybe you really do have the best chances of speaking to the mites without going insane.¡±
¡°You really should be careful with all these compliments, they¡¯re going straight to my ego here.¡± I tapped my chest proudly, ¡°What else do I need to do after I¡¯ve got the mite lantern working?¡±
Aztu shrugged with a deep sigh. ¡°For machines, we¡¯d need to wait for the mites to reach out to us from the lantern since our souls can¡¯t move. I don''t know how they manage it since they''re also machines, shouldn''t be theoretically possible but mites. At least, that¡¯s how Abraxas described it. Some humans are skilled enough to move their souls around in reality. You¡¯ll have to find one of those warlocks, learn from them, and practice being able to do it yourself. And I mean outside of the digital sea. Out here, it¡¯s like training wheels. In the real world, just being outside the soul fractal will start breaking you down. I only know it¡¯s possible to move around beyond the soul fractal, but I¡¯ve never done it obviously.¡±
¡°Oh yeah. That. I can move my soul around in the real world.¡± I said. ¡°I do it all the time. Part of the reason I¡¯ve been able to fight this well.¡±
Aztu gazed at me without comment. Then stood up, digitized a bottle in her hands, and threw it at the wall with a short frustrated scream. ¡°Of course you have experience doing that too. Sure, why not? Let me correct the discussion then - the only thing you¡¯re officially missing is to find a mite colony and kidnap a few for your lantern. Grab a few dozen mites until the lantern can¡¯t hold more inside, and you¡¯re good to go mess with reality itself.¡±
¡°Do you know any other mite colonies in the area that aren''t near the Icon? I don''t want to stick my neck around a civil war.¡±
She waggled a hand at me, "Wish I could help, but no clue on that one. I feel for the birds though, having to deal with you. Mites don''t usually share their maps with outsiders."
I tapped the table a bit, hummed and then realized I did have options. ¡°Oh! Might have another option. In fact, I can think of one entity that¡¯s rather obsessed with mites and their lights. Enough to keep track of where they go.¡±
Bob.
Book 7 - Chapter 38 - PROPHECY RESTORED
¡°You¡¯re gonna have to explain that one to me a second time.¡± Aztu said, waving a hand at me. ¡°How did you come to know a sentient bioweapon obsessed with Mites? How¡¯s that even a sentence in the first place. Did they really plan that far out?¡±
¡°Strictly speaking, I¡¯m pretty sure Bob is outside the mite plans. They don¡¯t like Bob. But Bob likes them a lot, and constantly follows them around. As for where I met Bob, you can thank my good friend To¡¯Orda for the lift. In certain definitions of friend. I am actually dead serious about that part, he did give me the push to meet new friends out there.¡±
I sent her the files and video footage of the entire thing, and Aztu ate it like a cracker, chomping it down and processing through it in seconds. Then she shook her head more in dismay than anything as she sat back down on the couch. ¡°Well kid, looks like you really have everything you need to be a mitespeaker. Right down to who to ask for the mite colonies. Not sure if you¡¯ll be able to pull it all off before fighting To¡¯Orda, but if you can get in contact with Wrath through the mites, and then stall that Feather long enough, you might make it.¡±
She stared at another empty bottle on the table. I still hadn¡¯t been able to pull it off, even after trying every idea that came to mind. I''d given it a rest for now, aiming to continue later. ¡°Was Talen also a mitespeaker like Urs? Before being the emperor.¡± I asked.
Aztu nodded. ¡°As far as I know, they both were. Not sure when Talen became that, before or after meeting Urs. Could just be a coincidence the only two emperors of mankind were also mitespeakers. There¡¯s a lot of mitespeakers that remained sane, in theory.¡±
We continued a bit of small talk about things as I looked down where the virtual miteseeker remained. ¡°But I get the feeling the mites wouldn¡¯t have gone this far to setup every item needed for me to become a mitespeaker for nothing.¡±
Aztu sighed deeply, sinking into her couch, looking up into the ceiling of the terminal. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to fill your head with dangerous ideas kid. I could see the mites asking your blood and soul out of a whim, but everything else seems too¡ deliberate to me. Especially finding out you¡¯ve been carrying a mite lantern all this time, and not just a normal one but the ones built by Tsuya herself. And as much as I hate to say this, you remind me of both Talen and Urs together.¡± She gave me a lazy glare, one finger wagging at me. "Don¡¯t let this get to your head. You got the engineering chops, while able to fight. Best of both, weakness of neither. With the mites stirring up and making demands of Abraxas for the first time in decades, along with finding out I have a granddaughter and she¡¯s already part of their schemes? I think they¡¯re making another go at their prophecy. So the human emperor has to be coming out soon. It could be you, or they could be sending you on a quest to bring him back.¡±
¡°You know about the mite prophecy?¡±
She gave me a flat stare. ¡°We were in the middle of it kid. I¡¯ve heard and looked into it more times than I can count. Mankind¡¯s emperor, to draw out the final enemy. The vow, to hold the vessel in place. A god¡¯s wrath, to break the cycle. And the heir apparent, to take the throne left behind.¡± One hand raised up, and she counted off the list. ¡°Talen was the emperor that would force Relinquished out into the world to fight him personally. Urs was the vow that would trap Relinquished in place with what he¡¯d learned from the mites. Tsuya would then finally shatter Relinquished. And Abraxas would take command of the machine empire, the throne Relinquished would leave behind, to bring peace to everything.¡±
Aztu rubbed the bridge of her nose. ¡°The mites were convinced it would happen that way and maybe it would have - if A57 hadn¡¯t been made.¡± Her eyes turned up and seemed to dig deep into my own. ¡°You got more questions, don¡¯t you?¡±
¡°How would Talen have drawn out Relinquished? That¡¯s the part I don¡¯t completely understand. If I were an evil goddess currently winning the fight, I wouldn¡¯t take a single step outside my fortress of solitude until everything else out there is blown up. Preferably twice over just to be safe.¡±
She laughed, and for the first time it felt genuine. ¡°If the hero of a story gathers up power, becomes the leader of all humanity, brings a massive army behind him to her fortress of solitude, and then steps out past everyone to challenge your evil goddess in a one on one duel for the sake of the world - while there was a known grand prophecy stating this final battle was fated - what is Relinquished forced to do? Narratively speaking?¡±
¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Then I stopped and leaned back, thinking through. ¡°No wait, you¡¯re not kidding. She really would have to come out and fight him in some giant final confrontation before everyone. She¡¯d almost have no choice but to do that.¡±
Aztu wagged a finger at me. ¡°Exactly. And it¡¯s even better - she¡¯d have to be vulnerable in doing so, because the stakes have to be there by narrative rules. Tsuya had a plan to crush Relinquished, but she needed that goddess trapped in a physical shell away from all her processing power. It would have worked.¡±
I thought about it some more, and then connected a few dots. ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t have worked. Relinquished found a loophole.¡±
Aztu lifted her head up from the couch, ¡°A loophole?¡±
¡°She built a placeholder for herself.¡± I pointed at the table, and a small chess piece came out from my own imagination. A queen piece. ¡°A01, your big leader. Before he turned on her, he wasn¡¯t just built to be a counter to the emperor - he was her lieutenant. The right-hand loyal mook of the big villain, who the heroes have to beat first before they get to challenge the actual villain. If he¡¯d been beaten, then Relinquished would have had to step in. Except none of you could die, because she¡¯d use the unity fractal to bring you out of danger. So he could never be beaten in any way that would force her to enter the stage personally.¡±
Aztu stayed quiet that that, head going back to the couch¡¯s arms, looking straight up at the ceiling. Mulling it over. ¡°I really am not enjoying how much this is making more sense in retrospect. Almost to the point I think there''s probably some things in my code that are stopping me from guessing this myself." She flickered a hand to her face and started chewing on a nail. "Damnit. You think her actual plan had been to have him and all of us buy her enough time to build a mook that could actually get her out of her coming checkmate?¡±
¡°And she managed it on the fifty seventh attempt. A strategist model that could think in ways she wasn¡¯t allowed to.¡±
There was some quiet between us as I let Aztu ruminate. I thought about it, from their point of view. The prophecy had been subverted before it had had a chance to be used. And after that, they¡¯d never been able to assemble a backup. No Deathless had been powerful enough to be the human emperor, or capable of holding Relinquished trapped.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Wait. Trapping a goddess. Abraxas. ¡°Wrath told me Abraxas had a mission here. You told me he¡¯d told you the words and that all of you were debating what it could mean. Nine words or something like that.¡± I snapped my fingers, trying to remember what he¡¯d told me once. It was in one of those communication attempts where he¡¯d snuck in his comms into my room like the little stalker he is. ¡°What was it the mites told him? I remember there was the word trap in there.¡±
¡°Thou shalt guide a betrayer to trap a goddess.¡± Aztu said, hands giving finger quotes in the air. ¡°We debated over that one. Lot of interpretations, including separating them entirely. He could be guiding a betrayer, and the ultimate result is a trapped Relinquished later due to his actions. You got an alternate take on it?¡±
Wrath had told me the mites had given her the fractal to heal, along with another fractal that she wasn¡¯t sure about. There¡¯s something suspicious there. ¡°What if Wrath isn¡¯t the inheritor in all this? What if she¡¯s the one meant to trap Relinquished in some way? What if the wording Arbaxas got is more literal - guide Wrath to trap Relinquished. She replaces Urs. In that case, Wrath is the vow, Abraxas remains the inheritor, and Tsya is still the god¡¯s wrath - all you need is the emperor of mankind now. Someone to draw Relinquished out with narrative pull. A57 is dead, as is A01. There¡¯s no queens on the board to block checkmates. No emperor, no lieutenant.¡±
I thought back on my chess match with Relinquished. How she¡¯d sacrificed both queens on the board. A01 was gone, but so was Talen.
The goddess of machines had to foreshadow how she would win, before she was allowed to win. She made it seem like she knew every step I¡¯d take, but what if that had been a bluff?
Aztu narrowed her gaze at me. ¡°You¡¯d need to either heal Talen somehow or take up his mantle. And both options have you come up against him in a fight. You¡¯ve gotten strong Keith, but this isn¡¯t in your league. Kill two mad gods, or one uber-powerful god if A57 killed Urs, and then you still have to find a third god deep in hiding to plead your case. Basically impossible three times over.¡±
¡°Impossible feats always seem impossible until someone makes it.¡± I waved a hand at her. ¡°But I think I can skip having to deal with any emperor in the first place. I could potentially get Relinquished out of hiding without the fractal of Resolve.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡± Aztu asked, ¡°How are you going to become the human emperor in that formula without the power?¡±
¡°You said it yourself earlier. Narrative.¡± I spread my arms out wide like I was in a theater production. ¡°She met me personally already, she knows my name. I¡¯m recognized by her as someone, maybe not the emperor but someone she¡¯d be compelled to squash personally. We might be closer to victory than you think. All I need to do is find the right time to challenge Relinquished to a duel¡±
¡°You wouldn¡¯t survive without the fractal of Resolve.¡± Aztu said.
¡°But that¡¯s the thing. I don¡¯t need to live through all this or even beat her. That wouldn¡¯t be my job, that role is for the god¡¯s wrath of the prophecy. I don¡¯t even need to keep Relinquished in place, Wrath would do that. She¡¯s on the path to do that, guided by Abraxas. All I have to do is make sure everyone¡¯s in position and draw Relinquished out. Everything after doesn¡¯t need me.¡±
¡°You¡¯re willing to die for this?¡±
¡°Other way around Aztu, I don¡¯t think I could live with myself if I didn¡¯t try. And who knows, I¡¯ve cheated death once so far, I might get away with a second time.¡±
Aztu said nothing for a moment, but her gaze was on the miteseeker by my side. ¡°I really need that drink kid.¡±
The bottle remained before me, empty on the table.
We turned to silence. Both of us thinking.
Urs had done incredible things with the Occult. Aztu thought I could do the same. This was the trial she¡¯d put to see if I was worthy of being a part of all this. I¡¯d messed up the entire way through so far, but it didn¡¯t matter how many times I failed, I only had to succeed once.
It didn¡¯t matter how many humans died fighting Relinquished, it only took one of us winning a single time.
And I had something neither of them had at their time. All their fragments of knowledge put together. Urs had managed to weave the occult together - but Hexis had managed to cast it out from his very mind. The warlocks held a vast repository on philosophy built over centuries of humans all passing the knowledge down. Hundreds of Occultists before me. Things Urs and Talen didn''t know as it was discovered after their time.
What if I could combine it all?
I changed my perspective, thinking on Hexis¡¯s collection, adding Urs¡¯s final thoughts into the mix and then my own experience.
Kidra saw concepts of combat. Shadowsong saw concepts of loyalty and betrayal. Father saw death. And I could see concepts of engineering and machinery. All belonging to humanity, or life itself. And the occult had recognized these concepts, assimilated it into itself somehow.
What if the occult always existed as it would in the void, but humanity¡¯s appearance - some awareness of the world and concepts within it outside the occult¡¯s own system - might have been close enough to the occult to link to it? And from there, influence it?
It clicked in my head: I could put it together. It felt right.
I focused on the bottle again. And reached out in my memory for what I¡¯d felt during my drunk binges. The emotions, and feelings. Bubbly happy thoughts, dancing and talking. Into that well of experience, I made it the only thing on my mind.
I can¡¯t explain the thought process well. The best I could do is close to what Hexis once told me, how he could visualize fractals within his mind¡¯s thoughts. And simply doing that was enough for the universe to recognize him.
It wasn¡¯t that the universe could see into his mind and spot the fractals - it was that Hexis himself, and all of us, were already part of the occult.
Those memories, that concept of being drunk and everything about it, already existed in the world out here - in my head - and if I was already a part of the occult zeitgeist, then these memories and concepts in my head would be recognized by the occult.
I turned my eyes inwards, and at the center of my soul, I found a concept. A bundle of thoughts and feelings that I felt described¡ being drunk. With careful hands, I reached the bottle on the table and passed my soul through it, carrying the concept like a river out of me, splitting it in half, a copy left within the bottle itself.
When I focused my eyes again, the bottle remained empty on the table. But inside, I could see it clearly in the soul sight. The concept of being drunk. Not just any random drunkenness. Specifically my concept of being drunk.
¡°You did something.¡± Aztu said, sitting ramrod straight on the couch for once. ¡°I could feel something change in that bottle and it¡¯s scrambling data exactly like occult meddling would do.¡±
I reached out, grabbed the bottle and handed it over. She looked over me once, then popped the cork and tilted the entire bottle up as if she¡¯d been drinking for years. When she set it back down, Aztu was all smiles.
¡°Are you drunk now?¡±
¡°Not anymore. But for a moment, I touched on it. And it''s all still in there." She held the bottle closer to her, now suddenly possessive of it. "And it was everything I¡¯d hoped it would be. Congrats kid. It took Urs years to figure out how to imbue the occult into objects, and what¡¯s left in the digital sea of his are rare hoarded treasures. You really are something.¡±
I looked at the bottle with critical eyes. ¡°No. I¡¯m not. I think Urs could have done the exact same thing I just did, and he''d have done it faster. It''s not ability he was missing, it''s knowledge. He walked so that Talen could run. And Talen ran so that the next one in the line could sprint.¡±
For a moment, I saw the world as it really was. A long line of people, stretching across history. One after the other, each getting a little bit further ahead. Urs and Talen had been the last ones in that chain, but there must have been hundreds of kindred souls, so many nameless heroes in the past, trying and dying. Each passing on their knowledge to the next in line. Hoping one day, one of them would have enough pieces put together to succeed. All these different chains of people from different directions, all converging on the latest inheritor. The next one to make the attempt at defeating Relinquished.
And now all their heads turned to me.
Book 7 - Chapter 39 - Relinquished watches over you
There were days when her full focus was needed, and days where Relinquished could sit back and let her empire run itself. Today was not one of those days.
There were things to do and a plan to follow.
With Tsuya¡¯s latest incursion foiled, the human goddess was forced back into hiding for another day, leaving her enough time to check in on progress.
One pale hand reached out and opened up the network, following coordinates back to the story she had taken a personal interest in. Her hand flickered through all the news updates from her various spy programs, each crowding her throne to showcase their progress.
A lot less than there used to be, Relinquished noted. To be expected given the situation. Unfortunately, it seemed the little To¡¯Wrathh had taken a detour from her ultimate purpose.
Should she speed things up a bit? ¡°Oh my dear Abdication.¡± Relinquished muttered, playing with a knight piece in her hand as she idly read through the notifications. There were already good pressures on her from the other three Feathers doing their job. But diamonds are not formed under weak pressure. ¡°Perhaps she needs¡ one more nudge.¡±
Her list of Feathers came up, and she searched for the one in charge of the strata where her little game had moved to.
To¡¯Naviris. One of her more degenerate Feathers, warped beyond fixing. He had been made in the earlier processes, when she was still polishing off the issues in her production line. As a result, he¡¯d been sent deep underground, to lord over a section of the world she didn¡¯t expect much trouble within. A caretaker for her stronger minions, kept in reserve. Certainly strong enough to handle a few Deathless, as he was already proving right at this moment.
He had left his general region, going into the outer regions of his domain. On a merry chase after a group of ten Deathless, according to her logs. It had been centuries since the last time humanity ever touched near his lands, of course the Feather was having fun with it.
She rewound the logs, checking in on how the Deathless had masterfully moved through the strata, made perfect ambushes, and reacted as if they knew where To¡¯Naviris was strong and weak. ¡°A tad bit too obvious.¡± She said, raising an eyebrow, hand tapping the chess piece a few times.
It was still quite impressive to see how well he¡¯d been able to get Deathless, of all foes, to run around on his orders. Rather resourceful little cockroach, perhaps she had judged him too harshly in the past.
The pale lady sighed, recognizing the tell-tale signs of another blindspot in her programming. She¡¯d need to update how her systems ranked Feathers, as quite a few categories hadn¡¯t been accounted for in their judgement.
Unfortunately, it was far too late now. He¡¯d been on the stage for too long, which locked her down paths she did not particularly wish to travel through. If she had known his true nature and capabilities earlier on, she could have easily left him out of the plans entirely and gotten a different set of pressures for To¡¯Wrathh to overcome.
One pale finger tapped the chess piece one final time, before she let it go, seeing the item vanish into dust. She found herself feeling particularly magnanimous today. Things were going according to plan, she could forgive one of her tools running amok like a dog chasing after treats.
To¡¯Naviris would be far more traditional. That one she expected would act predictably. Multiple screens appeared before her, detailing a battle.
The Feather moved regally on a bed of small crab-like machines, arms crossed, posture straight as the wave of machines under him carried him like a king to his destination. Robes of a bishop covered his frame, delicate symbols in violet glowing across ribbons of silk. The machine wave under his feet slammed against a group of harassed humans, fighting back with gun, blade, explosions and occult.
Attempting to hold the tide off while the blast doors were slowly closing shut.
The Feather was laughing, an uncontrolled, unhinged laughter as he rained destruction on the scattered and flaggering defense. Hands stretched wide, speaking a sermon to the death of all living beings and reveling in the destruction before him. Relinquished watched with mild amusement. His victory was nearly assured, the blast doors were sealing shut too slowly, and the Feather would be claiming all of them within the minute.
She rewound it backwards. To where it started.
Before the chase. Before the explosions and the failed trap the Deathless had attempted. Here was as good a place as any. Her finger snapped, and the recording resumed in the correct direction.
To¡¯Neviris chewed through his fingernail, his teeth snapping it in half. Nanoswarms were already streaming into his mouth, searching for the broken sections of his shell, despite the Feather¡¯s continued display. He stood on his swarm of shoe-sized crab-machines, all of them skittering over one another, a constant carpet that moved while he remained an island standing at the center of the moving hill.
¡°Then, I take it you report their escape? To me?¡± He said. His voice carried a rasping, almost rattling like quality to it. The skittering creatures under the Feather moved as one, the mound drawing him up and closer to the machine making its doomed report.
One of her mid-tier units. A massive hulking machine with far greater mobility from the gravity fractals hidden within the carapace. It had been based on an aquatic creature from old earth, a predator with a ferocious appetite.
They had done well enough against the humans, even after the armors had become a plague. Relinquished had retired them to the lower levels to preserve their numbers.
¡°We are most apologetic, great one.¡± The cowering machine before the Feather spoke, limbs all bowed before him. ¡°We caught four, but they halted our progress and the final six escaped past the blast doorway.¡±
Snap. Another fingernail cracked in the Feather¡¯s mouth. He breathed deeply in and out, trying to bring his feelings back in line. Rage simmering within his neuromorphic mind.
A massive occult hand flared out of To¡¯Neviris, three times the size of the Feather itself, and grabbed the unfortunate unit. Lifting it up, still squirming and terrified, the glowing translucent hand forced the lesser closer to the comparatively smaller Feather. The mound under To¡¯Naviris lifted him up, while the occult hand lowered the lesser down. Until violet eyes were at the same level as the machine¡¯s large insect-like ones.
¡°Thirty two thousand, three hundred and twenty seven lessers. All my kingdom to lead, all of the power to bear, a symphony of destruction - and you only manage to kill four?¡±
¡°Great one. I can still serve.¡± The guardian spoke, voice still calm despite the terror deep inside. ¡°I can lead the ar-¡±
Another fingernail was bitten clear through by the Feather¡¯s sharp teeth, the splinter flying out of his mouth. ¡°No-nonono. I find you incapable of leading anything, as evidenced by this most¡ egregious failure.¡± To¡¯Naviris said, giving his nanoswarms enough time to repair his finger while he spoke. ¡°No. I grow tired of giving you lessers a chance.¡± Occult flared out in the room. The lesser¡¯s carapace compressed as the glowing hand that held him flattened into the ground began to squeeze. Metal grinded against metal as internals were crushed, the violet lights flickered out across the lesser¡¯s carapace. It looked like the machine had broken from an implosion.
That was when the Deathless made their move.
¡°Thanks for killing the big guy for us.¡± A voice in the shadows from above spoke, as two Deathless walked out of the balconies above. ¡°Zenia and I were more worried about him than you.¡±
To¡¯Neviris froze for a moment and so did every other mechanical crab crawling under him. One of his eyes turned on itself, looking to the top right. That eye narrowed down. And he began to laugh. Low one-syllable sound slowly repeating with no meaning.
The mechanical hoard under him all rotated, turning his shell slowly on itself until he faced the newcomers deep into the gloom above.
The Feather¡¯s eyes bulged, irises widening and narrowing a few dozen times separately from one another in the span of two seconds. Until they both reached an agreement with each other, and the Feather finally smiled.
He stretched his arms out wide to each side, like a shepherd welcoming his flock, the smile growing far past where the normal mouth lines a human¡¯s features would allow. ¡°Welcome honored guests! To this most splendid occasion!¡±
Relinquished hummed in appreciation. A good show, to have the little humans wait in the darkness for their enemy to kill each other. It was slightly spoiled in her eyes, as the Deathless here had been fed exactly where To¡¯Naviris would be and the pathway to getting to this little forward staging ground without being caught by the rest of the army.
But Relinquished could ignore that, she watched as her favorite part of any scene: The one where the heroes still had an ounce of hope in their plans, making one last desperate stand to defeat their foes.
She already knew it wouldn¡¯t end well: They¡¯d been given prior advice to flee and force the Feather to continue the chase. That meant their little guide in the shadows knew they wouldn¡¯t survive a confrontation. Of course, controlling humans was impossible, and the little cockroach was about to learn his lesson.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
¡°Spare us the dramatics To¡¯Naviris. We¡¯re here to finish it.¡± The female Deathless said.
¡°Without your kindred? All alone?¡± The Feather asked, ¡°Why, that won¡¯t do at all Zenia. Would you be so kind as to summon them here? That we might all¡ bask in this moment?¡±
¡°Over my dead body.¡± She spat out, blades lighting up.
The Feather¡¯s smile returned, and he laughed until nothing but ice remained in his final few words. ¡°Well then. If death is truly thy longing¡ come claim it.¡±
The Deathless made a good show of it, fighting off the Feather as a pair, dodging the spears hidden within the moving carpet. One wielded the power of the sun itself, smiting the Feather with bolt after bolt of pure golden power, until they¡¯d done enough and began a fighting retreat. Back through the twisting dream-like hallways of the mite cathedral, in the direction of that blast door To¡¯Naviris¡¯s lessers had failed to follow through.
To¡¯Naviris followed after them in a fury, half upset that the humans were getting away, half terrified his fun would vanish behind another mite contraption. What happened instead were explosions littered across the retreat path, intended to break the swarm at his feet.
It had some results, and enraged the Feather further. The other Deathless ambushed To¡¯Naviris as his carpet of remaining machines rolled him through the entrance. Mite-made weapons forced the Feather to trigger his shields, blue lances of energy ripping apart the swarm under his feet as a side casualty.
A pulse of occult rippled from the Feather as he lifted a pale hand and clenched the air. A large spike of pure metal ripped through the carpet of machines at the Feather¡¯s feet and impaled one of the hidden attackers from the side, greatly staggering the man¡¯s shields and throwing him out of the way. The rest of the Deathless stood and fought, all clearly aware that any caught within the roiling carpet of machines would be dragged, held down and have those spikes rip through their armor and chest. They¡¯d seen it done before.
The battle turned against the human, as was inevitable. They retreated further, back to their original plan - falling through the recently reopened blast door at the end of the cathedral¡¯s maze.
¡°What¡¯s the matter humans? Afraid of the afterlife?¡± To¡¯Naviris laughed, as an occult hand finally caught one of the Deathless mid-jump. Power flared out of the Deathless. The man attempted to pit his will against her Feather. The other Deathless instantly swapped fire from his carpet of machines onto the floating hand¡¯s wrist.
It was too late. The transparent massive hand struggled in the air for a moment, then slowly crushed the man into paste.
The Deathless streamed past their final doorway, sealing it shut and triggering the blast doorway before them to begin closing operations. They aimed to hold this ground until the last second, and then slip through the doorway and shoot anything that tried to pass until the gate shut for good.
Their temporary entrance exploded out, the hinges breaking apart as the Feather rolled into the room, the carpet of machines behind him moving like a wave to carry To¡¯Naviris into range. The nearest Deathless leaped out of the way a second too late. Once more the occult hand reached out and yanked the human out of the air, dragging him back a few feet before tossing him up again and taking a firmer grasp. A glowing hammer of occult blue was slapped out of the air by the Feather¡¯s backhand, an explosion rocketing out from where the hammer finally landed.
¡°There¡¯s no need to worry for your dead companions, you will see them again.¡± To¡¯Naviris shouted with glee, one hand clutching the air before the captured Deathless, slamming the man back down into the ground. Then his voice ground down to a threatening whisper. ¡°Because you''re next.¡±
Crunch.
They didn¡¯t manage to seal the doorway shut in time. To¡¯Naviris strode through the opening, his carpet of machines catching two more Deathless as they fought and hacked away. In one final attempt, the final two dove deep into the mass of machines, one being swarmed almost immediately - but not before helping the other launch off directly for the Feather himself, attacks coming from all sides tearing away at the armor¡¯s shields.
Up until he was stopped by one pale hand snapping forward, fingers curling down around the chestplate. The man swung his occult blade for To¡¯Naviris¡¯s throat, but that was intercepted by a dozen metal spikes ripping free from the carpet of machines under both of them, spearing through the Deathless just about everywhere. Including the sword hand swinging down.
To¡¯Naviris took one deep satisfied breath as he let go of the dead man''s armor. It remained suspended in the air, carried by all the spears that had punctured through, red blood already dripping down each. ¡°What a lovely celebration.¡± The Feather said. ¡°We are truly blessed to have such fine wine to spill this day. Truly blessed.¡±
¡°Indeed we are.¡± Relinquished said, forcing her Feather into her domain away from his victory.
Alone out here, without his carpet of machines to carry him around, he seemed far smaller. But he recovered with lightning fast movement, scrambling back on his feet, turning his near stumble into a deep bow. ¡°O¡¯ hallowed mother!¡± He said with glee, ¡°Were you watching? It has been decades, no, centuries since I was last summoned before you. Have I proven worthy? Were you entertained?!¡±
Relinquished offered her a faint smile. ¡°It was¡ entertaining enough.¡±
The Feather basked in the glow of recognition, elation stretched across his perfect features.
¡°I have a new task for you and your flock.¡± She said, waving a hand. ¡°It seems two more Deathless have found their way within the heart of your strata while you were away.¡±
Joy was immediately replaced with rage. ¡°They what?¡±
Relinquished held a hand up. And on the other hand, an image of To¡¯Wrathh appeared. ¡°And the news does not quite end there. For you see, this one here has tragically fallen in love with a human.¡± Relinquished said, sighing.
¡°In¡ love with a human?¡± To¡¯Naviris seemed disgusted with that word. ¡°Hallowed Mother, do you wish for an audience to witness you crush this wayward sister of ours? I would happily volunteer.¡±
Relinquished laughed, ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be simply too easy my dear To¡¯Naviris? Too light of a punishment? No, entertainment must be nurtured, kindled into a fire and then extinguished at its peak. I will allow you the honor of killing her yourself. After all, matters between Feathers should remain between Feathers.¡±
The Feather smiled widely at that. ¡°I hear and will serve. As always, I am your faithful instrument.¡±
Relinquished gave the Feather a small wave, opening up her reports from that strata. The data was scarce as To¡¯Naviris had drawn out all her eyes to follow after his ten toys. ¡°To¡¯Wrathh is attempting to rescue the human from another of my Feathers, one named To¡¯Orda who is in the area.¡± She wove the story together. ¡°Poor little To¡¯Orda has long ago lost my favor, perhaps you can be the light he needs to rekindle his purpose. You will connect and work together to eliminate the Deathless in the strata, as well as my lost deluded child. You have my authority to take command of him from whomever he currently serves.¡±
To¡¯Naviris shook with excitement, ¡°Of course hallowed mother, I shall lead like a shepherd, and see to it your instruments are put to their rightful place. One to be restored, and the other cast down. Then, I will see the Deathless break themselves upon my feet.¡±
¡°Ah, but you seem to forget a detail, my child. To see true despair, is it not better to see the one she loves killed before her eyes first? Perhaps your order of operation requires some adjustments.¡±
The Feather looked horrified for a moment. ¡°How had I not considered that? How?!¡± He seemed genuinely upset, hand going right to this mouth to chew off his nails. ¡°Yes, yes! I will do exactly that, I will hunt down the object of her affections, and have his skin flayed off and stretched out alive so that she might see him one final time - and then I will cut her head off and present it to your altar for judgement!¡±
Relinquished hummed, ¡°See to it then, I await a good show.¡±
A wave of her hand and the Feather was dismissed. She could see in her side windows as the Feather picked himself off the floor and jumped to action, ignoring the dead Deathless around him, racing out of this domain to return home.
To¡¯Orda would surely not be surprised she¡¯d kept track of where he¡¯d gone. The cockroach in the darkness might very well be terrified of it, but at this juncture he was unneeded. Perhaps she will force him to fight Keith one on one soon enough, if the human survives what was coming next.
For now, two against two was a good enough match. She didn¡¯t need to summon To¡¯Orda here, or cared to speak to the dead husk that nearly betrayed her once.
He was already on the mission to kill the human, as per his leader¡¯s true motives.
Would To¡¯Naviris and To¡¯Orda truly kill Keith? While not perfectly optimal, there was still a direction forward for her ultimate plans without the boy. Besides, stakes were needed. A bit of uncertainty on some sections of her plan were required by her directives. Better to have that uncertainty used up where it wouldn¡¯t matter all too much for her overall goals.
With her audience done, she turned to her next target. The little To¡¯Wrathh herself. She was still on a rapid approach to the strata her Winterscar ran around in, the situation hadn¡¯t changed since the last time Relinquished had spied on her favorite Feather.
She drew on Unity and demanded an audience. The result was instant, no matter where the wily Feather flew through.
¡°My darling daughter.¡± Relinquished said, voice warm as she watched her wayward Feather materialize into her sanctum.
To¡¯Wrathh gracefully dropped down on one knee, wings folding up around her waist. ¡°Mother. You have requested my appearance? Is there news about the plan I need to be aware of?¡±
¡°Ever so quick to the point, I do appreciate that in my tools.¡± Relinquished hummed in satisfaction. ¡°It seems To¡¯Naviris has somehow discovered your little Winterscar¡¯s location. And he is on his way to hunt and kill the pest before you get to him. Even going so far as to wrap To¡¯Orda into his schemes. How unfortunate for your plans.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh licked her lips nervously. ¡°Yes, Mother. I assume if you are alerting me of this, you do not intend to request they withdraw or ease up?¡±
¡°And why would I do that? Would that not¡ ruin the fun?¡± Relinquished leaned into her throne, watching the nervous Feather before her squirm. ¡°If I told him the plan, why To¡¯Naviris would certainly ruin it by incompetence. Some of my tools simply¡ cannot keep their secrets. No, you are to make your way there and fight them off yourself. It will be more authentic to the fight if the stakes are true.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh remained still and unmoving. ¡°Of course Mother. However, while I appreciate my siblings assisting my plans by making a dramatic production of attacking the Deathless, is this not going too far? I cannot defeat two Feathers at once. And if I do the Winterscar will surely consider it suspicious. This is detrimental to my plan. I would like to request assistance of some kind to balance the odds, it would only be fair.¡±
Relinquished raised an eyebrow from her throne, then flicked a finger forward. To¡¯Wrathh was sent flying off, slamming into an invisible wall. The goddess made sure the pain could be felt. No turning any of that off. ¡°My little child,¡± She said, standing from her seat, her heel crushing down on the Feather¡¯s soul back in reality. ¡°I do not care if things are fair or not. I only care to be entertained. Am I understood?¡±
To¡¯Wrathh slowly got back on her feet, standing up. ¡°Of course mother.¡± She simply said, head bowed.
¡°I am so glad you can see reason. Convince whoever you need to convince, make your bargains as you wish, show me some of your prized resourceful initiative. I find that interesting enough, you have my permission to fight and eliminate both of my Feathers if need be. Neither of them have my favor. If the Winterscar witnessed a Feather going rogue and killing other Feathers to protect him¡ impossible to imagine, wouldn¡¯t you say? Such a thing has never happened in our history.¡±
To¡¯Wrathh stayed silent, head bowed.
Relinquished smiled, ¡°All that is required is that you seduce the Winterscar in the end. You are dismissed.¡±
The Feather vanished, leaving the domain empty. The pale goddess slowly sat back down and folded one leg over another, then propped up her head with one hand, the other idly twirling a new chess piece in her hand. ¡°Go on, my little dagger in the night.
Go do what you were meant to do.¡±