291 (II)

  Downtime [III]

  The orc seemed amused by his ire and waited for him to proceed. "We understand that you are… tied to this gate's survival. But we also understand your nature. As such, we cannot allow you or your kind to mingle with the more vulnerable."

  "But that's practically everyone where I’m involved, Young Lord Arrow," the Culturist replied, smiling gently. Despite the softness of the orc's words, no one missed the threat underneath.

  It was enough to provoke Roland into immediate action. The Town Lord, though spent spiritually and physically from months of exertion, could only respond as a father would. The shriek of a hawk echoed through the world as a burning comet plunged through the ceiling and settled in his hand, taking the shape of a fiery bow. Radiant arrows that once smote Shiv from existence manifested in turn. "No,” Roland growled. “No more of this. You will not threaten my son in front of me, and you will relinquish whatever hold you have on his skills and his soul."

  The Culturist's smile turned upside down. "No, no, no," he said, wagging a finger. "This is not the way of things, Roland Arrow. You know better than this. You cannot make a request of an orc. Not even one as enlightened as I. And you are not yet recovered enough to make a fight of this."

  "Is that what you think, orc?" Suddenly, the Starhawk materialized, expanding out from Roland like a growing shadow. His ethereal form was dim with incandescence, but Divine mana still flowed between Ascendant and Avatar. "You presume too much of yourself."

  The Culturist scoffed. "I think I know my limits well enough, just as I know his. You are not the weak link here, Starhawk. Your Avatar is a smoking wick. It would take a true infusion of power on your part, which he would not survive in his current state, or weeks of recovery on his part, for this to be a proper fight instead of tragic murder."

  "You know, I was wrong about you, you fucking gray-skinned piece of shit," Rose snarled. Everyone else in the room tensed as well. Their eyes were locked on the Legendary orc. Weapons were half drawn. Spells slowly found themselves twisted into shapes of violent intent. "I thought you were smarter than the other ones, but it takes a real godsdamn fool to mouth off in a room filled with enemies."

  Yet no fear nor worry leaked from the orc's serene expression. "Oh, but I am not the one who is truly outnumbered. Am I not correct, Insul?"

  Shiv glared at the orc, unimpressed with his posturing. "Got a question for you, Culturist. If I manage to kill you, will the Challenger give me another Legendary orc to do your work? Isn't that how the ritual works? The death of an enemy for a new orc of an equivalent Tier?"

  That earned him a melodious series of chuckles from the Culturist. "You would not be the one to kill me right now. I fear that not even Valor can slay me so easily. Perhaps all of you together, but then how many of you would I kill in return? And would you be able to stop me before I blow open the path to the Tutorial gateway and truly wreak havoc? These are all things you must consider."

  The Culturist's smile grew wider and crueler. He lifted his head, and his eyes glowed bright and pale, framed by his cowl. "You asked me a question, Deathless. Now allow me one in return. Who might you become if I take everyone you love from you? You've already lost the closest thing you have to a father. Are you ready to bid the rest of your family in a desperate attempt for control?"

  Shiv’s nostrils flared. His anger spiked; his mind cleared.

  Sage of the Enkindled Heart: Don't let him rattle you. He doesn't intend to fight. Otherwise, he would have acted already. But that just now was a misstep on his part. Did you notice? He was pointlessly cruel. He didn't need to throw a jab at Georges. In his attempt to strike at your emotions, he has left himself exposed philosophically. Now tear his throat open.

  Suddenly, Shiv’s anger broke. A smirk emerged on his face, and in turn, the Culturist seemed to realize something was wrong. "Was that you speaking, or the itch?” Shiv asked. “I can be honest, but I'll only be honest to the individual, not the animal."

  He knew his verbal jab struck deeper and cleaner when Valor let out a resounding laugh, and the Culturist actually turned away from Shiv. His jaw turned to glass, revealing just how deep his folly went.

  Sticks and Stones 66 > 68

  Sage of the Enkindled Heart 138 > 139

  "I've made a slave of myself again," the Legendary orc whispered, mostly to himself. He clicked his tongue. "I apologize. That was unnecessary. Would you forgive me, Deathless, if I asked for your clemency?"

  "I know what you are," Shiv said simply. "You didn't fail me, you failed yourself. You're a Legend, and an old and experienced one at that. You should have never left your heart exposed to shred my skin. That was sloppy of you, Culturist."

  Nearby, Uva's gaze came aglow with astonishment and intimate admiration. As usual, Rose's response was far more bombastic. "Where the fuck did that shit come from? That was some Challenger rhetoric shit."

  "My disciple is right, old enemy," Valor said to the Culturist, with both hands clasped behind his back. "You left yourself too open. Lapse in judgment aside, I must ask that you relinquish your hold over Adam as well. He's my disciple too. I am here. I am restored. If you wish to continue our battle, I ask that you simply be patient for a bit longer. I will retrieve the final pieces of myself, and then I will give you what you so desire: a death worth remembering. But I must warn you, this death will not offer you any greater enlightenment."

  "No."

  It was Adam's voice that interrupted the moment. His stare burned with azure and twilight colors, and Shiv could see the sheer intensity of Adam's loathing. But there was something else. A determination, an unwillingness to yield. "No." Adam's voice was quieter now. "That orc is mine. He has wronged me. And if anyone's going to kill him, it's going to be me. Culturist, you came here seeking a fight with Valor. But I'm afraid you're not suited for him. I, however, am ready to receive this brutal tutelage of yours. When I am done, I will graduate with your death."

  "How sublime," the Culturist breathed, genuinely surprised at Adam's response.

  But he wasn't the only one.

  "Adam," Roland began.

  But he was cut off as his son held up a hand. "No, Father. As the orcs can declare a Pathbearer their nemesis, I declare the Culturist mine. He is no one else's to kill. He is no one else's problem to resolve but mine. He made a mistake settling inside my skill, compromising my soul. And I will see that mistake brought back to him at the end of this feud."

  "Adam, you're not thinking clearly," Roland almost growled. His anger was mingling with his overwhelming fear. Shiv could feel the chains coiling around the Town Lord, but it went nowhere. It wasn't surrendered to the orc; instead, it bound Roland. It weighed him down. He was afraid of losing Adam more than anything else. Despite this, he wasn't afraid of any person or any beast. "I will not let this thing hurt you."

  "That's not up to you, Father," Adam said. Softly but clearly. There was a quaver in his voice, as if he was afraid of going against Roland, but there was also a bitter resolution. "You can't always get what you want, just like you couldn't protect me when Blackedge was attacked. The System does not care. Our enemies do not care. And I aim to be just as indifferent and uncaring in return."

  Roland wanted a protest, but Adam moved closer toward the Culturist. Though the orc loomed over the Gate Lord, he fell to one knee so that he could stare at him face-to-face, equal to equal, even though they were not.

  "You wished to impart your knowledge upon me. You wished to train me, very well. I will partake. I will willingly learn from anyone with something to offer. And though I despise you, orc, you do have much to offer. And I will take everything from you before I give you that which you seek from Valor. But in return, you need to keep your lessons under control. I will give you a space within my gate. A quarter specifically for the orcs and other outsiders who have a vested interest in this project of ours. Past that space, you are to mind yourselves, you are to control yourselves. I will not accept the itch as an excuse. Harm one of my people, and just retribution will be delivered in return."

  The Culturist nodded once. "Your terms are most agreeable. And most remarkable. Spread those wings wider, Little Hawk, and you might find yourself more than your father’s shadow."

  And though the Culturist spoke these words with pride, a growing hint of worry crawled over Roland’s expression.

  "Ahem," Hymn interjected, holding up a single finger as if the room was in a powder keg on the verge of blowing. "I heard you say 'other outsiders.' Am I correct in suspecting that you will be placing representatives of the Neath in the Orcish Quarter as well?"

  "It's the best space for you, Headmaster," Adam declared.

  "These things are usually discussed and agreed upon beforehand," Hymn said sourly.

  "Why? Do you wish for your embassy to be placed in the Tutorial instead?" Adam glared at his Headmaster.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Hymn smacked his lips and realized the Gate Lord wasn't joking. "You know what? On second thought, I think we can make this work. Perhaps we will establish a quarter within a quarter. Culturist, a word after this meeting is done. I would like to speak with someone who is more reasonable."

  "And who is that?" The Legendary orc looked around performatively.

  "Hold." The Educator entered the conversation, and her face was no less severe. "I fear none among the Challenger's gray-skinned spawn, but I refuse to be housed alongside them."

  "You won't be," Adam said summarily. "You are a different concern altogether. You are in league with Udraal, and Udraal also has a hold over another one of our friends." His eyes fell on Can Hu, who now stood apart from Rose. Shiv gritted his teeth as he realized how troublesome that was going to be. Both he and Adam had suspected the Penitent was compromised, but it likely wasn't just the Penitent that Udraal held sway over. The Legendary Animancer likely had far more than one body he could jump to, far more than one vessel he could wield. And that was the worst thing about him: he had an overwhelming amount of choices. Locking Can Hu up would do less than nothing.

  "We're not allies, of this I am sure, but for now we need not be openly hostile to each other, either." Adam paused and gave Shiv a nod. The Deathless realized what his friend was implying.

  "Radio," Shiv called out to his cape. "It's time to come out. Cripple should have another conversation with his former companions."

  A low, mechanical groan sounded from deep within Shiv's cape. "Finally! You left me cooped up for a long time, bossman. Also, what the hell was all that earlier? It was chaos. Can you stop fighting people every three seconds? Not sure if you know this, but there isn't exactly much of a stabilization feature inside your cape’s inner dimension. I keep getting bounced around and stuff. It's really nauseating."

  The small, screen-headed automaton emerged, stumbling into the ruined room. "Well, there's a lot of people here. Hey bossman, can you give me a warning about that too? Kind of get anxiety and stuff around too many mugs."

  Radio staggered by Shiv's legs and tried not to shiver. The moment its stride grew confident, Shiv knew that a transformation was taking hold. A brief flicker of incandescence danced along Radio's diminutive body, and a specter of the Strongest emerged, a looming shadow much like the one that had manifested over Roland. Yet, though the Ascendants faced each other, noticed each other, even responded to each other, they didn't even look in the direction of the Educator. She proved as much a blind spot to them as Shiv did to everyone when he was outside context.

  "Starhawk," Cripple said, its reverberating voice making the room tremble. Dust danced, swirling into clouds around Shiv's ankles while bits of debris bounced up and down as well. Normally, Shiv suspected that Roland was a far superior conduit to most other Avatars, save for someone like Veronica or, despite all his other failings, Stormhalt. But with Roland in his current state, even Radio was the superior host and could receive far more divine mana in comparison.

  As such, Cripple flared like an invigorated blaze while the Starhawk crackled, a campfire on the verge of fading into embers.

  Shiv regarded the Educator, who simply shook her head and released a scoff. “My old companions are severed from me. In all manners, in all fashions. They cannot perceive me or actions directed at me. And I will not grace them with the ability."

  "Why not?" Shiv asked. "You're going for the Great One, aren't you?"

  When she stayed quiet and merely stared back at him, Shiv rolled his eyes and decided to play along, at least for now. He and the Educator didn't much like each other, but Adam was right. Better that she stay close and within their line of sight than work against them as some kind of enemy. The last thing Shiv wanted was for Adam or someone else he cared about to be painted into her tome again.

  Shiv let out a breath and cleared his throat, getting Cripple’s and the Starhawk's attention. "Cripple, I called for you for a reason. We are back in Piety, which means the Abyss stands open to us again, and we can draw on the support of our allies. We should be able to start an expedition to find the Great One. The Perch holds a bunch of other Sacred Phylacteries that you need, right?"

  "Indeed," the Starhawk said, his voice low. "And we are close. So very, very close now."

  "But still so utterly far," Cripple replied, cutting his former companion low with a rageful snarl. "Can you recall how you reached the gate the first time? Because I cannot. Only with a proper guide and through our combined skills and experiences did we survive the depths. Was your original intent to dispatch your favorite son alone? How cruel of you, Thaen, to condemn him to an unnecessary and pitiful death with such a choice."

  "What do you mean?" Shiv asked, wanting to know just what it takes to reach the Great One. "Do you need to fight through something? Do you need to survive some kind of challenge or calamity? The Dragon-Knights say there are ruptures near the Great One all the time in the depths. Mana storms, primal gates, and all that. But humans have survived all those things before. Is it really that bad?"

  "It is worse than you can possibly fathom," Cripple declared. "It is beyond what you can fathom."

  "There is no direct path to the Great One," Valor added. His expression twisted. "The fundamental rules of reality, as well as those imposed by the System, crumble and dissolve in their wake. A single misstep or a mistaken thought in their proximity can see you unmade. The Great One is a god beyond gods. And even dead, they still dream, and to be noticed within their dreams is to court something worse than death."

  Maia’s lip curled in disgust. "And worse yet, these two fools will be as if blaring sirens and burning airships dancing over the slumbering god. It remains dead, as Valor has said, but that does not mean it can not partially awaken. If it does, the consequences would be beyond severe. The Great One will realize that something has intruded on its soul, that someone has siphoned its mana to serve their own ends, that hostile entities are usurping and leeching from its legend. What will follow, then, is rejection of the highest form, followed by spiritual reformation. And that is assuming it can even manage that. It remains broken, and if the worst comes to pass and the Great One returns to life a shattered, insane thing, that might prove the end of this world and all Integrated worlds in its proximity. We cannot wander blindly into the embrace of the Great One. The only way to achieve true and proper severance is through you, Deathless. What is dead may yet be reborn. What is broken can be birthed as a proper whole."

  "Great. Just what I wanted to be, a resurrection incubator." Shiv rubbed at his face in exhaustion. "But we might have a problem there too, Educator. If you hadn't noticed, I failed to resurrect someone I actually care about and who died just recently. And no offense to the rest of you, but I don't really give nearly as much a shit about the Great One as I do about Georges." His following admission was quiet and weak. "And even though I tried, I still couldn't bring him back. I just couldn't."

  For once, Maia didn't reply with scorn or anger, but gentleness. "It is alright, boy. There is much about you that remains undiscovered. But you could resurrect someone. You have resurrected someone. Lady Van Erren is proof. She is a testament. We are not dealing with a theoretical or an impossibility. It has been done. We simply need to learn or to teach you how you can do it again. And we will help."

  "We," Shiv said. "You and Udraal. Not sure how much I want his help. He gave the Tarrasque to the Frost Giants. We're still going to have to deal with that shit."

  "Udraal did WHAT?" Cripple nearly shrieked. It seemed the Educator had let it catch that last bit.

  "Ah, right." Shiv turned. "Udraal gave the Undying Tarrasque—the one that you and the other Auroral dipshits were supposed to put down, the one that you decided to kick over to the South so that it would shit all over someone else's nation and ruin someone else's day—to the Frost Giants. And now it's coming back down, and it's going to be your problem again because you didn't solve it beforehand. You tell Veronica that she's a dumb fucking idiot for that, by the way."

  "This…" Cripple turned its massive slab of right arm into a clenched fist. "This cannot be allowed. It cannot." In an instant, its incandescence vanished around Radio, and the small automaton let out a shrill beep as it promptly collapsed on the ground. For a second, it just lay there, Cripple no longer present to power its locomotion.

  "Radio?" Shiv asked, nudging it with a foot. "You alright?"

  "No," the bot squeaked. "Feels like someone ripped my power core right out through my back end."

  Shiv sighed. "Where'd Cripple go?"

  "I think it jumped to one of its other Avatars, probably to go yell at Councilwoman Chandler or something."

  "Yeah, I'm sure that'll be useful." Shiv scowled. He didn't see Cripple convincing Veronica of her error. Instead, he saw that being the other way around. He saw the Councilwoman bludgeoning the mentally fragile Ascendant into submission with her Rhetoric, and maintaining her position without suffering any penalties. Shiv would have to give her a piece of his mind later. He didn't expect that to do anything either, but someone should call her a fucking bitch out of principle, and it might as well be him.

  "That's another thing we have to handle: Frost Giant invasion." Shiv shrugged. "Nothing for it. Suppose once I get a chance, I'm going to go take a look at what's waiting for us up north."

  The Educator's eyes widened. "You intend to intervene on behalf of the Republic? Why? Let this be their war, their distraction. We should use it to our advantage—"

  "No," Shiv said softly. He didn't want to argue with her. He wanted his point to be known, however. "This is not their war. This is everyone's war. That Tarrasque needs to die. The World Quest exists for a reason. And if the Ascendants and the Councilwoman don't want to clean up this mess, then I'm going to. Someone needs to kill that damn creature. It might as well be me. It's made from my Vitae. And this is what Udraal probably wants me to do anyway. To keep fighting and killing and getting stronger. To evolve more of my skills and to see if I manage to resurrect someone that way. Or, if I manage to shit out Adam's unborn sister through another evolution at some point. You tell me I'm wrong."

  Maia hesitated. "You are not. However, it's not wise to rush into this fight. The Court of the Shattered Moon is not known to be sensible. If they can gain the advantage through killing you, they will. And the rewards that come with your death are enticing indeed."

  "Yeah, well, I guess my solution is getting too hard for them to kill."

  Valor hummed as he took in all that information. "I think I agree with the both of you."

  "What?" Shiv said, not understanding the ancient Pathbearer. "What do you mean you agree with both of us? You want me to fight the Tarrasque while also leaving the Frost Giants for the Republic?"

  "No, it is unwise to rush this fight, but this war is ours to finish before it even begins. Besides, the north offers unique training opportunities for all of you. It will take time for the Frost Giants to muster their forces. And we can extend that time when we strike at them strategically. Yes, I think we can take advantage of this war to break up the monotony of our routine and other tasks. Yes. This will be a most useful training indeed. It is almost equal in opportunity to claiming the Tarrasque’s head and reaping the bounty of skills that come with it."

  Shiv blinked. Valor was talking about a war with the North like someone would a planned trip to the local pub.

  The lich suddenly clicked his tongue. “Actually, I recall there to be ancient pre-System ruins nearby. Is that right, Shiv?”

  Shiv stared at Valor, unsure where this was going. “Yeah. Not that far away from the Abyssal gateway. Why?”

  “Let’s take an excursion. You. Me. Adam. Can Hu. And Uva. Let us see if my suspicions are correct—why these ruins have remained ruins all this time.”

  “Radiation,” Adam breathed. “You’re looking for something that’s beyond the System’s reach. Some that mana can’t seep into.”

  “Ah,” Valor said, smiling. “Then you already have some idea as to what I intend.”

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