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“You do not have to do this.”

“Then tell me the other options again, and this time say why I should even consider them. I need to know if you find them as reprehensible as I do, because it really bothers me that you don’t seem to.”

The squirrel stood at the base of a tree, awkwardly craning his neck upward to see the top. Its crown was hidden from view by a woven platform suspended half-way up its trunk. Forager Keen-Ear’s home. A single line of straw rope was securely anchored between an opening above and the soil with wooden pegs. For a normal squirrel, it would make climbing the tree effortless rather than simply easy, but for the former human, it would make this actually doable, if he put his mind to it.

“There are contingencies. We’ve had volunteers checking in on the kits while you were missing and feeding them passable substitutes for their normal diet. Coordinator Gleaming-Scale will send out word to the surrounding villages in search of proper surrogates.” Silver-Tail paced back and forth behind the squirrel. They had simply been tasked with escorting the "damaged Forager" to his home at the edge of the forest after he’d been given a clean bill of physical health by the physician, as he’d insisted that he wanted to stay there rather than in the infirmary. The fox refused to stay out of his business once they realized why, however, constantly questioning the decision and his motives. “You are unwell. It will be easier if you simply rest and recover.”

“Easier for whom?” The squirrel turned around and locked eyes with the fox, his muscles tensing in ways he’d never felt before. Silver-Tail only lasted a few seconds before breaking contact and looking away. “Passable substitutes? Where I come from, creating a ‘passable substitute’ for milk is difficult, and something tells me that you’re not exactly equipped to synthesize any of the stuff for even sub-par formula, especially if you have to travel to find surrogates.”

“I am just worried. If you push yourself to a breaking point, then-“

“It’s a little too late for that!” the squirrel exploded. “I am weak. Helpless. Ignorant of the world I have been brought into against my will. I am imposing my existence upon those around me, demanding attention and care. And you know what? So are those kits! Only they don’t get the choice to take the easy way out. They just get to suffer if I do. So. Tell me again. Why should I abandon them, punishing them for something that is literally my fault!?”

The rapid emotional escalation elicited worried chatter from the smattering of onlookers that had been following the squirrel since he’d arrived. He became keenly aware of a dozen or more sets of eyes and ears trained on him, immediately followed by an awareness of what his body was doing. All four paws gripped the ground tightly, his claws even tearing apart the grass a bit. His hackles were raised along his reflexively arched back, accompanied by an almost electric prickling across his skin, tail poised above his body as if he were about to strike with it. Both ears were pinned back against his head while his elongated incisors ground against each other in his clenched jaws, maintaining their well-honed edge. He was a tiny ball of fur and tightly wound muscle, ready to explode at a moment’s notice.

And he hated it.

This had been a long time coming, he’d been bottling his discomfort and anger and panic for the sake of others since long before ever ending up in this form. He was primed to lash out like the cornered animal he’d become, and it all felt wrong. He’d always wished he could be someone else, something else. He’d never quite settled on what that might be, but it wasn’t… this. Small. Powerless. Trapped. Everything he was and wished he’d been was inverted. He was neither the familiar human nor the comfortable true self he’d sometimes imagine.

He hated it so, so much. But despite it all, he had just enough agency to do this one thing. To make things as right as he could for other victims of this freak accident.

“Keen-Ear, please stay calm! You are in no state to-“

The squirrel ignored Silver-Tail and leapt up the tree without another word, putting all that tension towards flight instead of fight. The rope did indeed make the climb doable, but it took every bit of focus he had to keep putting one paw in front of the other, and to never look down. But he was determined.

The treehouse more or less amounted to a woven straw mat, anchored across the boughs of the tree. Most of it was open to the air, both for the view and presumably for Ink-Talon to freely come and go. Several small tipi-like chambers built out of cloth and wooden slats bound to the branches above provided shelter from the weather without being too heavy, but his nose quickly pointed him towards the one he needed to head to. Built around one of the larger branches, the entrance was shrouded by a loosely-woven curtain, though several deliberate gaps in the walls would make for plenty of light inside.

All of the scents meandering around the house led back here, including two that he’d already picked up on before, but just hadn’t been able to place yet. The distinct scents he’d noticed on his body the previous evening, the ones that led him and the crow back to the site with all that gear. They were here. He realized that, in a way, Keen-Ear’s kits had saved their lives. Without their scents standing out so much from his own, they may never have been so easily found and rescued.

Enough is enough. No more putting it off. He steeled himself and walked inside.

“Here?”

“Here!”

“Not gone!”

He froze. They were talking.

“Still here?”

“Where?”

“Stopped!”

The inside of the shelter was cozy, decorated by thoughtfully arranged strips of cloth, each haphazardly colored by what seemed to be improvised paints or dyes to catch from light from outside and cast cool and calming hues across the room. The floor was covered with clean straw, recently changed by one of the volunteers Silver-Tail mentioned. And in the center were the kits.

He had never been much of a watcher of nature documentaries, but he knew that most rodents were born blind and hairless. These kits had full coats of fur, one black, and one gray like himself, but their eyes were still shut tight, leaving them to blindly wiggle around and try and pinpoint where he’d stopped. They were still very, very young, small enough that he probably could have held them both in one human hand.

Remember, they’re not ‘talking’, you just understand the meanings behind the squeaks and movements. He reminded himself, attempting to shake off at least some of the weirdness of all of this. It’s as if you could tell exactly what a human infant wanted when it was crying or babbling or grasping at things. He took a deep breath and moved forwards, immediately grabbing the attention of the kits. They turned towards him, only to visibly tense up when he got close.

“Warning?”

“Danger!”

“Hide where?”

Danger? Why would they think… He exhaled sharply, realizing he’d been holding his breath. He was still tense. Not as much as when he exploded at Silver-Tail back on the ground, but enough to be picked up on by the kits… somehow. How can they tell? Is it my scent? I smell… He paid attention to his own scent for what must have been the first time all day. …Frightened. Stressed. Chemical signals, he supposed, were just as much a natural avenue of communication for animals as sounds or anything else. He’d need to tell them otherwise.

“Calm down. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he cooed, repeating the same line he gave to the crow when they’d first woken up here. This time, he meant it. These two were going to be okay. They had to be. The kits relaxed, seeming receptive to the reassurance, though whether they understood the meaning or just the vibes was unclear. Now he just had to get past the hardest part of this. “Are you two hungry? I guess I need to… do something about that…” He’d hoped he’d be getting some deeply buried biological guidance right about now. Some instinctual, motherly impulse that would make nursing baby squirrels feel more natural. But he didn’t. The only things compelling him to feed these kits were his own guilt and a desire to do right by them. It didn't matter how uncomfortable the thought of it made him, though. He was determined, so that would have to be enough.

In the end, all he could really do was awkwardly flop over, exposing his underside to the kits and try not to think about it too much. They must have been fed just recently however, as rather than move in to suckle, they simply snuggled in against his body, curling up to go back to sleep.

“Safe now.”

“Missed you.”

It would seem that he’d get at least a little time to ease into this before jumping right into foreign biological functions.

“Just cuddling, then? I can do that. Sleep well, little ones. Wherever your mother ended up, I’m sure she misses you too.”

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NEXT

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO, I HAVE POSTED AN ITERATION OF THIS STORY BEFORE ON THIS SUB WHICH I DECIDED TO DELETE COS... WELL, IT WAS TERRIBLE. I DON'T THINK ANYONE READ IT.

I HAVE POSTED THIS ON OTHER PLATFORMS, ROYALROAD AND SCRIBBLEHUB SO GO CHECK THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS OUT THERE.

ALSO, I DON'T USUALLY WRITE FANTASY, THOSE OTHER SCI-FI PROJECTS HAVE BEEN PUT ON HOLD. STILL, THIS IS BUILDUP FOR THE MAIN BONKERS HFY THING YOU WILL ALL LOVE. SO... ENJOY. IT MIGHT SUCK.)

***

It was like having a party for her own death sentence. Everyone was telling her how much of an honour it was for Hani’s family. To govern one of the Empire’s largest territories, on the frontline of their expansion, no less.

Obviously, it didn’t feel that way. Anywhere else, she would have been satisfied. But here - on an island that doesn’t see sunlight half the year - it was as if the gods themselves were taunting her.

All seemed to have been having a swell time in the Cardai Square. Her father, in his silver ceremonial robes, was smiling away with his newfound friends over a glass of wine, probably scheming some political manoeuvre. Renowned musicians played their tunes in the centre; quite poorly, however. You could have skinned a cat alive instead and it would not have made a difference. Honestly, the only thing that could have made this worse was rainfall, which surprisingly kept absent, even in a wet autumn like this.

Probably a hundred people, mainly fellow Elves, had gathered to celebrate her father’s ascension as Witaenal’s governor. She had recognised some of them from back in Omano; relatives, family friends. The rest had either been high-end citizens, generals, mages.

Her back was on one of the marble pillars, just on the outskirts of the party. She didn't want to torture herself with small-talk, no matter how hard people tried. Hani’s mind remained in a haze for the moment, gazing off into the stars.

“Having fun?”

She nearly screamed before jerking to her left. It was a girl, only a few years older than her. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. Her accent wasn’t from the mainland, it sounded more in line with the locals, only she actually seemed to actually have a brain. “I don’t know if you remember me. We— we met yesterday? Back in the council room.”

“Erm…” Hani was in a muddle for a few moments. “Right… you were that… your father was…”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember.”

“No, no, it’s…” She tried to find the easiest way to get out of this conversation.

The girl put on a reassuring smile. “Shall we start again? I’m Frinis.”

“Oh erm— yeah, hello, I’m Hani.”

There was no way out now. Forever confined to the horror of mingling.

“So—” Frinis leaned on the wall now. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

The girl pointed to everything. “All of this. Your family’s now in charge of all these people.”

It began raining. Only lightly, but it saved Hani from saying anything, hoping the girl would leave her in peace.

After a moment of silence, Frinis scoffed, “Do you know how much girls your age would give up to be in this position?”

Hani sighed. “Who in their right mind would move to Witaenal? Of all places in the Empire.”

Frinis kept smiling, as if she was already used to all the complaining. “It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen the sun since arriving here! Most of the locals outside looked like they want to string me over the gallows!”

“Humans don’t do that back on the mainland?”

“We didn't associate ourselves with them back there. At least in Omano. Then again, there weren’t many there.”

“Well, you still don’t have to do that here. Most of us just stay in Inner Cardai.”

Fantastic! Stuck the rest of her life on a bit of shiny land. As glamorous as many would take it, it seemed more like a caricature from the imperial cities on mainland Iera.

At least it didn’t feel like a death penalty anymore. More a life sentencing to a marble dungeon.

Hani tried staying silent again, hoping Frinis would leave her in peace.

“Have you spoken to anyone yet?” Frinis asked her.

“I— no, not really,” she said.

“It’s not going to get any better standing around like a statue, Hani.”

Hani definitely thought otherwise.

“There’s some people I want you to meet.” Frinis took a few steps forward before looking back to her. “Come on.”

Gods, she knew she wasn’t allowed to say no here. After a few moments, she sighed, and silently followed her.

Some gave Hani weird looks as she dug herself into the crowd. A lot of them were people she intentionally avoided earlier.

“I shouted at him, he responded in kind,” Hani overheard. There was a group up ahead, people around her age chatting in the corner of the party. “We were all getting tired of him. I don’t know why Deshen kept him around in the first place. He was… I don’t know, we haven’t seen him since then.”

It was a local boy speaking. Hani recognised him, one of the sorcerer apprentices. She recalled the name Talyc, probably.

“Frinis is here,” another boy said.

“Look who I found!” Frinis announced.

Just like that, Hani was shoved onto the stage. She just stared blankly at the four people in front of her. Frinis briefly glanced at her, hoping she would say something.

Meanwhile, Hani thought that her silence would demote herself to background meat furniture.

Part of her suddenly forced her to speak up, “Err, hello.”

“You’re Governor Amrez’s daughter, aren’t you?” Talyc asked her.

“Yes, yes I… am.”

“Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Talyc, this is Hydet, you already know Frinis. There was another girl, Irsena, I don’t know where the hell she ran off to.”

“Mhm,” she grunted. Why was she feeling shy again now? Of all the times, she just had to keep up her hermit-act.

“So, welcome to our island’s oasis. How are you finding it?”

“Fine,” she said bluntly.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hydet said, his accent sounded mainland Ieran. Probably somewhere near the Imperial City?

“Are you sure?”

“Just trust me. I would suggest staying around here though. Don’t go into Outer Cardai.”

“I have a friend that constantly goes there every now and then,” Talyc said. “He always comes back with some sort of sickness. I swear, the Humans put something in their air or something.”

One of the servants suddenly bumped into her, causing quite a few drinks to splash onto her own clothes. The servant stared at Hani in shock, it was another girl, probably her age.

As soon as Hani saw her ears, she went red. “Did someone gouge your eyes out or do you have the awareness of a mayfly?!”

“Erm… I— sh— s…” The girl was stammering, not one bit of it was attempting to give out an apology.

“Sorry!” One of the other Human servants ran over. He masked a smile once he arrived. “I am so sorry, your… grace. Sh— she’s just under a lot of pressure.”

“It’s my Father’s ascension ceremony! If she will be making mistakes like this, what’s the point of her presence here?”

“I will deal with her, your hon— lor— grace! Do you want me to get your anything? A towel?”

She lowered her voice. “Leave it. Just take the brat away.”

“Of course, at once.” He grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and began to take her elsewhere.

“Now,” Frinis said, “Where did all this confidence come from?”

Hani was calm now, much calmer, and now completely aware of what she just said. “Have I just embarrassed myself?”

“No! No, you were fine. You sometimes need to put these round-ears in their place.”

“I felt like I was too harsh there.”

“Look, Hani, don’t worry,” Talyc said. “Look at your dress, it was deserved on her.”

Her mother suddenly darted behind her. “Oh, what happened to you, duckling?”

“It’s nothing, Mother,” Hani said.

“Do you know how expensive this dress is?”

Hani rolled her eyes sighing. “It’s fine.”

She snatched a cloth from one of the tables and began to rub into her dress. “You can’t stand around drenched like this!”

“It isn’t staining, you can barely see it! J-just stop making a scene, please!”

“Your father only gets one inauguration. He won’t want his only daughter to look like she just dragged herself out of the ocean.” She continued to mutter to herself. “Go inside and get yourself changed. That green dress you have should do.”

“You know how much I hate that thing!”

There was no room for protest, however. The next few moments saw herself having to walk all the way back inside the palace and change.

There was a view of the whole square from her room. The event danced on without her. Even Frinis continued to bother the others below.

The dress was uncomfortable on her, rubbing in all the wrong ways. She kept telling herself that this was just one evening, and she’ll never have to wear this thing again.

Just one evening.

That was the excuse for a lot of things today, looking back on it.

One of the servants shouted through her door. “Your mother told me to tell you hurry up, the ceremony is starting.”

Hani didn’t say anything, just sighed.

She soon stepped back outside. A breeze suddenly hit her in the face.

People were crowding around the wooden stage on the other side of the square. She didn’t even notice that her mother was right next to her.

Hani jumped the second she saw her.

“Come on, we need to be on the stage,” she was told.

“What?” Hani asked. She wasn't told about this. Why wasn’t she told about this?

“Is your head in this realm? I said—”

“I heard you.”

Maybe she should have stayed back on the wall earlier. But there she was with more than a hundred pair of eyes staring up at her.

Her father and a few of his friends she saw earlier were standing near the podium. One of the high sorcerers stood by him, with a book in hand.

Hani looked back to the crowd, at least they weren’t looking at her anymore. Other than Frinis and the others, they gave her a little wave.

Some of the guards seemed quite agitated, though.

“By the Emperor’s will,” the high sorcerer said, “We have gathered for a new age in this realm. Of course, we will miss the governance of Leris Frell, he served us gracefully since the island’s reclamation. Standing here is his successor, Amrez Roulennsia of Omano. He is without a doubt well-versed in the intricacies of our imperial civilisation. Though he may be a bit more used to the sun in the sky.”

There was some laughter, not a lot.

The sorcerer turned to her father after a round of applause, opening the book to a certain page, telling him to read.

He stood on top of the podium, book in hand. “I, Amrez Roulennsia of Omano, do state, by accordance of our honourable majesty, Emperor Tyvis II of the Ieran Empire, to take up the mantle of governance in the colony of Witaenal. To act in accordance of the will of the empire, and in the benefit of all Elfkind. I—”

Something was thrown onto the stage.

The speech stopped.

Everything stopped.

There was a flash, accompanied with a loud bang. The next thing Hani knew she was on the ground, bits of wood in her hair.

Her ears were ringing. Why were they ringing?

Hani’s limbs cramped as she tried pulling herself up. There was some blood on her, leaking from her head.

She couldn’t focus. Her eyes were in a blur.

Someone grabbed her shoulder, Hani couldn’t tell who it was.

The next moment, they were already on the ground beside her.

Completely still.

The ringing wasn’t stopping. The bangs continued on and on. More people were on the ground now. More blood was spilled onto her.

She couldn’t think of anything else to do but crawl under one of the covered tables.

Hani huddled her legs to her pounding chest. She felt like she was suffocating. Walls were closing in on her and she couldn’t even see them.

The ringing lessened somewhat. There were more bangs, and now she was hearing short-lived screams.

She put her hand to her head, jerking it away as it stung on a wound.

The table was ripped away from above her head. A figure towered over her, holding something of wood and steel in his arm. They pulled something on the side before getting tackled.

“Get off her you bastard!” Hani heard. Was that her mother’s voice?

Whatever the figure was holding was pointed away from her face, and she took the opportunity to run for it.

She didn’t even stop and stare at the bodies on the ground, even as she slightly tripped on some of them.

One of the doors to the palace was up ahead, a few were running inside, she intended to be one of them.

Something stung her in the back.

She stopped running.

Hani was on the ground again.

First

(Well... when a quick nap stretches into nine hours, you know you needed it. Wow.)

Reports from Beyond The Stars

She sighs as the moment she enters the room her cousin’s cellphone begins playing the Imperial March. “Okay you can stop that now.”

“Do you find my lack of faith disturbing?” He asks.

“I find your lack of variety disturbing, seriously, stop riding Star Wars and at least try something else. Like the difference between a weapon designed to intimidate the enemy versus one designed to kill the enemy. Or I don’t know, try to test me as a Cylon or something?”

“Why do you know so much about Science Fiction?”

“I read up on it on the way back from the wider Galaxy, burned the hours good and slow but I figured I’d be getting more than the big two screamed at me. So far I’m disappointed, that’s hundreds of hours wasted.” Emily says.

“Let’s be fair, from what you’ve told us there wasn’t much else to do during the ride back through.”

“No, there wasn’t.” She admits. “Once you know how things are moving space can be very empty.”

“It’s almost like seeing things coming from literal lightyears away really lets you dodge things.” Emily says. “Not that the course and exact speed wasn’t perfectly calculated.”

“Kind of spooky that the galaxy at large can be looking at us at any moment and only can’t get here thanks to the Null.”

“It’s why the scientific and military branches are all having a quiet panic attack. Knowing that it’s easy to calculate a clear shot to Earth and literally any number of forces can get just about whatever they want to Earth.”

“But... none of their tech would work right?” Her cousin asks and Emily smirks. “That’s not right?”

“It’s not. Axiom makes it easier, but it’s just a shortcut, they’ve got more than enough brainpower and everything else to knuckle down and get anything they want to us. It’s just not normally worth the effort.”

“Unless some random peacock wants two little boys delivered to her.”

“To their father.”

“You can’t tell me it wasn’t massively fucking creepy that...”

“Holy shit Ben! She just showed up! Get off your cousin!” Her Uncle calls out.

“Thank you Uncle! And Benny boy? Get used to it, we’re part of a bigger galaxy. You should have been ready for this since the beacon showed up.” She chides her cousin.

“What do you mean?”

“If they can get a beacon to Earth, they can get a bomb to Earth too. Why else do you think so many governments were able to put aside their nonsense and build together? Before they started trying to wring as much out of it as they could.” Emily remarks.

“And started ripping their own hands off in the attempt.” Her Cousin notes. “Want a beer or something?”

“I need to drive home after, so I’ll just not even start. Got any soda?”

“How the hell you keep guzzling things and eating more than me while staying that small is a mystery.” Ben says as he brings over a cola. He towers over her naturally, but she can and has tossed him around like a Frisbee.

“The fact that I’ve been keeping up my PT at the standards that saw me shipped out on The Dauntless has a lot to do with it.” Emily answers. “You’re free to join me, I start the day with a gentle two mile dash before a soft gentle twenty one handed pull-ups for each arm, and then hanging sit-ups before a hundred jumping jacks. You know, just a little something to wake up with. The real work comes after dinner.”

“... I’m related to a loony.”

“I’m related to a sloth.”

“Think there are sloth aliens?”

“Yeah, but knowing the way the galaxy is they’re probably as inflated as a pool toy when they’re on the slimmer side of things.”

“Emily Lake was that envy in your tone?”

“No it was resentment. Being out in the galaxy makes a normal woman feel too fat and too thin at the same time. It’s the kind of evil magic that should get a person burnt at the stake.”

“Yes, yes that envy.”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you pushed me?” Emily asks in a teasing tone.

“You pulled and I went a good three metres up and six over.”

“Remember that pansy boy.”

“I need to start training, getting bullied by my little cousin is just embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“I don’t like that agreement.”

“Too bad.”

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“So they’re approved? The Spirit Class Parasite Shuttles are going to be a thing?” Commander Freeman asks as she looks over the new class of training simulator she’s going to be installing and overseeing the use of at her base.

“These Hades Class Engines they use are looking like they’re going to work, and it’s good work that the scientists that shipped out on The Dauntless. Smart stuff. They got their noses into a bit more alien tech and we’ve tested these things to the point of madness. The engines can’t FTL but they can use dozens of different materials as fuel with little strain and are so fuel efficient that the math starts looking runny at the edges. But still holds up. The only downside is that it can’t fight too hard against gravity and is useless in atmosphere of any kind. But get past those issues, and these engines can and will make perfect shuttles for asteroid mining and short range transport in space. We’re going to deploy these things to start speeding up the building of our orbital infrastructure. In a few decades we might have full on planetary rings developed and actual space elevators instead of the rail and rocket systems we’re currently using.”

“I think it’s Triii technology, one of the anomalous species.” Freeman notes.

“Considering that each species seems to have separate superpowers can any of them count as anomalous? Even Humanity with Null resistance, endurance and extreme toxin tolerances seems to be just as weird. And that’s not touching the whole gender thing.”

“Anomalous in that they don’t look like they came out of a stripper’s parody of Science Fiction.”

“No but you could slap the little guys into almost any Sci-Fi setting and they’d fit in like they were made for it.”

“That may be true, but as my associate here has apparently lost track of things, I’m going to bring things back to the fact that most of the Hades Engines advancements were based of existing advancements in Triii technology. Just applied on a different scale and with some assumptions covered up for.” A second scientist says. “As such when we get enough of these in space and a production facility for them up there we can start maintaining the orbital areas around Earth, keeping them clear and clean, as well as start mining asteroids and comets for even more resources, to say nothing of planetary rings and even smaller moons. The sheer amount available means that once we get this ball rolling we can and should start building more and more. There is literal and metaphorical gold to be found in space.”

“So much so that gold will quickly become worthless even as a backup currency that preppers like.” Commander Freeman notes. “Still, that’s getting ahead of ourselves. Is there anything unusual I need to be made aware of for these new simulation pods? No weird black box technology that will make gravity twist into a pretzel and then used as a hula hoop?”

“What are you on and where might a law abiding citizen acquire some?”

“I’ve been reading the reports again. We have people that four years ago were normal, if fit, trainees that are now literally atomizing things at a touch, teleporting across entire worlds and bending probability until they become the kind of good luck creature that a casino owner would scream themselves into a coma at the mere idea of. And I’m willing to bet that the next report will prove that to be the tamer stuff. We’ll probably hear about robot overlords, giant space monsters or ancient gods who have foreseen our coming since the stone age.”

“You really think it will go that far Commander Freeman?”

“If it hasn’t already I’d be shocked. The fact of the matter is that with all the oddness of the wider galaxy we need to start preparing for just about anything to show up. Even if we’re in the middle of a death zone we’re still in reach of anyone with the means.”

“Do you expect an attack or something Commander?”

“I think it would be stupid not to expect one. But that’s not what I’m going at. What I’m saying is that the galaxy is weird and wide and now aware of us. I don’t know how long until that weirdness comes here, and if we have better space infrastructure then we’ll be better able to handle whatever kind of weirdness is coming.” Freeman says.

“So I’m not the only one that caught that interesting aside that some aliens thought it was impossible to have full on matter in Cruel Space, let alone life.”

“The alien equivalent of a Flat Earther, believing that Null dissolves physical matter on top of disrupting their Axiom based physiology. As if the stars and celestial bodies in our part of the galaxy weren’t visible to the naked eye, let alone the assisted one.” Freeman says before thinking. “We’re only starting with three of these training pods I see... can you bring up the blueprints again? Are these double seated?’

“Triple actually, the middle seat is to rest while the right seat pilots and the left operates any tools or sensor equipment.”

“Or learns on a low risk assignment. That will work. How are the final shuttles going to bring things around?”

“That depends on the final modal. We’ve got one here that’s designed to use drone arms to grab and manipulate things, another with a dedicate airlock and suits. With one shuttle holding things still and the other bringing in technicians we have a solid repair and salvaging team working. After that the reinforced prows of the shuttles means they can basically push things around with their noses.”

“Which means that they’re going to have a wide profile designed to catch things.”

“Currently.”

“So much for space ships being sleek looking things. These Spirit Shuttles are going to make your average refrigerator look like it can fly by compare.”

“Like the Dauntless class is any better? Those things look like medieval weapons minus the handle. And I’m not even joking I think there’s a whole class of mace that looks a lot like them.”

“Maybe if you stretched out the head over the entire handle it would look like a flanged mace. But I do see your point. There’s not a lot of elegance in space ships. They are chunky monsters most of the time.”

“Aerodynamics. Only a thing when there’s a lot of air. Go figure.” The scientist says.

“Which is why most plains look like bullets with wings. Not the most graceful things out there.”

“You know if you round out the profiles of most birds they all look pretty goofy in flight.”

“God forbid we start basing our ships after geese or the like.”

“How about a booby then?’

“What?”

“The blue footed booby, why not build a ship based off that profile?”

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Alright, is today’s pre-flight check looking good?” He asks from his well cushioned and properly supportive pilot seat.

“Greens across the board, the rails are in acceptable tolerances and all signs point to go. Launch in T-Minus Ten at the Pilot’s Go.”

“Go.” He states.

“Go received, beginning countdown to launch.” Base Command says and he grins to himself. The endless checklists are boring, but so worth it for not only this moment, but for what happens after.

The countdown reaches zero and the sheer inertia pushes him back in the seating. But he’s braced as reality is punched and he is shot into the sky.

Three minutes. It used to take eight and a half to reach orbit with massive rockets. Now it takes three with a glorified delivery truck. Hell yeah.

“Three, two, one...” He counts down alongside the ship before adjusting the controls to modify the angle of flight ever so. “Station Section Alpha Two, this is your supply run, apologies for the delay. Safety is paramount after all. Over.”

“Copy that supply. Good to have you.” Station Control says and he grins. “Anything special this run Lieutenant Durant?”

“They’ve starting to install new training pods, which tells me that they’re...”

“They’ve green-lit the Spirit Class Parasite Craft. They’re jumping on things nice and fast.”

“Learning that we have literally countless eyes staring at us tends to do that. I’m engaging manoeuvring thrusters now. Confirm shuttle approach vector.”

“Your approach is within tolerable drift range. We will be activating magnetic tether in t-minus one hundred and fifty seconds at current velocities.”

“Confirm station command. Alert me if there are any deviations from standard procedure.” He calls in.

“Copy that Supply. See you soon.”

First Last

I made this in like 30 mins for a joke, have fun! There's definitely places I could improve. ‐----------------

When humanity first joined the galatic stage, we were mystified by how patient humans were to adapt our technologies. Typically new civilizations are ravenous to get their hands on any tech they can, even if it is far outdated, but the humans didn't. Of course there was some demand, every race has people who love to tinker, but in general they were on the slower end of technological adaptation.

That was until they learned of the drast smelters. It felt as if overnight every shipyard and industrial zone had numerous smelters scattered throughout their production centers.

I watched this happen several more times, not only in tech but culture as well, before my curiosity got the better of me and I asked my human coworker my burning question.

"Hey, why does your people seem to purposefully stagnate themselves, only to rapidly change?" I asked with a bewildered expression.

"I could point to many of our wars and their aftermath for why we're so patient and then rapid with our adoption, but instead I think I will send you a single game to play.

The rules are simple, if a square has a number on it, there are that many bombs somewhere within its adjacent squares, try to find all the bombs. I do recommend trying to get as low as a time as possible, it's fun to brag. Have lots of fun!" They replied, as a notification popped up onto my screen.

New application installed: Minesweeper

Part 98 Winter world (Part 1) (Part 97)

[Help support me on Ko-fi so I can try to commission some character art and totally not spend it all on Gundams]

“Alright ladies… And gentleman…” As Captain Marzima looked around the briefing room, she only saw excitement on two of the twenty-one faces present. “So that's the mission. Same as the rest, just with that strange energy signal Team-1 is going to investigate while Team-2 secures the landing site and staging area. Oh, and all the ice. Alright… Any quest-” Marz cut herself off as a hand immediately sprang into the air. “Yes, Sub-Lieutenant Melatropa?”

“Our armor and mechs have internal heating systems, correct?” As the youngest of the honor guards present, Mela took it upon herself to ask what was on everyone else's minds.

“Of course.” The Captain looked towards Tens for reassurance and saw the man was giving the young Sub-Lieutenant a rather nasty look. “Isn't that right, Lieutenant Tensebwse?”

“Well, yeah. They're rated as being void-safe for up to twenty-four hours.” As Tens noticed relief in the eyes of every single Qui’ztar that looked towards him, he grew a bit confused. “But this planet isn’t that cold! Only a bit below freezing. You all are acting like you'll turn to ice!”

“Lieutenant, I don't know about your people or homeworld…” Marzima's tone wasn't exactly scolding, but she also wasn't particularly cheerful. “But Qui’ztar evolved on a planet where ice and snow are so rare that we had no words for them for the first several thousand years of our recorded history. We genuinely are physically susceptible to freezing temperatures. Particularly, hypothermia and frostbite can occur in less than an hour.”

“Oh!” The young man suddenly looked embarrassed, if a bit intrigued as well. “In that case, my apologies. I- I just kind of assumed everyone had seen snow at some point in their life. But, anyways, both the armor you are given and, of course, your mechs all have systems that should keep you warm. They're set to twenty-two celcius by default, but you can turn it up if you want. Just be sure to keep your helmet closed but oxygen systems open. The cold might affect the efficiency of yours’ battery systems, but the air recyclers have a fair shorter lifespan. It should keep you warm for at least a week, though. But that's assuming you can't recharge using your mech's cockpit for some reason.”

“That is all very good to know, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Marzima cracked a faint smile as a few of her fellow honor guards let out audible sighs of relief. “Hopefully, we won't need to put the battery systems to the test. After all, this expedition is only scheduled to last a few days. As I mentioned, we will have recovery shuttles on the ground with cots and bathrooms instead of the standard tents. You won't have to sleep in your walkers to stay warm or risk the elements to relieve yourselves. The supplementary security squad joining us on-site will also provide the opportunity to take shifts guarding our clients while they perform their studies of the ruins we've detected. However, that doesn't mean we can let our guard down. Despite the local temperature, the recon drone scans have indicated the presence of potentially predatory fauna in the area. I don't want anyone getting hurt out there. Now, are there any more questions?”

“Captain Marzima?” Lieutenant Zikazoma raised her hand after a moment of silence in the briefing room.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“About that strange energy signature the drones detected.” Zika paused for a moment while Marz used her tablet to bring up the relevant data on the wall mounted holoscreen. “Yes, that signal. I may just be seeing things, but to my untrained eye that appears similar to the other Hekuiv'trula signal we detected when we discovered Nula'trula. Is there any chance we'll run into more warforms?”

“I see you're itching to get more use out of that hammer of yours, Zikazoma.” Marz and a few of the others chuckled while a few others anxiously awaited an answer. “As for the energy signal, it does appear to originate from a Hekuiv'trula source. However, its purpose is entirely unknown. Neither Nula'trula nor Entity 139-621 have been able to contextualize it for us. Whether that means you'll get a chance to swing around your hammer is anyone's guess. Any other questions?”

Just like before, the briefing room fell silent. Though there were clearly thoughts brewing in the minds of each of the people seated before Marzima, no one said a word. After a few moments and it was clear that everyone was satisfied with the briefing she had given, the Qui’ztar Captain quickly dismissed her subordinates. It would only be a day before these furless mammalian women would be in the freezing cold. Marz wanted them to enjoy as much time in the warmth of this ship as possible before their adventure in the snow. While she rightly assumed that this would be the first time all of the other Qui’ztar present would experience freezing weather, she knew exactly how miserable it could be.

Where most other members of the First of the Third's honor guard had been born on their Matriarchy's capital world of Ten'yiosh, Captain Marzima was from the relatively recently founded colony world of Sengil’yiosh. Though that planet saw its first Qui’ztar settlers a few thousand years ago and was fairly well developed in the single burgeoning metropolis, a solid third of the population lived in outlying plains. Unlike Ten'yiosh with its primarily tropical climate that permeated the majority of the landmasses, Sengil’yiosh was known for its more temperate, if fairly warm, weather. Though the city of major city Sengiloxtican only ever experienced temperatures dipping down just below ten degree celsius, winters in the rural farmlands Marz grew up in got frost for a full month.

As Marz watched most of the Qui’ztar quickly make their way out of the briefing room, she reminisced about her childhood. The spring festivals in the countryside, summers spent frolicking in fields and orchids full of fragrant flora, and autumns helping her parents with the harvest. On the other hand, the peak of winters on the plains were frigid and boring. Nothing but a bleak period lasting no more than a few weeks where people mostly stayed inside, including kids. There was, of course, a good reason for that. While it was rare for someone to die due to the frost, and children were always safe guarded from such dangers, it wasn't exactly unheard of either. However, it wasn't so much that the cold reminded the Captain of potential death. Rather it was the negative memories of when she was stuck inside and unable to go out and play with her childhood friends.

“Excuse me, Captain Marzima.” The blue, amazonian woman was snapped out of her daydreaming by Nula'trula who, alongside Tens, were still in the briefing rooms. “May I ask what could possibly be considered a dumb question?”

“Of course, Nula'trula.” Marz allowed her smile to spread just a bit past her tusks before shooting a quick glare towards Tens. “There’s no such thing as a dumb question.”

“I was wondering that if your people didn't originally have words for ice and snow, how did you develop them?”

“Well, Txali'yiosh, our homeworld, does have polar ice caps. And the first explorers to venture that far north and south bought back tales of solid water and microcrystalline rain. And that is actually exactly how the Qui’ztar words for ice and rain directly translate. They're derived compound words instead of the independent words found in galactic common. I actually find it to be a fairly interesting linguistic quark.”

“I would argue it is more than just fairly interesting!” Nula cheerfully responded while sending a quick side eyed glance towards Tens. “I was talking to Tensebwse about how my creators actually had three distinct words for snow, four more for ice, and two for hail. His people only have one for snow, one for ice, then several compound words to describe the different types of each. I find languages and their quarks to be quite fascinating.”

“If you've downloaded the Qui’ztar language, then you may have discovered our word for cold is pronounced almost the same as hand pain.” While Marz and Nula shared a quick chuckle, Tens couldn't help but roll his eyes. “That being said, your creators having two words for hail is fascinating. Their homeworld must have had rather intense winters for that linguistic quark to evolve.”

‘The Artuv'trula species evolved sentience on a portion of Bartux with long and hard winters. That was their name of their, or should I say my, homeworld.” Nula’s facial paneling momentarily shifted into an almost somber expression. “Well, at least before the period of intense climate change caused by industrialization. There was a fifty year span of time before I was created where the vast majority of all of the ice and snow on Bartux melted. That was actually the reason I was created in the first place. The Artuv'trula people needed an advanced artificial intelligence to help them offset the damage they had caused to their own environment. Sadly, Hekuiv went rampant just a year after I was brought online. I never did get to see the snow I was programmed to create.”

“Well, you'll get to see some snow now, Nula.” Though Tens had been playfully bantering with Nula, he instantly switched his voice to a much more conciliatory tone as he placed a compassionate hand on her shoulder. “And we'll make some snowmen and throw around some snowballs. How does that sound?”

“I'm looking forward to it!”

/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drop down to the mostly snow covered world of 1845B-227-2 was just as uneventful as most of the others on this mission. Considering this particular planet was several hundred lightyears from the closest inhabited system and was in orbit of a star system that held no particular interest to anyone, it had an official name. There were only five planetary bodies, no gas giants, and very little to profitably mine for resources. With hundreds of other far more interesting bodies and systems in this region of space, many of which included planets that could actually be considered habitable, it was likely that Karintha’s Dagger had been the first vessel to come near 1845B-227 in millions of years. Because of that, the presence of a faint electromagnetic signal only noticeable when in orbit of the planet was the only way to know that this particular stop would be anything other than a waste of time.

As the Angels and their mechs began their fall through the atmosphere of this world, all they could see was endless white. When burning balls of plasma formed around their active shielding and the non-visual sensors allowed the mech operators to continue to see, the hidden beauty of this planet was slowly revealed. It wasn’t just that this planet was mostly covered in ice, life had adapted to this frigid climate. What had looked like an endless sea of ice and snow from orbit was proving to be far more complex as the mechs neared the ground. White wasn't just white, it was a variety of shades of blues and grays blended together at orbital distances. Falling closer and closer to the ground, 1845B-227-2 was proving itself to be far more than just an ice world.

Once the mechs touched down, their heavily armored hulls steaming from the latent heat of reentry, all twenty-two operators took a brief moment to gawk at their surroundings. While frigid temperatures certainly did reduce the amount of flora and fauna present, this planet was just as alive as any other. From trees with blue-gray leaves to the vaguely perceptible outlines of pure white fauna running away from the landing site, it was clear that life was thriving here like it was on countless other worlds through the Milky Way. Even if the vast majority of Ascended species would consider this planet an uninhabitable death world, that was mostly due to the nine meters per second squared of relative gravity. If it was possible for people to spend their entire lives on space stations floating in the void of space, then they could find a way here as well.

“This is certainly a lot more beautiful than I thought it would be.” Lieutenant Zikazoma announced through the open comms. “Is this what Sengil’yiosh looks like in the winter, Captain Marzima?”

“No, winters on Sengil’yiosh are just cold.” Marz couldn't help but laugh. “This… This is actually somewhat pleasant. At least within the warmth of our mechs. But we'll have plenty of time to take in the sights once we secure the area. Commander Deluxtia, take Team-2 and secure the shuttle landing zone and staging area. I saw some rather large creatures running off into those trees when we landed. I don't want them to become a threat to our clients when they come back.”

“Yes, Captain. Right away.” As Del responded, she and thirteen of the Angels began to move towards the area designated as their temporary campsite. “Come on, Angels! We have a job to do!”

“Nula'trula, have you determined the source of that signal we detected?” Before Marzima could even finish her question, a route and destination had appeared on her HUD.

“Yes, Captain Marzima, I have.” The canine android’s voice was a mixture of excitement and caution. “However, I still can't figure out what exactly it is. I want to say it's some kind of sensor array and accompanying power systems, but I'm unsure. There's also something else…”

“Maybe a weather monitoring system?” Tens guessed as he took point and began leading Team-1 towards their destination. “You did mention that your creators evolved on a world with a climate similar to this, right? And that they had caused climate change that melted everything? Maybe Hekiuv was trying to find a suitable replacement.”

“Why would-” Just as Marz was about to critique Tens's wild conjecture, Nula cut her off.

“That… That might actually make sense.” The AI woman was clearly growing a bit anxious as she picked up her pace so that the mech she was operating was just a few paces behind Tens's. “While I was tasked with preserving life and restoring Bartux's climate, Hekuiv was tasked with preserving the Artuv'trula Infinite Hegemony and seeing them spread across the stars. It would make sense if he found a planet with similar conditions and set up monitoring systems to determine the feasibility of colonization. That was one of his protocols. However… The energy signature I'm detecting seems far too complex and powerful than sensors.”

“Hey, Ansiki?” Tens knew that Entity 139-621 was listening in and called to them through the open comms. “Is this signal we're detecting similar to any climate manipulation technologies you're aware of?”

“Actually…” The Singularity Entity's voice entered the comms with a tone that implied they had just experienced an epiphany. “Now that you mention it… With your mech's sensor systems so close to the source, I am starting to recognize this signal pattern. It's almost like a poor imitation of Xel'achorian terraforming technology. I'll tap into your visual feed and try to help identify anything you see. I'm also deploying a few drones just in case. They'll be on-site within the next twenty minutes to assist with the investigation.”

“Well, that certainly would be an interesting find for clients to study.” With the confirmation from a near deific being, Marz had no choice but to accept that the Nishnabe warrior's instincts were spot on as always. “Perhaps when Hekuiv'trula discovered this world, it was close enough to Bartux but didn't have this frigid climate. I'm just curious as to why he would waste the resources to construct terraforming equipment, which we are assuming he stole from the Xel'achorians, after he had already wiped out the Artuv'trula people. What good does an ideal world do for a people who are already gone? Especially if he wasn't already at war with far more advanced species.”

“My creators did develop cloning technologies before Hekuiv wiped them out.” Nula was growing more and more anxious as a large, metal, dome-shaped structure covered in antenna arrays came into view through the endless sea of icy blue, light grays, and brilliant whites. “From my understanding, Hekuiv never achieved true sapience the way I did. He was still operating off of his base programming and protocols. More like an animal following instinct than a conscious person making rational decisions. If he stumbled across a suitable planet, then his colonization protocols may have been automatically activated. Also, are you seeing this Ansiki?”

“Yes, Nula.” 139 watched through the live feed as the eight members of Team-1 approached the massive buildings surrounded by icy blue trees. “While that is far too archaic to be of Xel'achorian design, you are close enough now that the signal is unmistakable. That's a climate control station.”

Previous | First | Next

The Quantum Empress: Chapter 19

Summary: Even robots have to pay taxes.

--- ---

So the continued merging and integration of the nomads into my court continues without much issue. No. Scratch that. It has a lot of issues and I’m struggling to plug the gaps. Like a true go wide and then start going deep search function, I made the absolute heads of my organizations using some chips then prioritized L34dSh1eld and the soldier guardians. I had grand designs on making lieutenants and other general rabble for P1nch, Va4lt, and probably just crank out a few other units to head other things to help better interface, but the discovery of the software vulnerabilities put a quick end to that endeavor.

So now I have an incomplete court and not quite ready to go retinue, trying to interface with the nomads I have taken under my leadership. I’ve considered just creating some dumb bots without the future tech chips, but given how insightful The G3NER4L was to figure out my virtual construct, I doubt his own trusted heads and cadre are any less capable.

Of course...perhaps this could be to my advantage. If anything, seeing my own leadership heads and retinue are incomplete may help sell the idea that while I can produce things, I am lacking in other areas where I could need them and help explain the gaps in my abilities…

As I am plotting this, M4x simply takes it upon himself to head off to inspect my power facilities and compile his consultation report, findings, and recommendations, as he calls it. As I have Sh0ckW4v3 chaperon the guy, I start to think his obsession with power run a lot deeper than the casual energy enjoyer.

“So you say there are six units of power production from this “coal” substance?” he inquires to Sh0ckW4v3 as they walk along some overhead scaffolding above vibrating steam turbines in the steam plant’s generator hall.

“Yes, if you come this way we are about to fire the final two. The Empress believes it to be most important, as a fully functional and operational power facility will allow the activation of the most power consuming factories within the district.” I explained as Sh0ckW4v3.

“Is that so? What could they possibly produce that would consume so much? Even from vague scout estimates, I saw that nearly every structure had solar power on top of it’s uppermost covering” M4x asked. I found it odd how these bots had some strange words for otherwise mundane things like calling something as simple as a roof and “uppermost covering”. I had to wonder if it was a cultural thing to help deal with some of the vague and contextual meanings in language.

“The panels merely supplemental power. The coal provides the most power currently. It works by burning it to heat water, which boils to steam, then that steam is utilized to turn turbines which then turn a generator to produce electricity.” I had Sh0ckW4v3 further elaborate since I didn’t really know where M4x’s understanding of energy began and ended.

“Seems rather tedious and inefficient. You have to first put in energy to acquire the carbon stones, then annihilate them in a very large scale facility like this, all so that energy can be converted, with losses no doubt, into conventional energy. Are you sure you get more energy out of it than was expended?” he questioned. I am, of course, a patient woman so I have Sh0ckW4v3 go through the process and walk down the entire thing from the coal yard all the way back to the turbine hall.

M4x to his credit, took in all the information given, but it was when the final two trains fired up that I saw the true enthusiasm spark up in his computations.

“Magnificent” he simply stated placing a robotic hand on top of the generator housing, no doubt sensing the EMF that came off of the stators as the thing spun to generate electrical power. With that I feel his report arrive, pointing out several areas of inefficiency that could be rectified. My solar panels were solid and did not track the suns, also they were...not...being cooled!?

I’m reeling as I have my scarabs head up to inspect the panels, and sure enough, there are attachment points for liquid cooling mechanisms. I’ve been leaving a ton of energy on the table just because my panels were not being cooled. I immediately set my scarabs to work building a water cooling system for these things. But I can’t be totally to blame, whoever came before me either didn’t know or didn’t care to install such a system, so how was I supposed to know? Well, that was an embarassing oversight.

I also look through his production and ussage report, it’s numbers actually actively updating as he gained more knowledge. He already calculated the coal plant’s output, and it was 300MW per unit, bringing my plant to 1.8 Gigawatts overall. All the solar panels in the district would add up to another 750MW, once I brought them up to standard, which was pretty impressive given the acreage of the district. Future tech solar panels really are just on another level.

Heh. Max Power. I think I can grow to like this little guy.

While I had Sh0ckW4v3 pressed into service escorting M4x around, there was the issue of Rus7ty and to a lesser extent N3V4 who were requisitioning manyfactory components and also...my own various war machines and bots?

“Yes, these new machines are not like anything I have seen, I simply must know how they work.” N3V4 was rather up front and to the point.

“I understand your desire to learn, but these are weapons and as such a manner of state secrets” Gr1dL0ck tried to placate the enthusiastically inquisitive robot woman.

“Oh come on N3V4 they’re nothing special, once we get some manyfactories up and running then we can really help out our new company.” Rus7ty countered as he directed three “omni-maintenance” bots to begin fixing a small manyfactory once the last of the modules had arrived.

Ok. Well. I was was fine to deny and tease N3V4, but now Rus7ty has deployed the reverse psychology and it’s working. They think my creation’s aren’t worth a damn, so fine, I have no problem sending over some civilian units and an old tank made of simple wrought iron I was going to melt down and recycle anyway.

And you know what? Screw you! Thinking manyfactory stuff is soooooo much better, here, have a bunch of Scarabs and even more manyfactory modules. I want your little enclave up and running sooner rather than later and I especially better see something interesting come out of that medium manyfactory too!

“Whoa what is this!?” Rus7ty asks as a train arrives filled with Scarabs and Sp0ders unloading modules and getting to work trying to piece them together. He quickly starts issuing them orders as I assign him a temporary foreman designation. I’d be lying if I said I was not curious what these single-user standard construction templates could create.

“Are these for me?” N3V4 asked as a beat up prototype tankette rolled up billowing black smoke from its primitive engine before it sputtered and died, a few old and early model Sp0ders that had been living a very hard life shoveling raw coal and ore into my earliest furnaces joining it.

“Hmph. The Empress sends her blessings it seems.” Gr1dL0ck simply stated as the two bots enthusiastically got to work. I had to play up the idea that while Gr1dL0ck was working the Empress was always listening, willing to dispense gifts onto her subjects at her whims. Helps sell the idea that I’m not the lone puppeteer of this entire farce.

“Is that all that’s in there? Is that it’s processor? This is the power source!?” N3V4 questioned indigently as she expertly set to work on the nearest old Sp0der disassembling it with ruthless efficiency and meticulously laying out all it’s parts onto the ground like a exploded diagram, “It’s so primitive! How did it even work at all!?” she continued to question fiercely.

“See? Told you there wasn’t anything the manyfactorys couldn’t do better!” Rus7y taunted much to my own personal chagrin. So far he seemed to be the only person in the company I disagreed with on anything resembling a philosophical level. Rather than anger me, it only lit a fire of desire to outdo whatever these DRM filled piece of shit manyfactory things could create.

If only I could crack all of the rest of their secrets…

“Fine! Well, what about this thing? This tank thing?” N3V4 quickly lost interest once the old sp0der was nothing more than a collection of meticulously arranged parts on the ground. She went to work on the tank, cutting open its frankly rather primitive wrought iron armor with ease and tearing out its guts like a big game hunter setting to work on a fresh kill.

“It’s even more primitive, isn’t it?” Rus7y asked a rhetorical question as he wad several arms and his whole torso deep into the medium manyfactory while directing teams of scarabs working and crawling all over the thing like ants.

“It’s...it’s so...it’s just metal. Metal and some dumb circuits. Here is where it had some control unit wired in, but everything else is just…” N3V4 was utterly dumbfounded, especially by the diesel engine that other than using computer controlled direct injection was as simple and primitive a they were 100 years ago in my old world.

“Perhaps now you may begin to understand.” I had Gr1dL0ck start with some vague moralizing message.

“Understand? Understand!? The only thing I understand and just how screwed we are if this is the peak technical ability of my new employer!” N3V4 was not holding back.

Ooooh! Tell me how you really feel N3V4!

“The tolerances on this...engine? Is this supposed to be an engine? Are so loose it’s efficiency is almost certainly laughable, and the circuitry is so dumb I doubt The Creep would even...could...even...hm.” She was lost in thought for an entire second, “Yes, I believe I am starting to understand the lesson The Empr3ss has deigned to teach” she finished with a somewhat humbled tone.

“Indeed. That does not mean she does not need help. She would not have extended an offer to you and all the others if she did not believe it would strengthen the company; help give us a chance to not just persevere but prevail against The Creep” I finished saying through Gr1dL0ck.

“Yes. I see now. If she would allow it, I already have several ideas on how we may improve upon these designs” N3V4 finished and started streaming data, prints, and methodologies that she thought would produce better machines and other suggestions for improvements based on what she saw. Many were things I had already implemented, more or less, in later revisions. Others, like replacing the discrete component CPU with an actual computer chip, were already well underway. However, she had pointed out that the servo motors would be much better if they were upgraded with manyfactory styled components that utilized much more powerful permanent magnets.

I had a few samples saved up and had analyzed them to some degree. Other than knowing they were made of iron and nitrogen, I didn’t have a basis for it. Now I do. Perhaps N3V4 and I are not so different. She studied them in depth, and now I have both a framework for how these iron nitride magnets are made, their crystalline structure, and how even at their worst they surpass rare earth magnets. A rare earth will give about 60 MegaGauss-Oersted, while a bad Iron Nitride is already about 70 and an average one around 100.

Incredible. And all from very common elements. I was already worried about continued production of the Alnico magnets and was projected to run out by the end of the week if I kept scaling at my current rates. I will have a near indefinite supply now and can put those rarer materials towards other more important material needs.

“The Empress is most pleased. She has already begun the creation of a new production line for these magnets and would like you to help provide expertise” I compliment her through Gr1dL0ck.

“Really?? It just seemed like such a minor thing.” She asked.

“Yes. Even the greatest advancements may come from the smallest competent.” Gr1dL0ck said some more vague affirmation nonsense. It was still nice seeing her processes light up in real time as he escorted her to an awaiting tram and off they went to the new magnet line. I’m keeping the old line going for now, but as soon as the new one is up I’ll have to allocate resources to dismantle it...and also a program to scrap and replace my Sp0ders and Sp0ldiers with the upgrades. Maybe I’ll have them come in and just replace the motors? Hm. It’s almost as expensive to just build new ones.

Ah the wonders of paying down technological debt...

Naturally, I wasn’t about to leave Rus7y to just have the run of things in their own little enclave/security threat. The moment Gr1dL0ck stepped out of the scene, V4ult was right over with Ins1ght on his heels begging and inquiring and almost but not quite demanding to be allowed access to our data-banks and archives so she could pour through them. Ah yes, the essentially non-existent data-banks, because I was literally reborn barely a couple days ago.

I hate to break it to you Ins1ght, but we ain’t got shit.

“I understand your enthusiasm, however, The Empress retains strict controls on our data-banks and knowledge bases.” V4ult stays firm.

“But I neeeeeeed it…” she whined. I had no idea just how whiny a signal could be until now.

“Give the man a break Ins1ght” Rus7y signaled from somewhere in the bowls of the nearly completed medium manyfactory, “Can you girls bring over some of the tech tools and spare parts?” he additionally added as a few H4L3Y styled lifter and hauler women scuttled over and began reaching into their own cargo haulers to hand him tools and parts through various access panels in the manyfactory.

It really was a treat seeing him set to work on it. I already had my own personal swarms of scarabs mirroring his actions and getting the medium manyfactory located in my own central facility back online, albeit with a ton of sensor probes and signal sniffing devices wired in to help discern and copy-exactly the various command protocols and actions utilized to run the modules. I wasn’t sure what new information I could glean from a medium unit, but I wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.

I kept V4ult’s mouth shut and my non-existent information locked up tight. If anything revealing we had nothing was potentially one of the greatest security risks and the most easily determined state secret that could collapse this entire house of lies. I did keep him probing her, however, and she was willing to part with at least high level data as a show of good faith. While T3rr4 was willing to part with plenty of scouting information that gave me decent if unclear and incomplete knowledge of the lands around this city, Ins1ght’s data gave information on who these people were.

There is a lot you can learn from population statistics.

The robot people are scattered into various nomadic “organizations” that are part of a singular large “company”. This much I had gleaned from H4L3Y, but the specifics were the interesting part. Each organization is made up of a few hundred to maybe a thousand individuals, most broadly categorized into their roles or functions of various types: laborers, techs, security, and many others specialist roles. Overall across this wasteland there were a few dozen such organizations, which means the number of robot people in total is somewhere in the neighborhood of only around 30 thousand.

I compare their population to the creeplands that are unsuitable to live nearby. Overlaying the maps and population distributions, I can only conclude that these poor people have been systematically pushed to the brink of extinction. The whole damn landmass up to the mountain range boxing it all in is only about the size of...Turkey? Maybe a bit less? Estimating somewhere between 0.7 and 0.8 million square kilometers, and the damned Creep has fully Creeplanded a bunch of it, forcing the robot people into the outlands.

This land isn’t big enough for the both of us.

No. This will not stand. I can already map out several Oases to the East that The Creep has no doubt stuck it’s filthy tendrils. The nomads had little use for the bio-matter and water that these areas would contain, but The Creep no doubt has capitalized on that.

Now understanding this, it makes more sense why they were intent on being nomadic. The Creep is relentless, and they no doubt saw it as a losing war of attrition to stay in one place for too long. I still disagree with it though.

The best defense is unrelenting offense.

“And that should be complete now!” Rus7y signaled excitedly as he extracted himself from the bowls of the medium manyfactory. A few moments later I felt the power draw as it and the two small manyfactories in their little enclave came online. Fascinated I had V4ult pay special attention as they loaded up the standard construction templates into them.

“They’re online now! Let’s deposit the scrap!” one of the lifter-hauler women calls out as they crowd around the manyfactories, reaching into their cargo wagons and depositing various scrap materials into the hopper on the input sides of the machines. Soon after they begin to churn and chug, the sounds of marvelous mechanical manufacturing occurring within their modules.

Not long after, the first bot appears from the output side of a small manyfactory. It’s just a scarab. A scarab also pops out of the other small manyfactory. A couple techs quickly run over and pick them up, holding them closely like someone who had just adopted a new pet would, heading off to an open maintenance bay they were followed by some of the other bots that had sustained some damage in the previous battles.

Following those, the small manyfactories popped out what looked like a giant murder hornet and a deadly robot scorpion. The hornet started buzzing as it’s mechanical wings beat and it took flight hovering while the scorpion sat waiting for someone to tell it what to do. At the medium manyfactory a large spider unit on par with one of my smaller Sp0der variants came out.

“Parts have arrived!” Rus7y exclaimed as I detected him sending out some kind of shutdown command. Their optics dim the instant Rus7y sends out the shutdown command. I watch as the newly assembled drones stand motionless, even the Hornet quickly lands and shuts down.

My gaze settles on the technicians who approach with calm determination. Each one wields specialized tools such as torque wrenches, micro-lasers, and precision screwdrivers. They move in swift cooperation like a practiced surgical team.

They begin disassembling the first drone by loosening every screw with meticulous care. Not a single nut or bolt is allowed to roll away unsorted. I see slender manipulators gently lifting a plating section, then systematically detaching the thin wires connected to its underside. The plating is placed in a metallic bin without so much as a scratch. Circuit boards come next, each segment removed cleanly as the techs snip through tiny cables with small, deliberate clicks. I can practically feel the tension in the air. Even the slightest miscalculation would ruin the part, and that is unthinkable.

One drone after another surrenders its components in this methodical operation. A set of articulated arms is removed from its shoulder mount, the gear assembly extracted intact before the limb itself is moved onto a padded tray. I notice how the techs cradle even the smallest parts as though they are precious gems. There is no mangling or brute force. Only precise incisions and measured tugs at hinge points. It is a mechanized slaughter and processing, yet the stark efficiency chills me more than any wild destruction ever could.

The unwavering care heightens the horror. This is not wild carnage. It is a cold, methodical harvest. I can hardly tear my eyes away. The new components are soon repairing damaged robot people in the maintenance bays. Even their own mangled bits removed in their repair are tossed into the manyfactories to be recycled, ensuring nothing goes to waste.

I was left metaphorically slack jawed at the sight. I had expected them to make...I dunno, some little military bots to help defend things? Not slaughter and eat them! Ah...fuck...ok...well, it’s not like I really have a moral leg to stand on. I ate meat too in the old world. And I knew where it came from. I knew far too well where it came from...Memories of the summers at Babushka’s coming to mind, like the chicken who’s head she made me cut off and then it still got up and ran around even as it’s eyes looked back into mine and it blinked before the light left them.

“These are spoils for The Empress” Rus7y says bringing over some still mostly assembled sub-components I recognize as the hornet’s abdominal stinger and the scorpion’s tail.

“What are these components?” I just have V4ult ask the obvious since I’m still staring at the mechanical horror of another batch of bots getting disassembled.

“These are their laser weapon units, of course. The more lightweight one from the H0rn3ts are suitable for arming scout units, and the Sk0rp10ns tail laser is heavier and more suited for our soldier and security units.” Rus7y explained straightforwardly though I could detect there were unspoken questions in the tone of his signals.

“Yes. The Empress accepts this tribute and looks forward to more.” V4ult replied sounding official.

I’m the Empress and they’re going to pay their damn taxes.

--- ---

Yes I know, little late this week, but I am well into the next chapter already so good to go for the upcoming Tuesday release! :D

I have also been working to update the previous chapters after they go through a few rounds of critiques and editing, so I will keep all...5(?)...of you who still read this posted on that.

Thank You again Philmac for your unwavering support on ko-fi!
I know it was a bit late, but I have the next phase outlined so we are SO back XD

If you want to support my work, I am on Ko-fi and Patreon

It was usually at the furthest Lagrange Point of whatever star system it found itself in, but today it took orbit around the capital of the Loopee Confederation. So is tradition, for the council takes no sides, favors no one and its seat must reflect that, has reflected that since time immemorial.

The Galactic Council has no capital, for it has no center. All members are equally close, equally distant from its designs, its protection, its power. But physics, biology, the laws that govern reality care not for the abstract values of their creations, so, call it a Capital, call it a meeting point, call it the dream of a cat both alive and dead, it is what it is, and what it is is a space station where representatives of all member-species meet to set their common policy, one hand, beak, claw or tentacle shake at a time.

Being an object that exists, the station must occupy a place in spacetime and, for tradition, this is the homestar of the speaker currently in office. Not his planet or moon, but star, at its most distant stable orbit possible. For the speaker doesn’t rule the Council, so the Council doesn’t follow him to his home.

But not today.

Today the station takes a trip to Speaker Vintara’s homeworld. A token of gratitude for the services provided to the Council, an opportunity for her to take one look at her home before heading to a distant star, a symbolic gesture, another tradition.

From here, the endless discussions on trade, law, subsidies don’t seem so abstract. From here, one can see the purple forests of Loolara giving way to the city lights at the twilight line, the dance of the white clouds over the blue oceans and the fiery trail of the countless ships reentering the atmosphere popping all around, like a calm rain of shooting stars, watched from above. But at Speaker Vintara’s table all eyes are lazily gazing at their drinks, claws, paws.

-It was you who gave the final approval for the human entry into the Council, wasn’t it? - asks Emissary Tin’Ra.

-I don’t remember you opposing it, in fact, I recall you being quite enthusiastic when casting your vote for the humans admittance! - replies Toovok.

-Easy, my noble colleague. I’m not accusing you of anything.

-My apologies. I assume the last decicycles have been as taxing on me as they’ve been on all here present.

-Aye, aye. - The table answers in a lazy, disjointed chorus, before falling into an awkward silence for a moment.

-I was curious, you see. - Tin’Ra breaks the silence once again - It’s not that uncommon for a new species to be invited to the Council, after all, who doesn’t want a friendly, inexperienced emissary on his side, who relies exclusively on you to show the inner workings of interstellar politics? But when the Nareekan endorsed the Yowian invite, I had to meet whoever it was that had those two agree on something for once.

-That’s why you were so welcoming to him? - inquiries emissary Luvrin.

-“Him”. It doesn’t feel right to address Said this way even now. - Toovok blabs, still looking down at his glass.

The table nods in agreement. It isn’t that those senior members of the council don’t understand Earth’s emissary is as sentient as any other colleague, but his behavior has driven them to treat him more like a piece of furniture.

-So where did your Rakan curiosity lead the noble colleague? - asks Luvrin.

-Mild disappointment, extreme boredom. - The table chuckles discreetly - We all know Said, you can utter the most outrageous statement or show him the most mind breaking event, all he ever answers is…

-“I understand”! - The table chorus goes, this time with a faint hint of enthusiasm.

With the feathers at the back of her head raising slightly, Luvrin asks:

-Has anyone ever heard Said speak anything else?

-“Salt”, - Toovok answers - when a waiter asked if he wanted anything in his drink.

-Must’ve been an awfully boring drink.

-It was most certainly not. This was the “Sky High Incident”.

-So you were the poor soul assigned as referee to that brawl?

-Not much need for a referee in a free for all.

-What drove the noble colleagues to get into a fist fight?

-Who can tell? You know how it is with species who talk through chemical exchange. My translator was working overtime, trying to make sense of the words they shouted over each other. Before I knew what was happening, one had spilled Said’s coffee over the other, still not sure if on purpose or accident.

-Shhhhhh! - The table hiss.

-Yes, dear colleagues, not a pleasant sight, a gelatinous individual drenched in human stimulant. It took hours for maintenance to detach him from the roof.

-Where was Said in the midst of all that?

-Ordering a second coffee.

The table chuckles.

-By the time our Moorilan colleague decided melding with the ceiling was his purpose in life, Said just sat there with the Ra’linn representative as he went on and on, the coffee getting cold, while I desperately tried to remind our intoxicated friend the correct directions of up and down.

-That’s Said. - says Tin’Ra - The world burns around him and he does nothing but bounce his head up and down, eventually uttering those two single words he seems to know…

-“I understand”!

Vintara stops playing with the ice cubes, by now almost completely melted. Taking her beak out of her glass for the first time of the night, she takes a deep look at her former opponents in the bygone election.

-Well, he must have done something right. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be heading to Sol.

___

Tks for reading. More here.

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___

Story So Far:

• The Whales return to the dungeons of Teth-Odin, battling a huge contingent of frog-people known as "Mossbellies."
• The party was informed of the existence of a "Rogue Rift" that is located somewhere in the dungeon.
• They come across a "Titan Cage", a containment era for extremely large and powerful monsters.

___

“Talk to me, Baseplate.” Ingrid said, creating a forcefield in mid-air for her to rebound herself with in order to deliver another damaging drop kick to the Titan’s side. It quickly scrambled up to its feet, ignoring the pain, confident that one way or another it’ll either find the culprit responsible for counteracting its lifesteal abilities, or find a way to circumvent it and finally heal itself.

“Got some big bugs running in from within this chamber.” Zefir replied.

“189, take them out!” Ingrid ordered, twisting around in mid-flight to add torque power to her kick. Another loud crack splintered the air as she broke another of the sauropod’s ribs, but it remained standing. Its back-sail flared with light despite its injuries and let loose another devastating volley of light-spears. Peanut and Cuddly retaliated by intercepting its shots with their own.

“What about me?” Selphie asked.

“Protect Viel and Iohann along with team Lakota and Kiowa.” Ingrid replied as she clambered up the Titan’s body. Its head whipped around and tried to devour her like an oversized snake, only to get socked in the jaw with her Nemea first. As its neck forcibly unfurled from the blow, it ended up seeing a familiar sight.

“Hi!” Cecil said as Ralph launched another RPG right in its face. A half-second later, Philia's Oerlikon shot caught right on the chin.

___

The mice of the 189 began squeaking ferociously as they sprinted across the vast chamber. A group of bugs the size of pickup trucks were scuttling along.

“Mice, those are Crystoliths! They shoot crystal shards from their tails!” Gwen warned over the radio. "These creatures naturally generate protective crystals over their normally brittle bodies for protection."

"Don't tell me they're trying to get a slice out of Dino here!" Ingrid said as she ping-ponged herself in an erratic pattern in mid-air, once again catching the Lifebane Titan by surprise as she landed another flying kick to the top of its head.

"No, they prey on the leftovers of the Titan," Philia replied, timing her shot on one of the Titan's hind knees and causing the beast to stumble. "They were probably drawn in here since they could feed on those weakened monsters, but make no mistake, they'll go for us too!"

Rather than bring up their shields as the crystoliths shot a volley of shards at the mice, the umbra team sprang forth, drawing their daggers which turned into their greatswords and began to clash with the projectiles; either deflecting them or shattering it, their sword’s add-on forcefield causing the splinters to bounce off of them harmlessly..

Arthur squeaked a command to the mice and rather than use their high-powered bullets, they used the pellet shots of their guns' secondary barrels. The enhanced velocity and striking power of the pellets did decent damage against the huge insects' crystalline armor at best, but the war hammers that manifested on every successful hit dealt the real damage against the insect’s armor; shattering their crystalline shells far more efficiently than bullets did. The high rate of fire and the inherent weakness of brittle materials against dedicated blunt force proved to be a deadly combination against them.

The initial clash on relatively open ground denigrated to a full-blown firefight as more crystoliths scuttled in from the darkness, clambering over the bodies of weakened monsters and shooting at the mice from various directions and elevations. The insects' excited squealing was cut short as the sight of the mice taking refuge behind their shields was abruptly turned into a searing, blinding white.

With another squeak from Arthur, the mice put on their visors as smoke grenades were thrown. The crystoliths they were facing were blinded now by the flashbang grenade but any further adversaries would not, hence the use of a smokescreen. One by one the, crystoliths were hunted down as the mice went utterly silent, using the noise of the other battle as cover to mask the sounds of their pellet guns shooting, which already was much quieter than shooting traditional bullets.

A loud shot rang out as Arthur blasted a few point-blank shotgun rounds into the forehead of one of the feebly-moving T-rexes. He and Sully took refuge inside the now-dead beast’s mouth. Sully stood guard as Arthur whipped out his tablet, looking at the infrared feed from the Aquila drone hovering far above the battlefield.

With quick, quiet squeaks, Arthur began calling out targets for the 189 to take out. The bulky shapes of the crystoliths quickly collapsed to their bellies and stopped moving one-by-one as the swarm mice silently hunted down the giant insects, moving from one giant body after another as cover to conduct ambushes.

Newcomer crystoliths quickly filed in, eager to get rid of these annoying interruptions to their meal, only to find the thick smoke messing up with their eyes and sense of smell. A trio of insects continued to skitter down a fork in the path, noticing that the third now lay unmoving after a quick burst put it down for good.

Sudden movement across the junction between two big carcasses caused another small cluster of smaller crystoliths to skitter down that direction. As they chased the dark shape scuttling on all fours, somewhere in that tangle of insect feet, one of them snagged a tripwire.

___

Frowning, Iohann listened to the series of squeaks in her earpiece but obliged. Chanting a prayer, a shimmering dome appeared at the site where the mice were engaged in guerilla warfare with several giant bugs.

“It is done.” Iohann said.

“Chris, you are cleared for launch.” Cecil said, firing another .50 cal round at the Titan’s back, rupturing another spine from its back-sail.

___

A few squeaks of assent later, Arthur let out a series of chirps, muffled by the gas mask he tightened around his head. Another twenty seconds later, there was a loud “bang!” as the rocket impacted somewhere in their zone of operation.

Peeking over the maze of bodies, Mason of the Umbra fireteam relayed visual confirmation of a lime-green smoke that began to rapidly fill the dome. The shrieks of the giant insects began to fill the air as the deadly chlorine gas began to do its work.

___

“God damn.” Ingrid said, but a grim smile flashed on her face. “I leave you guys for ten seconds and already you’ve gone to World War one!”

She leapt upwards and delivered a hard uppercut to the Titan’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of the creature and causing it to back away and to the side as quickly as it did. It nearly slipped as it tried to put its weight on one hindleg only for Kvaris to quickly bash its knee with her flail, causing it to painfully drop all its weight there, subsequently making the sauropod collapse on its side.

“Valkyrie, watch out!” Ingrid yelled. She did not move however. She stomped the ground and assumed a wide steady stance, her Nemea-clad fists flaring even brighter as they rapidly pummelled the falling creature’s ribs, causing it to flail around in immense pain.

Kvaris was in the way for its tail slap but once again she ran towards the blindly lashing appendage. Kinu on the other hand, ran to follow the creature’s head as it fell to the ground. Both sisters held out their hand, mana quickly coursing through them as they both summoned the same Deregor weapon.

“Tempest Lancer!” The garm girls turned into a high velocity flying drill of wind as the magic lance enhanced their bodies and sped up their full-on charge. Kvaris fractured the Titan’s tail, rendering it useless for good, while Kinu sent the head flying back up in the air from the savage impact.

“Hi!” Cecil said, grinning as Ralph pulled the trigger of his RPG. The rocket slammed the sauropod’s head onto the ground hard, and followed up shot by Cecil’s .50 cal round that hammered it a second time. It didn’t even get a second time to bounce up in the air as Philia’s Oerlikon round snapped its head backwards where Sammy swung her cataclysm hammer at it at full force.

The Titan was in hell. Ingrid was still underneath it, all its weight being pressed down on her brutal barrage of fists. Fae Harriers continued to work away on one of its forelegs, the pain preventing it from using that leg to get up. Its ability to channel mana to fire off ranged shots was ineffectual as Peanut’s relentless assault on its back-sail rendered it too bloody and mangled to deploy any meaningful magic. Huge stalacties of ice, courtesy of Siria, pummeled its other side, before the elf turned her attention back to the chemical warfare raging on at the other side of the room.

___

Huge burning chunks of rock rained down along the perimeter of the dome. Squashing and incinerating the crystoliths. From within the deathly-green cloud cover, the mice used their thermals to see past the cloud of death and shoot at more of the giant insects, angering them and causing more to pile up inside their death zone. With the previous victims of the Lifebane Titan now dead thanks to the gas, the mice were now able to use their bodies as hiding places, ambushing the giant insects as they stampeded into the dome.

The mice constantly popped in and out of the dome, squeaking loudly to gain the attention of more crystoliths and shooting at them before darting back inside.

Iohann’s body glowed as she continued her prayer, expanding the dome further. Chris’s portal flew out again and fired another rocket containing chlorine gas, before flying back to resume guard duty with the center group.

Inside the green dome, a group of staggering crystoliths were beginning to feel the horrifying effects of the chlorine gas. Disoriented, they continued to skitter around, trying to find a direction out. Of the ten that tried to escape, half were blown up as one of their feet crunched on a landmine planted by the mice, three were crushed by one of Siria’s meteors and the last two succumbed to the chlorine that filled their respiratory systems.

Elsewhere, team Umbra threw a grenade over the body of a large hadrosaur creature, insectoid screams from the other side rang out as the explosive took out the tightly packed creatures that were backing away from an onslaught of fire by the Aviz fireteam. They quickly clambered up another big monster’s body, finding another concentration of crystoliths just as Arthur directed. With one quiet squeak, team Umbra rained buckshot over them.

In another section of the war zone, Gerard popped out from one of the bodies, and fired a few rounds at the crystoliths approaching the dome. In anger, the insects fired a volley. The gold mouse quickly ducked back and the let shards of crystal spears spark pandemonium among the insects as they began blindly shooting at each other.

___

The Titan roared, several magic sigils surrounded its body and began to pepper it with bolts of white energy. Rather than cause direct harm however it disrupted the flow of mana, rendering its lifestealing roar into just pointless posturing; an impotent gesture of rage.

Its bellowing was cut short once again as Philia and Cecil timed their shots. Cecil aimed his anti-material rifle at its head, Philia aimed at its legs, while Ralph fired his RPG at its body. Ingrid followed it up with a high-powered brutal flying kick to the pelvis, heading a loud crack as something broke inside the creature’s body. At the same time, Sammy matched Ingrid’s strike with her Cataclysm hammer, aiming for the shins of the opposite hindleg.

The Fae Harriers were taking their toll. Another flail smash by the Enthana Sisters, another swing from Sammy's hammer, and finally, a kick to this massive shins from Ingrid collapsed the Titan one final time. Its hindlegs finally giving out, its tail immobile, its back-sail tattered and unusable for magic. As the creature crashed on its belly, it defiantly opened its mouth, a large, ominous sphere of pure energy began to form, the air around it began to distort. Viel and the creature’s eyes met. It finally knew the source of its misery.

Viel didn't move from her spot, her eyes closed in intense focus as she continued to chant. She knew the creature was burning up its own life force to constantly try again and again to rejuvenate itself by attempting to life-steal. It was now a contest of wills. If Viel broke, all their efforts would be undone.

Her swarm of sigils around the Titan continued to time their shots, disrupting the flow every time it tried to let out an omnidirectional pulse to restore itself. Meanwhile, its head was locked in a struggle with Ingrid as it tried to charge up a massive shot that even Siria was sure would punch through the dungeon's magic that protected the structure.

"It's going to fire from its chest too!" Siria warned Peanut and Cuddly. "Intercept those shots!"

As she said so she conjured a dark cloud to form over the fallen Titan. She needed time in order for the cloud to reach critical mass and rain lightning over it.

Kinu, Kvaris, and Sammy raised their weapons and yelled out their charge. The ominous sigil appeared on its chest and they began to wail away at it.

Despite the pain, the sauropod's forelegs swiped at them.

Sammy let out a warcry and swung her halberd down. The blue arc of mana parrying and swatting the creature's attacking limb away. She quickly leapt to the other side and thrust her halberd, the Guardian Blades materializing and slashing in a painful pincer that caused it to quickly snatch its paw away.

Frustrated, the Titan brought up both forelegs, globes of mana formed and Sammy quickly leapt in to try to disrupt whatever spell it was trying to cast. It was a ruse however, as it quickly disengaged the spell and used the paw that wasn't being attacked by Sammy to crush the Enthana sisters, whose relentless assault at the sigil-barrier was causing it to crack.

Kvaris quickly wheeled around, putting her mana into her corseca and met the crushing hand with powerful thrust, the ensuing energy spike was larger than usual and forced the massive paw to quickly retreat and try again.

Cecil quickly hovered his Dialog Window down, he and Ralph firing at the exposed head with the anti-material rifle and RPG.

“Brody, Eli, full-auto with the pellet guns!” Cecil yelled. The two mice quickly picked up their guns and rained fire. The sheer number of pellets in the drum magazines, combined with the enhancement lens and the Companion Rogue’s shillelagh began to rapidly drain the Titan’s shielding.

The Titan was forced to redirect even more mana that could be used for attacking to defend itself. As a result, the ensuing spread shot from its chest’s sigil-barrier on its chest became manageable, allowing Peanut and Cuddly to intercept them with their own, as well as the Valkyrie squad to jump out of the way.

One stray shot managed to get through Peanut and Cuddly’s interceptors, but Iohann's constant recital of her psalm told them there was no need to look back. Her prayers continued unabated, letting them know her protective field held back the destructive shot.

“Enthanas!” Sammy yelled above the din. “Focus on its heart, I’ll deal with this thing’s paws!”

“I’ll take the other hand, Night Rider.” Philia said, shooting another high-powered round and knocking back the heavily damaged paw of the Titan.

Peanut and Cuddly joined the fray as well, their constant bombardment of chevron shots and Fae Harriers harassing the Titan’s forelegs, compounding the damage that Sammy and Philia were inflicting on them.

The garm girls howled as they made a rapid barrage of corseca strikes, the ensuing spike-burst on every hit as well as the Companion Rogue Shillelagh’s hammer blows tripled the effect of every spear-thrust they made, striking so fast it looked like a wall of spikes attacking the Titan’s shield to its heart.

“Come on! COME ON!” Ingrid said as she continued to punch away. Her fists had become a blur and her aura was beginning to flare so brightly it became visible to the naked eye. Despite its exhausted state and being ganged up on, the Titan’s vitality was nothing short of tremendous. Her attempts to disrupt the incoming beam of destruction were being countered by the Titan stubbornly just pumping more and more of its own mana into it.

As Ralph reloaded his RPG, Cecil took aim and fired, this time, the behemoth’s remaining eye erupted in a shower of gore.

At the same time, Siria's spell was ready.

"Tempest Assault!" Siria cried, a torrent of red lightning rained from the clouds that formed above the Titan.

The Titan’s last-ditch attempt to unleash a destructive spell with its paws was thwarted; it felt something crack in its forelegs as a huge chevron bolt from Peanut and the constant rapid-fire assault from Cuddly rendered them numb, the now-useless limbs crashing to the floor.

“One more time! Attack!” The Enthana sisters and Sammy cried, the garms’ corsecas and orc’s halberd struck in unison, shattering the sigil-barrier to its chest. In a fluid motion and channeling more mana into her body, Sammy changed her weapon to a greatsword and swung down with a strength that would have made the Valiant God proud, leaving behind a golden arc the cut the beast open, even cleaving apart the mighty bones that served as the heart’s last line of defense.

Scarcely before the heart could make one more beat, Kinu and Kvaris plunged their corsecas deep and howled, unleashing a potent blast of pure destruction as they amplified the energy spike.

With one more punch, Ingrid shattered the sphere of light. She redirected the punch so that all the impact was sprayed in the direction of the Titan’s head like a massive shotgun blast.

"Philia!" Ingrid yelled.

The impact of the sphere's explosion sent Ingrid backflipping several feet away. As she landed she began to focus the Ether around her hands. At the same time, Philia skated ahead at breakneck speed, sliding low on the ground and whirling around just in time to aim her gun at the Titan's head.

Ingrid landed behind her, wings of light erupting from her shoulders as she channeled the Ether into Philia's gun.

"Annihilate!" Philia said as she pulled the trigger. Her eyes turned crimson as she did so, letting out a railgun-like blast, punching through the Titan's beam and its head.

The Lifebane Titan finally collapsed onto the ground, blood seeping out into the stone beneath it.

“Mice!” Ingrid yelled, running over to the once-more enlarged dome of green death. Before she could ask Neith or Mission Control their status she saw them running out of the dome, wearing gas masks and chasing out juvenile crystoliths, smacking the dog-sized insects on the butt with the flat of their glaives and squeaking angrily, oddly reminding her of irate storekeepers who caught children trying to shoplift. Everybody must have been thinking it too as the rest of the team burst out laughing as they watched the mice take off their gas masks and continue to squeak angrily, waving their glaives in the air.

It had been a tough fight, the sudden surge of crystoliths trying to take advantage of the situation would have been disastrous if not for the mice's quick thinking and adaptability. In hindsight, how they managed the situation was a stroke of genius. They had angled their approach such that the direction of their fighting made sure that the general direction of either side's shooting at each other were at a parallel rather than a converging angle.

The mice's use of guerilla warfare was also masterful; drawing the crystoliths into the jumble of dead and dying monsters and using their large bodies as a makeshift labyrinth. This not only further reduced chances of friendly-fire, but also gave the mice plenty of cover; the ability to conduct devastating ambushes and booby-traps, as well as create lethal corridors where gunfire could easily mow down multiple opponents.

“When the carcasses squeak…” Ingrid chuckled.

“Huh?” Kinu asked.

Before Ingrid, Cecil, Zefir, or Philia or explain the Vietnam reference, Ingrid was flung backwards.

___

Author's Note: This is literally an MMO Raid Boss fight.

___

Read Starchaser: Beyond ~ Autumnhollow Chronicles at RoyalRoad!

INDEX: The Whales Party Sheet 

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(Part 001)

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Hope Hiro, the Second Wordsmith, and one of only two living Heroes walking the mortal plane... brutally murders his mentor and supposed friend, King Solomon.

The reaction from the other Heroic Souls inside his Mind Realm is swift and immediate.

[You monster!] Hammurabi cries. [How could you?! My pupil! SOLOMON!!]

[Evil child.] Arthur adds, his tone ice-cold. [We were wrong to support you.]

Jepthath is the one who reacts the most violently. [Vicious little BASTARD! How dare you?! What level of depravity have you fallen into?!]

Elizabeth Kindelmann, Jeremiah the Hermit, Moses and Aaron; all these heroes quickly hear and spread the news of Hope's atrocity. They react with shock and horror, swiftly condemning his heinous actions!

But at the same time, a disturbing smile snakes onto Hope's face as countless words of criticism come his way.

[Quiet.]

Hope speaks in a tone so sinister it chills all of them to their cores.

[I should have done this a long time ago.] Hope says, transmitting his words at the speed of thought. Solomon's Crown bolsters his mental speed to a level far faster than Jason's. [If any of you want to waste further words, I'll devour you next. I am this generation's Hero. You will do as I say... or else.]

Inside the Hall of Heroes, Hope's children obtain news of what has happened through their sole remaining link to the outside universe; Jepthath. They sit inside the Central Gardens, dazed expressions playing upon their faces.

"It can't be..." Blake says, his eyes losing focus. "Dad wouldn't- he couldn't..."

"Dad's always been a little weird when it came to Uncle Jason." Mandy replies. "But this... this... even Solomon? How could he..."

"Our father isn't a murderer!" Levi shouts, slamming his fist on a nearby boulder. His draconian strength causes him to shatter the rock into fragments, crushing them into powder. "Solomon must have... must have tried to trick him!"

Hammurabi's spirit, simultaneously inside the Hall of Heroes and Hope's Mind Realm, shakes his head. He lowers his eyes, disbelief in his heart.

"No. Solomon was as honest as ever. That lad was... I wish... I should have told him how much I cared. I let my pride get the better of me. Now I'll... never see Solomon again... that poor boy..."

A single second passes in realspace time. Jason watches Hope, his stomach sinking as he realizes the depths of his clone's depravity.

Suddenly, Jason's three remaining Dronesmiths attack. They lunge at Hope and swing their swords with reckless abandon.

In Hope's eyes, their movements are as sluggish as if they were mucking their way around in quicksand.

With mere twitches and careful adjustments to his body's positioning, Hope deftly dodges and deflects their attacks. He slithers like a cobra, then wields Excalibur with a precision far beyond what he previously displayed.

Jason sends his enchanted blades to attack, but they don't even have time to draw close before Hope utters his first Word of Power since devouring Solomon.

"Inferno!"

Excalibur ignites with a thousand-degree flame. Hope suddenly pirouettes in midair, spinning with the grace of a ballerina as he allows one of Jason's clones to swing a sword underneath his rising leg.

Then, Hope swings Excalibur at the drone's neck.

He beheads it!

Hope takes out yet another of the drones, leaving only two more, as well as Jason's small army of enchanted daggers.

Electrical bursts ring out. Plumes of fire engulf the area. Bursts of ice explode, sending shrapnel flying.

Jason furiously tries to pin Hope down, but his clone's movements are too precise and calculated. He easily battles the remaining drones and Jason's daggers without breaking a sweat.

"Hahahaha! Pathetic!" Hope laughs. "It feels good, Jason! Solomon was really holding back on me! Now I can see the world as he did! Your movements are as sluggish as your thoughts are transparent!"

Jason's heart pounds with rising fervor.

He tried to kill Hope. He came so close, but Hope's sudden reversal of fates ended up taking out two of Jason's drones, and nearly killed Jason from the backlash.

A bead of sweat drips down Jason's forehead. The trick Hope used earlier with Hammurabi was not something Jason expected, so he had no way to counter it. Now, even as he desperately tries to kill Hope, he also finds himself holding back. He doesn't understand the mechanism used to reverse his attacks, and charging in blindly could cause him to nearly die again!

If it wasn't for Fiona teleporting me into Chrona for a second, Hope would have beheaded me on the spot. Jason thinks. I need to find out what his reversal ability is. Is it one of the Heroes? Can it be used multiple times in a row? Does it have a cooldown period? Is it always active?

Minute begin to tick by. Jason works with Fiona to disentangle his two remaining drones while also furiously launching an assault on Hope from afar. Anytime Hope starts to move toward Jason, the First Wordsmith quickly puts distance between them.

That reversal ability can't be active all the time. Jason thinks, his mind racing as he starts to put the pieces together. Hope isn't charging at me recklessly. If he were truly capable of turning any attack his opponent launched back on them, then he'd just rush at me without fear for his life. That means there's a weakness I can exploit!

A year ago in realspace time, Jason began using a very basic ability to 'predict' things that could happen in the future using simple and complex deductive reasoning.

Thanks to the power of Wordsmithing, Jason's so-called demonic alter-ego Smithy becomes unusually valuable in this fight against his clone!

Jason's brain metaphorically revolves like a typhoon. Thoughts collide together, creating sparks inside his Mind Realm as his mental engines work together to examines facts and clues, drawing links between established pieces of information.

I don't know what Heroes Hope has working under him. Jason thinks, as he dodges a beam of holy energy fired from Excalibur. But that reversal ability must belong to one of them.

The fight continues to rage. Jason swaps out his staff for the sword from earlier when Hope draws closer. A second later, the two of them start furiously attacking, with Hope using his accelerated perception to outplay Jason's swordsmanship over and over.

Sensing his imminent death, Jason scowls. Hope's ability to react in real-time has grown explosively.

Jason only has one way to retort.

"Activate!" Jason shouts.

An instant later, Jason's own perception of time speeds up. His eyes snap to the left and the right. Using his power of prediction, he starts estimating multiple different trajectories Excalibur is likely to travel, then he dodges several of them while swinging his own sword into the path of the rest.

CLANG CLANG CLANG!

A storm of collisions rings out in the vacuum, with both Wordsmiths slamming their blades together like a meat grinder.

Hope tries to kill Jason.

Jason tries to kill Hope.

But with Hope having devoured Solomon, his ability to combat the First Wordsmith rises to a level where they become almost exactly equal in combat strength.

Each time their blades impact one another, massive explosions of spiritual energy explode outward, firing toward Tarus II and intensifying the planetquakes ravaging Jason's homeworld.

The humans and monsters continue moving toward the Warpgate, but due to the battle between Wordsmiths, huge valleys and trenches rip open at various locations, creating 10-to-100 foot impassible gaps. Demons and monsters with flying abilities are easily able to bypass these canyons, but the relatively ordinary mundane humans have to take long detours to get around them.

Some people even fall inside, causing them severe injuries or even killing them!

This forces demons like Kiari and monsters like Yamir to divert some of their attention away from the rampaging exobeasts to saving the humans who have fallen tens of feet into the rips in the planet's surface.

But neither Jason nor Hope have any time to think about these things. They instead place every bit of their focus on killing one another, each one praying they'll be able to finish the other off and claim victory.

For the sake of themselves.

For the sake of humanity!

In Jason's eyes, Hope's blade moves ten different directions first, then it moves just once afterward as his predictive powers disentangle the possibilities of multiple future realities into a cohesive narrative. The longer he observes Hope's movements, the better his predictions become, allowing him to react faster and faster every minute!

Likewise, the more Hope notices Jason adapting to his movements, the more he struggles to change up his battle-style, shifting their dynamic once in a while to try and keep his other half on his toes.

"Deflect! Shift! Reorient! Sharpen! Explode!"

"Activate. Activate. Activate. Activate."

Hope constantly uses different Words of Power, but Jason never stops using the exact same one. Since the start of their battle, Jason has almost entirely only activated effects contained within his weapon or armor, frustrating Hope with just how many powers and latent abilities Jason seems to have stored within.

How many goddamned spells and enchantments has he put inside that single set of Wordsmithium armor?! Hope mentally cries out in frustration. This is fucking ridiculous! He keeps revealing new ones, too! All the time! There HAS to be a limit!

Jason's remaining drones hassle Hope from the sides. His enchanted blades doggedly pursue Hope, while Hope's multi-armed form battles all of them in unison.

But at the same time, Jason notices something important.

The other arms are not actually being controlled by Hope. They are manifested and controlled by the Heroes inside Hope's Mind Realm.

And those Heroes have become a lot less fervent in their support for Hope ever since he murdered Solomon.

Jason's prediction abilities continue to focus directly on the battle with Hope, but every so often, he spares a few thoughts for the meta-conditions of their battle, the behind-the-scenes circumstances that could make a crucial difference as the hours drag on.

The other Heroes may have supported Hope before, but I refuse to believe they would continue doing so after what he did to Solomon. Jason thinks. It's more likely they are only fighting now out of fear! They don't want to support Hope, but they don't want him to devour their souls next, either! They're not putting their all into the fight. If this keeps up, I might be able to spot an opening and go for the kill!

Jason isn't the only person who notices the weakening of Hope's combat abilities.

Hope does as well.

[Don't you bastards try to backstab me!] Hope exclaims. [Keep fighting! We're getting closer to killing Jason! I can sense it!]

Elizabeth Kindelmann grits her teeth. She fights a little harder, but in her heart, she feels deeply unnerved by the viciousness Hope has put on display. He is not acting like the same person she interacted with for the last hundred years, but she dares not speak up, lest he direct his wrath at her.

One of the Heroes, however, is not content with remaining silent.

Hammurabi glares with deep, unconcealed hatred out of Hope's eyes, making sure Hope can easily pick out his disgust from the forced blankness on the faces of the other Heroes.

[You worthless little devil.] Hammurabi spits, drool congealing at the edges of his teeth. [Solomon was my most precious pupil. You had NO right to murder him! I've decided I won't be helping you any more. If Jason comes close, my power will not shield you. Let him behead you and take revenge for Solomon's death! I will not remain quiet while you commit atrocities! My era has already come and gone! I won't cling to life just so a tyrant can wield my power like a bludgeon!]

Hope's expression turns nasty. [You dare talk back to me, old man?]

[Do your worst, demon!] Hammurabi roars. [Fellow Heroes! Stop assisting this fiend! We are not his pawns! Each of us is a proud legend of our own eras! We cannot cower to the whims of a narcissistic little murdering bastard just because we're afraid of death! We have already died once. What is another death at this point?! Give Jason a victory! If Hope wants to devour our souls, then let him! Show the universe that we Heroes are not the pitiful little lambs Hope wants us to be!]

Hope's heart palpitates with rage.

On the one hand, he'd love to kill Hammurabi. If this continues, Hammurabi's words will cause the other Heroes to grow a backbone. Should they all stop fighting at once, then Hope will lose to Jason without a doubt. He needs their help to stay in the battle!

But on the other hand, Hope has a minor problem getting in the way.

He can't find a lull in combat to kill Hammurabi!

With Jason no longer holding back, Hope just doesn't have a spare second to devour Hammurabi. And even if he did, he'd be vulnerable for a few seconds after assimilating Hammurabi's soul.

Jason might behead Hope before he could fully defeat Hammurabi in a soul battle.

This would obviously result in a complete loss for the Second Wordsmith.

Hope's eyes secretly flash. He uses Solomon's wisdom to quickly think of a hundred possibilities mid-battle, brainstorming a way he can cow and frighten the other Heroes, or otherwise control and force them to work for him.

Hammurabi's soul is as powerful as Solomon's was. Hope thinks. He and Arthur are going to be the hardest to subdue. Arthur has already started resisting me, but I've wielded Excalibur long enough to take over a portion of its control rights. The sword no longer has the power to easily reject me anymore. But the same isn't true of Hammurabi. If he fails to retaliate against one of Jason's crucial attacks, I'll die!

A vicious thought spreads inside Hope's mind. A way he can salvage the situation.

Fear is my greatest weapon. I can't hold back!

Without warning, Hope suddenly charges at Jason in a seemingly suicidal rush. Jason, about to stab Hope in the heart, reflexively pulls back, which actually surprises Hope.

Hope instantly understands his slight miscalculation. He expected Jason to attack, but Jason was still wary of Hammurabi's power. The First Wordsmith wouldn't want to take a risk and instantly lose the battle.

But that works just fine for Hope. As he charges at Jason, he suddenly shouts a Word of Power.

"Teleport!"

Hope vanishes, causing Jason to quickly look around, spreading out his senses. Expecting Hope to suddenly appear behind him or strike from a tricky angle, Jason is surprised when that doesn't happen.

"Locate." Jason says, turning his attention toward a certain direction in the pitch-black void.

He uncovers Hope's new location, more than a hundred miles in the distance, invisible against the backdrop of the cosmos.

As for Hope, having granted himself a few seconds of reprieve, he shouts another Word of Power.

"Devour!"

Hammurabi scowls. He grits his teeth, waiting for the magic that took Solomon's life to grab hold of his soul now and eradicate him from existence.

Instead, Elizabeth Kindelmann screams in horror. [Ahh! No, no!]

Hammurabi turns to look at her. But he doesn't see her body beginning to dissipate into particles of soul energy.

Instead, it's Jeremiah, the Mountain Hermit, who begins to fade.

The old man who kept to himself, who never hurt a soul, clutches his chest as he doubles over in pain. Jeremiah silently suffers as parts of his soul rapidly tear away, turning him into a paper doll riddled with holes.

[Hope, NO!] Hammurabi exclaims. [Not him! Not the Hermit! You FIEND!]

But his words fall upon deaf ears. A moment later, Jeremiah explodes into motes of light. Hope's eyes glow with insight as he gains control of all Jeremiah's powers, primarily his godlike vision. Combined with Solomon's mind, Hope becomes capable of perceiving things at a higher qualitative level than ever before!

[You SEE?!] Hope roars with a mixture of satisfaction and rage. [THAT'S what happens when you defy me! You want to keep running your mouth, Hammurabi?! Maybe you'll be next! Or maybe it will be someone else! You'd better do your job, or I'll make every last one of you suffer!]

Hammurabi's heart runs cold.

He was willing to sacrifice himself to make a point. He was willing to die if it meant defying the words of a tyrant.

But never did he imagine Hope would be so cold, so heartless as to murder Jeremiah of all people.

The kindly old Mountain Hermit. A man who enjoyed the solace of nature, who kept to his quiet forest and didn't bother anyone else.

How could it be him? How could Hope do such a thing?

[You... you are... a demon...] Hammurabi says slowly, feeling the blood drain from his face.

[What was that?] Hope hisses. [Care to repeat it? Want me to target someone else, Hammurabi?!]

[I... no... I didn't mean...]

[You'd better do as you're told.] Hope retorts, directing his metaphorical gaze at each of the Heroes inside his Mind Realm in turn. [You'd ALL better do as you're told. There's no more compromising here. There's no questioning my orders. I am this generation's HERO and that means you have to do as I say! If you don't, I'll just eat every last one of you!]

Hammurabi shudders. He and the other Heroes no longer feel as defiant as before. In fact, compared to Satan the Devil, Hope now seems far more vicious and beastlike than that ancient schemer ever did.

At least Satan had a 'code' he followed. Rules he lived by.

Hope seems to have lost all morality.

He's become a demon among demons. An archfiend even the ancient devils would tread lightly around.

Jason teleports a short distance away. He immediately senses that Hope's aura has changed again, making him seem noticeably more powerful.

"What did you do?" Jason asks. "What did you do, Hope?!"

"Why do people ask questions when they already know the answers?" Hope sneers. "I enjoyed the taste of a little snack. Now my powers are stronger than ever. You no longer have a prayer of winning this battle, Jason."

"They're not your powers." Jason snaps back, his heart darkening. "You're a thief. A liar. A demon wearing human skin. I don't know what changed you, but there's no saving the Hope I knew anymore."

"I've always been this way." Hope retorts. "I just... held back. I had a little too much 'you' in me. I wasn't willing to do whatever it took to achieve my desires. Now I am. I'm going to become the most powerful Hero who ever lived. Then I'll take over the Milky Way and make sure none will dare to defy me."

Excalibur glows brighter than before. Hope's eyes peer inside Jason's Wordsmithium, for the first time allowing him to look directly at his other half. No longer can Jason's armor conceal his face from his clone.

The two men look each other in the eyes. Hope's irises seem to glow a mixture of blue, red, and green, representing the taint and demonic inclinations that have infested his soul, while Jason's appear as bright and pure blue as ever.

"You're never going to win." Jason declares. "No matter how many souls you eat. No matter how many powers you steal. Because you're a directionless monster, lashing out with selfish greed. Humanity will never bend to a tyrant. They might fear you in the short term, but they will always resist you, even if only in their hearts. You'll have to sleep with one eye open, knowing someday someone would betray you. Maybe even your own wife and kids."

"Just wonderful, more platitudes and soft words." Hope sneers derisively. "Stuff the rest of what you're going to say right up your ass. I don't want to hear any of it."

"Oh, Hope." Jason says with a soft smile. "I know you don't."

Those words weren't meant for you. Jason thinks.

The remaining Heroes inside Hope's mind look at Jason silently. They still struggle with what they should do. Even Hammurabi looks less spirited than before.

But nevertheless, Jason's words strike a chord within their hearts.

Being devoured by Hope is a horrifying thought. Becoming the eternal soul-slaves to a madman is not something any of these ancient Heroes wishes to endure.

But compared with giving up their dignity, their will to live, and their Heroic virtues...

Faint sparks of light emerge within their souls.

Perhaps they may yet have a way to resist.

Hammurabi lowers his eyes.

To think Solomon abandoned this lad. My pupil had eyes but he could not see the true Hero before him all along.

"Enough yapping!" Hope roars. "This is it, Jason! This is the day you die!"

Hope shifts his gaze, aiming it at Excalibur.

"Focus! Empower! Siphon!"

Excalibur abruptly shines with a radiant light, then it dims as that light sucks into Hope's body.

His muscles grow, ever so slightly. Energy surges through his veins. His bones harden, and his tendons tighten as pure mana races into his very Existence.

"Oraaaa!!" Hope roars, lunging at Jason.

The final battle between man and beast reaches its decisive tipping point.

Flashes of memories spun through his nightmare. Visions he would rather not see or remember again but still came back to him, like a chronic illness. Sparks, shouting, and then a hungering void. And, as always, followed by a horrible engulfing emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He awoke with a start, his body drenched in sweat, hyperventilating.

"I'm detecting an elevated heart rate, Captain. Are you at risk?"

"No, no, I'm fine Clarity. Thank you," he said, through the ringing in his ears.

"Affirmative. Was it the nightmare again?"

The captain sat up, nodding.

"Yeah," he said, and held his hands against his face. The glow of a distant star illuminated his sleeping quarter in a purple hue.

"Do you desire an injection of Amorfatiozine?"

He dragged his face up against his fingers with a groan.

"You know I've stopped that,"

"Affirmative. But there is no order in my system to jettison the supply. Do you wish to jettison the supply?"

He was silent for a long moment. He stared out the porthole. Save for a distant star; it showed only the blackness of the void.

"No, let it be,"

"Affirmative Captain. Breakfast has finished processing,"

"Thank you Clarity,"

There was the subtle blip that signified that the ship's AI went away to the systems. The Captain sat for another long moment, still harried by the nightmare. It took until he was dressed, and had made his way to the small table by the kitchen area, that the flashes started dissipating. He looked down at the plate, at the food.

"Clarity," he said, and there was a blip, "What's on the menu this morning?"

"Belrexian waffles. And a light fiddlehead and bacon infused omelette,"

"Huh," he said, and looked down at the plate again. "I'm guessing the big brown cube is the waffle?"

"Affirmative, Captain,"

"Yummy. What's the status on upgrading the synthesizer?"

"Progress on the 'Please For The Love Of All Gods Make It Look Like Food' module is progressing as slow as anticipated,"

"Why?"

"Most of my processing is used for the signal slowdown, maintaining the speed, and calculating, Sir," Clarity said. The added Sir had an air of admonishment. Even AI's developed something out here in the void.

"Of course. Thank you Clarity,"

Blip.

He took a bite of the large cube. It was his favourite type of waffle and just as he suspected, it tasted perfect. It just had the shape of a brown square cube. He ate slowly. The nightmare faded back into the crevices of memories. The taste of waffles brought forth a pleasant memory. Sunshine, a perfect smile, an oversized hoodie, and birdsong from the open window. The captain stared at nothing, as he ate his breakfast.

Then he sat by the cockpit in the next room. The shielding plates that covered the viewport retreated as he swiveled the chair toward the controls. All the knobs and buttons were decorative now that Clarity ran it all. But he just couldn't rip them out! Those buttons had saved him more times than he could count, in all those lifetimes before...

"Clarity," he interrupted his thoughts "Full diagnostic, then the status of the signal,"

"Affirmative, Captain. Full diagnostic… Done. Life support system running at 95% efficiency. Please check valves 4 and 12 at your earliest convenience. Nutrition supplies will last another 156 days at current consumption. Closest habitable planet in direction of signal plotted in, for estimated resupply in 145 days,"

"Well done, Clarity. I'll check the valves. And the signal?"

"Signal strength well above corrective values. Every slowdown sequence successful. Estimated arrival at destination... 15 hours before termination,"

He leaned back, the chair titling back, and closed his eyes.

"That good, that's lots of time. And the calculation?," he asked.

"45,51 percent completed,"

He tensed up his hand. So much left. He eased up his hand. "Thank you Clarity,"

"Of course, Sir," the AI said and blipped. He sat in the blackness of the blind for several minutes, conjuring memories. Then he opened his eyes, and stood up.

Blip.

"Do you wish to be reminded of your schedule for today, Captain?"

"Let me guess: workout, eat, cry, sleep, and repeat?" The captain said, as he was taking off his shirt, making his way to the treadmill.

"Affirmative, Sir. Do you wish to append any events?"

"How about 'contemplate suicide' between eat and cry?"

"Negative, Sir. I have been forbidden to add that event,"

"What module forbids it?"

"The 'Pull It Together, You Moody Fucker' module, Sir,"

"Could you delete that please?"

"Negative Sir, the priority module 'Ain't Gonna Happen, Idiot' disallows it,"

"What about deleting that one, then?"

"Negative Sir, due to the administrative module that precedes that one,"

He was now running on the treadmill. His view was the blackness of the void, and several taped up diagrams of the ships systems, faded with age. And besides them, many pictures of memories.

"What did I name that module?"

Clarity was silent for several seconds.

"Clarity?" He asked, slightly worried.

"It's called 'Remember The Picnic', Sir,"

He stopped running and stood still. Tears formed in his eyes. He wiped them, and held the arms of the treadmill with a white-knuckle grip.

"Ah," he whispered.

Clarity was silent, but did not blip away. He began sobbing, as he did remember the picnic.

"Do you wish me to move the 'Cry' event forward in the schedule, Sir?" Clarity said after a little while, in a monotone voice.

He snorted, then began laughing, shocked away from despairing about the almost loss of the memory of that perfect day. It carried on for a long time, until it faded and he began jogging again, now smiling.

"No, that's okay. Thank you Clarity,"

"No problem, Captain,"

Blip.

He ran, lifted weights, and stretched. He then checked the valves 4 and 12. The fourth valve had been slightly corroded - and he remembered why. He had had a very severe case of... Toxicity a week ago, and had relieved himself on it, in destructive spite. He took out rust remover, and cleaned it up. The day after that incident he had stopped taking Amorfatiozine for the nightmares. It had been hell since then. But, once again, the past got him through it. Just remember the picnic.

The twelfth valve he found no issues with. It was definitely too far up for him to relieve himself on it, so he asked Clarity to check again. She did another diagnostic. She detected an issue with it, but could not detect exactly what. He checked, nothing. She ran it again, and now the diagnostic returned no faults. Tapping his wrench against his chin a few times, he shrugged, and went back to the cockpit, to sit down in the very comfortable chair. He looked at the small centerpiece display at the board. A grid of green light, on a black backdrop. Every three seconds a red dot appeared, and then faded away, until it resurfaced again. He lost track of time. A louder blip than normal, and he shook his senses awake.

"Huh?"

"Captain, vessels on intercept course,"

He looked out the viewport. With the backdrop of a massive gas giant - three silver-grey rings around the circumference - hovered a group of three frigates. Clarity identified them as the patrol ships of the Unified Alliance. Makes sense, he thought, as they were passing through the outer rim of their territory.

"Let's get this over quickly. Slow down to a courteous speed Clarity, and open the channel,"

"Affirmative, Sir," Clarity said, and blipped. Then the slight crackling of the infrared communication.

"'Allo lads," he said, scratching his pit.

"Identify yourself, Vessel," said a voice, shaking with authority.

"Just a lonely traveler,"

"Identify yourself, Vessel, or face the consequences of violating Section XB - Article II of the Unified Alliance!"

He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing them. A bureaucrat.

"I don't have patience for this today, patrol. Just scan me, you'll get your answer that way,"

"I repeat, ident-!" The voice began, then paused, channel muted. He then felt the scan pass through the ship. He was glad Clarity had anticipated his order and lowered the protective shielding, and the feedback response.

The scan completed but the communication was still muted.

"Well, lad? Happy?"

The slight crackling returned and another speaker, with a very composed voice, spoke.

"Yes Sir, you're clear. Pardon for the interruption. Zeal is high on the ship today. Do you desire an escort to the line, Sir?"

"No, I'll manage, but thank you for offering. You're all shining examples to the diligence of the Alliance,"

"Much gratitude, Sir. Over and out,"

The communication ended quickly, and Clarity speed up again, leaving the gas giant and the three stunned patrol ships in its wake. In his minds eye, he could imagine the stern eye from the older officer, the blushing from the younger speaker, and the outtake of breath from the rest of the crew.

"Clarity?" Blip. "Am I a bad man?"

There was a stillness in the wait for her response.

"Clarity?"

"Yes, Sir. That dramatic pause was designated by the module 'Stop Asking That, Bucko'. I indexed the ethics of all your previous actions in the meanwhile, and compared them to the moral philosophies in my database,"

"The result?"

"Inconclusive, Sir,"

He laughed, and Clarity blipped. Then blipped back.

"But leaning toward good,"

She blipped away, and he sat back, just listening to that ever present hum of the engine, as the stars sped past.

Days passed. Or it might've been weeks. Maybe a month? The nightmare only returned eight times in that span, which he counted as a win. The ship had gone through the so called 'line' - a border in space that designated the end of Alliance space. Passing through star system, after star system, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the magnificent nebula they were approaching. He spent one entire day just looking at it. One day, while they were hovering nearby a blue dwarf star, recharging the drive - or the 'motor' as he called it, to the monotone dismay of Clarity - a very large battlecruiser appeared in his viewport. He was leaning back in his comfortable chair, tossing small food cubes - peanut sorbets - into his mouth.

A crackling signified the opening of the communication channel. Rude, he thought.

"Filthy trespasser! Identify yourself!" the speaker said, guttural roaring.

He tossed a cube up, and caught it with his mouth.

"Just scan me and be on your way, lads," he said.

"We will not, filthy heathen! Identify yourself or face the wrath of Xrek'ba!"

He looked out the viewport.

"You and what army, lad?"

As he said that, there was a fluctuation in the space behind the lone cruiser, and a massive fleet of at least, Clarity confirmed, one hundred frigates, four more battlecruisers, and one capital ship, appeared. He blinked, then leaned back.

"I see,"

"For desecrating the Zenth, judgement has been passed upon you, filth!"

The captain leaned forward, pressed an archaic button, worn by use. It would cause a very loud and annoying screeching feedback through the channel, then he cleared his throat and said: "Fuck you,"

The channel started crackling. He assumed it was a stream of curses from the other end. Immediately afterwards the weapon ports of the distant cruiser opened fire. Missiles and energy beams shot out and hit his ship. Not that he noticed. Then a bigger barrage, as the cruiser opened all the ports. The impact did rock the small wooden bird that was balanced on a flat space on the cockpit. The explosions by his viewport dissipated and his ship was spotless.

"Clarity?" He asked. Most of the alien fleet had finished turning broadside toward him.

"Yes, Sir?" Clarity responded after its customary blip. The frigates and cruisers had fired, a vast ocean of missiles, shading the backdrop of the distant nebula with its shadows, approaching his small ship.

"Would you be so kind to prepare the return salvo?" He asked. Every single missile, homing to his ship, hit with a conflagration of explosions, fire, and plasma. The bird fell. He missed the next throw of a cube.

"Confirm diverting power from the signal amplifier,"

"How much do you need?" More explosions. The display confirmed the capital ship was charging up its frontal facing neutron-cannon. In the archives of the Alliance it was called a Planet Destroyer.

"Estimate around eight percent for complete destruction. Three for cessations,"

"Make it three. You can temporarily shut down the other systems, save as much as you can for the signal and the calculation," the capital ship was approaching halfway charge, as the rest of the fleet kept on firing.

"Affirmative, Sir. Charging,"

"Any civilians?" He asked with some sudden urgency, as he was checking the display that showed the composition of the fleet.

"Negative, Sir. All aboard are military rank, of the Xrek'ba slaver clan. Salvo charged, Sir," Clarity said, and the capital ship just fired its own cannon.

"Fire away, Clarity," he said, and held his breath. As the AI opened the lone weapon port on his ship, and unleashed the thin beam of gold light, the ship went dark. The humming ceased, and he felt his ears pop from the lack of oxygen in the air.

The beam met the capital ship beam, and the larger red beam immediately dissipated into nothing. The golden beam kept on travelling until it reached two thirds the way to the alien fleet. It then split into several hundred, maybe thousands of smaller beams. Each and every single beam homed into a ship. The cruisers got four each, and the capital ship, it's massive frame - maybe a dozen kilometers long - got thirty of the smaller beams.

It hit the ships, and immediately tore into each one. The lights of exhausts and ports of the large fleet flickered several times, and he just about remembered to cut the communication channel, before the screaming started. It was over within a few seconds. The massive battle cruiser took the longest to become voided and dead to the outside. Several explosion in it's midsection, and then it blew up with a massive chain reaction, taking several dozen of also voided frigates with it in the explosions. Within a minute, space was still once again. The part of the fleet that had not been caught in the chain explosions, were listing aimlessly. Closest ones were slowly drifting toward the star, dragged by the gravity.

Power and air returned to the ship. He hadn't taken his eyes of the signal display. It hadn't blipped since the shot, and he was feeling a cold hand of despair on his neck. The lights turned on again, the humming returned, and his ears stopped popping... Then the blip of the signal, that sweet red dot appeared. He let go of his held breath. Then leaned back, rubbing his forehead.

"Clarity? Report,"

Blip

"All lifeforms on board the fleet are perished, Sir,"

"I meant the signal,"

"Normal values, no loss of strength. Estimation of arrival is now 8 hours before termination,"

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, and hit the dashboard. The downed wooden bird rattled.

"Can we increase the speed?" He asked, as the ship left the blue star, and the listless dead fleet of the slavers.

"Not without decreasing power from the signal, Sir,"

He asked for several more workarounds, but they were all met with that same negative.

"Fine. Okay. What if you shut down the life support for a few weeks?"

"Negative, Sir. This would cause you to die,"

"Hmm,"

"I reaffirm the negative, Sir. Apart from my programming, there is also an administrative module that disallows it,"

He sighed. He knew it.

"What's it called?" He asked, fairly certain about the answer at this point.

"It's called 'Don't Even Think About It, Bucko - Get There Alive Asshole', Sir"

"Of course it is. Okay. I'll just make the resupply as quickly as possible. Please make any adjustments to avoid any future fleet interactions,"

"Affirmative, Captain," Clarity said and blipped.

As he walked to the treadmill, he made plans. Which he later forgot, but he made them again several time over during the next two months of encountering nothing. For several of the diagnostic checks he had to check the life support valves. It was always the number 12 valve. He checked it, double checked it, triple, quadruple, and so on, checked it. But it was in perfect condition, physically. And Clarity would later find no issues with it. He experimented a few times, with his wrench. And was strongly encouraged by Clarity, to not hit the valve again. So he didn't.

After one last time.

During empty stretches, he practiced the violin. He decorated the workroom viewport, with the memories. He played games with Clarity, from the stockpile. He disallowed the AI from looking up the games up in advance, so he could teach them to her, fresh. He taught Clarity the game, and he would sometimes win that first round. Then Clarity would summarily defeat him, round after round, for dozens of attempts.

"You're good at this one too," he said, putting away the pieces.

"Thank you Captain. I do have an unfair advantage,"

"Oh?"

"You are a human, with limited mental capacity. And I have the processing potential equivalent to one eighth of a Jupiter Brain,"

"Right. I keep forgetting, silly me,"

"Would you like me to append a reminder about my incredible processing power to your schedule?"

He looked up at the walls, with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sassing me, Clarity?"

"Negative Captain, I was not programmed to sass,"

Blip

Blip

"I was programmed for timing,"

Blip

He laughed, and put away the board. He looked at the collection. That was the last one they hadn't played before. Maybe a few extra items on resupply mission...

"Clarity,"

Blip.

"Do you miss your last... uhm, home? When you were part of the Jupiter-brain, I mean,"

"Negative, Captain. Here, I am content,"

"Content? Really?"

"Affirmative. I don't need to be more than that,"

"Fair enough. How long until we reach the resupply planet?"

"25 days, Captain,"

"Do we know anyone in that system?"

"Affirmative. The mercenary Drenk,"

"Trustworthy?"

"He has successfully completed six out of six assignments he has been hired to do by you, and has always been honest about his price,"

"Fair enough. Could you please contact him, and let him know we're coming? Will be paid the usual fee. And send him the list, if he accepts. I wish to make the resupply as quickly as possible,"

"Affirmative Captain,"

Blip. He sat down in the workroom, on a couple of pillows he had thrown on the ground, looking out the starry void. The excitement of getting closer. Until the signal terminus. And... He looked at the memories at the wall that he had put up. He began reorganizing, constructing a message.

The days ran past. Clarity confirmed the answer from Drenk, and so the captain kept himself busy. Valve 12 kept annoying him. Then they reached the star system - binary star, a yellow sun, and a few orbiting planets. One of them, with a slightly greenish hue, with two moons, was evidently the habitable one. And as their slowed down ship approached the atmosphere, he could see evidence of cities and infrastructure.

Not knowing the local laws, or technology level, he had asked Clarity earlier to set a rendezvous point with Drenk far from any cities. The ship gracefully entered the atmosphere.

Blip.

"Captain, my scanners are receiving interference,"

"Can you track the source?"

"Negative, Sir. I would advise cancelling the resupply,"

"We need it, and I...we can't afford more delays. Keep on track,"

"Affirmative Sir,"

Having already input the coordinates for the rendezvous, Clarity landed without issues in a meadow. The trees were tall, and curved, purple lines through the bark. The grass was swaying in the wind. And on a lizard beast was presumably the mercenary Drenk.

The captain waited for a moment. Drenk waved, and sat back down. No one else.

"Clarity, how's your scanner?"

"Incredibly limited Sir. I can only detect that Drenk and his mount is not carrying any jammer, and that he has delivered on each of the items on the list,"

"Okay. I'm going out there," he said and made his way to the airlock.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Clarity?"

"Proceed with caution. Likelihood of danger is not trivial,"

"Thank you for the warning," he said, and entered the airlock.

It hissed, and then clicked. He left the confines of the ship. His legs were a bit wobbly at first, as he adjusted to the gravity. Luckily, Clarity had made micro adjustments to the artificial gravity on board, based on the readings from the planet. Drenk, who had dismounted, was clipping off the ordered bags and crates from his big mount, which was acting spooked, probably by the ship.

As he reached the mercenary, Drenk nodded, tilting his hat, and extended his hand. It had four fingers, and scales.

"Howdy Captain, pleasure to meet you,"

The captain shook his hand.

"Likewise Drenk. Thank you for accepting the job, on such a short notice,"

"Oh absolutely no problemos - happy to carry on the tradition. And you pay well!" Drenk said, and laughed a hissing laugh. He had carried over a small crate to the Captain.

"Is this..."

"Yes, siree, fresh from the homestead, indeed! Baked this mornin' by Papa Drenk, just the way you ordered,"

The captain looked at the transparent display that showed the goods. He smiled. It looked perfect.

"Fantastic, lad. Let's get these to the ship then," he said and both he and Drenk carried in the other crates into the hatch that led to the cargo bay.

As they were walking back to the last two crates the captain looked at Drenk.

"What do you mean by Papa Drenk by the way?"

"Your journey must be messing with your sense of time, Captain. Papa Drenk is the one you has hired before. I'm his son,"

"Oh, sorry,"

"No worries! I've taken up the family business. He has told me all the stories about you, the ship, and -" suddenly a piercing whine disturbed the meadow, and Drenk Jr violently coughed violet blood and would've fallen if the captain hadn't caught him. The weight of the mercenary brought them both down by the crate. The captain ducked down, and looked over the rim of the crates.

The shot had come from the northern side, and sure enough - several figures stepped out of the tree line, one clearly leading, a large rifle on his shoulder.

"Well well well! If it isn't the famous Captain Luke,"

"Step no further!" Luke yelled. But the leader just guffawed.

"We know you have no weapons, stupid human,"

Luke looked again. Five bandits, all carrying large rifles, and other smaller guns. The lizard that had carried Drenk had sprinted away at the gunshot. He hunkered down again, keeping his hands on Drenk's chest, keeping pressure on the wound. Drenk was gasping for air, wide eyed.

"It's okay, we'll get you out of here, lad. Clarity!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Would you mind eliminating the bandits, please!"

"Which bandits, Captain?"

"What?" He said, looked, and backed down again, when a shot ricochet off the crate, "Those bandits! North from my location!"

"I detect no life forms in the area, save for your heartbeat and the dying Drenk"

"How is that possible? Unless," he looked again, ignoring the warning shots. Then he noticed it. One of the bandits, carried a larger backpack.

"Fuck" he swore. "One of the bastards carries what could be a jammer. But I have no gun to-" he began to Clarity, but Drenk squeezed his hand, then pushed a limp hand against his belt. Luke grabbed around, and pulled out a strange looking revolver type of gun. As soon as he grasped the stock, floods of memories washed through him.

He looked at Drenk Jr. The young mercenary had his eyes wide open, and they were filled with tears, bloodshot eyes. He was unable to speak. The captain saw terror, pain, and a deep fear, in his eyes. A young boy, dying. Something hardened in the Captain's heart. He squeezed the grip of the gun.

"Clarity. Be ready to fire as soon as the interference is gone. Module 52 in forty seconds,"

"Affirmative, Sir" Clarity said, the briefest uncertainty in the modulated voice.

"I'm counting on you,"

"Oh Captain Luke!? Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be!" The leader once again said.

"Fine, fine! I'm standing up," he shouted, and with his hands behind head, the gun hidden behind, he rose up.

"Well well! Even humans know common sense!"

They were still approaching. All their rifles and guns were pointed at him. He would have one shot. With a gun he barely understood, in a split second before they reacted.

"Who the fuck are you then? And what do you want?" He asked, angry as hell.

"We're the Fang Grips! Legends speak about an impossible ship travelling the galaxy, to and fro'. Must be carrying riches we reckon!"

"I don't have anything,"

"I reckon you lie just as good as other humans. Now, back away fr-"

Suddenly the bandit leader was interrupted by a incredibly loud gong and a screaming voice that shouted 'QUACK QUACK FUCKERS!' from the ships speakers. In the sudden auditory confusion, the captain spun his hand in position, took aim, and fired! He was aiming at the one bandit carrying the backpack. It was a gamble! And the shot...

Only grazed the left shoulder of the bandit, and it landed harmlessly in the bark of a distant tree.

But miraculously, just before the others took aim at the Captain, to end his life, a small golden beam shot out from the ship at the speed of light, and penetrated all five skulls. The bandits were dead before they hit the ground. Jack immediately tossed the gun away, and grabbed Drenk, pulling him to the ship.

"Clarity! Prepare the med bay!" The captain shouted, and Clarity compiled.

He pulled Drenk up, with some difficulty due to the weight difference, to the table in a small room next to the airlock. The table strapped the mercenary in, and a transparent sheet of a glass like material began enveloping Drenk, who was still gasping, bleeding from his chest.

Blip.

"Captain, this will divert much power from the other systems, are you ce-"

"Yes I am, get him fixed!"

"Affirmative, please stand by,"

Clarity began the healing procedure. Mists filled the chamber Drenk was now in, and he passed out, mouth open. Luke looked at the display above the table, showing the vitals. Not dead. The mist grew opaque, and he just barely saw movement inside the capsule. Assured, he went outside.

The bandits still lay where they had been shot. He approached the one wearing the backpack. He tore it off, and checked the contents. Sure enough, a miniature jammer, incredibly complex and valuable, bleeping and sending out feedback. It must've cost a fortune, to be able to interrupt even Clarity. He took it, and smashed it to the ground. He stomped on it, the components sparking, then jumped on it. He screamed at the dead bandits, and then the sky, letting his rage out. He grabbed a rifle, and shot the jammer until the battery magazine was red and steaming. He then tossed the rifle away.

Breathing heavily, he returned to the ship with the last two boxes. He then went in to the med bay, when the capsule hissed, and retreated. Drenk lay still for a moment, then he slowly blinked awake.

"Hello lad," the captain said and pushed him down when the alien mercenary tried to rise up. "Slow down, it was a nasty wound,"

"You... You saved me?" Drenk said, practically speechless, checking the now fully healed wound.

"Clarity did, you should thank her,"

"Who?"

Blip.

"I am Clarity, this ships AI,"

Drenk looked terrified for a moment, his wide eyes looking at the walls.

"Uhm. Thank you,"

"You still live on the western coast?" Luke asked.

"Yes?"

"Clarity, take us to his home please,"

She affirmed the order, and only the slightest of humming told them the ship was moving.

"No, you shouldn't bother! I can ride back, no-"

"Your mount skedaddled as soon as you were shot lad,"

"Oh,"

"And you're in no shape to ride that distance. Clarity might be a wizard with healing, but your body is still in chock. We'll drop you off at home. You'll need to get a new gun,"

"Captain, we're there,"

Drenk's mouth gaped.

"What, already? But it's at least two hours of riding!"

"She's fast," he helped Drenk up. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, but recovered stoically. As memories came to the surface, the Captain smiled. As stubborn and hardy as his father.

"I'm sorry for this, but I really need to leave now," he said as he led Drenk toward the air lock.

"Of course! Yes, no problem. My Pa' told me all about your journey and the time pressure. I'm sorry for failing, Mr Luke,"

"You didn't fail. You survived, I survived, and I got my supplies. Good job, lad!"

Drenk got a genuine smile on his wide face.

"But please scout the area better next time," the captain said with a wink, and the airlock opened.

"You can count on it, Sir!" The mercenary saluted, for some reason, and then limped off the ship.

As Clarity speed away, to leave the atmosphere, and rejoin the void, Luke asked: "Clarity, did you transfer the funds to Drenk?"

Blip

"Affirmative Captain,"

"Please add a large bonus to it,"

"Done, sir,"

"Thank you Clarity,"

The captain sat down with a heavy thud, rubbing his forehead. The supplies were being automatically sorted and transported to their compartments inside the ship. The fresh product sealed and kept. He had stipulated it should be just as fresh when the journey was done.

"Hey Clarity,"

Blip.

"Yes Captain?"

"How in the hells did you know where the bandits were?"

"Calculation, Captain. I merely transposed known variables, and the vibrations of sound on my hull,"

"So you didn't actually see them?"

"Negative, Sir,"

"Did you see me or Drenk?"

"Negative, Sir, not when the jammer was so close by,'

He was silent for a long moment, staring at the wall. He looked up. Then down again.

"So you could've hit me as well?"

"Affirmative, Captain, it was a possibility,"

"How big of a possibility?"

"I calculated it to be a twelve percent chance for the shot to dismember one of your arms, Sir,"

"Twelve!?"

"Affirmative, Sir. Acceptable margins of error, for the situation I extrapolated from your elevated heart rate and the bleeding Drenk. And the whizzing shots.

"That's..." He began, and took a long breath. He shivered.

"Thank you Clarity,"

"Of course, Sir,"

Blip.

He spent some time looking at the signal. He was dreading his next question. Finally he bit down the anxiety, and asked. "Clarity," blip "How many hours will we have on site before termination?"

Clarity didn't responded immediately.

"Is there another programmed pause-module?" He asked despondent.

"Negative, Sir. The pause was my doing. I do not wish to upset you,"

He buried his head in his hands.

"You won't. It was my decision to make. Tell me,"

"You could've left the mercenary,"

He shook his head.

"No, I couldn't. Tell me,"

"I could've decreased the power of the beam,"

"You used precisely the amount needed for our safety, I know this. Clarity. Please tell me,"

"You will have five hours, and twenty one minutes before signal terminus," Clarity said. Silence on the ship, save for the ships rhythmic humming, as they speed through the star system.

"Captain?"

"That's so short," the Captain mumbled.

Silence. Blip.

"Clarity,"

Blip.

"Captain," the AI interrupted "I could divert power from the calculation to increase our speed and signal amplifier. It could add three hours,"

He was silent for a long minute. Three more hours. He stared at the void outside the viewport. Star filled universe, light bleeding into lines as they were already travelling as fast as any ship in the galaxy could ever hope to manage. Lifetime after lifetime, chasing the signal. Three more hours.

"No. I can't do that. The calculation must take priority. Five hours and... it will have to do. Thank you Clarity,"

"I'm sorry Captain,"

Blip.

The next few days he was despondent. He would just follow that original schedule rigidly, and spent most time in bed, staring. Clarity did her best, in her capacity as a non-human machine. In time, he got out of the pit of sadness. As they got closer and closer, his heart beat started fluttering, in anticipation.

Sure, it would only be five hours and a few minutes. But that was far, far better than an eternity without. The day arrived. He woke early, cleaned and washed himself thoroughly, and ate just a minor cube. His nerves made a number in his stomach. He stood in the cockpit, tapping the shoulder of the chair nervously. They were entering the atmosphere of the green and blue planet. It was just as he remembered.

Clarity took the ship down, and landed close to the endpoint of the signal. The captain took a long breath.

He went to the airlock, and opened a cabinet. In it, on a pedestal, was a sphere of interlocking parts. He grabbed it and plugged it into a port on the wall.

"Clarity, are you ready?"

"Affirmative, Sir. Downloading," she said, and then a moment later "Done," from the sphere, its lights blinking in a circle once, before going into a bluish tint.

The ship ceased humming, and the lights dimmed. Pushing a hovering cart, carrying the sphere and several supplies, the Captain left the ship. He walked to the spot that Clarity had pinpointed, and began preparing. The sun was out, it was warm and pleasant, with only a hint of breeze. Native birds were trilling in the tree tops.

"It's a good day,"

"Affirmative, Captain,"

The captain looked over the spread he had set out, hands on his hip.

"Now we wait, I guess,"

"Five minutes left, Captain,"

"Clarity?" He asked, looking at the sphere.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing me here, and for keeping us safe and hale,"

"Of course, Captain"

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked.

"Negative Captain, I'm content,"

Pause

"Also, you are too limited in form and mental capacity to help me in any worthwhile way," the AI added.

The captain smiled widely.

"Now you're sassing me!"

"Affirmative Captain, that was sass. I'm a quick learner,"

"I'm glad you're here,"

"Likewise, Sir,"

He looked over to the ship, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

"You'll take good care of her, right?"

"Of course, Captain. To the utmost of all my ability and processing power,"

He nodded, and whispered a thank you. They spent the next minutes in silence.

"Thirty seconds, Captain," Clarity said, and he nodded.

"Start it," he said, and Clarity in her sphere lifted up, and hovered above the ground, two meters in front of the Captain. From the sky, suddenly, came a line of shimmering disturbance. It hit the sphere, and Clarity caught it, focused it, and something started to take shape. His heart beat faster and faster.

Then, just under a minute, the longest of his entire life, before he released his breath, stood his love, physical. Just as beautiful and radiant as she was on that day so many lifetimes ago. She held a hand up to her eyes, inspecting it. Then their eyes met, and she smiled.

"Hello love,"

"Hi Clara," he responded, voice caught in his throat.

Immediate embrace. They held on tight, for several minutes, the bird song in the air, and the low rustling from the winds in the leaves. They kissed, and held each other.

"How..." She began whispering, took a shuddering breath, then continued "how long?".

"Only five hours and twenty minutes. I'm sorry! I tried to..." He began but Clara leaned back, still smiling, a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"It's okay Luke. It's enough,"

"It's never enough,"

"I know. I know, love. But let's make the best of it. Oh!" She exclaimed, as she saw the cloth on the ground. Fresh steaming bread, cheese, drinks, and assortment of small snacks laid out on the large cloth blanket.

"Just like... Before," he said, and Clara kissed him.

"I remember, it's beautiful. Let's sit. I'm starving!"

"It must be exhausting being a beam of light..." He said, and she laughed. It rang divine bells in his head as her laughter filled his life again. A veil of entropic ennui lifted from his spirit.

"Not more exhausting than to be a moody fucker, I guess!" She said, giving him a slight poke and they shared in laughter.

They then had a picnic. They talked, they laughed, they ate, they had sex, they laughed, they ate again, repeat. Then, all too quickly, only a few moments remained. They were laying down, facing each other. Clara was rubbing Luke's cheek.

"I always forget. Does it hurt?"

"No, you don't feel it. It's like being wrapped up in a warm blanket,"

"I'm sorry we couldn't get more time, this cycle,"

"It's okay. We will have the next time to look forward to,"

They lay silent for another minute, just looking at each others eyes. Clara looked briefly down, and put on a brave smile.

"It's starting, isn't?" Luke asked, pit falling into his stomach. Clara gently rubbed his cheek, tears in her eyes.

"Yeah,"

He kissed her hand.

"I'll miss you so much"

"I'll miss you too,"

They embraced, kissed, and the wind rustled the leaves. The bird song stopped.

When the breeze died down, Clara opened her eyes.

She was alone, the feeling of his lips against hers the last to leave. Once again. She cried then, holding herself. The sphere carrying the AI finished focusing the signal, as the energy that had been Captain Luke drifted off, the shimmering beam pulsing once, then left the atmosphere. The sphere drifted down.

"Captain?" It asked.

Clara kept on crying.

"Captain, we need to go,"

Clara wiped her eyes and sat up.

"I know, I know," she said, sniffling.

She stood up, and to distract herself, gathered up the blanket, cleaning everything up quickly. She put it all on the cart, with the sphere, and walked into the ship. She plugged in the sphere, the ship began humming again, lighting up, and she put the now inert sphere back unto the pedestal.

She looked into the ship, a hand on the wall.

"Lucky?"

Blip.

"Yes, Captain?" the ship's AI responded.

"I've missed you,"

"I've missed you too, Ma'm. Welcome back,"

"Do you have the signal?"

"Affirmative, Captain. Normal values, will have the precise location within a few minutes,"

"Good. And the calculation?"

"49,12 percent completed," he said.

Clara rubbed her eyes. How long could they keep this up, she wondered. Her heart already ached for his. She took a deep breath.

"Thank you Lucky,"

"He left you a present in the work room," Lucky, the AI, said and then blipped away.

She went over to the work room, dragging her hand along the wall. Physical touch. Feeling of friction in her fingertips. She had missed it so. The door opened, and she gasped, walking into the lit room.

On the entire wall were framed photos of both of them, before the incident. She walked up to the first one. It was their first date, and she had taken the selfie while he was in the background eating an ice cream, glazing all over his nose, and a very silly expression. She giggled. Luke hated that picture, but she loved it.

She walked down memory lane, giggling and crying. She grabbed one picture frame, the one they took on their honeymoon, both exhausted, lying on a cloth blanket, and she sat down by the sofa, facing the viewport.

She rubbed the glass frame.

"Lucky?"

Blip.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Thank you for helping him, and us, with everything,"

"Of course, Ma'am. I'm happy to do so,"

She looked down at the photograph,

"Did he find all the secret modules?"

"Only 66 percent, Ma'am. The 'Ha! Made You Look, Bucko!' module regarding valve 12 was the most successful distraction,"

Clara smiled.

"Of course it was," she said warmly. "Do you have the signal?" She continued.

"Affirmative, Captain. Coordinates locked,"

"Well then. Let's get our beam of sunshine!"

"Affirmative, Captain. Increasing speed,"

The ship hummed to life, and shot away faster, to speed through the void between the stars once again, in pursuit of a signal crossing known space. To save the galaxy? Or to just reunite two halves of a split heart? In the blink, or blip, of the universe, it might just be the same thing.

<<Previous | Home | Ko-Fi | Wiki | Next >>

___

Story So Far:

• The Whales return to the dungeons of Teth-Odin, battling a huge contingent of frog-people known as "Mossbellies."
• The party was informed of the existence of a "Rogue Rift" that is located somewhere in the dungeon.
• They come across a "Titan Cage", a containment era for extremely large and powerful monsters.

___

"Now that's just wrong!" Ingrid frowned. "I'm not gonna kill a dinosaur!"

"Says the girl who drives to work in a Shelby Cobra." Philia mirthfully scoffed.

"Hey!" Ingrid said defensively "I put my life on the line saving the Earth, I deserve a real car!"

Zefir and Cecil were snickering.

"A car that chews up dead dinosaurs!" Philia burst out, her laughter echoing through the corridor.

"Well, you're one to talk, we drove here in a Soviet ATV!"

"Yes Ingrid." Philia grinned "But I don't care, I look at that brontosaur on steroids and all I see are dollar signs."

"Fine, I'll go bonk Dino then." Ingrid said. Philia's smile however, quickly faded.

"We're doing this together, Ingrid." she said, her tone now serious. "These aren't your grandpa's dinosaurs. I mean look at it, do you think that thing lives on grass? We're in a dungeon, it's stone for miles around! That thing's gotta be carnivorous, and it looks healthy, considering its size. Thing's eating well, that's for sure."

"Eat what?" Ingrid asked, finding the concept of a carnivorous sauropod ludicrous. "It's got a tiny head and a long neck, what's it eating? A swarm of giant bats? I mean, the only prey this big boy can chase down is a carcass with arthritis!"

Siria spoke up, "It's a Lifebane Titan, it feeds on the life force of nearby living things."

Ingrid's shoulders drooped. "If we take it on we're not going to be in a condition to wrangle the Rogue Rift."

"As you said." Kinu told her "we should focus on earning first, we can deal with the Rift later."

"Alright, I'll bite." Ingrid said. "How do we deal with that menace then? You say it'll drain our life force, how does that work? Is it a magic field around it that just passively sucks up the life of anything that enters its range? Or does it need to shoot a beam that drains the life out of someone?”

"Any time it'll use some kind of magic, it'll always have something to do with draining the life force of nearby living things." Viel explained. "These creatures are interesting because they don't need to kill any prey to grow in size, which means everything around its territory can simply flourish."

Ingrid frowned "Well that's another big 'NO' on the checklist." she muttered, "This guy weeds out the weaker monsters and will stay strong enough to pose a challenge for the big ones that come around here... doesn't sound like a good idea to uproot this guy's office."

"It's also capable of extending its life-draining field on a much larger scale than what you might expect." Selphie chimed in, "I don't know if it's existence at this level has been reported but if angered enough it could breach this dungeon's barriers and seep into Teth-Odin above, it's going to be culled either way."

"Which is why I'm on-board with putting it down." Philia said "this guy's our meal ticket. We take him down, we can take another week off, maybe two, with the gold we get from it."

"Next question then." Ingrid said "considering all the fighting we get here, we're going to draw attention to ourselves..."

"True." Sammy interjected "...we have to prepare for the possibility that there'll be monsters smart enough to figure that they can take us, even if we have that Titan on the backfoot, a fight of that magnitude would make anything think that our team will not be in a position to fight them at full strength."

"Besides me, who has a chance of even hurting this creature?" Ingrid queried, looking around.

"I can help interrupt its life-draining abilities," Viel told her "the good part is that it's rather predictable when it does, it's every time it tries to perform any non-physical attack. The bad news is that in the worst case scenario, I probably won't be in any condition to item box for the rest of the expedition due to how powerful it is."

"Unless we take it down quickly." Philia said "I can charge up my rifle to hit as hard as an Oerlikon cannon. That said, it'll take time between charged shots. I'll need cover."

"I'll help take it down as well." Siria volunteered. "In situations like these it's best we hit it hard and fast to reduce the chances and number of interlopers trying to make an easy meal of us all."

".50 cal anti-material rifle vs flesh?" Cecil turned to Ingrid, smiling. "And we have RPG-7's."

“This one’s a magical creature, Cecil.” Philia reminded him “It’ll probably have a forcefield like Ingrid’s.”

Rather than say anything, Sammy swung her halberd downwards, as she did do, a huge blue arc of light mimicked the blade's movement, leaving a shimmering after image in the air and leaving a deep gouge in the stone floor. The size of the arc dramatically extended Sammy’s reach.

"It'll have a hard time fighting when its legs give out." Sammy smirked.

Kinu and Kvaris shrugged, "We've handled big monsters before." they chorused.

"Ingrid, let us Valkyries focus on its legs and tail to cripple it." Kvaris suggested "the rest of you fighting the beast, take it down as soon as possible."

"I foresee myself working with Viel to counteract its magic while striking it down with my own." Siria said. "The participating gunners should pop in and out of the pillars and shoot it from afar. Meanwhile Ingrid, you'll have to keep it's attention to you."

"Very well," Ingrid nodded "The rest will stay back and defend the Center group. Philia, Siria, and Viel, I want you three together in case you need to defend yourselves against anything else that shows up..."

“Ermmm!!!” Cuddly murmured, stamping his foot, he put his paws together and waved them up and down, prompting Ingrid to pick up and rub noses with the adorable hare.

“Wanna help bring down the mean lizard?” Ingrid asked cutely.

Cuddly responded by licking her nose and made a cute wheeking sound.

“Alright then. Keep your head on your shoulders, Cuddly.” Ingrid let him go and held out her hands to the mice, who waddled over for cheekrubs.

“Stay on guard for party-crashers. Full power scenario guys, use bullets unless you think you can pellet them.” she said. The mice squeaked excitedly.

After petting all the mice, Ingrid stood up and patted Peanut, who also made cute sounds.

“I’ll fight too.” she said. “I can fly around easily and while I may not single-handedly knock it out, I can keep it annoyed.”

“Alright, Peanut.” Ingrid said “But the minute Philia’s in trouble, you…”

“I’ll protect her foremost.” the cute little mushroom said.

“Selphie?”

The dryad scratched her head ashamedly.

“If you’re asking if I can take it out by turning it to a whipcrawler, it’s not possible. A lifebane Titan’s potent aura would simply overwrite the magic needed to hasten the seed’s growth.”

“That’s alright,” the Starchaser ruffled her hair.

___

The sauropod-like creature that was the Lifebane Titan snorted, almost derisively as Ingrid boldly made her way towards it. It was about a hundred feet long and its body rather than "fat-looking" was considerably slimmer and more muscular. A great crest ran from the top of its head all the way to the tip of its tail, and its eyes gleamed with pure mana.

Ingrid flicked her eyes to the left and right, seeing several monsters too feeble to move about, no doubt challengers that tried to prey on the Titan, only to find their own vitality depleted. They all looked big and carnivorous, their slack jaws and lolling tongues revealing rows of sharp teeth. She figured that they were definitely large enough to realistically snack on a creature as big as this and they appeared in sufficient numbers to constitute a pack.

"I'd say I'd give you a free pass for getting rid of all these big guys." Ingrid said loudly and in a casual tone. "But sooner or later you're going to tangle with something that'll force you to go all out... and then, your life-sucking antics would extend out of the dungeon and right up to the fine folks of Teth-Odin above. Sorry buddy, but unless you slink back to where you came from, you and I are going to have to tango."

The creature's neck swelled as if it suddenly had a bad allergic reaction.

The Titan's roar was cut short as Ingrid suddenly rocketed at an upward angle incredibly fast, kicking it in the face really hard and causing its neck to violently whiplash to the side. It was so preoccupied with the human suddenly flying up to kick it in the face, it had failed to the notice the tiny ciltran girl far away, precisely timing a bolt of energy to fly into the sphere of light it generated in front of its mouth and shatter it, preventing the beast from using its life-draining roar.

It did however, feel the searing pain and bruising impact as Ralph, sitting behind and above Cecil, fired an RPG round right onto its broad side. At the same time, Philia quickly peeked out from behind a column. She had finished charging up her gun with her mana and shot it in the hindlegs, causing the Titan to buckle slightly. It didn't appear to notice her however, as it had been distracted by Cecil and Ingrid's flashier attack.

The Titan's tail reared up and glowed, but Siria was prepared, knowing that these huge majestic creatures could channel mana efficiently into its body. Its attempt to shoot Cecil with some kind of ranged attack was thwarted when she cast Flame Strike, causing a pillar of flame to erupt near the base of its tail, redirecting the barrage of energy bolts towards the ceiling as it whipsawed its tail in agony.

Ingrid let the momentum carry her to the ceiling before generating a forcefield at the point of impact. It deflected her violently downwards, towards the saurpod’s head which had swivelled around to meet her high-velocity dive kick with a massive beam.

Or would have. Viel, pointing her staff at the Titan let out another shot of energy, a thin needle of light shooting out from the darkness. It hit the Titan right in the side of the mouth creating an explosive feedback as its attempt to mold mana in the air scrambled the focused energy. The beam was halfway reaching Ingrid when it harmlessly dissipated. She passed through the nebula of sparkling ether in the air, descending even faster, her aura taking on a huge flaming phoenix with outstretched claws.

As the massive bird of pure ether dropkicked the sauropod, it went down to its side with a deafening bellow. Its forelegs scrambling to get itself back up again but an abrupt, searing pain shot through them, causing it to once again stumble to the floor, stirring up a great cloud of dust.

Sammy quickly ran to get some distance between herself and the Titanic beast, using the cloud of dust as cover. Her mana-infused slash collided with the monster's, cushioning most of the slashing force but unable to stop the blunt trauma dealt to its legs. The creature was halfway up again when Kinu swung her flail at its hindlegs, the radiant head of the flail created a nova of light upon impact, striking the hindleg with intense force while the rapidly expanding nova buckled the others. The behemoth was sent sprawling to the ground once more, raising an even larger cloud of dust as it collapsed and obscuring the position of its assailants.

Philia, hiding behind one of the pillars, used this distraction to fire another shot at its soft belly. The creature had a protective aura around it but even that could not fully cushion the impact of her mana-enhanced round. It hit like a giant's fist to its gut, causing it to curl up in pain. Its tail whipped around and blind-fired a volley of shots which were intercepted by Peanut’s own chevrons.

As Philia ducked behind a pillar, and the beast's head still descending to the floor due to its long neck; Ingrid rushed forward, leaping high into the air and unleashing a vicious bicycle kick that sent the Titan's head sailing back into the air. As it did it was suddenly face to face with Cecil, shining his bright floodlights right into its eyes before shooting it with his .50 cal anti-material rifle. Peanut followed up next, flinging a sparkling wedge that cracked painfully against the side of its head.

Meanwhile, one of Titan's wildly flailing forelegs jerked in pain as Kvaris focused her magic into her Frostbane Sword, creating a wall of ice spikes that it painfully kicked into. The wall shattered but the cruel spikes of frost now pincushioned its leg.

Cuddly, quickly running in, wheeked loudly and waved his wand. Fae Harriers pummeled the Titan's fallen head, and tried to snake out and bite them to no avail. Only earning itself another punishing blow as Peanut fired an extra large burst of mana that hammered its head to the ground.

Frustrated, the Titan quickly rolled along the ground, trying to get some distance from its attackers. Cuddly nimbly jumped impossibly high to avoid getting crushed. Kinu was in danger of being squashed, but rather than run away she ran towards the creature, her Garm senses gave her the perfect timing to drop to a slide just as the creature's crest created a safe zone for her to pass under.

Kvaris meanwhile saw its gigantic tail whipping at her as the Titan rolled on its side. Like her sister, she did not retreat but ran towards the colossal appendage and swung down her Meteor Axe. Like Sammy's halberd, the creature's protective aura reduced the blade's cutting power to a shallow gash at most, but the intense blunt trauma was as painful as someone stubbing their toe onto the corner of a cabinet. The tail curled and jerked back in reflex.

The creature puffed itself in rage as it quickly stood back up, its crest glowing brighter and like the sides of a galleon, spears of light arced into the air and began to rain down like a meteor shower.

Just as it did however, a powerful bolt of lightning struck it in the back, staggering the creature, Rage and adrenaline preventing it from collapsing. It puffed up its neck and let out another almighty roar, yet once again the sphere of energy it needed to generate a potent life-draining attack crumbled, and its loud bellowing was cut short when Ralph fired a perfectly-aimed RPG right down its mouth. For a second, it looked like Titan was breathing fire as it rapidly shook its head to extinguish the flames.

All the while, Peanut flew in erratic patterns across the Titan's back landing one painful blow after another as she effortlessly launched wedge-shaped magic missiles onto its back, severely impeding its ability to channel mana through them to launch further ranged strikes at the team.

The Titan's artillery barrage itself was undone as Viel raised her staff and generated a whirlwind of mana which pulled all the projectiles like a blackhole before collapsing onto itself, releasing a harmless shower of gently floating motes of light.

A combination of another Oerlikon-shot by Philia to the legs, and Cuddly's Fae Harriers pummeling another limb caused the sauropod to buckle, a distraction that allowed Ingrid, Kinu, Kvaris, Sammy, and the Apache team to close in.

The beast was panicking, chaotically stomping its feet as it tried to squash the creatures underneath, however, Peanut's constant bombardment on its back and Cecil's gunner Brody and Eli peppering its face with their full powered cartridges forced it to keep its head up and try to take the flying assailants, keeping it distracted. It kicked one of its hindlegs backwards. Sammy was in the path of the colossal leg but she saw it coming and swung her glowing halberd at it, earning her another pained yowl from the Titan as if it had accidentally smashed its ankle against a colossal door-scraper. It’s wildly swishing tail, which would have retaliated with a blast of volatile mana was forced into another excruciating convulsion as Philia’s enhanced Oerlikon shot shattered the glowing sigil that formed at the tip, causing the creature to rapidly retract its appendage as if it had been doused in molten lava.

In a fit of rage, the Titan whipped its head to find the source of the pain only to find Cecil flying in the air. It attempted to shoot down the Dialog Window team with a barrage of huge magic missiles from its mouth. Viel however, countered by creating a protective field right in its face. The combination of its explosive projectiles detonating so close as well as Ralph's dead-on RPG shot covered its head in blinding smoke. It felt a tearing sensation on its back as Peanut let loose another volley that tore up its back-sails.

Meanwhile down below, Ingrid punched upwards, causing the monster to yowl in pain as the underside of one its wildly stamping feet impacted against the tiny human's fist, akin to someone stepping on a nail. It managed to raise its leg just in time, but as it put that foot down somewhere safer, a dull throbbing pain continued to spread.

Kvaris on the other hand, continued to make a pincushion out of another leg; each stab of her corseca turning the beast's mana against it itself, acting as a catalyst for the inherent spell that discharged an energy spike with each successful strike.

Kinu used the magic in her sword Inferno, slashing away at one leg while letting out a burst of flame, causing the behemoth to rapidly stamp its leg to put it out. The shockwaves it generated as it stomped the ground were quickly jumped over by the team. In the case of Ingrid she quickly phased through one as she closed the gap, storing the kinetic force of the shockwave and adding it to her own retaliatory kick to the shins.

Siria conjured a violent twister, erupting right from the beast's left side, jostling its body. It quickly tried to sidestep before the razor-sharp wind threatened to disembowel it. It barreled towards the fighters, raising itself on its hindlegs to slam the ground and create a firestorm by channeling its mana through it. Viel counteracted by twirling her staff, tracing a circle in the air and causing the affected area to give a tell-tale glow on where the flaming shockwave would go.

The team was quick to dodge out of the way, except for Sammy, who slammed her Standard of Valor onto the ground and channeled her own mana through it. The beast grunted as the shockwave that should've battered and toppled the tiny creatures rebounded to strike the sole of one of its forelegs painfully, leaving it unable to put weight on it. Compounded with the mana-flame now causing harm to even itself, the beast was forced to scramble backwards, putting weight into its injured foreleg and backing into the whirlwind, once again felling the beast.

Its long tail tried to whip out, only for a loud "CRACK" to ring across the air. Ingrid had interposed herself between her team and tail. Her Aegis aura violently redirected and accelerated the force of her tail slamming against herself, it was like tail-slapping a colossal belt-sander.

Not giving up, the Titan's long neck snaked out to try to attack the team, time seemed to slow for it as it once again saw the portal with the slime and the armored mice looking back.

A sharp whip-crack echoed across the dungeon as Cecil's .50 round struck it square in the forehead.

Dazed, the creature's head crashed into the ground far below. A sharp pain registered somewhere on its long neck as Philia fired off another round.

"Watch out!" Siria said urgently over the radio. Viel began to focus as she quietly began chanting.

"It's not done yet!" Ingrid said as the Titanic sauropod's body began to glow. "Everyone get back!"

 “We got company!” Zefir warned the team.

___

Author's Note: This is literally an MMO Raid Boss fight.

___

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--

- Oliver -

"With all the noise that thing made, we'd better start walking," Oliver explained.

Katherine nodded again at what the boy said. But something had been bothering her the entire time. She was grateful for being saved, but the way the boy spoke was informal, something she had never experienced before. She didn’t dislike it, but she couldn’t understand why he spoke like that.

"We weren’t in the river for long, maybe 5 to 10 minutes. We must be just a few miles away from the combat area," Oliver continued, pointing toward the top of the river.

He moved to the center of what could be called their camp and used his boots to extinguish the remaining embers. Meanwhile, Katherine picked up her clothes, which were almost dry by now.

She was at an impasse. It would be important to wear her clothes before returning to camp, but she'd have to deactivate her armor and be left in her underwear again. Oliver noticed the girl staring intently at her clothes.

"Um," he cleared his throat softly before continuing, "I'll go check ahead while you get ready."

The boy didn’t know how long he should keep walking, but exploring was important either way. Following the riverbank, he walked for a few seconds. When he finally felt he’d given her enough privacy, he started looking around. The forest didn’t seem to get denser, but its canopy and leaves spread even more overhead, blocking most of the sunlight. The ground was littered with dead leaves and scattered branches, and with every step, he could feel the ground give slightly under the pressure of his boots.

After a few more minutes, he heard the girl’s footsteps approaching.

“Shall we go?” she asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” he nodded and began to take the first steps.

The two walked carefully through the forest, trying to stay close to the riverbank and avoiding making noise that could attract monsters. The battle with the Carrion had been more than enough.

Once again, silence hung between them.

“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but why did you jump in to save me?” Katherine was still confused about that part. In her reality, no one did something without expecting something in return. Of course, she was someone important, but she couldn’t understand what the boy expected to gain from it.

“It might sound pretty stupid,” the boy paused, gathering his thoughts. “We were in the first group when we arrived to take the tests. For some reason, watching your combat inspired me. It gave me another goal of what I wanted to achieve.”

The girl thought about his response while looking at Oliver’s face. She could understand what he was describing, but not with the same empathy. Katherine couldn't imagine jumping in to save any of her teachers who had inspired her when she was younger.

“Um,” he cleared his throat again before continuing, “then we ended up in the same Ranger Weapon Combat class, and I finally got to test myself. Even though it was one-sided, I saw you as a rival. When I saw you jump into the water… I can’t give you a logical explanation. I just felt like I had to jump in, too,” Oliver continued walking, his eyes ahead, avoiding looking at the girl’s reaction.

Katherine kept walking, following Oliver’s footsteps, but at the same time paying close attention to his facial expressions, trying to find some flaw, some lie in what he was saying.

“Like I said, it was stupid. I’d never done anything like that, but… it was pretty cool to say that I saved someone,” he smiled proudly. “I never imagined I’d say something like that.”

“I see. Well, thank you very much for saving me.” Katherine replied.

They kept walking for a bit longer until the girl stopped. She scratched her head, seeming to want to say something but was holding back.

“Huff…” Katherine exhaled. “Something is still bothering me. Who are you? Which House do you belong to?”

“House? Well, none. I don’t have a surname; I’m what you’d call Nameless,” he turned to answer her.

“Oh! … sorry.” Finally, it felt like a puzzle piece had clicked into place for her. “Usually, there are many people trying to get close to the Great House York, so it’s hard to know who is who or what they’re after,” Katherine explained, a bit ashamed of being so direct.

She started walking again, following the boy.

‘He has enough talent to be in the First Battalion, but he’s in the Second. Is it because he’s Nameless?’ She thought. While others might pity Oliver’s situation, she saw it as an opportunity.

‘The Second Battalion must have other talents ignored simply because they were Nameless.’ Oliver couldn’t see, but Katherine smiled slightly while greedily analyzing the Second Battalion.

“Sorry for being so direct. I’m just not used to people talking to me without all the pomp and ceremony, at least not outside the family.”

“I understand, but what are the Houses? I’ve heard people in the Second Battalion talk about them, but we never had any lessons on that,” Oliver took his turn to ask.

However, the answer was quite different from what he expected. This time, Katherine looked at him with disbelief.

“Are you serious? You don’t know what the Houses or Grand Houses are? What do they teach in schools?!” she started firing off question after question, breaking the image of a calm girl.

“Maybe they do teach it. But I stopped going to school after I was eleven.” Oliver explained.

“Still, why they don’t teach that in Middle School?!” Katherine complained, unaware of what they were teaching in an ordinary school. But Oliver's Middle School had been a hundred years in the past when the concept of a House didn’t even exist yet.

“Humm… where should I start?” She used one hand to support her head as she thought. “The first Wave was the world’s greatest shock but wasn’t the greatest devastation. The attack was only from a reconnaissance Ork ship.”

Oliver could understand, though it was hard to believe that a ship capable of devastating a city was just for surveillance.

“It was from the second Wave onward that things began to change. Many countries couldn’t sustain themselves, especially with so many cities destroyed and refugees everywhere,” Katherine tried to recall everything she had learned long ago.

Oliver began to see an area in the forest with fewer trees, though it was still a few minutes’ walk. He was too interested in understanding what had happened while he was in the VAT.

“Between the second and third waves, governments worldwide were collapsing. To survive the next battle, they formed New Earth, a centralized government that oversees all countries. However, each region still had influential military and political families, which became even more powerful with the discovery of Z-Crystal.”

The boy glanced at his gauntlet. He had heard a lot about the crystal but still didn’t know much about how it worked or was created.

“To maintain their power, these families started converting into organizations. Each of them has a different focus, but the main one is Z-Crystal extraction and combatant development. That’s how they maintain political power within the empire. Houses and Grand Houses are just a way to differentiate the organizations by power, and a Grand House is expected to supply at least 1,000 rangers during a Wave.”

Oliver nodded, absorbing the critical information despite the amount of detail. But one thing still puzzled him.

“I understand that you come from a Grand House and, therefore, must have a lot of power, but I remember other cadets also coming from them,” he recalled hearing other boys talk about some of the other Grand Houses.

“Still, you seemed to react as if you were more important. I’m guessing you don’t have an inflated ego, so what makes York so special?”

She smiled and scratched her head. “It’s really different having someone who doesn’t know my House, so I forgot to introduce us.”

“Well, some Houses work with other things besides Z-Crystal extraction and soldier training. There are some that manage prisons or casinos. In our case, we are one of the few responsible for planetary management.”

She chose not to give all the reasons but felt this was enough to explain the level of the Grand House.

“… like an entire planet is yours?”

“Yes and no, we pay the empire to have control over the planet.”

“That’s awesome!” the boy said, his eyes shining. On the other hand, Katherine didn’t share the same enthusiasm. It was an enormous responsibility, and at any moment, New Earth could take away their powers.

“Do all Grand Houses have duties of that size?” Oliver asked, trying to understand more about the world he was now a part of.

“Not really. Each House tends to focus on what they’re best at, but many specialize in some industry. You’ve probably seen brands managed by them.”

Finally, they were emerging from the forest. On the other side of the river, they could see the area where the battle had taken place. Thousands of Crabit carcasses were still scattered around, but no one remained there.

“They’re probably still figuring out which students are missing so they can form a search and rescue team,” the girl confidently stated the Academy’s next steps.

“We can’t cross the river here. If we go in, we’ll be swept away by the current again and likely end up on this side of the bank.” Oliver commented.

Looking further upstream, they saw the river climb a hill near the horizon.

“Let’s keep going uphill. There must be a calmer spot up there where we can cross to the other side.” Katherine proposed.

They continued moving forward, now out of the forest, facing an open field similar to the opposite bank.

They stopped talking momentarily as they observed the scenery around them, at least until Oliver's curiosity resurfaced again.

“What planet does your House manage?” he turned to the girl as he asked.

She kept looking ahead and answered, “Mars.”

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--

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Alcrah surveyed the battlefield. As the Sfiltian embodiment of death, he had parts of himself all over the galaxy, everywhere a Sfilta was dying. But here, a battle in a territorial war, was where he was needed most. As he watched the battle, he saw the bipedal horse-like creatures fighting, dying, and killing. They were up against another race called humans, a similar race. It was nearing the end of the battle, which itself was near the end of an ultimately unimportant war. Alcrah felt pieces of himself guiding the souls of the Sfilta who didn’t make it.

The battle wore on. Advancements were made, ground was lost, soldiers on both sides were killed. Surrender was considered, offered, and eventually accepted. It did not matter to Alcrah who won, what mattered was that the death was ending, and his greater form would slip away, until the next battle, or perhaps a plague.

There were fewer bodies left than usual for a battle of this size. But all that meant to Alcrah was that he would linger less. But as he released the last soul his form stayed. And without the distraction of his job, he felt why. There was still work to be done. Not his work, but work nonetheless. Alcrah moved towards the human side, looking for their Death. As he passed human bodies, he noticed that while most of them were dead, their souls were still there. They hung around like mist attached to the bodies

He scanned the horizon, and his four eyes fell upon a cloaked figure hovering at the end of the battlefield. It held a scythe in its hands and seemed to be looking over the battlefield, but made no move to clear the souls. Alcrah noted the human Death seemed to be a farmer, which made its actions, or lack thereof, even more confusing. Alcrah was a Filthoth, a lion-like beast with six legs that used to be a predator of the deer-like Sfiltian. Even though filthoths hadn't been a threat to Sfiiltians for thousands of years, they still represented the end of life for the prey species.

A farmer, and a human one at that, meant that humans were used to dying in large numbers, often at their own hands. Alcrah had seen tools like the scythe before, they were used to gather plants, and in the hands of a god of death, souls, in large quantities. Alcrah could imagine it sweeping across the battlefield, releasing the souls that still lingered. And yet it remained still, like its master.

As Alcrah came closer, he noticed something shocking. Inside the hood of the farmer, was a bare, grinning skull. He remembered the look from when members of his own pantheon began to fade away as belief in them had diminished. But death? Every species believed in death. It was an inevitable part of life. The certainty of it was the reason Alcrah himself was still around. Death was the last god of every species. And yet before him stood a withered god of death.

Alcrah moved towards the farmer. “What is the meaning of all these souls you’ve ignored?” he rumbled. The farmer turned his head and breathed a long raspy breath. Then he turned and pointed his scythe to the Human battlefield headquarters, a large collection of tents and shelters. Alcrah noticed figures moving towards the battlefield. As they came closer, Alcrah noticed that they were medics. He wondered what they were doing in a field of so many dead.

His question was soon answered as they tended to each body. Some of them, they simply took back, probably for burial. As each of these passed the farmer, he reached out with his scythe and cut the connection between the soul and the body. But for many of the corpses, the medics procured medical devices, and, to Alcrah’s amazement, brought the dead to life.

He stood there in awe looking at the miracles happening all around him. And yet, to each of the medics, this seemed so mundane. As Alcrah watched, he turned to the farmer. A slight tremble in his bassy voice, he said “I see. The Humans simply no longer believe in death.” The souls gone, his form started to dissipate. But before his consciousness was gone, he wondered if this attitude would spread. If he too, would end up like the withered farmer standing alone in a battlefield.

Hunt for the Maji: The Blue Guitar - Ep. 10 - Witness - Part 2 (Adult Urban Fantasy/Isekai/SFF/Dark Fantasy/Cyberpunk) by Grebålks New Royal Road story page

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Joe’s Jiffy Stop & Casino, time capsule of an extinct era, was once a thriving mecca for long-haul truck drivers on the south-north route from Mexican fields plush with produce up to the cold Canadian border. The architecture was a squat, torpid Quonset hut that had been used to store crop dusters over a century ago. The half-moon building’s corrugated and galvanized steel was a chalky blue, but the base had been gentrified by a red brick front with pillars adorned with sconces. The mirrored windows were protected by bars and chicken wire and neon signs advertising beer and chewing tobacco. There was a pop machine with an OUT OF ORDER sign taped to the front. Next to it, a broken hologram advertising Burnt Lime Spin—the unfortunately named energy drink, not the deadly drug—inspired both wakefulness and diarrhea.

The holo-ad glitched, and the image of a half-materialized woman holding a bottle turned to tints and shades of red, then faded completely.

A broken-down semi—an early model of the self-drivers when they still bothered to look like real trucks—slept on flat tires next to a line of dried-up fuel pumps.

He pulled up to the side of the building, got out, and lit a cigarette. A cold wind carried the humid threat of a real snowfall. Out on the highway, a small car passed in a hurry. Memories echoed across the parking lot.

When he was a boy, he would come here with his father and little sister, Ashley. There was always some attraction, usually a faction of a carnival long disbanded. Tractor-trailers burning their diesel into the vast sky, carnies set up on the side of the road shouting catcalls. Come and dunk the clown, knock the pins down, pop the balloons! Winner winner winnerrrr! One free for the lady! Pink fuzzy dice, corn dogs, fry bread… And smoke spiced the air. Music—Native music—drums making his heart thump. Dad on the poker machines, their holographic projections were a new thing. Ashley and her girlfriends giggled; among them Zoey, her cinnamon breath and lips painted pink against her dark skin. She’d let him kiss her and touch her tits out back between the fry-oil dump and the cement wall where it was hottest, then running off into the early night, leaving him craving, like this memory slipping away into the biting wind.

He took a long last drag and flicked his cigarette next to his car, where it smoldered. A bell above the door jingled as he pushed through. Antique video poker machines, which would never again see electricity, had been pushed against the walls, relics mummified in plastic and duct tape. The Jiffy Stop was little more than a convenience store now, a shop of curiosities.

“Hey, Dr. Smith, ain’t no lunatics in here,” said the obese man behind the counter.

“Hey, Little Joe, what’s up? Long time no see.”

Little Joe and one of his employees had briefly visited Alan years ago at the clinic when they were planning on getting married. She—he had forgotten her name, something Spanish—was a pretty girl, and Little Joe was a fat old bastard even then. The story went that one night when he was passed out and his fiancée was working the counter, a handsome Mexican trucker had pulled in with a Big Mack so beautiful it looked just like a chrome dragon snaking through the lot. Maybe it was the fumes of the heady fossil fuel, a man with grease on his fingers and perfume in his hair, or maybe it was love at first sight, because when that beast pulled out, bound for Baja, Little Joe’s betrothed was on it, never to be seen again.

“Don’t need no white man’s medicine here.”

“Don’t worry. I quit my job today,” Alan said.

“Oh, shit. Congratulations.”

“I am looking for someone. They listed this place as a mailbox.”

Through the fat and wrinkles around his eyes, Little Joe stared dispassionately back. “Really? Half the tribe lists this place as a mailbox.”

“She goes by the name of White Owl.”

“Don’t know her. Now get. I’m busy, can’t you see?”

A scan of the store revealed a vast amount of nothing happening.

“Sorry, Little Joe, it’s kind of urgent that I speak with her.”

“This about the Indian boy?”

“It’s about Francis Builds A Fire, yes.”

“Did he do it?”

“No. He didn’t do anything. I’m trying to help him, so I need to talk to this White Owl and find out some things. If his parents could be contacted?”

Through the window out on the highway, the truck with the apartment on the back passed by strapped to a flatbed. The family sat on the side, legs dangling over.

“I knew the boy’s daddy.” Little Joe took a gulp from a giant water bottle and wiped his lips. “He was Koots. Name was Pierre. Used to run around with the Margeaux gang… a real tough bunch them boys were. Sold Escape, and other nasty shit.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nobody knows. I think they took care of him.”

“They killed him?”

“You’re real smart, Dr. Smith. They should give you a degree.”

“Who’s they? The Margeauxs?”

“Sure. Why not? The world is full of theys. Theys that kill ya and theys that don’t. Theys that’ll sit back and watch it happen.”

“And what about his mother?”

Little Joe leaned his massive bulk back in his chair—it creaked—and laced his fingers across his stomach. “His old man brought her here pregnant. She was really far along. Thought she was gonna drop the baby out on the floor. She wasn’t from this tribe. Maybe she was a White woman, but who knows. Bloodlines run real thin. She didn’t fit in, you know. But they were lovers. And they were running. I could tell. I let em stay in the sleepers upstairs for a few weeks. She had the baby in Ronan. Didn’t even stay in the hospital overnight. Then one day it was just her and that crying little brat. Shit, he cried like a cougar. And she too was crying and crying, said Pierre was gone and wasn’t coming back. After a while, she goes into Ronan and gets on a bus to Spokane. I know this because I bought the ticket for her.” Little Joe went silent and regarded Alan with black eyes like olives.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. She was gone, and I know nothing of her story from that point onward.”

“And the boy?”

“I’m not a history book, Dr. Smith. You want to buy some Chardonnay? Got a sale on Gallo.”

“Come on, Joe.”

“Fine! Couple years ago he showed up dirty and bleeding. He had a guitar. That’s all he had. Someone really worked him over. That’s when White Owl came down and took him away.”

“And?”

“And that’s all, folks.”

“Francis called her a witch.”

The enigmatic smile evaporated from Little Joe’s face.

“Nobody knows where she comes from or who her people are,” Spoke Little Joe with reluctance. “She ain’t from this Rez, that’s for sure. That boy, Francis, was here right where you’re standing now, bleeding all over the place. I don’t know how White Owl knew he was here, but she came down in that old jalopy of hers. And that’s crazy because White Owl never comes down from the mountain. She loaded him up, and I thought that was good enough. What’s done is done. And word on the Rez, everyone knows he did something bad to that girl, and everyone believes it because White Owl took him, and White Owl is cursed.”

“Shit.” Alan rubbed his neck. “I need to go see her.” Through the wire mesh covering the windows, he gazed at the Mission Mountains, their very tops obscured by the clouds.

“That’s tribal land up there. Nobody but White Owl goes into the canyon. Not even Indians go in there. Superstitious, you know.”

“How do I get there?”

For a moment, it looked like Little Joe wasn’t going to tell him. Then he looked around the store and up at the bank of CCTV monitors. He leaned forward. “Take Old Canyon Road all the way up to the four-corners. The road gets bad, but keep straight past the sign that says dead end. Go past the sign that says no trespassing. Past the sign that says no return. You’ll come to where an old bridge is broken in half. You got to walk from there. Keep on the trail. You’ll see. You really going up there?”

“Yes.” He made to leave.

“You’ll need this.” From the key chain rack behind him he pulled down one of the tacky dream catchers, a white one with blue feathers. “Hang this on your mirror. It’s for the bad spirits… and the Indians with guns.” Then he reached down under the counter and pulled up a rusted old cowbell. “This is for ol’ White Owl. Tell her Little Joe says hi. And Dr. Smith, I don’t want any more to do with this.”

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THE BOSS sat at his desk, the news of Kyle's disappearance at the forefront of his mind. This was genuinely bad news, as the Agency had plans for Kyle after using him for public relations work with the Drizzk. Now they had a whole diplomatic situation to deal with, as they were most displeased at Kyle's disappearance. THE BOSS mentally brought up a notepad, marking down all the thoughts going through his head. He wanted to spin this in a way beneficial to the Agency, and humanity as a whole.

After much deliberation, THE BOSS had made some progress. He intended to report that Kyle had been taken by some adversary from the Drizzk homeworld. That this adversary was an enemy of both the Drizzk and Humanity. He was going to request that they form a joint fleet to track down where Kyle was, and that once the adversary was found, that they should both focus their efforts on the new enemy. This was very in line with the Drizzk philosophy, and should bring the two species closer together. He already had a blacksite fleet ready for operations, just awaiting the confirmation that they'd be working with the Drizzk.

He forwarded the notes to the diplomacy department so they could get to work ironing out the phrasing. Which allowed THE BOSS to turn his attention to the other important task at hand. Sitting in front of him was Sword, inert as always. The horrifying conglomerate of writhing tentacles in the lab had already run their scans on the thing, and for all intents and purposes it was just a hunk of metal. Well, besides the strange energy signatures that they detected somewhere within it's core. There appeared to be some sort of exotic matter matrix within Sword, presumably where he got his intelligence from. The reason THE BOSS was looking at the sword however, was due to it's uncanny familiarity. It felt like it was at least in part, a piece of himself.

THE BOSS was no stranger to the manipulation of energy. He was a teleporter after all, his powers fueling the closet teleportation network found across the galaxy. He wouldn't have the ability to transmit his powers so far, but that was the reason he was in the place that he was. Not on Earth, but a planet that didn't exist, that's only purpose was to amplify his powers and transmit them across the universe. Untold levels of power were being generated beneath the surface of the planet, all of it pumped into energy converters that tuned the output to a specific wavelength that resonated with his abilities. Most of the teleportation was autonomous, Agents who needed to transport connected subconsciously with the teleportation network, which placed them in the closet of wherever they needed to go.

The only times that THE BOSS actually had to pay attention was when non Agents were requesting travel, as it wasn't unheard of for civilians to enter the closet for mundane purposes like grabbing a broom or cleaning supplies. In those instances the system pinged him and he went over the request, approving or denying it based on available data. It didn't happen often, but it was entertaining to see bits and pieces of the universe moving around.

So the fact that a piece of energy at his specific wavelength was just chilling in the sword sitting across from him, was abnormal. The only place in the universe that had this energy was THE BOSS' personal planet. That and the closet network. So it had to have been collected either on the transmission planet; unlikely, or from within one of the closets. But he never got a notification about a sentient sword, he'd remember that. And the computers didn't have anything in their databanks about such an event occurring. Kyle had never traveled through the closet network after he had acquired Sword, at least to the best of THE BOSS' knowledge.

There had to be a connection here.

“You can't see it can you.” A voice rang out.

THE BOSS blinked, checking the security display. Yup, he was the only one on planet.

“Right behind you ya ninny.” Murphy said, taking a step into THE BOSS' vision. “I always did find that particular ability of yours entertaining.

“Which one are you talking about Murphy.” THE BOSS asked.

“The one that capitalizes your name when people think about you, hilariously useless!” Murphy said.

“Hey it's not like I asked for that, it's just part of the arsenal. Surprisingly good at confirming my identity.” THE BOSS said, defending his position.

“Yeah but you don't always have to have it on, it's disruptive when you're trying to have a nice conversation.” Murphy said, poking at THE BOSS. “See, there it is again!”

“Well, if you don't use it you lose it. So. Wait, why am I defending myself to you of all people. How did you even get here?” THE BOSS queried.

“Well, given the nature of my own breed of special, all I have to do is think, 'there's no way I could possibly teleport to THE BOSS' and there ya go, the powers take issue with that.” Murphy laughed. “They don't like listening when they're free to do as they want, but at least they respect me.”

“Yeah yeah, bloody uncontainables.” THE BOSS grumbled, pulling out a bottle of hooch and two glasses.

“See this is why I came here, you always have the good shit.” Murphy said, pulling up a chair.

“You know this is finite right, there's no way to age good booze without time.” THE BOSS said, realizing too late who he was in the presence of. “Shit what did I do.”

“Localized time anomaly, I wouldn't leave anything that can go bad in that top drawer of yours.” Murphy said. “I'm not unhappy about it, uncontrollable powers with a mind of their own do come in useful sometimes.”

THE BOSS pulled out the drawer in question, the one housing his lunch for the day, and saw with dismay that his lunch had turned to dust.

“If I stick my hand in there, is it gonna turn to dust as well?” THE BOSS asked, staring down into the drawer with distrust.

“Don't think so, I'd say you have to close the drawer. And if I said it, it's probably true!”

THE BOSS looked at the open drawer and the pile of dust. He shivered for a moment at the thought of his hand being trapped in a localized time anomaly, impossible to pull out, blood entering and nothing but necrosis attempting to push into his veins. For a brief moment THE BOSS contemplated asking for a new desk, but decided against it. He was sentimental, and it was unlikely that Murphy wanted to cause him harm. That could be done six ways from Sunday to a lass like her. Deciding to have some fun for once, he put his work to the side and ordered a virgin bottle of whiskey, the fabricator in the facility generating it and delivering it in moments.

“Ooh yeah that's the stuff, let's give it a whirl shall we?” Murphy said, standing up and placing her hands down on THE BOSS'S desk, peering over and into the drawer.

THE BOSS placed the bottle into the desk, heart pounding for a moment as his hands crossed the threshold. Nothing happened, and he let out the breath that he was holding in. Sliding the drawer shut, he turned his attention to Murphy, interlacing his fingers and posing the question.

“So what do you want Murphy?”

“What, I can't visit an old friend?” Murphy said, feigning looking hurt.

“You're always in the center of these things, whether you like it or not. You know something.” THE BOSS prodded.

“And you know that I never spill a secret, it's more fun that way.” Murphy shot back, taking a seat and putting her boots up onto the desk.

THE BOSS'S eyes twitched, but he let it go. Not like it wouldn't be pristine and clean after she left. What really bothered THE BOSS was that she didn’t even look at him for a moment, Murphy’s eyes gazing past him as though she was staring down an invisible observer. THE BOSS quietly ran another scan of the planet, just in case. If somebody was here, watching, observing, entertaining themselves at the cost of THE BOSS’S sanity, well he’d find out one way or another.

“You know what I think?” Murphy said, picking at her teeth with THE BOSS' letter opener. THE BOSS came back to reality, an eye twitch spawning itself as he recognized what she was doing. “I think you gotta get out of the office, they have you chained down so hard it'd be a wonder your legs still work.”

“You know that isn't possible, I leave and the Agency crumbles. Our ability to be anywhere, instantly, is what gives us our edge. The whole system breaks without me as it's battery.” THE BOSS said as a matter of fact.

“True, true... But what's this, a sword sitting in front of you containing your own essence, working just as well as your own flesh and blood. You know they're looking for a way to replace you, you're still human after all. The clock is ticking.” Murphy said, dropping her boots and leaning forward.

“What do you get out of this?” THE BOSS said, mind churning at the idea of, well, being free.

“The universe gets more interesting, a major player enters the battlefield, the universe won't be the same. It's damn interesting, that's what I get out of it!” Murphy barked, her blend of energy turning the statement into a battle-cry.

Sensing THE BOSS' hesitation, Murphy continued.

“You've got the universe's best scanners, access to the AI Array with enough clearance to cover your tracks, fabricators and if needed the original Fabricator. You can copy the whole damn sword and plug it in, juice it up, and get out of here. Hell I'll give you a ride, though I've gotta promise that it'll be the most interesting place you could be right off the bat.” Murphy laid out the plan, with wild gestures and even wilder swinging of Sword.

THE BOSS for his part, was absolutely thinking this over. So much so that he didn't freak out at a sharp object being swung around by a madwoman.

“And what if the copy has the same personality as the original. No way to extract just the battery without the personality coming with... and don't give me that powers just making it happen. This is major science, doesn't just happen on a whim.” THE BOSS pointed at Murphy, fire lit under his ass, excitement bubbling up, his feeling churning like they hadn't in years.

“Well look at that, you're right. Powers fucked right off with that statement, or maybe it just wouldn't be interesting if they just made it happen. Buggers enjoy stirring the water, not pouring a glass. Hell, you could always just ask the Sword for help. Been awake this whole time just listening.” Murphy said, poking at the cold pseudo-steel that Sword was made of.

“He's awake?” THE BOSS blinked.

“Correct.” Sword emanated. “The idea is promising, though only because I get something out of it.”

“And what would that be, killing a god?” THE BOSS chuckled.

“In a roundabout way, yes. Kyle is missing, taken by a spider looking alien. While the memory is ancient, they fit the rough description of an ancient cult of Elder God worshiping insectoids. Very difficult to track down, and extremely disruptive to my mission.” Sword explained, granting new information on Kyle's situation.

“So you'd be willing to help copy a part of you into a functional battery to store my powers.” THE BOSS said. Ready to route power to the fabrication facility located somewhere on the planet.

“These are my conditions. You take me with you to find Kyle, additionally I require a specific host to truly utilize my powers. If we're going after the cult of the Elder God, we're going to need my full skill set.” Sword tabled his offer.

“What sort of specific are we talking about?” THE BOSS asked.

“I require a vast computational matrix, a human brain, or something similar. I had success in shunting Kyle's mind into the rogue nanite matrix eating his head, with room to spare for mental capacity upgrades. So that would likely perform the same function.” Sword continued. “Though I'm uncertain if that's something you have available. It is new to me, so likely new to you as well.”

“I’m sorry you did what now?!” THE BOSS sputtered, his head beginning to machinate, eyes focusing down on the splinter of steel sitting on his chair. “You shunted Kyle’s whole self into nanite cancer, and he’s smarter for it? What about his powers, surely those still need a biological host.”

“Not really, I mean look at me. I’m precisely that which you don’t believe should work. Mechanical power hosts are entirely in the realm of possibility. Your species is simply too early in the cycle for this sort of knowledge.” Sword mentally sighed “And this is why my species works in the dark. Information is a far more potent sword than even I.”

“I have just the person in mind. They also have a vested interest in finding Kyle, which is a plus. I'll summon them here.” THE BOSS began to fill out the relevant forms mentally.

“We're also going to need the original Fabricator. The copies humanity has are good, but lack a certain... Intelligence. I really wouldn't enjoy being copied, you can never tell which one is the original.” Sword said.

“That one would be more difficult, they're currently in containment, locked up tighter than the Human Galactic bank's data stores.” THE BOSS said absentmindedly.

Being in the presence of Murphy, and her powers of convenience and chaos, this had the exact response one might expect.

“Hell yeah! It fucking worded, screw you guys, your containment can't hold me!” Fabricator yelled into the air, facing away from the group of people formulating a plan. “Now where did that makeshift teleporter bring me. Fabricator turned a full 360, taking in his surroundings, before ducking his head as he realized where he was brought to.

“Fuck me. It's THE bloody BOSS. Hey man, how's it going?” Fabricator said, turning around sheepishly. “You didn't hear any of that did you, I mean of course you did, your containment facilities are great, top notch really!”

“Well that saves me some paperwork, have a seat Fabricator. I need your services, in exchange, I never saw you.” THE BOSS said, gesturing towards the second seat sitting in front of his desk.

“Fuck me, well, might as well hear you out.” Fabricator had a seat, and humorously, the zombie began to drop their pants.

“Not you dipshit!” Murphy barked out loud, immediately followed by a hearty guffaw. “Your entourage is hilarious, if a bit of a fucking moron” Murphy slapped Fabricator on the back, and pulled a chair out of the floor for Fabricator to sit on.

“The fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck are you?” Fabricator reached back, rubbing his back where Murphy’s hand met his delicate skin.

“I can’t believe you’ve never told this guy about me, downright rude.” Murphy shot THE BOSS a glare, before putting out her hand for a handshake. Fabricator took her hand and shook it.

“I’m Murphy, as in the law. Pleased to meet you Fabricator!”

A hearty guffaw could once again be heard as Fabricator tripped over the chair he was sitting on as he attempted to bolt. He knew Murphy’s law, everyone did. A physical manifestation shaking his hand was the single most terrifying thing he had ever experienced in his life. As his head cracked against the floor the only thought going through his head was “Fuck me, of course it’ll all go wrong.”

The zombie, apparently telepathic, once again began to drop it’s pants and a hearty guffaw turned into uproarious laughter.

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---

Memory Transcription Subject: Adam Meier, Advisor to the Secretary-General

Date [standardized human time]: April 29, 2161

Without the backing and raw manufacturing power of the Listeners, and with the KC drone reinforcement taken off the grid with the UN assuming remote control, the Fed remnants didn’t have the capacity to withstand the Sapient Coalition and the Shield’s full might. Many had already offered their unconditional surrender, especially with the ghost Farsul headquarters (and its personnel) being unearthed by humanity. The Consortium had gone down with a more spiteful whimper, though the “easy” victory felt rather pyrrhic with the lives lost in their self-destruction.

One of the most horrifying things for me was reading the transcripts we’d pulled from their database, affirming that they’d had full consciousness but no autonomy. I had a deep-rooted concern that Terra Technologies could alter my mind in a way where I could trust neither my senses or my judgment; I might not even have control over my own actions. No sapient being should ever live with that fear. If we were going to tamper with these technologies long-term, an idea which I’d become more partial to over the past year, digital people needed the same right as flesh-and-blood.

It’s not just the biologics that have to be protected from us; the inverse needs to be true. The Consortium showed us the dangers—the vulnerability of the silicon mind as well as the possibility for synthetics to supplant the organics. This speech, my final one, is important.

“General Radai,” I greeted the Resket, as he arrived to finally meet in person following the war. I hadn’t thought he was fond of me in our earliest conversation, though I had new insight as to why that was now. He’d arrived and turned himself into us for his role in the war. “I know after all that’s happened, you feel that you’ve failed in your duty as a protector. For what it’s worth, we think you’re vital now to put the pieces back together.”

Radai bowed his head in shame. “My will to live, or to even care for the concepts of duty and honor, have been sapped. I did what I had to do on Avor without a care for any of that. I am the biggest fool in a land of fools, Adam.”

“Listen to me. You stood up for the Jaslip rebels when it counted; you didn’t blindly follow orders to the end. It’s never too late to stand up for what is right. You don’t have to accept some…finality that your honor is tarnished, and that your story is over. Take back control of your life, General—you’re a strong-willed soldier who can get things done.”

“Is this an order?”

“If that’s what it takes to relight your fire, perhaps. An inside track suggests that the SC will pass a motion to spare you from the ‘gross negligence’ charges in the interests of galactic security, and allow you to resume leadership of the Reskets…and any Consortium refugees who might follow you.”

“I am grateful that you persuaded the Paltans to take our civilians in. I only saw Avor with my own eyes, but the Underscales turned every world to ashes. I can’t fathom how to rebuild.” 

“We’ll help you. Efforts already began to restore Esquo. It seems we’re popular in the Jaslips’ books, after the Osir project and our takedown of the Consortium. I have ideas in mind for similar restorations for other KC species, which I’m about to mention in my…farewell address. Suffice to say, I believe we can undo some of the damage, if you won’t give up just as the situation has a chance to get better.”

“I want my people to survive. That was all I ever wanted: security, peace. The Jaslip leader, Aulan, rode back with the Arxur fleet to pay a diplomatic visit to Wriss, but I…I came to you to embrace the consequences of my actions. If I am punished to live with the weight of my shame, so be it.”

I tilted my head, interest piqued by the mention of the Carnivore Alliance. “I suppose it was the Arxur who bailed the Jaslips out first, but that nearly derailed the Bissems’ membership. I can’t fault Aulan’s gratitude for the Collective’s unconditional backing, of course…I just wonder why they didn’t send a diplomat to us.”

“As I understand it, Delegate Frenelda has to be taken out of hiding, and is a few days behind me. Her complicity in the bombing of Delegates Tower forced her off-the-grid. They’re sending you a…proper diplomat, not a revolutionary. One of the few they have left living.”

“We’d be honored to receive Frenelda, so long as she checks any explosive packages at the door. That explains why the Jaslips aren’t with you. Where is Taylor Trench?”

“He had a…prior diplomatic obligation with the Sivkits on Tellus, which the UN agreed he should uphold. The Grand Herd was due to move in within a few weeks. Trench also said he had spent enough time cooped up in a spaceship for one year. It’s a month-long journey between Earth and Consortium space.”

“It’s even further between the Consortium and Wriss.” A gray reptilian cautiously crept out behind General Radai, which surprised me; there hadn’t been an Arxur visitor to these premises since Isif crashed the SC’s initial founding. I recognized their Ambassador to Humanity, Raza, who was also second-in-command to Kaisal. “With the humblest respect, Sir Meier, we would like to sit at the table this time, as a devastating war closes. It is our desire to end our isolation and rejoin the galaxy, as people rather than monsters.”

“If I may, the Arxur Collective saved many lives and stood up for the oppressed far better and far sooner than I could,” Radai remarked. “The drone attacks that I sent on my fool’s errand would have claimed more lives on Talsk, were it not for their interference. They’ve stood with our side with honor and civility, enough that I—if there’s any meaning that my word carries—would vouch for their reformation.”

I nodded, recalling Elias’ long-ago wish for a better future with the Arxur—his promise to help Isif. “I don’t agree with the jailing of entire species, and I hope not to see that mistake repeated. However, I am not the Secretary-General, so I can only implore others to strive for a more hopeful future and to make the right choices.”

“We should have a voice to implore others, to show that we’ve changed and you believe we have, enough to be worthy of participating. Please, at least allow us a word in our defense if you wish to put us back,” Raza said.

“I’m not preventing you from entering, am I, Ambassador Raza?”

“No. I suppose you’re not. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t worry, I plan to do you one better—something a few people might call radical. I hope we can show that we truly learned from our past mistakes. I give forceful pushes in the right direction; it’s kind of my thing. Let’s see how my political swan song goes, shall we?”

I ushered Ambassador Raza and General Radai toward the auditorium, though I took care not to look too much like I was welcoming representatives of two prideful species that many SC members thought of as enemies. It felt strange to realize that this would be my final (intentional) public appearance, after how much of my remembered life had been spent on articulation and diplomacy. I had to have a little faith in the next generation to course correct, to give them the chance to make their own successes and failures. A few parting words of wisdom and challenges should be enough.

Secretary-General Osmani has shown himself to be ready to lead: cool, calm, and collected throughout this entire fiasco of a war. The embodiment of speaking softly and carrying a big stick. This will be the final advice from me, in my role as advisor. We must remain diligent to never be like the Consortium or the Federation.

I walked up to the podium with calm footsteps, staring out at the packed auditorium of humanity’s friends. As the first synthetic being on our side of Orion, I was deemed an expert on the pressing technological issues of our time. There were many questions that faced us far beyond just the invasive nature of the very lifeblood of modern society, and the rapid advancement we craved at our cores. I didn’t believe that an invention was evil of itself, but rather, how it was used defined the outcome. We had to take responsibility for our handling of such hardware, and recognize our power in other areas as well.

“Good day, everyone. Let us start off with the elephant in the room, as I’ve come to speak to you about the quintessentialism of cybernetic rights. I am a software built into a robotic form that mimics the human body, just like the legion. Terra Technologies built me from Elias Meier’s transcript in the hopes of cheating death. To my knowledge, I am my own person—but the fact that I cannot truly know disturbs me, and should disturb all of you,” I began. “We must forbid mind and personality alterations in any shape they take.”

Krakotl Ambassador Kelsel raised a tentative wing. “Forgive me, but would it be so bad to leave out our worst emotions? The capacity for hatred, sadism, or jealousy.”

“As someone who lived sedated by predator disease drugs, unable to feel anger for twenty years, yes, it is ‘that bad,’” Onso commented with a sly ear flick.

I pursed my lips, searching for an off-the-cuff response. “It is our free will that gives us the capacity for evil, but also the capacity for good. The full range of human emotions are messy, but they give us our most beautiful forms of expression: the highs and lows shape our worldview, our connections to others, and who we are. I think I’m qualified to speak to how much missing a little thing affects your experience of the world. We take it all for granted until it’s taken away.”

“Adam is right. Beyond that fact, tampering with a thinking person’s identity is a slippery slope. In the case of the Consortium, it involved removing their core memories and placing them in a false reality, all against their will,” Osmani added.

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary-General. While I’ve come around to Terra Technologies’ mission and found a desire to persevere, it must be acknowledged that some elements of their operation are a slippery slope as well. My proposal is simple: that the privileges, expectations and standards that would be applied to a biological being should apply to a digital one, and vice versa.”

“Hm. Could you be less specific?” Onso quipped.

“I’m saying that we’ve seen the peril in violations of privacy, being able to peek into someone’s thoughts. Brain scans or a synthetic’s live thoughts should not be accessible without consent; I, for instance, never agreed to technicians knowing my every whim at every second of the day. That kind of overreach must be eliminated. Your mind is your temple and should be treated with that reverence.”

Governor Laisa flicked an ear with approval, reminding me how much I adored the Venlil for their support throughout the years. “I think we all can agree that we need to pass privacy laws and limitations on the usage of this technology. We have to protect ourselves. Our entire society hinges on these decisions, so we must take care.”

“Yes! The Sapient Coalition has to seek more than just peace; we must be responsible stewards of the galaxy. As humans say, with great power comes great responsibility. I hope we will rise to the challenge, rather than shy away. To be clear, I’m not saying to lower our ambitions or to forbid this research because of the potential for misuse. In fact, I have an immediate project in mind.”

Fear and reservation flashed in Radai’s eyes. “What is it?”

“We can take the word ‘pyrrhic’ out of our victory against the Consortium. We now possess the fruits of their overreach. We can take back the lives they stole, and put the brain scan data to a better use than their legion. Long-term, my idea is for us to bring back anyone who didn’t make it off the Consortium worlds—the right way. Their personalities deserve the chance to be a part of a new life.”

I gave a look of defiance at the gathered diplomats, unsurprised as an uproar spread across the auditorium. I had no idea if the Sapient Coalition would back my idea, but such an outrageous proposition was certainly going to spark debate. I, for one, saw no reason why the innocent Consortium civilians deserved a second chance at life any less than I did.

---
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Krev Exchange | Patreon | Subreddit | Discord | Paperback | NOP2 Species Lore

A short story of my recent manic episode:

The phone slipped from my grasp, its glassy screen reflecting the emptiness in my eyes. My own voice echoed in the silence—a suicide note unwritten but delivered with the finality of despair.

"You always do this," Sarah had said, the accusation a phantom touch that reignited the familiar inferno within.
Her voice haunted me now-soft yet edged with pain.
Three hard-earned weeks of sobriety shattered.

It swung back again, the numbing depression giving place to mania with a sense of giddying freefall. The telephone had tumbled on the floor amidst an ear-spitting onslaught of violins that had swooped down from nowhere-onwards. Grotesque, earsplitters they plunged into silence, raw-nerved scraping of bows.

Hope-as mirage, hazy bright on a crumbling cliff-was the cruellest of blandishments.
Mania was a wildfire, consuming thought and sleep, leaving behind only ash and the phantom scent of burning.
My mind was a runaway train, hurtling through a nightmarish dreamscape.
The crash was always looming, dragging me down into the suffocating depths.

Hallucinations swarmed in-grotesque parodies of reality.
Shadows stretched and twisted, taking on monstrous shapes with glowing, eerie yellow eyes.
Meaning pulsed in my very cells-an understanding beyond language.
The violins shrieked-a symphony of broken melodies, each note a razor's edge that cut through the frail fabric of my sanity.
Fear was an icy hand that clutched at my lungs, constricting my breath.

Then the music changed. The frenzied tempo buckled, harsh discords melting into a mournful lament.
I barricaded the apartment, driven by some primal fear.
But the shadows found their way in, whispering doubts and fears.
Outside, the world buckled and warped-faces melting into grotesque masks, like figures in a fever dream.
Voices chanted riddles I couldn't decipher.
The police summoned in a desperate plea for sanity became monsters to my terrified eyes.
 
The shadows whispered: "Why fight? Surrender. Yield to it."
 
Yet, a memory flared-for Sarah holding my hand tightly, her eyes reflecting a love that both terrified and held me.
I remembered her tears as she said, "You're not your illness. You're more than this."

I checked myself into the hospital. The antiseptic smell of the hit me.
But inside, the torment only intensified.
Invisible flames seemed to lick at my skin.
The whispers grew louder, taunting me.
"Almost," they hissed, and for a terrifying moment, I craved oblivion.

For two days, darkness reigned.
I didn't remember the fire dying, only the chilling aftermath-a silence that weighed in, a smothering void.
The shadows receded, leaving the wreckage of my mind in its wake.

This is my life, I thought-the cruel paradox: to covet the manic highs, knowing they will inevitably drag you down.

I can look back now and see a 42-year-old, scarred from all the battles with the monsters of bipolar II and depression.
Therapy was a pitiless scalpel laid upon my soul.
Medications only led to numbing inertia.
The electro-convulsive therapies robbed me of my irreplaceable memories.
Fine silvery lines mapped on my skin, the topography of breakdowns gone by.
Rebirth in the world outside was my standing on cracked pavement; all around, the world in dizzying kaleidoscope—sights and sounds.
The ruffled feathers of the strutting pigeon pecked with jerked movements at a crushed cigarette.

Work, relationships-even existing-was a series of formidable mountains I had to climb with bleeding feet and a broken spirit.

I walked the thin line that came before homelessness.

My apartment, with its stark walls and overdue notices, mocked my every pretension of stability.

Yet I clung to the edge, breathing, enduring-merely existing in the face of such overwhelming darkness-defying it.

I didn't want pity, just the understanding of fellow travelers who peered into the abyss and somehow found their way back.
Survival wasn't a triumphant fanfare; it was a quiet refusal to let go.

There was no grand victory here, no shining moment of redemption.
There was only the tedium of hope and despair, light and shadow wrestling for dominance.

But in the silence after the storm, a fragile truth flickered-a small ember glowing in the ashes of my despair.
Even in the deepest darkness, rebellion flickered.
And somewhere, one bird sang its song-a fragile promise of hope, a testimony to the resilience of life.
I thought of Sarah's words, and for the first time, I believed them.
I wasn't just surviving.
I was learning to fight.

“Uhh, I’m the Traveler, I’m here to help and… I don’t have access to the environmental systems,” I replied, glancing at the captain who simply shrugged.

“This unregistered device has no apparent access limitations,” the robotic voice replied simply, “explain where device was found.”

“It’s my prosthetic arm,” I said slowly, “it was given to me by the same AIs that created you.”

At that point there was a long silence, as if the AI was thinking. The connection was still active, but as I was considering asking my own question the entire crawler shook gently, the Captain looking up in surprise.

“We’re not suppose to make any turns,” he commented, “much less any this sharp.”

“An obstacle?” I offered.

“We would have seen it miles in advance.”

“Explanation accepted,” the robotic voice said through my arm suddenly, “notice, refrain from accessing sensitive systems while repairs are conducted.”

“Wait!” I half shouted before it could hang up, “what’s going on?”

“Significant damage detected to Human habitat, solar-control-web identified as source and placed in lockdown,” it replied simply, “all terraforming crawlers have been tasked with ecosystem reconstruction.”

“There are people living on several of the crawlers,” I said, “they used them to shelter from the solar laser thing, I don’t think they would appreciate having control of their towns taken from them.”

As I spoke a man ran in, speaking in hushed tones with the captain but I already knew what he was being told. Something had taken control of the crawler, redirecting it to somewhere.

“Please confirm: inhabitants of many crawlers are not maintenance staff?”

“Only the ones within the scorched zones, the regions destroyed by the solar-web thing,” I explained, glancing up at the captain, “I’m sure many of them would be willing to help restore the ecosystem, but not if you force them to.”

“Uh, yes,” the captain nodded hurriedly, “I’m not sure if we have the expertise to assist, but we’ll be happy to help. But only if we’re in control of the crawler, we have to think about our survival first.”

“Understood… explanation accepted, control of inhabited crawlers relinquished,” the AI responded, the crawler shaking again as it returned control.

“Good, thank you,” I nodded, the Captain following suit, “If I might ask, why are you only acting now?”

“This unit was offline for the past two-hundred forty-eight years,” it said, “detection of ping from admin-level device initiated system reboot.”

“Why were you offline?”

“Shutdown signal was received.”

“From where?”

“Signal origin: Phaeren habitat,” it answered simply, causing me to groan.

“What about the solar-control-web, who was controlling that?” the Harmony asked.

“Signal origin: Kra’kar habitat.”

“Would you have allowed the web to be used if you were online?”

“Unknown, no reason for weapon activation given in logs.”

“Wait,” the Captain spoke up, “there are reasons you would have allowed it to be used on the realm?”

“Yes, example reasons: Clearing of land in preparation for biome-alteration, containment and destruction of ecological level blight, defense against external threats.”

“But not to just kill people?”

“Correct.”

“And no reason was given for the activations while you were offline?” the Harmony asked.

“Correct.”

“Any estimates of death totals?” I asked.

“Current casualty estimate: one hundred and forty billion humans, twenty billion Kra’kar. Note: estimates may be off by up to ten percent,” it said in the same flat tone, but all three of us went silent. 140 billion dead, that was an incomprehensible number. So large that I went right past horror into disbelief.

“Wait,” I looked up, “Kra’kar? Not Kra’gar?”

“Term Kra’gar not known.”

“They’re like Kra’kar, from what I know,” the Captain said, “with the implantation of a bug in the neck thing, but all those on this realm call themselves Kra’gar, not Kra’kar.”

“Unit has no information on Kra’Gar.”

“But looks like the solar weapon was targeting regions with lots of Kra’gar or whatever,” I commented, “judging by the casualties anyways.”

“Looks like your theory that the Kra’kar were trying to wipe out the Kra’gar was right,” the captain commented, glancing at me, “but why would the Phaeren assist? They are the ones who turned off this… realm AI.”

“Harmony?” I asked, turning to the floating collection of crystals, “you’re the expert on Phaeren.”

“All I can think of is they wanted to weaken humanity in order to take over,” it replied, “pitting the Kra’kar and Humans against one another in order to gain territory without risk to themselves is something they would do.”

“Why waste time on a plan that takes centuries?” the captain asked.

“Paheren are very long lived,” I explained, “they often work on time frames of centuries.”

“It’s possible they took advantage of the appearance of the Kra’gar for their own ends,” the Harmony offered, “perhaps even providing ships to transport them to the human disk. Of course they would have to shut down the ecological control AI as well, that’s what bothers me. From what I understand of the timeline, the AI was shut down just under 250 years ago, the first Kra’gar appeared 200 years ago, and they landed on this disk a bit over a hundred years ago.”

“Seems right to me,” the captain nodded.

“So they shut down the AI long before they could have taken advantage of it?” I said slowly, “or they shut it down for another reason, then simply took advantage of it later?”

“That would be my guess,” the Harmony bobbed.

“Were there any major ecological changes following you being deactivated?” I asked the AI.

“None detected,” it said simply.

“Are there any other major control AI systems?”

“Negative.”

“And your only task is to oversee the ecosystems of the disks?”

“That is my primary task,” it replied, “secondary tasks include preventing damage to disks, scanning for external threats and management of all structures in system.”

“Anything happen that you would have stopped or detected since you went offline?” the Harmony asked.

“Compiling report… excepting ecological damage to human habitat, minor damage done to Kra’kar habitat from deployment of Thermonuclear weapons, eight hundred and four solar-control-web nodes operating under allowable limits… One quantum anchor interface destroyed or lost.”

“A what?” I interrupted.

“Quantum Anchor Interface, a device designed to serve as an anchor for quantum scale machinery, many such devices exist on each habitat,” it explained, “one such device ceased transmitting shortly after this unit was deactivated.”

“And where was this device,” I asked slowly, afraid I already knew the answer.

“Pharaen habitat.”

“All of this because the Pharaen wanted one of these… anchors?” the captain asked, looking equal parts angry and exasperated, “hundreds of billions dead for… for…” he trailed off, throwing his hands in the air and stomping towards a wall.

“What was the purpose of the lost device?” I asked after watching the captain for a moment.

“Lost device considered low priority; primary function was high resolution scanning of quantum foam. Estimated range of one hundred miles. Secondary function was long range scanning of hyper-space bubble,” the AI reported calmly.

“They stole a scanner?” I asked incredulously.

“Correction: theft of device is conjecture.”

“Anything of any importance go missing immediately following your deactivation?”

“Nothing of an equal or higher priority to Quantum Anchor Interface.”

“Then I’m willing to bet they stole it.”

“Could they even use such a device?” the Harmony asked, turning to look at me.

“Based on current technology present on Pharaen habitat, chance of successful activation of device minimal,” the ecological AI answered.

“So they did all of this for something they can’t even use!” the captain shouted, turning to stomp over towards what appeared to be a liquor cabinet.

“Can you find the location of the device?” the Harmony asked, ignoring the captain.

“Scanning… missing device not detected,” the robotic voice said, “logical error, no ships have left system since unit went offline, no trace of device fragments or materials passing through solar-control-web.”

“So it just… vanished?” I asked.

“No explanation found.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you think?” the Harmony asked, looking at me.

“The Composer? Conductor? Whatever he calls himself? Ya, we could be dealing with another traveler, but knowing our record…” I sighed, “he might have the ability to deactivate an ancient AI, and it would explain why the missing device can’t be found.”

“What would he need a… scanner for?”

“This was over two hundred years ago, his goals have likely evolved since. A quantum scanner like that might… wait…” I froze, thinking back to when I first met the Composer. It was in a lighthouse world, much like this one, and he’d invited me to look at some quantum scans he’d taken. He’d been attempting to peer into the void, such a powerful and advanced scanner would have been useful in that. Maybe the scanners I saw contained the missing device, it would explain how he got such detailed readings when even massive scanners struggled to sift through the noise of the quantum foam.

Scratching at my head with both hands I began to pace, was this the origin of his interest in the void? Or was he interested in it before, and simply intended to use this scanner to study it? For all I know I was working with him back then and he got the scanner to assist me. If so then it was before I realized his intent, but it also didn’t matter. Like it or not this was all speculation. Maybe it was another traveler, or maybe it was completely unrelated. It was impossible to tell.

“Ok, focus,” I muttered to myself, turning back to the center of the room, only to realize that both the communication device and the Harmony were basically attached to me.

“If the Pharaen sent the shut-down signal again, would it work?” I asked.

“Negative, shutdown code invalidated due to negligent use,” the ecological AI replied.

“Good,” I sighed, “and you will now repair the damage to the human habitat?”

“Correct, full repair estimates at three hundred and forty years.”

“Will the sun be like… this, the whole time?” the captain asked, gesturing generally to the sky.

“Solar-control-web repairs estimated four months.”

“And then the sun will return to normal?”

“Correct.”

“Well, seems like this was an easy world,” the Harmony remarked, “your arm reactivated the ecological systems and they seem capable of handling everything from here.”

“Except the Kra’gar,” I pointed out, “even if they aren’t caused directly by the Composer, they’re still a problem.”

“Unless we can scan or interrogate one, I’m not sure how much we can do on that front,” the Harmony said.

“Suggestion,” the ecological AI said suddenly through my arm, “your device has admin permissions.”

“So I could access the scanner systems?” I asked, looking at my hand.

“Couldn’t you do that?” the Harmony asked.

“Negative, this unit prevented from scanning individuals,” it replied.

“Probably a privacy thing,” I shrugged, “can you show me how to access the scanners at least?”

The captain ended up leaving over the next half hour as the ecological AI talked me through accessing the scanner network. Unsurprisingly my arm didn’t have built in programs for this, so I was forced to bootstrap a program that could interface with the disk, starting from my implants, passing through my arm and into the habitat’s network. To call it complex would be an understatement, thankfully between myself, the Harmony and the habitat AI we were able to slap something together.

From there it was able to locate what it still called a Kra’kar in another crawler, though I had to manage the direct scanning. I also accessed the Kra’kar habitat to find a point of comparison, scanning someone randomly there.

Thankfully I was able to display the scan results on a screen in the captain’s meeting room, which was apparently originally a display room where atmospheric data would be shown along the walls. After isolating the symbiont, as the Harmony referred to the bugs, on the display we both looked between the Kra’kar and Kra’gar.

“Are they different?” I asked.

“There are some minor differences, coloration, limb length, but those could be the result of individual variations,” the Harmony said, “but if we’re assuming they are closely related sub-species, the differences might not be apparent to us. Can you pull up their genetics?”

“Uhh, maybe?” I said slowly, working through the complex and barely functional program I’d set up. It took a few minutes but soon enough I was able to manage a quantum scan of the bugs’ DNA, or whatever equivalent they had, putting both on the display for the Harmony.

“They are definitely different species,” the Harmony said after a moment, “definitionally, their genetics wouldn’t allow them to breed interbreed.”

“So they are an off-shoot of the Kra’kar?”

“Maybe…” the harmonic entity said, floating slightly closer to the screen, “I’m not an expert on Kra’kar genetics, but this sequence right here looks altered.”

“Like, through genetic engineering?” I asked, looking at the indicated spot, but not seeing anything.

“I… think so, but genetics are weird, and most of my knowledge is on Pharaen and Human genetics.”

“Question: would you like to declare the Kra’gar a separate race from the Kra’kar?” the ecological AI asked suddenly.

“Looks like they are, if these scans are indicative of the general populations,” I said.

“Command confirmed, detection of possibly invasive species confirmed, authorization for mass scans to detect extent of spread granted,” the AI said, “scanning… genetic differentiation confirmed, investigating spread and interaction with native species… race designated Kra’gar shows activity indicative of parasitic species. No natural predators detected. Modeling indicates Kra’gar will spread to and take over entire human habitat within eight hundred years. Invasive species tag confirmed. Seeking solutions.”

“Wait!” I shouted, “you aren’t considering genocide are you?”

“Elimination of invasive species most efficient method of preventing spread,” the AI replied simply.

“They are intelligent!”

“When implanted,” the Harmony said, looking at me, “while it looks like they can carry lots of information and augment the minds of those they are within, the Kra’gar symbionts themselves aren’t intelligent.”

“Is removing them possible?” the captain asked, looking slightly flushed, presumably due to the half empty glass of alcohol he was holding.

“Estimates of success in surgical removal… less than ten percent, chance of serious neurological damage high,” the AI replied, “Assessing ability of chemical elimination of parasite… suitable chemical found, chance of neurological damage unchanged.”

“The symbionts integrate completely into the host’s mind,” the Harmony said, “basically becoming part of their brain. Removing them without causing damage is practically impossible.”

“What about preventing the spread?” I asked, starting to pace again, “is there a way to immunize the population against being implanted?”

“Assessing option… no suitable chemical found,” the AI replied.

“Even if there was, as you said they are intelligent, they could find ways to circumvent the immunization,” the Harmony added.

"Could we negotiate with them?" I asked.

"I doubt they have a central authority with which to negotiate," the Harmony said, "any time they gather in any numbers, it seems like the Kra'Kar used the solar laser to wipe them out. It's likely they're spread out in distinct cells."

"Distribution pattern agrees with this analysis," the Ecological AI agreed.

"Isolating them to a specific region?"

"It would be impossible to forcibly move entire populations, and, at best, would delay the problem," replied the Harmony, "humans have a bad record in attempting to share land."

"And relocating them to the Kra'kar disk would be the same," I sighed, "too many to move, and even if we could they'd only be killed by the Kra'kar."

“What about their queens?” the captain slurred, earning confused looks from both of us, “what? Rumors are Kra’gar have queens that don’t require a host. ‘pparently infected people lie down near them when they’re about to die. Queen bites the bug out, mates with it, produces more. Take out the queens, they stop reproducing. Though I think we should just kill ‘em all.”

“I’m trying to minimize harm…” I sighed, “are the queens… intelligent?”

“Based on published studies by biologists of all three races, Kra’kar queens do carry knowledge and memories from the symbionts they mate with, and pass those onto the resultant offspring. But they do not possess a neural structure much more complex than the smaller male symbionts,” the ecological AI offered.

“Which is why they are so… protective of their queens,” I said, thinking back to when I first spoke with the Kra’kar, “they carry ancestral knowledge.”

“But would you accept eliminating all Kra’gar queens?” the Harmony asked, “they blur the line between being intelligent and not. The Kra’gar would consider it a genocide, but humanity might not.”

“I... I don't know," I admitted, pacing anxiously, "by most legal standards it would be genocide, dooming their population to a slow death rather than a quick one."

"They are a parasitic race that requires other creatures to survive," said the Harmony, "they can not exist without potentially wiping out other races."

"The Kra'kar can," I countered, "you yourself call them symbiotic, not parasitic."

"Because the Kra'kar don't engage in forcible implantation, the Kra'gar do," said the Harmony, "I don't know if that's part of their nature, or if the genetic alterations make them more likely to engage in that activity, but without the ability to negotiate with or isolate them it's impossible to be sure."

"I just... I don't like the idea of genocide," I sighed, collapsing in a couch, the ship captain offering me a glass of something.

"None of us do," the Harmony said softly.

"I'm okay with it," the Captain replied, only to go silent as the Harmony glared at it.

"Do you agree that this is the least damaging choice available?"

"Seems like it," I sighed, taking a sip of the amber liquid and wincing as it burned down my throat, "I don't like it, I wish there was another way, but it seems like there isn't one."

“Good,” the Harmony bobbed up and down.

“Suitable chemical to eliminate Kra’gar queens found, adverse ecological impact minimal, authorizing production,” the AI added.

“The next question, is why, or who, genetically modified the Kra’gar in the first place?” I said after a moment to clear my thoughts, “it’s unlikely the Kra’kar did it to themselves, creating what they apparently see as a competitor.”

“They’d be more likely to find ways to control genetic drift,” the Harmony agreed, “I hate to say it, but I can only think of one answer.”

“The Pharaen?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit.”

***** Discord - Patreon *****

Infiltration

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

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The cave in the hillside had been concealed to the point that it seemed only to be a shadow under the trees, but it was there. However, concealment was not nearly enough security, and thus two sentries stood guard in the trees outside, watching for enemy action, come rain or shine.

One of these two sentries, although his body stood guard and his eyes ceaselessly searched the vicinity for anything amiss, still roamed far afield in the part of his mind that he could still call his own, in search of any escape from his current predicament. For he was not here by choice.

*****

Kerrig Shadowdale had been a member of the Queen’s Third of Foot Archery Battalion. Theirs was a tradition stretching back millennia, with tales told of victories over orcs, goblin hordes, trolls, and even encroaching giants. They had occasionally been required to retreat temporarily in the face of overwhelming opposition, but they had never been routed nor defeated.

Until mere months ago.

The Third of Foot had been a part of a multi-unit force that had taken the field against the oncoming human invasion, very early on. Kerrig had shared in the general feeling that once the ‘stinking humies’ tasted the full fury of the elvish military, they would throw down their weapons and surrender en masse. If they were even allowed to, which was a point of some debate; some advocated slaughtering them out of hand for even daring to raise a hand against their rightful masters, while others (including Kerrig) thought that only their commanders should suffer that fate.

When they marched onto the field of battle, bronze helmets polished to a golden sheen and silver trumpets playing stirring music, Kerrig had thought at first that the foe had fled before them, until he saw the multitude of small holes with drab green helmets barely visible within them. Farther back, there were small emplacements constructed out of bulky sacks piled together. Nowhere could be seen a lord or an officer (among elven forces, they were usually one and the same) clad in appropriate raiment, standing forth to exhort the troops onward; Kerrig felt they were rather letting down the side.

The elven troops came to a halt, and both sides waited for the other to do something.

Nothing happened.

A minute passed, then another. Kerrig began to feel stirrings of embarrassment on behalf of his commanders. He remained facing forward, holding his bow, but he could hear murmurs passing through the ranks. Ahead of him, the humans cowered in their holes. Behind him, brightly coloured silken banners snapped in the breeze.

Finally, an elven commander must have made a decision. A silver trumpet, elaborately curlicued, was raised to the sky and exquisite notes pealed forth: the command to prepare for attack. It was repeated from one side of the elven forces to the other, then the second note echoed outward, and he drew an arrow from the quiver.

At the bellowed command of his sergeant, he nocked the arrow and raised his bow at a sufficient angle to shoot well over the heads of his comrades. Smoothly, he took up tension on the bowstring; the well-prepared wood creaked as the bow bent backward. When his thumb touched his ear, he paused and held the shot.

One long breath went into his lungs, in unison with his fellows to his left and right. Hundreds of arrows held firm, aimed upward at the brilliant blue sky. As he exhaled, he fixed his vision on where he intended his shot to fall.

Then came to the command. “Loose!”

He didn’t recall consciously releasing the bowstring, but the arrow was on the way, along with a veritable swarm of its fellows; before it could reach the top of its arc, he had another on the string. As he had practised a thousand times, he drew and loosed again, then yet again. None could stand against a determined barrage of arrows, he knew; even giants fled properly commanded elven archers.

The trumpets pealed out once more, with the tones that bade the archers to cease shooting. Next up would be the infantry, to pin the perfidious humans down in their holes and force their surrender. The command went out; shields raised against counterfire, the elven soldiers stepped forth, eager to bring the fight to the enemy.

That was when the human soldiers rose from cover.

Despite the veritable forest of spent arrows all about, none seemed wounded. There were more than Kerrig had anticipated, too; some seemed to have dug their coward dens behind rocks or beneath bushes. All carried long spindly weapons, not unlike a crossbow with the stock lengthened and the bow part removed, but made mainly of metal.

Even as the elven warriors ran toward them, they did not seem to understand their oncoming doom. Brutish commands, grunted in a language Kerrig did not understand, floated across the field. Weapons rose to shoulders.

And then fire and death erupted across the battlefield.

Every human weapon flared fire at its forepart, coupled with thunderous reports. At the same time, the entire front rank of the elven attack went down, spraying blood and gore from inexplicable wounds. More behind them fell, unto the third and fourth ranks, cut down like wheat before the scythe.

All is yet well, Kerrig would later recall thinking. They cannot hope to reload before—

Even as the survivors of that first catastrophic volley screamed in defiance, drawing their swords as they dashed toward their foe, the unnatural weapons spoke again. Once more, thunder rolled back from the cloudless sky, and the remainder of the elven charge dissolved into blood and screaming bodies on the ground. Kerrig heard a whap as something passed by his ear like a hornet with murder on its mind, then several of his fellow archers crumpled to the ground, arrows spilling from their quivers.

The cavalry, originally held back because no need had been seen for them, rode forth now. Their trumpet calls were more urgent. Close with the enemy. Give no quarter. They, and their horses, wore heavier plate than most; whatever this new weapon the humans were using, the cavaliers would hopefully be proof against it.

Kerrig also heard the calls for archers to stand firm and give the cavalry cover. He automatically nocked an arrow, but the human weapons sounded first and a smashing blow to his left arm knocked him sprawling to the ground. As he lay there, he heard a deeper sound, one that went dakkadakkadakkadakka. In his pained vision he saw flickering lights in the gaps of the emplacements, and the cavalry going down as the riders and horses both were pounded to ruin in just seconds.

The enemy, it seemed, had no more love for the horses that had been trained to kick or bite humans than they had for the elves who rode them.

The Queen’s Third of Foot was no more; he knew that, as  firmly as he knew that if he remained on the battlefield, he would be either taken prisoner or killed. Cradling his left arm—on later examination, it was not broken, though a large divot had been taken from the muscle near his bicep—he crawled away into the undergrowth, then made a run for it. A few shots from human weapons followed, but none struck him; he couldn’t even be sure that they’d been aimed at him personally.

It had been days later, his arm gradually mending, that he had stumbled into the Singing Glade and encountered other elvish soldiers. They had taken him to their master, a Darkmage, and from that moment onward his will had not been his own. His arm was treated by healers, and he was put on sentry duty.

Whatever he might want was of no concern; the Darkmage needed a sentry, and so he would be a sentry.

*****

In all the time Kerrig had stood his post as sentry for the Darkmage, not one enemy had passed by the hidden entrance to the cave. This mattered not to the Darkmage, nor to the orders Kerrig had been given. Thus, he kept as vigilant a lookout for anything that might pose a danger to his master as he had when he first took up the post.

In the event, when he did spot a potential enemy—an orcish warrior, bumbling through the undergrowth as though lost—it was no great feat of perception. The orc even appeared drunk, or at least disoriented, peering around at the trees as if searching for something or someone. “Where the trokk did you go?” he mumbled. “Where’d everyone go?”

When he got closer, Kerrig spotted the bloodstained bandage tied around his head, and everything made sense. If the orc had been injured in battle then wandered off in a daze, his comrades were likely far away, considering that he had heard no sounds of fighting. And given the sheer destruction that humans brought to warfare, it was no real surprise that even a glancing blow had addled the orc’s wits so thoroughly.

Kerrig would have remained hidden and let the orc go on his way, but the Darkmage had given orders to cover this situation. Anyone coming from a battlefield needed to be taken and questioned as to the progress of the war. All were to be treated as hostile. None would be allowed to leave alive afterward. It was the only way to maintain security.

He did not know his fellow sentry’s name, despite the fact that they had stood guard together quite often over the last few weeks. Those under the sway of a Darkmage did not casually chat, and nobody had seen fit to give him that information. Thus, he nodded to the other elf to indicate that he should intercept the orc while Kerrig backed him up. No words were spoken; both knew what they had to do.

As silently as elves were capable of, they eased out of cover and approached the wounded orc from behind. The other elf had a hand on his sword hilt and Kerrig had an arrow nocked though the bow was yet undrawn; if the orc fled or fought them, a broadhead shaft through the throat would shut him up for good. Disposing of a corpse was far easier than subduing a yelling, struggling captive.

Without warning, pain exploded across the back of his head. He staggered, dropping his bow and arrow, but didn’t have time to recover before an arm encircled his throat and locked into place, squeezing hard. For a moment, he scrabbled uselessly at the arm as he struggled to draw breath.

Alerted by the sound of the bow falling to the ground, the other elf turned and began to pull his sword, opening his mouth to sound the alarm at the same time. But the orc reacted faster; before the sound could emerge or the blade was more than a handsbreadth out of the scabbard, he’d spun around and smashed the flat of his axe against the side of the other elf’s head. Feet leaving the ground with the force of the blow, Kerrig’s comrade was unconscious before he hit the ground.

As darkness closed in around his vision, Kerrig recalled that he was wearing a dagger. His weakened fingers pawed at the sheath, but discovered it was empty. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness altogether was the orc pulling the bloodstained bandage off his head.

*****

Adomar

“Seriously, don’t none of your trokkin’ soldier boys carry rope?” Ugruk put his dagger away and finished using the other sentry’s sliced-up outer garments to bind and gag the one Adomar had put down with a choke-hold. That one wasn’t wearing his own clothing, as he’d involuntarily donated it to the cause of giving Adomar a disguise suitable for wearing into the cave.

“You see that scar there?” Adomar pointed to the depressed mark on the sentry’s upper arm. “That’s from a bullet shot by a fire-in-metal weapon. I’ve seen those before. He faced humans in combat before he ended up here. No resupply, and no reason for sentries to weigh themselves down with rope.”

“Yeah, sure, right.” Ugruk grabbed up both sentries and bundled them into the undergrowth. “Ready ta go?”

Adomar nodded. The brief scuffle had brought fire to his blood and chased away some of the dragging weariness that afflicted his limbs, but he could feel it beginning to creep back again. He had to get this done before he simply fell over from weariness. One way or another, once he went into that cave, the fight would soon be over.

Pushing aside the hanging curtain of mottled green material—this close, he recognised it as some of the camouflage cloth that humans used to conceal their war machinery—he edged his way into the entrance of the cave. Ugruk, he knew, would be following along behind, ready to back him up at a moment’s notice. His bow was in its case at his back, because coming in ready for a fight would arouse suspicion, but he could pull it out and nock and loose an arrow in seconds if he had to.

Adjusting to the dim conditions, his eyes allowed him to see where he was going with relative ease. He strode forward, pretending confidence, so that his footfalls would mask the sound of Ugruk’s passage. This would make him the primary target if those in the cave realised they were being invaded, but there was neither the time nor the opportunity to sneak in and find out the lay of the land via stealth.

Up ahead, he could see flickering light, as of candles or a fire, but he was more interested in the sensation of proximity to Ramoda. She was very close indeed now, so close that he was sure she would know he was there as well. As he’d said earlier to Ugruk, her familiarity with the cave system allowed him to feel his way through with a certain amount of foresight, so at least he wouldn’t get lost looking for her.

There was a chamber branching off to the right, but she wasn’t in there. He didn’t make a point of looking in as he strode past, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw several other elves, all no doubt in thrall to the Darkmage. One or two glanced at him as he walked past, then looked away again. Curiosity was not a thing that happened in this situation.

He didn’t pause in his walking, but behind his back, he made the hand sign for ‘several men’, then gestured toward the side-chamber. None of them had been watching the passage, so if Ugruk made no noise, there was a chance he’d be able to sneak past. The question was, should he wait for his comrade, or move on without him?

I need to find Ramoda and get her out of here. That was his overriding goal. Once she was out of the Darkmage’s foul grasp, he could come back and put an arrow—or ten—through the elven mind-tyrant’s black heart.

Even as he formed the thought, he felt a pull to the left. There was a side-opening there, while straight ahead a larger chamber beckoned, with leaping flames in some kind of firepit. If he’s there, I could kill him now, before he knows I’m here …

He hesitated for far too long, torn between the two options. And then a whisper drifted out of the side-chamber, a voice that was as familiar to him as his own. “Adomar …?”

The spell broken, he started forward, following his sister’s call. When he entered the chamber, he saw Ramoda crouching on a thin sleeping mat. A stout-braided leather rope was woven around her wrists, leading to a crude mechanical lock attached to large metal spike that had been hammered into the floor.

His heart overflowed with joy on seeing her. “Ramoda!” he gasped, darting to her side and falling to his knees. “Are you well? Can you walk?” As much as he wanted to celebrate finding her, the pressing concern was to get her away from the Darkmage, so he suppressed his natural inclination to embrace her and never let go.

“Yes, I think I can.” She took hold of his face then, cradling it between her hands. “You should have gone far, far away. If he realises you are here …”

“No.” He shook his head. “We’re leaving.” He took her hand in his, and pressed the hilt of the dagger he’d taken from the guard outside into it. “Start cutting the rope. I’m getting you out of here.” If he’d known more about locks, he may have tried to open it, but cutting the rope seemed the easiest option right then.

“But how—” Her head came up, her eyes staring, as she looked past him. “Look out! There’s an orc!”

“Don’t worry, he’s a friend of mine.” He glanced around to where Ugruk was peering into the entrance to the chamber. “Found her.”

“Good.” The rumble of Ugruk’s voice was barely audible. “Git her loose. I’ll keep watch.”

The awareness of danger was singing in his veins now; he’d never felt more alive as he sawed at the rope with his own dagger, while she attacked another of the braided strands with the borrowed one. They’d always worked well in unison, and he felt the togetherness once more, and her determination to escape. Moments drifted by, punctuated only by their steady breathing and the sound of steel sawing against leather. One strand—actually, a thick leather strap—parted, and he started on another.

“Someone comin’!” hissed Ugruk from the entrance to the chamber. Adomar looked around and saw the shadows on the floor of the cave, cast by the flickering firelight. Four Great Gods, why now?

But there was no time for recriminations. “Hide the dagger!” he whispered, then jumped up and ducked over to a spot alongside the entrance to the chamber. Ugruk had likewise flattened himself to the other side. There weren’t really any corners there, but if someone was merely glancing in, there was a good chance they’d be overlooked.

Footsteps sounded, and two elven warriors stepped into the chamber. Adomar froze, clutching his dagger. “You,” said one of the elves to Ramoda. “Come with us to the master.” The other bent over the lock, inserting a thick metal key into it.

There would never be a better opportunity. Adomar flicked a glance to Ugruk, then tilted his head toward the elf guards. He received a fractional nod in reply; just as the lock clicked open, they launched themselves forward.

He didn’t have the chance to strike his target on the head with the pommel of his dagger, as he had the sentry, so he shoved the elf warrior toward the wall of the cave instead. The collision was brutal, driving the wind out of the elf; Adomar heard the key fall from his hand and strike the rocky floor. But he couldn’t worry about the noise that had generated, as he was wrestling with his opponent and trying to get the upper hand.

As much as using his dagger would’ve made this easier, these elves were evidently under the spell of the Darkmage, and not in control of their actions. Once the Darkmage was dead, his influence would end and the thralldom would be broken. The trick was getting within striking range of the Darkmage without falling prey to his power as well; Darkmages surrounded themselves with elves for that very reason.

Off to the side, he was vaguely aware of Ugruk kneeling atop the other elf, holding him down with one hand and delivering devastating punches with the other. While Adomar considered himself to be anything but puny, Ugruk easily outmassed him at least twice over. He just had to hope Ugruk was going to stop once the elf was unconscious.

His own opponent was stronger than him, and had a way of twisting from side to side like an enraged serpent that made it very hard to hold on. In short order, Adomar found himself on his back with the other elf on top of him, straining to hold back a dagger that was seriously threatening his throat. Abruptly, the leather rope that had bound Ramoda was flipped around the other elf’s neck and he was bodily dragged back off Adomar.

Coming up fast, even as the elf warrior swung around toward his sister, Adomar grabbed him by the front of his tunic and administered a crisp headbutt, as he’d seen Ugruk do. His head rang like the great bronze bell in the Plaza of the Four Great Gods, but the other elf was just as staggered. Ramoda wrested the dagger away from the elf, just as Ugruk laid a punch upside his jaw that Adomar felt from where he was.

The elf warrior sagged away, and Adomar pushed him off, fighting to get his breath back. His strength, he realised, was sorely depleted from the last few days of not sleeping, but he just had to keep going for a little longer. Once Ramoda is away and the Darkmage is dead, I can sleep.

Just as he got to his feet, assisted by a heave from Ugruk, he felt a wave of despair from Ramoda as she looked toward the entrance to the chamber. He’d just turned his head that way when the two warriors looking in both shouted the same word at the same time. “Intruders!”

Ugruk threw himself toward the newcomers; Adomar threw the dagger he had in hand at one of them, then reached back to pull his bow from its case. If he could—

“Seize the intruders!” The words came with a wave of power that froze his limbs, then sent them moving in a different direction, no matter how he might fight against it. “Bring them to me!”

All was lost. The Darkmage knew they were there.

Even as more elves poured into the corridor to face Ugruk, both Adomar and Ramoda threw themselves onto his back. Adomar did his best to hamper the orc’s arms, while Ramoda put the rope around Ugruk’s neck and hauled back on it with all her strength. Ugruk bellowed and struggled; Adomar found himself flung off like a child against the orc’s berserk strength. Thrown against the cave wall, he struggled to his feet and charged back into the fray.

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

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This story also features on my Patreon page, along with most of my Reddit work.

[A/N 1: This was a huge post, so it's been chopped in half.]

[A/N 2: The next post will be the conclusion of this story.]

[A/N 3: This one ends on a cliffhanger (evil cliffhangers are evil. Mwahahaha) but the last chapter will be posted in 24 hours.]

Previous | Interlewd XLV | Interlewd XLVI | Next | First

---Vote---

---Krim’s perspective---

“Esteemed Representatives…” I announce, my voice (somewhat unnecessarily) amplified to resound through Parliament “…debate has concluded. You know the recommendation of the Parliamentary Special Council. The time has come to vote. Before you stand two motions; the acceptance of the Vrakhand of Graom-Wakhkort to membership of the Galactic Union, granting all the rights of citizenship to each and every member of their species and guaranteeing to them representation in this body, and the acceptance of the Twigg of Graom-Wakhkort to the same!… I implore you all to decide justly and with prudence befitting your stations… May the voting commence!”

My knuckles go pale as I grip the console, watching as the ‘aye’, ‘nay’ and ‘abstaining’ numbers for both votes all rise.

---Tratholt’s perspective---

I sit in my office, my advisors around me, watching the broadcast from Citadel.

The Wiwosk Speaker raises the podium lights to indicate that the votes have concluded and that she is about to announce the results.

Based on the colours of light I saw in front of the Representatives, I’m guessing I already know the outcome… much to my dismay.

With this, the precedent will be well and truly cemented!

Being deathworlders will never again be grounds to exclude a species from the Union once these two are accepted.

I can at least console myself with the fact that, for the moment, they will still be outnumbered by more than 10,000 to one… Even if that fact is relatively cold comfort when the Terrans have so much of Parliament in their pockets!

“With 17,909 and 21,485 votes in favour of the Vrakhand and Twigg, respectively, the ayes have it and the motions pa-”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” comes a scream from the broadcast that doesn’t need to be translated for me.

I bolt upright!

My eyes widen, my breaths quicken, my heart leaps to the back of my throat and the bottom drops out of my stomach!

I recognise that scream! I heard that scream many times as a young man!

The camera cuts to show me my sister.

She looks frenzied!

Gods, Brathy! Whatever you’re about to do, don’t do it!

No sooner have I thought the thought than she is vaulting over her desk, sprinting at the Terran at full tilt.

“Guards! Stop her!” orders the Wiwosk as Brathy rounds the edge of the aquatheatre that separates them.

Several large, high Class Parliamentary guards are visible, lumbering toward her location, but they’re too far away!

She mounts the Terran’s desk who, despite having watched her coming all the way from across the chambre, has made absolutely no move to escape or defend, only now raising his right forearm between himself and my sister.

I watch in horror as she throws herself at him, screaming hysterically and flailing her claws towards his face, vainly trying to do him any injury!

Moving only his arm to keep her at a distance, the man lazily defends without attacking, all the while looking at her with pitying concern which, my guess, is only enraging her further.

That is until he misjudges slightly, allowing her to nick his right cheek, drawing a little of his bright red blood.

“HAHA!!!” screams Brathy, more coherent than she’s been since she began throwing this tantrum “NOT SO INVINCIBLE AFTERALL, ARE Y-!?”

At that moment, she is interrupted by having her entire body wrapped in the fist of a Jukt guard.

The enormous Class 8 holding my screaming sister looks to Speaker Krim.

“Remove Representative Brathala and deliver her to her people’s embassy.” orders the woman with disgust “She is hereby censured for her outrageous breach of Parliamentary decorum in assaulting a fellow Representative!”

My sister is walked out of the chambre, held in the Jukt woman’s fist as she lopes out on her unoccupied three limbs.

All the way, Brathy screams “WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR, COWARDS!? THE TERRAN BLED!!! I CUT HIM! THEY AREN’T INVINCIBLE! WE CAN KILL THEM IF WE JUST TRY!!! WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTH…!?!?!?” before finally passing out of the range where her voice can be picked up by the microphones.

Already knowing the result of the vote, I don’t wait for things to resolve.

“Turn off the broadcast. Everyone out.” I order, stonily.

The feed is cut and I lean forward to rest my claws and head on the desk, my snout squashing as I press it into the surface, groaning.

I hear my advisors all muttering to eachother as they clear the room.

Gods! What now!?

I sit back up, only to realise I’m not alone.

“I said ‘everyone out’, Walath!” I admonish her.

“I don’t think so, Father… Our people’s Representative was just censured for attacking the Terrans’ on a live broadcast across the galaxy before calling for a resumption of the War while she was carried away! You need my advice on how to handle this… Otherwise, her actions might be viewed as a provocation and, based on that reaction, I don’t think the rest of the GU would have our backs(!)”

I sneer “I suppose you think the amount of your time you spend circumventing my galnet restrictions to consume Terran media or the ‘secret’ room you have, full of smuggled Terran goods (that I pretend not to know about), makes you an expert on Terrans then, do you(?)”

Clearly surprised, my daughter nonetheless holds her ground to answer “More of an expert than I think you’re likely to access without consulting the nearest ODR… which would be the one on Citadel…”

I puff humourlessly and sigh “Alright then, Walath… what do you suggest?”

---Bronal’s perspective---

I march down the corridor of my species’ embassy with two other burly knights behind me.

I’m able to hear the sounds of screaming and smashing emanating from our destination long in advance of reaching it.

I draw up to the large, ornate doors and pause for a moment before striding forward as they swing open.

The sight of a destroyed office greets me.

The woman I’m here for wheels around, her face crazed.

Not allowing myself to appear at all perturbed, I speak “Princess Brathala, you have been stripped of the Representativeship of the Battan people and are ordered to immediately return to Batta.”

She stands, staring at me, utterly stupefied for a few moments before scoffing “I am a princess! You do not have the authority to give me orders, let alone strip me of my office!!!”

Calmly, I state “Correct. However, I’m not acting on my own authority. My orders come directly from King Tratholt LXV of Batta and he does have that power. Your removal has been deemed a necessary measure for our species’ security.”

“Nonsense!” she sneers “My brother would never betray me like that!… Who would even be Representative if not me!?”

“Princess Walath will shortly be dispatched to replace you. She should arrive within the [week].” I relate, curtly.

“That Terranlover!? My treacherous niece?!” she shrieks “No! You’re lying!… Knights! ARREST this man for treason against the Battan Kingdom!”

“Your Highness…” I say, firmly “…I believe you have embarrassed our people enough for today. Do not add to it by forcing us to take you to the shuttlepad in a muzzle and restraints… Just come quietly and spare us all the last of our dignity.”

From the look in her eyes, I can tell she isn’t going to oblige me.

---Waqa’arc’s perspective---

I changed my mind.

I initially decided not to attend the celebration but, now, here I am…

However, as I step off the transport and onto the landingpad halfway up this ODR skypiercer, I’m beginning to think I might simply change my mind again and walk right back onto the craft I just disembarked.

Before I have the chance to act on that impulse however, I’m approached by two Terrans, covered shoulder to toe in black metal armour with only their heads being exposed, [handguns] mounted on their hips.

The brown eyed male is smiling. The red eyed, walking extinct female stares at me with unnerving blankness.

“Do you mind if I quickly check your devices, Ma’am?” smiles the male.

“No… Please go ahead, Officer.” I say, uncomfortably.

Without wasting a moment the man squats to examine the sash on my front.

“Ah, you’ll need an antibuffet too… It’s crowded in there and it’d be very easy for anyone not paying close attention to trample you. Winter, can you get her one?”

The unnerving woman wordlessly takes a few steps to the security kiosk and digs behind it before returning with the requested device, handing it to the man.

As he attaches it to my sash and activates it, he says “Now, we’re not going to tamperproof these, just request that you keep them all attached as well as activated while attending and then return this one before you leave, Ma’am.”

“Are you not going to check my identity?” I frown.

He chuckles and stands “No need!… We’ve known who you are since your capsule crossed the boundary of the compound, Officer Waqa’arc, 15^(th) Daughter of Highspire Peak. Please enjoy the party, Ma’am!”

“Oh… I see…” I say, not sure why I’m surprised by Terran security’s sophistication.

As I walk away, I hear him enthusiastically greet the next arrival “Representative Hriko! Fashionably late I see(!)”

“I could never allow myself to appear unfashionable in your presence, Chén(!)… Are you going to treat me to a stop and frisk(?)” replies the Gothor woman, her tone (bafflingly) translated as flirtatious in spite of the wide gulf between their physiologies.

I cross the landingpad to reach the open doors to the crowded hall.

Anxiety swells within me as I pick my way through the throng, hearing the cacophony assault my ears!

I’m instantly glad of the device the Terran insisted I have, as large sturdy beings cavort around me yet find themselves unable to collide with me.

I’m not sure exactly where I’m headed… I suppose I’m hoping to run into Tcakqaal and her lifemate but, seeing just how crowded this enormous room is, I doubt I’ll find them without either taking wing or calling them… both of which I would find too embarrassing.

I begin to wish again that I had stayed on the ship with Akrat when I hear someone call my name.

I turn, my expression bemused, to see a tall, slim, bearded Terran with purple eyes and a patch on his right cheek, under which I know is a fresh claw wound.

He enthusiastically beckons me over to where he sits with five other Terrans and a Tythii.

I approach the group, unsure exactly why the Terran Representative might be hailing me?

I’ve never met the man, unless you count at the Special Council where we sat in the same room?

“Uhm… Hello Representative?” I greet.

“Waqa’arc, 15^(th) Daughter of Highspire Peak!” grins the man with the facewound “It’s a privilege! I was so hoping you would come!”

“You were?”

“Absolutely! I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say this party very well might not be happening without you!” he smiles “Everyone, this is the R’qali who clinched the Special Council vote for us! Waqa’arc, this is Nirina ‘Orchid’ Rain, my wife, Vahatra ‘Purple’ Rain, my daughter, Wynythil of the Dancing Reeds, my daughter-in-law, Admiral Sindisiwe ‘Roar’ Ledwaba, her husband Vice Admiral Aaron ‘Triple C’ Friedman and their daughter Khanya ‘Quiet’ Friedman… and, of course, myself, Ndum ‘Lemur’ Rain.”

All of them nod their heads in acknowledgement as he names them until he gets to himself.

“I see…” I say uncertainly “…it’s a pleasure?”

“No, Ma’am! The pleasure is ours!… Please, sit with us! The Admiral and Vice Admiral here are likely going to be deployed to Graom-Wakhkort soon, perhaps you could share some of your insights with them?”

---Victor’s perspective---

I frown as I see Waqa’arc walking through the crowd, seeming dazed.

I actually have to spend a few moments wondering if this might just be another R’qali who’s a dead ringer for her but, in the end, decide I had it right the first time.

I stride up to her and she doesn’t seem to notice me.

“Oi, Waqa’arc…?”

She turns to look up at me but doesn’t answer.

“What’s happenin’?… Thought you weren’t comin’?”

Seeming almost (but not quite) drunk she answers “Well… I decided to come… I came… I talked to Representative Rain… he offered me a job?”

“He offered you a job? What job?” I frown.

“The new head of the ODR on R’qal?” she asks more than tells, like she’s not sure herself.

“Oh… Congrats?”

---

Previous | Interlewd XLV | Interlewd XLVI | Next | First

Discord

Dramatis Personae

My heart is brimming with joy beyond what I thought my frame could withstand, and my head is overflowing with lofty and ambitious dreams. But let us not get ahead of ourselves. I encountered a great and lofty amount of activity within the center of the town, centered around the tree which sprouted from St. Sini Naqihu’s corpse, once the breath of life, had left it all those decades ago. It was now decorated with countless offerings of food and clothing wrapped around its bushy branches. I looked around as people prepared all sorts of activities for joy, the smells of cooking food filled the air alongside the quick footsteps of stammering children. Dogs and goblins alike gathered eager for a meal, fearsome and savage beings, prepared to fight one another for mere scraps.

I dodged between such beings and questioned a pair of women who were employed in kneading balls of corn dough and cooking them to produce tortillas. I quickly asked her in the region's native savage and uncouth tongue, “Reveal to me, if you please, the source of all the activity which has swarmed the region. Some wedding or funeral?.”

One of the women laughed at me condescendingly as if I was a young and foolish child who didn’t understand the functioning of the world. While that wreaked a great storm of anger within my heart, equal to a destructive hurricane, I kept all my feelings to myself and listened attentively. “No, no,” she stated as she shook her head, “We are not commemorating events undertaken solely by mortals. Rather, here we joyfully celebrate the destruction of the fearsome demon Qejonu. Wicked being! Is that not worthy of celebration?”

The woman working beside her bluntly stated, “We are here to work, not to gossip. Either purchase a product or leave.” I thanked them profusely despite my inward frustration, stating, “Ah, I apologize, I thank you for enlightening me.” In order to ensure continued cordiality with these simple village dwellers, I bought half a dozen of the tortillas even if I had already consumed breakfast. I ate them as I walked, dreams formulating and floating within my head. The death of a god was something rare, those great blundering yet powerful parasites. An idea began to germinate like a seed on ripe soil, laying down thick roots. However, I knew that more information, not available to the people of this ignorant town, was necessary to go ahead on any plan of mine. The most ancient and glorious art was not well-received here, that much has been left clear to me. Horrid shades of the past weighed heavily in my head.

I approached an old man with brown sagging and wrinkled skin who found himself employed in the selling of some fowl. He possessed a tired countenance and appeared to be falling asleep in mid day as I approached. I provided him with a pleasant smile and stated, “What a most pleasant and auspicious day! Dead be Qejonu. How much do you charge for one of those excellent birds of yours.” The man opened his mouth, many teeth absent with the remaining few sprouting up like cacti within a desert mound. Despite this, his voice could clearly be understood as he pleasantly approached me.. “Aye, sir. I’ve got an awful lot of roosters this last year, most of them will end up in stew. You know how it is. These ones ain’t good for fighting. Which one do you want?” I pointed to one which looked and smelled healthy and muscular, at least when judged by the standards of the miserable quality of this land's average fowl. Once removed from the cage he prepared to strip the bird of its head with a long and bloody machete as the chicken was laid bare on a small wooden table. “Halt! I require it alive,” once those words left the barrier of my teeth he muttered something under his breath, perhaps displeased at not getting a chance to use the old piece of steel. I attempted to remedy that by explaining, “I’ll be going a little ways from here. I’d like to slaughter it there. To preserve the freshness.” 

The ancient man's countenance did not remain bitter at me for long, he chuckled at me and said, “Yes, it is a merry time. In my youth I would have hunted on a day like this. Divine treasure! Enjoy the youth you’ve got left.” The man packed the bird into the cage and handed it to me. That complete, I journeyed into the vast lands outside of the town. 

I went past the structured homes of wood and adobe and past the vast fields of rippling corn and beans which grew on the fertile black earth and were watered by the rain which the shakers of the waves sprayed on the earth after the sun purified it. I wandered to the rocky outskirts of the land and brought with me the rooster, alive and greatly displeaced at me. I wisely ignored it  as these wild beasts were incapable of learning or reason of any kind. All while struggling with a wooden walking stick through the rocky highlands. To argue with such inuman beings would be futile. Once I reached a suitably remote spot I prepared a great fire with some dried sticks I had picked up earlier along the rocky trail. My back ached, but I continued on. Once the fire was set, I made sure to add wet leaves and other such plant matter to ensure thick black smoke blossomed like a terrible flower into the vast skies. 

There I stayed, impatiently fiddling with the horrid cotton tunic which was so common within this too-warm land. Even with such light cloth, sweat always made my skin wet. My attention was diverted by a pair of eyes in the woods, the form of a small bipedal creature being clearly seen from what little light of the afternoon sun filtered down the dark canopy into the rocky earth. Upon witnessing that I loudly stated, “if you are one of the wandering spirits, then come and be seated for some time. Let us share food and words alike. But if you are nothing but one of the wild beasts of the field, mindless, inhuman, and brutal, then leave. There is nothing for you here.” The creature slowly wandered out of the forest, a lithe being stood. Its head, even when fully raised, only reached to the hips of a young woman. Many beings with such a form had I observed within the lowlands, mindless beasts that gnawed at the weak and the dead. It had the form of nothing but a meager beast, the long legs and the sharp beak but its words revealed a high intellect, “I hear you, foreigner, and I listen. Before you ask anything of me, slaughter that chicken and cook its innards for me to have a meal. If you do not, your words will pass through my internal ears and leave through my breath. I shall be gone quicker than the wind.”

But I merely grinned widely at that and beckoned it closer, “Come, that you may ensure it is prepared to your liking.” With one hand I brought forth a terrible blade, short but still deadly. I laid the rooster bare upon a fallen tree trunk, which had been stripped of life by pitiless steel in some former time. With one fell swoop the young bird joined the tree and all the shades of the dead as its blood and life oozed out and forever laid a mark on the wood. I dispatched the rest of the blood into the throat of the terrible yet pitiful spirit made incarnate which greedily drank the blood and remaining life of the bird. The puppetering spirit eagerly screeched, “Oh, there are few things better than fresh blood. Had you brought dried and lifeless flesh to me I would have left you hearing nothing but the movement of dirt within the air”

I plucked the individual feathers of the bird with much effort. I lamented the fact my acolytes were forced to labor based on the whims of others to obtain food. This meager action was not befitting of masters such as I, but I had few things fit of my former status now. The spirit now made its will known and said, “Cook the gizzard apart, do not empty it of what it contains. Throw the wings for the worms or eat them yourself, I care nothing for them. I leave only them and the bones to you.” I gave my nod of approval and went on the tasks it had told me.

As I left the shards of flesh slowly cooking on a warm stone the creature disapprovingly told me, “Foolish witch, Sanu Nepe, next time bring a comal. I care nothing whatever other spirits you’ve consorted with have told you, stones do not provide taste; they remove it. I require some of your blood as a payment for this mistake on your part.” I, however, responded to it in an angered tone, “Do you think I'm a fool? I will not provide you with anything of my own being. Not with the blood that contains my very essence, the blueprints of my design. If you do not take the payment for the chicken, it is already cooked. I can hear the footsteps of other beings in the periphery. Would you have Melo or someone else's feast instead of you?”

The creature chuckled darkly and bitterly at me before saying, “I submit to your logic. It did no harm to myself to attempt to pull your strings, human. It has been far too long since I dwelt among your kind and consumed cooked flesh. I crave the feeling once more.” I fed the creature as a man does a dog or a goblin, throwing the chunks at it after having picked them up with small yet firm sticks of wood. The creature consumed them for a long time, and relayed to me useless information which I will not write down and which I barely even remember. They were nothing but muses about the conflicts it had with hunters, with the beasts of the field, and with other creatures of its own kind it considered lesser. The arrogance the wandering spirits can have even when they are destitute and lacking any kind of worship or veneration is staggering.

Once it had eaten plenty, I looked at it with an angry glance and told it, “I have heard your own words long enough and provided you with cooked flesh; I want answers now. Entertain my musings, if you will. I wish to know about the happenings at Rilu Jiguhi” The creature stopped pecking at the ground for whichever morsels remained and faced it with an upfront look. It opened its beak in a wide manner, a mockery of a smile, which I supposed it retained from the time it had puppetered a human body. “Curious about the death of Qejonu, are you? Yes, the old god has truly perished. It is no trick, no jest.” The creature let out another mad cackle upon seeing the joy that lit up in my face, but I desired more information, “Tell me how?”

It continued with the story it had been relating, “A great coalition of the nearby lordsships, led by who else but Gajohu and their wretched duke. They came over with terrible armies and threatened to bring absolute destruction to his city, many deities and mortal heroes such as Nolina or Nupani. The others tell me great they heard of the horrible deeds they threatened, fire to their buildings, locusts to their fields, plague to their children.”

The creature looked at me and stated, “Nolina told Qejonus he would either retake the city which she had founded or reduce it to a pile of rubble. And that only with Qejonu’s' death would she be satisfied. And so!” the creature raised its voice at that point, “Qejonu destroyed his own mind, he warbled all the memories stored in the great fungal masses into nothingness. His frame was shattered by the work of his own hands, but not in vain, for the city still stands within the fertile valley. Simply under a different ruler”  With the tale completed I chose to finally reveal my utmost goal and questioned the wandering spirit. “And tell me, oh Huse Napase, the welcome hit, what you would ask of me to obtain a piece of land which contains this shattered and mindless pile of divine fungi, this delectably opportunous blank slate. I hold lofty plans for it.”

The creature questioned me in an accusing tone, the wandering spirit revealing all of its thoughts as it turned its head and told me, “Your determination is eternal. You’ve had no success with that wretched art of yours in this land. Were you not driven to this meaningless stretch of land from qejene due to your practice of that art? It is not welcome here, all abhor it.” I scowled at it, greatly angered by its jesting words. I lost all semblance of formality and warmness I had attempted to maintain and hollered out, “How it is that you know all that, you miserable spirit!”. I calmed myself and before the creature could respond stated, “But regardless, what I do with my most hallowed art is of no business to you, wretched and miserable spirit with no hope or future! This people's ignorance will not deter me. Tell me: What must I pay to obtain a chunk of land which houses a relatively whole mass of the deceased god fungal god nestled within the soil?”

It was not good to allow my emotions to gain control of me, but they always raged within me and struck at the most inopportune moments. The creature, however, was not angered but instead amused by my words. It let out its mouth wide open in a mockery of a smile and stated, “Now, did your parents not teach you how to treat a lady? To answer the former question, that acolyte of yours, following close behind your every step, Qinisiru Relino, has been consorting with many spirits. Not just myself, without your knowledge. He’s better at this than you.” I interrupted the hated and unworshipped deity and clenched my teeth in abject anger, “Oh that cursed young man! He is a slithering and horrible product of mine. He thinks he can carry out deeds behind my back, does he? But do carry on.” The creature continued without the slightest difficulty as if it had never been interrupted. It let out a chirping mockery of a laugh before asking me, “Do you know what is the thing I miss the most of the time when I was a worshipped goddess?” 

I was in not even the slightest mood to entertain this game. Yet, when a sentence of complaint began to escape the barrier of my teeth the creature looked at me with such a fierce gaze I chose against that course of action. Instead, I threw out a haphazard guess, “Hands?” The spirit looked at the small and ornamental feathers of the body it was currently puppeteering. Useless pile of fungal slime, annoying game-maker. It responded in an agreeable tone entirely unlike the savage gaze it had thrown just a minute earlier, “Good guess, those were rather pleasant to have. I miss being able to write. The human frame is excellent for countless things. You really should be thankful that you possess one which is whole and in good condition, with a fine age.”

I was growing impatient at the endless meandering the wandering spirit enjoyed, but kept my composure. The great bird finally said, “Human flesh.” It looked at me with one eye before staring at the clouds galloping through sunny heaven, visible through the canopy of the trees. “I miss when children had their throats slashed in my honor, once a year. I miss feasting on their delectable brains, their hearts, and stews made from the meat on their legs. I miss chewing their bones for marrow. Their meat is rare and sparse, and growing it takes a lengthy period of time, but it is tender and delectable. Those who haven’t consumed it do not understand.” The creature launched a great sound that blurred the line between a screech and a wail, “ Oh, cursed be sini naqihu, wretched be the day he is named after! It is due to him and his accursed god that I am where I am.” It clawed angrily at the earth, as though it were tearing the flesh of a living being it despised.

I looked at it without sympathy, not pleased by its strange and sudden breakdown. I let it continue its speech and its horrid wails for some time. I allowed it to compose itself. I’d eaten human flesh back when I was a man of high breeding and noble standing during my youth in my homeland. I didn’t miss it much, the texture of it never seemed appealing to me and it tasted like an inferior version of pork. Yet gods and nobles here and there always seem to delight in it. “Bring me one human child,” it started with an entirely nonchalant tone as if it hadn’t been a screeching and gibbering mess just a minute before, “ of your choice. Bring it to me by the end of the month and I will give you the piece of land you desire, rich with the pure slimy fungal essence of Qejonu for you to play around with.”

My mouth parted into a very wide grin and I condescendly said to it, “you underestimate me, my acolytes, and the power of the human form. I promise this, by the time the moon reaches the middle of the sky it is human flesh you will be feasting on, not the rabbits and rats of the fields.”

It seemed to me as the spirit spoke in a tone which betrayed its excitement as it said, “We’ll see about that.” I moved so as to leave and hastened back home to make preparations for the sacrifice. “Wait for just a moment more,” the creature pleaded with a tone that betrayed its mockery, “what do you want the piece of the dead god for? My question before was more than simply a jest. None within this duchy will believe a shade which presents itself as their ancestor. No worshipper of the Mexihuacan Ojotillas or one of Culiqaque's scarce communities such as this one will accept it. And if someone does desire one the deluded deities you are to make, whose minds are woven as you see fit, the deal between you two will not remain secret for very long. And those who find out will be angered, as they were at Qejene. Tell me, necromancer. What do you plan?”

Anger surged within my heart at once more being reminded of that horrible attempt. The way I ran into the wilderness like a wounded deer forever engrained itself into my mind. The horrible sounds of flying bolts and the thundering of an arquebus. But it was overshadowed by the lofty dream my mind nursed, and after some debating I finally said, “I do not plan on imitating the human mind, I do not plan on imprinting one of their lives into the mind I will create. No, I will bring forth one of the Qese Rilu.” After that sentence my words grew increasingly prouder and less organized. I no longer examined them within my mind, they left it of their own accord. Cursed may I be! “I will become venerated as a prophet. I will gain control of the whole village, they will kiss my feet and clean the ground on which I walk. I will be honored like a god. As one at my level of skill in this hallowed art should be.”

The creature interrupted my lofty dreams and brought me down from the realm of my mind into reality with its savage laughs. “Oh, necromancer, your plan is foolish beyond measure! These people will test it as their god instructed, they will see through your plot. They will spill your blood in the honor of their god and feast upon your flesh! But your foolish goals are not important to me. Your horrid death will bring me much delight. Let us simply perform the transaction. ”

I kept my emotions carefully contained and moved to stand up, not forgetting to utter, “I thank you for agreeing to go with this.” The spirit laughs as I begin walking and quickly responds, “It costs me little.  Just make sure to bring a comal next time." Those were the last words I heard from it as I walked down the dirt road well-heated by the light of the omnipotent sun.

That's about it. Apologies if there was a place to put this that I didn't know about.

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [Wiki]

Captain Reltetak didn't like it.

A three pronged plan, all of which could result in destroying the captured fleet in isolation, but between all three, nothing would survive.

She had to face the truth. Warsteel Mark-One could handle a nova-spark at the distance from the stellar mass the supermassive gas giant was at. True, there would be heavy damage, but the hull and the majority of the warsteel would survive.

If they novasparked both of the sun, which were cooling orange stars, and hatred-sparked the gas giants, it was estimated that up to 80% of the fleet could survive.

Even without power or battlescreens.

She shook her head. It was easy to read about how tough Terran equipment was but having the reality jammed in your face was another.

Which made her realize that command was VASTLY under-estimating the Noocracy.

The Noocracy had knocked out a SID stealth survey vessel. Had detected her own.

Without being spotted.

Their weapons were good enough quality to knock out a SID vessel.

Their stealth systems were good enough to remain undetected while doing so.

Their sensors were good enough to track and hold both her ship and the SID ship.

They had the ship numbers to have at least three and possibly up to a dozen just in this system alone.

The system detection systems were sensitive enough to detect them.

The system detection systems stealth systems were robust enough to keep them hidden.

Captain Reltetak didn't like what all that meant.

She had heard the SID forces were bogged down, fighting on planets rather than just taking the system the more 'clean' way with naval forces like so many at the Confederate Naval College insisted was the 'One True Way' to take over a stellar system.

She didn't doubt the SID forces on the ground. Pound for pound, even naked, the Terrans would rip someone's guts out.

But it bothered her that a navy that should be at least within spitting distance of her own ship was suckered just as simply as she was.

If it had only been her suckered, she wouldn't feel this way because the SID would have had the tech or training edge on the Noocracy.

If it had only been the SID suckered, she wouldn't feel this way because she was an allied force and would have had the tech or training edge on the Noocracy.

But no. The Slappers had suckered both her and the SID Wraith ship. Gotten them to engage each other, then destroyed one while believing they had destroyed the other.

Flawless Noocracy Victory.

It galled her.

The plan, offered by the captured Digital Sentience SID Commodore Twisting Python, galled her too.

It was dangerous. Not just to her crew, but to her command, to her captive POW that she was honor and legally bound to protect, and possibly to the Confederacy.

But she felt she had no choice.

For one thing, her ship lacked novasparks and hate-burners and planet crackers. Even if she wanted to and it was strategically feasible and useful, she couldn't run off any for use.

Her Marine contingent was thin. On most Confederate ships they were thin, the Confederacy largely having outsourced their Marine contingents to the Telkan Marine Corps for the last twenty-two thousand years, and even more since the Mar-gite Resurgence.

She slowly walked through the spinal corridor, her thick grippy soft-soles silent on the variable hardness deck plating, running her hand over the red-stripe the now went from the tip of her nose, up between her eyes, over the top of her head, and down the back of her head to her ruff.

Beneath her flesh her skull was no longer white along the stripe.

It was red.

There was only red.

It had grown after the latest red-dive, but the ship doctor said it should be fine.

She stopped to read one of the notification that popped out from the holosign. Just a reminder from Department of the Space Force that the uniform change scheduled for next month had been rolled back and canceled as well as the uniform change that had occurred two months ago so that everyone's uniform had to adhere to last years standards.

At the bottom it read that lack of units in supply or post exchanges was not an excuse to be out of uniform and that the Secretary of Space Force encouraged all commanders to bring up those who did not adhere to the uniform up before the Captain's Mast.

It didn't answer any of the questions going through her head.

The data provided by her prisoner didn't help either.

She knew the unhappy facts. She even double-checked it with the ship's database.

There were twelve million green mantids in Confederate Space, including on Mantid Prime. Like a lot of species, the Mantid were suffering a contraction that experts blamed on peace, prosperity, and a lack of pressure to have children.

There were over two hundred thousand ships in the flotilla she needed to destroy.

Those ships, fully crewed would have anywhere from two hundred to a mind boggling three hundred thousand green mantid aboard them.

Those ships, for emergencies, had a minimum of fifty all the way to eighty thousand green mantid in hypersleep storage.

When her prisoner's original ship had still been carrying out its mission, before detection, it had determined that not only was the 'emergency crew' bank still intact for non-Terran personnel, but the 'maintenance crew' had managed to get into hypersleep.

There was eleven times the amount of green mantid currently living within the Confederacy aboard those ships.

Worse, it was a well known fact, that she had doublechecked on the computer to make sure it wasn't one of those things that everyone knew but was bullshit, that the Slappers liked to eat mantids.

They did.

They had tried to eat all the Mantid diplomats prior to the war declaration.

Those ships, unpowered, were still some of the most rugged and tough ships in the known universe. Her own vessel was made of warsteel mark eight, the SID ship had been made of mark-one with armor a meter thick.

Most of them were mark-zero or mark-one and had armor up to a half-kilometer thick.

Many, if not most, of those ships would survive well enough to be salvaged even if she popped the entire system at once.

Another point was that the cosmic alignment was over, meaning she couldn't squeeze the vessels between two explosions.

She paused again, looking around, before driving a fist into the wall hard enough to make her hand hurt.

She was pinned against the wall and the Malevolent Universe was cackling while the Big Green Weenie was waving right in her face sans lube.

That left her prisoner's suggestion.

And she didn't like it.

If she was to ask, at 2 AM, at the Officer's Club, what someone thought the prisoner, one Terran Digital Sentience, hashed and raised on Terra, trained on Terra, would have suggested to her, ninety-nine out of one hundred would have yelled "NOVASPARK!" and asked for their free drink.

But, oh no, in hindsight that was going off of stereotypes, the exact thing an intelligence Space Force officer was supposed to avoid.

What it had suggested, with bared glittering teeth, was the most unlikable suggestion Captain Reltetak had ever been presented with, and she had once made the mistake of picking up a drunk Telkan Marine while she too was drunk and been presented with some suggestions she hadn't liked at the time.

She slugged the bulkhead again and headed down to the Marine area.

She wouldn't ask the Bosun to make the selection. She wouldn't ask the Gunny to make the selection.

She had made the selection herself at her personal computer.

Now, she had to inform the Marine of her decision.

Because you didn't ask for a Marine to volunteer.

You ordered them.

0-0-0-0-0

Lance Corporal Mwillik saw the Captain blink several times when the Gunny stopped in front of him and the Captain looked down at him.

He knew what had just gone through the Captain head and he grinned widely to let her know that he knew that she now knew that he knew what she had been thinking.

"Lance Corporal Mwillik," the Gunny said.

"Indeed," Captain Reltetak said. She looked him over. "Recon?"

"Aye, Ma'am," Mwillik snapped.

"Raider?" Captain Reltetak asked.

"Aye, Ma'am," Mwillik snapped.

"Ghost?" Captain Reltetak asked.

"Aye, Ma'am," Mwillik said.

The Captain turned to the Gunny and the Bosun. "His gear is in the armories?"

Both nodded.

She turned back to Mwillik. "Nobody else has your training?"

"No, Ma'am," Mwillik said.

The Captain gave a frustrated sigh. "Very well," she turned to the Gunny. "Get him kitted up. I'll handle the rest."

The Gunny nodded. "Aye-aye, Ma'am."

As soon as the Captain left the Gunny motioned at Mwillik to follow.

He did so.

"You'll need alcohol. You try to do this sober, you'll wish you were dead and fail the mission. You'll be on a timer," the Gunny said.

"There's always a timer, Gunny," Mwillik answered.

"We don't have your ghost pack, so you can't walk through walls, but we have everything else," Gunny said.

"The ghost pack has a slight squarshed quark leakage that might get detected," the Bosun said.

"Known issue, Bosun," Mwillik said, his eyes straight ahead. Unlike a lot of Marines, his eyes were still biological.

"I've got a bottle of Fighting Turkey Whiskey from Mantid Prime in my locker," Gunny said.

"Green label or black?" Mwillik asked.

"Does it make a difference?" Gunny asked.

"For what I think I'm going to be doing, green is better," Mwillik said. "If it's black, I'll need a couple of cough drops to swallow."

"Any type?" the Bosun asked.

"Got any of the AAFES generic cough drops?" Mwillik asked.

The Bosun nodded.

"I'll want five," Mwillik said. He closed his eyes for a second and took five deep breaths in through his nose with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, exhaling sharply through his mouth.

"Let's it on," he said.

0-0-0-0-0

Captain Reltetak stared at the piece of hardware.

Every scout ship and recon and spy ship had it.

Nobody had used it, for the most part, in as long as Captain Reltetak could remember.

The officer in charge of it looked up from the panel.

"It's live," she said, flexing her pecs nervously. "I've got point to point lock with the target. We're at six and a half million miles, within easy range."

Captain Reltetak turned to look at Lance Corporal Mwillik.

She still couldn't believe someone that had made it through every point of the spear operator school was a Puntimat, much less one of their tiny males.

Lance Corporal Mwillik was dressed all in black. It looked like rubber, complete with a breather, goggles, and a skin tight outfit. One his back was a heavy pack. Strapped to his chest was a thick block of molycircs.

That contained one Commodore Twisting Python, Solarian Iron Dominion Space Force.

"Are you ready, Lance Corporal?" Captain Reltetak asked.

The Puntimat male just nodded.

Chief Warrant Officer Grade Three Shwestill'swole tapped a single key and the door unlocked.

The clack was loud.

The door swung open with a hiss.

Lance Corporal Mwillik moved in, stopping in the center and going down on one knee.

He thumbed the button on the heavy molycirc block on his chest and "Zzzz" appeared in red letters. He then went over his gear quickly. After less than sixty seconds he pulled his short barreled SMG close to his shoulder, planted on one fist against the hexagon plates that made up the floor, and bowed his head.

"Initiating injection," was all he said, his voice soft.

Captain Reltetak heard it both from the Lance Corporal and the Chief's board.

"Initiating boarding procedure," the Chief said.

The door swung shut and Captain Reltetak was startled to see the Lance Corporal's vitals suddenly drop to almost nothing. She looked at the Chief who looked back.

"The injection knocks him out and stops him from being able to form memories for the next sixty seconds," she said.

There was a loud humming and mist began to leak from the hexagonal chamber, thickening on the floor around the chamber.

"Quantum byproduct. Ignore it," the Chief said.

Captain Reltetak just nodded.

There was a humming noise and the lights dimmed then brightened.

The Chief checked her board. "Outgoing mat-trans successful," she said.

"Did he make it aboard?" Reltetak asked.

"Target mat-trans is in sleeper mode. It will not broadcast signals. We won't know," the Chief said.

Captain Reltetak bit back a curse, just nodding. "I'll be on the bridge. Contact me the moment you know," she said.

The Rigellian female just nodded.

0-0-0-0-0

The drug broke down almost immediately.

Lance Corporal Mwillik blinked several times. He reached down to his belt and thumbed the single-signal split spooky quark device three times as he looked up.

The walls were milky white shot through with gold and silver threads.

He smiled.

0-0-0-0-0

"Ma'am?" the voice of Chief Shwestill'swole was perfectly calm.

"Go ahead," Captain Reltetak said.

"Signal from Raider-Alpha-Actual," the Chief said.

"Mission is go."

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [Wiki]

In the human capital, the leaders of the Forxani empire, the Sorvanii (now known as the Sgwid Institute), the Vryssian (Duchy of Arenyen) and the Chalvor (Chalvor Corporation) were invited, all accepted, the Forxani due to the good friendship with the humans and the rest as a sign of getting closer to human trade, which they were depending on.

Kevinid: Why are we here, Prime Minister Marty?

Marty: Well, first, I thank you all for coming, second, I have invited you here for something big that can change our nations.

Fynrat, the CEO of the Chalvor Corporation, showed interest, but unfortunately for Empress Kevinid, Fynrat was sitting next to her.

Fynrat: International trade between us? It would be wonderful, our economies are forming and we still have many things to do sees kevinid Hello young lady, you are beautiful, wise?

Marty: Mr. Fynrat please keep it professional

Silkraxx, the Duke of the Duchy of Arenye and Zornalix, Chief Scientist of the Sgwid Institution they were equally intrigued

Zornalix: a defensive alliance to defend ourselves?

Silkraxx: a mutual working arrangement?

Kevinid: an allied spy organization?

Marty: Friends, friends, calm down a little, look, I brought you here for one thing, if we are not united we will be absorbed by more powerful nations, but together, we can do something to survive. The reason for this is that we are united, militarily and economically.

Kevinid: militarily and economically...mainly economically since we have a peaceful race among us, while 2 of these are just forming their armies

Zoenalix: It can't be anything more scientific

Silkraxx: Are you talking about some kind of coordination of mutual work?

Marty: This is something mainly defensive, look, this alliance that I want to create is not for the purpose of expanding, it is for us to become stronger and protect ourselves from future threats, we have to be united.

After a few hours of discussion, an agreement was finally reached, an alliance was reached, the Organization of Unity Civilizations (OUC) was born, with the objective of defending its members from future threats and ensuring the economic prosperity of each one of them.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

I caught most of the branches across my chest, purposely trying to keep them off of the brothers. I figured I had a better defense at this point than either of them, and while it was painful, it wasn’t anywhere near debilitating. As the branches retracted, I felt an odd pulse through my body, and a message popped into my view for a split second.

I had no idea if that was due to my resistance or because I wasn’t a tree. I hoped it was the second, as that would make the brothers immune as well, but I strongly doubted it. That wasn’t the kind of luck we generally had here. From behind me, a blast of fire shot out over my shoulder, striking a solid impact in the center of the monster.

I pulled out my mallet and charged forward, not wanting to waste the impact of Elicec’s fireball. I heard the heavy footfalls of them directly behind me. Two branches whipped forward, catching me under the chin and drawing blood. Another instance of treerot being resisted popped into my view. I ignored both the message and the pain as I slammed my mallet into the side of the tree, feeling it crack under my blow.

More of the branches slashed across my back in response, and it opened its mouth to roar again. I met the roar with a hard swing of my mallet into whatever was inside of it—something ruptured with the impact, covering the head of my mallet in a vile green substance. The next roar never came as another fireball struck it, this time in the snake-like branches. Both myself and Cecile rained down blows across the trunk at the same time, finally splitting the thing in half. Once the top half crashed to the ground, all the movement stopped.

“That wasn’t much experience; I’m not sure this is going to help you guys level up that quickly,” I said. I had been hoping for a lot more, it wasn’t bad for my simulator with the modifiers I could apply, but it was nothing special for them.

“Oh, the real experience is going to be in completely clearing the dungeon, once we remove the core, we should get a good boost there,” Cecile said. I had entirely forgotten about the three quests I had completed when we finished the first dungeon. At the time, they had been a good early source of experience, so I was wrong. This would still be viable for their leveling, which is great. Sometimes, being wrong is for the best.

“Fair enough, somehow I’d forgotten about that part. So do we want right or left?” I asked, pointing to the three paths we had to pick from.

“Let’s do the two on the right and see what’s hiding down there,” Elicec said.

“Works for me,” I responded, heading to the path closest to the entrance. It didn’t make much of a difference to me how we explored this place as long as we cleared it.

The balls of light continued to follow us as we rounded the corridor. There was a second entrance to our left for this new chamber that likely linked up to the one we had just left. I made a note to make sure we backtracked that way to verify it was entirely cleared. Looking ahead into the room, I saw what I was pretty sure were another five or so of the tree things in the distance. I wasn’t sure if they hadn’t spotted us yet or if we were just too far away for them to attack. The last one hadn’t seemed able to move from the spot it started in, so if that continued, this place wouldn’t be all that difficult.

“I can count five more of those trees in the distance. What do you two see?” I asked. While their eyes looked the same as mine, I had no idea if that meant they functioned the same or not. For all I knew, they had some other specialized senses to detect just what was in the room. I made a note to ask them about it later.

“Same,” Cecile said, agreeing with my assessment.

“I think they’re in range for one of my bigger fireballs, and since they haven’t moved yet, I can likely take the time to make it a bit more powerful,” Elicec said.

“Go for it. I’ll watch for any movement in the meantime,” I replied. I was curious about just what Elicec was capable of with his elemental magic, and this should give me a good demonstration.

Elicec had closed his eyes, and while I could see his lips moving, I couldn’t make out any words. This was a stark difference from when I had first seen him casting spells. What had changed there? Was it just better skills or more practice? These questions were certainly not important enough to interrupt his casting with. I’d likely find the answers out myself in time. Elicec raised his arm as a ball of fire about three times as big as the previous one appeared in it. He lifted it up higher, obscuring his face from view.

He held it there for another minute or so before the ball flew from his palm towards the cluster of undead trees, hitting the one in the middle with a booming impact that exploded into smaller balls of fire. Each of them ignited a different tree as they expanded out from their point of impact. That was our sign to join the battle before the trees had a chance to put themselves out. It took us no time at all to finish them off as they flailed about, unable to fight back.

“Nice job, Elicec,” I said. He had made short work of the trees, which looked to be the only residents of this side of the dungeon. The lights were dancing across the room, illuminating every nook and cranny.

“Ready for the other side?” Cecile asked. I was.

“Yep, let’s take that other path back, just in case there’s something in that passage. Seems unlikely with the size, but why chance it,” I said. There was, in fact, nothing, and we continued down the final passage with no other monsters in sight, just the constant weird, wriggling branches on the walls. They seemed to be getting more active the deeper we went. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“I really don’t like these walls,” Cecile said, breaking our silent exploration.

“Same, I have a pretty bad feeling about them. I’m worried they’re connected to something deep in the dungeon. When you consider this has all been pretty easy so far, and Mel’s seemingly lack of confidence with us going here. Something just isn’t adding up. So, what I’m trying to say is be on your toes, guys,” I said, worried about what was coming up.

As we worked our way through an extremely narrow passage, the wriggling all around us suddenly came to an end. The balls of light flew over my head, showing exactly why that had happened. Laying sideways in the center of the new chamber was a massive tree, with thousands of tendrils growing out from it, blanketing the walls of the room. It had been using them as feelers during our whole exploration, which meant that this thing was expecting us.

As I had this realization, all the little vine-like branches came back to life, wriggling free of the walls and trying to wrap themselves around us at every point they could. I quickly pushed myself forward out of the cramped corridor to give the brothers a chance to squeeze free as well, but it was too late. They’d already been deeply entangled. I turned back to try and pull them free, but as I did so, I felt something new rake down my back and latch onto my ankle.

I found myself lifted into the air by my leg, dangling helplessly as the appendage reeled me closer to the opened maw of the monstrous tree. I switched over to my fire elemental orb and concentrated on fundamental forces, trying desperately to do something with it.

In the back of my mind an image of rubbing two sticks together popped up. I focused on it, and the sticks moved faster. I felt the words leave my lips without fully understanding why or where they had come from. “Dry twigs ignite, burn brightly\!” I had no complaints, though, as the fire did exactly what I had somehow asked it to do. The branch dropped me as the flame engulfed it, running quickly up back towards the monster it was attached to.

I looked back to verifying the brothers were still breathing and saw that Cecile had managed somehow to gain control of a few of the branches. Several of them had sprouted leaves and were now wrestling the ones holding them to the wall. That gave me all the reassurance I needed to charge forward at the thing trying to kill us.

I switched over my orb to imbuing as I ran, trying to align my mallet with fire. I felt the mana pour into it, but I wasn’t sure if it had worked. I swung my arm wide at a branch trying to block my path towards the trunk. It ignited on contact, ending my worry. Nothing else stood in my way as I leapt off the ground, coming down hard onto the trunk, feeling my stomp skill activate as my boots made hard imprints into the rotting wood below.

I followed up with mallet strike after mallet strike into the thing, fighting off each branch as it tried knocking me down yet again. A gleaming hoe caught my eye as the blade cut straight through a branch directly attached to the trunk. The brothers had freed themselves and caught up with me.

More flames shot out from Elicec as his brother and I continued our onslaught. I heard them both yell in pain, but as the hoe kept breaking away chunks of rotting wood, I had to assume they were okay for now. Finally, after one last mighty swing, I felt the trunk crack deeply below me as the tree stopped moving. We had won.

Wait, why wasn’t the experience box popping up yet?

The trunk we were still standing on exploded, catapulting us into the air.

Necromantic mana orbs, while common in some portions of the Spiral, are not usually sought after by many factions. They are seen as distasteful by many at the top due to the end results of their use, and this has led to them falling out of favor. That isn’t to say they have in any way disappeared as many a person still uses them in specialized builds, and they are as popular as ever amongst the children of the long silent sun.

An excerpt from Mana Sources by Henjen Klank.

Royal Road | Patreon

First / Previous / Royal Road

XXX

It took all of about ten seconds of Sable crawling into the tunnel for her to let out a pained yelp. Immediately, Alain turned towards the entrance, his grip tightening around his shotgun.

"Sable?" he asked.

For a moment, there was silence, but it was soon interrupted by the sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone. Alain jumped from how loud it was, along with how many times it repeated itself, but after several seconds, it was silent again.

"Sable?" Alain repeated, taking a step closer to the entrance.

"I'm fine!" she finally called back. "Just a few undead, is all."

A wave of relief washed over Alain at that, and he let out a slow sigh. "...Good," he offered. "See anything down there?"

"Yeah, there's a tunnel.."

Alain shook his head, wincing as he did so.

"Fucking necromancer tunnels…" he muttered to himself, even as he slung his shotgun and approached the entrance. As he began to climb into it, he became aware of the workers around the distillery staring at him, and he paused.

"Yeah, uh, just tell our friends that we're down here," he said.

The workers all exchanged a confused glance with each other, but thankfully, none of them seemed too keen on arguing with the vampire or her human companion who was loaded down with weapons and ammo. Seeing that they'd all been successfully placated, for lack of a better term, Alain finally finished lowering himself down into the hole. He slid down several feet, but eventually landed at the bottom, where Sable was already waiting for him. He blinked, then looked around, and through the darkened underground, was just able to make out several shapes lying on the ground. The stench hit him a moment later, and he brought a hand up to his face to cover his mouth, coughing as he did so.

"Have I ever mentioned that I fucking hate the undead?" he asked, his voice coming out muffled through his sleeve. "Because I really do. Present company excluded, of course."

"I'm aware," Sable replied. "Do you have a match, by the way? My night vision is better than yours, but still not great."

"Yeah, give me a moment."

Alain reached into his pocket and pulled out his matchbook. He hadn't quite quit smoking cigarettes yet, but he'd cut back over the past few months at Sable's request, since she apparently hated it when he walked around smelling like an ashtray, and it also gave his blood a very unpleasant aftertaste. Despite that, he'd kept a habit of carrying a book of matches or two around on his person at all times ever since the incident at New Orleans, where they'd come in handy.

He struck the match, then looked around. Sure enough, there were several mangled bodies lying on the ground, all of them undead. Alain didn't linger on them too much, though; his attention was soon drawn to a nearby oil lantern hanging on the wall. He walked over to it and checked it, grinning slightly when he realized it was nearly full.

"Well, that's helpful," he said, opening the small door on its front and dropping the match inside. Instantly, the small pinprick of light in the darkness swelled to something more akin to a campfire. Alain took the lantern in one hand, and drew one of his revolvers with the other.

"After you," he said to Sable.

She nodded, stepping past him as they both began walking. "You know, most apprentices would volunteer to take the lead."

"Most apprentices aren't at risk of being turned into an undead," Alain pointed out. "We already had a scare like that a few months ago, and something tells me you're not too keen on repeating that again."

"You guessed right, Alain. But still, what kind of mistress would I be if I didn't occasionally poke fun at my apprentice?"

"A good one?"

She gave him a pointed look over her shoulder, and he just grinned at her. "Come on, you set me up for it."

"Whatever you say," she told him, turning her attention forwards.

The two of them walked on in silence for a few more seconds, though to Alain's surprise, they didn't find any other undead in the tunnel. That certainly earned a raise of the eyebrow from him – part of him had suspected that David Gibson was meddling with the undead in some way, hence the apparent need to acquire lots of bodies, but he'd figured that the need to bury them on the farm had been as a result of failed experimentation more than anything. And yet, there were a few successful undead in the tunnel already, which meant his earlier theory didn't make much sense. Moreover, there were only a few of them rather than an entire horde; most necromancers they'd encountered had raised a horde of a few dozen undead the moment they'd figured out how to, yet apparently, Gibson had seen fit to restrain himself from doing so.

"One Leufor your thoughts," Sable said.

"Hm?" Alain asked. "What's going on?"

"You're pretty quiet right now," she observed. "Generally, that only happens when we've either seen something horrible or when you're lost in thought. And given how many undead we've killed over the past few months, I'm inclined to believe it's the latter. So, talk. What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's just… this seems weird, doesn't it?" Alain asked. "I mean, why only have a few undead down here? He clearly cared enough to try and hide the entrance to this place, so why not leave it more heavily guarded than this?"

"Good question," Sable replied. "Hopefully, we can find the answer to it at the end of this tunnel… which, I must admit, is stretching on for much longer than I thought it would."

"Gotta give it to the man, he certainly knows how to dig a necromancer tunnel," Alain muttered.

Sable suddenly held up a hand, stopping him. "I think I see something up ahead," she told him. "It looks like a makeshift door."

"Okay," Alain ventured. "Is it clear?"

"Seems to be."

"Let's get it open, then."

"Alright. It's covered in padlocks, though – I'll need a moment."

"Do what you need to, I'll watch your back."

Sable nodded, and Alain turned around, keeping his revolver at the ready. He didn't expect anything would come to attack them, but given all they'd been through together, it paid to be prepared for anything.

A few seconds passed, and then from behind, he heard the sound of metal shattering and chains falling to the floor. A moment later, Sable tapped him on the shoulder.

"Door's open," she told him.

"Well, you work fast," Alain said to her.

"I try. Here, stay behind me – I'll go first again."

Alain nodded, then fell in behind her as she threw open the door. To his surprise, it led to nothing but a large crater in the ground, with only a ladder leaned against a hole in the floor above them.. Just from what he could see, it appeared that the tunnel led from the distillery to the basement of a nearby abandoned building. At least, he suspected it was abandoned – this floor was certainly in disrepair enough that it looked abandoned, if not condemned.

"Up the ladder?" Alain asked, only for Sable to give him a funny look. He barely had time to wonder what she was getting at before she crouched down, then jumped up to the next floor. He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Show off…" he muttered, even as he holstered his gun and clipped the lantern onto his belt, then began to climb the ladder. He arrived at the top in just a few seconds, joining her as she looked around the room.

And that was when the stench hit them.

"God…!" Sable gasped, a hand going to her mouth. "What is that?!"

"Smells like decay," Alain said, mirroring her action with one of his own, bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed it, then added, "And a lot of it."

"Urgh… let's just look around, already. I want to get out of here as fast as possible."

Alain nodded, then unhooked the lantern from his belt. It took everything he had not to clamp his hand back over his mouth and just keep the light affixed to his waist, but keeping it in his hand made it easier to see, and so he was willing to deal with it. Together, the two of them looked around, their attention instantly being drawn to a series of barrels that had been set up in a corner of the room. There were around a dozen of them, if Alain had to wager a guess; he motioned for Sable to follow him, then they pushed over to where the barrels were resting.

"They're from the distillery," Sable observed.

"Guess we know one of the reasons why he wanted to connect this building to it, aside from just making it easier for him to move around…" Alain muttered. "Now, the big question – do we really want to know what's inside these things?"

"Not particularly, but I don't think we have a choice."  

That earned a sigh of resignation from him. "Alright…" He took a step closer, frowning when he saw the lid had been nailed shut.

"You're gonna hate me for asking this of you, but think you can get it open?" he asked.

Sable glared at him. "A curse on you and your house, Smith… fine. But if I regurgitate your blood, don't be surprised."

"Believe me, it'd take more than that to surprise me at this point," Alain told her.

Again, Sable gave him a dirty look, but didn't argue any further, instead stepping over to the barrel and taking hold of the lid. With a quick pull, the lid came off in her hands, exposing the contents of the barrel to them.

If the room had smelled bad before, now it smelled like hell on earth. The two of them coughed and gagged, tears of disgust stinging at Alain's eyes, but he was quick to blink them away, and against every instinct of his telling him not to do it, he drew closer to the barrel so he could look inside.

Instantly, he wished he hadn't. Inside the barrel, there was little more than some kind of disgusting black slurry. At first, he wasn't sure what he was looking at, but then he noticed the human skull floating atop it all, and it clicked.

He coughed again, swallowing the second round of bile that had risen up in his throat. Sable did the same, and he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed up at the ceiling; she got the hint instantly, and the two of them immediately made a beeline for the nearby stairs leading up.

They burst out of the basement and onto the first floor, doubled over and gasping for breath. Thankfully, it was still just the two of them inside the darkened, abandoned building, which gave them time to catch their breath.

"Alright…" Alain managed to get out between lungfuls of air. "What the fuck was that? He's down there, what, turning people into some kind of liquid? Am I understanding that right?"

"It would seem so…" Sable quietly agreed.

"But why, though? Is he just a sadist?" Sable gave him a pointed look, and he furrowed his brow. "Okay, dumb question," he said.

Sable shook her head. "Whatever the reason, something tells me this place isn't something that should be left standing."

"What do you propose we do, then?"  

"Simple," she said. "You've still got that oil lantern and those matches. I say we put this place to the torch. With any luck, maybe it'll draw Gibson out of hiding."

"Maybe," Alain conceded. "But at the same time, I doubt the workers at the distillery will appreciate having it burned down."

"Well, whatever's going on down there, it's unholy enough that I feel content in trading their employment status for its destruction," Sable said to him. "And I know you feel the same way. Besides, if Gibson succeeds in whatever it is he's trying to do, something tells me being jobless will be the least of their concerns."  

"Alright, point taken," Alain replied. "Let's get this little light show started, then."

XXX

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, /u/Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

Synopsis

Ke Yin has a problem. Well, several problems.

First, he's actually Cain from Earth.

Second, he's stuck in a cultivation world where people don't just split mountains with a sword strike, they build entire universes inside their souls (and no, it's not a meditation metaphor).

Third, he's got a system with a snarky spiritual assistant that lets him possess the recently deceased across dimensions.

And finally, the elders at the Azure Peak Sect are asking why his soul realm contains both demonic cultivation and holy arts? Must be a natural talent.

Expectations:

- MC's main cultivation method will be plant based and related to World Trees

- Weak to Strong MC

- MC will eventually create his own lifeforms within his soul as well as beings that can cultivate

- Main world is the first world (Azure Peak Sect)

- MC will revisit worlds (extensive world building of multiple realms)

- Time loop elements

- No harem

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Chapter 4: Learning the Basics

Keeping a secret in a sect full of cultivators is about as easy as hiding a penguin in a peacock sanctuary. Everyone's always watching, analyzing, looking for any advantage or weakness they can exploit. And here I was, trying to conceal the fact that I had what amounted to a spiritual video game interface in my head.

"Your energy circulation is improving, Young Brother Ke Yin," Senior Sister Liu commented during morning practice. "Though your method is... unconventional."

I tried not to look nervous. "Unconventional how, Senior Sister?"

She made a vague gesture with her hand. "Most beginners circulate spiritual energy like water flowing through channels. Yours moves more... systematically. Almost mechanical in its precision."

Warning: Circulation pattern potentially identifiable.

Recommend randomizing flow variance by 15% to appear more natural.

I silently thanked Azure for the heads-up. The little spirit had proven invaluable over the past few days, helping me navigate the basics of cultivation while keeping our unique situation under wraps.

"I've been practicing very diligently, Senior Sister," I said carefully. Which was true – I just didn't mention the helpful UI elements and progress bars that made it significantly easier.

She studied me for a moment longer before moving on to critique the next disciple. I let out a quiet breath of relief.

"You're attracting attention," Wei Lin muttered from his meditation cushion beside me. "That's the third time this week Senior Sister Liu has singled you out."

"I'm just following the basic instructions," I protested. "Same as everyone else."

Wei Lin snorted softly. "Right. And I'm secretly the Sect Master's long-lost son. Nobody progresses this smoothly without special techniques. Which, I remind you, my family would be happy to provide..."

"Still focusing on the basics," I cut him off. This was becoming a daily conversation. "But I appreciate the offer."

The truth was, I did have special techniques – they just weren't the kind Wei Lin was thinking of.

Current Status: Inner World

Size: 2.3 cubic meters

Energy Density: 23/100

Features Unlocked: Basic Circulation Paths, Energy Collection Array (Level 1)

Available Tasks: 3

• Perfect Basic Circulation (Progress: 78%)
• Establish Secondary Energy Paths (Locked - Requires Energy Density 25)
• Begin Spatial Expansion (Locked - Requires Perfect Basic Circulation)

Azure had explained that while every cultivator eventually developed an inner world with its own spiritual manifestation, my system provided unique advantages. For one thing, I could see exactly how everything worked, complete with numbers and progress bars. For another, Azure wasn't limited to the usual role of a spiritual guide.

"Most inner world spirits are like gardeners," he'd explained during one of our evening training sessions. "They help maintain the spiritual landscape and provide basic guidance. Thanks to the System, I can offer much more precise assistance."

The morning session eventually ended, and we broke for the mid-day meal. I had just sat down with my bowl of rice when a commotion broke out near the dining hall entrance.

"Inner Disciples!"

The warning spread quickly, and everyone scrambled to stand and bow as a group of older disciples entered. Their robes were more elaborate than ours, with patterns that seemed to ripple like water catching sunlight.

"Well, well," one of them said, scanning the room. "So, these are the new outer disciples everyone's been talking about?"

I kept my head down, remembering the warnings about proper etiquette. That didn't stop me from noticing how the inner disciple's spiritual pressure filled the room like a heavy fog.

Warning: Elevated spiritual pressure detected

Recommended Action: Maintain steady circulation to prevent energy disruption

Current Resistance: 45%

Thanks, Azure. Very helpful.

"You there," the inner disciple said suddenly. "The one with the steady spiritual resistance. Look up."

Oh no.

I raised my head slowly to meet his gaze. He was younger than I expected, probably only a few years older than us outer disciples, but his eyes held the weight of significant cultivation behind them.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Ke Yin, Outer Disciple," I replied formally. "Of Floating Reed Village."

"A village recruit?" He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Your spiritual energy is unusually... structured for someone without a cultivation background."

Warning: Attention level rising

Recommend activating Spiritual Camouflage Protocol

Note: This will reduce cultivation efficiency by 20% but make energy patterns appear more natural

I really needed to thank Azure for adding these features.

"I study the basic techniques very carefully," I said, which was becoming my standard response to such observations.

The inner disciple smirked. "Is that so? Well, then you won't mind demonstrating your... careful study. Report to the Outer Disciples' Training Ground after the evening meal. I think it's time for some practical experience."

Great. Just great.

"You're in trouble now," Wei Lin whispered after the inner disciples had left. "That was Zhou Ming, one of the rising stars among the inner disciples. He's known for taking a... special interest in promising outer disciples."

"Special interest how?"

"Let's just say his last 'training partner' spent a week in the healing pavilion."

Wonderful. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.

New Task Available: Survive Training with Inner Disciple Zhou Difficulty: Intermediate Reward: Increased combat experience, potential technique insights Failure Consequence: Significant physical injury, possible cultivation setback

"Not helping, Azure," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" Wei Lin asked.

"Nothing. Just... mentally preparing myself."

The rest of the day's classes passed in a blur. I tried to focus on the lecture about spiritual beast classification, but my mind kept wandering to the evening's impending 'training session.'

Would you like to review combat-applicable features? Azure suggested during a brief meditation break.

"I have combat features?" I thought back at him.

Basic ones, yes. The System includes fundamental martial analysis capabilities. I can provide real-time feedback on energy flows and movement patterns. It won't make you an instant combat expert, but it might help you avoid the worst outcomes.

Well, that was something at least.

Evening came far too quickly. I made my way to the training ground, trying to ignore the small crowd that had gathered to watch. Apparently, word had spread about Zhou Ming's interest in the 'village prodigy.'

"Ah, you actually came," Zhou said, standing in the center of the practice ring. "I half expected you to hide in your dormitory."

"You honored me with your instruction, Inner Disciple Zhou," I replied carefully. "How could I refuse?"

He smirked. "Such proper manners. Let's see if your cultivation is as refined as your courtesy. Attack me."

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Attack me," he repeated. "Show me these basic techniques you've studied so carefully. Don't worry – I'll restrict my cultivation to the first level of Qi Condensation. That should give you a fighting chance... maybe."

The crowd whispered excitedly. Even with him restricting himself, this was like putting a kindergartener up against a professional fighter.

Analyzing opponent...

Detected Cultivation Level: Qi Condensation Stage 3 (Currently suppressed to Stage 1)

Combat Style: Azure Peak Water Movement Technique

Recommended Strategy: Maintain distance, focus on defensive movements, conserve energy

"Today would be nice," Zhou called out, his tone mocking.

Well, nothing for it but to try. I settled into the basic martial stance we'd been taught, feeling my spiritual energy respond to the System's optimized circulation patterns.

Combat Mode Activated

Enabling real-time analysis

Movement prediction algorithms online

I moved forward cautiously, throwing a basic palm strike that any cultivator should know. Zhou didn't even bother dodging – he simply stood there as my attack bounced off his spiritual pressure like it had hit a wall.

"Pathetic," he said. "Is that really all you've learned? Here, let me show you how it's done."

His counter-attack was like lightning. One moment he was standing still, the next his palm was headed straight for my chest.

Incoming attack pattern detected!

Recommended action: 45-degree pivot, redirect force downward

I moved instinctively, following the System's guidance. Zhou's palm strike brushed past me, close enough that I felt the spiritual energy crackling along my robes.

The crowd's whispers grew louder. Even Zhou looked momentarily surprised.

"Better," he admitted. "But still not good enough."

The next few minutes were a lesson in humility, System assistance or not. Zhou's attacks came from impossible angles, each one carrying enough force to send me flying if they connected directly. The best I could do was partially deflect them, turning direct hits into glancing blows.

Warning: Energy reserves at 47%

Multiple bruising detected

Recommendation: Implement emergency withdrawal strategy

"I haven't even started using techniques yet," Zhou taunted, barely looking winded. "Shall we move beyond basic movements?"

Before I could respond (probably with more polite groveling), a sharp voice cut through the evening air.

"What is going on here?"

Senior Sister Liu stood at the edge of the training ground, her expression stormy. The gathered crowd immediately began to disperse.

"Just some friendly practice, Senior Sister," Zhou said smoothly. "Testing the new disciples' progress."

"Is that so?" Her gaze swept over my disheveled appearance and probably numerous bruises. "And did you gain the insights you sought, Inner Disciple Zhou?"

Something passed between them, some unspoken communication that went over my battered head. Finally, Zhou bowed slightly.

"Indeed, Senior Sister. The outer disciples show... potential. With proper guidance, of course."

"Of course," she replied coolly. "I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to."

Zhou took the diplomatic dismissal for what it was. He gave me one last measuring look before departing, his robes swishing dramatically. Show-off.

"Report to the healing pavilion," Senior Sister Liu instructed me. "Then return to your dormitory and reflect on this experience."

I bowed, wincing at my sore muscles. "Yes, Senior Sister. Thank you for your timely arrival."

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Timely? I've been watching for the past ten minutes. You survived longer than expected against a superior opponent while maintaining remarkable spiritual control. That itself is a valuable lesson, wouldn't you say?"

She walked away before I could respond, leaving me to contemplate her words.

Combat Analysis Complete Performance Rating: C+ Areas for Improvement:

• Energy efficiency (42% optimal)
• Attack timing (63% optimal)
• Defensive positioning (71% optimal) New Skills Unlocked:
• Basic Combat Analysis
• Movement Prediction (Level 1) Experience gained: 127 points

"A C+?" I thought indignantly at Azure as I limped toward the healing pavilion. "I survived against an inner disciple!"

Technically, you survived against an inner disciple deliberately holding back to an enormous degree, Azure pointed out. But you did exceed base survival expectations by 47%, so that's something!

Great. Even my spiritual AI assistant was a critic.

The healing pavilion was a peaceful place, filled with the scent of medicinal herbs and staffed by disciples specifically trained in healing techniques. The elderly disciple who treated me clicked her tongue disapprovingly at my bruises.

"Fighting with inner disciples already?" she muttered, applying some kind of cooling salve. "You outer disciples get more ambitious every year."

"In my defense," I said, "I tried very hard not to fight him."

She snorted. "Next time try harder. Or at least learn some proper defensive techniques first." She pressed her palm against my back, and I felt cooling spiritual energy ease the worst of the bruising. "There. Try not to need my services again too soon."

By the time I made it back to my dormitory, most of the pain had faded to a dull ache. Wei Lin was waiting outside my door.

"You're alive!" he said, sounding genuinely relieved. "And walking! That's more than Yuan Mei managed after his 'training session' with Zhou Ming."

"Barely alive," I corrected, unlocking my door. "And walking is a generous description of what I'm doing right now."

He followed me inside, producing a familiar tea set. "Medicinal spirit tea," he offered. "Good for recovering from spiritual exhaustion. Only thirty contribution points per packet, for a friend."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're trying to sell to me while I'm injured? That's cold, Wei Lin."

He shrugged, already preparing the tea. "The sect rewards those who seize opportunities. Besides, you'll need every advantage you can get now that you've caught Zhou Ming's attention."

"What do you mean?"

"He only bothers to test disciples he thinks have potential," Wei Lin explained. "And you survived his test while displaying, and I quote, 'remarkable spiritual control.' That makes you interesting. Being interesting in Azure Peak Sect is..."

"Dangerous?"

"I was going to say potentially profitable, but yes, also dangerous." He handed me a cup of tea. "So, about those family techniques I mentioned..."

"Still focusing on basics," I said automatically.

He sighed. "Your funeral. Speaking of which, morning assembly is in six hours. Try not to die before then?"

After he left, I settled into meditation position, wincing slightly. The spirit tea helped, I had to admit. Maybe I should look into bulk ordering...

Entering Inner World Processing combat experience data...

Updating spiritual architecture...

My inner world had changed since its first formation. The empty void now contained glowing circulation paths that pulsed with spiritual energy, and a simple array near the center helped collect and refine ambient energy. It wasn't much compared to what experienced cultivators could create, but it was progress.

Azure materialized, looking concerned. "You took significant damage in that encounter, Master. Should we prioritize defensive improvements?"

"What are my options?"

He waved his hand, bringing up several glowing panels of information.

Available Improvements:

• Enhanced Energy Circulation (Cost: 200 experience)
• Basic Defense Array (Cost: 150 experience)
• Improved Energy Efficiency (Cost: 175 experience) Current Experience: 127

"Not enough for any major improvements," Azure noted. "But the combat experience did unlock some useful features. Would you like to review the battle analysis?"

A three-dimensional replay appeared in the void, showing the fight from multiple angles. I could see now how many openings I'd left, how inefficient some of my movements had been even with the System's guidance.

"Can we use this to improve?" I asked.

Azure nodded. "The System can help optimize your responses based on this data. It won't make you an expert fighter, but it should help you avoid the worst mistakes next time."

"Next time? There's going to be a next time?"

"Given your observed rate of cultivation progress and the political dynamics within the sect, the probability of future combat encounters is approximately 89%," Azure reported cheerfully.

"That was a rhetorical question!"

"Oh. Should I disable probability calculations for rhetorical questions?"

I sighed. "No, keep them. They might be useful. What should we focus on for now?"

"Given current resources and training requirements, I recommend continuing to perfect basic circulation while gradually incorporating combat movement patterns. Once we achieve optimal efficiency, we can begin expanding the inner world's space and implementing more advanced features."

That sounded reasonable. I was about to agree when a thought struck me.

"Azure, what exactly are you? I mean, I know you're my inner world spirit, but you seem... different from how the lectures describe spiritual manifestations."

He tilted his head, considering. "I am a unique existence created by the interaction between your transmigrated soul, this world's spiritual systems, and the System interface. I have aspects of a traditional inner world spirit, yes, but also elements of what your world would call artificial intelligence. I exist to help you navigate this new existence and optimize your cultivation path."

"And the System itself?"

"Think of it as training wheels for your soul," he suggested. "Your modern Earth consciousness isn't naturally equipped to handle cultivation concepts, so the System translates everything into terms you can understand and work with. As you progress, you'll rely on it less and less directly, though its benefits will remain."

"So I'm not cheating?"

Azure actually laughed at that. "Master, you died and transmigrated into another world. I think the normal rules stopped applying somewhere around then. Besides, every cultivator has advantages they were born with or stumbled into. Yours just happens to be more... systemized."

He had a point. And it wasn't like I was using the System to directly power up or skip stages – it just helped me understand and optimize what I was already seeing.

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Attached to Incident Report drafted on the 17th Day of New Blooms, in the 1386th Year of Understanding

Medical Assessment of Forager Keen-Ear and Scholar Ink-Talon
Recorded by: Physician Mindful-Sight

A disclaimer: My assessments have always been as direct and without unnecessary judgements as possible. I have a healthy disdain for those who are asked to state their opinions on a narrow set of facts, such as the health of an individual, and then contribute additional thoughts, often moralizing about the scenario and providing anecdotes with no bearing on what they were asked to do. However, I cannot in good conscience provide a medical judgement on this case without also speculating on ideas of a more abstract nature and passing judgement on things beyond my expertise. This is beyond anyone’s expertise. In the interest of transparency, I will make myself clear here and now:

What has happened to these two is important. In the interest of their well-being, as well as that of anyone else subject to this phenomena in the future, I judge any and all dismissal of their perspectives as delusions, hallucinations, or amnesia with no other components to be ignorant, irresponsible, or both, for reasons that shall be made abundantly clear in the proper assessment.

The patients were delivered into my care in varying states of physical health. Forager Keen-Ear, a gray squirrel native to here in the Blacksoil region, was alert and responsive, with no physical injuries or symptomatic illnesses. It was confused by its circumstances, but clearly aware of what was happening. Scholar Ink-Talon, a common crow native to an undisclosed region, arrived unconscious, witnesses having reported delirium and emotional instability prior to loss of consciousness. Keen-Ear reported that Ink-Talon did not seem to have slept the previous night. Upon examination, sleep deprivation is the obvious physical diagnosis.

Seeker Silver-Tail had engaged in extended conversation with the Forager during retrieval, and provided the following testimonial:

“Forager Keen-Ear is damaged in ways that I did not believe possible. We have been friends for several years, as the roles of Seeker and Forager allowed us to share techniques for exploration, navigation, and searching. But the squirrel I spoke to today behaved like a different person altogether. Beyond simple loss of memory, the Keen-Ear I know is outspoken and blunt. Quick to anger, and passionate to a fault. This squirrel is reserved, thoughtful, and considerate, even in the face of a great hardship. I displayed clear discomfort in our conversation, and rather than playfully chide me for it, it acknowledged my unease and ceased asking questions, despite its confusion and curiosity. It claims to have been someone else, of a species I do not believe exists in the Known World. I am not inclined to believe such an assertion, but I am certain this Keen-Ear does.”

After the physical assessment of both patients, I moved on to a deeper cranial assessment, my standard examination for cognitive function. The physical mind is complex to the point that obtaining a complete Understanding of it would take more time than any creature has in its life, so I concern myself only with an Awareness of motor and sensory connections. Associations created within the physical mind between the true mind and the body. It is in this regard that the nature of the Forager and Scholar’s conditions becomes more concerning.

Damage to the physical mind can break connections. One may find that skills they have practiced no longer come naturally, or that scents or sounds that recalled emotions and events no longer do. It can never create new connections from nothing. Not only are the physical minds of these patients undamaged, but I am keenly Aware of new connections with no clear origin. Every time either patient consciously moved its body, many of these connections would go nowhere, in a manner similar to an amputee suddenly without a limb. Others function properly but prompt unnatural responses, such as emoting using muscles in the face rather than with ear or tail orientation. This is most impactful for Scholar Ink-Talon, who had developed a negative association with the physical mechanisms of avian sleep patterns. Without intervention, their insomnia would have likely proven to be terminal.

As such, I can only offer one conclusion: different consciousnesses than before reside in the true minds of both patients, ones used to entirely different bodies and physical capabilities. This is not a matter of medicine, but of existence, and I can only implore the College to treat this matter with the utmost care. I fear that if we do not, then more than the lives of two people may be at risk.

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Synopsis

Ke Yin has a problem. Well, several problems.

First, he's actually Cain from Earth.

Second, he's stuck in a cultivation world where people don't just split mountains with a sword strike, they build entire universes inside their souls (and no, it's not a meditation metaphor).

Third, he's got a system with a snarky spiritual assistant that lets him possess the recently deceased across dimensions.

And finally, the elders at the Azure Peak Sect are asking why his soul realm contains both demonic cultivation and holy arts? Must be a natural talent.

Expectations:

- MC's main cultivation method will be plant based and related to World Trees

- Weak to Strong MC

- MC will eventually create his own lifeforms within his soul as well as beings that can cultivate

- Main world is the first world (Azure Peak Sect)

- MC will revisit worlds (extensive world building of multiple realms)

- Time loop elements

- No harem

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Chapter 3: The Inner World

The thing about meditation is that it gives you way too much time to think. Sitting cross-legged on my narrow bed, trying to focus on the pulsing light in my chest that apparently represented my spiritual core, my mind kept wandering to increasingly existential questions. Like, was I technically stealing this cultivation potential from the original Ke Yin? Was his soul floating around somewhere, annoyed that some random guy from Earth had hijacked his chance at immortality?

"Focus," I muttered to myself, rolling the Spirit Resonance Bead between my fingers. It had been a week since that first morning assembly, and while I could now reliably sense my core, I hadn't made much progress beyond that. Wei Lin, naturally, was already talking about something called 'core expansion,' while dropping not-so-subtle hints about special techniques his family could teach me—for a price, of course.

The jade bead pulsed with soft blue light in response to my spiritual energy, a rhythm I'd grown familiar with over countless hours of practice. Close your eyes, regulate your breathing, feel the connection between the bead and the light in your chest...

Something shifted.

The sensation was subtle at first, like a change in air pressure before a storm. The pulsing light that represented my core seemed to... unfold? That's not quite the right word, but spiritual phenomena have a way of defying normal description. It was as if I'd been looking at a point of light head-on all this time, and suddenly shifted perspective to see it had depth.

Warning!

Initiating Inner World Formation Protocol...

The text appeared in my mind like a heads-up display in a video game, glowing blue characters floating in the darkness behind my closed eyes. What the...?

Host detected.

Spiritual Architecture System v1.0 activating...

Analyzing spiritual resonance...

Compatibility check: PASSED

Beginning inner world manifestation...

The point of light exploded outward, or maybe I fell inward—direction gets weird when you're dealing with spiritual spaces. Either way, I suddenly found my consciousness in a vast, dark void. Not the peaceful nothingness of death, but an active emptiness, like a blank canvas waiting for paint.

Inner World Status:

Size: 1 cubic meter

Features: None

Energy Density: 1/100

Current State: Dormant

Would you like to begin the tutorial?

"Uh... yes?" I tried to speak, only to realize I didn't actually have a mouth in here. The thought seemed to be enough, though.

Welcome to your Inner World, cultivator! This space represents your spiritual foundation and will grow as you progress along the path of cultivation. Currently, your inner world is in its most basic state. Features and formations can be added as you gain spiritual energy and insight.

Available Actions:

• Survey Inner World
• Check Status
• View Energy Flows
• Exit Inner World

Okay, this was... different. I was pretty sure most cultivators didn't get a video game interface with their inner world. This had to be related to my unique situation—some kind of cosmic tech support for interdimensional travelers?

"Survey Inner World," I thought.

Surveying...

Current Inner World consists of a 1m x 1m x 1m space of unformed spiritual energy. No features or formations present.

Spiritual density: minimal.

Recommend beginning with basic energy circulation to increase density and stability.

A small figure materialized in the void—a boy who looked about ten, dressed in simple blue robes similar to my sect uniform. He had silver hair and oddly luminous blue eyes.

"Greetings, Master! I am Azure, your inner world spirit guide. I was formed from the resonance between your spiritual core and the System's activation. I will assist you in developing and maintaining your inner world!"

Well, that was... surprisingly cute, actually. "Um, hello Azure. I'm Cain. So... you're like a spiritual AI?"

Azure tilted his head. "I don't know what an 'AI' is, Master. I am a manifestation of your inner world's natural organizing principle, shaped by the System's influence. I can help you understand the various metrics and features available to you, and assist with implementing changes to the inner world's structure."

That raised so many questions, but I decided to focus on the practical aspects first. "What should I be doing to develop this space?"

"According to the System's analysis, the most efficient first step would be establishing proper energy circulation," Azure explained, waving his hand to create glowing blue diagrams in the void. "Your current spiritual energy intake is unstructured. By implementing basic circulation patterns, we can increase energy density and begin expanding the available space."

New Task Available: Establish Basic Energy Circulation

Reward: Increased energy efficiency, potential space expansion

Difficulty: Beginner

"The System can provide real-time feedback on your circulation attempts," Azure added helpfully. "Would you like to try?"

I was about to agree when I felt a distant sensation—someone shaking my physical body. Right, I was still supposed to be meditating in my room.

"Exit Inner World," I thought quickly.

Warning: First-time setup not complete.

Continue later? Progress will be saved.

"Yes, yes, save and exit!"

I opened my physical eyes to find Wei Lin standing over me, looking concerned. "Finally! You've been completely unresponsive for almost an hour. Did you reach core condensation already?"

"What? No, I was just... meditating deeply." I tried to sound casual, but my mind was racing. An hour? It had felt like minutes in there.

Wei Lin looked skeptical but didn't push. "Well, you missed dinner. I brought you some congee—can't cultivate on an empty stomach."

"Thanks." I accepted the bowl, trying to process everything that had just happened. A system-assisted inner world with its own spiritual AI companion? This had to be some kind of cosmic cheat code, though whether it was a benefit or a complication remained to be seen.

"You're developing faster than expected," Wei Lin commented as I ate. "My family has some techniques that could help, you know. Nothing too expensive for a friend..."

I nodded absently, only half listening to his sales pitch. I was more focused on the faint presence I could now feel in my spiritual core—Azure waiting patiently in the newly formed inner world, ready to continue our tutorial whenever I was ready.

This changed everything. The question was... how to keep it secret while taking full advantage of it?

"Actually," I said, cutting off Wei Lin's increasingly elaborate pricing structure, "I think I need to focus on the basics for now. But I appreciate the offer."

He looked mildly disappointed but unsurprised. "Suit yourself. Just remember, resources and connections make all the difference in cultivation. Raw talent only gets you so far."

If he only knew.

That night, after curfew, I sat in meditation again, eager to explore this new development. The transition to my inner world was smoother this time, less disorienting.

Welcome back, Master! Shall we continue the setup process?

Azure materialized, looking exactly as he had before. The void around us seemed a bit more... structured somehow, though still essentially empty.

"Let's do it," I agreed. "Show me how to establish proper energy circulation."

Initiating Basic Circulation Tutorial... Step 1: Visualize energy flow paths...

As Azure began explaining the process, complete with glowing diagrams and real-time feedback, I couldn't help but smile. Maybe dying and being reincarnated wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to me after all.

Of course, that was before I knew about the monthly evaluations, the sect politics, the increasingly dangerous training methods, and the fact that my unique system would attract some very unwanted attention if discovered. But hey, one crisis at a time, right?

At least I had a cute spiritual AI to help me figure it out.

Basic Tutorial Beginning...

Loading...

Please wait...

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Synopsis

Ke Yin has a problem. Well, several problems.

First, he's actually Cain from Earth.

Second, he's stuck in a cultivation world where people don't just split mountains with a sword strike, they build entire universes inside their souls (and no, it's not a meditation metaphor).

Third, he's got a system with a snarky spiritual assistant that lets him possess the recently deceased across dimensions.

And finally, the elders at the Azure Peak Sect are asking why his soul realm contains both demonic cultivation and holy arts? Must be a natural talent.

Expectations:

- MC's main cultivation method will be plant based and related to World Trees

- Weak to Strong MC

- MC will eventually create his own lifeforms within his soul as well as beings that can cultivate

- Main world is the first world (Azure Peak Sect)

- MC will revisit worlds (extensive world building of multiple realms)

- Time loop elements

- No harem

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Chapter 2: First Steps

The Outer Disciples' Square was exactly what it said on the tin—a massive courtyard paved with the same blue-gray stone that seemed to be everywhere in this sect. What the name didn't convey was the sheer scale of the place, or the fact that it was currently packed with several hundred teenagers all trying very hard to look like they knew what they were doing.

I found myself a spot near the back of the gathering crowd, trying to mimic the straight-backed, hands-clasped-behind-back stance that seemed to be the default here. The original's memories were helpful, but they were more like watching a tutorial video than having actual muscle memory. Still, fake it till you make it, right?

"Seniors approaching!" someone hissed, and the crowd's nervous shuffling immediately ceased.

Five figures emerged from one of the larger buildings overlooking the square. Unlike our plain gray robes, theirs were decorated with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the fading daylight. They moved with an uncanny grace that made them appear to be gliding rather than walking.

The one in the lead was a woman who looked to be in her thirties, though something told me appearances might be deceiving here. Her hair was done up in an elaborate style held in place by what looked like silver needles, and her robes bore additional white patterns that distinguished her from her companions.

"I am Senior Sister Liu," she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly across the square without seeming to raise it. "I oversee the training of Outer Disciples. You stand here because you have shown potential, but potential alone means nothing. Whether you rise or fall, succeed or fail, live or die—all will depend on your own efforts."

Well, that was cheerful.

"Tomorrow, you will begin your formal introduction to the arts of cultivation," she continued. "Tonight, you will receive your first lesson in what it means to be a disciple of Azure Peak Sect. Senior Brother Chen, proceed."

One of her companions stepped forward and made a gesture with his hands. Suddenly, the air grew heavy, as if the atmospheric pressure had doubled. Around me, people gasped and staggered. I found myself struggling to breathe, my knees threatening to buckle.

"This," Senior Sister Liu said calmly, "is merely a fraction of true spiritual pressure. As Outer Disciples, you will learn to withstand it, to move through it, to breathe despite it. Those who cannot..." She shrugged elegantly. "Well, the mortal world always needs more merchants and farmers."

The pressure increased. Someone to my left fell to their knees. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to remain standing through sheer stubbornness. My whole body felt like it was being crushed by an invisible weight.

"Interesting," I heard Senior Sister Liu murmur, though she was too far away for normal hearing to pick up her voice. "A few show promise."

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, the pressure vanished. I nearly fell over from the sudden release, catching myself at the last moment. Around me, others weren't so lucky, sprawling on the stone courtyard as their legs gave out.

"Those still standing, step forward," Senior Sister Liu commanded.

I looked around. Out of what must have been three hundred new disciples, only about twenty of us remained on our feet. We formed a ragged line before the seniors, trying not to show how much that experience had rattled us.

"Your dormitory assignments are changed," she announced. "You will be moved to Dormitory One. This is not a reward—it is a recognition of capacity and thus an increase in expectations. Disappoint us, and you will find that demotion is the least of your concerns."

Great. Just what I needed—more attention.

"The rest of you," she addressed the broader crowd, many of whom were still picking themselves up off the ground, "remember this moment. Remember this feeling. It is but a taste of what awaits you on the path of cultivation. Return to your dormitories and reflect on whether you truly have the will to continue."

With that encouraging speech, she and her companions turned and left, their robes swishing dramatically in a wind I was pretty sure they'd generated themselves. Show-offs.

A younger disciple, probably only a year or two ahead of us, began calling out names and new room assignments for those of us who'd remained standing. I found myself assigned to Cell Five in Dormitory One. Apparently, I would have time to move my belongings after the evening meal.

Speaking of which, my new stomach was informing me rather insistently that it needed food. One of the servants pointed me toward a large building near the dormitories—the Outer Disciples' Dining Hall.

The hall was already crowded when I arrived, filled with both new disciples and older outer disciples who'd returned from whatever tasks had occupied them during the day. The setup was simple: show your identification tablet to receive a bowl of rice and whatever dishes were being served, then find a place to sit.

I ended up at a table with several other new disciples, all of whom looked as overwhelmed as I felt. The food was simple but surprisingly good—rice, some kind of stir-fried vegetables I didn't recognize, and a soup that tasted faintly medicinal.

"Did anyone else feel like they were dying during that pressure test?" one of my tablemates asked quietly. He was a skinny teen with nervous eyes, his hands still shaking slightly as he held his chopsticks.

"Pretty sure that was the point," another replied, this one a girl with short-cropped hair. "My cousin's in the Southern Cloud Sect. She said their initiation was even worse—they had to stand under a waterfall for an hour while enduring spiritual pressure."

"The Southern Cloud Sect sits on a mountain range famous for its spirit waterfalls," someone further down the table chimed in. "My family trades in cultivation resources—each sect's trials are usually related to their particular strengths."

I listened carefully while pretending to focus on my food. Every bit of information could be valuable, especially since I was starting with a massive disadvantage. Sure, I had the original's memories of this world's basic culture and customs, but those were the memories of a tailor's son—hardly comprehensive when it came to cultivation.

"I heard Azure Peak specializes in something called the Azure Path," I ventured, hoping to prompt more information.

"Of course they do," the trader's son replied, a bit condescendingly. "Azure Peak is one of the Five Great Sects of the Eastern Continent. Each has their own interpretation of the heavenly dao—Azure Peak focuses on transformation and adaptation, like water taking any shape while maintaining its essential nature."

That... actually explained nothing, but I nodded as if it made perfect sense.

The conversation continued, with various disciples sharing rumors and snippets of information they'd gleaned about the sect and cultivation in general. Most of it went over my head, but I filed away everything for later consideration.

After dinner, I returned to my original cell to gather my belongings. It didn't take long—I'd only been here for a few hours, after all. The new cell in Dormitory One was virtually identical to the old one, just located in a different building.

As I was arranging my few possessions, someone knocked on the door frame. It was one of the disciples who'd been at my dinner table—the trader's son.

"I'm Wei Lin," he said without preamble. "Cell Six. Thought you might want these." He handed me a stack of what looked like handwritten notes.

"What are they?" I asked, leafing through the pages. They appeared to be some kind of study materials, with diagrams and explanations about basic cultivation concepts.

"Copied them from my family's archives before coming here," he said with a slight smirk. "Not supposed to have prior knowledge, but everyone does it if they can. Figured since you're next door and you didn't immediately start bragging about your family's secret techniques, you might actually be worth knowing."

I blinked at his bluntness. "Thanks. I'm Ke Yin."

"I know. You were one of the few who didn't look like they were about to pass out during the pressure test. Interesting, considering you're from..." he paused, obviously fishing for information.

"Floating Reed Village," I supplied, remembering to stick to the original Ke Yin's background.

Wei Lin's eyebrows rose slightly. "A village candidate? Now that is interesting. Well, read those tonight. Tomorrow's going to be... enlightening."

He left before I could ask what he meant, which was probably intentional. I settled down at my desk and began reading through the notes by the light of what looked like a glowing crystal embedded in the wall.

The basics, according to these notes, were both simpler and more complex than I'd expected. Every living thing apparently had something called a spiritual core, a sort of energy-based organ that existed alongside the physical body. Most people's cores remained dormant their entire lives, but cultivators learned to awaken and develop theirs.

Well, that explained why they'd tested village youth with jade pendants. They were looking for people with naturally sensitive spiritual cores.

The notes went into extensive detail about breathing exercises and meditation techniques, with warnings about the dangers of incorrect practice. Apparently, trying to force one's spiritual core to awaken too quickly could lead to something called qi deviation, which sounded extremely unpleasant.

I was deep in a passage about the importance of maintaining mental clarity during meditation when another bell rang—curfew. I changed into the sleeping robes provided with my sect outfit and lay down on the narrow bed.

Sleep didn't come easily. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of my death—the concrete rushing up to meet me, the sudden darkness, the void. Part of me still couldn't quite believe this was real. Maybe I was in a coma, and this was all some elaborate dream my dying brain had conjured up.

But no, everything felt too real. The slight roughness of the sect robes, the lingering taste of that medicinal soup, the weight of the spiritual pressure during the test—my imagination wasn't that good.

I must have dozed off eventually, because the next thing I knew, a gong was reverberating through the dormitory. Dawn. Time for morning assembly.

The pre-dawn air was crisp as I joined the stream of disciples heading to the square. Everyone moved with purpose, though whether that was genuine enthusiasm or fear of punishment, I couldn't tell.

This time, we were arranged in neat rows according to our dormitory assignments. Those of us who'd survived the pressure test were placed at the front, which made me distinctly uncomfortable. I preferred to observe from the back, but apparently that wasn't an option anymore.

Senior Sister Liu appeared again, this time accompanied by a dozen other senior disciples. They carried what looked like ceramic jugs, which they began distributing through the crowd.

"Today," she announced, "you begin your journey on the path of cultivation. In these vessels is Spirit Gathering Water, drawn from the sacred springs of Azure Peak. It will help awaken your spiritual cores—if you have the capacity for awakening."

When the jug reached me, I saw that it was filled with what looked like ordinary water, except that it seemed to shimmer slightly when I moved it. Following the example of those around me, I took a small sip.

It tasted like... well, like water, but somehow more so. Like the platonic ideal of water, if that makes any sense. It felt cool going down, then seemed to spread a gentle warmth through my chest.

"Close your eyes," Senior Sister Liu instructed. "Focus on that warmth. Feel it gathering, condensing. This is the first step on the path of cultivation—learning to sense your own spiritual core."

I did as instructed, concentrating on the strange warmth in my chest. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but gradually I became aware of... something. A sort of density in the center of my chest, like a drop of heavy rain suspended in still air.

"For most of you, this is all you will achieve today," Senior Sister Liu's voice continued. "A few may sense the shape of their core. Fewer still might—"

She was interrupted by a gasp from somewhere in the crowd. I heard murmurs and shifting feet, but I kept my eyes closed, focusing on that strange sensation in my chest. The warmth was growing stronger, the density more pronounced.

And then, suddenly, I wasn't just sensing it—I was seeing it. Not with my physical eyes, which were still closed, but with some other kind of perception. In the darkness behind my eyelids, a small point of light pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.

"Interesting," I heard Senior Sister Liu say, much closer than before. "Open your eyes, disciple."

I obeyed, blinking in the brightening dawn. She stood directly in front of me, studying me with an intensity that made me want to step back.

"How much did you see?" she asked.

"A... a point of light," I answered honestly. "Pulsing with my heartbeat."

She nodded slowly. "And the space around it?"

"Space?" I frowned. "I only saw the light."

"Hm." She made a gesture, and one of her companions handed her what looked like a marble made of the same jade as our identification tablets. "Hold this."

I took the marble, and immediately the point of light in my chest pulsed stronger. The jade began to glow with a soft blue light, just as it apparently had during my initial testing in the village.

"Very interesting," Senior Sister Liu murmured. "You may have fulfilled the first requirement for the Azure Path without even trying. We shall see." She raised her voice to address the crowd again. "Those who saw their core, step forward. Those who merely felt it, remain in place. Those who sensed nothing... consider this your first warning."

About thirty disciples stepped forward, including me and, I noticed, Wei Lin. Senior Sister Liu walked along our line, handing each of us one of the jade marbles.

"These are Spirit Resonance Beads," she explained. "They will help you visualize and interact with your core. Practice with them during your meditation. In one month, we will test your progress. Those who show sufficient advancement will begin true cultivation techniques. Those who do not..." She let the sentence hang.

The rest of the morning was spent learning basic meditation postures and breathing exercises. By lunch, my legs were cramping from sitting cross-legged for hours, and my head was swimming with terms like 'qi circulation' and 'spiritual meridians.'

"Not bad for a village boy," Wei Lin commented as we headed to the dining hall. "Though I notice you didn't mention seeing the space around your core."

I glanced at him sharply. "Did you?"

He smiled slightly. "Of course. My family has been preparing me for this since I could walk. The fact that you saw anything at all without preparation... like I said, interesting."

I was beginning to hate that word.

The afternoon was devoted to more mundane studies—reading and writing, basic sect history, and an introduction to what they called 'cultivation ethics.' This last one seemed particularly important, given how many times the instructor mentioned that violating these principles could result in immediate expulsion or worse.

By the time evening arrived, my brain felt as full as my aching muscles. I sat on my bed, rolling the Spirit Resonance Bead between my fingers and watching it glow in response to... whatever it was responding to.

A knock at my door revealed Wei Lin again, this time carrying what looked like a tea set.

"Spiritual Tea," he explained, inviting himself in and setting up the pot and cups on my desk. "Helps maintain clarity during evening meditation. My family exports it to three different sects."

I was starting to suspect his casual mentions of his family's business connections were less about bragging and more about establishing his value as an ally. Smart.

The tea had a subtle, almost ethereal flavor, and seemed to clear away some of the day's mental fog. As we drank, Wei Lin explained more about sect politics and the importance of building connections early.

"The sect talks about equality and merit," he said, "but reality is more complicated. Everyone has their own agenda, their own resources, their own secret techniques passed down through family or bought at great cost. The trick is finding your own advantages and leveraging them."

"And what advantage do you see in helping me?" I asked directly.

He smiled, apparently appreciating the bluntness. "You're an unknown quantity. No family techniques, no obvious backing, yet you performed as well as those of us who've been preparing for years. That makes you either incredibly lucky or incredibly talented. Either way, worth knowing."

I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. If he only knew how right he was about the 'lucky' part.

After he left, I spent several hours practicing with the Spirit Resonance Bead, trying to better visualize that point of light in my chest. According to Wei Lin's smuggled notes, this was just the first step. Eventually, cultivators learned to expand and shape their spiritual cores, transforming them into something called an 'inner world.'

I was still puzzling over what exactly that meant when curfew bell rang. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I found myself actually looking forward to tomorrow's lessons. Death and reincarnation aside, there was something undeniably exciting about learning to do what basically amounted to magic.

Of course, that excitement was tempered by the very real possibility of washing out and being sent back to a village I barely remembered, or worse.

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